Full text of "Drowsy"
DROWSY
jr. A .MITCHELL
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
THE SUMMER SCHOOL OF PHILOSO
PHY AT MX. DESERT
THE ROMANCE OF THE MOON
THE LAST AMERICAN
"LIFE S" FAIRY TALES
AMOS JUDD
THAT FIRST AFFAIR
DR. THORNE S IDEA
THE PINES OF LORY
THE VILLA CLAUDIA
THE SILENT WAR
PANDORA S Box
CALIF. LIBRARY. LO8 ANGKLKH
"A FANTASTIC. SOI.KMS RF.tilON" f., t , AW
DROWSY
By
John Ames Mitchell
Author of "The Last American," "Amos Judd,"
"Pines of Lory," "Pandora s Box," etc.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
ANGUS UACDONALL AND THE AUTHOR
NEW YORK
FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
Copyright, 1917, by
JOHN AMES MITCHELL
All rights reserved, including tltat of translator*
into foreign languages
To the Reader
This is not a fairy tale.
The wonders of to-day, we are told by scientists,
will be to-morrow the common things of daily life.
Wireless telegraphy, it appears, is but the crude
beginning to a deeper knowledge of the mysteries
that surround us. Waves of thought, like waves of
light, obedient to our will, may supplant the spoken
word and the written message.
And we learn that Space, the borderless abyss
through which we move, is vibrant with electric life.
But still unsolved is the mystery of the force that
holds the moon, for instance, to its orbit around the
earth. And it holds it with a mightier power than
bars of steel.
If it be true that the human voice goes out into
space, on and forever, as other waves, why should
not a lover on a nearby planet receive the message
from an earthly maiden? If waves of thought keep
pace with waves of light, the call of a human heart
would surely reach him.
This tale of Drowsy is the somewhat romantic nar
rative of a woman and a reckless lover. An unusual
lover, to be sure, with a singular inheritance ; but very
human and with a full equipment of human faults
v
21.11 GRO
vi To the Reader
and virtues. While his achievements may seem to us
incredible, the coming generation may regard them as
commonplace events.
It was Pliny, the elder, who said, "Indeed, what
is there that does not appear marvelous when it
comes to our knowledge for the first time?"
So, if this story of Drowsy seems a fairy tale, let
us remember that the Atlantic Cable would be a fairy
tale to Columbus.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THEIR OWN AFFAIR .... ... i
II. How THE ACQUAINTANCE BEGAN 19
III. UNCLE HECTOR S VERDICT 33
IV. MATRIMONIAL 43
V. HE MEETS Two LADIES 72
VI. HE ALMOST GETS RELIGION 103
VII. TOWARD THE LIGHT 116
VIII. A WORKER OF MIRACLES 132
IX. DREAMS? 144
X. THE FARTHEST TRAVELER 162
XI. UNSIGHT UNSEEN 172
XII. "INCREDIBLE!" 189
XIII. A MESSAGE 221
XIV. OVER SEAS 229
XV. A GARDEN OF WONDERS 235
XVI. THE SOUL OF A SONG 251
XVII. "I MEAN IT" 259
XVIII. THE CANON OF DESPAIR 267
XIX. A YOUNG MAN TALKS 273
XX. ANOTHER MESSAGE 280
XXI. ABOVE THE CLOUDS 290
Illustrations
"A fantastic, solemn, region" .... Frontispiece
PAGE
"Gracefully he floated over their heads" ... 28
"A cocoanut palace against a mountain of vanilla ice
cream" . . . . . . . . .114
I want to know how the earth looks when you are
standing on the moon" . . . . . .120
"And now, today, down at the bottom of the ocean,
those cities and those marble temples are still
standing" ......... 124
"Could lift it in the air to any height, crew, passengers,
and cargo" 154
"And glide forever, a homeless vagrant through the
dusky void" 170
"Far and fast, even for a bird man" .... 180
"But who ever saw such a diamond?" .... 198
"A most unusual country !"...... 206
"But once a city?" ....... 208
"Older than human history" ...... 209
"The dried bones of its own past, whatever it was" . 212
"But why build their cities in those sunless chasms?" 213
"And over everything an awful silence" . . . 214
: A world of dust and ashes" 215
"The diamonds are there, and plenty of them" . . 216
"With long arms and very short legs" . . . . 217
"But the Diva was far away. She heard nothing save
the thing unheard by others" ..... 226
DROWSY
THEIR OWN AFFAIR
REATH of Scandal.
Imperishable zephyr! Dispenser of delight
to all : save those it touches. Floating in
playful sport around the globe, it does little harm to
callous sinners. But it blights, with a special and
vociferous joy, superior persons.
The higher and more immaculate the victim the
greater the general mirth. In the wake of pleasure it
may have, at times, a comic side; at other times it
kills and with agonies that are not for publication.
In a certain month of May it loitered up the eastern
shore of the Adriatic, lingering briefly at Rovigno,
just long enough to nip the budding romance of an
interesting widow. At Orsera it electrified the leading
citizens by linking, in a gentle whisper, the name of a
lady of spotless reputation with a Platonic Friend. It
spared Parenzo. But at Cittanuova it fanned into
flame a general curiosity regarding the relations of a
2 Drowsy
Captain of Cavalry with the wife of a certain ca r eless
husband. At S. Lorenzo it merely put two lovers on
their guard.
Then onward for Trieste. In this search for savory
victims it overlooked a villa high up a hillside. Here,
indeed, the Breath of Scandal might have entered and
rejoiced! But the villa, as if guarding against this
very visitor, had drawn before its face a screen of
trees and vines and flowers. As wise old Bumble takes
his morning nectar from the choicest flowers, so here
might this fateful zephyr have drunk his fill.
There was mystery about this villa.
Natives, whose business brought them in the vicin
ity, were enchanted by the beauty of a woman s voice.
In melody and in power it was, to them, a revelation.
Two middle-aged gentlemen one of them the Cure
of S. Pietro in Selve both lovers of music and who
attended operas at Milan and other cities heard the
celestial voice one day when passing near the villa.
They were charmed. Both knew it was no ordinary
singer. But the singer s identity was not discovered.
On this particular morning a young man was sitting
alone in the Loggia of the villa. Westward, through
one of the open arches, he gazed upon the deep, blue
waters of the Adriatic, far down below. Small boats,
with sails of various colors, floated here and there,
like lazy butterflies. The man was reclining in an easy
chair like an invalid which he was. Bandages en
cased his throat. A bullet through his neck, two
months ago, would explain these bandages. It was
Their Own Affair 3
the price he paid for striking an Austrian officer across
the month. The Austrian officer had made an offen
sive remai^- concerning the Diva. The young Amer
ican was a good shot and in the duel, three days later,
he sent a bullet through his adversary s chest. It so
happened that the Austrian, being also a good shot,
sent a corresponding missile through the young Amer
ican s neck. Then the Diva and her defender had
fled to this villa ; not together, but separately, to escape
the Breath of Scandal. Here, in this ideal nest, they
found peace and privacy. Not under their own names.
Ah, no! If the lady s identity were suspected the
thrilling news would have circled the globe. One can
not be an opera singer of world-wide fame and sud
denly become obscure. The Diva s Italian friends and
the public believed that she was rusticating somewhere,
with relatives. The American s friends in Paris had
heard about the duel, but knew nothing of his where
abouts. So, alone and happy, here on this Istrian hill
side, they laughed at Mrs. Grundy, and lived and loved
at leisure. And what sweeter victory than looking
down from a perch of safety upon the world below
where the Breath of Scandal spared neither the guilty
nor the innocent? Kind providence had so managed
that the Diva s immediate family was not inquisitive.
It consisted solely of her father, a famous scientist,
whose portrait, with its high forehead, shaggy hair
and drowsy eyes was a familiar face to Italian stu
dents. So absorbed he was in study and experiment
that the adventures of his yet more famous daughter
4 Drowsy
caused him no uneasiness. Had the Breath of Scandal
entered his laboratory, it would have been ignored
or ejected as a liar. The Diva s husband known as
"The Calamity" by her friends a handsome gentle
man of noble family, had long since become immune
to the Breath of Scandal so well encased in his dis
repute that he could sink no further. He and the
Breath of Scandal were boon companions. At present
he held a government position in Siam. Three years
he had been there, and might remain for ten years
more. So, at the cozy Istrian villa were no jealous
eyes to disturb a lover s dream.
On this May morning, too warm, perhaps, in the
sunshine, but perfect in the shade, the American, in
his reclining chair, was listening to a singing voice. It
came to him from an inner room of the villa. Dream
ily he listened, with half closed eyes, and smiling
mouth. It had been rather a handsome face before
the duel. Now the features were too sharp, and the
eyes showed lack of sleep. This old Hungarian
song a mother s prayer, now coming from the
Diva s lips, and heart was her lover s favorite, and
her own. It was given with the depth of feeling and
the art of a great singer, herself soon to be a mother.
There are things in music, often the simplest songs,
that stir the imagination and reach the secret chamber
of the soul beyond all others. This Hungarian prayer
was one. It had become, to these two people, a hymn
of hope, with its love and fears, its yearnings and its
joy. And into it the Diva gave her very soul.
Their Own Affair 5
The song ended. Then, with eyes still moist, the
Diva walked out into the loggia.
A pleasant thing to look upon, this goddess of the
ravishing voice. There seemed bewitchment in her
figure, in her carriage, in her head and neck, in the
low, wide brow with its blackest of black hair. Be
neath the heavy lashes of the midnight eyes lurked
tragedy. Their mysterious depths disturbed the hearts
of men. Yet her lips told more of mirth. Certain
critics maintained that her greatest triumphs were in
comedy. But as nearly all grand opera is for tragedy
she rarely appeared in lighter roles. This morning, as
she stepped out into the loggia, she could have passed
for almost any heroine either of tragedy or comedy.
Her robe, a thing of light material, might be any
shade or color ; perhaps a delicate purple ground with
a smiling yellow pattern or vice versa ; so artfully de
signed that the outlines of her figure became elusive.
She bent over, kissed the invalid, and pressed a
cheek against his face. Then she straightened up and
stood beside him, looking down with a smile that was
more than friendly. The invalid returned the smile.
It was an easy thing to do. For what is easier than
returning the smile of a singing goddess vainly sought
by other men, when she descends from pinnacles of
glory and freely, joyfully surrenders herself, and all
from an overpowering love? In the smile that lin
gered between them were things whose utterance is not
in words of any language: things that true lovers,
and they alone, can ever know. Close beside him she
6 Drowsy
drew a wicker chair, and she sat in silence for a
moment, studying his face. Earnestly she looked into
his eyes as if searching his secret thoughts.
Flowers may be the language of love, but in this
case it was also French. The Diva was Italian and
her French was more than good. And Dr. Alton s
French, for an American, was not so very bad. But
since the leaden messenger had entered his neck three
months ago, he had spoken no word, of French, nor
of any other language. It was still a question whether
he would regain his voice or be forever mute. And
in those three months of ceaseless devotion there had
come to the Diva an amazing gift. So intense had
been her desire to know his thoughts, so persistent her
efforts to know what his silent lips would utter, that
at last the wish was granted. A mysterious power had
come : a power that transferred to her own brain
or soul the thoughts his lips could not express.
The conversation to an eavesdropper would have
seemed a monologue by the lady, with long pauses. In
these pauses she was reading her lover s thoughts.
The young man s pleasure in these gazings was even
greater than the Diva s. Within her eyes, themselves
an entrancement, he found love and infinite devotion.
Under their spell he asked no greater joy than opening
wide the secret chambers of his soul.
"Did the little blond hero happen to notice how I
finished the prayer song this morning?"
The little blond hero who was some inches taller
than the Diva when on his feet nodded. He nodded
Their Own Affair 7
slowly and carefully in consideration of the bandaged
throat.
"And that it was a little different from the way I
usually sing it?"
Again the answer was a careful nod.
"How did he like it? Is it better that way?"
This time, after the faint, affirmative sign, she gazed
longer into the adoring eyes, waiting a less simple
answer. She found it, and with no aid from his lips.
"Yes, that was my idea precisely. More strength in
the final passages ; the deeper feeling of a mother s
appeal." Then, with closed eyes and clasped hands :
"May the prayer be answered, for my whole soul is
in it!"
On the clasped hands the invalid laid one of his own,
\vith a gentle pressure, telling of sympathy, hope and
confidence. She opened her eyes and returned his
smile. "Yes, yes. We must be cheerful; always
cheerful and full of hope. It will be better for the
child."
After a silence, in which both looked thoughtfully
over the tree tops, toward the distant coast of Italy,
beyond the butterfly sails far below moving here and
there on the shimmering surface of the Adriatic, she
turned, in response to another pressure of the hand,
and again looked deep into the patient s eyes.
"No, Dr. Cervini says there s no harm in my sing
ing unless I fatigue myself. And I never do that."
Hut his face was anxious. So with an air of cheer
ful confidence she exclaimed :
8 Drowsy
"I have decided on a boy. Yes, a boy ! Smile again.
I love to see you smile. Why a boy? Because boys
are stronger and bigger than girls; more reasoning;
more honest. What? Not so lovable as girls. Oh,
nonsense !"
Here a pause.
"I don t quite understand. Think that again. Oh,
well, I shouldn t mind if he was. I love bad boys. Of
course we don t want a cowardly, mean-spirited,
stingy, cold-blooded, deceitful kind of badness."
Here, after another pause, she laughed. "Yes, I
suppose that is just what I do mean a bad boy who
is good."
Another silence, and another laugh. "No, never!"
"But tell me, Defender of Women, why do you wish
for a girl? Because what? She might be a perfect
copy of myself? Oh, honey-mouthed humbug!"
She rose, stooped over, kissed him, and sat down
again.
"Well, I shall be happy, very happy, whatever the
Bon Dieu gives us."
The next silence was longer.
"Yes, that is all very true. Heredity counts.
There s no doubt of that. Half Italian, half Amer
ican there are worse combinations. But I am doubt
ful about the American half." Here she frowned
and slowly shook her head. "I have a torturing sus
picion that all Americans with one heavenly excep
tion are ignoble things."
The blond hero smiled and closed his eyes.
Their Own Affair 9
"Not an opera singer in the whole country," she
went on. "No music, no art, no Roman ruins ; just a
race of handsome, reckless, blood-thirsty young doc
tors. And the whole miserable wilderness, the whole
continent itself, was discovered by an Italian! Think
of that! Think of how much we owe Columbus, you
and I ! Were it not for him we should never have
met for you would not exist. You owe everything
to Italy. Still, we love each other just as much. That
is the important thing. Nothing else really matters."
But she frowned and shook a finger. "Nevertheless,
if it s a boy I shall name him Columbus Michael An-
gelo Dante Victor Emanuel Alton, just to hide the
dishonor of his father s nationality."
The invalid clasped the finger, and held it. For a
moment two pairs of eyes looked deep into each other.
Then the Diva laughed. "\Vhatideasyouhave! The
Good God gave you a sunny heart, my beloved. And
you know Oh, you know well that whatever "
At the sound of a distant door bell she stopped
abruptly. Into her face came a look of mild alarm.
Both knew that no visitor was \velcome. Who could
enter this bower unless shadowed by the Breath of
Scandal? The next moment, however, her face
brightened. "Oh of course! It s the good Dr.
Cervini. I had forgotten he was to come early
to-day."
The man who entered kissed the tips of the Diva s
fingers. Then he shook hands with the American.
Tall, thin, of brown and leathery skin, with a prom-
io Drowsy
inent Roman nose, fierce mustaches and pointed iron
gray beard, he could easily have passed for Don
Quixote. But the fierce mustaches failed to hide the
lines of mirth about the mouth. And from two calm
eyes beneath the threatening- eyebrows gleamed sym
pathy and benevolence. It was generally believed that
Dr. Cervini had ushered into the world more princes
and princesses, more grand dukes and duchesses, more
future kings and queens than any man in Europe. In
those cases where there might be a question as to the
propriety of the little one s arrival, he was more than
trustworthy. In such affairs the Silence of the Tomb,
compared with Dr. Cervini, was noisy gossip.
After various questions concerning the patient s
progress he exclaimed :
"What patience, what godlike self-control are
exhibited by Dr. Alton ! Younger and more up-to-date
than I, with a perfect knowledge of the human throat,
yet he submits to my advice and antiquated treatment !
Medals should be his!"
Dr. Alton, of course, protested, in silence, and the
silent protest was put in words by the Diva. So ran
the conversation for a time, Dr. Cervini watching the
Diva with deepest interest.
"Do you realize, Signora," he said at last, "that you
have developed a most extraordinary faculty?"
"Is it so very remarkable?"
"It is, indeed ! In all my experience, and you know
it covers many years, I have seen nothing quite like it.
Hypnotism, mental telepathy and the old familiar
Their Own Affair II
tricks are very different matters. In your case a sound
mind in a sound body merges itself in closest com
munication with another mind, equally sound and
normal. I am wondering if you could still read the
doctor s thoughts if there was no common language
between you. Or is it his unspoken words that you
read?"
The Diva reflected. "No, it is not his words. I
feel sure I should know his wishes even if there were
no such things as words." Then, turning to her lover:
"Tell me, wicked one, do you have to think in words
when we talk together? No, he says not."
"An amazing faculty!" murmured Dr. Cervini. "I
have never seen nor heard of such a case. You two,
as I understand, can carry on an endless conversation,
and without a word from him."
"Yes, except, sometimes, names of people or of
places. Then, if I don t know them, he writes them
for me."
"Could you read the thoughts of another person, do
you think? Of others, beside our invalid, here?"
"Oh, I am sure I don t know! I never tried. It s
a terrible thought. Could anything be more frightful
than to know, at times, what people really thought of
you? No, no, Heaven forbid!"
Dr. Cervini laughed. "Oh, you would have little
to fear on that score!" Then, tapping the hand of the
invalid, "But you and I, Doctor, we professional sin
ners! well that would indeed be humiliating! Our
crosses would be heavy!"
12 Drowsy
The invalid smiled, then looked at the Diva. And
the Diva laughed, blushed and shook her head.
"What does he say?"
"It s too foolish to repeat. He s a silly boy."
"I insist upon knowing."
"He says . No, no. I couldn t repeat it! His
brain is affected. His blond wits are wandering."
Dr. Cervini frowned and looked his fiercest. "What
manners! Secret messages in the very presence of a
guest!"
"Well he says the unspoken thoughts of a grateful
world might intoxicate me, and he doesn t enjoy
drunkards."
Dr. Cervini laughed. "No, you are mistaken, Doc
tor. She has already survived that test. No living
conqueror has sailed in triumph on such seas of glory.
No other queen or goddess has achieved her victory
without losing something of the simplicity, the fresh
ness and the charm of youth. The hearts of men are
hers. To entrance the world, to
"Stop ! Stop !" Again the color came to her cheeks.
"If you said it too often, I might believe it, and then-
adieu to all simplicity."
The two men protested each in his own manner
against all denials of their sincerity.
More serious conversation followed. Dr. Cervini,
after final instructions for the patient, departed, the
Diva going with him to the outer door. As usual at
these partings, she pressed him for an honest opinion
Their Own Affair 13
of the patient s condition. And, as usual, it was favor
able.
She laid a hand on his arm. "You are telling me
the truth, aren t you, old friend?"
"Yes. On my honor. In a fortnight he shall eat
and drink and talk in comfort. Believe me. Now,
now ! No tears ! I know what a strain it is. You
have been simply magnificent all through these weary
weeks. Don t weaken now. The worst is over."
"Yes, I will be brave. But the hardest of all is to
see him suffer. He never complains. He tries so
hard, so hard, to be cheerful! It seems, at moments,
as if I could bear it no longer."
"Go away for a week or two. I can bring an excel
lent nurse."
"No, no! Never that!"
"Then remember the child. It must not come into
the \vorld with the face of a tragic mask ; with weep
ing eyes and wrinkled brow."
She smiled and promised. But, after bidding him
a cheerful good-by, and when the door had closed,
she dropped into a chair and pressed both hands
against her face. It was a determined effort to keep
back the tears. They came, however; but the luxury
was brief. With an air of somewhat fierce resolve she
arose, stood just long enough before a mirror to dry
her eyes, then, humming the gayest of airs from a
comic opera, she went out into the loggia and rejoined
the sufferer.
14 Drowsy
Meanwhile, Dr. Cervini descended the driveway of
the villa to the postroad. There he stopped, leaned
upon the parapet and looked down upon the scene
below him ; the little town at the foot of the hill, and
the sky-blue Adriatic.
At the sound of an approaching carriage he turned.
The approaching equipage was obviously patrician. It
pertained to a lady of the High Nobility. Save the
two men in livery on the box and the Breath of Scan
dal, this Countess was traveling alone. She and the
Breath of Scandal were boon companions. This inti
macy bore no resemblance to the corresponding inti
macy among common people where purity is defiled,
homes ruined and good names besmeared. With the
Countess the Breath of Scandal became a sweet per
fume wafting around her person an intriguing at
mosphere of mystery, romance and patrician vice.
Friendly greetings passed between the lady and the
doctor. Then the lady asked for information. She
suspected from something she had heard that the Diva
was in this vicinity.
"Now, tell me, Doctor. \Yhere is she?"
"She? In this vicinity?"
"Come now, I am not to be deceived. You may as
well tell me at once. Where is she? You are one of
her intimates and I saw you come down that avenue.
As the only truthful man in Austria, you may as well
confess that she lives at the end of it."
The truthful man raised his Mephistophelean eye
brows, smiled and slowly shook his head. "Alas, I
Their Own Affair 15
wish, indeed, she were there ! There is a villa, Coun
tess, but no Diva in it."
The lady frowned. "Who then?"
"Nobody you know, or are likely to know. The
occupant is a deservedly prosperous manufacturer of
excellent chocolate."
"Are you sure?" In her manner was suspicion, not
quite allayed.
"Well I have spent the last hour there and many
previous hours."
"Very likely. But I don t believe you."
"Am I a liar?"
"I really don t know."
"But you just said I was the only truthful man
in Austria."
"Merely a form of speech. I meant relatively.
You might be the most truthful man in Austria and
yet have no standing in heaven or any other honest
resort."
Dr. Cervini smiled. "True, too true! But who told
you our Diva was here about?"
"A connoisseur. A judge of voices. One who could
not be mistaken. He heard her voice one evening, here,
along this road."
"Was he sure it was the Diva?"
"Absolutely."
"Ah, now I understand. Delicious! Really, it s too
good to keep to ourselves. If we could only inter
view him together, you and I !"
"What do you mean?"
1 6 Drowsy
"I mean my chocolate king has a young daughter,
who sings. And she sings yes she sings well. But,
vocally, she bears about the same resemblance to our
Diva as a guinea chicken to a skylark."
"Could our connoisseur be quite such a fool as
that?"
"A real connoisseur can be anything. But possibly
he had dined too well on that particular night. How
ever, even when sober a musical critic can He
stopped abruptly, with a gesture of annoyance. "Oh,
what a memory! My humblest apologies to our con
noisseur. He was right, absolutely right. He made no
mistake."
"Then she is here, after all?"
"No, she is far from here. But I had entirely for
gotten, for the moment, that she passed this way not
so long ago. In the town below there, she lingered a
day or two on her way to France."
"Is she in France?"
"Yes, for the summer; and for rest."
"What part of France?"
"Ah, that, Countess, I must not tell."
"But I am one of her oldest friends! Am I not
even to correspond with her?"
"Well, you know her one object in going there is
for absolute rest, not even writing letters. I see you
are hurt, dear lady, and I understand your feelings,
but I am sworn to secrecy."
The lady stiffened, and settled back in the carriage.
"Hurt! I should say so. And why not, pray?"
Their Own Affair 17
Dr. Cervini seemed to reflect a moment. "Well,
Countess, will you give me your solemn word of
honor to guard the secret if I tell you?"
"I promise."
"Do you happen to know the town of Tarbes?"
"No."
"Have you ever been to Foix?"
"Never heard of it."
"Well, she has rented a little villa somewhere be
tween those places, but back in the mountains."
"What mountains?"
"The Pyrenees."
"God protect us! Is she there?"
"She is. Her doctors and her family all insisted
upon her having a six months rest. And she needs
it."
"Provoking! Most annoying! And here I have
had a long drive beneath a broiling sun and all for
nothing."
Dr. Cervini waved a solemn finger. "Don t forget
your promise."
Yes, I will remember. But, the young American
doctor who struck and then killed a captain. Where
is he?"
"In his own country."
"In America?"
"Even so."
"Shameful! Shameful!"
"Why shameful, Countess?"
"Because I hoped they were together as they should
1 8 Drowsy
l>e. It s too delicious a romance for the lovers to spoil
by parting."
"Lovers! She hardly knew him. If a favorite prima
donna were to adopt every man who fell in love with
her she would have no time for music. Heavens!
What a regiment of followers!"
"Nevertheless," said the lady, in a more serious
manner, "I blush for the Diva."
"Why blush?"
"I always blush for virtue."
As the carriage, with the Countess, escorted by the
Breath of Scandal, disappeared around a curve in the
road, Dr. Cervini removed his hat, looked heavenward
and murmured :
"Angels of mercy, forgive a liar/
But the lie did well. Never again came the Breath
of Scandal so near the Diva. The lovers secret re
mained a secret. Even her father, the famous scientist
with the drowsy eyes, died twenty years later not
knowing that he had a grandchild.
II
HOW THE ACQUAINTANCE BEGAN
SEVEN years have passed.
Under the arching elms in a Massachusetts
village, one Sunday morning in July, various
persons were moving toward a house of worship. The
house of worship was white, with a portico of Ionic
columns.
Among the branches of the elms a noisy congrega
tion of non-sectarian birds seemed to be laughing at
the Orthodox bells.
Dr. Alton, leading his little son by the hand, was
walking beside the parson. Dr. Alton was but little
over thirty years of age. His son was nearly seven.
When the older physician died, two months ago, this
younger Dr. Alton, his only child, had returned from
Europe and announced his intention of continuing his
father s practice. Why an attractive young man, shin
ing with honors from the medical schools of Paris
IQ
2O Drowsy
and Vienna, should be willing to hide his talents in
a village like Longfielcls was an interesting mystery.
Some argued that the death of his young wife had
broken his heart and killed ambition. But this morn
ing, as he walked to church, beneath the singing elms,
he took cheerful notice of the things about him. He
enjoyed the greetings of old friends of his boyhood.
Some yards behind, in this progress toward the
church, came Mr. and Mrs. David Snell. Mr. Snell
was listening to the discourse of his wife. He listened
with the patience and the fortitude attained by long
experience and by force of will. His beard was gray,
his eyes were blue, his shoulders narrow and his figure
slight. Also, he had a gentle voice and gentle man-
ers. But it was known among his friends that this
gentleness was by no means a manifestation of any
inward weakness. While patient and much enduring,
there were times when he became more determined,
more "cantankerously sot" and unchangeable than the
movements of the planets. Deacon Babbit once said,
"Compared with David when he gets his dander up
the Rock of Ages is a weather-cock. The only safe
thing to do is to stand from under and let him be."
But these transformations were rare, and often for
gotten.
"I don t care," Mrs. Snell was saying, "people have
a right to gossip when a handsome young man comes
home from Europe with a child like that and re
fuses to open his mouth about its mother. I don t
believe it had a mother."
How the Acquaintance Began 21
"P r aps not. P r aps it grew on a pumpkin tree and
the doctor jest picked it."
"You know what I mean, David. We never heard
of his being married durin those six years he was over
there over there studyin medicine. Studyin medi
cine! I guess he studied a good many things besides
medicine."
"Been a fool if he hadn t. Medicine ain t the only
interestin thing in this world."
"Don t be coarse, David, and excusing vice. You
know very well he should not deceive people about
it."
"How has he deceived anybody?"
"By saying he was married to this boy s mother
and she died."
"Well, ain t it true?"
"No."
"How do you know it ain t?"
"Because if it was true he wouldn t be so secretive
about it. There s nothing to be ashamed of in marry
ing an honest woman and having a child."
"No," said Mr. Snell. "Nuthin specially surprisin
about that. Good folks have done it."
"Then why be hiding something? All his old
friends are naturally interested in his wife and he d
naturally tell us unless there was something he was
ashamed of."
"Ashamed of? Well, Rebecca, you certainly can
talk like a fool when you put your mind on it."
Mrs. Snell flushed. "Really! Indeed! So you
22 Drowsy
think it s perfectly natural for a man to hide from
his old friends all knowledge of his marriage as he
would a murder?"
"Yes, if he wants to."
"Well, I don t. And that s the difference. And
we ll see what other people in this village are going
to think about it."
Mr. Snell stopped, laid a hand on his wife s arm
and wheeled her about. He spoke in a low voice, but
his words were metallic in their clearness. "Now look
here, Rebecca Snell, you jest go slow on startin that
kind of talk. Dr. Alton s a good man. We are mighty
lucky to have him in the old doctor s shoes. Long-
fields is a mighty small village for a man with such
an education as he s got. And if it ever got to his
ears that you d been insultin his dead wife s memory
well you ll get jest exactly what you deserve, and
I ll help give it to yer. 1 mean it. Now shut up."
Mrs. Snell glanced at the light blue angry eyes now
looking steadily into her own. Between those eyes and
her own face, a long and bony finger, quivering with
anger, was moving slowly, to and fro. It came very
near her face. She blinked, tightened her lips and
took a backward step. Then her husband, in a low
voice, husky with rage, the vibrating finger almost
touching her nose, spoke once more.
"And you stay shut up !"
After a pause, just long enough for his message to
be acknowledged by a nod of obedience he started on
toward the church.
How the Acquaintance Began 23
Airs. Snell followed after.
In that congregation were persons who came to wor
ship their Creator the ostensible purpose of the gath
ering. Miss Susan Pendexter, on the other hand, a
somewhat emotional spinster, came to worship the
preacher, Rev. George Bentley Heywood. She was
thrilled by the originality, the power and the beauty
of the sermon which to his own wife seemed, as
usual, prosy and commonplace. Many were present
because afraid to stay away. Among these were the
young men. Children, of course, were present under
compulsion, accepting the sermon as a punishment.
No gathering could be more democratic. These de
scendants of the Pilgrims were not encumbered by
class distinctions. Judge Dean, for instance, the most
influential citizen of the village, would never presume
to patronize either Abner Phillips, the harness maker
or Elisha Bisbee, the blacksmith. Uncle Hector, who
kept the store, would have snubbed all the reigning
monarchs of the earth had he suspected them of will
ful condescension. The somewhat restless man in a
side pew, he whose stiff hair stands straight on end,
w r ho snuffs and clears his throat and looks pleasantly
around the church, is Lemuel Cobb, the stage driver.
He is a descendant of a famous Governor of Plymouth
Colony and has a brother who is now President of
a Western College. And the two Allen "girls," Nance
and Fidelia now over sixty have one of the best
pews in Church. The fact of their being largely de-
pc-ndent for food and clothing, rent and fuel, on the
24 Drowsy
bounty of their neighbors, lessens in no degree the
courtesy they receive.
It was natural that Dr. Alton and his son, this morn
ing, should be objects of lively interest. This in
terest was all the greater from certain unexplained
events in Europe kindly referred to by Mrs. Snell.
But other persons were less suspicious than this lady.
Nearly all the members of the congregation and of
the township for that matter were old friends of
this Dr. Alton s father. Few among those here pres
ent failed to recall, with gratitude and affection, the
dead physician. The older members he had either sus
tained in sickness or had postponed their departure to
realms above. The younger ones he had ably assisted
into our merry world. This younger Dr. Alton, now
present, bore some resemblance to his father. He had
a good expression and a pleasant smile, but he was,
of course, too young to carry those deeper lines of
study, of work and kindly deeds that marked his
father s face.
So high were the backs of the pews that the smaller
children were almost invisible. Only the tops of their
heads were in sight. But Dr. Alton s son, for a wider
knowledge of this new world, folded his short legs
beneath him and sat upon his heels. This was wel
comed in silence by many persons in the congrega
tions. They could now satisfy their curiosity as to
his appearance. And the face was disappointing.
His eyes, as they moved in a drowsy way over the
faces about him, seemed dull and almost stupid. They
How the Acquaintance Began 25
seemed half closed by heavy lids. And his short,
cherubic mouth might indicate a want of decision. His
hair, short, thick and dark grew in a straight line
across his forehead. Altogether, with his stiff hair,
plump cheeks, short neck and placid manner, he seemed
a different type from the little Yankee boys of Long-
fields.
Mrs. Waldo Bennett, the tall, straight woman with
startled eyebrows, said to herself, as she watched his
slow moving eyes, studying in mild surprise the church
and the people about him, "That little heathen was
never in a house of God before." But she was wrong.
This was, to be sure, his first experience in a New Eng
land church, but he had been in cathedrals. And he
was surprised at the difference in size between this
cathedral and those at Milan and Canterbury. Lei
surely, and with no embarrassment or self-conscious
ness, his eyes wandered slowly over various persons
who were watching him. But when his eyes en
countered Mrs. Snell they opened a trifle wider. There,
in surprise, they rested for a moment. For in this
lady s face he found, not the amiable curiosity of his
grandfather s grateful friends, but a pious disap
proval of his very existence. Almost threatening was
her look of hostility, of reprobation and contempt.
There was censure in it, and condemnation. She was
studying him as one of the Higher Angels might study
the meanest imp of Satan. For Mrs. Snell, while not
impervious to the consolations of religion, found more
solace, just at present, in believing Dr. Alton a special
26 Drowsy
envoy from Sodom and Gomorrah. As for the boy,
she detected, in his evil eyes and voluptuous mouth, an
agent of the devil for the future debauchery of Long-
fields. She was not especially prophetic in other mat
ters but, for this boy, she predicted an unspeakable
career.
And the boy, while unable to divine all her thoughts
or to realize this blighting forecast, did not fail to
catch the general message. For a moment he returned
her gaze, calmly and undisturbed ; then as calmly
looked away. He was seeking refuge in the thought
that perhaps she hated all other boys just as much.
Perhaps the women in this new country were fiercer
than those in Europe.
The very next minute, however, something hap
pened something so much more thrilling that he
forgot completely the square jawed, ominous woman.
As he looked away from her hostile glare he en
countered the eyes of the parson s daughter. And
such eyes! How different from Mrs. Snell s! These
eyes were the two most astonishing things he had ever
seen. They were not far away in a pew at right
angles to his own and they were looking straight
at him ! They had thick, dark lashes. They, also,
were severe, but in a different way from Mrs. Snell s.
They certainly were frowning at him. From Mrs.
Snell s eyes he felt like running away for safety.
These other eyes seemed more surprised than angry
as if demanding an apology for something. Although
but six years old they were remarkably effective for
How the Acquaintance Began 27
weapons \vith so little experience. Not that she was
a flirt at that age : she was nothing more than a rather
willful little girl, already somewhat spoiled : one of
those clever females intended by nature to succeed,
from the cradle up, in getting whatever they desire.
The boy s eyebrows went up and he smiled, involun
tarily, in spite of her frown, and his slumbrous eye
lids opened a little wider. He enjoyed beautiful
things, in whatever form, and those eyes, whether hos
tile or friendly, were wondrous things. Then, when
he had just begun to stare at them, comfortably, came
one of the surprises of his life. It was more than
a surprise : it was a blow, a shock, a humiliation. For,
this girl, with no warning, made a face at him! She
wrinkled up her nose, slightly raised her chin and
stuck out her tongue. And, while he gazed in won
der, she unfolded the legs upon which she was ele
vated and sank from his vision like a mermaid be
neath the w r aves. He was more astonished than angry.
That such an affront, so undeserved, so undignified
and so insulting should come from so angelic a face
was something new in his experience. In his desire
to see more of this novelty he forgot his surroundings,
and to the surprise of neighboring worshipers, and
before his father could stop him, he clambered to his
feet and stood up on the seat of the pew.
Accelerated by his father s hand and by a whis
pered word, he came down to his proper level. But
Mrs. Snell had seen the act. It strengthened her con
viction that this future corrupter of youth had no
28 Drowsy
respect for the House of God, and was already dead
to any religious influence. For a time the Corrupter
of Youth kept his eyes on the place where the eyes
had vanished; but in vain. They seemed to have
disappeared forever. So, being a boy, he found in
terest in other things.
The tall windows of the church were open at the
top, and those members of the congregation, not en
thralled by the sermon, could see snowy clouds drift
ing idly across a bright blue sky. Through these open
windows came the song of birds; voices of the
heathen birds already mentioned; good singers but
with little reverence for the Gospel Word. To the
Corrupter of Youth, also, the Gospel Word had little
interest. He was looking up, through the open win
dows, at the floating clouds, the swallows and the
white pigeons. One swallow, less discerning than his
friends, flew into the church and fluttered about be
fore escaping. He was followed, with envious eyes,
by the Corrupter of Youth, who decided there and
then a decision often made before that when he
grew to be a man, and could do as he pleased, he also
would fly : up from the earth, high up into the clouds
like a bird!
Perhaps it was the warm day and the preacher s
voice, but after a while he began to feel sleepy. And,
anyway, why should a bird be so much better off than
men and other animals? Why stick so tight to the
ground? It didn t seem fair. Why should a hen
just a hen have wings and not a boy? If he him-
"UK.ACKFULI.Y HK I LOA TKI) OVER THKIR HEADS" Rigt
How the Acquaintance Began 29
self had wings my gracious! he would rise and sail
up through the open window, up and far away above
the clouds, into the blue sky itself! Among the gods
and angels he would float around. And just to show
what he could do, he would astonish them with ex
traordinary evolutions. For speed, originality and
distance, his flights, with curves and sudden stops,
would startle even sparrows themselves. There was
pleasure, too, in swooping down, and showing his con
tempt for these heavy, easily satisfied persons all hud
dled together between the bare walls of this foolish
little Longfields cathedral. Darting downwards, but in
easy curves, to the very window through which he
had been looking up and out, he now looked down and
in. Hovering at the open window, his body without,
his head within, he frowned upon the upturned, star
tled faces of the earth-bound congregation. Then he
entered. Gracefully he floated over their heads. For
a moment he hovered over Mrs. Snell, who uttered
a loud scream, then fell dead from terror. Next, above
the girl with the wonderful eyes he moved slowly
to and fro, as fishes move in water. This just to
show her what kind of a floating boy he was. De
scending a little, until his face was close to hers, he
looked straight into her startled eyes and wiggled his
nose like a rabbit. And it frightened her almost to
death !
Twas a great thought !
He smiled as he reveled in it. But there are dreams
loo beautiful to be true. And when, at last, his soul
30 Drowsy
rejoined his body he saw the preacher had folded his
hands upon the Bible in front of him, and was pray
ing. The members of the congregation, with bowed
heads, were listening in solemn silence. Then the
dreamer, now wide awake, slid from his seat, stood
up, put his mouth to his parent s ear and whispered :
"Father, quick ! His eyes are shut. Let s get
away!"
Parents can be dull. On this occasion his father
certainly missed a golden opportunity. He merely
shook his head and failed to act.
However, the weary service was almost over. The
prayer ended; the congregation stood up and joined in
the final hymn. The dreamer also stood up. Also, he
opened his cherubic mouth, and sang. The words
he knew not, but he sang without them. His unfa
miliar voice surprised Miss Martha Lincoln, a middle-
aged maiden just in front of him. Twice a week she
gave music lessons in Worcester. Now, involuntarily
she looked behind. Her surprise was great when she
discovered the performer to be a small boy whose
diminutive mouth could hardly open wide enough to
put forth the music that was in him. Clearly this
courageous singer possessed an ear and a sense of
harmony that were a part of himself, and not ac
quired.
At last, the benediction finished, the people came
slowly out of the pews into the aisle, and moved t> -
ward the open doors. Greetings occurred between
people who lived miles apart and seldom met, except on
How the Acquaintance Began 31
Sundays. The boy stuck close to his father. One of
his hands kept a tight grip on Dr. Alton s coat. As
the top of his head was not above the waists of peo
ple about him he received little attention. Many per
sons overlooked him. But just before reaching the
vestibule he heard a voice close to his ear, on his own
level. It said, distinctly, but in a tone too low for
the taller people to hear :
"How do you do, little stupid?"
He turned. There was the girl with the wondrous
eyes ! But now the eyes glistened with malicious
triumph. For an instant he was too surprised, too
disconcerted, to grasp the situation. Like a ship that
receives a raking broadside from an unexpected quar
ter and reels beneath the shock, but recovers and pre
pares for action, so Cyrus Alton pulled himself to-
gather, blinked and faced the foe. Then it was that
the maiden herself received a shock. For this boy,
instead of "sassing back" as she expected, inclined his
head and body in a ceremonious bow as elaborate
as the skirts and legs of the surrounding grown-ups
permitted, and inquired politely :
"\\ hy do you say that?"
So surprised was the girl, so startled by this un
precedented, this unheard of politeness in a human
boy, that her expression swiftly changed to one of
comic dismay. She was dumb. The miracle stupefied
her. In their wonderment the beautiful eyes became
yet larger and more beautiful. But the lips were
32 Drowsy
speechless. Then, once again she vanished, this time
behind her mother s skirt.
And that is how the acquaintance began between
Cyrus Alton and Ruth Heywood.
Ill
UNCLE HECTOR S VERDICT
IT so happened a few days later that this acquaint
ance was renewed. Cyrus, sitting on the door
step of a house in the village, waited for his
father, who was visiting a patient within.
Two little girls came along, arm in arm. They
stopped in front of him.
One of them said : "A new boy."
The other said : "Isn t he funny !"
In one of these persons Cyrus recognized the girl
who made faces at him in church. As they stood smil
ing, brimming over with mischief, he arose, lifted his
hat and made a sweeping bow, as d Artagnan might
have saluted Anne of Austria. It was so well done,
with so much grace and solemnity, that the two girls
were startled. Things of that sort had never occurred
in Longfields. The girls giggled. They believed he
was "showing off" to amuse them. But he was not
33
34 Drowsy
showing off. It was merely his usual manner of salut
ing ladies. When the hat was again on his head, he
looked calmly at the girl with the eyes and inquired :
"Why did- you call me stupid?"
For an instant she was taken aback. Then with a
smile of defiance :
"Because you look stupid."
"But I am not."
"Well you look so, anyway ; doesn t he, Martha?"
Martha nodded and giggled endorsement. But Ruth
Hey wood herself stopped giggling, and said more
seriously :
"It s your eyes that are funny. They are half awake.
They are so drowsy they make me sleepy to look at
them. Can t you open them wider?"
Cyrus made no answer because he could think of
nothing to say. But as the heavy lidded eyes looked
into Ruth Heywood s, with their supernatural tran
quillity, it seemed to the maiden as if the accumulated
wisdom of mankind was rebuking and despising her.
The same expression came into her face that came
there in church ; a rapid change from bantering gayety
to doubt and misgiving. But she wheeled about, with
an air of indifference, and walked away, leading the
devoted Martha. A little way off she turned her head
and called to him :
"Good-by, Drowsy!"
