dray r\ LITTLE SIR GALAHAD ''But just to square myself s'pose you go get her a nice rump steak and then let me pay for it; don't that show that I'm's much of a philanthropist as Bill ?" , Sgg . x LITTLE SIR GALAHAD BY PHOEBE GRAY ILLUSTRATED BY F. LILEY YOUNG BOSTON SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY PUBLISHERS COPYRIGHT, 1914 BY SMALL, MAYNARD AND COMPANY (INCORPORATED) Second Printing, March, 1913 Third Printing, March, 1915 Fourth Printing, March, 1915 8. J. FARKHILL & Co., BOSTON, U.S.A. TO EVERY ONE WHO DELIGHTS IN THE LOVE OF CHILDREN ,AND BELIEVES IN HUMAN SALVATION THROUGH LOVE AND SERVICE THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED 2135958 CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I ON CLIPPER HILL '. i II THE PUNISHMENT 12 III A MONARCH, AND OTHERS .... 22 IV IN A FARMHOUSE KITCHEN ... 35 V AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 55 VI THE GALAHAD KNIGHTS 75 VII A MATTER OF GRAVITY 84 VIII THE RETURN OF LEM 107 IX FOUND: A SOUL 128 X JOHN WILLETT MODEL CITIZEN 140 XI THE GIRLS IN THE " GLOVES " . 149 XII THE BESTEST CHRISTMAS .... 158 XIII THE EARNEST MR. STUBBS ... 179 XIV DOCTOR BILLY 187 XV THE HOPEFUL DAYS 202 XVI SOME LETTERS AND AN OUTING . 216 vii viii CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE XVII AFTER Six YEARS 235 XVIII A LETTER FROM THE DEAN . . 252 XIX RODNEY JONES OF THE View . 263 XX THE NEW ASSISTANT 275 XXI AT THE BOREAS CLUB .... 285 XXII "SAY You 'LL MARRY ME, OR" 298 XXIII Two INTERVIEWS 309 XXIV LIVES AND SOULS 322 ; : XXV THE LIGHT OF DAWN 339 XXVI THE MYSTERIOUS CARTOONIST . 349 XXVII Two YEARS LATER 359 XXVIII "A SYMBOL OF THE GRAIL" . . 372 ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE " But just to square myself s'pose you go get her a nice rump steak and then let me pay for it ; don't that show that I 'm 's much of a philanthropist as Bill ?" Frontispiece Just then the door swung open and Lena, quite red in the face, replied: "Here I be." He was pushing before him a big and commodious wheel-chair. "That's what I wanted to go to town for "... 172 Jones took home the sketch and hung it with a pin on the wall. " If that 's the kind of a chap I am," he would repeat, " I 'm going to change or bust. No wonder I never had a decent job before " .... 272 The flat bottom of the toboggan swept the ice with a high-pitched roar; the swift wind pressed upon her like a wall of water 296 "Let me see," the merchant said to Mary Alice Brown, "have you some of those new washable chamois, size seven and three-quarters?" 314 ix LITTLE SIR GALAHAD LITTLE SIR GALAHAD CHAPTER I ON CLIPPER HILL MARY ALICE BROWN, with the washing for Mrs. Travers on a boy's express wagon, trudged earnestly up the long slope of Clip- per Hill. Once or twice she slewed the front wheels around and let the wagon slide back against the baseboard of the fence, to keep it from scooting off down the hill, while she rested and got back a part of her breath. The big washing, packed solidly into the small cart and bulging over the sides like an alder- man's waistcoat, resembled a young mountain on wheels, and you wondered if Mary Alice would ever get to the top of the hill. Then you saw in Mary Alice's wan little face a de- termination that made up for what her thin arms and legs lacked in strength. Yes, she would get to the top, somehow. 2 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Mary Alice was twelve, and skinny for her size. Great solemn eyes gazed at you from beneath a not very tidy mass of black hair innocent of adornment. To look carefully at Mary Alice made you suddenly remember with shame the last time you declined to drop pennies into the outstretched cup of that blind fiddler in City Park Square. The things that make little girls attractive are cleanliness, plumpness and nice clothes. Mary Alice failed in all three, yet she made a pathetic, mute claim upon your attention. After you met her dragging the heavy little cartload of laundry up hill, her two big eyes stayed 'in your consciousness for some time. Mary Alice's mother said it was funny how the little girl generally managed to do the thing she set out to do, no matter how hard it was. The discrepancy between the sizes of washing and child had ceased to give Mrs. Brown the uneasiness with which she had watched Mary Alice start out on her first delivery trip. The washing had never failed to arrive at Mrs. Travers's house in good con- dition and season. ON CLIPPER HILL 3 Mary Alice set her solemn little face toward the summit and climbed the slope steadily. It was early evening. The sun had slipped away behind the farther slope of Clipper Hill, leaving a hot red field of thinly clouded sky behind, which now blazed ruddily, so that the crest of the long slope ended at a shining gateway formed by the arching elms. Clipper Hill was the aristocratic avenue of Sheffield. The suggested symbolism of that long climb, up which she struggled with her too heavy burden of newly cleansed linen; the flaming promise of the golden gateway at the top ; even the treasure one dollar and sev- enty-five cents which she would receive to crown her successful pilgrimage, these were lost upon Mary Alice Brown. Her back ached; so did her arms, legs, and head. Con- sciousness of these afflictions left no space in her soul for symbolism, although there was room enough in her stomach. She had had no supper. Three boys came racing down the hill, shouting and taunting one another. All had been recently fed in their respective homes along the select highway. Mary Alice saw 4 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD them charging down upon her like an ava- lanche, and shrank asidelto let them pass. You cannot account for the impulses of boys on any ground of malice or depravity. A boy is the most experimenting of animals, yearning always to see what will happen under any set of untested circumstances. Desiring to scrutinize the activities of a wingless fly, he takes the most direct route. Curiosity, not cruelty, should be charged with the onus of the deed. To say that a boy is bad because he produces bad results would be much too sweeping. Two of the three avalanching youths passed Mary Alice and her wagon harmlessly. The third, several paces in rear, became instan- taneously possessed of that iatal experimental impulse. What would the large rotund bulk on the little wagon look like if set rolling down Clipper Hill?} He thrust out a hand, caught the wagon tongue from Mary Alice, and sent the load spinning along the asphalt. It slewed and skidded, tipped on two wheels, swung around, and thrust itself stupidly against the fence, where it turned turtle. The bundle of laundry ON CLIPPER HILL 5 ruptured instantly, and a shower of miscella- neous linen scattered in^the street. It all happened so suddenly that Mary Alice was quite stunned. Then, with a protesting cry of anger and chagrin, she ran a few steps after the fleeing youth, shouting shrill in- coherencies of wrath. He looked over his shoulder at the result of his wanton impulse and laughed. Mary Alice wept miserably and began picking up the soiled and undeliver- able pieces. She heard quick steps and felt the wind of a passing solid, seemingly propelled out of ordnance, a human and wiry projectile. Then followed snarling, high-pitched cries, the thud of blows, the rattle of toes and heels upon stone. A few yards down the street vengeance had overtaken the malefactor punishment hard upon the heels of misdemeanor. "I fixed him," said a voice, chokedly breathless. "He won't do that again in a hurry." Mary Alice looked up into a face designed for good humor, but just now devoted to the scarlet purpose of wrath. The blue eyes flashed the mixed light of indignation and 6 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD complacence. The red hair seemed to bristle with truculence and pride. "I fixed him," said the voice, again and again, between hard-drawn breaths. "I fixed him. I fixed him did n't I, now?" Mary Alice went on soberly picking up her scattered load. Vaguely the possibilities of this pugnacity stirred in her mind. Maybe the boy would "fix" her, too. But all at once he grinned. "Let me help you," he said. "Are they all dirty? It's too bad. What are you goin' to do with 'em?" "Take 'em home again," replied Mary- Alice. ' ' Mother '11 have to wash 'em all over. ' ' "Well, I fixed him, all right," asserted her champion. " I saw him do it dirty trick, I call it. But I fixed him good did n't I? " It was as though having "fixed" the culprit had quite remedied the matter. The red- headed boy picked up the last dust-smutted napkin and watched Mary Alice pack the big misshapen load into place. She swung the little wagon away from the fence and in silence started down the hill. "Where you goin'?" demanded the boy. ON CLIPPER HILL 7 "Home." "Where's that?" "Calvert Street." "Oh," said the boy. He knew all about Calvert Street by reputation. It ran through the neighborhood known as "The Devil's Truck Patch." "I guess I '11 go 'long with you," he decided. " Maybe those fellows might bother you some more; they won't if I'm along, though." Mary Alice neither accepted nor rejected this proposal. She went silently down the hill, leaning back to check the pace of her loaded wagon. "What's your name?" demanded the boy. "Mary Alice Brown." "Mine's Willett, Francis Willett," he in- formed her, quite gratuitously. " I 'm a Gala- had Knight." Mary Alice Brown showed no curiosity concerning the complexion or duties of a Galahad Knight. "It's a club," Francis explained. "We have ten members and we're all pledged to puttect the weak against the strong. That's why I licked Lutey Travers. I got up the 8 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD club myself read all about the idea in a book. A knight is a fellow that swears that whenever he sees beauty' " The knight paused and scrutinized Mary Alice's thin face as they passed under an electric light ; for the golden gate at the street head had now faded, as all symbols are prone to do. He went on: "Er beauty or anything in dis- tress. Of course you are n't that is, you were in distress, so I came to your rescue - see?" He steadied the toppling wagon as Mary Alice eased it across a curbstone. The little girl heard his complacent chatter all too in- distinctly. It filtered inconsequentially up through a black cloud of fear and dread. She had never got into trouble with the washing before. What would happen? She was going home empty-handed and they needed the money so bitterly. She wondered if her father would be there. If so it would be ten times worse. Her mother would forgive her and go patiently to rewashing the soiled things, but the man Mary Alice shuddered. Francis Willett, ON CLIPPER HILL 9 finding in his own virtue a reward heightened by rehearsal, babbled cheerfully of Galahad Knights and explained in detail how they dif- fered from Boy Scouts. Mary Alice wished he would go away. At last they came to Calvert Street, thread- ing the Devil's Truck Patch. It was full of people; men and women lounged upon front stoops, children in droves played on the pave- ment. Both sidewalks were bordered with the window lights of stores, largely saloons. It was a tough neighborhood. Francis Willett had never seen that street before. Some raucous-voiced urchins swarmed by, jostling and boisterous. They were very dirty and very happy. The boy from Clipper Hill lost a little of his assurance. A drunken man lunged past, swaying and tottering, and as he went he mumbled thick blasphemies. "My gracious!" said the boy, a little ap- palled. " Do you have to live here? " "'Course I do," answered Mary Alice. It was almost the first time she had spoken. "My folks live here. I got to stay with them, ain't I?" "I I suppose so. Which is your house? " 10 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Mary Alice turned up an alley, narrow and dimly lighted and crowded. Before a tene- ment house she stopped. "Here's where I live," she said. She did not invite her escort in; she did not thank him for his knightly conduct; she looked at him and wished he would go away. He was very smug, in his neat clothes, with his round, good-humored, complacent face. He had never known a trouble in the world. "Oh, yes," he said, craning his neck to view the spider web of fire escapes that dec- orated the front of the building. "Well, I guess I won't stay. My father does n't like for me to Say, here 's a present for you. The Galahad Knights are all pledged to " He held out something in his hand, some- thing which he drew from a pocket where it jingled against others of its kind. It was a particularly shiny half-dollar. Mary Alice looked into the good-natured, self-assured prosperity of Francis Willett's boyish face; then she looked down at the coin. All the way home he had impressed her with his abundant good will toward the weak and helpless. He was not a child like ON CLIPPER HILL 11 herself, a companion, but a self-righteous lit- tle prig, puffed up with his own virtuous con- ceit. Of course Mary Alice did not think this in just those terms, but her whole starved little being stung with the sense of the fact. She became furious and suddenly struck the offered coin from her would-be benefactor's extended palm. Then she turned and ran blindly up the steps and slammed the door with a bang that astonished the young philanthropist even more than it angered him. He too turned and, leaving the coin where it had fallen, stalked off down the alley with the dignity of offended vanity. CHAPTER II THE PUNISHMENT LEM BROWN was at home. He sat humped in a kitchen chair, stupidly watching his wife, who was dabbing her cheek with cold water at the sink. Lem had just struck Mrs. Brown because Mary Alice did not come home sooner with the washing money from Mrs. Travers. Just what connection he made in his blurred mind between his wife and the non-appearance of his daughter is beside the point; it satisfied him, so he acted accordingly. Lem would not have come home at all that evening except that he was entirely destitute. He could not seem to get any more liquor without money. Bartenders are a singularly unsympathetic lot when the question of credit is broached, and free spend- ers preferred to lavish their hospitality upon 12 THE PUNISHMENT 13 good-natured friends rather than upon the quarrelsome Brown. The only steady employment Lem had known for a long time had been his three months of enforced industry in the county workhouse. He was entirely out of patience with work for himself. But it gave him con- siderable satisfaction to know that his wife could command employment as a laundress by some of the best families in the city. He was an authority upon athletic sports and spent the greater part of his time in places where such sports were discussed, taking his ample part in all arguments. Every morning he saw to it that the generosity of the city in supplying park benches should not lack appreciation. He read discarded newspapers threadbare and was aggressively well posted on all the newest things in pugilism. * He also had his opinion of the government, city, state and national, and his dictum upon in- ternational relations carried the dignity of an ultimatum. He thoroughly disapproved of prohibition, local option, or any actual or suggested restraint of trade touching upon the distribution of stimulants. 14 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Lem was a large, knobby man, with a fore- head that beat a hasty retreat from his eye- brows into the grizzled jungle of his hair, a wobbly chin, and a prominent under lip. His eyes were large and watery, popping halfway out of his head and netted with the red veins of alcoholism. They were meaningless, stupid eyes, seldom lighting up with any but a foggy sort of intelligence, often cloudy with drink, quite incapable of expressing any softness or human sympathy. He was always dirty, always sullen, and almost always more or less drunk. When more than ordinarily in- toxicated, his sullenness became a dangerous, brutal anger against all opposition. "And next time I'll give you worse," he promised, eying his wife. "Here I am in want acshully des'tute and not a penny do I get. If that brat don't come home soon, I 'm gonter knock your head off, Mrs. Brown." The kitchen, lighted inadequately by a phthisical gas jet, was a dismal place, choked with the redolence of Lem Brown's alcoholic aura. In a corner a child slept uneasily. A bottle and spoon on the table nearby sug- gested that the occupant of the shabby THE PUNISHMENT 15 crib was ill. Mrs. Brown went and bent over it, listening anxiously to the quick, irregular breathing. Steps sounded on the stairs and seemed to hesitate outside the door, which presently swung open to admit Mary Alice. She looked fearfully from Lem to her mother. "Hullo, kid," said Lem. "What kept you?" Mary Alice paid no attention to her father, but went to Mrs. Brown and said something in a low tone. The woman cried out in protest. "Oh, no, Mary Alice, you didn't, you did n't," she said. "What's that?" the man demanded. "None of that secret talk, now." "You better bring 'em up, dear," said the mother. " I '11 do 'em to-night." Mary Alice took a clothes basket and went out. "Where 's the money?" asked Lem. t "She didn't Mrs. Travers didn't pay her" " None of that, now. That ain't so. You 're holdin' out on me." 16 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "Lem, it's the truth," said Mrs. Brown. Mary Alice staggered up the stairs with a load of clothes from the wagon, and Mrs. Brown fell to sorting them. "What 's them dirty ones?" asked Lem. "Say, where's that money? You come through, now, or I'll show you " At this moment the child in the crib awoke and cried fretfully. Mrs. Brown drew a cup of water at the sink and bent over the little thing, soothing it and offering cool drink. "Say," roared Lem, "how long you gonter keep me waitin'?" He arose and strode to his wife's side. The sick child looked up and, seeing its father, began to cry. "Git away," said Lem, pushing Mrs. Brown violently. "I'll tell you what. You gimme that money, quick, or I'll wring the kid's neck." It was an inspiration of cruelty of un- doubted effectiveness. If Mrs. Brown had possessed a penny on earth, she would have yielded it up with all haste. But lacking the resources of ransom, there was only one thing THE PUNISHMENT 17 to do, and she did it. With a cry the mother threw herself upon her tormentor. "Don't touch him, Lem!" she cried. "I have n't a cent, I tell you; if I had, I'd give it to you. Oh, Lem, he's so sick! Please, please " The drunkard struck her heavily upon the mouth, so that she fell against the wall. She returned to the encounter, but at this moment Mary Alice, ascending with the last of the soiled Travers linen, dropped her big load and attacked the man fiercely. He turned upon her wolfishly, his heavy hand closing upon her thin little shoulder. " Butt in, will you? " he said. "Butt in, eh? I '11 teach you." He stooped and picked up, from the wood box near the range, a stick not large enough to be called a club, but heavy enough to be extremely formidable in the hands of Lem Brown. With it he aimed a blow at Mary Alice. Throwing up her hands, she received the stroke crushingly upon her fingers. "Oh, oh!" she moaned. Mrs. Brown screamed and would have defended Mary Alice, but in doing so was herself cruelly 18 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD beaten. Again and again the weapon fell, each time crushing, bruising, lacerating. Only Mary Alice's thick black hair saved her skull. She had never taken such a beating before. When it was over, she cowered in a corner, sobbing with the horror and pain of it. Why must she suffer so? Why must her poor mother stand this abuse, this infamy of pov- erty and cruelty? The world was full of little girls with fresh rosy cheeks and fresh crisp frocks little girls with comfortable homes, who saw each day the caresses passing cur- rent between father and mother, and them- selves shared in that currency. People talked about a God of love and pity, who saw all that went on and was so much the master of detail in His earth that one's hairs were numbered, and the twitter of a falling sparrow had careful attention. Mary Alice would have prayed, but it looked like a hopeless procedure; for if God knew all about it and let it go on, what was the good of asking Him to help her? He either meant these dreadful things to happen or He did n't care. Lena, convinced that if money existed in THE PUNISHMENT 19 that home so much punishment would have brought it from its hiding-place, stumped off cursing and weeping, with maudlin pity for a man whose home was thus barren of finan- cial resource. He might come back later, he might be gone a week, he might be arrested before another hour and sent away for a good long sentence. Mary Alice hoped the last-named event would occur. And it did, although Mary Alice and her mother were several days in rinding it out. Mrs. Brown locked the door leading into the hall. "Come, dear," she said. "Undress and let me look at you. I wish I had some witch- hazel. Poor little girl, poor little girl! Mother's so sorry." Mary Alice winced every time her mother's fingers touched her flesh. Mrs. Brown wept when she viewed those livid imprints upon the meager body of her child. For every bruise she suffered an agony of sympathy which dwarfed her own pain, itself no small thing. The sick baby slept quietly, and Mrs. Brown pulled his crib into the "other room." 20 She tried to make Mary Alice comfortable in her own bed, and presently, having turned out the gas, crept in beside her daughter. Then she slept, for the sick child had stolen many hours of her rest, and her hands had not known an idle moment for many days. Little Mary Alice, twelve years old, beaten, aching in every fiber, lay a long time in a dumb agony, fearful lest any movement of hers should wake her mother. After a while she fell to sobbing; but this soon ceased, and she gazed into the shadows with eyes that smarted. A great longing for the open air came upon her; the night was hot and no breeze blew in at the open window. Far away Mary Alice heard a church clock strike. The hour was nine. She slipped out of bed, slowly and with exquisite pain. With Mary Alice, dressing was not so complicated a procedure that it required a maid's assistance or a long time to accomplish. When she turned the key in the door to let herself out, she thought she might be back in half an hour. She was slightly feverish, and if she walked as far as the park THE PUNISHMENT 21 And then, as Mary Alice crept down the front steps, something shining in the gutter caught her eye. It was Francis Willett's half-dollar. CHAPTER III A MONARCH, AND OTHERS MARY ALICE hobbled down to the corner of Calvert Street, stooping and limping like a very old woman. She felt as if she were in a sort of envelope of pain, which oppressed her from head to foot. Hardly any part of her ached worse than another. The evening was still quite young, and the crowds of unkempt children rioted in Cal- vert Street, while their elders squatted on front stoops and gasped, awaiting a benison of breeze and chatting meager futilities as they waited. All along the walks, lights shone; and as Mary Alice threaded her way she was assailed by pungent, volatile-seeming odors from basement windows or swinging doors. A deep hatred of that squalid neighborhood made the little girl shudder. She wanted to be out of it. It suggested nothing but hard- 22 A MONARCH, AND OTHERS 23 ship, want, misery. Because she was a child, she scorned those whom circumstances forced, as they forced her, to have their being there. Without inquiring as to causes, she asked, just as young Willett had asked, if they really lived here. They were a poor, spiritless breed who could do no better than this for themselves. Mary Alice had been born in the country; she remembered what trees and fields and flowers looked like. She never let go of that picture, though it was growing more and more blurred in her mind. As the picture faded, her longing to renew it increased. In the center of Sheffield lay a broad square, or park, a fine turfed plaza overlooked by the municipal buildings and primped with rows of subdued, citified trees. Under these trees one might find benches, inhospitable and slatted. In times of depression, when the forces of the unemployed were greatly aug- mented, men might sleep upon these benches, undisturbed by the police. This turfed breathing-spot was Mary Alice's objective; she wanted more than any- thing else, she thought, fresh air. The air 24 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD in City Park Square might not be 99 yVV per cent pure, it might lack sparkle and tone, but it would compare most favorably with the sort of breathing material used in the Devil's Truck Patch. But as the child emerged from the purlieus of Calvert Street into the more elegant thoroughfares of the town, she came into the zone of brighter lights. The streets skirting City Park were peopled with a more pros- perous folk. Stores had plate glass and mir- rors and displayed ravishing assortments of merchandise. Even after closing hours, show windows and reflecting border lights may work at the subtle art of attracting attention. Mary Alice studied these exhibits with sidelong admiration. Her pains and aches retired into subconsciousness. The little girl loitered, inviting her soul. Entrances to theaters were flanked with a dazzlement of lithography. Tall columns of arc lamps spindled loftily skyward above these magic portals. Youths, shaming Solo- mon for raiment, decorated the vestibules, burning the cloying incense of cigarettes. To Mary Alice these paid no heed. A MONAJRCH, AND OTHERS 25 Presently the little girl came to a window with a character of its own. It was a very large window, set in a frame of snowy enamel. Beyond the glass blazed the porce- lain glories of a quick lunch. Along the window ledge, cunningly fashioned in vit- reous tile, towered vast pyramids of fruit, stacked with an ingenuity that must have required technical training. Mary Alice's mouth began to water. But the chief attraction of that window, the feature that suddenly glued Mary Alice's shabby little feet to the bricks and fixed her large black eyes in a stare of longing fas- cination, was the griddle-cake hot-plate, its shining black surface disked with yeasty moons of pure gold. Behind the hot-plate stood a fat young man, cased starchily in a sheath of white duck and crowned with a rakish, laundered cap, tipped over one moody brow. This young man, this cook, this seeming czar, viewed the triumphs of his art with a bored and jaun- diced eye. On a thin-bladed turner he manip- ulated the delicacies, and tossed them with skilled indifference upon a plate which a 26 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Beautiful Lady came and removed swiftly. Thereafter the deliberate, toil-superior mon- arch of the bubbling batter poured other disks from a vast silver pitcher upon the hot- plate, and these, in their turn, changed to gold. "My goodness!" thought Mary Alice, 11 don't I wish I had - She checked suddenly, for the conscious- ness of that coin of Francis Willett's, tightly held in a moist palm, dawned upon her. Mary Alice forgot all about the other great windows along the street, with their allure- ments of silk and satin. The monarch of the hot-plate became almost a common man to her, and at once she grinned through the window. Whereupon his fat, heavy face separated pleasantly in an answering smile, and his bored, dull eyes brightened. Mary Alice turned and sought the entrance to this paradise. "I want some of them," she said to the Beautiful Lady, when she had seated herself at a table with a top whiter than alabaster. The Beautiful Lady was a pronounced blonde with a pug nose. She wore abundant and A MONARCH, AND OTHERS 27 crackly white skirts that stuck out daintily all around, and at her belt carried a little punch, such as railway conductors use. She had brought Mary Alice a glass of ice water. The child could not convince herself that the Beautiful Lady was altogether cordial, but she jerked a thumb toward the fat back of the hot-plate dignitary and repeated: "I want some of them," and added: "Please, ma'am." The Pronounced Blonde hesitated, eying Mary Alice speculatively. "You got any money?" she asked. Mary Alice displayed her half-dollar. "All right, dearie," said the Beautiful Lady; and then, in a much louder tone, she commanded: "Brown the griddles." A mild form of physical exertion actuated the hot- plate prince. The restaurant was hardly patronized at all just now. The steps of the waitresses, of whom the Beautiful Lady was one, clicked hollowly upon the tiles. Over in one corner a woman on her knees was washing beneath the tables and along the aisles between. Mary Alice, in a stiff-backed chair that was too high for her, ached and waited. 28 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "Here you go," said the Beautiful Lady cheerfully. "Hungry? You like sirup? I brought you an extra pitcher and two pats of butter. Want a glass of milk?" "I have to pay for it, don't I?" asked Mary Alice, looking up. "Well, you don't think we " began the waitress; then she made a quick shift, with an eye to deceit. "Never mind. It'll be all right." Mary Alice, busy with her cakes and sirup, did not see that the Beautiful Lady fumbled in her apron pocket as she approached the service counter. "Milk '11 make you fat," she said, setting the cold glass down by Mary Alice's plate. It was an enormous glass, a regular stand- pipe. Mary Alice did not find fault because its sides were abnormally thick or because there was a deep hollow under the bottom. She drank the milk and marveled that she could encompass so much in so few swallows. But it was good milk. At a nearby table sat a man, eating pie. He poured coffee from his cup into his saucer and drank from the saucer, using equal A MONARCH, AND OTHERS 29 parts of air and coffee in the interests of " safety first." The air cooled the coffee and made a pleasant, homelike sound which proved to Mary Alice that her neighbor was enjoying himself. "Hullo, sister," said the coffee drinker. "Pretty hungry?" Mary Alice nodded shyly. "'S a good 'nough place to eat," said the man. ' ' Did you get tired of the Waldemere ? ' ' "Now don't," scolded the Beautiful Lady in an undertone. "You shan't make fun of that poor little thing. Men are the des- pize-ablest things. I think she's pitiful; I could cry every time I look at her. Bill says she stood the longest time, watchin' him turn cakes, before she made up her mind to come in. He's awful tenderhearted." "He looks it," agreed the coffee drinker with fine irony. "Bill is certainly a philan- throphist. Think of all the people that stands outside that window every day and watches him. Why, he 's likely to get stage fright any day and put sawdust in the batter. Haw, haw! Tenderhearted! Bill tenderhearted! You make me laugh right out loud, Gertie." 30 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "Just the same, Bill says, 'See if you can't save that pore young-one from payin',' he says. 'Give her these griddles with my compliments,' he says." "Haw, haw," laughed the coffee drinker. " That 's just like Bill. How 's he goin' to check up? Pay for 'em out of his own pocket?" "Oh, I don't suppose so," said Gertie. "They won't cost him anything." "Bet they won't," cackled the man. "Bill's very tenderhearted, very when it don't cost him nothin'. Now see here, Gertie, tell you what. I was n't aimin' to hurt that baby's feelin's when I said what I said. But just to square myself with you, s'pose you go get her a nice rump steak and then let me pay for it; don't that show I'm 's much of a philanthrophist as Bill?" It was very gratifying to Mary Alice Brown to find, when she had eaten as much as she could hold and this was a very re- spectable quantity, considering her years and growth that she had nothing at all to pay. The circumstance of her nearest benefactor's audible coffee-consuming procedure disturbed her not at all. A MONARCH, AND OTHERS 31 When she left the palace of tile and smiled a wry good night at the plump batter baron in the window, she thought she would go home; and she was a little cheered by the continued possession of her half-dollar and by the kindnesses which three utter stran- gers had heaped upon her. Her bruises still ached, but a full stomach was not without soothing effects. The air in City Park seemed very sweet and cool; the little girl wanted more of it. "Aw board f'r Gleasondale, Roxford, Pep- per's Mill, Manterbury, Cassville, and Hill- side Falls; aw board." A gong clanged. Mary Alice looked up at the trolley about to begin its suburban journey, as audibly catalogued by the conductor. That car would slide along through an endless supply of air air even cooler and fresher and sweeter than this of City Park. And Mary Alice had money. She could pay her fare out and back. She opined that the round trip would occupy half an hour and cost her not over ten or twenty cents. So she climbed aboard. The conductor repeated his list of suburban towns, yanked 32 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD briskly at the bell cord, and the car slid, bumping and teetering, out of the zone of pale lights, and took its twisting way into ruraldom. Mary Alice smelled the odors of meadow and grove as the car sped. She closed her eyes, opened them, closed them again. The car passed a tiny station, where it stopped and let off a dozen tired-looking country folk, evidently glad to be at the end of a day in the city. Mary Alice was infinitely soothed. She kept closing her eyes, opening them blissfully, and closing them again. The car rocked and hummed; the breezes blew the child's tangled black hair. She was no longer in pain. She forgot to open her eyes. The calm, sweet stars in a velvet summer sky saw a little girl get off a suburban street car at the end of the line. "No," said the conductor, "we don't make no return trip 'til mornin'. We leave her stand here all night." He reached up and turned a switch; im- mediately the car was in darkness. "Where you goin', kid?" asked the man. "Did you think we 'd be goin' back?" A MONARCH, AND OTHERS 33 "I I thought so. What '11 I do?" she asked plaintively. Her bruised body ached. The ride out from the city had been refresh- ing, but now a fear of the great silence clutched her. "You can't stay in this open car all night," said the conductor. "Hey! Jim! Here's a little girl that thought we's goin' back to- night. What we better do with her?" "I can't take her to my house," doubted the motorman. "The beds is all full. Whyn't you try Sam Thomas? Look, they's a light in his house." "Come along, sister," said the conductor. He spoke very kindly. At home his own little girl was now snugly tucked into bed, and he would steal into the room and kiss her before he turned in himself. It was al- ways the last thing to do at night, no matter how tired he felt. "Come along, sister." Sam Thomas, in his stocking feet and car- rying a kerosene lamp in his hand, opened the door. He grunted a little when he learned the nature of the petition. "But you know, Sam, me and Jim's both full up. We got small houses and big fam'lies. 34 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD If 'twa'n't for that I'd take her home in a minute may do it anyhow, if you don't want her." The door swung wide. Behind Sam Thomas, Mary Alice saw a pleasant room, and through the open doorway wafted the "homey" smell that always denotes the farmhouse. In her overpowering weariness and pain, the little girl yearned to that hearth, her big eyes wide with longing. "Well," said Sam Thomas, "you don't think I'm goin' to turn the poor young-one away, do you? What's your name, child? And for goodness' sake, what's the matter with your forehead? Looks like someone had hit ye." CHAPTER IV IN A FARMHOUSE KITCHEN I DO not know that the sun rises any earlier in the country than it does in the city, but it has more witnesses. In town the milk- man alone can vouch for its rising, but he is twenty-four hours late, according to country reckoning, since the goods he delivers were drawn from the cows in the dim tie-ups on the morning before. Sam Thomas stepped out upon the big flat rock that formed his back doorstep just as the sun licked its first broad rays, like the tongue of a cat, over the saucer rim of the world. A wistful mooing came to him from the barn. The furry-green weeds that matted the side yard were all daintily rimed with a heavy white dew in which Sam's footprints would appear, dark and distinct, as if in snow. With a thumping of feet and beating of 35 36 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD wings, half a hundred chickens came hurry- ing and jostling to his feet. "Gwan," said Sam. "Shoo! Ma '11 feed ye. Shoo!" He stumped off to the barn, a milk pail rattling cheerfully in each hand. Some swal- lows issued, swooping, from the tiny holes pierced high up in the peak of the barn gable. They swung, circled, and dipped, utter- ing small cheeping notes of morning gossip. Off across the fields and down among the twisty trunks of the orchard weaved and wavered thin, tenuous wisps of a fragile vapor, curling into nothingness in the sun's rays like filmy handkerchiefs in the hands of a magician. The morning was full of cool odors, and the sky as blue as only a morning sky can be. The night had wrought a great, clean silence, upon which, now, the noises of dawn made sharp, unblending strokes, as a pen on new paper. Sam Thomas whistled a thin, tuneless measure, swung open the little door in the big door of the barn, and pushed his pails ahead of him into that fragrant gloom. L Mrs. Thomas, in the farmhouse kitchen, IN A FARMHOUSE KITCHEN 37 washed her breakfast dishes with the deft handling of inbred efficiency. An oil lamp burned on the shelf above the sink, for Mrs. Thomas had arisen before daylight to make hot biscuit. Now, as the slant rays of the sun crept in and turned the lamp flame to a sickly yellow, she blew it out. Another day had begun. The only rival in cleanliness to a New England country kitchen is the deck of a ship. The farmer's wife has no holystone, but her floor is bleached to an albino whiteness by successive applications of soap. Her milk pans and all her impedimenta shine like new coin; her range sparkles like a freshly polished shoe. Martha Thomas's kitchen was so. She worked from four in the morning until eight at night to keep it and the rest of the house just that way. The everlasting, ever-renewing business of cleaning went on with scarcely any interrup- tion. Martha was always cleaning some- thing; she scrubbed, scoured, rubbed, bur- nished, and polished by intuition, by incli- nation, and by habit. And she did not find it drudgery. She was plump, pink, and pleas- 38 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD ant. In her manner lay a decision, a firmness, which in a less personable woman one might have called by a harsher name. She poured scalding water over her dishes, dried them, set them away, washed and wrung out towels, and neatly hung the same on a fan-shaped rack over the range. She brushed and dusted and tidied, rattled the stove covers, put fresh birch wood on the fire, pumped a tea-kettleful of water and set it to heat. All the time, just as her husband whistled his tuneless measure while he did his chores, Martha hummed a soft half-portion of song, a song which kept repeating itself endlessly without words or definable notes. From somewhere within the house came a call. "Mum-mee-ee-ee!" The last note, long sustained, high pitched, was as honeyed as a bird's call. "Mum-mee-ee!" Martha stopped in the midst of her tasks. Every morning the same thing happened; every morning came the little clutch at her heart, the little tender, recurrent pain of real- ization. She answered, as always: "All right, sweetheart; mother's coming." IN A FARMHOUSE KITCHEN 39 She set her broom in the corner and passed swiftly through the sitting room into a chamber. The morning sun filled the chamber with a golden radiance, and this radiance was reflected and seemed to be en- hanced when it touched the shining yellow head of a child nestled in the pillows. "The sun come and waked me up, mum- mee," said the child. "Is it time to get up?" "If you want to, dearie. How'd mother's boy sleep?" "Oo, grand ! I don't rummember anythin' but just one little teeny dream. Gee, it was a funny little dream." "Tell mother," said Martha. She busied herself with a basin and cloths and towels. As she bathed him, the child went on: "Well, I can't just rummember everythin'; only, the' was a little girl in it but she was n't my sister. Gee, mummee, I wish'd I had a sister." Martha smiled. "Was she a nice little girl?" "I I don't know. She was just a little girl; only, somehow, I was tur'ble sorry for her. She come and stood and looked at me, 40 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD and her clothes was all raggety, and she was cryin'. And I says: 'Hullo, what's your name?' and she did n't answer, only she come and kissed my for'ead, and I waked up, and where she kissed me the sun was shinin* warm as anythin'." Martha stopped short in her operations. "Land sakes!" she said. "I forgot." "Forgot what?" demanded the little boy sharply. "Nothing, dear," said his mother; and he saw that she was tremulous. Things like that were always happening to Martha, and they never failed to startle and frighten her. If her seven-year-old boy dreamed things that came true, there might be some expla- nation, a reason she dared not contemplate, a fragile and holy secret forbidden under pen- alty, even to her mother love. She continued to bathe and dress the boy, for he was quite helpless from the hips downward. She lifted him with ease; she was a strong woman and the small frail body a feather's weight. In the kitchen she ar- ranged him carefully in a big chair, home- built and practical, padded and propped to IN A FARMHOUSE KITCHEN 41 save every possible strain, where he could choose to watch her about her household duties or contemplate the uneventful activ- ities of the farmyard. Sitting there in the window, little Charlie Thomas reminded you of an indolent angel. His shiny curls clustered and tangled about the soft oval of his face and blended with the translucent pallor of his cheeks. His eyes, big, blue, and questioning, sparkled with a sort of eager and searching intelligence that sought everything, absorbed everything, com- prehended everything. From his window, away off miles and miles beyond the fields and their bordering woods, he could see the mountains; and often he would study them, rising blue and mysterious, as if he were pen- etrating their wooded gulches or exploring their rugged sides. Sometimes Martha, see- ing him thus intent, would speak quickly of horses or windmills or new crullers, anything to bring him back to her side. She could not bear to see him thus afield, even in thought. "What do you want for breakfast, boy?" she asked. 42 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "A egg," said Charlie promptly. "Did n't my Clucky lay me one?" " We 11 ask the Boss," said Martha. "Here he comes." Sam, carrying the foamy milk pails, thrust open the door. "Hullo, there," he cried, "how 's the old man this mornin'?" "Did Clucky lay a egg?" demanded Charlie. "Betcher life she laid an egg," answered his father. "Two of 'em." "Aw, pops! They don't lay but one to a time; what you givin' us?" "Found two in her nest, just the same. How you 'count for that, Mr. Man, eh? Looky here." He extended a hand in which Charlie saw two large brown eggs with that unmistakable pinky bloom that marks them only when just laid. "Gee!" said Charlie. "Some other hen got in Clucky 's nest." "You better eat 'em both, to be on the safe side," suggested Martha. Sam looked at his wife and jerked a thumb toward the ceiling. "How 's the " IN A FARMHOUSE KITCHEN 43 Martha checked him with a gesture and a sidewise look toward Charlie, which said as plainly as words, "I haven't told him yet." She set the water on the stove to boil for Charlie's eggs, then went into the sitting room, from which her voice presently issued. "Sam, come and see if you can start this window-ketch for me." Sam, hastily drying his hands at the sink, clumped off, and the muffled sound of an im- parted confidence wafted out to Charlie. "Mum-mee," he called. "Mum-mee. You have n't fed the chickens yet." Mary Alice Brown dreamed a dream. She thought she lay in a big clean bed in a room with sloping walls. The sun came tumbling in at the open window, along with a draft of sweet cool air whose freshness was altogether novel. Outside this window she saw, drow- sily, the green and rustling leaves of trees; and curious twitterings, cheepings, and trills, which she took to be the calls and songs of birds, assailed her ear. She missed the rattle of wheels upon stone, the shouts of boys in the street, the clatter of feet upon stairs. 