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Show I I HOME I X A Story of Today and I of All Day j t By GEORGE AGNEW ClriAMBERLAIN i Copyright by the Century Company J "You'll never grow old, sir," said Alan. "Old!" said the captain. "Huh, I grew old before you were born." The captain spoke with pride. He straightened straight-ened his bullet head and poised a tot of whisky with a steady hand. "What did I tell you?" he said into space. "How's that, sir?" "What did I tell you," repeated the captain swinging around his eyes, "about women?" Alan flushed angrily. He had no retort re-tort for the old man. He sat sulleuly silent. The captain colored too. "That's right," he said with a surprising touch of choler. "Sulk. Every badly broken colt sulks at the grip of the bit. What you need, young man, is a touch of the whip and you're going to get it." And then the old man revealed a , surprising knowledge of words that could lash. At first Alan was indifferent, indif-ferent, then amazed, and finally recognized recog-nized himself beaten at his own game. He came out of that interview thoroughly thor-oughly chastened and with an altogether alto-gether new respect for the old captain. The captain's code was peculiar, to say the least, and held the passionate pilgrim in ample regard but, as he pointed out to Alan, it was a code of honor. It played a game within rules. He further remarked that the hawk "was a bird of evil repute but personally person-ally he preferred him to the eagle that fouls Its own nest. There were other pregnant phrases that hung in Alan's mind for some time and half awakened awak-ened him to a realization of where he stood. Many a num. propped up by the sustaining atmosphere of a narrow world, has passed merciless judgment on such sins as Alan's metal, unproved, un-proved, sitting in judgment over the bar that twists In the flame. But the captain "was not one of the world's confident army of the untested. He had roamed the high seas of pleasure as well as the ocean wave. Alan would have struck back at a saint but he took chastisement from the old sinner with good grace. Alan left the captain and presented himself at the downtowTn otlices of J. Y. Wayne & Co. They were expecting expect-ing him and he was shown in to his uncle Immediately, to the exasperation exaspera-tion of several pompous, waiting "Doll's Clothes?" Said Collingeford. clients. It was the first time tbat uncle anil nephew had hcen face to face since their memorable interview at Maple House. .J. V. Wayne was ainjr. He had lived bard and showed it, but there was no weakness in his ntro and lie met Alan without compromise. He nodded toward a chair but did not offer of-fer his hand When he spoUe his voice was low and modulated to the tone, of business. "I wanted to s;-c vnu to tell you that you have overpaid your account with me. The balance has been put to your credit. Yon can see the cashier about that. I -want lo tell you, too, that I have made too much money myself to admire a surprising capacity in that direction in anyone else. '"Dou't think that I don't appreciate the significance of your wipini: out li debt which you incurred umviit iuffij. I can see that you had to do it because be-cause a Wayne must carry his head hili in his own eyes. Hut " and here J. Y.'s eyes left his nephew's expressionless expres-sionless face and lonl.ed vaguely into the shadows of the room. His voice took a lower key. ''With all your sacrifice sac-rifice to pride you have failed in pride. You have not been proud in the things that count." J. Y.'s voice fell still lower. His words huni; and dropped in the silence of the room like the far-away throb of a great bell on a still niht. "Yesterday "Yester-day Clem was crying because you had not come to the house. J try to think. Alan, that it's because Clem is there that you have nor come. If I could think that " .T. Y.'s eyes came slowly back to Alan's face. A dull red was burning there. .7. Y. went on. "Shame is a precious thim; to a man. different differ-ent creeds different circumstance. carry us to various lengths. Klhics are elastic today as never before but. as long as sham-? holds a bit of grouiu' in a man's battlefield, he can win hcl-to hcl-to any height." For a long minute there was siiem e then on a common impulse they boll, arose. -Alan's eye; were wide op'i and moist. He held out hit- hand am J. Y. gripped tt. It was thfr whole farewell. Back in bis rooms Alan sat down and wrote to Clem: Dear Clem: We are all two people. Uncle Un-cle J. Y. cut his other half off about thirty thir-ty yeurs apo and left it behind. The Judge has his other half locked up in a closet. He has never let it out at all. And so on, with