With that they both scampered away as fast as they
could run.
After this interview the acquaintance marched or
Uncle Hector s Verdict 35
rather jumped ahead with all the velocity of youth.
Cyrus passed her house every time he went to the vil
lage and interviews were frequent. All discourtesy
in their first meetings was forgiven and forgotten.
To his ceremonious salutations, with their astonishing
bows, Ruth Hey wood soon became accustomed. Also,
she ceased being impressed by his judicial gaze, for she
soon learned that the heavy lidded eyes concealed
neither disdain nor supernatural wisdom. She dis
covered, in short, that he was just a boy. But he
proved neither sleepy nor stupid.
Certain traits, however, quite at variance with those
in other children of her own age, made him an object
of her special concern. She began to regard him as
her own personal property, something to be watched
over, guided and protected. Although she had known
but six years of terrestrial life, some feminine,
kindly instinct was already prompting her to be mother
and grandmother to him, also aunt and sister and all
the female blessings that he missed at home. He was,
to l)e sure, just about her own age, but he was shorter
and less assertive. And there certainly is at times
a distinct advantage in being able to look down upon
the person you are trying to impress.
When Ruth wanted a thing she wanted it very much,
and at once. With strangers she always got it. Her
beauty, combined with her manner when she chose
were irresistible, it appeared, to all human males be
tween the ages of ten and one hundred. She could
smile the smile that routed reason and paralyzed all
Drowsy
powers of resistance. This smile, as she grew older,
with the sensitive mouth and conquering eyes, never
lost its charm. And the unsuspecting Cyrus was either
brave or timid, patient or angry, happy or unhappy,
at the witch s will.
Moreover, his mental processes were quite different
from those of Ruth. He was slower in reaching con
clusions. Her own swift decisions amazed him. She
dazzled him at times, by a mysterious intuitive agency
whose lightning turns he did not pretend to follow.
Cyrus, more than other boys, was a lover of beauti
ful things. Flowers, pictures, music, color, all gave him
pleasure. In the presence of an American sunset he
would sit in solemn adoration. To this lover of beau
tiful things Ruth s eyes were as windows of heaven.
Into them he could look and wonder; quit the earth
and imagine all things. They soothed and stirred his
fancy like summer skies and solemn woods or flowers
and thunderstorms. And when they rested on him, in
reproach, they filled him with delectable guilt.
Ruth and Truth were one and inseparable. Truth
was part of herself. Truth and Cyrus, on the other
hand, sometimes parted company. And they parted
easily. Truth was a good thing he knew that. But
there seemed to be occasions when Truth and Wisdom
did not pull together; when the immediate results were
disastrous. When those moments came he preferred
the exercise of his own wits : the triumphs of his own
invention. And his invention was rich and ready.
On one occasion, when rebuked by his father for
Uncle Hector s Verdict 37
telling a lie. he replied, after a moment s thought, and
with earnest conviction :
"I don t see any fun in telling the truth all the time.
Anybody can do it."
However, aside from this little matter of despising
Truth, he was a reliable boy. He kept his promises.
And it should be said in justice that, while an easy and
successful liar, his mind was open to reason and he
could be made to realize the sin and folly of his ways.
His interview with Uncle Hector, for instance, showed
a willingness to see the light.
Uncle Hector kept the store. He was seventy-five
years old, tall, very erect, wore a green wig and was
a bachelor. The wig was not really green, but certain
tints of its original golden brown had changed, in the
passing years, to a peculiar greenish yellow. His OWTI
original virtues, however, had not deteriorated. He
was honest and true. Everybody liked him, and all
the children called him Uncle. He wore dark clothes,
and a stiff, old fashioned collar a sort of dickey
for he had a hired man to do the rough work about
the place.
Toward noon, one February day, Cyrus and Ruth
entered the store. Uncle Hector was off at the further
end talking with a customer : Mrs. Bennett. Nobody
else was there. While waiting for Mrs. Bennett to
finish her business Cyrus and Ruth admired, as usual,
the wonders about them, and inhaled the intoxicating
air: an air heavy laden with odors of molasses and
vinegar, of coffee, calico and oranges, of the spices
38 Drowsy
of Ara1)y and the rubber boots of New England. On
the top of the counter, which was on a level with the
nose of Cyrus, lay a dollar bill. Cyrus saw it, and by
standing on his toes he could reach over and take it
which he did. He held it in the ringers of both hands
and drank in its beauties. Then he held it closer to
Ruth s face, that she, too, might admire it.
"Just think !" he said. "A dollar is a hundred cents ;
we can buy a hundred sticks of that candy you like !"
Ruth had doubts of his ownership. Yet she con
sidered the discoverer s feelings.
"But, Cyrus, it isn t yours."
"Yes it is!"
"Oh, no!"
"Yes. Findin s is keepin s."
Ruth had never heard this principle before, but she
accepted it because it came from Cyrus. And Cyrus,
this fortune in his fingers, felt as all men feel when
raised, without warning, from poverty to wealth.
Mrs. Bennett departed and at last Uncle Hector tow
ered behind the counter smiling down upon the two
upturned, excited faces.
Well, Miss Ruth Hey wood, and Mr. Cyrus Alton,
what can I do for you this morning?"
Again Cyrus raised himself upon his toes, pushed the
dollar bill as far over on the counter as he could reach,
and exclaimed :
"A whole dollar s worth of that red candy with the
white stripes!"
Uncle Hector s Verdict 39
Uncle Hector s genial smile gave way, for a mo
ment, to an expression of surprise.
"Where did you get this money, Cyrus?"
"Father gave it to me."
"Oh, Cyrus !" exclaimed Ruth.
The liar turned and looked at Ruth, not in anger at
being exposed, but in a sort of calm amazement that
so sensible a girl should ruin so good a plan. Ruth,
however, was not the person to compromise with sin.
"Cyrus Alton! How can you say such a thing?"
Kindly but sadly Uncle Hector looked down upon
the boy.
"Tell the truth, Cyrus."
Cyrus, unabashed, met Uncle Hector s reproving
gaze. He even smiled, as any honest man might smile,
to show his spirit was above defeat.
"I found it just now, right here on this counter."
Uncle Hector s face was still serious. "Are you
sure it s your dollar?"
"Yes, sir. Findin s is keepin s."
Uncle Hector stroked his chin and twisted his
mouth, as if wondering how to answer. "Well er
if you should take one of those oranges and refuse to
pay for it, and just walk away with it and say find-
in s is keepin s would that be all right?"
"No, sir, because I know they are for sale. This
dollar wasn t."
Again Uncle Hector stroked his chain and twisted
his mouth. And Cyrus smiled up at him, the smile
of triumph. It was obvious, even to Ruth, that this
4O Drowsy
opening skirmish was a victory for Cyrus. She also
smiled up at Uncle Hector and nodded, signifying that
her escort was an able person.
But Uncle Hector was not vanquished. He laid the
dollar on the counter, off near Cyrus face, to make
it clear there was no forcible retention of doubtful
property that justice should be rendered to the
smallest boy as fairly as to the biggest man. Then he
straightened up, pushed back his coat and inserted his
thumbs in the arm holes of his vest. And there was
something in his smile and in his confident manner
that caused uneasiness in Ruth.
"If I should go to your house, Cyrus, and carry off
a handsome sled with the name Hiawatha on it in blue
letters, refuse to give it back, and say findin s is keep
ing would that be all right?"
"No, sir, because you know it s my sled, and there s
no other like it."
Again was Uncle Hector taken by surprise, and in
his face the two children saw signs of the hesitation
which often leads to defeat. Ruth s faith in Cyrus
rose yet higher. As she smiled at the tall figure be
hind the counter her expression said as plainly as
words, "Nobody can get ahead of Cyrus."
But Uncle Hector, while not prepared for such an
answer to his question, even now was unconquered.
"Cyrus," he said, "you ll make a great lawyer some
day. You are mighty good at an argument. But
suppose a stranger took that sled, and when you ran
after him and told it was yours, he should say findin s
Uncle Hector s Verdict 41
is keepinV and refuse to give it up. Would that be
all right?"
"Oh, no!"
"Why not?"
"Because I had told him it was mine."
"Well, now, Mrs. Bennett bought seventy cents
worth of tea and sewing silk just before you and
Ruth came in. She laid a dollar bill on the counter
and I gave her the change thirty cents. Then we
went away for a minute to the back of the store and
left it lying here. When I came back I found you
claimed it, saying findin s is keepin s. So, if you keep
it, I lose seventy cents worth of tea and sewing silk
and thirty cents in cash."
Cyrus frowned, and looked sidewise at the bill. Ruth
also frowned. As she looked up at the jar that held
the striped candy tears came to her eyes. Uncle Hector
smiled pleasantly upon the two troubled faces and in
quired in his gentlest manner :
"Now, Cyrus, just as man to man, whose bill do
you think it is?"
Cyrus worked his lips, and looked away. He
stood firm on his legs, but inwardly he staggered
beneath the blow. It was a whole dollar, and gone
gone forever, before he could spend it! He might
never have another. Full grown men have been known
to collapse under sudden loss of fortune. He dared
not look at Ruth. It might unnerve him for the sac
rifice. With tightened lips and blinking eyes he
reached up over the counter and silently pushed the
42 Drowsy
bill away, as far toward the new owner as his short
arm could do it.
"Thank you, Cyrus," said Uncle Hector. "I knew I
was dealing with a man who would do the right thing
when he saw it. And now, let s have some candy to
gether and celebrate the occasion. What ll you have,
Ruth?" He moved his hand, at a guess, toward the
glass jar that held the pink candy with the white stripes.
She nodded. "Yes, I like that best."
He placed a stick of it in the lady s hand.
"And you, Cyrus? The same, I suppose?"
"No, sir. I ll have a cocoanut cake."
Uncle Hector replaced the jar; then, as he laid the
cocoanut cake in the extended hand :
"But you wanted the candy a minute ago; a whole
dollar s worth."
"That s when I was treatin Ruth. I thought it
would please her to think I liked what she liked."
"But you don t care for that candy?"
"No, sir."
Uncle Hector s face took on a new expression. He
straightened up, lowered his chin, regarded the small
boy in front of him was a peculiar look, bent forward
and held an open palm quite close to the wondering
face.
"Shake hands."
Cyrus reached up and placed his small hand in the
extended palm.
The large hand closed over the little one.
"Cyrus, you are a gentleman."
IV
MATRIMONIAL
A JUNE morning.
The sky, this morning, is the bluest blue ; the
air delicious. There is fragrance in it, of
buds, new grass and flowers. Also, in the air, is the
joy of living, and the promise of even better things
to come.
But Ruth Heywood, sitting upon the front door
step of her father s house, seemed oblivious to the sur
rounding rapture. Her thoughts were solemn. Half
an hour ago she had witnessed a marriage in her own
parlor. Her father, a clergyman, had united two lov
ers in the bonds of matrimony. The ceremony had
deeply impressed the youthful witness, curled up in
the big arm chair near the window. And after. the
departure of the happy couple she had been still
further, and yet more deeply impressed, by her father s
43
44 Drowsy
explanation of what the ceremony meant. Now, sit
ting in the sunshine on the front steps, her youthful
mind was struggling with the marriage problem. It
certainly seemed a grand idea, this bringing together
of a man and woman to love each other dearly all the
rest of their lives, with no drawback, and to make each
other supremely happy, not only in this life but in
the life to come. The more she thought and the deeper
she went into this inviting subject the better she liked
it. And she wondered why anybody should delay an
hour before entering the holy state.
From this maiden dream of everlasting bliss she
was gently awakened by peculiar sounds. These
sounds came from the lips of a jubilant boy, dancing
along the center of the street. If explanation were
necessary the sounds might be interpreted as a song
of praise to the Creator for producing such a perfect
day in such a wondrous world. To further emphasize
the joy of living the boy s arms were swinging above
his head and his eyes were heavenward. He wore a
blue and white checkered shirt-waist, brown knickers,
stockings of the same color and copper-toed shoes.
His hat, being a nuisance, had been left at home.
With him was a dog. And the dog, even more than
his master, seemed intoxicated with present condi
tions. The fact of being alive had stirred him to a
wild activity. At dazzling speed he was describing
circles about the size of a circus ring around the sing
ing boy. He traveled like a thing possessed and with
a velocity somewhat faster than a shooting star. And
Matrimonial 45
the eyes of Ruth Hey wood, although young and ac
tive, blinked as they tried to follow him.
She called.
"Drowsy!"
Cyrus stopped, turned about and made a sweeping
bow. When he straightened up the maiden beckoned,
and said, "Come here."
As he seated himself beside her, she asked:
"Were you ever married, Cyrus ?"
For an instant the boy was taken aback. As he
turned and looked into the maiden s eyes, ready to
carry on the joke, he saw those eyes were more than
serious : they were almost tragic in their earnestness.
"Why, of course not! I m too young."
"No, nobody is too young. It s a lovely, beautiful
thing and everybody ought to do it."
Cyrus was clearly surprised ; but, always polite to
ladies, he nodded his appreciation of the new truth.
"I didn t know. I thought only grown folks got
married."
"No ; it is everybody s duty. And it s my duty and
yours, too."
Cyrus eyebrows went up. "Me? Mine?"
"Yes. It s a beautiful thing and makes us all better.
Father says so."
"Did he say children, too?"
Ruth hesitated. "He he said it makes everybody
better more unselfish and of course he meant no
body is too young to be made better."
Cyrus nodded. "1 spose that s so."
46 Drowsy
"And I want to marry you," said Ruth.
Cyrus nodded. "I m ready, if it s a good thing."
"It s a lovely thing."
"What s the kind of good that it does?"
"It makes us better."
"Yes, but but in what ways is a feller better?"
"Oh, in every way."
"Can he play ball any better?"
"I guess so."
"Is a married feller stronger and can he run faster
than the feller that isn t married?"
"Oh, yes."
"Well, that s a good deal. Does it take long to have
it done?
"Just a few minutes."
As a new suspicion entered the mind of the pros
pective groom he edged away a few inches. "Does it
hurt?"
"What hurt?"
"Getting married. Does a dentist do it or some
thing like that?"
Contemptuously the maiden answered. " Course
not! You are a very ignorant boy. We just stand
up before father and say I will, and Yes and It is
or I do and short things like that. Father does all
the rest."
Then Ruth explained the ceremony, and described
minutely the scene she had witnessed an hour ago in
her own home.
Matrimonial 47
"That s easy enough," said Cyrus. "Anybody can
say those things."
"Everybody does it," said Ruth.
Cyrus smiled ; it seemed a smile of relief. "That s
funny. I d always thought being married was kind
of important, and kind of kind of lasted a mighty
long time."
"It does. It lasts forever. That is why it is so
beautiful and lovely. Everybody is better forever
and ever."
Cyrus frowned. "I don t know."
"Don t know what?"
"I don t like the the long time. S pose we got
enough of it. We d have to keep on just the same."
"Oh, Cyrus! Would you get tired of me?"
"No, course not ! Nobody could ever do that ! But
s pose I died in a few days, would you have to be
married all the rest of your life to a dead boy?"
"Yes, and I would be very faithful to your mem
ory. I would never marry anybody else and I would
put lovely flowers on your grave every day."
"Ho! I don t believe that!"
"Yes I would!"
Cyrus put both hands on his knees, stiffened his
arms, straightened up and drew a long breath of the
morning air. "Anyway, I l rather be alive."
"Of course you would! So would almost anybody
for a time. But you are very silly and ignorant if you
think being married is going to kill you."
" Course I don t!"
48 Drowsy
"Then you mustn t say such things."
"I guess I only just meant that if I was married
I d rather be alive than dead. But what do we have
to do after we are married?"
"Oh, everything just what other folks do, of
course."
"And what s that?"
"Why sit opposite each other at breakfast, go
around together, and own things together, and have
the same pew at church. You at one end and me at
the other, with our children between us."
Cyrus frowned. "Our children?"
Ruth nodded.
"But I never heard of a boy eight years old having
real children."
Ruth closed her eyes in solemn meditation. Cyrus,
after waiting in vain for an answer said, with a laugh :
"Think of me with real children, p raps biggern I am!
They could lick me in a fight." And he laughed.
"That is funny, isn t it?" And he gave her arm a
shake, as if to wake her up.
At the sound of laughter Zac, sitting on the step
below, cocked his ears, wagged his tail and sidled up
closer to Cyrus, who reached forward, gathered up
the loose skin at the back of Zac s neck and gave him
a friendly shake.
"Anyway," said Ruth, "everybody ought to get mar
ried. Your father and mother and my father and
mother were all married.
"Yes, I s pose, they were."
Matrimonial 49
"Of course they were. They would be ashamed not
to. All good and wise people marry. Why, King
Solomon, who was wiser than anybody, had seven hun
dred wives."
"How many?"
"Seven hundred."
"Seven hundred! Oh, get out!"
"But he did!"
"Seven hundred, all alive at once?"
"Yes."
"Jimminy! That seems an awful lot for one man,
doesn t it?"
Ruth confessed that it did.
"Nobody in Longfields has more than one, have
they?"
Ruth mentioned several citizens, but could recall
none who had more than one wife.
"If one," said Cyrus, "is enough for men around
here, why should your Solomon need seven hundred?"
"I don t know. Perhaps the Bible tells."
"P r aps," said Cyrus, "he was homely or mean or
something like that, and instead of one good one he
had to take seven hundred bad ones."
"No, I don t believe it was that."
Cyrus reflected a moment. "P r aps they were all
mighty good and there being so many of em was what
made Solomon so wise."
"I shouldn t wonder."
There came a silence. Then Cyrus straightened up
and spoke with emphasis. "I just don t believe he or
50 Drowsy
anybody else had seven hundred wives. It s too many.
It isn t likely, somehow. No feller would want that
much."
"Why, Cyrus Alton! Don t you believe what the
Bible says?"
"Yes I I course I believe it if you and the
Bible both say so, but seven hundred does seem a
mighty big lot." Then, as he looked away, over the
common, his eyes rested on two persons who stood
talking together across the way, and he asked :
"Were Solomon s wives real live women like Mrs.
Strong and Mrs. Clapp, over there?"
"Of course they were!"
Cyrus closed his eyes. But through his ears came
the thin, far reaching, nasal voice of Mrs. Clapp. "Did
seven hundred women like that sit around the break
fast table with Solomon every morning?"
"I s pose they did."
For an instant Cyrus faltered. He lowered his eyes
and studied his shoes with the copper toes. There
might be a darker side to matrimony, a noisier, less
peaceful side, than Ruth had pictured. But, as he
turned and looked at his companion, it came upon him,
like a ray of sunshine that a hundred Ruths would be,
oh, so very different from a hundred Mrs. Clapps!
"Did all those wives," he asked, "sit with Solomon
in one pew on Sunday?"
Ruth made no answer.
"Doesn t the Bible say anything about that ?"
"I don t remember."
Matrimonial 51
"Well, if they did, I say he must have had a mighty
long pew. Do you s pose they all slept in the same
ncd ?"
"Perhaps."
Cyrus laughed. "Seven hundred wives in one bed !
Cracky ! I guess old Solomon slept on the floor !"
He turned and smiled into the girl s face. But he
saw no mirth, only surprise and disapproval as the
lovely eyes looked into his own. He was learning his
first lesson in the noble art of suppressing humor in
the presence of humorous things when taken seriously.
And he blushed at his own frivolity. Moreover, his
sympathy for the much married Solomon did not
weaken his allegiance to the girl beside him. There
was, to be sure, a peculiar excitement in the idea of
sitting at breakfast with seven hundred Ruths entirely
his own. Yet, somehow, the vision daunted him.
Even the vision of a hundred Ruths, all just alike,
filled him with a kind of awe an awe of more things
than he could ever live up to. Seeking courage and
consolation, he looked down into the face of Zac as a
companion more like himself on a lower spiritual
plane. Zac, still sitting in front of them, always look
ing earnestly into the face of whoever was speaking,
appeared interested in the conversation. Cyrus
stroked his head, then stood up.
"Let s go ahead with this marrying, if you say so.
But where s the fun of it?"
"Oh, in doing such a beautiful thing and being
better."
52 Drowsy
"There s no great fun in being better. We are
good enough already."
"Oh, Cyrus! Nobody is good enough already ex
cept our fathers and mothers and ministers."
Ruth s manner was solemn. The responsibility of
the enterprise seemed to rest entirely on her own
shoulders. While she was deciding, with far away
look, on the next step, Cyrus said :
"There s a big circus picture on Mr. Wade s barn,
just stuck up this morning. It has a great big tiger
crawling up an elephant, and soldiers fighting Indians,
all big, in splendid colors! Come over and see it."
Ruth frowned. In her very pretty eyes, as she
turned them in sadness on the prospective groom, was
pity the almost tearful yet contemptuous pity with
which Wisdom looks on Folly.
"Cyrus, you are just a boy. You don t understand
things."
"Don t understand what things?"
"How important this marriage is."
"Oh, that s all right. I m ready. Let s go ahead
now and have it over with. What do we do first?"
"We must go in to father and ask him to marry us,
just as he did those people this morning."
"All right. Come along."
As the two children entered the house, Zac with a
bark of joy bounced into the hall ahead of them. It
was a loud bark, a piercing, youthful bark, that might
disturb a dozen clergymen if working on their sermons.
Ruth stopped. "Hush, you horrid dog!"
Matrimonial 53
"Zac, shut up !" said Cyrus. "Go back, and stay on
the porch."
But Zac preferred to accompany the expedition.
Without openly refusing to obey, he merely bounced
about, just out of reach, wagged his tail and smiled
in the faces of the bride and groom.
"Shall we let him come?" said Cyrus.
Ruth hesitated, but only for an instant. "No. A
dog barking at a wedding would be unreligious."
So Cyrus, by pleadings, threats and gentle force in
duced his more worldly comrade to remain without.
But he said good-by to him as he turned away. For,
in parting with this bachelor friend, he may have had
feelings in common with other matrimonial heroes
when marching to the altar.
Meanwhile, the Rev. George Bentley Heywood,
father of the prospective bride, stood at the west
window of his study. His thoughts were far away.
In his hand was a letter from a friend in China. This
friend, a missionary, had presented, in eloquent and
convincing words, the various joys, spiritual, material
and social that attended the servant of God when con
verting the heathen of the Orient.
Mr. Heywood s imagination had responded to the
winged words and was already disporting itself in the
Chinese vineyard. There had been other letters, all
with the same message. And, now, standing at the
window with the letter in his hand, he was thinking,
and thinking hard, over the most important decision
of his life,
54 Drowsy
Mr. Heywood was a serious man. Upon his person
lay no superfluous flesh. His face, otherwise severe,
was tempered by the eyes of a poet eyes of a gentle,
somewhat solemn beauty. They were pleasant to look
into. Ruth had inherited these eyes, and in her childish
face they shone with an added beauty. They were
dreamy eyes, a soft brown-black with blacker lashes,
and either tragic or mirthful, as occasion called.
When the study door opened with no preliminary
knock there was annoyance in the clergyman s man
ner as his eyes turned toward the intruder. This time
there were two intruders, Cyrus and his financee.
Mr. Heywood frowned when the two small people ad
vanced to the center of the room. He was in no mood
for answering children s questions. But, as he
frowned, Cyrus bowed one of his best and most
elaborate efforts, bringing the heel of one foot against
the instep of the other, all with a gracious, sweeping
salutation of his free hand the one that was not
leading Ruth. It was the greeting of one gentleman
of the old school to another, of deference and good
wishes. Mr. Heywood, partly, perhaps, from his
thoughts being in China, found himself also bowing
deferentially, as if to some exalted and venerable per
son. Suddenly realizing the absurdity of such an
obeisance he straightened up and frowned again. Then
he spoke more harshly than if he had not blundered
into such a foolish action.
"Well, children, what is it?"
Cyrus spoke, "We have come to get married,"
Matrimonial 55
"Who?"
"We. We us."
"What do you mean?"
"Ruth and I want to get married."
Mr. Hey wood frowned again and blinked, as if to
summon his wandering wits, undecided whether to
believe or doubt his eyes and ears. His thoughts,
barely returned from China, seemed unequal to a sud
den grasp of the situation.
"What are you saying?"
"I am saying that Ruth and I want to get mar
ried."
"Whose idea is this?"
"Mine/ said Ruth.
As the father met the earnest eyes of his daughter
he almost smiled.
"Where did you get such an idea, Ruth?"
"From seeing the people you married this morning.
You said marriage was a beautiful thing."
"So it is. So it is. But that was very different.
Only grown people marry, so run away, children. I
have no time for play this morning." And he turned
away and sat down at his desk.
"But, Mr. Heywood," said Cyrus, "this is not play.
This is important."
"Important? Why important, Cyrus?"
" Cause Ruth wants it."
This time Mr. Heywood smiled. "That s a good
sentiment, Cyrus. It shows a kind regard for the
56 Drowsy
lady. But run away, both of you. I am very busy this
morning."
"But, Mr. Heywood," said Cyrus, "what s Ruth
clone that she should be punished and not have what
she wants, and wants ever so much?"
"How punished?"
"By not getting what she wants."
"And what do you say she wants?"
"Me."
The father laughed. "Oh, it s you she wants, is it?"
"Yes, sir."
Mr. Heywood drew a hand slowly across his mouth
as he looked inquiringly at Ruth.
Ruth smiled and nodded. "Yes, sir."
Her father also nodded as in polite recognition of
her wishes. Turning to Cyrus, he inquired, "What are
you going to live on ? What is going to be your busi
ness?"
"I m going to be a discoverer, like Columbus."
"I am afraid there won t be much left to discover by
the time you are a man not on this earth, at least.
The big continents are already discovered."
"But there will be new countries at the bottom of
the sea, and under the earth and on the moon, and such
places."
"On such places! Dear me, Cyrus, do you think
of taking your wife to the moon?"
"Yes, sir."
"But how will you be supporting Ruth all that time?
A husband should be earning money."
Matrimonial 57
"Oh, that part ll be all right ! I m going to be a train
robber."
"A train robber!"
"Yes, sir."
Mr. Heywood whistled softly and looked at his
daughter. "Well now is that a nice business, Ruth,
for a model husband ? Do you want to marry a train
robber ?
Ruth smiled and nodded. "Yes, I shall always like
Cyrus and whatever he does."
"But suppose Cyrus is imprisoned for life, or
hanged, as often happens to train robbers?"
Cyrus interrupted, and spoke contemptuously. "No,
I shan t be that kind ! It s only the stupid ones that s
caught !"
Mr. Heywood closed his eyes for a moment and
appeared to be thinking it over. "Of course, it s pos
sible, just possible, that you may change your mind
as you get older."
"No, sir. Cause a man gets lots of money that way
and gets it quick and easy. And there ll be jewelry,
too. I shall give the jewelry to Ruth."
"And I," said Ruth, "shall give lots of it to mother.
Mother likes jewelry."
"Yes," said Mr. Heywood, "most women do. But
isn t stolen jewelry a little
Again Cyrus interrupted. "But that won t be
stolen jewelry. When you steal anything you get it
when the other feller isn t looking kind of sneakin .
I shall take it right before their faces."
58 Drowsy
"Yes, but you threaten to kill them if they resist.
That s robbery, isn t it?"
"Yes, sir, but robbery isn t like stealing. It s more
more it s braver."
"Braver? Possibly. And you really consider rob
bery an honorable business?"
"Oh, yes."
"And I can help him," said Ruth ; "we would work
together."
Mr. Hey wood looked from the cherubic lips of the
groom into the clear eyes of his superlatively conscien
tious little daughter and murmured : "Yes, you would
be of great assistance." Then, after a pause :
"Now, Cyrus, you and Ruth come to me twenty
years hence and if we are all alive and Ruth still wants
you I have no doubt we can arrange a wedding."
"Twenty years!" exclaimed Ruth. "Why, father,
we shall all be dead !"
"Oh, no! I trust not."
"Or too old too awful old !"
"No, indeed! You will be twenty-seven. Call it
fourteen years, then you will be only twenty-one."
"But," said Cyrus, "we may forget all about it in
fourteen years."
"Then it will be no disappointment to you if you
can t marry. But run along now, children, I have no
more time for you." He spoke with such decision as
he began reading the letter in his hand that the un
married couple turned about and slowly vanished.
When they passed out into the open air, a stranger
Matrimonial 59
might have thought, from the manner in which Zac
bounced with joy and lifted up his voice, that Cyrus
was emerging from the Valley of the Shadow of
Death. As they stood again on the porch, the corners
of Ruth s mouth were drooping. There were tears in
her irresistible eyes. Cyrus laid his hands on her
shoulders.
"Now don t you feel bad, Ruthy. If you want to
be married, we just will."
The maiden shook her head. "He said not."
"No, he didn t. He only said he was busy."
"He said only grown people got married."
"But he didn t say children couldn t if they wanted
to."
In the maiden s face came a brighter look. "Yes,
that is true, isn t it?"
" Course it is! And we will be doing something
new and different. It makes folks famous to be the
first to do things. Look at Christopher Columbus, and
look at Benjamin Franklin, the first man to fly a kite
and steer lightnin and make it mind him."
"Was he married when he was a child?"
"Nobody knows. But if you and I are the first
children to get married the very first, why our pic
tures might be in history books."
Ruth laughed. "That would be funny, wouldn t it?"
"Yes, wouldn t it! And under it would be printed
Mr. and Mrs. Ruth Heywood."
"Oh, no! It would be Mr. and Mrs. Cyrus Alton.
It s always that way."
60 Drowsy
"Then we ll be the first ones to do it the new way.
We needn t do just like everybody else. But who s
going to wait fourteen years. Not us! If your father
is too busy to do it, we ll get somebody else."
"Who?"
"I dunno." And he looked away toward the com
mon and became thoughtful.
Now Cyrus ideas of matrimony were vague, and
impersonal. As a game it had never interested him.
He had given it no attention. On some other sub
ject he had definite views such as war, baseball, voy
ages of discovery, balloons, maple sugar, battleships
and the different kinds of ice cream. But this mar
riage business, now that Ruth wanted it, had suddenly
become important. And when Ruth really wanted a
thing he felt that reason, religion and the Laws of
Man and Nature should stand aside. Moreover, Cyrus
was no quitter. He was not of those who are easily
discouraged. Persistence, the sort that stiffens in dis
aster, was one of his dominant traits. A precious gift
on occasions; but there were times, in the bosom of
his own family, when it was not admired. As guides
to character the drowsy eyes and cherubic mouth were,
in this particular, misleading. Behind them lay the
tenacity of purpose which so often transforms defeat
into victory. In this present emergency there seemed
to him especial demand for achievement. Ruth wanted
something and when Ruth wanted something it was
not for him, nor for others, to reason why.
So now, while the bride, crushed to earth, was
Matrimonial 61
mourning the downfall of a high endeavor, her com
panion had not accepted defeat. With roving eyes and
tight shut mouth he was seeking some other road to
victory.
Inspiration came.
Seeing no road to victory, up or down the village
street, his eyes turned heavenward. As they rested on
the spire of the Unitarian church, just across the way,
there came an answer to his appeal. It came through
the open windows of the church the notes of an or
gan. He turned and seized his fiancee by an arm.
"Ruth! Listen!"
"To what?"
"To that music! It s Horace Phillips practising on
the organ !"
Ruth nodded in acknowledgment of the fact, but
she saw no relation between the music and their late
rebuff.
"We can go right over there and get married," said
Cyrus. "It doesn t matter who does it so long as it
is in a church and there s music."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, of course! Ask anybody."
There was nobody to ask, so he took her by the hand
and started forward. She held back. He pulled
harder. "Come along. There s the church all open ;
and the organ playing. It s just the place to be
married."
She yielded. "But there s no minister to do it."
"That don t make any difference. As long as we
62 Drowsy
are married in a church with music, anybody can do
it."
He spoke with authority the kind that carries con
viction and puts an end to controversy.
As they started, however, she again held back, and
exclaimed, in a final despair, "Oh, I forgot!"
"Forgot what?"
"The ring. We have to have a ring."
"What s the use of a ring?"
"Nobody is married without a ring. The man puts
a ring on the woman s finger and says things."
"Well I can say the things and we ll just play
there s a ring."
"No."
"Oh, come along!"
"No."
Now Cyrus had become interested in this business.
He felt a pride in carrying it through. To fail now
would be disgrace. In vexation he raised his right
hand the one not holding Ruth s and thrust its
thumb between his teeth. On that hand something
glistened.
"Why, there s a ring!" exclaimed Ruth, "right on
your finger! Isn t it lucky."
Cyrus regarded the little silver band.
Ruth repeated : "Isn t it lucky!"
Cyrus hesitated. "Do I have to give it to you?"
"Yes."
"For you to keep and not give back?"
"Yes, of course!"
Matrimonial 63
"But Henry Wheelock made it for me out of a ten-
cent piece. I ve only had it a little while."
"Oh, Cyrus! Would you be so mean as that?"
"I m not mean ! You know I m not mean ! Henry
Wheelock made it out of my own ten-cent piece and
I I don t want to lose it."
A look of sorrow in Ruth s eyes suddenly changed
to contempt. "Then keep your old ring! I m sure /
don t want it." And she pulled away the hand that
was in his, wheeled about and started to reenter the
house. But Cyrus caught her by the arm.
"Oh, that s all right, Ruthy! You shall have it.
Come. Don t let s fight."
So began this lovers quarrel. But as often happens,
the male of the species besought and appealed, apolo
gized, promised everything, acknowledged guilt and
sufficiently humbled himself until Sweet Peace re
turned. Then all was forgiven, and a second time they
started for the church. Zac brought up the rear.
On the church steps sat Luther Dean and the New
Boy. The New Boy had lived in Longfields only a
few weeks. He differed, in many ways, from the other
boys of the village. He was blase, and older in his feel
ings ; he came from a larger town and had seen more
of the world. His tendency, now, natural, perhaps,
but unrepressed was to despise more simple people.
He gave the impression among still younger boys of
having crowded into his ten years of life a red career
of war and piracy, of wild adventure, of reckless deeds
and thrilling escapes. These experiences were rather
64 Drowsy
suggested than described, always in a casual off-hand
way, calmly and without excitement, in a voice and
manner tempered by the wisdom of the ages. And
his eyes, light blue and frigidly serene, moved slowly
from one listener to another in a weary but patient
condescension. His usual haunts, it appeared, were
the upper ether, and the deep sea, the canon and the
prairie, the impenetrable forest, the decks of battle
ships and fields of carnage.
As the bridal couple approached the steps, Cyrus
called to Luther Dean and beckoned to him. Luther
came forward. So also did the Xew Boy the Budding
Outlaw although he was not invited ; and his pres
ence embarrassed Cyrus, for this was a private busi
ness, in a sense, and not for the general public. Be
sides, Cyrus did not like the New Boy. However, he
braced up and put on a careless front.
"We want you to marry us, Luther, now, here in
the church."
Luther frowned, then smiled. "Me? Marry?"
"Yes, marry us Ruth and me."
"Golly! I I never married anybody."
"That don t matter. Anybody can do it."
"But I m too young. It takes a man."
"No, it doesn t. Ruth can tell you what to say. It s
all easy. Come along."
They entered the church ; but Zac, like many of his
kind, was unpleasantly affected by music, so he re
mained outside.
Up the main aisle they started, Luther in front, the
Matrimonial 65
bride and groom behind, holding hands. In the gal
lery above Horace Phillips was practising various
tunes, and the voice of the great organ filled the
church. To the bride and groom, both lovers of music,
the notes of the organ seemed more impressive than
ever in the now empty building.
But the wedding procession had barely started up
the aisle when the ceremonies were rudely interrupted.
The Budding Outlaw, smarting perhaps at being ig
nored, followed close behind and yielded to a vengeful
impulse. Ruth s hair, gathered by a ribbon behind
her head, was flowing down her back like a golden
mane. The Budding Outlaw reached forth and seized
a handful, then gave it a violent jerk, as if driving a
horse, and he said,
"Hi there! Giddap ; giddap!"
Ruth cried aloud in pain, "Stop it! Oh, stop it!
It hurts!"
She could not turn her head, but raised her hands
in vain efforts at protection.
Cyrus wheeled about. "Let go that hair !"
And he scowled in anger at the aggressor. But the
aggressor merely renewed the twitchings with: "Gid
dap hossey. Giddap."
"Let go that hair," once more said Cyrus.
The Budding Outlaw, for answer, twitched the
golden hair again, and harder than before. As Ruth
in helpless agony was still raising her hands to her
head, Cyrus aimed a blow at the Budding Outlaw and
hit him in the face. But the Budding Outlaw was one
66 Drowsy
year older and one year bigger than Cyrus, and twenty
years cooler, more cynical and more blase. So, with
out even loosening his hold on the bride s hair, he
struck out with his free hand and landed full on
Cyrus s mouth. The blow was so well directed that
the recipient staggered back and stood for a second
or two as if dazed. On the Budding Outlaw s face
was a smile of easy victory and contempt. Cyrus
saw it. In Ruth s face he saw torture and helpless
anger. Then he threw himself again at the enemy.
And again the enemy without loosening his left-hand
clutch on the golden hair, sent his fist against the ap
proaching face, landing full on its nose and followed
it by a sudden push. Cyrus staggered back across the
aisle and leaned against the nearest pew. He blinked,
and drew a hand across his bleeding mouth. His nose
seemed to him about twice its usual size and rapidly
growing bigger. Then Ruth, forgetting her own pain,
cried out :
"Oh, Luther, Luther ! Help Cyrus !"
But, either from wisdom or some other reason,
Luther refrained from interfering. He looked at
Ruth, then down at the floor, then up again at the
Budding Outlaw, now terrible in his easy triumph.
Ruth called again to him, yet more urgent a passion
ate appeal for help. It was the cry of one old play
mate to another, for the rescue of a bosom friend.
But the organ above was pouring forth its music and
Luther turned away, pretending not to hear the cry.
Cyrus, during this moment s lull, did some rapid
Matrimonial 67
thinking. He saw the folly of his previous attacks.
So, as Ruth was uttering her second appeal to his luke
warm friend, he advanced again, but more slowly than
before, ducked his head and dodged a blow, then
jumped, and closed with the enemy. And to the Bud-
ing Outlaw it seemed as if a dozen boys were on him.
Blows rained upon his face. Copper toed shoes were
hammering, with the rage of demons, against his sensi
tive shins. He let go the maiden s hair, as all his
hands were none too many for this peaceable boy now
suddenly transformed into a reckless and bloodthirsty
athlete. He could not reach Cyrus s face, as that face,
for protection, was pressed close against the Outlaw s
own chest. And when, at last, he got both hands
against Cyrus s face and body to push him off he felt
ten fingers tighten about his throat with a grip that
scared him. For now, as the two iron thumbs were
pressing his windpipe with murderous power, he
realized that this boy was fighting with the fury and
the strength of those who fight for victory or for
death. He gurgled, gasped, pulled Cyrus s hair and
beat wildly at his head. But when a man is fighting
for the woman of his choice or for any other holy
cause he has the strength of many. So with Cyrus.
The tearing of his hair, the blows upon his head and
face and body were as summer zephyrs. For him, at
the moment, death could have no terrors. He was in
this struggle for victory or annihilation.
No boy can live without breathing, and the Budding
Outlaw s strength was going. Cyrus forced him to
68 Drowsy
the floor. Then, knowing nothing of the Rules of
the Ring, he hammered him in the face and jammed
his knees into his stomach, as if to kill.
At last, after a final blow and jab and kick, he
climbed to his feet, stepped back and looked down at
him. Ruth seized him by an arm and tried to drag
him from the church.
"Come! Come quick, before he gets up!"
But a change had come over the once peaceful
groom. The lust of battle was in him. He paid no
attention to her words. Breathing hard, with bruises
on his face, his lips bleeding, he beckoned to the figure
on the floor as if angry at delay:
"Come along. Get up."
But the Dare-devil of the West, the killer of In
dians, the Pirates Terror, had no intention of rising.
Enough was sufficient for this Despiser of Peace, this
Tormentor of Brides. To fight in orderly fashion with
a boy you know you can lick that s one thing. But to
struggle with wild animals, cyclones and supernatural
forces that ignore the rules of war and really mean
to kill you, and will, unless you can get away, that s
very different. Moreover, something was telling him
now that a big will in a little body can demolish giants.
He knew he was stronger than Cyrus, but the thing
with which he had so suddenly become acquainted was
the spirit within this smaller boy the same old spirit
that stirred the Greeks at Marathon, and the handful
of Lexington farmers. And now, before him, with
the swelling nose and bleeding lips, glowered the em-
Matrimonial 69
bodiment of that immortal spirit. The Tormentor of
Brides suspected, and his suspicions were correct, that
if he hurled this boy a dozen times against the oppo
site pews he would still come at him, and each assault
would be more deadly than its predecessor.
Cyrus, again ignoring the Rules of the Ring, stepped
forward and kicked him. "Come, get up! Get up.
Finish it!"
Slowly the New Boy shook his head, with a gesture
of defeat. He muttered something too low to hear
words drowned in the notes of the organ. He refused
to rise.
Then Cyrus turned and held out his hand to Ruth.
In drawing the back of a fist across his mouth during
the conflict his cheeks had become smeared with blood.
As Ruth stared in a kind of terror at this gory visage
with riotous hair, swelling nose and still bleeding lips,
she saw in the erstwhile drowsy eyes a look that was
unfamiliar; a look of determination, as if no argu
ments from God or man or devil would be considered.
Weak and all atremble, her one desire was for hurry
ing home. But she obeyed the unspoken mandate and
laid her hand in his. Then Luther, also in obedience
to an unspoken command, this time a peremptory ges
ture toward the pulpit, again started up the aisle. And
it so happened as the little assemblage resumed its in
terrupted progress the great organ in the gallery burst
forth with Wagner s "Wedding March"; and it filled
the church.
The marriage ceremony passed off well; that is,
yo Drowsy
of course, making allowance for the officiating per
son who had no knowledge of what he ought to say, or
of what he was saying. With constant promptings and
corrections from the bride who although somewhat
hysterical at the moment, had a remarkable memory
for the sound of words Luther managed to get along.
To misunderstand certain promptings was excusable,
for the music was confusing. Horace Phillips, in the
gallery, ignorant of what was happening below, had
started off with the full force of the organ, and he
continued with enthusiasm until the swelling notes
resounded through the empty building.
Ruth supplied all the language.
Luther. Will you take this wedded girl for your
wife?
Cyrus. I will.
Luther. Will you take this wedded boy for your
husband ?
Ruth. I will.
Luther. Do you promise to endure with all your
worldly goods?
Cyrus. I do.
Luther. Will you hold on for better than worse?
Ruth. I will.
Luther. You promise to obey?
Cyrus. I do.
Luther. Until death departs, richer or poorer and
cherish.
Ruth. I do.
Cyrus. It is.
Matrimonial 71
Luther. I denounce you as man and wife.
Cyrus. I do.
Ruth. No, Cyrus, you say nothing.
Cyrus. Nothing.
Ruth. No, no! You don t say anything just keep
still.