44 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Voices there were, but strange voices, very far off. This pleasant dream lasted a matter of seconds' before Mary Alice stirred in the bed ; whereupon the soreness of her body reminded her that she must wake up and be about her business of assistant laundress, nurse girl, and housekeeper. But the dream persisted. It was difficult for Mary Alice to piece two and two together in explanation of her as- tonishing position. The pains in her limbs when she tried to move about in the bed helped her, and all the details came gradually back. She sat up and hung her thin legs over the side of the bed. On a chair nearby she saw her clothes. In contrast with the clean cham- ber, their dirtiness and raggedness were pathetic and shameful. Mary Alice plucked at her own person and found herself gripping a pinch of white cotton nightgown, something less than a mile too big for her, but terrify- ingly clean. She knew she must resume her clothes, and loathed the idea. The least effort hurt her bitterly, but she hobbled across the room and somehow got IN A FARMHOUSE KITCHEN 45 into her own things. She worked with extreme caution of noise; she did not know just why. When she was dressed, she stood still and wondered what to do next. The idea of facing Sam Thomas appalled her. She re- membered the kindliness in Mrs. Thomas's motherly face when she had tucked her into bed last night; yet, somehow, she wondered if these people had not changed during the night, if they would not look scornfully upon her untidy little person and put her out with reproaches. Mary Alice at last mustered courage to seek the stairs, to tiptoe down; and when she found herself in the sitting room, she peered fearfully across at the open kitchen door. Then she advanced, not venturing to speak. She saw a little boy with amazing yellow hair sitting propped and padded and pil- lowed in a big chair. She saw a man and a woman attending upon the child with in- finite love and tenderness in their faces. It was all right and regular for a mother to love her baby; but Mary Alice had almost for- gotten that there was such a thing as fatherly 46 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD fondness. In the Devil's Truck Patch men quarreled violently with their wives and as- saulted their children with any convenient weapons. At the mission Sunday school Mary Alice had been told a great deal about fatherly affection, but in real life exemplifica- tion had been negligible. "Like as a father pitieth his children" seemed to her a kind of sarcasm. Little Charlie Thomas suddenly looked around and saw the intruder. His eyes wid- ened in surprise and question. "Oo, look!" he cried. "Look at the little girl she 's the one I dreamed about ; honest, she is." Sam and Martha turned and oddly enough, thought Mary Alice, greeted her very pleas- antly. "Hullo, kid," said Sam. "Sleep good?" "You poor young-one!" Martha said. "Come here and let me wash your face. I bet you're hungry." Mary Alice was not conscious of hunger. Now she submitted dumbly to the ablu- tionary processes of the cleanly Martha. All the while she kept her eyes fixed upon the IN A FARMHOUSE KITCHEN 47 little shiny-haired boy in the big chair by the window. "What's your name?" demanded Charlie. "Please come here and talk to me." Mary Alice went slowly up to the child's side. "Le* 's shake hands," he said. "I dreamed about you. What 's your name?" "Mary Alice Brown." " Where 'd you come from? I I like you, Mary Alice." "She come from Sheffield, Charlie-boy," put in Martha. "Wash Moore, the trolley con- ductor, brought her here . She got lost or some- thing. She slept upstairs all night. What do you s'pose made you dream about her?" "I don't know. I just wanted someone to come and see me, some little boy or girl. Will you stay here f'rever, Mary Alice?" "My mother wouldn't let me," said the little girl. "I got to go home right now." "Mr. Thomas is going to town with a load of things," said Martha. "How'd you like to ride in on the wagon with him? Anyhow, you're going to eat, soon's these eggs get boiled. Do you like 'em soft or hard?" 48 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "Mary Alice," Charlie shrilled, "please don't go 'way. I want you to stay and play with me. Can you read?" "Sure I can read. I been to school." "Can you read stories? Can you read books whole books? " "Some books, if the words ain't too big." Charlie looked from his father to his mother, as if in them lay the decision, quite without reference to Mary Alice's necessities. "Can't she stay? I like her so much, and she can read me stories." There was nothing teasing or whining in Charlie's eagerness, just a cheerful, hopeful insistence. "Could you " began Martha. "I have to help my mother," said the girl. "She's probably terrible worried about me. We got a baby, too, and he 's kind of sick. I could go home on the trolley, the same way I come. I got money." "Well, you might's well eat some break- fast. The next car don't go for an hour." Mary Alice went and sat by Charlie. He asked her a hundred questions, told her a hundred little things about his own life. Mary IN A FARMHOUSE KITCHEN 49 Alice was as frank as she felt she could be. But she hated to admit the facts that were all too plainly revealed by her dress and con- dition. Instinctively she knew the hurt she must give the boy if she told him too much truth about herself. Shrewd Martha Thomas saw it all as through a magnifying lens. "Dear Lord," she thought helplessly, "how can such things be right? Why do little chil- dren have to suffer and pay? Why don't grown-up folks settle their own accounts. Poor innocent babies, poor innocent babies!" From this one may see that somehow or other Martha Thomas was classing her Charlie with Mary Alice of the Sheffield slum. What was the common debt thus vicariously charged against her boy and the forlorn little girl? Sam, coming in from the barn, announced that he must postpone his wagon trip for another day. "But," he said, "I'll just change my clothes and take her," indicating the visitor, "home on the trolley. I'm goin' to find out somethin' about that kid. She ain't very talkative; but I'm darned good and sure, if 50 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD she'd tell us all we'd like to know, it would n't sound like no funny story. That young-one 's had some hard treatment." "I'm glad you're going," agreed his wife. "Why, do you know, her little body's just covered with bruises. Somebody 's been abus- ing her dreadfully. It 's a shame. She 's a real nice child, only she 's been kicked or whipped or something you find out all you can, dear. Maybe we can do something. And while you're in town, go to Stacey's and buy me some number sixty white spool cotton and four yards of blue drilling and a bottle of furniture pol " "Hold on, now, hold on, ma," said Sam. "Get a pencil and make me a menoranda. I can't rickollect all them things." "My father's the grandest feller," Charlie was telling Mary Alice. "I guess I 'm a awful lucky little boy. He made me this chair hisself. Look at them holes? There 's where the pegs go that hold my table on. The table 's for me to eat on and play games. Can you play checkers, Mary Alice? I bet I could beat you. I got a lot of soldiers and a cannin, too, and a in-the-house baseball game, with a IN A FARMHOUSE KITCHEN 51 spinnin' thing. You can get a home run with it. Did you ever see a reg'lar baseball game? Some day when I grow up and my legs gets well I'm goin' to play baseball. I'm goin' to be a big leg pitcher. God 's goin' to make me well, mummee says. I 'm gettin' better all the time. Feel." He flexed a tiny arm, seeking approval for an imagined biceps. " That 's pretty good, for a boy seven years old. My father says he never see nothin' like it. He says if I keep on I '11 be a reg'lar Her- culuss. Ever read about Herculuss? He was the strongest man that ever lived, and when- ever anybody had a big job that took a tur- rible strong feller to do it, they always sent for Herculuss. I guess he was 'most as strong as God. Do you live all the time in the city? " " 'Most all the time. I been in the country with the mission picnic sometimes." "You'd ought to live in the country, like me. It 's awful healthy. I 'm as healthy as anythin', just 'cause I live in the country. My father says God intends for people to stay in the country much as possible; he says the city 's full of fall-pits." 52 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "What?" "Pits, that people falls into. Did you ever fall into one?" 1 ' I never saw one, ' ' said Mary Alice. ' ' They can't be near where I live." " 'S funny," mused Charlie. " My father 'd oughter know. He knows everythin'." "Maybe he means the sewers. They got manholes, but they have covers; so nobody ever falls into 'em." "Maybe," assented the child. "But the Boss calls 'em fall-pits. You be careful, won't you, Mary Alice? I want you to come back and see me. I like you. Not hardly any childun comes to play with me. My mother she's so busy; but sometimes she stops and reads me a story. If you was here you could read me stories all the time. Read me one now, Mary Alice, before you go." Mary Alice read with a certain rapid contempt for all literary hurdles in the shape of polysyllables that made her delivery a thing of great charm. Both Sam and Martha, reading to Charlie, hesitated and stumbled at every big word. The result was halting and jerky. Charlie never complained; but the IN A FARMHOUSE KITCHEN 53 smoothness of Mary Alice's reading pleased and soothed him. She plowed along at great speed, tossing clouds of syllables to right and left like a rotary going through a snowdrift. She got there. This reckless dismemberment of the unintelligibles had scarcely any ob- scuring effect on the main thread of the story. Charlie listened almost breathlessly, and his blue eyes shone through a mist of ecstacy. Into the translucent pallor of his face crept a faint pink. He radiated joy. One slim hand crept out and took the almost equally slim but far more competent hand of his new friend. "With a low cadence of bliss," read Mary Alice, "Lady Isabel allowed her soldier lover to fold her close to his palpating breast, while Sir Egbert Glendenning, thus forever defeated in his villainous macherations, slunk, a beaten man, from the presence of his in- tended victums." "Gee!" breathed Charlie, "that's a peach of a story. Oo, Mary Alice, don't g' 'way. You read lovely." For a long time Charlie looked off down the road where his father and Mary Alice 54 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD had gone. Faintly he heard the diminishing rattle of the trolley car. Then he lay back, a little tired, his great blue eyes fixed on the far-away line of hills. "Poor child," thought Martha, driving a flock of imaginary dirt demons into a corner and ruthlessly throttling them with a soapy brush, "he's awful lonesome. I'd almost liked to had that young-one stay here. But, mercy sakes, was n't she dirty!" But to Charlie, brought up in the constantly renovated atmosphere of a spotless home, witnessing the daily assaults upon the kingdom of soot and smudge, Mary Alice's soiled dress had no repellent significance. Had he dis- liked Mary Alice, you could not have washed her clean enough to suit him. With a child's tolerance Charlie accepted Mary Alice in the democracy of the spirit, than which there is no other democracy. Now, as he gazed off across the fields and woods at the distant hills, a couple of large tears made little sticky-feeling paths down his cheeks. CHAPTER V AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE MARY ALICE'S recollection of a day of pros- perity was so vague that, for a long time, it had been quite inactive. The events of the last few hours had stirred it ever so little. She had had a good night's sleep in a clean cool bed; had breathed a quantity of air from the original package; had been fed liberally and wholesomely; had seen and been in a home that was a home. Better than all that, she had made the acquaintance of Charlie Thomas, who looked like an indolent angel and was only a crippled, crumpled little boy. Mary Alice had sup- posed that she was the most unlucky child in the world. She could not think of Charlie, anchored immovably to one spot by his in- firmity, and wish to change places with him. He was more unfortunate than she; yet he spoke very agreeably and confidently of God, 55 56 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD as if God were a sort of friend, like the doctor or his father, Sam Thomas. You can't plant bitterness in the heart of a child and expect it to thrive except through a combination of very unlikely circumstances. You must poison the soil with endless cruel- ties and disappointments and see that it is watered with floods of tears. You must harrow and irritate the garden of the childish mind with plowings of scorn and hate and humiliation and keep up the process for years upon years. By and by you may see a feeble, small sprout of resentment and rancor, which may become a stocky plant by the time the child has grown up. It is this kind of culti- vation that gives Satan more trouble than anything else; it takes so much patience. He can do it in adult soil with less effort. But just as the sprout is nicely started in the infant garden, along comes a ray of the sunshine of love and kindness; poof! away goes your miserable little seedling, like a candle flame snuffed out in a big wind. Then the work has all to be done over. It is a tough job. In the soil of Mary Alice's soul the acrid, AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 57 noisome shoot had withered. In its place, over night, a fairer vegetation had germinated. With the least attention" in the world, this new plant would flourish and blossom radiantly. Charlie Thomas had warmed this germ into life with a shake of his sunny head, a smile, and three spoken words: "I like you." Charlie did not know it yet ; he actually pitied Mary Alice, and Charlie's mother still thought her a glum little thing and unapproachably dirty. Mary Alice thought she would gladly sit forever and read about the loves of un- fortunate duchesses and the villainies of the alleged nobility of England, not because the stories fascinated her, but in order that she might watch Charlie's eager, questioning blue eyes. Now, sitting beside Sam Thomas on the city-bound trolley car, Mary Alice was all mixed up in her mind between the desire to see and comfort her mother, who would be frantic with anxiety, and the wish to go back to the quiet farm, where the chickens pecked busily about the side door and a crippled boy with a billion dollars' worth of gold curls sat and looked at the hills. Her faint recollec- 58 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD tion of a day of prosperity included a cottage and some grass. Nothing in it reminded her of scant feeding, whippings, and ever-present fear. She could not manage to make any connection between it and her father, the besotted Lem Brown of to-day. Lem Brown had been there, but he had not been besotted; or, more accurately, he was just beginning to become so. Mary Alice did not remember the day they moved away from the cottage with green grass. Her mother had told her that they might have been there to-day if her father had let liquor alone. Mrs. Brown was not sufficiently schooled in the psychology of alcoholism to speak more accurately and say "if liquor had let Lem alone." The sweet morning breeze that stirred her black hair as the trolley car waltzed dizzily along, the friendly presence of Sam, Charlie's father, broke through Mary Alice's reserve. Martha had helped her straighten out her hair, just before she left the farm, and had tied a piece of ribbon on it. This gave Mary Alice a faintly stirring consciousness of her own appearance; there is no tonic like it. AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 59 Sam Thomas did not ask direct, leading questions, as did Martha and Charlie. He ventured the opinion that Mary Alice's father would have gone to work by the time she reached home. Mary Alice said that her father did n't work. Sam did not immedi- ately cry "Oh" and seem shocked, so Mary Alice overlooked her negligence in having let slip something she had kept a secret from Charlie. "Then he '11 be real scared about you, won't he, with nothin' else to think of?" "I guess not very," replied the little girl. "But mother '11 be most crazy." " Where 'd you tell 'em you was goin' when you left home?" "Ma and the baby was asleep; they did n't know it. I was only goin' as far as the park. Then I got on the car for a little ride, and the car did n't come back." "Was n't your pa at home?" "Him? No!" Those two words told Sam Thomas a pro- logue, forty chapters, and an appendix, con- cerning the life history of Mary Alice Brown and her family. 60 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "Now listen, little girl," he said. "It's eight o'clock. The stores are openin' up. Your mother 's prob'ly been up two or three hours, but she ain't had time to get real alarmed about you yet. You could stay away all the forenoon without scarin' her much. I got them arrands to do for Marthy; you can come with me. It '11 take a few min- utes, and then we'll go to your house." "Oh, no, I couldn't. I got to go right home now." "Listen," said Sam, bending confidentially close. "I want you to help me pick out a present to take back to Charlie." "Oh, no," repeated Mary Alice, "I could n't. I got to go right " This was as far as she got ; the prospect was too alluring. By nine o'clock Mrs. Brown had begun to be genuinely alarmed about her daughter, whom she had missed upon waking at five. There were plenty of places where she might have gone, for numerous purposes; but there was no conceivable reason why she should stay so long. Mrs. Brown thrust her head from the window and peered anxiously down the narrow AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 61 alley. Once she left the baby alone while she trotted to the corner of Calvert Street and back. There was nothing to eat in the house or a penny of money. All the morning Mrs. Brown had labored with the soiled pieces in Mrs. Travers's washing, and these were now finished. When Mary Alice came in, she would trundle the load up Clipper Hill again, collect one dollar and seventy-five cents, and the Brown family would eat. Now the baby wailed dolefully for his milk. Over the wash- tubs Mrs. Brown had long since dried up the natural sources for his need. On the stairs came a thumping and pound- ing of feet, heralding the approach of at least two persons. Mrs. Brown straightened up and listened, nervously wiping her hands on her damp apron. Mary Alice came in, followed closely by a large ruddy man who did n't bother to take off his hat. Mary Alice's face was shining with a new light, her black eyes sparkled, and her black hair looked blacker than ever be- cause of the bow of red ribbon Mrs. Thomas had tied on it. The little girl's arms were full of bundles. 62 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Mrs. Brown stared at her daughter, then at the big escort. He too carried bundles. He wore a straw hat of a forgotten vintage, with a wide brim. The hat appeared several sizes too large and completely hid his ears. His clothes were faded, if still whole ; he wore a celluloid collar and a black necktie that did n't need to be tied, but was put on with a string and fastened with some sort of tongue and a concealed pin. The moment Sam Thomas entered Mrs. Brown's sudsy kitchen the woman knew he was from the country, for he possessed a pungent and bucolic aura compounded of many things. The barn, the dairy, and the field had all contributed to it. Dainty peo- ple turn up their noses at that kind of odor; maybe it is agreeable only by suggestion. To Mrs. Brown it brought back apple blos- soms and roses and morning glories ; it brought back a brook running through a hollow pas- ture, clumps of trees, new-cut hay, stone fences, and bushes hung with ripe raspberries ; it brought back the end of the lane, where the cows waited at night to be let into the tie-up ; it brought back big shiny pans of unskimmed AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 63 yellow milk, smoky rafters hung with braided- together ears of popcorn, rag rugs, chickens that you had to shoo out of the kitchen, the bleating of sheep on a hummocky hillside. It brought back the tears she had forgotten how to shed. All this was as instantaneous as the breath of odor-laden air that wafted across her face. She looked up into Sam Thomas's eyes and saw that they were very friendly. She saw something else, but she was not quite sure of it ; something that stirred her to the depths of her soul. It just could n't be. "Here I am, ma," said Mary Alice. "Was you scared?" "I was most scared to pieces, child. Good land, where 've you been?" "My name's Thomas, Sam Thomas," said the bucolic stranger. "I s'pose you're Mrs. Brown. This little girl come to my house last night, and we kept her 'til mornin'. I 'd brought her back sooner, but what with chores and errands and : " He stopped and looked hard at the woman. Then he blinked in a puzzled way and asked: "Say, am I mistakened or are you Lottie Dillingham, that married Lem Brown?" 64 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "That's just who I am," said Mrs. Brown. "I recognized you the minute you opened that door, Sam." "Gosh!" said Sam. He held out a large hand, about as soft and yielding as a molded brick. "This is a surprise, ain't it!" Mary Alice looked in bewilderment from her mother to her new friend and back again. Something besides whippings and skipped meals was beginning to happen in her life. This was all because of that supreme chas- tisement of the night before. Because, if it had not occurred, she would not have run away or got on a car that would n't come back to town. "God's goin' to make me well," little Charlie had said, the child who, with his shrunken legs and hopeless anchorage in one spot, was, she had thought, more unlucky than herself. If Charlie could regard God as a friend, in spite of suffering and fetters, it was plain that Charlie considered that God had done a great deal for him. That was why he expected Him with faith to do still more. Mary Alice began to think Hhat perhaps AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 6 God had not forgotten her. There might be something in that sparrow story after all. Maybe she had been a little hasty in deciding about God and His interest in her affairs. He was probably very busy and had a good many things on His mind. Mary Alice felt that she could afford to be tolerant; she was quite willing to meet God at least halfway. All this passed very hazily through the subcellar of Mary Alice's subconscious mind, a mind so very remote from her active thought that she did n't even know it was there. She was listening with her entire equipment of ears to the conversation between her mother and Sam Thomas; and she was helping get the breakfast. The baby sucked contentedly at a bottle of warm milk. Mrs. Brown said he was a good deal better. Mrs. Brown was not a reticent woman; that is, . if she were, all her instinct of self- repression was broken down by this unex- pected meeting with an old friend. She told Sam Thomas all the things that Mary Alice had been at pains to conceal. It was not quite edifying to hear her do so. Mary Alice did not understand the awful longing to tell 66 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD one's troubles that accumulates through years of silent suffering. Mrs. Brown had felt, in the early days when Lem began to go to pieces through drink, that she would bite out her tongue before it should publish her dis- appointment and humiliation. This secre- tiveness had persisted through the days of gathering poverty and shame. She had seen the gradual disintegration of a soul; perhaps, as she now realized, not a very choice soul, but still one that had been dear to her. She remembered the first time that drink, through her husband, had struck her an actual, phys- ical blow. If drink could do that, its deprav- ity knew no bottom. But she went on and on, with an occasional ray of false hope, when Lem would promise abstinence. It might last for a month or two, only to be snuffed out by a fresh lapse from sobriety. Finally there came no more such rays. When a woman marries, she rivets her fate to the fate of her husband. Let her be ever so beautiful, ever so strong, ever so clever, the wife is at her husband's mercy. He does as he does, and though she struggle to her strength's limit, though she cry aloud to the AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 67 stars for help, sinking he drags her down with him. Mrs. Brown had had a home and a baby girl, as much hers as Lem's. This home she had helped to make pretty and attractive. Mrs. Brown and her baby did not drink, of course. Lem lost job after job and became destitute. Nobody would keep Lem at work just because his wife was sober and industri- ous. Mrs. Brown's unexceptionable habits did not prevent the "building and loan" from foreclosing the mortgage. She and her children were paying a debt they had never incurred, suffering vengeance where no ven- geance was due. You can say if you like that it served Lem Brown right to lose his home ; he drank it up. But you can't say it served Mrs. Brown right to lose hers. You can say if you like that it served Lem right to be sent up, in the cold- est time of year, to work out a three months' sentence in a warm jail workshop, where the tasks were, after all, not unbearably hard and there were blankets at night and regular nourishment. But you can't say that it served Mrs. Brown right to bear a child in 68 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD an unheated room, with quite inadequate attention and not a penny at hand to pay for the nakedest necessaries of her situation. Little Dick had been thus born. Mary Alice Brown trudged off with the wagonload of laundry for Mrs. Travers. Some- thing had happened in her life. The rattle of the wagon wheels over the bricks was almost cheerful, and she undertook the long climb up Clipper Hill with courage. At home Sam Thomas and her mother were renewing old times; for before Mrs. Brown sent her on her errand, it transpired that her mother and this man were children together in the same country village. She wished she could stay and hear more. If there is one thing above all others fascinating to a child, it is listening to elderly discussion of the past. What was to come of it? She looked down a trifle complacently at her new dress of dark blue cloth with red trimmings. Sam had bought it for her, and the saleslady had assured her that it was the very acme of fashion for girls of her age or a little older. Below the new dress a stout pair of shoes came into alternate view. They were still AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 69 stiff and hurt villainously. Mary Alice did n't care. She hauled the heavy wagon up Clipper Hill and gloried in her aching feet. Halfway up she met a boy with red hair. "Hello, Mary Alice Brown," said the boy. All the joy went out of the little girl's heart. This was the boy who had helped her last night, the boy she had treated so cava- lierly, whose bounty she had spurned and later picked up from the gutter. She felt as if she had stolen it. "Hello, Mary Alice Brown," said Francis Willett. All resentment had apparently gone from him. He seized the wagon tongue. "Aren't you going to speak to me?" he inquired. "What you mad at?" "I ain't mad," said Mary Alice. Francis assumed the entire labor of hauling the wagon. "Pooh!" he said; "you don't call this heavy. Why, I could pull five times as much and never mind it a bit. I 'm a pretty strong feller, anyhow. Did you see how I fixed those boys last night? Gosh! I fixed 'em. They won't ever do that again, I bet." Mary Alice said nothing. He was so com- 70 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD placent, so toweringly egotistic. She tried vainly to pull a share of the load. "Oh, you leggo," said Francis. "I don't need any help. Say, how often do you come up this way? I'll tell you what I'll do. Every day you come up I'll try to be here and help you. I belong to the Galahad Knights. I guess I told you about 'em. We pledge ourselfs to help the poor and op- pressed oh, I don't mean you. You prob- ably aren't poor at all." Francis regarded this as readily tactful. "You don't look poor that's a pretty dress. Us Galahad Knights have got to assist maidens in dis- tress. You can be a maiden in distress, can't you?" "How much," asked Mary Alice, "does it cost to belong to your Galahad Knights?" "Oh, girls can't belong," said Francis. "How much does it cost?" persisted Mary Alice. "Twenty-five cents a year; but girls can't " "Could a little boy that lives out in the country, all by himself with his father and mother, on a farm, belong to it? He's a AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 71 cripple; he never moves out of his chair all day. Could he belong?" "Sure, if he's got twenty-five cents, he could." Mary Alice fished in the pocket of her new dress. She had forgotten, in the flash of her big idea, that she was beholden to this very boy for the coins her fingers touched. She could only see, as in a vision, the radiant face of Charlie Thomas, framed in its inval- uable border of gold. "Here," said Mary Alice. "His name is Charlie Thomas, and he lives in Hillside Falls." "I can remember," said Francis, pocketing the quarter. "I been there; the trolleys go there. Say, some day us fellows can all go out and see this Charlie, 'specially if he's a cripple. Some Saturday." The thought of half a dozen boys taking the trouble to go to call on little Charlie Thomas transported Mary Alice into a rap- turous heaven of gratitude. She began to like Francis Willett. " I '11 send him the litterchure," said Francis. "The what?" 72 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "The litterchure the d'rections and things, how to be a Galahad Knight. There 's a book of rules, and a pledge with a blank to sign your name and send in to the secertary. Then there 's another little book that tells the story of Sir Galahad and the Holy Grail. It's great. The twenty-five cents pays for it all and a year's membership." They came to the Travers house. "Is this where you were going?" asked Francis. "Why, that feller that tipped you over last night was Lutey Travers. Gee! If his mother knew, would n't he ketch it?" "Is he a Galahad Knight?" "No, he isn't. Say, what say we tell Mrs. Travers? She'll just fix him." "Is Galahad Knights tattle-tales?" asked Mary Alice. Francis Willett met her level gaze for a moment and suddenly felt his face go red. "You wouldn't make such a bad knight yourself, even if you are a girl," he said. Mary Alice returned with the dollar and seventy-five cents, to find her mother busied and excited. "We're goin' away," she said. "We're AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE 73 goin' to Hillside Falls for two weeks. Sam Mr. Thomas has invited us, the baby and you and me. He's gone ahead to tell his wife. Goodness knows what she'll say when she sees our whole family come pilin' in on her; but Mr. Thomas says it'll be all right. His wife is Martha Brushly. I knew her when I was a girl. Hurry, dear; get your things and put 'em in the valise. The car leaves City Park Square in fifteen minutes." "Who '11 do Mrs. Travers's wash?" asked Mary Alice. The little girl did not know that to her the doing of Mrs. Travers's washing was quite a secondary matter. In the deep sub- cellar of that subconscious mind of which she did not yet realize the possession, she was thinking of the long climb up Clipper Hill and the promise of the Galahad Knight to be there regularly to help her. "I'll drop her a line," said Mrs. Brown. "She can send her clothes to the domestic for a couple of weeks." Mary Alice began to plan. She would be at the farm when Charlie got his litterchure, and she could read him the story of Sir Gala- 74 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD had, whoever he might be. She hoped he would not be anything like that other Eng- lish knight, Sir Egbert Glendenning, of whose misdemeanors she had read that morning. She thought of the awakening, in the big clean bed in the room with the sloping walls. "Land sakes!" murmured Mrs. Brown. "The child's singin'. I haven't heard her sing for months." CHAPTER VI THE GALAHAD KNIGHTS LEM BROWN went to jail. On the day fol- lowing Mary Alice's beating he decided that what he had no money to buy he would have by theft. The details of his offense are of no importance. The term of his imprison- ment was fixed at three months. Mrs. Brown wept when she heard the news. It was always so. She never forgot the little cottage and green grass that had been as much hers as her husband's; she never forgot what her life had promised to be, or that in the beginning she had loved the man who had nullified and broken that promise. The quarter year of respite from her fear of bodily harm to her children or herself never could quite compensate her for the bitter thought that, however innocently, she and they shared his disgrace. 75 76 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Martha and Sam made their old friend thoroughly welcome. "It's a long time since we had company," said the Boss. "I wish you'd look at Charlie, will you?" The crippled child beamed with delight from dawn until bedtime. Dick, the Brown baby, took his first few steps during the fort- night spent on the farm. Wistfully Charlie watched him test his small wobbly legs, totter, and fall laughing in the soft grass under the apple trees, and clapped his thin hands to see the infant manfully repeat the attempt. "He's learnin' fast," Charlie would say. " I wonder if I '11 tumble around like that when I start to walk." He never let go of the faith that some day he would be well and strong and stand up- right on a pair of good sound legs like other folks. Sometimes he would wake in the morning all radiant with hope. "I dreamed I could walk," he would say. "I dreamed I was chasing a butterfly. Mary Alice held my hand; she was 'fraid I'd fall, but I did n't. I got away from her and I catched the butterfly, too." THE GALAHAD KNIGHTS 77 Then he would open his hand, as if half- expecting to find the imprisoned insect in his grasp. In a few days the rural delivery brought him a fat envelope. Mary Alice had told no one about the Galahad Knights. She hovered with the rest of the household about his chair to witness his breathless pleasure as he un- wound the string from the red buttons and spread the contents on the table Sam had ingeniously pegged across the chair arms. Into his face crept the faint pink flush of excitement. "Don't he look handsome!" whispered Martha, pinching Sam's arm. Then she cried softly, and Sam mumbled something about putting liniment on the bay horse's lame shoulder and clumped hastily off to the barn. Mary Alice read aloud the simplified story of Sir Galahad's adventures, contained in a small paper book among the other "litter- chure." When she had finished, Charlie sat a long time looking off at the blue hills. Then he said: "Read it again, Mary Alice. Ain't it 78 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD grand ! I bet that feller could licked old Her- culuss. And it says here 'at I can be one of them Galahad Knights. All I got to do is sign my name on this little paper. Got a pencil, Mary Alice?" Mary Alice felt that it was fitting to tell him how it had all come about. She related the knightly story of Francis Willett and the adventure of the upset washing. "Gee!" said Charlie. "I bet he's a fine feller, that Francis Willutt. When do you s'pose him and the other knights '11 come out to see me? Oh, Mary Alice, you was a awful good girl to tell him about me. I wish 'd you could be a knight, too. Why don't they let girls be knights, same as us fellers?" "I don't know," said Mary Alice. "I wish they would, too." Sam, standing nearby, chuckled. "Votes for women," he said. "The Boss is a funny feller," observed Charlie. "What 's he mean by that? " Mary Alice did n't quite know, either. "You're as good as any feller," asserted the loyal Charlie. "Le"s me and you purtend you 're a knight or a knightess. I 'm THE GALAHAD KNIGHTS 79 goin' to call you ' Sir Knight Mary Alice ' no, that don't sound very good." "Call her 'Lady Mary Alice,' dearie," suggested Martha. "It was swell, the way Francis -I mean Sir Francis licked the boy that bothered you," said Charlie. He clenched his small fist, crying: "You just wait, Lady Mary Alice. Some day you'll be in trouble, and I '11 come ridin' up on a white palfrey, or maybe a motorcycle, and save you. You'll see." On pleasant days, and most of the days were pleasant just then, the Boss carried Charlie, big chair and all, out under the apple trees. The chickens pecked about, scratching and making small, contented, throaty sounds. Clucky, Charlie's especial friend, would flop up and stand on the arm of his chair, staring with her beady eyes into his face. "She 's promisin' me a egg," said the boy. The biggest day of the Browns' visit at the Thomas farm was that on which Francis Willett and three other valiant knights came to see the new member. Francis's father drove them out from Sheffield in his car. Martha made ice cream. The boys Sir 80 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Toots Stacey, Sir Whacker Hodge, and Sir Mobey Baldwin gave the new member the right hand of fellowship with embarrassed gravity. They stood about awkwardly, ad- justed their neckties, and wondered how much hay was in the barn or where the cow lane led. At command of Sir Francis Willett they per- formed feats of strength, wrestled, ran races, and boxed fiercely for the benefit of Sir Charlie Thomas, whose blue eyes blazed with ec- stasy. He was one of them, a Sir Knight, member of a distinguished company. He became almost as complacent as Francis. Once more the lovely faint flush came in his small oval face. When it was over and Martha had carried him off to bed, she was afraid. " He 's so excited," she said. " I guess he'll be a long time goin' to sleep. I hope he don't take any harm from it." Sam Thomas was very solemn at bedtime. He sat moodily, examining his stockinged toes, which he curled thoughtfully. When he looked up, Martha saw that there were deep, haggard lines in his face, a great longing in his eyes. THE GALAHAD KNIGHTS 81 " My God, Marthy ! " he said. " He thinks he 's goin' to get well and walk and race and carry on as they did. He thinks he'll be like them big strong boys." The Boss bowed his head in his great rough hands; the strong shoulders shook terribly. "And it 's all my doin'," he moaned. "All my doin'. My poor little feller, my poor little boy! Your father did that to you." Martha, taking down her hair by the dresser, turned toward Sam. Just for a flash- ing instant there glowed in her eyes a small harsh light of resentment, of blame. She knew that what the Boss said was true. But she went and dropped on the bedside and threw an arm across his bent neck. "Don't, Sam dear, please don't," she said. " I can't bear it. It was an an accident. Don't blame yourself; it 's past and done and it can't be helped. I never blamed you, did I?" "Not a word, Marthy, never a whisper. I always wonder how you ' ve kept from hatin' me." "Hush, dear," said Martha. "You're makin' it up to him every day you live." 82 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "Makin' it up! If I only could, 'twould give him back his legs. That 's the only way, and Lord knows it 's forever too late, too late." He finished undressing, fixed the windows, and went dully to bed, where he lay far into the night without sleeping. On the way back to town Mr. Willett made inquiry. "Who did you say that black-eyed little girl was, Francis?" "That 's Mary Alice Brown." "She 's a quiet little thing and quite pretty. She 's your Young Lady of the Wash Wagon, eh?" "Yes, father." "I suppose her people are pretty poor. Do you think we could help them any? That seems to be the object of this Galahad busi- ness." Francis laughed. "I tried to give her half a dollar once; she got awful mad. I guess she 's proud." "She has brains," said Willett pere. " She 's spunky. Who 's her father? " "She never told me." THE GALAHAD KNIGHTS 83 "H'm! Mother takes in washing; little girl delivers the goods. Looks bad. Find out all you can about them, boy, and let me know. I like that little girl. Pity she does n't belong to Thomas. He 's a thrifty chap, seems pros- perous. How he worships that child of his! Charlie's lucky to have a good father like that." "Any boy 's lucky to have a good father," said Francis. He slipped a hand into that of Mr. Willett. "Find out where your mother buys her eggs and butter," said his father. CHAPTER VII A MATTER OF GRAVITY "MARY ALICE, you're gettin' fat," said Charlie Thomas. " What 'd I tell you 'bout the country? If you'd stay here long enough, you 'd get as healthy as me; would n't she, Boss?" "She would if lots of fresh milk and good air is worth anything," replied Sam. "Still, she 's got to get pretty husky 'fore she 's any- thing like you, old feller." The children had just come out into the orchard, and the young morning sun filtered down through the trees, dappling the still dewy ground with dancing patterns of gold. One sensed the hint of autumn. It was in the slant of sunbeams, in the odors of matur- ing vegetation, of ripening fruit. Some crys- talline quality of the air seemed to sharpen the sight, for everything visible took on dis- 84 A MATTER OF GRAVITY 85 tinctness of outline, and colors had a con- trasty vividness. "This is just about the bestest day I ever saw," began Charlie; then "Ooch!" " What 's the matter, Charlie? " asked Mary Alice. "I guess I'm not Sir Charlie," said the little boy, rubbing the top of his head rue- fully. "I guess I'm Sir Isaac." Mary Alice looked puzzled, and Charlie burst out laughing. "Didn't you never hear about that?" he cried. "Why, Sir Isaac Newton " "Was he a Galahad Knight?" asked Mary Alice. "I don't know. You mean 'cause he was a 'sir'? I don't think he lived quite that long ago; but anyway, he was awful smart. He discovered the law of gravity." "The law of what?" " Of gravity. Don't you know what the law of gravity is? The Boss says it's 'The higher they go, the harder they fall.' But he laughs when he says that, so I guess he 's sort of makin' fun of me. Mother read it to me out of a book." 86 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "But you said," began Mary Alice, "you said this Mr. Newton - " Well, I '11 tell you," Charlie went on, his eyes twinkling; "a apple fell on my head. Did n't you see it? That was what I hol- lered ' ooch' for. Well, that made me think of Sir Isaac Newton. He was an English feller. One day when he was sittin' under a tree a apple fell, plunk, right on his head; so he discovered the law of gravity." "I don't think that was very smart," said Mary Alice stubbornly. "I don't think that was any smarter than you. Anybody 'most can have an apple hit 'em on the head." "That is n't the point, Mary Alice," argued the little boy. "My mother says the' was prob'ly hundreds of people that apples fell on, or somethin' - - yes, thousands and thou- sands. But nobody had sense enough to see what it meant." "I guess it meant they had a lump on 'em; but say, Charlie-boy, I guess I understand you. The other day I heard somebody say a certain person ' would n't tumble if a safe fell on 'em.'" It was now Charlie's turn to look puzzled. A MATTER OF GRAVITY 87 " I sh'd think anybody would, though unless maybe it was old Herculuss." "Well," said Mary Alice, laughing, "that means 'understand.' It means it takes an awful lot to make some folks see a thing." "That's it, that's it," cried Charlie de- lightedly; "that's it exactly. A little apple fallin' out of a tree made Sir Isaac Newton see that there was a reason, and the reason was gravity. I got a nature book that splains all about it. Gravity is what makes things fall to the earth, and the center of gravity is the middle of the earth." Mary Alice was twelve and Charlie Thomas seven, but the girl marveled at so much erudi- tion. " My goodness, Charlie, you know an awful lot for a little boy," she said. "That 's some- thin' I never heard about." "Oh, well," said the little boy, "I guess I don't know 's much as you think. I know what my mummee tells me and what you read me out of books. I can't read nearly so good as you, Mary Alice. It 's just wonderful how you read all them big words as careless, like they was n't any harder 'n ' cat ' and 'dog.'" 88 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "But I 'm lots older than you." "I've had some 'vantages, though," said Charlie. " I get heaps of time to think. When the other boys and girls are runnin' around, hollerin' and playin', I 'm thinkin'." "Well, it's lucky you don't have to have somethin' fall on your head to start you thinkin', like that Newton feller," said Mary Alice, judicially. ' ' The' was a boy in my school last year that had a dollar watch, a second- hand one. Every once in a while it would stop. He 'd wind it and wind it, and it would n't run 'til he shook it real hard or thumped it against his leg. Then it would go pretty good. He said it never lost more'n an hour a day. Do you s'pose Mr. Newton's brains worked that way?" Charlie laughed, but looked puzzled. He knew just what he wanted to say, but he didn't know how to say it. "You're the funniest girl," he said. "I wish I could splain. Well, it 's this way. All the thoughts most of us think is old ones that other people have thought before. My father says so. He says the' was n't no trolley cars a hundred years ago. Now would n't A MATTER OF GRAVITY 89 that be dreadful just think, if the' was n't any cars you would n't ever have come to see me, or your mother or little Dicky, and I would n't been a Galahad Knight Well, the man that thought of the trolley car, he thought of somethin' nobody else had ever " "I wonder what hit him in the head," grinned Mary Alice. "I know," said Charlie, without a smile. "What? " Mary Alice was off her guard. "An idea!" Both children shrilled with laughter. "You're the greatest boy I ever saw," said Mary Alice. "Say, can you tell me something else? If this Sir Isaac Newton invented gravity, that makes things fall down, what made the apple fall before grav- ity was invented?" "Oh, Mary Alice, he did n't invent gravity; he discovered it. He just found out why it was that things had always been fallin' and always would, whenever they got a chance. He did n't invent anything. God invented gravity." "Oh," said Mary Alice. Of course she had been more than half in fun when she ques- 90 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD tioned Charlie. She loved to watch his ear- nest face, to note its sparkling animation when he talked. She hesitated to prolong the pres- ent discussion, however. Her idea of God was not particularly vivid, certainly not intimate. He undoubtedly did invent the law of gravitation, along with a great many other forces and processes which she under- stood no better. It was this larger work which she had supposed occupied His entire time, to the exclusion of such small matters as little girls whose fathers beat them or little boys with useless legs. Only lately had she begun to suspect that He really paid any attention to these lesser details. "That 's what makes me know my legs are goin' to get well," said the little boy. "Any- body that can do the things God does can fix up one little pair of legs; don't you think so?" "I I don't see why not," was about as far as Mary Alice cared to commit herself; and yet, somehow, she felt a curious, awaken- ing thrill. She had heard at the mission Sun- day school some assurance concerning the faith that could remove mountains. It did not A MATTER OF GRAVITY 91 come home to her, for the simple reason that she had no such engineering problem con- fronting her. A faith that would remove black-and-blue spots would have appealed to her as more practical. She looked at the little cripple and loved him, and decided that, with his affliction, he had something which people with all their arms and legs usually did not have; and it occurred to her that many of them might well exchange arms and legs for it. Mary Alice did not know it, but she was realizing that the thing which Charlie had that lots of people had not was consciousness of soul ownership. "What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?" How does one lose a soul? By not finding that one has it. Charlie Thomas expounded a high philos- ophy when he told the story of Sir Isaac Newton. And he did not quite "sense" the parallel in his own case, wherein his own affliction had played the part of the apple, although he said it did give him lots of time to "think." Mary Alice Brown was always getting into 92 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD these interesting discussions with Charlie, and in the few days of her acquaintance with him she was changing her outlook upon life. She had helped make the little boy a Galahad Knight ; that is, she had helped him crystallize some of his blessed ideals into something tangible or, let us say, she had given him a handle to grasp them by. And straightway this knight had extended to her the strong right hand of his knightly profession. She wondered vaguely just how this was happening. Then she saw that it happened to everybody who knew Charlie. It was some- thing more than merely "cheering up." In Charlie's life affairs were always going to be better than they were because God intended it. The world is said to be growing better all the time; but it wouldn't be unless a great many people believed it. There ap- peared to be very little of the "oh, well, it might be ever so much worse" in Charlie's philosophy, but rather the serene, undoubting confidence in Good. He was always looking ahead, with his bright eyes fixed on the mountains of Faith and Hope, just as he would sit and gaze off across country at the A MATTER OF GRAVITY 93 blue hills and say to himself: "Some day I'm goin' to climb up there." Francis Willett came out again, this time by himself. He arrived quite early in the morning and announced his intention of staying all day. The chauffeur set down a great basket of fruit by the side door before backing his car to the road. "I'll go home about five," said Francis. " I can come on the trolley if mother wants to use the car." "All right," the man agreed. "If I'm not here pretty near five, you'll know I'm not coming." He disappeared toward Sheffield in a big dust cloud. "Hullo, Sir Charlie," greeted Francis. "Here's some fruit for you. Hullo, Mary Alice. Oh, 'scuse me Lady Mary Alice, I meant." "Francis," said Mary Alice, "what's gravity?" "Gravity? Oh, gravity. Well, gravity is - is gravity is anything that 's solemn or or cross. F'r instance, when I don't know my geog'aphy lesson, the teacher looks at me with gravity." 