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CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 Prof. Guy E, Grantham 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PS 24S9.N273R16 1901 
 
 3 1924 022 430 544 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tliis book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022430544 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 
 
RALPH NARLOWE 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 m 
 JAMES BALL NAYLOR 
 
 AKRON, OHIO 
 
 THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 NEW YORK 1901 CHICAGO 
 
PS 
 M2T3 
 
 
 COPVKISHT, 1901, 
 BY 
 
 THK SAAI,FIBI.D PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 First Edition, 5,000, AUrch 1st 
 
 Second Edition, 15,000, March 20th 
 
 Third Edition, 15,000, April 15th 
 
 Fourth Edition, 15,000, May 15th 
 
 Qss\ \\- \ 
 
 HADE BY 
 THE WERNER COMPANY 
 
 NOK MANUfMTUilM 
 AKIK9K, OHIO 
 
TO 
 MY MOTHER 
 
PREFACE 
 
 u-r-vALPH Marlowk" 18 the legitimate child of 
 r\ actual experience. Much of the story — 
 the places, characters, and incidents — I 
 have known ; a part of it I have lived. The plot 
 is founded on fact ; many of the incidents are 
 actualities ; the characters are living, breathing 
 entities. The village of Babylon was and is as 
 represented. For its inhabitants I offer no apol- 
 ogy; they are as heredity and environment made 
 them. This is no purpose novel. I have re- 
 corded what I have seen and known — that is 
 all. And things are as they are ; not as one would 
 have them. 
 
 With this brief explanation, I hand over the 
 story to the reading public. If that great final 
 critic be pleased with it, my labor — a labor of 
 love — will have been worth the while. ^ 
 
 J. B. N. 
 Malta, Ohio, 
 
 January 4, 1901. 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 e 
 
 A DREAR, sodden October day was rapidly draw- 
 ing to a close. The thin cold mist that all 
 the forenoon had enveloped wood and field, like a 
 limp and loose cloak of gray, had gradually changed 
 to a snug and heavy garment of cloud and rain. 
 And yet the trees shivered and moaned as the va- 
 grant, shifting wind stripped them of their autumn 
 robes of green and gold and crimson ; and the damp 
 leaves fluttered helplessly to the ground and quiv- 
 ered in a seeming ecstasy of terror at the touch of 
 clinging clay. Bleating flocks and lowing herds 
 huddled in the shelter of rocks and fences and 
 looked with longing eyes toward the distant farm- 
 yard where, through the pelting rain, the stacks 
 and sheds loomed grim and ghostlike. 
 
 The storm grew in force. The gloom steadily 
 deepened ; the dim daylight quickly faded. Gaunt 
 night stalked in and held the Muskingum Valley in 
 its chill embrace. 
 
 Here a solitary light appeared in the window of 
 a farmhouse ; and there a glowing group told of a 
 hamlet nestling at the foot of the beetling cliffs. 
 The drowsy " choog-poof " of a slow-plodding 
 steamboat mingled with the clamorous voice of the 
 gale. Then above all other sounds rose the hoarse 
 
 (7) 
 
8 RALPH MARLOWE , 
 
 vibrating notes of the whistle, quickly followed by 
 the mellow notes of the clanging bell. 
 
 The vast shape of wood and iron slowly turned 
 a bend in the river and majestically ploughed its 
 way onward — a gigantic fiery monster belching 
 smoke and flame from its two black horns. The 
 reflected lights glimmered and danced in the tawny 
 water ; two radiating ridges of yellow foam leaped 
 and surged from wheel to shore. And then the 
 asthmatic leviathan dragged itself around another 
 bend of the stream — and was lost in the black 
 shadows beyond. 
 
 The wind soughed dolefully among the bare 
 willows upon the banks ; and the waves lapped 
 sullenly upon the shelving sands. Then came a lull 
 — the stillness broken only by the baying of a dog 
 upon the hilltops far away. 
 
 Again the wind arose, and blew with redoubled 
 fury. The clouds wept torrents. Suddenly an 
 ear-splitting screech split its way through the 
 sheets of , driven rain and echoed from hill slope to 
 hill slope. A mufiled, grinding roar followed. 
 And presently a blinding glare of light flashed 
 around a headland of rock and shale; and a rum- 
 bling, screaking train swept up to a small, barn- 
 like station building clinging to the skirts of a 
 pretty village. 
 
 It was the southbound accommodation on the Z. 
 and O. R. — two hours late. 
 
 The road is a short line from Zanesville to Mari- 
 etta; and, to be candid, each train is an accommo- 
 
RALPH MARLOVl'E 9 
 
 dation — and more frequently the schedule is broken 
 than kept. 
 
 The engine stopped, and hissed and spluttered 
 like an angry thing of life. The cars bumped one 
 another and groaned in unison. "Malconta!" 
 bellowed a smut-faced brakeman, throwing open 
 the door of the rear coach. 
 
 The buzzing murmur of many voices suddenly 
 grew to a din; the thunder of the moving train 
 had ceased. A gust of wind and wet swept into 
 the car, laden with the suffocating odor of steam 
 and smoke. Passengers hurriedly caught up wraps 
 and satchels and sidled toward the door. The 
 wind and rain met and buffeted them. Muttered 
 maledictions mingled with sharp exclamations. 
 Then the platform of the coach was clear — ^and for 
 a few moments all was quiet within. 
 
 Ralph Marlowe lifted his chin from his breast, 
 removed his knees from the plush-covered back of 
 the seat in front of him, and lazily drew himself 
 erect. Then he turned down his coat collar and 
 yawned behind his hand. He had been asleep. 
 
 "Hello! " he muttered to himself, " where are 
 we? " And he swept a hasty glance around the 
 interior of the car which now contained but a half 
 score of passengers. 
 
 Of a sudden arose the tramp and shuffle of many 
 feet upon the steps and platform of the coach ; and 
 wet and bedraggled passengers with umbrellas, 
 bags, and bundles, came crowding and jostling 
 through the door. 
 
lo RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 Marlowe screwed half around in his seat and 
 curiously watched their bustling entry. They were 
 a nondescript lot: farmers and their wives who 
 had been to market; a nattily dressed drummer; a 
 red-faced lumberman; a pursy, flabby-faced oil 
 man in sou'wester, and slicker; and a sharp-nosed 
 horse jockey in corduroys — ^the worse for liquor. 
 
 With much good-natured banter they secured 
 seats and arranged their manifold parcels and 
 packages. Then nought was heard except the low 
 monotonous hum of their voices, the head-splitting 
 buzz of steam in the engine, and the jarring bump 
 of trunks tumbling from the baggage van. 
 
 Ralph looked at his watch — and againjyawned. 
 He was a young man of eight and twenty, straight 
 and athletic, with brown hair and eyes and a dark 
 dramatic face — whatever that may mean. His 
 clothing was neat-fitting and stylish, from the 
 patent-leather shoe protruding into the aisle, to the 
 black derby hat that lay upon a gray top coat care- 
 lessly flung over the back of the seat. 
 
 For the want of something better to do, he 
 turned and peered out of the window. But he 
 could see nothing, although he shaded his eyes with 
 his strong white hands and flattened his nose 
 against the cool pane. He was on the side of the 
 car opposite the lights of the station, and all with- 
 out was blackness impenetrable. The glass, backed 
 by the wall of gloom, was a mirror upon which 
 drops of rain, like globules of quicksilver, sparkled 
 and trickled. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE ii 
 
 "All aboard!" bawled the smut-faced brake- 
 man bounding up the steps and into the car — 
 closing the door with a bang. 
 
 A snort — a start — and they were oflf. The 
 engine coughed and wheezed. The low rumble of 
 wheels grew to a deafening roar and rattle. Dan- 
 cing lights flew past the windows as the train 
 crossed the principal street of the village, lumbered 
 through the outskirts, and reached the open country. 
 The brakeman shook the water from his cap, and 
 steadying himself against the wood-box swayed 
 with the lurching car. Grotesque shadows — cast 
 by the jiggling lamps — staggered drunkenly along 
 the aisle. The conversation of the passengers was 
 a drowsy murmur. The smoke of a vile cigar 
 added pungency to the close atmosphere ; the 
 bibulous horseman was openly and willfully viola- 
 ting the rules of the road. 
 
 The door opened and shut; and the conductor — 
 his short legs far apart, his cap perched rakishly on 
 the back of his head, and his blonde mustache drip- 
 ping moisture— stood in the aisle, snifHing suspi- 
 ciously and scowling. But he skillfully thrust his 
 lantern into his armpit and quietly began to take 
 up the fares. 
 
 Marlowe plucked the blue sleeve as it brushed 
 past him, and inquired: 
 
 " How far are we from Babylon? " 
 
 " Ten miles — next stop but one. " 
 
 And the uniformed taker of fares savagely 
 punched an old farmer's bit of pasteboard — ^but 
 
12 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 kept his eye upon the pimpled face of the puffing 
 jockey. 
 
 Slowly down the aisle he moved. The natty 
 drummer smiled across at Ralph, and winking 
 slyly jerked his thumb in the direction of the 
 retreating conductor. Ralph smiled and nodded in 
 return. Other passengers taking in the situation 
 grinned broadly. All conversation ceased — ^the lull 
 before the gale*. 
 
 " If you want to smoke, go forward into the 
 smoker, " growled the conductor as he reached the 
 jockey's side. 
 
 "Go where?" returned the horseman, as he 
 straightened up in well assumed surprise and indig- 
 nation. 
 
 " Into the smoker, " repeated the conductor in a 
 louder tone. " This isn't the smoker. " 
 
 The passengers twisted their necks and held 
 their breaths, to catch the reply. 
 
 " Naw? " remd.rked the jockey with a tipsy leer. 
 
 " No, it isn't. " — Angrily. 
 
 " Well, who said it was? " — With a fine show 
 of dignity. — " D'you think I ain't onto my job- 
 say? Of course this ain't no smoker; it's a stock 
 car. /'w the smoker. See?" 
 
 And he nodded his head and pursed his lips con- 
 temptuously. 
 
 A titter rippled through the coach. The con- 
 ductor flushed, but manfully controlled himself. 
 
 ' ' No nonsense ! " he said severely. ' ' Put out that 
 cigar or go into the smoking car. " 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 13 
 
 "This ain't no cigar; it's a stogie. " — Puffing 
 vigorously and blowing the smoke into the other's 
 eyes. 
 
 "Listen! " thundered the exasperated conductor. 
 "Put out that cigar, go into the smoker, or I'll put 
 you off. " 
 
 " Say, ol' man, you ain't preachin' no sermon to 
 a deaf an' dumb asylum. " 
 
 " Do you understand? " — taking him by the arm 
 and shaking him roughly. 
 
 "Say?" 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " I'm in the smokin' car. " 
 
 "You are not." 
 
 "It's a smokin^ car when I smoke in it, ain't it 
 -hey?" 
 
 "Don't get gay, now!" the conductor hissed 
 menacingly, placing his lantern upon the floor and 
 pushing up his sleeves. 
 
 "Oh!" ejaculated an elderly woman, with a 
 catch of the breath, " They're going to fight. " 
 
 The other passengers ceased to smile; the com- 
 edy was assuming a serious aspect. 
 
 '-' Don't be scared, " whispered the red-faced 
 lumberman to the timid lady. " They ain't goin' 
 to fight. One's afraid, an' t'other dassen't." 
 
 His words hissed through the car like escaping 
 steam. 
 
 "Don't git gay, eh?" sneered the jockey. "I 
 ain't gittin' gay; I'm alluz gay — gayer'n a red 
 ribbon at a county fair. " 
 
14 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 "The first thing you know, off you'll go, " the 
 conductor shouted, grabbing at the fellow who 
 retreated to the end of the seat, farthest from the 
 aisle. 
 
 "You say I'll go off ? " he asked, with a humor- 
 ous twinkle in his rat-like eyes. 
 
 " Yes you will! " — striving to catch him by the 
 collar. 
 
 " Say, pardner, may be you think I'm loaded!''^ 
 
 A roar greeted the horseman's sally. The big 
 lumberman guffawed loudly : 
 
 "Loaded? Well, I sh'uld say! Loaded to the 
 neck! Haw — haw — haw! " 
 
 The drummer familiarly slapped Marlowe's knee, 
 and laughing until he was purple in the face, 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Loaded — and likely to go off! That's a good 
 one— eh? " 
 
 " He has diagnosed his own case — and correctly, 
 in my opinion," Ralph replied smilingly. 
 
 The conductor was furious. Frantically he 
 snatched the offending cigar from the jockey's 
 teeth, and flinging it upon the floor stamped it to 
 dust. Then shaking his fat, ringed finger at the 
 offender, he began in tones hoarse with rage: 
 
 "There! It's out " 
 
 " But / ain't out, " interrupted the perverse 
 horseman coolly producing another stogie and fum- 
 bling in his pocket, for a match. 
 
 " Don't you dare to light that? " 
 
 " Why— what'll happen? " 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 15 
 
 " I'll fling you ofT the train! " 
 
 "So?" 
 
 " Just try it and see. " 
 
 " If I light this stogie, I'll light on my head and 
 shoulders, in the mud — eh?" 
 
 "Yes— you will." 
 
 "Say!" — Cocking one eye and smiling — "I 
 guess you're in earnest, pardner. Well, 'nough's 
 enough. Le's kiss an' make up." 
 
 And slowly, fumblingly returning the cigar to 
 his pocket, he extended a hand not overly clean. 
 
 "Huh!" the conductor snorted, contemptuously 
 ignoring the proffered paw and picking up his lan- 
 tern. 
 
 Without more ado, he turned and hastily left 
 the car. 
 
 The jockey got upon his feet, and swa3ring 
 drunkenly, remarked in injured tones : 
 
 "Mad — wasn't he? Right up on the bit — head 
 high an' tail over the dashboard — an' comin' like a 
 wind-broken hoss in a two-forty trot. An' all 
 'bout nothin'. It's mighty strange what fools 
 some people can make o' the'rselves." 
 
 After delivering himself of this bit of sage phi- 
 losophy, he dropped upon the cushioned seat and 
 lapsed into a drunken sleep. 
 
 The train sped on through the rain and darkness. 
 Up slippery grades the engine coughed and labored ; 
 wheezed and panted momentarily on gaining tlie 
 level ; and then — as though bent on self-destruction 
 — plunged headlong down the succeeding slope. 
 
1 6 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 With a great grinding of wheels, and whistle and 
 hiss of escaping air and steam, the train pulled up 
 at a flag station. A number of passengers got o£F. 
 Marlowe peeped through the smoke-streaked pane 
 and saw a swinging lantern, and under its light a 
 pair of rain-sodden shoes, a water-dripping hat, 
 and between, a humped heap of ragged humanity. 
 Nothing else was visible. 
 
 " Two hours late on account of a landslide, and 
 stopping at every^pig pen and turkey nest between 
 Zanesville and Marietta," grumbled the natty 
 drummer, flashing his gold watch toward Ralph. 
 " At this rate we won't get into Marietta in time 
 for breakfast. This is the worst rattletrap road in 
 the state, anyhow. 'Twon't be but a year or two 
 till there won't be anything left of it but a few rot- 
 ten ties 'and two streaks of rust. There — thank 
 heaven! — we're off again." 
 
 Then pleasantly : 
 
 " Are you on the road?" 
 
 "Yes and no," Marlowe smilingly answered, 
 facing his questioner and coolly surveying him. 
 
 " Ah!" ejaculated the commercial man, twisting 
 his small black mustache and fidgeting uneasily. 
 " That's a little hard to understand. I — I " 
 
 "It's like this," Ralph explained, still smiling. 
 "I'm on this road — unfortunately; but I am not a 
 knight of the grip." 
 
 " Oh! pardon me." 
 
 With a deprecatory gesture, his rosy cheeks 
 flushing as red as the carnation in his buttonhole 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 17 
 
 to the ample bald space extending from forehead 
 to occiput. 
 
 ' ' A rare specimen of the class — capable of blush- 
 ing," Marlowe thought. 
 
 But he said aloud : 
 
 " That's all right. You are a traveling man, of 
 course." 
 
 With animation : " Yes, indeed. I travel for the 
 Baldy Drug Company of Zanesville." 
 
 " You are well acquainted up and down the val- 
 ley, then." 
 
 " Sure! I sell drugs to the doctors, patent medi- 
 cines to the grocers, liquors to the saloon keepers ; 
 carry flowers to the ladies — and give candy to the 
 babies." 
 
 Laughing good naturedly, until his plump little 
 body shook and his watch chain jingled musically 
 against the buttons on his vest. 
 
 " A jolly fellow, well pleased with, himself and 
 all the world — ten years older than I, but looking 
 younger," was Ralph's mental comment. 
 
 But to his companion : 
 
 " How large a place is Babylon?" 
 
 "In square miles or population?" returned the 
 drug man, still smiling broadly. 
 
 " Either or both," laughed Marlowe. 
 
 " It covers half a township and has about six 
 hundred inhabitants." 
 
 Ralph's countenance fell. 
 
 " So small?" He muttered peevishly — incredu- 
 lously. 
 
1 8 RALPH MARL O WE 
 
 "Small J" echoed the drummer. "I call that 
 plenty of territory for that many people." 
 
 "Perhaps — yes, no doubt," Ralph murmured, his 
 eyes downcast, his foot absent-mindedly tapping 
 the floor. 
 
 " You going to stop off there?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Marlowe without looking up. 
 
 " And you expected to find it a bigger place?" 
 
 ' ' I had got the impression it was a place of three 
 or four thousand inhabitants." 
 
 "Thunder!" gasped the drummer. "That's 
 pretty near as many people as there are in the coun- 
 ty. You must be thinking of Malconta. No, I've 
 told you the truth. Babylon is a place of about six 
 hundred." 
 
 Marlowe looked up and remarked : 
 
 "It can't be a first-class place for a drugstore, 
 then." 
 
 "I don't know about that. I sell old Doc 
 Barwood lots of drugs. He has the only drug- 
 store in the township — sells heaps of drugs and 
 makes money hand over fist. Quakerville and 
 Foxtown are tributary to the place, too. You're 
 not thinking of going into business there? Oh! 
 may be you're an oil man." 
 
 " No, I am going to accept a position. " 
 
 "That so?" 
 
 Ralph merely nodded. 
 
 " In a store? " 
 
 " In a drugstore, or pharmacy— or whatever it 
 may prove to be." 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 19 
 
 "You don't mean you are going there to clerk 
 for old Doc Barwood? " — with lifted brows. 
 
 " I do — I am, yes." 
 
 "The — devil — you — are! " ejaculated the drum- 
 mer. 
 
 Then, with dropped jaw and wide open eyes, he 
 sat and looked at Marlowe for a full half minute. 
 
 The whistle screeched eerily. 
 
 " Is that for Babylon? " Ralph asked. 
 
 "Yes," replied his companion rousing himself 
 and extending his hand. "Well, so long. Give 
 my respects to the old doc. I'll be around to see 
 you in a week or so. Try and have an order for 
 me. Here — smoke a good cigar on me. Seldom 
 smoke? I do — and I carry 'em to give away. 
 Matter of business, you know. By the way, I 
 haven't introduced myself. My name's Crider — 
 L. W. Crider — Leonidas Wallingford Crider. 
 How'd you like to carry such a name as that, 
 around in your grip all your life — eh ? And your 
 name ? ' ' 
 
 " Ralph Marlowe," 
 
 "Ralph Marlowe," Crider rattled on. "Some 
 sense in a name like that. Short but sweet. Here 
 — let me help you with that overcoat. On she 
 goes. By jocks! That's a nice traveling bag 
 you've got. Wouldn't mind having one like it 
 myself. Here — have a cake of gum. Don't chew 
 the stuff? And so you're going to try to clerk for 
 the old doc. I'll be — excuse me. Well, here you 
 are. So long — see you later." 
 
20 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 The locomotive was slowing ; the bell clanging. 
 Ralph stood leaning against the end of his seat, 
 satchel in hand, waiting for the train to stop and 
 wondering why his new acquaintance had been so 
 surprised at the announcement that he — ^Ralph — had 
 accepted a place with Dr. Barwood. The final 
 bump came — the coach stood still. The young 
 man edged his way along the aisle, muttering: 
 
 " I wish I had asked him what he meant. But 
 then he gave me no opportunity ; he talked inces- 
 santly. A country village — a place of six hundred 
 inhabitants — a fine outlook, truly ! But stuff ! 
 Why should / care ? I'll be lost here — ^buried 
 alive. It could not be better ; I shall be securely 
 hidden from all who ever knew me. But what did 
 that drummer mean by saying — ' So you're going 
 to try to clerk for the old doc ? ' No matter. 
 Here I am ; and if there's anything amiss, I'll soon 
 have the satisfaction of knowing it. ' ' 
 
 The last thing he observed as he left the car, was 
 the big lumberman arguing politics with an old 
 farmer and emphasizing his points by thumping the 
 floor with his measuring stick ; while the oil man 
 — a rotund heap of lemon-colored oilskins — was fast 
 asleep, and the jockey was rubbing his rat-like eyes 
 and staring confusedly around. 
 
 Then Ralph stood alone upon the station plat- 
 form ; and the train was thundering away in the 
 blackness. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 THE railroad — that coquets with the winding 
 river from one end of the valley to the other — 
 at Babylon suddenly grows ardent in its wooing, 
 and hugs the stream closely. Only a zigzag row of 
 frame warehouses and lumber piles — perched inse- 
 curely upon wooden docks — separates it from the 
 object of its adoration. 
 
 The station building, a low, rambling affair, 
 faces the tumbledown warehouses and stares across 
 the track at them, frowning at their brazen empti- 
 ness. Back of the station the ground rises rapidly, 
 and dotting the slope and the sandy plain beyond, 
 are the residences and business places of the Baby- 
 lonians. The town resembles a garden hose — one 
 principal thoroughfare extending westward from 
 the river to the hills a half mile or more away. 
 
 Ralph Marlowe stood upon the empty platform 
 and gazed after the rear lights of the disappearing 
 train. The wet rails gleamed in the yellow light 
 streaming from the station window. The express 
 agent — a muffled, indescribable figure — trundled 
 his truck around a distant comer of the building, 
 and was lost to view. The young man was indeed 
 alone. 
 
 " I feel as though I had just bid good-bye to civ- 
 
 (21) 
 
22 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 ilization and dropped upon an uninhabited shore," 
 he murmured — a catch in his voice. 
 
 Then suddenly becoming aware that the rain was 
 fast soaking his outer garments, he set down his 
 traveling bag, raised his umbrella, and looked 
 about him. A door of the station stood open, re- 
 vealing a dimly lighted interior. Ralph quickly 
 sought shelter within. 
 
 The room was long and narrow, with a rough 
 wooden bench running along one side of it. An 
 upright stove near the center of the floor and a 
 smoky oil lamp suspended from the ceiling, com- 
 pleted the furnishings. In the middle of the yel- 
 low wall opposite the long bench, was a small 
 square opening with a meager shelf or ledge at the 
 bottom. To Marlowe's vivid imagination, the 
 whole resembled the blank face, open mouth, and 
 projecting lips of a saffron-tinted ogre. Above the 
 window, in blue-and-gilt letters, were the words: 
 "Ticket Office — -passengers viill please procure 
 tickets before boarding the train.'''' 
 
 Ralph heard the clicking of a telegraphic instru- 
 ment in the other room, and advancing to the open- 
 ing, peeped through. A sallow-countenanced, 
 brown-mustached young man, with a green-visored 
 cap pulled low over his spectacled eyes, was bend- 
 ing over the table on which the Morse instrument 
 rested, writing industriously. A tall student lamp 
 with a milk-white shade was at his elbow. 
 
 "Good evening," Marlowe ventured. 
 
 The operator npdded and moved his lips, but 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 23 
 
 made no reply. Ralph waited impatiently. After 
 a time the operator looked up and remarked ques- 
 tioningly : 
 
 " Something?" 
 
 " Can you direct me to the best hotel in the vil- 
 lage?" 
 
 "There isn't any." 
 
 " No hotel?" — In surprise savoring of incredulity 
 and bordering on consternation . 
 
 "No best hotel. There's only one. It's the 
 ■worst — I board there." 
 
 " Will you kindly direct me to it?" 
 
 " Are you in much of a hurry?" 
 
 " I am tired and hungry." 
 
 "That's unfortunate — for you. Well, I can't 
 Sired you to the place ; but if you'll sit down and 
 wait a few minutes, V\\ pilot you to it. I'll finish 
 up things and go along with you. I've done 
 enough work for one day, anyway — for forty dol- 
 lars a month and board yourself. Drop down on 
 the bench there. I'll be through in a jiffy." 
 
 Marlowe retired to the wooden seat, and busied 
 himself with his own thoughts and a closer survey 
 of the barren and uninviting surroundings. He 
 heard the operator moving about in the other room, 
 putting things to rights. Of a sudden the light in 
 the office went out, a key turned in a lock — and 
 the ticket window was a black square in the yellow 
 wall. 
 
 Presently the operator entered the waiting room 
 and remarked : 
 
24 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 "All ready. Give me your satchel — you carry 
 the umbrella over us. It's darker 'n a tunnel up 
 the street — and still raining like the deluge." 
 
 Then as they stood outside and he turned to lock 
 the door : 
 
 " You ought to have on overshoes ; you'll find it 
 muddy enough up the grade. But vi^e're in for it. 
 Come on." 
 
 The street was deserted and black, but outlined 
 by dim lights twinkling here and there in stores 
 and shops. In silence the two young men began 
 to ascend the slope, sinking deep into the soft wet 
 sand at every step. It was like traversing the 
 length of an immense mortar bed tilted at an angle 
 of thirty degrees. At last the operator panted: 
 
 " This is tough — on you, especially. It'll try the 
 patent on your enameled shoes. I've been here 
 three years ; and it's all mortar in winter and all 
 sand in summer — and not the sign of a street lamp. 
 I'm getting tired of it, too ; and I don't mean to 
 stay much longer. It's too slow a burg for yours 
 truly." 
 
 Ralph, roused from the reverie into which he had 
 fallen, said with a show of interest: 
 
 " This is not your home, then?" 
 
 " No, indeed. I came from Parkersburgh. 
 There's a fly town for you. I took this job because 
 I couldn't get a better one at the time. But I'm 
 getting tired of being agent, operator, and general 
 roustabout for forty dollars a month. I'm going 
 to quit soon as something else shows up^/ am. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 25 
 
 A fellow of my make-up gets the blues here, A 
 few more years of it'ld kill me.'''' 
 
 "You do not consider the tranquillity of the 
 place conducive to longevity?" 
 
 "How's that?" 
 
 ' ' You think the village too quiet — too slow ? ' ' 
 
 "Slow? That's it— that's the word. Slow! 
 The people here are slower than the wrath of the 
 Almighty — slower 'n promotion on the Z. and O. 
 R. There's no amusements, except an occasional 
 dance. That's where all the young folks are 
 tonight — down at Flat Bottom to a dance. That's 
 the reason nobody from the hotel w^as at the train. 
 She was two hours late, you know — and all the 
 help had gone to that shindig. Deuce of a dark 
 night, isn't it? Here's the crossing. The hotel's 
 just on the other side of the street. Watch out 
 now — or you'll get mired." 
 
 With some difficulty they crossed from one side- 
 walk to the other, carefully picking their way 
 along a narrow path of cinders. The crossing was 
 dimly lighted by the rays of a large lantern, 
 perched upon a post standing at the foot of the 
 steps leading up to the hotel entrance. 
 
 The building was a large and rambling frame 
 with a stone basement, and a yeranda running 
 along two sides. Marlowe noted that much, in 
 spite of the darkness. 
 
 Following his companion up the steps and 
 through the door, he found himself in a large bare- 
 
26 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 floored room that did duty as office and, also, served 
 as loafing rendezvous for the village idlers. 
 
 The operator placed Ralph's traveling bag upon 
 the floor; and turning toward a group of men, 
 who were playing " seven-up" at a table in one 
 corner, asked quickly : 
 
 " Where's the landlord ? " 
 
 " Tendin' bar," mumbled one of the players, 
 vigorously and skillfully shuffling the cards. 
 
 Then he slapped the greasy pack upon the table, 
 and nodding to his associate on the right said 
 briskly : 
 
 "Cut 'em." 
 
 The player addressed cut the cards. The other 
 took them up and proceeded with the deal, wetting 
 his thumb at frequent intervals, by touching it to 
 his bulbous nether lip. 
 
 "I'll go and bring the landlord in," said the 
 operator to Ralph, in a low tone. " I won't be 
 gone but a minute. Just take a chair." 
 
 With the words he vanished through a rear door. 
 
 Marlowe took a seat and glanced ruefully at his 
 muddy shoes and damp garments. The room was 
 empty and chill ; and he shivered. The black and 
 yawning grate contained only a few branches of 
 dead evergreen, a bunch of withered dogwood 
 blossoms — summer decorations — and bits of waste 
 paper. A brown earthenware cuspidor upon the 
 hearth was full of tobacco quids, cigar stubs, and 
 half -burnt matches. A single lamp lighted the 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 27 
 
 apartment, having a place of honor upon the dusty 
 mantelshelf. In consequence, much of the room 
 was in shado'w. Against a side wall stood a high, 
 spindle-legged desk with a cabinet of pigeonholes 
 overtopping it ; and upon its sloping lid lay a 
 number of newspapers, a wet and dripping um- 
 brella, and a small, canvas-bound, blank book — 
 the hotel register. 
 
 The odor of moist soot came down the chimney, 
 and mingling with the stale smell of rank tobacco 
 smoke pervaded the close atmosphere. 
 
 Marlowe turned his attention to the group of 
 card players. There were four of them. He 
 learned afterward that two of them were oil men — 
 guests of the hostelry — and two of them were 
 villagers. The small, pop-eyed man, with short- 
 cropped red hair, was the village cobbler; his part- 
 ner in the game — a thickset individual with a face 
 like a red full moon — was the bridge-tender. One 
 of the oil men was a prospector, and the other a 
 driller, in the oil fields a few miles back of the 
 town. 
 
 They played out their hands, laughing, and 
 bantering one another good-humoredly. It, was the 
 cobbler's deal. Holding the cards caressingly in 
 his calloused palm and tapping the bare table with 
 his knuckles, he looked searchingly at Marlowe and 
 remarked : 
 
 "Bad night out." 
 
 "Very," replied Ralph in a tone of conviction. 
 
 " Train was late, too." 
 
38 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 Marlowe merely nodded. He was in no mood 
 to encourage the cobbler's advances. 
 
 The latter persisted: 
 
 "Did Clark goto find the landlord for you?" 
 
 "The young man who came in with me did — 
 yes." 
 
 "That's Clark — good feller, too. I reckon you 
 hain't had no supper, neither." 
 
 Marlowe shook his head, uttering a curt neg- 
 ative. 
 
 "Come — shuffle up them cards, Crawford," ad- 
 monished the prospector. " We want to strike 
 some grease this time. Mix them up good. There 
 must be big ones in the deck some place. Me and 
 Roberts is tired o' strikin' dusters. Ain't we, 
 Roberts?" 
 
 "You bet," the driller answered with a cavern- 
 ous yawn. 
 
 " Closer 'n a number eight foot in a number six 
 shoe," whispered the cobbler with a nod toward 
 Marlowe and a wink at the prospector. 
 
 But he dealt the cards; and the game went on. 
 
 Presently Clark returned to the room, a foaming 
 glass of beer in one hand and a ham sandwich in 
 the other. 
 
 " Charley' 11 be in in a minute," he announced 
 mumblingly, his mouth full of bread and meat. 
 " He's busy at the bar." 
 
 Seating himself, he tilted his chair against the 
 wall and contentedly sipped his beer and munched 
 his sandwich. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 29 
 
 Marlowe was hungry. The smell of the food 
 and drink made him ravenous. Consulting his 
 watch he found it marked seven-forty-five. He 
 got upon his feet, and thrusting his hands deep 
 into his trousers' pockets, strode up and down the 
 floor, a scowl upon his handsome face. He was 
 fast losing his temper. 
 
 " Just as well to sit down and take it easy," 
 Clark advised, grinning impishly. "I told you 
 this was the slowest burg you ever struck. Just 
 before you die of starvation they'll get you some- 
 thing to eat, though." 
 
 The card players looked up and laughed. They 
 were enjoying the stranger's discomfiture. The 
 latter resumed his seat and said nothing. Clark 
 set his empty glass upon the sloping. lid of the tall 
 desk, fired a bit of bread at the black grate, and 
 hitching his chair toward Marlowe's, asked in an 
 undertone : 
 
 " Going to stay in town long?" 
 
 " Not unless I succeed in finding more hospita- 
 ble quarters," was the snappish reply. 
 
 The operator laughed half pityingly as he re- 
 turned : 
 
 " Oh! this isn't half a bad place. I've been string- 
 ing you a little about it. Then you've struck it at 
 a bad time — help all away. They'll give you a 
 clean bite and bed. Charley Williams — that's the 
 landlord — is a jolly good fellow, and he'll do all he 
 can to make you comfortable. Here he cornea 
 now" — springing to his feet and facing a big man 
 
30 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 coming through the rear door — " Charley, this is 
 my friend, Mister— Mister " 
 
 He hesitated and cast an appealing glance at 
 Ralph. 
 
 " Ralph Marlowe," the latter prompted in a low 
 tone. 
 
 "My friend, Mr. Ralph Marlowe," Clark went 
 on glibly. " I brought him up from the train. 
 Nobody there to meet him, you know. He wants 
 supper and bed — supper as soon as he can get it. 
 He hasn't had a bite to eat since week before last. 
 Do the handsome by him, Charley." 
 
 The big man smiled blandly. He wore an im- 
 mense, drooping, black mustache ; and there were 
 dark, bladder-like puffs under his eyes. Wiping 
 his large red hands upon the white apron reaching 
 from his chin to his ankles, he remarked in an 
 apologetic tone : 
 
 " It's a bad night out, Mr. Marlowe — an' no 
 doubt you're cold an' hungry. I'm sorry I had 
 to keep you waitin'. You've hit us at a 
 bad time, though; the help's all away to a 
 dance an' my wife's in bed with the sick head- 
 ache. But I'll have you fixed comfortable in a 
 
 ji%." 
 
 Then to the operator : 
 
 "Clark, you'll have to help me out a little. 
 Start a fire in the grate; the room's too damp. 
 You'll find coal an' kindlin' in the closet there. 
 I'll go an' git some one to tend bar; then I'll git 
 the gentleman some supper." 
 
RALPH MARL OWE 31 
 
 With the words he bustled through the back 
 door — and was gone. 
 
 Clark proceeded to build a fire, all the while 
 grumbling whimsically to himself. Soon a genial 
 blaze sprang up in the black grate, effectually dis- 
 pelling the gloom and dampness of the place and 
 giving a rosy tint to the time-stained walls. Ralph 
 wheeled his chair close to the hearth and stretched 
 his wet shoes to the fire. Already he was much 
 mollified. The world looked brighter — and he 
 hummed the air of a comic opera. 
 
 "Feeling better, eh?" Clark questioned, holding 
 his arms stiffly away from his body — his blackened 
 palms turned outward. 
 
 " Much better," Ralph smilingly replied. 
 \ " Going to stay in town awhile? " — Banteringly. 
 
 " Undoubtedly. I came here to take a position." 
 
 The card players overheard Marlowe's w^ords ; 
 and holding their cards aloft and listening intently, 
 forgot to play. 
 
 The telegraph operator showed the surprise and 
 curiosity he felt, as he returned quickly : 
 
 " That so? Not going into McDevitt's store? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Bentley's?" 
 
 " No. I am a pharmacist; I am going into Dr. 
 Barwood's employ." 
 
 ' ' Not going to clerk for old Doc Barwood ! ' ' 
 
 "I am. But why do you manifest so much 
 surprise? " 
 
 Clark shut his jaws with a snap and stared hard 
 
32 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 at Ralph, as if he questioned the latter' s sanity. 
 The card players looked at one another, and silently 
 shaking their heads and grinning maliciously re- 
 sumed their game. 
 
 At last the operator muttered : 
 
 "The hell— well, I'll be skedaddled!" And 
 suiting the action to the words, he dodged out the 
 rear door. 
 
 All this was not lost upon Marlowe; and his 
 wonder and perplexity increased the more he 
 thought about it. He was silently cudgeling his 
 brain over the affair, when Clark returned to the 
 room. 
 
 "Been out to wash my hands," he explained. 
 "Williams told me to tell you your supper'll be 
 ready in a half minute." 
 
 " Very well," Ralph replied, fixing his keen 
 brown eyes upon his companion's pale face. " Sit 
 down here." — Pulling a chair to his side. — "I 
 want to talk with you." 
 
 Clark dropped into the seat and squirmed 
 uneasily. 
 
 "Now," Ralph continued, "tell me what you 
 meant." 
 
 "Meant by what?" 
 
 " You know. Why were you so thunderstruck 
 when I announced my intention of working for 
 Dr. Barwood? " 
 
 "Well— I " 
 
 He hesitated, fidgeted — and stopped. 
 
 " Well? " Ralph relentlessly insisted. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 33 
 
 " I — I don't want to say anything against the 
 old doc ; he's a good patron of the road. But " 
 
 "Is he insane? " 
 
 "No — of course not." 
 
 "Idiotic?" 
 
 "No!" — In a tone of deep disgust. — "He's 
 smarter 'n a patch of nettles." 
 
 "What then?" 
 
 "I'm not going to say another word; I'll leave 
 you to find him out. He don't like me none too 
 well, anyhow." 
 
 The operator said this doggedly, compressing his 
 lips. 
 
 "Say, Sam Clark!" the red-headed cobhler 
 cried, throwing down his cards and springing to 
 his feet. "Why don't* you tell the gentleman 
 what kind of a man ol' Doc Barwood is? The 
 young man ought to know — he has a right to 
 know." 
 
 "Tell him yourself, then," Clark retorted hotly. 
 " I'm not under your orders." 
 
 "And that's jest what I'll do," the cobbler 
 snapped, his short, fiery hair bristling with excite- 
 ment and anger. " I ain't afraid." 
 
 "Here — here, Crawford!" shouted the prospect- 
 or. "You're breaking up the game. Set down. 
 Your news'U keep till the young man's had his 
 supper. It'll set better on his stomach then." 
 
 And taking the cobbler by the coat tails, the oil 
 man jerked him into a chair. 
 
 At that moment the landlord came into the office 
 3 
 
34 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 by a door in the corner near the tall desk, and an- 
 nounced : 
 
 " Your supper's ready, Mr. Marlowe. I've fried 
 you some ham and eggs, warmed up some biscuits, 
 and made you a cup of coffee. It ain't very much ; 
 but it'll have to do fer tonight. It'll keep soul an' 
 body together till mornin', anyhow. Then we'll 
 try to use you better." 
 
 Marlowe desired to hear what the cobbler had to 
 say, but he desired food more ; so he followed the 
 landlord through the corner door, into the dining 
 room. 
 
 On reSntering the office, after finishing his meal, 
 he saw the moon-faced bridge-tender pounding the 
 table with his fist, and heard him exclaiming ex- 
 ultingly : 
 
 " High, low, jack an' the game! Six games to 
 y'r five ! That's enough fer tonight. Put up the 
 cards and shove back the table." 
 
 The other players acquiesced in the bridge- 
 tender's decision. The cobbler placed the greasy 
 cards upon the mantel and pushed the table against 
 the wall. Then, having bitten the end from a long 
 stogie and lighted it, he dropped into a chair and 
 puffed away in silence. 
 
 Clark was absent. Ralph wished very much to 
 know Crawford's opinion of Dr. Barwood, and 
 considered how he might obtain it. But the man 
 of the last and awl appeared to have forgotten his 
 avowed determination to express himself; and 
 Marlowe could evolve no plan to set him going. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 35 
 
 So the young man sat and dried his shoes by the 
 fire — consulting his watch occasionally and yawn- 
 ing — and listened to the idle gossip of his compan- 
 ions, hoping all the while some turn of the conver- 
 sation would remind the cobbler of his intention. 
 