Luther. With this ring I you wed.
Cyrus. No. / say that !
He said it, and with heroic self-control bade a silent
farewell to his silver treasure as he slipped it on a
finger of the bride. Then, to the rejoicing music, they
marched down the aisle.
Outside the church the bride, who feared a renewal
of the conflict, looked about with anxious eyes for the
Budding Outlaw. But she had no cause for alarm.
The Budding Outlaw was visible, far down the street,
beyond the common, marching with humble mien, re
flecting sadly on the uncertainties of human life.
V
HE MEETS TWO LADIES
MISS Anita Clement was the maiden lady
who had rented, with her two unmarried sis
ters, Mr. David Lothrop s house at the west
end of the village. She had a girlish figure, good fea
tures and soulful eyes. Her exact age was some
where between twenty-five and forty. This lady s deli
cate beauty was impaired a trifle by a nervous mouth
which told, in spite of all efforts to the contrary, that
its owner was easily annoyed, and was a stranger to
the various blessings of a tranquil spirit. She had no
sense of humor; but this deficiency was counterbal
anced by a profound respect for the conventions of
life, and by a sincere and humble adoration of her own
religious creed, with a corresponding contempt for all
others. Her dominant attribute was timidity. Com
pared with Miss Clement, the average mouse was a
72
He Meets Two Ladies 73
fearless desperado. As is usually the case with such
temperaments, her nerves were assertive.
This particular November afternoon they seemed
to have started a revolt throughout her whole interior
mechanism; and she decided to consult a physician.
So she walked out to Dr. Alton s house. On this walk
about two miles she passed a group of boys play
ing with a football. Now boys, to Miss Clement,
were the living emblems of noise and danger. Her
one dread concerning a future existence was the pos
sibility of there being boys in Heaven. And, in this
life, the things she dreaded most were fire, burglars,
run-away horses, smallpox and boys. Her sympathy
with boys was akin to her sympathy with thunder
storms and pirates. In passing boys in the street or on
the common she held her breath in nervous terror, ex
pecting to be struck by a baseball, or bat or stone,
green apple or snow-ball, according to season. Only in
color and in clothing did she recognize any difference
between boys and Comanche Indians. She loved Law
and Order; whereas, to a boy, Law and Order were
merely bars to freedom. She had reasons for believ
ing that the highest ambition of every normal boy
under twelve years of age was to become an influential
outlaw. And she was not far wrong.
This being Saturday afternoon, and no school, the
earth seemed swarming with these offensive creatures.
However, by going around the common instead of
across it, she reached Dr. Alton s house alive and
rang the bell. The door was opened by yet another
74 Drowsy
boy, eight or nine years of age. Miss Clement, being
a newcomer in the town, had not the honor of this
child s acquaintance. Knowing all boys to be bar
barians, with no manners, she was surprised when this
one acknowledged her presence with a smile of wel
come and a ceremonious bow. It was the kind of
salutation that Louis XIV would have given to the
Queen of Spain. She might have expected it from an
elderly dancing master, but never from a boy in this
New England village. Taken by surprise, she was
silent a moment, fearing this youthful savage, perhaps
more uncivilized even than other boys, was amusing
himself at her expense. A good look at his face, how
ever, allayed suspicion. In his calm eyes and radiant
smile there was nothing but pleasure at seeing her.
Beside him stood or rather bounced a youthful dog.
He was a fox terrier. Judging from the activity of
his tail and from the general expression of his person,
the arrival of the visitor was affording him joy and
excitement. In a tentative bark he told his welcome.
But Miss Clement hesitated. Her dread of boys was
only equaled by her aversion to dogs. How a civilized
person could live in the same house with a dog she
had never been able to understand. Their manners
and customs were unspeakable. And the exuberent
vitality of this dog annoyed her. His joy was un
reasoning and intemperate. He wagged his tail with
such energy as to sway his entire person. Judging
from outward vibrations his very soul was wagging.
He gave the impression to this visitor of having a
He Meets Two Ladies 75
frivolous nature. And she found solace in the thought
that, later on, he would be made to realize that life
was a serious thing.
"Is Dr. Alton at home?" she inquired.
"No, ma am."
"Do you know when he will return?"
"Oh, very soon! Won t you walk in?" and he
stepped aside, holding the door wide open. At the
same time, he waved with his free hand a courtly ges
ture toward the interior of the house. Inwardly dis
turbed by this unexpected deportment of a barbarian,
Miss Clement walked into the sitting-room and seated
herself on a sofa, near the open fire. It was a large
cheerful room with white woodwork and a pale green
paper on the walls, somewhat faded in places near the
sunny windows. Scattered over the large center table
were many books and periodicals. On the floor in
front of her was a pair of scissors and a family Bible.
The Bible was open and three of its illustrations, re
cently extracted, were lying beside it. The author of
this mutilation climbed into a large arm chair directly
opposite, sitting very erect, as if on his best behavior.
He was watching her with undisguised interest and
approval.
But the dog was inclined to be familiar. He
jammed his nose against her skirt and ankles and
sniffed in a most offensive way. The boy saw that
these things annoyed her and he called off the brute,
rebuked him and apologized to the visitor. "I guess
you have a dog, and Zac smells him."
76 Drowsy
Miss Clement, with some severity, denied the accu
sation. "Indeed, I have no dog." And it was clear
from her manner that she had no such associates.
Now all boys were alike to Miss Clement. The
only striking features in this one s face were his eyes.
Their heavy lids, coming far down over the iris, gave
a half shut, drowsy look to his face, and Miss Clement
felt sorry that his parents should be afflicted with such
a stupid child. His fat, cherubic little mouth, how
ever, seemed to indicate a cheerful spirit. As the two
sat facing each other, the young male and the adult
super-civilized female, the lady from some undefined
reason felt ill at ease. Yet she knew that nothing was
more absurd than a woman of her age being ill at
ease in the presence of a nine-year-old boy. As she
looked again into his eyes she began to realize that
their very drowsiness gave an impression of abnormal
serenity and repose as of concealing hidden depths
of wisdom. Also they seemed to be sitting in judg
ment on her. The fact of his being a boy aroused an
tipathy. Although she knew that many good men had
once been boys, as certain butterflies have once been
worms. Moreover, she knew it was not really his own"
fault that he had come into the world in that form.
They were necessary evils, like taxes and old age.
"Are you Dr. Alton s son?" she asked.
"Yes, ma am."
"What is your name?"
"Cyrus."
While Miss Clement was wondering why New
He Meets Two Ladies 77
Englanders persisted in giving such names to helpless
children she was startled by his saying, regretfully:
"You don t like that name."
"Not like it ? Why do you think I don t like it ?"
"I know by your face."
Miss Clement blushed. The tranquil eyes were look
ing sadly into her own as if investigating in a friendly
way her most secret thoughts. She became embar
rassed.
"Why, yes I like it."
"It is better than some other names."
"Indeed it is! Very much better!"
"It is the name of a great conqueror."
"Yes of course and perhaps you may be a
great conqueror yourself when you grow up."
"No. I don t care for that business. I shall sit on
the high seat of a big, gold band-wagon of a circus
full of splendid music, with eight white horses. I shall
drive the horses and listen to the music."
"Yes, that will be very nice."
The room seemed warm after the November chill
outside, and Miss Clement drew off her thick gloves.
As her left hand dropped carelessly beside her, upon
the edge of the sofa, she felt a sickening contact with
something warm and very wet. Quickly she withdrew
the hand. With an exclamation of disgust, she held
aloft the befouled member. But the dog, whose gen
erous tongue by one lingering stroke yielded such a
vast amount of moisture, had risen upon his hind legs
to accomplish it, and now stood looking up into her
7 8 Drowsy
face for recognition of the friendly act. His reward
was a look of loathing. And for a moment she still
held aloft the varnished hand, uncertain what to do.
The boy laughed. "Why, it s nothing but dog spit!"
He drew forth from his pocket a handkerchief.
With two steps forward he offered it to the lady. As
he did so he bowed with the pretentious grace of a
Chesterfield advancing to the relief of Beauty. But
Miss Clement recoiled. For on this handkerchief were
blood stains also mud and green paint. Too much
disgusted to think of manners, she ignored his offer
and used her own handkerchief. But she shrank from
replacing it in a clean pocket.
Looking down at the floor, she frowned.
"I hope it was not you who cut those pictures from
that nice book."
The Vandal smiled, and nodded, giving the impres
sion of pride in the work.
"Are you the only person in the house?" she asked.
"Yes, ma am. Joanna s gone to the store."
Again she frowned down at the litter on the floor.
"Does your mother know what you have been doing
here?"
"Oh, no!"
"Has she never told you not to cut up books?"
"No, ma am."
Miss Clement frowned again, and stiffened a little.
"And your father? Does he allow you to do such
things?"
He Meets Two Ladies 79
"I don t know. I didn t ask him. Are you fond of
pictures?"
"Yes I am fond of pictures."
He got down from his chair, picked up the three
engravings, came and stood beside her, leaning against
her knees. He laid the pictures in her lap and asked
which she liked the best.
One engraving showed Joshua commanding the sun
to stand still ; one showed Elijah going to Heaven in
his fiery chariot ; and the other she almost blushed as
she looked at it showed Susanna and the elders. Su
sanna wore no clothing and the elders were shocking
old men.
"Which do you like best?" he repeated.
She pointed to Joshua.
"Which next?"
She pointed to Elijah.
"Now I don t care for that feller himself," he
said, "but I like the pretty lady. Best of all, though,
I think, is the horses and the chariot going right up in
to the sky. Just think of it !" he exclaimed ; "just think
of going way up into the sky! I think I shall do it
myself! Did he really go up that way with those fat
horses?"
"No, I think not."
"Then it s a fairy story."
"No, it s a Bible story."
"What s the difference?"
"Bible stories are true stones and fairy tales are
made-up stories."
8o Drowsy
"But you just said this man didn t go up to Heaven
with a span of horses."
"Not in just that way probably."
"Did he go up at all?"
Miss Clement hesitated. "Well I suppose he did,
perhaps."
"I betcher he couldn t go up in any way like that
with horses treading on nothing but air.""
Miss Clement had not come to this house for a theo
logical argument. But she said nothing and merely
heaved a sigh, a sigh of weariness.
But the boy was still fresh. "What was this man s
name?"
"Elijah."
"Elijah what?"
"I don t think he had a last name."
"Where did he live?"
"Off in the East."
"If any one should write him a letter, asking him
how he went up that way, and addressee! the envelope
just Elijah, off in the Yeast would he get it?"
"Oh, no ; he died long, long ago.
"Well, anyway, I am going up myself, some day,
but not with horses. Horses couldn t do it. When I
go I shall go with a kite, a big kite with a long string.
I shall have a box kite. You know what a box kite is ?"
"I think so."
"Well, it will be a big box kite longer n this room,
with me sitting inside and Luther Dean flying it. When
He Meets Two Ladies 81
it gets ten miles up in the air I shall reach down with
long scissors and cut the string."
As he stepped back to study the effect of this news,
she found his drowsy eyes were no longer drowsy, but
wider open and all aglow with enthusiasm. "That s*
my own idea!"
She smiled and nodded. "Yes, it is very original."
And then I shall sail way up as high as I want to.
Perhaps to the moon!"
"Yes, that will be very nice."
"What s the use of crawling about on the earth
like a bug? I d rather be a bird."
Miss Clement nodded assent and lowered her eyes
to the mutilated Bible. But his enthusiasm was con
tagious. She almost believed, for a moment, that he
could do it. However, she was uncomfortable in the
presence of this barbarian. She knew, from experi
ence, the awful frankness of a boy; the statements he
can make, and his cruel questions ; questions that up
heave religions, that lay bare your secret doublings
and impugn the wisdom and the motives of the
Creator himself. A boy s thirsty, delving little mind
is never satisfied with your easy answer that "the ways
of the Almighty are inscrutable." As this interview
proceeded she realized and to her chagrin that there
was something about this vandal that caused her a
peculiar kind of restraint and self -consciousness
almost diffidence. Being distinctly a nervous person
and gently irritated at her own self-consciousness, Miss
Clement looked about the room, over the boy s head,
82 Drowsy
with an expression somewhat more severe than the
situation required. But his instincts of hospitality
were not so easily suppressed. Pointing to a dish of
fruit on a further table, he asked :
"Won t you have an apple?"
"No, I think you."
He seemed disappointed. Then as his eyes rested
on a little music box that lay on the table beside him,
he exclaimed, with enthusiasm : "You like good
music ?"
In her own voice there was less enthusiasm as she
answered, "Yes, I think I do."
Miss Clement suddenly realized as happens with
nervous people that she was annoyed by these foolish
questions. Instead of replying she straightened up
and looked first at the clock, then at the boy. She
found him gazing at her earnestly, as if trying to read
her thoughts.
"This music box," he said, with signs of embarrass
ment, "plays five lovely tunes: The Last Rose of Sum
mer, Hear Me, Norma, The Carnival of Ven
"Not now," she interrupted.
Had her host been an older man, with a knowledge
of women if such is possible this unexpected
change of manner would have been a warning.
"It s four o clock," she added hastily, and her smiles
had vanished. "Are you the only person in the
house?"
Taken aback, and obviously mortified by this sud
den change of manner, he took a backward step and
He Meets Two Ladies 83
replaced the music box on the table. In his face, with
a slight quivering of the lips, came the first signs of
embarrassment he had shown. He bowed : not the
gracious, self-possessed, courtly salutation of a kingly
welcome with which he had first greeted her, but a
solemn inclination of the head, as one who humbles
himself but gracefully before an angry deity. And
he murmured :
"I am sorry."
Her eyebrows went up. "Sorry for what?"
"I don t know exactly."
For an instant she failed to understand. Then into
her face came a gentler expression. "Yes, you do!
You are sorry because you think you have troubled
me ; but it is I who beg your pardon. I am ashamed
of myself. You have given me a lesson in politeness."
And she smiled her sweetest smile. Whereupon the
sunshine returned to his own face. Encouraged by
this change of atmosphere, he resumed with new cour
age his role of host. For a moment he studied her
face, uncertain as to what was expected of him. Fold
ing his hands above his head, he glanced about the
room, searching for inspiration. It came. His face
brightened. The slumbrous eyes sparkled. Coming
a step nearer, he demanded with suppressed enthu
siasm :
"Do you care for snakes or mice ?"
The visitor regarded him with a kind of terror.
She frowned, turned her face to one side and shook
her head. The host misunderstood the movement.
84 Drowsy
"But it s no trouble. I can get them both. They are
right here in the woodshed." And he started toward
the door.
"Come back," she said, "I don t care to see either
of them."
"But the snake is dead and the mouse won t bite.
He knows me."
Miss Clement shuddered : "No! No! Don t speak
of them again! Comeback."
He came back. She knew, and had always known,
that boys themselves were a species of reptile. She
felt, at this moment, that whatever this boy did must
be regarded from that point of view and forgiven.
And as she wondered how a benevolent Creator could
permit, in a decently ordered world, the existence of
boys, the Vandal exclaimed in a reflective tone, but
with a smile of amusement:
"Women are funny !"
At that moment the grandfather clock in the corner
struck four. Miss Clement frowned in that direction.
"When did Dr. Alton say he would be back?"
"He didn t say."
"But you told me he would return soon."
"Yes, ma am."
"But you really don t know when?"
"No, ma am."
"Then you told a fib."
The Vandal smiled and nodded. "Yes, ma am."
"But that is wrong, you know. You should always
tell the truth."
He Meets Two Ladies 85
"Yes, ma am. But I thought it would be good to
have you come in, and sit."
Miss Clement almost frowned and smiled in one
expression. "But you did wrong. Doesn t your
mother punish you for telling such fibs?"
"No, ma am."
"Is she not at home?"
"Oh.no!"
"When do you expect her?"
"Oh, never!"
"Never?"
The drowsy eyes, in astonishment, opened a little
wider. "Of course not. She is dead."
"Oh, that is too bad ! I am very sorry. Was it
long ago that she died ?"
"Oh, yes ! Long, long ago. More than twenty
years."
"More than twenty years ! I think you must be mis
taken. How old are you?"
"Nine next July."
"Then your mother could not have died twenty
years ago."
"Yes. She died long before I was born."
Miss Clement slowly shook her head. "But not
twenty years. That is impossible."
"But she did."
"Then she was your step-mother perhaps?"
"No. My own mother."
This conversation was becoming so very absurd that
86 Drowsy
Miss Clement made no answer. She merely looked
away and studied the room.
The boy smiled as if amused at her ignorance.
"Don t you understand how it was?"
"The lady s only reply was to close her eyes wearily.
But he stepped nearer and laid a hand on each of her
knees, to wake her up.
"Don t you see," he said, "the difference between
eight and twenty is twelve, isn t it? ;
"It is."
"Well, then she must have been dead twelve years
when I was born."
Now Miss Clement could never do arithmetic. She
abominated figures, and these words were uttered with
so much conviction reenforced by the wisdom of his
eyes that her brain became tangled for a moment.
It seemed to shrink, in a sort of nervous bewilder
ment, from this fantastic puzzle. He smiled at her
obvious confusion, moved backward a step or two,
folded his hands behind him and squirmed with de
light. "It s funny you don t understand. I guess I
am smarter than you are."
Miss Clement shut tight her lips and looked % away
anywhere. Her own brain seemed laughing at her.
"I s pose," said the Vandal, "I don t need a mother
much."
"Every boy needs a mother. Is Joanna your
sister?"
He laughed at such an absurd mistake. "No ! She s
He Meets Two Ladies 87
lots older than you are. She s housekeeper and lots
of things."
Miss Clement looked about the room, at the pic
tures on the walls. They were mostly engravings and
photographs.
"Is there a portrait of your mother here?"
"No, ma am."
"Not anywhere in the house?"
"No."
"There must be a photograph."
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes m."
"That is ver" strange."
"Why?"
"Because because it is most unusual. Did she
die here in this house?"
"Oh, no! Of course not!"
"Why of course not?"
"Because she died in Italy."
"Was she Italian?"
"I guess so."
"Have you never seen a portrait of her?"
"No, ma am."
Miss Clement frowned. There seemed to be a mys
tery here. Possibly a scandal of some sort. And her
interest quickened. "I suppose your father talks to
you about her sometimes."
"No, ma am."
"Never?"
88 Drowsy
"No, ma am."
"Of course he has told you where you were born?"
"P r aps."
"Perhaps what?"
"P r aps he did."
"But you don t remember?"
"No, ma am."
Nobody likes to be thwarted in the pursuit of knowl
edge. In this case it seemed to Miss Clement that the
deeper she delved the less she found.
"Don t you remember ever having seen a portrait
of her?"
"Of course not."
"Why of course not?"
"Because there isn t any."
This seemed a good reason. But Miss Clement felt
that either she or this boy was being deceived.
The Vandal, whose drowsy eyes had scarcely moved
from the study of her face since she entered the room,
saw the look of disappointment. It was a somewhat
petulant expression in which she would not have in
dulged had her host been twenty years older. But
he saw it so clearly that he was moved to sympathy.
With all the joy and enthusiasm of a great idea, he
exclaimed : "My father may know all about her. I
will ask him to tell you!"
A chill of horror swept up Miss Clement s spine.
She suddenly realized what awful mischief a youthful
savage either from ignorance or perversity might
He Meets Two Ladies 89
accomplish. She stood up. "No! Don t mention it
to him nor to anybody."
"Why not?"
"Because you mustn t."
She could see, in the Vandal s face as he looked up
at her, that he enjoyed this to him unaccountable
fright. He even laughed. "There s nothing to be
afraid of."
"No, of course not!" And she tried to smile.
"But promise me you will not ask your father, nor
anybody else."
To this super-sensitive lady there appeared in his
uplifted eyes a cruel, triumphant delight, as he said
"Why did you ask if you don t want to know about
her?"
"Merely in the way of conversation. And she
added, with her sweetest smile "merely from a
friendly interest. You are a nice boy, and you under
stand, I am sure."
He nodded ; but his eyes, in their slumbrous wisdom,
seemed almost contemptuous.
"Promise me," she insisted. "Promise me you will
say nothing about it to anybody."
"Yes, I promise."
"You are a nice little boy and I must go, now. I
will call again in a day or two. Good by."
He bowed as he said good-by. Then he followed
her out into the hall, ran before her and held the door
wide open. As she passed out he bowed again; the
same deferential obeisance with which he had first
90 Drowsy
greeted her as from Louis XIV to the Queen of
Spain.
As Miss Clement crossed the common on her way
home she saw a group of children looking skywards,
and she heard the word "Eagle." She stopped, and
also looked up. And as she looked, and watched the
bird, floating tranquilly in the upper air, in a wide,
slow circle, majestically, with no apparent effort, so
high above the earth that he might be a visitor from
another planet she recalled the words of her recent
host : "What s the use of crawling about on the earth
like a bug? I d rather be a bird."
An hour later Dr. Alton returned afoot. He had
left his horse in the village to be shod. As he walked
up the driveway he noticed a figure standing on the
mounting block before the house. It was so enveloped
in the golden glories of a setting sun that Dr. Alton
failed, at first, to recognize his own son. The figure
seemed a part of the sunset more an ethereal spirit
than an earthly boy. Cyrus was standing erect and
motionless, his head thrown back as if inhaling inspira
tion from the radiance about him. Such prolonged
and voluntary immobility would be unusual in any boy.
Moreover, Cyrus maintained this attitude, forgetting
or ignoring the customary greeting to his father.
After waiting a moment before his strangely indiffcr-
He Meets Two Ladies 91
ent son, a feeling of uneasiness began to mingle with
Dr. Alton s surprise.
At the foot of the block sat Zac, looking up at the
silent boy. And Zac, also, might be a little off in his
mind for he, too, failed to welcome or even to notice
the returning parent.
At last Dr. Alton spoke. "What s the matter, Cy
rus? Dreaming you are a bird?"
Slowly Cyrus lowered his face, his eyes still shut.
And slowly the eyes were opened as if waking from
a sleep. They showed a mild surprise at his father s
presence. But he answered, in a low voice, as if his
spirit still lingered elsewhere :
"Somebody wants us."
"Who?"
"I don t know."
"But you know who told you."
"No, sir. Nobody told me."
"What do you mean, Cyrus? Wake up. Is it an
emergency call?"
Cyrus raised a hand and pointed before him, toward
the south.
"It comes from off there."
Dr. Alton frowned, less from irritation than from
fear that this foolish utterance of his son might be the
forerunner of some future spiritualistic obsession or
other mental derangement.
But he spoke gently. "Whose house do you think
it is?"
"Oh, I don t know at all! It comes from way off
92 Drowsy
way off! It s in the air; not a loud sound, like some
body near. More like a like a breath."
"What does it say?"
"It says it says oh, I dnnno. It isn t words."
"Then how do you know they want me?"
"It wants us both. It wants me too."
Dr. Alton smiled. "Do they want your help as
another doctor?"
But Cyrus did not return the smile. He obviously
regarded the message with a certain solemnity and
awe. Again he closed his eyes and again turned up
his face.
"It is still coming."
"What is still coming, Cyrus? The same message?"
"Yes, sir, the same message that we are wanted
there."
"Where?"
"I don t know. But it isn t anywheres near here.
It s a good ways off. And we are wanted very much ;
oh, very much!"
Dr. Alton turned away. "Well, Cyrus, when you
get your message in more definite form I shall be glad
to consider it."
As he entered the house, however, he stood in the
doorway a moment, looking back. Cyrus was still
standing on the mounting block, with face upturned.
On the ground sat Zac, still waiting patiently for his
hero to return to earth.
When Cyrus followed his father into the house he
He Meets Two Ladies 93
found him warming himself before the open fire. He
approached and stood before him.
"Father, \vhy isn t there a picture of my mother
somewhere round the house?"
Dr. Alton raised his eyebrows at the unexpected
question. "Why do you ask, Cyrus?"
" Cause somebody was here to-day who wanted to
know."
"Who?"
With a knowing shake of the head the diplomat an
swered, "Oh, I mustn t tell you. I promised not to."
"Well, you must keep your promise."
"But why isn t there one?"
"It s a long story, Cyrus. Some day I will tell you,
but not just now."
"But why not now ? This is when I want to know.
I may forget about it."
Dr. Alton was familiar with the gimlet quality of
the youthful mind. "Well Cyrus let us wait and see
if you forget it. And if you At that moment
he happened to look more carefully at a letter in his
hand, delivered during his absence and which he had
just taken from the table. Cyrus waited for him to
go on. He waited in vain. Dr. Alton stepped hastily
to the window for more light, and read the letter. It
was evidently of unusual interest, as he forgot to finish
his sentence. And when, at last, Cyrus asked him to
continue he did not even hear his son s voice.
The letter was written in a woman s hand, and in
French.
94 Drowsy
At the supper table that evening father and son were
sitting alone, as usual. The son was talkative, but the
father was silent ; so silent that Cyrus, at last discour
aged by the complete indifference of a usually sympa
thetic audience, became silent himself.
And the father had abundant material for thought.
He was trying to understand how the message in the
letter had reached the boy. By what mysterious
agency had this yearning of a woman s heart stirred
the brain of the far away Cyrus? Could there be a
harmony between these two spirits so intimate as to
render the written word superfluous? These were
questions he tried in vain to answer.
When the meal was finished and Joanna began to
clear away the things, Dr. Alton surprised her by ask
ing if Cyrus had a good suit of clothes.
"A good suit of clothes! Of course he has!"
"I mean, a nice new suit, that is becoming to him."
"He has that pretty dark suit with the wide collar
that he wears Sundays."
"Yes, yes I know but would that be good
enough to wear in New York."
"In New York? Is Cyrus going to New York?"
And there was a ring of dismay in Joanna s voice.
"I think so."
"When?"
"To-morrow."
"What for?"
Dr. Alton hesitated. "I have some sort of busi
ness there and will take him with me."
He Meets Two Ladies 95
"Will he stay long?"
"Only a day or two."
"Heaven be praised ! I began to be frightened."
The doctor laughed. "You needn t worry, Joanna.
We shall come back alive and very soon."
The next day Cyrus and his father were in the
wicked city. The important business of the following
morning was taking the boy to a fashionable establish
ment and fitting him out in stylish raiment. And
when the deed was done Dr. Alton realized that Cyrus,
in these new, well fitting clothes, with his intelligent
face and erect little figure, was not a boy to be ashamed
of.
"To-night," said Dr. Alton, "we go to the opera."
"Opera." And Cyrus repeated the new word.
"Opera. What is that, father?"
"It s a theater, where they sing."
"Isn t the circus better?"
"Well, yes; sometimes it is better. But you come
to the opera with me to-night and to-morrow I will
take you to the Hippodrome. That s fair, isn t it?"
Cyrus agreed that it was.
To a boy of eight, who has never been to any theater,
Grand Opera is a strong beginning. When he and
his father took their seats seats not too far from the
stage Cyrus, in wonder, looked about him and above
him, at the vast auditorium, the gorgeous architecture,
the radiant women and their flashing jewels. And so
many of them! This was a new world of which he
had never heard, Wide open were his eyes; also his
96 Drowsy
mouth and all his senses. He absorbed everything.
The overture filled him to the brim with a celestial joy.
Such music he had not imagined. Then, to his sur
prise, all the lights were lowered and the vast chamber
was in gloom. And when, the next moment, the great
curtain began slowly to ascend, disclosing the scene
behind, then, indeed, came the culmination of his joy
and amazement.
What followed was bewildering the music and the
changing lights; the peasants, the soldiers and the
kings and queens. And everybody singing! Then
the ballet, with the fairies! The boy was enchanted.
But, among the many figures, there was one that
stood out the clearest. It was a woman. Her face,
her voice, her singing and her story moved him beyond
any of the others. The words that were sung were
strange words and they told him nothing, but he
guessed the story. This lovely woman with a lovely
voice had a diadem in her hair and was in trouble
troubled by a hateful man in splendid clothes, with lav
ender legs. But, however deep her trouble, she sang
so well and in such a heavenly voice that the whole
audience applauded her, again and again. It was
clear, even to a child, that she was the queen of the
evening, the star of stars. And once, between two
acts, when she came out upon the stage, between the
good lover and the wicked nobleman, bowing to the
audience in acknowledgment of flowers, Cyrus saw,
and saw so clearly there was no mistake, that she
looked directly at him, Cyrus, and at his father ! And
He Meets Two Ladies 97
as she saw them, she bowed and smiled more radiantly
than ever ! And so clear it was that he looked up and
whispered :
"Why, father, she was bowing to us !"
He saw his father was smiling back at her as he
murmured, "Yes she is."
That, in itself, was exhilarating.
But no human boy can withstand for an infinity of
time an infinity of new emotions however delectable.
At the end of the second hour Cyrus head was rest
ing against his father s arm, and his eyes were
closed. But in his sleep he heard the music. In
his dreams came the voice of the Lovely Lady. His
eyes, only, were closed. In his ears, and to his weary
but enchanted brain came all except the actual vision.
When his father woke him from this gentle sleep the
great curtain was slowly descending at the end of the
final act. Music filled the air, volumes and volumes
of it. Countless people were on the stage ; kings and
queens, lords and ladies, peasants and soldiers, all sing
ing their loudest. So many noisy people Cyrus had
never heard. And in the center among the kings and
queens was the Lovely Lady, also singing.
A few moments later, after the great curtain had
descended, a half dozen of the principal singers came
filing out in front of it, holding hands, and bowing
and smiling to the audience. The Lovely Lady re
ceived heaps of flowers. And her eyes, as she bowed
and smiled, rested for a moment on Cyrus himself.
The next day, as to weather, was disappointing.
98 Drowsy
The cold, damp air, the leaden sky and the flurries of
snow were a surprise to Cyrus, as it was just plain,
country weather, and bad at that. It seemed out of
place in a fine, big city. And he was again surprised,
in the afternoon, when his father took him into Central
Park. He considered it a waste of time, when so
much of the city had not been seen. They walked
along the borders of a lake, through some woods, then
followed a path up a little hill. And, two or three
times, when they came to other paths, his father took
from his pocket the French letter he had received at
home, and seemed to study it as if it told him where
to go. On one of these halts the boy protested.
"Why do we come here, father? We can see trees
at home."
"Yes, you are right, Cyrus. But we go only a little
further." And when they came to a rustic bench in a
secluded spot, quite hidden among trees and shrubs,
Dr. Alton seated himself.
"Are you tired?" Cyrus asked. Dr. Alton looked
at his watch. "No, I am not tired."
"Then let s go back to the city, and be seeing things."
His father laid a hand on his shoulder and patted it.
"There is no hurry. We can wait a minute. It is
rather pleasant here, don t you think?" Then he
looked along the path in both directions as if expect
ing something. Cyrus was too polite to say what he
really thought, so he merely scowled and swung his
legs, hitting the toe of one foot against the heel of
the other. Meanwhile his father kept looking along
He Meets Two Ladies 99
the path by which they had come as if expecting some
thing.
And something came.
It was a lady, and she was hurrying toward them.
Instead of going by she stopped and greeted Dr. Alton.
And the greeting was more than friendly. There were
kisses, and they stood for a moment in each other s
arms. Tears were on her cheeks when she stooped
down and put both hands on Cyrus shoulders and
looked earnestly into his face. In her own face there
was a look of excitement, and of joy. More tears
came to her eyes. And her eyes were full of expres
sion, with a peculiar droop, that gave an air of calm
ness and repose. She kissed the boy, kissed him sev
eral times then held him at arm s length, said some
thing in a foreign language then kissed him again.
Although she was evidently an important person, and
beautiful and kind and very gentle and affectionate
and he liked her furs as he stroked them nevertheless
Cyrus accepted her attentions with surprise, and with
a mild resentment. No woman had ever treated him
in this manner, and these caresses embarrassed him.
Moreover, her face and voice awakened memories
memories as of fairy tales with music of things un
real, yet positive, and fresh in his mind. His frown
was from an effort to remember what her face and
voice recalled. At last, of a sudden, the clouds van
ished. Into his puzzled brain poured a flood of light.
The frown gave way to a smile of triumph as he ex-
ioo Drowsy
claimed, holding her at arm s length with both hands
against her chest :
"Oh, I know now ! You are the lady of last night !"
She looked up at Dr. Alton for a translation but
guessed the meaning. And when it came she nodded,
laughed and confessed but in a language Cyrus did
not understand, although familiar to his ears. Seating
herself on the rustic bench, she held Cyrus in her lap,
and with Dr. Alton as interpreter they conversed to
gether. She asked many questions : if he was happy,
in good health, what he thought and how he spent his
time, and lots of other things. And Cyrus was de
lighted to learn more about her strange adventures of
last night. And to know that the wicked man with
lavender legs could do her no harm.
She was certainly a wonderful lady, as charming
now as in the story of last night. And Cyrus asked
many questions about that story, all of which she an
swered. Of course, it was slow and troublesome not
understanding her language nor she his, except a
few words but Dr. Alton was a willing translator.
It all ended, however, in an unexpected way. After
one of her embraces, more affectionate even than the
others, Cyrus startled his two companions by asking in
the joyful voice that comes with a grand discovery:
"Are you my mother?"
With a frightened look she drew back. The last
word she understood. Instead of answering she
glanced up at his father, as if for assistance. Into Dr.
He Meets Two Ladies 101
Alton s face, also, had come a look of alarm; then a
frown. But he answered pleasantly :
"No Cyrus. No. Why should you ask such a
question?"
"Because she acts just as Elmer Snow s mother
acted when he came back from the hospital."
When this was translated she leaned back, bowed
her head, and covered her face with her hands. When
she raised her head there were fresh tears on her
cheeks.
Cyrus apologized. "I am very sorry. I didn t
mean anything in particular. I only just thought
I d ask."
She patted his shoulder to assure him no harm was
done.
"This lady, Cyrus, is an old friend of mine," said his
father. "And is very glad to see you and is sorry you
have no mother. That s all."
Now Cyrus would sooner doubt a voice from heaven
than his father s word ; and any one could easily see
that the lady was much disturbed so much disturbed
that it shortened the interview. The parting with his
father seemed painful and took a long time. Both
had much to say. They seemed to cling to each other,
and he kissed her several times. At last, after a tear
ful farewell to Cyrus, with a long embrace in which
her wet cheeks were pressed long against his face, she
hurried away.
There was sorrow in his drowsy eyes as he watched
the departing figure. No woman had ever treated him
102 Drowsy
in such a way, and he had begun to like it. Before
she disappeared around a curve in the path, even be
fore the sound of her pleasant voice had died away in
his ears something happened !
A fat, gray squirrel, followed by another fat, gray
squirrel jumped upon the bench just where the lady
had been sitting! And there they sat almost within
reach !
He was young. Within a month the unexplained
lady, her face, her voice and her caresses had begun
to fade from his unfledged memory. But the two gray
squirrels, almost within reach, sitting up with their
funny little hands crossed upon their portly stomachs,
he remembered clearly.
VI
HE ALMOST GETS RELIGION
CYRUS was in bed.
The history of the case is instructive and
should be a warning to other champions.
On a certain afternoon in the fourteenth year of this
hero s life the home team had met and defeated the
baseball club from a neighboring village. The score
was twenty to thirteen. Such a victory deserved cele
bration. So Cyrus, with half a dozen fellow cham
pions, went to Mrs. Turner s little ice cream parlor and
regaled themselves. Each boy had three ice creams*
and as the money still held out they decided on a
fourth. But Mrs. Turner, having a friendly interest
in her patrons, declined to be further identified with
this particular debauch.
To victors in the national game this was humiliating.
Defeat in an ice cream parlor, after triumph on the
diamond, was not to be accepted. So they adjourned
to the store where a fresh lot of cocoanut cakes had
103
IO4 Drowsy
just come in. These cakes were not dry and fly blown
like their predecessors. They were fresh, full and
well rounded, soft and juicy and nicely browned on
top. Wilbur Cobb said he could eat a dozen. But
Cyrus, familiar with the deceptive richness of cocoanut
cakes, said no boy could eat a dozen, but that he, Cyrus,
could eat more than Wilbur. This aroused the sport
ing instinct of the party and it was arranged, on the
spot, that these two champions should compete. The
boy who ate the most should pay nothing toward the
cost of the cakes. The cakes were two cents a piece.
Cyrus won. He ate nine and claimed, with justice,
that were it not for the space already occupied by the
ice cream and sponge cake he could have eaten still
more.
Half an hour later these same boys, in passing
through Deacon Bisbee s orchard, found the taste of
green apples cool and refreshing, for the moment, after
the somewhat milky fullness caused by the ice cream
and cocoanut cakes. And they partook with reckless
freedom. What exclamations of surprise or warning
may have passed between those hereditary foes, the ice
cream and green apples, when the apples entered those
overworked stomachs is not recorded. But the apples
conquered as easily as the Barbarians when they en
tered Rome. For green apples, on occasion, resemble
Truth : they are mighty and will prevail. And Cyrus,
after starting homeward, began to feel, in that region
between his chest and legs, as if he had swallowed a
football. The distention was painful. Moreover, as
He Almost Gets Religion 105
he hurried on, the football seemed growing bigger and
harder. Also, it showed signs of life. From his in
terior came rumblings ; the rumblings that precede a
storm. All through this central zone, this sphere of
distention, pains were starting up, sharp, swift, far
reaching. It appeared to him that through his equator
lightning played. At first these playful spasms darted
here and there in a frolicsome way like airy nothings.
Though somewhat threatening and reverberant they
did not alarm him. They seemed well intentioned
pains, like harmless gleams of lightning on a summer
night. But these spasms became less friendly. They
grew sharper and more threatening. Soon, like flashes
in a real storm, they were shooting here and there as if
rending him asunder; no longer playful, but the kind
of lightning that rips the bark from trees, tears bricks
from chimneys, and spires from churches. When
near his own home this storm within grew fiercer yet,
and wilder in its fury. So sharp the agony that he
clasped the afflicted territory with both his hands, .and
leaned for support against a fence.
Never before, in his brief career, had he realized
that the human body could be rent and plowed and
torn to shreds without killing the owner.
At that moment Mrs. Eagan came along. Mrs.
Eagan had a large face, a large chest, large hips and
a large heart. And she was carrying a large basket
of things for the wash. Cyrus withdrew his hands
from that region where the tempest raged, straight
ened up, lifted his hat and bowed. And it was done
io6 Drowsy
as respectfully as if Mrs. Eagan were the leading lady
of the land. Mrs. Eagan, with a smile of pleasure,
returned the salutation, not gracefully perhaps, for
she was hampered by the heavy basket. She knew
Cyrus, and she knew that in his courtesy to her sex
he made no distinctions. She knew that if the Queen
of Sheba were passing at the same moment, the Queen
of Sheba would have received an obeisance not a bit
more deferential than the obeisance to Mrs. Eagan.
But as she looked more carefully at the boy s face, her
friendly eyes saw clearly there was trouble.
"Why, Cyrus! Are ye sick? Ye are as white as
a sheet."
"Yes m." He spoke in a fade-a-way voice, and he
smiled from sheer force of will. "I feel very very
I don t know." And one of his hands moved instinc
tively to the sphere of revolt. His head drooped,
partly from pain; partly from shame that these awful
spasms had weakened his legs and might effect his
courage.
" Tis there ye are sufferin ? Tis the belly ache?"
Cyrus nodded. "Yes Mrs. Eagan and I never
had such a The lips quivered, his head sank
lower and he leaned against the fence for support.
Mrs. Eagan laid down her basket. Then closer to the
smaller white face came the larger red one.
"D ye feel so bad as that, little man?"
Cyrus nodded, with lips tight pressed to conceal a
quivering he could not control. He looked into the
light blue eyes, now near his own, and tried to smile.
He Almost Gets Religion 107
Mrs. Eagan said no more. Cyrus felt an arm be
hind his legs, another across his back, and he was lifted
from the earth. She lifted him in her arms as Her
cules might have lifted a spring lamb. With his head
against her shoulder she carried him easily up the long
driveway to his own home.
There were sleepless hours that night, and Cyrus
did some unusual thinking on important subjects.
For, as it happened, he had recently read portions
of the Old Testament, quite by accident, and was
much impressed, temporarily, by certain statements of
the Hebrew fathers. He inferred from that book that
the Ruler of the Universe was watchful and vindictive,
and dependent upon constant praise ; that for any
dodging of this praise and worship hell fire and eter
nal damnation were ordinary penalties; that the sins
of the fathers were visited upon the children, forever
and ever which seemed unfair. The impression of
all this upon his youthful mind was that any person
who really believed these things must be either impos
sibly good or scared to death. While in good health
those awful utterances did not worry him. Now, how
ever, in the silent hours of the night, weakened by the
devastation in his interior, he became less callous to
such warnings. Those Hebrew fathers, backed by the
vindictive Almighty, might get him before daylight
and consign him, forever, to the fires of hell.
But at last he slept. And when he awoke the sun
was shining in his chamber and he was still alive!
However, when Joanna came up with his toast and tea,
io8 Drowsy
and sat at his bedside, he was still haunted by the awful
prophecies of the Hebrew fathers and by the suspicion
that the Avenging Deity might still have an eye on him.
Joanna was a well-built woman of forty, with good
features and an honest face. For nearly twenty years
she had lived in the Alton family as housekeeper,
nurse, companion, cook, friend and servant : and, inci
dentally, as mother to Cyrus. While Joanna s educa
tion had been scanty, her common sense was abundant.
Her attendance at church was regular, and Cyrus felt,
naturally, that her views on Paradise and Purgatory
could be relied on. So he asked if religious people
were more likely to get to heaven than other folks.
"Of course," said Joanna.
"Which kind are the surest?"
"The Good People."
"I mean, which kind of religion is the is the saf
est?"
"Each one thinks his own is."
"Which do you think, Joanna?"
"Congregationalist."
"Is that yours?"
"Yes."
"Do they have a better chance than Baptists or
Methodists or Unitarians?"
"I guess they do."
"But the Unitarians have the biggest church."
"Yes in this village."
"What do they believe, the Unitarians?"
Joanna closed her eyes. "Oh, I can t tell you ex-
He Almost Gets Religion 109
actly. They believe something about God being the
only thing to worship the most important of all."
"Well isn t He?"
"Why er yes."
"What s bigger?"
Joanna frowned. "Bigger than what?"
"Bigger than God ?"
"Why, nothing, I suppose."
Then it seems to me He is the One to be friends
with." And Cyrus leaned back on the pillow, and
turned his face toward the light. Joanna stroked his
head.
"But don t you worry, little boy. You are not
goin to die just because you are sick."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course I am sure, so is your father sure. To
morrow you will be all well again."
"Yes, but I shall die some day and I might as well
be ready. You think the Congregashalists have the
best chance of getting to heaven."
"Yes."
"Then I ll be one. What do I have to do?"
"Nothing, but just go to church."
"Is God a Congregashalist ?"
Joanna hesitated. "Well nobody really knows."
"Not even a minister?"
"Perhaps he would. But you have asked enough
questions. Now try and go to sleep."