94 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD He smiled complacently, as one who should say: "You see? You can't stick me." Mary Alice turned to Charlie. "It is n't, is it, Charlie?" she said. "But, Francis, the book said," rejoined Charlie, "that Sir Isaac Newton discovered it, and it was what made things fall." "Well," Francis said smiling, "when she looks at me that way, my spirits fall. How 's that?" "No, that is n't it," Charlie declared. "I don't seem to know anything about this Sir Isaac chap," said Francis. "What did he say gravity was?" "He said it was what makes things fall - what makes 'em heavy." "Well, I guess we can straighten that out, then, Charlie. The other day in a book I was reading it said the hero frowned heavily. Now if anybody frowned heavily my teacher did they 'd be looking with gravity, would n't they that is, if gravity makes things heavy." " Somebody must 'a* dropped a whole peck of apples on your head, Francis Willett," cried the little boy. "My land, but you do think just grand." A MATTER OF GRAVITY 95 The children passed most of the forenoon in the orchard, talking of this and that, viewing the increasingly successful efforts of little Dick Brown to walk, discussing the honors and duties of a Galahad Knight. Francis showed his companions some mar- velous feats of strength and agility, using a tree limb for a trapeze. In the midst of one of these demonstrations the limb broke and Francis landed on his shoulders in the dirt, with a thump that jarred him all over. "Gosh!" he cried, hopping about and holding his jaw with both hands. "Goodness, Francis," the children in- quired anxiously, "are you hurt, are you killed or anything?" "Bi' m' hung," he said. "You what?" "Bi' m' hung, bi' m' hung!" He contin- ued to hop about, groaning dolefully. Mary Alice looked at Charlie, whose face was alive with sympathy and distress. Then she went to Francis and put her hands on his arm. " Poor old Francis," she said; " I 'm so sorry. What was it you said? " 96 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "I hay I bi' my hung," mumbled the in- jured acrobat. He spat out a drop or two of blood. "Oh, I know," said Charlie. "He bit his tongue." "A' righ', I bi' m f hung." In another minute Francis regained the power of coherent speech. "It hurt terrible, I tell you. Didn't you ever bite your tongue? It 's awful." "I sh'd thought you'd broke your neck," said Mary Alice. "I was scared; my heart went right into my throat." "Pooh, that's nothing!" Francis waved a deprecating hand toward the tree. "That was n't high ; I could fall ten times as far as that and never hurt me: only I bit my tongue, that's all." "What do you s'pose made that old limb break, I'd like to know?" asked Mary Alice. "I know," cried Charlie. "What?" Francis asked. "It wasn't my " "Gravity," said Charlie, grinning. "Ho," jeered Francis good-humoredly, A MATTER OF GRAVITY 97 "think you're smart, don't you? Guess we better call you Sir Isaac after this, hey?" After dinner, when Charlie took his nap, Mary Alice and Francis wandered away from the house, along the cow lane, and through the pasture lot, until they came to the old mill road leading to the pond. Here stood an ancient, long-idle grist-mill. The log dam, its sloping upstream side thickly lined with mud and sawdust, held back the waters of a tiny pond, surfaced with the broad disks of lily pads. The water tinkled lazily through the leaky sluice gate, and the old mill seemed to sleep placidly among the alders. "This is awful pretty, don't you think so?" asked Mary Alice, as they stood at the end of the dam. "You bet it's pretty. Say, let's fish for shiners. Got a pin?" The boy produced a piece of string, cut a slim pole from a clump of yellow birches, caught a tiny grasshopper, and became at once a sportsman. The shiners were curious, but elusive. "Look out, Francis, you'll fall in," called Mary Alice; for her companion was creeping out along the dam. 98 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "This isn't dangerous. Come on. I'll let you fish. The shiners are bigger out here gracious, Mary Alice, here 's a tremendous big something. I bet it 's a trout. Come on out." But Mary Alice was timid. She stood on the bank and watched Francis interestedly. What a nice boy, she thought. He could do 'most anything; he was n't afraid. The old rotting planks along the top of the dam might crumble under foot and send him into the pond, but he went boldly on. It was fine to be so brave. Francis reached the far end of the dam, where the mill was built. The dam abutted upon a great square box of planking the flume. At the bottom of the flume the mill wheel was set. To start the mill, the miller released the wheel, which immediately began to spin under pressure of the great weight of water in the flume. Of course it had n't been done for years, and it was doubtful if rust and the debris of time had not by now so clogged the mechanism that it would no longer work. The water in the flume was about ten feet deep. A MATTER OF GRAVITY 99 Francis reached the flume, whose boxlike sides stood three or four feet higher than the dam. The boy drew himself up and sat com- fortably upon a loose plank which lay across the flume. "Come on over here, Mary Alice," he called. "I can see lots of fish. Oh, look, I got one " He jerked suddenly upon his pole, and something shiny fluttered in the air at the end of his line. But the rotten plank could not support so much excited, wriggling boy and gave way. Mary Alice saw Francis's heels go up, and then he disappeared suddenly into the big box. Mary Alice's heart gave a jump. She screamed, but that did no good. There was nobody to hear her. She could not run and bring help before Francis could drown. And she did not dare to go out on the treacherous old dam. One foolish word kept running through her head: "Gravity, gravity, grav- ity." Gravity had played Francis two tricks that day. Suddenly little Charlie Thomas's lovely oval face and big brave eyes floated into Mary 100 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Alice's mind. "Anybody that does the things God does can fix up a little pair of legs Mary Alice stepped out on the shaky plank- ing and began the passage of the dam. If she could get over to the flume, she could save the boy struggling in the water. Any- body who could do the things that God did could help her to avoid the holes and weaker places ; she thrilled with that idea and was no longer afraid. Francis's fishing pole had fallen upon the dam, alongside the flume box. Mary Alice picked it up; then she looked down into the flume, where it was so dark that her eyes, adjusted to the strong sunlight, at first re- fused to serve her. But she heard a cough and a splash. "Here I am, Francis," she called. She thrust the butt end of the fishing pole down into the gloom, through which now she dimly discerned a white face. Francis was a weak swimmer. His clothes and heavy shoes hampered him. The slippery sides of the flume box offered no sustaining hold. "Grab that," called Mary Alice. Francis A MATTER OF GRAVITY 101 grasped the fishing rod. "Now you won't drown." "I was was 'most ready to sink," choked Francis. "I swallowed a lot of water. I have n't any breath left ; I '11 be all right in a minute." He clung to the fishing pole, keeping only his head above water. Thus the water sus- tained most of his weight. "I could hold you like this a long time," said Mary Alice; "but who's goin' to pull you out? Besides, you '11 be froze." Francis's teeth were chattering already. "If I could get hold of your hand, I might pull myself up the side," he said. Mary Alice leaned far over and extended her right hand toward the boy, sliding it along the pole. Francis drew himself out of water and reached up until he caught her hand. The strain of his weight increased greatly as he lost the lift of the water. "Can you stand it?" he asked. "Come on," said the little girl, although the edge of the flume was already cutting cruelly, and her arm felt as if it would pull out. 1 ' Come on. " She gritted her teeth. Anybody 102 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD who could do the things God did could help a little girl keep her friend from drowning. " Come on, get your get your other other hand up there " Francis had now hold of both her arms, and the fishing pole had dropped into the water. It was that or nothing. As the boy pulled himself up, Mary Alice managed to seize his coat. His feet kicked and slipped upon the smooth flume sides; there was no toe hold, no sufficient crack or protruding nail yes, a bolt with a nut on it caught the sole of Fran- cis's shoe. This was about a foot under water. The boy put forth all his strength and pulled himself up until he could get a hand on the top edge of the flume wall. Mary Alice was sure her arms would part company with her shoulders. Now, relieved of that strain, she took a new grip on his wet coat and tugged sturdily as he drew himself up until he could hook his elbows over the edge. Then he threw a leg across the top plank, and she knew she had saved him. Both children were tucked away in bed on their return to the farmhouse, Francis because A MATTER OF GRAVITY 103 his clothes had to be dried, and Mary Alice because she was half -ill from fright and strain. "She's the bestest Galahad of us all the best in the world," cried Charlie. " My good- ness, was n't that just the bravest thing? I bet Mr. Willett will think Mary Alice is the splendidest girl!" He exhausted his available supply of superlatives and began again. His cheeks glowed with the high color of excite- ment. When Francis, wrapped in a big overcoat of Sam's, left at five, he called from his seat beside the chauffeur: "I've had the dandiest time to-day, and I've learned all about a very import'nt subject." "What's that?" asked Sam. "Not to go near old rotten mill dams?" "No," said Francis, "gravity!" Next morning, instead of being moved out into the orchard, Charlie asked that his chair be placed beside Mary Alice's bed; for the little girl was bruised and lame, and Martha insisted that a day in bed would do her good. Mrs. Brown took Dicky out to see the "moolies." 104 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "I wish'd I could think of somethin' to do to amuse you, Mary Alice," said Charlie. "I can't read good enough. I know! I'll draw you some pitchers. Mummee!" "Yes, dear?" "Can I have a pencil and paper? I want to amuse Mary Alice." "I guess you'll amuse her, all right," said Martha, producing the articles. "He draws just the cutest things, Mary Alice. Have n't you seen him do it yet? Well, you just watch." Charlie fell to work, his paper resting on the back of an old geography. "There," he said, "that's a cow." "Is it?" asked Mary Alice. " ' Course it is; you 've got it upside down." "Oh," said the invalid; "that's pretty good. Le's see you make a house, with a man and a dog goin' into it, with three strokes of your pencil." "Golly," said Charlie, "that's an old one; only I make him a soldier. That little crook makes the bay'net of his gun. Now I'll do you a engine." He went on, exemplifying his art to the A MATTER OF GRAVITY 105 great entertainment of his friend. Then he gave her a little sketch without comment. "Who's that?" "Why, good gracious, it's Francis Willett. It looks just like him; now do one of me." Charlie bent his brows and puckered his nose. He scrutinized the face on the pillow. "Turn to one side," he said. "I have to make 'em all profiles. Goodness, Mary Alice, your nose is awful straight, and just a little curve makes your lips. Now, is n't that pretty? You're a tumble pretty girl, I guess. I never noticed it 'til I came to draw you." Mary Alice took the sketch. "Do I look like that? Really? Oh, it's lovely. Oh, Charlie, how 'd you ever learn it? A little boy like you!" " I don't know, I just try it sometimes, when I feel like it. 'Most always I make 'em look awful nothin' like the folks at all. Then once in a while I get one that looks like this. I 'm practising quite a good deal ; but a cow's horns is awful hard to get put on to his head where they belong, and when I try to make a kitty, it always looks like a dog. I'm glad 106 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD you think this one of you is nice, and you can keep it to show how you looked when you were a little girl. Here 's me." He produced a hideous caricature of him- self, with prodigious ringlets, great staring eyes, and a wide mouth like a jack-o'-lantern. "The Boss says it looks exactly the way I do," he said. "Look at the curls. Le's take yours and mine and have 'em framed together." "Don't, Charlie," protested Mary Alice; "I think you're horrid. You can make a lovely picture of yourself, I believe. Do it, will you?" "No," said the little boy, "I'd rather do somethin' interesting like a duck or a a boy fallin' in the mill pond. See, Mary Alice, this is water, splashin'. And this is a fish." CHAPTER VIII THE RETURN OF LEM MRS. BROWN and the children went back to Sheffield on Sunday so that Monday morn- ing work could begin early. She went out to work three days a week and on the other three did washings at home. The Browns were vastly benefited by their visit at the farm. Plenty of good milk and fresh air had made a new baby of little Dick, but as he was now beginning to walk, it was more trouble to take care of him. Hitherto his mother had been able to leave him in charge of her neigh- bor in the tenement across the hall, but now the neighbor made sundry perfectly valid ex- cuses for declining his care. It was the end of summer and school would soon begin; for another week or two Mary Alice could stay at home while her mother went out. After that a decision must be made. Should Mary Alice forego further 107 108 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD schooling for economic reasons and either stay at home to enable Mrs. Brown to work out, or get a job herself so that her mother could remain at home, doing such work as she could at her own tubs? Mrs. Brown fought against the idea of tak- ing Mary Alice out of school. She thought of the day nursery for Dicky; but the day nursery was on the far side of the city from Calvert Street, and upon inquiry it proved to be taxed to capacity. The rent must be paid, Dicky must have milk. Mrs. Brown almost regretted the two weeks of idleness; she would have to work twice as hard to pay for them. One night Francis Willett met Mary Alice on Clipper Hill. As usual he took the wagon tongue from her hand and started to draw the load up the long slope. "I'm not comin' here any more," said Mary Alice. "Why not?" "Mrs. Travers is goin' to Europe." "That's right; so she is. I heard Lutey Travers braggin' about it. I hate braggin'. Galahad Knights don't " THE RETURN OF LEM 109 "And I've got a job; I'm goin' to work." "Doin' what?" "Bundle girl at Stacey's." "Oo, gee! You're goin' to work for Toots Stacey's dad? That 's swell. I 'd like to work in a store. I've got to go to a prep school and fit for college. It's awful. Well, of course it is n't so awful goin' to a prep school, but I'd heaps rather be in a store. How's Sir Charlie Thomas?" "I don't know. We came home the week after you boys was there." "Two weeks ago that was. Father's seen him since then." "Your father has?" "Sure. He drove out again to see Sam Thomas. He says Sam Thomas is a dandy feller. We 're goin' to take all our butter and eggs from him after this. But that ain't all. My dad says he's goin' to have Uncle Billy Jackson look at Charlie's legs. He is n't really my Uncle Billy he was father's col- lege room-mate, and now he 's a great doctor. My dad says Uncle Billy knows more about feet and legs and spines than anybody in the world he 's a specializer. When he gets 110 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD through with Charlie, I'm goin' to have him do somethin' to my legs, so I can run faster 'n any boy at school. I bet he can do it. If he can take legs that are n't any good at all, like Charlie's, and make 'em work all right, he ought to be able to make perfectly good legs like mine still better, don't you think?" Mary Alice answered something very in- coherent. Sudden tears blurred before her eyes. Suppose this great doctor should help Charlie? All the way up the hill she walked in silence by Francis Willett's side. "For goodness' sake, Mary Alice," the boy burst out, "why don't you talk? I never saw such a person as you. My father says you're the quietest young-one he ever saw. Sometimes I wonder if you're mad." '"Course I'm not mad," she denied. "What would I be mad about? I'm just thinkin'. I'm too busy thinkin' to talk, I guess. Gracious ! My thoughts are all mixed up and tumbly. It 's an awful job to get 'em straightened out. I'm so full of thoughts, if I ever do get 'em 'ranged right so I can talk, I '11 probably be like one of those funny guns you know, battlin' guns " THE RETURN OF LEM 111 "Gatlin' guns," said Francis with fine scorn; "Gatlin' guns. They're named after the man that made 'em, and they shoot about a thousand shots a minute." "Well, Gatlin' guns, then; that's the way with me. I'll talk a thousand words a min- ute. Francis." "What is it, Mary Alice?" "Would you do me a favor a real big favor?" "Bet I would. Did n't you save my life?" " Well, then, you can purtend I 'm a maiden in distress or somethin'. You'll be goin' to Stacey's to buy somethin' or do an errand for your mother once in a while, and I '11 be there every day, doin' up bundles. I don't know where I '11 be, but I wonder if you would come and see me just a minute, once in a while. You you been awful nice to to Char- lie Thomas. I never knew a boy just like you the boys in our neighborhood are nasty." "Oh, Mary Alice," said Francis, feeling the red creep into his face. He became suddenly very awkward. He lost all his swagger, all his complacence. "Oh, Mary Alice," he said, "you quit! I never did anythin*. Don't you 112 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD go makin' fun of me now. If you don't stop guying me, I won't come to see you at the store." They had turned into Mrs. Travers's side yard. Francis Willett suddenly remem- bered that he might be late to supper. He dropped the wagon tongue and dashed hur- riedly out of the gate and disappeared in the heavy shadows cast by the street arcs. Mary Alice collected her dollar and seventy-five cents and started down Clipper Hill with her empty, rattling wagon. "God's goin* to make me well," Charlie Thomas had said. Suppose no, it could n't happen. But Charlie was sure of it. And if it did, why, it would be because Mary Alice Brown had taken that terrible whipping at the hands of the sodden Lem. But for that, Mary Alice would never have seen Charlie or told Francis Willett to make him a Galahad Knight, and then Francis's father would not have God went about His tasks in a most ex- traordinary way. Mary Alice decided that it was quite useless to look too far for explana- tions. Better be like Charlie and believe THE RETURN OF LEM 113 that, somehow, the thing that you wanted to happen must happen. If it was necessary for Mary Alice to suffer pain, even broken bones, in order that Charlie Thomas might have a new pair of legs, the arrangement was entirely satisfactory to her. She would do it again, she would accept twice as much pun- ishment if it would do Charlie any good. Then it appeared quite plain that Charlie Thomas was not the only gainer. Had n't she made several new friends and discovered some old ones for her mother? She had a new dress, she was getting plump. There had been those two exquisitely happy weeks in the country. "I guess," she thought, "God's all right when He when He gets around to you." Mary Alice did not know that a great many people who are always making excuses for God, always trying to explain away the apparent discrepancies or contradictions in God's procedure, would have been deeply shocked to hear her "guess that God was all right" and would, no more than Mary Alice herself, have realized that she was perfectly reverent and entirely prayerful. 114 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Stacey's paid Mary Alice four dollars a week and set her up in a sort of lookout box back of the glove counter, where she inserted the purchases of customers in envelopes and manipulated one end of a pneumatic tube which completed the analogy between her perch and a small armed turret. The girl's pay and Mrs. Brown's earnings from her few laundry customers made the little family more comfortable than it had been for many months. Sam Thomas came to Sheffield two or three times a week and frequently went out of his way to see Mrs. Brown and little Dick. If thrifty, Sam was no plutocrat. He was trying to make a small farm pay and found that reinvestment of his profits kept him from accumulating any con- siderable surplus. A very bad year, an unex- pected loss by drought, fire, or disease would "be a serious matter. When he had spent the greater part of a ten-dollar bill on the Browns and kept the family for a fortnight at the farm, he had done about all he could afford. Yet he hardly ever called without bringing some small gift. Half a barrel of assorted vegetables, a little butter, some eggs; once THE RETURN OF LEM 115 Martha sent three pairs of knitted mittens, large, medium, and small. "The Thomases deserve luck, Mary Alice," said Mrs. Brown. "Some day something grand ought to happen to 'em. They're al- ways and forever thinkin' up somethin' to do for some one. I guess maybe the reason we're so poor is because we're selfish. Did you bring home the shinbone?" "M-hm. It cost ten cents a pound. It used to be eight." "I'll put it right on to stew. When it's done you can take a bowl of it in to Mrs. Bloomer. She's kind of ailin'. She says she misses Dicky so; but she just couldn't have him this fall, what wittuher rheumatism and him runnin' around and into everything. How 'd things go at the store?" Mary Alice had not told anybody about Francis Willett's doctor uncle. She dared not, for fear of disappointment. Francis said Uncle Billy Jackson was away in Europe and would n't be back until mid-winter. He did n't know whether his father had told Sam Thomas about Doctor Jackson; he rather thought not. 116 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Francis developed an extraordinary fancy for gloves. He needed a new pair nearly every week. He lost them, gave them away to "poor boys," wore them out, the dog tore them, they became soiled. Mrs. Willett mar- veled and Mr. Willett chuckled. He had seen Mary Alice Brown. She was a nice little girl; she had saved his boy's life; he approved of Francis's friendship for her and of the com- mon interests that drew them together. He wanted his boy to be both democratic and chivalrous. Francis was the apple of his eye. Highstrung, sensitive, sympathetic, brainy these were the descriptives he applied to the boy, and he was wonderfully proud of him. It made John Willett shudder when he first saw little Charlie Thomas, anchored to a chair, with his tangled treasure of hair and the unanswered question in his great blue eyes. What if his boy had been like that? What if anything should yet happen to crip- ple or maim him? John Willett had a soft heart wherever suffering was concerned. It pleased him to see his boy display signs of a similar tenderness. If the Galahad Knights THE RETURN OF LEM 117 was Francis's idea, John Willett's pocketbook was an essential of its success; for the "lit- terchure" and incidental expenses more than ate up the twenty-five cent fees. Willett was delighted to help ; for he was pretty well-to-do and prided himself that he had never been selfish with his money, from the first day he had ever earned a dollar. There was now but one cloud upon the im- mediate horizon of the Brown family. This cloud would grow bigger for the rest of the three months of Lem Brown's stay in the workhouse, and then goodness knew what would happen. Mrs. Brown and Mary Alice contemplated the possibilities with dread. Men are not reformed in jails. Lem would emerge sober, but with the determination to remedy that undesired condition at the first opportunity. He would have no job; even if he kept sober for a while, he would be a bur- den upon the family. That he should keep away from drink more than a very few days was inconceivable. The two-room tenement in the house off Calvert Street was almost cozy now. It was 118 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD a home, clean and warm. The Browns ate quite regularly; little Dick was fat and rosy. Always there was an atmosphere of good cheer and comfort. The thought gripped them: what would Lem Brown do to it all? Sam Thomas came as usual, and one day he broached the subject. "I hate to get per- sonal, Lottie," he said. "It ain't any of my business, p'r'aps; but I been wonderin' about Lem." Mrs. Brown looked up at him, but said nothing. There was nothing to say. "Why don't you move away from here, so he won't find you?" "He'd hunt for us 'til he did." "Maybe not. This is a pretty big town. You could go clear 'way over on the east side. Your rent would n't be no higher." "I know, I know," said Mrs. Brown. "But but " "But what?" "That isn't all, Sam." "I guess I don't quite understand you, Lottie." "I'm Lem Brown's wife!" THE RETURN OF LEM 119 "What you mean? You sure can't mean you're not willin' to leave him?" Mrs. Brown nodded. "Well, I'll be switched! You know what it means? You know what '11 happen to you and your children if that brute comes back to you? Why, I would n't hesitate a min- ute not a minute." Mrs. Brown maintained a stubborn silence. "Women's the queerest of all human be- in's," said Sam. "Why say, you don't for a minute think there's a chance of reformin' Lem, do you? You've tried that long enough, ain't you?" "He's my husband," said Lottie, hopelessly. "Your husband! Good Lord! Say, I'll tell you what you do. Go to the police and tell 'em your troubles and have Lem put under bonds to keep the peace. Then the first time he- "No, Sam; I could n't do that. You know I could n't." She went about her work absently, squeez- ing the sudsy water from a succession of white garments. Sam sat helplessly by, studying her face. He could remember when it had 120 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD been a mighty pretty face, too a good deal like little Mary Alice's; only Mary Alice Was n't so sparkling as her mother had been. Not much sparkle left now, poor thing! "Goldarn it!" said Sam, and arose. "I got to be goin'. Next time I come in I'll bring you a couple of cabbages. We got more 'n we need." He stumped off down the stairs. Mrs. Brown cried a little into her washtub. On the day of his release Lem Brown came home in mid-afternoon. As he turned into the alley off Calvert Street, a man stepped out of the grocery store on the opposite corner and took up a post across the alley from the Brown tenement, where he waited ten or fifteen minutes. "I guess it's time enough now," the man said to himself, and climbed the stairs. Mrs. Brown was occupied with her cus- tomary business when Lem came in. He was quite a different Lem from the dominant brute she had seen on that distressing night. She pitied him ; this was what Lem wanted. "Hullo, Lot," he said, seating himself near the tubs. "How you gettin' along?" THE RETURN OF LEM 121 "Hullo, Lem," she replied, and kept her eyes on her work. "Ain't you glad to see me?" "Of course. Have you had a hard time?" "Dretful; somethin' awful. Work, work, work, from mornin' 'til night, and half- starved all the time. That workhouse is a torture hole, if there ever was one." He was working up a fine case of self-pity. He had been very badly treated. Mrs. Brown noticed that he was clean, that his hair was trimmed, that he had on a new blue denim shirt and a halfway respectable- looking suit of clothes. The old flush had gone out of his face, which was now of a pasty pallor; his eyes, still bulbous and opaque, as if they were artificial and badly made, were free from congested red veins. His hands were quite white, and he was not in the least thin, but, on the contrary, looked very well fed. "I s'pose I got to go look for a job," said Lem. "I got to have a little carfare." Mrs. Brown looked up. "Do you mean that, Lem?" she asked. "Do you really want money for carfare? 122 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD How much do you want? Where are you going to look for a job?" The pale light of hope burned in her eyes. She would gladly give her husband money, if it would help him to find honest work, if he would keep away from liquor. Long years of experience seemed to have taught her noth- ing. This thing had happened, oh, so many times before. Lem had only to act repent- ant, renew his oft-ruptured promises, and he got what he wanted. He knew it; he was banking on it now. He drew a very long, woe-begone face. "It's night work," he said. "Over at the docks, stevedorin'. That's the hardest kind of work stowin' cargo in ships. But I s'pose I got to s'port my fam'ly. I always have managed to, except when I when I had one o' my slip-ups. But that ain't goin' to happen no more. I'm through. I'm a reformed man. All I want is three dollars to get me some overalls an' a dinner pail an' pay my fare to the docks. They're needin' men, and I can go right on to-night." "Wait a minute," said his wife. She went into the bedroom. Lem looked after her and treated himself to a wink. THE RETURN OF LEM 123 The door from the hall opened and a man stepped into the Brown kitchen. It was Sam Thomas. "Hullo, Lem Brown," he said. Lem looked up, startled. When a man has been in jail, one can't tell what may happen. He did not remember Sam nor return the greeting. "Don't you recollect me, Lem? I'm Sam Thomas. You and I used to " "Oh, yes, that 's right; I do remember you, Sam. You've changed a heap, though." Lem stretched out a flabby hand, but did not rise. "You been away, I hear," said Sam point- edly. " Y-yes, I been away. That 's right, I been away. I 'm back, though. I been away, but I'm back." "You're goin' away again, ain't you?" "What, me? Goin' away again? Oh, no. I ain't goin' away again. I 'm goin' to work. I got a job over at the docks. I was just tellin' Lottie I" He stopped, for his wife had come in. She held three one-dollar bills in her hand, which 124 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD she hastily thrust behind her, looking very guilty, as if Sam Thomas had caught her stealing the money. "Hullo, Lottie," said Sam. "I see Lena's back." "Yes," said Mrs. Brown. "He's got a job over at the docks. He 's goin' right over there now, aren't you, Lem?" "M-hm. I'm goin' right over there this afternoon after I get me some overalls and a dinner pail and " "And a half a dozen drinks of whisky," put in Sam Thomas coldly. "Oh, no, no, Sam. Certainly not," pro- tested Lem, "certainly not. I ain't had a drop for for some time." "Good reason why," said Sam. "And I'm all through with the stuff all through. Never again for me. No, sir. I 'm goin' to work. I got a good job, stevedorin' ; night work, you know, stowin' cargo in "You lie, Lem." "What's that?" Lem' s artificial-looking eyes stared with dull surprise at Sam. "You lie," persisted Sam. "You haven't got a job; they ain't loadin' no vessels over THE RETURN OF LEM 125 at the docks now; and they hardly ever work nights when they do. You're a liar, Lem; and if you take that woman's money, you 're a thief." "Aw, Sam," whined Lem. "So help me, I" "Somebody's goin' to help you, but he ain't goin' to help you to no drinks. And Lottie ain't goin' to help you to no money to help yourself to none, neither. Is that plain?" "But, Sam, I got to have some overalls if I go to work " "You'll git overalls all right, all right. You'll git somethin' else, too. Come on, now. We'll be on our way." "What d'you mean, Sam?" "I've got you a job, Lem. A good job a right swell job. You'll like it, Lem, 'cause I know you love hard work. And this job is sure hard work. You'll git up at four o'clock every mornin', rain or shine, and when bedtime comes, you '11 be so tired you won't think of a thing but your supper and the little old sack of corn husks you 're goin' to sleep on." 126 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "But, Sam, I'm not very strong I been sick" "This work I speak of ain't any harder 'n stevedorin'; it ain't any harder 'n what I been doin' every day for the last ten years. And you have n't been sick, and you 're a big, lazy, hog-fat liar, Lem Brown. You give me another word of your sass and I'll hand you the grandest whalin' you ever had in, your life. You need it you ' ve got it comin' to you. It 's a case of now or later. If you want it postponed, just stir your lazy stumps and march out o' here; if you'd prefer it now, I'll ask the lady to kindly step out- side. She might be annoyed by the sight of you gettin' licked." Sam shook a fist as big as a Chicago ham under the nose of the astonished and affrighted Lem. Then he turned to the wife, who had stood mutely and uncomprehend- ingly by. "Lottie, this big hulk of a husband of yours excuse me, but I 'm kind of stirred up this big piece of third-quality dogmeat has got to go to work, and I'm goin' to see that he does. I've been needin' help on the THE RETURN OF LEM 127 place for a long time. Lem won't make first- class help, but I ain't goin' to pay him much. When he does his work right, he '11 git plenty to eat and a good bed ; when he don't, I 'm goin' to hammer him black and blue. Not a cent of wages does he draw; but every little while I 'm goin' to put a few dollars in a sav- ings bank for you and the kids. If he can't be handled, I 'm goin' to have him sent back to jail ; and this time it '11 be the penitentiary, for assaultin' you and Mary Alice that night. "And listen, Lottie. Maybe he don't look it; but somehow I've got a suspicion that there may be the makin's of a man in that mis'able carcass yet. Anyhow, I'm goin' to undertake the job. So long, Lottie. See you next week. Come on, Lem." CHAPTER IX FOUND: A SOUL IT was too cold and stormy for little Charlie Thomas to be carried out of doors every day, but his mother never failed to bundle him up and open the window to give him a few breaths of fresh air. The snows banked themselves around the farmhouse. Day did n't come until after seven o'clock, and the Thomas family ate breakfast by lamp- light. Sam's lantern flickered and wavered across the drifts when he went to the barn, and when the faithful sun crawled lazily up over the furthest edge of its white coun- terpane, the dazzling reflections from all about were quite unbearable. Charlie sat in the window and watched the new hired man shovel deep canons in the snow. Everybody but Charlie disliked the new hired man. He was a surly, moody 128 FOUND: A SOUL 129 fellow, with hardly a word to say, and acted as if he were always ashamed of something. Charlie liked him for two reasons. First, the man was the father of Mary Alice, whom he loved deeply. Second, he was sorry for Lem. Lem, with his artificial-looking eyes and his down-drawn mouth corners, as if he were about to weep bitterly, was pitiful to Charlie. Somewhere in the rules of the Galahad Knights it said that every knight must pity and protect the weak and helpless. Nothing was said about protecting the spineless, but Charlie did not realize the exact nature of Lem's complaint. "The reason you don't like Lem," said Charlie, "is because you don't like him." "Gosh!" chuckled the Boss. "That's a deep remark. I s'pose if we liked him, now, we'd like him first rate." "You could like him all right if you wanted to," insisted the little boy. "What's he ever done to you, I want to know?" "He ain't never done nothin' to me; it's what he done to oh, well, boy, you might not understand. We '11 give the critter a fair chance, you can bet on that." 130 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD In fact, Sam felt that he had given Lem more than a fair chance. At this time of year it was hard to get the equivalent of the man's food out of his labor. Sam kept him on the farm for the sake of Mrs. Brown and the children; he had made a bargain. He had a hard time with Lem at first, for Lem made up his mind not to work. A spare wagon spoke, a thick-ended cowhide boot, and the threat of a penitentiary term combined effectively, however, to drive him into harness. The only time Lem ever showed signs of cheerfulness was meal-time. He ate enormously and had sense enough to know that he was getting food infinitely more palatable than jail fare. He slept in a com- fortable, if unheated, room over the shed, where he was provided with a good bed and plenty of quilts. Once he ran away. Sam traced him to town, found him already half -drunk on what whisky he could whine for, and barely saved him from being locked up in jail. It may have been brutal medicine, but the thrashing that Sam awarded him for his truancy laid him up in bed for two days. The Boss despaired FOUND: A SOUL 131 of ever doing better with him than to keep him out of mischief for the greater part of the time. Anyhow, he would force him to work and help support his family. Occasionally Mrs. Brown, Mary Alice, and little Dick came out for Sunday dinner. At such times Lem was encouraged to "slick up" and sit down with the family. At first he refused; but at length he allowed himself to be persuaded Martha was never quite sure how and a stranger would not have known, by casual observation, that Lem was not in the entire good graces of all present. But he had very little to say. "I want you to understand, Lem," Sam would explain, "that I ain't got the least grudge against you, though you may think I act like I had. I 'm goin' to treat you just as good as you'll let me. You used to be a pretty good feller, Lem, when we was boys. I ain't the one to blame you not needlessly, anyway. The point is, you have n't got spine enough to come back yourself. I 'm watchin' you like a cat watches a mouse, and as fast as I find you can be trusted, I'm goin' to trust you. If I see you're helpin' to fight 132 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD this battle, it'll be shoulder to shoulder in- stead of master and man. If there 's a spark of manhood left in you well, everybody knows what a good blow '11 do to a spark." Sam chuckled; the joke was coarse and harsh. But he knew his man. Here was oc- casion for no delicate measures, he thought. Kid gloves would be entirely out of place. Perhaps Sam's method of treatment was not wholly reliable. He was conscientious in administering it, however. It was a case of kill or cure, he reasoned. He knew what Lem was fighting, and he knew what sort of strength he would require to win. He did not believe that Lem had that strength, either in quantity or quality, to make one feeble step upward without something even more radical than help by which he meant coercion. Sam would have laughed scornfully if anyone had told him that love could help in the case of Lem Brown. In the first place, who in the dickens was going to love him? Well, there was his wife; she'd loved him once, and look at the influence she had had over him! Love? Gosh! A section of stove wood FOUND: A SOUL 133 But Sam forgot or overlooked something, just as most people do. You don't give a woodchopper a surgeon's lancet to fell a tree. In other words, the right tools must be used by the right workman. A good black- smith would have a hard time making a split- bamboo fishing-rod. Love is like steel; you can make a crowbar or a watch-spring of it. Sam's brand of love was so much of the crowbar dimension that he thought it was just plain iron. But he did n't hate Lem Brown ; and every time he wagged a fist under Lem's terrified and retir- ing chin Sam had, 'way down deep in his heart, a tenderness toward Lottie and Mary Alice and little Dick, of which his fierceness was a reversed expression. Sam's attitude toward Lem at this time was like a photographer's negative, which shows black where both sub- ject and reproduction are white. But let us see how another workman achieved results. You can catch a forty- pound salmon with a codfish line; but your skillful fisherman will use an eight-ounce rod and a piece of silk gossamer a spider might have spun, and make a very artistic job of it. 134 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Little Charlie Thomas liked Lem Brown. He did not know why Lem was working for his father on the farm instead of in the city, where he could be with his family; but the explanation satisfied him. Lem was needed to help the Boss. To Charlie, too, it was an advantage that he was unaware of Lem's depravity. He saw in him only a sort of woe-begone, sad-eyed hulk of a man, working incessantly at tasks that called for a lot of brute strength. Brute strength and physical prowess delighted Charlie. Hercules and Sir Galahad shared about equally his regard, with a shade in favor of Sir Galahad, in spite of his father's cordial endorsement of Hercules. Lem was as powerful as an ox. In the early winter, with the first sledding, Sam began to haul stones for the foundation of his new creamery. Charlie watched Lem juggle the great rocks, and his eyes sparkled with in- tense admiration. "Gee, Lem!" said he, when the big laborer came in for his dinner. "Ain't you just the strongest feller. I been watchin' you all the forenoon." FOUND: A SOUL 135 Lem grunted and filled his mouth with corned beef. "You 'd oughter be a Galahad Knight." "How's that?" asked Lem, looking up. "What kind o' night 's that?" "A a kind of a soldier, that 's always doin* somethin' for other folks that 's weaker 'n him. You'd have lots of chances, 'cause most everybody 's weaker 'n you." "Yes, I am pretty strong," agreed Lem. It was the first sign of self-respect he had shown since he had been with the Thomases. "I'm a Galahad Knight," said Charlie. "Of course I ain't so strong as I'm goin' to be. But I 'm gettin' stronger. Come here and feel." Lem looked foolish, but put out a large paw and gingerly tested Charlie's imaginary biceps, which he flexed with great vigor. "The Boss says I'm a reg'lar Herculuss." "I don't know what a herc'luss is," said Lem; "but you sure are a strong little feller." Then Lem smiled. Nobody on the Thomas place had ever seen Lem Brown smile from the day Sam had brought him there, snarling and scowling. Lem's smile was really a 136 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD creditable thing. It spread slowly across his heavy countenance and lighted it up with the genial glow of a jack-o'-lantern. There was actually some warmth in the large, popping china eyes. Somehow Lem's teeth had pre- served their soundness. Numerous small, forgotten wrinkles radiated from the corners of his mouth, and by that smile the entire character of the man's face was redeemed and made wholesome. "Ain't you a comical little cuss!" said Lem. Martha came in from the shed, with a comforter tied around her face. Lem looked up, sobered instantly, reached for his cap, and scrambled out, like a boy caught stealing apples. "What was you saying to that critter, dearie?" asked Martha. "Oh, I was just havin' a little er con conversation with him," said Charlie, lick- ing his lips pleasantly at the taste of the big word. "Lem's a awful nice feller, mummee. I was tellin' him he 'd oughter be a Galahad." "Heaven help us," murmured Mrs. Thomas. "Such a boy as you are, Charlie!" "Lem's so tumble solemn," said the child, FOUND: A SOUL 137 nodding his golden head vehemently. "I was cheerin' him up. Ain't it funny, he 's a great big strong man, and I'm a little boy. He 's stronger 'n most anybody a million times stronger 'n me; but just 'cause I'm a Galahad Knight I can help him and make him feel real good. He's awful pleasant, Lem is." Something had told Charlie that the big laborer, with all his physical power, was at bottom a weakling. It filled all the child's circumscribed world with a warming satis- faction to feel this benevolent advantage. He resolved to make the most of it, and went about the task with the subtle instincts of a diplomat. One day Charlie had been reading to Lem from his Galahad book. The man had found out, by cautious experiment, that his friendliness for Charlie did not entail the ill- favor of Sam and Martha. So he now very boldly and confidently pulled his chair along- side the little boy and allowed the pleasant intimacy to grow unchecked. "How'd you ever get a-hold of all that about them knights and things?" he asked. 138 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "Why, didn't I tell you?" cried Charlie. "It was Mary Alice." "Mary Alice!" "Sure, your little girl, Mary Alice. Only she 's quite a big little girl. I love Mary Alice. Ain't you just proud of her? She 's my bestest friend, next to the Boss and mummee. It was this way." And Charlie went at length into the story of how his "bestest friend" had had him made a Galahad Knight. With all the neces- sary circumlocutions, the recital took a long half-hour. Charlie was quite breathless when he finished. "So that 's all there is to it," he concluded. "Only Mary Alice can't be a Galahad Knight, 'cause it 's in the rules that only us fellers can be one. But she 's ' Lady Mary Alice' whenever she comes to see me; and wit ye well, Sir Lem, lovelier lady hath never trod this earth. So there, now." Lem looked at the little boy, his china eyes popping. Martha came and stood over the pair. "Now, Charlie-boy," she warned, "don't you get all tired out." FOUND: A SOUL 139 Lem got lumberingly to his feet. " Oh, my gosh ! " he said. "Oh, good gosh ! What a kid!" He did a queer and presumptuous thing. With a leathery paw he reached out and patted Charlie's golden head. "Ain't you the comicalest kid, though!" he said, and turned toward the door. The Boss stood there, eyeing Lem, and in his face the hulk that had been a man saw something far different from the usual sternness. The Boss did not give ground to let Lem pass out; instead, he said: "Put her there, Lem! By jinks, I don't know but you're human, after all," and gripped Lem's hand as one man to another. Lem Brown stalked across the yard to the drag and began to pile off the big rocks. He worked as if he liked it, even when the jagged edges bruised and cut the leather of his blunt fingers. "Good gosh!" he muttered to himself. Down inside of his being something was waking up. It was what we call a soul. Lem Brown had begun his fight. CHAPTER X JOHN WILLETT MODEL CITIZEN JOHN WILLETT, of Sheffield, made no pa- rade of personal virtue; yet he was, if you be- lieved his neighbors, a good man. At the banks, in the church, in the homes of his friends, his reputation was secure. Scrupu- lous to a penny, generous to a fault, an able business man, folks pointed him out and nom- inated him for a life membership in the Salt of the Earth Club. He was always giving, yet he definitely declined to be called phil- anthropic. He hated the word "charity," yet he was above all things charitable. His heart was so tender that it sometimes hurt him. John Willett had gone through life in the belief that you never miss what you give in a good cause. To frequent appeals he replied: "Help yourself! There's plenty more where that came from!" 140 JOHN WILLETT MODEL CITIZEN 141 This would have been a dangerous slogan for anyone who possessed in a smaller degree the faculty for money-making. You've seen people like him. Without apparent superior brilliancy, without any emphasized shrewd- ness, they acquire and accumulate. People slave and save, practice every art of economy and every device of business craft, and yet fall far short of the success of men like John Willett. He never drove hard bargains, never squeezed a dollar, never haggled. He would occasionally say: "My dear sir, if you want to get something, you've got to give some- thing." A character like that of John Willett col- lects friends and followers and supporters as a poppy collects bees. Rich and poor, good and bad, all had a good word to say for him. He never could see any use in having ene- mies, when it was so much easier and pleas- anter to have friends. This picture of John Willett is in no way flattering. You will find it difficult to limn him more accurately. And he is by no means an isolated figure, for his prototype is to be found wherever men are human. 