every one of us. This sounds very tunny to you now but some day when you are grown up you will catch your self looking at you and then you will understand what I mean. I am two people too. The half of me that knows you and loves you and Red Hill and that you love has been away longer than the rt-st of me. He only got back twenty minutes ago. and it is too late for him to come and see you because he and the rvst of mo are off tomorrow on another trip. But he wants you to know that he is awfully sorry to have missed you. Next time T shall bring him with me. I hope, and I'll send him to you the day we arrive. ar-rive. There is no stronger proof of man's evolution than his adaptability his power of attainment through the material mate-rial at hand, however elementary. From the very beginning, the necessities necessi-ties of his new life called to Gerry's dormant instincts. For the first week he would not hear. The past loosens its tendrils slowly. He was listless and loafed restlessly about the house. The two darkies worked for his well-being, well-being, the two white women waited on him hand and foot. At first It was lulling; then it was wearying. He began be-gan to wander from the house. But the week had not been altogether alto-gether lost. He had gathered desultory desul-tory but primitive information. Occasional Occa-sional re-occurring words began to be more than mere sounds. The girl's name was Margarita. The wrinkled little woman was her aunt, Dona Maria. The two darkies were lingering linger-ing relics of slave days. They had been boru here. They had gone with emancipation, but they had come back. The name of the plantation was Fazenda Flores. To them it was the world. They had wandered out of it hand in hand with liberty but they had come back because freedom was hera. They needed someone to serve. Margarita Mar-garita had long been an orphan. The place was hers and had once been rich. But before her day water had become scarce. The place was uncared for and had fallen into its present ruin. It was well, she said, for if she had been rich suitors would have searched her out long since. She was eighteen. She had been a woman for years! These things, some of them distinct, some only half-formed impressions, ran in Gerry's head as he wandered over the fazenda. It had once been rich, why was it not rich now 1 Fertility sprang to his view on every side save "What's This I Hear About Gerry Disappearing?" Dis-appearing?" one. This was the gentle slope away from the river and behind the house. Even here he discovered hummocks in alignment, vague traces of the careful tilling of another time. He climbed the slope till he came to a depression running parallel to the river. It made a line and beyoud that line was desert untamed. Cactus and thorn dotted its barren soil. Gerry followed the depression de-pression down to its end, then turned back and followed it up. It wandered among rocks and hillocks to a natural cleft in the banks of the great river. He climbed a point of rock and gazed around him. Far down to the left gleamed the old plantation house in the midst of its waste lands. His eye followed 1 lie long depression and lie began to understand many things. The ruin was a young ruin like himself. him-self. In itself it contained the seeds of rejuvenescence. It had been robbed of its talisman and its talisman was water. Tons of water flowed past it and left It thirsting for drops. Irrigation Irriga-tion is coeval with the birth of civilization. civiliza-tion. It had bpen here in this depression, depres-sion, lived, and passed away before be ::iid 'he gi'-l w?re born. He tried to explain to her what once h;ul been, but -he shrugged zr shoulders. She was not interested , ,.,e did not understand, i'ogether they walked back to the nose. Gerry was silent and thought-ul. thought-ul. He saw a vision of what Fazenda 'lores bad once been, what work could rake It again. The following Any he rooted otli two rusty spades from the debris in the old mill, fitted new handles to them and took the old darky, Bonifacio by name, off with him to the depression. They began the long task of digging out the silt of years. Day after day, week after week, they clung to the monotonous mono-tonous work. The darky worked like an automaton. Work in itself to him was nothing beyond the path to food and rest at night. Labor made no demands de-mands on courage It had no end, no goal. But Gerry's labor was dignified by conscious effort. His eyes were not lu the ditch but on the vision be had seen of what Fazenda Flores might be. lie had tixed his errant soul on a goal. The essence of slavery is older than any bonds wrought by man. The white man and the black lu