Cyrus obeyed, and slept. But that evening when his
father came up and was: sitting by the bed he made
no Drowsy
further efforts to get light on the darkest of all sub
jects. Dr. Alton, however, saw signs of a feverish
excitement in the usually calm eyes of the invalid, and
he decided upon a soothing course of religious instruc
tion. He knew that this sudden thirst for knowledge
in a fresh field could not be allayed by any off-hand
advice to forget and slumber. So with a smiling face
he answered questions as if the matter in hand was
of no immediate importance.
"Father, was Jesus so very good?" Cyrus began.
"Yes, indeed ! The best of men !"
"He wasn t better than you, I bet."
"Indeed he was, Cyrus ; very, very much better."
"Ho!" said the boy; "I don t believe it."
Dr. Alton explained, in few words, certain impor
tant differences between Our Savior and other men.
Cyrus listened, and understood ; then inquired :
"Was He a Congregashalist?"
"Dr. Alton smiled, and shook his head. Never,
Cyrus! Never! He couldn t have been if he tried.
And He was not the man to try. There was no cruelty
in him. He was all forgiveness."
"Then he must have been a Unitarian, a Piscopalian.
or Baptist or Methodist or something like that."
Dr. Alton closed his eyes and stroked his chin.
"No I should say not. He might possibly have
been a Universalist, or a Unitarian. But why are
you so interested in religion all of a sudden? Afraid
you are going to die?"
"No, not now. But all last night I was afraid."
He Almost Gets Religion in
His father took one of the small hands in both his
own and smiled into the invalid s adoring face.
"There s no hurry about choosing your creed, little
man. Benevolent Creators are not punishing children
for theological errors. But we can talk it all over
later, when you are well."
Cyrus also smiled "But tell me, father, just for
fun, what religion is the best?"
"Well, Cyrus, that s hard to say. There are many
to choose from."
"Why, I thought the Christian religion was the only
real one."
"Well, that s what the Christians think naturally."
Cyrus frowned. "But what s the use of so many?"
"No use whatever. One good one would be enough
for everybody and save heaps of trouble."
"But the Christian religion is the best, isn t it to
go to heaven with?"
"That s hard to say. Nobody really knows. It s
a good Sunday religion, but it doesn t seem to work so
well week days."
"I guess it s safer than any of the others, isn t it?"
"Possibly. But you needn t decide in a hurry, Cy
rus. Take your time and look around a little."
"Do people always look around before choosing
their religion?"
Dr. Alton laughed. "No, they do not. In fact, it
is considered a sign of moral depravity to think too
much for yourself in those matters. To be at peace
with mankind you must follow your neighbors. It is
112 Drowsy
all merely a matter of geography. When you know
the name of the country you know their religious be
liefs. There is not much thinking done."
"That s funny," said Cyrus. "But a Christian is
lots better than any of the others isn t he?"
Again Dr. Alton smiled. "Well, he himself thinks
he is. But all virtue is not centered in the Christian.
When you get up to-morrow and wish to get well and
strong you will begin to eat again, won t you?"
"Gracious! I guess I will! I could eat a house."
"Yes, you will be hungry enough. And you will
feel like eating quite a variety of things, I suppose."
"Oh, won t I!" And as Cyrus spoke the pallor of
the Saint was submerged in a glow of fleshly desire.
"Good ! And you shall have it ! Now we will play,
for a minute, that Christianity is pie."
"Is what?"
"Is pie. Just pie. But there are various creeds of
pie among the Christians ; there s apple, pumpkin,
mince, squash, cocoanut, and all the others."
"Me for cocoanut!" exclaimed the invalid. "Cocoa-
nut pie beats em all!"
"That s a matter of taste. But you prefer coacoa-
nut pie to all the others?"
"Oh, yes!"
"Very well. Now there s apple for Methodist,
mince for Episcopalian, cocoanut for Unitarian,
pumpkin for Congregationalist, and so on, through
the list."
Cyrus laughed. "And which are you ?"
He Almost Gets Religion 113
"I haven t decided yet. But you must stick to your
colors and have more faith in cocoanut than in all
the others."
"Oh, yes! That s easy!"
"And so you eat nothing but cocoanut pie."
"Nothing else at all?"
"Nothing else. So long as you are a Christian you
must stick to your creed. You must feel considerably
wiser and better than outsiders who are eating grapes,
and roast turkey and custards and watermelons, and
pudding and ice cream, and all who eat anything ex
cept your one kind of pie."
"Oh, I couldn t do that!"
"But you must, if you want to be a true defender of
your cocoanut creed. For all the others are outsiders.
Those pudding, turkey, grapes, custard and ice cream
people don t believe in your pie."
Cyrus slowly shook his head and pushed out his lips.
"I couldn t despise people for eating things they liked."
"Neither could I, Cyrus. So, for the present, any
way, we will eat whatever we want to. And we are
just as sure of going to Heaven as if we stuck to one
kind of pie."
"Yes, we will," declared the invalid, and in his face
and voice had come the enthusiasm of fresh hopes
and a new life. "If our minister," he said, "would
talk like that in the pulpit, about roast turkey and ice
cream and things to eat, it would be more more in
teresting. Wouldn t it?"
Dr. Alton bent over Cyrus and kissed him good
H4 Drowsy
night. "Yes, but he wouldn t dare unless his con
gregation consisted of empty boys."
The father s diagnosis was correct : his treatment a
success. During that short half hour the patient had
been converted from a terrified sinner to a hopeful
gourmand. The anxious look had left his eyes. The
lips were smiling.
And that night, instead of fitful wakings inter
spersed with dreams of hell and Hebrew prophets, of
death, damnation and eternal punishment, he slept a
solid, tranquil sleep. And such dreams as came were
happy dreams. He dreamed of puddings of the rich
est kind, of turkeys all stuffed and ready; of various
pies, of custard, of pastry, and of ice cream, all of
which he ate, and ate and ate. And lying Hat upon
his stomach on a sponge-cake raft he floated in a sea
of pineapple sherbet. He would bite off edges of the
raft, then, with his whole face in the boundless ocean,
he would suck up long gulps of this divine material.
And his permanent residence was in a cocoanut palace
against a mountain of vanilla ice cream.
When morning came, and he awoke and sat up in
bed, he was himself again. In the sunshine of his
room the bottomless pit had lost its menace. His
spirit, refreshed by slumber and now guided by his
nose, ignored the fires of Purgatory and was hovering
over the more friendly heat of Joanna s kitchen stove.
A few days later, when he was curled up at one end
of the sofa with a book, he asked : "What is the trans
migration of souls?"
"A COCOANUT PALACE AGAINST A MOUNTAIN OF VANILLA ICE CRKAM"
-f.ier 114
He Almost Gets Religion 115
Dr. Alton explained.
Then Cyrus, after a good look into the face of the
dog beside him : "Whose soul do you suppose is in
Zac?"
"That s a hard one, Cyrus. I could only guess
at it."
"But it means for dogs, too, doesn t it?"
"It certainly ought. I shouldn t accept it unless it
did."
"Then I say that whatever soul came into Zac was
the soul of a mighty good man."
"Yes no doubt about that."
"Just think! Zac may be George Washington!"
"Well you can t be too sure. You have all the
good people in history to choose from, you know."
"Yes, of course. I guess, after all, he isn t George
Washington. He is quicker and jumps about more."
Then after another look into the dog s adoring face:
"Besides, I don t believe any great man in history
would be so awful fond of me as Zac is."
"Oh, he might be. Washington would have liked
you, I think ; although he might not have followed you
about so closely."
Other famous men were mentioned : the Emperor
Augustus, Magellan, Shakespeare, Daniel Boone and
Fenimore Cooper also Joan of Arc. But it was
agreed by both father and son that the best known
characteristics of those persons were not sufficiently
obvious in Zac to make a clear case.
VII
TOWARD THE LIGHT
THE snow lay deep and still it fell.
On a low stone wall by the roadside Ruth Hey-
wood sat in solemn meditation. With melan
choly eyes she watched the door of the little red school
house a hundred yards away. On the porch of that
school house shivered Zac, also waiting. He, too,
kept his eyes on the door, but he had no intention of
rebuking the prisoner should he ever appear. Why
try to improve an already perfect thing?
Above Ruth s head the North Wind, moaning
through the leafless branches of the maples, played
dirge-like airs. Now, late in the afternoon, the dark
ening sky seemed bearing down upon the snow-cov
ered earth. And Ruth s thoughts were all in harmony
with the world about her. There was reason for a
joyless face. More experienced women than Ruth
had found sorrow and defeat in acting as guardian
angel to erring males.
116
Toward the Light 117
Other children had gone home. Cyrus was being
held in punishment. And the punishment was just.
The Guardian Angel disliked this business, but Cyrus
had no mother, aunt or sister, and his father, being
only a man, did not realize the situation. Therefore,
it seemed clear to Ruth that she was the chosen instru
ment by which Cyrus was to be rescued from a career
of shame and failure.
At last the boy appeared. Zac bounced with joy,
stirring the snowy air with cries of welcome. And
Cyrus, glad as any other prisoner to be again at liberty,
came running after.
Ruth walked out into the road and stood before him.
As he stopped there was a smile on his face, the old
familiar smile of the guilty, who hope to soften the
face of Justice. But Justice was not beguiled. On
the face of the Guardian Angel came no returning
smile. Instead, with accusing eyes, she slowly shook
her head.
"Cyrus, you ought to be ashamed."
"Why?"
"You know very well why. You are bad, very bad,
and teacher was right to keep you after school and
punish you."
Cyrus gave up smiling. He reached forth and
toyed with one of the horn buttons on the Guardian
Angel s coat. "I don t think I am bad just because
I hate that geography."
"It s your duty to learn it whether you hate it or
not. You will grow up an ignorant, good-for-nothing
n8 Drowsy
man unless you study your lessons. Everybody knows
that. You ought to go straight home and tell your
father you have been kept after school. Just tell him
all about it. Will you?"
There was a puckering of the boy s mouth, but no
answer.
"If you were stupid, and couldn t learn if you tried,
it would be different, but you are just perverse and
and bad. If you don t do better I shall just go and
tell your father myself."
"Oh, Ruthy! You wouldn t do that!" And he let
go the button and took a backward step, as one who
shrinks from a faithless friend.
"But it s for your own good, Drowsy. And, be
sides, teacher will tell him if I don t."
"I s pose she would."
"You don t want to grow up and know less than
anybody else even less than school children?"
Cyrus smiled. "That ivould be funny!"
"No, it would not be funny. Do you think it would
be funny to dig ditches all your life and drive oxen
like old Sim Barker?"
"But what makes him so bad is because he s foolish
and dirty and has tobacco juice in the corners of his
mouth. Geography wouldn t help him nor anybody
else. Geography!" And Cyrus uttered the word
with a fathomless contempt. "That geography just
makes me sick just sick, sick, sick and mad ! What
stuff it tells you! Which is the largest African Lake?
Where are the Barbary States ? What about the suj-
Toward the Light 119
face of Abyssinia? What are the products of the
Cape of Good Hope? Who in thunder cares for the
climate of Uruguay or the exports of Ecuador?
Who d ever be such a fool as to want to remember the
population of Thibet? And who cares anyway? Any
jackass can know those things whenever he wants to
by looking at a map or that fool geography."
"Oh, Cyrus, you mustn t talk like that !"
But the revolutionist went on. "Why don t they
tell us things worth remembering? Look at my les
son to-day! The Island of Madagascar! Who in
thunder wants to know about the products of Mada
gascar? Hoh! It makes me sick!"
"But, Drowsy, Madagascar is an important island
and-
"Important grandmother ! Any fool can read about
it. Why don t they tell me things I want to know ?"
"What thing do you want to know?"
"I want to know things that other people don t
know. I want to know how the earth looks when you
are standing on the moon. I want to know what s
lying in the mud at the bottom of the Tiber all the
bronze and gold and marble things ; and what sort of
people live on the other planets, and why cats and dogs
can see in the dark. And if God is good and not mean
why did he make Bobby Carter a hunchback ?"
"Oh, Cyrus! It s wicked to talk like that!"
"No, it isn t. I m only asking about it. I m only
asking why teacher doesn t tell us things worth know
ing. I want to know what would happen if you dug
I2O Drowsy
a well through the center of the earth. Would a stone
keep on dropping till it came out the other side?
"That is gravity," said Ruth in her wisest manner,
glad of a chance to hold her position as mentor.
"Yes, but the name doesn t help any. If I got into
a big cannon ball and was shot up into the air how
many hundreds of miles would I go before I would fall
back? And if you should go up in a balloon a mile
high I want to know if you would stay still and see
the earth going round and round beneath you or would
you have to go with it and Massachusetts always just
underneath."
"There s no use in knowing that."
"Yes, there is. When I m grown up I may do some
thing like it."
Ruth laughed. "You silly boy! Nobody ever did
such a thing."
"But / may. Lots of things have been done that
were never done before. And mighty surprisin
things, too!"
There was no denying this. So Ruth, for want of
words, merely gazed upon him in sorrow and disap
proval, as any Conservative might gaze upon any Radi
cal. Before she could frame a speech to fit the look
the orator again rushed on. He spoke rapidly and
with feeling. The drowsy eyes became wider open.
His hands with the gray mittens moved freely in the
snowy air. To Ruth it was a sudden transformation
of a prospective ignoramus into an inspired orator.
In a higher, thinner voice he demanded : "What makes
"I WANT TO KNOW HOW THE EARTH LOOKS WHEN YOU ARE STANDING
ON THE MOON" Pact II 1 )
Toward the Light 121
one kind of electricity do what another kind can t?
And if men are so smart, why didn t they use electric
ity thousands of years ago instead of just now? The
air has always been full of it."
This was an interesting question. But the Guardian
Angel had no answer ready.
"And what makes light travel so fast? Why, just
think of it, a hundred and fifty thousand miles in one
second ! And heat. There s lots to learn about heat.
Why do folks burn wood and coal in winter instead
of storing up heat in summer when there s too much
of it. They keep ice all summer. And why not keep
heat all winter? And just look at sunshine! Why
not keep some overnight to read by? I could do it
if I was a man."
The orator paused to get his breath.
"But, Cyrus, perhaps you can learn all those things
later."
"But I want to know em now. Not the things I ve
just been reciting, the climate of Texas, the crops of
New South Wales and the population of Wurtemburg.
Hoh ! I could be a teacher myself and tell things every
body knows already. Teachers are no smarter than
anybody else. I asked her why some families, like
the Herricks, have all boys and other families all girls."
"What did she say?"
"She just couldn t tell me. And she didn t like it
when I asked her why God, who knows everything,
should do foolish things."
"Oh, Cyrus!"
122 Drowsy
"Well, he makes warm days in April to start things
going, then sends a sudden frost and nips the blossoms
and kills the crops. Any fool farmer knows better
than that."
Ruth frowned. "You should not say such things."
But the orator ignored the rebuke. "Instead of tell
ing me about the wrecks and ruins and the treasures
and the forests at the bottom of the ocean, teacher tells
me how many bales of cotton and barrels of molasses
come from Alabama. Why, Ruthy, at the Island of
St. Helena the ocean is nearly six miles deep!"
"But, Cyrus, nobody really knows just what lies at
the bottom of the ocean."
"Hoh! That s just it. Teacher stuffs us with
things everybody knows. All the easy things. Any
cow or any hen can know em. I want the other
things. If she s a teacher she ought to know about
the bottom of the sea. She ought to tell us about At
lantis. There s be some fun in that."
"Atlantis?"
"Yes. That was the big island out in the Atlantic
Ocean that suddenly disappeared. It sank to the bot
tom of the sea. Don t you remember?"
Ruth was honest and slowly shook her head. Yet
she knew that her position as mentor, spiritual guide
and good example became weaker should the ignora
mus she was rebuking display more learning than
herself.
But Cyrus was too much absorbed in the bigness of
his subject to think of himself or other trifles. "Why,
4>.
"AND NOW. TODAY, DOWN AT THK BOTTOM OF THK OCEAN. THOSE CITIES
AM) THOSE MARBLE TEMPLES ARE STILL STAMMM;" I .igf /- -<
Toward the Light 123
Ruthy, it was a whole kingdom, this island a con
tinent. It was covered with beautiful temples, whole
cities and lots of people. And all of a sudden no
body knows why it disappeared beneath the waves!
And now, to-day, down at the bottom of the ocean
those cities and those marble temples are still stand-
ing!"
"Where was this island?"
"Off to the west of Spain, and Africa. People
think the Azores and the Canary Islands are the tops
of mountains of that sunken country."
Ruth said nothing, but the enchanting eyes spoke
plainly of surprise and wonder. "When did that hap
pen?"
"Way back in ancient times ; before Greece began."
The enthusiasm of Cyrus produced its effect on
Ruth, and the earnest eyes of Ruth had their usual ef
fect on Cyrus. He laid one of his hands, in its gray
worsted mitten, against the Guardian Angel s chest.
"And, Ruthy, just think of those white marble tem
ples ! Just think of the streets and houses ! Think
of all the statues and the helmets, shields and swords
and spears all lying around down there at the bottom
of the ocean! Think of all the ornaments in gold and
silver ! And think, that in those great white cities with
all their treasure, coral and sea plants grow instead of
trees ! And the only living things are fishes swimming
in and out among the statues and the monuments, the
palaces, the forums and the ampitheaters."
124 Drowsy
The orator drew a long breath, then in a lower tone :
"I d give anything to spend a day in that place."
Little batches of snow had gathered on the heads and
shoulders of the two children. For a moment they
stood in silence, Ruth gazing thoughtfully at Cyrus,
Cyrus gazing in anger and contempt toward the school
house.
At this point there came a sudden change in the
Guardian Angel s manner. She realized the necessity
for different tactics. Familiar with Cyrus s astonish
ing cleverness in argument she suspected that he was
justifying his own guilt by this dazzling display of
wisdom. Then came a swift transformation in the
irresistible eyes, from sympathy to rebuke.
"Stop," she said.
Cyrus stopped midway in a sentence.
"Those reasons you can tell to teacher. They are
no excuse for being a lazy boy ; I shall tell your father
unless you do better."
Then she turned and walked away, striking her cold
hands together for warmth. Cyrus followed, treacl
ing the narrow path in the snow made by horse s feet.
But shivering Zac, who had good excuse for shiv
ering after his long wait on the windy porch, ran joy
fully ahead. He had borne with patience this long
delay. Cyrus picked up a handful of snow and
molded it into a ball. As they were passing the store
he caught Ruth by a sleeve and pointed to a boy more
than a hundred feet away. The boy was stooping over
a sled.
Toward the Light 125
"What ll you bet I can t hit Luther from here?"
Now Cyrus was a surprisingly good shot. He
seemed able to hit whatever he fired at, and from un
believable distances. His surprising accuracy in this
direction had made him pitcher on the village nine.
But Ruth, remembering her role as Guardian Angel,
merely turned about and started on again in dignified
silence. But from the corners of her eyes she watched
the unsuspecting Luther, for she knew the missile
would reach its mark. Her silent prophecy was cor
rect. Through the snowy air the missile flew. It
landed, with force, on the victim s back, just below his
neck. He straightened up and looked about. Then
with a shout of defiance he scooped a handful of snow,
quickly rolled it into a ball and sent it toward the
enemy. Here the unexpected happened. The snow
ball, thrown in a hurry, would have missed Cyrus by
a yard or more even had Fate allowed it to go its way.
But Deacon Phineas Whitlock intervened. This stern
old puritan of ferocious aspect, of iron will and des
potic temper, the terror of children and of all other
habitual sinners, \vas just passing Cyrus in solemn dig
nity, toward the store.
The snowy sphere forwarded by Luther landed full
upon the deacon s mouth. And, as the deacon s mouth
happened to be partly open at the time from his habit
of preaching to himself he received within it a por
tion of the missile as it smashed and spread about his
face. Swiftly he wiped his face with the back of a
hand. His temper was a hot one. Luther knew it,
126 Drowsy
and he grabbed the rope to his sled and disappeared
down the hill behind the store, with a velocity no
elderly deacon could hope to attain. Spluttering and
wiping snow from his mouth and nose he turned
threatening eyes on Cyrus. In a voice between a gasp
and a shout of rage he demanded :
"Who is that boy?" Who is he? What s his
name?"
Cyrus shook his head. "I don t know, sir."
"Yes, you do! Who is he? What s his name?"
"I don t know, sir. Honestly I don t."
"Don t know, you young rascal ! You have eyes.
What s his name?"
But Cyrus, with a protesting, most polite and sor
rowful gesture with both his hands, again proclaimed
his ignorance. "I really don t know, sir. The air
is so full of snow I didn t see his face."
Deacon Whitlock again spluttered. His speech was
incoherent, but doubt and anger were plainly indicated.
However, he turned away still muttering.
Then the Guardian Angel approached the liar. "Cy
rus Alton ! How can you do such a thing?"
"What thing?"
"Deacon Whitlock knows perfectly well you knew
who it was, and that you told him a lie. And he will
despise you for it. So would everybody else. So do
I despise you for it."
His only answer to this was a look of mingled sor
row and remonstrance. Then, instead of trying to
defend himself, as the Guardian Angel expected, he
Toward the Light 127
looked away. He also heaved a sigh, a sigh of
weariness and discouragement, an unboylike, elderly
sigh such as grown-ups use.
The Guardian Angel continued. "And I should
think you would be ashamed to be such a coward."
Cyrus stiffened at the word. "A coward!"
Yes, coward. People only lie when they are afraid.
If you had been brave you would have told the truth."
"But, Ruthy, you don t understand. I did it to save
Luther. If Deacon Whitlock knew who it was he
would tell Luther s father and Luther might get a
lickin ."
Ruth shook her head. "Your duty was to tell the
truth or say nothing."
"No, sirree! That isn t true. The Bible says do
unto others as you d like to have other fellers do unto
you. And I did just what I would want Luther to do
for me."
This line of defense was confusing, and Ruth was
familiar with his skill in argument. She knew well
enough the pitfalls he could dig for the embarrass
ment of any adversary. So, regarding him with the
sternest look she could bring into a very gentle face,
she said :
"It is wrong to tell lies and you know it is. And
you are bad just bad. Why don t you button up
your coat in front? The snow is actually blowing
down your neck."
And she drew the collar of his overcoat closer about
his throat and tried to fasten it. "Why, the button is.
128 Drowsy
gone! Joanna ought to see to it. Yon really ought
to have a mother, Drowsy. You aren t half taken
care of."
This time Cyrus had nothing to say in his own de
fense. She laid a hand against his cheek. "Your face
is hot. I believe you are sick now!"
Cyrus smiled, and nodded. "I shouldn t wonder if
I was."
"Why? How do you feel?"
"Oh, sort of sort of funny."
"How, funny?"
"I don t know. Sort of cold and then hot and then
cold and kind of trembly. That s why I didn t hit
Luther on the head instead of down on his back."
"Now, Cyrus Alton, you go straight home and tell
your father just how you feel. Tell him all about it."
Then, with increasing severity : "It s a shame you
haven t got a mother. I believe it is because you are
bad and that s the way God punishes you."
Then she turned away and started on again, Cyrus
close behind. In front of her own home she stopped
suddenly and wheeled about ; so suddenly that Cyrus
walked against her. He took a backward step, and as
they looked into each other s faces he said, quietly :
"No, it doesn t."
Ruth s eyes opened wide, in surprise. "Doesn t
what?"
"It doesn t mean what you asked."
"But, Drowsy, I didn t ask anything!"
"You thought it, though."
Toward the Light 129
Thought what?"
"That because I told lies now I would not be an hon
est man when I grew up. But that isn t so. I shall
be an honest man."
"Yes, but I hadn t spoken a word. How could you
tell what I was going to say?"
"Oh, I dunno. I can often do that."
"Yes, you have done it before, but how do you do it?
How do you know? Just guess at it?"
"No. It sort of comes as if well just the usual
way only without the words waiting to be spoken.
I guess it s natural enough."
"Natural enough ! Why, it s most mysterious.
Nobody else does it."
"Oh, p r aps lots of people do it. We don t know
everybody."
"But if many people did it we should have heard
about them. No, it s very mysterious. Why, Drowsy,
I had just opened my lips to say your being such a
liar now proves you will be a dishonest man and you
said, before I uttered a word, No, it doesn t.
Cyrus smiled. "I guess it must be a sort of tele
graphing without wires, like that man Marconi has
just discovered."
For a moment they stood in silence, Ruth looking
earnestly into the boy s slumbrous, half smiling eyes,
trying vainly to explain the unexplainable. "It s all
the harder to understand," she said, "because you could
only see the back of my head. And this horrid storm
was blowing between us."
130 Drowsy
"Yes, it s funny, and I dunno much about it. But
I believe I could get it if I wasn t seeing you at all ;
I mean, if you were way off, out of sight."
"Really?"
"Yes, sir ! I believe I could. Let s try it some day.
Will you?"
"Yes, little Drowsy, when ever you say."
Once more she laid a hand against his face.
"Your cheeks are hot again. Now you go straight
home and tell your father just how you feel, and have
Joanna sew on that button. Will you?"
"Yep. All right."
He started off. About a dozen yards away he
stopped and looked back. She was still standing
where he left her, and was watching him. The obvi
ous lack of confidence in his promise or her air of
authority with all this military discipline caused a mo
mentary revolt. He picked up a handful of snow,
rolled it quickly in a ball and threw it. She saw it
coming, but merely bent her head and lifted an arm
in protection.
Twas a good shot. But the snowball, being soft,
merely broke against her arm. Ruth lowered the arm
and raised her head, slowly and calmly, as a Guardian
Angel who is invulnerable to earthly weapons. She
pointed toward his home.
Cyrus raised his cap, moved it grandly through the
air in a sweeping curve, bowed very low, then turned
and marched away.
He walked with no suspicion of pursuit. But Ruth
Toward the Light 131
had obeyed a sudden impulse. She started forward
on a run, and when close behind him gave a sudden
push with both hands. He tumbled forward into a
drift and rolled over on his back. As he started to
get up, she pounced on him with all her weight. Then
with both knees on his chest she rubbed his face with
snow.
Had the assailant been another boy, Cyrus would
have kicked and struck and fought him off. But you
do not kick and strike your aunts, your mother or your
best girl. So, he merely pushed and wriggled about,
with eyes and mouth tight shut.
Zac seemed to enjoy the business as much as Ruth.
He barked and plunged about as if cheering for the
victor.
Well into Cyrus s face Ruth rubbed the snow.
"Take that, you horrid boy, and that, and that !"
With a triumphant laugh she took her knees from
his chest, jumped to her feet and ran away. And as
she ran she expected just what happened. For Cyrus,
also quickly on his feet, drew the backs of his mittens
across his eyes for clearer vision, then sent a snowball
toward the vanishing figure. It landed between her
shoulders. But she ignored it, and ran into her own
house without even a backward glance.
For a moment Cyrus stood and watched her, then
started homeward.
It was a friendly enough parting, but it might have
been different had they know how many years were
to come and go before they met again.
SOMETHING of a liar was Cyrus, in emergen
cies, but he told the truth when he said "lots of
things have been done that never were done be
fore; and mighty surprisin things, too!"
History bears him out. The stories of Grimm and
Andersen are commonplace events besides the victories
of Science. Interesting, indeed, would be the views
of Galileo on wireless telegraphy, or Botticelli s opin
ion of the "movies," or even what language the British
commander might have used at Bunker Hill had the
Yankees employed aeroplanes. Since the impossible
is now in daily use, the dream of the visionary in
every home, incredible things have ceased to astonish.
Fairy tales are coming true.
So thought Dr. Alton, on the afternoon following
that last interview between Ruth and Cyrus, when he
was suddenly converted from incredulity to compul-
132
A Worker of Miracles 133
sory faith in an achievement which he had believed im
possible. As he drove up to his own house Cyrus
leaned out of the sitting room window and told him
to go at once to Mrs. Heywood who had fallen on the
stairs and broken a leg. Dr. Alton asked no questions,
turned about and drove off. A few hundred yards
along the road he met Mr. Heywood, who, much agi
tated, and traveling fast, as if trying to walk and run
at the same time. The doctor stopped and the clergy
man climbed in. As they started off Mr. Heywood ex
claimed, out of breath : "How fortunate this is. I was
afraid you might not be at home. Poor Alice, I fear,
has broken her leg."
"Yes, so I heard. I am on my way there."
"On your way to my house?"
"Of course."
Mr. Heywood turned in surprise. "You say you
you knew of the accident?"
"Yes."
"But, Doctor, you couldn t. It happened less than
ten minutes ago."
"Cyrus told me. Perhaps somebody telephoned
him."
"But I have no telephone."
Dr. Alton smiled. "Possibly somebody is a faster
runner than you."
"But no one was there except Alice, Ruth and my
self."
"Ruth may have done it."
134 Drowsy
"Ruth has not left her mother. She is there now.
And nobody else knows of it."
For a moment Dr. Alton was silent. "Bad news
travels fast, Mr. Heywood."
"But not when there s nobody to carry it."
"Yes, there s that miraculous new messenger boy,
wireless telegraphy."
Mr. Heywood was in no mood for argument and
said no more as Dr. Alton obviously had little faith
in any mysterious messenger. So, for the moment,
the subject was dropped.
When the bone was set and it proved a simple
fracture Mr. Heywood followed Dr. Alton to the
door. I wish, Doctor, you would ask Cyrus how he
got his information just to gratify my curiosity."
"Are you absolutely sure that Ruth did not tell
him?"
Mr. Heywood, for answer, stepped back into the
hall and called to his daughter, who at once came run
ning down the stairs.
"Ruth," he said, "do you know how Cyrus heard of
your mother s accident so soon after it happened?"
"Yes, sir. I told him."
"You!" exclaimed her father. "Why Ruth, you
never left the house!"
"And Cyrus," said Dr. Alton, "is at home, confined
to the house with a bad cold. At least that s where he
ought to be."
"Oh, sir, he is!" said Ruth. "He sent me a note
asking me to talk to him, on the porch, from our house
A Worker of Miracles 135
at just five o clock, and I did. Mother fell on the
stairs just as I began to talk so I told him about it."
"Do you mean," said her father, "that your voice
carried from this house to his, nearly a mile away?"
"Oh, no, sir! Cyrus doesn t have to hear your
voice, always. He has a special way of knowing
things."
"A special way of knowing things?"
Ruth nodded.
"What do you mean, Ruth? What things?"
"Things you don t say."
"But you did say to him that your mother had an
accident."
"Yes, sir; but he didn t have to hear it. He gets it
some other way." She added, with a smile: "He
doesn t get it through his ears."
"Then how does he get it?"
"I don t know. He says it is in the air. He says
he thinks it s a kind of wireless telegraph and must
work the same way."
"Most extraordinary!" murmured Mr. Heywood,
and he looked at Dr. Alton as if hoping for more light
on a cloudy subject. Dr. Alton, however, was gazing
thoughtfully at the girl, whom he knew to be truthful,
lie also knew the misleading possibility of a child s
imagination. "Do you really think, Ruth, that Cyrus
"I don t know, sir. I couldn t hear anything from
learned of the accident in that way?"
him."
136 Drowsy
"You mean if he answered back you couldn t get
it?"
"Yes, sir. Nobody but Cyrus could understand
anything at all, so far away."
"He knew that you couldn t hear anything he said?"
"Yes, sir. He just wanted to find out if he could
tell what a person said so far away without hearing it."
Mr. Heywocd turned to Dr. Alton. "He evidently
succeeded, and it seems quite incredible."
Dr. Alton did not reply, directly He had closed his
eyes, and his own thoughts, whatever their nature,
were so absorbing that Mr. Heywood s voice had
failed to reach him. His abstraction, however, was
brief. With a smile he shook hands with Ruth. "I
thank you for your testimony, little lady. You make
a perfect witness." Then to her father : "I shall in
terview Cyrus at once and we will try to reach a bet
ter understanding of the mystery."
He promised to call in the morning to see Mrs.
Hey wood, and then departed.
\Yhen he entered his own house, half an hour later,
he found the worker of miracles asleep on a sofa near
the open fire. Curled up at his feet lay Zac. But Zac
was not asleep. \Yhen the doctor moved toward the
fire and stood before it, warming his hands, Zac fol
lowed him with his eyes. These cautioning eyes were
saying: "Don t make a noise or you ll wake him."
Dr. Alton understood. He made no noise. But as
he looked down upon the sleeper he saw signs of vivid
dreams. The sleeper kicked, muttered and moved his
A Worker of Miracles 137
hands. One vigorous kick landed on Zac s forehead,
but the recipient merely closed his eyes, hoping for bet
ter luck another time. One more kick, spasmodic and
violent, just missing Zac s head by an eighth of an
inch, and the boy awoke. As he awoke he sat up and
shouted :
"She s out!"
Seeing his father he swung his legs over the side of
the sofa, blinked and laughed aloud. Zac also laughed :
that is, he barked. He always barked when Cyrus
laughed, just to be in it. To do whatever Cyrus did
was, of course, beyond a dog s ambition, but laughter
being a manifestation of his owner s joy, he expressed
himself with sincerity and enthusiasm by tail and
voice. Moreover, by always joining Cyrus in his
mirth the world might know that their tastes were
similar. In fact, to be identified with Cyrus in any
way \vas glory enough for any dog. Cyrus was really
the Only Boy. There were, of course, other boys, but
they could not all be Cyruses. God was not running
this world on any such plan. There was always one
specimen that overtopped the others. Only one Helen
of Troy, one Socrates, one Columbus, one George
Washington and one Cyrus. Zac was not familiar
with these names but they serve their humble purpose
in fixing the status of the human being that he loved
and respected above all others.
"That s the funniest thing that ever was," said
Cyrus. "What do you think I dreamed ? I dreamed
we were playing ball on the ice on Minnebuc Lake ; us
138 Drowsy
fellers against the women, and we all had skates on.
I was pitchin . Mrs. Snell was at the bat and Deacon
Whitlock first base. Mrs. Snell s kind of fat, you
know, and fierce and dignified, but she wore trousers
like the rest of us Oh, it was funny !"
Here the miracle worker paused and wagged his
head, indicating suppressed mirth. "Well, I gave her
a twister. Jimminy ! Wouldn t I like to give such balls
in a real game! Twas an up and down curve and a
fade away all in one. It went like a cork screw. No
feller would ever try to hit it. But Mrs. Snell did !
She just shut her eyes and let go and she hit it! I
caught it and threw to first. It turned into a snow
ball between me and Deacon Whitlock and hit him
square in his wide open mouth for he s always talk
ing to himself, you know."
"Yes, I know."
"Well, Mrs. Snell dropped her bat and went sliding
down to first on her skates and when she got there
she couldn t stop. She just scooped up Deacon Whit
lock as if he d been a little boy and carried him off in
her arms. He was screamin and kickin and wavin
his arms like a mad baby. And Luther, who was out
in right field, grabbed her by the trousers and tried to
hold her back. Oh, it was funny !"
Again the worker of miracles was convulsed with
mirth.
Dr. Alton nodded, smiled and expressed a proper
appreciation of the unusual game. He looked down
into the boy s laughing face, as he spoke, and there
A Worker of Miracles 139
came to him an impression, considered trivial at the
moment, but remembered later with a livelier interest.
It seemed to him, for a brief moment, that Cyrus s
smiling eyes were gazing deep into his own as if grop
ing, in a friendly way, for unspoken thoughts. Dr.
Alton realized that this impression was probably due to
his recent discovery of the boy s extraordinary faculty
a usual look in Cyrus s eyes which, earlier in the
day, would have made no impression. But the look
was short, little more than a glance, and Cyrus lowered
his eyes to his swinging legs and pulled up a stocking
which was slipping down.
This afternoon," he said, "I broke a pane of glass
in the parlor."
"How did that happen?"
"Well," said Cyrus, still watching his swinging legs,
"I was playing barn-tick in the parlor with Zac. I
would throw the ball against the wall and catch it
when it bounced back, and every two or three throws
I d let Zac get it. Then once, I threw it kind of care
less "
"Carelessly, you mean."
"Yes, sir, kind of carelessly and it hit the window
instead of the wall."
Dr. Alton slowly moved his head in acknowledg
ment of the explanation. The other subject on which
he desired light was so much more important than any
broken window pane that neither his face nor manner
expressed very serious disapproval. In fact, Cyrus
140 Drowsy
had hardly finished his confession before his father
spoke.
"How did you happen to know, this afternoon, that
Mrs. Heywood had broken her leg?"
"Oh, that was a great idea ! I ve invented a new
kind of wireless!" And he went on to tell, but in dif
ferent words, the same story that Ruth had given.
"And just think! if everybody can do it there won t
be any need of telegraph machines, or letters either.
People can talk miles apart just talk, as Ruth and I
did!"
"Yes, of course, but how long ago did you find
you could do this?"
"Only to-day. This was the first time."
"But Ruth says you often know what people think,
or are going to say, before they say it?"
"Yes, sir."
"How long have you been able to do this? 5
"Oh, p r aps three or four years.
"Why did you never happen to tell me?"
"I supposed you knew. I supposed everybody
could do it."
"No; it s a very unusual faculty very unusual in
deed." Then, with a smile: "I suppose you have
often known what 7 was thinking?"
Cyrus laughed. "Oh, yes; lots of times!"
"\Vhen was the last time ?"
Cyrus hesitated. He looked down at Zac, as if for
encouragement. Then, with a glance from the cor
ners of his eyes : "Just now."
A Worker of Miracles 141
"Just now!"
Cyrus bobbed his head and grinned. "Yes, just
now."
"Why what was it ?"
Again Cyrus hesitated. His father smiled the
smile of reassurance. "Go ahead and tell me about it."
"\Yill you promise not to be angry or say anything
bad?"
"Yes, I promise."
"Well, when I broke the window pane in the parlor
to-day I was going to wait and let Joanna tell you
about it when I was out of the way. But when you
looked at me to-night after I had told about the dream
I saw that you were in such a hurry to find out about
the message from Ruth, that you wouldn t think so
much of the window pane. So I told you."
Dr. Alton smiled and kept his promise, refraining
from criticism. But he recalled the look in the boy s
eyes, a few moments since the look as of gently ex
ploring another s thoughts. The recollection at this
present moment brought a singular feeling almost of
awe ; as of something beyond human limitations. Was
he on the border land of the supernatural? And yet,
as he looked into the honest face of Cyrus, his wonder
did not lessen. He found, therein, no solution of the
mystery. He discovered nothing beyond the familiar
face of his normal, sane and healthy boy, absorbed in
things that became his age. He knew that Cyrus, like
other boys, would rather eat than pray; that he pre
ferred stealing apples to hearing sermons and would
142 Drowsy
rather be a pirate than a bishop. This knowledge did
not trouble the father, lie had been a boy himself.
Then, sitting on the old sofa beside Zac and Cy
rus, he asked many questions. They were all answered.
Cyrus had nothing to conceal. With boyish frankness
he told many things, some serious, some amusing
little secrets of his own when he had enjoyed his ex
traordinary gift. His experiences in divining the
thoughts of others were given as matter of fact occur
rences. He had believed, until now, that this power
was possessed by all the world.
It was a cozy group on the old sofa before the open
wood fire, Zac, Cyrus and Dr. Alton, and they stayed
an hour or more. Dr. Alton began to realize that this
faculty was not only mind reading but something far
beyond. That thoughts of others should come to this
boy with no effort of his own was almost incredible.
Even more amazing was the transmission through
space not only of spoken words but of the unuttered
wishes of far away friends. \Yas his son the master
of a vital secret, a mysterious power now unknown to
science but, in future years perhaps, to be common
knowledge? Was it within the realms of material sci
ence? Or was it an individual form of spiritual sym
pathy, some ethereal harmony attuned by superhuman
guidance to a chosen few?
When Cyrus had gone upstairs to bed Dr. Alton sat
long before the open fire, remembering. And there
was much to remember. At last he stepped out into
the night air and stood upon the door-step. Before
A Worker of Miracles 143
him, in the moon-light, were snow-covered fields, tall
skeletons of elms and maples, their leafless branches
like barren memories against the sky. But this New
England landscape was not what he saw. He saw,
through his closed eyelids, the blue waters of the Adri
atic. Close beside him a pair of loving eyes, dark,
tragic but smiling now were looking deep into his
own and the woman s lips were asking if it were pos
sible for the unborn child to inherit its mother s power
of divining another s thoughts. And he the wise
young doctor! shook his head and smiled at the fool
ish question.
And, lo! not only had the power descended to the
boy but with it had come an added faculty even more
mysterious and unbelievable!
IX
DREAMS?
IT was the very next morning that Ruth s father,
the Rev. George Bentley Heywood, received an
urgent appeal from China to fill a vacancy in the
missionary field. Ten days after receiving the mes
sage he, his wife and tearful daughter, were on a
train for San Francisco.
The days that followed were solemn days for Cyrus.
And it so happened that the next ten years were sol
emn years for Longficlds. A new railroad carried
through a neighboring town left the village stranded.
The young nlen began to leave. \Yhen a house burned
there was no rebuilding. The tottering sheds behind
the weed-grown cellar of the Baptist Church were typ
ical of the town s decay. It was significant that when
144
Dreams? 145
Philetus Bisbee died house and carriage painter his
business had so shrunk that no one took his place.
The burning of the inn meant that Longsfields as a
resting place for travelers was to be forgotten.
People died in Longfields, but few were born. Pu
pils at the little red school house dwindled to about a
dozen. The teacher s pay was so small that to accept
the position became an act of charity to the village.
When Judge David Lincoln moved away he ex
pressed sincere regret : "I am sorry to go, but lawyers
cannot thrive on memories alone."
Wits of neighboring towns referred to the sleeping
village as Pompeii, Old Has Been and Long Memories.
The main street with its overhanging elms was always
silent. And the common, once noisy with excited
children, was solemn in its stillness. Every day
seemed Sunday.
In short, Longfields went the way of many other
New England villages. It became a restful and pic
turesque reminder of better days. But, after all, it
was merely following, in its decay, the example of fa
mous queens of fashion, Troy, Babylon and Thebes.
This gentle retirement to oblivion affected Cyrus
less than his father. For Dr. Alton sent him away to
school, to prepare for college, and the absent boy al
most forgot the tragedies of his home. Moreover,
Cyrus found much excitement in his new surround
ings; much to learn and unlearn from contact with
so many others of his age. They came from town
and country and from almost every state. What he
146 Drowsy
got from books was least in interest and often the
least in value. That million-sided problem, Human
Nature, was, as usual, the hardest to understand, the
last to be solved.
Rarely does a boy with Anglo Saxon blood in his
veins find it necessary to cure himself of too much
polish. But even in this case Old Human Nature was
triumphant. When away from Longfields Cyrus found
his ceremonious courtesy was misapplied, misunder
stood and almost a misdemeanor. His eighteenth cen
tury bows were regarded by his chambermaid as ironi
cal; by his classmates as a silly affectation, and were
resented by his instructors as efforts to be funny at
their expense.