142 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Willett was an ideal family man. His friends said it was too bad he had only one child, since he passionately loved all children and was such a model father. You can see the sort of instincts he had, when you are told that as soon as he became acquainted with Sam Thomas he wanted to help him, not through charity, but in a prac- tical way. He became his customer, buying from him the Willett supplies of dairy prod- ucts. Little Charlie Thomas stirred his ten- derness and prompted him to arrange for his old friend, Billy Jackson, the great specialist, to see the child. If Jackson undertook the case, Thomas would be allowed to think he was paying the physician for his services, and any difference between his customary large fee and the amount Thomas could afford would come out of Willett's pocket. Sam Thomas could thus profit by Willett's assist- ance and still hold to his own self-respect. He thought his wealthy friend the finest in the world. Willett's interests were diverse. Without following any specialized line of business, he had acquired shares in a score of enterprises. JOHN WILLETT MODEL CITIZEN 143 Somebody wanted to start a factory. Wil- lett's name heading the stock subscription list was an almost certain earnest of success. Willett owned docks and warehouses to-day, where yesterday he had owned water-front mud banks. He owned the choicest build- ing lots in the city, where he had originally bought rough land in dismal locations, dec- orated with nanny-goats and tomato cans. He owned tenement houses and business prop- erty standing in districts to which wise heads had prophesied that business and population would never extend. Thus he was a power in Sheffield; and with- out being at all active in politics, his influ- ence was critically valuable. Without holding a public office or going into a caucus or mak- ing a political speech longer or more elo- quent than the four words, "I'm voting for Smith/' John Willett, through his personal popularity and reputation for business suc- cess as well as business integrity, was the biggest man in Sheffield. A pretty valuable and useful citizen, to be sure; any city must be fortunate which possesses a John Willett. It was a foregone conclusion that John 144 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Willett would use the utmost discretion in picking out a preparatory school for Francis. He studied catalogues and wrote letters all summer, and not until a fortnight before the beginning of term time did he make up his mind. For his beautiful boy he required a school- ing among the sons of an aristocracy, not alone of wealth, but of breeding. Francis must be surrounded by influences that would continue the shaping of his manhood as John himself had endeavored to shape it at home. In Francis's school must be democracy and sympathy Shd dignity, spiritual ideals as well as academic standards. Willett did not ex- pect all the boys at his son's school to be models of propriety, but he did passionately desire that Francis should learn to distinguish between the fine and the unworthy and to choose wisely both his intimates and his way of life. He wanted a school whose policy would build the boy a backbone of his own rather than furnish him with a cut-to-meas- ure character. When he had finally made his choice, he was sure that, if in all his life he had done one thing painstakingly and thor- oughly, this was it. JOHN WILLETT MODEL CITIZEN 145 Men like John Willett, highheaded and highstrung, nervously magnetic, big hearted as well as big brained, are capable of all- absorbing loves; and this man's love for Francis was so tender that he told himself he had but to match his love with a wise judgment in ordering the years preparatory to his son's manhood in order to achieve greatly. Francis had always responded ea- gerly to his father's affection; John Willett had reaped richly in the respect and admira- tion that alone can repay such a love as his. "Francis, old man," he said, on the day before the boy would start for school, "you and father have been good pals, have n't we?" "The best ever," replied Francis with en- thusiasm. "Remember it," went on John Willett. "And remember that no matter what a man does in the world, no matter what success he may achieve, it is nothing compared with his pride in a fine son. You are a fine son, my boy, a fine son. I could trust you any- where to do the right thing, could n't I?" "Yes sirree, you could, dad!" 146 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "Well, then, boy, you are going away where you will have a lot of chances to choose be- tween right and wrong. You won't have mother or me any more to run to and ask: ' Shall I do this? ' or ' May I do that? ' Some- times you will not feel like putting your prob- lems up to your masters. You will have to decide for yourself. Do you realize it? " " I '11 try to, sir." The boy was quite grave. "Then perhaps it will help you to draw a little picture in your mind of mother and me, with you standing by us asking our consent or advice. In this little picture ask your question; then try to imagine how we should answer it. See what the expression of our faces tells you; decide just what the most likely thing will be for us to say. Is n't that a good way?" "Bully, sir; great!" "You have, I guess, compared me with other fathers of your acquaintance, and your mother with other mothers. In our home we have always tried to hold the atmosphere of mutual respect and confidence and good fellowship. Do you see what I mean? " "Lutey Travers's father and mother fight JOHN WILLETT MODEL CITIZEN 147 like anything," said Francis. "And some- times Mr. Travers gets gets " "Exactly. It is not very nice, is it? Or very nice, perhaps, to refer to it. But this is my point, little son. All my life I have been what men call a 'good fellow.' People like me and trust me and come to me with their troubles. Do I sound as if I were er bragging?" '"Course you don't, pop." "Well, I don't mean to. I only want you to understand that in order to be a good fel- low I have not found it necessary to do a lot of things that well, like what you say Mr. Travers does." "Oh, dad, you are n't that kind of a man one bit. Why " "So you see, you can say to yourself whenever you have to decide what to do or what not to do: 'My father has set me a good example. My mother is as good as gold.'" " I '11 always try to do like you, pop ; honest, I will." "You will grow up and be a bigger man and a better man than your father, dear lit- 148 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD tie boy. I expect it of you. I am going to be so proud of you " Francis threw his arms suddenly about his father's neck. Sobbing a little, he hugged him close and patted the bearded cheek, which, oddly enough, he found a little moist. Thus John Willett did his duty by his son. And when next day he stood on the station platform and saw Francis's white handker- chief flutter from the rear door of the dimin- ishing train, he turned to his wife and said: "The makings of a fine, clean man, dearest; thank God for him and pray God to make him all you and I have planned." CHAPTER XI THE GIRLS IN THE "GLOVES" MARY ALICE BROWN, working happily ten hours a day in her little armed turret at Stacey's, missed the occasional calls of the Galahad Knight. He was the nicest boy, she thought. He had come to the store to say good-by to her. Imagine any other boy who lived on Clipper Hill doing a thing like that! Francis was n't a bit stuck up. The sales- girls liked him, too, and good-naturedly chaffed her about her "gentleman friend." When his jovial round face with its thatch of red hair bobbed into sight down the crowded aisle, they would vie gigglingly for the priv- ilege of waiting on him. It was delicious to greet him with: "Hello, Francis!" and to have him reply: "Hello, Sadie; hello, Grace, hello, Minnie! How 's trade?" "Goodness, girls," one would cry, "look at 149 150 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD the style of him! He's got a dandy new suit. Ain't it swell! Your ma sure does dress you elegant, Francis." "Aw, quit," Francis would say, blushing. "I picked this out myself. What do you think I am, a baby?" "You're an old darlin', that's what you are. You want another pair of them gray suedes? Here s some dreams just your size. Try 'em on?" They did their best to spoil him; he was the son of the biggest man in Sheffield. They wondered at his friendship for the demure little bundle girl. "Who's this Charlie you and Francis Wil- lett's always talkin' about, Mary Alice?" they would query. "What's the matter with him, is he sick? What, can't walk? Poor lit- tle feller! Le's go out and see him some Sunday, girls. Could we, Mary Alice?" They did it, too. Martha made ice cream again, and Charlie had a heavenly afternoon. The girls bubbled and gurgled and exclaimed over his lovely golden hair and his shining blue eyes. "Mary Alice told me all about you," said THE GIRLS IN THE "GLOVES" 151 Charlie. "You're Grace, and you're Sadie, and you 're Minnie." Mary Alice had introduced them as Miss Corrigan and Miss Tifft and Miss Sternheim. "How 'd you know, dear?" they chorused. "Mary Alice, she 'scribed you. She says you know another friend o' mine, too. He's Francis Willett." "You bet we do ; he 's Mary Alice's steady ! " Charlie looked puzzled. Mary Alice blushed. "Cut it out, Min," warned Grace. "What 's he know about steadies? Don't you mind Minnie, Charlie. She's a terrible old tease. Francis comes to see us all; we just dote on him. And he buys heaps of gloves." "It must be dandy to work in a great big store," said Charlie. "I'll be in to see you some day myself. God 's goin' to fix my legs so I can walk good as anybody ; ain't he, Mary Alice? Ain't he, mummee?" "We hope so, dear," Martha replied. The girls exchanged glances. This utter frank- ness and confidence upset them and for a moment rendered them tongue-tied. "Ain't it just a swell day?" put in Minnie. 152 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "The car ride out here's grand, Mrs. Thomas. I think you've got just the dearest place. All my life I've wished I lived on a farm, where I could get fresh milk and and sau- sages and pineapples and things." The other girls tittered. They said they had to be getting back before dark. "Come to see us, won't you, Mrs. Thomas?" invited Grace. "Next Tuesday we 're going to have a sale ; there '11 be some special bargains in dogskins and three-but- ton - "Hush, for goodness' sake, Grace!" It was Minnie's turn to admonish. "What you come out here for, to sell goods? It's Sun- day, you big goose. Good-by, Charlie. Can we come again? " "Yes, ma'am!''' cried Charlie. "It'd give us the greates* pleasure, would n't it, mum- mee? I wish the Boss was here and Lem. They've gone up to the north pasture lookin' for our Teddy he 's the new bossy calf and he's got lost." Martha sniffed a little in reminiscence of the three vivacious shop girls. "Such clothes," she sputtered. "Good- THE GIRLS IN THE "GLOVES" 153 ness! I never saw the beat of it. Nippin' along on them little pick-ed shoes, and lookin' so pert in them cocked-over bonnets they call hats. I call 'em a right fresh lot." "Oh, mummee," said Charlie, "I think they're awful nice. Golly! One of 'em had hair just the color of mine, and blue eyes, too. Is my eyes as pretty as hers? That was Minnie. And that red-cheeked one, Grace. She looked at me so hard, just as if she wanted to come and whisper somethin' to me. But I guess Sadie is 'bout the prettiest of all, 'cause she wears those pink dangly things in her ears. Christmas I 'm goin' to give Mary Alice some just like 'em. They are nice ladies, now, aren't they, mummee?" "Charlie-boy," said Martha, "anything you like 'd be nice, even if 'twas burdock tea." "But burdock tea isn't nice, and Minnie and Grace and Sadie are nice. Bussides, I 'm a Galahad ; and Galahads always sticks up for damsels. So I'm not goin' to let you say mean things about any damsel; specially a friend of Mary Alice's." Going back to town on the trolley car, Minnie suddenly turned to Mary Alice. 154 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD " Who'd Charlie mean by the Boss and Lem? I guess the Boss is his father; but who's Lem?" Mary Alice choked on nothing, clutched her seat, and opened her mouth to answer. Just as surely as she lived, she meant to say: 11 He 's my father." But it would n't come out. She tried three times; no use. Then she said: "Lem? Oh, Lem. Why he's Mr. Thomas's hired man." It did not salve Mary Alice's conscience to reflect that she had told the exact truth. She lay awake that night trying to square things with herself. If Lem had been on hand during the visit, he would, if introduced at all, have been presented as Mary Alice's father. Then the fact would have been accepted and explained in as commonplace a fashion as possible. What made her stick, then, at confessing him to her friends? Was she ashamed to have her father a hired farm hand? Goodness, Mary Alice, are n't we getting up in the world! She knew well enough, because Sam Thomas had told her mother and her mother had told her, that Lem had begun to fight for the captaincy of his own THE GIRLS IN THE "GLOVES" 155 soul. And she, his daughter, had denied him. She did n't love him, that would be too much to ask. But she, as much as any, owed him a fair chance. Before her, in the dark, floated the face of an indolent, injured angel, framed in a bil- lowing border of shining, priceless gold, and the eyes were very sad and surprised and accusing. Mary Alice hid her face in the pillow and promised herself and Charlie that she would tell the girls in the morning who Lem really was. So she went to sleep, quite easy in her mind. But you know you can't, somehow, stand up in a sort of pulpit, like an armed fortress, above everybody's head, and shout down that your father is a farmer's hired man. It would be absurd. Mary Alice postponed the revela- tion indefinitely. You must remember that Mary Alice was, after all, only a little girl, less than thirteen years old. One day the floorwalker brought Mary Alice a letter. It was addressed in pencil, and all the "a's" were very round, and the loop of the "1" rather liberal. The lower part of the "B" was smaller than the second- 156 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD story part, and the punctuation not unorigi- nal. Aside from these minor details, it was a good, shipshape letter. "Oh, Mary Alice's got a letter," cried the girls. "Who's it from, honey? Francis, I bet a cooky. You'll let me read it, won't you, Mary Alice? See if he says anything about me in it. Does he send us his love?" Mary Alice would n't open the letter, but tucked it in her apron pocket, and the girls pouted and said she was a mean old thing. The forenoon went haltingly. Up in the girls' rest room, at the lunch hour, Mary Alice stole off in a corner and eagerly slit the envelope with a hairpin. This is what she read: SAINT MICHAEL'S SCHOOL LAKE VALLEY DEAR MARY ALICE Well here I am at last in a prep school. It is a dandy place and there are most 2 hundred fel- lows here and we are all going to the same college, the universty of . The studies are awful hard English and french and Germain and lating and Greek and math which is a new kind of arithmetic in a book called Johann's Elementry Algebra so Johann must have been the inventor of it I should thought he could think of some- THE GIRLS IN THE "GLOVES" 157 thing more interesting to invent like perpectual motion Then we have gym and that is fun and football and track and a debating club I am J4 back on the jr. football team Well that is all about the school there is a campus and about twenty buildings and a special house for the president Well I thought I would write you Mary Alice about a very particuliar matter on account of it is so near Christmas I have a swell idea First chance you get you go to the Art department of your store and pick out a nice drawing outfit I thought of it in our drawing class how it was just the thing to give Charlie Thomas it would amuse him I can just imajine him sitting there poor fellow He and I are fellow Galahads so I want to be remembered to him and you must have a share in it We will give it to him together Put a card on it from Lady Mary Alice and Sir Francis Willett greetings brother Knight I guess it will tickle him I would not bother you but I wont be home Christmas I am invited to Walrus Farquhar's house for the holidays and mother and father say I can go so that is all From your devoted sir Knight F. WILLETT P. S. Father says Uncle Billy Jackson is coming home right after New Year Second P. S. I forgot You can have them charge the drawing outfit to father CHAPTER XII THE BESTEST CHRISTMAS CHRISTMAS at the Thomas farm was al- ways Charlie's day. This year he was a year older and a year wiser. Somewhere in the course of twelve months Charlie had discovered, consciously, the thing that can make every one of three hundred and sixty- five days a Christmas. Perhaps it had been between the covers of his beloved "Story of Sir Galahad" on that first day Mary Alice had read it to him. Oh, how many times they had read it together since, and how many times he had read it by himself! Charlie had learned a great deal about reading since Mary Alice came. Firmly implanted in the boyish heart was the love of the Christmas mystery the thrill of being surprised, the ecstasy of view- ing the surprise and pleasure of another at the novelty or munificence of one's gift. The 158 THE BESTEST CHRISTMAS 159 joy of being one's own Santa Claus had soft- ened the disappointment of parting with the Santa Claus of tradition. Christmas at the farm had meant a little love feast, with three to partake. Now it meant something more the open door of hospitality, the sharing of one's blessings. Charlie, with Martha's help, sent out his invitations. Will you please come to our party on Christmas night ? We are going to have a Tree and a Turkey. It weighs seventeen pounds. Commences at six o'clock. Very respectfully yours, CHARLES B. THOMAS. The list of guests comprised Mr. Lem Brown, Mrs. Lem Brown, Miss Mary Alice Brown, Master Richard Brown, Mr. John Willett, and Mrs. John Willett. Charlie insisted that each invitation be mailed in a separate envelope. Sam and Martha had. some misgivings about the Willetts. "I would n't know what to do to entertain them swells," said Martha. "Still, if Charlie wants 'em, I '11 do my best. Mr. Willett 's fine; I wouldn't mind him so much. But 160 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Mrs. Willett 's different. She 'd embarrass me to pieces." "Oh, I don't know," said Sam, trying to be encouraging. "The day she drove out with him she was right pleasant, I thought. I guess she ain't so set up. Everybody says the Willetts are real democratic folks; be- sides, what 's the matter with us, I 'd like to know? We 're 's good 's them; Willett was poorer 'n I am once." Yet it was with distinct relief that the Thomases read Mrs. Willett's gracious and cordial answer to Charlie's invitation. They were to spend Christmas with Mrs. Willett's people. If Francis were to be at home, it would be different; he would have been de- lighted. She regretted very much, and so forth and so on. "Thank goodness," said Martha. "Then it'll be just us and the Browns." Sam gave Charlie five dollars to shop with, and the little boy, very deprecating and apologetic, declined to take anyone but Mary Alice into his confidence regarding his purchases. "She works in the store," he explained. THE BESTEST CHRISTMAS 161 "She can buy all the things perfec'ly con- venient." He and Mary Alice spent a long and happy two hours, gold touching black, while they planned and discussed and wrote and scratched out and wrote again. Afterward Charlie, weary but glowing, leaned back and gazed out across the snow-covered fields at his friends the mountains, now delicately pink in the afternoon sun. " Mary Alice is a great help to me," he told his mother at bedtime. " She 's got the beau- tifullest ideas, and she 's so kind of of practical, too." The Christmas season never came and went without its heartache for Sam and Martha. Every year they caught themselves peering across the future for the time when Christmas might be different. To Martha the unus- ual festivities of this Christmas emphasized the recurrent pang. "Oh, Sam," she said, "I don't know's I can bear it. What if if - - " "Don't, Martha, don't," begged her hus- band. "I know jest how you feel. But le's cheer up all we can. Le's make the most of 162 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD it. It'll be be somethin' to look back on when - Oh, what ' s the use borryin' trouble, old girl? He 's as well as he was last year, ain't he? Better, a whole lot better. What you and I need is a little o' the boy's own faith. He 's got the right idea. We 'd all be better off; ain't I right?" "Yes, Sam, you're right. I ought to be ashamed o' myself." And so the great night finally came. As modern Christmases go, the weather and the amount of snow were quite up to specifi- cations. We get to thinking that the old- fashioned white Christmas is growing scarce, like brick ovens and real Provincial-period furniture. We have become used to see- ing the thermometer around forty and rain falling in torrents, or, at best, gray, iron ground insufficiently clothed with rusted leaves. But the weather man this year had perhaps fallen to dreaming of his boyhood days in the country, and becoming quite sentimental a little "soft in the head" he had turned just the right valves and pulled the proper levers so that, wonder of wonders, THE BESTEST CHRISTMAS 163 the fine, clean snow lay in gentle billowing drifts, sparkling in the rays of a whacking big moon, and the air bit and tingled. Oh, it was some Christmas! In the sitting-room the table was all set. The bright coals in the heater glowed through the squares of mica, and on its top apples in a pan sputtered and sizzled, rilling the room with a sugary odor. "Don't light the lamp just yet, mummee," said Charlie. "I can't see out the window if you do." So he sat looking down the snowy road, all patched and shadow barred in the slant moon- light. To Martha it seemed as if her boy, there in the pale glow from the window, were surrounded and glorified by the soft aura from his golden head. She went into the kitchen and basted the turkey, which crackled and popped in its own savoriness. Came the far, thin clanging of a gong. The Sheffield trolley, approaching the end of the line, slid into view with shining rectangles of light, rocking and dipping. Then it stopped, and Charlie knew that passengers were step- ping down into the snow. In five minutes 164 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Mary Alice and Mrs. Brown and baby Dick would cover the distance to the house. Mary Alice would be hauling her brother tucked up warmly in a soap box nailed on a fifty- cent sled. Out in the kitchen rose the Boss's voice, loud and hearty. "Hullo, there, Lem, old scout! All dolled up! Say, you've got a nosebleed, ain't ye? Gosh, no! It's that red necktie. You sure scare't me. How long ye be'n home? I did n't see ye drive into the yard. Bring a paper? Shucks, I forgot. 'Course they ain't no eve- nin' papers on a holiday. Set down. Well, go 'long in 'f you 'd rather. He 's watchin' out down the road for the folks." Lem had been to town that afternoon, alone. Sam had let him take the horse and sleigh. So far in the matter of trusting his hired man he had not heretofore gone. It was, to Sam's way of thinking, the supreme test. If Lem could, on this day of all others, run the gauntlet of bright and beckoning win- dows, dodging the sinister hospitality that, despite the gentler influences, can turn Christ- mas into a milestone of bitterness and regret, and return to the farm clear-eyed and clean- THE BESTEST CHRISTMAS 165 breathed, Sam would feel that a great measure of success had been won. Nobody but Sam knew with what misgivings he had permitted the experiment. To Lem, least of all, had he voiced the faintest distrust. Lem knew. Heavy, sluggish, stoical, Lem was no fool. He was just a big, hulking boy, placed on his honor. To Sam the safe return of Lem marked this as the great Christmas of Christmases. He had made a man out of little more than the dust of the road. He wondered, in all intended reverence, if the Creator did n't feel something of the same warm exultation when He saw clean-limbed young Adam rise and salute his Maker. There might be presents and presents, books, bicycles, and bullion, but Sam's gift was greater than all; he had given back to manhood a foundered soul. "Hullo, Charlie-boy," said Lem. He pulled a chair close and sat down by the little boy in the dusk. "How 're you feelin'?" "Great," said Charlie. "F'r goodness' sakes, Lem, wherever have you been all afternoon?" "Sheffield." 166 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "What for? The stores are n't open. You could n't buy anythin'." "That 's all right; I had a putty good time, all the same." "Tell me, Lem." "Give a guess." "To see your folks?" Lem wagged his head. "Ice-cream parlor?" "Nope." Charlie thought hard; then he laughed triumphantly. "Aw, gosh, Lem! I know! A pitcher show." "Kee-ra;//" cried Lem. "It was a bird, too. Seen a reg'lar rip-snorter, five reels. Name of it was 'The Panther's Eye.' It was a bird!" "Oh, Lem, I wisht I could see a pitcher show. Ne' mind. I will pretty soon. I had a dream last night; it was another one about me bein' well. It's comin' true, too. God 's got some kinder plan. I don't know what it is, but I bet it's goin' to work. Say, Lem, tell me 'bout that tiger-eye pitcher show." THE BESTEST CHRISTMAS 167 "Ain't got time," said Lem, hurriedly ris- ing. " Look who 's comin'." The Brown family was arriving, a sil- houetted parade crunching up the side drive. Lem tramped out and Charlie saw him, bare- headed and coatless, meet the arrivals mid- way to the door. He kissed Mrs. Brown and Mary Alice and picked up his son from the soap box. "Lem's changed a tumble lot," thought Charlie. "I wonder what was the matter with him when he first come here. He seemed so cross and glum 'th everybody but me. I wonder why he went to a pitcher show 'stead of to see his folks. Kind of funny he would n't have took Mary Alice to it, seems to me." The Browns stamped in, laughing their greetings to Martha and Sam. Little Dick, who had been asleep, waked up and howled hungrily until his mother could get him tucked away in Martha's bed with a warm bottle. The lamps were brought into the sitting-room, and Charlie gave radiant wel- come all around. Martha trotted in with the seventeen-pound turkey, Mrs. Brown and 168 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Mary Alice helped with the balance of the "fixin's," and the celebration was on. Even with such an unusually delightful host as Charlie, the Thomases' Christmas dinner was not essentially unlike other con- temporary affairs of the same kind. Every- body ate too much, and talked and laughed and joked and ate some more. Little Dick finished his bottle and was brought out to sit in a borrowed high chair and test some new dental equipment on a colossal drumstick. Likewise, when dinner was over and all that painfully padded company settled back helplessly in groaning chairs, the disclosure of the Christmas tree, whose balsamy odor had been stealing out from behind a vast white curtain in the corner to mingle with and enrich the other appropriate aromas of the occasion, was accomplished in quite the orthodox manner. Lem and Sam, arising with groanings, lit the candles. Everybody made a suitable exclamation of awe. Charlie was satisfied. His Christmas party was a success. The distribution of presents evoked loud protestations of gratitude. Charlie was transported. THE BESTEST CHRISTMAS 169 "'S the bestest Christmas I ever had," he said, again and again. And then three things happened that sud- denly lifted this Christmas out of the cate- gory of common or garden Christmases and set it up, apart and distinct, just as its own turkey jutted mountainously up out of the foothills of surrounding vegetables. A loud volley of startling explosions in the yard made everybody jump; wheels ground squeakily upon hard-packed snow. A dark bulk with glaring dragon eyes slid past the window and stopped. Let the ab- sence of jingling, jangling sleigh bells cause no disappointment. You can't have every detail of an old-fashioned Christmas in these roaring times. Sam went to the side door, parleyed in muffled tones, cried, "Thanks; good night," and returned with a great flattish packing case. The dark bulk in the yard backed, snorting and grunting to the road, swung about, and was off down its own projected path of light toward Sheffield. Sam and Lem strewed the sitting-room carpet with excelsior and paper and strings until Martha was quite put out at the muss. 170 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "For goodness* sake, what's all them tools and things?" demanded the Boss. "Gosh, ma! This big board 'd be first rate to roll your butter on . What ' s them little duflicker s ? Look at the lead pencils." "I know, I know," cried Charlie ecstati- cally. " It 's a reg'lar drawrin' outfit. Who do you s'pose ' "Here's some kind o' note," said Lem, picking up one of the planks which had been wrenched from the top of the case. It says: 'S-i-r Sir Ker-night Charles B. Thomas.' Rip 'er open, chummy; who's she from?" Charlie read : "To Sir Knight Charles Brushly Thomas, from a few of his mul-mul-titood-i-nous ad-mirin' friends. "MR. AND MRS. JOHN WILLETT FRANCIS WILLETT GRACE CORRIGAN SARAH V. TIFFT MINNIE MADELINE STERNHEIM MARY ALICE BROWN " "Oh, dear," cried Charlie, looking up with shining, pathetic eyes. "I never invited the girls to my party." "Don't you fret, Charlie-boy," comforted THE BESTEST CHRISTMAS 171 Mary Alice. "They couldn't have come. They all went out of town for Christmas." Everybody looked expectantly at Mary Alice. An explanation was wanted. "It was Francis's idea," she said. "First he wanted that him and me he and I should give it to you; then the girls heard about it, and they were just crazy to help. I went to Mr. Willett's office I had to be- cause for a reason and at first he said he and Mrs. Willett would do it all. But I told him the girls would be so disappointed, and we fixed it this way. I been so nervous, for fear it would n't come. Mr. Willett said he 'd have it sent out, but I was afraid - Is n't it a dandy? It's better 'n any Stacey's had in their whole art department. Mr. Willett sent 'way to New York for it." This was a long speech for Mary Alice. She blushed and retired into the shadows. "You lazy critters, clean up this mess," said Martha. Lem went out with a big armful of rubbish, while. Sam followed with the empty case. Charlie sat fingering the shiny instruments, his eyes glistening with happiness. 172 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "He's got a real talent," Martha was al- ways insisting. Sam returned to the sitting-room alone. There was a deal of puzzling over the exact utilities of the various articles in the outfit. Somebody looked up; it was Mrs. Brown. "What's become o' Lem?" she queried. Just then the kitchen door swung open and Lem, quite red in the face, replied: "Here I be." He was pushing before him a big and commodious wheel-chair. "That's what I wanted to go to town fur," he said. "I wrote in and had it saved out for me; a friend picked it out. He's a storekeeper. When I come home, I druv around the back way so 's 't nobuddy'd see me. Whaddayou think of 'er, chummy?" Of late Sam had been allowing Lem a lit- tle money, in the interest of clothes and self-respect. He wanted to see what Lem would do with it. This was a part of his "treatment" in the process of reclamation. Now Sam felt a queer, lumpy -discomfort in the neighborhood of his Adam's apple, as if that member were trying violently to climb out through his mouth. He blinked. Just then the door swung open and Lem, quite red in the face, replied: "Here I be." He was pushing before him a big and commodious wheel-chair. "That's what I wanted to go to town for" THE BESTEST CHRISTMAS 173 Scrutiny showed, Sam that Lem had on the same humble suit of clothes which he had worn on the day he quit jail. He had on the same blue cotton shirt, with its limp collar. It dawned upon the Boss that all the clothes Lem had bought consisted of a necktie of hot red, elaborately etched by machinery with floral decorations as modest as the wall-paper in a country hotel. Lem's soul had waked up, indeed! Be- hind the popping, expressionless china eyes dwelt sentiment, tenderness, human sym- pathy. Lem had gone humbly without a penny of his own for four months, and then with his first few dollars he had bought a two-bit necktie for himself, and this princely offering to lay upon the altar of affection. "Oh, Lem, how could you?" Martha said, blowing her nose. "Lookut this," said Lem, spinning the chair about like a top. "That there little trailin' wheel is swiveled, see? And this kind of a hoop thing on both wheels is to grab with your hands, so 's 't you can push 'er 'round and steer 'er any place you want to go. It works just as easy don't take no effort at all." 174 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD He looked about, proud as a boy; then he suddenly picked up Charlie, cushions and all, and deposited him gently in the new chair. Charlie was speechless, gazing from one face to another in a blissful daze. "Makes that other old home-made thing look like thirty cents, don't it?" said Sam. "No it don't, no it don't," cried the little boy. ' 'S no such a thing. I ain't never goin' back on my old chair. You come 'ere, Boss; come 'ere, Lem." The two great fellows went and stood awk- wardly by the little boy. He reached up and laid a hand on the coat of each, clutching both with the grip of a great affection. "Lem understands, don't you, Lem? You don't 'xpect me to go back on my old chair, do you, Lem?" "You bet I don't, Charlie. If you'd rather have it, I 11 take this new rat trap and "No you won't. I'm goin' to keep 'em both, long's I live, even when I get so I can walk good as anybody. Maybe I 11 use the new one more, to get used to travelin' around. But I 'm goin' to sit some in the Boss's every day. It's awful comf 'table. Besides, lots of THE BESTEST CHRISTMAS 175 times I Ve sat in it and rubbed my fingers on the putty where the nails was drove in, and I says to myself: 'What did the hammer say when the Boss was makin' this chair? Whackety-whackety, whackety- whack? No it did n't. It said: Love-ity, love-ity, love-ity, love.' Gee! I 'm a tumble lucky boy. There ain't nobody ever comes near me that don't do somethin' nice for me. I guess it 's Merry Christmas every day, all the year 'round with me." He paused for breath. Into his cheeks had crept the delicate warm pink. His great eyes swam and shone, his aureate curls shook vigorously, an animated and genial halo about his clear-cut little face. "Gee!" he said again. "I'm a tumble lucky little boy. Three cheers for Christmas ! ' ' Everybody laughed; there had been a ten- sion, a constraint. Lem's big white teeth glistened, his mouth widened, and the little lines of good-humor spread away up to his eyes. "Haw, haw!" he shouted. "Haw, haw! That 's a good one three cheers for Christ- mas. Hoo-raw!" 176 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD The laughter waked up and scared the drowsy Dick, who failed to catch the humor of the situation and howled dismally, only to get laughed at and squeezed, and kissed and tucked away with another warm bottle. It paid to be cross, then, even on Christmas. "Now, folks," said Sam, beginning to fidget and pull with large, futile fingers at his col- lar; "it's gettin' late, and I ain't sprung my part of this celebration yet. The young-ones has had their presents and some surprises has happened I got a word to say. It 's about this Lem, here, and you other Browns. "Now Lem's be'n with me quite some time, and I'm gettin' more or less dependent on him; ain't I, Lem?" "I don't know," said Lem. "Be you?" "Sure be. T other day I bought a little addition to the farm. That's the five-acre piece on the Sheffield road, down toward the car line. That 's a right good little house on it. Waters, the feller I bought the property from, has got a job somewheres else. I jest won- dered, long's Lem seems to like us folks and contented with his job, how you Browns 'd like to move out here handy to us, all be THE BESTEST CHRISTMAS 177 together, and set up housekeepin'. This bein' Christmas, I did n't know but if the idea pleased ye, I'd give ye a year's rent. That suit you, Lottie? How 'bout it, Mary Alice? Car line 's handy. You can go to town every day " And so it had come around again, the little cottage with the green grass. Mrs. Brown had never dared dream of it. Two children, a home, and a husband, good, clean, in- dustrious; the bitter years rolled up like a dingy and soiled curtain. Mary Alice visioned back to that night, not so very long ago, when some stranger surely not Lem Brown, the big, homely man who had remembered the crippled Charlie ahead of his own needs had struck her a score of blows with a stick of wood. God had a peculiar way of accomplishing His ends, but He certainly got results. He would go a good way, sometimes, to meet a person who needed His attention. She had thought a lot about God lately, and the more she considered Him, the more she became convinced that the sparrow story was right. There was nothing inherently absurd about numbering the hairs 178 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD of one's head. Of course there were a great many of them, and then there were so many people. At about this point Mary Alice be- came a bit confused. She was only thirteen years old, you know. Easier things than this had set older heads to whirling. But through all the question and mist, Mary Alice always seemed to see that delicate face with its trusting, confident eyes and its brave array of framing gold. Just now she could look at Charlie in his own winsome person, and to every one in that small room he radiated love and faith and the joy of both. Mary Alice's arm stole around her mother's neck, and one hand groped out for the big paw of Lem Brown, as hard and knobby as the field stones he juggled so earnestly, but, un- like them, quite warm, and capable of giving a comforting and cheerful squeeze. CHAPTER XIII THE EARNEST MR. STUBBS IN the early spring of every year the city of Sheffield elected a new mayor and council. Under the law of the state, too, the cities de- cided for the ensuing year the question of "license" or "no-license," which, as all dwell- ers in "local option" states know, means the legalization or delegalization of the liquor business. For many years Sheffield, an industrial town, had voted to permit liquor selling under a system of high license. There were many saloons in Sheffield, two breweries, and a dis- tillery. Year by year the battle between the liquor interests and the "antis" renewed it- self with never-diminishing bitterness. But of late the no-license element had gained ground. Now it appeared that, after years of struggle, public opinion had so far swung 179 180 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD to the cold-water side that the saloon-brew- ery-distillery faction would have difficulty in holding its majority of votes. From the ranks of the no-license forces a leader had arisen, a young man with an in- cisive way of thinking, a lawyer, whose elo- quence, not inconsiderable, was matched by cool judgment and practical shrewdness. He knew how to use the political weapons of demonstrated effectiveness, and while he ap- preciated the sentimental appeal where it would count, his opponents got out of the habit of referring to him as a "temperance crank." He was astute, resourceful, adroit. Some of his own followers were inclined to squirm at his exceedingly practical methods, but they had to admit that he got results. Early in January a clerk brought to John Willett's desk the card of Amos K. Stubbs. Willett smiled, directed the clerk to admit the caller, and also to bring him his personal check book. "Hello, Amos," said he. "How goes the battle?" "Great," said Stubbs. "Glad to hear it. Have a cigar?" THE EARNEST MR. STUBBS 181 "No, thanks, Mr. Willett. Smoking makes me so nervous I've cut it out." "So have I," said Willett, "but for a dif- ferent reason. My boy's growing up, and I don't want him to say the old man sets him the example." The young politician viewed John Willett with an admiring eye. "You certainly are a fine man, Mr. Willett," he said. "I wish we had twenty men in Sheffield like you." Stubbs spoke from the heart. He was ca- pable of using flattery where it would do the most good, but his appreciation of Willett 's qualities was so genuine that his praise came forth unbidden. Recognizing the young man's sincerity, Willett felt a pleasant glow of gratification. He smiled his thanks, a trifle embarrassed by the outspoken compliment. "We've got 'em on the run," went on Stubbs. "They're scared to death of us. Our wagon's just at the top of the hill; a good strong push, and she's nicely over. That's what I came to see you about." Willett reached for his check book. "How much this time, Amos?" Stubbs held up a hand. "That's all very 182 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD nice," he said. "We'll come to that later. But there's something else much more im- portant now." "So?" "Your money is just the same as any other man's money, Mr. Willett. But your per- sonality is your own, and it's your person- ality we need to win this fight." "But, Stubbs, you know I never have meddled in politics, never made a speech or electioneered or pulled wires in my life; besides " "Merely the knowledge that you have voted for no-license all these years has been of great value to us," said Stubbs eagerly. "How much more valuable it will be if you will take an active - "Listen, my dear Amos," interrupted Wil- lett. "Even if I were willing to go into this thing personally, I could n't think of it. Mrs. Willett and I sail for Europe next week." "Oh," said Stubbs, abashed. "That's too bad." He got up and began pacing the floor restlessly. "Couldn't you reconsider? Could n't you postpone your trip? It 's most important, most important." THE EARNEST MR. STUBBS 183 "I'm afraid not, Amos. My plans have all been made. For a busy man like me, it is n't easy to get all one's affairs into shape for a three months' trip. Mrs. Willett would be heart-broken if I changed my mind now. It is n't to be thought of. Besides, I 'd be of no use to you, anyhow. I should distinctly re- fuse to do any personal work. I'm not that sort of a man. I can't see that I would be of any value to you: I 'm no speech mak " "You don't understand," said Stubbs. "Politics isn't a game of oratory any more. Politicians make speeches, of course; that's for effect, for publicity. The real work is done by more telling and practical methods. If you would stay home until after election " "Now, Amos, stop right there. What's the use of your wasting breath? Let me " "Wasting breath!" cried Stubbs. "It's sound sense, Mr. Willett. When I took hold of this no-license movement, where was it? Hopelessly distanced. Year after year the anti-saloon vote of this city was so small you had to hunt for it with .a microscope. I 've had political experience in all sorts of cam- paigns, Mr. Willett, and my work in this one 184 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD is based on what I know about the machinery of the game. I don't want anything out of it. I '11 be satisfied to see rum driven out of Sheffield bag and baggage, lug and luggage, because my father and my brother both died from it. You can call it revenge, if you want to; but let me tell you, the fellow who feels the blight personally is the one that's going to form the backbone of your fighting forces. Moralizing 's all right, but it doesn't have much force coming from the lips of some smug chap who only believes rum is a curse because another moralizer has told him so." "Hold on," said John Willett. He was a tolerant man. The vehemence of the young reformer excited his sympathy, but did not find logical concurrence in Willett's well- ordered mind. "What you ask is quite out of the ques- tion," he said, kindly and quietly. "Even if I were to be in this country during your campaign, I could not go into politics. So far as my personal attitude goes, it is and always has been against the saloon and the entire liquor trade. I vote that way, I THE EARNEST MR. STUBBS 185 shall continue to vote that way. I make no secret of my opinion." "Oh, yes," said Stubbs, picking up his hat. "I know you're a very conscientious man, but I wish your conscience had a little less ego and a little more 'we-go." "By which you mean ? " "I wish that you had a little stronger social consciousness. I wish you thought for the group, instead of the individual. I wish your conscience embraced the whole of Sheffield, its poverty, its wickedness, its suffering, its" "Hush, Amos," said Willett, a little testily. "I do my share. You talk like a Socialist. Great heavens, man! You're not " "No," said Stubbs sadly, turning to go. "I'm only a politician. And that reminds me. You said something about a check." "For the campaign fund? Certainly, Amos." Willett wrote busily for a moment, then: "Here you are, my boy, and God bless you. Just to show there 's no hard feeling, I've made it twice what I gave you last year." And so the Willetts sailed away for the 186 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD carefully planned vacation; and in spite of John's check and others, Amos Stubbs fought a losing fight, missing success by less than a hundred votes. It marked the high water of no-license enthusiasm, and the next year retrogression set in. Stubbs fought on for two or three more campaigns, but the golden opportunity had passed. So the courageous young lawyer went into another branch of work, where he could reach individuals. "Maybe the time isn't ripe in Sheffield yet," he said, "but some day well, when the tide flows again, it'll sweep the country." CHAPTER XIV DOCTOR BILLY THREE days before the date set for the Willetts' departure for Europe, the big Willett touring-car slid up to the Thomas home. In the tonneau with John Willett, Charlie, peering out through the window, saw a stranger, a brisk little man who fol- lowed Mr. Willett into the house by the front door. The democratic millionaire usu- ally entered through the side porch and kitchen; this new visitor must be some one of importance. Charlie, from his wheel-chair in the sitting- room, heard the rumble of voices in the front hall, where Martha had gone to admit the callers. When they came into the room, Char- lie saw that his mother was quite pale; she kept fingering her apron hem nervously. "Hello, Charlie," said Mr. Willett, with the 187 188 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD genial friendliness of a privileged acquaint- ance. "How 's tricks? " "Oh, Mr. Willett, I'm tumble glad to see you. Why did n't you come to my party? It was the beautifullest Christmas. Look at my drawrings. I made 'em with my new - "Just a minute, chatterbox," interrupted Mr. Willett. "I've brought you a new friend. This is Uncle Billy Jackson. Uncle Billy, meet Mr. Charles B. Thomas, the well-known artist." The brisk little man twinkled at Charlie through a pair of great tortoise-shell spec- tacles. He looked like a good-natured owl. "How do you do, Uncle Uncle Billy," said Charlie demurely. "Am I goin' to call you Uncle Billy? I guess it is n't very polite for me to, is it?" The new uncle shook the small hand gravely, making a profound bow, as if he were being introduced to a person of very great distinction. "I'm pleased to meet you, sir," he said. His eyes sparkled with merriment. "From a distinguished artist like yourself, I consider it flattery to be called 'Uncle Billy.' I am DOCTOR BILLY 189 making a collection of nephews; I should call you a very promising specimen." Charlie looked a little doubtfully at the spectacled stranger; then he laughed, because he saw behind the quizzical eyes a very genuine friendliness. "What do you think of my drawrings?" asked the little boy. "I got a outfit for Christmas, a board and pencils and all these funny rulers and things. I have n't learned the names of 'em all, or just what to do with 'em. This is a queer one; you can make 'most any kind of a bendin' line with it, but you can't make a circle." "That," said Uncle Billy, "is called a 'French curve." He sat down alongside Charlie's chair and entered into a discussion concerning the drawing outfit. Charlie was delighted at the apparently bottomless extent of Uncle Billy's knowledge. Mr. Willett and Martha, at the other side of the room, talkedjn undertones. "He has done some most amazing things," Mr. Willett was saying. "I don't want to raise your hopes unduly, Mrs. Thomas. Jackson may say that there is nothing he can 190 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD do. But if any man on earth can help your boy, it 's Jackson. He is passionately fond of children. Look at him, he has won Charlie's confidence already. No man who did not love them could have been so successful. He himself has the child heart; he says he has never quite outgrown his boyhood, and that is why he is able to understand his little patients so well and to do such wonders for them." A big peal of laughter from Doctor Jackson and Charlie evidenced the friendly footing already established. "I always been scared of doctors that call themselves 'specialists,'" said Martha, "ever since we took Charlie to see Doctor Bliss. He punched him and poked him and bent him. I thought he'd kill the poor child. Charlie cried and cried with the pain and was sick a week. Afterward Doctor Bliss said there wasn't anything to be done. He said he might live two or three years at the most; and that was four years ago. Thank God, it did n't come true ; but it put such a dread into my heart I've lived in mortal agony ever since." DOCTOR BILLY 191 She dabbed at her eyes furtively. "I know how you feel," said Willett. "That's what I brought Doctor Jackson here for to find out the exact truth, and if it is not too late, to do what can be done. Where is Sam?" "Somewhere out back. You want to see him?" "I'll go out and look around. And Mrs. Thomas, if I were you, I think I should leave Doctor Jackson alone with Charlie for a while. He'll get along better." They went out into the kitchen, and Willett passed on to the barn. "Checkers?" said Uncle Billy Jackson. "You don't tell me you are a checker player." "I certainly am," the little boy assured him. "I beat 'em all, even the Boss; he's simply helpluss when he plays with me. He makes the foolishest moves and then gets awful ashamed. Sometimes I just let him beat me to keep him from feelin' bad. Would you like to play with me? I '11 beat you, of course, but it'll be good practice for you. The board's in that cupboard by the mantle- piece." 