the ditch were its parable. The dignity and the shame of labor were side by side, paradoxically para-doxically yoked to the same task. Margarita and her aunt looked on and smiled and joy began to settle on the girl. During Gerry's iirst restless week she had steeled herself each night to the thought that she would wake to find him gone. But now lie was taking root. It amused him to dig. Well, let him dig. There was no end to digging. Gerry occasionally varied the work of digging with making some knick-knack knick-knack for the house. The twisted limbs of trees became benches to supplant sup-plant tbe rickety chairs, clumsily patched and totally inadequate to his weight. In the same way he made the massive frame of a bed and Bonifacio remembered an art and tilled in the frame with plaited tbongs. Work Inspires In-spires emulation. The women got out their store of cloth. They made clothes for Gerry and fitted out the new bed. rillows and mattress were stuffed with dry bur-marigolds that faintly scented the whole room. With each achievement achieve-ment the somber house seemed to take a step toward gayety. Ruin and dilapidation dilap-idation put forth green shoots. Tbe gayety was reflected in the household. They were united in achievement Quiet smiles were their reward to each other and sometimes a burst of wonder as when Gerry found some old bottles and with the aid of a bit of string cut them into serviceable mugs. Margarita was happy. Her cup was full. All the dreams of her girlhood were fulfilled in Gerry. A silent and strange lover, but a man such a man as she had dreamed of but never seen. To herself she sang the old songs he should have sung to her and then laughed as he nodded mild approval. One evening he sat on a bench on the veranda, fitting a handle into a dipper made of a cocoanut-shell. Margarita Mar-garita sat on the steps at his feet. She leaned back further and further until she sank against his knees. He stooped over her. She threw up her arms around his neck, locked her hands and drew him down. He kissed her Hps and sighed. "Ah, do not sigh," she wailed. "Laugh! Laugh but oncel" Gerry did not grudge the months of toil in the ditch. As he worked he thought and planned. This ditch was the very real foundation for the attainment attain-ment of his vision. Deep and strong and carefully graded it must be before be-fore he cleared the sand barrier to the river's surge. The ditch was slow of growth but there was something about it which held his faith. It was rugged and elemental. It was the ugly source of a coming resurrection. When it was all but done he took Margarita and showed her his handiwork. handi-work. He pointed out the little sluiceways, sluice-ways, each with its primitive gate, a heavy log hinged on a thole-pin with a prop to hold it up and a stone to weight it when down. On the Fazenda side were inuumerable little trenches that stretched down into the valley. But not until he led her to the cleft in the river gorge and showed her that half an hour's work on the sand barrier bar-rier would let the river into the great ditch did she understand. And then she caught his arm and burst into violent vio-lent protest and pleading. "No, no," she cried, "you shall not do it. You shall not let in the river. The river is terrible. You must not play with it. It does not understand. You think it will do as you wish but it will not. Oh, if you must, please, please play with it below the rapids. There it is kinder. It lets one bathe. It lets one wash clothes." Gerry got over his astonishment and laughed. Then he soothed her. Already Al-ready the simpler phrases of her tongue came easily from his lips. He told her that she was foolish and a little coward. She must watch and see how tame the river would be. The next morning Gerry was up early. He was excited. Front this day the ditch, the parched slope, the valley val-ley would know thirst no more. With the long Dry season even the green bottoms had begun to wilt. He called Bonifacio and they started off to their work. Under direction Bonifacio was dig-I dig-I gins a great hole just at the back of the sand-bank. Gerry measured its capacity and finally called the old darkey out. He jumped down on to the sand-bank himself and dug a small trench to the water. The river surged j through it gently. Gerry climbed out. With each pulse of the come-and-go a wave rushed through the little trench, widening It and occasionally carrying away a block of the sandbank sand-bank into the bole. Gradually, then in rapid progression, the barrier was leveled. The hole tilled with water that rose till it began to trickle down the lung length of the ditch. They followed the tiny stream. Soon it came in rushing surges. Hours passed. Bonl-j Bonl-j facio slept, but Gerry had forg.