Further discouragement came one day in the
friendly warning of an older boy. "You know,
Drowsy, or you don t know, that those salaams of
yours give the impression that before you came to
this academy you were the colored porter on a parlor
car."
The result was that before the end of the first term
his manners were only a trifle better than those of
other boys. Except, of course, when taken off his
guard, as in his interview with the wife of a certain
prosperous citizen who slipped and fell in coming out
of the post office. She was a sensitive lady, irascible
and of massive proportions. As she landed on the
sidewalk, two snow white stockings with stalwart
limbs inside waved briefly before the public eye. They
resembled the whitened limbs of a billiard table. Let-
Dreams? 147
ters fell from one of her hands. With the other she
clung convulsively to a large umbrella. Three girls
involuntarily laughed aloud.
As the lady climbed to her feet two light blue eyes
shot fury from a purple face. When Cyrus stepped
forward to gather up the scattered letters he forgot
all his recent training, raised his cap, moved it grace
fully in the air and bent low and reverentially as the
First Lord of the Bed Chamber might salute his
Sovereign. But the boiling lady identified this seem
ing mockery with the laughter of the maidens. She
brought the fat umbrella hard down upon the head of
Cyrus, and she struck with all her might. Luckily
for the recipient her hand was quivering with rage,
and no physical damage was accomplished. But the
damage to his pride was serious. As he straightened
up and looked the lady in the face his cheeks were hot.
The erstwhile dro\vsy eye showed astonishment and
anger. His cherubic lips had parted : "Then pick em
up yourself, you stupid old
At that instant he recalled an injunction of his
father. "Whatever may happen, Cyrus, always be a
gentleman." He had not been told just how a gen
tleman should behave when beaten on the head with
an umbrella and in public. But he closed his lips
without even beginning the sentence. He bowed
again, and this bow was even more elaborate than the
first.
"I beg your pardon, madam."
Then he turned, put on his cap and walked away.
148 Drowsy
Again was heard the giggle of the girls. That a
person should apologize for being hit on the head
with an umbrella was too funny for silence.
Meanwhile, the cost of all this experience and of
his pursuit of knowledge fell heaviest on his father.
The practical obliteration of his native town and field
of work meant financial embarrassment for Dr. Alton.
The few remaining inhabitants of the village were
now too poor to pay a doctor. To fit Cyrus for col
lege, and keep him there, Dr. Alton exhausted the
small capital left him by his father. When that was
gone he tried to sell his orchard and the best por
tions of the farm. But no purchasers appeared. He
did sell, however, to a dealer in Boston, some family
heirlooms; rare pieces of Colonial furniture and all
his Canton china.
To Cyrus, meanwhile, Fate was paying especial at
tention with more to come. During his last year in
college a surprising change took place in his ways of
spending time surprising, but familiar to biographers.
Such transformations, where indifference suddenly
changes to ambition, indolence to industry, and where
the trifler becomes in earnest, have frequently occurred,
as with Julius Caesar, St. Paul, Henry V of England,
William Shakespeare, Mirabeau and many other nota
bles. So there was nothing original in this sudden
awakening of Cyrus. During the first three years of
his college course he was a "good fellow." When
classmates entered his room with "Come along,
Drows, old man; chuck the books, and now for the
Dreams? 149
real life," he joyfully obeyed and took chances on reci
tations : with the usual result that only distant rela
tions were maintained with the upper end of his class.
It was the price of popularity and of the joy of living.
Toward the end of his last year, however, his more
festive companions were horrified by an unexpected
miracle. A little book came into his hands. It threw
a dazzling light on the possibilities of electricity. It
aroused his curiosity and so kindled his imagination
that he turned his back on the "real life" and became
studious. This sudden thirst for knowledge caused a
shock to his festive pals. They were anxious about
him. For, indeed, is there not cause for alarm, when
a Bully Boy, a Rattling Good Sport and a Live One
suddenly loses his grip on "real life" and becomes a
Bookworm, a High Brow and a Dead One?
But Cyrus did not weaken. He clung to his new
love. Unavailing were such arguments as "Chuck the
science, Drowsy. There s time enough for wisdom
when you are old !" or, "Don t be a chump, Drows.
You can t be young forever. Remember, Youth is
short and Science long."
And he felt neither shame nor repentance when his
own chum rebuked him. "Drows, old man, you are
just a crank. Harvard Students are not giving points
to old sharps in science. For God s sake don t be a
freak and get musty before your time."
But words were wasted. This new ambition had
brought to him a revelation of his real self. He had
no suspicion, at the time, that the reading of this little
150 Drowsy
book was to lead to adventures surpassing the wonder
tales of his childhood. To his brain came a dazzling
light. He began to realize the infinite possibilities of
man s power, with the hidden forces of the universe
once in his control. A fantastic dream, perhaps, but
the more he thought the deeper grew his conviction.
He knew or thought he knew that he had it in him
to open wider the door that hides the secrets of the air.
Greater still would have been his confidence had he
known that a part of his inheritance was the courage
and the genius of the famous Italian scientist who
wrote the book. And it appeared from the little por
trait of the author that he, too, had slumbrous eyes.
It was ordained, however, that their relationship was
to remain hidden both from the great discoverer and
from his yet more daring grandson.
At the end of the four years at Harvard, Dr. Alton s
finances were low, indeed. But Cyrus argued for a
course in Chemistry and Physics at the Institute of
Technology in Boston. He took the course, and it was
clearly understood that it meant bitter economies for
both father and son. But the economies were calmly
faced. Some of them meant serious sacrifice in per
sonal comfort, not only in the little luxuries of life,
but in clothing, food and fuel. Of blows to pride they
made no account.
At last Cyrus finished his course at the "Teck." His
return to Longfields was on a smiling afternoon in
May and he found his father at home, sitting on the
porch with Luther Dean. Cyrus and his boyhood
Dreams? 151
friend had seen little of each other during the last six
years. Luther had grown into a rather handsome
young man. Otherwise Fortune had not favored him.
With many other American boys, his ambition was to
become a millionaire, and to be quick about it. And
with many other boys in this upsetting country, he
looked down, in fancy, from the glittering peaks of
sudden wealth, upon the patient plodders in the valley
below. Not for him the goody mottoes of the Sun
day School. Not for him a wasted youth in "starting
at the bottom, working your way up" with "slow but
sure," and all the other maxims for smothering talent.
For him the Napoleonic grasp of opportunity, the cut
ting of the Gordian knot. He believed in quick
achievement. He believed
"There is a tide in the affairs of men
Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune."
And he believed in short cuts. His models for suc
cess were the millionaires "who had struck it rich."
And he was firm in the faith that his revolt from "Pa
tient Industry," "Honest Toil" and similar delusions
was a sign of genius. In other words, he was the
sort of youth no man desires in his employ. For brief
periods he had held positions in different establish
ments in Worcester. Now, again, he was out of a job.
But Luther s manners were good, and his raiment
above reproach. At present, as the three men sat on
the porch, his spruce attire was in striking contrast
with the almost shabby garments of Dr. Alton and
152 Drowsy
his son. But Dr. Alton happened to be one of those
men who have no need of clothing unless for warmth
or propriety. In his head and face and figure were
lines of strength and beauty that gave distinction.
In his bearing and in all his movements there was
dignity and a natural grace. Were he dressed as a
beggar at a coronation he would have held his own.
As for Cyrus, the last ten years seemed to have
made little difference, merely transforming him from
boy to man; this change, as wise men have long sus
pected, being mostly outward. He grew to the usual
height, had the usual number of teeth, recited from
the usual books, played the usual games, committed
the usual follies, absorbed the usual experience from
the various victories and defeats of our usual life,
still retaining at twenty-one the drowsy eyes and curv
ing lips of his early childhood. Deep within him, how
ever, were aspirations and a strength of purpose that
contradicted the languid eyes and boyish mouth.
After the greetings, and when various questions had
been asked and answered, Dr. Alton lighted his old
briarwood pipe, took a whiff or two and said to his
son:
"And the great idea, Cyrus, any further develop
ments?"
"I should say there were! I ve got it, father!"
Dr. Alton raised his eyebrows. Really ? You don t
mean
"Yes I do. I mean just that. I have found it.
Dreams? 153
It s the wonder of wonders. And it works even bet
ter than I hoped."
Dr. Alton straightened up and smiled a smile of
surprise and pleasure.
Cyrus returned the smile. At the same time his
drowsy eyes became less drowsy and in his voice was
a mild excitement. "And so simple! Why, I feel
like laughing when I think of it. The only wonder
is that hundreds of people have never discovered it."
"What is it?" said Luther.
Cyrus hesitated a moment, as if to be sure of his
words. "It s a simple and inexpensive device for
concentrating in a space about the size of your two
hands any quantity of electrical force."
"When you say any quantity, do you mean enough
to run a typewriter or an automobile?"
"I mean enough to run a railroad train or an ocean
steamer; or to lift this house or any other building."
Luther smiled the smile of doubt. "And the thing
is no bigger than your two hands?"
"It resembles two metal soup plates back to back."
Luther whistled a short whistle signifying a de
ficiency of belief. "That sounds kind of kind of
as if somebody had wheels in his head. How does
the miracle get its power?"
"From the atmosphere around it."
"With no dynamo, nor motor, nor transformer?"
"All that is between the metal dinner plates. Why
manufacture power when the whole universe is vi-
154 Drowsy
brating with it? It is like manufacturing air to
breathe."
Luther leaned forward, excitement in his face.
"Why it doesn t seem possible. And you have really
done it, Drowsy ?"
Cyrus nodded.
"But it will revolutionize everything!"
"Yes it will."
"Is it some new form of electricity you discovered?"
"No, merely a new way of applying our old knowl
edge. You see, it has been known for some time that
air is energy. Dancing about us, in the atmosphere,
is plenty of power waiting to be harnessed; power
enough to toss mountains into space if we could only
direct it. You may have read about the tremendous
force in the vibrations of atoms."
"No ; not a word.
"\Yell, every atom is a center of energy. And every
atom is composed of millions of electrons. Do you
happen to be interested in electro kinetics?"
"Don t even know what it means."
"It relates to the properties of electric currents. My
discovery is merely the concentration and directing
of those currents. The apparatus is about the size of
an apple pie, and so simple that I laugh when I think
of it."
"But, Drowsy, you can t get so much power in such
a little mechanism. That thing could never start a
locomotive or an ocean steamship."
"Start it! A dozen of these little things fastened
IMMUta*.
I.IFT IT IN THK AIR TO ANY HKK. HT, CRK\V. PASSKNCJFRS.
AND CARC;O" P.ijf^ /o i
Dreams? 155
to an ocean steamer could lift it in the air to any
height, crew, passengers and cargo, and drive it at
any rate of speed and for any distance. And at no
cost."
Luther whistled. "Is Cyrus guying us, Doctor, or
is he only dotty?"
Dr. Alton smiled, but gave no answer.
"After you had lifted the steamship up into the
air," said Luther, "how soon could you get her across
the ocean?"
"That s for the captain to decide. He could do it
comfortably in an hour or two or, in five or ten min
utes, if he were really in a hurry."
"Oh, I say, Drowsy, come down to earth again, and
join us."
"No, I can t come down when I once get up. But I
don t blame you for not believing it, Luther. I only
believe it myself when I see it working. It is really
easy to understand, though, when you know that elec
tro magnetic waves in the ether are cavorting through
space at the rate of about a hundred and eighty-six
thousand miles a second, forced by our friends the elec
trons. There s no reason why my device should not
go at about the same rate. That would take our pas
sengers and cargo across the ocean in considerably
less than one minute."
Dr. Alton shook his head. "No, Cyrus, that s too
sudden even for a Yankee."
Luther assumed an expression of alarm. "Do you
think Cyrus will get over this, Doctor? Is he wild
156 Drowsy
on other subjects, or is it only one screw that s loose?"
Cyrus laughed and turned toward his father.
"What an awful joke if Luther should be right! I
could easily believe it a crazy dream if one or two
scientists had not already prophesied it. The thing
was sure to come. And now that it s here it seems
too simple to be true. I merely happen to be the first
man to stumble on it."
"Just what is it?" said Luther. "How do you do
it? What s the process?"
For an instant their eyes met. To Luther came an
odd sensation he had known as a boy that the tran
quil gaze of Cyrus was reading his secret thoughts.
As his thoughts at that moment were not for publica
tion the sensation was disturbing. To hide his em
barrassment he turned away toward Dr. Alton, and
made a joking remark about trips to Europe, over and
back, on Saturday afternoon. "It even beats wire
less," he said.
"Well, rather!" said Cyrus. "Wireless will soon
be a back number."
Again Luther whistled. "Wireless a back number!
Well, that s certainly going some!
But Dr. Alton showed little surprise, merely re
garding his son more attentively. "What is to take
its place, Cyrus?"
"Just the spoken word. Its transmission through
the ether with no mechanical appliance for sending or
for receiving."
Dreams? 157
Luther smiled. "It will have to be a pretty loud
voice."
"No louder than wireless. It will be carried by the
same forces that carry the wireless message, only
more simply applied. The air about us is alive with
electric force that is perfectly willing to take our mes
sages without the machinery."
Dr. Alton smiled. "Well, you seem to have confi
dence in it. That s a good beginning, anyway."
Cyrus also smiled. "I have already done it."
"Already done it?"
"Yes, sir ; and more than once. Billy Saunders and
I went out into the country, stood nearly a mile apart,
spoke in ordinary tones and each heard more than
half the other said."
"With no instruments whatever?"
"None except a little receiver about the size of
your watch."
Luther whistled again. On his face was a look of
surprise the Surprise that s the brother of Doubt.
Dr. Alton was looking earnestly at his son. Is that
really true, Cyrus? Are you absolutely sure no pre
vious knowledge of each other s intentions may have
helped a little?"
Then Cyrus explained the experiments in detail.
He told how they purposely chose subjects unknown
to each other; how they put on paper the words as
they arrived; that the percentage of messages cor
rectly received increased at every trial ; and that
weather conditions, wind, rain or sunshine seemed to
158 Drowsy
make little difference in the results. After answering
other questions, he said to his father :
"But that is only the beginning. The day is com
ing when even the spoken word will be superfluous."
"Just what do you mean, Cyrus?"
"I mean communicating thought by electric induc
tion by direct vibrations."
"Say, Cyrus!" exclaimed Luther, "the Arabian
Nights isn t in it with you!"
"No, it isn t," said Cyrus. For I have already done
it."
"Done what?"
"Sent thought waves and received them."
"Oh, come off."
But Dr. Alton was looking earnestly at his son. He
recalled one or two occasions when Cyrus had accom
plished this very thing. And now, as they looked into
each other s eyes, he suspected his own thoughts, at
this very moment, were being read. His suspicions
were correct, for Cyrus answered an unspoken ques
tion.
"Yes, sir, it s the same as those you are recalling.
But now I understand it. Much depends, of course,
on the individual. Latent faculties in individuals, how
ever, can be surprisingly developed. I do believe that
within a few years our thoughts, spoken and un
spoken, will be traveling through the air as wireless
travels now."
Dr. Alton made no reply. He closed his eyes for
a time and smoked in silence. His thoughts went back
Dreams? 159
to those unexplained episodes when Cyrus was a boy ;
then further back to the villa by the Adriatic. He
was recalling a conversation in the loggia of that hid
den villa when Luther rose to his feet and exclaimed :
"Is there anything, Cyrus, too impossible for you to
believe?"
"Nothing if it is interesting. I never reject a good
fairy tale. Why be a skeptic? To look at a skeptic s
face is enough. His digestion is never good. He
thinks with his stomach and his stomach reacts on
his brain. That means farewell to enthusiasm and to
all the best things of life. Ambition and gastric juice
are partners. Had Buddha, Christ or Mohammed been
skeptics you never would have heard of them. No
skeptic could possibly succeed as an inventor, poet, ex
plorer, patriot, or as any other kind of hero. He fails
before he begins."
Cyrus paused for a moment, then added : "Perhaps
you are both saying to yourselves, better be a skeptic
than a credulous ass. But that s open to argument.
The credulous ass is not only happier but he has Hope
for a backer, and he is a heap sight more likely to get
somewhere than the pessimist. The pessimist never
starts."
His father nodded approval.
Luther put on his hat. "Right you are, Drowsy.
Me for a credulous ass. I swallow all you say, elec
tric miracles and all. Of course, this sending ideas
about the world free of expense and without even the
trouble of saying them, is quite a morsel for the ordi-
160 Drowsy
nary throat, but I ve got it part way down and am
holding on to it. If what you say is true, miracles
are with us. Jimminy! It s a large idea!"
"No miracle at all," said Cyrus. "Not half so mi
raculous as the growth of that apple tree from a seed.
And the human brain! Two handfuls of gray matter
and what it achieves! Did you ever happen to
realize what a self-starting, Johnny-on-the-Spot, up-to-
date miracle your memory is?"
Luther laughed. "Well, no. Not enough to for
get my meals."
"Then do it some time. It s the champion mystery
of the world. No man knows how it works. We
know it furnishes us with names and places, facts and
figures and events without limit, and they come to us
instantaneously without waiting to be called. A thou
sand telegraph clerks with an acre of pigeon holes
could not accomplish in an hour what your memory
does in a second. It is quicker than greased light
ning. It s the miracle of miracles. Why, Luther,
these thought waves of mine, compared with it, are
so simple and so easy that any normal baby could
operate them."
"I guess you are right."
After a few more words, this conversation ended,
and Luther departed. But Dr. Alton and Cyrus sat
a long time on the little porch talking seriously of the
Great Discovery.
But the inventor, later that afternoon, was not too
much absorbed in electric wonders to visit a corner at
Dreams? 161
the end of the garden. There he straightened up a
slab that marked a grave. The slab was of wood. He
brushed the surface with careful hands and read the
letters he himself had carved nine years before.
Lies
Zac AL-ton He
Was V<?AY 5-mARt
and ALSO
GOOD
These lines Cyrus always read with a smile not of
mirth, but of satisfaction with their truth and jus
tice to his old friend s character. Pleasant indeed
were those memories ! lively and bounding memories :
of adoration for himself and of unswerving loyalty to
the final breath of a short but joyous life.
X
THE FARTHEST TRAVELER
ONE sultry morning about six weeks later,
Luther Dean got off a train at Springfield.
Along the shady side of the main street he
walked. He walked faster than usual. His eyes, his
hot, perspiring face and general manner showed sup
pressed excitement. And why not? Wealth, and
without labor, would soon be his.
A few blocks from the station he turned into another
street, then, not far from the corner he entered a small
shop. On the front window of the shop were these
words :
I. KATZ
ELECTRICAL CONTRACTOR
162
The Farthest Traveler 163
The brevity of his name, as here shown, gave as
much pleasure to the proprietor as he had suffered an
noyance from his fuller and more various name, Isi
dore Pollacksek Zwillenberg Stchcrbatcheff Katz. And
even his last little name had proved almost a curse, as
his intimates called him "Malty" and "Puss Katz";
also "Tom Katz" and "How Many." But I. Katz,
of black eyes and muddy complexion, was an ambitious
young man, industrious, surprisingly clever, watchful
and polite. He and Luther Dean had one desire in
common an unquenchable thirst for wealth. There
was, however, this important difference, that Katz was
willing to work for it, while Luther regarded thirst as
a substitute for effort.
When Katz s mother, Rosa Hlawatsch, married
Emanuel Katz she had a prosperous brother-in-law,
Schweers Hjort, who lent the bridal pair enough
money to start for America. Two years after Isi
dore s birth his parents died. Then Mr. and Mrs.
Zoob Pschenitza adopted the orphan and cared for
him until his nineteenth year, when he found employ
ment with Mr. Hitzrot Fuss, an electrician. Mr. Hitz-
rot Fuss was a cousin of the Zoob Pschenitzas.
This July morning when Luther entered his shop I.
Katz had been in business for himself about a year.
The opening of the door rang a bell that gave warning
to the proprietor, at work in a little shop at the rear.
Luther walked directly to this little shop. I. Katz
laid down his work.
"Ah ! Good morning, Dean."
164 Drowsy
"Same to you, Kittens."
"Haven t seen you for a long time. How are you?
What s the news from Longdeado?"
"News enough this time."
As the two men stood by the work bench, and Katz
took a second look at his visitor s face, he said :
"What s the matter? Something on your mind ?"
Luther removed his hat and coat and lit a cigarette
before answering.
"Well, I should say there was. Have you any ob
jections to being a millionaire?"
"Not especially. Got the cash with you?"
"Not this morning. But I ve got the next thing to
it."
If Katz felt any excitement at this announcement
he concealed it. Perhaps he knew Luther too well.
W r ith a smile, and a slight movement of the shoulders,
he said :
"Of course it s a dead sure thing."
"It is."
"Well, that s something."
"You know, Katzy, the only sure things in this
world are death and taxes."
"Yes. So I ve heard."
"Well, compared with this thing of mine, taxes are
dreams and death never happens. Listen. I can
place in your hands a contrivance hardly bigger than
a dinner plate that generates electricity without ma
chinery ; that has infinite power ; that can drag railway
trains of any size at any speed and can drive an ocean
The Farthest Traveler 165
steamer. It weighs about five pounds and costs noth
ing to run."
Katz slowly moved his head, and frowned.
"It s a bad habit, Luther."
"What s a bad habit?"
"Cocktails in the morning. You are seeing mira
cles."
Luther protested. Then he explained The Thing
in detail. Katz pronounced it impossible.
"Of course it s impossible!" said Luther. "That s
why it s so devilish good. It does the impossible all
day long and all night, too. Why, Katz, it can do
anything you ask it and with no expense. God
Almighty supplies the electricity all you want and
for nothing. Can you beat it?"
The electrician began to show interest.
"But are you pop sure it can do these things? Have
you seen it work yourself?"
Then to I. Katz, with the bright eyes and muddy
complexion, Luther told of the wonders he had seen
with his own eyes touched with his own hands. He
described the two soup plates of metal fastened to
gether, with the mysterious space between the small
chamber which held the Miracle of Science. And its
priceless secret to be theirs! To give some idea of
the power of these two plates he told Katz what hap
pened to Delos King and his load of hay. Delos
King s big load of hay got stuck in the meadow. The
wheels had sunk in the mud up to the hubs. Two
yokes of oxen tried in vain to stir it. Then Cyrus
1 66 Drowsy
Alton, carrying The Thing in his hand went down to
the meadow, fastened what Delos King thought were
two kitchen plates to the end of the pole, turned the
button a fraction of an inch and drew the big load of
hay out of the bog and up the hill as if it had been a
baby carriage!"
Moreover, Luther described to Katz his own ex
perience \\;ith this device. When fastened to his chest
with straps, that went over his shoulder and under
his arms, he had turned the little button and had been
lifted gently from the floor and he floated at will near
the roof of the old barn.
"But what flabbergasted the old hard heads more
than any other one thing," continued Luther, "was the
way Cyrus fixed the weather vane on the Baptist
Church. It had been struck by lightning bent and
twisted. It s a tall spire and the deacons were trying
to figure the cheapest way of getting up there without
a scaffolding, when Cyrus happened along. What s
it going to cost you? he asked. Twenty-five dollars
at least, they said. Give me twenty-five, said Cyrus,
and I ll do it before night. It ll take you half a day
to get up there either by rope or scaffolding, they
said. I can get up there in one minute, said Cyrus,
after I once start. At first they laughed, but they
agreed to pay twenty-five dollars. Then Cyrus went
home this was in the forenoon came back with his
two soup plates ; also a hammer, a monkey wrench and
a few other tools. And right there in front of the
crowd, he slung the bag of tools across his shoulders,
The Farthest Traveler 167
strapped on the soup plates, turned a button and rose
up in the air like a wingless angel. Gee! I tell you
the deacons stared ! Their eyes were wider open than
their mouths!"
"No wonder! said Katz. "They had reason to be!
And did he fix the vane?"
"Well, rather ! It didn t take him an hour."
Luther told of other doings that had startled Long-
fields ; of the metal contrivance over ten feet long
that resembled a fat cigar; how Cyrus Alton sat in
side and, without apparent machinery, rose up through
an opening in the barn and sailed at will, in any di
rection and to any altitude. In one evening he had
sailed over the whole of Massachusetts and more,
too.
Then I. Katz, whose bright black eyes had grown
brighter and brighter, asked many questions. All his
questions were answered promptly, and so clearly as
to leave no doubt that the tale was true.
"But how can you get hold of the miracle?" he
asked. "What s your scheme?"
Then the artful Yankee unfolded to the still more
artful Asiatic his plan a plan so simple that even
the artful Asiatic began to feel prosperous. Some
pleasant morning and very soon, while talking with
Cyrus, Luther would buckle on the little machine, as
if to sail about the barn. Cyrus would probably con
sent, as on two previous occasions. Then he, Luther,
would turn the button too far, as if by accident, pre
tend to lose control of the machine, and sail up
1 68 Drowsy
through the big skylight of the barn, which was always
open in pleasant weather. He would wriggle his el
bows as if trying to regain control of The Thing.
Once up in the air, above the roof of the barn, he
would steer in the direction of a certain pond, two
miles away, all the time working his hands and elbows
as if trying to get back to earth.
"Are you sure you can do it?" said Katz. "You
might really lose control if you didn t keep your
head."
Luther smiled. "Oh, I can do it all right ! I have
no idea of steering for heaven before my time. You
see I ve already done it, and I guess I did it about
as well as Alton himself. It s really as easy as driv
ing a Ford and lots more fun. Why, Pussy, it s like
being a bird !"
Katz nodded. "Yes, it sounds good. But where
will you go when you once get up?"
"To the big pond, three miles off. It s always a de
serted place especially forenoons. I shall land in
a little cove I know, unstrap the machine and hide it
in the woods there. Then I shall wade comfortably
into the shallow water and lie down for a minute,
with my clothes on."
I. Katz s eyebrows went up. "I see ; I see ! Bright
idea! The machine carried you into water and you
had to swim ashore."
"Even so."
"And you lost the machine, which is somewhere in
the mud at the bottom of the pond."
The Farthest Traveler 169
"Yep."
"And you ll hurry back to your friend while still
wet, so he ll know that what you say is true!"
"You ve got it. And that afternoon I ll bring the
invention to your shop."
I. Katz, of the muddy complexion, stroked his
Oriental nose and nodded approval. His comprehend
ing eyes lingered for an instant on Luther s face with
a look that indicated admiration and a friendly feel
ing. But the unflattering thoughts it covered were
not divined by the New Englander.
It was decreed by incorruptible Fate that Luther s
opportunity should come the very next morning.
Cyrus was at work in the barn. Dr. Alton, sitting
just outside the door in the shade of the building, was
reading a war article in a French journal that some
one had sent him from Europe. Luther moved idly
about, as if to pass the time. At a moment when he
saw Cyrus especially absorbed in his work inside the
big iron cigar he took up The Thing and adjusted
the straps about his shoulders.
"I am going to float around the barn," he said, "and
see how the roof looks."
"All right," said Cyrus, keeping on with his work
and not turning his head.
To avoid all risk of hitting the sides of the sky
light for he must rise with apparently unexpected
suddenness he stepped outside the building. With
a smile and a nod he said to Dr. Alton :
170 Drowsy
"If you never saw a real angel, Doctor, here s your
chance."
As he put his fingers to the button Cyrus came run
ning out. "Stop ! Hold on Luther ! Let go ! That s
not adjusted!"
But Luther was not to be thwarted at the high tide
of victory with riches within reach. He put his
fingers to the button and said, with a smile :
"Oh, I know how it "
The sentence was never finished. He had given the
slightest turn, having a sensible fear of the unknown
force within. In his haste he must have turned it a
fraction more than he intended. For then happened
the unprecedented thing the thing without parallel in
human life; so awful, so solemn, so unearthly, that the
two men who saw it stood dumb in horror.
As he was speaking, with the smile on his lips, he
was lifted from the earth by the straps beneath his
arms with a violence that stopped his speech and his
breathing. Up he shot, more like a cannon ball than
a rocket. So fast he went, gaining speed with every
second, growing smaller and fainter to the two specta
tors, until and it all happened in the shortest minute
he disappeared, a tiny speck in the blue sky above.
He had no chance to change his speed.
His straw hat, with its crimson band, like a frivo
lous friend too light of heart for sudden tragedy-
came tumbling earthward, then floated off to the west
in playful, easy spirals. A gay farewell to a lifeless
body. For death had been instantaneous.
AM) GUDK FORKVKR. A HOMELESS VAt.RANT THROIT7H
THE DUSKY VOID" P.igr 171
The Farthest Traveler 171
Dr. Alton and Cyrus stood looking upward at the
spot in the heavens where Luther had disappeared from
earthly vision. It was hard to believe what their eyes
had seen. And when, in silent horror, they looked into
each other s faces, both knew that this sudden traveler
had started on a darker and a longer voyage than any
previous explorer; that he \vas moving at a speed
unknown to other mortals, and that his journey would
never end. Both knew that within the hour he would
be beyond the orbit of the earth ; that the power pro
pelling him felt no exhaustion. Unless colliding with
other celestial derelicts, or drawn into the path of some
distant planet Neptune or Uranus he would push
further out into the Infinite. Then, would he join
some starry host, off toward the Milky Way, the
Southern Cross or Orion s Belt, and glide forever, a
homeless vagrant through the dusky void?
His youthful features, untouched by decaying mois
ture in the icy gloom, might remain, through the count
less ages as his friends last saw him, long after his
native earth like its own moon had become a life
less ball. Or, beyond the visible stars, far out into bot
tomless Space, too far ever to return is he to wan
der through the uncharted regions of yet remoter
worlds ?
XI
UNSIGHT UNSEEN
AFTER midnight, Uncle George, and miles from
anywhere, so do please hurry."
These were parting words to an uncle as he
started back to the nearest house perhaps a quarter
of a mile away to get gasoline for his motor.
Alone in the car, the waiting woman began to
realize the extraordinary darkness that enveloped her.
Along the road, in front, the two head lights sent
their beams of light. But elsewhere, on either side,
behind her and above, the black air seemed almost
threatening in its silence. So solemn was this silence
that she began to imagine herself the only living crea
ture in England. Her own home was in another coun
try, and the invisible scenery on either side was all
a mystery. It might be open fields or densest forest
or both. But the damp air that came slowly against
her face seemed laden with odors of yet darker places,
of deep ravines or sunless caves.
172
Unsight Unseen 173
Was this hideous gloom a regular habit with English
nights? Being in a foreign land this darkness was,
perhaps, more terrifying than darkness in a more fa
miliar country. In the heavens above were no signs
of light, either of light that had been or of light to
come. And it seemed, in this tomb-like silence, as if
the very universe were dead : as if she had drifted into
space the infinite space of her astronomy. From
this sable silence she sought relief in watching a por
tion of the road that lay before her, now illumined
by the two lanterns of the car. These beams of light
seemed a cheerful, human bond between life and
death.
From the gloom, on her right, came the hopeless
hoot of an owl. It seemed a voice from the sepulcher
a summons to despair.
A hundred feet, or more, in front of her, where the
farthest rays of this light began to lose themselves
and mingle with the darkness, she saw a rabbit jump
into the road, and speed across it. She wondered
what had frightened him. Also, she was inclined to
blame him for not being safe at home with his family
instead of roaming about the world on such an evil
night. To a woman yearning for a sign of life twas
a welcome sight; but this rabbit, although a thing of
life, was as noiseless and unreal as the ghostly world
about him. With his half dozen silent leaps through
the bar of light he seemed a phantom creature, "of
such stuff as dreams are made of."
From his nervous haste she judged that he was
174 Drowsy
frightened. It was possible, of course, that he was a
fearless rabbit and merely taking exercise for his
health. But this theory was not accepted, and she
watched with interest to see what sort of a pursuer,
if any, might appear. Being in that state of mind
when almost any imaginings might come true, she
would not have been surprised had the pursuer been
a real phantom.
But these speculations became less trifling, of a sud
den, and were transferred to quite a more serious ob
ject. From the same place, in the same ghostly man
ner, but more slowly than his predecessor, stepped the
figure of a man. Shading his eyes with a hand, he
stood for a moment in the stream of light as if taking
his bearings, or dazed by the glare of the lanterns.
Then he scraped, with his foot, a line in the road at
right angles to it, piling up a little mound of earth.
The witness, in the car, supposed he was marking for
future guidance the spot at which he entered from
the blacker world. At last, and always with a hand
before his eyes, he came toward the blinding head
lights. The invisible spectator had straightened up and
her dreaming eyes had opened wider. For the figure
was a strange one. On its head was a curious cap,
which seemed to be of leather. There were pieces at
the ears standing up like wings, as on some ancient
helmets she had seen in pictures. The rest of his at
tire also resembled leather, with high leggings reach
ing above his knees. Around his waist a wide metallic
band, something wider and more important than a
Unsight Unseen 175
simple belt, glistened as he moved. The girl, in alarm,
stood up, looked back and listened for the absent uncle.
She heard nothing, and could see nothing. She sat
down again, and waited.
The man, of medium height and slender figure, ap
peared to move unsteadily, as if weak, or dizzy. He
walked slowly, and stopped, once or twice, as if to
balance himself on unreliable legs. The unseen specta
tor thought he might be ill, or injured in some way.
When, at last, he passed from the glare of the head
lights and came into the darkness, beside the car, she
could discern him, dimly or rather felt his presence
as he stood there. And she knew that he was trying,
and probably in vain, to form some idea of the seated
figure before him. At last he spoke.
"Can you tell me, sir, where this is; what place?"
With these w-ords the girl s fears departed. For,
not only were they uttered in a gentle, well modulated
tone, but the voice itself had a pleasing quality.
"I don t know, sir. But my uncle will be here in a
moment. He can tell you."
She could see that he took a step backward, and
stood further away.
"I beg your pardon, madam. One can t see much
in this light. Could you tell me what er what state
this is?"
"What state?"
"Yes if you please."
This was a yet harder question. Did he mean some
administrative division of the country which she had
176 Drowsy
never learned. Being unfamiliar with English politi
cal geography, she answered simply.
"I don t know."
This time it was the questioner who was surprised.
But, even more gently than before, he inquired :
"You don t know what state we are in?"
"No, sir."
There was a short silence.
"Could you tell me," he inquired, always deferen
tially, "the name of the nearest town?"
"Droitwich. I think we are in it now."
"Droitwich?"
"Yes, Droitwich."
He repeated the name as if hearing it for the first
time.
"It must be a small place," he said.
"I think it is."
"What is the nearest town of importance; the near
est city?"
"Worcester."
"Oh, Worcester! Thank you. I know Worcester.
But I never heard of that other place, this place,
Droitwich. How far are we from Worcester?"
"About six miles, I think six or seven."
"Oh, really !" He seemed relieved. There was happy
surprise in his tone. "Thank you. I am very much
obliged. Good night."
He walked away, out into the stream of light.
Slowly he walked, carefully and witli uncertain steps.
Unsight Unseen 177
A few yards away, however, he stopped, hesitated,
then turned, came back and again stood beside her.
"I beg your pardon for being so persistent, but may
I ask you one more question, even more foolish than
the others? This city of Worcester is in the State
of Massachusetts, is it not?"
"In the state of Massachusetts?"
"Yes that Worcester is the one you mean, is it
not?"
Now if this conversation had occurred in the United
States the girl might have answered wisely, for she
was more familiar with that country and knew some
thing of its geography. But when such wide-of-the-
mark questions were propounded in the heart of Eng
land they brought bewilderment. Moreover, they in
dicated an unbelievable ignorance or a wandering
mind or impertinence.
Her frown, although invisible in the darkness,
seemed to reach the traveler.
"I beg your pardon, but I really have no idea where
I am. Would you mind just telling me what part of
the country we are in? Are we in Massachusetts?"
His manner was earnest. The sincerity of his tone
again inspired confidence and awakened her sym
pathy. "I don t quite know how to tell you, but we
are very far from Massachusetts."
"Then what state is this?"
"I don t know just what you mean by state. The
only state of Massachusetts I ever heard of is in
America."
178 Drowsy
"Isn t this America?"
This question so far transcended, in foolishness, all
its predecessors that her fears returned. She made
no reply. What traveler, in his senses, could be so
far astray ? Was he a wandering lunatic escaped from
his keepers, preferring darkness to light? Or was he
merely amusing himself at her expense? As she re
called the lateness of the hour, and his strange appear
ance on the scene, her fears once more returned. Her
impulse was to stand up, turn about and see if her
uncle was in sight. But she dared not stir. Such ac
tion might offend him. For lunatics are often sensi
tive, and easily enraged. The figure in the gloom, how
ever, came no nearer, but remained at a proper dis
tance. When next he spoke it was slowly, and yet
more earnestly. And the girl knew from his manner
as well as from his words that he suspected the im
pression he was making.
"I don t blame you, madam, for whatever thoughts
you may have. I have traveled so fast and so far that
I am really dazed. But if you will kindly tell me
where we are, in what country, state, province or ter
ritory, anything it will be doing me a great
service."
In a constrained voice, and in a tone which made
it reasonably clear that this conversation was afford
ing her little pleasure, she replied :
"We are near the city of Worcester, in England."
For a moment he stood in silence. Then, with a
Unsight Unseen 179
certain weariness in his voice, "Thank you. I hope
you will pardon my disturbing you."
"Certainly."
Again he moved away.
This man s voice stirred memories. But these
memories of some far-away past were dim and
elusive. Vainly she tried to recall either when or
where she had known the voice. Just as he was turn
ing from the bar of light to disappear into the outer
gloom, there came to her a gleam of memory from
the distant past. Quickly she stood up in the car, her
lips parted to call aloud. But she hesitated. A mis
take, under present conditions, might prove more than
awkward. So she uttered no sound. The stranger,
however, as if responding to the unuttered words
to the thought itself turned about and came toward
the car. He walked quickly, but with the same un
steadiness as when he first appeared ; and always with
a hand before his eyes to shut out the blinding glare
of the headlight. When alongside the car, again in
visible in the darkness, he said :
"Yes, I am Drowsy. Who calls me?"
She was startled as she realized, in a kind of terror,
that the unspoken message must have reached him.
However, she answered, simply :
"Ruth Hey wood."
With an exclamation of surprise and joy he opened
the door, climbed in and seated himself beside her.
"Oh, this is too good !"
180 Drowsy
In the darkness he groped about and they managed
to shake hands.
"Why, Ruth, this is hard to believe!"
It was, indeed ! Many questions were asked, and
answered. And they talked of earlier days at Long-
fields, of Longfields people, of what sort of men and
women their playmates had become. More than all
else, they talked of their old friendship and their vari
ous adventures together. And both laughed in recal
ling how Ruth in that distant period was mother, sis
ter, aunt, governess and best girl to Cyrus. This re
vival of the old intimacy had reached a stage where
the enshrouding darkness was almost forgotten.
"But tell me, Drowsy," she demanded, "how came
you here and why did you ask all those crazy ques
tions? I should be sorry to think you had been dining
too well."
"Dining too well ! No, my wabbly course just now
was owing, partly, to not having dined at all : and
with neither lunch nor breakfast either."
"You poor thing! Then why pretend you didn t
know you were in England?"
"There was no pretending. I really didn t know un
til you told me."
"Indeed! And where did you think yourself? In
Australia?"
"I had no idea. If you had told me I was in Aus
tralia I should have believed you. I have been travel
ing so high above the earth that the upper ether went
to my head and legs."
I AK AM> FAST, t.VKN KOK A HIRlJ MAN" f., e t IS}
Unsight Unseen 181
"You must have been fast and far, even for a bird
man, if you didn t know on which side of the ocean
you had landed."
There was a silence : a silence of doubt and of
budding suspicion in the woman s mind.
"Listen, Ruth. I have been far and fast, even for
a bird man. I will tell you all about it later, if you
don t mind. If I told you now, you would think me
crazier, if possible, than when I asked those ques
tions. And I shouldn t blame you. My story would
seem as fantastic as if I had been around the world
in a night, or to another planet. What I have done
where I have been is is so impossible that you
would be a very credulous person to believe it. But
later I will tell you all everything please consider
me in my right mind."
"In your right mind! Why, Drowsy, you were
never in your right mind ! So I should believe any
thing you told me unless it was something easy or
natural, like other people. You were always doing im
possible things and thinking impossible thoughts a
most disturbing boy. I remember I always felt re
sponsible for you. You wanted the moon even then."
"And now, a full-fledged lunatic, I have just come
from the moon !"
"I have no doubt you think so. And you were
always reaching up to pick a star. Yes, you were a
trial."
Cyrus laughed. "Will you do me a favor?"
"Depends on what it is."
1 82 Drowsy
"Just a little one?"
"Probably not. But what is it?"
"You remember our wedding at the Unitarian
Church, away back in that enchanted past?"
"Yes."
"Well, just consider that ceremony binding."
"Now you are getting crazy again."
"No, I was never saner."
"Very likely, but you are crazy now. Why, Drowsy,
being only a man, you don t realize how lucky we
are that it was not binding!"
"Lucky for you, perhaps," said Cyrus, "but not for
me. I am sure you are even more desirable, more
beautiful, more generally perfect and irresistible if
possible than you were then."
"On the contrary. If you could see me by daylight
you would shout for joy at your escape."
"No, Ruth, you can t fool me that way. Are you
little or big?"
He groped about and laid a hand on her shoulder.
"I should say you were little."
She pushed away the hand. "Keep your hands to
yourself, Cyrus. You forget we are no longer
children."
Cyrus obeyed. "True enough. But we were really
married, you know. Surely a husband may touch his
wife s shoulder. Tell me, have you the same wonder
working eyes and mouth and haughty bearing? You
are not a great big woman, I have discovered that."
"No, I am neither big nor lovely. I am little and
Unsight Unseen 183
dried up and wrinkled, like a baked apple and sur
prisingly ugly."
"Dried up at your age? May I touch your face just
a little?"
"You may not!"
"Oh, well, it doesn t matter. There s charm in baked
apples. There s character in a dried-up face."
"But that was only the beginning. As I dried and
shriveled, my hair fell out."
"Good ! I love a bald head especially in a woman.
There s no distinction in hair. All animals have it.
In that delectable period of sudden marriages, I re
member some things clearly, as if yesterday. I recall
distinctly the eyes of my bride. No man could forget
them. In their fathomless depths even a boy could
lose himself. And, oh, so beautiful! One such eye
would transform a dried apple face into a thing of
joy. And in that bride s face were two of them.
Don t tell me they, also, are gone."
"Only one."
"Too bad! Have you lost any limbs?"
"Not yet."
"And your teeth are gone?"
"Oh, long, long ago."
There was a silence. So black was the enveloping
darkness that the silence itself seemed heavy, as if
forbidding conversation.
At last Cyrus spoke. "So far as I can learn, your
face is like a baked apple, your teeth and one eye are
184 Drowsy
gone, and you have no hair. But I ll take you as
you are."
Ruth laughed. "Why, Cyrus! That s practically
an offer of marriage! You appear even wilder and
more reckless than when you were trying to discover
whether you were in England or Massachusetts."