192 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Doctor Jackson studied Charlie just as if, as he had said, Charlie was a "specimen." His observing gray eyes missed nothing. He kept up a sprightly and amusing dialogue, all the while noting down in that wonderful brain every detail of the child's personality, every change of expression, every gesture. He considered the texture of Charlie's trans- lucent skin, the tone of his high-pitched laugh, the delicate pink that came creeping into his cheeks. "You're a pretty strong young fellow, are n't you?" he ventured. "Feel," said Charlie, flexing the slender arm with its imaginary knots of swelling muscle. "The Boss says I'm a reg'lar young Herculuss. I'm a Galahad Knight, too." "A Galahad Knight?" "Don't you know about us fellers?" asked Charlie. "Why, we got the greatest 'socia- tion in the world. We 're on the Quest of the Holy Grail." "Tell me some more, little Knight," said Uncle Billy softly. "Well, the Holy Grail is a beautiful cup sort of like the cups they have for racin' and DOCTOR BILLY 193 wrestlin* and things. Only it's a million times beautifuller, and no human eye has ever seen it. When Our Lord ate His Last Supper with the disciples, He drank from this cup, and when it was lost, Sir Galahad and his friends went a tumble long journey to find it. On the way they was always doin' some act of kindness or bravery and helpin' somebody that was weaker 'n them. And finally Sir Galahad found the Grail. He had a sword that was the sharpest in the world, and a tremendous great big shield with a red cross on it, and no man could stand against him. "Well, us fellers are pledged, just like Sir Galahad, to do everythin' to help and purtect folks that's weaker 'n us. Our sword is Brotherly Love, and our shield is made of Faith, Courage, Symp'thy, and Willin'ness. Isn't that splendid?" "Splendid," echoed Uncle Billy. "And the Grail?" "That," said Charlie earnestly, "stands for Perfect Manhood. It 's full of a dullicious drink, called Unselfishness. Our little book of rules and reg'lations says that Galahad 194 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Knights, strugglin' up the hill o' Doubt, can often catch the sweet odor from it that comes waftin' down the wind of Discouragement, or perhaps a few tiny drops o' the drink itself, and it gives 'em heaps of strength to keep on climbin'. "Well, that's what they call 'symbolical/ and there 's a lot more that I don't just under- stand, though when I 'm older I will. Francis Willett got it all up, and his father and mother helped him. He 's an awful fine feller, Francis Willett is. It was him that got up the idea of givin' me this dandy drawrin* outfit for Christmas." Doctor Jackson listened to all this recital with his odd, concentrated gaze, which seemed to read each of the little boy's thoughts al- most before they could be formed into words. "You will need," he said suddenly, "a good pair of legs to do all these wonderful, helpful things." "Well," said Charlie, "they'll come in handy. But just 'cause my legs are no good yet, that 's no sign I can't be a good Galahad. Everybody has lots o' chances, legs or no legs." DOCTOR BILLY 195 "Then you are always wishing for better legs?" "It's stronger 'n wishin'," replied Charlie. "It's knowin'. God's fixin' up some way to get some kind o' starch or somethin* that'll stiffen 'em. I 'm just as sure! " "Charlie," said Uncle Billy, "when I was a younger man, and still studying in school, I discovered that God had given me a great gift. I found that many times when other men could not seem to see what was the matter with sick children, I could; not al- ways, of course, but quite often. Then I began to study harder than ever how I could best use this gift so as to do the most good with it ; and I found that there were hundreds and hundreds of little boys and girls whose backs and legs were crooked or weak, and I thought: 'What finer work can I do than just to go about trying to straighten little crooked backs and strengthen little weak legs?' So now I have done so much of such work that people really think I have quite a knack at it." "You mean," said Charlie gravely, "that you are a doctor?" 196 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "Yes, Charlie, I am a sort of doctor, one called a specialist." "I told you God was planrdn' out some way," cried the little boy, his eyes glisten- ing. "How long does it take, Uncle Billy?" "Let me tell you about it," went on Uncle Billy. "You must not expect too much. You must not be too sure." "Oh, but I am sure!" cried Charlie. "I've waited a long time, and I knew if I was patient, it would happen. I never worried about it a minute, only just wondered how soon." "It may be a very long time." "That's all right." The little boy was sure. "I've got heaps of time." "And perhaps it will make you suffer a great deal of pain and weariness." "I've had pain and weariness; I guess I can stand a little more. Sometimes I ache 'most enough to make me cry; but I read my Galahad book, or talk to mummee or the Boss, and then I just close my eyes and think as hard as I can what fun it'll be when God fixes me all up and I can stand the pain all right. Sometimes it drives it right away, DOCTOR BILLY 197 like it does for mummee to rub me at bed- time." "Will you let me see your legs, Charlie? I want to find out why it is you can't seem to use them. I won't hurt you, dear." Doctor Jackson made his examination with infinite gentleness. He had won Charlie's confidence, built up in half an hour a fine, wholesome friendship, and in the process he had diagnosed not only the child's ailment, but his temperament. Before he left with Willett, he had a long talk with Sam and Martha. "In the first place," he said, "I can say to you that cases like this have been cured ; but I must also tell you that other cases of the same kind have not yielded to treatment. It is up to you, the little boy's parents, whether I shall undertake the case. There will be considerable expense, constant care, and quite a long process of building up his system before the critical step is taken. I mean, as you must have guessed, a very rare and difficult surgical operation. It is in that difficulty that the danger lies. The opera- tion is upon the spine, where the original 198 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD injury took place. May I ask how this injury occurred?" Sam looked miserably at his wife. She shook her head so slightly that Sam hoped the doctor did not detect it. "Charlie had a fall," she said. "A person dropped him when he was a little feller." "It often happens that way," said Jackson. " I had already guessed as much. Now if you think you wish the treatment to be given, if you feel that you want to take the risk, I can assure you that there is very good ground to hope that in two or three more years your boy will have a pair of fairly usable legs ; not, you understand, perfectly normal, but sound enough for a reasonable amount of locomo- tion. And another result will be a much more stable and rugged health than he can ever attain unless this condition is relieved." Martha asked some timorous questions. With the divine selfishness of motherhood, she would perhaps have clasped her boy tight and fought off the shining hope of deliverance if it cast a shadow of ill-chance. "Mr. Willett, what do you think?" "I do not want to advise you," said Wil- DOCTOR BILLY 199 lett. "The responsibility must be yours; but it seems to me that if it were were Francis, I should not hestitate to accept the oppor- tunity." "Le's ask Charlie," said Sam. "He's pretty old-headed. Besides, he's the one that's most concerned." He led the way into the sitting-room where Charlie sat, con- templating his newly awakened vision. "Charlie, dear," said Martha, "did Doctor Jackson tell you he might make you well?" "He's goin' to," said the boy. 11 But did he say that that the things he does to boys don't always work?" "It's goin' to work with me." " Did you understand that it is a long, hard struggle and that there would be lots of pain?" "I understand I 'm goin' to have a good pair o' legs, and I can bear the pain 'cause God's fixin' up a plan about it, and if it's part o' the plan for me to have pain, all right. It 's the legs I 'm after. Say, Boss, let me ask you somethin'. S'posin' you was lost out on a prairie, and you did n't have any water for a long time, and your tongue swelled up and 200 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD your eyes bulged out and you was fit to per- ish. And s'pose somebody come along and said: 'Boss, here's a nice cool drink o' iced tea. Do you want it?' And s'pose you said, 'Yes,' and the feller with the tea says: 'Well, it '11 cost you all the money you got.' What 'd you say?" "Cost be blowed!" said Sam promptly. "What do I care for a little pain?" de- manded the boy. "What I 'm after 's legs. I '11 fix it up with God about the pain." "John," said Doctor^ William Jackson, as the automobile took them swiftly between spread- ing fields of snow toward Sheffield, "do you know it is an experience like this that makes life worth living to me? Think of the joy of being able to hold out a little hope to those people, to know that it is more than probable that you will be able to give that amazing cherub the one thing he wants." "You say it is more than probable?" "The percentage of successful cases is growing greater. I purposely showed the dark side of the picture to those people. One must n't promise too much. All that I said to them was true; there is danger, there is a DOCTOR BILLY 01 percentage of failures which must not be ignored." He looked thoughtfully off across country to where a range of mountains rose, blue and hazy and delicately edged with gleaming ice. He was thinking of "Little Sir Galahad," as he called Charlie; and he was thinking of his own Quest, and the Holy Grail at the end, and the heartening odor of a hopeful, helpful, ministry to pain which came wafting down the Hill of Doubt up which he climbed so sturdily. He wondered how much wealth it took to compensate a business man like Wil- lett for the want of that almost fanatic exal- tation which only the idealist can know. And then it occurred to him that perhaps John Willett did not realize that he had such a need ; perhaps John Willett thought himself an idealist, anyhow. And this made Doctor Jackson smile, for he had known Willett a great many years. CHAPTER XV THE HOPEFUL DAYS ALL through the months of late winter and early spring the process of "building up" Charlie Thomas for his ordeal went on like the training of a man to run a race. There were special baths and a special diet and special forms of exercise and rubbing. Martha and Sam carried out this regimen cheerfully and with a pathetic hope, which, if it burned like a candle flame, sometimes wavered and paled in the gusty currents of misgiving. But to Charlie the zest of the process was ever renewed. He could feel the tingle of refreshed vitality, the animation of enhanced health. The pink flush, once a sign of ex- citement, now took permanent place in his cheeks, as a burgeon of dancing blood. Nobody showed more vehement interest in Charlie's preparation than Lem. To Lem fell the task of helping the little boy get his 202 THE HOPEFUL DAYS 203 daily fill of outdoor air. It is simply out of the question to describe his exultation when he found the importance of the part played in the "training" process by his wheel-chair. "Gosh!" he would say; "it's doggone lucky I got a good strong one. Takes putty stout wheels to hold up a husky like you, chummy. Look out, there! Come awful close to dumpin' you that time." Almost daily Lem pushed Charlie in the wheel-chair up and down the side yard. He loved the boy with a doglike affection which he must admit he had never felt for Mary Alice. He was proud of Mary Alice and used to wonder how homely Lem Brown could pos- sibly be the father of that little black-eyed beauty, whose marks at school were as as- tonishingly beyond his comprehension as her good looks. Not only was he proud, he was a little afraid of her; and this was not due to any lack of respect on her part. Poor Lem felt in his heart that his daughter, far from harboring any resentment for the old injuries at his hands, now pitied him. He did not want to be pitied any more. He worked like a horse, earned a man's pay and spent it like 204 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD a man. Mrs. Brown did no more washing, except that of her own family. Mary Alice abandoned the armed turret of commerce for the no less strenuous pursuit of the mysteri- ous "x" and the elusive "ablative absolute." The little house reassumed its place in the family picture, and approaching spring would add the green grass of Mrs. Brown's retro- spective dreams. Mary Alice, with feminine precocity, hit no snail's pace upon the high road of learning. Her letters to Francis Willett were his de- spair. "Why don't you," she wrote, "use more punctuation? Don't they have any commas at St. Michael's Select Preparatory School for Boys ? Your spelling is atrosious. "Sir Charlie is getting along fine. He is not worrying one bit. All the rest of us are real nerv- ous about him. Dr. Jackson has been here three times since New Year and he says Charlie is gain- ing and he will perform the operation in March. Oh, I hope it conies out all right. Charlie is the handsomest little thing. And let me tell you he is having a beautiful time with the drawing outfit. We all think he has got lots of talent. Is n't it funny how everybody that knows Charlie seems to act like they owned part of him? "Francis, are n't you proud when you think it THE HOPEFUL DAYS 205 was you who made Charlie a Galahad Knight? He just loves your letters. He can read them al- most every word only you write so careless some- times. I suppose you are awful busy. How do you like algebra? I get a hundred on my algebra most every day and my teacher says I am a natural mathamatician. "Do you remember the night Lutey Travers tipped over my cart? Just think that was the beginning of our friendship and maybe if it had not been for that you and I would n't ever have seen Charlie Thomas. "When is your birthday, Francis? I know you are most fifteen. I was thirteen in February and my mother has let my skirts down to the tops of my boots and I feel like a real young lady. I am growing like a weed she says and maybe I will be tall and willowy some day. I used to be such a little runt. I guess you will not know me when you see me. "Are there any Galahad Knights in St. Mi- chael's? I should think you would have them there, with so many boys. I hope you will write to me if you have time but any how you must be sure to write to Charlie because he is so pleased. If you only have time to write to one of us I would rather have you write to Charlie, and he will let me read it. If your father and mother send you picture post cards be sure and save them to show me. They sent some to Charlie and he copies them on paper. His drawing, is very ackurate. "Sometimes I remember you said you would rather work in a store than go to school and so 206 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD would I, but my father and mother say I must be educated. I do not know whether I can go through high school or not. If I do I will be sixteen and then I hope I can go back in the store. "The photograph you sent me of you in your football clothes is very nice. I have put it up on my beureau. tta . , . , Sincerely your mend, "MARY ALICE BROWN." "Uncle Billy," said Charlie, one day in late February, "when are you going to fix my legs? I'm awful strong. The Boss says I eat like a pig." Doctor Jackson patted the little boy's shiny curls. "You are sure you are all ready?" he asked. "I think it is about time. What do you say to next week?" "Oh, goody!" said Charlie. One would have thought Uncle Billy had invited him to go on a picnic. He closed his eyes raptur- ously. At last his long brave period of wait- ing and preparation was nearly finished. Martha overheard. Her heart turned over convulsively, thumped twice against her ribs, righted itself, and began to make up for its lost beats by a violent sprint. So it was coming. She had not realized it before. She began to tremble. THE HOPEFUL DAYS 207 "Oh, dear God," she murmured, "help me to be brave as brave as Charlie." She went out to the side porch and called loudly for Sam. A conference followed, and Doctor Billy, in a hired automobile, drove off, crying a cheery, " Good-by, Charlie-boy. See you again soon." To Martha the idea of sending Charlie to Clipper Hill Hospital was terrible. She argued the matter with Sam, who, as a mat- ter of judgment, not sentiment, overcame his inner reluctance to see his son taken to Sheffield for the operation. "I want him here, with us, where we can look after him," said Martha. "What have they got at the hospital that we have n't?" " I 'm a-goin' to f oiler Doctor Billy's say-so," rejoined her husband. "He 'd ought to know. What 'd we hire him for? They have things there to do with. 'S far's I can find out, they got ant-i-septic shingles on the roof, and even the coal they put in the furnace has to be pasture-ized, I guess. They don't take no chances. The doctor says there is n't a finer hospital in the country; and by jinks! that ain't a mite too good for Charlie. 208 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Then he says Charlie '11 have two nurses, a night and a day " "Nurses!" sniffed Martha. "You s'pose any nurse can take better care of my boy than his own mother?" "Well, to tell you the truth, Marthy, and not wantin' to hurt your feelin's, I 'm inclined to think they can. They're specially trained it's a business." "So's mother love a business," scolded Martha. "I've been practisin' that profes- sion seven years." Sam slipped his arm about his wife's shoulders. "That's right," he said, "you have; and you been mighty successful, Marthy, mighty successful. But this nursin' is a case of ex- perience a quick mind and a steady hand. Doctor Billy says a nurse is about the same thing to a surgeon that an extry brain would be." "Well, then, we'd have a nurse here." Sam simply could n't argue Martha out of her position; so he said no more. He knew her. Three days before the critical date she said: THE HOPEFUL DAYS 209 "I declare, I don't want a strange woman nosin' around here. I 'd feel like I 'd got to spend half my time entertainin' her, just like company. Besides, I have n't got 'round to my spring cleanin', and this house is a sight. Dust knee deep everywhere. Maybe it would be better, after all, to let Charlie go to the hospital." Sam realized the effort that this concession required. It was n't in Martha's nature to give in, and her excuses were the thinnest sort of screen for her real feelings. She had con- vinced herself that Doctor Jackson was right ; that was enough. To expect her to admit it would have been like expecting Niagara Falls to turn around and run west. The nearer the day approached, the more eager Charlie became. "With some children it would never do to tell," said Doctor Jackson. "But Charlie is more spirit than flesh; he is mind dominating matter, as the Christian Scientists say. I wonder if you people realize what this has meant to him and to you all these years. He has the most buoyant spirit in the world, he is a bundle of pure optimism. Let me tell 210 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD you, that is the most hopeful condition of all. "When he says this is a special plan of God's, it makes me feel very humble; I like to think of myself as God's instrument of mercy. Some day I shall ask Charlie to pro- pose my name for membership in the Gala- had Knights; for we physicians are soldiers seeking a Grail, and too few of us draw much nearer to it. But sometimes we sniff the fragrance of its divine contents, and though it is very far away on the hilltop, we are heartened and cheered to go on. I have heard Charlie say: 'I am the luckiest little boy in the world.' I believe him; his beauti- ful faith makes him so. Little Sir Galahad, dear little Galahad!" "Oh, Doctor Billy," said Martha, "why did n't you ever get married and have some babies of your own?" The physician met the woman's look gravely. When he answered, his voice was very gentle. "In the providence of God, some soldiers fight best who fight alone. At times I think I should have made a very good father; THE HOPEFUL DAYS 211 they are all my babies, the little ones who staffer." Behind the great tortoise-shell spectacles the gray eyes, steady as stars, flashed the message of the strong soul behind them. "Bless your heart, Doctor Billy!" cried Martha. Sam, fumbling in the wood box, may not have caught the drift of the colloquy. But why did he blow his nose, cough, and rattle the sticks? "That pesky Lem!" he grumbled. "He don't split this wood half fine enough. Why n't he give us somethin' we could git into the stove without takin' the whole top off?" On Wednesday morning Lem, puttering about the barn, kept opening the little door let into the big one, poking his head out, and peering down the road. As he worked, he mopped his brow, bawled at the "critters," and displayed other symptoms of excessive strain. At length he grunted, "Here they be," and clumped off to the house. i Charlie, radiant with expectancy, cried: "Oh, Lemmie, did you see 'em? I did. 212 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD They've got a great big enormous lim'sine. It's most as big's this house. Oh, say, Lem! Don't you wish't you was me? I'm goin' to ride in it all the way to Sheffield. Hurry up, mummee; hurry up, Boss. Oh, I wish Lem was goin' with us. Don't you s'pose there 'd be room?" "Who 's goin' to stay home and take care of the house?" demanded Lem. "Shucks! When you git to be a man and make a million dollars drawrin' them pictures, you got to buy me a what d' you call it a limb-ma- chine, all my own." He washed his hands noisily at the sink. "Look out, Lem," cried Martha, "you're sloppin' soapy water all over my clean floor. Now you get the mop and wipe that up." Everybody was patently struggling to slacken the tension, to appear at ease, to disguise buzzing nerves with any awkward conversational expedient within a snatching grasp. Martha busied herself with Charlie's numerous wraps. She was cloaked and bon- neted; Sam had on his heavy overcoat. He rattled^the pump and filled a dipper with water which he attempted to drink, and then THE HOPEFUL DAYS 213 spilled into the waste pipe as if it were an infusion of wormwood. The great car roared into the yard, and a very trim, cool young woman stepped out. "I'm Miss Bruce, ' ' she said. ' ' Doctor Jack- son is ready, and if you Oh, is this the little boy? How do you do, Charlie? How well you look! He has a splendid color, Mrs. Thomas." Martha eyed the young woman with a glint of hostility. So this was one of those efficient people who knew more about caring for one's baby than his own mother. But something in Miss Bruce's kind brown eyes disarmed her. "Oh, please," she murmured, "you will take care of him, won't you? He's never been away from me one night since he was born." "Come on, folks," said Sam. "Ain't no need of standin' here talkin'. Ready, old sport?" He bent over Charlie's chair, the big, home- made one. Charlie had insisted in spending his morning in it. "Put your arms 'round my neck," said Sam. 214 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "Hold on there, Sam," cried Lem, spring- ing forward. His big voice was husky, his china eyes pleaded. "Oh," said Sam; "that's it, is it? O.K., Lemuel. Mind them big feet of yours now." Lem slid his great coarse hands under and behind the little boy, lifted him, pillows, wrappings, and all, and holding him close, tiptoed out to the limousine. Miss Bruce and the Thomases followed. Lem set Charlie tenderly on the cushions, tucked the robes about him, patted his shoulder gingerly, and backed out again. The two women climbed in, and Miss Bruce slammed the door. Sam elected to ride with the chauffeur. "I'll be back in time to get your supper, Lem," called Martha through the window. Lem stood and watched the automobile slide protestingly to the road, swing its hood toward Sheffield, and plow off like a trans- atlantic liner. He watched it as long as it remained in sight, and when he caught the flicker of some vibrant white thing at the window, he knew it was Charlie's waving handkerchief. Then he went into the kitchen, into the THE HOPEFUL DAYS 215 sitting-room, even into Charlie's bedroom. He peered about, scratching his nose. The sitting-room clock suddenly attacked his ear- drums with a singsong, melancholy ticking, cleared its throat hoarsely, and struck twelve rapid, inharmonious notes. "You, goldarn ye!" said Lem. "What do you know about it?" He went out to the shed and fell to with his axe, hacking fiercely at the knotty oak fire- wood. There was some relief in this violent physical toil ; but when he stopped for breath, he stood and lost himself, gazing absently at the block in which he had half -buried the axe-head. A large, hot tear ran down his nose and splashed on the back of the hand which grasped the helve. "What was it the doc called him?" he muttered; "little Sir Galahad? Gosh!" CHAPTER XVI SOME LETTERS AND AN OUTING DEAR FRANCIS: You did not write me since I wrote you but I will not wait. I have to let you know the news. Charlie Thomas is going to get well. Doctor Jack- son says so. He says it was a difficult case and only for Charlie being such a wonder he never would have come through it. It happened last Thursday. Wednesday fore- noon they sent a lovely great big limasine out to Hillside Falls and the nurse, Miss Bruce, went, and they took Charlie in to town to Clipper Hill Hos- pital. The operation was next morning, and now he is getting along fine but at first he was pretty bad, and we were all scared to pieces. Soon as he came out of the ether he began to cry. Then he asked the nurse for his other legs. She didn't know what he meant. "Why," he said, "my other legs that Doctor Billy took away when he put on my new ones." You see, he was wrong in hi? head from the ether. He was terrible weak, but he never let go his grip; Miss Bruce says his eyes just shone all the time, and lib kept saying little funny prayers to God, and Miss Bruce says she had hard times to 216 SOME LETTERS AND AN OUTING 217 keep from laughing, only she knew it would be wicked. Anyhow, they worked all right the prayers, I mean because after a while Charlie began to get stronger, and wanted to be eating something or drinking broth or milk all the time. Miss Bruce could n't understand how he could be so hungry. So she asked him, and he said, "Oh, I'm not so hungry; I'm only just trying to eat all I can hold so's my legs will hurry up and get strong enough to walk." I was up to see him yesterday afternoon. He is awfully pale. He is all strapped and bandaged, and can't move any; and sometimes, the nurse says, he is so uncomfortable that the pain must be frightful. But he never whimpers; only lies with his eyes closed. After a little while he can sit up and move around, and then he has got to go through a whole lot of things rubbing and stretching and what they call "flexing" to make the muscles develop and stimulate the nerves. Miss Bruce is Doctor Jackson's special nurse and she has taken care of lots of children and she says it will take months and months, but Charlie will surely be able to walk within a year. What do you s'pose the first thing he asked me was ? He wanted to know if I had written to you. He says for me to write and challenge you to a race to take place as soon as he gets his legs into good running order. And he wants to know if there are any fellow Galahads at St. Michael's and if so please ask them to write him a little letter. 218 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD I have got to study my Latin now, so will close. How far have you got in Latin ? Please write to Charlie; and use some commas. They don't cost anything, even at a swell boarding school. Our teacher says the town furnishes all the punctua- tion marks free so we must n't be afraid to use them. Anybody would think they were awful stingy up where you are. If periods cost two dollars apiece the most expensive thing about your last letter was the two cent stamp. Sincerely your friend, MARY ALICE BROWN. DEAR CHARLIE, Mary Alice wrote to me about you and said would I please drop you a line. I was glad to hear your operation was a success, and that you will soon be able to do the hundred yard dash No there is no Galahad Knights here at the school but I belong to a secret society called the Alliga- tors Teeth I would tell you all about it only it is a secret, but I will show you my pin when I go home for Easter. I played quarter on the fourth-form football team and we beat the tar out of the third, but the second and first beat us. Well, they ought to they are heaps bigger than we are. Mary Alice writes me all the time. She is lots smarter than me, or she thinks she is. She keeps telling me I don't know how to spell or punctiate, but she spells atroshous atrosious so I guess she has nothing on me. The boys saw me reading her letters and made fun of me for corresponding SOME LETTERS AND AN OUTING 219 with a girl but I don't care, only I don't let them see me read them now. You must not tell her, it would hurt her feelings which I would not do for the world. This is a fine school. We go to chapel every morning and Sundays and there is a boy choir and I sang in it at first, but my voice breaks aw- fully funny, and it made the boys laugh so the choir master through me out. He says I have got the goslings. I have not got time to go back and hunt for periods and commas that I have left out. I hope you will excuse me this time. Hoping you are gaining fast and will see you at vacation. Your brother Knight, F. WILLETT. DEAR SIR KNIGHT, Thank you for yore nice letter. r I did not see any thing the mater with the Punchuation or speling. I could read every word in It just as plain mary Alice must be trying to have Fun with you, Francus. Well, I have been in the horsepital five weaks tomorow I am geting along grand and have pains in my legs Uncle Billy says the pains are because the muscles are groing so hurah for the pains What do I care. Not a bit I like them. I am sitting up every day and having massarge and I can move my legs around a little already Every day I have my droring board and things and I make pictures of about every thing, horses and automobiles and I drew a potrit of Miss 220 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Hammersmith, she is my night nurse, and Miss Bruce she laughed and laughed, and I guess it was kind of funny, because Miss Hammersmith has got the longest nose. Well, I said give it it back to me a minute please, and then I tore it Up. Oh Charlie what did you distroy it for Miss Bruce said. I said it would hurt her fealings I do not want her to see it I am a Galahad Knight and we don't hurt no damsel's fealings if We can help it. Well said Miss Bruce you can make a picture of me and I promise you not to get my fealings hurt so I did. I made it as funny as I could. Miss Bruce has got a turnip nose and she is awful pretty but I made her not pretty a bit. I said I guess I will not show this to you but she grabbed it and when she saw it she bust out laugh- ing fit to kill. When the doctor not Uncle Billy, he is in New York when the doctor came Miss Bruce left the picture laying where he would be sure to see it. He picked it up and I was watching him Miss Bruce pretended not to notice She was powdering her nose in a little mirrow so I guess she was watching him too The minnet he looked at the picture he turned and glansed at Miss Bruce. Then he laid it down and began to ask me questions how I felt and how was the panes in my legs. Of corse I could see he new in a minnet it was a potrit of Miss Bruce but he would not let on. He was afraid he would hurt her feal- ings. Who do you think it looks like I asked him and SOME LETTERS AND AN OUTING 221 he said Serra Burnhart. I do not know who she is but I bet the doctor was telling a story. I wonder if it is wrong to tell a story to keep from making a person feal bad. Would you? Miss Bruce bust out laughing and said you dont need to deseive us, Doctor Lowry, you know who it is of and no one who ever saw me would mistake it I think it is Wunderfull. Doctor Lowry looked sort of sheepish It is much exajerated he said. However there is a sertain resemblence I must admit Charlie will you do one of me Well he has the funniest looking hare and bald on top and shiny and his neck is thin like a chickens. I drew him just as easy as anything Do I look like that he asked Miss Bruce and he pretended to scowl. She said no it looks more like Cristopher Calumbus; and they both laughed and laughed. That is all for today. I am going home satday. I will be so sorry to leave Miss Bruce and Miss Hammersmith and Doctor Lowry, they have been so nice to me. Hopping to see you soon Yours truly, CHARLES B. THOMAS. MY DEAR JOHN: I am afraid I have waited until there is danger that my letter may miss you to report to you concerning Little Sir Galahad. He is doing splen- didly. If he continues to gain at his present rate, he will be my record case. He has been a wonder- ful patient; my nurses are fairly daft about him 222 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD and heart -broken at the end of their period of service with him. His mother is a most capable woman, quite a remarkable and admirable character, and ready to make any sacrifice for the boy. I have grown very fond of them all, they are such genuine people. I can never thank you enough for having brought me into their lives. The little fellow's fidelity to his quest for the Grail is to me infinitely fine and touching. He tells me that your boy, Francis, had something to do with this. I tell you, John, the development of these rare little souls is the vital problem of our country. The tendency of our times is not entirely favor- able; do you realize this? We have formed the complacent habit of easy tolerance, and are every day winking at things which a generation ago were unthinkable. People say that the world is growing better, and I hope this is true. The world can grow better only because we are training up a better generation to take our places here. If we fail in this, you must admit that evolution is at a standstill. A rough-and-ready philosopher has said: "Bus- iness is like aeroplaning. To stop is to drop, and to drop is generally to bust." This is true not only of business, but of all life. You will accuse me of being like the spinsters who dominate the meetings of the mothers' club. I guess I am a male old maid. The other day Mrs. Thomas asked me why I was not married and a father. I could not, without apparent ego- SOME LETTERS AND AN OUTING 223 tism, give her the complete answer. But you are familiar with the^words: "These are my father, and my mother, and my brethren." The Speaker might well have added: "These are my wife and children." To some of us seems to be given the privilege of sacrifice, the right to set the world the bad ex- ample of remaining single. We are called selfish because we deny ourselves the love of a family of our own, and we can only justify our course by stretching our arms out to the whole world and saying: "This is our family." Only to as close a friend as you could I write these things; for almost anybody else would see in what I say nothing beyond an egregious self- righteousness. But a bachelor, having no wife to weary with his views, must needs be something of a bore to his friends. When you land in New York on your way home, I shall be at the dock to welcome you, and you must plan to stay a day or two with me. If Mrs. Willett has not exhausted the shops of Paris, she may find enough pretty things here to interest her. I have a plan just crystallizing in my mind that may offer a worthy outlet for some of your surplus income, and I want to talk it over with you and ask your advice. My affectionate regards to your wife. Always cordially your friend, WILLIAM JACKSON. DEAR MR. WILLETT: In accordance with your instructions, I write to report upon affairs at the office. As a matter 224 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD of fact, there is hardly anything to report. Every- thing has moved quite smoothly since I wrote last. The usual progress is being made in the con- struction of the new docks. I followed your di- rections concerning the coupons on the bonds bearing interest payable April i. Miss Hazard, of the accounting department, has been ill, but is now back at work. She does not, however, ex- pect to stay longer than November i, and I sus- pect that she is threatened with matrimony. If I were to guess, I should say Styles is the man. Probably you have already learned from files of American newspapers that the no-license cam- paign failed by a narrow margin. The saloon element had a great scare. Mr. Stubbs, leader of the antis, is the best-hated man in Sheffield among the people who think liquor selling is nec- essary to the prosperity of the city. The saloon people did their best to win or, perhaps, their worst. I really think they might have been defeated but for a rumor that was cir- culated that you yourself were in sympathy with them. I wished that you were here to answer it; as you were not, however, I went to see Stubbs, and he very promptly issued a statement deny- ing the story. Your check for his campaign fund bearing his endorsement came back from the bank, and I turned it over to him to show the reporters. One of them wanted to photograph it. Still, I think there must have been a consider- able number of people who were "on the fence" and, hearing the rumor that you were favorable SOME LETTERS AND AN OUTING 225 to license, voted for it because the denial failed to reach them. Stubbs made a queer remark. I said I thought it was most unfortunate that so fair-minded a man as you should be willfully misunderstood, and he said: "Well, Albert, you know those who are not for us are against us." I can't think that he meant anything; but if he did, it was certainly most ungracious of him, considering the unusual amount of your contribution. Francis has written for some money to pay his expenses home for Easter, and although it is in excess of your instructions regarding his al- lowance, I don't see how I can refuse and leave him stranded without the means to pay his fare. I trust you have had a most enjoyable tour and that we shall see you soon in your customary good health and spirits. Please remember me kindly to Mrs. Willett and say that little Sue was de- lighted with the post cards from Switzerland. Very respectfully, ALBERT T. HODGE, Secretary. DEAR MARY ALICE, I will be home next Saturday. Mother and father arrive from New York same day. Tell Charlie I will go out to the farm, to see him as soon as I can. Hoping to see you soon, and do you think I have put in enough periods and things, Yours truly, F. WILLETT. LITTLE SIR GALAHAD The Willett automobile once more turned into the Thomas driveway. The April sun had been feeling unwontedly benevolent that day, and consequently everybody was sure that spring had come for good. Charlie Thomas, in his wheel-chair near the back porch, gave a loud shriek of delight. "Hello, there," he shouted, "hello, Sir Knight. I thought you 's never comin' to see me. Mary Alice, Mary Alice! Look who's here." Answering the call, Mary Alice Brown came dancing out. "I knew you'd come this afternoon," she said. "Something told me. That's why I came over here." "Gee!" said Charlie, winking at the older boy; "I thought she came to see me. Say, Francis, look at this." "Isn't that splendid!" congratulated young Willett; for Charlie was kicking both feet up and down with a degree of vigor. "Every day they get stronger. Pretty soon I'm goin* to begin tryin' to walk." Mary Alice was studying the Galahad Knight from Clipper Hill. SOME LETTERS AND AN OUTING 227 "I don't know's I like you any better in those long trousers," she said. "You look too grown up. First thing you know you'll be a man; and won't it be awful to be a man and still not know how to spell or punctuate? " "My spelling's all right, is n't it, Charlie?" "It's better 'n mine, Francis; Mary Alice is always makin' fun of folks. I can beat her playin' checkers, though." "I don't see's I'm the only one that's growing up," said Francis. "My goodness! Isn't Mary Alice tall!" Mary Alice flushed prettily; but Francis added: "And skinny!" "You mean, hateful thing," she scolded. "I'm glad I'm not a big gawky boy, all hands and feet. Uncle Sam Thomas says pups and boys run mostly to elbows." "Let's all take a ride," suggested Francis, shedding this verbal attack as a duck sheds water. " Can Charlie go? " "You bet I can go if you don't stay too long. Mary Alice, will you tell mummee and get my heavy coat?" The big car took them swiftly through lovely country roads, all edged with tender 228 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD new green leaves, past fields where farmers were busy with plow and harrow, or where cattle munched at the young grass. In half an hour it climbed hills and dropped into valleys, and Charlie knew that he was, for the first time in his life, hobnobbing at close range with his old friends the mountains. "My gracious!" he rejoiced. "When I get to walkin', I'm goin' to climb 'way to the top. Is n't it grand ! It seems as if the Grail might be somewheres up there, don't it?" "The Grail?" repeated Francis. "Oh, yes, the Grail. That's right. Say, Charlie, did I show you my secret-society pin?" Mary Alice looked out the corner of her eye to see Charlie's face. Sure enough, there was an odd question there, unspoken, but to Mary Alice perfectly legible. Francis did not see it. He was retailing to his young friend some of the qualifications necessary for admission to the "Alligators' Teeth." "And," he concluded, "you've got to be pretty popular with the fellows, of course." There it was, Francis's old complacence, his complete confidence in himself. All at SOME LETTERS AND AN OUTING 229 once he seemed to have grown out of Mary Alice's world, just as he had been of another world the night she had first seen him. Thirteen-year-old girls do not philosophize consciously upon the phenomena of human nature and human growth. But in her heart Mary Alice knew that this was not quite the Francis of those last-summer days. Still, he was as companionable, as gener- ous as ever, and delighted because he was entertaining and pleasing his friends. And, of course, she could n't expect a boy fifteen years old to stay on a level with a girl two years younger, even if her spelling and punc- tuation " Come on," said Francis. " Let 's get some ice-cream soda. Jules, drive round to Tiff- ner's, will you please?" They sat in the car by the curb and reveled in the frothy delight of their big glasses. "Choc'late's tumble nourishin'," said Charlie. "Everythin' I eat's got to be nour- ishin', so's to make my legs grow stout. Goodness, what a lot of money, Francis!" Young Willett paid, out of a handful of silver coins, with a studied nonchalance that 230 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD sat as easily upon him as his stylish hat. His manner said quite plainly, "Oh, this is nothing." Jules swung the car into the street to make the turn, and as he did so Charlie caught sight of a man whose locomotion seemed dif- ficult. He hitched along uncertainly, catch- ing with vague, fumbling hands at the build- ings. Instant distress and sympathy made Charlie cry out. "Oh, look," he said, "look! That poor man's sick, or or his legs hurt, or some- thin'." Mary Alice's heart throbbed painfully. Memory sprang up out of the past and hurt her, like a physical blow, and she shuddered. "Don't look at him, Charlie-boy," she cried. Francis Willett caught sight of the unfor- tunate, but he surveyed his tottering efforts to keep upright with a cool, incurious stare. In the fifteen-year-old boy the sight of a man all but helpless in the grip of a deadening poison excited no emotion, either of curiosity or repugnance. It did not suggest anything to him, awake any protest, present any ma- SOME LETTERS AND AN OUTING 231 terial for more than passing thought. The circumstance was so ordinary, so common- place, so usual that it did not call for a second turning of the head. To the innocent Charlie there was wonder and a certain nameless terror in the sight; to Mary Alice a reminis- cence of a past full of horror, shame, and suffering. Francis called to Jules that it was getting late and he 'd better speed up a little, in order to reach the farm before dark. "I'm coming around again soon," he said graciously. "Father says I can have the car any time mother is n't using it. I 'm awfully glad you're so much better, Charlie. You'll soon be walking as well as anybody. Mother says I'm to ask you both up to our house to luncheon next week, before I go back to school. She's never seen Mary Alice; and, say, I I take back what I said about your being skinny. Do you think my feet and hands are too big?" "Of course not, silly," said Mary Alice. "It's been just a lovely ride, hasn't it, Charlie?" " Corking," agreed the little boy. " Thanks 232 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD ever so much. I have n't had such a dandy time since since Christmas." Sam came and lifted his son out of the auto- mobile. "What do you mean, young feller," he demanded good-humoredly of Francis, "comin* and kid-napin' my boy? How's your father? I s'pose he had a great time across the water." "You bet," said Francis. "He brought me a Swiss watch that cost three hundred dollars." "I hope he'll come out and see us if he gets time," went on Sam. "I want him to see my new creamery. Any germ that gets into the milk on this farm has got to have an iron constitution, a set of burglars' tools, and a shape like a weasel. I got cement floors, tile walls, and " "A concrete head," said a hearty voice from the kitchen door. It was Martha. Everybody laughed. "When you get to be a man, Francis, don't you never get married," said Sam. "Look how henpecked I be." "Stay to supper, Francis?" asked Martha. SOME LETTERS AND AN OUTING 233 "We got beans to-night. We'd love to have you, 'specially after giving the children a ride this beautiful day. I don't s'pose you have anything as common's baked beans to your house." Martha could n't help it; there was always that vague protest of her status in the back of her consciousness. Francis laughed easily. "If father did n't get his baked beans once a week, he'd holler so loud you could hear him 'way out in Hillside Falls. I wish I could stay; but mother 'd worry. I guess I've got just time enough to get home for supper." "I thought you folks called it dinner," said Martha. "Mother does; father and I call it supper. All right, Jules. Good night, folks. See you again soon." Charlie was very thoughtful at bedtime. "What's on your mind, dearie?" asked his mother. "Oh, nothin'. I was just wonderin* if I'd ever outgrow bein' a Galahad Knight." He set his small jaw. "I bet I never do, though." 