 The murmur of his companions' voices made 
 Ralph drowsy, so he thought. He dropped into a 
 reverie — half asleep, half awake. Of a sudden he 
 heard the prospector say — "Yes, the ol' doc's got 
 an' inter'st in that well, too" — and he was wide- 
 awake in an instant. 
 
 "In that new one on the Worden place?" the 
 bridge-tender asked. 
 
 "Yes," the prospector answered. 
 
 " Have they drilled in yit?" 
 
 " Jest got through the first Cow Run sand yister- 
 day, I understand." 
 
 " Where'll they find the grease there?" the cob- 
 bler inquired. 
 
 " In the second Cow Run, most likely." 
 
 " Say!" volunteered the driller. " I heard today 
 they'd jest shot that wild cat well out at Coon 
 Holler." ^ 
 
 "That so?"— From the prospector.— " What 
 show?" 
 
 "A duster." 
 
 " Jest as I expected." — With a sneer. 
 
 " But the Climax people drilled in a good one 
 on the Gaddus lease, a day 'r two ago." 
 
 "Did, eh? What did she run?" 
 
 " Pumped forty bar'ls the first ten hours." 
 
36 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 "Purty fair," said the prospector, nodding ap- 
 provingly. 
 
 "An that's in the stray sand, too. There's 
 another well the ol' doc's in on. He has the luck 
 fer sure. He's interested in that whole string o' 
 wells on the Gaddus tract, ain't he? " 
 
 "Yes — an' the ol' cuss's gittin' rich," muttered 
 the bridge-tender in an injured tone. 
 
 " Gittin' rich! " the cobbler snorted angrily. 
 ' ' He is rich — been rich fer years — an' gittin' richer. 
 The ol' hog!" 
 
 " You can't say but what he's lucky, anyhow," 
 the prospector said, beaming affably upon the hot- 
 headed little cobbler — and winking slyly at Mar- 
 lowe. "I've only been here a few months; an' 
 he's made over ten thousan' dollars sence I come. 
 He must be worth over a cool hundred thousan' — 
 from what I can learn. I ain't much of a believer 
 in this section as a deep oil field, — though it's a 
 good shaller one, — but if I had ol' Doc Barwood in 
 with me, fer a pardner, I'd poke a hole down to 
 the Berea grit an' give 'er a hundred quart shot o'- 
 glycer'n. A man might hit a gusher. Yes, the ol' 
 doc's a lucky dog — an' no mistake." 
 
 " Lucky ! " snarled the cobbler. " He's luckier 'n 
 four aces 'g'inst a full house. He ought to play 
 poker — he had. If he'd draw to a shoestring, he'd 
 ketch a side o' leather. But he's the meanest, con- 
 trariest, stingiest, most cantankerous ol' cuss that 
 ever drawed breath. He hain't got a good friend 
 in the town. I don't b'lieve his own fam'ly likes 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 37 
 
 him — I don't see how they can. He wants his own 
 way in ev'rything — an's mad whether he gits it 'r 
 don't git it." 
 
 Marlowe was learning what he wished to know. 
 Crawford took a pull or two at his expiring stogie 
 and went on : 
 
 "Yes, he's the most even-tempered man in all 
 creation ; got a temper like a rat-tail file — an's 
 raspin' away all the time. He's so c'ntrary the 
 hair on the back o' his neck grows uphill 'stid o' 
 down. An' stingy? He'd skin a flea fer its hide 
 an' taller." 
 
 Crawford was greatly wrought up. His face 
 was scarlet ; his red hair was on end. Rising to 
 his feet and pointing a pudgy finger at Ralph, he 
 shouted : 
 
 "Young man, you're in fer a good time — ah' I 
 wish you much joy. W'y the ol' scamp's had three 
 clerks in the last year 'r so ; an' couldn't keep one 
 of 'em. The first one took to drink ; the second 
 one run away an's never come back n'r been heard 
 of; an' the third one went to Cincinnati an' com- 
 mitted suicide. You won't be here a month till 
 you'll be in the notion o' gittin' married 'r doin' 
 some other desper'te .thing. The ol' infiddle! 
 Calls hisself an agnorstic — an' brags that he ain't 
 'fraid o' God, man, n'r the devil. That's what he 
 does. It makes me sick to talk 'bout him." 
 
 Crawford collapsed into his chair, and sat there 
 chewing viciously at his cigar stub, and wiping the 
 
38 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 perspiration from his glowing visage, with the 
 back of his hairy hand. 
 
 Ralph was embarrassed ; and made no attempt 
 to reply to the cobbler's fiery outburst. He 
 shrewdly conjectured that Crawford had a griev- 
 ance, real or fancied, laid up to the credit of Dr. 
 Barwood. Yet the cobbler's intemperate accusa- 
 tions might be the true interpretation of G^-ider's 
 surprised ejaculation and Clark's noncommittal 
 silence. The young druggist w^as worried. Once 
 more he looked at his watch, and wished some one 
 would come to show him to his room. He desired 
 to be alone, that he might think more clearly. 
 
 " Crawford," the driller chuckled, " you remind 
 me of a thirty-quart shot o' glycer'n' with a splut- 
 ter'n fuse to it. You're ready to eifplode at any 
 minute." 
 
 "Say!" laughed the prospector. "That re- 
 minds me of somethin'." 
 
 "Tell it," cried his companions, in expectant 
 chorus. 
 
 The prospector stretched his long legs toward 
 the fire, produced a piece of tobacco by diving 
 deep into his trousers' pocket, and deliberately 
 ground off a chew. Then he coolly returned the 
 serrated fragment to its usual resting place, and 
 with a few preliminary masticatory movements 
 began : 
 
 "You fellers all knows ol' John Lovett out at 
 Bethel — great big man with a red face, an' a voice 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 39 
 
 a cross 'twixt a steam whistle an' a megaphone. 
 His whisper sounds like a steamboat blowin' mud 
 out of 'er b'ilers — an' he talks faster 'n a horse can 
 trot. Well, one wet an' muddy day last winter, 
 George Gifford — that little bald-faced dude that 
 shot the wells on Stringer's Fork^-come a drivin' 
 'long past ol' John's place, goin' down to Dullson 
 to put in a shot. The mud was stiff an' heavy ; an' 
 he-had fifty quarts o' the stuff in his rig, an' was 
 drivin' slow. 
 
 "01' John's niece had been visitin' him fer a 
 week 'r two, an' that mornin' was wantin' to git 
 down to Dullson, to take the train fer home. So 
 the ol' man, 'stid o' hitchin' up his own team an' 
 drivin' her down, stood out in the front yard, 
 watchin' fer some one to come 'long, that she could 
 ride down with. 
 
 "Well, after while he spied Gifford draggin' his 
 load through the mud ; an' rushin' down the path 
 leadin' to the road an' wavin' his hands like a 
 crazy man, bellered at him — like a bull with the 
 whoopin' cough: 
 
 "'Say there, young man! Say there! Stop 
 right where you are — stop right where you are, sir. 
 My niece, M'randy — ^yes, sir, my niece, M' randy, 
 wants to go down to Dullson to take the cars — 
 yes, sir, to take the cars, you understand. You're 
 goin' down there — of course you are — you're goin' 
 down there; an' she wants to ride down with you. 
 She ain't very hefty — she won't make much of a 
 load — ^yes, sir — yes, sir. An' it ain't but a mile 'r 
 
40 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 so — jest a mile 'r so. Let 'er ride, eh? Let *er ride? 
 Of course — of course. I'll run right up an' tell 'er. 
 She'll be all ready in a jiffy — yes, sir, in a jiffy. 
 Won't keep you waitin' but a minute — not more 'n 
 a minute. Jest stay where you are, sir — right 
 where you are.' 
 
 "An' ol' John ambled off up the path, like a 
 stepladder with the rheumatiz. 
 
 " Gifford hadn't been able to git a word in 
 edgeways; but now he hollered : 
 
 "' Say, mister! Wait a minute.' 
 
 " 'Well — well!' roared ol' John turnin' 'round 
 an' comin' back. ' What is it, young feller? Out 
 with it, sir — out with it ! ' 
 
 " 'The young lady's welcome to ride with me,' 
 says George, ' providin' she ain't afraid ' 
 
 " 'Afraid?' broke in the ol' man madder'n a 
 wet hen, an' a wavin' his arms like a windmill. 
 ' Afraid? Afraid o' what, sir — afraid o' what, I'd 
 like to know? Not o' you — I reckon — you little, 
 insignificant piece o' nothin'ness — not o' you? 
 Maybe you think she's afraid o' y'r bony ol' 
 tackeys? Not much, sir — not much, I say! She's 
 druv better bosses 'n you ever saw, sir — ^yes, sir — 
 better'n you ever saw. An' I've got 'em right in 
 the stable there — right in the stable; pair o' match 
 bays — not a white hair on 'em — not a hair. But I 
 don't want to put 'em out in the mud, you under- 
 stand — no, sir — don't want to put 'em out in the 
 mud. Afraid o' what, sir — I'd like to know? 
 Speak right out an' tell me. Afraid o' what ? ' 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 41 
 
 " ' I thought she might be afraid o' the load I've 
 got, ' cheeped George in a scared voice. He thought 
 he'd struck a lunatic. 
 
 " ' Afraid o' the load you've got? ' ol' John fairly- 
 snorted. ' Afraid o' the load you've got? I reckon 
 you ain't no travelin' circus with a cage o' tigers 
 an' a box o' snakes, eh ? What's the matter with 
 y'r load — what's the matter with it, sir — what's the 
 matter ? ' 
 
 " ' W'y,' says Gifford as meek as a lamb, ' I've 
 got fifty quarts o' nitroglycer'n' in the buggy; an' 
 I thought ' 
 
 " ' What! ' exploded the ol' man — like a shot o' 
 the glycer'n' itself. ' Nitroglycer'n' ? Drive on, 
 man — drive on ! What you stoppin' here fer, any- 
 how? Hain't you got a mite o' sense, sir — hain't 
 you got a mite o' sense? Drive on, I say — 'r I'll 
 have you arrested fer riskin' life an' limb an' prop- 
 erty! Drive on! Nobody asked you to stop — 
 no, sir — nobody asked you to stop. Be off with 
 you! Want to blow up all creation — an' me an' 
 M'randy an' the ol' woman, to boot? What'U you 
 'tarnal oil men be up to next, hey? Git out o' here 
 — 'r I'll fill you so full o' buckshot y'r hide won't 
 hold cornshucks! Whip up them ol' crowbaits 
 an' git out o' here. Go, I say — yes, sir — go ! ' 
 
 " Gifford was scared. He drove on down to 
 DuUson an' told his 'xperience — thought he'd met 
 an' ol' luny, sure. The boys had the laugh on him; 
 an' it cost him a nice wad, to set 'em up to the 
 crowd. 
 
42 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 "Ol' John tellin' of it afterward, said: 
 
 " 'No, sir — no, sir — hain't been skeered so bad 
 sence Morgan's raiders threatened to hang me, fer 
 hidin' my bosses from 'em. Fact, sir — honest fact." ' 
 
 The prospector was a good mimic, and told the 
 story well ; and of course his auditors laughed 
 heartily. Even Marlowe found himself smiling. 
 
 " Come on, boys," said the driller, arising and 
 stretching his arms above his head. " Le's go into 
 the bar an' have a drink. Stranger, won't you 
 have somethin' with us? " 
 
 Ralph thanked him but gracefully declined the 
 invitation, pleading as an excuse that he meant to 
 retire at once. 
 
 " We're goin' to bed some time tonight, too," 
 laughed the driller; "but we'll take a few night- 
 caps with us." 
 
 And together the four passed out at the rear 
 door, leaving the druggist alone. 
 
 A moment later Clark came into the office, a 
 lighted lamp in his hand, and said rather brusquely : 
 
 "Ready for bed? Williams sent me to show 
 you to your room." 
 
 " Ready and waiting," Ralph replied pleasantly, 
 rising with alacrity. 
 
 As they ascended the narrow, winding stairs, 
 the agent leading the" way looked over his shoulder, 
 to remark : 
 
 " I suppose Crawford pumped you full of the old 
 doc's faults and failings? " 
 
 " He said many disparaging things of him." 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 43 
 
 "The shoemaker — I mean Crawford — has a 
 grievance." 
 
 "I thought so." 
 
 "Yes. The old doc asked him to pay a bill 
 once — a thing Crawford is not in the habit of 
 doing." 
 
 "I see." 
 
 "The devil's never half as black as he's 
 painted." 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Doc Barwood's contrary and peculiar ; but he's 
 honest. And he has a big practice and makes a 
 heap of money. Well, here's your room. Mine's 
 at the other end of the hall. Here — take the lamp. 
 There's one in my room. You'll find the key on 
 the inside of the door. It's unlocked — go right on 
 in. Good night." 
 
 " Good night, Mr. Clark," Ralph returned affa- 
 bly. "But before we part for the night, permit 
 me to thank you for your untiring efforts in my be- 
 half." 
 
 " Don't mention it," replied the operator with a 
 wave of the hand, retreating along the hall, in the 
 direction of his own room. 
 
 Marlowe stood and gazed after the lithe, fragile 
 form. At his door Clark stopped, half turned the 
 knob, and paused irresolutely. Then he said : 
 
 ' ' Can I ask you a question ? ' ' 
 
 " Certainly," Ralph answered eagerly. He felt 
 under obligations to his companion and wished to 
 retain his friendship. 
 
44 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 "How did you come to get the job with Doc 
 Barwood? " 
 
 " I saw his advertisement for a clerk, in a drug 
 journal, and answered it." 
 
 "Oh! Well, good night," 
 
 " Good night." 
 
 Marlowe entered his room, locked the door, and 
 placed the lamp upon an old-fashioned bureau that 
 served as a dressing case. The place had a barren 
 and impoverished aspect, but was neat and clean. 
 The bed looked comfortable and inviting. He 
 began to disrobe ; but finding the air close, raised 
 a window that opened out upon the roof of the 
 front veranda. The storm had passed; the wet 
 street was flooded with moonlight. The sullen 
 roar of the river dam came distinctly to his ears. 
 
 Just as he was crossing the borderland of sleep, 
 he murmured drowsily : 
 
 "Out of the old life — into the new. What 
 strange — what eccentric characters " 
 
 Then he slept. 
 
 Sometime during the night — he did not look at 
 his watch — he was awakened by some one boister- 
 ously singing : 
 
 " Go to the fair an' see the funny fowls, 
 The double-headed pigeon an' the one-eyed owl; 
 The Ol' lame goose with a web 'tween 'er toes — 
 She laughs 'erself to death w'en the shanghi crows. 
 
 " Don't you bet y'r money on a shanghi. 
 Don't you bet y'r money on a shanghi ; 
 Alluz put y'r pennies on the pigeon in the pit- 
 But never bet y'r money on a shanghi." 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 45 
 
 Marlowe raised himself upon his elbow and 
 peeped out of the window. He had recognized 
 the maudlin voice ; it was Crawford's, In the 
 swimming moonlight, he saw two men staggering 
 down the street, arm in arm — the cobbler and the 
 bridge-tender. 
 
 "Drunk! " muttered the young man, in a tone 
 of disgust. 
 
 And he turned over and went to sleep again. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE sun was shining brightly when Marlowe 
 awoke the next morning. The moist, woodsy 
 odor of fallen leaves came through the open win- 
 dow. The air was sweet and crisp. A catbird 
 flitting about upon the edge of the veranda roof, 
 squawked stridently — scolding a tabby cat perched 
 in the fork of a maple tree in front of the house. 
 The cheer of the bright morning was infectious. 
 Ralph forgot his dismal thoughts and forebodings 
 of the night before, and whistled merrily as he 
 washed and dressed. 
 
 Just as he was finishing his toilet, there came a 
 knock at the door ; and he heard Clark calling : 
 
 " Hello, Marlowe ! Up yet.? " 
 
 " Yes— come in." — Turning the key in the 
 lock. — " It's a nice morning." 
 
 " Yes," said the operator. 
 
 "A beautiful morning," Ralph added, facing 
 the small mirror and giving a final touch to his tie. 
 
 ' ' Ready for breakfast ? ' ' asked the agent. 
 
 "In a moment." 
 
 "Sleep well?" 
 
 " I was awake but once during the night." 
 
 " That tipsy Crawford woke you up with his 
 caterwauling, did he? " 
 (46) 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 47 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "He's a drunken nuisance. All ready? Well, 
 come on. I've got to get my breakfast and be off 
 to the station." 
 
 Then as they descended the stairs : 
 
 " Going up to call on the old doc this morning?" 
 
 " I shall beard the ogre in his den." 
 
 "Maybe you will — and maybe you won't. He's 
 in the country a good deal ; it may be a day or two 
 before you get to see him." 
 
 " Does he lock up the drugstore when he 
 leaves ? ' ' 
 
 "No; leaves Jep Tucker there. Jep's his host- 
 ler and man of all work — and a character." 
 
 " He knows nothing of drugs? " 
 
 "No! — no more than a hog knows of religion. 
 He just stays there and tells people where the doc- 
 tor is and when he'll be back. The old doc hasn't 
 had a clerk for over two months. You'll find 
 things in a mess." 
 
 "Why do you call Dr. Barwood 'the old doc? ' " 
 
 "Everybody does. Years ago there was a 
 young doctor of the same name here — a nephew of 
 old doc's; and people called one ' old doc ' and the 
 other 'young doc' " 
 
 As the two young men entered the office, they 
 noticed it had been swept and dusted. A fire 
 blazed in the grate ; and the stone hearth had been 
 scoured to snowy whiteness. 
 
 Passing into the dining room, they found break- 
 fast awaiting them. Other boarders had already 
 
48 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 eaten and taken their departure. A black-eyed 
 girl in white collar and apron served them — tip- 
 toeing noiselessly about the bare floor. 
 
 Both ate heartily — as young men have a habit 
 of doing no matter what their perplexities. The 
 biscuits were flaky; the steak was tender. Ralph 
 thoroughly enjoyed his first breakfast in Babylon. 
 
 When they had finished, Clark arose and re- 
 marked : 
 
 " I must hustle for the station; it'll soon be train 
 time. See you at dinner. Hope you'll have good 
 luck and find Doc Barwood at home, and make a 
 good impression on him. The drugstore's three 
 squares above here, up on the level. You can't 
 miss it — a long, low brick building. Keep a stiff 
 upper lip. Ta-ta!" 
 
 The operator hurried forth. Ralph took up his 
 hat and sauntered out upon the street, bending his 
 steps in the direction of Dr. Barwood' s place of 
 business. He walked slowly, meditating upon the 
 reception he was likely to receive, and cursorily 
 noting his surroundings. 
 
 The hotel stood near the summit of the slope 
 leading up from 'the river; and beyond it lay a 
 level, sandy plain, rolling away to the brown hills 
 in the distance. The main street was broad and 
 unpaved, with sidewalks of foot-pressed cinders. 
 Along it — with ample vacant spaces between — neat 
 frame dwellings alternated with stores and shops. 
 Short cross streets led off to right and left ; and the 
 plain was dotted with houses. Far off on one hand, 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 49 
 
 Ralph saw the crumbling walls of a large brick 
 building ; and at an equal distance, in the opposite 
 direction, loomed the blackened, smokeless chim- 
 neys of a silent factory. 
 
 He passed a hardware store, a grocery, the post- 
 office — then came to a sudden stop in front of a 
 one-story brick edifice with a basement of stone. 
 It was long and low, one end facing the street. 
 The narrow front contained two large show win- 
 dows and a wide doorway. Broad stone steps led 
 up to the entrance. And over all was a weather- 
 stained awning supported upon an iron frame. 
 
 "This must be the place," Marlowe muttered as 
 he ascended the steps. 
 
 The door stood wide open ; and he walked in. 
 No one was in sight ; so he paused and looked 
 about him. It was a drugstore, without doubt ; 
 but such a one as he had never seen. The two side 
 walls were lined with rows of shelves. Those upon 
 the right hand were open, and laden with jars and 
 bottles of various shapes and sizes, containing 
 drugs, chemicals, and liquors ; and those upon the 
 left were inclosed by glass doors, through the 
 grimy panes of which could be seen a vast array of 
 patent medicines. Two hard-wood counters ex- 
 tended the length of the room, almost ; and upon 
 each rested one or more showcases containing toilet 
 preparations, brushes, sponges, candy, cigars, et 
 cetera — piled in higgledy-piggledy. An upright 
 coal stove with a large sheet-iron drum stood in the 
 rear of the room; and along the wall back of it ran 
 4 
 
so RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 a bench or seat. Just inside of one of the front 
 windows, a high black-walnut desk with slender, 
 tipsy legs — a near relative of the one at the hotel, 
 undoubtedly — had a place. In the rear wall were 
 two doorways, one leading to the basement, the 
 other to Dr. Barwood's private office. 
 
 Ralph took in all this at a glance. He noted, 
 also, that there was no prescription case nor screen, 
 that the woodwork, once white, was a smoky, 
 dingy yellow, that dust and cobwebs reigned su- 
 preme, and that dirt and general disorder held 
 high carnival. 
 
 He heard some one moving about in the base- 
 ment, and stepped toward the back of the room. 
 
 " Be up in a minute, ' ' rumbled a voice froqj the 
 depths. " Set down, if you're tired o' standin'; 'r 
 walk 'round, if you're tired o' settin'. I'm 
 wras'lin' a pesky bar'l o' whisky. Be up — in — a — 
 m-i-n-u-t-e." 
 
 The last sentence was uttered in a hoarse, 
 strained voice that indicated the owner was under- 
 going severe muscular exertion, or was in the last 
 throes of physical torment. Then all was silent. 
 
 ' ' The whisky barrel must have got the better of 
 the tussle," Ralph smiled, seating himself upon a 
 stool. ' ' At any rate it has silenced him. No ; I 
 hear him coming up the steps. But he has a leg 
 or two broken, judging from his gait." 
 
 The owner of the voice was indeed ascending 
 the stairs, shuffling and stumbling painfully — and 
 indulging in a deal of grunting and grumbling. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 51 
 
 Ralph fastened his eyes upon the doorway and 
 impatiently awaited the fellow's advent. Present- 
 ly the looked-for personage limped into the room 
 and dropped into a chair. 
 
 " Good morning," was Marlowe's greeting. 
 
 "That's once you've told the truth, young fel- 
 ler, if you never do ag'in," the man replied in a 
 drawling nasal tone, squinting one twinkling gray 
 eye and narrowly scanning his visitor. " Yes, sir, 
 this is a good mornin'." 
 
 " You are not Dr. Bar wood? " Ralph remarked 
 tentatively. 
 
 " You seem to be in the habit o' tellin' the 
 truth," the other answered whimsically. " I am not 
 Doc Barwood. I'm Jep Tucker, the ol' doc's 
 hos'ler an' hired hand." 
 
 Marlowe regarded the speaker closely. Tucker 
 was about forty-five years old — a lank, loose- 
 jointed frame upon which a leathery skin hung in 
 folds and wrinkles. His hands, feet, and ears were 
 large ; his nose, arched and prominent ; his hair, 
 scant and light colored. His face was puckered 
 with innumerable fine lines and wrinkles ; and a 
 stubby, sandy mustache — like the eaves of a roof of 
 ■thatch overhanging a wide doorway — projected 
 from his short upper lip. Screwed askew upon 
 the back of his knobby head, was a broad-brimmed 
 straw hat, badly gone to seed. One gallows essayed 
 the utterly reckless task of suspending a pair of 
 baggy plaid trousers, patched with cloth of darker 
 hue at the knees and frayed and stained at the bot- 
 
52 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 toms; and a ragged coat hid all but the checkered 
 bosom of a raggeder shirt. The toe of one of his 
 coarse cowhide shoes was cut away, revealing an 
 expanse of soiled muslin swathed around an injured 
 foot. 
 
 His open countenance was as easily read as a 
 page of primer ; and told that Jep w^as of an easy- 
 going disposition. His shrewd and twinkling gray 
 eyes gave a hint of the quaint philosophy and 
 whimsical drollery that was in him. 
 
 " Is the doctor in? " was Ralph's next question. 
 
 "Yes, he's in, in more ways 'n one," Jep 
 drawled, crossing one leg over its fellow and ten- 
 derly caressing his sore foot. "He's in business; 
 an' he's in good health. Do you want to know 
 anything more 'bout him?" 
 
 "Is he in town?" Marlowe asked, his lips 
 twitching. He realized he had to deal with an 
 eccentric. 
 
 "He is," Tucker answered complacently, run- 
 ning a thumb under his one suspender and hitching 
 it along his collar bone, toward his neck. 
 
 " Will he be here soon? " 
 
 " Can't say — an' tell the truth. ' Maybe he will; 
 an' maybe he won't. It all depends on him; he's 
 of age, an' comes an' goes as he pleases. But he'll 
 be in sometime ag'in, most likely. He alluz comes 
 in to fill up his saddlebags, 'fore he goes to the 
 country. You a drummer? " 
 
 Ralph replied with a negative shake of the head. 
 
 "I thought not," Jep went on. "I didn't see 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 53 
 
 y'r grip — then you ain't tonguey 'nough fer a 
 drummer. Honor bright, some o' them cusses can 
 talk the hat off y'r head. An' I never could under- 
 stan' why they call 'em drummers. Don't see why 
 they ain't called buglers — they're all the time 
 blowin' the'r horns. Ther's one comes here — a 
 little fat runt named Lon Crider, 'spect you never 
 met him — that's a purty fair feller. But he's got 
 more cheek 'n a town sow. An' the funny thing 
 about it is, he blushes like a school miss ev'ry time 
 he tells a whopper. Seems to be ashamed o' his 
 capac'ty fer lyin.' 1 like him first rate. But he's 
 slick — slicker 'n a peeled saplin' ; an' he hangs onto 
 a bargain, like a bur to a cow's tail. So you ain't 
 no drummer ? ' ' 
 
 Again Ralph silently shook his head. Then he 
 inquired: 
 
 " Do you think Dr. Barwood will be in soon? " 
 
 "Some time 'fore the resur'ection day," Tucker 
 mumbled, nonchalantly biting off a piece of tobacco 
 and rolling it about in his cheek. ' ' You in much 
 of a hurry ? " 
 
 "I should like to see the doctor as soon as pos- 
 sible." 
 
 " I's a goin' to say it wasn't no use o' y'r gittin' 
 in a hurry in this town. I've lived here all my 
 life ; an' I've never saw but one feller in a hurry, in 
 all that time. He was hangin' onto a pair o' run- 
 away bosses, an' couldn't help hisself. He wasn't 
 to blame — he didn't mean no harm. No, sir, the 
 people o' this place is slower 'n thick molasses on a 
 
54 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 cold mornin', I'm 'bout the only hus'ler -round 
 here; an' I ain't what I once was. I'll tell you 
 what's a fact. I hain't never seen but one feller 
 run, in the forty-five years I've lived here; an' that 
 was a boy that ketched a cold an' run at the nose. 
 I 'blieve one feller did start to run fer justice o' the 
 peace once. But s'ciety got so down on him he 
 had to settle down to a walk. You ain't much 
 a'quainted 'round here, are you? " 
 
 " This is my first visit to Babylon," Marlowe 
 admitted, glancing up and down the rows of dusty 
 shelves. 
 
 "Is that so?" Jep exclaimed. " Didn'i come 
 this mornin', 'nless you drove in ; ther' hain't been 
 no train yit." 
 
 " I came last night." 
 
 " Oh ! " — Then with sudden animation : " Say ! 
 you ain't the feller that was comin' to clerk fer the 
 ol' doc, are you? " 
 
 "I am." 
 
 Jep quickly uncrossed his legs, bent forward, 
 and putting forth a knotty-fingered hand cried : 
 
 " Give us a wag o' y'r paw, young feller! I 
 never viras as glad to see anybody, in my born days. 
 What's y'r name? " 
 
 " My name is Ralph Marlowe. But why arc you 
 so delighted to meet me ? ' ' 
 
 ' ' Why am I so delighted to meet you ? ' ' drawled 
 Jep, a serio-comic expression upon his homely face. 
 " I'll tell you. If you hadn't come fer another 
 month, I'd 'ave been crazier 'n a three weeks old 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 55 
 
 goslin' — that's why. Folks has purty nigh wrecked 
 my intelleck, comin' in here an' askin' fer things 
 with jaw-breakin' names I never heard of. I'm 
 mighty glad you've got here ; now I can d'vote my 
 time to somethin' I know how to do. I've felt 
 like a rooster in a millpon', fer the last two months 
 — neither ridin' n'r a walkin'. An' you hain't met 
 the ol' doc yit?" 
 
 " No, but I am anxious to do so." 
 
 " Well, I'd go up to his house an' hurry him up, 
 if 'twasn't fer two good reasons. In the first place, 
 he don't like to have folks meddlin' with his busi- 
 ness — jest comes an' goes as he pleases; in the 
 second place, the sor'l mare stepped on my foot a 
 few days ago, an' I'm crippleder 'n a wagon with 
 a wheel off. But he'll be here purty soon now — 
 never fear. Say ! what do you think o' my way 
 o' keepin' drugstore, anyhow? " 
 
 This last with a mischievous grin and a wave of 
 the hand at the dust-covered counters and littered 
 floor. 
 
 " I think you might have kept the place a little 
 cleaner," Marlowe said with great solemnity, rising 
 and walking about the room. 
 
 " That's what the ol' doc hinted at sever'l 
 times — said I'd ort to sweep an' dust once a month, 
 whether the place needed it 'r not. Well, I took 
 him at his word, an' tried it ; but ev'ry time he'd 
 come in he'd make me quit — said I's mixin' things 
 up so he couldn't find nothin', an' was 'feared he'd 
 pizen somebody by givin' 'em salsody fer salts. 
 
56 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 He likes to have things right down on the counter, 
 where they're handy. You'll find that out." 
 
 " I understand," Ralph remarked dryly. 
 
 "I hope the ol' man'U take to you," Jep went 
 on. "He's had three 'r four clerks in the last 
 twelve months ; an' they've all proved a disap'int- 
 ment to him. He's a little touchy, of course — but 
 — say! There's one thing 'bout you he won't like; 
 I can tell you that. You dress too nice." 
 
 " Do I? " — Still walking up and down the floor 
 and unconcernedly inspecting the stock. 
 
 "Yes, you do. The ol' doc don't like dudes — 
 an' you're jest a little dudish. Look at them shiny 
 shoes o' yours — an' then look at mine." 
 
 And Tucker assumed a grotesque attitude, 
 thrusting his hands into his trousers' pockets, ele- 
 vating his shoulders, and extending his feet. 
 
 "I observe," Ralph murmured, with a swift 
 glance at his companion. ' ' But your shoes answer 
 the purpose of foot coverings, as well as mine. 
 They are not mates, however." 
 
 "No," Jep admitted, shaking his head lugubri- 
 ously, " they ain't both mates, that's a fact. One^s 
 a mate; an' father's a deckhand. Say! " — In a 
 tone indicative of consternation. — " What vou 
 doin' there?" 
 
 " I am testing the qualities of this elixir," 
 
 "A lick sir?" Tucker chuckled. " When a feller 
 takes a whole mouthful o' anything an' gulps it 
 down, I call it a purty fair-sized lick. You'll git 
 into trouble meddlin' with them medicines — all 
 
RALPH MARLOWE $7 
 
 mixed up like they are. If you're needin' somethin' 
 far y'r stomach's sake, you'd better come down 
 cellar with me. There's some medicine in a bar'l 
 down there, that'll make y'r hair curl." 
 
 Jep winked slyly. 
 
 "I thank you for the prescription," Ralph 
 laughed; " But I am not in need of anything of the 
 kind this jnorning. ' ' 
 
 " I alluz hate to see a feller nosin' 'round some- 
 thin' he don't know nothin' 'bout," Jep went on 
 musingly. "An' that puts me in mind o' the 
 time Sweety Jimson took the smell o' hartshorn. 
 Ever hear 'bout that? " 
 
 " I think not," Ralph replied, flicking the dust 
 from a showcase, with his handkerchief. 
 
 "Didn't? Well, I'll tell you the story. It's a 
 purty good one ; an' it all happened right in this 
 store. As I've told you, the ol' doc hates meddlers 
 worse 'n a cat hates smoke. This Sweety Jimson 
 was a youngster 'bout twelve 'r fourteen years old, 
 an' was alluz stickin' his bill into other people's 
 busmess. He was freckle-faced, harelipped, an' 
 had a voice like a screaky wagon wheel; an' 
 couldn't keep his pesky fingers from stickin' to 
 ev'rything they touched. 
 
 " He used to come into the drugstore when the 
 ol' man an' the clerk was busy as weevils in a 
 wheat bin, an' pester an' torment 'em 'most to 
 death. It was — 'Let me taste that; an' let me 
 smell this; an' let me see the other.' An' ol' doc 'Id 
 git so mad he couldn't see straight, an' chase the 
 
58 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 meddlesome, pilferin' scamp out o' the place. But 
 the next day in he'd come, as big as Pompey, an' 
 go through the same m'neuvers ag'in. 
 
 "Well, one day the ol' man was busier 'n usual; 
 an' Sweety was in here, leanin' over the counter, 
 handlin' this an' that, an' chatterin' like a chip- 
 munk. The ol' doc c'ncluded he' d start him — an' 
 he did. Fer he took down a bottle o' hartshorn — 
 not the wishy-washy kind you sell to folks fer 
 cleanin' clo'es an' things. What is it you call that 
 kind that's stronger 'n ackyfortis an' goes up y'r 
 nose like a streak o' double-geared lightnin' ? " 
 
 " Ammonia fortior," Marlowe suggested. 
 
 "Mony a fortier? I 'spect that's it. It's a 
 good name fer the stuff, anyhow; for \!C% forty 'r 
 fifty times stronger 'n the dishwater kjnd you sell 
 to folks. Well, soon as the ol' doc took the bottle 
 off the shelf an' set it on the counter, that tarnation 
 boy spoke up as peart as a pet crow, an' says : 
 
 " ' Let me see that — let me smell of it.' 
 
 " 'You let that alone,' says the ol' doc, kind o' 
 solemn-like. ' That's the tinckshur o' the chloride 
 o' bumfoozle ' — 'r some such name — ' an' it hain't 
 got no smell.' 
 
 "'Let me smell of it, anyhow,' says Sweety, 
 grabbin' holt o' the bottle an' twistin' the stopper 
 out quicker 'n you could say — 'Jack Robison.' 
 
 "An' he stuck his nose over it an' took a good 
 long whiff o' the stuff. 
 
 " Well, he didn't try to put the stopper back in 
 — not by sever'l percent on the cost price. He jest 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 59 
 
 screwed up his face till his harelip was on a level 
 with his nose holes ; an' kicked an' clawed the air. 
 like a cat with paper socks on 'er feet. An' he 
 made the funniest noise, tryin' to git his breath ; 
 kind of a ' w-e-e-k ' — like a fat hog choked on an 
 apple. Then he took a straight shirttail fer the 
 open air; an' gittin' outside, he leaned up ag'inst 
 the wall an' commenced to cry. 
 
 "Some women was comin' 'long; an' one of 
 'em says to him : 
 
 " 'W'y, what in the world's the matter, 
 Sweety?' 
 
 "'Oh! nothin' much,' he says, wipin' the tears 
 from his eyes. ' I jest went — went to smell o' 
 some — some stuflF, an' ol' Doc Barwood stuck — 
 stuck a stick up my nose! ' 
 
 "An the funniest thing 'bout the whole business," 
 Jep concluded, laughing uproariously, "is that 
 Sweety b'lieves to this day that ol' doc prodded 
 him in the nose with somethin'." 
 
 Marlowe smiled indulgently, but said in a tone of 
 mild reproof : 
 
 " Don't you think that was a rather cruel joke.? " 
 
 "Joke?" Tucker gasped in mock surprise — his 
 mouth open, his brows elevated. " 'Twasn't no 
 joke 't all; 'twas a cure fer a bad disease. An' 
 like rtiany another case, the medicine had to make 
 the patient worse 'fore he could git better. It 
 worked like a charm, too — cured Sweety sound an' 
 well; an' he hain't ever had no r'lapse, neither." 
 
 Time hung heavily upon Marlowe's hands. For 
 
6o RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 the want of anything else to do, he sauntered into 
 the basement, leaving Jep idly swinging his injured 
 foot and softly whistling to himself. 
 
 On reaching the bottom of the stairs, the young 
 druggist found himself in a large, airy cellar ex- 
 tending the whole length of the structure. The 
 floor was of gray cement; the windows were 
 hea,vily barred with iron. A wide door opened 
 into the alley back of the building. Boxes, barrels 
 and casks, cans and jugs were scattered promiscu- 
 ously about the floor. 
 
 Satisfied with a hasty examination of the place, 
 Ralph ascended the stairs. He found Jep talking 
 with a spruce young man with the reddest of red 
 hair, and with a prominent mole upon his chin. 
 
 " Here! " Tucker cried as Marlowe put in an ap- 
 pearance. " Mr. Ralph Marlowe, this is Mr. 
 Airly Chandler, an' he wants to git a toothbrush, 
 an' some perfum'ry, an' such things. I told him 
 you could wait on him. He's a young school 
 teacher ; an' has to go trigged up like — to please 
 the gals." 
 
 Young Chandler said nothing, but blushed and 
 sidled about confusedly ; seeing which Jep coughed 
 behind his hand and winked facetiously. 
 
 "I shall be pleased to wait upon you, Mr. 
 Chandler," Ralph remarked pleasantly, "provided 
 I can find the articles you desire. Things are in a 
 state of confusion, as you see." 
 
 After some delay, incident to the sad disorder, 
 the young teacher made his purchases and took his 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 6i 
 
 departure. Then Marlowe turned to Tucker and 
 said severely : 
 
 "You should not make remarks about a cus- 
 tomer — especially in his presence. It has a tend- 
 ency to injure your employer's business." 
 
 " I didn't mean nothin' by it — ^jest wanted to 
 plague him a little," Jep answered contritely. " I 
 ain't in the habit o' doin' such things. It popped 
 out 'fore I thought." 
 
 Then his volubility getting the better of him : 
 
 " But lawzee ! I've knowed Airly ever sence he 
 was kneehigh to a grasshopper ; an' he knows me. 
 He won't take nothin' to heart, that / say. He's 
 kind o' dudified — ^but a good-hearted, cheerful boy, 
 fer all that. He's been away from home some, 
 too; went to school in Zanesville a year 'r so ago. 
 Hadn't ever been out o' the county before. An' I 
 guess he learnt a thing 'r two — I guess he did. 
 Anyhow he wrote home to his mother an' said : 
 
 " ' Dear Mother : 
 
 " 'If the world's as big down the other viz-j as she is up 
 this way, she's a luhopper.^ 
 
 " That's what folks tells on him, anyhow. But 
 he's a smart, cheerful boy ; an' I don't b'lieve he 
 ever had but one trouble in his life — an' that's that 
 mole on his chin." 
 
 " It's a source of annoyance to him, eh? " Ralph 
 said, stepping to the door and anxiously looking 
 up, and then down the street. 
 
 "You might call it that," Jep replied, joining 
 
62 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 his companion in the doorway. " Anyhow it wor- 
 ries him like sixty." 
 
 "Does he fear it may develop into a malignant 
 growth ? ' ' 
 
 " No, 'tain't that. He's sorry 'bout the situation 
 of the thing ; says he wouldn't care, if it was on 
 the back of his neck — that he could button his col- 
 lar to it then, an' make it useful as w^ell 's orna- 
 mental. What do you think of that fer an idee ? " 
 
 ' ' I think it original — and that you are its origi- 
 nator," Ralph laughed. " You should apply for a 
 patent." 
 