"On the contrary, I am wiser than you think. I
was in love with you in Longfields and I am finding
now that neither time nor absence have changed that
feeling. What s a tooth, an eye, or a few hairs more
or less to an honest lover ?"
"Honest humbug! You forget how well I knew
you. You had no respect for truth."
"Yes, but only as a child. I am telling the truth
now, on my honor. Let s not separate again. Why,
it s beginning a new life! Come. Let s go back to
the Unitarian Church and be married just once more.
Only once more; that s all I ask."
"Indeed I shall not! I am not buying a pig in a
poke. When daylight came and I really saw you I
might be sick with horror."
"No, no! I m not so bad as that! In fact I look
about as I did when a boy, only more beautiful."
"Then you are a funny looking man, Drowsy, with
your sleepy eyes and your little buttoned-up mouth."
Cyrus laughed. "Xo, I swear I m not funny look
ing. I have the same eyes, but my mouth is three
times as long. It s one of the largest and most ad
mired mouths in Massachusetts. But why these ques
tions? You saw me a few minutes ago when I came
Unsight Unseen 185
along. The glare of those headlights ought to illumi
nate any kind of a face."
"You held your hand before your face to shade your
eyes."
"So I did. But, seriously, Ruthy, I realize now that
all my old feeling for you has never died. Your voice
alone revives the memories of those pleasant years.
Why part again? It might be forever."
"A thousand reasons."
"But no good ones. What better test of my affec
tion could you want? I don t ask to see your face.
Your voice, your words, yourself, and old-time memo
ries are more than enough. Come. Say yes."
"No. Never in the world ! Suppose, when you
could really see me, there came regrets. What a posi
tion for a woman ! Oh, no ! Never that !"
"Don t say never. "
"Is this a habit of yours making love in the dark
to women you don t know? You should have a guard
ian."
"Be that guardian !"
"Thank you, I have other occupations."
Here came a silence. The thoughts of Cyrus, what
ever they might be, were interrupted by Ruth :
"You must think me a most adaptable woman,
Cyrus, to fall in love, at a minute s notice, with a voice
and a memory."
"If you are a toothless, hairless, wrinkled, one-eyed
hag you ought to be grateful."
1 86 Drowsy
"A toothless hag, even with no pride may have a
little caution."
"Anyway," said Cyrus, and he spoke more seriously
and with more decision "I am in earnest. I may
be talking like a fool I don t know how to express
myself. Meeting you again is like a new life. As a
little girl, Ruthy, you were everything to me. You
don t know what a difference, what a void it made
when you vanished and left me adrift. Now that we
are again together, and I am older, I realize what I
lost. After you left Longfields and your leaving
was awfully sudden, if you remember not even a
chance to say good-by I used to sit on your doorstep
and try to think you would come out."
"Is that true?"
"On my honor. And one moonlight night when
father and Joanna thought I was in bed I stood at
my window and tried to get a message to you, in the
old way hoping a thought would reach you. Then
I stole out of the house, ran to yours and threw little
stones against the closed shutters of your empty cham
ber. Of course no answer came. But I waited and
waited. The moonlight seemed to encourage me. And
when I had waited in vain a very long time, it
seemed a year I pretended you came to the window
and we had a long talk."
She laughed. "And what did I say?"
"You said just what I wanted you to say : the nicest
things; the things I was yearning for. Quite dif
ferent from what you are saying to-night."
Unsight Unseen 187
"If you thought of me so much, why didn t you
write to me?"
"I did. I wrote twice."
"I never got them."
"I will tell you why you never got them if you will
promise not to laugh."
"I promise."
"They were directed simply to Miss Ruth Heywood,
China. And China, I have learned since, is a larger
place than Longfields."
"Oh, you poor boy!"
"And when I was a freshman at Cambridge, I tried
hard to fall in love with a girl because she reminded
me of you."
Ruth was silent. Cyrus went on. "When you first
spoke here, a few minutes ago, your voice affected me
in a way in a way I can t describe. It seemed to open
vistas of memory, as in a fairy tale. And the instant
I realized that we were again together why it all
came back with a rush as of sunshine like a wave,
or a flood of unexpected happiness and hope."
"Oh, Drowsy, what charming nonsense!"
"Yes it is nonsense, if that kind of love is non
sense the kind that begins in boyhood and never dies
that holds to one woman and will have no other."
He felt a hand on his arm. In her voice came a
gentler note. "Listen, Drowsy. My uncle and I are
on our way to a train. I am starting for Italy. When
I know my permanent address I will perhaps see
that you get it indirectly, but not from me. Then,
1 88 Drowsy
without committing either of us, if you are still as
blind, as reckless and perverse as you are to-night,
you can
"Still alive, Ruth?"
The voice came from the darkness and was close be
hind them.
Cyrns was presented as an old friend. He assisted
the uncle in pouring the gasoline into the tank. The
uncle was in haste to get away, still hoping to catch
a train. There were a few words of parting before
the motor with its two occupants slid away into the
darkness.
This parting, to Cyrus, seemed even more sudden
than the old one, long years ago.
For many minutes he stood looking in their direc
tion. The night was black, and he saw nothing. But
in his heart was a rosy dawn.
Incidentally, but of far less importance, he knew
on what portion of the earth he had landed.
XII
"INCREDIBLE!"
A PROSPEROUS, self-reliant man, well built,
well dressed and well pleased with himself, sat
at a desk in his private office. It was the
senior partner of the firm a well known firm of Fifth
Avenue jewelers. Being a wise man, he was wise
enough to enjoy a reasonable pride in his own wisdom ;
also in his own pleasing personality, and in his own
good face and figure. Now, sixty years of age, he
had, moreover, enjoyed a quarter century of success
the reward, perhaps, of his own foresight in being the
son of a prosperous father. He had inherited a well
established business. As a leading member of a fash
ionable church he was grateful to himself, and to his
Creator, for these, his many blessings.
Another well-dressed man but younger than him
self entered abruptly and stood beside his desk. The
189
190 Drowsy
Senior Partner looked up from his work, nodded, and
smiled.
"Good morning, William."
"Good morning, Uncle Fred."
William was dapper, even more up-to-date in ap
pearance than his uncle. Although more carefully
attired, he was not so well dressed. For William s
hair was so very smooth, and all that pertained to him
so aggressively fresh and clean, his clothes so fault
lessly in fit, his cravat, his scarf pin, his hair and his
eyes such a pleasing harmony in shade and color as
to divert the beholder s attention from his sensible
face. In appearance William was unjust to himself,
giving the impression, to strangers, of a vain or frivo
lous person. He was, on the contrary, a very intelli
gent man. Also, he was good. At the present mo
ment there were signs of suppressed excitement in this
cleanest of clean faces.
"Well," said the Senior Partner, "out with it."
"You remember Cyrus Alton, don t you, Uncle
Fred?"
"No."
"Well, you met him some years ago. It was he who
saved me from breaking my neck in the amateur cir
cus at school."
"Oh! And he has regretted it ever since?"
William smiled. "No, sir. I hope not. But it was
a mighty plucky thing to do. I fell from the trapeze
and he was on the ground beneath. When he saw me
coming, instead of jumping from under, like a sensi-
"Incredible!" 191
ble boy, he held out his arm to break the fall. It
threw his shoulder out of joint, but saved me a broken
neck so we all thought."
"Yes, I remember now. It was a plucky thing. It
showed courage and presence of mind. How old was
he?"
"About my age : twelve, I guess, or thirteen."
"He certainly played the hero on that day. Has he
lived up to it?"
"I don t know. I have hardly seen him since we
left school. I always liked him. We were great
cronies always together."
"Mighty lucky you were together on that occasion.
What s his occupation, now?"
"Oh, chemistry and electricity. Science generally,
I guess. But I don t think the world has been treating
him well. His clothes are kind of ancient, and he looks
hard up. He lives up in Massachusetts, in some little
town or village. It s a dozen years since I have seen
him, until he came in, a few minutes ago, with a
curious kind of stone. He doesn t know what it is,
and wants to find out. Wants us to tell him. It s be
yond me, though. Would you mind seeing him just a
minute, and looking at it?"
"A stone, did you say?"
"Yes, sir."
"What kind of a stone?"
"That s just what he doesn t know, nor I either."
"All right, show him in."
To the hero of the amateur circus came a cordial
192 Drowsy
greeting from the Senior Partner, who alluded in a
most friendly manner to that historic occasion. But
were he not familiar with the story he would have
found difficulty in recognizing the present visitor as
the hero of such a day. For that w r as a deed requiring
to say nothing of courage quick decision, quick
action and that perfect confidence in physical strength
which we attribute to the trained athlete. These wide
awake qualities were not suggested in any degree by
the slow moving, sleepy eyed young man of slender
figure to whom Hurry seemed a stranger. This man
was a dreamer. But the Senior Partner had perhaps
forgotten that the brightest pages of human history
have been furnished by dreamers stirred to action.
Moreover, it was clearly evident that this young man
and Prosperity were not on friendly terms. And the
dark color beneath his eyes seemed to indicate loss of
sleep or nervous strain. Now the Senior Partner had
never been in love with Poverty. He had the same
sort of sympathy for it that Virtue has for Vice ; or
that Cleanliness has for Dirt. But he was determined,
on William s account, to treat his old friend with
proper consideration.
After a short conversation, retrospective and educa
tional, the visitor laid in the hand of the Senior Part
ner what appeared to be a large glass door-knob. It
was octagonal in shape with a convex top, and was
broken at the stem. The color was a pale, apple green.
The Senior Partner adjusted his glasses and politely
examined it, He examined it with the same tactful
"Incredible!" 193
consideration he would show to any well meaning per
son who believes his imitation pearl a priceless gem.
This case, however, was certainly unusual. The man
who could hand you a very large glass door knob and
ask your opinion on it, as an expert in gems, required
special treatment. And when the Senior Partner
studied the visitor s face for some outward indications
of the amazing credulity within, he searched in vain.
Instead of the eager eyes and parted lips of a touch-
and-go enthusiast hoping for sudden wealth, he en
countered a firm, though boyish mouth, and two calm,
dark, almost drowsy eyes that met his own with a
tranquil sanity, having no relation, apparently, to their
owner s misguided errand. However, the Senior Part
ner knew from experience that exteriors were decep
tive.
While hesitating for words that might reveal, in the
gentlest manner, the fact that the object was worthless,
his nephew spoke, and in a tone of eager curiosity.
"What is it, Uncle Fred? What can it be?"
"That s hard to say. It is rather large for a door
knob, or the stopper of any human decanter. It
might be the pendant of a chandelier."
"I mean what is it made of? What is the material?"
"You mean what kind of glass?"
"Yes, sir; if it if it is glass."
"Then you think it is not glass?"
"That s what we want to find out."
This uncle was not misled by his nephew s earnest
ness. He knew William, and he knew him to be a
194 Drowsy
ready believer in interesting things ; one who could pin
his faith on whatever he really wished to believe. And
the uncle had learned that this capacity, combined with
a lively imagination, became a perilous guide in mat
ters of business. However, he held the object higher,
between his eyes and the window.
"You think it might be rock crystal?" Then, turn
ing to the visitor, "What is your own opinion, Mr.
Alton?"
"Oh, I have no opinion ; only hopes."
"And what are your hopes ?"
Now Cyrus Alton had easily divined the Senior
Partner s thoughts. "Hope is so inexpensive," he an
swered, "that I have been indulging in the brightest
kind. But if I am flying too high I can easily come
to earth again. Is it nothing but glass, after all?"
"Oh, I don t say that."
But the Senior Partner still marveled that any edu
cated person should prove so gullible as to be deceived
by this object in his hand. He looked again, and more
carefully, at the visitor s face. This time the boyish
mouth seemed to indicate nothing but inexperience.
The heavy lidded eyes, however, calmly returned the
searching gaze, as if they themselves were searching;
yet in a sleepy way, it seemed to the Senior Partner.
And the Senior Partner was strengthened in his con
viction that a man with those eyes and with such a
mouth could believe almost anything. Yet he liked
the young man s face. His voice was pleasant, and
his manner of speech, while punctiliously polite and
"Incredible!" 195
considerate of others, indicated decision and self-
reliance.
"But, Uncle Fred," said William, "it is so heavy for
its size. And it s cold, like a diamond. And it has
that oily feeling on the polished face. It surely is
not an artificial stone."
"No, possibly not. But the color, this pale, apple
green, while an exquisite tint, is not usual in dia
monds."
"But the famous Dresden is that color, isn t it?"
"Yes, I believe so; but the famous Dresden is
smaller than a paving stone. This object, as you see,
if a natural stone, must have been nearly twice its
present dimensions before cutting. And even now it
is fully twice the size of any diamond of which we
have ever heard. You young gentlemen will admit
that it must be the house of an exceedingly prosperous
person where bulky door knobs were composed of
single diamonds."
Nephew \Yilliam frowned and drummed with his
fingers on the top of the desk.
"And I doubt," continued the Senior Partner with
his pleasant smile, "if there are many mines that yield
jewels the size of ostrich eggs."
Cyrus Alton s eyes, in a dreamy way, were fixed up
on the stone. "Couldn t this have come from some
other planet?"
"Possibly, as a meteorite. But precious stones have
not the habit of coming from that direction. How-
196 Drowsy
ever, nothing concerning astronomy can surprise us.
Might I ask where you found it, Mr. Alton?"
Mr. Alton hesitated. As he drew a hand across his
forehead the Senior Partner and his nephew noticed
a hole in the faded and shiny coat sleeve ; also that the
linen cuff with its frayed edges had no fastenings.
William s silent guess was correct. "The poor chap
has had to sell his cuff buttons."
"If you don t mind, sir, I would rather not answer
that question just at present."
"Certainly. Of course not! Excuse my asking."
"I am the one to apologize, sir. It is a most natural
question, and I will answer it later."
"Of course, Mr. Alton, you understand my asking
that question. The answer might give us light that
would solve the riddle. If, for instance, you found it
among broken fragments in a glass factory, we might
be prejudiced regarding its ancestry."
"No. It was many miles from any factory."
"On the other hand, if unearthed in a diamond mine,
or discovered on the forehead of a Hindoo god it s
claim to distinction would be more clearly defined."
"Yes, I suppose so. But I thought an expert might
judge the value of a stone without knowing its
history."
"Certainly, certainly. But sometimes a ray of light
on a doubtful subject facilitates a decision. If this
majestic door knob, fragment of a balustrade, pendant
to a chandelier, or whatever its original purpose if
this object is a diamond, Mr. Alton, it means a for-
"Incredible!" 197
tune to its owner. And I sincerely wish it were a
diamond."
"But you know it isn t?"
"I don t say that; but no lapidary would ever cut a
diamond as this is cut." Then, with a friendly smile
as he handed it back to its owner, "If William here,
or anybody else should offer you real money for
it "
"You advise me to take it."
The Senior Partner smiled and nodded. Cyrus
Alton rose. "I thank you sincerely, sir, for this in
terview and for your opinion on my bogus gem." The
Senior Partner also rose, and in shaking hands laid his
other hand on the visitor s shoulder. "It may console
you, Mr. Alton, to know that you are not the first
person nor the hundredth, for that matter to be
undeceived here in this office. The brightest hopes,
especially with would-be pearls and diamonds, often
vanish even more swiftly than they come."
While the smiling, leisurely mouth of Cyrus was
getting ready to reply, a door opened, and a man en
tered. It was a short, stout man with fierce black
eyebrows, black eyes and a heavy black beard, all in
striking contrast to the whitest and baldest of heads.
"Ah, Mr. Bressani !" exclaimed the Senior Partner.
"You are just the man!" After presenting Mr. Bres
sani to the visitor he said : "Give us the truth about
this stone. \Yhat is it?" And he took the stone from
Cyrus and handed it to the new arrival.
Now Mr, Bressani was more than an expert, His
198 Drowsy
instinct in the matter of gems was abnormal. It was
something more than instinct. It was a singular, in
nate sense; one of those unexplained faculties that en
ables its possessor to judge offhand, with certainty and
precision, where others must weigh and reason. In
important matters he was sought by jewelers. And
there was no recorded case in which he had been
deceived.
Now, as he held the doubtful object in his fat, white
fingers, he suspected from the smile on the face of the
Senior Partner that a joke was in the air. When he
saw what was in his hand apparently a piece of
greenish glass he raised his heavy black eyebrows,
and, with a sidelong glance, studied the faces of the
three men, one after another, to make sure they were
not laughing at him. Nephew William smiled but
shook his head. "No, we are serious. Tell us what
you think."
Still doubtful, Mr. Bressani held it nearer his eye,
turned it over in his large, baby fingers, moved it
slowly up and down, evidently guessing its weight, and
slowly passed a thumb over its surface. Then, as if
surprised, he stepped hastily to the window and held it
between his eyes and the light. Wheeling about, his
eyebrows darted up in surprise. These eyebrows, thick
and heavy, flew heavenward so swiftly and they
traveled so far that they seemed to pull upon his big
black eyes to twice their usual size and roundness.
These astonished orbs he rolled toward the three men
as if startled by a miracle. They proclaimed a be-
"r.l T WHO KVKR SAW SUCH A DIAMOND:" P.Jf/
"Incredible!" 199
wildering, overwhelming astonishment that his half-
open lips could not express.
"Why, it s a diamond!"
The Senior Partner rose and moved toward him.
"Are you sure?"
But Mr. Bressani did not reply. Lost in wonder,
apparently unconscious of his surroundings, he turned
the object over and over, in every light, and at every
angle. "Extraordinary!" he murmured. "Extraor
dinary! It doesn t seem possible."
"But are you sure?" repeated the Senior Partner.
"Absolutely."
"But who ever saw such a diamond?"
"Nobody! Nobody! It s incredible miraculous
inconceivable. There never was such a thing !"
"Just what I have been saying," from the Senior
Partner. "Nobody would ever cut a diamond in that
shape. And look at the size of it! And the color!"
"Yes, yes ! It s hard to believe !"
"But you do believe it?"
The bushy eyebrows went up, then down, with a
shrug of shoulders. "Believe it? I know it! What
do you think it is, glass?"
"Well er yes, to be honest. I didn t know what
else it could be. No human being ever saw a diamond
of those dimensions."
"We are seeing it now. But whose is it?"
"It belongs to Mr. Alton."
"I congratulate you, Mr. Alton. You possess the
most amazing diamond in history or fiction."
200 Drowsy
Cyrus bowed. "Then it is the largest you have ever
seen?"
Twice over. The famous Culinan stone, the
largest yet discovered, was about half this size."
"Let s weigh it," said William.
The expert placed it on the little scales that stood
on the top of the Senior Partner s desk. The three
men waited in silence for the verdict. After a close
scrutiny of the scales Mr. Bressani straightened up,
turned toward the three pairs of eyes all fixed in
tently on his own and exclaimed :
"Really it is hard to believe !"
"How much?" came, in the same breath, from the
Senior Partner and his nephew.
"Seventy-one hundred carats!"
The nephew laughed nervously. "Why there
never was such a diamond !"
The Senior Partner frowned. "Impossible !"
Mr. Bressani s hand trembled slightly, as he lifted
the stone from the scales and again held it to the light.
"Yes yes it does seem impossible !"
"But nobody ever saw such a diamond !" was again
announced by William.
"Never!" from Mr. Bressani.
"How much did the Culinan weigh?" William
asked.
"About three thousand and thirty carats in the
rough about a pound and three-quarters. It was
cut into three large stones and several smaller ones.
"Incredible!" 201
Two of these stones are the largest brilliants in ex
istence."
"But, are you sure, Bressani," said the Senior
Partner, "absolutely sure that it is a diamond?"
Mr. Bressani smiled, shrugged his shoulders, and
with a gesture of both hands, palms out, replied,
slowly :
"I am not a rich man, but whatever property I
possess, and whatever I can borrow up to a million
dollars I would gladly give to Mr. Alton if I might
own this stone."
Cyrus Alton s eyes opened wider. "A million
dollars?"
"Easily. You see, it will cut to four or five stones
of extraordinary size, and unless I am much mis
taken of perfect purity. Also, the color this lovely,
delicate, applegreen tint is almost unknown. The only
diamond of this color in the world, of any importance,
is the famous Dresden Green, one of the crown jewels
of Saxony."
"Is this much larger," inquired Cyrus, "than that
Dresden diamond?"
"Many times larger."
"And much larger than any of the famous dia
monds?"
"Yes, indeed ! Much, much, very much larger. No
comparison, in fact. Why, Mr. Alton, if this were
cut to one stone, half its present size as a rough
guess it would be over three thousand carats."
Nephew William gasped. "Three thousand carats!
202 Drowsy
Why, there s nothing like it! It would be the most
famous stone in the world !"
"No doubt about that," said Mr. Bressani.
"How much is the Great Mogul?" asked William.
"Less than two hundred carats."
"And the Koh-i-noor?"
"One hundred and eight."
"And the Star of the South?"
"About a hundred and twenty-seven carats."
"Did you ever see the Hope diamond?"
"Yes ; forty-five carats. Almost circular in shape ;
sold for eighteen thousand pounds. But it is believed
at least there is a story that it brings bad luck to
its owners."
"It is blue, isn t it?"
"Yes, blue, and a good color, but not so beautiful
nor so rare, as this shade of green. This is a wonder."
And as he spoke he turned the stone in every light.
"It s a marvelous thing. Marvelous! Almost unbe
lievable!"
"Can you tell me," said Cyrus, "about how much it
is worth?"
Mr. Bressani shrugged his shoulders : "Anything."
"You mean," said the Senior Partner, "it would be
impossible to guess, even approximately, at its value?"
"Yes. For you know the value of diamonds is
speculative depending on many conditions ; size,
shape, purity, color and how they cut. The Victoria
one hundred and eighty carats was sold for four
hundred thousand pounds. But diamonds were rarer
"Incredible!" 203
then. This, when properly cut into the right number
of stones, would bring more than three million dol
lars/
William, in his enthusiasm, slapped his friend on the
back. "Well, old man, you have struck it rich this
time."
The calm-eyed Cyrus smiled and nodded.
"Then this diamond of mine," he said, "would be
ten times bigger than the Koh-i-noor or any of those
other stones?"
"Yes, sir."
"Isn t there a famous Sanci diamond?"
"Oh, yes. But that weighed only fifty-three carats.
The Sanci diamond was famous more from its unusual
history than from its size."
"What was its history, Bressani?" said the Senior
Partner. "I never heard it."
"Well, it belonged to Charles the Bold, Duke of
Burgundy, who was wearing it in his hat at the battle
of Nancy, the day he was killed. A Swiss soldier
found it and sold it to a clergyman for a gulden ; about
forty cents. Then it came into possession of Anton,
King of Portugal, who sold it for 100,000 Francs.
Soon afterwards it became the property of a French
gentleman named Sanci. A descendant of this Sanci
was sent by Henry III as ambassador to Soluere and
the King required the diamond as a pledge. The ser
vant who was carrying it to the King was attacked by
robbers and murdered, but before dying he swallowed
the diamond. His master, knowing his devotion, had
2O4 Drowsy
the body opened and found the diamond in his stom
ach."
"And where is it now?" asked Cyrus.
"It was bought by a Russian nobleman in 1835, for
half a million rubles; about four hundred thousand
dollars."
"Jove!" exclaimed William. "Some difference in
price between forty cents and four hundred thousand
dollars!"
"And how much bigger," asked William, "is this
than the Sanci?"
"That weighed fifty-three carats. This, when cut,
would weigh about three thousand."
"Jove! Sixty times as much! Would it be worth
sixty times four hundred thousand dollars? That
would be about twenty-four million dollars."
Mr. Bressani smiled and shook his head. "Times
were different then and to-day there are more dia
monds."
"I suppose many of the famous jewels," said Wil
liam, "if they could speak, might tell us stories as sur
prising as the Sanci s."
Then Cyrus Alton, in a low voice, addressing no
body in particular, said : "It would be worth the price
of this diamond to know its history."
The Bressani eyebrows went up high up and
then far down. And beneath the frown the fierce eyes
looked eagerly toward the speaker. "Has it a remark
able history, Mr. Alton?"
Cyrus smiled, slowly and somewhat sadly, and
"Incredible!" 205
gently shook his head. "I wish I knew. I would
almost give the diamond s price to know its story-
much as I need the money."
"Do you know nothing of its history?"
"Nothing. I only know that if we could see what
that stone has seen we should enter a new field of
knowledge. It would throw light upon a world of un
known things, earlier than human history."
In silence the jewelers regarded the speaker, as if
waiting for some explanation of his words.
Mr. Bressani s eyebrows had shot up to the highest
attitude yet attained. In a low voice, but in a tone
that showed the liveliest curiosity, he asked, "Just
what do you mean, Mr. Alton?"
"I mean the story of this diamond s country would
be a story so overwhelming, so far beyond us, so com
plete and final in its stupendous tragedy that our own
human drama would seem a trifling comedy."
These words were spoken in a calm but earnest man
ner, and they impressed the listeners. A silence fol
lowed. Then Mr. Bressani asked: "What is this
diamond s country?"
Cyrus hesitated. He knew that if he told the truth
it would appear incredible to his hearers like a fairy
tale for children: that he would be regarded either as
a fool, to be pitied, or as a willful liar. While he hesi
tated the Senior Partner came to his rescue.
"Mr. Alton has already informed us that he has rea
sons for not telling where he found it."
Mr. Bressani s enthusiasm, however, and his curi-
206 Drowsy
osity were far too strong for accepting so easy a
defeat. "But what part of the world? He can tell us
that."
"As a matter of fact," said Cyrus, "I don t know,
myself, the name of that particular country."
Again the bushy Bressani eyebrows sailed aloft, then
dropped and beetled over the fierce black eyes. "You
don t know in what country you were when you found
it or bought it?"
"I am not sure that it has a name."
"A most unusual country !"
"Yes, it certainly is ; most unusual."
Nephew William laughed. "And it must be a long
way off, Cyrus."
"It is."
"And pretty small, if it has no name."
"No, not so small. But its name was long ago for
gotten. There are no survivors to remember it."
"But you can tell us," said Mr. Bressani, "whether
it is North of here, or East, or West, or South."
"Why er really, I couldn t tell you even that.
Nobody could."
"Perhaps it s beneath us, or above"; and in the
Senior Partner s tone was a suggestion of irony.
Cyrus ignored the tone and answered pleasantly : "I
am not trying to deceive, or to mislead you in any way,
but it really is a journey in which points of the com
pass are no guides whatever."
On the faces of the three jewelers came three invol
untary frowns.
"A MOST UNUSUAL COUNTRY!" Pace 200
"Incredible!" 207
"You are certainly having fun with us, Cyrus," said
William.
"No, not at all. But, you see, a compass would be
useless where there is no such thing as North and
South."
"No such thing as North and South!"
"No. Nor East and West. The needle would lose
its bearings. It wouldn t know where to point."
"Oh, come now! Is that a joke? Are we to laugh
at it?"
Cyrus smiled. "I should not blame you for laugh
ing but it is not a joke. I am telling the truth."
"You mean to say, I suppose, that you had such
bad weather electrical storms, perhaps, that the
needle couldn t work."
"No, there was no weather at all."
"You mean no bad weather?"
"Nor good weather, either."
With some impatience William demanded : "Now
just what do you mean, Cyrus?"
"I mean, that in going and coming, there was no
such thing as wind nor rain, nor sunshine. It was all
twilight a dusk that was almost darkness. It was a
trackless, uncharted voyage. And not a shore to touch
at."
"Then you crossed an ocean? It was all by sea?"
"No. There was no sea no water anywhere."
This time William made no effort to hide his annoy
ance. He merely whistled, and walked away, toward
the window.
208 Drowsy
"I don t blame you, Billy, for being enraged," and
Cyrus also stood up. "But on my honor, I am telling
you the truth. And I am willing to tell you anything
except the exact location. Later on you will under
stand my reasons for being so secretive."
"Perhaps you can tell us," said Mr. Bressani, "in
what surroundings you found it : whether under
ground or above."
"Above. Just lying on the ground."
"My own guess," said William, "from its being
already cut, is that some oriental chap either gave it
to you or sold it."
"No, I found it, entirely by accident among some
ruins."
Mr. BressanTs eyebrows again went up. "Ruins
of what?"
"Of an ancient building a very, very ancient
building."
"But covered with earth, I suppose, and overgrown
with vines."
"No. Not a trace of vegetation anywhere in sight."
"It must be a melancholy place."
"It is."
"But once a city?"
"I think so."
"The ruins of Palmyra !" exclaimed Mr. Bressani.
"They are now a sandy waste."
"No; many thousands of miles from Palmyra."
"Many thousands of miles! That means a long
distance,"
T ONL K A CITY?"--/ .
"OI.DKR THAN III MAN HISTORY" -F.it 209
"Incredible!" 209
"It is a long distance."
"Then it can t be any part of Asia, or even India?"
"No, sir."
"Africa, perhaps?"
"No."
"A South American diamond?"
"No."
As Mr. Bressani s ferocious, black eyebrows settled
down over his eyes the Senior Partner laughed. "This
reminds me of the game of twenty questions. And
you are surely the victor, Mr. Alton."
But Mr. Bressani was too much in earnest to think
of jokes or games. "You say these ruins are very
old?"
"Yes, sir."
"How old? Greek or Roman, perhaps?"
"Older than human history."
Again the three listeners frowned. With a shade
of sarcasm the Senior Partner addressed his nephew :
"Mr. Alton has a poet s fancy."
Cyrus understood, but his face showed no annoy
ance. Smilingly he said, "You will get more digesti
ble answers, perhaps, if you don t ask me where I
found it. The whole adventure is incredible. If I
told you the truth you would not believe me."
"Try us," said William.
The Senior Partner waved his hand in apology.
"Please don t think we doubt your word, Mr. Alton.
But when you say older than human history you are
speaking figuratively, as it were."
210 Drowsy
"No, sir. I am speaking literally. It is the belief
of scientists that millions of years have passed since
any changes have occurred in that in that terri
tory."
"Millions of years!"
"Yes, sir. It is somewhat a matter of geology.
And a geological period, you know, is still young at a
million years."
The Senior Partner nodded politely. "Yes very
true. But, as diamonds are found in so few places
perhaps you will tell us, just to gratify a natural curi
osity, what kind of a region you have discovered the
general nature of the country."
"The nature of the country?" Cyrus Alton repeated.
Then, lowering his eyes, as if better to recall the scene,
he hesitated for a moment. "The nature of the coun
try," he again repeated, and his manner became seri
ous. "No tree, nor bush, nor blade of grass is there ;
no living thing of any kind : no birds nor air to fly
in; not a drop of water. The surface of the earth
no, not earth for there is no earth is stone and
ashes. Tis a cinder the mummy of a world : an
unending necropolis. Once it was thickly populated.
Now it is the Land of Death, and deader than Death
itself. Not even a memory is there, for those who
might remember have been dead uncounted ages.
They themselves are long since forgotten."
On the faces of his little audience Cyrus saw a mild
bewilderment and curiosity.
"Incredible!" 211
"You say we have all heard of this country?" asked
the Senior Partner.
"Yes, and you have seen it from a distance."
"Are you sure," said William, "that we have all
seen it?"
"Yes, absolutely sure."
"And we have probably been there?"
"No I think not."
"Then, how could we see it? from a railway train
or from a steamship?"
Cyrus smiled. "Yes, you could see it that way
if you wished."
"But how do you know we have never been there?"
"I don t."
"You only think it."
"Yes, I only think it. You may have been there.
I am quite sure, however, that you have not."
"But why so sure, Cyrus?" You have been there
yourself."
"Yes."
"And what man has done man can do."
"Yes, sometimes, but not always, Billy. Only one
man has eaten, for instance, a certain huckleberry.
And, as a rule, only one man marries his own par
ticular girl. You, for instance, have seen the top of
Trinity spire, but you have never been there."
"You may as well say I have seen the moon, but
never been there."
Cyrus laughed, quite a hearty little laugh, as if
212 Drowsy
thoroughly amused. "Well I do say it. And it s true,
isn t it?"
"Yes, but it has no relation to the argument."
"Why not? I am merely proving my statement,
that you have seen interesting places which you have
never visited. Either Trinity spire or the moon might
hold this diamond."
"But Trinity spire does not fit your description of
the country."
Again Cyrus seemed amused. "But the moon fits
it."
William laughed. "Well, Cyrus, you are just the
same boy in an argument that you were at school.
And how mad I used to get ! But this mysterious land
that you are concealing so successfully, the land we
have all seen but never touched or even heard about,
apparently must be a God-forsaken district. Is it a
desert like Sahara, for instance?"
"No, quite different. This is rock, with plains of
lava from volcanic mountains and everywhere, in all
directions, dust and ashes : the dried bones of its own
past whatever it was. The whole surface of the
country seems upheaved and torn, all on a gigantic
scale, as if it was baked too much, then split and
sundered in the cooling. A fantastic, solemn region."
"Well, by Jove!" said William, at last, "I still main
tain that I have ne^er seen the place nor anything
like it."
"I said from a distance."
"Must have been a mighty long distance:
DRIIvl) HONKS OK ITS OWN PAST. \\HATKVKR IT WAS" />.f, .?/_>
"UL r \\IIY in ii. i) THIIR tmi:s is TH>SK SI/XI.KSS c
"Incredible!" 213
"It was."
"And a mighty unusual country!"
"It is. Scattered about are high mountains, once
volcanoes. And in the craters of these old volcanoes
some of them many miles across, I saw the ruins of
cities. There must be hundreds of these mountains,
and hundreds of ruined cities."
"Then you traveled over the whole country."
"No, indeed! But I looked down on it as I ap
proached, and could take in a vast area."
William straightened up, and his eyes opened wider.
"Oho! Then you went there in an air-ship!"
Cyrus nodded.
"That accounts for no water on the voyage, and
all that other stuff you gave us.
Again Cyrus nodded. And, with a broad smile of
amusement : "It might also account for Trinity spire
and the moon."
But his audience was too much in earnest to be
thwarted by jokes. "Yes, yes!" said Mr. Bressani.
"That explains much that you have said. Please con
tinue."
\Yilliam, however, with a frown, leaned back
against the desk. "Cyrus, I still believe you are lying
to us."
"No, truly I am not. I don t pretend to give you
the whole truth, but what I do tell you is the truth
and nothing else."
"Go on, Mr. Alton," said the Senior Partner. "We
interrupted you. It certainly is an amazing country."
214 Drowsy
Cyrus continued. "The whole country is cracked
and broken with chasms. From one volcano canons
radiate in all directions. They are miles in width, and
they seem bottomless. And even in these canons, on
projecting ledges, are the ruins of cities."
"But why should they build their cities in those
sunless chasms?"
"My belief is that the moisture evaporated, then the
surface of all that country became so unbearably hot
with no atmosphere as protection from the sun s
rays that the inhabitants were driven to the canons."
"What a life ! No wonder they all died !"
"That portion of the universe," said Cyrus, "is the
desolation of desolation, the tragedy of tragedies. It
is a world of ashes. And over everything an awful
silence, a silence that frightens you. The stillness of
death, compared to it, is a merry waltz."
"How did you happen to find this country?"
"I had heard of it. You all know about it in a
general way, as I have already said. But I tried to get
there and happened to succeed."
William shook his head. "Sorry to contradict you,
Cyrus, but I never heard of such a place."
Cyrus laughed. "Oh, yes, you have! Excuse me,
but you have all read about it, and seen many pictures
of it."
Mr. Bressani took up the diamond. As he caressed
the glistening marvel he asked : "Do other people
know of these ruins?"
"I think not,"
"AND OVKR KVKKY I Hl\(; AN AWKl I. SII.KNC K" P.ifr 214
A WORLD OK DUST AM) ASHKb" P.tfe 21
"Incredible!" 215
"You have never heard of any one els^ who has
been there?"
"Never."
"Is the district difficult to reach?"
"Very almost impossible. In fact the trip is so
long and risky that you need have no fear of other
explorers. I tell you this merely that you may know
the chances are small of the market being flooded with
diamonds at least from that quarter. Nobody else
will try it. You may be sure of that. The diamonds
are there, however, and plenty of them."
"Plenty of them !"
"Plenty by the cart-load."
William whistled. And the two older men whistled
in spirit and raised their eyebrows. With the
Bressani eyebrows still in the air their owner inquired :
"You say this was lying on the top of the ground?"
"Yes ; among other fragments."
"Fragments of w r hat?"
For a moment the visitor closed his eyes. "That is
hard to answer. I was there at dusk. The light was
peculiar, and uncertain and changing. I should say
there were fragments of cups and vases, of carved
capitals, scraps of metal that might be architectural
ornaments, all mingled with blocks of some white
material, perhaps marble, or alabaster. And all finely
carved."
"These things were scattered about the ground?"
"Scattered about, but not literally on the ground.
Many were lying on a pavement of different colored
216 Drowsy
stones he floor of a building I should say. The
outer walls and several columns were still standing."
"It might have been a palace, a temple, a forum,
almost anything of size and importance."
"You know nothing of the history of those people,
of their manners and customs?"
"Nothing, whatever."
"Where could I find out? That is, of course, if we
had your permission."
"Nowhere. Nobody knows. It is all forgotten
long ago forgotten with no records, no memories
not even a tradition."
There was a silence. Cyrus knew that his hearers
were having more or less difficulty in digesting his
statements. However, he smiled pleasantly, as he
said : "My sympathies are with you, gentlemen, and
my thanks for your courteous reception of my absurd
story. But there is one thing I do know about these
people. Although their buildings were often as high
as ours, I know their legs were shorter. All their
stone steps, in every case, had risers about half the size
of ours."
"Ah! Then they were a race of pigmies."
"I should think so, and with long arms and very
short legs. They were evidently strong on sculpture,
as there are fragments of statues, heads, bas reliefs,
monuments, etc., all scattered about. And the people
represented are very much like ourselves, in some
ways."
"THK DIAMONDS ARK. THKRK. AND PI.KN 1 Y OKTMI M" T.iff JI
"WITH I.OXC; ARMS AM) VKRV SHORT I.KGS" -P.,gr 21t>
"Incredible!" 217
"You say you were there at dusk. Why didn t you
see it by day light?"
"Well, the er climate is peculiar. The air, if
you can call it air, is so very rarefied as to be no pro
tection whatever against the heat of the sun. And the
surface of the ground, by daylight, would burn your
feet. And by night, there being no atmosphere twixt
you and space, the temperature is about 300 degrees
below zero."
"Three hundred degrees !"
Cyrus smiled and nodded. "That s what the scien
tists say. I had no thermometer with me."
"But no human being could live in such a tem
perature !"
"That is why I stuck to the twilight. And I suspect
that is why the cities were built in the canons."
"Why, of course! That explains it. I was won
dering what on earth could induce anybody to want
to live in those God-forsaken chasms."
Mr. Bressani, however, had a deeper interest in
abnormal gems than in climatic conditions. "Did you
find this piece all alone, by itself, apart from others?"
"No; other pieces were near it."
"But not so large as this."
"Oh, yes! Some were much larger."
Mr. Bressani frowned. "Larger than this?"
"Yes, much larger."
"But not diamonds not this same material?"
"I suppose they were. They looked just like it."
218 Drowsy
"Then why didn t you bring a larger piece? It
would be a fabulous fortune, in itself."
Cyrus seemed uncertain as to his answer. "Well-
there were many reasons. One was that I did not
know they were diamonds. Another was that I needed
both hands for other purposes and could not carry
just at that moment anything too large to go in my
pocket. In fact I tried to pick up a beautifully carved
fragment nearly the size of a foot-ball, but I had to
drop it for this smaller one."
The three jewelers regarded him with eager faces,
as children listen to a fairy tale. Mr. Bressani in a
low, somewhat awe stricken tone, said :
"And there is really much of it?"
"Lots of it."
"But, of course, you are not absolutely sure it is
the same material?"
"Well I saw the other part of the one in your hand
lying beside it, and it was four or five times the size
of this one."
The three men turned to each other, as if to dis
cover the effect, on other human beings, of such a
statement.
The Senior Partner leaned forward, each hand
grasping an arm of his chair. The Bressani eye
brows shot aloft, and he came a step nearer. Nephew
William adjusted his lips for a whistle, but changed
his mind. No sound came forth.
It was the Senior Partner who was the first to find
himself, and return to business. Leaning back in his
"Incredible!" 219
chair he cleared his throat. "Mr. Alton, if you were
not an old friend of William s, and if I knew nothing
about you, I should say that Munchausen, by compari
son, was a clumsy beginner. But your own reputa
tion and that stone in Mr. Bressani s hand, are proofs
to the contrary the best of proofs. Now let us get
to business. Is it your wish to sell this diamond to
us?"
"Yes, sir. That s why I came here. And I would
prefer dealing with your house, if you care to bother
with it."
The Senior Partner smiled. "It would be an un
enterprising jeweler who declined to bother with what
will soon become the most famous diamond of history
ancient or modern. If agreeable to you, Mr. Alton,
you can leave the stone with us, and we will give you,
now, a receipt for an uncut diamond of seventy-one
hundred carats, value unknown. A few days hence,
at your convenience, we will submit for your con
sideration a plan by which you shall receive a certain
amount at once in cash, the balance to be governed by
the final value of the stones as they are cut or sold.
Would that be satisfactory to you?"
"Perfectly."
"And perhaps you will agree to give us the prefer-
ance if you decide later to flood the market with
diamonds the size of paving stones."
Cyrus smiled. "Yes, sir, I shall be glad to do so."
A few moments later, the receipt in his pocket,
Cyrus left the private office, escorted by William. At
22O Drowsy
the street door, as the young jeweler, at parting, shook
hands with his friend, he said : "And, by the way,
old man, when you can divulge the awful secret of
where you found it don t waste a second in telling us.
"If there is a humorous side to this morning s inter
view, Billy, it is in the name of that very place."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I mentioned the name, and more than
once."
"Stuff!"
"On my honor."
"What was it?"
"Oh, that s too easy! Good-by."
And he left William standing in the doorway,
still guessing.
Alone together, the unparalleled, incredible wonder
on the desk before them, the Senior Partner and Mr.
Bressani remained silent for a time, as if recovering
from a dream. For the twentieth time that morning,
Mr. Bressani murmured: "It seems impossible!"
Then, after another silence : "But where did he get
it? Has he been to the very center of the earth?"
"Or," said the Senior Partner, with a shrug, "to
the mountains of the moon."
XIII
A MESSAGE
TO be lifted, suddenly, from poverty to wealth,
is delightful. Especially delightful when pre
ceded by a preliminary course of self-denial.
For Cyrus and his father there \vas now an end, at
last, to the orthodox but discordant partnership be
tween Pride and Want.
Vaulting ambition has its uses. So have rags and
hunger. And there are times, as in the case of Cyrus,
when they pull together. But now had come the
harvest. And the prosperity was real : the checks
from the Senior Partner were not a dream.
"Xc> more cheap food and shiny clothes for us,"
said Cyrus to his father. "Me for gluttony; canvas
backs three times a day; Burgundy and dollar cigars.