-t.ten I rime. The ditch tilled. The wair started to flow back into the river i Alotig all its length the ditch held. (TO BE CO.NTI.NUEDJ SYNOPSIS. 6 Alan Wayne Is sent away from Red Hill, liis home, by his uncle, J. Y., as a moral failure. Clem runs after him in a tangle jf short skirts to bid him good-by. Cup-1 Cup-1 11 1 11 Wuyne tells Alan at the Tallin? ot the Waynes. Clem drinks Alan's health on his "birthday. Judge Healey defends Alan In bis business with his employers. Alan and -All meet at sea, homeward hound, and start a flirtation. At home, Nance Sterling Ster-ling aks Alan to go away from Allx. Allx Is taken to task by Clerry. her husband, for her conduct with Alan and detles him. Jorry, as he thinks, sees Allx and Alan eloping, drops everything, and goes to Pernambuco. Allx leaves Alan on the train and Roes home. Gerry leaves Per-xiiunbueo Per-xiiunbueo and Roes to Piranhas. On a fimoo trip he meets a native girl. The judge fails to trace Gerry. A baby Is born to Allx. The native girl takes Gerry to her home, and shows him the ruined Xilantatlon she Is mistress of. Gerry marries mar-ries hi r. At Maple house Collingeford tells how ho met Alnn "Ten Per Cent Wayno" building a bridge in Africa. CHAPTER XII Continued. The next morning, with Clem as cicerone, Collingeford went over to The Firs to pay his respects to Alix. They found her under the trees. "How do you do?" said Allx. "The Honorable IYrey. isn't it?" "What a memory you have for trifles," said Collingeford, laughing. ".May I sit down?" "Do," said Alix. She was perched in the middle of a garden seat. On each side of her were piled various stuffs and all the paraphernalia of tbe sewing circle. Collingeford sat down before her and stared. Clem had gone off iu search of game more to her taste. Alix seemed to him very small. He feit the change iu her before he could fix in what it lay. She seemed tftiil and restful In spite of her flying lingers. Spiritually still. Her eyes, glancing at him between stitches, were amused and grave at the same time. "Doll's clothes?" said Collingeford, saving at a beribboned morsel. ""No," said Alix. Collingeford stared a little longer and then he broke out with, "Look liere. what have you done with her? Over there, tbe young Mrs. Lansing spice, deviltry, scintillation and wit blinding. Over here, Mrs. Gerry demure and industrious. Dou't tell me .yon have gone in for the Quaker pose, but please tell me which is the poseuse; you now or the other one." Alix laughed. "I'm just me now, minus the deviltry and all that. Come, I'll show you what I've done with It." , They threaded the trees and came upon a mighty bower, half sun, half shade, where in tbe midst of a nurse arid Clem and many toys a baby was enthroned on a rug. "There you are," said Alix. "There's my spice, deviltry, scintillation and wit all done into one roly-poly." "Well, I'm blowed," said Collingeford. Collinge-ford. advancing cautiously on the .young monarch. "Do you want me to to feel him or say anything about his looks? I'll have to think a minute if you do." "Booby," said Alix, "come away." But Collingeford seemed fascinated, lie squatted on the rug and poked the monarch's ribs. Nurse, mother and Clem flew to the rescue, but to their amazement the monarch did not bellow. bel-low. He appropriated Colllugeford's finger. "I wonder if he'd mind if I called him a 'young 'un,' " soliloquized the attacking giant. "Silly," said Clem, "of course not." ""What are you 8taring at him that way for?" said Allx. "Can a baby make you think? A penny for them." "I was just thinking," said Collingeford Collinge-ford gravely, "that a baby Is positively the only thing I've never eaten." A horrified silence greeted his remark. re-mark. The nurse was the first to recover. re-cover. She strode forwnrd. gathered up the baby and marched away. Alix amil Clem fixed their eyes on Collingeford. Collinge-ford. He slowly withered and drew back. Tlieu the judge and Mrs. Lansing came out to them. Collingeford was introduced. Mrs. Lansing turned to Alix. "Have you asked Mr. Colliuge- ford to stay to lunch'.' The judge has iisked himself." "No. mother." said Alix. "I'm afrtid we couldn't give Honorable I'er-cy I'er-cy anything new to eat. He says " "My dear Mrs. Lansing." interrupted interrupt-ed roiiingeford. "it's all a mistake. I j,. i:ive!y loathe eating new things, no matter how delirious and rosy and b!u..-"eil tlloy look." "Aic you speaking of cabbages?" inquired the judge. "No. babies.'' said Clem. "He wanted want-ed to eat Hie haby." Mrs. Lansing laughed. "I don't blame him." she said. "I've often wanted to eat him myself." 