 " Have thought some 'bout it," Jep chuckled. 
 " Do you 'spose the gove'nment 'Id ask me to send 
 on a model? " 
 
 Marlowe did not reply. He was lost in thought, 
 his eyes fixed upon the tree-bordered street stretch- 
 ing away to the west. Presently he murmured 
 musingly : 
 
 " What an excellent site for a large town. Baby- 
 lon should be a thriving city, instead of a sleepy 
 village of a few hundred inhabitants." 
 
 "That's so — you've hit the nail on the head," 
 Tucker assfented, nodding vigorously. " An' we 
 did think it would grow to a city once. But that 
 was twenty 'r thirty years ago. Then we had five 
 'r six stores 'nstead of two 'r three ; an' saloons an' 
 taverns in pr 'portion. Them was the great days 
 fer steamboats on this river ; an' Babylon was the 
 best shippin' point 'twixt Zanesville an' Marietta. 
 Quakerville brought in her tobacker an' tanbark; 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 63 
 
 an' Foxtown, her wool and fruit. I've seen the 
 wharf stacked with bales, an' bar'ls, an' hogs'eads, 
 from one end to t'other. Then we had an oil re- 
 fin'ry, a big salt furnace, an' a lot o' cooper shops. 
 Them was good times when ev'rybody was makin' 
 money like dirt. See that ol' smokestack standin' 
 over yander? " 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "Well, that's all that's left o' the ol' salt fur- 
 nace." 
 
 "A monument to a dead industry," Marlowe 
 murmured to himself. 
 
 "What's that you say? " Jep asked quickly. 
 
 "A monument to a dead industry," Ralph re- 
 peated, pointing to the black shaft looming 
 heavenward. 
 
 "That's what it is," sighed Tucker, feelingly. 
 "You can say things mighty purty, young feller, 
 when you try. You can, I swan! No, the ol' 
 town o' Babylon's been goin' back'ard fer years-— 
 ever sence the railroad come through. 'Stid o' 
 helpin' us it hurt us — drawed trade away to the two 
 towns at the ends o' the river. Of course the oil 
 business has made things a little better, in the last 
 year 'r two ; but I'm 'feared it's only the flash of a 
 dyin' fire. Ol' Babylon ain't what she once was — 
 not by a consider'ble." 
 
 "Babylon is fallen," Ralph whispered abstract- 
 edly. 
 
 He was not thinking of the village, but of his 
 own past— of his dead hopes and aspirations. But 
 
64 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 Jep caught the whispered words, and slapping his 
 companion on the shoulder, cried admiringly : 
 
 ' ' You drove the nail clear in to the head at one 
 lick, that time, young feller. Babylon is fallen. 
 That's it— that's it! An' fallen to rise no " 
 
 Then with a sudden change of tone and counte- 
 nance : 
 
 "There comes the ol' doc at last. I'll give you 
 a knockdown to him, an' leave you alone to fight 
 it out." 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 WITH swinging stride, Dr. Barwood drew near. 
 Quickly ascending the steps, he stood face 
 to face with Marlowe, eyeing him inquiringly. 
 
 Ralph felt his heart quicken its pulsations as he 
 looked upon the man before him ; and he longed to 
 hear him speak. 
 
 Dr. Ephriam W. Barwood was of medium height 
 and weight, and slightly stooped. His snappy black 
 eyes, set far apart, were overarched by beetling 
 brows and bulging forehead. His nose was short 
 and slightly bulbous at the end. Through his 
 sparse and straggling beard was revealed a glimpse 
 of heavy jaws and firm thin lips. His iron-gray 
 hair was cropped close to his bullet head. Appar- 
 ently he was about fifty years old. 
 
 His clothing comprised a pair of baggy gray 
 trousers, a shiny black coat and vest — the outer gar- 
 ment a full-skirted frock, drooping at the corners — 
 and a soft muslin shirt with a puffed bosom. A soft 
 broad-brimmed black hat, and a pair of kip boots — 
 red from lack of blacking— completed his attire. 
 A long watch guard of black tape encircled his 
 neck. His forceful, arrogant disposition was 
 stamped upon his countenance. 
 
 "A born fighter, who has had his way in most 
 5 (65) 
 
66 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 matters and desires to have it in all," was Mar- 
 lowe's mental comment. 
 
 But he kept silent, waiting for Tucker's prom- 
 ised presentation. 
 
 "Good morning," Dr. Bar wood said curtly. 
 " Is there something I can do for you? " 
 
 Jep interposed: 
 
 "Doc, this is the young feller you sent fer, to 
 come an' work fer you. I s'pose you both know 
 each other's names — seein' you've been corre- 
 spondin', as I understand. Nevertheless I'll intr'- 
 duce you. Mr. Ralph Marlowe, this is Doc 
 Barwood — Doctor Ephr'am Barwood, I should 
 say; an' Doctor Ephr'am Barwood, this is Mr. 
 Ralph Marlowe." 
 
 "Huh!" the physician grunted ungraciously, 
 knitting his heavy brows and surveying Ralph 
 from head to foot. 
 
 For several seconds the young druggist smilingly 
 submitted to the trying ordeal. Then putting 
 forth his hand, he observed pleasantly: 
 
 "I am glad to meet you. Dr. Barwood." 
 
 "Yes — certainly," returned the doctor, grasping 
 the outstretched hand and pressing it so hard the 
 tendons showed white and tense upon his own 
 knuckles. 
 
 But he did not remove his eyes from Ralph's 
 face; and his rugged features were puckered into a 
 scowl, as he went on : 
 
 ' ' Come into the office ; I want to talk with you. 
 I'm glad you've got here, at any rate." 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 67 
 
 Then suddenly dropping Marlowe's hand and 
 turning upon Tucker, who had descended the steps 
 and was moving away : 
 
 " Here! where are you going? " 
 
 "Goin' to take the gray 'round to the black- 
 smith's, to have a shoe drove," Jep replied, paus- 
 ing and squinting over his shoulder. 
 
 "No!" the doctor cried sharply. "Put her to 
 the cart and drive around to the hitching rack. I 
 am going to the country." 
 
 " But," Tucker objected. " She ain't in no c'n- 
 dition to travel, doc. She needs " 
 
 " You heard what I said, Jep? " 
 
 "Yes, doc, I did. But " 
 
 " Then you know what to do. And when you 
 have followed out my orders, return to the drug- 
 store. I want to have a private talk with this 
 young man. Come, Mr. Marlowe." 
 
 Jep hobbled around the corner of the building, 
 grumbling to himself : 
 
 " Ther' never was such a man to have his own 
 way as ol' Doc Barwood. But — if I ain't bad mis- 
 taken — he's met his match this time. That young 
 feller's harder to move 'n a meetin' house, when he 
 sets his head. You can't fool me. It'll be — kill 
 Dick, kill devil — betwixt 'em. Lordy ! won't the 
 fur fly one o' these days? Well, I reckon! " 
 
 Ralph silently followed Dr. Barwood into the 
 back room of the building, the latter closing and 
 locking the door behind them. 
 
68 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 " Take a chair," the doctor jerked out, with his 
 foot pushing one toward the young man. 
 
 Ralph seated himself. Dr. Barwood went to the 
 flat-top desk standing in the center of the room, 
 and carefully sorted and piled a number of medical 
 journals lying upon it. When he had arranged 
 them to his satisfaction, he stooped and replaced 
 the upturned corner of a large fur rug in front of 
 the empty grate. Then, swinging back the comers 
 of his long frock coat and thrusting his hands into 
 his trousers' pockets, he strode restlessly up and 
 down the bare floor, his boot heels clicking loudly. 
 Occasionally he paused before the rear window 
 and looked toward the stables whither Tucker had 
 gone. 
 
 Marlowe was interested. He coolly leaned back 
 in his chair — ^noting every movement of his com- 
 panion, every fleeting expression of his countenance 
 —and calmly awaited his pleasure. Of a sudden 
 Dr. Barwood dropped into a chair, hitched it close 
 to Ralph's, and leaning far forward — his elbows 
 upon the arms of the chair, his alert eyes half hid- 
 den by his corrugated brows — asked coldly : 
 
 " When did you arrive? " 
 
 "Last evening, doctor," Marlowe answered, un- 
 flinchingly returning his questioner's steady gaze. 
 ' ' The train was late ; and being tired and sleepy 
 I waited until this morning to call upon you." 
 
 " You spent, the night at the hotel, of course." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 69 
 
 " Did you meet Clark, the railroad agent, there? " 
 
 " I met him first at the station. He kindly ac- 
 companied me to the hotel." 
 
 ' ' Oh ! " — A world of meaning in the monosylla- 
 ble. Then after a moment's silence : 
 
 " You told him you meant to work for me? " 
 
 "I did, doctor." 
 
 " What did he say? " 
 
 " Very little — nothing of importance." 
 
 " Didn't he read my pedigree to you?" — Sneer- 
 ingly. 
 
 " He said nothing of your lineage, doctor — no." 
 
 "You know what I mean." — With a show of 
 ill humor. — ' ' Didn't he try to discourage you — to 
 dissuade you from taking a position with me, by 
 telling you what an irreligious, penurious, unchar- 
 itable, violent, old scoundrel I am? " 
 
 " Mr. Clark did nothing of the kind, doctor," 
 Ralph replied frigidly. " You wrong him. He 
 spoke disparagingly of Babylon, but not of you nor 
 of your business. I believe he did say you were 
 somewhat peculiar. I do not care to discuss the 
 subject further. If you desire Clark's opinion of 
 yourself, go to him for it." 
 
 Dr. Barwood reared back in his chair and glared 
 angrily at the audacious speaker. It was a new 
 and unwelcome experience to the irascible medical 
 man, to be pulled up so summarily. His black 
 eyes flashed ; his thin lips twitched. , (Gripping the 
 arms of his chair so tightly his nails turned white, 
 he breathed hard through his dilated nostrils. 
 
70 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 Ralph carelessly threw one leg over the other 
 and scratched a speck of dried mud from his trous- 
 ers. Presently the physician partially regained 
 control of himself and asked with forced calmness : 
 
 " Has any one else favored you with an opinion 
 of me?" 
 
 " Yes," Marlowe reluctantly admitted. " I over- 
 heard the loafers in the hotel office discussing your 
 predominant traits and characteristics. But what 
 does it matter, Dr. Barwood? You are as you are; 
 their idle talk does not alter the fact. Their ex- 
 pressed opinions have not influenced me. I have 
 no opinion of you — I have yet to form one." 
 
 " Was Crawford, the shoemaker, in the com- 
 pany?" 
 
 " I believe so — yes." — With a yawn and a shiver. 
 
 Dr. Barwood started and said : 
 
 " The room is chilly, without fire. But I will 
 not detain you long. Before we proceed to busi- 
 ness, however, I want to say this: Don't form too 
 hasty an opinion of me. Others have done so— and 
 made the mistake of their lives. I know what you 
 heard Crawford and his associates say of me. 
 They called me an infidel — an agnostic ; when 
 they know as little of my belief, as I know myself. 
 They accused me of being greedy, penurious, un- 
 charitable. And I give aviray each year three times 
 as much as any one of them earns. They informed 
 you, of my selflsh, obstinate, brutal disposition ; and 
 each of them — to a man almost — is in my debt and 
 under obligations to me for services rendered and 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 71 
 
 charities dispensed. Yes, I know well what they 
 said. And the man who was foremost in decrying 
 me — Jim Crawford — has a fancied grievance " 
 
 " So Clark informed me," Marlowe could not 
 help saying. 
 
 " Who? " the doctor inquired sharply. ' 
 
 " Clark, the station agent." 
 
 " Huh! " grunted Dr. Barwood frowning darkly. 
 " I do not like that young man ; he is an impudent 
 fellow." 
 
 "Perhaps you have been too hasty in forming 
 your opinion, doctor," Ralph replied, slyly smiling. 
 
 Dr. Barwood stared aghast. Could he believe 
 his ears and eyes "i Was the young man before him 
 actually laughing at him, while reproving him in a 
 patronizing tone and manner? His impeccability 
 was called in question ; his dignity was assailed. 
 Such temerity was unpardonable. He was not used 
 to such treatment ; and he would not stand it. He 
 was grievously insulted, thoroughly angry. But 
 for some reason, he felt it would not do to fly into 
 a passion and rave and storm as he was wont to do 
 on such occasions. So he gripped the arms of his 
 chair, bit his nether lip and manfully strove to 
 gain the mastery of his violent temper. In this he 
 succeeded so well — to his own unbounded surprise 
 — that after a few preliminary fumblings at his 
 watch guard, he managed to say with an outward 
 show of calmness : 
 
 "Mr. Marlowe, if you expect to gain and retain 
 my favor, you will do well to keep such suggestions 
 
72 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 to yourself. I am not in need of an advisory com- 
 mittee to formulate or alter my opinions on any 
 subject." 
 
 It was Ralph's turn to show anger. Instantly 
 his lounging, indolent manner and attitude disap- 
 peared. Drawing himself rigidly erect — his brown 
 eyes snapping, his nostrils aquiver — he returned 
 hotly: 
 
 " I am but returning the advice — in the form 
 of a mild suggestion — ^you so kindly offered me, 
 Dr. Barwood. Let us understand each other. I 
 have no desire to curry favor. I did not come 
 here for that purpose. I came according to writ- 
 ten agreement, to serve you in the capacity of 
 druggist, to the best of my ability. That I stand 
 ready to do. But you will find in me no cringing 
 underling. I am as independent — as self-willed, 
 as yourself." 
 
 A peculiar expression — like a gleam of sunshine 
 breaking through a cloud bank — shot athwart the 
 physician's swarthy visage, sparkled in his black 
 eyes — and was gone. His voice was clear and 
 steady as he answered : 
 
 ' ' Let us drop the controversy. You are willing 
 to work for the salary I have offered? " 
 
 " I am."— Firmly. 
 
 " When do you wish to begin? " 
 
 " At once — today." 
 
 ' ' Very well, it is settled. But I desire to have 
 this understanding : Either of us may annul the 
 contract at any time. Is that satisfactory? " 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 73 
 
 " Eminently." 
 
 " I am off to the country then," concluded Dr. 
 Bar-wood rising to his feet. " I have a drive of 
 thirty to forty miles to make, including a number 
 of visits. Probably I shall not be back before 
 some time tomorrow forenoon, as the roads are 
 heavy — especially in the neighborhood of Black's 
 Mills on Bear Run, where I am going. You may 
 acquaint yourself with the stock and look after 
 whatever you think needs attention. When I re- 
 turn we will consult further about the management 
 of the business." 
 
 They had left the office and returned to the drug 
 room. Tucker lay sprawled upon the bench by the 
 stove in which he had kindled a fire. The doctor 
 caught up his saddlebags, his overcoat and gloves 
 from the over-laden counter where they had re- 
 posed all the morning, and hurriedly left the room. 
 Marlowe stepped to the one side window, and 
 watched him as he stiffly climbed into his cart and 
 drove away. 
 
 " Well, I see you're still alive yit," Jep drawled 
 lazily, rolling his eyes at Ralph, who stood gazing 
 after the cart disappearing up the sandy thorough- 
 fare. "Thought maybe you two hot heads might 
 git into a Kilkenny cat fight an' eat one another 
 up. But you both come out lookin' 's pleasant as 
 a purty woman in a pink sunbonnet. Couldn't 
 'ave had much of an argyment, I guess. Must 'ave 
 agreed to disagree, an' let it go at that. By the 
 way, there's somethin' funny 'bout people argyin' 
 
74 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 — dogged if ther' ain't! Ever think 'bout it? Say 
 you didn't? Well, sir, it's jest like this: It's 
 purty toler'ble hard fer two men to be on opposite 
 sides in an argyment, an' both be right; but it's 
 most danged easy fer 'em both to be wrong. Ain't 
 that so? Course it is. An' yit people's alluz 
 anxious to stick the'r noses into an argyment. The 
 way they go nosin' 'round fer trouble puts me in 
 mind o' Jack Rosser's ol' sow. Ever hear that 
 story?" 
 
 Marlowe shook his head, as he turned from the 
 window aud resignedly dropped into a chair. 
 
 " Then I'll tell it to you," Jep volunteered with 
 cheerful alacrity, ejecting his quid and stroking his 
 stubby mustache between his thumb and fore 
 finger. " It'll help us to pass the time. You see 
 this Jack Rosser's a plasterer an' painter an' so on; 
 an' two 'r three summers ago he had an ol' sow 
 that run the streets an' tormented ev'rybody. She 
 had a long, slim nose she could poke clean to the 
 bottom of a gallon fruit jug; an' an appetite like 
 the unquenchable thirst o' perdition — alluz eatin' 
 an' alluz grunting fer more. 
 
 ' ' Jack used to feed 'er jest outside his front gate 
 — 'Id set a bucket o' slop out there an let 'er eat it. 
 Well, one day he'd been doin' some whitewashin' 
 fer ol' Mrs. Britton; an' comin' home to dinner he 
 set down his bucket o' whitewash — 'bout two 'r 
 three gallons he meant to use on Joe Frick's cellar 
 that afternoon — jest outside the gate, where he'd 
 been in the habit o' feedin' that ol' sow. He was 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 75 
 
 hot, an,' hungry, an' mad — 'cause he never did like 
 to do whitewashin', seemed to look at it as b'neath 
 his dignity — an' wasn't thinkin' what he was doin'. 
 
 " Well, jest as Jack an' the fam'ly sets down to 
 the'r dinner, 'long comes that ol' sow lookin' fer 
 her'n. An' seein' the bucket, she gives a satisfied — 
 'ugh! ugh!' — an' makes a dive fer it. Never 
 stops to c'nsider n'r 'nvestigate ; but comin' to the 
 rash c'nclusion the stuff's milk, jest shoves 'er nose 
 into it clear up to 'er ears, an' begins to blubber fer 
 the p'tater peelin's she 'xpects to find in the bottom. 
 
 " 'Tain't much of a trick to 'magine what hap- 
 pened. She took one gulp o' the stuff — an' it got 
 in 'er eyes ; an' givin' an extra kink to 'er tail an' 
 lettin' out a squeal that split the weatherboardin' 
 on the warehouse 'cross the street, she jerked 'er 
 snoot out o' the whitewash an' started on a beeline 
 fer nowhere. 
 
 "But the bail o' the bucket — Jack had left it 
 standin' straight up — fell back over the ol' rip's 
 neck ; an' she was in a fix. She pawed an' clawed, 
 an' shook 'er head, an' grunted an' squealed — scat- 
 ter'n' whitewash to the four corners o' kingdom- 
 come — ^till half the people in town was out lookin' 
 at the circus an' nearly dyin' a laughin'. 
 
 "Well, finally she fell down an' rolled over the 
 bucket. That jerked the bail off; an' away she 
 went lickety- brindle — like she was shot out of a 
 gun — squealin' like all possessed an' a twistin' 'er 
 tail like a screw pr'peller. Liter'ly run off the edge 
 o' the earth an' disappeared. 
 
76 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 "An' she never come back," Tucker concluded 
 solemnly; "an' was never heard of but once. A 
 drummer come into town a week 'r two after — I 
 b'lieve it was Lon Crider — an' said he'd seen a hog 
 answerin' to the description o' Rosser's, 'way down 
 in Meigs County, close to the Ohio. Said it had 
 dried whitewash all over its snoot an' head, an' was 
 runnin' an' squealin' an' screwin' its tail, like it had 
 jest had an interview with a passel o' hornets. 
 Most people didn't take much stock in the story ; 
 but I did. I argied this way : The sow hain't come 
 back ; an' ther'fore she must still be runnin'. An' 
 if she's still a runnin', she's passed through Meigs 
 County, an' Lon Crider's seen 'er. Anyhow the 
 ol' rip didn't come back to bother 'round no more ; 
 an' folks is still blessin' that bucket o' whitewash 
 in the'r prayers, an' " 
 
 Marlowe, seeing no end to the fellow's maunder- 
 ings, interrupted : 
 
 ' ' J^P — if I ™*y ^^ yo'^ that— do you wish to 
 help me to work a miracle ? " 
 
 " You may call me anything you please," Tucker 
 replied yawning, " jest so you don't call me too late 
 fer dinner. But 'bout y'r miracle. Don't want to 
 send rtie up to heaven in no chariot o' fire, do you ; 
 n'r chuck me into no whale's belly? " 
 
 " No, I want you to work." 
 
 " Well, that -would be workin' a kind of miracle 
 — to git me to work, would," Jep replied, grinning 
 sheepishly. " What're you drivin' at? " 
 
 ' ' I mean to work the miracle of bringing order 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 77 
 
 out of chaos." — With a wave of his hand about the 
 room. 
 
 " Oh ! " Jep chuckled. " I understand you ; you 
 mean to clean up things. Well, it won't be much 
 of a miracle to do that. All it'll take '11 be a little 
 soap an' water an' elbow grease. But it toill be a 
 miracle, if you keef 'em clean. I can tell you 
 that." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " 'Cause the ol' doc won't let you. He'll come in 
 an' throw his muddy overcoat down in one place, 
 an' his saddlebags in another, an' string things 
 'round to suit hisself^pilin' empty an' mussy bot- 
 tles all over the counters an' showcases, an' so on. 
 I know him. Says he likes to have things handy." 
 
 "That is his habit, eh? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I shall break him of it." 
 
 " What ! "—In unfeigned consternation. 
 
 "Yes, I shall put the place in order and keep it 
 
 BO." 
 
 " You'll have a fuss with ol' doc, 'fore forty-eight 
 hours." 
 
 ' ' Probably. Did the other clerks have difficulty 
 with him on the same score? " 
 
 "No — not hardly. They jest let him have his 
 own way; an' when they couldn't stand it no 
 longer, they packed the'r kits an' left. I don't say 
 ther' wasn't other troubles between 'em, you under- 
 stand." 
 
78 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 " I understand. Well, you will assist me in the 
 task, will you? " 
 
 " Sure pop. When you goin' at it?" 
 
 "This afternoon. -We ought to have two 
 strong, active women to help us. Do you know 
 where to find them ? " 
 
 Jep grinned from ear to ear as he replied : 
 
 "Might git the woman an' gal where I board. 
 They live on the lot jest 'cross the alley back o' the 
 buildin'. They could heat water there, an' I could 
 tote it over." 
 
 "The very thing. Who are they? " 
 
 "Jep Tucker's wife and gal." 
 
 "Oh!"— and Ralph laughed softly. "I shall 
 leave you, then, to make all arrangements. It is 
 now ten o'clock. I shall go to the hotel, change 
 my clothing, and get an early dinner. Have every- 
 thing in readiness by the time I return — say in an 
 hour from now^. Have you the keys? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "All right. Lock the door when you go to your 
 meal." 
 
 " That young feller's sharper 'n a bee sting," Jep 
 muttered as Ralph left the store ; ' ' an' as set in his 
 way as a blacksmith's anvil. But " — With a dubi- 
 ous shake of the head — "he'll come into a c'lision 
 with the ol' doc, one o' these days, that 'II shake 
 his back teeth loose. I'll live in mortal dread of a 
 blowup from this time on." 
 
 And sighing heavily, he hobbled behind the 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 79 
 
 counter and helped himself to the contents of a 
 large black bottle standing upon the lower shelf. 
 
 Marlowe returned to the drugstore at eleven, 
 wearing a pair of heavy russet shoes, a crush hat, 
 and blue overalls and jumper. He found Mrs. 
 Tucker — a wiry little body of forty — and her 
 strapping eighteen-year-old daughter, already on 
 hand and sweeping and dusting vigorously. Jep — 
 according to his own statement given in a wheezy, 
 dust-laden voice — was " reddin' up the lower re- 
 gions." 
 
 Ralph assumed direction of affairs, lending a 
 hand here and there ; and the work progressed rap- 
 idly. By mid-afternoon the accumulated dust and 
 waste of months had been routed ; and armed with 
 mops, cloths, brushes, and hot soapsuds, the whole 
 force made a determined and concerted assault 
 upon the hosts of dirt and disorder. 
 
 An hour before supper time — Marlowe was pol- 
 ishing a show case near the door — two young ladies 
 paused upon the sidewalk xu front of the building, 
 and looked into the store. Ralph slyly observed 
 them. The older was tall, slender and dark, with 
 jetty hair and eyes ; the younger, plump, graceful 
 and fair, with violet eyes and hair of spun gold. 
 
 "There he is," murmured the fair one nudging 
 her companion. "And oh, Julia! He's hand- 
 some." 
 
 " Hush, Dorothy — ^hush! " cautioned the dark one, 
 in an undertone. " He'll hear you. Come on." 
 
 " Doesn't he look cute in that rig?" whispered 
 
8o RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 the blonde, a smile dimpling her peachy cheeks. 
 " Let's go in and make his acquaintance." 
 
 "For goodness sake, hush — and come on," 
 gasped her companion in an affrighted whisper. 
 " I shall inform mother of your unladylike behav- 
 ior, Dorothy. Come." — Plucking her by the sleeve. 
 
 " Wait," giggled the younger. " I want to get 
 a square look at him. Wait until he looks up." 
 
 " Your conduct is disgraceful, Dorothy," the older 
 said angrily, releasing her companion and walking 
 away. 
 
 Marlowe had heard and seen all ; and was greatly 
 amused. His eyes met the mischievous violet ones 
 fixed upon him — and he smiled. The petite blonde 
 blushed ; and ducking her head, scampered after 
 her companion. 
 
 '^' Sisters, I presume," Ralph muttered, again 
 turning his attention to his work. "The older is 
 ladylike, reserved, and takes life seriously — fancies 
 she has a mission, and all that. She is attractive 
 but not beautiful. The younger, a mere child — 
 not more than seventeen, is a fairy. Beautiful — 
 but spoilt and willful; and somewhat of a mischiev- 
 ous hoiden, Babylon is fallen" — Smiling — "but 
 is not a waste place of the earth, after alL I won- 
 der who they are." 
 
 "Saw 'em, did you?" Tucker drawled in the 
 druggist's ear. 
 
 Ralph nodded. 
 
 " Didn't know 'em, though? " 
 
 "No." 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 81 
 
 " Them's the ol' doc's two gals." 
 
 "Indeed?" 
 
 "Yes." — Shaking out the cloth he had just 
 wrung dry. — "They're all the children he's got. 
 The oldest one's Miss Julia. She's a good 'eal like 
 'er daddy — an' looks some like him, too — a well 
 meanin' gal, but hard to git along with, AUuz 
 puts me on nettles to talk to her ; she's everlastin'ly 
 findin' fault with the world an' wantin' to reform 
 it. Ain't willin' to let God A'mighty have his 
 own way 'bout things. She's a mighty religious, 
 good gal, though ; but kind o' cantankerous an' 
 queer, 'Tother one's Miss Dolly. She looks 
 like 'er ma — an' is like 'er ma, in most things, 
 Purty an' good natured — an' sweeter 'n the corn- 
 cob stopper in a 'lasses jug. But she's got a streak 
 of the ol' Barwood stock in her, too. When the 
 ol' doc gits on his dignity, he thinks Grover Cleve- 
 land's overcoat wouldn't make him a vest. An' 
 Miss Dolly's like 'er daddy, in that respeck — wants 
 to use the equator fer a sash ribbon an' the par'lels 
 o' latitude fer shoe strings. She'll be a good friend 
 to you, though, if you git on the right side of 'er. 
 But if you don't — well, look out! She'll make you 
 wish y'r mother 'd died 'fore you was born. She's 
 a reg'lar tomboy, too ; an' " 
 
 " JsPi " Mrs, Tucker interrupted sharply, " don't 
 
 stand there gabbin' all day. Come an' help me 
 
 move this tub; an' then go over to the house fer 
 
 more hot water, Le's make hay while the sun 
 
 6 
 
82 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 shines ; fer I've got to do Mrs. Alberry's washin' 
 tomorrer." 
 
 " Make hay while the sun shines ! " Jep grumbled 
 sotto voce. "That's jest like that woman. She'd 
 talk 'bout makin' hay while the sun shines, if it 
 was Chris'mas an' the snow was knee deep. They 
 call a woman a man's better half. Huh ! She's the 
 whole thing in most cases. That woman nearly 
 pesters me to death ; an' she'd see me w^ork till I 
 dropped dead in my tracks. An' I was jest goin' to 
 tell you a good yarn, too. But " — With evident re- 
 luctance — " I s'pose it'll keep." 
 
 Still grumbling he went about the task his spouse 
 had set him. 
 
 At supper time Marlowe remarked: 
 
 " We have done a hard day's work. I think we 
 would better quit now, and finish tomorrow." 
 
 " We won't do nothin' o' the kind," Mrs. Tucker 
 answered snappishly. " What me an' Lizy does 
 we'll do tonight. We've got a washin' an' ironin' 
 to do tomorrer. If you want our help, you'll 
 finish up this job tonight. 'Twon't take but an' 
 hour 'r two to finish up the scrubbin' an' scourin' ; 
 an' then you can have all day tomorrer to straighten 
 up things to suit you. " 
 
 " Ralph was weary, grimy, and disgusted with 
 the job ; but he felt he could not afford to dispense 
 with Mrs. Tucker's efficient help. In his perplexity 
 he gave Jep an appealing look. That worthy, lean- 
 ing heavily upon his mopstick, drew down the 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 85 
 
 corners of his mouth and feelingly rubbed his back 
 — but said nothing. The lazy, light-hearted fellow 
 was such a picture of abject helplessness and utter 
 dejection, Ralph had to smile covertly behind his 
 hand. 
 
 Mrs. Tucker had her will — and got her way. 
 
 When they reassembled after supper, Jep man- 
 aged to sidle up to Marlow^e and whisper — an ex- 
 pression of injured innocence upon his wrinkled 
 visage : 
 
 "My stomach's emptier 'n the bottomless pit. 
 We didn't 'ave nothin' fer breakfast, warmed it 
 over fer dinner, an' used what was left fer supper. 
 Darn it I That woman o' mine's all right — a 
 mighty good helpmate ; but she ain't c'ntent to do 
 a decent day's work. It's go the whole hog 'r 
 none, with her. Her an' the gal's jest alike — six o' 
 one an' half dozen o' t'other. Not but what I think 
 a whole heap of 'em, you understand; but they 
 hain't got no c'nsideration for my feelin's. I'm 
 gittin' thinner 'n a katydid — nothin' left but the 
 runnin' gears. One o' these days I'll jest natcherly 
 dry up an' blow away." 
 
 At nine o'clock the work was done — and well 
 done. Chaos still reigned ; but it was a chaos of 
 cleanliness. The Tuckers gathered up their things 
 and went home — Jep groaning and complaining 
 under his load of empty tubs and pails. Left to 
 himself, Marlowe dropped upon the bench by the 
 warm stove ; and rubbing his aching limbs, cast his 
 eyes over the billows Qf disarranged shelfware and 
 
84 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 furniture piled topsy-turvy upon the counters. 
 Then leaning back against the wall, he fell into a 
 reverie. 
 
 Presently he was aroused by the sound of foot- 
 steps, and looked up to find Clark smiling down at 
 him. 
 
 " Hello ! " the agent cried cheerily. " Taking a 
 snooze ? " 
 
 Then, ere Ralph could make reply: 
 
 "My! you're a beaut in those togs — you are. 
 You look like a coal heaver on a local freight. 
 Been cleaning up the old den, have you? Well, I 
 should think! I missed you at dinner; didn't run 
 across you at supper; and came to the conclusion 
 you had taken your foot in your hand and hoofed it 
 out of town. This looks like you were going to 
 stay awhile, though." 
 
 Marlowe nodded, smiling wearily. Clark took 
 his cue and went on : 
 
 "Dog tired, aren't you? Lock up; and let's 
 go down to Charley's and turn in. You've done 
 enough for one day. No use of breaking your 
 heart and your health, the first twenty-four hours. 
 You won't get any thanks for it all, anyhow. So 
 you made a bargain with the old doc ? " 
 
 "Yes," Ralph answered, arising and putting on 
 his hat. 
 
 " How much a month are you to get? " Clark in- 
 quired as they passed out at the door. 
 
 " Seventy-five dollars," Marlowe replied, turning 
 the key in the lock and smiling to himself. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 85 
 
 "Whew!" whistled his volatile companion. 
 " That's a pile and a half. I'll bet old doc broke a 
 heart string when he agreed to give you that. I 
 didn't suppose his old shebang took in that much 
 in a month. Another case of knowing it all. 
 You'll have a jolly time spending all that lucre in 
 this burg." 
 
 " I have never experienced any difficulty in 
 spending all I earned," Marlowe laughed. 
 
 "That so?" Clark laughed in reply. "Well, 
 you're a strange one. Why, any fool can make 
 money; but it takes a wise man to know how to 
 spend it to the best disadvantage. By the way, 
 have you met your employer's daugjfiters i " 
 
 " No, I have not met them." 
 
 " Well, have you seen them? " 
 
 " I saw them pass the drugstore this afternoon." 
 
 " Didn't get to speak to them? " 
 
 "No." — A shade of annoyance in his tone. 
 
 " Which one did you think the prettiest?" 
 
 " I do not set myself up as a judge of beauty." 
 
 " Get out ! I want your opinion. Which one's 
 style of beauty do you prefer? " 
 
 ".I have made no choice." 
 
 " /have. I prefer the little one — Dolly — by all 
 odds. She's peaches and cream — she is, I've 
 escorted her home a few times. But the old doc 
 put a veto on the business; and I'm out in the 
 cold." 
 
 For some'reason he did not try to fathom, Ralph 
 was irritated by his companion's familiar reference 
 
86 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 to Dr. Barwood's younger daughter, and his voice 
 showed it as he said : 
 
 "You should not speak of Miss Dolly in that 
 way, Clark. She is a mere child." 
 
 " I didn't mean any harm," the operator replied 
 humbly; " it's just my rattletrap way of talking. 
 There isn't a girl in the town I respect more than 
 Miss Dolly — as you call her. But, Marlowe" — Very 
 seriously — "if you think she's only a child, you're 
 badly fooled. She may be young in years^-oi 
 course she ts; but she's older than Methusaleh in 
 some things. You mark my words. Wait until 
 you know her; and you'll — ^you'll knota her." 
 
 After Ralph had closed his eyes that night — and 
 just as he was dropping to sleep — a vision flitted 
 before his mental sight; a vision of golden hair, 
 pearly teeth and violet eyes. 
 
 J5 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 "TTOW are you this morning, Jep?" was Ralph's 
 
 n. breezy greeting to the forlorn-looking 
 Tucker, who lounged into the drugstore — bringing 
 with him the aroma of the stables — and dropped 
 into his accustomed seat near the stove. 
 
 " Sick abed an' not 'xpected to recover," grinned 
 Jep, shifting his quid from one cheek to the other, 
 and pursing his lips preparatory to expectorating 
 upon the spotless floor. 
 
 "Hold! " Marlowe cried sharply, wrinkling his 
 brows and shaking his fist in mock rage. " There's 
 a cuspidor behind the stove. Use that, please." 
 
 "A what? " gasped Jep, peering into the comer 
 indicated. 
 
 "A cuspidor." 
 
 " Oh! that's jest a new-fangled name fer spit- 
 toon, is it? Well, here goes. But I don't know 
 whether I can hit the mark from here. Say, young 
 feller! Do you know what c'nclusion I've come to 
 — after a heap o' thinkin' ? " 
 
 Ralph shook his head. 
 
 "Well, it's this: A woman's like a kicky cow 
 in fly time — more bother 'n she's worth. An' yet 
 we've got to have cows; an' we can't do without 
 women. Take a cow in fly time, fer instance. 
 
 (87) 
 
88 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 You have to run 'er all over a ten-acre field, to git 
 a chance to milk 'er. Then vs^'en you're purty near 
 tuckered out, an' are debatin' whether to set the 
 dogs on 'er an' let 'er go, she stands as meek as you 
 please an' gives a brimmin' bucket o' milk. Then 
 jest as you're c'ngratulatin' y'rself that you're in luck 
 an' ain't goin' to have no more trouble with 'er, she 
 cracks you in the eye with 'er stump tail ; kicks 
 over the bucket o' milk ; starts 'cross the field, bel- 
 lerin' like ol' Nick seekin' whom he may devour; 
 an' leaves you ponderin' on the hoUerness an' vanity 
 o' human uncertainty." 
 
 Tucker paused, squinted one eye, and appealed 
 to his auditor, with the words : 
 
 "Ain't that right?" 
 
 "It may be so — I cannot say," Marlowe answered, 
 smiling at his companion's earnestness and solem- 
 nity. ' ' I have had no experience with kicking 
 cows. But go on — make your comparison." 
 
 " Well, it's so, ev'ry word of it, whether you've 
 had the 'xperience 'r not," Jep resumed doggedly. 
 " Now, as to women, I'll jest take my ol' woman 
 as a horrible example. Yisterday was fly time; an' 
 she was c'ntrarier 'n all git out. Last night she 
 quieted down; got me a hot supper when we went 
 home — 'way after nine o'clock — an' was as good as 
 apple pie with cream on. Then 'way in the night 
 this ol' foot o' mine got to hurtin' an' throbbin' ; an' 
 she jumped out o' bed, made a poultice fer it, an' 
 couldn't do too much fer me. Do you see what 
 I'm driyin'at?" 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 89 
 
 "Yes, but you have not finished." 
 
 "No; but I'm gittin' there. This mornin' she 
 made me git up an' build the fire, 'fore daylight — 
 right when I was gittin' the best sleep I'd had all 
 night ; an' said the only reason I didn't sleep well 
 was 'cause I'd eat too much 'fore goin' to bed. 
 Sort o' hinted ther' wasn't nothin' ailed my foot, 
 an' that I'd ort to had the poultice on my stomach. 
 What do you think of an unreason'ble human crit- 
 ter like that, anyhow? " 
 
 Tucker asked the question in such a lugubrious 
 tone, and his homely countenance wore such a sym- 
 pathy-seeking expression, that Ralph burst into a 
 roar of laughter. At which Jep whined : 
 
 "'Tain't no laughin' matter, young feller, an' 
 you'll find it out, if you ever git spliced. I ain't 
 complainin', though. My frow's as good as the 
 next one — but she's a woman; an' women is like 
 kicky cows in fly time. Say! " — Suddenly bright- 
 ening. — ' ' You remember I 'lowed to tell you a 
 story yisterday? " 
 
 "I remember," Ralph replied, looking at his 
 watch. " But I haven't time to hear it now." 
 
 "What?" — Incredulity in voice and manner. — 
 " Hain't got time to hear a good story? " 
 
 " Not at present. I wish to put things to rights 
 ere Dr. Barwood returns." 
 
 Jep slowly arose to his feet ; and sadly wagging 
 his head, went out muttering : 
 
 " Then I might as well go back to the barn an' 
 finish my job o' washin' an' greasin' harness. But 
 
90 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 I'll tell you one thing, young feller — an' that ain't 
 two — you've got a heap to learn yit, 'bout^gittin' 
 the best out o' life there is in it. Hain't got time 
 to hear a story ! The man that hain't got time to 
 hear a good yarn, hain't got time to eat n'r sleep; 
 an' he ort to swap time fer etarnity, an' quit goin' 
 through the motions o' livin'." 
 
 Marlowe resumed his task of putting things to 
 rights. He rearranged the shelfware, overhauled 
 the contents of drawers and showcases, placed 
 fresh goods and advertising matter in the windows, 
 and put everything upon the counters in shipshape. 
 By eleven o'clock, the apparently impossible job 
 was done ; and in silent satisfaction he gazed upon 
 his handiwork. 
 
 " It doesn't look like the same place," he mur- 
 mured admiringly. " But there is much yet to do — 
 that ought to be done, at least. The woodwork 
 should be repainted and varnished; the walls, 
 repapered. Then plants in the windows would 
 help greatly. But I am satisfied ; I have made a 
 good beginning." 
 