And brand new raiment every morning!"
Dr. Alton nodded. "Yes, that s a good program.
221
222 Drowsy
A change, even from bad to worse, is often beneficial.
Had you been brought up on canvas backs and Bur
gundy, you might have yearned for water and dried
apples."
One of the first things Cyrus did was to visit Mrs.
Eagan. The great desire of her life had been to revisit
Ireland, but she never could save enough money. She
had tried in vain to sell her little cottage with its two
acres of land. Now came a purchaser. For the acre
farthest from the house, for which there never had
been a bid, Cyrus paid her three thousand dollars.
And the happy Mrs. Eagan went to Ireland. He did
other things, equally unbusinesslike. Some for his old
friends; some for the town itself.
As for the Great Discovery both Cyrus and his
father \vere of one opinion that it never must be
made public: that the secret must die. One of many
reasons was, that with such a power in irresponsible
hands no man s property, and no man himself, would
be secure. What safety for a law abiding citizen
when any criminal could purchase for a few dollars
and carry in his hand, or pocket, a weapon of un
limited energy and force? The burglar or the high
wayman could either escape at will or send his victim
into farthest space.
He had various kinds of fun with his money. But
he was no fool with it. lie had been too intimate with
debt, half-rations and shabby raiment to renew, volun
tarily, the old acquaintance. But the greatest satis
faction of all was the prospect of bringing a long
A Message 223
deferred pleasure to his father. Dr. Alton had spoken
in years gone by of a trip to Europe. And now he
could have it. Moreover, this trip abroad, according
to Cyrus, was to be such a new departure in activity
and leisure, in wisdom and extravagance, as to startle
Europe.
"We ll make Croesus look like thirty cents and
Lucullus a skinflint."
But Fate, brainless Fate, whose rewards and punish
ments seem random shots, stepped in between. And
the blow that came to Cyrus was the hardest in his
life.
To the people of Longfields there was mystery in
certain periods of Dr. Alton s past. Those seven
years abroad were secret history. The little son and
his unknown mother had invited explanation. But
explanations were not offered. Moreover, it was soon
realized by his neighbors that Dr. Alton s private
affairs were his own, and were not for publication.
But people had surely a right to wonder why a physi
cian with his exceptional education and opportunities
should give so little thought to distinction in larger
fields and prefer obscurity in a forgotten little village.
Miss Anita Clement and some other women believed
that this hamdsome young doctor had been the victim
of a blighting passion; that his heart, if not broken,
had received a wound that never healed. But all that
was speculative.
Of some things, however, they were sure. One was
that his gentle manner, his never failing help and kind-
224 Drowsy
ness to poor and prosperous alike, had resulted in a
sincere affection for him, not only in Longfields itself
but in the neighboring villages. To every member
of the little community in which he lived and worked
for nearly thirty years his death was a personal loss.
To Cyrus, this sudden, unexpected ending was a
blow that stunned. Many days were to pass before
he fully realized how irreparable was his loss. That
his father s death should come when it did made sor
row doubly keen. Of what good this sudden wealth
when his best friend, after these years of economy and
self sacrifice, was not here to enjoy it? And that trip
abroad together only a month away!
Cyrus had this consolation, however, that the end
was free from suffering.
An hour before his death in a sunny November
afternoon his father was reclining comfortably in
his easy chair when he told Cyrus where to find a
package of letters in the further corner of a certain
drawer in his desk. Cyrus brought them. Then he
sat by his father s side and, as the letters, after being
read, were handed him, one by one, he dropped them
into the fire. Some were limp and worn from many
readings. With them was a photograph of a woman s
face. After a moment s hesitation Dr. Alton handed
it to his - son.
"That s your mother, Cyrus."
With unspeakable emotion the son gazed upon this
face. Her eyes looked straight into his own. They
were deep, dark, tragic yet smiling. It seemed to
A Message 225
Cyrus that he had always known this face and loved
it. He gazed in silence, overcome by feelings quite
different from anything he had heretofore experienced.
His father s voice recalled him to himself. The voice
was becoming weaker.
"Destroy this picture, Cyrus. If you ever meet her
keep your knowledge to yourself. Let her be the first
to greet you."
So low was his voice that Cyrus bent forward to
get his words.
"Remember, always remember, she is a good
woman."
Dr. Alton leaned back and closed his eyes.
A faint smile came to his lips. He whispered a
name
"Francesca."
His thoughts wandered. In spirit he was far
from Longfields. Below him gleamed the Adriatic,
azure blue. The breath of spring came gently to his
cheeks. Before him, and very near, is a woman s face,
radiant with beauty and with love, and with unfailing
devotion. Her eyes looking deep into his own, search
ing his innermost thoughts. There are none to hide,
for all are hers.
The smile still upon his lips he murmured in French
his voice fainter with each succeeding word a
message.
And the last word, "Francesca," was scarcely a
breath.
Cyrus knew that another spirit had joined the count-
226 Drowsy
less host : that into these final words a faithful lover
had breathed his soul.
At that sunny hour of the afternoon, in Longfields,
night had fallen in the city of Milan. The great opera
house was crowded. To lovers of music the farewell
appearance of the Diva was a memorable occasion.
It was also cause for surprise, but physicians had given
warning of a certain weakness about the heart. Be
sides, it may have been that after thirty years of
triumph though apparently as young as ever there
had come a surfeit of glory; a yearning for the tran
quil life; for days and nights of less effort and less
excitement.
So, still beautiful, erect as ever, and looking to per
fection the heroine, with the fresh, full voice of girl
hood that charmed the world, she was singing to-night
before an audience, or rather, a host of friends, that
filled the great building from the floor to the topmost
seats. Both the glorious voice and the Diva herself
seemed unchanged. To-night she was still the envy of
other singers. And to-night, as usual, she thrilled an
enchanted audience.
Near the end of the second act came a surprise.
Then it was that the great singer seemed conquered by
some strange emotion some mysterious agency that
hushed her voice and enslaved her spirit. And to that
audience it always remained a mystery.
Softly, from the orchestra, rose the accompaniment
3ut the Diva was far away. She heard nothing save the thing
unheard by others.
A Message 227
to the aria the divine aria flooding the house with
its melody. The Diva, with lips parting for the open
ing notes, was moving slowly toward the front of the
stage. Then, instead of the voice for which the hun
dreds of eager listeners were waiting, they saw her
stop, and stand in silence. With eyes closed, and face
upturned, transfigured as angels faces are transfig
ured she stood, unconscious of the world about her.
Vainly the audience waited. Vainly the conductor
waved his baton, as his orchestra, with every bar, was
leaving the Diva still further behind.
But the Diva was far away. She heard him not.
She heard nothing save the thing unheard by others.
The orchestra and its leader, the opera house and the
people in it, all had vanished all had vanished as com
pletely from her thoughts as from her sight. The very
music itself helped the spirit s flight to bear it aloft,
to transport her far oh far indeed ! from where she
stood.
As a dying zephyr mingles with the fragrance of
the flowers, so with the harmony of the music came,
from over seas, a lover s message. Her name Fran-
cesca interwoven with the melody, came gently to
her senses. She knew from whom. And she alone
knew what memories it revived, crowding upon her
through the music; precious memories of the only
passion of her life; of the one being to whom she
had given her heart, her self, her very soul and for
all time. Now, once again, they were meeting. It
came, the message, not in words merely the breath
228 Drowsy
of a dying lover. It brought this truth, that all joy
of living had ended at their parting nearly thirty
years ago. Not a moment in those years had his devo
tion wavered, a devotion greater and more real than
all else in life, beyond and far above the reach of
death. Now, on the borders of that other world where
loyal hearts shall know no parting there she would
find him waiting. Again her name Francesca fad
ing away into the melody of the aria.
The Diva lowered her face, pressed a hand against
her temples and swayed as if to fall. But her recov
ery was sudden. She smiled toward the sea of anxious
faces and nodded to the conductor, who started his
orchestra afresh. Then she sang the aria as never
before.
XIV
OVER SEAS
THERE was music in Cyrus. As a boy, how
ever, he could never get it out. With no voice
for singing his main relief was in whistling and
humming and in drumming with his fingers. Which,
of course, made him more or less of a nuisance at
times. When he grew up his voice improved. Not
enough to outshine the nightingales, but it served for
domestic purposes. At church, for instance, he joined
the congregation in the hymns. His voice, in speak
ing, was low, with a pleasant quality, and was more
than satisfactory for ordinary human intercourse. But
as a musical instrument it aroused no enthusiasm.
His father had said, on one occasion : "The louder
you sing, Cyrus, the less noise you make."
But music had always moved him, and in a singular
way; much as many others are affected, perhaps, but
229
230 Drowsy
more profoundly. It touched strange chords, deep
within him. It inspired him, and seemed to bring a
keener edge to his capacity for pain or pleasure ; lifting
him, at times, far away from himself, to a world where
other people are not too real ; where beauty and virtue,
power, glory and justice are at one s own command.
Music brought these things to Cyrus also other
things for which a young man s soul is thirsting.
One evening in May there was a service in the
church in which the congregation Cyrus included
had joined in the singing. After the service he walked
home alone. As he entered his own grounds the music
of the last hymn echoed in his brain. Still humming
it, he stopped and looked up at the stars. The solemn
stillness of the night brought memories of his father.
And as he stood there, gazing at the stars, he felt
in the night air itself an unfamiliar element; some
thing that awakened within him emotions unrelated to
his outward senses. There was no moon, but from
countless stars came flickering beams faint greetings
from other worlds. He seemed alone in the Great
Silence alone in the universe itself ; in closer com
munion with hidden things. From out the darkness,
mingling with the silence, yet almost silence itself,
there came to him a breath a murmur. It was not
the evening breeze among the branches of the maples.
It was the gentlest music, but not the echoes in his
brain of the evening hymn. No it came from far
away. It seemed personal directed to himself. For
a time he stood without moving, every faculty alert.
Over Seas 231
Not with his ears did he listen, but with a deeper sense,
as of one spirit striving for communion with another.
At last the music, the voice, the indefinable melody
died away, gently, into the silence of the night.
Patiently he waited. Then, after a time, when
nothing came, he opened his eyes and lowered his
face. In the continued silence about him he began to
suspect that his own brain might have been deceiving
him ; that the message was from his own imagination.
And was it a message? It had told him nothing. So
far as he could divine it was a call a prayer, but
clearly to himself. Still wondering, he entered the
house, did his customary little chores, then went up
stairs to bed.
For a time he lay awake, thinking, but once asleep
his sleep was sound. From this sleep, however, he
was awakened by what seemed a whispered voice
within the room. He sat up in his bed, and spoke .
"Who is it?"
Then came as before, when he was standing be
neath the stars the almost inaudible, far-away echo
of a song. He listened, with every sense alert. And,
as before, it seemed addressed distinctly to himself
an appeal to come. But where? So real was the en
treaty that he obeyed an impulse, arose from his bed
and prepared to dress. As he stood at his eastern
window a few moments later, he heard again or
thought he heard the alluring voice.
A faint, cool light at the horizon was creeping
slowly upward, along the edges of the earth.
232 Drowsy
Yes, it came from off there. And he would follow
it. Why not? His father was gone. What held him
in Longfields or anywhere else? Moreover, he had
power to travel as was not given to other men. Be
sides, it pleased him to believe in this need for himself,
this call to danger, death or sacrifice or whatever
it might be. To him it had become a prayer from one
soul to another. And he felt that he and the other
soul were not strangers.
So, an hour later, Cyrus in his machine rose high
above the earth and steered his course toward the
spreading light in the East. Now it was a warmer tint,
and growing rosier as it spread.
Guided only by the rising sun and by some subtle
sense which he did not pretend to define, he sailed or
darted over the waste of water between Cape Cod
and Portugal. Far below him, on this deep blue ocean,
specks \vere moving. Some were white; others darker,
shedding smoke. But all moved so slowly, compared
with himself, that they seemed at anchor. For, with
him, any speed was possible and unfailing.
This was his first trip by daylight across the
Atlantic. When out of sight of land, with the level,
dark blue line of the horizon on every side, he began
to have the same sensation as when flying through
space; a sensation of aimless wandering. Also, there
being no land marks, nothing by which to measure
progress, he found his only way of gauging speed was
by the amount of electric power he applied to his
machine. He had, of course, the sun to go by : and
Over Seas 233
he knew the difference in time between Boston and
Lisbon was about four hours. Six hours he had al
lowed for reaching Europe but he was startled by the
rapidity with which the morning sun was sliding west
ward across the heavens. It helped him to guess at
his velocity when he found the morning sun had be
come, somewhat suddenly, an afternoon sun, and was
well behind him. Across the ocean he shot his
machine, more like a cannon ball than a passenger
craft. Over the first piece of land which must be
Spain he hovered a few minutes for a hasty lunch;
also for a supply of fresh air. His oxygen cylinder
was so large and with such enormous pressure to the
square foot that with the attendant apparatus for sup
plying breathable air it could keep him alive for several
days. But now he took good long breaths of the outer
air as a matter of both economy and luxury.
Then along the Northern end of the Mediterranean,
still guided by Faith alone for the spot whence came
the summons.
Now Cyrus, in his knowledge of geography, was
about like the rest of us. He had learned it, but
details were not fresh in his mind. The two great
islands off to his right he guessed were Corsica and
Sardina. Over Northern Italy he sped, where local
showers were hiding, for a time, the land beneath.
One city on the western coast, with its countless
canals, was unmistakably Venice. On he sped across
the upper end of the Adriatic the narrow part. Here,
as he approached the eastern shore, guidance forsook
234 Drowsy
him. He slowed his machine, then stopped. Thus far
his intuition, whether right or wrong, had led him
without wavering. Now, and suddenly, all guidance
ceased his intuition vanished. A sudden need, he felt,
for knowledge he did not possess. A sense of help
lessness came upon him, intensified, perhaps, by the
reaction from his previous confidence. In fear of
straying from his course he decided to alight. If
fortune favored him the voice might come again, and
he could start afresh. So he descended, slowly, toward
the summit of a towering hill whose western sides
were steep and thickly wooded.
He landed in a cypress grove, beside a garden.
XV
A GARDEN OF WONDERS
WHEN Cyrus stepped out of his machine he
stood for a moment unsteady on his legs ; a
usual condition in a sudden change of air
after hours of bewildering speed.
So far as he could judge he was in the grounds of
an institution of some kind a monastery, a college,
a convent, or possibly a summer palace. Along the
side of the garden overlooking the sea, which lay far
below, ran a wall. On this wall at regular spaces
stood statues of ecclesiastical persons, presumably
Saints. They stood back to the sea, facing the garden.
In the garden a fountain played. Off beyond the
garden he saw long, white buildings, and a chapel.
But what most impressed him was the beauty of a line
of cloisters, their many arches of white marble, soft-
235
236 Drowsy
ened by age, now all aglow in the light of the western
sun. But his wandering, enchanted eyes fell upon
another sight, different in character, yet fully as inter
esting. But in a different way. So interesting that he
forgot, for a moment, the garden, the fountain, the
cloisters and the Saints. The sight that gently stirred
him was the figure of a girl; a graceful figure that
seemed a fitting climax to this garden in fairy land.
She was leaning against the parapet, her face toward
the sun, now sinking in the \Yest. She seemed in deep
est meditation. Her dress, a light gray, with white
bands at the neck and shoulders, suggested a religious
order. So he decided that his guess at having landed
in a convent might be correct. He was not familiar
with convents. The inmates, so far as he knew, might
be a mingling of religious fanatics and female crimi
nals partially reformed. He felt sure, however, up to
the present moment, that they were wide and square in
build, plain of face and haters of men. Hence his
surprise at the alluring, girlish figure now before him.
Perhaps this one was in here by mistake. Or, she
might be some lovely victim of disappointed love.
May be a human angel brutally treated by cruel rela
tives. Perhaps a marriageable princess escaping a dis
tasteful alliance. But these were merely guesses. She
was standing not far away, and was partly hidden
from the convent buildings by the trunks of the ancient
cypresses.
Cyrus approached this damsel. He saw that she
was short, and slight of figure, distinctly petite, and
A Garden of Wonders 237
so absorbed in her own thoughts that she failed to
hear his footsteps on the gravel walk.
He coughed. It seemed a safe if not original man
ner of announcing his presence. The girl turned and
faced him. She was startled ; and a hand went swiftly
to her lips as if to suppress an exclamation. A short
moment they stood regarding each other, a dozen
feet apart, the light full in the face of the intruder,
while the girl s was partly in shadow. For the descend
ing sun was almost directly behind her. So earnestly
she studied him that he became embarrassed. Her
own surprise was so great that her lips parted, then
closed again, as if her voice were lost in astonishment.
She took a backward step and laid a hand on the
parapet as if for support. As for Cyrus, this little
person was easily the most entrancing vision of his
experience. Slight, erect, with a dainty head and
glorious eyes, she seemed a perfect and harmonious
clement with the radiant splendors in the West. Such
eyes he had not beheld since he lived beneath the spell
of the celestial windows of Ruth Hey wood s soul.
These present eyes, now opened wide in wonder, were
trying to grapple with his presence, as with some
visitors from another planet.
Cyrus bowed ; his very best, most elaborate and
ceremonious inclination. And Cyrus s bows were
works of art.
Had he been attired in court costume, and swept
the earth with a chapeau of ostrich plumes instead of
a checkered golf cap, he would have eclipsed the Grand
238 Drowsy
Monarque in his own field. It was, of course, the
same old salutation that had startled Longfields years
ago.
Then he advanced a step. "Do you happen to speak
English, madam?"
The girl hesitated a moment, then nodded.
Cyrus, delighted at the unexpected answer, took
another step nearer perhaps two or three. Joy was
written in his face. His manner became, uncon
sciously, almost familiar.
"How fortunate! I am a stranger here. Can you
tell me what place this is?"
As he moved nearer the parapet the girl had turned
toward him until her face was more in the sunlight.
In his own face admiration was clearly written. The
girl lowered her eyes. But she made no answer.
He spoke again. "This certainly is not a hospital,
is it?"
She moved her head, gently, in the negative.
"Is it the palace, or villa, of some King, or Prince
or Duke or something?"
Again the silent answer in the negative.
A chilling thought came to the traveler. Could this
be a deaf and dumb asylum?
Now Cyrus had been "going on his nerves" for
some hours and they might be more sensitive than
usual. The last distressful thought showed plainly in
his face. His heart began to bleed for this afflicted
angel. And so pretty ! So superlatively charming and
desirable! As she raised the wondrous eyes and again
A Garden of Wonders 239
regarded him his one ambition, at the moment, was to
avoid appearing too imbecile and clownish. And lo,
he was both! Never had he felt so helpless. If he
knew at least the sign language there might be hope
for progress. Even in that field of expression all he
could recall were the doings in the pantomimes : to
shut the eyes and incline your head upon your hand
for sleep ; to wabble your jaw for terror, and to lick
your lips and rub your stomach with a rotary motion
when you wanted food. But this was no moment for
comic things, when his own heart and the very air
he breathed were all a quiver with high adventure,
with Beauty and Romance. So he stood before her
in a painful, and it seemed to him a foolish silence.
He looked down, then away, then at her, and as his
drowsy eyes rested on her face he thought he detected
an effort to suppress a smile. This doubled his em
barrassment. He tried vainly to discover in what
manner his question was mirth provoking. However,
he made a brave effort to assert himself to appear as
if nobody cared. So he smiled, and straightened up a
little.
"If you speak English won t you please say some
thing? Just tell me what kind of a place this is?
Where I am?"
"Non entra no signori in questo giardino."
Cyrus knew those words were Italian, and that was
all. He frowned in his endeavor to guess their
meaning.
240 Drowsy
"I am sorry, but I don t understand. Won t you
please say that in English?"
"I said you were in a place where men are not
allowed."
In pronouncing English words it seemed another
voice. And he had heard it before! His drowsy eyes
opened wider, his lips parted, and for a moment lie
stared, in wonder, as if belief came hard. Was it the
voice he had heard in the darkness in the motor, that
night? As he stood in dumb surprise, hoping for the
best, the girl stepped forward with a smile and ex
tended a hand.
"Ruth!" he exclaimed. "Oh, Ruth! Really, is it
you?"
It was. And great joy was in the meeting. They
told each other many things. He learned that after
the death of her parents she had found a refuge here,
in this convent, through the influence of a friend.
And he, in turn, told of his father s sudden death, of
his own doings, of the Great Discovery. But he made
no mention of his present affluence. He could foresee
her sorrow and her sympathy for a man, otherwise
normal, who told of gathering diamonds on the moon.
Leaning against the parapet, and facing the golden
sky across the water, they talked, forgetful of sur
roundings. So engrossing was this talk of other days
that they lived again in Longfields.
From this Fairy Land of childhood Ruth was the
tP return to earth, "You, must go, Drowsy."
A Garden of Wonders 241
And she turned an anxious look toward the buildings
beyond the garden.
"Oh, don t say that! Why, Ruth, this is the happi
est moment of my life a thousand times the happiest.
Life has really begun again!"
That is very polite of you, but "
"Polite! Well, I should say! Why, Ruth, your
very presence just to look at you and hear your
voice is a is a breath of heaven. You are the
loveliest thing I have ever seen. I can t express it!"
She laughed. "You are doing fairly well."
"Of course, you know it already, but truly, with no
exaggeration, as you stand there now with that west
ern sun for a side light you are the daintiest thing in
Creation. And the same spell-binding eyes ! Well,
I knew that night in the dark that you were not a
giantess and that was about all."
She raised a hand for silence. "That will do,
Drowsy. You have covered the ground."
But Cyrus went on. "And so angelic and pleasantly
superior! Why, you are a temptation to any able-
bodied lover to pick you up and run or fly away
with you."
She blushed, frowned and laughed, all at the same
time. "That will do ! Now I know exactly what
I am and just how childish a man can be. I believe
you are lighter headed than when you were a boy."
"I am telling the truth."
"Telling the truth ! Then you have changed, indeed,
for that was not your habit." In sudden alarm she
242 Drowsy
straightened up. "Oh, but you mustn t be seen here,
Drowsy! You must go at once!"
"Not now? Not this very minute?"
"Yes, this very minute. Men are not allowed here,
under any circumstances. If I were found talking
with you it would mean oh, anything!"
"\Yhat does it matter? You are not going to stay
here."
"Stay here? Of course I am!"
"But not long?"
"So long as I live."
"You don t mean that!"
"Why not? I expect to live and die here. We are
all very happy and very thankful."
"You don t mean that you are not coming back to
to Longfields to me? You don t really mean what
you say? That you are going to stay here forever?
"Certainly. Of course. Why not?"
"Then you have changed your mind since this morn
ing since yesterday."
She looked up into Cyrus s face, puzzled, and dis
turbed. "Changed my mind? What do you mean?
I really don t understand."
"Are you pretending that you don t know why I
am here?"
"Pretending!"
"Any other word that you prefer. Only tell me."
"Tell you what?"
"Do you mean to say that you don t know why I
am here?"
A Garden of Wonders 243
"You came to see me, I suppose."
"And you had no idea I was coming?"
"Not the slightest. How could I? I never was
more surprised. But it s a most welcome surprise."
Cyrus closed his eyes and drew a long breath as
one who makes an effort at self control. "I ask just
one thing, Ruth. Be honest with me."
"Be honest! Why, Cyrus, what do you mean?
Indeed I can only guess at what s in your mind. You
look as if you were angry. You have no right to be.
Aren t you assuming "
"Oh, don t! Don t do that! At least be frank.
Why did you call me across the water? Just for the
pleasure of doing this?"
v Call you? Across the water?"
There was touch of contempt in Cyrus s manner as
he replied: "You don t even know what I mean?"
"On my honor I do not !"
"And you accuse me of not being truthful!"
"Drowsy, listen. This may be our last meeting.
Let us not part in this spirit through any misunder
standing. Our friendship is too precious for that,
isn t it? I beg you, tell me what you mean by my
calling you. When? How? Do you mean a letter ?"
"I mean the message I received last night, and
again early this morning. Through the air by wire
less as it were in the old way, years ago, that I often
got your messages."
"But I have sent you no message."
244 Drowsy
"Didn t you even think of me yesterday or this
morning?"
"No, I did not. I have thought of you often, and
of our old childhood attachment, hut not yesterday
nor this morning, nor for several days."
"Perhaps you remember," said Cyrus, speaking
slowly, the slumbrous eyes looking earnestly down into
Ruth s, "I used to get messages from you when we
were far apart, even from your house to mine."
"Indeed I do ! And it was most mysterious almost
uncanny."
"And they never deceived us?"
"No, never; as I remember them."
"Well, it was the same sort of message I received
last night. It came to me twice, and the meaning of
the message was as clear as any spoken word. And
to this spot it guided me."
He turned and looked about the grounds, beyond
the trees and garden, toward the cloisters and the
chapel. "Who but you could call me here?"
Ruth, also, looked toward the convent buildings.
"Is it not possible your own brain may have played
you a trick? Such things happen, you know."
"My brain has not played such tricks. So far it has
never deceived me. To be honest I was not thinking
of you at the time. Father s death had been almost
my only thought for weeks."
"What more can I say, Drowsy? I am telling you
the truth. And after all why should I call you? If
A Garden of Wonders 245
you are the faithful soul you pretend to be, why didn t
you write me months ago?"
"How could I? I never had your address. And
you promised or almost promised to let me have it.
I waited, and waited, hoping for it wondering in
what way it was to come."
She frowned : then, with a solemn movement of the
head :
"You did have it."
"I did have it! How on earth could I get it?"
"From Gertrude Page. I told her to mention a
letter from me. Then, if you asked for my address,
she would give it to you. But you didn t ask."
Vehemently he protested. "On my honor, Ruth,
this is the first I have heard of it. She never spoke
of any letter. And why should she, poor thing I
For nearly a year she has been in the asylum at
Worcester."
"You mean her her mind is affected?"
"Yes; sort of a nervous breakdown. And her
memory gone."
"Oh, how dreadful!"
In the silence that followed, Ruth found the drowsy
eyes looking deep into her own, as if reading her
innermost thoughts. She recalled the singular power
he had exercised as a boy of seeing into other peo
ple s minds, apparently without effort, and answering
questions before they were asked. At this present
moment she had reasons for keeping her own thoughts
to herself. She avoided his gaze, and looked away,
246 Drowsy
over the water, toward the west. Too late, it seemed,
for he said, quietly :
"It would have been fairer to me if you had sent
it."
"Sent what?"
"The second letter, the one you wrote to somebody
else."
Ruth s little figure stiffened. Color flew to her
cheeks, and there were signs of anger as she faced
him.
"How do you know I wrote a second letter?"
Taken aback by this sudden change of manner, he
hesitated, then he smiled, but with an obvious effort.
And the smile was not of mirth. It was a smile of
the joyless type, often employed to carry favor. "Why
I er I don t know exactly."
"Yes you do know. You pryed into my thoughts.
It s your old trick. And a hateful habit."
"I am sorry, Ruth. I know it s a hateful habit."
"Then why do you do it?"
"I don t do it. I didn t mean to do it then. It s
not a habit any more. Years ago I gave it up. But
now, I was so anxious, so very anxious to know your
real thoughts to know if you really had no love for
me at all that I couldn t resist. I swear I will not
do it again. Truly I almost never do it. But now,
at the critical moment of my life, when it s a matter
of life or death, the temptation was too great."
"It s an exasperating, dishonorable trick, and I
don t like it."
A Garden of Wonders 247
"I am sorry, Ruth. Please forgive me."
"And you are very much mistaken if you think any
woman with a particle of pride is going to marry a
man who can spy into her secret thoughts and merely
by staring at her."
Her eyes still avoided him. She looked over the
garden, toward the cloisters, anywhere except at his
face. When she spoke again, however, there was more
sympathy in her voice. "But that doesn t matter. It
has always been my intention to remain here."
"You don t really mean it?"
"Indeed I do! It is no sudden decision. I am very
happy here."
He turned partly away, and said nothing. She
glanced at his face, and its expression would have
softened the Rock of Ages. There was no doubt of
his sincerity; nor of his silent agony beneath the blow
he had just received. No words were uttered. He
simply stood and gazed at nothing.
Across the garden, from the open windows of the
central building, came the sound of a harp. It came
faintly, a gentle, plaintive melody, all in harmony
with the murmur of the fountain, the fading glories
in the west and an aching heart. The voice of the
harp may have had its effect on Ruth. As she looked
up at the face of Cyrus, with its misery, she began
to feel the old-time sympathy of their childhood; the
long forgotten sense of responsibility for his welfare
when she was mother and sister to him, with the
woman s Inve he had missed as a boy; also his chosen
248 Drowsy
pal ; his adored and trusted playmate. She felt again
the yearning to keep him out of trouble. His distress
brought an almost equal suffering to herself. But
when he turned his eyes again to her face she was
apparently still studying the cloisters.
"Is this really the end?" He spoke in a lower,
unsteady voice. "Do you really mean that our boy
and girl days, our old affection, all those memories
and you don t know how much they have meant to
me always, always through everything you don t
really mean all that is is just nothing? That I
am no more to you than anybody else?"
The heart in Ruth s little body beat so loud it
seemed to her that a man could hear it. She tried
hard to blink away the moisture in her eyes as they
rested on various objects, but not on the face of Cyrus.
"You will get over it, Drowsy. I feel it, in another
way, as much as you do. Please don t talk about it.
And you really must go. A man s presence here
and alone with me would be very hard to explain.
Please go for my sake!"
Cyrus closed his eyes and drew a hand, slowly,
across his forehead. Then, instead of the protest
she expected, he straightened up in a sudden agita
tion, laid his hand on her arm and pointed toward
the convent buildings.
The voice of a woman, singing, came floating across
the silent garden.
"What is that?" he whispered.
Also in a lower tone Ruth answered : "That is
A Garden of Wonders 249
Sister Francesca, singing. She has a heavenly voice."
"What is she singing?"
"An old Hungarian song. A mother s prayer for
her child. She often sings it. And nothing could be
more beautiful."
"Sister Francesca!" he exclaimed, but in a solemn
whisper. He remembered his father s dying words.
"A famous singer," Ruth explained. "All the
world has heard of her. She was never a mother but
she sings this song with all the feeling and the
He did not hear the end of the sentence. He had
started in the direction of the song, across the garden.
"Stop! Stop! Cyrus, stop. You don t know what
you are doing!"
But he paid no attention. Again she called. She
entreated, then commanded. Still he paid no attention.
And he walked so fast that she stopped and stood
still in helpless terror. She could only guess at what
this humiliating misadventure might signify to the
other sisters. On second thought she followed, but
with the courage of despair. The catastrophe was at
hand, and she would face it. As for Cyrus, he heard
her not. He heard only the song. He heard only the
woman singing the voice and the song that had come
to him beneath the stars, at Longfields!
At last he stopped. And when he stopped he was
standing upon a stone terrace, where high arched win
dows reached the floor, their heavy casements now
wide open.
There he stood, and listened.
250 Drowsy
Although a lover of music, and keenly sensitive to
its charm, this prayer affected him beyond any other
song. Its pathos, with the divine voice that had
thrilled the world, reached deeper than his emotions.
Into his very soul it sank. It seemed to open the doors
of memory the memory of things long forgotten ;
things almost of another life.
Under a spell he listened, and the spell was inten
sified by the scene about him, an enchanted garden
high above the world. Against the gold and crim
son in the West stood the statues at the garden s edge,
their purple shadows reaching almost to the terrace.
With the warm, soft light that enveloped all things
came a peace and a beauty that were more of paradise
than of earth. And, as if to complete the illusion of
the upper realms, the voice of the singer seemed to
lift him yet further from the world of common things.
Between this voice and his spiritual self came a new
born harmony. It came to him as a message between
two hearts, wafted across a gulf of years. The mes
sage it brought was intimate, for him alone. To the
voice itself, a tendril of love, all the chords of his own
heart were vibrating. Some mysterious power re
awakened elusive but imperishable bonds betweeen it
self and him.
He closed his eyes, shut out the world about him,
and his soul and the soul of the singer were one.
XVI
THE SOUL OF A SONG
WITHIN, at one side of the room, a group of
forty sisters, more or less, sat listening to
the song. The room was spacious. Against
its white walls hung various paintings by old masters.
The further wall, facing the western windows, was
partly covered by an enormous tapestry representing
Esther and her handmaidens before King Ahasuerus.
The king was on a throne, amid the splendors of his
court. Now, at this hour, its colors were all aglow
at the touch of the sinking sun. Between the three
long windows stood growing plants in massive pots of
Siena marble.
Across the room, facing the sisters, stood Madame
Erancesca ; and, not far away, the accompanist with
her harp.
The various members of the little audience were
251
252 Drowsy
affected by the song in different ways and in different
degree, according to temperament. Some, enraptured
by her voice and art, leaned forward in aesthetic joy.
Others, with moister eyes and quicker breath, gave
out their hearts to the deeper meaning of the song.
Madame Drusilla, an older woman whose two young
sons had fallen in the war, sat always, on these occa
sions, with head bent low, her face in her hands. But
all the others kept their eyes upon the singer. For
the personality of Madame Francesca as she wished
to be called since her retirement from the world-
possessed in itself an irresistible charm. Now, stand
ing in her light gray uniform, in the flood of golden
light from the great windows, she seemed transfigured
a celestial being from another sphere.
The song itself was the outpouring of a mother s
love. And it was rendered with a pathos, a beauty and
a depth of feeling that stirred the heart of every
listener. It seemed to the sisters a marvel of dramatic
art that a woman, however great an artist, could so
touch the hearts of others when not herself a mother.
And they marveled that a woman whose physicians
forbade excitement could so move an audience and
not be overwhelmed herself by emotion.
The song ended. As the fingers of the harpist
moved gently across the strings, in the last notes of
the accompaniment, Madame Francesca stood for a
moment with closed eyes. Her breathing and the
color in her cheeks showed a degree of feeling which
Sister Lucrezia, the physician, did not approve.
The Soul of a Song 253
Then came a climax to the song" a climax far
transcending any singer s art. In this short, somewhat
solemn silence that followed the song, there appeared
in one of the long windows that opened to the floor,
a figure rarely seen within the -convent walls. It was
a man. And the man was neither workman, priest,
grand duke or king. Neither was he old. Men visi
tors were rare, and the few that entered were usually
middle aged or churchly. This visitor was young,
hatless, his hair in disorder. He wore a checkered
suit and leather leggins, and he was in no way ecclesi
astical. His manner was eager, somewhat excited,
with eyes fixed earnestly on Sister Francesca. He
paid no attention to the other sisters. If such a thing
was possible he was ignorant of their presence. As
for the sisters they were too surprised to speak, or
move. They merely sat and stared.
Cyrus stepped within, slowly, as in a trance. Slowly
he advanced toward Madame Francesca. She, as sur
prised as any of the others, regarded him in silence
until he stopped before her. As they stood facing each
other, the western light on both their faces, the specta
tors including Ruth, now at the open window be
gan to marvel. Fear began to mingle with surprise,
for many in the audience knew that famous beauties
could be tormented by crazy lovers. But fear, in turn,
gave way to wonder, for it proved a strange inter
view, never forgotten by those who saw it. No words
were spoken. No words were needed. In the eyes
that looked into his own Cyrus read their greeting as
254 Drowsy
clearly as in an open book. And she, as clearly, looked
deep into his heart as she had looked into the heart
of his father. Now in his responsive, eager face she
saw the confirmation of his father s letters, that she
had bequeathed to her child her own extraordinary
faculty. It brought a sudden joy, this assurance of
a perfect understanding. Each received, in full, the
other s message. In the face of Cyrus with his
grandfather s drowsy eyes she saw his happiness in
this meeting. He was telling her in unspoken words
of his childhood yearnings ; how he had thought and
dreamed of her from early boyhood; that he had
prayed and hoped for this meeting. And now here,
had come the fulfillment of all his dreams, his hopes,
his prayers ! And he, as he fathomed to their secret
depths the tragic but tender eyes, found love and a
heart-expanding welcome.
The little audience, however, saw nothing but the
outward, silent greetings. To them was not revealed
the greater happiness, the imperishable bond.
But this silent meeting, with its overwhelming joy,
was the prelude to the drama its silent overture.
The curtain had risen on the Diva s final triumph, the
Immortal Opera with its happy ending.
To the amazement of the audience she drew the
young man s face to hers and kissed him on either
cheek. Then, overcome by emotion, as it seemed, her
head fell slowly forward on his breast. Without his
supporting arms she would have sunk to the floor.
The sisters saw, and hastened to her side. Cyrus, with
The Soul of a Song 255
their help, carried the fainting figure to a nearby
bench, where they laid her, with a cushion beneath
her head. Sister Lucrezia, the physician, bent anx
iously over the unconscious form. And so sudden was
it all that her hearers could hardly believe her when
at last she arose, and solemnly announced that the
spirit of Madame Francesca had risen to another life.
She spoke in Italian but Cyrus knew its meaning.
His head drooped and he stood motionless, crushed,
as if his own spirit and that of the sleeping figure
on the bench were still together.
It was the Diva s long sleep. The last notes of
her enchanting voice had died away; the curtain was
down, the orchestra gone, the lights out. The audience
had vanished. No more in the empty house would be
heard the clapping of hands, the cries of enthusiasm,
the bravos and encores.
But there are memories that never die. And now,
to those who looked upon the tranquil face, it seemed
as if memories of conquest and of triumph or of
something higher still lingered in her heart. For
the face was more than peaceful. There was a smile
upon the lips that bore witness to a perfect content
ment beyond the touch of death.
Cyrus was recalled to himself by the voice of the
Mother Superior, a tall, gray-haired, kind-faced
woman. She approached him, and in a voice of sym-
256 Drowsy
pathy addressed him, in Italian. He understood the
meaning of the message; that she shared his grief,
but the presence of men was forbidden; the rules
were strict, and she begged him to go. He expressed
his gratitude by a respectful inclination and a few
words in English. Then he walked over to the silent
figure. Upon her folded hands he laid one of his
own and stood, for a moment, looking down upon
the face. The rosy light from the western sky seemed
to bring the flush of life to the Diva s cheeks. He
knelt beside the bench. Reverently he touched his
lips to the sleeper s forehead.
He arose and moved toward the terrace. Near the
window he stopped, and to the watching sisters he
bowed. In this obeisance he told his sorrow and his
profound respect. Then he turned and went out as he
came.
The Mother Superior, still apprehensive, asked
Ruth to accompany him to the gates and make sure
of his departure. But Cyrus did not walk toward the
gates. He walked toward the spot where he and Ruth
had met, then beyond among the trees. During this
walk neither spoke. As Cyrus was obviously in
deepest sorrow Ruth refrained from words. Ab
sorbed in her own thoughts, she suddenly realized
that she was approaching an unfamiliar object. This
unfamiliar object, a thing about twenty feet in length
and a little taller than a man, might pass for some
unknown monster of the deep, or a minor whale.
It seemed to be of iron with a trap-door in the side
The Soul of a Song 257
just large enough for a man to climb within. Its
color was a dull gray.
"Look!" she exclaimed. "What on earth is that?"
"My flying machine. That is what I came in."
"You came in that?"
As she looked up at him he nodded, slowly, and
made no other reply. The light was fading, but she
could see that a change had come into his face since
they stood together at the garden wall. This new
expression showed a side of his character that she
had forgotten. She now remembered that it was the
same look that had come into his face when he van
quished the Tormentor in the Unitarian Church, years
ago; when the good natured, easy going boy became,
of a sudden, a reckless gladiator, the fearless de
fender who fights and dies, if needed for a sacred
cause; his God, his Country, or on that occasion
for his girl. It told deep emotions, of strength of
purpose and the courage that has no respect for ob
stacles. Yet the slumbrous eyes were friendly as he
said :
"Come, Ruth. Come home with me. I will make
you happier than you will ever be in this place."
"No, Cyrus. Nr. I cannot."
"Do you mean that you will stay here all your
life, from a sense of duty?"
"No not wholly. Oh, why begin all over again?
Please be reasonable, Drowsy. Please go away
quietly."
His voice was gentle, but there was something in
258 Drowsy
his face that recalled the boy of long ago, the boy
who vanquished giants. Now it was the man who
might defy the gods. She was afraid : of what, she
knew not. But she took a backward step, a hand to
her breast as if to calm a nervous heart. There was
reason to be afraid. For then happened the unfor
givable thing doubly unforgivable when applied to
a woman of sensibility and pride. He bent forward,
to pick up something at her feet, she thought. Then,
without warning, and all too sudden for escape, she
felt an arm behind her knees, another across her back,
and she was lifted from the ground. Before she could
protest, or even struggle, he pushed open the door of
the iron monster with his foot and passed her within
as if she were a child. Gently he placed her on the
floor and climbed in himself. She found herself sit
ting in front of him, her shoulders held firmly be
tween his knees. He shut the little door at his side
and all was dark. A button was pressed, one or two
small levers manipulated, then a buzzing sound, a
slight quivering of the car and through the port hole
in front she saw that they were risfag above the tops
of the trees.
Then, high into the air.
XVII
"I MEAN IT"
SIX hundred .miles an hour, to old-time travelers,
might seem fast. High up in the air, however,
some miles above the earth with nothing beneath
but the Atlantic Ocean, it seems a moderate pace.
There are none of the usual landmarks to guage one s
speed; no telegraph poles, houses, or towns. The
few ships one passes, seen far below, are movable ob
jects with no definite relation to your own progress.
Also, in a practically air tight conveyance no wind can
beat against your face.
While three hours may seem brief for a transatlan
tic passage it must be remembered that the time Cyrus
lost in going Eastward he gained in going \Yest. The
surface of our little earth moves eastward about a
thousand miles an hour ; so, with North America rush-
259
260 Drowsy
ing forward to meet him he could easily make the
journey of five thousand miles and more in the four
hours, and almost without hurrying. There is a start
ling difference in celerity between an automobile and
a yoke of oxen; more still between a steamship and a
cannon-ball : and Cyrus device was capable of any
speed that he dared to travel. The only delays were
in starting off, and in approaching his own Coast.
Once above Massachusetts, however, he could easily
find Longfields. The landmarks were familiar.
During this journey very little conversation took
place between his passenger and himself. Sitting on
the floor in front of him, her shoulders between his
knees, he could not see her face. She made no ac
knowledgment of his speeches and gave no answer to
any questions. He was correct in his belief that she
was both alarmed and angry. But he did not know
at the time that her anger far exceeded her alarm.
This he realized, however, when he helped her from
the car at the door of her aunt s house in Longfields.
For a moment she leaned against the door, weak,
trembling, dazed, her hair disarranged, her cheeks hot.
No words had been spoken during the last two hours.
This long silence he was the first to break.
"You will forgive me, Ruth, won t you?"
It was too dark to see each other s faces, but this
time had her eyes met his there would be nothing to
conceal. Her anger and her dislike were deep and
sincere. She answered in a low tone, but the tone and
"I Mean It" 261
manner revealed a repugnance of whose existence
there could be no doubt.