234 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "I declare," said Martha, "you're grow- ing to look more like your father every day." "That's nice," said Charlie. CHAPTER XVII AFTER SIX YEARS A BROAD flight of flat steps led up and up to the wide-flung portals of Minot House. Ascending these you unconsciously elevated your chin, for as you climbed, the great columns of that stately porch held your eye. Minot House was the Parthenon where a thousand devotees made obeisance to all the gods of Education. Minot was dead, and lived again in the spirit which pervaded the House of his splendid endowment. Minot, born poor, lived and died to enrich Sheffield with the magnificence of his Idea, rearing a free uni- versity for the people, a temple to the spirit of Helpfulness and Self-reliance. Down the echoing corridors of Minot House sounded the footsteps of the Seekers. The feet might falter with age or quicken with the high courage of youth; they might 235 236 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD wear flat heels or high; they might display the rust of poverty or shine with the gloss of opulence. It was all the same to Minot. Your college instructor must scintillate on a salary that excites the scorn of a well- trained stenographer. Minot's instructors drew pay gauged to their several efficiencies. The first requisite of admission to the Minot House faculty was the love of teaching; this satisfied, the love of teaching ceased to be its only reward. Thousands of first-rate teachers can't afford to teach, but the Minot instructor soon found that he could n't af- ford not to. Consequently, if you could not learn a thing at Minot House, it was because you were unteachable. But the pupils were of a high order of teachability, since they went there with one idea to learn. No social distinction attached to the student at Minot House, and if you fancied such a distinction before you entered, you dropped the notion promptly or Minot House dropped you. However, when you graduated, you found yourself in possession of the more profit- able distinction of Efficiency. AFTER SIX YEARS 237 Minot House was a citizen factory: it worked two shifts. Long after other indus- tries closed their eyes for the night, lights blazed from the windows of Minot House. Only one type of enterprise vied with it in the matter of business hours, and that was, oddly enough, the saloon, whose function was to destroy, while Minot House produced, citizens. It should be said that the Minot product offered poor pickings for that sort of competition. Up the flight of broad, flat steps now climbed a boy; a boy with a face eager and alert, and a quantity of blonde hair that waved and twisted all over his head in in- subordinate curls. It clustered about his fine broad forehead and formed adorable little ducktails around his ears and on his neck. It was a trifle longer than a becoming length to most boys; but it eminently became this one. He walked with an odd, slightly uneven gait, which seemed to you at first to require conscious effort, but which you presently dis- covered to be as effective a means of loco- motion as the average. His feet were smaller 238 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD than common for a boy of his age, and his legs noticeably slender. But he could walk, easily and rapidly. As he was between thirteen and fourteen years old, there was no reason to doubt that, with his general growth, his legs would more and more ap- proach the normal. John Willett had said to Sam Thomas: "Would you like to send Charlie to college? Don't hesitate, if I can ever serve you." "He's too young yet awhile to talk about it," replied Sam. "Maybe, by the time he's old enough to think of that, I'll be pros- perous enough to put him through without borrowin' a dollar." It was at about this time that Minot died. Who or what Minot was does not concern this story, beyond the facts already set forth. By the time Charlie had crystallized his am- bition, Minot House was an established in- stitution, equipped to help him fulfill it. Charlie's legs were the only limping thing about him. His brain cantered, to say the least, where most brains plodded. And he had developed an astonishing and catholic dexterity. This had become emphasized from AFTER SIX YEARS 239 the time he had begun to play with the new drawing outfit, on a memorable Christmas night. Every day of his life from that time he had drawn and drawn and drawn. The weird results of first attempts gave place to work that showed the promise of the future. His perspective was masterfully distorted, his chiaroscuro a patchwork of tangled shad- ows; but here and there, in a face, in the poise of a head, or in the grace and truth of gesture even of some crude caricature, there was a flash of talent almost blinding in its revelation. You will remember Charlie's letter to Francis Willett, in which he recounted the amusement created by his "potrits" of doctor and nurses. The boy was destined to look back at those first attempts at portraiture and marvel at their significance. His drawing of Miss Hammersmith had hinted at a charac- teristic of what was some day to be known as "the Art of Charles Brushly Thomas," which has far more to do with the course of this story than Miss Hammersmith herself. Miss Bruce had laughed immoderately at the picture. Charlie took a second look and 240 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD tore it up. Not for the world would he have had Miss Hammersmith see it; and he had steadfastly refused to make another delinea- tion of the same young woman. This drawing was not a particle more ridic- ulous or grotesque than those he soon after made of Miss Bruce and the doctor. He did not hesitate to exhibit these, and the chagrin of their subjects had tickled him immensely. But why had he torn up Miss Hammersmith's ? Suppose you knew a person with a dis- tressing facial blemish who had lived to maturity without having surveyed his own features? Would you willingly hold up a mirror to that person? Would you undertake the responsibility of revealing what he really looked like? Charlie Thomas's drawing of Miss Ham- mersmith was funny and absurd, of course; but in the brain that directed the fingers upon the pencil dwelt the deep-hidden power of apprehension, so subtle and so delicate that for many years the boy did not know it was there. Charlie Thomas possessed no keener char- AFTER SIX YEARS 241 acter-reading faculty than you or I until he got a pencil in his hand. Then his fingers told what his tongue could not utter. That was why he tore up Miss Hammersmith's portrait. He loved Miss Hammersmith, and not for the world would he hold up the mirror. He heard afterward that the poor girl fell into serious trouble through her inability to distinguish between what was hers and what belonged to a certain department store, and the news grieved him beyond telling. The revelations contained in the boy's crude sketches of people were so startling that he grew to dread them. He wanted to like everybody, to confide in everybody, to believe the best of everybody. He would take up a current magazine and, finding in it the portrait of some man in the public eye, would swiftly copy it in a few strokes. The results were striking, and often totally unexpected. If you took a series of these little sketches and wrote under each the suggested attribute in the features, you would write such words as these: Against the name of a great philanthro- pist, "Egotism." 242 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Against that of a man whose reputation for political adroitness had become nation wide, "Benevolence." Against that of a great captain of industry, "Innocence." Against that of a certain little man who for twenty years had worked humbly among his brethren of the slums, "Courage." Sometimes you could forecast what the suggestion in the drawing would be, but of- tener it would be quite contrary to your expectation. Charlie himself could foretell no more than could the person at his elbow what verdict the pencil would render. He preferred not to make so hazardous a test, yet there was always an uncanny fascination in the experiment when his friends and acquaint- ances formed the subjects. He came to shrink from this adventurous portraiture and drove his pencil to other ends. Charlie entered Minot House when he was thirteen. Sam took him there one morning in early fall. For a long time they waited in the anteroom of the superintendent. When that of- ficial saw Charlie, his face beamed with delight. Here was a boy worth educating, indeed. AFTER SIX YEARS 243 "This little feller," began Sam, "wants to learn to be an artist. We think he's got talent." In the past fortnight the superintendent had heard this same speech, with the varia- tion of but a word, something more than a thousand times. "This little boy wants to build railroads." "This little girl would like to have you make her a prima donna, please." "How long will it take you to make Willie President of the United States?" The super- intendent held himself in readiness to be surprised at no demand upon the capacities for education at Minot House. "Can he spell?" he asked, eyeing Charlie obliquely while he addressed his question to Sam. "Why, yes, yes, I guesso," answered Sam, a little bewildered. " How is his health? Is he pretty rugged? " "His health's all right; he's had trouble with his legs, but he 's getting well. Doctor Jackson " "Doctor Billy Jackson? I know him well. You are a patient of his, then, my boy?" 244 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "He's collectin' nephews," said Charlie. "I'm. one of his specimens." The superintendent laughed. "I will tell you, Mr. did I catch your name? Thomas? I will tell you, Mr. Thomas. Here at Minot House we don't start out with a boy or a girl on the theory that he or she has what you call 'talent'; that remains to be seen. Sometimes parents are altogether mistaken in this matter of natural aptitude. If you want this young man to go to school to us for a year, we will tell you at the end of that time whether he has the talent you now believe, if he has it in a degree which will make it profitable to develop. You can't tell perhaps he has another talent you have overlooked." It surprised Sam to learn that the faculty of Minot House thought it necessary to teach a person Latin and Greek and familiarize him with the sagas of Iceland in the process of finding out whether a boy could be taught to draw a picture of Our Hero making love to Our Heroine under the Gnarled Oak in Father's Pasture Lot. But he calculated that they knew more about it than he did; AFTER SIX YEARS 245 maybe it was like the course of physical training Doctor Billy had put Charlie through before the operation that had given him his now quite useful pair of legs. Sam was content to let experts know their own business. And so Charlie became a Minot House boy. Daily, with his happy face glowing with the zest of life in its frame of blonde curls and his odd, deceptively hesitant gait, he trod the academic path. He made little difficulty with the studies outlined for him, but he was utterly blissful only when he worked in one of the great skylighted studios, learning the rudiments of art by means of the cube, the cylinder, and the "block hand" with its flat planes of light and shadow. The life of Minot House got into this boy's blood. Of all the pupils, whose ages ranged from his own to that of the average person at college graduation, not one lacked the in- centive of a definite goal. "Mary Alice," he would say, "at Minot House everybody's a kind of Galahad Knight. They don't all know it, but they're all on a quest of the Grail. Maybe it is n't 246 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD the same Grail for everybody, but I guess it amounts to the same thing." "Charlie, you're a wonder," said Mary Alice. "I never saw such an old-headed child!" Mary Alice was nineteen. She had been through high school and thought her edu- cation was complete. She was back in "the gloves" at Stacey's. Minnie and Sadie and Grace had long since gone the uncharted ways of matrimony. Mary Alice used to look up at the freckled little face in the armed turret, where she herself had formerly done up packages and "tubed" the sales slips and money, and wonder in what other ways the bundle girl's life paralleled her own. The six years which had made a poised young woman out of the little girl whom Francis Willett had called "skinny" had certainly robbed her of no fraction of her good looks. Lem Brown stood more in awe of his handsome daughter than ever. You could n't imagine Mary Alice hauling a cartload of washing up Clipper Hill, and Lem could n't imagine himself issuing any orders that she was in the least bound to respect; AFTER SIX YEARS 247 and yet he had never, since the days of his rehabilitation, expressed a wish which she had not met promptly and cheerfully. Lem was and always would be a private soldier, and a good one. He never would be' an officer in any kind of army. He had taken orders from Sam Thomas since the very beginning of their relation, which was still that of man and master. Lem knew as much about Sam's business of dairying as the Boss. Sometimes Sam would compliment Lem by telling him he sure could n't get along without him. And Lem would always answer: "Oh, I don't know. I guess you could." He was a glutton for work. He saved Sam the necessity of hiring extra help, except at harvest time; and Sam was just. He paid Lem, not on a day-labor basis, but in proportion to his own prosperity. The little white house had not only plenty of green grass; it had flowers in beds, rioting in old-fashioned profusion, and carefully tended vines that flamed with color in season. Lem had money in the bank. Sometimes Sam would walk out on a 248 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Sunday afternoon and stand on top of the rocky knoll in the old pasture lot. He would survey his well-tilled acres with a soothing satisfaction ; then his eye strayed along toward the five-acre corner piece, where stood the Brown cottage, which Lem had bought and nearly paid for. In another two years Lem's title would be all free and clear. Sam could see little Dick Brown sitting on the back porch with his father. "I did that," Sam would say to himself, "Marthy and Charlie and me. We took that lump o' mud and made a man out of it. If I never do another thing's long as I live, I guess nobody can say I have n't helped this old world a little. Lordy ! Was n't Lem a mess them first three or four months! Love and a square-toed boot that 's a winnin' combination, all right." Then his eye would swing off toward Shef- field, where the lazy vapors of banked fires lay drifting over the city. "There's only two things in that town I got any real respect for," said Sam to Martha one day. "That's the Clipper Hill Hos- pital and Minot House. Sheffield 's a fine AFTER SIX YEARS 249 city, they say. I hear that even in New York there ain't a handsomer hotel than the Waldemere. But last time I was in the city I walked past the hotel, and just as I got opposite them doors that spin around like a windmill, out comes three young fellers nice lookin' boys as you ever saw and every one of 'em's foolish with drink. They gig- gled and tee-heed and skylarked like a passel o' girls, bumped into folks, and had every- body lookin' at 'em. Some people laughed, and one old feller says: 'Oh, well, boys '11 be boys, I s'pose,' just as if them actions was necessary to a proper upbringin*. I says to him: 'I guess they will; and likewise, boys '11 be men. The question is, what kind of men will they be?' The old feller looked at me's if I was somethin' escaped. I felt sorter sheepish, preachin* to a stranger like a parson in a pulpit. So I walked off. I don't care, though, maybe I set him thinkin'. "Right 'round the corner from Minot House is Calvert Street and the beginnin' of the Devil's Truck Patch. Ain't it the strangest thing them two can exist in the same town? The people of Sheffield went 250 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD crazy when the Waldemere was built. Even John Willett put a lot of money into the company; he's a big stockholder, I hear. 'Oh/ says everybody, 'it's a grand thing for Sheffield to have the handsomest hotel in the country. "Then old Minot founded Minot House. All the people got up again and cheered and patted each other on the back and says: 'Oh, ain't it grand for Sheffield to have the most wonderful free inst'ution of learnin' in the country!' "And t' other night, when I was comin' out in the trolley, a feller sittin' next to me was talkin' to another man, and he says: 'Why, we got a tougher district right in Sheffield than they have in New York or Chicago; we call it the Devil's Truck Patch, and every third door is a saloon.' He spoke in just exactly the same proud, braggin' tone of voice he'd have used to describe the new city hall or Minot House. He lumped 'em all in the same catalogue of distinguishin' features that make Sheffield some town." "There's one other place in Sheffield I've got respect for besides those you mentioned," AFTER SIX YEARS 251 said Martha, "and that's Stacey's. I wish you'd give me about five dollars; I'm going to town to-morrow, shopping. You and Charlie both need some new shirts; I declare I don't know whether it's cheaper to make 'em or buy 'em." "BOYS will be boys!" They will also be fools, was John Willett's thought on the day he got the letter from the dean. In every relation of life Willett had been successful, according to the standards of Sheffield; and the standards of Sheffield were pretty much those of the entire country. Sometimes he had suffered reverses, but they had been temporary; disappointments, but they had not persisted. One need not be surprised at the man's superabundant con- fidence in himself, since it had been so thoroughly justified year after year. A blow at his pride affected Willett men- tally as a blow at his solar plexus would have affected him bodily. He crumpled. Hodge, his secretary, entering with a wire basket of papers, came up all standing and exclaimed: 252 A LETTER FROM THE DEAN 253 "Why, Mr. Willett! What's the trouble? You are n't ill!" Willett held out the letter to Hodge, but, as the secretary would have taken it, drew it back. "No, no," he said. "Never mind; it's nothing. A little surprise, that's all." , He sat alone for a long fifteen minutes after Hodge had retired, reading and; re- reading the letter and trying to think. This was unbelievable; there was a mistake some- where. It could n't be his boy. He went swiftly over the past six years in Francis's life. The boy had seemed to do well at school and afterward at college. Now he was a senior, twenty-one years old, at least twelve months below the usual age at graduation. He considered Francis quite precocious and had never ceased to be proud of him. Francis had always been Willett 's "beautiful boy." Of course he had been obliged, for Francis's sake, to deny himself many months of his son's society and comradeship each year. He had tried to make it up during the sum- mers, planning his own vacations so as to have them fall with Francis's leisure days. 254 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Willett had found that this was not always easy, for the boy had other friends now, who claimed him for visits and journeys. But there had been two golden tours in Europe with Mrs. Willett and the boy; there had been a hunting trip in Canada; there had been the delightful two months spent at Stacey's mountain camp in Idaho. If John Willett and his son had drifted away from each other and John had to admit that in spite of it all this was measur- ably the case the man argued that one must expect it. A boy can't be kept tied to his parents' front porch. Willett had many a time looked back to that farewell talk with Francis on the eve of the latter's departure for St. Michael's. He had been confident that his son had profited by the talk. There had been others, too; and John had felt each time that he was probing the depths of his boy's nature, touching him vitally with the right influence. Once or twice Francis had got out over his head in money matters. His father, pro- testing mildly, had paid the few hundred dollars required to satisfy the demands of A LETTER FROM THE DEAN 255 tailors and shoemakers, perhaps too freely patronized. They were always pestering college fellows to buy more, and John knew how easy it was to allow one's sartorial pride to get the better of one. There was no fundamental harm in wanting to wear good clothes. He remembered how fine Francis had looked on his last visit home a boy to be proud of or, rather, a man. And in less than a year, now, he had expected his son to come home and enter his own office. There was plenty of work to make an ambi- tious young fellow interestedly active. But this letter from the dean! A few succinctly worded lines on a dignified letter- head, bearing the seal of the college, had swept away from the painstaking structure of years the very foundation of it all, and down tumbled the pleasant edifice in a jumble of broken hopes. He read it once more. MR. JOHN WILLETT, SHEFFIELD, M . MY DEAR MR. WILLETT: It is my painful duty to inform you that your son, Francis Willett, became involved in a most 256 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD unfortunate affair on the night of November 10, and his participation was of such a nature that it cannot be overlooked by the college authorities. I will spare you unnecessary details, but will say that excessive indulgence in stimulants led three of our students to appropriate a public automobile, which has resulted in arrest and ar- raignment upon several charges, including that of theft, disorderly conduct, reckless driving, and the operation of a motor vehicle while intoxicated. It has been the fixed rule of the faculty that, in the absence of thoroughly extenuating circum- stances, any students haled into court for misde- meanors should be dealt with most severely; and in the present instance I am left no alternative. The young man's resignation has been asked for and received. I believe he secured release from custody under a suspension of sentence, and may consider him- self most fortunate to escape far more serious consequences. Regretting beyond expression the disappoint- ment and chagrin which this occurrence must cause you, not only as a father, but as an alumnus, I remain, Very respectfully yours, WALTER J. HACKETT, Dean of the College. The door opened and Willett looked up. Francis had entered almost upon the heels of the postman who had brought the damning letter. A LETTER FROM THE DEAN 257 Very humbly and woefully 'the young man crossed the room and sank into a chair. He did not look at his father nor offer a hand in greeting. Willett surveyed his son steadily for some minutes without speaking. "Did you did you get a letter from the college?" asked Francis. "Yes." "Then there's no need of my telling you." "I 'm afraid there is not much that you can add, Francis. What will your mother say? " Francis looked up quickly. "Oh, dad," he said, "does she need to know?" "How shall we explain it to her?" " Can't we can't you er sort of smooth it over?" "I have never been in the habit of deceiv- ing your mother. I should not know how to go about it. Perhaps you would do it more skillfully." Francis winced. "Don't, please don't," he begged. "It was n't such a it was n't so awfully bad. We did n't mean any harm. We were n't ourselves." 258 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "Whose fault was that?" "I er nobody's; it was the wine we had been drinking everybody does it. We'd won a big football game, and we were celebrating " "Oh, celebrating. So to celebrate it is customary to disgrace yourself. And every- body does it, eh?" "Why, almost everybody." "Do you mean to tell me that all the worth-while students of your coljege thought it their duty or their privilege to part with their self-respect just because a football game had been won by a few of you? Did those who had won the game do so? If anybody had the privilege of 'celebrating,' I should think they were the ones." "They couldn't; they're in training." "Oh, that's it. I had an idea that every- body in college was in training in training for life. I sent you there for just that purpose. Why should there be any essential difference in the training for a football game and the preparation for your future? Which is the more important? Answer me." "The future, of course; but I haven't got any future now." A LETTER FROM THE DEAN 259 "Let us go back to your original proposi- tion. You say 'everybody' does it. That is n 't true. There are doubtless scores of fellows who don't; the majority, in fact. Isn't that so?" "Oh, I suppose so; but " "But what? You mean to say the asso- ciates you chose all do it?" "No, but" "Listen, Francis. You are crying baby, and it is almost as much disappointment to me to have you do that as it is to learn of your disgrace. Let us understand each other once and for all; or, rather, I wish you to understand me. You cannot blame any- body else for your trouble. You chose your own companions, your own road. You cannot lay it at the door of the college or college customs. Remember, I have been at college the same college to which I sent you. 'Everybody' does not do this thing, this foolish 'celebrating.' There is no hope for you as you say yourself, you have no future if you make a silly, childish prac- tice of dodging the responsibility for your own misconduct. That is all I have to say. 260 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "Now I will try to do what I can to soften this thing for your mother. Meanwhile we will decide what you would better do. You must go to work, of course." "Here in the office, with you?" "No, not yet. I don't want you with me for the simple reason that you must learn to be independent. You will not amount to anything if you are at my beck and call. You have had one opportunity and have failed. Perhaps it was my fault in that I was too indulgent; I gave you too much money. Things came too easy. I will try to get you a place where you will earn just enough to live on. You may stop at home with us, if you like, but even then you must be entirely self-supporting. When you have learned how to handle your own affairs, even if they amount to but ten dollars a week, I will consider giving you a chance to handle some of mine. "Now, Francis, I have no intention of preaching to you. I tried that. I don't say, 'Do this' or 'Don't do that.' You have had a lesson which may or may not teach you something. If it has taught you, per- A LETTER FROM THE DEAN 261 haps it may turn out a blessing in disguise a rather bitter blessing; like a quinine pill with the sugar coating on the inside. Your cure lies in taking your medicine like a man." That ended the interview which had been too painful for either to wish to prolong it. Willett turned to the piled-up affairs on his desk and sighed. He had never sighed quite like that before. It occurred to him that he was n't a young man any more. He felt as if he had turned the three-score-and- ten milestone decades ago. Francis arose and approached the desk. "Will you shake hands, dad?" he asked. 11 1 '11 do better." The father looked up, and all at once the years rolled back and Francis was a little boy again. In those days he had some- times had occasion to punish the little fel- low; and always, when it was over, Francis had come to him, a penitent, and crept up to him and said he was sorry, and he "never would do it again." Willett would take him into his arms and forgive him and whisper encouraging things in his ear, and Francis would cry comfortably and be forgiven, and 262 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD the hurt would be gone from both their souls. But now the hurt would not go away. Yet, after all, Francis was his little boy, his only son; he had the same old yearning to hug him and tell him everything would be all right if only he would be good. He took his son's proffered hand and pressed it si- lently. "Very well," the pressure said. "See that you do. I have confidence in you yet." But Francis did not cry. He went out, leaving his father feeling old again. John Willett blew his nose and attacked his work. CHAPTER XIX RODNEY JONES, OF THE View THE factdty of Minot House recognized the value of publicity. Theirs was a message vital to the community. In order that Minot House might do the greatest amount of good, might wield the maximum of influence, people must know of its activities. Anything that happened which would make a good newspaper story was pretty likely to find its way into print. It seemed, too, as if the people of Sheffield could never have too much news of Minot House. When the editor of a Sheffield paper put on a new reporter, he would usually say: "Go up to Minot House and get a story. There's always something good there. Let's see what you can make of it." Rodney Jones got this assignment his first day on the Evening View. Jones went to Minot House, watched the crowds of stu- 263 264 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD dents ebbing and flowing, tried to catch some- thing of the atmosphere of the place, and waited for an inspiration. It came, in the shape of a blonde boy with a slight oddity of gait. He could not be over thirteen or four- teen, the reporter thought, and as most of the other students appeared to be much older, curiosity, which is at the bottom of what is called news instinct, impelled him to follow Charlie Thomas. The boy took the elevator and so did Jones. At the top the elevator door slid back and disclosed a vast room, flooded with scien- tifically distributed north light. There were pallid effigies of classic figures standing about on pedestals; a pungent, oily smell permeated the air; half a hundred students in smock- like aprons sat working at easels or adjust- able tables. They were drawing or painting, mostly from still life; in a far corner an aged and picturesque tramp sat as immovable as the classic statues, while a group of stu- dents limned his figure. The room was quite still ; everybody except the instructors seemed too busy to talk. Those who did so conversed in whispers. RODNEY JONES, OF THE VIEW 265 "Is this is this the art department?" asked Jones. "U-huh," said Charlie Thomas, genially. "Want to see somebody?" "I'm a reporter, from the View. I'm here to get a write-up." "What's a write-up?" "A story, an article, for our Sunday sup- plement." "Oh," said Charlie, "that'd be fun, I should think. I'd like to read it; this is the best part of Minot House." The big blue eyes flashed with enthusiasm. It was this earnestness of purpose which had attracted Jones, because he thought it unusual in a boy of that age. Jones made a rapid estimate of Charlie, judged him by the strik- ing picture value of his wonderful curly head, and jumped at a conclusion. "I see," he said. "You're one of the models." Charlie laughed. "I pose sometimes," he said; and this was true. Something impish required him to have a little fun at just this moment. "Who's the boss here, the professor, or whatever you call him?" 266 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "Mr. McGregor? That's Mr. McGregor over there." Charlie indicated a serious young man who was explaining something to one of the students by the use of his thumb. The re- porter went and stated his errand, while Charlie put on his own smock and fell to work rubbing charcoal on the nose of a smutty-looking Apollo Belvedere which he had outlined on his board. He scowled and rubbed and drew back and squinted, first at his drawing and then at the plaster model on a nearby shelf. Plainly his work gave him small satisfaction. Mr. McGregor led the newspaper man about the big room, giving him an animated account of the work of the classes and ex- plaining everything with great politeness. When they reached Charlie, the reporter stopped. "Why, here's the little chap that I was talking with," he said. "I thought he was a model; he looks like a glorified choir boy. I can't help thinking there's a story in that kid." Mr. McGregor was an artist, but he had RODNEY JONES, OF THE VIEW 267 had some canny Scotch ancestors. There was a "story " in Charlie, and McGregor knew that it was a good one; but it would depend upon Charlie whether or not it could be had. ''Thomas," said McGregor, "just a minute, please." Charlie deserted Apollo with alacrity. "Yes, Mr. McGregor." "This is Mr. Jones, of the View. He wants to write us up " "Yes, sir," said Charlie, "he said so." "I wish you'd show Mr. Jones some of your little portrait sketches." "Oh, Mr. McGregor," protested the boy. "Sure," chimed in Jones, "let's see 'em. I'm crazy about art." "They're not art," said Charlie. "They're no good. I 've torn up most of 'em, honestly I have, Mr. McGregor." "What are you, a budding C. D. Gibson?" asked the reporter. He did n't mean to be fresh, but he sounded so complacent, so cocksure. Way down inside Charlie Thomas the little mischief imp tickled him. "Wait a minute," he said, and picked up a scrap of paper, which he laid on a magazine. 268 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Then, with a pencil, he made some rapid strokes, glancing momentarily at the in- terested and grinning Jones. "Here you are," he said, and went back to his work. Jones took the sketch, gave it one look, and burst into a roar of laughter that caused all the quiet workers to look up in startled curiosity. McGregor, over Jones's shoulder, saw what Charlie had done. The likeness of Jones was most amazing; it was ridiculous, absurd. "That's great," cried the reporter, "it's just me all over. Say, young fellow, can you hit 'em like that every time? I '11 show it to the crowd at the office it's a wonder." He eyed the caricature again, and the smile faded from his face. Was it a likeness, after all? Did he look like that? "Say, professor," he said, "what's that boy trying to do, make fun of me? I don't look like that; now do I? Say, that's too much, you know. It's clever, but " He paused and stared stupidly at the sketch. It was like looking into a glass which reflected not alone his lineaments, but his RODNEY JONES, OF THE VIEW 269 very soul. Every meanness, every little narrow, petty prejudice, every smug conceit, stood there as legibly as if printed in Gothic type. "This young man," said McGregor, "may or may not be an artist some day. I often wonder if he will. But he has this aston- ishing gift of caricature and hardly ever uses it. He says he doesn't dare to; he hates to hurt people's feelings. He is singularly tender-hearted, and I wonder that he should have allowed himself this indulgence." "I guess my face was too much of a temp- tation to him," said Jones. He slipped the sketch into his pocket. "Good-by, young fellow; much obliged. You'll do all right. I can get you a job on the paper any time. Gee ! Would n't some of our prominent citizens squirm if they saw themselves as you'd see them! Good-by, Professor Mc- Gregor. I'm going to make a nice story about your department. This is my first assignment, and I hope they print it. Thanks for your time and trouble." "I'm awfully sorry, Mr. McGregor," said Charlie in distress when the elevator door 270 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD had slammed. "I wish I hadn't done that. Do you think I hurt his feelings much?" "I hope so, Thomas." "But I didn't want to. Oh, I'm never going to sketch anybody again. He was so so kind of " "Fresh?" "That's it. Something inside of me jumped up and whispered: 'Draw his pic- ture, Charlie; draw his picture, Charlie.' So I did it. Now I'm sorry." " I should n't be sorry, Thomas. Come and sit down here. I want to talk to you." Charlie sat down quite humbly. Maybe he was in for a lecture. "Thomas," said Mr. McGregor, "did you ever hear the parable of the talents?" "Sure I have," said Charlie; "everybody has." "I think you have a very remarkable gift, my boy. I know you are sometimes afraid to use it, and you are certainly to be respected for that. Nevertheless, I know that your pencil often discovers the splendid traits of some subjects as well as the mean- nesses of others. So I want to advise you not RODNEY JONES, OF THE VIEW 271 to neglect your talent for caricature. You may see the day when you can use it very greatly to the advantage of your fellow men." "How could that be, Mr. McGregor?" "Have you ever heard of Thomas Nast? Or of Joseph Keppler?" The boy shook his head. "They were men who did great service because they possessed this gift of yours. Many years ago in New York City a group of politicians robbed the people shamefully and defied the law to reach them. Nast, by means of his pencil, presented so graphic a picture of Tweed, the head of the ring, and of his followers that public opinion was aroused and the thieves were put where they belonged in prison. "Do not for one moment give up your struggle to become an artist, Thomas. But remember, the day may come when you will be an instrument for good, because you have this wonderful gift of telling the truth with a pencil or a bit of charcoal." "Maybe it will help me find the Grail," said Charlie gravely. "The Grail?" 272 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "Haven't you heard about the Galahad Knights?" asked Charlie. "Well, maybe I 'm the only one left, now. Of course it was many, many years ago." "Sir Galahad lived in the days of King Arthur" "Oh, I know that; I'm talking about us boys. We had a society called the Galahad Knights. Francis Willett was the founder of it. Oh, it was a long time ago, when I was only a young boy." "Really," said McGregor, "as long ago as that? Well, what became of them?" "I guess most of them went off to school or college. They were all older than me. But I ' ve stuck to it ever since ; I 'm a Galahad Knight to-day, much as I ever was; and some day when I get a chance, I'm going to organize the society all over." "You have n't given up the Quest, then?" "No; I'm going to follow it as long as I live." "Well then, Thomas, let me tell you that your talent will help you find the Grail, as you have suggested. That is all for this Jones took home the sketch and hung \t with a pin on the wall. "If that's the kind of a chap I am," he would repeat, " I'm going to change or bust. No wonder I never had a decent job before" RODNEY JONES, OF THE VIEW 273 morning. I should say you had Apollo's eye too far back. If I were you, I should throw this one away and start another. It can't be much worse, and it is more than likely to show a lot of improvement." And McGregor passed on to the next Seeker. Jones went back to the View office and wrote his story, which in due time appeared in the Sunday issue. But it said nothing about Charlie Thomas. Jones took home the sketch and hung it with a pin on the wall near his bed. Every night before he turned in, and every morning when he arose, he studied it. "If that's the kind of a chap I am," he would repeat, "I'm going to change or bust. No wonder I never had a decent job before. Did n't want to hurt folks' feelings, did he? Well, he hurt mine, same as my father used to hurt 'em with a piece of trunk strap; and I hope it does me as much good as the strap did." But Jones had another idea in placing the caricature where he could see it, and that was to keep Charlie Thomas in mind. The time was coming when it would be very 274 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD much to his advantage to know that young artist. Jones had a big idea the kind of idea that makes good newspaper men and good newspapers. Meanwhile he studied his trade of writing and bided his time. CHAPTER XX THE NEW ASSISTANT MARY ALICE BROWN looked up, one morn- ing in the "gloves," and caught the eye of a young man standing in the aisle before her counter. "Hello, Mary Alice," said the young man. He had a good-humored face, a complacent manner, and very red hair. "Francis Willett," cried Mary Alice. "Where did you come from?" The young man's red hair was particularly noticeable, because he wore no hat, a cir- cumstance which struck Mary Alice as odd. "I came down from the general offices of this establishment to see you, Mary Alice," said Francis. "I'm working here. Do you remember, we both said we wished we did n't have to be educated, so we could work in a store? Well, we're both here." "But how about your education, Francis?" 