 The noon hour arrived; and Dr. Barwood had 
 not yet returned. In the meantime business had 
 been rather brisk. Quite a number of coins had 
 jingled'into the till in the tall, spindle-legged desk. 
 Also, not a few persons had been in to see the 
 doctor. Some had gone their ways, saying they 
 would call again ; others had left requests that he 
 would come to their homes on his return. All in all, 
 the forenoon had passed pleasantly and profitably ; 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 91 
 
 and Marlowe whistled softly to himself as he 
 sauntered to his dinner. 
 
 Coming back he noted that a chill wind was 
 blowing from the northwest and that slaty clouds 
 were marshaling in that quarter. 
 
 Tucker — who had discarded his dilapidated straw 
 hat for a cloth cap of equal disreputability — sat 
 upon the edge of the wide top step in front of the 
 drugstore. He was idly swinging his long legs, 
 and amusing himself by holding a bit of straw 
 between his nether teeth and lip, and with spas- 
 modic motions of his lower jaw thrusting the free 
 end of it through his stubby mustache. Meantime 
 he was humming through his nose : 
 
 " Come, love, come! The boat lies low; 
 She lies high an' dry on the O-hi-o. 
 Come, love, come — an' go along with me , 
 I'll take you down to Ten-nes-see." 
 
 Breaking off abruptly as Ralph drew near, Jep 
 flung away the piece of straw he had been juggling, 
 and gazing admiringly upon the neat business suit 
 of brown the druggist had donned while at dinner, 
 exclaimed : 
 
 "By jeeminy! 'Fine feathers makes fine birds,' 
 'cordin' to the ol' sayin'. My ol' daddy used to put 
 it — 'fine fur makes a fine mink skin' ; an' I heard a 
 feller say in rhyme one time : 
 
 " "Tain't what he knows, but what he wears, 
 That helps a feller put on airs ; 
 A stovepipe hat upon his head 
 Counts more 'n all the books he's read.' 
 
92 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 "May be that's overdrawed a little; but ther' 
 ain't no denyin' that good clo'es counts fer more 'n 
 most people gives 'em credit. You'd look nice in 
 sackcloth an' ashes ; but you'd look a dam sight 
 better in purple an' fine linen. But say ! " — ^Rising 
 and following Marlowe into the drugstore. — "I 
 want to ask you a question, if you won't think me 
 too peart." 
 
 " Out with it," answered Ralph, tossing his hat 
 upon the desk and walking behind the counter. 
 
 "Well, it's — it's this." — Hesitating and rubbing 
 his husky palms together. — " What's y'r politics? " 
 
 Marlowe laughed outright. Then suddenly 
 checking himself and looking sober, he said in re- 
 turn: 
 
 "Why do you ask?" 
 
 "Well, that's a question an' a half," chuckled 
 Jep, albeit a little uneasily. " I ask 'cause I want 
 to know." 
 
 " Perhaps I do not subscribe to the tenets of any 
 political party." 
 
 " I don't ketch y'r meanin', 'xactly," Tucker ad- 
 mitted, shaking his head. "But you vote, don't 
 you?" 
 
 " Sometimes." 
 
 "An' when you vote you vote some ticket, don't 
 you?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 "Then that's jest what I want to know. What 
 ticket do you vote ? " 
 
 "And again I ask — why do you inquire? " 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 93 
 
 " W'y the 'lection's comin' on," Jep explained, 
 easing his back against the edge of the counter ; 
 "an' both parties is countin' noses. Some o' the 
 fellers was 'round to the stable a while ago, an' 
 wanted me to feel o' you an' find out how you 
 voted. They want to list you on the poll book." 
 
 " I see. By the way, what is the political com- 
 plexion of this community ? " 
 
 " Oh! what few of 'em ain't Republicans is 
 Democrats; an' what few of 'em ain't Democrats is 
 Republicans." 
 
 "That's very clear," laughed Marlowe. "But 
 which party is in the ascendency?" 
 
 " Which one has the biggest vote? " 
 
 "Exactly." 
 
 " Well, it's nip an' tuck— an' sometimes one, an' 
 sometimes t'other. But the Republicans '11 beat 
 this year." 
 
 " Indeed? What are you, Jep?" 
 
 " Me? I'm a Republican. All good-lookin' fel- 
 lers is Republicans." 
 
 " Why do you think the Republicans will win 
 this year?" 
 
 "'Cause they will, that's why. That Billy 
 Bryan couldn't beat nothin'. He couldn't beat a 
 carpet." 
 
 " What is Dr. Barwood? " 
 
 "The ol' doc? He's the leadin' Republican o' 
 the township. Now what are you? " 
 
 "A Democrat. Are there no other parties rep- 
 resented ? " 
 
94 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 "No, I guess not." — Then with a whimsical 
 grin. — " Ther' was one pro'ibitionist here sever'l 
 years ago. But he jest natcherly argied hisself to 
 death ; an' that broke up the party. So you're a 
 Democrat ? " 
 
 "lam." 
 
 " Ever scratch y'r ticket ? " 
 
 "Seldom." 
 
 " N'r me, neither. I'm purty near as bad as ol' 
 Ed O'Neil. Heard him say once he wouldn't 
 scratch his ticket to save Christ from the cross. 
 An' so you're goin' to vote fer Bryan, are you? " 
 
 "If I vote at all— yes." 
 
 " "Think he's a better man 'n McKmley? " 
 
 " Both are gentlemen, so far as I know," Ralph 
 laughed. " I am acquainted with neither " 
 
 " You're a little like ol' Tomp Nutt, I guess." 
 
 " Explain." 
 
 "He's all the time growlin' 'cause he ain't 
 a'quainted with the presidential candidates. Says 
 he don't see why they nominate fellers that nobody 
 knows; that they ort to nominate somebody like 
 Hugh McDevitt 'n Doc Barwood. Says ev'ry- 
 body knows them " 
 
 Tucker paused suddenly; and leaning toward 
 Marlowe whispered : 
 
 " There comes ol' Tomp up the steps this very 
 minute. Now you tioiU meet a good one. He 
 stutters like a jig saw ; is odder 'n the figger seven, 
 an' fuller o' queer notions an' idees 'n a scrap- 
 book." 
 
RALPH MARL OWE 95 
 
 Ralph faced the door. It opened and shut; and 
 a grotesque figure slouched toward the center of 
 the room. 
 
 Judging from appearances, Mr. Thompson Nutt 
 was indeed a character. He was a deep-chested, 
 round-shouldered man of sixty years, with long 
 arms and bandy legs. He did not walk, he 
 shuffled — his body bent well forward, his arms 
 dangling. His ruddy face — bare from forehead to 
 chin — was encircled by a halo of snow-white hair 
 and beard. His wide mouth sagged grievously at 
 the corners ; and his kindly blue eyes were weak 
 and watery. But his whole appearance denoted 
 great physical power and endurance. 
 
 As to his apparel, it consisted of a pair of ragged 
 trousers, a chinchilla coat — threadbare in many 
 places and lined with flaming red flannel, an old- 
 fashioned blue satin waistcoat, and a black necker- 
 chief. He wore a white slouch hat ; and his feet 
 were encased in well-worn arctics. 
 
 " How d' y' do, Tomp," Tucker cried, edging 
 out of the way as the newcomer approached the 
 counter. " How are you today, anyhow?" 
 
 " 'B-'B-'Bout the s-same, if any d-d-differ'nce," 
 grinned Nutt, throwing back the comer of his coat 
 and diving deep into his trousers' pocket. " H-H- 
 How're y-you ? " 
 
 " Fair to middlin'," Jep replied, winking at 
 Ralph. 
 
 The elderly man fished up the coin he was an- 
 
96 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 gling for, and slapping it upon the counter de- 
 manded : 
 
 "G-Got any f-f-fetty?" 
 
 "Pardon me," returned Ralph. "But what is 
 it you want ? " 
 
 ' ' F-Fetty . G-Got any ? " 
 
 "Fetty, you say?" 
 
 ' ' Y- Yes— d-darn it ! F-F-Fetty . " 
 
 " I fear I don't yet understand what you mean." 
 
 Jep came to the rescue with : 
 
 "What's the matter with you, anyhow, Ralph 
 Marlowe? Tomp Nutt wants some fetty." — This 
 was Tucker's unique way of introducing the two 
 men. — "You know what the stuff is, if you'll jest 
 think a minute. It's that bad-smellin' truck that 
 folks puts in bags, an' hangs 'em 'round the'r chil- 
 dern's necks, to keep off diseases an' witches an' 
 things. An' I hain't no doubt it'll keep off any- 
 thing dead 'r alive ; fer it smells worse 'n a dirty 
 shotgun." 
 
 "Oh, I understand!" Marlowe exclaimed, 
 smiling blandly. ' ' Mr. Nutt wants some asa- 
 fetida." 
 
 " That's what you drug fellers calls it, I guess," 
 Jep answered, nodding; "but down in this patch 
 o' clearin' we call it — fetty." 
 
 " It d-don't m-m-make no d-diflfer'nce what you 
 c-call it," stuttered Tomp, "jest s-so you've^^-goi it." 
 
 "How much will you have, Mr. Nutt?" Mar- 
 lowe asked pleasantly. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 97 
 
 "F-Five cents w-w-worth. " 
 
 When Ralph had wrapped up the required quan- 
 tity of the odoriferous drug, he shoved it toward 
 the purchaser, quoting as he did so : 
 
 " ' Asafetida, the resinous gum 
 
 Named from its odor — ^well, it does smell some.'" 
 
 "S-Say that ag'in," stuttered the old man, his 
 eyes flying open like those of a mechanical doll. 
 
 Ralph laughingly repeated the couplet. 
 
 " S-S-Say ! " Tomp exclaimed with candid ad- 
 miration. " Y- You're a p-p-poet." 
 
 "That is not original with me," the young drug- 
 gist explained; " it is a quotation. Dr. Holmes is 
 the author." 
 
 "Doc who?" Tucker interjected with a rising 
 inflection. 
 
 "Doctor Oliver Wendell Holmes." 
 
 " Don't know him, I guess," Jep observed re- 
 flectively. "Never practiced in these parts, did 
 he?" 
 
 With an effort Marlowe managed to smother his 
 risibility; and went on to give a brief biographical 
 sketch of the great anatomist and litterateur. 
 Tucker listened attentively ; Nutt, absent-mindedly. 
 Evidently the old man's thoughts were elsewhere ; 
 for as Ralph concluded he hastened to say : 
 
 " D-Do y-y-you know I'm p-purty g-g-good at 
 m-makin' rhymes? " 
 
 "Indeed?" Ralph replied with feigned surprise 
 and interest. 
 7 
 
98 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 "Y-Yes. S-See them two f -fellers 'cross the 
 s-street there? N-Now I'll m-m-make a rhyme 
 'b-'bout 'em. The'r n-names is B-Bob B-B-Brown 
 an' B-Bob J- Jones." 
 
 And Nutt pointed to two villagers^their coat 
 collars turned up, their hands in their pockets — 
 occupying a bench in front of the wagon-maker's 
 shop, busily talking. 
 
 Then the old man said impressively : 
 
 "N-Nowl-1-listen: 
 
 " Ther' was two B-Bobs s-s-set on a b-bench. 
 An' they g-got sk-sk-skeered at a h-hornet's n-nest. 
 
 " S-Say ! Wh-What do you th-th-think o' that? " 
 
 The manner in which he said it all — his ear- 
 nestness, his gravity — was irresistible. Marlowe 
 laughed heartily. _ Tucker threw himself across the 
 counter, and kicked up his heels and roared. The 
 old man took their merriment as a compliment to 
 his poetical genius, probably. At any rate, he did 
 not take it amiss; but picking up his purchase 
 smilingly shambled out of the store. 
 
 " Didn't I tell you he was a good one, young fel- 
 ler?" said Jep- — ^as soon as he could say anything 
 — resuming his lounging attitude at the side of the 
 counter and wiping his eyes with the back of his 
 hand. " Ol' Tomp's funnier 'n a funer'l — he is, by 
 jeeminy ! 'Taint what he sfiys, but the way he says 
 it. Wasn't I right w'en I said you'd strike an odd 
 stick in him?'' 
 
 "Yes," Ralph admitted — busying himself with 
 the filling of a prescription for horse liniment, that 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 99 
 
 a farmer had brought in before dinner — ' ' but there 
 are others." 
 
 " Oh ! I know that," Tucker assented innocently, 
 never dreaming himself was meant. "But ol' 
 Tomp's the cap sheaf o' the whole caboodle. 
 Ther's lots o' funny tales 'bout the ol' codger. One 
 spring sever'l years ago, he come to the c'nclusion 
 he'd go into business, 'stid o' workin' at his trade — 
 carpenterin'. So he opened up a kind o' hardware 
 store an' groc'ry c'mbined, in a room in the Gridley 
 buildin'. 
 
 "Well, he hadn't more 'n fairly got started, till 
 one sunshiny day in corn-plantin' time, a farmer 
 from back on the hills walked in an' asked fer a 
 pair o' bull-tongues. Say!" — Abruptly. — "Of 
 course you know what bull-tongues is?" 
 
 Ralph had to admit that he wasn't certain that 
 he knew. And Jep resumed : 
 
 "You wouldn't 'ave been no better off 'n Tomp, 
 then. Bull-tongues is them long, narrer shovels 
 that goes on cultivators. Well, w'en that farmer 
 asks the ol' codger — ' Have you got any bull- 
 tongues, Mr. Nutt?' — Tomp thinks the feller's a 
 huntin' somethin' good to eat ; an' without waitin' 
 to be sure 'bout it, he blurts out: 
 
 " ' N-No I hain't g-got no b-buU-t-tongues ; b-but 
 I've g-g-got some m-mighty good b-b-b'lony s-s- 
 sausage.' " 
 
 Marlowe was devoting his attention to a refrac- 
 tory label he was pasting upon the bottle he had 
 
loo RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 just filled ; and he smiled but feebly. Not at all 
 discouraged by his companion's lack of apprecia- 
 tion, however, Tucker maundered on : 
 
 ' " ' Nother time the ol' feller got on a pr'tracted 
 spree ; an' w'en he went to taper off, done like 
 ev'rybody's likely to do — made the taper end the 
 biggest, an' got drunk ag'in. Aunt Hanner, his 
 wife — a good, religious ol' soul — lectured him 'bout 
 his sinful ways. Says she : 
 
 " ' Tomp Nutt, you'll die on one y'r drunken 
 frolics some day, an' leave me a widder. An' then 
 w'en /die an' go up to heaven, I won't &adyou 
 there; an' how bad I'll feel.' 
 
 ' ' Tomp straightened hisself up as stiff as a ram- 
 rod, an' answers : 
 
 '"M-Mother, if I d-die f-first, I'll l-leave the 
 g-gate o' h-h-heaven open f-fer you. An' w'en 
 y-you g-git in, y-you'U f-f-find m-me up there in 
 all m-my g-g-glory — s-shinin' like a n-new c-c- 
 crosscut s-saw.' " 
 
 Tucker's imitation of Tomp's stuttering delivery 
 was perfect, and Ralph felt like laughing. Not 
 caring to encourage the volatile fellow to further 
 effort, however, the young man concealed his mer- 
 riment by asking quickly : 
 
 " Jep, what is keeping Dr. Barwood, do you 
 think?" 
 
 " Don't know," answered the eccentric, saunter- 
 ing over to the side window and peeping out, 
 " 'nless he's got into one o' them cases that a doc- 
 
RALPH MARLOWE loi 
 
 tor never knows when he'll git out of. I know 
 what you're thinkin' 'bout, though ; an' you're goin' 
 to be disapp'inted." 
 
 " Of what am I thinking? " 
 
 " You're thinkin' that w'en the ol' doc comes 
 back, he'll praise you fer havin' the drugstore all 
 cleaned up. But you're mightily mistaken ; he 
 won't do nothin' o' the kind. He'll jest strut in 
 an' let on he don't notice no change — By jolly! 
 Here he is this very minute; an' lookin' sourer 'n 
 an ol' maid's s'mile. He's hitchin' his hoss to the 
 rack ; an' 's comin' in. Now, young feller, watch 
 out fer breakers." 
 
 Marlowe did not think it necessary to make re- 
 ply. A minute later Dr. Barwood strode into the 
 store, his head erect, anger and defiance in his eyes. 
 Without giving the slightest attention to the 
 altered condition and appearance of the place, ap- 
 parently, he threw his muddy saddlebags and great 
 coat upon the counter and said gruffly : 
 
 "I would have been back sooner; but I have 
 been dragged all over the southern end of the 
 county by a pack of scalawags who are always 
 sick — and always penniless. What calls are in, 
 Mr. Marlowe ? " 
 
 " Here is the list I kept, doctor," Ralph replied 
 simply, handing him a slip of paper. 
 
 The physician took the list and hurriedly looked 
 it over. As he did so, his shoulders sagged 
 wearily and a spasm of pain crossed his face. 
 
I02 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 "You are tired," Marlowe remarked in a matter 
 of fact tone. 
 
 Without looking up, Dr. Barwood answered 
 surlily: "Yes, I am tired — and hungry. So 
 would you be, had you been over every crossroad 
 and into every cabin, almost, between here and 
 Bear Run ; and had nothing to eat since daylight." 
 
 Then meditatively to himself : 
 
 " Curston's on the Foxtown road. I can't go 
 there today ; must leave that until tomorrow. All 
 the other calls are in town, except the one to Smi- 
 ley's on Norton Ridge. Jep," — With startling sud- 
 denness — ' ' take the gray mare to the blacksmith 
 and have her shoes reset; and put the sorrel to the 
 cart. I must be off to the country again as soon as 
 I have had a bite to eat and have made a few calls." 
 
 Tucker arose lumberingly and started for the 
 door. With the words — "I am going to dinner, 
 Mr. Marlowe; shall be back soon" — the physician 
 also turned to leave the room. 
 
 " Doctor, I will hang your things in the entrance 
 to the basement," Ralph said carelessly. "I have 
 put up hooks there." 
 
 " No," Dr. Barwood answered shortly. " Leave 
 them where they are." 
 
 " But they are in my way." 
 
 " I can't help that. Leave them alone. I want 
 them handy." 
 
 "I'll get them for you when you want them, 
 doctor." 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 103 
 
 With the words, Marlowe quietly picked up the 
 bones of contention and carried them from the 
 room. Like a beast at bay the doctor stood and 
 glared after the young man's retreating form. 
 Tucker gasped for breath. Such temerity was un- 
 heard of. He felt the air w^as surcharged with 
 electricity, that the storm he had been expecting 
 was about to break. But he was mistaken. Ralph 
 returned to his place and coolly dusted the counter 
 where the offending artiples had lain ; and turning 
 on his heel, the physician took his departure — a 
 curious smile flickering about his firm mouth. 
 
 Jep followed his employer through the door, 
 muttering under his breath : 
 
 "Well, I'll be everlastin'ly bamboozled! I 
 never seen Doc Barwood melt an' leak away like 
 that before. I was countin' on a storm — a reg'lar 
 cyclone an' jimmycane rolled into one; an' ther' 
 wasn't even a puff o' wind n'r a clap o' thunder. 
 Nobody else on earth could 'ave done w^hat that 
 young feller done. The ol' doc 'Id stormed the'r 
 castles in a minute. Huh! Blamed if the ol' man 
 didn't ruther seem to enjoy it. Went out a smilin', 
 by jeeminy! " 
 
 It was two o'clock when Dr. Barwood returned 
 to the drugstore. 
 
 " I have made my calls," he remarked pleasantly, 
 to Marlowe ; ' ' and now I must be off to the country 
 again. But before I start I want to talk with you. 
 Sit down here." 
 
 Ralph dropped into a chair near the end of the 
 
104 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 bench where the doctor had seated himself ; and the 
 latter went on : 
 
 ' ' I wish to get on pleasantly with you ; therefore 
 I would warn you against doing certain things that 
 are objectionable to me, and associating with cer- 
 tain people whom I dislike. To begin with, I will 
 not tolerate drinking nor gambling " 
 
 " I indulge in neither," Ralph interrupted stiffly. 
 
 Unheeding the interruption, the doctor continued 
 placidly : 
 
 "Of the three clerks I had in the last eighteen 
 months, the first was a sot^-and neglected my busi- 
 ness ; the second, a gambler — and systematically 
 robbed me ; the third, a consummate scoundrel— 
 who was both and did both. The public does not 
 know this ; I am not in the habit of publishing my 
 private affairs. Therefore, I am blamed in the 
 matter. People say these young men could not 
 stand my eccentricities, my arrogance, my brutal 
 temper; and that they left of their own accord. 
 It is not true. I discharged them — ^just as I will 
 discharge you, if your services do not come up to 
 my expectations." 
 
 He paused to note the effect of his words upon 
 his companion. 
 
 "You will not have to discharge me. Dr. Bar- 
 wood," Marlowe said calmly. "If at any time I 
 get an inkling that my services do not please you, I 
 shall resign immediately. More than that, if I find 
 the situation does not suit me, for any reason, I 
 shall promptly quit your service," 
 
RALPH MARLOWE loj 
 
 That inscrutable smile again lighted the physi- 
 cian's countenance, as he replied : 
 
 " I like your spirit, at any rate ; and I hope we 
 may not come into conflict. But to proceed with 
 the matter in hand : I know nothing of your past, 
 your antecedents, your record; nor do I wish to 
 know. The recommendations you sent are suffi- 
 cient. But I would caution you that there are 
 people in this village, with w^hom you must not 
 become intimate, if you would gain and retain my 
 favor." 
 
 Again he stopped, as though expecting his 
 auditor to say something. But the latter kept 
 silent. 
 
 "To explain my position," the doctor resumed, 
 " I shall give you a brief sketch of my life. I have 
 traveled a rough road — and planned it with my own 
 brain, and built it with my own hands. I was born 
 in a log cabin ; was reared in the backwoods. I 
 - literally educated myself. At the age of eighteen 
 I began to teach school. Previous to that, I had 
 worked at hard manual labor — anything I could get 
 to do. The privations I endured while preparing 
 myself for my life's work, no one knows — or ever 
 will know^. 
 
 " Immediately after I graduated, I married and 
 began the practice of my profession in this village. 
 Armed with good health, pluck and perseverance, 
 I have fought my way step by step. I have made 
 ipany enemies — and but few friends. My early 
 struggles tempered the ftietal that was in me, and 
 
io6 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 prepared me for the battle I have had to fight. I was 
 naturally pugnacious ; my training made me aggres- 
 sive. It has been a hard and bitter contest — a 
 contest that has coarsened my finer sensibilities, 
 perhaps. I do not know. At any rate, there was 
 no avoiding it ; it was thrust upon me. 
 
 ' ' Those who were my enemies when I came here 
 are my enemies today. I have succeeded in spite of 
 their opposition — not by their help. I ask of them 
 no favor ; I show them no quarter. Chief among 
 those who have assailed me on every hand — and 
 who have not scorned to take unfair advantage of 
 me when opportunity offered — are the McDevitts, 
 the Gridleys, and the Bentleys. They are called — 
 ' the best families' ; and no doubt they are good 
 people in many ways. But they are my enemies. 
 I do not patronize them; they do not patronize me. 
 I buy my dry goods in Malconta ; they send there 
 for a physician. The condition of affairs is to my 
 liking. ' 
 
 " Besides, I could not trust one of them. George 
 Bentley is grasping. Had he lived in the days of 
 Christ, he would not have cast lots for the Sav- 
 iour's raiment; he would have taken the whole by 
 force. Hugh McDevitt is deceitful — dishonest. 
 He would steal the tear from an orphan's cheek, if 
 he thought it had a cash value." 
 
 Marlowe was startled by his employer's strange 
 but apt metaphor; and his countenance showed it. 
 Dr. Barwood had uttered the last few sentences in 
 a tone of bitter and intense earnestness. But 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 107 
 
 noting the expression upon his companion's face, 
 he smiled and said: 
 
 "Does my language shock you? It need not; 
 for they say meaner things of me, I assure you." 
 
 " I cannot help but doubt that," Ralph replied, 
 smiling in turn. 
 
 " You think they could not ? " 
 
 " That's what I mean — yes." 
 
 Dr. Barwood made no reply; but sat silently 
 staring at the floor, for some seconds — the while 
 stroking his thin beard and scowling fiercely. 
 
 Marlowe smiled inwardly. He was beginning 
 to understand the irascible physician, to appreci- 
 ate his strength and weakness. The older man 
 had revealed himself more than he knew ; and the 
 younger had caught a glimpse of his true charac- 
 ter — and was irresistibly drawn toward him. 
 
 " He is a chestnut bur," was Ralph's shrewd es- 
 timate ; ' ' the exterior all spines and prickles — the 
 interior, all oil and -satin. But the frost of age is 
 beginning to crack the pod; and he who will may 
 gain a peep inside." 
 
 Of a sudden Dr. Barwood threw up his head 
 and said briskly : 
 
 " But to come to the point. I don't want you to 
 become the intimate of any members of the fami- 
 lies I have named." 
 
 He paused expectantly ; and Marlowe replied : 
 
 " If they speak me fair, doctor, I shall not re- 
 ject their friendship." 
 
 "You persist in misunderstanding me," the doc- 
 
io8 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 tor snarled, "I do not wish you to take up my 
 quarrel ; nor do I wish you to ally yourself with my 
 enemies. I shall not object to a passing acquaint- 
 ance — an outward show of civility and friendliness. 
 But you must not become intimate with them." 
 
 "Why?"— Coldly. 
 
 ' ' Because — ^because they will make trouble be- 
 tween us — will do all in their power to make you 
 dissatisfied with your place and your employer." 
 
 "I understand your meaning, doctor. But you 
 will find I am not easily influenced by the opinions 
 of others. I depend largely upon my own observa- 
 tion and experience, in forming my estimate of men 
 and things. If ever I come to dislike you, become 
 dissatisfied with your employ, it will be because of 
 your usage of me; and not because of what others 
 may think or say oi you." 
 
 A gratified expression for a moment softened the 
 hard lines of Dr. Barwood's countenance. But 
 shaking his head, he replied : 
 
 "Perhaps — but remember I have cautioned you." 
 
 "Would it not be better, doctor," Ralph sug- 
 gested, "that I should be intimate with both you 
 and your antagonists — if it be possible — and use 
 my good offices to bring about a lasting truce?" 
 
 "No! " thundered the doctor springing from his 
 seat, his features contorted with anger. "It is not 
 to be thought of. As you have intimated, you can- 
 not sustain such a position. You m.ust and shall 
 make your choice between us. A truce! A truce 
 indeed! Never! I will fight them as long as I 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 109 
 
 live ; and hate them at the hour of my death. 
 When I break ofT a friendship, I burn the bridges 
 behind me, to prevent a return. They have 
 wronged me, maligned and abused me. I will 
 never forgive them — never ! " 
 
 Marlowe made no effort to reply to this fiery out- 
 burst. Dr. Barwood's anger subsided as quickly as 
 it had arisen ; and resuming his seat he said calmly 
 —almost sadly: 
 
 "No truce with my enemies, Mr. Marlowe; but 
 a truce to the subject. I cannot ask more of you 
 than I ask of my own family. Do what you think 
 right; but do not forget my caution. As I have 
 said, the Bentleys, the Gridleys, and the McDevitts 
 are considered reputable people. They are leaders 
 in the society of the village — so I km told. I never 
 mingle in it; I have neither time nor inclination for 
 such frothy nonsense. But my wife and daughters 
 do— to an extent that I disapprove. Yet I say 
 little ; I don't want them to think me too tyrannical. 
 
 " The McDevitts are Catholics ; the Bentleys and 
 Gridleys are Protestants. My wife and older 
 daughter belong to the Methodist Church. My 
 younger daughter — I have but two children, both 
 young women — frequently attends the Catholic 
 Church ; but is not a member. As to myself, I ad- 
 here to no creed — attend no church. I cannot 
 accept the absurd and unscientific beliefs presented; 
 and I have had no time to formulate a satisfactory 
 one for myself. I have been too busy looking after 
 the physical ailments of my fellows; and have had 
 
no RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 to neglect my spiritual welfare — quoting my ortho- 
 dox enemies. Thus far have I got — and no farther 
 — in all the years that have bowled me onward : I 
 believe in a Supreme Intelligence that made and 
 rules the universe. Matter is inert ; it cannot shape 
 nor move itself. It must be acted upon by a power 
 without. That power — that force — is the Supreme 
 Intellige&ce ; is God, if you please. 
 
 "Also, I believe the Bible to be a human history, 
 inspired by human intelligence and written by hu- 
 man hands; a book full of mistakes and blunders — 
 of legends that have little or no foundation in fact, 
 and of accounts of miracles that were never 
 wrought — ^yet a book full of valuable experiences 
 and worthy lessons. In conclusion, I believe that 
 Jesus Christ is the grandest human character that 
 ever graced the pages of history ; a son of God, as 
 you and I are sons of God — no more. I believe in 
 the civilization that rests upon his example and 
 teachings. It is his words and deeds that will save 
 the world; not his death upon the cross, nor his 
 blood. Remember I do not say I know these 
 things ; I believe them. I may be entirely wrong." 
 
 He stopped, apparently waiting for Marlowe to 
 voice an opinion. 
 
 "You have little use for creeds, then, doctor," 
 Ralph said. 
 
 "There are creeds and creeds," was the reply. 
 " One is as good as another, so long as it teaches 
 humanity. I use the word in its broadest and best 
 sense." 
 
RALPH MARLO WE 1 1 1 
 
 "And miracles?" 
 
 ' ' There never was one — never will be. A 
 miracle would be a violation of the laws of the 
 Divine Intelligence— of God — which are immuta- 
 ble, inexorable. Sin is a violation of God's law. 
 Should God violate his own law, He would be the 
 chief of all sinners. In no instance has prayer 
 changed His will or modified the inevitable result 
 of His laws. Yet prayer is a good thing — for the 
 individual who makes it." 
 
 "And of course you do not believe in a personal 
 devil?" 
 
 "I do not. I am too loyal to the Giver of all 
 Good, to believe He has a rival in the universe. 
 Such belief is preposterous — the worst of impiety. 
 There is no prince of evil, because there is no such 
 thing as evil." 
 
 "You astound me." 
 
 "I will try to. make my meaning plain. Light 
 is a positive force, or substance — as you please to 
 consider it; darkness is not a negative force or sub- 
 stance. It is not an entity, as is light. It has no 
 existence. The term is relative ; and means the 
 absence of so much light. Do you follow me ? " 
 
 Ralph nodded. 
 
 " The same is true of heat and cold ; of good and 
 evil. Cold is the absence of so much heat ; evil is 
 the lack of so much good. The absence of heat 
 constitutes cold; the lack of good constitutes evil; 
 the want of heaven constitutes hell. For heaven 
 and hell are conditions, not places. There is a 
 
112 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 god — or intelligent power of heat, and light, and 
 good; but there is no god of cold, and darkness, 
 and evil — for as entities they have no existence." 
 
 ' ' Do you believe there is a future life, doctor ?" 
 
 "Yes." — Emphatically.— "That is, I believe 
 there is a present life that is continuous. Life is a 
 force — the resultant of other forces. It cannot be 
 destroyed; but its form or mode of operation may 
 be modified. There was no conscious existence be- 
 fore physical birth ; yet the ego existed in some 
 form or other. And there may be no conscious 
 existence after physical death. I do not know — ■ 
 I scarcely know w^hat I believe, even. What we 
 call life is a narrow isthmus, w^ith the black sea of 
 obscurity on one side and the veiled ocean of futu- 
 rity on the other. Our path lies across it — now 
 steep and rocky, now level and flower-bordered. 
 We have no remembrance of the sea of obscurity 
 whence we came; we have no knowledge of the 
 ocean of futurity whither we are hastening. AU 
 that we know is that we left the shore of the one, 
 and that in time we shall reach the shore of the 
 other." 
 
 "Your doctrine is not the most cheerful, nor is 
 it the most hopeful, doctor." 
 
 " You think that ? It is not orthodox, I admit. 
 But that it is not as assuring as any other, I deny. 
 There is naught of faith in it — naught but hard, 
 cold reason. Your orthodox saint prates to me of 
 faith. I ask him, faith in what — faith in whom ? 
 And his answer is, faith in my book — in my creed. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE . 113 
 
 His witness has never been qualified. And what 
 is creed but the formulated opinion of some man, 
 or set of men ? Why should I take their opinions 
 instead of my own ? They knotu no more than I, 
 no matter what they believe. Do they not differ 
 among themselves ; are they not at variance ? All 
 of them cannot be right; and all of them may be 
 •wrong. So may / be — I lay no claim to infallibil- 
 ity. But one thing is certain. The Divine Archi- 
 tect of the universe — the Intelligent Power of 
 which I have spoken — would not have given me a 
 brain, had He not meant that I should use it in the 
 government of my beliefs and actions. Your 
 creed-makers do that; yet quarrel with me for ex- 
 ercising the same privilege. What of Luther, of 
 Calvin, and Campbell — and hosts of others ? 
 Were they not pronounced heretics in their day ? 
 Did not Christ himself come preaching a new doc- 
 trine ? Are not the standard Protestant creeds of 
 today undergoing frequent and radical changes ? 
 Have they received any new light upon the per- 
 plexing problem since the advent of Christ ? Not 
 a scintilla ! Has the Bible been altered ? The New 
 Testament has been revised; but not an essential 
 precept in it has been modified. No ! The reason 
 they do not believe and preach as in years past is 
 because they have done just what they say / shall 
 not do — ^they have reasoned. And if they be wise, 
 they will continue to reason — will continue to 
 prune and eliminate, to alter and revise. Igno- 
 rance and superstition do not make piety. 
 8 
 
114 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 " But" — Hastily glancing at his watch — " I have 
 talked too long already. Let me say this in con- 
 clusion, however. Do not accept my belief. It 
 may not be my belief tomorrow or next year. 
 Think for yourself — do not be afraid to think. No 
 unreasoning and unreasonable orthodox monster 
 stands ready to damn you for it. Thought may 
 not add an inch to your linear stature; but it will 
 add cubic feet to your mental capacity. As a final 
 word on the subject upon which we started, my 
 enemies will " 
 
 " Doctor," Ralph broke in, " did you not say you 
 are a believer in the teachings of Christ ? " 
 
 Dr. Barwood's features instantly grew hard and 
 tense ; and his black eyes snapped. He scented 
 danger, and was steeling himself to meet it. 
 
 " I did," he answered unhesitatingly. 
 
 ' ' Then you should be willing and ready to for- 
 give your enemies." 
 
 "My young friend," the physician answered 
 solemnly, laying his hand upon Ralph's shoulder- — 
 and the latter noted the familiar tone and jesture, 
 and was both surprised and pleased, "you have 
 said things to me during our short acquaintance- 
 ship I would not have tolerated coming from 
 another. I hardly know why I have borne with 
 you. But do not put my forebearance to too severe 
 a test. I am not given to fulsome praise ; but I 
 have not failed to notice what you have been doing 
 in my interest." — With a glance around the room. 
 — "I think we shall get on together— exercising 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 115 
 
 due caution on both sides. As to forgiving my 
 enemies, I find it impossible. It is one thing to 
 accept a precept; quite another thing to act accord- 
 ing to its teachings. Then — but why multiply 
 words? Get me my things — as you kindly agreed 
 to do — and I will be off." 
 
 The older man smiled cordially as he concluded ; 
 and the younger hastened to procure the desired 
 articles. Just as the former was about to leave the 
 store, Jim Crawford staggered into the room, 
 closely followed by Tucker. The doctor stopped 
 suddenly, every fiber in his body stiffening, and 
 pierced the cobbler with his keen black eyes. 
 
 The latter presented a pitiable spectacle. His 
 clothing was torn, soiled and awry. He staggered 
 as he walked, trembling in every limb. His red 
 hair was bristling ; and a greenish pallor over- 
 spread his twitching features — the sickly hue of a 
 tree toad's belly. 
 
 " Doc, I'm sick — I want some medicine," he said 
 in quavering accents. 
 
 "You've been drunk again, eh? " the doctor re- 
 turned frigidly. 
 
 " Yes, doc, I have been on a little spree." — Shiv- 
 ering and nervously interlocking his tremulous fin- 
 gers. — "An' I'm all knocked out. My stomach's 
 sick ; an' I can't sleep. Give me somethin' to sober 
 me up. Please do! " 
 
 "You're a fine specimen of manhood!" roared 
 Dr. Barwood, striding forward and towering over 
 the cowering cobbler. " You get drunk and spend 
 your money; neglect your family and make yourself 
 
ii6 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 sick. Then — in your extremity, and without a 
 cent in your pocket — ^you come creeping and whin- 
 ing to the man you have slandered and wronged. 
 It would be serving you right to kick you into the 
 gutter. You sot! You scoundrel! " — Snarling like 
 an angry dog. — " If you had any sense of shame, 
 you would go and drown yourself ! " 
 
 Crawford tottered and nearly fell to the floor, as 
 he essayed to escape from the irate physician. But 
 clinging to the counter, to steady himself, he hud- 
 dled into a quivering heap and groaned : 
 
 " Fer God's sake, doc, give me somethin'/ I 
 b'lieve I'm dyin'." 
 
 " Same ol' game," Tucker leaned over and whis- 
 pered to Ralph, upon whose face rested an expres- 
 sion of disgust and pity mingled ; " an' it '11 come out 
 in the same ol' way, I s'pose. You watch now — 
 an' see if I ain't right." 
 
 "You ought to die, Jim Crawford!" Dr. Bar- 
 wood cried. " You are a miserable, low-lived cur 
 — unfit for the society of decent people ! " 
 
 But his manner belied his words ; and the harsh 
 lines of his swarthy visage relaxed and softened as 
 he spoke. 
 
 Turning quickly to Marlowe, he whispered : 
 
 ' ' Give him an ounce or two of Bromidia, with 
 directions to take a teaspoonful each hour, until he 
 sleeps." 
 
 " Would I not better combine with it some elixir 
 of pepsin, bismuth, and strychnia, doctor?" Ralph 
 'suggested. 
 
 "Y-e-s," Dr. Barwood replied slowly, sharply 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 117 
 
 eying his employee, his lips apart. " Make the 
 prescription half and half of each." 
 
 The young druggist hastily compounded the 
 preparation. Crawford frantically clutched the 
 bottle and reeled from the room. When the sound 
 of the cobbler's retreating footsteps had died out, 
 Dr. Barwood silently walked to the till in the tall 
 desk and taking out two dollars handed them to 
 Tucker, saying : 
 
 " Here, Jep. Take this money down to Pearson's 
 grocery, buy a sack of flour, some meat and pota- 
 toes, and carry the whole to Mrs. Crawford. That 
 brute has been drunk for ten days; and no doubt 
 his wife and children are in want. Wait ! " — As 
 Jep started to leave. — "If they are out of coal, 
 order them a load from Beck wick; and have it 
 charged to me. And mind you I " — Shaking a 
 finger at each. — ' ' Not a word of this to any one, 
 from either of you." 
 
 Without further remark he shame-facedly caught 
 up his saddlebags and left the place, closing the 
 door with a bang. 
 
 The clouds from the northwest had overspread 
 the sky. The heavens were leaden and somber; 
 and a cold drizzle was falling. Marlowe stood at 
 the side window and watched his employer's muf- 
 fled figure fade into gray mist, as the light cart 
 went careening up the wide street. And as he 
 looked the young man murmured softly: 
 
 •' An enigma — a bundle of contradictions. Yet 
 I feel that I shall like him." 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE weather cleared ; a week passed. The farm- 
 ers were busy with their fall work ; and few 
 of them came to town. In consequence, trade was 
 dull and things in the village were very quiet. 
 