'oliingeford spent a good deal of his week at The Firs. Clem went to see the baby daily as a matter of course and lie went along, as he said himself, its another matter of course. Clem laiUed to the baby. Collingeford to Aiix. He said to her one day. "I've read in books about babies doin this -sort oi' tliu. to t'-td-abouts -" "Gad abouts," interrupted Allx, "is just, but cruel." "Well, butterflies," compromised Collingeford. "But I never believed it really happened." "Oh," said Alix, "it wasn't the baby. Not altogether. You see, Mr. Collingeford, Collinge-ford, Gerry Lansing I'm Mrs. Gerry disappeared over a year ago before the baby came. He thought I didn't love him. I might as well tell you about It. I believe in telling tilings. Mystery is always more dangerous than truth; it gives such a lead to imagination." So she told him and Collingeford listened, interested. At the end he said nothing. Alix looked at his thoughtful face. "What do you think? Isn't there a chance? Don't you think he's probably probably alive?" The judge was not there to hear the meek appeal of faith for comfort. Collingeford Col-lingeford met Allx' eyes frankly. "If I were you," he said, "I would probably prob-ably believe as you do. I've met too many dead men In Piccadilly looking uncommonly well ever to say that a man is dead because he's disappeared.. Then there's the other side of it. Bod-sky Bod-sky says a man is never dead while there's anybody left that loves him." "The judge told me about Bodsky. He's tbe man that said there had been lots of murderers he'd like to take to his club. He must be worth while. I'd like to talk to him." "I don't suppose," said Collingeford absently, 'that Bodsky has talked to a woman since he killed his mistress." Alix started and looked up frcwti her work. "Don't you think you had better bet-ter come back and bring the talk back with you?" It was Collingeford's turn to start. "I beg your pardon." he said. "You are right, I was in another world. Only you mustn't get a wrong impression. Everybody says it was an accident except Bodsky. He has never said anything." Alan Wayne had been away for a year. He had not returned from Montreal Mont-real but had gone one from there to work in South America and, later, to Africa. He had been in town for several days when he met the judge one afternoon after-noon in November on the avenue. "Judge," he said without prenmble, "what's this I hear about Gerry disappearing." dis-appearing." "It's true," said the judge and added add-ed grimly, "he disappeared the day you went to Montreal." Alan colored and his face turned grave. "I am sorry," be said. "I didn't know it." "Sorry for what?" asked the judge, but Alan refused the opening ami the judge hardly regretted it. They were not iu tune and he felt it. His heart was heavy over Alan for his own sake. He had broken what the judge had long reverenced as a charmed circle. He had exiled himself from that which should have been dearer to him than his heart's desire. The judge wondered won-dered if he realized it. "You're not going out to lied Hill?" he asked, trying try-ing to make the question casual. Alan glanced at him sharply. What was the judge after? "No," he said after a pause, "I shall not break the communal coma of Red Hill for some time. I'm off again. McDaie & Mc-Dale Mc-Dale have loaned me to Ellinson's. I've become a sort of poohbah on construction construc-tion in Africa. They get u premium for lending me." Alan's speech habitually drawled except ex-cept for an occasional retort that came like the crack of a whip. The judge looked him over curiously. Alan's dress was almost too refined. II is person per-son was as well cared for as a woman's. wom-an's. Every detail about him was a studied negation of work, utility, service. serv-ice. The judge thought of Collingeford's Collinge-ford's story and wondered. They walked in silence for some time and then Alan took his leave. The judge followed his erect figure with solemn eyes. Alan had deteriorated. One cannot be the fly in the amber of more than one woman's memory without with-out clouding one's own soul, and a clouded soul has its peculiar cireum-atnbicncy cireum-atnbicncy which the clean can feel. The judge felt it in Alan and winced. If Alan did not go to the Hill, the Hill, in certain measure, came to Alan. The next afternoon found the captain 3uce more established in his chair iu a window- at the club with Alan beside be-side him. The captain had not changed. His hair was iu the same state of white insurgen' . his eyes bulged iu the same old way. and he still puffed when he tallied. His garb was identical identi-cal and awakened the usual interest in the passing gamiu. |