275 276 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "How about yours?" " Oh, I 've finished mine. I graduated from high school last June." "And I've just begun mine. I was ex- pelled from college last week." * "Francis! What for?" "Being good for nothing." "I don't believe it." "Ask my father." "Likely. Why don't you tell the truth? Are you sick or - "Crazy? Yes, I'm crazy, I guess; or I was. If I had n't been crazy, I 'd still be in college." Mary Alice studied Francis Willett thought- fully. She wished she had Charlie Thomas's talent. She would have put it to the test then and there, in order to find out just what kind of chap this complacent, good-looking, red-haired young man really was. Ever since she had known him she had viewed him with alternating affection and misgiving. He could be so winning if he would. But after he had gone away to school he had outgrown the scope of her understanding. She guessed, shrewdly, that his father had given him too THE NEW ASSISTANT 277 much money to spend and it had partly spoiled him. This grieved Mary Alice, for at heart she was very fond of Francis. She knew she wasn't in his "class." At his best he never made her feel this differ- ence, and she was sure he never meant to make her feel it, even at his worst. After he left for St. Michael's she saw but little of him, and her impression was that of too much "wisdom." He wasn't simple and boyish and frank any more. He used to be the sym- pathetic type, quick to respond to suffering and distress. She did n't know that he would fail to respond now, but he had certainly lost that keen edge of sympathy which had, in his younger days, prompted the founding of the Galahad Knights. "What are you doing in the store?" she asked. "I'm learning the business; began this morning. I already know what f.o.b. and c.o.d. mean. I'm a sort of cub assistant to Mr. Stacey, a general handy little man in his office, not quite so humble as an office boy or nearly so exalted as a saleslady. I can't give anybody orders, and nobody but the 278 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD head of the house can give me any. I'm neither hay nor grass, but I need cutting; and they've started in with my allowance. "Now, Mary Alice, you and I are too good friends for me to make any bones of my sit- uation. I 'm out of college because I got into a scrape. You don't need to know what it was. I came home like the fatted calf that I am, and my father did not kill the prodigal son, but got Stacey to give him a job at ten dollars a week. I must live, move, and have my being on that amount, pay my board at home, buy my clothes and lunches, and take you to see the films once a week." "Mercy!" said Mary Alice. "Here comes the floorwalker. Do you want him to see you loafing here? I don't." If Francis had been a dilatory cash boy, he could n't have scuttled off more guiltily. "Who was that young man?" demanded Mr. Kemp, the floorwalker. "That was Mr. Willett, Mr. Stacey 's new assistant," said Mary Alice glibly. "Mr. Willett? I had n't heard." Mr. Kemp spoke in an injured tone, as if Mr. Stacey should have consulted him before THE NEW ASSISTANT 279 engaging an assistant. Mary Alice could n't like Mr. Kemp; he was too "slick." She did n't need any of Charlie Thomas's help, pencil or no pencil, to size up Mr. Kemp. On the surface he was all geniality and polite- ness. He met the customers and directed them with a lordly air of proprietorship, as of one who should say: "This is my store, la- dies; help yourself to anything you see." Lucy Bradish, another of the girls in the gloves, said Kemp treated 'em all like charge customers. And she liked him just as well as Mary Alice did, and not a bit more. This was also true of Hilda Marsh and Jenny Madison. They had both been in the de- partment longer than Mary Alice and had many stories to tell of Kemp's pettiness, his small vanities, and the meanness which un- derlay the veneer of his "this is the way to greet customers" manner. When Kemp had strutted off up the aisle, Lucy, innocently busy with boxes of gloves that in no way interested her except that they were near Mary Alice, asked: "Who was that nice-lookin' fellow, Mary Alice? The one with the pink hair?" 280 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "He's one of the employees," answered Mary Alice. "How long since? I never saw him before. What's he do, wear clothes in the men's de- partment? Believe me, that suit he had on never came from this emporium. Talk about your daily hint from London! And that tie was n't it a dream! Oh, Mary Alice, tell a fellow, will you?" "That's Mr. Willett, Mr. Stacey's new as- sistant." "Oho, from the head office? What'd he want of you?" "Oh, nothing." "Mary Alice Brown, is that the Francis Willett, John Willett's son, the one that's so awful rich? I bet it is; I've heard he was a carrot-top.' Oh, don't be so hateful! I'm simply crazy to know." Mary Alice grinned at Lucy, but said nothing, and the other girl went poutingly about her business. She sputtered her griev- ance to Hilda and Jenny. "I don't see what he could have wanted," she said. "Maybe he'll come again. He's awful nice looking." THE NEW ASSISTANT 281 "Sure," said Hilda. "I've seen him lots of times; his folks have got heaps of money. I don't see what he wants to work here for." Another caller who dropped in occasionally to see Mary Alice, usually at closing-up time, was Charlie. His work at Minot House was over at one o'clock, but he loved to stay an afternoon or two each week in the big art room. McGregor said he was making a good deal of progress. "Here comes your steady," one of the girls would say, "the little lame fellow. Is n't he the darlingest thing! Hullo, Charlie-boy. How's things over at Minot? Or have you been to the movies this afternoon? There's a dandy film down to the Scenic. It 's called 'Jupiter's Daughter,' five reels. I wish some nice boy with yellow curls would invite me to it." "Honest, Hilda," Charlie said gravely, "if I had money enough, I'd take the whole of you to the movies every night; wouldn't I, Mary Alice?" "I think he would, girls," said Lucy. "He's the most generous boy I ever knew. Never you mind, Charlie; you stay in town 282 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD next Sat'day after' and I'll take you to see 'Jupiter's Daughter' and we'll have ice cream. It's my day off." "Just think of it, girls/' Lucy said, when Charlie and Mary Alice had gone to catch the Hillside Falls car; "that poor child never walked a step until he was eight years old. A big doctor from New York cured him. Mary Alice just worships him. He's a wonder, she says. Over at Minot House he 's so smart he 's in classes with folks three or four years older 'n he is, and he's goin' to be an artist. He's a picture himself. Jenny, lend us a hatpin, will you? Mine 's fell down behind this locker and I have n't time to fish for it to-night. Ma 's going out and I got to get home and put the kids to bed." "You must n't come down here very often, Francis," warned Mary Alice one day. "The girls talk, and it makes Mr. Kemp furious. Every time he sees you he gets so disagree- able. It seems to stir up all his meanness, and that 's a good deal, let me tell you. Besides, I don't believe Mr. Stacey would like you to be spending your time visiting a a shop girl." "Nonsense, Mary Alice. It's the only THE NEW ASSISTANT 283 pleasure I have. He would n't mind. As for Kemp, I'd love a good excuse to dis- arrange that oily smirk of his. I wonder if I could manage to get him discharged." "Don't, Francis. He's got a wife and six children. Maybe you 'd be cross if you had to take care of a family like that on his salary." "Oh, I don't know. Maybe he'd get more salary if he knew how to be decent." "Do you know, Francis, I sometimes won- der if people can help their dispositions. Per- haps he thinks he's doing the best he can; and as long as he thinks so, how are you go- ing to blame him?" Wiser heads than Mary Alice's have puz- zled over that problem. "Somebody ought to tell him," asserted Francis. "Haven't you and I any faults?" asked Mary Alice. "Maybe somebody could tell us a few things; they could me, anyhow." "Somebody's going to tell you how pretty you are." "Hush, you big silly. I thought you said I was skinny." "Good heavens, Mary Alice, you've a long 284 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD memory. How about my big feet? Do you still think I run to elbows, like Sam's pup?" "You run mostly to loud neckties and fool- ish talk. For the love of goodness, go back to your own work and let me do mine. Yes 'm, those are real Russia. Three-fifty. Yes'm, they're guaranteed. The dogskins are at the other end of the counter. Charge account? Yes'm. 368 Clipper Hill Avenue? I'll try, if the afternoon delivery has n't gone yet. Well, maybe they'd send a special messenger, Mrs. Travers. What do you think, Francis? That's the Mrs. Travers I used to haul the washing for, and you used to help me. Will you please go away? No'm, the men's hosiery's on the Essex Street side. Mr. Wil- lett, will you please show this lady to the men's furnishings? Thank you; good-by." Mary Alice decided that adversity had done Francis Willett a world of good. He began to lose his complacence. Stacey was pretty frank in the matter of criticism, and Mary Alice guessed that all was not rosy in the up- stairs office. She wondered how long Francis would hold his job if Stacey were not an old friend of John Willett. CHAPTER XXI AT THE BOREAS CLUB ONE crisp and moderately cold day in January, a Saturday afternoon that the store rules once in so often allowed Mary Alice for her own, the doorbell rang. Little Dick came panting up to Mary Alice's room, where she sat mending gloves. She did this work with wonderful skill, and many of the customers of Stacey's glove department had found it out. So they brought her numerous pairs, often expensive party gloves, needing the remedy of her deft surgery. The work added measurably to Mary Alice's income, though it hurt her eyes if she did too much of it evenings. "Mary Alice, Mary Alice," called little Dick. "The' 's a nawful big auto'bile out in front and it 's Mr. Willutt and he says for you to hurry he's goin' to take you ridin' and he says you need n't put on your coat 'cause 285 286 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD he 's got a grea' big fur one for you to wear and hurry up down." "But, Dicky, I can't. I've got so much to do. Tell him I'll have to be excused. Well, say to wait a minute. I'll be right down." Dicky thumped hastily off downstairs. "She says," he informed the young man at the door, "she says she can't, she's got too much to do, and tell you she'll have to be excused and wait a minute, she '11 be right down." "I thought," said the girl, as the car slid away from the house with Mary Alice cuddled into the low passenger's seat, well wrapped in furs, "I thought you said your father did n't want you to use his cars." "T is n't father's; it's Stacey's runabout. I asked him to lend it to me and he was very nice about it." "Then you're getting along better with him?" "Looks that way. I've really learned a lot. My, how he has gone over me! But now I'm getting so I'm rather useful to him. He's quite pleasant, most of the time." AT THE BOREAS CLUB 287 Was that a hint of the old complacence? Mary Alice did not get too many automo- bile rides. The cold air, as they moved swiftly through the frozen country, bit her cheeks and made them redder; it brought the tears to her eyes and made them brighter. She snuggled down contentedly and enjoyed herself exceedingly, and she liked Francis Willett better than ever. :< This is the life, this is the life," hummed Francis, and the velvety little French engine hummed in unison. "I tell you, it feels good to get a wheel in my hands again. Gid-ap, Dobbin! Pretty nice car, the boss brought home from Paris last fall. Oh, say, Mary Alice, if only I had some money of my own!" "I don't see but that you're doing nicely without any." "You don't know. It's a case of hold back with me day in and day out. My clothes are getting shabby, I have n't had a new tie for a month, and I black my own shoes every morning by lamplight. This getting up before day in the dead of winter's no fun." 288 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "But is n't it doing you good?" "Oh, I suppose so. It's what my father wanted. By George, Mary Alice, there 's one person who's pleased! You know when I first came home he had hard work to speak to me, poor old chap. I got so I was lots sorrier for him than I was for myself. Pretty hard blow, to have his only chee-ild take such a tumble. He was all bokey-up. But now- adays, when he sees mother's iron-jawed boy spring lightly out of bed about one hour ahead of the sun, hears me swash around in a tub full of ice water, and then meets my smiling, business-like phiz at the breakfast table, he just beams. It's one of the two things that make my hard, barren existence supportable." "What's the other?" asked the girl, inno- cently. "You!" Mary Alice added a nice pink blush to the red already wind-kissed upon her cheeks. "Fiddlesticks!" she said. "Fiddle nothing," said Francis. "You're a dandy girl, Mary Alice. I love you to distraction." AT THE BOREAS CLUB 289 "Look out for that dog," cried Mary Alice. "My goodness, I thought you were going to run over him." "Aren't you romantic?" complained the young man. "How perfectly idyllic to say, ' I love you,' with all the pent-up passion of a tortured soul, and to have your adored one shout, 'Hey, look out for the ki-oodle!' Real sentiment there, n'est ce pas?" "Oh, Francis, you're so absurd. You must n't make love to me. I don't even think your father 'd like it if he knew you were taking me to drive. It's nice to, be friends, but oh, please don't make it any stronger than that !" "What talk have you?" demanded Francis. "My father thinks you're just about right, I can tell you. 'Way back when you and I were kids he used to tell me what a pretty little thing you were and how much sense you had." "That was because we were little." "Doesn't make any diff. You're prettier now than ever, and you've got ten times as much sense. Listen to me! You don't know my dad. Do you think he has any foolish ideas about 'class' and ' exclusiveness ' and 290 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD all that? Why, when he was my age he was poor as as I am. Poorer; he got only six dollars a week." "But he was a college man." "He earned his way through he and Uncle Billy Jackson. That's why they're such pals. Uncle Billy Jackson thinks you're great, Mary Alice." "He has n't seen me for four or five years. Let's not argue. For goodness' sake, where are we, anyhow? I've never been here be- fore. What are you turning in for? " "It's the Boreas Club; tobogganing, ski- ing, skating all that sort of thing. Ever have an ice-boat ride? Ever go down a toboggan chute? Now's your chance." Francis turned the car over to an attend- ant at the clubhouse steps and led Mary Alice into the great living-room. " Want something to warm you up a mite? " asked her host. "No, indeed, I'm not a bit chilled." "Well, then, after we've had our slide. Now let's see. You'll need some heavier boots, and mittens, and a stocking cap. Wait here a few minutes; I'll be right back." AT THE BOREAS CLUB 291 He disappeared, leaving Mary Alice stand- ing before the broad hearth, where a big fire crackled cheerily. The room was exceedingly fine. Thick, warm-colored rugs, invitingly deep chairs, appropriate pictures, all con- tributed to its delightful and luxurious at- mosphere. To Mary Alice this was a taste of the life of rich people. A couple of silent ser- vitors glided about, attending upon the few guests who seemed to prefer the comfort of the room to the allurements of outdoor sports. These grouped themselves about small tables, where they laughed over their tea. Among them Mary Alice recognized two or three familiar faces, those of young women to whom she had sold gloves at Stacey's. If they noticed her, they gave no sign. Something told Mary Alice that she ought to feel out of place here; but, on the contrary, she made herself quite at home, idly turned over the pages of magazines, examined some of the pictures, and enjoyed the experience quite frankly. Mary Alice knew that the Boreas Club was made up of the best people of Sheffield and its suburbs. Moreover, she knew that 292 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Francis Willett's social position gave him the entree wherever such people gathered. That he was a member and that she was his guest gave her a pleasant sensation of belonging there herself. Francis came back, followed by a respectful maid, who carried sundry articles of apparel, including a gay-patterned mackinaw and stout outing boots. "Just go with Teresa," said her escort. "She'll fix you up in a jiffy. I borrowed this plunder from a friend's locker. Oh, it's all right. I telephoned about it before I left town; you see I had this little party all planned. So trot along; we must make the most of the afternoon." Mary Alice, putting on the costume thus supplied, considered Francis Willett mighty thoughtful. Ever since boyhood he had al- ways had such a delightful, easy way of doing things. With all his complacence, he was entirely charming, and never more so than when he was alone with her. Of course he said silly things, but Mary Alice was just as human as any other girl. Somehow she was perfectly sure that Francis AT THE BOREAS CLUB 293 meant just what he said, and she could n't resent it. She did n't want to. Together they climbed the long slope to the top of the toboggan chute. There was no snow, but a combination of labor, water, and cold weather had produced a beautifully iced runway that dipped dizzily between high gunwales of planking to the shore of a sizable lake. Mary Alice remembered pictures of winter carnivals, and the atmosphere at the Boreas Club's toboggan slide now seemed charged with the carnival spirit. Laughing, shouting, excited coasters, all carefully dressed in garments designed for this particular sport, crowded the broad starting platform. Nearly everybody knew Francis and greeted him noisily and cordially. Many cast inquiring glances Mary Alice's way; she was too pretty to be ignored. Francis procured from somewhere a luxu- rious, cushioned toboggan, fitted with shiny nickled rails and a chime of blending bells. He looked, so Mary Alice thought, the most stunning young man in the crowd. Perhaps the pattern of his mackinaw was a little the most striking; he certainly wore his 294 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD tasseled cap with a rakish and fetching air. A tall, graceful figure, he carried himself with easy assurance, his complacent, confident smile quite in keeping with his position in this world of "nice" people. If occasion arose, he introduced Mary Alice to his women friends or presented Mr. This and Mr. That with fine courtesy. Mary Alice was not in the least displeased to sense, in Francis Willett's attitude, a sort of pride. Presently he confirmed this thought for her. "Mary Alice, do you want to meet a lot of these people, or just keep by ourselves? They're crazy about you, especially the men. There is n't a girl here who can hold a candle to you " "Francis!" "That's right. You're the prettiest thing I ever saw, in that get-up. Come on. Let 's get in line for the slide. You're going to have some fun." When their turn came at the top of the chute, Francis tucked her in behind the curved front of the toboggan and dropped into his place, right hip to cushion. "Hang on tight," he said. AT THE BOREAS CLUB 295 It was like being poised on the brink of a precipice. Mary Alice peered down that dizzy slope and felt a delicious little shudder of terror. What was going to happen? The safe return of group after group proved the non-hazardous nature of the sport, but she had watched each toboggan drop out of sight under that brink and wondered if she should ever see it emerge at the bottom and go tearing out upon the lake ice ; but it always had done so, thus far. The Boreas toboggan slide was daringly designed to give one the maximum of thrills. After an almost sheer descent of fifty feet, the slope seemed to fold back upon itself, and then drop again with such amazing sud- denness that the toboggan shot clear of the ice and described an arc in mid-air, coming down with a bewildering swoop that left one quite breathless. "Hold hard," cried Francis. "We're off." He kicked out with his nail-studded left toe, and the trip began. Mary Alice had just time enough to brace herself, when the whole world seemed to fall out from under her. The flat bottom of the toboggan swept 296 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD the ice with a high-pitched roar; the swift wind pressed upon her like a wall of water. ' ' Now, then, whooo-oooo-o-o-o-oooop ! ' ' shouted Francis, past Mary Alice's ear, and the toboggan leaped straight out into space. The girl wondered, afterward, if this sensation of helpless, catapulted flight could be any- thing like that of traveling in an aeroplane. But now, absurdly, ludicrously, terribly, out of the past came one word, which sang in her brain as she fell endlessly through that shining void: "Gravity! Gravity! Grav- ity!" They came down crashing, bells a-shout, and hurtled onward in a great swirl of ice particles, shot out upon the lake surface, past a blur of roped-off skaters, and gradually slowed to a stop near the farther shore. Francis pulled her to her feet, and she clung to him, a little dizzy. "Pretty good, eh?" he said. "Like it? Were n't scared, were you?" Mary Alice gulped, blinked, and shook her head. "No, but " "But you don't want any more? Is that it?" The flat bottom of the toboggan swept the ice with a high-pitched roar ; the swift wind pressed upon her like a wall of water AT THE BOREAS CLUB 297 "Are you Do you want to go down again?" she asked. "Why, of course. That 's what we're here for. Only, if you would rather not " "Francis Willett, do you think you 're nice to me? Do you think I'd I'd quit? Don't you think I've got as much spunk as those other girls?" "You bet you have. More, too. Come, here 's the team." Horses hitched to big sleds conveyed the coasters back to the foot of the slide, where the toboggans were drawn up by an endless chain, steam propelled. "It's too bad there's no breeze," com- mented Francis. "We could go ice boating. That would be fun; it's much more exciting than this. You'd love it." Mary Alice looked up obliquely at her escort; there was a twinkle in his eye. "Yes," she said. "It's a shame! Did you ever jump off the roof of a skyscraper? I should think it would be quite thrilling that is, until you got accustomed to it." CHAPTER XXII "SAY YOU'LL MARRY ME, OR " WITH the early winter darkness, long lines of electric lamps lighted the slide and dotted the lake. More and more people appeared to swell the carnival throng. Mary Alice felt its picturesqueness, its color, its bewildering novelty. After that breath-taking initiation she lost her keen edge of fear, but the long plunge at the " jumping-off place'* maintained its fascinating terror. "It's getting overcrowded," at length an- nounced Francis. "We don't get our turn very often; the waits are too long. Let's go to the clubhouse and order supper." "Oh, but I must be home for supper," insisted Mary Alice. "The family will worry. It has been perfectly splendid, Francis. You've been an old dear to give me such a heavenly afternoon." "Oh, well, if you must," he conceded, after 298 "SAY YOU'LL MARRY ME, OR " 299 five minutes of useless argument. "Anyhow, we'll have something hot before we start." When Mary Alice had discarded her bor- rowed costume and returned to the big living- room, she found Francis there alone. "Everybody's coasting or skating," he said. "They'll begin to drift in pretty soon. I wish we did n't have to go. It 's jolly here in the evening. There'll be dancing. The orchestra's ripping. Don't you think this is a pretty smooth place? Everybody belongs, old and young. Father's a charter member. I hate to miss a good time out here, because I suppose I've got to resign. My income's too small to afford these indulgences. My membership is paid up to March; then, good- by, club. Will you come again with me soon?" "Why, of course. Only well, I'm not exactly " "Fiddlesticks ! " cried Francis testily. " I Ve never asked another girl here. And if you don't come with me, I don't care a snap about the place." He looked down at her, his eyes ardent. Mary Alice turned away. She suddenly 300 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD found it a little hard to meet that boyish, eager look ; so she murmured something which sounded like "Nonsense." But she was very much afraid the rejoinder lacked convincing- ness, even to herself. One of the pussy-footed serving-men brought her a big chair and placed a hassock under her feet. Francis said something to him, which Mary Alice failed to catch. "Yessir, right away, sir," the man replied, and trotted off. Francis rattled on with agreeable and soothing talk. Mary Alice answered cheerily and stretched out her hands to the blazing logs. The serving-man came back with a tray, placed a little table between Francis and Mary Alice, and on it set two small earthen mugs, out of which a vapor curled in attenuated shreds. "That's fine," said Francis. "I bet you never tasted anything so good!" He took the nearer mug by the handle and waved it under his appreciative nose. "What's that, chocolate?" asked Mary Alice. Her mouth began to water delicately. She picked up the mug and set it to her lips. "SAY YOU'LL MARRY ME, OR " 301 "Ugh!" She put it hastily back on the table. "What's the matter? Too hot? I should have warned you. They make 'em simply scalding. Let it get cool; we've plenty of time." Mary Alice looked gravely at the young man. He was placidly sipping the mixture, which burned with something beside heat. She had swallowed but a little, yet her throat scorched as with a fiery condiment. "What is that, Francis?" 'This? Tom-and- Jerry, of course. Just the thing for a cold day like Why, Mary Alice, what's the matter?" "I wish you I don't like can't I have a glass of water?" " Sure, sure! But you 'd better have choco- late." He rang a bell and directed the serving-man to bring it. "I didn't know I suppose you're offended. I thought you'd like the other. Everybody else does." He finished his mug hastily, as if fearing that something might cheat him of it, and displayed a half-annoyed embarrassment. "I'm so sorry," said the girl. "I didn't 302 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD mean it surprised me. Please don't do it again, will you? I 'm not a silly goody-goody; maybe you think I am. It 's just well, you don't know what I've been through on account of it, and I'm awfully afraid of it. You would n't blame me if I refused to drink arsenic or something like that, would you?" "But this is n't" "Yes it is. To me it's no different from any other poison, only a little slower, and it makes people suffer so, Francis! You don't know, you can't know. Forgive me. I did n't mean to spoil your good time." "Spoil nothing," cried Francis. "Why, Mary Alice, this has been the most perfect day I ever spent. Oh, Mary Alice, dear little pretty Mary Alice, let's you and me get married!" "Don't start in again, Francis! I must n't let you talk like that, especially when you've been taking that " "That harmless little mugful? Pooh! But never mind, Mary Alice. I'll make a bar- gain with you. I don't care a cent for it. I like it, sometimes. But it'll never get the best of" "SAY YOU'LL MARRY ME, OR " 303 " I thought it got you expelled from college." Francis Willett bounded out of his chair as if he had been shot at. He stood over his companion, eyes blazing. "Don't you dare to talk like that to me, Mary Alice Brown!" he cried fiercely. "Do you think I 'm nothing but a kid? Look here; I'll show you." He picked up the second mug, which she had set down. "Will you marry me, or won't you? Speak quick, now. You don't like this stuff -you're afraid of it. You say it's poison. Well, then, I'll give you your choice. Say you '11 marry me give me your promise and I'll give you mine never to touch an- other drop as long as I live. I 'm in earnest. You be the same. Come, what's the ver- dict?" He held the cup close to his face, moving it back and forth past his lips. "You're a little temperance advocate; I'm a lost sinner. I'll give you a chance to save me, to make a convert. Come, Mary Alice. I '11 count ten. One two three four five " 304 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "Don't, Francis, don't, please. You have n't any right to - "Six yes, I have a right seven it's because I love you eight and you ought to love me nine I 'm not such a bad chap I '11 make good some day shall I say it? Ten!" He set the little mug to his lips. Mary Alice threw herself out of her chair and struck at the cup. Francis waved it out of her reach, and the contents spilled. "Ouch!" said Francis. "It's running up my sleeve." He lowered the mug, and Mary Alice sent it spinning into the fireplace, where the liquor sizzled and spat like a snake among the coals. "Anyhow, I didn't promise," the young man said. "Let's go home," begged Mary Alice. "After your chocolate," said Francis. Out in the open, under the early stars, they sped along the frozen country roads again. Mary Alice said nothing for a long time. Francis, subdued and half-apologetic, gave his entire attention to the wheel. "SAY YOU'LL MARRY ME, OR " 305 "That wasn't a bit nice of you, Francis Willett," the girl said, at last. "You were n't fair with me. You have n't any right to make me take the responsibility of what you do." "I meant it," said Francis. He was a trifle glum. "I still mean it." "Listen, Francis," began Mary Alice, gently. "You want me to love you against my better judgment. You want me to do a thing that would just about break your mother's heart. She wouldn't have you marry a shop girl. Besides, how can I know? You 're very nice when you want to be. But you 're rich a rich man's son. I 'm poor a laborer's daughter. My mother used to take in washing. Lots of girls would jump at the chance, but I can't do it. Some- thing tells me not to. Why don't you make me the promise, anyhow? It was your own suggestion. I did n't ask it of you. I do ask it now. If you do well you will be rich some day, like your father. He is such a good man. You said yourself it was the one thing - "One of the two things." 306 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "One of the things that made you go on trying. Let's make a bargain. Give me three years two years. Go on and do your best. Promise to keep from drinking, just as you said you could, and would. Then I '11 make you a promise. If your father and mother want you to marry me at the end of the two years, I'll do it, provided you keep your promise." Francis Willett was twenty-one years old, legally a man, actually a boy. He had tried the high hand and failed. He was hurt and the defeat stung him. He was so much a boy that he would not let himself see that Mary Alice was right. He thought his pride had been touched, when it was only his boy- ish egotism. "No," he said. "If you don't care enough about me to promise to marry me without any father-and-mother string hitched on, I don't care to do business." Francis was trying to be humorous. "Your proposition interests me, Mary Alice, but on mature con- sideration I fear we cannot reach an under- standing at this time. Thanking you for the very courteous attention you have given the "SAY YOU'LL MARRY ME, OR " 307 matter, and hoping that at some future date the negotiations may be reopened between your house and our own, I remain, with kind regards, yours respectfully, F. Willett." "Oh, dear," said Mary Alice. "If you were addressing me " "Here's the house. Let's not say any more, Francis. I 'm so broken up about this. Our lovely afternoon all gone to smash!" She disentangled herself from the big coat and the coonskin robes and stepped out. "Oh, Francis, you are such an old darling," she said. "I could love you if Oh, I guess I do love you, anyhow! I guess I loved you that night you whipped Lutey Travers for tipping over my washing. But I'm not going to spoil your life for you and break your mother's heart. I'd I'd rather mine would break. G-g-good night!" She turned and ran up the steps, past the door which little Dick obligingly held open for her, and on up to her room. "Hey, Mary Alice! Where 'd you go? Have a good time? Tell me 'bout it." "I can't now. Yes, I had a fine time. 308 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Tell mother I've got a headache. I don't want any supper." Dicky heard the door slam. "Gosh!" he said. "Say, mother, Mary Alice says she had a fine time and she's got a headache and she would n't tell me nothin' about it and she don't want no sup- per. What you goin' to have, fried pertaters? I'm starved." CHAPTER XXIII TWO INTERVIEWS FRANCIS WILLETT was doing rather well, Mr. Stacey told the young man's father. He was faithful, ambitious, prompt. His employer wanted to trust him even more than he did. But there was a drawback. "That boy of yours," said Stacey, "is as bright as they make 'em. I can see great ability in him. He takes hold surprisingly well and catches an idea as quick as a steel trap catches a squirrel. He has the com- mercial instinct." "Look here, Stacey," said Wfflett. "If you think so well of the boy, why not let me make you a proposition? You know the mercantile business is about the only thing in this town I have n't had a finger in. I 'd like to get in there with you. I could buy a block of your stock, and Francis could be my personal representative on your board. 309 310 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD It would be a great thing for the boy, and he 'd see something substantial coming to him in the future." "That's a good proposition, John," said Stacey, "except for one thing; and that's what I'm here to see you about." "Well?" Somehow Willett felt a queer little dread before Stacey spoke again. "I'll tell you, John. That boy of yours is too fond of well er " "You mean?" Willett made a significant gesture. "Yes, John." "But he's living at home, Stacey. I should know it, I'm sure." "Don't fool yourself or, rather, don't let Francis fool you. Here it is mid-summer; he's been with me since November almost constantly. I'm in a position to know." "You mean to say he gets ' "Oh, no, not at all. But he's fallen in with a crowd who go to the Waldemere to lunch every day, and when he comes in for his afternoon work, I notice it. Lord love you, he 'd be as surprised as anybody if he knew I suspected. But, John, he's only a boy, and TWO INTERVIEWS 311 he's forming a habit that may do him tremendous harm. If he could be made to promise to quit, and stick to it for a reason- able length of time, I 'd entertain that prop- osition of yours mighty quick." "Stacey, what do you advise? I've cer- tainly tried to do my duty by that boy; he's all I've got. You can appreciate what he means to his mother and me. I'm at my wits' end. I'm afraid I'll do or say the wrong thing. Boys are so touchy, and I might tip over the apple cart. I tell you, it's a terrible situation." "Wait a minute, John. There's something else I have n't told you. It may make a difference. It's none of my business, in a way; then again, it's very much my busi- ness." "If it's about Francis " "It is. He's got a girl." "A girl? You mean " " In the glove department a little beauty. The boy is fairly wild about her. I catch him down there two or three times a week. In fact, I had to caution him only yesterday. I can't have him neglecting business for a 312 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD salesgirl. Last winter I guess it was in January he borrowed my new French runabout and took her riding. She lives out Hillside Falls way. I tell you, John, she's a beauty. Only, of course, she's rather humble " "Is her name Brown?" "I believe so. Mary, I think." "Mary Alice. I know her. You're right about her being pretty. I've known her since she was a little girl, and a smarter child never lived. I wonder if she's as bright now?" "I understand she's one of our best sales- girls." "Mary Alice, Mary Alice," repeated John Willett. "What if I wonder what his mother 'd say." "I should think she'd be rather upset. She's an aristocratic woman, your wife." "Stacey, you know aristocracy goes a precious little way with me. This girl saved my boy once. I wonder if we can't get her to help us save him again." "She ought to be willing; he's a fine fel- low. But if" TWO INTERVIEWS 313 "If what, Stacey?" "I was thinking of the girl's own happi- ness. You know how it is, almost always, when a woman marries a man to reform him. It does n't work." "All right, then; let her reform him before she marries him. I tell you, Stacey, if he wants that girl and I can help him get her, he shall have her, provided he quits this foolishness. I'll settle it with Mrs. Willett. Now I tell you what. You send Mary Alice Brown to see me, right here in this office. Will you do it?" "I most assuredly will, John. You can depend upon it." That afternoon Mr. Stacey the Mr. Stacey the merchant prince and all that sort of thing, was seen walking rather aim- lessly about the aisles of his great store. He usually kept to his office, and now the clerks nudged each other and whispered: " There he is the boss." Stacey's apparently purposeless wander- ings brought him in time to the vicinity of the gloves. "It's Stacey himself," whispered Lucy. 314 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD The merchant idly turned over a few pairs. "Let me see," he said to Mary Alice Brown, "have you some of those new wash- able chamois, size seven and three-quarters?" "I think so, Mr. Stacey." "Those are the ones," said Stacey. "Let me see, what time is it? Dear me, I 'm afraid I'm too late." The usually alert and deci- sive Mr. Stacey peered about him, as if in perplexity. "You see, I'm in a rather embarrassing position. I the fact is, I promised a friend of mine a pair of these gloves, and I said I 'd send them to him before closing time. You don't happen to know where Mr. Willett's - Mr. John Willett's office is, do you, young lady?" He looked innocently at Mary Alice, over the tops of his glasses. "Yes, sir, I know. It's in the Craddock Building." "That's right, that's right. Well, now, suppose you do this errand for me. Take this message to Mr. Willett, and be very careful to deliver it just as I give it to you. Say, 'Mr. Stacey wishes me to tell you that he " Let me see," the merchant said to Mary Alice Brown, " have you some of those new washable chamois, size seven and three-quarters? " TWO INTERVIEWS 315 has sent you what he promised/ Do you understand?" "Mr. Stacey wishes me to tell you that he has sent you what he promised." "Right; and then give him the gloves. And you need n't come back. One of your friends here can tell the superintendent that I took you away from your duties. And I am very much obliged to you, Miss Miss " "Brown." " Miss Brown yes, yes. I 'm very much obliged to you." "Ain't Mary Alice the luckiest thing?" demanded Hilda. "To get a chance like that. She's solid from now on. The lucky little piece! Now why could n't it been me? I could remembered them words as well as her. 'Mr. Stacey says to tell you here's the new style gloves.'" To say that Mary Alice was quite unsus- pecting would be doing her intelligence scant justice; yet she certainly could not see into the mystery. It might have just happened; still - She told the clerk in John Willett's outer office that she wished to speak to Mr. Willett 316 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD personally. She said to tell him Miss Brown was there, from Stacey's. The clerk came back and very politely ushered this unusually pretty girl into the inner office. "Hello, Mary Alice," said Willett. Mary Alice walked up to Willett and took the cordial hand he held out to her. He acted as if he had actually expected her. Then the message: "Mr. Stacey wishes me to tell you that he has sent you what he promised." "I should say he had, and mighty promptly, too," cried Willett; and the funny part was, Mary Alice had n't given him the package con- taining the gloves. She laid it on the desk. "Sit down, Mary Alice. I want to talk to you." He paid no attention to the gloves; so this was a plot. She began to feel excessively uncomfortable. "Yes, Mr. Willett." "Mary Alice, what do you think of my boy?" The girl jumped. "Francis?" This was a foolish question, of course; but Mary Alice felt foolish. TWO INTERVIEWS 317 "Francis. You thought enough of him once to save him from drowning." "But, Mr. Willett - "Mary Alice, has Francis been making love to you?" " Ye -- no - - well why, Mr. Willett, what a question!" "That's all right. He has, of course. Now, Mary Alice, do you love Francis?" She said nothing this time. "That's all right, then," went on Willett. "I just wanted to say to you, little girl, that nothing would please me so much as to have my boy marry as nice a I mean, marry you!" "But I am afraid" "You need n't be. I know all about you. Your people were good back-country stock, the finest blood in the world. Mine came from the country, too. Nothing could be more fitting. But there's something in the way. You're a pretty sensible girl, I guess. You have brains enough to know that a wise young woman never marries a man whose habits " " I don't think he " 318 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "Yes, he does; don't you tell me. I have it on the best authority that he does. He's fooled you and me, that's all." "I knew he drank a little but not much." "Much, Mary Alice even a little is 'much.' But Francis drinks more than a little, every day. Do you see him often? Afternoons or mornings?" "Sometimes a little while in the morning, but not very often lately. He 's he 's rather put out with me, I guess." "He'd better not be, he'd better not be. I want you to cultivate him encourage him, Mary Alice. You'll make him a fine wife, if you love each other. But he must stop this foolishness. He'll stop for you." "No, he won't." "He won't? How do you know? Have you tried it? I thought you said he did n't drink much? How did you come to " Mary Alice related her experience at the Boreas Country Club and concluded: "Fran- cis said he did n't care a thing for drinking; he would give it up if I would promise to marry him." TWO INTERVIEWS 319 "But he's keeping right on, Mary Alice." "Well, I didn't promise." "Why not? Don't you love him? Don't you want to save him?" "I guess yes, Mr. Willett, I love Francis. He's the dearest boy in the world. But he would n't promise to stop." "Mary Alice, which of us is crazy? First you say he wanted to promise, and you would n't marry him; and then you say you wanted him to promise, and he refused." "It's - -you and Mrs. Willett." "You mean you thought " " That you would n't want Francis to marry a shop girl. It might make you un- happy, and that would make Francis unhappy in the long run, no matter how much he cared for me. So I said that if he made good" "Yes; and what else, Mary Alice?" "And promised never to drink " "Yes?" "And his mother and father wanted me to marry him at the end of two years, I would." "And he wouldn't agree to that? The young fool!" 320 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "Well, his pride was hurt; and then, how could he know that you people would like it? You say you want me to save him. But how about your wife, Mr. Willett? I don't believe she has the least idea at this instant that Francis is says he loves me. Now has she, Mr. Willett?" "No, Mary Alice, she has n't; but " "I'm afraid it's no use, Mr. Willett. I'm only a shop girl after all; and Mrs. Willett would never forget it, and she'd always believe that I er robbed her of him, as if I said: 'Give him to me or I'll let him go to ruin.' She'd never forgive me." "What a funny, distorted way you look at it, Mary Alice!" cried Willett desperately. "Suppose you don't marry Francis, and he conies to grief and brings all the rest of us to grief, how will you feel?" "Terribly, of course. But why can't he listen to reason? If he promised ever so hard, I'd have to wait a couple of years. I'd want to be sure he'd stick to it." "Well, Mary Alice, I think you are right about that. But I can assure you that Mrs. Willett and I" TWO INTERVIEWS 321 "I'll believe that if you say it again in two years," said Mary Alice; and it would have sounded like a very cold-blooded little speech but for the large, wet tears that were running down her face. "Bless your heart, Mary Alice," cried John Willett. "You're miles too good for that boy. I'm going to have a talk with him." "But you won't tell him you've seen me, will you?" sobbed Mary Alice Brown. CHAPTER XXIV LIVES AND SOULS JOHN WILLETT went home that night fully determined to have the whole thing out with Francis. He felt sure that, at twenty-one, his son could hardly have formed a habit very difficult to break. He was just begin- ning. There ought not to be any trouble. Francis was merely boyishly stubborn. John did not say anything to Mrs. Willett; if necessary, there would be time enough for that later. Willett had no hampering social notions. His son, so far as he knew, had paid no attentions to other girls. Willett insisted in his own mind that Francis had always loved Mary Alice. Willett would have ap- proved of Mary Alice as Francis's choice with delight, even if the girl's influence had not been necessary to save the boy. Stacey's revelation concerning the young man's conduct was no real surprise to him. 322 LIVES AND SOULS 323 He did n't want to believe it, but he had been denying the pertinence of the signs for a long time. In his expectation of talking the mat- ter over with his son that night he was disappointed. He waited up until after midnight before Francis came in. Then the father decided that it would be the wrong time to open the subject, for he became aware that the boy had spent his evening with the new crowd he had lately been cultivating. "What have I done, what have I done?" Willett asked himself bitterly. "Why should I be punished like this? Why should I have to suffer, who have been so unsparing in my attempts to bring him up a good, sober, and useful man? What has/his mother done to deserve this?" Willett stayed awake nearly the entire night and purposely lay late next morning, hoping to avoid Francis, who usually went to his work early. When he finally got about and looked at his face in the shaving glass, he was shocked at his appearance. He looked old and sick; his face was drawn and 324 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD lined with pain. His eyes were dull and life- less, senile, faded. Willett got through the short forenoon somehow, and as soon as he could tell at just what hour he would be ready for lunch, tele- phoned Stacey's. The luncheon table would be an excellent place for the dreaded discus- sion with his son. He was informed that young Mr. Willett had not been in the office of Stacey's that morning. Willett got Stacey himself on the wire. "No, John," said Stacey, "Francis didn't come down this morning. They telephoned from your house that he was ill." Willett had, then, left home before his son was out of bed. He called the house. Mr. Francis had been gone an hour. He had taken the big touring-car. Willett, as Francis had told Mary Alice, had forbidden his son the use of his automo- biles during the period of probation. This was not from any lack of generosity, but be- cause he thought Francis would be benefited by the denial. What was the lesson in a small salary if one enjoyed a rich man's LIVES AND SOULS 325 luxuries at another's expense? The salutary effect would be lost. Willett's perturbation increased as the day wore on. He heard nothing of his son, but dropped into Stacey's just before closing time and asked Mary Alice if she had seen him. She had not, but promised immediate communication if she heard anything of the missing young man. Willett learned nothing for another twenty-four hours. And when he did It was harvest time at Thomas's farm. From the fields came the clatter of the ma- chines. Sam had put on extra hands, and Mrs. Brown came up from the cottage to help with the added burden of cooking for the workers. Little Dick Brown played about the dooryard. With a snort a great black touring-car came tearing into the Thomas driveway. The chickens and little Dick scattered, but the latter had a narrow escape. He set up a loud scream of terror, and the women came run- ning to the door. Francis Willett, at the steering wheel, bowed with an exaggerated courtesy. 326 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "Good morning, ladies," he said jovially. "I trust you are very well this morning." Martha surveyed the visitor with the fishy eye of suspicion. Mrs. Brown was comforting the frightened Dicky. To a casual observer, Francis looked above reproach. Dressed with his usual care, and sporting that complacent, half -bantering manner, he was the true Fran- cis of Martha's acquaintance. But old experience had taught Mrs. Sam Thomas the signs. She had known another genial soul, whose geniality had been enhanced by alcohol. She could unerringly tell the gen- uine from the imitation. So her greeting to Francis was not of the heartiest. "My dear Mrs. Thomas," said the young man suavely, but with just the slightest trace of a thickened accent, "I will not trespass either upon your time or territory for more than a reasonable minimum. Where is Sam? " "He's in the field, getting in the grain." "Then I will not trouble him. I merely wanted to fill my radiator. You can, I am sure, spare me a little water for the purpose? " "Help yourself," said Martha; "there's a bucket at the well." LIVES AND SOULS 327 Francis got down, and his condition be- came more apparent; for his walk was not so fluent as his speech. He possessed himself of the bucket, lowered it solemnly but unstead- ily into the well, and started to wind it up again. The windlass squeaked cheerfully, but turned exceedingly hard. "Hey, there," cried a hearty voice; "lemme help you." It was Lem Brown. He was drenched with perspiration from head to foot. His face streamed. "It's a tur'ble hot day in the field," he said. "Them boys drinks up the water 'bout's fast as it's brung to 'em." Francis Willett did not know Lem Brown, except by reputation, as Mary Alice's father, and an assistant of Sam Thomas. Lem had never seen Francis, or did not remember him if he had. He filled a dipper from the bucket and drank eagerly. "My friend," said the young man, "I have here something that would make your water much more palatable. ' ' He pulled a flask from his pocket. "No, thanks," said Lem. "I don't never touch it hain't took a drink for years." 