 But Dr. Barwood had a practice that fluctuated 
 but little. No matter the season or weather, he 
 had more patients than he could well attend. Now 
 he was extremely busy ; for typhoid fever was epi- 
 demic in the country surrounding Babylon, and he 
 scarcely had time to eat or sleep. Many whole 
 nights he spent in cart or saddle; and days passed 
 that he was not in the drugstore at all. 
 
 When he did enter his place of business, he was 
 sullen in manner and surly in speech; and he 
 stayed long enough only to renew the plethora of 
 his foxy saddlebags. As though regretting that on 
 a solitary occasion he had given Marlowe a fleeting 
 glimpse of the better side of his nature, he treated 
 his clerk with scant courtesy — apparently deter- 
 mined to obliterate the favorable impression he had 
 made. 
 
 One mild, clear morning Marlowe stood upon 
 the steps of the drugstore, drinking in the de- 
 lights and beauties of the new day. The sun shone 
 brightly ; the sky was blue and the air was sweet 
 and cool. There was just a hint of frost in the air; 
 (ii8) 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 119 
 
 and the birds, hopping from limb to limb of the 
 maple trees near the building, fluflfed their feathers 
 and twittered plaintively — grieving over the advent 
 of winter. 
 
 Down the sidewalk came two young ladies, the 
 taller walking with elastic step and easy carriage, 
 the other tripping daintily. As they drew nearer 
 Ralph discovered that they were his employer's 
 daughters ; and instinctively divining that they in- 
 tended to enter the store, he retreated within and 
 took up a position behind the counter — across 
 which Jep was lolling, idly reading the names 
 upon bottles and drawer-pulls. 
 
 "Ladies are coming, Jep," Ralph said shortly. 
 "Withdraw to the rear of the room, please." 
 
 "All right," assented Tucker, with unwonted 
 alacrity of speech and movement. 
 
 A moment thereafter the Misses Barwood en- 
 tered. Marlowe noted with surprise and admira- 
 tion — for he had not expected to meet the latest 
 fashions in the humdrum little village — that both 
 young women were well groomed and stylishly 
 gowned. 
 
 Miss Julia — who was twenty-four, and looked 
 it — wore a tailor-made suit and cape of gray cloth. 
 Miss Dolly's dress and jacket w^ere dark blue — a 
 color calculated to enhance her blonde beauty. 
 Upon the head of each rested an indescribable cre- 
 ation of the milliner's art. Neat patent leathers 
 peeped from beneath Julia's sober gown ; and 
 Dolly's feet were encased in cloth-topped French 
 
120 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 kids — the shortness of her skirt enabling the inter- 
 ested observer to make sure of the fact. Each 
 wore gloves to match her gown. 
 
 Julia appeared sober — and slightly embarrassed ; 
 Dolly, on the contrary, was the embodiment of the 
 morning, with its sunshine in her face and the 
 glint of latent mischief in her violet eyes. 
 
 Seeing who they were, Jep quickly emerged 
 from his place of retirement and smiling broadly, 
 cried : 
 
 " W'y, good mornin', gals. How are you this 
 mornin', anyhow ? I declare but you're both 
 lookin' sniptious! Miss Julia's neater 'n a new 
 pin; an' Miss Dolly's purtier 'n a pot o' posies." 
 
 Dolly, her eyes twinkling merrily, smiled at 
 Tucker's effusiveness and said — " What a courtier 
 you are, Jep!" 
 
 But Julia disdainfully curled her upper lip and 
 maintained a dignified silence. 
 
 Looking straight into the younger sister's bright 
 countenance — and wholly ignoring the scornful ex- 
 pression upon the face of the older one — Tucker 
 went on : 
 
 " Gals, let me intr'duce you to y'r daddy's new 
 clerk. Mr. Ralph Marlowe, this is Miss Dolly 
 Barwood — Dolly's the butt end o' Dorothy, you 
 know; an' Miss Dolly, this is Mr. Marlowe. Mr. 
 Marlowe, this is Miss Julia Barwood; Miss Julia, 
 this is Mr. Marlowe. Mr. Marlowe, these is the 
 ol' doc's gals; an' gals, this feller's the new clerk." 
 . Ralph and Dolly looked at each other and smiled 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 121 
 
 — the latter biting her ripe lips and with difficulty 
 repressing her exuberant merriment. 
 
 Julia drew down the corners of her mouth, and 
 nodding stiffly murmured — "Mr. Marlowe." 
 
 Leaning across the counter the young man 
 warmly shook the hand of each. 
 
 "I am pleased to make the acquaintance of my 
 employer's daughters," he said simply, 
 
 " Thank you," responded Julia, in a half whisper. 
 
 "And we're glad to meet you," Dolly put in ani- 
 matedly, "for more than one reason. You see 
 papa has had a w^orld of trouble with his clerks, 
 and in consequence has been as cross as a bear — 
 though he's a dear old daddy. So we've all been 
 anxious for him to get a clerk he could depend 
 upon." 
 
 "And do you think he has at last secured the 
 jewel of great price, Miss Barwood?" Ralph asked 
 in an amused tone. 
 
 "I am sure he has," Dolly answered earnestly, 
 though her mischievous eyes gave doubt of her sin- 
 cerity. "The old den looks like a new place, 
 already. I feel certain you will suit papa. But 
 oh, Mr. Marlowe ! " — Clapping her gloved hands 
 and laughing gleefully. — " You did look so cute in 
 that suit of working clothes. Julia and I stopped 
 in front of the store and peeped in at you ; and " 
 
 " Dorothy! " the older sister cried reprovingly. 
 
 "Well, what now. Miss Prim ?" replied the 
 younger, tossing her head and pouting bewitch- 
 ingly. 
 
122 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 Jep chuckled, and clapping the back of his hairy- 
 hand over his mouth, turned around and stared 
 hard at the opposite wall. Ralph wanted to laugh 
 — but wisely refrained from doing so. 
 
 "You are talking too much, Dorothy," Julia said 
 reprovingly. ' ' What will Mr. Marlowe think of 
 us? Besides, you are not stating facts. / did 
 not stop in front of the store and peep in at 
 him; and I tried to keep you from doing so — ^but 
 could not." 
 
 "Now who's telling tales out of school — who's 
 talking too much now? " Dolly asked saucily. 
 
 Unheeding the pert rejoinder — though her face 
 flushed slightly — ^Julia turned to Ralph and said 
 quietly : 
 
 "Mr. Marlowe, we came in to get some perfume." 
 
 " Why, Julia, what a fib!" exclaimed Dolly, in 
 a tone of mock horror — and actually winking at 
 Ralph. ' ' You kno-w we came in on purpose to 
 get acquainted with Mr. Marlowe; you know we 
 talked it over as we came along." 
 
 " Dorothy, how can you! " the older sister cried 
 plaintively, her face scarlet — ^yet a smile twitching 
 her lips. ' ' What will Mr. Marlowe think of us and 
 our actions? " 
 
 " I think your actions were perfectly natural," 
 Ralph said in a tone of easy indifference, smiling 
 all the while, " and quite proper." 
 
 "Thank you," Julia murmured confusedly, 
 placing upon the counter a book she had held in 
 her hand, and peering at the array of perfume bot- 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 123 
 
 ties in the showcase. " You relieve my mind. 
 Dorothy is incorrigible, and mortifies me gfreatly." 
 
 "Oh, do hush, Julia!" cried the irrepressible 
 Dolly, mimicking her sister's tone and gesture. 
 " I'm not a child — if I do wear short dresses." 
 
 This she said with a flounce of her skirt and a 
 roguish, defiant glance at Ralph. 
 
 Then quite ignoring Julia's whispered protesta- 
 tions, the minx proceeded : 
 
 " But you haven't finished what you started to 
 say, Mr. Marlowe. You've told us what you think 
 of our actions; now kindly tell us what you think 
 of us." 
 
 " Oh, Dorothy Barwood! " groaned her sister. 
 
 " I fear to give expression to my opinion. Miss 
 Dorothy " — Marlowe began laughingly. 
 
 " Call me Dolly — and be done with it," advised 
 that young lady. "That's what everybody but 
 Julia calls me. I like it best. Now, go on." 
 
 "Very well," Ralph assented with assumed 
 gravity. "But, as I started to say, I fear to ex- 
 press my flattering opinion. You might accuse me 
 of being a courtier — as you did Jep." 
 
 "No, I won't," Dolly asserted stoutly. "Go 
 on — say just what " 
 
 " Dorothy, I shall surely inform mother of your 
 behavior," Julia interrupted in a tone of severity. 
 
 Then to Ralph : 
 
 "Mr. Marlowe, please give me an ounce of that 
 violet. We must be going." 
 
 " Excuse me just a moment, while I get a bottle," 
 
124 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 Ralph replied, bowing. " I haven't had time, aa 
 yet, to wash a lot and have them ready for use." 
 
 He started for the entrance to the cellar. 
 
 ' ' I'll come down some day and help you wash 
 them up," Dolly called after him. 
 
 ' ' I shall hold you to your promise, Miss 
 Dorothy," he replied a moment later, as he returned 
 to w^here the sisters stood. 
 
 "Much help she would be," Julia remarked 
 sneeringly. ' ' She will not help to wash the plate 
 and china at home, even." 
 
 " Is that an exact statement of the facts in the 
 case, sister mine? " Dolly asked soberly. " Remem- 
 ber you are a church member — and must tell the 
 truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth." 
 
 " Well, you do assist me occasionally," Julia 
 answered, smiling in spite of herself ; ' ' but it is 
 under protest, usually." 
 
 " I thank you for making the correction," Dolly 
 said, pursing her lips and fetching a sweeping bow. 
 
 " And /stand corrected," returned Julia. 
 
 Then all three laughed good-humoredly. 
 
 Jep had kept silent — for a wonder — observing 
 the thrusts and parries of the others, and chuckling 
 to himself. Now he advanced to the counter and 
 picking up the book lying thereon, closely scruti- 
 nized the title, remarking as he did so : 
 
 " Just want to see .what kind of a book you've 
 been readin'. Miss Julia. I'm some fer books 
 myself. I read one clean through last winter. I 
 don't jest remember what its name was ; but it was 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 125 
 
 a crackin' good book. Airly Chandler lent it to 
 me to read. Queer, I can't recollect the name of 
 it. It had a heap in 'bout Injins, an' outlaws, an' 
 wildcats — an' things like that. Well, I'll be dog- 
 goned ! Miss Julia, you ain't one o' them nev) 
 women, are you?" 
 
 " No ; she's an old woman," Dolly giggled. 
 
 " Why do you ask the question, Jep ? " inquired 
 Julia, condescendingly. 
 
 " W'y, I see you've been readin' politics." 
 
 " Politics! " exclaimed both young women. 
 
 "Yes, politics," tapping the book with his 
 finger. 
 
 "That's not a history of political parties," 
 Julia explained, with more graciousness than she 
 had yet shown ; " nor has it to do with their plat- 
 forms or principles. " 
 
 " That's all right, " Jep interrupted, obstinately 
 shaking his head. " Maybe you can make me 
 b'lieve that ; an' then ag'in, maybe you can't. I 
 can tell what's in a jug, by smellin' the cork, 'bout 
 as well's the next one, I reckon ; an' I can guess 
 what's in a book, by readin' the name on the back. 
 An' what does it say right there, hey? " — Pointing 
 triumphantly at the gilt title. — " The Pofocrat at 
 the Breakfast- Table. ^' 
 
 "Oh, Jep, you'll kill me!" cried Dolly, con- 
 vulsed with laughter. 
 
 " You've mistaken the contents of the jug this 
 time," said Marlowe, also laughing heartily. 
 "You'd better smell the stopper again." 
 
126 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 " I can read just as well as you can, young 
 feller," retorted Tucker, slightly nettled. 
 
 "But read it again — read it, Jep," Julia cried 
 insistently, shoving the book under his nose. "It's 
 ' The Autocrat of the Breakfast- Table.'' " 
 
 " I don't care what you call it," he answered 
 doggedly, "autocrat, 'r popocrat, 'r plutocrat, 'r 
 'ristocrat, 'r Democrat. They're all one, anyhow 
 — I reckon I read the papers. You folks is tryin' 
 to fool me — like Miss Dolly done one day last sum- 
 mer, when I was weedin' out the flow'r beds fer 'er 
 mammy." 
 
 And Jep grinned inanely. 
 
 " What did she do? " inquired Marlowe, anxious 
 to hasten the inevitable. 
 
 "Wy, I was tinkerin' 'round the flow'r beds, 
 an' Miss Dolly she was playin' on the planner in 
 the parlor. It was a kind o' purty rattle-te-bang, 
 ding-a-ling-ling tune ; an' I moseyed up to the 
 open winder an' asked 'er what key she was playin' 
 it in. 
 
 " ' In a minor,' says she. 
 
 " ' What minor ? ' says I. 
 
 " Then she laughs an' says-^^Lsia Minor.' 
 
 " So I thought I'd show my' smartness by sayin' 
 'no, you ain't; you're playin' it in Babylon.' But 
 it didn't pan out as I 'xpected; fer she downed me 
 by askin' if Babylon wasn't in Asia Minor, an '' 
 
 "Do hush, Jep!" Dolly interrupted, stamping 
 her little foot. " It is cruel in you to betray my 
 miserable attempt at pun making. Keep still now 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 127 
 
 ^-or I'll never give you any more sherbet when 
 you are tired and hot." 
 
 "An' will you treat me ag'in sometime, if I'll 
 shut my flytrap an' keep still ? " 
 
 "Yes— yes." 
 
 " All right — it's a bargain. An' fer fear I might 
 fergit my good resolution, I'll go out to the barn 
 an' go to work. Yum-yum ! I can taste that cold 
 stuff yit." 
 
 Julia heaved a sigh of relief as the voluble oddity 
 passed through the door. Then picking up her 
 book and bottle of perfume, she said : 
 
 " What with Dolly's faults, and what with Jep's 
 inanities and father's eccentricities, I lead a merry 
 and care-free existence, Mr. Marlowe. But come 
 out to church next Sabbath and learn where I get 
 my strength to bear with them all. I attend the 
 Methodist Episcopal Church. In fact, I am a mem- 
 ber, and a teacher in the Sunday School. There 
 are but two Protestant denominations here, you 
 know, the Methodists and the Disciples. The 
 Catholics I need not mention ; I know you would 
 not attend their services. Our Sabbath School is 
 at nine o'clock ; our preaching service at ten-thirty. 
 Come out to both. Will you not ? " 
 
 " I would rather not promise, Miss Barw^ood." 
 
 " Why ? " — With lifted brows and inflection. 
 
 "Early rising is not one of my virtues. And on 
 Sundays I sleep late — until noon often." 
 
 "You are in the habit of consulting your ease 
 and inclination, rather than your duty, then." 
 
128 RALPH MAkLoWE 
 
 •' I will not plead guilty to the charge. I try to 
 do my duty when I know it. The whole thing ia 
 a matter of individual opinion and preference, it 
 would not be worth our while to argue." 
 
 Then turning to the younger sister: 
 
 " What church do you attend, Miss Dolly ? " 
 
 " Occasionally I meet with the Catholics, at 
 Haggart's, across the river," answered that young 
 woman, idly drumming upon the showcase. "I 
 always attend when Father Bede comes down from 
 Malconta. I like him ; I believe he's a good man. 
 But I don't pretend to understand all they believe 
 — nor believe all I understand. I'm like daddy — a 
 freethinker. Sometimes, too, I go with mamma 
 and Julia to the Methodist Church. To what de- 
 nomination do you belong, Mr. Marlowe — if any ? " 
 
 "None." 
 
 " But you ought to belong to church," put in 
 Julia. ' ' You are not living as you ought. No 
 matter how moral you may be, you are setting a 
 bad example. But come, Dorothy — we must be 
 going." 
 
 As they reached the door, Dolly turned and said 
 archly : 
 
 "Do you dance, Mr. Marlowe ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I'll see that you have an invitation to our next 
 hop, then. Good morning." 
 
 When they were gone Ralph returned to his 
 work, murmuring: 
 
 " The one invited me to church; the other, to a 
 
kALPa MAkLOWE S49 
 
 dance. But neither invited me to their home. 
 The thing I need most — the refining influence of a 
 good home — neither offered me. I do not wonder, 
 however ; they know nothing of my character — 
 my past. Yet why should they be willing to meet 
 me at church or ball, and not within their own 
 doors — at their own fireside? Human ideas and 
 notions are the most puzzling and conflicting things 
 in the universe." 
 
 One rainy evening a few days subsequent to the 
 meeting with his employer's daughters, Marlowe 
 sat in the drugstore alone. He had been quite 
 busy all day ; and was weary and sleepy. Tilting 
 a straight-backed office chair against the wall, at 
 the end of the bench near the stove, he dropped 
 into it; and crossing his legs, fell into a reverie — as 
 was his habit when alone. 
 
 A sense of impending danger or trouble weighed 
 heavily upon him. He felt more depressed, more 
 lonely, than at any time since coming to the vil- 
 lage. In vain he called himself a fool and strove 
 to shake off the melancholy that beset him. It 
 clung to him like a veritable nightmare. 
 
 "Great heaven! " he muttered at last, irritably 
 springing to his feet and walking up and down the 
 room. " Why am I so tormented? Why must the 
 dead past arise in its grave clothes and haunt me? 
 It is dead — it should remain buried. Pshaw ! I 
 am morbid. What has come over me tonight ? I 
 .am safe here ; no one connected with the old life 
 knows ought of me or my hiding place. I wish 
 9 
 
I30 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 some one would come in. A dog would be wel- 
 come company. Listen, how it rains! Where's 
 that Jep with his nonsensical stories? He's like 
 the proverbial small boy — not to be found when 
 one wants him, and under one's feet at all other 
 times." 
 
 As if in answer to Ralph's muttered query, the 
 door swung open and Tucker ambled into the store. 
 Turning down the collar of his ragged coat and 
 shaking the water from his dripping cap, he re- 
 marked droningly: 
 
 ' ' Black all over an rainin' right straight down 
 in the middle. The ol' doc hain't got back yit, 
 hey? He alluz manages to be out such nights as 
 this. What's the reason that the w^orse the weather 
 an' the darker the night, the more sickness there is? 
 Seven-levenths o' all the babies that ever come into 
 the world was born on dark, rainy nights — some- 
 time 'twixt midnight an' mornin'. Ever think 
 'bout it? Didn't? Well, it's a fact. Say!" 
 
 "What is it, Jep? " Ralph responded pleasantly. 
 
 " W'y, I saw Lon Crider, the drug man, on the 
 street jest a minute ago. He's jest drove down 
 from Malconta — missed the evenin' train. He was 
 askin' 'bout you an' the ol' doc; an' told me to tell 
 you he'd drop in sometime this evenin'. " 
 
 Ralph nodded affably, but said nothing. He 
 wanted Tucker to ramble on ; the eccentric's idle 
 chatter drowned the insistent voices that had been 
 dinning in his ears . 
 
 "Do you know what such a night as this alluz 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 131 
 
 reminds me of ? " Jep asked after a moment's silence. 
 
 "Of what?" Marlowe replied with assumed 
 interest. 
 
 " Of the story they used to tell on ol' Bobby 
 Silvey. He was a cooper an' lived in that little 
 frame over back o' the lodge buildin'. By jeeminy ! 
 He was the hairiest human bein' I ever set eyes on. 
 Used to wear his shirt bosom open winter an' sum- 
 mer ; an' his breast w^as hairier 'n a buffalo robe. 
 An' honest Injin ! His face looked like the face o' 
 one o' them white French poodles — like Miss Dolly 
 has. His whiskers growed clean up to his for'ead; 
 an' his eyebrows was so bushy he had to comb 'em. 
 Some people said they was so long he had to curl 
 'em, to keep 'em out of his eyes. I guess that was 
 stretchin' it a little, though. 
 
 " But I was goin' to tell you the story they used 
 to tell on him. He was a great hand to play the 
 fiddle; an' fer sever '1 years was the leader o' the 
 Republican Glee Club here. One rainy night — ^jest 
 such another as this — in the fall o' 'eighty-four, the 
 Glee Club went to a political meetin' out to Fox- 
 town. They got treated to ginger cakes an' cider 
 — ol' Bobby said afterward the cider was so 
 hard he had to break it with a hammer — an' the 
 ol' feller an' his fiddle come home purty well 
 rossumed. 
 
 " Well, he didn't git home till late of course; an' 
 he dropped asleep soon as his head hit the piller. 
 But 'long in the after part o' the night, he woke up 
 60 dry he thought he'd §w^ller?d a goo4-§jze(i strip 
 
132 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 o' the Sahary Desert. Out o' bed he tumbled an' 
 made a break fer the kitchen, to git a drink o' 
 water.,/' (After he'd drunk 'bout a gallon o' water, 
 he thought he'd jest take a peep out o' doors, to see 
 if the weather had cleared off. But bein' kind o' 
 befuddled with the cider, an' havin' got up in a 
 hurry, he'd got sort o' turned 'round; an' w'en he 
 went to hunt fer the outside door, he got hold o' 
 the one leadin' into the pantry. The next minute 
 his ol' woman heerd him screamin' : 
 
 "'Git up, mammy ! Fer the good Lord's sake 
 git up an' come out here ! The end o' the world's 
 come at last ! It's blacker 'n a stack o' black cats 
 outside— a«' smells all cheesy! ' 
 
 " His ol' woman had a time gittin' him quieted 
 an' back to bed ; an' ol' Bobby never heerd the last 
 o' that joke, to his dyin' day." 
 
 As Tucker finished he glanced toward the door. 
 Two young men had just entered and were saunter- 
 ing toward the rear of the room. 
 
 " It's Airly Chandler an' Morris McDevitt — ol' 
 Hugh's son," Jep whispered to Ralph. 
 
 "Is there something I can do for you, gentle- 
 men ? " Marlowe asked as he arose and advanced 
 to meet them. 
 
 "No; we just came in to get acquainted," 
 answered the red-headed young man, laughing 
 jer kingly. " Sam Clark sent us. He'll be in him- 
 self in a few minutes. You remember me, of 
 course ; I was in here the day after you arrived. 
 My name's Chandler," 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 133 
 
 " I remember you, Mr. Chandler," Ralph replied 
 suavely. ' ' And this is " 
 
 "Morris McDevitt, the junior partner in the 
 McDevitt store — McDevitt and Son, you know. 
 Hello, Jep ! " 
 
 Marlowe shook hands with both and gave them 
 seats by the fire. 
 
 McDevitt was a light-complexioned, thickset 
 young man of twenty-six, with heavy jowls, and 
 light-blue, restless eyes. A drooping blonde mus- 
 tache half hid his narrow, sensitive mouth, but 
 accentuated his weak, retreating chin. His features 
 were expressive of moodiness and taciturnity. 
 
 Barely had a desultory conversation sprung up, 
 ere Clark arrived — followed almost immediately by 
 Lon Crider. 
 
 The latter was as well-fed, his cheeks were as 
 rosy, and his black mustache was as symmetrically 
 waxed and twisted, as when Marlowe had met him 
 upon the train. His clothes were carefully brushed, 
 his linen was spotless ; and the ever-present carna-- 
 tion was in his buttonhole. 
 
 He shook hands all around, greeting each indi- 
 vidual with a personal remark, a musical chuckle — 
 and a tender of a cigar. Then as a fitting finale to 
 the whole, he familiarly slapped Ralph upon the 
 shoulder, exclaiming : 
 
 "How are you anyhow, old man? I'm beastly 
 glad to find you here — thought maybe I'd hear 
 you'd 'flew de coop.' You've been cleaning up 
 things, too. By grab ! you've got everything shin- 
 
134 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 ing like a silver doorplate. You're a hot number, 
 Marlowe, my boy. But where's the old doc? 
 Don't say he's out in the country, now, and won't 
 be back tonight. You'll break my heart." 
 
 " That's just what I must say, if I tell the truth," 
 Ralph answered, resuming his seat and pointing 
 Crider to a vacant chair. 
 
 " Then I'd just as well spend an hour gassing to 
 you fellows, before I return to the hotel to write 
 up my orders. You must want some goods this 
 time, don't you, Marlowe? The old man has held 
 me off the last two or three trips. I don't know 
 what's the matter." 
 
 ' ' We need some goods, " Ralph answered. ' ' But 
 you'll have to see Dr. Barwood." 
 
 "All right. I'll catch him for an order this 
 trip, if it takes a week of my three-thousand-a-year 
 time to do it." 
 
 The conversation became general. Crider, Clark, 
 and Tucker vied with one another as to who could 
 talk the most and say the least. The weather, the 
 state of the country roads, the trade of the village, 
 and the coming election were all discussed. Mar- 
 lowe and Chandler occasionally ventured a remark 
 or asked a question, to keep the conversation from 
 flagging. McDevitt listened attentively, and nod- 
 ded or shook his head when appealed to, but said 
 little. 
 
 At last the talk drifted to hunting; at which the 
 loquacious Jep brightened visibly — ^until he com- 
 pletely outshone his younger rivals. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 135 
 
 "Talkin' 'bout huntin'," he drawled through his 
 nose, " ther' used to be an ol' feller in these parts, 
 by the name o' Josh Springer, who could spin some 
 o' the whoppin'est huntin' yarns you ever heerd 
 tell of. He was a funny lookin' critter, too. One 
 leg was two 'r three inches shorter 'n t'other ; an' he 
 sort o' hitched along. when he walked. An' his 
 face would 'ave made a pattern for a comic volen- 
 tine. His chin was double, his nose w^as blue an' 
 bumpy; an' he chawed his tobacker on his snag- 
 gledy front teeth — like a ground squir'l gnawin' a 
 nut. 
 
 ' ' But I started out to tell you some o' his whop- 
 pin' yams. One of 'em was 'bout shootin' a squir'l 
 off 'n a tall shellbark hick'ry. Said he treed it, 
 an' tried fer quite a spell to git a shot at it ; but it 
 kept movin' 'round an' 'round the tree, fast as he 
 did. Said at last he got mad an' hit the tree a elite 
 with his gun, bendin' the bar'l till it looked like a 
 half a wagon tire. 
 
 " The squir'l w^as on the opposite side o' the tree 
 from him,, of course. So he ups an' pokes the 
 muzzle o' the gun 'round the trunk — elevatin' the 
 bar'l at the proper angle — an' blazes away. Well, 
 sir, he said the result was startlin'. Said the bullet 
 went circlin' 'round that tree trunk, zippin' the 
 bark an' climbin' higher an' higher as it went. 
 Said the squir'l got 'xcited at the bang o' the gun ; 
 an' it went to circlin' 'round the tree, too. 'Cord- 
 in' to his own tale. Josh stood an' watched the 
 p'rformance — an' nearly died a laughin'. 'Round 
 
136 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 an' 'round went the squir'l — faster 'n a streak o' 
 greased lightnin' ; an' after it — an' gainin' little by 
 little — whizzed the bullet. Josh said it was 'bout 
 fifteen minutes by the watch, 'fore the bullet 
 ketched up with that squir'l an' killed it." 
 
 Jep scored a hit. His auditors laughed heartily 
 — more at the serious manner in which he told the 
 absurd tale, than at the tale itself. Encouraged by 
 the applause, he went on : 
 
 " That's jest a sample o' the yarns that ol' feller 
 used to spin. He was chuck full of 'em — fuller 'n 
 a pumpkin is o' seeds. But the one that knocked 
 the persimmons was the one he used to tell 'bout 
 shootin' the nineteen pigeons. Ever hear that 
 one? " — With a sweeping glance at his audience. 
 
 "I never did," laughed Crider. "Goon — tell 
 it, anyhow." 
 
 " Well, the way ol' Josh told it was this : He 
 was out huntin' pigeons one day in the fall o' the 
 year — ther' used to be scads o' pigeons in this part 
 o' the country in the early days — an' he run 'cross a 
 small flock of 'em roostin' in a big ellum tree. They 
 was all settin' in a row on a long, slim limb — jest 
 like clo'es pins on a line. Josh said he had a rifle 
 with him, but only two bullets^-one in the gun an' 
 one in his pocket. So he studied how he could git 
 all them pigeons at one shot, knowin' that what he 
 didn't kill the first crack 'Id up an' fly away. 
 
 ' ' At last he hit on a plan. He makes a little 
 noise in the leaves, to skeer 'em ; an' jest as they 
 was tiptoein' to fly away, he cuts loose with his ol' 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 137 
 
 rifle. The bullet split the limb; an' the toes o' 
 nineteen o' the pigeons was ketched in the crack. 
 He said ther', was twenty of 'em, all together ; but 
 one of 'em didn't happen to git ketched. 
 
 "Of course folks 'Id ask him how he got 'em 
 down out o' the tree. An' he'd say he loaded up 
 ag'in, shot off the limb they was strung ''to— an' 
 down they dropped kerslap. 
 
 " One time Cy Plumley said to him: 
 
 " ' Josh, if I was tellin' that story, I'd say I 
 ketched the whole twenty. I wouldn't spile an 
 even number, the way you do.' 
 
 "'Well,' says Josh, crustier 'n a burnt com 
 dodger, ' maybe you'dteli. a darn lie fer one pigeon, 
 Cy Plumley; but I wouldn't.'" 
 
 Again they laughed — Jep boisterously. It is but 
 fair to state, however, that Clark surreptitiously 
 consulted his watch, and that Marlowe and McDe- 
 vitt yawned behind their hands. 
 
 " Say !" Crider exclaimed abruptly. " I had an 
 experience the other day, worth relating. Want to 
 hear it?" 
 
 "Is it another Josh Springer yarn ? " McDevitt 
 asked gravely, winking at Ralph. 
 
 " Now hear him try to outdo Tucker," remarked 
 Chandler. 
 
 " Stop your chaffing, you fellows," Clark cried. 
 " Let him spread himself. We're tough — we can 
 stand it. Go on, Crider Your hour's about up." 
 
 The drummer deliberately lighted a fresh cigar, 
 
138 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 puffed away in silence for some seconds, and then 
 began : 
 
 " Let's see — today's Friday. Well, it was last 
 Monday; and I was on the Katrina, coming from 
 Marietta up to Lowell. There were quite a num- 
 ber of passengers aboard; and among them a tall, 
 scrawny, oldish-like man, who had been over in the 
 West Virginia mountains, hunting deer. That's 
 what he said, at least ; and I suppose he told the 
 truth, for he had two deer hounds chained up on 
 the boiler deck, and the cabin was littered with his 
 traps — guns, belts of shells, leggins, and all the par- 
 aphernalia of a Nimrod. 
 
 " Of course we got to talking to him, asking him 
 how many deer he had killed and all manner of 
 questions, and trying our best to draw him out. 
 But it was no go ; he was closer than next election 
 day, and to our questions returned answers that 
 were shorter than good pie crust. The rest of the 
 passengers finally got discouraged and gave up try- 
 ing to smoke him out ; but like a fool I persisted. 
 At last he smiled benignly on me — in a way that 
 made me feel bigger than a conquering hero — and 
 said: 
 
 "'Young man, such persistency as you have 
 shown should not go unrewarded. I take it you 
 w^ant me to spin you a yam, to while away the 
 tedium of this short but slow voyage — to tell you 
 an adventurous story of hunting wild animals, in 
 their native haunts.' 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 139 
 
 " That was exactly what I did want ; and I was 
 not slow in so expressing myself. He went on 
 smiling that benign smile and looking thoughtful, 
 for some time. Finally he said : 
 
 " ' I can tell you a good bear story.' 
 
 " ' All right — tell it,' I answered with alacrity. 
 
 " He commenced in an easy, smooth way that 
 attracted and held everybody's attention. His 
 story — as near as I can remember it — was about 
 like this : 
 
 " ' I was bom up at Andover, Maine — a little 
 hamlet occupying a green amphitheater among the 
 granite-capped spurs of the White Mountains. 
 Just north of the village lies a string of small lakes, 
 today the Mecca of hundreds of city fishermen. 
 When I was a lad, thirty-five years ago, the woods 
 surrounding the town were full of bear, deer, and 
 smaller game; and, like all the other boys of the 
 neighborhood, I wasted much time hunting and 
 fishing. ■ As you see, the idle habit has clung to me. 
 
 ' ' ' One day in summer, when I was about fif- 
 teen years old, I shouldered my father's old musket 
 and set out across the hills. I tramped mile after 
 mile without discovering any signs of game. But 
 along in the afternoon, when I. was about ready to 
 abandon my quest and return home, I came upon a 
 bear track in the soft, wet sand along the side of a 
 brook. I was hunter enough to know the track 
 was a fresh one ; and, boy-like, I rashly resolved to 
 follow it, if possible, and have a shot at the ani- 
 mal. I succeeded only too well. For I had not 
 
146 jRALPit MARLOWE 
 
 gone a hundred yards along its trail, when — with 
 a great crashing of brush and a roar that made my 
 hair stand on end — the bear sprang out of a clump 
 of bushes and advanced upon me. It w^as a fe- 
 male ; and the cause of her aggressiveness was the 
 fact that she had two small cubs with her. 
 
 " ' Instantly I threw my gun to my shoulder and 
 pulled the trigger. But I was trembling with 
 excitement and my aim was bad. As a conse- 
 quence I only succeeded in wounding the mother 
 bear and enraging her the more. Ere I could think 
 about reloading my empty piece, she was upon me. 
 With a blow of her paw she sent the musket spin- 
 ning from my grasp. Then, rearing upon her hind 
 feet and growling hideously, she stretched forth her 
 arms to give me a fatal hug. I saw her burning 
 eyeballs, her red mouth, and flashing teeth; and felt 
 her hot breath upon my face. I was paralyzed with 
 fear ; my limbs were like lead. I tried to scream — 
 but could not. 
 
 ' ' ' Then of a sudden I recovered my presence of 
 mind. And whirling like a flash, I dashed away 
 as fast as my strong and nimble legs could carry 
 me. The bear dropped from her erect posture and 
 swiftly rolled after me. I had never known until 
 then what powers of speed the lumbering brutes 
 possess; and as I crashed through brush and 
 brambles in my mad flight, I cursed the temerity 
 that had led me to put the question to a test. For 
 in spite of my best endeavors, the bear steadily 
 gained upon me. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 141 
 
 " ' Just when I was ready to drop from exhaus- 
 tion, I spied a narrow cleft between two large 
 granite rocks that lay in my path; and I made a 
 final effort to reach the asylum that so providen- 
 tially offered. I felt if I could reach the rocks and 
 wedge myself between them, the infuriated brute 
 could not reach me. But I was doomed to disap- 
 pointment. For when within ten feet of the place, 
 my foot caught upon a running vine and I fell 
 headlong to the ground. In a moment the bear 
 had pounced upon me and was tearing at my vitals.' 
 
 "Well," Crider continued, "the mighty Nimrod 
 stopped right there, as if he'd got to the end of his 
 story. Of course everybody was on the tiptoe of 
 expectancy — ^myself included. But the old fellow 
 calmly and deliberately lighted his pipe, took a few 
 long-drawn and delicious pulls, and commenced to 
 turn the pages of a magazine he had been reading. 
 We all looked at one another in wonder; but 
 nobody said anything. At last I couldn't hold in 
 any longer, and I asked as unconcernedly as I 
 could : 
 
 " ' Well, how did it come out? ' 
 
 " ' Eh? ' the old fellow answered, looking up as 
 if greatly surprised. 
 
 " ' How did your adventure terminate? ' I asked. 
 
 " ' Terminate? ' he said softly, again smiling that 
 sweet, benign smile. ' Oh, the bear killed me! ' 
 
 " And I got up and took a sneak," Crider con- 
 cluded, " followed by roars and peals of laughter 
 at my expense. Those other passengers had been 
 
142 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 laying to catch me on that story, ever since I had 
 boarded the boat at Marietta." 
 
 The drummer arose; and chuckling until his 
 countenance assumed an apoplectic hue and his watch 
 charm danced a merry jig upon his protuberant ab- 
 domen, hurried toward the door. 
 
 With the knob in his hand he paused long enough 
 to fling over his shoulder : 
 
 " Be in to see you in the morning, Marlowe." 
 
 Then he was gone — a zigzag plume of tobacco 
 smoke marking his w^ake. 
 
 ' ' What do you say to that one for a whopper, 
 Jep ? ' ' Chandler laughed, tenderly toying with 
 the mole upon his chin. 
 
 " I'll bet ten dollars it never happened," cried 
 Clark ; " bet Crider made up the whole thing." 
 
 " No; he did not invent the story, " Marlowe 
 stated positively. " I have heard it a few hundred 
 times before." 
 
 " It's a good one, anyhow," McDevitt remarked 
 dryly. " Perhaps it's like whisky — improves with 
 age." 
 
 " A lie's a lie," Tucker said musingly. " Some 
 of 'em's good an' some of 'em's bad; but all of 
 'em's immortal an' lives fer ever. 
 
 " There's somethin' funny 'bout that," he con- 
 tinued philosophically. " Ever think of it? If one 
 o' you fellers 'Id start out through the country to- 
 night an' tell ev'rybody you met that Babylon wa? 
 burnt to the ground, ninety-nine people out of a 
 
 hundred 'Id b'lieve it, An' a dezen truthful men 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 143 
 
 might foller in y'r track, sayin' the story was a lie, 
 and ther' wouldn't be one in a hundred but 'Id still 
 have their doubts 'bout the matter. Talk 'bout 
 truth bein' mighty an' bound to prevail! W'y, 
 one lie well told an' properly 'mpressed '11 live 
 longer 'n holy writ. 'Tain't right, p'raps — but it's 
 so." 
 
 Then Jep picked up the lighted lantern he had 
 brought in with him, turned up the wick, arose 
 stiffly, and went out mumbling : 
 
 " Can't be with you fellers alluz. Got to go and 
 bed down the bosses — an' go to roost myself." 
 
 " Now," said Clark briskly, when the sound of 
 Tucker's footsteps had died out, "those two gas- 
 sers are gone, Marlowe, I'll tell you what we came 
 in for. A crowd of us boys and girls are going 
 up to Malconta, next Tuesday night, to the show. 
 We want you to go along with us. We'll find you 
 a girl " 
 
 " Perhaps he, would rather make his own selec- 
 tion," McDevitt suggested. 
 
 "That's all right," the agent went on. "He 
 can make his choice ; and we'll see that he gets it. 
 No trouble about that. What do you say, Mar- 
 lowe, will you go with us ? We're going to drive 
 up and back — two or three barouche loads. It'll 
 be an elegant trip. What do you say? " 
 
 "I shall be pleased to go with you, if I find I 
 can leave on that particular evening. Dr. Bar- 
 wood is very busy now; and " 
 
 "You can lock up the old ranch," Clark cried 
 
i44 kALPH MA'RLOVi^E 
 
 impatiently ; " it won't run off. We'll have a jolly 
 good time. We'll start about six o'clock — we can 
 make the drive in two hours, easy. McDevitt's 
 going to take Mame Gridley ; I'm going to take his 
 sister, Rose; and Chandler's going to take Gertrude 
 Bentley. There's lots of pretty girls for you to 
 pick from — Jennie Gridley, Bell Akers, Fannie 
 Richards, Dolly Barwood, and so on. You might 
 prefer the other Miss Barwood — Julia; but she 
 don't go to shows." 
 
 " What kind of show is this? " Ralph asked. 
 
 " A theater — a play," Clark replied. " They've 
 got a dandy new opera-house up there at Mal- 
 conta ; and are getting some good shows. This 
 one's a kind of a farce-comedy, I guess — lots of 
 dancing and singing and fun in it. Let's see — 
 What's the name of it, Morris? " 
 
 " The Cider and the Pie,^'' was McDevitt's 
 answer. 
 
 At the announcement Marlowe caught his breath 
 sharply and turned pale to the lips. His compan- 
 ions noticed his agitation, and looked wonderingly 
 at him — and at one another. Recovering his equa- 
 nimity, by a strong effort, he said calmly : 
 
 ' ' I turned sick suddenly — a pain in the region of 
 my heart. In regard to the show. I have seen it 
 — and do not care to see it again. It is light — 
 frothy. You will be disappointed in it." 
 