"Do not speak to me again ; ever. Do you hear?"
"Yes, I hear."
"I mean it."
With a quivering hand she turned the knob, entered
the house and shut the door behind her.
That Ruth meant all she said was soon made clear
to Cyrus very clear indeed. Two days later after
giving her time to recover he came to her aunt s
house with a little bouquet of flowers, hopefully gath
ered by his own hands in his own garden. With it was
a note, an eloquent little plea for forgiveness, so hum
ble and so sincere as to soften a heart of granite. He
knocked at the front door, and waited. At last it
might have been a year that he waited the door was
opened.
"Good morning, Stella."
"Good morning, Cyrus."
Stella was the daughter of Abner Phillips, the har
ness maker, and she and Ruth and Cyrus had been
playmates together in the old days at the red school
house. The little harness business had suffered even
more than other things with the decline of Long-
fields, and had finally expired. Stella had been out at
service for the last few years. She was an angular
maiden with thin lips and sharp eyes.
"Will you please take this note and the flowers to
Ruth, Stella, and ask if I can see her?"
"Yes, of course, won t you come in?"
262 Drowsy
"No, thank you. I ll just wait here."
On the doorstep he waited, but not long; Stella
quickly returned with the note and the flowers.
She seemed embarrassed. "Ruth says she
she-
"Out with it, Stella."
"She says she won t see you."
"Won t see me! Is that just what she said?"
The maiden hesitated. As a friend of both and
strictly neutral, her position was awkward.
"Why yes."
"Just what did she say, Stella?"
"She said, give him back his flowers and his note
and tell him not to come again."
This was clear to the dullest lover. And the words
cut deeper still as he saw in the face of the sharp
eyed ambassadress an impressible gleam of pity or
exultation he could not tell \vhich. Cyrus blushed
like a girl. For a moment his drowsy eyes gazed
blindly at Stella, then at the flowers and the note as
if trying to realize what had happened. The effort
was painful. The flowers seemed to be jubilant in
their gayety, and jeering at him. He had believed,
until this moment, that he was prepared for the worst.
He had also believed, from his knowledge of women
in history and fiction that they changed their minds
with ease in short, that honest lovers never need
despair. This blow seemed to paralyze his senses.
But Pride came to his rescue. It made him realize the
degradation of appearing a fool before Stella. So,
"I Mean It" 263
collecting his scattered wits he raised his head and
smiled upon the waiting maiden. There was a quiver
ing of the lip, however, as he said in a manner labor-
ously offhand and, of course, unsuccessful:
"Oh, well, I must try again. Thank you, Stella.
Good-by."
As he reached the gate she saw him toss the flow
ers to the ground.
His state of mind as he walked blindly along the
village street, beneath the arching elms, could not
be described in articulate language. Sorrow, anger,
humiliation, all struggled for control. Resignation
was not among them. So Ruth was really in earnest.
If she hated and despised him, why live? This tumult
within, while it numbed his senses and might lead
to tragedy provided mirth for others. Just in front
of the store a group of children ran across his path.
They were followed, slowly, by a large Newfoundland
dog, a well-known character in the village. He
officiated, as is customary among dogs, as guardian
and boon companion to children, all of whom he
loved. His name was Major. He belonged to little
Jason Howard, but he was on terms of intimacy with
every child in Longfields. Major happened to stroll
across the sidewalk just in front of Cyrus. The dis
carded lover, blind to outward things, collided with
him. Always a gentleman and never forgetting his
manners, Cyrus stopped, and Ruth being the only
thing in his mind he raised his cap and bowed po
litely.
264 Drowsy
"I beg your pardon. It was my fault. Excuse
me."
And all with a sober face. The children laughed,
supposing Cyrus was being funny for their amuse
ment. But never in his life had Cyrus felt less like
being funny. Soberly he walked away not even hear
ing their laughter.
After this interview with Major he at once re
lapsed into the Canon of Despair. For his was the
agony of a man of honor who feels he has committed
a disgraceful act, and has lost, for all time, the re
spect and good opinion of the being whose affection
he valued above all other things.
It seemed but a moment after leaving Major that
he found himself standing before two women and say
ing "how do you do" or something equally signifi
cant. With a mighty effort to ignore the past and
the future he recognized the two elderly maidens as
Miss Fidelia Allen and Miss Anita Clement. They
had stopped and were passing the time of day with
him. He realized, blindly, that Miss Clement had
opened a book and was telling him about it. Miss
Clement had the faculty of expressing a barren idea
in a wealth of language. So, while the listener s
drowsy and now dreaming eyes rested on the
speaker s lips he was seeing, not Miss Clement s face,
but a face more threatening, yet of greater interest.
As to the effect of Miss Clement s well chosen words
on the listener s far away mind, the sound from her
lips might have been the murmuring of pines. And
"I Mean It" 265
as for The Only Woman in the world, if other women
had changed their minds why not this one? He re
called the look in her eyes when
"Do tell us what you think of it just how you feel
about it, Cyrus?"
As the wild horse of the prairies is suddenly jerked
to earth by a lasso, so came back Cyrus.
"Oh oh very well, indeed, thank you. Never
better."
"I meant about this new thought from the Orient.
Just how deeply it impresses you. Just where, among
the great thinkers, you would place Rub-a Shah La-
gore."
"That s it exactly! Rubbish galore! Couldn t ex
press it better. Somebody described all that stuff as
transcendental flim-flam." And he smiled his most
winning smile a smile of sympathy, of fine intelli
gence and a lively interest in the conversation.
But Miss Clement stiffened a little, and frowned.
"Do you feel that way?"
"Possibly you don t know Rub-a Shah Lagore,"
said Miss Fidelia, more gently.
"Know him? Oh, yes," said Cyrus. "I know him.
That is, I think I met him. Was it in Cambridge ?"
"I doubt it," said Miss Clement, "as he died about
fifteen hundred."
"Fifteen hundred!" Cyrus smiled, nodded and tried
to appear at ease. "Still I may have met him in a
previous incarnation."
Then, apropos of incarnations, Miss Clement dis-
266 Drowsy
coursed on the Oriental mind, on matters psychic,
philosophic, mystic and occult. And as she talked,
and drifted hither and thither on a sea of words,
Cyrus floated off in his own direction, and was re
calling once again the look in Ruth s eyes that min
gling of anger and contempt when Miss Clement
again suddenly brought him back to the village street.
"Don t you think so yourself?"
Cyrus pulled himself together. "Er well perhaps
I don t quite understand you."
"Do you know of any richer period in human
thought? Any greater age?"
"Any greater age? No, certainly not. You mean
fifteen hundred years? It certainly beats all records.
That is, of course, all human records. Elephants,
parrots and turtles, I believe, live to a green old age,
but nothing like
Just what happened after that Cyrus did not re
member. He found himself walking home with clear
memories of Ruth, intermingled with blurred but pain
ful impressions of two maiden ladies, frowning in sur
prise and annoyance as they said good-by and turned
away.
Of one thing only was he certain : that in the utter
ance of senseless words he had surpassed all previous
records, ancient or modern.
XVIII
THE CAfiON OF DESPAIR
AS to human wisdom, the best that can be said
is that some of us are less crazy than others.
Also, that the habitually foolish person, he who
is foolish by preference or by unalterable Fate is
less disturbing than your usually sensible friend who
suddenly becomes fatuous.
This was realized by Joanna during the next few
days. Cyrus caused her serious alarm. On his new
and larger air craft he worked with such feverish
haste that he forgot to eat or go to bed until reminded
of those habits. In the matter of eating he seemed
to have lost all memory as to when or how to do it.
He poured tea instead of maple syrup on his rice
cakes; he recognized no difference in flavor between
salt and powdered sugar, marmalade or mustard. Jo
anna s strawberry shortcake, the very best in the
267
268 Drowsy
world and his favorite dish he regarded with un
seeing eyes and forgot to eat it. His reply to nearly
all her demands for information on whatever subject,
was a smiling "Certainly, of course."
But these were trifles. In his cup of bitterness there
still were dregs : and sleepless Fate had not forgotten
them. The cup was to be emptied. Late one after
noon, three days after the rebuff to his note, his flow
ers and himself, he was returning from Springfield
alone in his motor. About a mile from Longfields,
where the road ran through some woods, he saw a fig
ure on ahead, walking toward the village. It was a
female figure, short, slight, erect, and moving with
a light and rather jaunty step. It wore a continental
hat, a white shirt waist and a white skirt. He recog
nized this person at first glance, ran his car ahead of
her a short distance, then stopped at the side of the
road, got out and walked back to meet her. This time
there was no elaborate salutation a la Grande Mon
arch. It was a simple raising of his cap and a tenta
tive, humble minded greeting.
"Good day, Ruth."
"Good day, Cyrus."
She smiled, but the smile brought no sunshine to
his heart; a perfunctory smile of duty and good man
ners, such as might have greeted any other human ani
mal. And as she stood there, against the dark back
ground of the woods, calm, cold, beautiful, and oh!
so far away! he saw aversion in her face and in
every line of the rigid little figure.
The Canon of Despair 269
In a low, uncertain voice he spoke. "So you will
never forgive me?"
For a moment she looked away, beyond him, along
the road toward the village. "I forgive you a great
deal. I forgive your taking me by force and against
my will from a welcome refuge where I was looking
forward to a peaceful, happy life. But the greater
wrong you have done me, the irreparable injury
that is harder to forgive."
"Irreparable injury? What do you mean, Ruth?"
Her eyebrows went up. "Indeed! You really do
not know what I mean?"
"On my honor I do not."
"I mean my reputation the loss of my good name."
"Oh, Ruth! Why you oh don t say that!"
Calmly, but with an obvious effort at self control
she answered :
"Do you think there is no gossip in Longfields, no
comment on my unexpected arrival? Do you think
an unmarried woman can travel about the world alone
with a young man as I did, and keep her good name?"
"I never thought of it in that way. On my honor
-I did not."
"Do you know of any other respectable young
woman of your acquaintance who has done anything
like it?"
"But it was all my doing. You couldn t help it.
Don t they all know that?"
"No. Why should they know it? Will they be
lieve that you, whom they have known from boyhood,
2 yo Drowsy
whom they respect and like, would carry me off by
force, entirely against my will?" Then with a bitter
little laugh: "Oh, no! They are not so simple! And
some woman has started a story that we " Her
face became crimson and she covered it for a moment
with her hands "Oh, I can t bear to think of it."
Cyrus closed his eyes. His head drooped. "I never
thought of all that. I was stupid. I can see it now.
I don t blame you for hating me."
Ruth went on, speaking with nervous haste. "A
pleasanter bit of scandal never happened in this vil
lage. I could not bear to live here. It would kill me
to live here."
"You are not going away !"
"Indeed lam!"
"Where?"
"To Worcester, to earn my living as a nurse."
"Listen, Ruth. Let me do something, no matter
what. Let me take you, or send you back to the
Convent."
"The Convent! The Convent!" she repeated, and
her cheeks reddened. "Do you think the Convent a
refuge for women who leave it as I did? for women
who elope with oh ! It s for better women than
that ! They would never allow me within its gates."
"Then let me atone in some way."
"Indeed! And how?"
"In any way you say there s all my money take
some of it all of it. Not as a gift, but in some busi
ness way. Let me buy something at a
The Canon of Despair 271
"Clever thought ! Regild my reputation with Cyrus
Alton s money!"
"Then marry me. Be my wife, only in name. I
swear to you I will never see you if you wish it.
Or or trouble you in any way. Only let me do some
thing. I had no idea of of what of what all this
meant to you."
"Your wife!" she laughed a scornful, tragic, broken
hearted little laugh. "Never in this world. Never!
Never that!"
She turned and walked away.
He walked beside her. "Please listen. I will do
anything you say. I know I deserve it all, but that
afternoon at the convent I was not myself. After
what happened I was all wrought up. My brain-
She stopped, turned about and faced him.
"Yes, there is one thing you can do. Leave me now.
And let us not be seen together again ever."
For a brief moment they stood confronting each
other. And Cyrus looked deep into the eyes that once
had been his guiding stars ; the friendly eyes in whose
depths his boy heart had sought and never in vain
encouragement, or consolation. Now, he was find
ing in their contemptuous beauty only the cold ashes
of their childhood devotion.
Then, once more, she turned her back upon him
Erect and with decisive steps, the little figure departed.
He stood watching her as she walked walking out of
his life. In his brain and in his heart was a numbing
272 Drowsy
pain the knowledge that his highest hopes were dead
killed, and by himself!
There and there he made a decision, a decision of
vital import to himself. And why not? Who in the
world, except Joanna would mourn, or even miss him ?
If there be such a thing as consolation when hope is
dead, he found it in a great resolve.
As he passed her in his car he raised his cap and
murmured
"Morituri te salutamus."
XIX
A YOUNG MAN TALKS
RUTH was in earnest when she told Cyrus of her
intention to become a nurse. Some experience
in that line, while in Europe, had fitted her for
the work and she found little difficulty in securing a
position in a Worcester Hospital. Possibly her pre
possessing appearance was a help. The Superintend
ent, being human, was not immune, perhaps, to the
influence of an interesting personality, especially in
combination with an attractive face and voice and
figure.
After this interview at the hospital, about the mid
dle of the day, she took a return train for Spring
field.
When she entered the car at the Worcester Sta
tion, and found a vacant seat, she gave no special
attention to the two men in the seat just behind her
273
274 Drowsy
own. She merely noticed that the carefully dressed
young man nearest the aisle had an intelligent wide
awake face, and that his companion next the win
dow was suffering from a cold in the head of aggra
vated dimensions. His aqueous eyes and swollen
nose, his sneezes and his busy handkerchief told the
familiar and unromantic drama of a mucous mem
brane at war with its owner.
The weather this day a week or so after the
interview with Cyrus was cloudy, damp and other
wise depressing. She felt, of course, gratification in
the success of her mission at the hospital. Her
thoughts, however, were not entirely rosy as she looked
from the car window on this homeward journey, gaz
ing absently on the sunless landscape. She had much
to think about, and often, during this little journey
from Worcester she tried vainly to escape from un
welcome memories. At the mention of a familiar
name, however, these wandering thoughts were cen
tered suddenly on the conversation of the two men
in the seat behind her.
"Alton, Cyrus Alton. Guess you ve met him."
"Yez, I thig zo. Kide of sleeby eyes, hasn d he?"
"Yep. His eyes are sleepy, but, gee whiz! He does
things."
"Whad thigs?"
"Oh, anything if it s impossible."
"Didn d he bake a lod of bunny all of a zudden?"
"Bet your life he did! Made it while you wait."
"How budge?"
A Young Man Talks 275
"God knows."
"How did he do id?"
"God knows that too: He and Alton. You can
hear anything. Some say a rich widow, others, a pi
rate s cave. Perhaps it s just a friendly tip from his
Partner."
"Who is his bardner?"
"The Almighty.
"You bead he is bious?"
"Nixy not! He s a scientist, and science and piety
don t seem to cuddle much. He has discovered or
his Big Partner has told him some secret of elec
tricity that is just the humpingest thing out of jail.
It s going to revolutionize the whole human out
fit; business, travel, transportation. As to little
things like manufactures in peace and wholesale de
struction in war, why, we ve got to begin all over
again. You just can t digest it. And it s so simple
that you laugh when you think of it."
"Doe! Really?"
"Yep; that s no exaggeration."
"Thad s inderesdig. I have heard vague rubers
aboud id bud nothing like thad. Just whad is id?"
"Just what is it. Well, that s an easy question to
ask. When he blabs his secret then we ll all know.
But he says it s so simple that it s sure to be discov
ered some day."
"I spoze you doe him breddy well."
"Yep, in a way. He orders his electric stuff through
us. A year ago when he was so poor he used to foot
276 Drowsy
it to save trolley fare the boss trusted him for twelve
hundreds dollars worth of radium."
"Good for the boss ! He was a zpord. Did he ever
get his bunny bag?"
"Twice over. Oh, Alton didn t forget it. He s as
straight as a string."
"Well, he bay be all ride in sub ways bud he busd
be jusd aboud grazy to sdard on thad jourdy."
"Oh, I dunno. He has done some big stunts already.
And he s pretty level headed."
"Yez, bud id seebs like suizide to be. How var
away is Bars, eddyway?"
"Oh, just a step. I believe the astronomers call it
about forty-eight millions of miles."
"Vorty-eight billions of biles? Whew!"
"No, forty-eight millions not billions."
The Rose Cold tried to laugh. "Yez I doe id iz
but with thiz invernal drouble I gan d prodounce by
ebs."
"Of course; beg your pardon."
"Thad s all ride. But dell be, is he really goig to
dry vor id?"
"Sure thing. He may have started already."
Here both men noticed in a careless way, a move
ment of the shoulders of the girl in front of them
when a hand went nervously to her face. And it so
happened that the Rose Cold s next words were the
expression of her own thoughts when he said:
"The bad s a vool !"
"No," said the younger man; "he s not a fool. He
A Young Man Talks 277
has done a lot of figuring over it, and experimenting.
You see his machine is too good to be true. It can
shoot through space at the same rate as electric waves,
or waves of light."
"And how vasd is thad?"
"About a hundred and eighty thousand miles a
second."
"Doe!"
"Yep."
"And you really believe id ?"
"Sure."
"Id s sibly imbossible."
"I don t blame you for thinking so. But that s just
why Alton likes it. If it was possible it wouldn t
interest him. Miracles are his daily food. Gad, he s
a wonder !"
"A hundred and eighty thouzand biles a zegond !
Doe thad s doo buch vor bee."
"No wonder you don t believe it. It surely is going
some. Beats oxen."
"Aboud how log would id taig him to ged there
ad thad rade?"
Here came a silence while the younger man did
some figuring. "About five seconds. But of course
no human being, even in an air-tight cylinder, could
keep his head or anything else, at that rate. He al
lows about twelve hours to get there."
"Dwelve hours ! Vorty-eight billion biles in twelve
hours ! Why zo zlow ?
"Well, he s got to go slow through the six or seven
278 Drowsy
miles of our atmosphere. Then, he doesn t know what
sort of atmosphere surrounds Mars. So that ll take
time like entering an unknown harbor. To be really
safe he ll have to jog along slowly on an average of
four or five million miles an hour."
The Rose Cold laughed. "Beads vairy dales,
doesn d id?"
"To a frazzle."
"But the bravesd bad in the world gan d go all day
withoud breathig."
"True enough. But Alton has the same system of
oxygen cylinders as the U-boats only better. More
condensed and lasts longer. Uses same air more times
without deteriorating."
"Well, whadever habbens, he busd be glever."
"Clever! He beats -the devil."
"Will he ever gum bag, Jibby?"
"Dunno."
"I subbose the gradest danger is in being hid by a
medeoride. I understand those rogs are always
shoodig about in spaze."
"Yep; and all the way in size from a liver pill to a
state house. But that isn t what ll knock him out."
"Berhabs dod, bud I shouldn d gare do be there iv
one habbened to hid him."
"Right you are. He d have about as much show as
a bottle of ginger ale colliding with a locomotive. But
astronomers say they are not so very numerous. \Vhat
he s most afraid of himself is some sudden electric
disturbance in his own machine that will put his own
A Young Man Talks 279
nervous system out of commission. You see nobody
really knows what is going on in space. And if his
nerves or lungs or brain go back on him, in anyway
Ping ! he s a goner."
After a pause the Rose Cold spoke in a more serious
tone.
"Well, I taig off my had to him. It s a big thig,
thad zord of gourage."
"I should say! And he knows himself there isn t
one chance in a hundred of his ever touching this little
earth again."
Here the attention of both men was drawn to the
girls in front of them, who suddenly started from
her seat with both hands pressed hard against her
face. She stood for a moment as if in pain, or under
some mental disturbance. Then, sinking back into her
seat, she appeared to be looking quietly out of the win
dow during the short remainder of the journey.
Although her action caused them no further interest,
nor curiosity, it served to divert their talk from Cyrus
Alton a subject apparently exhausted to other mat
ters of no interest to Ruth Heywood.
XX
ANOTHER MESSAGE
WHEN Ruth left the train and took the stage
for Longfields her spirit was in revolt in
revolt against herself, against Cyrus and
against the progress of the vehicle. But any vehicle,
however fast, would have been too slow on that after
noon. She left the conveyance at Cyrus Alton s
driveway. This was her first visit to the Alton s home
since her sudden departure, so many years ago. And
now, as she walked toward the house, almost every
foot of ground, every object in the spacious yard, the
old maples and the house itself, seemed accusing her
of treason and of heartless murder. From every side,
however, came pleasant memories of bygone days,
like flowers in a forsaken garden. And all of Cyrus!
Never was a yard so full of history. And now that
280
Another Message 281
Cyrus was gone gone forever, driven from the world
by her own cruelty, her over sensitive spirit writhed
beneath the stings of conscience. Every recollection
seemed to increase her guilt. Hardest to bear, in all
this vista of the past, was the clear, undying fact that
the cherubic, sleepy eyed little boy always stood be
tween herself and trouble.
These memories overwhelmed her. There was the
old maple in whose shade she and Drowsy played keep
ing house. They pretended Zac was President of the
United States who had dropped in for dinner. Only
ginger bread and sour grapes were served and Drowsy
gave her the biggest half of the gingerbread because
she, also, was a guest. Zac, always loyal, ate one or
two of the green grapes just because Cyrus did. And
the stone wall that saved their lives ; at least, she
thought so when Mr. Randall s horse came snorting
toward them across the field, on the other side. He
seemed close at their heels when Cyrus boosted her up
and pushed her over before he climbed up himself.
He pushed so hard against that part of the body on
which we sit that she landed on her face, and the
short, stiff blades of grass that had just been mowed,
cut the inside of her nose. She tried to smile as she
remembered, with a gulp, that although he was badly
scared himself he was the last to climb over the wall.
Yes, he always gave her first chance at everything
in peace or war!
And there the well, where she and Susie Jordan had
a quarrel one Sunday after Church, and Susie threw
282 Drowsy
a dipperful of water on Ruth s head. It spoiled her
new hat and she burst into tears. Then Cyrus walked
up to Susie Ruth could see him now as if it were yes
terday made one of his lowest bows, as if to apolo
gize in advance, then slapped her hard on both cheeks.
After slapping her he backed away a few steps and
made yet another profound obeisance, as a judge, after
performing a painful duty, might salute a prisoner of
high degree.
But now she was in too great haste to linger long
over memories, or anything else. She hurried on to
the house. Tearful, smiling, but on the very edge of
sobs, she rang the door bell. Too impatient to wait
she entered and walked into the sitting room. The
same old sitting room, and changed but little since she
saw it last. On the walls the same green paper, just
a little more faded, perhaps, at certain places where the
morning sun had loitered. Almost covering the cen
ter table were books, papers and magazines.
Joanna entered. The greetings were cordial. Then,
for a few moments they sat facing each other, Ruth
in an arm chair, Joanna on the old sofa.
In a casual way, Ruth remarked :
"I suppose Cyrus is out in the old barn, hard at
work on his new machine."
"Not now. It is all finished."
"Is it there now, the machine?"
"No, he went away in it."
"When did he go?"
"Last night."
Another Message 283
"Where has he gone?"
"I don t know."
Ruth leaned back in her chair and the color left her
face.
"Oh, Miss Ruth, are you ill?"
"No, no ! I am not ill. But didn t he say when
he was coming back ?"
"He said he might not be back for some days. But
he has often done that."
Ruth suddenly jumped from her chair, began walk
ing about the room, and exclaimed :
"He s a contemptible thing!"
"Not Cyrus?"
"Yes, Cyrus. And what a fool ! Oh, what a fool !"
Into Joanna s placid, serious face came a look of
amazement.
"You don t mean to say, Miss Ruth, that, Cyrus
is a contemptible thing and and a fool!"
"That s just exactly what I mean. He s a fool a
contemptible, weak, half-hearted, easily discouraged,
stupid fool!"
Ruth was clearly excited. She spoke rapidly and
with vehemence, marching to and fro as if lashed
to fury by some strange obsession. As Joanna
watched the little figure she could hardly believe that
this was the ever gentle Ruth Hey wood of her ac
quaintance.
Ruth went on: "Not a speck of perseverance!
And what a coward ! I never suspected he was such
a hopeless coward !"
284 Drowsy
"Cyrus a coward ! Oh, but Miss Ruth, you
really "
"Of course he s a coward ! Why has he run away?
Do brave men run away? No. Cowards run away.
A mean, contemptible thing. That covers it. A con
temptible cowardly act by a contemptible, cowardly
man. And so ungrateful ! Even as a boy he was un
grateful."
Now, to Joanna, who had known Cyrus intimately
since the age of seven, he was the one perfect thing
in creation. Morally he was an example for the an
gels; mentally the wonder of the age. So, being a
somewhat literal person, these words came like stabs
from a dagger and struck deep into her own heart.
But she answered more in sadness than in anger:
"I really can t imagine anybody thinking Cyrus un
grateful."
"Well, I do ! He has no real love for anybody but
himself. He thinks only of himself ; only of himself !"
"Why, Miss Ruth, when Mrs. Eagan was laid up
for nearly a whole summer, years ago, Cyrus took her
a bowl of ice cream himself, every Sunday, after our
own dinner. We had ice cream once a week. He
was nothing but a boy then, but he
"Of course he did! Why not? Any boy would
carry ice cream just for the sake of holding it."
Joanna shook her head. "No. All boys are not
like that."
Here Ruth turned fiercely upon her. "And how do
you know he did? He probably ate it himself before
Another Message 285
he got to Mrs. Eagan s. He would tell you he didn t,
of course. He s an awful liar and always was. You
know that, Joanna, as well as I do."
"Liar ! No, no, Miss Ruth ! You don t know him.
He got entirely over that, years ago. He s as truthful
as anybody. Long ago, before he went away to
school, his father made him ashamed of his lies
and "
"Oh, for a time perhaps! Bad boys don t become
good over night. *
"But, Miss Ruth, please listen. You only knew him
when you were both very young. He really cured
himself. He has not lied since. He was too young
to know better. But even with his lying he was
always a good boy."
"A good boy! Ha! He was not a good boy. I
knew him better than you did. He was like all other
boys and no boys are good. They are nothing but
little pirates, prize fighters, screaming, noisy Indians,
because they are savages themselves. They have no
honor. They worship criminals and always want the
criminal to escape, because they are criminals them
selves. And Cyrus was just like the others. Good
indeed ! He was always evil minded."
"Evil minded ! Cyrus evil minded !"
Ruth stopped, and stood before Joanna. "I tell you
he s bad just bad. As a boy he was bad, as a man
he is bad treacherous, cowardly, mean spirited and
absolutely dishonorable. And that s why I hate him !"
For a moment, with angry eyes and quivering lips
286 Drowsy
she stood looking down into the other woman s puz
zled face. Then, dropping to her knees, she buried
her face in Joanna s lap.
"Oh, I am so unhappy ! So unhappy! Let me die!"
Joanna understood. Although unemotional herself
she knew how to sympathize with the passion torn
woman at her knees. Her own calm spirit and sooth
ing words had their effect, and Ruth was soon herself
again.
"And now, dearie," said Joanna, "I am going to
bring you a cup of tea."
Alone in the green sitting room Ruth seated herself
beside the center table. This table held, with other
things, several books and papers, one or two mechani
cal drawings, some magazines and books. One of
these books was lying open, just before her. A para
graph at the top of one of the open pages was marked
in pencil. Being a scientific book Cyrus must have
marked it. At that moment any thought of interest
to him appealed to Ruth as something sanctified by his
absence, a special message to herself. Besides, that
the book should be lying open at this particular page
seemed to her over wrought spirit as if placed there by
Cyrus himself for her to read.
Had she stopped to think she would have known the
open book was accidental, as she was the last person
whom Cyrus could expect to visit him. But Fate and
Proidence do strange things than fiction dares invent.
Carefully she read the marked passage, in a reverent
Another Message 287
spirit, as she would read a farewell message from a de
parted friend. It said :
"All sounds from earth are drifting forever into
space. A strain of music will reach, in time, the most
distant star. The music of the spheres is not an
empty phrase. We know that wherever light will
travel those waves that carry light through space will
carry sound. Messages from other planets, for all we
know, are reaching us to-day, but we are not attuned
to hear them. Our own little song, or prayer, may
reach the farthest star, but for its reception the sender
and recipient must be in true accord."
With quivering hands she clutched the book, held it
up before her eyes, and read the words again. Then
she dropped the book upon the table and started up.
In her eyes was a new light.
"But for its reception," she repeated, "the sender
and recipient must be in true accord !"
In true accord ! Yes, she and Drowsy were in true
accord, even as children. If there was one person in
this world specially endowed by Providence to receive
such a message, surely it was Drowsy ; he who received
even the unspoken thoughts of others! She recalled
her wonderment as a child when her whispered mes
sage was understood by him, at his own home, nearly
a mile away. It seemed to her then, and now a
supernatural gift. And if this author were correct
no distance, however vast, would be an obstacle.
When Joanna returned with the tea she found her
patient again in a state of excitement, but excitement
288 Drowsy
of another kind. This time it was the thrill of a new
hope; the exhilaration of a great joy.
Late that night, when this world and other worlds,
it seemed were silent, Ruth went out into the dark
ness. Down at the further end of the long garden,
she stood, for a time, looking up into the heavens.
The storm had passed. Slowly, from the west, great
clouds were drifting across a black but starry sky.
She shuddered at the thought of a human being far
out in that frigid, infinite waste, a helpless wanderer,
dead perhaps, and driven by her own act !
Her eyes sought vainly to delve into the solemn
spaces between the stars. Who could believe a human
voice or a thought could penetrate those black, appal
ling depths? But she remembered the sentence,
"All sounds from earth are drifting forever into
space."
Then, looking up toward the ruddy planet, and put
ting her one absorbing thought into fewest words, she
said in a low voice, but clearly spoken :
"Cyrus, come back. I have always loved you."
Three times she repeated it; and each time with an
overflowing heart.
If, among the undiscovered forces between other
worlds and ours, there moves, like waves of light, a
Another Message 289
psychic power intensified by human love, repentance
and devotion, then this woman s message should reach
the uttermost limits of celestial space. Her very soul
was in it.
XXI
ABOVE THE CLOUDS
RUTH S first night on duty at the hospital, ten
days later, was eventful.
She had the care of two patients, each in a
room by himself, with an open door between. One
of these patients was a man with a broken arm, a dis
placed rib, a bandaged head and wandering brain. He
made no trouble and was perfectly quiet, except an
occasional mumbling to himself.
The other patient, the one who appealed more
strongly to her sympathies, was a boy about fifteen.
Both legs had been broken in an automobile collision
and he was suffering from internal injuries. In spite
of constant pain his courage never weakened. He
was always in good spirits and trying his best to smile.
290
Above the Clouds 291
His gratitude for any attention went straight to the
heart of his nurse : "That pretty little nurse with the
sad face" as one surgeon described her.
Ruth was much impressed by Dr. Gladwin, a tall,
heavy man, with a bushy head of the whitest hair. His
eyes were threatening, his glance warlike, all in amus
ing contrast, however, to his friendly, cheerful voice,
his gentle manners and his unfailing sympathy. He
said to her that evening, after giving his instructions :
"We have not been able to define precisely this boy s
injuries. The constant pain about his chest is a bad
sign, but we are hoping for the best. His legs will be
as good as ever."
While these words were spoken Ruth looked across
the room toward the patient. His eyes were closed.
The round boyish face was drawn with pain. At that
moment his eyes opened and he returned Ruth s look
with a smile. It was a smile of friendliness and cour
age, the resolute, pathetic courage of youth clinging
to life. The look itself and the tale it told brought a
sudden moistness to the eyes of the new nurse. Then
she followed Dr. Gladwin into the adjoining room.
Standing by the bedside of the other patient she
looked down upon a man whose eyes were partly cov
ered by the bandage about his head. The pale face had
the somewhat disreputable appearance that goes with
a scrubby, unshaven chin.
"This man," said the doctor, "has, as you know, a
broken arm and rib, with an injury to his head. He
remains unconscious. The first few days he made
292 Drowsy
no effort to speak. But now he murmurs something
at intervals; always the same words, I am told. The
effort to speak is a favorable sign in this case, as it
indicates a returning memory. He will probably re
cover."
A few further instructions as to her own duties, and
he departed.
Ruth found the boy more greedy for companionship
than the unconscious patient which was not surpris
ing. No human being could be braver than this boy.
Yearning for sympathy he liked to have his hand held
by this new nurse. As the night wore on he told her
in a fragmentary way, between periods of pain, of his
parents in San Francisco, of his ambitions, if he ever
recovered. He also gave details of his accident last
Saturday, just how he was thrown from the motor
when they collided with the other car.
But the new nurse did not neglect the less interest
ing patient in the next room. He seemed like one in
a deep, unending sleep, except for the occasional smile
that came to his lips and the muttered words what
ever they were.
About two o clock in the morning the boy closed
his eyes and he, also, slept. Ruth arranged the cov
ering about his neck and shoulders then stepped gently
into the adjoining room. For a moment she stood at
the bedside of the unconscious man with the scrubby
chin. He lay motionless, and in a slumber so deep,
so silent, that it seemed to Ruth he could easily pass
away and none be wiser. Then, for a time, she stood
Above the Clouds 293
at the open window, looking out into the peaceful
summer night and up at the stars. Her thoughts,
when alone these days, were always in the past, and
they were heart breaking. To-night, even the rising
moon, although in its fullest beauty, seemed a perfect
symbol of her own future a world of dust and ashes.
At last, with a sigh of resignation a sigh of de
spair and buried hopes she left the window. Again
she stood beside the unconscious and less interesting
patient; he of the bandaged head and scrubby chin.
As she was turning away she noticed a movement of
his lips the beginning of the periodic smile. She felt
a sudden curiosity to hear the coming words. If, as the
doctor said, they were always the same, they might be
a message he had wished to send, important to wife or
parents, that could lead to his identification. Besides
she had a strong desire to learn what words or what
thought behind the words could bring so much hap
piness, even momentarily, to a half conscious spirit.
The light in the room, while softened by shades, was
clear enough to reveal the uncovered portion of his
face. And, as she looked more carefully, the face was
less "common" than she had judged from the un
shaven chin. She leaned over the bed, her face not
far from his, and listened. Through the open win
dow came no sound from the sleeping city; only the
pale light from the rising moon ; that cold, dead
world of dust and ashes. It may have been the
solitude and the silence of the hour that brought to
Ruth a feeling of awe almost of guilt at this intrii-
294 Drowsy
sion upon the privacy of another s thoughts ; secrets,
perhaps, of a defenseless brain. As she was wonder
ing what sort of accident had brought him there the
blissful smile became more pronounced. Although
his eyes were partly covered by the overhanging band
age it was clear that the dormant spirit within was
stirred by memories of a supreme happiness, of a tran
scendent joy that no physical pain could extinguish.
Further still she bent over, until her face was near
his own.
Then, through every nerve of brain and body, she
felt a sensation of mingled awe, of terror, of bewilder
ment, as if she were suddenly in touch with another
world, when she heard, hardly above a whisper :
"Cyrus, come back. I have always loved you."
Breathless, as in a trance, Ruth gazed at the lips,
where lingered but slowly fading, as if reluctant to
pass away the expression of a great content. The
brief liberty of a rapturous though. Then back into
the darkness.
Needless to say that Cyrus Alton was not neglected
during his convalescense. And Dr. Gladwin s prophecy
was correct. Cyrus not only recovered but his recov
ery, after once regaining consciousness, was surpris
ingly rapid. So rapid that the "little nurse with the
Above the Clouds 295
sad face" threw aside her sadness, as if waking from
a dream, and became the happiest and most inspiriting
person in her vicinity.
On a certain afternoon, when the convalescent was
first allowed to talk as much as he wished, he told his
story. And no better audience could be desired than
the one then seated on the bed beside him, and quite
near the speaker perhaps to save him the effort of
raising his voice. The day was warm, the windows
open. Faintly through the closed blinds came the
murmur of the city, from beyond the spacious grounds
of the hospital.
The story was simply told. He started at night for
the red planet. He got there and he landed. The air
seemed much like ours. But he found himself in a
world quite different from his own. All was archi
tecture ; temples, towers and enormous viaducts fad
ing away into the horizon, as far as the eye could see.
And everything was tall and slender. The trees were
very high with branches pointing upward like poplars,
and always formally laid out in avenues, or in geomet
ric patterns. And the color ! It was like looking at an
endless city through orange glasses. The few people
he saw had larger heads than ours, more like children,
but like children with very short legs. They were sur
prisingly light on their feet. He was surprised at their
high jumps until he remembered that a man who
weighs two hundred pounds on the earth weighs but
seventy-five pounds on Mars. He really saw but little,
however, for although he had tested the atmosphere he
296 Drowsy
found, after looking about him a moment, that the air,
while pleasant enough to breath, was affecting his
nerves and brain, almost like laughing gas. Then,
as he stood there, and began to realize his danger, the
wonderful thing happened!
Like a soft whisper it came to his ears; gently but
clearly, the words that made him forget the things
about him, and all else, for that matter. He thought,
at first, the lighter air was affecting his nerves and
exciting his imagination ; that his own brain was fool
ing him. For he knew, or thought he knew, that such
a thing was impossible. But as he stood there, wonder
ing, hoping, trying hard to believe it might be possible,
the message came again, in the same words. Then he
knew it was no delusion. He knew it was no invention
of his own, nor the cry from his own heart of its one
desire.
"And, oh, Ruthy, it was the best news that ever
came to that planet!"
After various remarks of a not impersonal nature
from his audience, he continued :
"And to think of its getting there! I knew it was
possible, theoretically, but I didn t really believe it.
Three times it came. Then I wasted no more time in
wondering. I clambered back into the machine. For
eign countries had no further interest for me!
Foreign countries indeed !" and Ruth closed her eyes,
and shuddered.
"Well," the traveler continued, "I reached home at
night, as you know."
Above the Clouds 297
"Reached home!"
He laughed. "That shows how relative all things
are, doesn t it? By home I meant the Earth. I
traveled as fast as I dared for I wanted to meet some
body at Longfields. Instead of coming down over
North America I found I was sailing up over the
Eastern coast of Africa. When at last I struck Massa
chusetts, I met a thunderstorm. Any fool would know
better than to stay out in it, but I was in a hurry to get
to Longfields where I had important business and I
took a chance. I was nearing Worcester when the
storm struck me I had run into it, not realizing how
fast I was going."
"Yes, yes go on!"
"Well, I shall never know just what happened. I
don t even know what became of the machine. The
next thing I did know I was in this bed, and you be
side it. Until you spoke to me and I heard your voice
I believed I was dreaming."
"What do you think did happen, Drowsy?"
"I think a touch of lightning, an electric shock of
some kind, knocked me silly, burst the door open and
sent me heels over head out of the falling machine."
Then Ruth told him how he was found in a field, the
ground, not far away, all dug up, a big tree splintered
and a stone wall torn to pieces.
"Yes, yes it probably took a run for a high jump,
went off into space and is now about a thousand bil
lion miles the other side of Neptune."
"Thank heaven, it s gone!" exclaimed Ruth. And
298 Drowsy
obeying a sudden impulse she leaned over and kissed
the happy man.
At that moment Dr. Gladwin entered from the ad
joining room. Quickly Ruth straightened up and
backed away, her cheeks redder than roses.
The old doctor laughed, his face aglow with a boy
ish delight. "Don t let me interrupt, for that s what
makes the world go round. Doesn t it, Mr. Alton?"
"Yes, Doctor. It always has and it will, forever
and forever."
"True, indeed ! And how far above science, electri
cal, medical and any other kind, or any human inven
tion even yours."
"There s no comparison," said the smiling patient.
"And what a heaven-sent cure for a damaged head
and arm and ribs!"
"And a damaged heart," said Cyrus, waving a hand
toward the rosy Ruth. "It s more than a cure. It s
a continuous miracle!"
Here the much embarrassed Ruth interrupted :
"Please don t think, Dr. Gladwin, that
"That you treat other patients as kindly? Oh,
never!"
"God forbid!" exclaimed Cyrus.
"I want you to know," Ruth persisted, "that in Sep
tember there is to be a
Dr. Gladwin nodded. "Wedding. Yes, I knew it."
"You knew it!"
"Several days ago."
"Why, who told you?"
Above the Clouds 299
"You both told me."
"We both told you!" exclaimed nurse and patient
as they stared first at each other, then at the doctor.
"Some days ago," said Dr. Gladwin, with a serious
face and impressive manner, "a certain nurse was
waiting for me at my office early in the morning.
She told me she had discovered the identity of a cer
tain patient. Her voice was tremulous. One hand
she pressed tight against her heart to silence its beat
ing. She knew, as I did, that loud reverberations
might awaken sleeping neighbors. She had eyes.
Possibly you have noticed those eyes, Mr. Alton."
"I live in them," said Cyrus.
"Well, deep, down deep within those eyes I could
see the Thing that makes the world go round ; the ten
der, unchanging glow that is life to a broken lover."
Here Cyrus smiled, nodded, gulped, started to say
something and gave it up.
Dr. Gladwin continued. "She did not tell me she
hoped that particular patient would recover. She told
me he tnitst recover. She made it clear that nothing
in this world, or in any other world, was to be con
sidered until that young man was out of danger."
"Oh, how can you make fun of me!" protested
Ruth.
"Make fun of you! Make fun of the most sacred
thing in human life!"
"No, Ruth," said Cyrus, "he is not making fun of
you. He is simply reciting the most beautiful of all
earthly poems."
3OO Drowsy
"Yes, he speaks truly," said the doctor : "the oldest
in the world yet always young. An entrancing poem,
containing also the secret of the young man with the
broken head. But he hides his secret in a louder way.
He sings it to any listener and all day long."
"Oh, come now," from Cyrus. "I say, Doctor,
you "
Ruth laughed. "Don t interrupt. Please go right
on, Doctor. It s just lovely!"
Dr. Gladwin obeyed. "Metaphorically he engages
an auditorium and a military band to announce the
coming tidings. Then, to the assembled multitude, he
shouts the joyful secret. But when alone with me,
those public methods are not necessary. If I men
tion, in a casual way, the nurse with the eloquent eyes,
the color rushes into his pale face, his lips quiver, his
eyes become moist and his pulse jumps and dances like
a thing possessed.
Cyrus laughed and leaned back against his pillow.
"Yes and ten times more so when I m in her presence
and can see her."
"Of course," said Dr. Gladwin, "a healthy, normal
habit. Long life to it! There s no better way to im
part the ever welcome tidings I am in love, and she s
mine ! But what a tonic, this carefully guarded secret !
Never, since the world began was cure so swift."
Then, in a more serious tone, but with his friendly
smile:
"And all deserved! To both of you has come the
high reward of Courage and Devotion."
Above the Clouds
301
Ruth returned his smile, the color still in her cheeks.
Cyrus closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of fath
omless content.
"It all seems too good to be true," he murmured.
" " II I II II III II
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