328 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "Perhaps, after so long a time, it would please you to renew your friendship for John Barleycorn." "Not on your life," refused Lem. "Me and John Barleycorn's never been friends. He threw me down; now I'm done with him forever; yes sirree!" He set his dipper on the well-curb and went to unscrewing the radiator cap. "I'll fill her up for ye," he said. Martha and Mrs. Brown had gone back to the boiling pot and the baking oven. Little Dick, drawn by a child's curiosity, stood nearby, watching his father fill Mr. Willett's "auto'bile" with water. He had supposed that all such machines ran exclusively by gasoline. Little Dick saw Mr. Willett play a funny joke on the elder Brown. When Lem's back was turned, Mr. Willett emptied half the contents of his flask into Lem's dipper, after which he added water. Lem screwed on the cap, returned to the well, and picked the dipper up. "Beats all how thirsty I be," he said, and without taking breath, poured most of the LIVES AND SOULS 329 liquid down his throat. He must have swal- lowed a pint before he suddenly stopped. He held the dipper in his large hand and con- templated it stupidly. "Funny tastin' water," he said. Then he looked up at Francis, who was grinning in genial appreciation of a good joke. Into Lem's slow brain crept realization. His china eyes stared, horror-stricken, at the smiling face of his betrayer. What had this stranger against him that he should come and stealth- ily poison him? Who was this sneaking en- emy, with the traitorous, triumphant smile? "Whisky!" said Lem. The liquor had not had time to reach his brain, but red anger seized him. "You grinnin' sneak, you," he roared, frightful in his rage. Little Dick shrieked and fled. Lem's hand dropped the dipper, and flew to the rim of a heavy, water-soaked bucket, used for watering the horses, and without a lost motion he hurled the iron- bound utensil full at Francis Willett's head. The sharp edge of the bottom hoop caught the young man just over the right ear, and the blow was terrible. Francis crumpled 330 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD backward to the ground and lay there, a limp body, all but dead. The bucket went bound- ing and rolling beyond the automobile. Lem Brown turned and ran. Perhaps some thought of escape from the effects of what he had drunk of the treacherous fluid in the dip- per prompted this headlong flight; if so, the hope proved vain. The fumes of the alcohol mounted swiftly to his long-unaccustomed brain. He kept on running until quite spent ; but when he finally slowed down, the poison was established in his racing blood. He kept on walking until overtaken by a city-bound trolley car. This he boarded, and was seen no more for three days. "I was called here unexpectedly in consul- tation," said Doctor Billy Jackson, "so I thought I 'd run up and see Good heavens, man, what ails you?" He had been admitted by the servant, and now stepped across the threshold of John Willett's library. John Willett sat huddled in a big chair, an old, haggard, pitiful man. He had been out to Hillside Falls to see Francis, who, the doctors said, was dying. LIVES AND SOULS 331 The boy had not recovered consciousness in the three days following the crushing at- tack of Lem Brown's indignation. He lay in Sam Thomas's house, with two hospital nurses giving futile attendance. Willett had stayed all the afternoon, but the farmhouse was small, so he left his wife there to keep vigil, and returned home in the motor. The chauffeur waited with the car at the side door and would doze there all night, unless John Willett should start again for the farm. When Jackson entered, Willett got to his feet. "My boy, Billy, my boy; he's dying." "Where?" "At Hillside Falls, in that farmhouse, the home of the child you cured six or seven years ^ " Little Sir Galahad? John, what happened to Francis? I thought he was in college." "He has concussion of the brain, due to a blow from a bucket in. the hands of a a madman." "Don't you think we should go to him at once?" "What is the use? Two doctors, the best in Sheffield, say he cannot live." 332 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "But they may not be right. Come, John. I saw your car at the door. Take me to the boy; there is certainly no time to spare." A little flicker of hope burned in the father's eyes, and he led Doctor Billy to the motor. During the ride to Hillside Falls, Willett told Jackson something of the events leading up to the catastrophe. "And, Billy," he kept saying piteously, "why is it? Why do I have to suffer so, as if, instead of guarding him in every way, I had put temptation in his path?" "I cannot tell you, John," said the doctor gravely; "yet there must be an answer. You may know some day, or you may never learn. But these things do not happen by chance. There is a reason, even if it lies too deep for human logic to reach." But the stricken father would not be con- vinced and kept asking, again and again: "Why? Why?" They came at last to the Thomas farm; and it was now about nine o'clock in the evening. The two entered cautiously, through the kitchen, as in the old days. Mary Alice Brown and Charlie Thomas sat there to- LIVES AND SOULS 333 gether. Mary Alice had not seen Mr. Wil- lett since her visit at his office. Now she seemed to shrink from him, but he went straight to her. "Little girl," he said gently, "we were too late." "Don't, don't," cried Mary Alice. "Do you realize that I could have saved him? It was my silly pride. I have killed him; no one else is to blame." She broke down and wept with great vio- lence, quite beyond any soothing or control. But Charlie's eyes were blazing. "Look, look!" he cried. "It's Uncle Billy! What did I tell you? It's God's miracle. Uncle Billy, Uncle Billy, I knew God would do it; I knew God would save Francis!" The boy was almost incoherent with joy. He hobbled about on his little stilt-like legs, with his odd, hitching gait, and presently from the sitting-room emerged one of the nurses. She recognized Doctor Jackson. "You have come to consult with Doctor Glenn?" she asked. "I will call him." Doctor Billy followed the nurse. John Willett took Mary Alice's hand. 334 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "Dear little girl," he said, "don't cry any more. Look at Charlie. He 's actually laugh- ing. I do believe there may be a chance for Francis. Otherwise why did Doctor Jackson appear so opportunely?" "He came because I knew he would," said Charlie. "I wasn't surprised a bit when I saw him walking in that door." But the boy sobered quickly and drew Wil- lett to one side. "Oh, Mr. Willett, what do you suppose we can do to find poor Lem?" "PoorLem?" "Mary Alice's father." "If we ever do find him," said Willett, and his eyes hardened, "if we ever do!" Charlie drew back, a little frightened. "He's Mary Alice's father," he repeated. "He killed my boy," said Willett, harshly. "But what did your boy do to him?" asked Charlie, gently. "Nothing, of course; unless he annoyed him by something he may have said." "No," said Charlie; "he put liquor in Lem's drinking-water." "What do you mean?" "Little Dick saw it; he told his mother this LIVES AND SOULS 335 afternoon. Then the Boss went to the well, and there lay the dipper, almost empty; but what there was left in it was mostly whisky. Lem dropped it when he threw the bucket, but it did n't quite all spill out." "But why should - "I'll tell you, Mr. Willett. I was wishing Mary Alice would, but she did n't. A long time ago, before he came to work for the Boss, Lem was a dreadful drunkard. He beat Mary Alice and her mother and threat- ened to kill little Dick. Then he was put in jail. When he got out, father took him and brought him home and redeemed him with well, the Boss says with love and a square- toed boot. "The Boss and mother have got it all fig- ured out. Francis offered Lem a drink; Lem would n't drink; Francis put the whisky in the dipper when Lem's back was turned; and Lem was so hot and thirsty he just drank it right down without noticing, and then it was too late. Lem realized what it meant the thing that Francis intended for a joke. It wasn't a joke to him; it meant ruin and disgrace. He got terrible mad and threw the 336 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD bucket at Francis. He did n't know whether he was going to hit him or not ; he did n't wait to see, but turned and ran away. "Lem Brown has been so good and hard- working for six or seven years! He saved up his money, and the Boss says he's been a real man. Now it must all be done over, if it can be done at all. We don't even know where he " The sitting-room door opened and Doctor Billy came out. In his eyes flamed that al- most fanatic light which marked him for what he was. Mrs. Willett followed close behind, grief and hope struggling for the mastery in her haggard face. "Doctor Glenn agrees with me that there is a chance," said Jackson, "if we operate at once. Don't get your hopes up ; we '11 do our best. What do you say ?" "There is only one answer to give you, Billy," said Willett. "Don't you agree, Anna?" "There is only one answer," replied the woman. She went and hid her face on her husband's breast. "All we've got, dear, all we've got; they LIVES AND SOULS 337 must save him. And Charlie-boy says they will; that's my only hope." Jackson and Glenn and two nurses were at work upon Francis Willett's damaged head, when Sam Thomas thrust his face in at the kitchen door. "Come out here, everybody that can," he said. "Quick!" Everybody hurried into the yard. "Now get busy," said Sam; "the barn's on fire! You've got to save the barn or you'll lose your patient, doctors or no doc- tors. If the barn goes, the house 11 go, and that 's no dream. My land ! I wish I had Lem here. He 's as good 's a whole army. Charlie, show Mr. Willett how the hose works." Sam's fire precautions were far more adequate than those on most farms. Every- body fell to and helped. There were ladders to be raised and two or three lines of hose to be run, the horses to be led out, something for everybody to do. In five minutes water poured into the burning building. In fifteen minutes Sam said the barn would be saved. In half an hour the fire was reduced to a few shreds of smoke. 338 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "I'm goin' to find out what started it," said Sam. He disappeared with his lantern through the great doors. Then they heard him shout: "Mr. Willett, you and that driver of yours come here, quick!" Martha, Charlie, and Mary Alice were standing watching, but Mrs. Willett had slipped back into the house. She reappeared and called: "Oh, where is my husband? Where is John? Tell him to come quickly! The doctors have finished; they say our boy will live." In the barn doorway appeared Sam and the Willetts' chauffeur, carrying the great hulk of Lem Brown, while Willett lighted the way with the lantern. Mary Alice screamed and ran forward. Mrs. Willett came on, quite uncomprehending, in the exultation of her own good tidings, that new tragedy. "He will live, he will live," she was saying. "Francis will live." "All right," said Sam Thomas, bluntly. "Now tell them doctors to get busy and save Lem. He ain't such a bad feller, after all. He set that fire, and by gorry, I want him here to help repair the damage!" CHAPTER XXV THE LIGHT OF DAWN DOCTOR BILLY sat with John Willett in the latter 's library. Between them on the table stood the big cups just drained of strong black coffee which Willett had brewed on their return from the farm. "One would say the events of this night could hardly have been crowded into a week," said Willett. He got up and went to the window. Dawn was breaking, hesitantly. The virgin air of the new day crept past him into the room, while, in the somnolent houses that lined the street, his neighbors slept. As Willett stood there, conscious of the gray- ness and stillness, sensitive to the almost palpitant mystery of that twilight, he became aware of a warm suffusion of color, pale and golden, turning the pallor of dawn into a soft and velvety haze, which passed swiftly and 339 340 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD merged into the sharper gleams and shadows of the ruddy morning. "It is always so," he said, coming back'to his chair. "Critical events slip so rapidly into the past. Yesterday is already far behind." "It must be so," rejoined Doctor Jackson, "in order that we may look more clearly to the future." He met his friend's eye with a cheery and beautiful smile. His face, lined with fatigue, was yet very gentle. "You're a great comfort to me, Billy," said Willett. "Confidence and courage ra- diate from you like like the new morning outside. Are n't you tired out? Or sleepy? You ought to go to bed for a few hours." "No, I'll have a cool bath and fresh linen. I 'd better take that early train east ; you know I meant to leave on the midnight. I'll be all right; doctors don't mind losing sleep." "I'm not at all sleepy myself," said Wil- lett. "I suppose the excitement " "That's it, and the coffee. The ride home was mighty refreshing. What a night it has been! It was kind of you to bring me here. I could have come alone, and you need n't have left Mrs. Willett." THE LIGHT OF DAWN 341 "I wanted to come. I wanted to get away for a little while, though I should have stayed if Anna had been willing to leave Francis. I'll go back after a time. Billy, I'm so thankful you were able to do what you did for poor Lem. At first I was bitter; I could have killed him. Do you know what I found out?" "To change your feeling? No." "Francis was responsible for what Lem did. He put liquor in Lem's drinking-water; he poisoned him. Do you understand?" "You mean that Lem had been an al- coholic?" "Yes, and he had kept straight for over six years. Sam tells me there never was a more seemingly hopeless case. He took Lem and built him back to manhood. Volunta- rily the poor fellow would never have tasted drink again. Realizing that he had unwit- tingly, and through no fault of his own, undone the work of those years, he became violently angry and threw the bucket at the man who, in wanton mischief, had betrayed him. When he had been away for three days, about his old haunts in Sheffield, he 342 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD wandered back to Thomas's and went to sleep in the barn. Probably the fire was caused by a spark from his pipe. Can't you see, if Lem had not been saved, what a posi- tion it would have put my boy in? Even now are you sure -" "Lem will recover, John, though he is a badly injured man. Nearly suffocated, burned, and hurt by a falling timber, with an ordinary physique it would have been the end. But I 'm quite sure he will pull through. And as he will be laid up a long time, I think his friends need not be uneasy about the re- currence of the liquor craving. So his injury is not an unmixed blessing." "Billy," said Willett, "do you know, I have lately been reminded of something a friend said to me many years ago? It was that the man who had felt the blight of in- temperance personally made the real fighter against the liquor business. That remark has come back to me with the force of a blow." Doctor Billy made no immediate reply, but sat staring thoughtfully before him. Then he took off his big, shell-rimmed spectacles THE LIGHT OF DAWN 343 and polished them with critical attention, as if the work were of the utmost importance. "John," he said presently, "that's your answer." "My answer?" "Last night you kept asking, all the way out to the farm, 'Why, why?' Don't you remember?" "Yes, I remember. But " "Do you think," asked Doctor Billy, "that I should be kind if I spoke very frankly to you at a time like this? Or do you think it would be hitting a man who is down?" "Perhaps, my friend, it would be the kind- est thing you could do. I am sure it would. Go on." "Well, then, you will be surprised when I say that you are in a way personally respon- sible, more than even Francis or Lem, for the unhappy occurrences of the last few days." "I responsible? How do you " "I remember that campaign here in Shef- field, six years ago. I remember you went to Europe, and I heard that a few people were bold enough to say that well, if you had stayed at home the result would have been 344 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD different. This may or may not be true; but so much is true: if you had been deeply concerned for the outcome, you never would have gone." ''But my opposition to license, my vote against it, has been no secret. I have always contributed liberally; in fact, that very year I doubled my usual contribution. How can you" Willett looked as puzzled as a child. He was hurt, even a little offended, or as much so as one could well be with Billy Jackson. "You are," said Jackson, "what might be called a bad, good man." "A bad, good" "This splendid country of ours is teeming with men like you. You are the despair of the community. There seems to be no argu- ment that can reach your hardness of heart until it is touched by some great personal grief." John Willett, whose heart was so tender that it sometimes hurt him, said not a word. He stared straight before him at some quite impertinent object on the mantel, but he did not see it. What he did see was a THE LIGHT OF DAWN 345 bandaged head and a pale face on a pillow, with a mother bending over it in an agony of misery and hope. Did he do that? Had he struck that blow? He groaned with the pain of conviction that Doctor Billy was right. Yes, Doctor Billy was perhaps more nearly right than he himself realized. A part of the profit on the very poison which had caused this thing might be his, since it had most likely been bought at the Waldemere. " It is like striking a man when he is down," he said. " But go on! " "I hate to preach," said the physician; "but no one more than the doctor realizes the insidiousness of this evil. It not only destroys those who drink it, but demoralizes those who do not. It lowers the whole tone of the community. An intoxicated man is no curiosity. Even the children on the streets will not turn to look a second time at him. He's the regular thing in most cities. "Your boy not alone yours, but every boy in the community grows up to see men like you, good men, honored men, men of prosperity and influence, wink at this thing. You salve your conscience by a single vote 346 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD once a year and perhaps a check. You say to yourself that you have done your duty, that you have expressed your preference for the right thing, that you have set a good example. "You don't drink; you don't want your boy to do so; but you, or most men like you, often say you 'have no objection to a man's drinking moderately, if he knows how to handle it.' Let me tell you something that I learned six years ago. The reason that beautiful child, Sam Thomas's boy, whom we call 'Little Sir Galahad,' was a cripple, and will remain partly so all his life, is that his father, a moderate drinker, dropped him and injured him while playing with him recklessly. Sam was only jovially stimulated, but made careless. He came home from town and began playing with his baby. His wife looked on with that little nervous fear which mothers always have when they see their children tossed in the air. Sam was simply bubbling over with high spirits, with enjoyment of the little fellow's excitement, when well, years of agony resulted. For the child, paralysis through an obscure spinal pressure; for the father, unending, tor- THE LIGHT OF DAWN 347 turing remorse; for the mother, the constant struggle to live down her deadly condemna- tion of her husband, to go on and on and never let him know she blamed him. "Then take the other extreme, where the effect of intoxication is brutal, dulling every finer sense, making a cowardly, cruel beast of a man. Doubtless your friend Lem was so affected." "Yes, I have heard so," said Willett. "It's all been gone over so many, many times," said Doctor Billy, sadly. " There is no new argument; the whole question has been threshed out and out and out. Yet whole communities go on poisoning themselves. The Chinese government, whose civilization we presume to scorn, has forbidden its people to drug themselves with opium; the Moham- medans, whom we regard as heathen and barbarians, are forbidden by the law of their faith to use alcohol, and they are singularly free from the curse. But we, in civilized, Christian America, allow this daily temptation to surround our children ; and it is the ' good ' people of the community, the exemplary citizens, like you, John, who are, in their 348 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD enlightenment, more guilty than the very makers and sellers of it, because you can stop it and won't. "Forgive me, if I have hurt you so terribly, John. But I am a surgeon; it is my business to hurt people, I am sorry to say. Thank God it is often through that hurt that they are made whole." Doctor Billy stopped, sank his face in his hands, and seemed to suffer from the pain he had inflicted. But John Willett stood quite erect, his gray, careworn face lighted up with a kindling and sublime hope. He advanced toward his old friend, his hand out- stretched; and as Doctor Billy looked up, the morning sun burst into the dim room, flooding it with the promise of a new day. CHAPTER XXVI THE MYSTERIOUS CARTOONIST THE spring campaign was on once more, and again Amos Stubbs sat in the saddle. For several years the cause of no-license had lan- guished, but the Napoleonic Stubbs returned from the Elba of the slums, where he had gone to await the psychological moment and labor while he waited. "You'll have to take your hat off to Stubbs," remarked a leader of the license forces. " I guess he 's got us fellers beaten this trip. He's done what he could n't do before - got John Willett into the fight personally. You know that means a whole lot of votes. Folks '11 do anything they see John Willett do. He 's actually workin' usin' every ounce of influence he's got to beat us. I guess it'll cost him money, for he's a big stockholder in the Waldemere, and it can't run at a profit unless it has a liquor license. 349 350 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "But the thing that scares me worse 'n anything is them cartoons in the Even 1 in' View. The other night they had my face on the front page. Now I'm a fair-dealin' man and good to my family, but I leave it to anybody if an impartial judge would n't send me to jail for life if he got a look at that pic- ture. And the queer part of it is, every time I look at it, I have a sneakin' notion that if the inside of my soul was turned up to the sun, maybe that same drawin' would n't be so far wrong, at that. I wonder who's the mysterious cartoonist, anyhow." Rodney Jones had made good. At the opening of the campaign, the View reporter had stepped out of the elevator at the top floor of Minot House. "Don't you remember me?" he asked, when he had found Charlie Thomas, who was busily delving into the utilities of a set of water-color paints. "Why, yes; you're Mr. Jones, of the View." Charlie held out his hand: then, in some embarrassment, he said: "The reason I remember you is because I THE MYSTERIOUS CARTOONIST 351 was I was pretty mean to you the other time you came here. I 've always been sorry for that silly picture. I guess I hurt your feelings pretty bad." "Yes, that's right, you did," said Rodney Jones. " But you know a lot of people believe it's only the bad-tasting medicine that does any good. That portrait of me was a bitter pill, but I swallowed it and kept on trying to smile. I wonder how that little pencil of yours is working to-day. I want another pic- ture of me, as I am, or hope I am." Charlie picked up his charcoal holder and made some bold lines on a large piece of draw- ing paper. "How is that?" he asked. Jones marveled at the ease with which the result was pro- duced. Nowhere was there a superfluous line, yet everything essential was in the picture. When he saw it, he grinned with delight. Then he pulled from his pocket the original likeness, made a year ago and compared the two. "Maybe I haven't improved a little, though," he said. "Do you know,\that's cost me some hard work. Now I've got the 352 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD habit of trying, I'm going right on with the improvements as fast as I can; and each year I'm going to ask you to draw my pic- ture, until finally that pencil of yours just naturally hitches on my wings and I fly away." Then his face grew very earnest, and he began to talk to the young art student with a certain note of persuasion. "Let's ask your friend McGregor," said Jones, after a few minutes of spirited argu- ment. "It's a splendid opportunity," said McGregor, heartily. "Mr. Jones, your paper is doing a great work. This year we '11 surely put the liquor people out of business. If Thomas does what you ask, it will be the fin- ishing blow. I'm convinced of it. Young man, if you want to serve this city, to do a really big thing, you will make those pictures." "All right," said Charlie; "but I hate to hurt so many people's feelings." "But remember the feelings that are hurt when two or three hundred men go home every night in this town, after spending in the saloons the money that rightly belongs to their wives and children." THE MYSTERIOUS CARTOONIST 353 "That's certainly so," said Charlie, and his young jaw set firmly, while the light of righteous battle gleamed in his blue eyes. The leader of the license forces was re- ferring to Charlie Thomas's cartoons in the View, when he complained to his friend that the license cause was as bad as lost. On the day on which the first picture appeared, the entire city rocked with laughter. Then the city stopped laughing and grew serious. What kind of soul was it that looked out from behind that ridiculous mask? Was it funny? Was it a joke to realize that Sheffield was governed by that type of man, whose sinister personality was now, in this simple picture, stripped naked for examination and analysis? Another prominent citizen appeared the next day, and another, and another. The politicians who had so far escaped began to shiver whenever a new edition of the View appeared on the street. The question was always: "Who'll be next?" There always was a "next," and as soon as a man saw himself held up to the ridicule and contempt of his townspeople, he realized that his days of political power were numbered. 354 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD Charlie Thomas did n't have to see his subjects in person. He drew from photo- graphs. He did not miss fire once; nor was it necessary for him to confine himself to por- traiture. Now and again he made a picture of a home that drink had ruined, of pitiful children, of forlorn women. People studied these pictures and cried; then they went sav- agely to the polls and drove a nail into the coffin of the liquor business in Sheffield. After election the mound of votes on the grave of the enemy was so high, as the jubilant Jones announced in the Evening View, that it could be surmounted only by aid of a fireman's ladder. "And there's only one more picture for you to draw, good old boy," said Jones, on the day after the obsequies. "You've been doing some great work; but it's been so uni- formly negative, I'm thinking the public would be delighted with the portrait of a real good citizen one whose soul will bear ex- posure to the light. Let's run John Willett's picture to-morrow. He 's been stanch through it all, put his money, brains, and influence into the scales, and is the one man who de- THE MYSTERIOUS CARTOONIST 355 serves the thanks of this community. His personal interests have been sacrificed for he is thousands of dollars poorer to-day than he was yesterday. For instance, his stock in the Waldemere is probably cut in half. But Willett's true blue; let's run his picture!" Jones produced a photograph of John Wil- lett, and Charlie set to work. Jones, standing at his elbow, frowned. "Hold on, boy," he said, "you're getting all mixed up. This is John Willett you're draw- ing, not Simon Legree. Say, it 'd never do to print that." Charlie surveyed his handiwork with hor- ror. His picture of John Willett equaled in the unpleasant quality of its revelation almost any that he had done during the campaign. Dominating the caricatured features was Selfishness, a refined, subtle, and indifferent Selfishness. It was not hoggish no, it was nothing so frank as that. But the menace was there, unspeakably terrible. Charlie cov- ered his face with his hands. "Oh, Jonesy," he cried, "you couldn't use that; you could n't use that. Why, Mr. Willett 's one of my very best friends." He sat and pondered a long time. 356 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "I will get you a picture of Mr. Willett," he said. "You wait here, Jonesy." He hitched briskly away, although the defect in his gait was notably diminished. In ten minutes he was in John Willett's office. A man sat at John Willett's desk, a man with gray at his temples and deep, haggard lines in his face. Gray streaks appeared, too, in his closely trimmed beard, but his eyes laughed when he greeted Charlie Thomas. "Hello, Little Sir Galahad," he said. "How goes the Quest to-day?" * "I think we gained a few steps yesterday," said the boy. "I should say we did," cried John Willett. "Say, young fellow, what are you doing?" "Drawing your picture, for to-morrow's Vim. 91 "What's that? You young imp, are you going to Look here, Charlie-boy. How many people know you are the mysterious cartoonist? There are men in this town who would be delighted to skin you." "Only three or four people know it, and they '11 never tell. I 'm afraid I 've hurt a lot THE MYSTERIOUS CARTOONIST 357 of feelings. It's dreadful to know that you have done that." "I used to think so, too, Charlie; but this thing we have been fighting has hurt your feelings and mine, has n't it? We don't regret the results, do we, boy? " "Nope," said Charlie. "There, that's better." He drew out the sketch he had made from the photograph of a John Willett six years younger; a jaunty, care-free, indulgent John Willett. "Murder!" cried Willett. "You don't say I ever looked like that?" "Your soul used to, I guess," said Charlie; "but it doesn't now. The picture in to- morrow's paper '11 suit you better." "I'll never get over this, Charlie," said Willett. "It isn't the sketch that hurts; it's knowing that I can't deny the truth of it. No man can look at one of your por- traits of himself and say truly that it does not reveal his soul. So you are going to have my picture in to-morrow's paper? I hope there's a little improvement, anyhow. Suppose you let me see it." 358 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD But Charlie was gone; and next day, when people got the View, they nodded sagely and commented : "That's just like John. He always was a fine man ; this proves it. He 's aged lately, but he does n't lose character. That certainly is our own John Willett, the one who's always been our most useful, public-spirited citizen." CHAPTER XXVII TWO YEARS LATER DOCTOR BILLY JACKSON swung down from the parlor-car step as the evening train from New York slid into the Sheffield station. He bustled off through the gate with his quick, nervous step, across the gloomy concourse, and out through the street entrance. Among the automobiles lining the curb he saw John Willett's. "Good evening, Jules," he cried cheerily. "How are all the good people up on Clipper Hill?" "Fine, sir," replied the chauffeur, touching his cap. "Want to go right up to the house, sir?" "Sooner the better, Jules. Any excitement there?" "Well, sir, I don't know as you'd rightly call it excitement ; but Mr. and Mrs. Willett 's got quite a lot of company to dinner, and I 359 360 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD guess you know why, all right. I heard Mr. Willett say to Mr. Francis it was too bad Doctor Billy begging your pardon, sir could n't be there to eat with them, sir." Doctor Jackson chuckled. "If they only knew how lucky I am to get here at all," he said. "Yes, sir," agreed Jules. "Quite right, sir." The guests at the Willett dinner table that night had broken into groups when the meal was finished, and now, in a corner of the big library, Sam was talking earnestly with John Willett, while Lem Brown sat close by, saying nothing, listening with all his ears, and occasionally grinning sheepishly. "By gosh, Mr. Willett, it's just as I tell you," Sam was saying. "I dunno how ever he thought of it. I've been noticin' him all winter, fussin' and fussin' with them gears, and once'n a while I'd want to know what in time he was tryin' to do. Would n't I, Lem?" "Uh-huh," confirmed Lem. "And then after a while him and Charlie TWO YEARS LATER 361 got their heads together, and then Charlie come fetchin' home a lot of that transparent, shiny cloth ' "Tracin' cloth," put in Lem. "Tracin' cloth, I guess it is. And they fussed and puzzled out in the shop nights, and every time I'd come near they'd look sort of foolish and guilty, like they'd stole a sheep. So I see they had a hen on and let 'em be." "Charlie did most of the work," said Lem. "It was his brains " "Now that ain't so, Mr. Willett. Charlie made the drawin's with some help he got from the engineerin* perfessor at Minot, but the whole idea was Lem's from the beginnin'. It's clever, that's what it is, plumb clever, Mr. Willett. Since Lem put it on our sep- arators, we're averagin' to get around eight per cent more butter fat out of every gallon of cream we skim ; and that makes a lot of difference in the profits of any dairy, believe me. "And say, Mr. Willett, I haven't told anybody yet; but beginnin' to-day I and Lem are partners, share and share alike. We 362 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD fixed up the papers, and he gets half my farm and dairy business, while I get a half interest in this new separator patent of Lem's. I'm goin' to put up what money's necessary to start makin' a few of these attachments, then, if it grows too fast for me " Mr. Willett's eyes twinkled shrewdly. "If it grows too fast, you may let in a little outside capital, eh?" "You said somethin', Mr. Willett," con- firmed Sam. "Gosh! Will you listen to how fast those women folks are talkin'? Can you beat it?" "You see," Mrs. Brown was explaining to Martha Thomas and Mrs. John Willett, "it took me three years to get it to suit me. And it's not only the seeds, but the soil and the moisture and the sunlight. Well, there's a little book called 'Trask's Old-Fashioned Gardener' that Mary Alice brought me. I 'm sure I don't know what I should have done without it. The first time you're out our way, Mrs. Willett, I'll let you take it; it's wonderful. Next week I 'm going to do a lot of thinning. If you want some plants, there '11 be quite a lot, especially the peonies. TWO YEAES LATER 363 Don't you love peonies? But, goodness me, I s'pose your gardener 'tends to all " "Oh, no," said Mrs. Willett, "a gardener's garden would n't suit me at all. I do every bit of the work myself, except the heavy spading. I think flowers are like children you admire other people's, but you love your own. There is n't a plant in my garden that I did n't set out myself. You are right about Trask, too. I've had the book for years. I should n't be surprised if Mary Alice heard of it through Francis." "Well, now, when I think of it, I guess she said she did. Of course anything that Francis recommended would be just about right with Mary Alice " "It would be about right with all of us," said Martha Thomas. "Sam says he heard someone say the other day that Mr. Stacey has turned over almost the whole manage- ment of the store to Francis since he 's been made a partner " "Oh, that isn't quite true," said Mrs. Willett. "Francis has a lot to do with what he calls the 'merchandising end,' but Mr. Stacey handles all the finances. You could n't 364 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD expect anybody with Francis's experience, or lack of it, to " "Hey, Francis," came a shrill voice from an angle of the bookcases, " look-a-here. I've found the books you used to read when you was a kid like me. Here's Oliveroptic and 'Ratieralgio and Jeeayhenty and a whole pile of Zigzags and Lweezeralcott. Say, will you lend me some of 'em sometimes if I bring 'em back and don't turn down the leaves and Charlie Thomas he '11 read 'em to me the ones I can't read myself and so will Mary Alice, won't you, Mary Alice?" "Dicky," cried Mary Alice, "don't shout so, dear. We're not deaf, you know." "Well, you were all talkin' so fast I had to holler to make you hear. Say, is Jules goin' to take us home in the auto, or will we go on the trolley?" "Never mind," said Mary Alice, severely. "Look, Mary Alice," said Francis, "the two years are up." He held his watch toward her, and she saw that it marked exactly eight-fifteen. The girl was sitting on a big leather-covered divan, Francis on one side of her, Charlie Thomas on the other. The three TWO YEARS LATER 365 had been quite oblivious to the clatter of tongues about them until little Dick's shrill inquiry had cut through the wall of their absorption. "Two years ago to-night, at quarter past eight, I promised you " Mary Alice caught a hand of each of her companions and, with both her own, held them close together; then she suddenly bowed her head, and her shoulders quivered with a little sob. "Mary Alice, Mary Alice," protested Fran- cis, "don't do that, dear. Why, what's the what 's the matter? " He cast an appealing, helpless look at Charlie, whom he saw to be quite as be- wildered as himself. Mary Alice looked up through a mist of tears. "I just couldn't help it," she said. "I'm so hap-happy. Oh, Francis, Francis, I knew you'd keep it. I never doubted you for a minute. Now can't you see it has been better? I There, your mother 's looking at me. Let 's go out on the porch a few minutes." "Come along, too, Charlie?" asked Francis. Charlie smiled slyly. "Do you really want me?" he asked. 366 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "Well," replied Francis, " of course you 're always welcome, but don't you think the night air might er " "Yes," said Charlie, "I guess it might." Francis and Mary Alice disappeared, and Charlie joined Mr. Willett, his father and Lem. "Do you know what Francis says?" asked Charlie. "He has the grandest plan!" Charlie, now a well-grown boy of over fifteen, had never got over that habit of using superlatives. He was above all things an enthusiast. Those who saw him cross the room noted with affectionate satisfaction the almost entire absence of the halting awk- wardness in his gait. Long ago he had dis- carded his riotous yellow wealth of hair, and now one saw the splendid proportions of the shapely head, with its broad, thoughtful brow. His eyes, clear blue, straightforward, frank, and usually shining with a vigorous good will, held you with a compelling light. "Francis," he went on, "has made Mr. Stacey agree to give half the money they take in at the store for a whole week to the Bel- gian relief fund. Is n't that great?" TWO YEARS LATER 367 "Le's see," said Sam; "they prob'ly do a business of- Now, what should you say they take in down there in a week, Mr. Willett?" Mary Alice burst into the room. "He's here, he's here," she cried. "It's Doctor Billy. Francis just saw the car coming up Clipper " A general stampede for the front hall ensued. "I did my best to come on the earlier train," said Jackson, standing with his back to the mantel, while all the company viewed him with a worshipful interest. "I really ought not to be away from New York. You seem to have quite a celebration under way. I don't know that I er quite fit, do I? A confirmed old bachelor is n't exactly an ornament on an occasion like this." "Aren't you dreadful!" said Mary Alice. "I guess you're not the only confirmed old bachelor,** said Charlie Thomas. Doctor Billy twinkled at the boy through his great spectacles and smiled quizzically. Charlie slipped an arm around Mary Alice. 368 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "Francis stole her from me," he said sadly. "I'm a broken-hearted man." Mary Alice turned a becoming pink and, pushing him away, murmured something that sounded like "Fresh young-one." But everybody laughed, except little Dick Brown, who interposed: "Aw, Francis has got a store. He's goin' to give me a job in the toy department when " "Will you please hush?" cried Mary Alice, and the company roared again. "It's marvelous to see you all once more and in one place," said Doctor Billy. "Aside from the great event, what's the news with you?" "We had ice cream," began Dicky, "and- and my father 's invented a new kind o* cream speculator and " "Mother, please," begged Mary Alice, " can't you make Dicky "behave?" "Billy," said John Willett, "I asked you to come here to-night for two reasons. The first you know about my boy and this little girl. You know her as well as we do and love her. We wanted you to be here to congratulate the Willett family." He TWO YEARS LATER 369 caught Mary Alice about the shoulders and held her to him. "To-night she promises to be our daughter, and the day she takes our name will be the happiest of our lives. Can't you see that an event like this would n't be complete without our Doctor Billy?" Doctor Billy blew his nose rather violently, took off his big spectacles and examined them critically; but he said not a word. John Willett went on. "But the other reason I asked you to come was this. I did n't want the day to go by without my doing something to prove that I 'm not altogether blinded by my own hap- piness. Sometimes, when I read the appalling things in the papers these days, I'm almost afraid this poor old world of ours is tumbling to pieces. Across the water men are going insane with the passion of killing. Women and children, the poor, the aged, the weak, are suffering horrors that cannot be told, that would n't bear the telling. "Some American business men are saying that this means great prosperity for us. I can't think so; and if it does, I declare the cost of that prosperity is too great. I don't 870 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD wish to profit by it, but I feel that I should give something out of my own prosperity. I want to be able to say that I made some adequate sacrifice in return for the good that life has given me." Everybody in the room had fallen breath- lessly silent; for John Willett had kept his own counsel, and not] even his wife sus- pected the purpose behind his words. It is easy to read them it was hard for Willett to say them. They came haltingly, for the man was tense with embarrassment. Even among these few people who had come to know him so well, he was almost shamefaced. "Now, Billy, you have written me a great deal of your work for the relief of the suffering in Europe, but not all. I have read between the lines, and I have learned from other sources, that you have sacrificed your prac- tice, your income, and your time for this work. I want to help you and to enable you to go on helping the others. So here is my little gift to help meet the great need in blighted Europe. I give it without any re- strictions; but, Billy, if you can, won't you see that it that it goes as far as possi- TWO YEARS LATER 371 ble for the relief of the little people, for the children and mothers of children?" He thrust a folded paper into Doctor Billy's hand. Jackson unfolded it, scanned it, and looked up. "Why, John," he said in bewilderment, "it 's too how can you afford " "I'm not going to starve," said Willett. "I'm not an old man, either. But can't you see that, unless I give you practically every available dollar I have, it's no hardship? And there's no sacrifice where there's no hardship." "It's incredible," said Doctor Billy, "in- credible. Still no, it isn't. It's like you, John. It was always your way of doing things." He held out a hand, which trembled, and John Willett gripped it hard. "I'll try," said Doctor Billy, "to see that the money is spent as you ask, John. And as I'm going over there next week, I can " "You are going to Europe?" It was Willett's turn to be astonished. "Why, Billy well, I might have known it!" CHAPTER XXVIII "A SYMBOL OF THE GRAIL" MY DEAR MARY ALICE BROWN: This letter may not reach you until you have become Mary Alice Willett. The mails are, of course, most unreliable. I am here among the wounded, the suffering, the poverty-stricken people of prostrate Belgium. Because of the generosity of my lifelong friend, I am able to do vastly more and better work than I had ever hoped. But I am not writing you this letter to tell you of that. I am writing to wish you a life of hap- piness with Francis, and I know that because you have already learned how to live, yours will be a useful and blessed life. Some of my friends tell me that I am a yes, a crank on the subject of useful living. But they smile when they say it, and I actually take it as a compliment. I am sending you, through the hands of a friend who is just sailing for New York, a small wedding token, but not anything very splendid. I do not think you will treasure it the less because it is rather humble. It is the work of a Belgian woman - just a little piece of embroidery. She gave it to me because I had been able to help her son, who 372 373 was wounded in battle. I told her I should send it to you, and she asked me to give you her love with it, along with my own. In the same package you will find something else a Swiss watch ; and this, too, was given me by one of my shall I say, my children ? He was a German soldier, who had been wounded in one of those desperate charges in which bravery has seemed to count for so little. And he was a brave man; he had been a skilled artisan at home and had left the bench to take up arms for his Em- peror. Right or wrong, he fought for his Emperor, loyally, unquestioningly, and with sublime cour- age. So he died, as thousands are dying and will die. Mary Alice, I want you to give the watch to Charlie Thomas our "Little Sir Galahad." I want him to have it because I know that, but for him, I should not have been here. It was he who first crystallized in my mind the idea of knightly service. I think if you will trace the events of your own life, you will without hesitation admit the blessed influence of his beautiful personality upon all of us who know him. He told me, on my last visit to Sheffield, that he had reorganized the Galahad Knights, and I enrolled promptly as a member. So he knows that there is one of his knights spreading the Galahad gospel here. I often tell my poor wounded boys about Charlie. They immedi- ately want to be enrolled as knights, and I have sent Charlie scores of names to add to what he calls the "roll of honor." His knights at home 374 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD have devised a little pin, and I have a supply of them. Some of them, alas, have been buried upon the brave breasts of their wearers. I could not write this to him direct, for I think he would be embarrassed by so much praise. But when you give him the watch, won't you tell him that it was given me by Corporal Hans Bauer, a true and loyal Galahad, and that it is passed along to him as the gift of another devoted knight. Your affectionate friend, WILLIAM JACKSON. This letter came to Mary Alice one after- noon about a week before her wedding day. She read it and cried a little, and next day after the expressman had called she ran across the fields to the Thomas farmhouse. Charlie was sitting in the sideyard, work- ing at some water-color sketches. He had brought out the big sturdy chair which Sam had built for him in the days of his crippled childhood, and which he would never consent to see stowed away in the attic. The summer wind fluttered his sheets as he worked. Hens pecked busily about, uttering small, con- tented, throaty sounds. Charlie looked up and off across the fields to where his friends the mountains, delicately tinted in the light "A SYMBOL OF THE GRAIL" 375 of the setting sun, stood, opaline, sentinels of unchanging peace. "Charlie-boy," called Martha from the door, "isn't that Mary Alice coming up the hill?" "Of course it is, and she's running. She must have some news. I wonder where 's the Boss." Sam emerged from the dairy. "Did I hear my name mentioned?" he asked. "Look at Mary Alice," said Charlie. "She'd better go slower; she'll be all out of breath." The three watched the girl approach and Charlie called a good-natured warning. Mary Alice dropped down on the grass and panted. She had a small, plain wooden box in her hand. "Hullo, Mary Alice," said Charlie. "What's your great rush? What's that in your hand another wedding present?" "It's it's for you," she said. "I--I - had a letter from Doctor Billy, in Belgium, and a present from him : the dearest piece of embroidery and this was with it." She passed the little box to Charlie, while Martha and Sam looked on, mildly curious. 376 LITTLE SIR GALAHAD "Just like that Doctor Billy," said Martha. "He's always thinking of something to please people. Why, Charlie-boy, it's a watch." Sam took it and turned it over and over. Then he snapped open the case. "Here's some writin'," he said. "It's en- graved here inside the case. It says - here, Marthy, you read it. I I can't." Neither could Martha. She handed the watch to Mary Alice, fishing meanwhile in her apron pocket for her handkerchief. Mary Alice looked at the inscription, blinked, and then read, quite bravely: TO LITTLE SIR GALAHAD A SYMBOL OF THE GRAIL WHICH HE SO FAITHFULLY SEEKS AND TO WHICH HE EVER DRAWS NEARER The girl reached up a hand and took that of the boy. "As soon as I can " she said, "I'll tell you where he got it." "Good old Uncle Billy!" said Little Sir Galahad. "He's the finest knight of us all!"