 They did not urge him to alter his decision ; but 
 after a few moments of embarrassing silence arose 
 and took their departure. Each of the three sus- 
 
RALPH MAkLOWE 145 
 
 pected he had stumbled upon a hidden tragedy; 
 yet hoped he was mistaken — and feared to mention 
 his suspicions to his comrades. 
 
 Left alone, Ralph Marlowe sat with bowed head, 
 murmuring softly, sadly, to himself: 
 
 " The past dogs me — a merciless Nemesis. I 
 thought I had buried myself alive ; but the prying 
 eye of inexorable fate has spied out my tomb. The 
 walled city of Babylon even" — And he smiled 
 grimly — " is not a secure hiding place. And yet it 
 may be. I will dissuade Clark from attending the 
 performance at Malconta ; he is the moving spirit. 
 Yes, I must do that. For if my name should be 
 spoken in the hearing of certain members of the 
 troupe — and it might be, the agent and his friends 
 noticed my agitation at mention of the title of the 
 play — it would get to her ears; and that would 
 mean my undoing, my ruin." 
 
 Arising, he agitatedly walked to the front door 
 and peered through the glass at the dark, wet night 
 without. Then mechanically he turned down the 
 lights, passed out, locking the door behind him, and 
 hurried away in the direction of the hotel. 
 
 10 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 "T^'he day following — Saturday — ^Marlowe was 
 * early at his post of duty. Tucker, as was his. 
 custom, built the fire and helped with the sweeping- 
 and dusting. Just as they had finished, Dr. Bar- 
 wood hustled into the store, saying : 
 
 " I am going to spend an hour or two in posting 
 my books and writing letters. I do not wish to be 
 disturbed, unless it be a matter of importance." 
 
 " The Baldy Drug Company's man called to see 
 you last night," Ralph remarked carelessly. 
 
 "Crider?" 
 
 " Yes. He said he would be in again this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 "He desired to see me, did he?" — With lifted 
 lip and flashing teeth. 
 
 " That's what he said, doctor." 
 
 " And I wish to see him" the physician snarled 
 as he started for his private room. *' When he 
 comes, call me." 
 
 Barely had the doctor's bullet head disappeared 
 through the rear dopr, ere the drummer's smiling 
 visage appeared at the front entrance. 
 
 " Good morning, Marlowe," he cried cheerily. 
 " The old doc turned Up yet? " 
 
 " He has just gone into his office," Ralph replied. 
 
 " Good! " — Gleefully rubbing his hands. — "You 
 (146) 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 147 
 
 told him I called last night — and that I was coming 
 in this morning? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "What did he say?" — In a tone of eager ex- 
 pectancy. 
 
 " He said he wished to see you; told me to call 
 him when you came." 
 
 "That surely means an order, eh?" whispered 
 Crider, beaming seraphically. " Tell him I'm wait- 
 ing to see him." 
 
 Smiling to himself, Ralph did as requested. A 
 minute later. Dr. Barwood fiercely scowling stood 
 facing his caller, 
 
 " Good morning, doctor," the latter cried ad- 
 vancing with outstretched hand. ' ' How's the 
 world using you, anyhow? " 
 
 " The world uses me much better than the people 
 in it do," growled the doctor, ignoring the proffered 
 hand and resolutely holding his own behind him. 
 " What do you want ? " 
 
 "Ther's a jimmycane a brewin'," muttered Jep 
 sidling toward the front door. "An' as I ain't 
 hankerin' to see it, I'll jest tunnel a hole through 
 the atmosphere an' make my escape." 
 
 Dr. Barwood's frigid manner and brusque question 
 greatly disconcerted the jolly drummer. Blushing 
 like a schoolmiss, he stammered awkwardly: 
 
 " Why, I — I came in to see you, doctor; thought 
 maybe you'd want to — to " 
 
 " Do I owe your house anything? " the physician 
 interrupted coldly. 
 
148 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 "No, doc — that is, doctor," Crider hastened to 
 say; "you remember you paid off the last bill a 
 month or two ago. You haven't bought anything 
 of me since." 
 
 " And I owe you nothing? " 
 
 " Not a red, doc — doctor, I mean." 
 
 "Then," Dr. Barwood fairly hissed, "your 
 room is more desirable than your company — and 
 you can go ! " 
 
 "Why, doctor, I — I don't understand" — Crider 
 began sputteringly. 
 
 " Oh, you don't! "—With a sneer. 
 
 "No, doctor, I don't," answered the traveling 
 man in a hurt tone. ' ' What have I or the house 
 done to deserve such treatment ? ' ' 
 
 "You have robbed me — that's what I " 
 
 "Robbed you?" 
 
 "Yes." * 
 
 " Have they been stuffing your orders? " 
 
 ' ' Worse than that — as you well know. Your 
 house has charged me with things I never ordered 
 and they never sent." 
 
 "Doc, I— I can't believe it " 
 
 " Hold !" thundered Dr. Barwood. "Not an- 
 other word along that line, I warn you. You 
 doubt my word, but you will not doubt your own 
 sense of sight, perhaps. Look here." — Drawing a 
 folded paper from his coat pocket and hastily open- 
 ing it. — " Here I am charged with articles I never 
 ordered and never received. Look ! " — Running his 
 long, white index finger along the lines. — " One- 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 149 
 
 twelfth dozen leather-covered, screw-capped, 
 pocket flasks ; one dozen Mumm's extra dry cham- 
 pagne ; one hundred fine, pure Havana cigars ; 
 one-sixth dozen enameled playing cards ; five hun- 
 dred rubber poker chips ; and so on. / never or- 
 dered those things." 
 
 Crider had partially regained his composure. 
 Now he answered blandly : 
 
 "That's so, doc. But Snedeker, your last 
 clerk before Marlowe, did order them." 
 
 "And I never received them!" the doctor 
 shouted, slapping his palm with the folded bill and 
 glaring ferociously at the little drummer. 
 
 " The house shipped them, doctor; somebody re- 
 ceived them," Crider replied meekly. 
 
 " And /paid for them." 
 
 "Yes, you paid for them, doc — I mean doctor." 
 
 "Yes!" fairly bellowed the physician. "You 
 and your house knew that scoundrel was robbing 
 me ; and you gave me no warning. I'll never buy 
 another cent's worth of goods " 
 
 " Doc," Crider interrupted in a plaintive, wheed- 
 ling tone, " listen to me just a minute — please do. 
 I tried to tell you more than once what was going 
 on ; and you " 
 
 " Go to perdition — and stay there! " Dr. Bar- 
 wood roared, stamping into the rear room and 
 banging the door. 
 
 "Look at that now!" Crider wailed tearfully, 
 dropping into a chair and -looking appealingly at 
 Ralph. "How unreasonable a man can be! I 
 
ISO RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 tried a dozen different times, to hint to the old doc 
 that his clerks were ordering stuff for themselves 
 and having it charged in his bills. But every time 
 he gave me to understand it was his business ; and 
 advised me to attend to my own. What could I 
 do but take the orders ; and what could the house 
 do but fill them ? And now I've lost his trade ; 
 and the firm'll give me a currying. Confound the 
 luck! A drummer sees the toughest time, of any- 
 body on earth. Do you think you could do any- 
 thing with him, Marlowe?" 
 
 " I don't know," Ralph replied, musingly strok- 
 ing his chin. 
 
 " Better not try it," Crider said dejectedly. 
 " He might get mad at you — and fire you." 
 
 " I'll make the venture at any rate," answered 
 Ralph with sudden resolution. 
 
 " You will? " — Springing joyfully to his feet and 
 grasping the other's hand. — "Marlowe, you're a 
 trump! But no — I'm selfish. You shan't do any- 
 thing of the kind. It'll do no good — and get you 
 into trouble." 
 
 But at the same time he anxiously scanned his 
 companion's face, to see if he still held his resolve. 
 
 Without more ado Ralph walked to the rear 
 door, opened it — and bearded the lion in his d6n, 
 thus : 
 
 ' ' Doctor, there are some goods we need. Shall 
 I give the order to Mr. Crider, or send it to a 
 Columbus firm?" 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 151 
 
 The doctor was writing busily. Without looking 
 up, he answered: 
 
 " Order what you please, of whom you please." 
 
 " But what is your pleasure, doctor? " 
 
 " That you do what you like," the physician 
 muttered irritably. " I give you license." 
 
 "Thank you," Ralph replied, quietly withdraw- 
 ing. 
 
 On returning to the drug room, he gave Crider 
 an order for the goods needed. The latter was de- 
 lighted, and was profuse in his thanks, saying 
 among other things : 
 
 "Marlowe, you have saved the day for me. If 
 I can ever accommodate you, all you'll have to do 
 is to say the word. It appears that you can twist 
 the old doc around your finger ; and you're the only 
 person that I ever knew that could do it. I wish 
 you all kinds of good luck ; and feel that I'm under 
 everlasting obligations to you. I'll be around 
 again in a few weeks. So long." 
 
 When the drummer had taken his departure, 
 Ralph again invaded the privacy of Dr. Barwood's 
 office. 
 
 " I have nothing to do at present," he said. 
 " Can I not help you with your work? " 
 
 "Do you desire to do so? " the doctor asked, a 
 peculiar light dancing in his beady eyes. 
 
 "Of course." 
 
 "Very well. Leave the door ajar, that you may 
 watch the outer room. Here." — Shoving him a 
 
152 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 ledger and pointing to pen and ink. — "You may 
 post books while I look after my accumulated cor- 
 respondence. There's my pocket visiting list at 
 your elbow." 
 
 For a while they worked away in silence. At 
 last the older man laid down his pen, sealed the 
 envelope he had addressed, and leaning back in his 
 chair and half closing his eyes, asked tentatively: 
 
 " How do you like your place, by this time? " 
 
 "With you, doctor?" 
 
 "Certainly." 
 
 " I am well pleased with it." 
 
 " You say that to gratify me." 
 
 "And does it gratify you, doctor? " 
 
 " If it be the truth, yes." 
 
 " Do you doubt my word? " 
 
 "N-o. Yet " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " To hear any one speak well of me or my em- 
 ploy is a new experience." 
 
 And Dr. Barwood laughed a grating laugh — ^that 
 had in it a ring of sadness. 
 
 " I like your employ — and I like you, doctor," 
 Ralph boldly ventured. 
 
 ' ' Huh ! No doubt you believe what you are say- 
 ing," was the ungracious rejoinder. 
 
 " But _j/OM do noi," Marlowe completed. 
 
 Dr. Barwood made no reply; but sullenly re- 
 sumed his work. A half hour later he looked up 
 to inquire : 
 
 " Are you comfortably situated at the hotel? " 
 
RALPH MARL OWE 153 
 
 "The meals are fair, and the bed is clean," 
 Ralph replied, busily scratching away with his 
 pen. 
 
 " What of your room? ' 
 
 "It is small; has no fire in it — ^and is not gor- 
 geously furnished." 
 
 " You are satisfied with the fare? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " But not with your quarters? " 
 
 " Hardly." 
 
 For a few moments the doctor contemplatively 
 bit his thin mustache and fingered the long watch 
 guard that encircled his neck. Then he remarked 
 casually : 
 
 " I own the large frame dwelling just above 
 here — the one with the broad portico and green 
 shutters. Mrs. Hammond and her two grown sons 
 occupy a part of it ; but there are two large, com- 
 municating, front rooms on the ground floor, that 
 are vacant. You are welcome to them, if you care 
 to go to the expense of furnishing them." 
 
 " I shall be glad of the opportunity, doctor," 
 Ralph answered quietly. " But how much rent 
 will you expect ? " 
 
 " None," snapped the doctor. 
 
 " Then I will not occupy the rooms." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "You know my reason, doctor — the reason you 
 would have." 
 
 " You are independent — ^you do not care to be 
 under obligations," 
 
IS4 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 Marlowe nodded and went on writing. 
 
 "Well, to satisfy you," Dr, Barwood said, hi& 
 black eyes sparkling, "I will charge you a nominal 
 rent. Make out an order for the furniture and furn- 
 ishings you want, sign my name to it, and send it 
 to Burn Brothers at Malconta." 
 
 " I may not have the money to pay for the 
 things, when they come," Ralph objected. 
 
 " I'll pay for them," the physician returned 
 dryly. "If I have to discharge you before you 
 have reimbursed me, I'll have furnished rooms for 
 your sucQessor. Will you send the order? " 
 
 " On the conditions you have named." 
 
 There the subject was dropped. 
 
 The next day being Sunday, Marlowe had more 
 or less leisure. In the afternoon he and Clark took 
 a walk around the village, and back onto the ad- 
 jacent hills. The sky was cloudless; the sunshine 
 was genial. Upon a rocky point overlooking the 
 broad expanse of valley, the two young men seated 
 themselves and silently contemplated the beauties 
 of the scene. 
 
 Through the center of the rolling plain — ram- 
 parted by brown hills — flowed the bonny Mus- 
 kingum, sparkling and dancing in the yellow sun- 
 light. To the right stretched the broad acres of 
 Flat Bottom dotted with cosy farmhouses and 
 checkered with fields of golden corn stubble and 
 tender green wheat. To. the left reached the rich 
 alluvium of The Backwater — the site of an ancient 
 lake^corn shocks mingling with clumps of russet 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 155 
 
 willows, and the towering white shafts of giant 
 sycamores punctuating the level page. Up the 
 river, in the far distance, loomed the rock-ribbed 
 sides of Bishop's Ridge, blue and indistinct; and 
 at their feet nestled the peaceful village — somno- 
 lent and still. 
 
 " Pretty scene, isn't it? " Clark remarked at last, 
 his pale face alight with genuine admiration. 
 
 "Yes," Marlowe answered softly. 
 
 But he did not look at his companion ; and a far- 
 away expression was in his dark eyes. 
 
 " What are you thinking of ? " the operator 
 asked, laughing. "You're staring out into space, 
 like a dog pointing a covey of quails. Come — 
 wake up." — Playfully shaking his companion's 
 arm. — "What are you thinking about? " 
 
 "I? Oh! I hardly know," Ralph stammered, 
 rousing himself and smiling confusedly. 
 
 " Guess you're a little homesick," Clark said at 
 a venture. 
 
 "No, I am not," Marlowe answered decidedly. 
 
 "You wouldn't want to live here all your life, 
 though?" 
 
 "Yes. Why not?" 
 
 "Well, I'll be blowed! " was all the astounded 
 operator could ejaculate. 
 
 Silence reigned for several minutes — ^Ralph re- 
 suming his reverie, Clark narrowly observing him. 
 At last the latter cried : 
 
 " Say, Marlowe ! You remind me of a story they 
 
156 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 tell on Joe Staffer, an old stonemason and brick- 
 layer who used to live here — just died last year." 
 
 ' ' Indeed ? ' ' Ralph returned absent-mindedly. 
 
 "Yes, you do. Let me tell you the tale. For by 
 Christmas! you need something to wake you up." 
 
 "Goon." 
 
 " Well, open your eyes and listen to me." 
 
 "I am all attention." 
 
 "Yes — so's a dead man. But here goes any- 
 how. Old Joe was a mighty good workman at his 
 trade, but "would drink — had been a heavy drinker 
 all his life. And that reminds me of some of the 
 schemes he resorted to, to get liquor. 
 
 "A few years ago — while the old man was still 
 living, of course — the people voted for local option 
 here and run out the saloons for a season or two. 
 That made it pretty tough on the habituals, like 
 Joe ; for the drugstore sold only on prescription — 
 and for such as him to get a prescription was out 
 of the question. But he was equal to the emer- 
 gency, you bet. 
 
 ' ' He worked it like this : He put in his leisure 
 time making rings and canes for his friends ; and 
 he used an alcohol lamp in doing the brazing of 
 ferules and so on. Well, when that local option 
 went into effect — and he couldn't get whisky—he 
 commenced to drink alcohol. He'd go over to the 
 drugstore two or three times a day, carrying his 
 lamp with him ; get it filled, and go back home and 
 water and sweeten and drink the contents. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 157 
 
 "The old doc tumbled to the racket, and ordered 
 the clerk not to fill the lamp any more. Joe was 
 disappointed but not discouraged. He got an 
 open-mouthed bottle; went over to the drugstore, 
 and asked the clerk to put a few cents' worth of 
 gum shellac in it and fill it up with alcohol. Said 
 he wanted to make shellac varnish to varnish canes 
 with. 
 
 " Of course the clerk didn't suspect the old man 
 meant to drink the mixture — nor did he do it. But 
 you know better than I can tell you how long it 
 takes alcohol to cut shellac. And Joe hurried 
 home, poured off the alcohol before it had time to 
 get its work in, and had a square drink. 
 
 " Well, the old doc got onto that game, too ; and 
 put a quietus upon it. But Joe still held a trump 
 card up his sleeve. He next bought a half-pint of 
 spirits of camphor; diluted it with water, to pre- 
 cipitate the gum; and took a snifter of the clear 
 liquid that was left. That pretty near fixed him. 
 Old doc was up working with him all one night. 
 
 "About this time, Philetus Palmer^on over on 
 Heathen Ridge hired Joe to build a chimney. It 
 was an outside concern of stone and brick — stone 
 up to the taper, and brick the rest of the way. 
 Joe got a gallon jug of whisky from Malconta, 
 and went at it— chimney and whisky, too. He 
 kept so drunk all the time, that when he got the 
 chimney up to the comb of the roof, it looked as if 
 it had been twisted by a bolt of lightning, and was 
 tottering to its fall. The old man felt it quivering 
 
IS8 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 and shaking, and knew what was going to happen. 
 So he clambered off onto the roof and bellowed to 
 the helpers below, who were mixing mortar and 
 sorting bricks : 
 
 "'Look out down there! I've changed my 
 plan! ' 
 
 "And over the chimney went. And," Clark 
 concluded, laughing heartily, "that'll be the way 
 with you. One o' these fine days you'll wake up 
 and find the earth slipping from under you. Then 
 you'll suddenly change your plan — and get out of 
 this place on double-quick." 
 
 Marlowe smiled; but at the same time he 
 suspiciously eyed his companion, whispering to 
 himself: 
 
 ' ' What does he mean ? Does he suspect some- 
 thing? Nonsense! What could he suspect — he 
 knows nothing." 
 
 So fixed was the druggist's gaze that the agent 
 asked petulantly: 
 
 "What the deuce ails you, Marlowe ? Are you 
 crazy or drunk, that you gawk at me so wildly? " 
 
 To this outburst Ralph laughingly replied : 
 
 " Neither, my peppery friend. I was just think- 
 ing that you are badly mistaken in your surmises — 
 that you have made a false application of the moral 
 of your story." 
 
 " How so? What do you mean? " 
 
 ' ' Just this : I have determined that I like Dr. 
 Barwood ; that I like to work for him." 
 
 Clark open§4 !}}§ ej^es very wide, dropped his jaw 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 159, 
 
 and stared hard at his companion as tnough ques- 
 tioning his sanity. At last he managed to exclaim : 
 
 "The — mischief — you — do! " 
 
 " Yes," Marlowe went on quietly, " aiid I have 
 made up my mind to stay with him as long as he 
 will let me. Yesterday he tendered me two nice 
 rooms in the house occupied by Mrs. Hammond, at 
 a merely nominal rent ; and offered to advance me 
 the money to furnish them. I shall be deserting 
 my kennel at the hotel soon." 
 
 " Say ! " cried Clark, slapping his thigh and haw- 
 hawing heartily, " You've hypnotized the old doc, 
 Marlowe — you surely have. I'm glad to hear of 
 your good luck, anyway. The first thing you know 
 he'll give you a share in the business and throw one 
 of his daughters at your head — Dolly, likely." 
 
 "That will do," Ralph said sternly. 
 
 " What's the matter? " his companion asked with 
 concern. 
 
 "Please do not couple the young lady's name 
 with mine. Indeed, I am not in the matrimonial 
 market. At any rate, I am no fortune-hunter." 
 
 Then in as careless a tone as he could assume : 
 
 " Is your set going to the show at Malconta, 
 next Tuesday night? " 
 
 "No, I suppose not," Clark replied, wrinkling 
 his pale features serio-comically. "You took good 
 care to knock that in the head." 
 
 "I?" 
 
 " Yes, you. You talked disparagingly of the 
 show — said it was frothy and frivolous, and all 
 
1 6o RALPH MARL O WE 
 
 that. The manner in which you spoke of it made 
 Chandler believe it an immoral play; and he's 
 gone around and told all the girls. The result is 
 you couldn't haul one of them within gunshot of it, 
 with a rope around their necks. Then McDevitt's 
 opposed to going, too. I don't think he really 
 wanted to go in the first place." 
 
 " He af feared anxious to go." 
 
 ' ' Oh, yes — he af feared! But all the same he 
 wasn't anxious. He don't want to do anything 
 any more unless Julia Barwood sanctions it ; and 
 she don't believe in shows and dances, and such 
 things. Morris hasn't been to but one dance in the 
 last three months. There's just two things he's in 
 the habit of doing that he knows displeases her. 
 He will attend his own church — he's a Catholic; 
 and he can't resist the fascination of a little game 
 of poker. I don't know whether she knows about 
 that, though." 
 
 " Do you play poker, Clark? " 
 
 "Yes — sometimes. All the boys do, more or 
 less, except Chandler. Maybe he would if he 
 wasn't afraid of losing his certificate as a peda- 
 gogue — I don't know." 
 
 " Where do you play? " 
 
 ' ' Sometimes in the room back of the hotel 
 bar " 
 
 "What! " 
 
 Unheeding his companion's exclamation, the 
 little operator went on glibly : 
 
 ' ' Sometimes in my room, and sometimes — on 
 
RALPH MARLOWE i6i 
 
 Sundays — in the back room of McDevitt's store. 
 We think of having a game this evening. Won't 
 you join us ? " 
 
 " No."— Flatly. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " I think it wrong to gamble." 
 
 "You can't call the game we play gam- 
 bling. We just play for amusement. No one's 
 ever out, in any one game, more than a few 
 dollars." 
 
 " The principle involved is the same, .whether 
 the stake be one dollar or a thousand." 
 
 "Then you don't believe in any games of 
 chance ? ' ' 
 
 " Not if played for a stake. Gambling — the 
 effort to get something for nothing — is wrong, no 
 matter what the device used. ' ' 
 
 "How about lotteries, betting on elections and 
 other things, dealing in stocks, and so on — are they 
 gambling? " 
 
 " Let me repeat. Wherever money is risked or 
 invested, with a hope of winning and a chance of 
 losing — and without the winner giving or the loser 
 receiving adequate compensation in return — ^it is 
 gambling." 
 
 " I see. Then a good many so-called business 
 transactions are merely gambling schemes." 
 
 "Yes. And that fact is the paramount reason 
 why our economic system is not a success — why 
 the rich are growing richer and the poor are grow- 
 ing poorer. Everybody thirsts for money ; desires 
 
i62 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 wealth, no matter how acquired. So they gamble. 
 And the few win ; the many lose." 
 
 " That's so," Clark said soberly. Then smiling : 
 
 "But what would you call selling prize pack- 
 ages and raffling, like they do at church fairs — 
 gambling ? ' ' 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " Say! you're better than some preachers." 
 
 " Yes — I am a moralist," Ralph laughed. 
 
 " I don't care what you are," his companion said 
 solemnly. ' ' You are talking good sense — and 
 you're giving me something to think about. I like 
 to listen to you. Now I want to ask you a few 
 questions — for information." 
 
 "Goon." 
 
 "Isn't insurance gambling — life insurance and 
 fire insurance? " 
 
 " I think not," Ralph answered promptly, " A 
 life insurance company does not deal with a single 
 individual only, but with many. What it loses to 
 one it wins from another. In the aggregate it 
 makes^-or should make — but a fair profit on its in- 
 vestment. It does not seek to get something for 
 nothing. Nor is there any chance about the bus- 
 iness — taking the risks collectively. The company 
 is sure of a profit — ^that is all it asks. Nor does the 
 party insured strive to get something for nothing. 
 He does not wish to win until late in life. He is 
 perfectly satisfied to live and pay his premiums. 
 Yet he— or his heirs — are bound to win in the end. 
 Do you follow me ? ' ' 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 163 
 
 " Yes. But don't the parties insured gamble 
 against each other, then — like fellows betting on a 
 wheel of fortune? And isn't the company like the 
 owner of the wheel — getting a per cent of the 
 stake at every whirl? " 
 
 "You are shrewd and farseeing," Marlowe 
 laughed. "There is a seeming similarity, I admit. 
 It is one of the instances where legitimate business 
 nearly approaches gambling. But here is the 
 marked difference between the two. The man 
 who loses twenty-five dollars on a single turn of 
 the wheel of fortune — or in any game of chance — 
 and has no more money to risk, gets nothing in 
 return ; the individual who pays twenty-five dollars 
 premium on a thousand dollar policy, and who has 
 no more money — and must drop his insurance at the 
 end of the year — receives a year's protection in 
 return for his cash. And he is — or ought to be — 
 satisfied." 
 
 " I see," Clark answered, nodding and batting 
 his eyes. 
 
 Then after a moody silence of several minutes : 
 
 "Honestly now, Marlowe, what harm can there 
 be in my playing a fair and square game of poker, 
 for small stakes? What I lose in one game I win 
 in another. And it's such good sport ! " 
 
 " You argue just as I used to do," Ralph replied 
 gravely. 
 
 "Herein lies the harm — the danger, rather: 
 You are cultivating an appetite that is inherent in 
 most human beings, an appetite that is all too 
 
1 64 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 easily developed — the appetite for gambling; the 
 dishonest desire to take without giving ought in 
 return; the taste for high and reckless play. I 
 venture the assertion that you young fellows who 
 have been gambling, play for larger stakes now 
 than you did in the beginning. Am I not right? " 
 
 "Y-e-s, you are," Clark reluctantly admitted. 
 "And some of the boys are constantly urging that 
 the limit be raised still higher. You're right in 
 what you say; I can see it. McDevitt and one or 
 two others have been going to Malconta lately, to 
 play in bigger games. But look here. Taking 
 your view of the matter, wouldn't it be better not 
 to play cards at all — for fun even? " 
 
 "Would you refuse to speed your horse on the 
 public highway, because gamblers bet on horse- 
 races ; or fear to exercise the right of suffrage, be- 
 cause they place wagers on elections ? ' ' 
 
 " Hardly. But playing cards is different." 
 
 "Listen," Marlowe said earnestly. "The sun 
 is sinking; we have not time to discuss the matter 
 further. However, let me say this, — it is my opin- 
 ion, and you are not bound to accept it as a final 
 solution of the knotty problem — there is no hard 
 and fast line between right and wrong. The one 
 imperceptibly merges into the other. On the one 
 side is temperance, on the other, intemperance. 
 But the point that divides them is illy defined. 
 Some things are essentially right ; some things are 
 essentially wrong. Others still are debatable. A 
 course of action may be questionable, not because of 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 165 
 
 inherent evil, but because of some remote or possible 
 temptation or danger connected with it. Some 
 moralists would say avoid it — and thus avoid the 
 danger ; others would say follow it — face, defy, and 
 overcome the temptation, thus gaining strength to 
 resist greater ones, and thus developing moral 
 stamina and character. Each individual must de- 
 cide for himself. To my mind, the final test of any 
 course of action is the effect or result of it. If it 
 invariably— or generally — produces a bad result, it 
 is wrong ; if it usually produces a good result, it is 
 right. It is the duty of each person to get all the 
 light he can — from whatever source — make consci- 
 entious use of his reasoning faculties, and decide 
 mooted questions for himself." 
 
 Slowly Marlowe arose, brushed the dust from his 
 clothing, and with the words — "Let us return to 
 town ' ' — started down the slope. Clark silently 
 walked at his side, pondering deeply what he had 
 heard. 
 
 On reaching the level at the foot of the hill, 
 Ralph turned to the agent with the remark : 
 
 "You said something about McDevitt shaping 
 his habits to please Miss Barwood. What did you 
 mean ? ' ' 
 
 " Eh? " Clark returned vacantly, staring like one 
 suddenly wakened. " Oh ! You want to know 
 what I meant by saying that McDevitt don't like 
 to do anything that displeases Julia Barwood? 
 Well, just this: They've been keeping company off 
 
i66 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 and on for several years. They like each other, 
 I'm sure ; but they'll never get married." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "For two reasons: In the first place, her father 
 opposes the match — not because he has anything 
 against McDevitt, but just because he is a McDevitt 
 — though he lets him come to the house and call on 
 his daughter. But I don't think the old doc's op- 
 position would cut rriuch figure with Julia, if she 
 once made up her mind to marry McDevitt ; and I 
 kno-vo it wouldn't with Morris. But the second 
 reason — ^and the main one — is that Julia's a Prot- 
 estant and Morris is a Catholic ; and neither one's 
 willing to give up their belief for the belief of the 
 other. He wants her to come over to the Catholic 
 Church; she wants him to join the Methodists. 
 That's the lay of the land exactly. So I don't 
 think they'll ever get married. And one of these 
 days Morris McDevitt'U get discouraged — he's in- 
 clined to fits of the blues, anyhow — and he'll cut 
 loose and go to the devil, like old Number Six on a 
 down grade, with the throttle wide open." 
 
 ' ' Does he drink ? ' ' Ralph asked carelessly. 
 
 " Not much — a little once in a while." 
 
 " As you do." 
 
 "Yes." — And Clark laughed uneasily. — "We 
 don't drink much — any of us fellows — just a few 
 glasses of beer occasionally. Do you think that 
 wrong? " 
 
 "It is not wrong, perhaps. But you are running 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 167 
 
 an unnecessary risk, it may be. You ought not to 
 drink at the bar of a common groggery, that is cer- 
 tain; and you ought never to drink to excess, nor 
 gamble. Bar-room loafing is a most seductive idle- 
 ness; it winds itself insidiously around its victims 
 until they are bound and helpless in its thralls. 
 When I have fitted up my rooms, I will offer you 
 and your comrades a rendezvous. You may drop 
 in every evening, if you like. We will form a 
 social club : read, chat, and play games. But vul- 
 garity, profanity and kindred bad habits will be 
 tabooed. Temperance — in the sense of self-reliance 
 and self-control — will be our aim and motto. How 
 does the idea strike you? " 
 
 "All of a heap! "the operator cried joyfully. 
 " You couldn't suit me better. You understand us 
 fellows — you do. I can see what you're after; you 
 want to reform us young heathens. But you don't 
 go after us like Julia Barwood does ; you don't 
 preach at all — ^you reason. She nags — and that 
 don't do any good. You're right, too. As near 
 as I can understand, you mean that it's a fellow's 
 duty to study out what will hurt himself or others, 
 and let it alone ; and his privilege to indulge in any 
 pastime that won't injure himself or others. Isn't 
 that it?" 
 
 Ralph nodded. 
 
 "Well," Clark continued, "you can count on 
 me ; and I know the other fellows will fall right 
 into line. Julia Barwood, now — she lectures us on 
 all occasions. She says it's wicked to dance, play 
 
i68 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 cards, and go to theaters. When I asked her why, 
 she said because the discipline of her church forbids 
 it. And when I answered that I could see no 
 harm in such things, that the Bible didn't say any- 
 thing against them, she got mad and called me an 
 unregenerate wretch. Yes, she did. She says that 
 everybody'll go to perdition that don't believe and 
 do as she does — her father, and Dolly, and every- 
 body. I don't believe any such stuff. Do you?" 
 
 Marlowe smilingly shook his head. 
 
 The two walked on in silence, through the quiet 
 village streets, each busy with his own thoughts. 
 They passed the drugstore and reached the hotel 
 steps. 
 
 " Say! " Clark ejaculated, pausing suddenly. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " What are you going to do tonight? " 
 
 " I am going to church." 
 
 "What one?" 
 
 "The Methodist." 
 
 "You don't belong? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 Then after a moment's hesitation : 
 
 " Can I go with you? " 
 
 "You can and you may." 
 
 "All right," Clark chuckled, "I'll go. It'U 
 break up the poker game, for this evening — and 
 start the ball of reform a rolling. Let's hunt up 
 something to eat ; I'm half famished." 
 
 Together they attended the Methodist Church 
 that evening. The sermon was stereotyped and 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 169 
 
 dry. Marlowe listened attentively, unmindful of 
 the many eyes fixed upon him. Clark idly gazed 
 about him — and occasionally nodded sleepily. 
 
 When leaving the church they met Dr. Bar- 
 wood's daughters at the door ; and went toward 
 home with them. 
 
 "I am surprised to see you at church," Dolly 
 whispered to Clark, as she walked beside him. 
 
 " No more than I am to see_yoM," he answered. 
 
 "Oh! I attend here every once in a while — to 
 please mamma and Julia." 
 
 " I came to please myself. I like Marlowe's so- 
 ciety. I wouldn't give his reasoning philosophy 
 for all the cant of all the preachers I've ever 
 heard." 
 
 " Hush! Julia will hear you, and preach another 
 sermon; and I can't stand two in one evening. Do 
 you like Mr. Marlowe ? " 
 
 " Like him ? Well, I should say ! You want 
 to get better acquainted with him, Dolly; he's 
 grand. But then I hope you won't." 
 
 " Why ? " — In an eager whisper. 
 
 " Because you'd fall in love wth him." 
 
 Dolly laughed softly, musically, as she replied : 
 
 " I am not so easily smitten. But what differ- 
 ence could it make to you, Sam ? " 
 
 " What difference ? Do you think I'm anxious 
 to lose you ?" 
 
 Again Dolly laughed. 
 
 "You can't very easily lose what you don't 
 possess," she said. 
 
I70 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 Then she lapsed into silence; and to her com- 
 panion's vapid prattle answered only in mono- 
 syllables. 
 
 "Mr. Marlowe, I am glad you came out to 
 church tonight, and that you brought your — ^your 
 acquaintance with you," Julia said as they reached 
 the corner where their ways parted, 
 
 " Thank you," he replied simply. 
 
 "You can do much good here," she went on 
 hurriedly, " if only you will do what you know to 
 be right. The young men of this town are sunk 
 in the mire of sin ; are negligent of their religious 
 duties and heedless of their souls' salvation. Many 
 of the young women are equally irreligious — equally 
 reckless. Even my own dear sister is of the number. 
 Both sexes dance, play cards and other godless 
 games, and attend theatrical performances — when 
 opportunity offers. I have prayed for them, 
 and argued, labored, and plead with them; but 
 without avail. You are a born leader; I see it in 
 your face, I hear it in your voice. You can do so 
 much, if only you will. But to lead them into the 
 path of righteousness, you must first set your own 
 face in that direction. You ought to belong to 
 church, Mr. Marlowe. Don't you think so? " 
 
 She uttered the last few^ sentences wheedlingly. 
 
 ' ' What church, Miss Barwood ? ' ' Ralph asked 
 quietly. 
 
 " Our church, Mr. Marlowe — the Methodist. 
 We need you. Or" — Hesitatingly — "any good 
 Protestant church." 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 171 
 
 " Why not the Catholic? " 
 
 Clark and Dolly came up just in time to hear 
 Marlowe's question. Both listened breathlessly for 
 Julia's reply. 
 
 " Now you are laughing at me," she cried petu- 
 lantly peering into her companion's face. 
 
 "Not at all," he answered gravely. " I asked 
 the question in all seriousness. The Catholics ad- 
 duce as much evidence in support of their creed as 
 do the Protestants of any denomination. However, 
 I could not honestly subscribe to the tenets of any 
 man-made belief. I am a moralist — not a church- 
 man. But it is too chilly to stand here talking. I 
 bid you good night." 
 
 "Good night," she returned in a tone of' pique. 
 " I am disappointed in you, Mr. Marlowe. You 
 are as bad as my father. He " 
 
 "Dear old daddy's all right," Dolly broke in 
 "He's always been good to you and me, sister 
 mine. I think " 
 
 "You don't know what you think, Dorothy," 
 Julia interrupted sharply; "and you are talking 
 too much nonsense." 
 
 "I was going to say," Dolly resumed placidly, 
 "that / think daddy'll go to heaven, if anybody 
 does. He's rough — but he's so good." 
 
 " Come, Dorothy," her sister said icily. " We 
 must be going." 
 
 Then turning to Ralph : 
 
 " As I said, Mr. Marlowe, you are capable of 
 doing much good in the world. But you will fail 
 
172 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 to accomplish anything — should you really desire to 
 do so — ^because your heart is not right, because you 
 are not an avowed Christian. There is but one 
 way to do good ; desert the world and its frivolities, 
 and join those who are striving to lead sinners to 
 the light. Good night." 
 
 " Good night, Sam; good night, Mr. Marlowe," 
 Dolly said cheerily, offering her hand to each. 
 
 Both murmured a " good night," in return— each 
 feeling he was especially favored. And the mem- 
 ory of the warm, fluttering fingers in his palm 
 accompanied each to his place of rest. 
 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 ON THB following Tuesday morning, three men 
 clad in rough-and-ready style, and wearing 
 soft hats and thick-soled, high-topped, lace shoes, 
 entered the drugstore; and the leader of the trio 
 asked for Dr. Barwood. Marlowe conducted them 
 to the rear room, where the grumpy physician w^as 
 poring over the pages of a small, calf-bound memo- 
 randum book. 
 
 The three disappeared within the private office, 
 carefully closing the door behind them. 
 
 But the transom was open ; and Ralph could not 
 avoid hearing a part of the animated conversation 
 that followed their entrance into Dr. Barwood's 
 presence. Such cabalistic expressions as — "good 
 for a hundred a day" — " best wildcatter yet" — 
 "pack her off and let her stand" — ^floated out to 
 him. 
 
 The young man glanced at his watch from time 
 to time, and fidgeted. At last he walked to the 
 back door and knocked upon it. In a moment all 
 was still within. 
 
 "Come," was the gruif invitation of Dr. Bar- 
 wood. 
 
 (173) 
 
174 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 Marlowe opened the door a little way and said: 
 
 "Doctor, the goods I ordered from the Baldy 
 Drug Company have not arrived. We are needing 
 them badly. Shall I send a telegram? " 
 
 " Yes." — Explosively. 
 
 "Will you look after things while I go to the 
 station? " 
 
 "Yes — yes!" — With candid impatience. — 
 " Leave the door open — and be off." 
 
 Ralph silently withdrew, followed by the scowls 
 of the oil men, whose confab with his employer he 
 had interrupted. 
 
 A few minutes later he stood with his head in 
 the ticket window of the station and his arms 
 spread out upon the projecting ledge — ^like a pris- 
 oner in the stocks — and said to the agent : 
 
 " Clark, I want to send a dispatch." 
 
 The operator silently tossed a pad of blanks upon 
 the shelf, still keeping up his manipulation of 
 the telegraphic instrument. Ralph hastily scrib- 
 bled away at his telegram. The sharp clicking 
 sound of the key alone broke the stillness. Then 
 of a sudden the shrill, vibratory screech of a loco- 
 motive smote upon their ears. Springing to his 
 feet and looking at his watch, Clark cried: 
 
 "There's the north-bound passenger, this min- 
 ute. She's on time, too — right to the tick of 
 the watch. By the way, Marlowe, this is the 
 date of the show at Malconta. They showed 
 at Marietta last night ; and they'll be up on this 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 175 
 
 train. We'll get a chance to peep at the pretty 
 girls maybe, anyhow," 
 
 And smirking and grimacing in a prankish man- 
 ner, the operator spread himself before the front 
 window and pressed his face to the smoked pane. 
 
 At the words of his companion, Ralph started 
 and paled slightly ; and the hand that held the tel- 
 egram trembled. 
 
 "Here!" he cried irritably. "Take this. I 
 must get back to the drugstore." 
 
 "Eh?" said Clark turning his head. "All 
 right. I'll send it as soon as the train's gone. 
 But you're not going to rush off and miss seeing 
 the pretty girls, are you ? " 
 
 Marlowe made no reply, but whirling around 
 made for the door. Just as he reached the place of 
 exit, however, he became aware of the thunderous 
 roar of the approaching train and the brazen clang 
 of the locomotive bell. 
 
 "Too late," he muttered angrily; and shrank 
 into a shadowy, corner of the waiting room. 
 
 There he made a pretense of studying a dusty 
 map upon the wall. Several persons were in the 
 room, waiting to take the train, but they gave no 
 heed to his actions. The breathing, snorting de- 
 mon of wood and iron rolled up to the|^tation and 
 came to a stop. The waiting passengers hurried 
 from the room and mingled with the surging crowd 
 upon the platform. 
 
 Ralph heard the babel of voices, the rumble of 
 trucks, and the bump of heavy baggage. He was 
 
176 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 alone; but he shivered and glanced apprehensively 
 around. Then some irresistible curiosity drew him 
 toward the doorway. Slowly, reluctantly, he ap- 
 proached the exit. With bated breath he shielded 
 his body behind the swinging door and peeped out. 
 He could see nothing but the engine and baggage 
 car. Farther and farther he extruded his head, 
 until the whole train lay within the plane of his 
 vision. One particular car attracted his attention 
 — and held it. He saw not the bustling throng; 
 heard not the confused murmur of many voices. 
 Ravenously his eyes devoured the gaudy lettering 
 upon the blue-and-gold rolling palace. His dry 
 lips moved as he read : 
 
 THE CIDER AND THE PIE 
 FARCE-COMEDY COMPANY 
 
 A WARM NUMBER 
 
 Fi.xrMP Forms ' : : Fkettt Facbs 
 
 A CARNIVAL OF MUSIC. 
 DANCING, SINGING. JOL- 
 
 LITY AND LAUGHTER. 
 
 Splendid Cos-miBS : : Sfecux Sceheky 
 
 Of a sudden he started and caught his breath 
 spasmodiceAly, his gaze immovably fixed upon a 
 dark, piquant face that had appeared at one of the 
 windows of the blue-and-gold car. 
 
 "It is she! " he panted, drawing back and shudr 
 dering. 
 
 " Thank God ! She did not see me." 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 177 
 
 Again he peered forth cautiously. The train 
 was starting; the people were deserting the plat- 
 form ; the pretty face was no longer at the window 
 of the blue-and-gold car. He fetched a sigh of re- 
 lief, and retreating from the door, dropped upon 
 the bench running along the side wall. 
 
 He had not observed a lithe, well-dressed young 
 man, who had stood in the rear door of the show 
 car as it rolled by, and stared unblinkingly at the 
 station building. 
 
 Marlowe forgot where he was ; and wringing his 
 hands moaned softly to himself: 
 
 " It was she — Stella. My God! The disgrace — 
 the awf ulness of it ! I ran a fearful risk in looking 
 out; but she did not see me. I could not help it, 
 though — something impelled me. Why have they 
 come into this part of the country — Why was I at 
 the station ? Fate — blind fate ! What risk — What 
 danger! But 1 it is past — thank heaven! " 
 
 Slowly he arose and started to leave the room. 
 Blindly he groped toward the door, staggering as 
 he went. His face was drawn ; his lips w^ere 
 bloodless. Clark's voice aroused him to a sense of 
 his surroundings. 
 
 "You here yet, old fellow? " the agent called 
 through the ticket window. "I thought you left 
 long ago." 
 
 With a mighty effort Ralph pulled himself to- 
 gether and managed to articulate : 
 
 " I am just going; I waited to see the train." 
 
 13 
 
178 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 "You didi did you?" Clark laughed. "I 
 thought you'd wait to see the pretty girls. But 
 say! You look like you'd seen a trainload of 
 ghosts. You look like a dead man. What's the 
 matter with you — Are you sick ? ' ' 
 
 " I am not feeling well," Ralph muttered chok- 
 ingly as he passed through the door. 
 
 The operator craned his neck through the nar- 
 row window and gazed after Marlowe's retreating 
 form, muttering: 
 
 " Now what's the matter with that fellow? 
 He's all broke up about something — ^and that some- 
 thing's connected with that show. I wonder if the 
 little woman who peeped out of the window of the 
 show car had anything to do with his uncanny 
 looks. Jinks! She was a beauty. I only saw the 
 one. The others kept as close as nuns in a convent. 
 There's a mystery about the thing. Ralph Mar- 
 lowe knows more about that show than he tells — or 
 means to tell. I don't care, though ; he's a royal 
 good fellow. I'd swear by ^«z«." 
 
 And mumbling and shaking his head, he returned 
 to his work. 
 
 Marlowe made his way back ' to the drugstore, 
 his nerves racked and tingling, his self-possession 
 gone. He found Dr. Barwood alone and impa- 
 tiently pacing up and down the long front room. 
 
 " I'm delayed on account of your absence," the 
 physician grumbled. ' ' I ought to have been off to 
 the country a half hour ago. What kept you so 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 179 
 
 long? Did you wait to send a message to some of 
 your capitalist friends in the city, that we are strik- 
 ing oil in paying quantities, down here? " 
 
 Dr, Barwood's gruifness was assumed; and he 
 meant his last question for a joke. At any other 
 time Ralph would have recognized it as such, and 
 would have returned a facetious reply. But now 
 he was not himself. He was unstrung; every sen- 
 sory filament was protruding and vibrating. He 
 became furiously angry at the fancied insult. With 
 flushed face and quavering voice he demanded : 
 
 "What do you mean. Dr. Bar wood?" 
 
 "Mean? " echoed the older man. 
 
 "Yes. What do you mean by your insulting 
 question? " 
 
 It was the doctor's turn to grow angry — no diffi- 
 cult thing for him to do. 
 
 " You understand the English language," he 
 growled. " Interpret my question to suit yourself." 
 
 In a moment Marlowe was coldly calm — his 
 features pale and rigid, a baleful light in his brown 
 eyes. 
 
 "Am I to understand that you mean what your 
 words imply? " he asked icily. 
 
 " I am not in the habit of saying what I do not 
 mean," was the perverse reply. 
 
 "And you mean to impugn my honor — to insinu- 
 ate that I am a sneak, who chancing to overhear a 
 private conversation forthwith uses it to his own 
 advantage ? ' ' 
 
 The doctor grinned maliciously but said nothing. 
 
i8o RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 An unbiased observer would have said the medical 
 man was enjoying the tilt. His sneering expres- 
 sion, his silence, so exasperated Ralph that the 
 young man quivered with suppressed rage. 
 
 "Here are your keys," he hissed, jerking the 
 bunch from his pocket and tossing it upon the 
 counter. 
 
 Dr. Barwood started. Instantly his manner and 
 attitude underwent a change. The mocking smile 
 left his face; and a look of deep gravity was there 
 in its stead. Drawing himself up dignifiedly, he 
 said : 
 
 " /do not want the keys. Keep them; you will 
 need them. I am going to the country." 
 
 "There — are — ^your — keys," Ralph repeated 
 slowly pointing toward the bunch. 
 
 " You are going to quit my service? " 
 
 "lam." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 "Now." 
 
 " For what cause? " 
 
 " Because you have basely insulted me. Dr. Bar- 
 wood. You have called my honor in question. 
 Were you a younger man, I would demand an apol- 
 ogy." 
 
 " If you should — and I should refuse? " 
 
 " I would administer the personal chastisement 
 you deserve," Ralph cried fiercely. 
 
 "Do you think you could?" — With twitching 
 features and the merest semblance of. a smile. 
 
 "I-6«owIcould! " 
 
RALPH MARLOWE i8i 
 
 And the young man sprang forward menacingly, 
 his hands clenched. 
 
 Dr. Barwood calmly stood his ground and fear- 
 lessly faced his enraged employee. Their eyes met 
 — the one pair gleaming savagely, the other pair 
 expressing mute surprise mingled with repentant 
 grief. Marlowe was instantly disarmed; and his 
 hands dropped to his sides. Retreating a step he 
 leaned heavily against the counter, trembling and 
 panting. 
 
 Advancing, Dr. Barwood affectionately laid a 
 hand upon his companion's shoulder and said : 
 
 "Ralph, my boy, we are much alike — both too 
 prone to outbursts of unrighteous anger. I wish to 
 apologize for hurting your feelings ; though I meant 
 my question as a joke. I will not attempt to excuse 
 myself, however; I should not have asked it at all. 
 I sometimes say cutting, brutal things for which I 
 am sorry a moment afterward. It is a bad habit — 
 I wish I could break myself of it. There " — Smiling 
 sadly — ' ' you have the apology you had a right to 
 demand, that I had no right to withhold. But you 
 do not know what an effort it has cost me to offer 
 it. It is a new experience to me. Will you accept 
 my apology and take my hand? " 
 
 " Gladly," Marlowe murmured almost inaudibly, 
 his eyes downcast. " I am heartily ashamed of my 
 hot-headedness, doctor. But t was disturbed when 
 I came in ; I was not myself. I trust you w^ill 
 pardon me. But I thought you meant to insinuate. 
 that I had purposely played eavesdropper " 
 
i82 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 " Had I thought so meanly of you," the older 
 man interrupted, "I would have asked you no 
 questions. I would have discharged you without 
 any ado. In all kindness I desire to say one thing, 
 however. Your threat to do me bodily harm was 
 unworthy of you. You are a trained athlete — I am 
 not blind to that fact — while I am an old man, 
 w^hose sinews are stiffened by exposure and hard 
 usage. There was a day — ^years ago — when your 
 purposed task would not have been an easy one. 
 And even yet — but pshaw!" — Laughing. — "We 
 are not pugilists; we are men — and friends. We 
 understand each other — and I will say this : In the 
 short time I have known you, I have learned to like 
 and admire you very much. Take me as I am — 
 not as I appear at times — and perhaps you may 
 learn to tolerate me, at least." 
 
 There was a ring of pitiful pleading — a reaching 
 out after love and sympathy — in the physician's 
 voice, that was touching. Ralph was strangely 
 moved by it, so much so that he cried : 
 
 " I do not have to learn to tolerate you. Dr. Bar- 
 wood — to like you even. I have learned the lesson 
 already — and it has not been a hard one." 
 
 "Then I need not take back my keys?" — His 
 black eyes suffused with moisture, yet twinkling 
 humorously. 
 
 "No, doctor." 
 
 "All right. Help me to gather up my things, 
 please. I must be going." 
 
 As the older man bustled around, getting ready 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 183 
 
 to depart, he whistled softly to himself. At the 
 door he turned and said: 
 
 "You sent the telegram to the Baldy Drug 
 Company ? ' ' 
 
 "I did," Ralph replied. 
 
 "Say?" 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "Don't you wish to invest some money in the 
 oil business? " 
 
 " I have none to invest," was the frank reply. 
 
 " Well " — Stroking his thin beard meditatively— 
 " that difficulty's easily overcome. I'll invest five 
 hundred dollars for you." 
 
 Ere Marlowe could speak the objection that rose 
 to his lips, the doctor had closed the door and trot- 
 ted down the steps. 
 
 With a sigh Ralph dropped into a chair and 
 buried his face in his hands. There he sat ponder- 
 ing over the exciting events of the morning. At 
 the end of a half hour Tucker came slouching in ; 
 and remarking the young man's attitude of dejec- 
 tion, drawled: 
 
 "In the dumps ag'in, hey? You're settin' 
 humped over there like a rabbit in a patch o' dead 
 dog fennel. But ther'll be somethin' happen here 
 next Saturday night, that'll stir you up an' put 
 you on y'r nettle. I guess it's next Saturday night. 
 It's the night o' the twenty-fourth, anyhow. Le's 
 see — ^yes, this is the twentieth; it'll be next Satur- 
 day night. If you don't git waked up 'fore that 
 time, you'll git waked up then — an' no mistake-'' 
 
1 84 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 Ralph lifted his head and asked with as much 
 interest as he could evince : 
 
 " What's going to happen, Jep? " 
 
 " Hain't you heerd? " — Incredulously. 
 
 " No. Or I would not have asked." 
 
 " W'y, ther's goin' to be the riproarin'est big 
 Republican meetin' held here next Saturday night, 
 that's been held in these parts since Adam's ofiF 'ox 
 was a yearlin'. The bills is up all over town. A 
 feller come down from Malconta an' put 'em up 
 this mornin'. I'll show you one of 'em. The 
 chap give it to me, fer lettin' him paste one on the 
 ol' doc's barn door." 
 
 Tucker jabbed his clumsy 'fingers into the in- 
 side pocket of his ragged jeans coat, and spasmodi- 
 cally fumbled about, all the time keeping up a 
 running fire of talk. 
 
 " What's become o' that blame thing, anyhow? " 
 he grumbled. " I put it in here — I know that. 
 W'y great Josephus's almanac ! Here's a hole in 
 here that a shock o' corn fodder could go through. 
 The ol' woman don't somehow seem to keep my 
 duds in order no more. Oh! Here it is — way 
 down in the linin' , two 'r three degrees from the 
 south pole. It must be as bashful as I am mysglf — 
 hidin' from human sight that way. Aha ! Now 
 I've got it." 
 
 With these words he drew forth a folded paper, 
 shook from it the accumulated lint and crumbs of 
 tobacco, and gingerly spread it upon his knee. It 
 was a flaming poster ; and announced the fact that 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 185 
 
 the Honorable Jay B. Tenacre would address the cit- 
 izens of Babylon and vicinity on the evening of the 
 twenty-fourth of October, upon the momentous 
 issues of the campaign. All this was displayed in 
 bold, full-faced type. More modestly — but just as 
 clearly — it was set forth that the Honorable Jay B. 
 would be accompanied by the Malconta Band and 
 McKinley Guards, three hundred strong; and that 
 the Foxtown Glee Club was expected to be in at- 
 tendance. In still smaller type — as though the 
 parties who had taken it upon themselves to give 
 forth the information were uncertain of the truth 
 or propriety of their statement — it was asserted 
 that excursion rates would prevail on all trains 
 and boats. From the signatures printed at the bot- 
 tom, it appeared that General L. T. Green and 
 Major D. C. Waller — chairman and secretary, re- 
 spectively, of the county executive committee — 
 stood sponsor for this remarkable bundle of infor- 
 mation. And last — and least in this case — down 
 in an obscure corner were the words — ' ' Herald 
 Job Print." 
 
 " I'll read it to you," Jep volunteered. 
 
 And without waiting for his victim to raise a 
 point of order, he began, running his blunt fore- 
 finger along the lines in slow succession, and labori- 
 ously and dilatorily enunciating one word after an- 
 other — mispronouncing about three out of five. 
 Several times he stalled and choked down upon 
 some polysyllabic monstrosity ; but each time — just 
 as his auditor hoped the difficulty was insurmount- 
 
l86 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 able and the end had come — he mumblingly climbed 
 over the obstacle and dragged himself forward, 
 
 "There!" he exclaimed triumphantly, when at 
 last the agony was over. " Now you know all 
 about it. An' there'll be a big time — no doubt 
 about that. In the first place, that feller Tenacre 
 is a bully good speaker. He's what some folks calls 
 an orator. Ever hear him.' You say you have? 
 Then you know 'bout as much 'bout him as I do— 7" 
 never did. Then in the second place the Foxtown 
 Glee Club's cojnin' in, and they'll bring a crowd 
 with 'em — horsHback an' in wagons. An' word's 
 been sent out to Quakerville ; and they won't miss 
 it, you bet. They're all Republicans out there. 
 There won't be less 'n eight 'r ten thousan' people 
 in town that night, I'll wager." 
 
 " That's more people than there is in the county, 
 isn't it, Jep ? ' ' Ralph said, laughing at the fel- 
 low's enthusiasm. 
 
 " Darned if / know," Jep admitted with a gri- 
 mace. 
 
 Then he went on : 
 
 "We're goin' to have marchin' an' music, an' 
 speakin' an' cheerin', an' fireworks, an' a big bon- 
 fire. Then we've talked it over — I'm a member o' 
 the township committee, you understand — an' 
 we're goin' to git out the ol' brass cannon that's 
 laid down in the ol' coopershop on the river bank, 
 covered over with shavin's, fer the last twenty-five 
 years, an' fire a salute when the boat comes in with 
 the McKinley Guards on," 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 187 
 
 "You say the cannon has not been fired for 
 twenty-five years? " Marlowe inquired. 
 
 "That's what I said — an' it may be longer 'n 
 that. You see that partic'lar piece of artilery has 
 a history." — And Jep expanded with the impor- 
 tance of his communication. — " Ol' Ed O'Neil 
 brought it here from 'way down south some'rs — 
 sometime 'fore the war. He was an Irishman— an' 
 an ol' Jacksonian Democrat. It was him I told 
 you 'bout; said he wouldn't scratch his ticket to 
 save Christ from the cross. 
 
 " He used to run a tradin' boat from this river to 
 New Orle'ns; an' on one trip he brought back this 
 cannon. He said him an' his crew tackled a pirate 
 ship at the mouth o' the Mississippi an' sunk it ; 
 an' that he jest brung the cannon along to prove 
 his story. 
 
 " But lawzee! He was such an ol' liar nobody 
 could b'lieve a word he said. Wy that ol' codger 
 'd ruther tell a lie on ninety days credit than the 
 truth fer cash, any time. He was a reg'lar ol' 
 pirate hisself ; didn't b'lieve in nothin' but drinkin', 
 an' gamblin', an' such like. Used to say that to- 
 backer was the staff o' life, an' whisky was life 
 itself. An' I've seen him stand up to the bar an' 
 down a half pint o' raw liquor, an' never take a 
 drop o' water 'r bat an eye. When he'd see fel- 
 lers takin' water with the'r liquor, he'd cuss an' 
 ask 'em what they meant by buildin' a fire an' then 
 drowndin' it out. He said he was an ol' thorough- 
 bred — an' I guess he was. 
 
1 88 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 "His pardner in the tradin' boat business was a 
 man named Mulrain. He had folks livin' out 'bout 
 Chapel Ridge — nigh the Perry County line; an' 
 when he died they took him out there to bury him. 
 or Ed went along — an' rode on the hearse with the 
 undertaker ; an' w'en the funer'l pr'cession was 
 passin' through Foxtown, one o' the storekeepers 
 come out to see it go 'long. An' knowin' ol' Ed, 
 he ups an' asks : 
 1 •" Who's dead, Mr. O'Neil? ' 
 
 " ' The man in the hearse,' answered Ed. An' on 
 they drove. 
 
 " But pshaw! I'm gittin' clean off 'n my subject 
 — as I alluz do. The only reason I wouldn't make 
 a good preacher is, I couldn't stick to the text. Well, 
 w'en O'Neil brought that cannon to Babylon, he 
 give it to the Democrats to use at the'r political 
 meetin's an' jollifications. It hadn't been here a 
 month till the Republicans up an' stold it from 'em. 
 Then the Democrats raised a crowd an' captured it 
 back; an' purty soon the Republicans stold itag'in. 
 An' so it went on fer years. Thar' has been more 
 bruised heads an' bloody noses over that ol' gun, 
 than you could shake a stick at. 
 
 " Finally the war broke out ; an' that put an end 
 to the quar'lin' fer a while. An' w'en Morgan's 
 Raiders come through, the first thing people thought 
 of was that ol' gun. I can remember all 'bout it. 
 First the news come that Morgan's men was goin' 
 to cross the river at this place; an' everybody was 
 skeeredto death. Then Jim Rush an' another feller 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 189 
 
 went out toward Deavertown, an' learnt that the 
 rebels was goin' to cross at Eagleport, above here. 
 
 " Sayl " — Chuckling explosively. — "You ort to 
 'ave seen Rush when he brought the news here. 
 He was a tall, ganglin' chap — an' set a hoss like a 
 clo'espin sets a line — an' w'en he come ridin' in 
 that mornin' he was a sight. He had lost his hat 
 — an' his brains under it, fer that matter — an' was 
 skeered plumb into a coniption fit. He said, as 
 soon as he could git breath to talk, that Morgan 
 would try to ford the river jest below the Eagle- 
 port dam, that afternoon; an' advised that we 
 send the women an' children to the hills, hide our 
 bosses, raise a company, an' go up an' head the 
 rebels off. Some people — an' they was the sensi- 
 ble ones — thought we'd jest better let 'em cross 
 an' be gone; but others was in favor of Rush's 
 projeck. The upshot o' the matter was that the 
 men gethered up the'r guns an' axes, loaded the ol' 
 cannon on the steam ferryboat, an' set off up the 
 river. 
 
 " On the way up they charged the ol' piece with 
 a few pounds o' blastin' powder, an' rammed 'er 
 full to the muzzle with pieces o' logchain, king- 
 bolts, an' other pieces o' scrap iron. Then they 
 stood back an' laughed the'rselves 'most sick, 
 thinkin' how they'd mow down them rebels an' 
 send 'em to kingdom come. 
 
 " But when they got up to Eagleport — lo an' 
 behold you ! Morgan an' his men had crossed the 
 river a'ready — an' was gone. So ther' was nothin' 
 
I go RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 to do but turn 'round an' come back. That they 
 done, growlin' an' threat'nin' what they'd 'ave 
 done, if they'd got there in time, 
 
 " When they got in sight o' town comin' back, 
 some one says : 
 
 " ' Le's shoot off the cannon an' let the women 
 folks know we're all safe an' sound.' 
 
 " Well, sir, they put a match to the touch hole. 
 An' what do you s'pose that ol' rip of a cannon 
 done?" 
 
 Tucker paused for a reply. 
 
 " Failed to go off," Ralph ventured. 
 
 Jep shook his head. 
 
 "It didn't explode, of course," Marlowe said; 
 " or you wouldn't be considering the advisability 
 of using it at your political meeting." 
 
 " No, it didn't explode," Jep explained; "an' it 
 went off all right enough — but not hard enough to 
 shake the flies off 'n it, 'r wake up Ben Mason that 
 laid drunk 'long side of it. It jest give a kind of 
 a ' poof,' an' dribbled scrap iron all over the apron 
 o' the ferryboat. They hadn't put in enough 
 powder to load a good-sized popgun." 
 
 He stopped and looked quizzically at his auditor, 
 as though expecting him to say something. 
 
 " And you are going to use this same cannon to 
 fire a salute, next Saturday night," Marlowe re- 
 marked. 
 
 " Yes, an' we'll load 'er heavy enough this time 
 — you jest bet y'r bottom dollar! We'll wake the 
 ol' town up fer once. By the way, some o' the 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 191 
 
 Democrats is sayin' a'ready — not the smart kind 
 like you, but them that hain't got sense enough to 
 know when they're hungry — ^that we shan't use 
 the gun. They say they'll be out in a body, an' 
 pr'vent us. If they try that, ther'll be a ruction 
 sure. But I mustn't set here gassin' no longer; 
 I've got work to do out to the bam." 
 
 He arose and sauntered forth, humming through 
 his nose : 
 
 "Open the winder — do love, do! 
 An' listen to the music I'm playin' fer you; 
 Whisper'n's o' love so soft an' so low 
 Harmonize a voice with the ol' ban-/o." 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 'T'he ensuing three days passed uneventfully. 
 , ^ Saturday, the date of the Republican grand 
 rally, dawned murky and dismal. A pitiless, fitful 
 drizzle followed the fickle wind in its provoking 
 seesaw from one point of the compass to another ; 
 and but few persons ventured abroad. Republicans 
 were glum; Democrats were jubilant. The latter 
 winked at one another and smiled broadly — wick- 
 edly. 
 
 By noon, however, the rain had ceased ; the skies 
 had oartially cleared. Catching occasional glimpses 
 of the sun through the rifted clouds, the Republi- 
 can leaders took heart and commenced in earnest 
 to decorate their houses and places of business, in 
 honor of the occasion. Columns and fronts were 
 soon swathed in yards of bunting ; and windows 
 and doorways were decorated with flags — flags by 
 the score and the hundred, and of all shapes and 
 sizes. A speaker's stand was erected in front of 
 the post-office; and, as a crowning glory to the 
 whole, an immense arch of evergreens and bunting 
 spanned the street, near the hotel. 
 
 By mid-afternoon the country people began to 
 drift in ; and the town took on a holiday appear- 
 ance. The great pyramid of boxes and barrels, at 
 the intersection of the streets near McDevitt's 
 (193) 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 193 
 
 store, awaited the torch ; and the old brass cannon 
 had been removed from its hiding place in the 
 coopershop near the river, and transferred to a va- 
 cant lot back of the livery stable. There, securely- 
 chained to a pile of heavy timbers, it rested— care- 
 fully guarded and ready to do the bidding of its 
 temporary possessors. 
 
 A short time after the removal of the old smooth 
 bore to the spot mentioned, Hugh McDevitt and a 
 number of other young Democrats called upon 
 Marlowe, at the drugstore. 
 
 " Look here, Marlowe," the leader of the party 
 said. ' ' It's reported that you are a Democrat. 
 How about it? " 
 
 " Guilty," Ralph answered smilingly. 
 
 " Then we want you to help us." 
 
 "To help you?" — In feigned surprise. He 
 knew well what was coming. 
 
 "Yes, to help us — ^to be our captain, in fact. 
 It's like this : There's an old brass cannon in 
 town that has been a bone of contention between 
 Republicans and Democrats for years. For the 
 last decade or two — by tacit consent of both 
 parties — it has lain unused, in the old coopershop 
 by the river. But today the Republicans have 
 dragged it out, and mean to use it tonight, to 
 herald the arrival of the boat bringing their speaker 
 and the Malconta Guards. The gun really belongs 
 to our party ; Captain O'Neil — as he was called — 
 brought it from the south and gave it to us. To 
 cut a long story short, we intend to keep the 
 13 
 
194 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 Republicans from using it on this occasion, either by 
 spiking it or dragging it to the river and sinking 
 it. And we've come to solicit your advice and 
 help. What do you gay? " 
 
 " I would say," Marlowe answered mildly but 
 firmly, " that so far as your proposed enterprise is 
 concerned, I am ready to give you advice — ^but not 
 help." 
 
 " You are not in favor of the scheme, then? " 
 
 " I am not." 
 
 "May I ask why? " — ^Rather coldly. 
 
 "My reason for opposing it is simply this: It 
 would get us into trouble, bring us and our party 
 into disrepute, and accomplish no good. The day 
 for such escapades is gone by. We should come 
 out of the fray with broken heads, perhaps; and 
 with battered reputations. People do not look 
 upon such things as once they did. The Demo- 
 crats of Babylon would be accused of political in- 
 tolerance ; and the accusation would live to torment 
 us in future campaigns." 
 
 "You may be right," McDevitt muttered, medi- 
 tatively shaking his head. "We counted upon 
 your help ; but if you feel that way about the mat- 
 ter, perhaps it would be well to let it drop. What 
 do you say, boys ? ' ' — Turning to his associates. 
 
 A few expressed their willingness to abandon the 
 project ; but the others openly dissented and went 
 out grumbling. 
 
 "I don't know yet what we'll do," McDevitt, 
 standing with his hand upon the knob of the door, 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 195 
 
 called back to Ralph. "You'd better have splints 
 and bandages in readiness, though." 
 
 And with a careless laugh he sprang down the 
 steps, after his companions. 
 
 The short afternoon waned ; and night was at 
 hand. A dense white fog arose from the river and 
 tributary streams, filling the valley to the hilltops 
 — a milk-white blanket that saturated everything it 
 touched and muffled all sounds near and far. But 
 the main street of Babylon was a blaze of light. 
 Lamps and lanterns vied with one another in dis- 
 pelling the enveloping gloom. The pyramid of 
 boxes and barrels at the intersection of the streets, 
 at the touch of a torch turned to a pyramid of fire. 
 The flames crackled, leaped, and swayed ; the blue- 
 black smoke eddied and gyrated. Crowds surged 
 along the thoroughfare. A babel of human cries 
 and shouts and laughter mingled with the yelps of 
 scurrying curs and the vibrant, rasping notes of nu- 
 merous tin horns. The muffled shuffle and tramp of 
 human feet accentuated the pandemonium produced 
 by rattling, rumbling vehicles and neighing horses. 
 
 Saloon doors stood wide open ; and beer stood in 
 puddles upon the bar-room floors. Squads of 
 drunken men rolled along the streets, talking, argu- 
 ing, and gesticulating. The fearless small boy and 
 the festive firecracker were in evidence at every 
 corner ; and loaded canes in the hands of reckless 
 youngsters abetted the combination, in filling the 
 night with uproar and the hearts of the timid with 
 dread. 
 
196 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 Presently the joyful shout arose : 
 
 "The Foxtown Glee Club! Out of the way! 
 Here comes the Foxtown Glee Club! " 
 
 The cry began in the vicinity of the drugstore ; 
 and was repeated and echoed from there to the 
 river. The throng parted to right and left. Shouts 
 and cheers arose on every hand. Drawn by four 
 gray horses resplendent with gay cockades and 
 strings of bells and buckeyes, the great chariot or 
 band wagon rolled swiftly down the main street. 
 Its swan-shaped body of green and gold was fes- 
 tooned with bunting and draped with flags. High 
 in front sat the negro driver, the lines wrapped 
 around his hands, a look of supreme importance 
 upon his black face. High in the rear was perched 
 a chubby cross-eyed man, his fat fingers fondly 
 embracing two pairs of shining ebony bones. And 
 in the hollow between these two prominent indi- 
 viduals, nestled the other members of the club. 
 
 The swarm followed pellmell in the train of the 
 gorgeous vehicle. Women and children screamed 
 ecstatically ; men and boys tossed their hats in the 
 air and yelled lustily. The black driver majestically 
 drew his team up in front of the hotel, and tight- 
 ening the lines over the backs of his, prancing 
 steeds brought them to a sudden stop. The excited 
 people surged around the wagon and its occupants; 
 the patrons of the bar poured out to swell the 
 multitude. 
 
 " A song — give us a song! " some one shouted in 
 a stentorian VQiC9, 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 197 
 
 "A song! — A song! — Give us a song!" was 
 the thunderous echo on all sides. 
 
 The leader of the club slowly arose and digni- 
 fiedly waved his baton. A silence — broken only 
 , by the low buzz of whispered conversation on the 
 outskirts of the crowd, a rippling, irrepressible 
 girlish giggle, or the spiteful little voice of an ex- 
 ploding firecracker — ensued. The leader whispered 
 a few words to his band. There was the prelimi- 
 nary " plunk- plunk, tum-tum " of tuning ban- 
 jos and violins, and the impressive clearing of 
 vocal organs. Then came the overture — the inde- 
 scribable wail ' and shriek of string and wind 
 instruments- — and the song was on. 
 
 It was an enlivening, electrifying campaign 
 rattle — a nonsense medley, with a quick and catchy 
 air. The leader of the club threw^ back his head, 
 and in a clear, mellow baritone voice sang the first 
 stanza, the banjoists and violinists softly accom- 
 panying him. Then all the voices and instruments 
 joined in the chorus — until the fog-laden air vi- 
 brated and tingled with the melody. 
 
 The words ran: 
 
 " Uncle Sammy had a boj, had a boy, had a boy — 
 Uncle Sammy had a boy, and Bryan was his name; 
 Bill McKinley blacked his eye, blacked his eye, blacked 
 his eye — 
 Bill McKinley blacked his eye, for fighting he was 
 game. 
 
 CHORUS : 
 
 Ah — dee ! Ah — di ! With a bum — ging — ging, etc." 
 
198 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 As the chorus proceeded, the chubby player of 
 the "bones" indulged in numerous grimaces and 
 contortions for the amusement and admiration of 
 the delighted populace, finally rising to his feet — 
 upon his lofty perch — and clicking off a clog to the 
 music. 
 
 At the conclusion of the first stanza, the audience 
 broke into cheers and roars of laughter. Quickly, 
 however, they checked themselves and breathlessly 
 awaited the second stanza. It followed immedi- 
 ately — the leader of the club indulging in a bit of 
 stage craft, to enhance the effect of words and 
 music. Plucking a large flag from its socket in 
 the driver's seat, he waved it above his head and 
 sang : 
 
 "These are the colors we march under, we march 
 under, we march under — 
 
 These are the colors we march under — long sum- 
 mer day ! 
 
 Hurrah for McKinley! Give 'em thunder, give 'em 
 thunder, give 'em thunder ! 
 
 Hurrah for McKinley ! Give 'em thunder ! Hip ! 
 Hip ! Hurray ! " 
 
 The effect produced was magical — wonderful. 
 His auditors went wild. They cheered, they 
 yelled, they roared. Tipsy men embraced each 
 other, maudlin tears trickling down their cheeks ; 
 women laughed hysterically and wrung one an- 
 other's hands. Staid citizens slapped one another 
 upon the back, and swore it was the best thing 
 they ever heard. Such a hubbub had never been 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 199 
 
 heard in Babylon ; such a sight had never been 
 witnessed in the sleepy little town. 
 
 Just as the uproar was at its height, a hatless, 
 coatless young man — his suspenders broken, his 
 face smeared with blood — rushed into the jam, 
 elbowed people right and left, and mounting the 
 hotel steps shouted in a voice that rose loud and 
 clear above the tumult : 
 
 " The Democrats are trying to spike our cannon ! 
 Come, a lot of you fellows, and help us ! " 
 
 The light from a swinging lantern fell full upon 
 his blood-stained features, as he stood there panting 
 and gesticulating. At the sight women caught 
 their breaths gaspingly ; and children screamed. 
 
 The young man did not tarry; but springing 
 down the steps, two at a bound, set off for the 
 scene of conflict, closely followed by a score or two 
 of lusty comrades. 
 
 The leader of the Foxtown Glee Club began the 
 third stanza of his song. His voice quieted the 
 din — but not for long. For rising above all other 
 sounds, came the rich, resonant notes of a steam- 
 boat whistle. 
 
 "There she comes! The boat — the boat ! To 
 the river ! " were the cries that greeted the wel- 
 come blast. 
 
 And forgetting their erstwhile idols, the natives 
 hurried off to greet the stranger gods that were 
 approaching their shores. 
 
 "Let's drive around to the livery stable and put 
 up our team," said the leader of the Glee Club, 
 
200 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 smiling pessimistically. "They'll have no further 
 use for us till the procession breaks ranks and the 
 speech is ready to begin. In the meantime, 
 we'll see if we can't find something to wet our 
 whistles." 
 
 The driver cracked his whip; and the chariot 
 rolled around the corner, into a cross street. 
 "Tramp, tramp!" went the hundreds of feet, 
 down the grade toward the wharf. 
 
 " I hear her puffin' ! " a youngster yelled lustily. 
 
 "An' I see 'er lights dancin' in the water,'' 
 triumphantly announced another, himself dancing 
 up and down on the extreme outer edge of the 
 wooden dock. 
 
 "No, you don't," sneered his companion. " Them 
 lights is shinin' from the back winders in Gridley's 
 store. She hain't turned the bend yit." 
 
 "Yes, she has. There— there ! See that? That 
 light was the fireman openin' an' shuttin' the 
 furnace doors. Here she comes ! Hurrah ! " 
 
 He was right, too. 
 
 "Ding! ding! ding!" clanged the great bell 
 upon the hurricane deck. 
 
 Then the sharp, vicious hiss of a rocket was 
 heard ; and an arc of fire cut athwart the blackness 
 overhanging the approaching steamer. Another 
 rocket and another quickly followed the first, pene- 
 trating the enveloping fog in all directions and 
 checkering the heavens with their flaming trails. 
 The excited multitude upon the shore howled their 
 delight. Answering cheers came from the boat. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 201 
 
 The steady strokes of her engines could be dis- 
 tinctly heard. 
 
 "Why don'tour fellows shoot off the cannon?" 
 was the question raised by some one. 
 
 "That's it — why don't they? " said another. 
 
 "Wouldn't wonder the Democrats had ," 
 
 a third began. 
 
 But he stopped suddenly in the middle of the 
 sentence and clapped his palms to his benumbed or- 
 gans of hearing. The old brass cannon had spoken 
 its welcome to the visiting host ; and had done it 
 in a voice that left no doubt of its sincerity. The 
 hoarse, thunderous roar shook earth and air, rattled 
 the glass in the windows, and stirred the placid 
 ocean of fog into tumbling billows. 
 
 "There ! She's spoke her little piece! " bellowed 
 a bull-necked countryman, as soon as the rumbling 
 6choes had died away. "An' she's spoke in favor 
 o' sound money an' pr'tection, too." 
 
 " That's it! You bet! " laughed those in his im- 
 mediate vicinity. 
 
 " 'Tisn't so — 'tisn't so!" an ardently partisan 
 schoolmiss screamed in reply. " The old cannon's 
 a bimetallist' — it's made of tin and copper. It be- 
 longs to us Democrats anyhow ; you Republicans 
 had to borrow it. Hurrah for Bryan and free 
 silver ! ' ' 
 
 And frantically waving her plaid cap and tossing 
 her jetty curls, she gave three cheers for her hero. 
 
 At that moment the boat, ploughing her way 
 through the dense fog, loomed up suddenly near at 
 hand. The grating of the swinging gangplank 
 
202 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 came to the ears of all. Then the band on the 
 forecastle struck up the '■'■Star Spangled Bantier." 
 And amid the clash and blare of brazen instru- 
 ments, the hiss of rockets and the pop and sputter 
 of Roman candles, the flare of torches and the glare 
 of furnace fires, the steamer rounded to and ap- 
 proached the landing. 
 
 The Malconta Guards — resplendent in oilcloth 
 caps and capes of gaudy hues, and bearing torches 
 inscribed with the motto : "An Honest Dollar " — 
 quickly disembarked and fell into marching order. 
 The band of fifteen pieces took its place at the 
 head of the column ; and two barouches containing 
 the speaker, the gentlemen who accompanied him, 
 and the members of the reception committee, 
 brought up the rear. On each side, packing the 
 sidewalks, surged the rabble. 
 
 "Attention, company! " bawled the doughty 
 commander of the guards, waving his sword and 
 frowning a military frown. "Forward — march! 
 Left, left, left ! " 
 
 A mischievous urchin complemented : 
 
 " Left foot, right foot ; 
 Hay foot, straw foot!" 
 
 At which everybody, including the guards them- 
 selves, laughed heartily. 
 
 To the inspiring strains of " Dixie " — at the rec- 
 ognition of which sundry Democrats nudged their 
 Republican friends and playfully accused them of 
 stealing the tune — ^the procession ascended the 
 grade, passed under the welcoming arch, and 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 203 
 
 reached the speaker's stand. There, after perform- 
 ing a few evolutions, the guards broke ranks. 
 
 The speaker and his escorts ascended the cano- 
 pied platform ; while the band huddled at its base, 
 continued to render a number of national airs. 
 Then the Glee Club again put in an appearance, 
 and treated the willing populace to several cam- 
 paign songs. When the latter organization had run 
 short of wind and music, the speaker of the occa- 
 sion was introduced by a member of the local com- 
 mittee ; and the serious business of the evening began. 
 
 Let us leave the ardent adherents of the cause of 
 sound money and protection, standing in the muck 
 of the street and listening patiently and stoically to 
 the words of eloquence — while shivering at the 
 touch of clinging fog — and look in upon Ralph 
 Marlowe at the drugstore. 
 
 Few customers had been in that evening; and 
 the young clerk had spent much time standing upon 
 the damp steps, viewing the animated scene. At 
 the close of the band concert he had retired to the 
 interior of the building; and now he sat alone, 
 drying his shoes by the fire and moodily dreaming; 
 
 A one-gallows urchin tiptoed into the room 
 and said breathlessly: 
 
 " Morris McDevitt wants you to send him a roll 
 o' stickin' — stickin' plaster, an' — an' some anarky. 
 He'll pay you for 'em some other time." 
 
 Ralph made no reply ; but smiling grimly, went 
 behind the counter, procured a two ounce bottle of 
 tincture of arnica and a roll of court-plaster, and 
 gave them to the lad — who hurriedly made his exit. 
 
204 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 Left alone the druggist muttered to himself : 
 
 "McDevitt wants 'anarchy,' eh? He and his 
 gang of young swashbucklers have attempted to 
 carry out their design of recovering that cannon ; 
 and have ignominiously failed., Well, it will prove 
 a lesson, I hope. I wonder that he sends for 
 ' anarchy,' however " — Again smiling. — " One 
 would suppose he had had enough." 
 
 A few minutes later Jep Tucker popped his head 
 in at the door ; and kept it there long enough to 
 say : 
 
 ' ' Didn't I tell you we was goin' to have the rip- 
 roarin'est time on record? An' we're havin' it. 
 Ev'rything's gone off lovely so far — even to the 
 cannon. But jeeminy ! We had a tussle over that 
 gun. Morris McDevitt an' some o' the other Dem- 
 ocrat boys come over to the lot an' said the gun 
 belonged to them; an' they was goin' to have it. 
 Of course us fellers didn't b'lieve them statements. 
 So we all got into a little argyment — an' argied 
 with tongues and claws both. Some on both sides 
 is kind o' chawed and scratched up ; but nobody is 
 bad hurt. Morris an' his fellers, w'en they found 
 we was too many fer 'em, took it all good-natured 
 and went away laughin'. We've loaded the ol' gun 
 up ag'in — clean to the muzzle ; an' we're goin' to 
 fire a s'lute w'en the boat leaves, that'll kill the fish 
 in the river an' jar the paint all off the buildin's. 
 Well, good-bye. I must be goin' ; I don't want to 
 miss no more o' that speech 'n I can help. I tell 
 you he's wakin' up the snakes an' callin' *em to 
 judgment — ^you better bet he is 1 " 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 205 
 
 Hardly had the delighted Jep withdrawn his 
 head, when Sam Clark entered the store, followed 
 by Dr. Barwood. 
 
 "Good evening, Marlowe," the little operator 
 said chirpingly — not aware that the owner of the 
 store had entered. 
 
 "Where've you been keeping yourself? I haven't 
 run across you since Tuesday. Don't you eat or 
 sleep nowadays — or have you found a new boarding 
 place ? " 
 
 "It happened that we did not meet at meals, 
 that is all," Ralph explained. "I have my rooms 
 partially furnished, and am occupying them. I do 
 not get my meals until you have eaten and gone to 
 the station, usually." 
 
 Then to his employer, who stood scowling at the 
 agent and uneasily shifting from one foot to the 
 other : 
 
 " Is there something you wish me to do, doctor? " 
 
 At the question Clark suddenly became cognizant 
 of Dr. Barwood's presence, and mumbled con- 
 fusedly : 
 
 " Good evening, doctor." 
 
 " Good evening," the physician grunted in reply. 
 
 Then he went on in answer to Marlowe's inter- 
 rogatory : 
 
 "Yes, Ralph, there is something I want you to 
 do. I want you to go out upon the street, hunt up 
 my daughters, and look after them. I am feeling 
 some twinges of rheumatism ; and do not care to be 
 out in the damp air. But I am concerned about 
 the girls ; the town is full of reckless, drunken 
 
2o6 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 rowdies tonight. I will stay here. Will you go? " 
 
 "Certainly, doctor." 
 
 " Very well. Please go at once." 
 
 And with a grimace, indicative of the pain he 
 was suffering, Dr. Barwood dropped into a chair 
 near the stove. 
 
 Marlowe donned overcoat and hat, and accom- 
 panied by his friend left the store. When they 
 were outside and the door had closed behind them, 
 Clark laughed : 
 
 "Surely you do stand in with the old doc. To 
 hear him calling you ' Ralph ' — as if you were his be- 
 loved son-in-law, already — ^and telling you to go 
 out and hunt up and protect the apples of his eye, 
 almost knocked me off my pins. Then, he even 
 condescended to speak to me — a thing he hasn't 
 done since we had a little difference of opinion 
 over a freight bill, some months ago. The old fel- 
 low's improving under your — Great Snakes! Mar- 
 lowe, look at that pair coming up the sidewalk, 
 there. It's Crawford and his crony — Brady, the 
 bridge-tender; and they're drunker than old Bacchus 
 ever was. Listen at 'em singing! Ha, ha, ha! " 
 
 The two young men stepped aside to give the 
 reeling bacchanals room to pass. Brady was 
 swinging his hat and vociferously hurrahing at 
 frequent intervals. Crawford was singing and 
 hiccoughing. The two walked with arms locked 
 and shoulders braced, swaying from side to side and 
 leaving a devious and tortuous trail of tracks and 
 rum-laden atmosphere behind them. 
 
 As the inebriates passed, Marlowe and Clark 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 207 
 
 caught the words of the song Crawford was sing- 
 ing. It ran : 
 
 " Once I was a pussy ol' landlord's pet, 
 An' I had money to spend; 
 But I spent it in drink, 
 An' did fairly think 
 It never would come to an end, 
 
 "But now I have nothin' but rags to my back. 
 An' my boots won't hide my toes; 
 While the rim o' my hat 
 Goes flippity-flap. 
 To keep the flies off o' my nose." 
 
 The two young men looked at one another in 
 silent disgust, for several seconds. Then Clark 
 muttered : 
 
 "Well, now, aren't they a pair of peaches! 
 They're enough to make a man ashamed of his 
 kind!" 
 
 Marlowe made no answer ; but taking his com- 
 panion's arm moved on down the street. 
 
 As they neared the post-ofEce they caught sight 
 of the speaker's stand lighted with lanterns and 
 torches, and the black njass of humanity in front 
 of it. The orator's clear, ringing utterances and 
 the approving cheers of his audience fell upon their 
 ears. Down a cross street, a squad of boys had 
 started a bonfire and were shooting firecrackers. 
 
 On reaching the outskirts of the crowd, Ralph 
 remarked : 
 
 " It will be a difficult task to find the young 
 women in this multitude. I want your assistance, 
 Clark. You go to the right; I will go to the left. 
 
2o8 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 If you run across them, tell them I am looking for 
 them, and conduct them to the strip of pavement 
 in front of the hardware store." 
 
 "AH right," Clark answered. 
 
 And the two parted. 
 
 Marlowe followed the left semicircular border 
 of the dense pack of people, edging in and out as 
 opportunity oilered and peering into the face of 
 every female figure he encountered. But he did 
 not find those he sought. At last he completed 
 the detour and reached a point near the foot of the 
 stand, where the band was stationed. There he 
 stopped and leaned against one of the supports of 
 the platform, undecided what to do next. 
 
 The Honorable J. B. Tenacre had closed his ar- 
 gument, and was treating his audience to a peror- 
 ation consisting of flights of fancy and oratory, of 
 which he alone was capable. The members of the 
 band were working the keys of their wind instru- 
 ments, and sorting out their parts, from a stack of 
 sheet music that lay upon the head of the bass 
 drum — ^all the while softly whispering among 
 themselves. 
 
 Of a sudden the squad of boys down the cross 
 street set off a giant cracker. The startling report 
 was followed by the snorts of frightened horses 
 and the rattle of chains. Then came a crash and 
 the rumble of a heavy vehicle. A farmer's team 
 tied at the blacksmith's shop had pulled down the 
 rack, and was galloping pell-mell toward the 
 crowded thoroughfare. 
 
 " Here comes a runaway team! Out of the way! 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 2og 
 
 Look out! " were the warning cries that rent the 
 damp night air. 
 
 Men turned pale and gasped for breath ; women 
 and children screamed frantically. Panic seized 
 upon the huddled multitude. The instinct of self- 
 preservation gained ascendency over every chival- 
 rous sentiment or desire. The concourse of 
 peaceful citizens became a frenzied mob — a mob 
 that surged this way and that and emitted hoarse 
 cries of rage and fear. Men forgot they were civ- 
 ilized human beings — and were selfish devils. 
 They howled like wild beasts and struggled and 
 fought to disentangle themselves from their fellows 
 — to escape the impending danger. 
 
 Barely had the team started ere it had been 
 stopped. But only those on the edge of the crowd 
 learned the fact, at the time. In vain the speaker 
 raised his voice, shouted that there was no danger 
 and begged the people to consider what they were 
 doing. His words fell upon deaf ears. 
 
 Ralph Marlowe took in the situation at once. 
 He realized that something must be done to allay 
 the mad fears of those irresponsible human beings, 
 to bring them to their senses, or dozens of them 
 would be trampled under foot and killed or injured. 
 With him, to think was to act. He was out of 
 the way of danger himself — he thought only of 
 others. Springing to the side of the leader of the 
 band, he cried in an agitated voice : 
 
 "Play something at once! Anything — any- 
 thing!" 
 
2IO RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 " Play ' Yankee Doodle,' boys! " the bandmaster 
 bellowed. " And play it like hell! " 
 
 And' they did play it — played it like all the imps 
 of the inferno had broken loose at once, and were 
 wailing and screeching their miseries and torments, 
 to an unregenerate world. But it had the desired 
 effect. Crazed men and frenzied women, who 
 felt themselves as good as dead, checked their mad 
 impulses and wondered if the danger were past — 
 or if the band were trying to render a dirge suit- 
 able to the catastrophe. 
 
 A few of the throng, however, were not so easily 
 controlled. Marlowe saw a wedge-shaped body of 
 men still fighting to extricate themselves from the 
 general mass. To right and left they shoved and 
 knocked all who barred their way. A young 
 woman attempted to get out of their path ; but 
 tripped and fell. In a moment they would have 
 been upon her ; but the young druggist leaped for- 
 ward and caught her up in his arms. 
 
 "Back!" he commanded sternly — fiercely, sup- 
 porting his limp burden upon his left arm and 
 essaying to retreat from his perilous position. 
 "Back, men! There is no danger! Would you 
 crush the life out of a helpless woman? Back, I 
 say! " 
 
 They gave no heed to his words. Swiftly they 
 pressed upon him and around him, giving him no 
 chance to turn and escape. A number of times he 
 was almost thrown from his feet, as he retreated 
 backward. The young woman had recovered suf- 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 211 
 
 ficiently to stand; but she clung tremulously yet 
 tenaciously to his arm. Her trusting touch — he 
 knew not why — aroused him to instant fury and 
 action. Once, twice, thrice his right fist shot out 
 from the shoulder; and as many of the ruthless, 
 wild-eyed maniacs went reeling back among their 
 fellows. For a moment the human avalanche was 
 checked. In the brief interval Marlowe threw his 
 arm around the young woman's waist and hurried 
 her to a place of safety, upon the pavement in 
 front of the hardware store. 
 
 The flying wedge, reaching open ground, broke 
 and scattered harmlessly. 
 
 Ralph bent and peered into the face of the woman 
 he had rescued. By the aid of the mellow lamp- 
 light streaming from the store w^indow, he dis- 
 cerned a fair young face framed by a mass of 
 tousled golden hair, and a pair of heavenly violet- 
 blue eyes looking into his own. 
 
 "Dolly! " he exclaimed involuntarily. 
 
 "Yes," her pale lips whispered falteringly. 
 " And you have saved my life, Mr. Marlowe. 
 How can I ever repay you? " 
 
 She was still clinging to him, trustingly — trem- 
 blingly. His heart beat rapturously, as he kept his 
 arm around her lissome form and steadied her. But 
 he answered brusquely : 
 
 "It was nothing. Probably you would have 
 escaped without my aid." 
 
 "You know better," she returned earnestly, her 
 mouth quivering like that of a grieved child. 
 
 There they stood, each silently gazing into the 
 
213 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 other's face. Unconsciously he pressed her to hi» 
 breast ; and she did not resist. The band had 
 ceased to play. The people had regained their 
 senses ; the speaker was closing his address. 
 
 "Oh, Dorothy! I have been searching every- 
 where for you." 
 
 It was Julia's voice; and she stood before them. 
 
 " In the rush of the crowd," Ralph explained 
 calmly, "your sister was thrown down. I was 
 near; and aided her to this place. But she is nerv- 
 ous and weak. I think we would better take her 
 to the drugstore. Your father is there; and anxious 
 about both of you. He sent me to look for you." 
 
 "Are you hurt, Dorothy? " Julia inquired, genu- 
 ine concern in her voice. 
 
 " No; I am upset, that is all," Dolly murmured 
 faintly. 
 
 Marlowe released his hold upon his fair charge. 
 But she tottered; and again he placed his arm 
 around her. 
 
 " Let us go," he said simply. 
 
 Up the sidewalk they went, Julia on the one side 
 of her sister and Ralph on the other. 
 
 The great political event was over; and the 
 crowd was dispersing. The Malconta Band, play- 
 ing a lively national air, was leading the way 
 toward the boat landing. Farmers were untying 
 their teams and tumbling into their lumbering ve- 
 hicles. Dogs were barking; horns were tooting. 
 The fierce, defiant staccato — " Hurrah for Bryan! " 
 was answered by the sepulchral groan — "Mc — 
 Kin — ley! Mc — Kin — ley!" Lights were disap- 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 213 
 
 pearing in stores and shops; empty torches were 
 winking — fading and dying. The damp air was 
 foul with the smell of burning oil and gunpowder. 
 
 Clark came upon Marlowe and the young women, 
 halfway between the post-ofHce and the drugstore. 
 
 " You found them, I see," he remarked to Ralph. 
 
 The latter nodded a reply. 
 
 "Well, you don't need any more of my help, I 
 guess. Good night. I've got to get down to the 
 station — telegrams to send." 
 
 And he was gone. 
 
 Dr. Barwood painfully arose and came forward 
 to meet the young people, as they entered the drug- 
 store. 
 
 "What's the matter?" he demanded, sharply 
 eying Marlowe, who was still half supporting 
 Dolly. 
 
 Ralph explained briefly, saying in conclusion : 
 
 " I think you would better give her a glass of 
 wine, doctor. She is suffering from nervous shock 
 — nothing more." 
 
 "No!" Julia cried in a tone of mild horror. 
 «' Don't give her that stuff! " 
 
 But her father went behind the counter, poured 
 out a glass of wine, and handed it to Dolly, saying: 
 
 "Drink this — all of it. Then get home and to 
 bed. You are completely upset ; you are shaking 
 like a leaf." 
 
 " Isn't there something else that will do as well 
 as an intoxicant? '* Julia protested. 
 
 "Don't be silly, child," the father said sternly. 
 "I have a little sense left; I still know what a 
 
214 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 patient needs — even if that patient is my own 
 daughter." 
 
 Dolly's hand shook so she could not hold the 
 glass ; and Ralph placed it to her lips. When she 
 had swallowed the contents — with a wry face and 
 an involuntary shiver — her father said : 
 
 " Now, Dolly, Mr. Marlowe will take you home. 
 I would accompany you myself, but I am suflFering 
 the torments of the damned, with the cursed 
 rheumatism. Put her to bed, Julia — ^and see that 
 she is warm." 
 
 The three young people went out as they had 
 come in — Ralph half leading, half supporting the 
 younger sister, the older walking in dignified 
 silence beside them. 
 
 The street in the vicinity of the drugstore was 
 deserted ; but the subdued sound of many voices 
 came from the direction of the boat landing, and 
 the rattle of farmers' vehicles crossing the bridge 
 sounded like the roll of distant thunder. Occasion- 
 ally arose the prolonged whoops and cheers of half- 
 drunken partisans. Then the light breeze that bore 
 the sounds died down ; and all was silent as the 
 grave. 
 
 A Walk of a few minutes brought the sisters and 
 their escort, to the family residence — a big two- 
 story brick house standing back from the main 
 street, in the center of a large yard filled mth trees, 
 shrubs, and flower beds. An iron fence surrounded 
 the premises. A broad flag walk ran from the gate 
 to the stone steps leading up to the recessed front 
 door. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 215 
 
 On reaching the gate, Julia remarked: 
 ' "Mr. Marlowe, we will put you to no further 
 trouble. I can get Dorothy into the house." 
 
 "I will go with you to the door," Ralph an- 
 swered quietly but firmly. 
 
 Julia said no more ; but sighing resignedly went 
 on ahead, quickly ascended the steps, and flung 
 open the door. The lamplight streaming out fell 
 full upon Dolly's face and showed that the color 
 was returning to her cheeks and lips. 
 
 "You are feeling better," Ralph remarked smil- 
 ingly. 
 
 "Very much better," she replied, attempting to 
 smile in turn — at which her mouth quivered and 
 the moisture glistened in her eyes. "Oh, yes! I 
 am better. The wine has quite restored me. It 
 was babyish in me to be so easily upset." 
 
 "I will bid you good night," he answered re- 
 leasing her. 
 
 "Will you not — not come in?" she faltered, 
 glancing beseechingly at her sister — Ralph thought. 
 
 "Not tonight," he made answer. "You heard 
 your father's orders. To bed with you." 
 
 He turned and started down the steps. 
 
 " But you will call some evening, will you not? " 
 she called after him. " I desire an opportunity to 
 thank you for your kindness." 
 
 "You are taking a good plan to keep me away," 
 he laughed, pausing momentarily. 
 
 ' ' You do not wish me to thank you for what you 
 have done ? " 
 
 " I do not." 
 
2i6 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 "Then," — And he could see her cheeks dimple 
 and her eyes glint mischievously, in the lamp- 
 light, — "I will promise not to thank you, much 
 as I feel under obligations to you. Will you 
 come ? " 
 
 "Dorothy!" he heard Julia say in a horrified 
 undertone. 
 
 " Yes, I will call some evening," he answered 
 as he sprang down the steps and ran toward the 
 gate. 
 
 He heard the door close; and he was alone upon 
 the street. Breathlessly he hurried along, his 
 heart beating wildly and his mind in a tumult of 
 sweet unrest. Just as he was drawing near the 
 drugstore, the mellow clang of the steamboat's bell 
 broke the stillness. She was pulling out into the 
 stream, upon her homeward voyage. Then sud- 
 denly, like the crack of doom, came a deep thun- 
 derous roar that staggered him and almost lifted 
 the hat from his head. It shook the town like an 
 earthquake shock, jingling the glass in the win- 
 dows and causing bricks to tumble from time- 
 shattered chimneys. The hoarse-voiced echoes 
 boomed and reverberated up and down the valley 
 — and gradually died out. 
 
 Ralph took a step forward ; and paused to listen. 
 From the direction of the river came the faint 
 sound of hurrying footsteps and sharp cries and ex- 
 clamations. 
 
 "What was that? " Dr. Barwood inquired, ap- 
 pearing upon the steps of the drugstore. 
 
 A bent, limber-jointed figure emerged from the 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 217 
 
 shadow of the wall; and Temp Nutt's stuttering 
 voice answered: 
 
 " G-Guess it was ol' Gabri'l s-soundin' the f-final 
 trump. M-Must 'ave b-b-bu'sted his h-horn." 
 
 "Nonsense! " the doctor snorted angrily. 
 
 " T-Then the b-boat's b-bu'sted 'er b-b-b'ilers." 
 
 "It was the cannon they were using to fire a 
 parting salute," Ralph explained, stepping for- 
 ward. " They have overcharged it; and it has ex- 
 ploded, probably." 
 
 "And somebody's hurt or killed," the physician 
 completed fault-findingly. " Of course it must be 
 so right at a time I am really unable to perform a 
 difficult surgical operation. Why won't people 
 exercise common sense? Hark! " 
 
 The three men listened intently. They heard 
 the faint puffs of the retreating steamer and the 
 soft patter of approaching footsteps. 
 
 "I hear some one running," Marlowe declared. 
 
 "An' a p-pantin' like a 1-lizard on a h-hot 
 f-f -fence r-rail," Nutt added. 
 
 The hurrying footsteps drew nearer. The trio 
 upon the steps strained their eyes in an effort to 
 pierce the gloom. Presently out of the fog emerged 
 a man's lumbering figure. He was moving as fast 
 as his ungainly legs could carry him, his long arms 
 swinging like pendulums and his head thrust for- 
 ward. His heavy breathing could be distinctly 
 heard. A moment more, and he stood beside them 
 — his chest heaving, his eyes protruding. 
 
 "Who's hurt or killed, Jep Tucker? " Dr. Bar^ 
 wood demanded angrily. " Out with it. Some- 
 
zi8 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 body's had to pay the fiddler for your infernal 
 nonsense. Who's hurt? " 
 
 Tucker tried to speak ; but only a husky rattle 
 came from his parched throat. He gasped and 
 rolled his eyes, and appeared to be on the verge of 
 collapse. 
 
 ' ' You dumb fool ! ' ' the doctor cried roughly. 
 " TouWe not hurt. Speak out. Some one may die 
 while you are standing here chewing your tongue." 
 
 "H-He's p-pale as a r-rabbit's b-belly," Tomp 
 remarked. "M^Maybe he is h-hurt." 
 
 "No, I ain't," Jep spasmodically jerked out. 
 "But Jim Crawford is. The cannon bu'sted ; an' 
 he was drunk an' wouldn't git out o' the way w'en 
 we touched 'er off. He's — he's got his arm tore off 
 nearly; an' his head's all cut up. An' he's bleedin' 
 like a stuck pig. It made me sick to see him. 
 Fer God's sake, doc, come as quick as you can! " 
 
 "It's a pity it didn't kill the sot — and the rest of 
 you fools, too," Dr. Barwood snarled savagely. 
 " Where did you take him — home? " 
 j " Yes, doc. But do hurry ! " 
 
 "I'll be in more haste to serve him, than he'll be 
 in to remunerate me," the doctor muttered, turning 
 and walking into the drugstore. 
 
 Tucker and Nutt — two picturesque old ruins — 
 took themselves down the dark street. Ralph fol- 
 lowed his employer through the door. 
 
 "Help me to gather up what I need, Ralph," 
 the physician requested mildly. "I want you to 
 go down with me and lend me what aid you can. 
 I am not fit to undertake an operation tonight. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 219 
 
 You will have to administer the anas'sthetic for me, 
 at least." 
 
 " Perhaps you would better go down to the 
 house at once, doctor," Marlowe suggested. "I 
 will bring the instruments and other things. Craw- 
 ford's wounds were bleeding freely — so Tucker 
 said. May not the hemorrhage prove dangerous ? ' ' 
 
 " No," the physician snapped, thrusting a bottle 
 of chloroform into his pocket. ' ' Lacerated wounds 
 — such as an explosion makes — do not bleed danger- 
 ously, as a rule." 
 
 " But flying missiles with cutting edges make 
 incised wounds sometimes ; and they bleed se- 
 verely," Ralph replied as he set a jar of aseptic 
 gauze upon the counter. 
 
 "Y-e-s," the doctor said with lifted brow^s and 
 wide-open eyes, looking his clerk full in the face. 
 
 Then briskly : "I will go at once. You know 
 what I will be likely to need — and where Crawford 
 lives? " 
 
 " I do," was the quiet reply. 
 
 Without another word, Dr. Barwood crushed his 
 hat over his eyes and hurried forth. As he went 
 down the black street, he knowingly nodded his 
 head and talked to himself. 
 
 Marlowe quickly collected the necessary articles; 
 made them into a package ; and five minutes after 
 his employer's departure, passed out, locking the 
 door behind him. 
 
 Jim Crawford's humble abode was on a cross 
 street, near the vacant lot back of the livery stable, 
 where he had been injured. The house w^as a story 
 
220 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 and a half frame with sagging roof, small win- 
 dows, and gray weather boarding. His diminutive 
 shop stood on one corner of the lot. 
 
 As Marlowe reached the obscure place, he saw a 
 number of men standing around the doorway, con- 
 versing in low, awe-struck tones. Pushing his way 
 through the crowd, he knocked upon the door. It 
 was opened from within ; and he entered. 
 
 The small, low-ceilinged room was full of peo- 
 ple ; the air was close and foul-smelling. A small 
 hand lamp upon the mantel over the grate faintly 
 lighted the interior. The floor was bare, the win- 
 dows curtainless ; the furniture, mean and scanty. 
 
 The young man took in all this at a glance and a 
 sniff. From a bedroom adjacent came the groans 
 of the injured man; and down the rickety stairway 
 leading to the loft, floated the wails and sobs of 
 weeping children. 
 
 "Is Dr. Barwood in the next room? " Ralph in- 
 quired of Brady, the bridge-tender, who stood 
 leaning against the mantel — sobered by the acci- 
 dent to his boon companion. 
 
 "Yes," that worthy replied sullenly. "Go 
 right on in." 
 
 Marlowe did as directed. Upon a poorly fur- 
 nished bed in one corner, lay the injured man, his 
 head and left arm swathed in bloody cloths ; and 
 by his side sat his wife, dry-eyed and calm, patting 
 and stroking his uninjured hand and speaking en- 
 couragingly to him. He was moaning and snivel- 
 ing pitifully. Neither paid any attention to the 
 newcomer. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 221 
 
 Walking up to Dr. Barwood, who stood at a 
 high, old-fashioned bureau, filling a hypodermic 
 syringe, Ralph asked in a low, distinct tone : 
 
 " How badly is he hurt? " 
 
 " Not so badly as reported," answered the doc- 
 tor, coolly testing the point of the hypodermic 
 needle, by thrusting it into a piece of chamois skin. 
 " His arm is considerably lacerated and contused; 
 but it will not be necessary to amputate it, I think. 
 Then he has two or three cuts upon the head and 
 neck. We will have to take a lot of stitches." 
 
 " You can't dress his wounds in this room? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Then I would better clear the other of people, 
 and get things ready." 
 
 "Yes," the doctor replied in a matter-of-course 
 tone and manner. 
 
 Marlowe quickly rid the small sitting room of 
 curious cumber; threw up a window and left open 
 the outer door, to admit fresh air ; and proceeded 
 to get things in readiness. 
 
 From the crowd outside, he called in Sam Clark 
 and Airly Chandler to aid him ; and said to them : 
 
 " Unload the kitchen table and bring it in here. 
 Then stir up the fire in the stove and boil some 
 water in a clean vessel — two or three gallons at 
 least." 
 
 Mrs. Crawford came out to ask him what he 
 needed. She was stoop-shouldered and sallow; 
 and had a heartbroken expression of countenance. 
 With her help he soon transformed the bare kitchen 
 table into a firm and comfortable couch. Then — 
 
222 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 the water having boiled — ^he immersea in it the 
 instruments he had brought, and prepared antiseptic 
 solutions. Next he cut a lot of ligatures and 
 threaded a number of needles; made a funnel of a 
 folded napkin, upon which to administer the anaes- 
 thetic ; and last of all arranged everything he 
 thought woiild be needed, upon a stand, in orderly 
 array. 
 
 "Everything is ready, doctor," he announced, 
 thrusting his head in at the bedroom door. 
 
 Dr. Barwood was sitting at his patient's bed- 
 side, his fingers upon the pulse. 
 
 Arising he answered : 
 
 " Then call help, and carry him out and adminis- 
 ter the anaesthetic. He was suffering from shock 
 and the effects of hemorrhage w^hen I came. But 
 his flagging pulse has rallied; he is all right now." 
 
 Soon the moaning sufferer was upon the table 
 and under the influence of the anaesthetic. The 
 cleansing and dressing of the wounds proceeded 
 swiftly and systematically. Marlowe, with the 
 tacit consent of the physician, did much of the 
 stitching and bandaging. With deft fingers, he 
 ligated arteries and tied surgeon's knots. Clark and 
 Chandler looked on in silent admiration and aston- 
 ishment; but Dr. Barwood manifested no surprise. 
 
 When all was finished and the patient had been 
 returned to his bed, the doctor placed a package of 
 powders upon the bureau, and pointing to them 
 remarked to Mrs. Crawford : 
 
 " Give him one of those every hour or two, when 
 he does not rest well." 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 223 
 
 " All right, doc," she answered meekly. 
 
 " And you'd better have some one or two of your 
 friends stay with you tonight." 
 
 She nodded humbly. 
 
 "That's all then^xcept this." — And the physi- 
 cian looked around to see that no one overheard 
 him. — "Have you any money to pay me for 
 this?" 
 
 "No, I hain't, doc," the poor woman replied, 
 dropping her eyes before his fierce gaze. 
 
 For a full minute the stillness of the room was 
 broken only by the stertorous breathing of the 
 unconscious husband upon the bed. Then Mrs. 
 Crawford looked up — the tears trickling down her 
 sunken cheeks — and said between sobs : 
 
 " It's a sin an' a shame. Doc Barwood — I know 
 it is. You've been awful good to us. But I hain't 
 got a cent to give you, fer what you've done 
 tonight. Jim's drunk up everything he's made this 
 week. An' you're 'bout sick y'rself — I can see 
 that. Oh, I'm jest heart broke ! " 
 
 " And you have no money to give me? " Dr. 
 Barwood mumbled crustily. 
 
 She silently, chokingly shook her head. 
 
 " Then /'// have to give_yoM some," he growled, 
 thrusting a ten dollar bill into her hand and hurry- 
 ing from her presence. 
 
 The miserable wife and mother stood crumpling 
 the bill in her toil-hardened hand and staring wildly 
 after his retreating form. When the door had 
 closed behind him, she threw herself upon the floor 
 and sobbed convulsively. 
 
224 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 Marlowe was alone in the sitting room, awaiting 
 his employer's coming. 
 
 " Are you ready to go? " asked the latter. 
 
 In answer Ralph arose with alacrity; and to- 
 gether they left the house. Silently they trudged 
 up the deserted street. At the drugstore steps the 
 older man remarked : 
 
 " You may put things away ; I am going home." 
 
 "Very well," was the reply. 
 
 "Say!" said the doctor with startling sudden- 
 ness. 
 
 "Well, doctor?" 
 
 "Where's your diploma? '* 
 
 "My diploma?" 
 
 "Yes — your medical diploma." 
 
 Marlowe was silent for a moment. Then he an- 
 swered coolly : 
 
 " In my trunk at my rooms." 
 
 "You would better have it framed, and hang it 
 up in the store." 
 
 " I will consider your suggestion." 
 
 "Good night, Dr. Marlowe." 
 
 "Mr. Marlowe^-or better, Ralph — if you please. 
 Dr. Barwood." 
 
 "At any rate, good night," the older man 
 chuckled. 
 
 " Good night." 
 
 The one limped painfully toward his home ; the 
 other entered the drugstore — and sat by the fireless 
 stove till almost morning. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 ELECTION day came and went quietly, with but 
 one incident of note. Dr, Barwood — as ar- 
 dent a Republican as ever placed a cross under the 
 eagle — whose rheumatism had steadily grown worse 
 in spite of his own prescribing and dosing, hobbled 
 down to the polls and voted among the first. Then 
 he dragged his pain-racked body back home, and 
 settled down among his cushions, liniments, and 
 potions. 
 
 Hardly had he regained a degree of comfort, 
 when an enthusiastic Republican — a local politician 
 of ignoble instincts — dropped in to inform him that 
 Ralph Marlowe's vote had been challenged. 
 
 "^e did vote, though, didn't he?" the doctor 
 said, fixing his black orbs upon his caller. 
 
 " No," the man answered. 
 
 ' ' Why ? " — In surprise and anger. 
 
 " Well, you see, the judges wasn't satisfied that 
 he's a resident of this state, doc ; and " 
 
 "Wasn't he willingto swear that he is?" 
 
 " It may be — I don't know. Anyhow " 
 
 " And he left the polls without casting a ballot? " 
 
 "Yes, he did, doc. He's a Democrat, I under- 
 stand ; and it's a gain o' one vote fer us. So of 
 course / didn't say nothin'." 
 
 "Tou?" snarled Dr. Barwood, his features con- 
 torted with pain and anger. "Of course notl 
 15 (225) 
 
226 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 Tou wouldn't say anything ; but / will. Democrat 
 or Republican, he's got a right to vote here ; and 
 what's more, he's going to vote here. You go 
 down street, find Jep, and send him up here with 
 the phaeton. /'// go down to the polls ; and I'll 
 raise the fuzz on somebody's back, if that young 
 man doesn't get to vote." 
 
 Knowing that remonstrance would be worse than 
 useless, the politician withdrew — figuratively kick- 
 ing himself that he had not kept all knowledge of 
 the afFair from the honest and honorable old parti- 
 san. 
 
 The result was that Marlowe was allowed to 
 vote — and that his employer was privileged to 
 suffer torture all the afternoon and evening, owing 
 to the excitement and exertion of his second trip to 
 the polls. 
 
 Ralph and Clark met at supper, and the latter 
 remarked : 
 
 •' Say! Why can't you lock up and come down 
 to the office tonight? I'll have to stay there till 
 after midnight, perhaps, receiving the returns; and 
 I want company." 
 
 " I can't do it," Ralph replied. " Dr. Barwood 
 is ill; I must stay at the store." 
 
 " I'm sorry — ^but say! You want to hear the re- 
 turns as they come in, don't you? " 
 
 " I should like to, of course." 
 
 •• And if you can't come to the office, you can't 
 go to the townhall, where the two parties have 
 arranged to have their headquarters together?" 
 
 "No." 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 227 
 
 •' I'll tell you what, I can make you duplicates 
 of the dispatches and send them to the drugstore. 
 It won't cost you but a few dollars. Get McDevitt 
 and Chandler and some of the other fellows to go 
 in with you. You'll have a warm and comfortable 
 place ; and won't have to stand up and mix with 
 all the drunken riffraff in the township." 
 
 " It is a good idea," Marlowe answered. And 
 so it was arranged. 
 
 The polls closed at six o'clock. An hour later 
 the crowd began to gather at the townhall; and 
 one by one, those to whom Ralph had spoken 
 dropped into the drugstore. 
 
 The day had been fine and warm ; and the night 
 was clear and starlit. Down at the polling place 
 — a small room in one end of the town building — 
 the election officers were monotonously droning 
 over the ballots, one by one. Semicircles of anx- 
 ious partisans pressed their faces to the outside of 
 the dusty window panes and their ears to the key- 
 hole of the bolted door, and listened and peered 
 breathlessly to catch the names as they were read 
 off — ^thereby gaining a vague idea of how the vote 
 was running. Upstairs, in the big barn-like hall, 
 members of both political parties w^ere surging to 
 and fro, discussing the events and probabilities of 
 the local election, merrily chaffing one another, 
 and impatiently awaiting outside returns. Tobacco 
 smoke hung like a heavy pall over the picturesque 
 scene, further dimming the light of the dim lamps; 
 and the close atmosphere reeked with the pestilen- 
 tial effluvia of many pairs of lungs. 
 
228 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 The streets were deserted save for the presence 
 of the ubiquitous small boy and an occasional pe- 
 destrian hurrying to or from the polling place. A 
 prolonged whoop or a blast from a tin horn 
 now and then disturbed the wonted silence of 
 night. 
 
 By seven o'clock a small crowd of Democrats and 
 Republicans had gathered in Dr. Barwood's drug- 
 store and grouped themselves around the stove. 
 They were young men, for the most part; and 
 thought themselves vitally interested in the result 
 of the election. For their blood was hot — as young 
 blood always is — and their passions and prejudices 
 were strong; and each felt that the salvation or 
 ruination of the country depended upon the election 
 or defeat of his particular candidate. But like 
 their elders at the townhall, they hid their anxiety 
 under masks of smiling indifference; chaffed, 
 chatted, and told stories ; and indulged in forced 
 merriment and horseplay, to pass the time. 
 
 " It's after seven o'clock," Morris McDevitt re- 
 marked at last, impatiently consulting his watch. 
 " We ought to be getting some dispatches by this 
 time." 
 
 " It's a little too early yet," replied Airly Chan- 
 dler, pensively rubbing the mole upon his chin. 
 
 " The first returns '11 come from the east," 
 McDevitt insisted; "and it's time they were be- 
 ginning to get in. There's quite a difference in 
 longitude and time between here and the Atlantic 
 seaboard. They've counted out two hours or more 
 ago, in New York " 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 229 
 
 " Surely you Democrats are not itching to hear 
 from New York? " interrupted a young Republican, 
 laughing. 
 
 His party allies joined in boisterously. McDevitt 
 was a little nettled. 
 
 " I'll bet the cigars for the crowd we carry New 
 York, ' ' he said defiantly. ' ' There ! ' ' 
 
 His adherents clapped their hands and cheered ; 
 his opponents hooted derisively. 
 
 " Shut up or shove up," Morris cried boldly. 
 
 "I'll take the bet," was the cool reply of the 
 challenged party. " Set up the cigars, Marlowe. 
 The loser pays for them. I'm anxious to smoke a 
 good cigar on Morris." 
 
 Marlowe smilingly took a box of cigars from the 
 case and passed them around; and soon the smoke 
 from a dozen or more rolled hazily toward the 
 ceiling. 
 
 " I wonder how they're getting along down at the 
 polls," some one suggested. 
 
 "I just came from there," answered a new 
 arrival. "They've counted out a little over a 
 hundred votes ; and the Republicans have about 
 ten the best of it." 
 
 "How do you like that ginger — McDevitt, and 
 Marlowe, andCarston, and the rest of you? " yelled 
 an enthusiastic Republican. 
 
 "We like the brand first-rate," McDevitt 
 answered promptly and decidedly. "There's about 
 four hundred votes polled. If your rate of loss 
 holds out, you'll carry the township by about forty 
 —the lowest majority you've had in twenty years. 
 
230 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 You usually carry the county by from four to six 
 hundred. If our rate of gain keeps up, we'll carry 
 it this time, by two hundred. How Ao you fellows 
 like the ginger? " 
 
 The Democrats laughed and cheered ; the Repub- 
 licans looked glum. Carston — the miller's stalwart 
 son — threw his arm around McDevitt and gave him 
 a bear-like squeeze. 
 
 " Stop ! " the latter cried chokingly. " Look at 
 my suit, now — ^flour all over. You hurt my head, 
 too." 
 
 And the young merchant feelingly rubbed his 
 temple, where a strip of court-plaster hid an 
 abrasion. 
 
 "Carston didn't hurt that," chuckled George 
 Hammond — a son of the widow who occupied the 
 house in which Marlowe had rooms. " Some 
 Republican hurt that the night of the Tenacre 
 speech." 
 
 "You have no room to say anything," grinned 
 Morris. "Look at your eye. It's still decorated 
 with all the colors of the rainbow. Besides, we're 
 both Democrats. You keep still." 
 
 At that moment the door opened. All turned 
 their heads, expecting to see the messenger boy 
 with dispatches. Instead Jep Tucker ambled in, 
 smoking a long Wheeling stogie and smiling com- 
 placently. 
 
 "It's Tucker !— Hello, Jep! — Where've you 
 been. Tucker? — What's the news, Jep? " were the 
 cries that greeted his advent. 
 
 Sidling into his accustomed corner and seating 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 231 
 
 himeelf with a sigh of content, the eccentric an- 
 swered : 
 
 "I've jest come up from the polls. They've 
 counted out 'bout a hundred an' fifty votes; an' us 
 Repuolicans is 'bout twelve 'r fifteen ahead. I'm a 
 feelin' purty good " 
 
 " Over the prospect of our losing the township? " 
 Airly Chandler sneered, agitatedly thrusting his 
 freckled hand through his red hair — until it fairly 
 bristled. 
 
 "No, not 'xackly over that," Tucker explained 
 coolly. " I ain't worryin' much 'bout it, though. 
 The Republicans o' this township alluz did know 
 how to make 'tarnal fools o' the'rselves. But the 
 news I'm feelin' good over is what I heerd as I was 
 comin' up street." 
 
 "What is it? — Out with it! " — ^From several at 
 once. 
 
 "Well, dispatches has jest come in from a whole 
 batch o' the eastern states; an' they're all showin' 
 strong Republican gains." 
 
 " That's the stuff! Hurrah for McKinley! Mc— 
 Kin — ley, Mc — Kin — ley! Whoopee!" shouted 
 those of Tucker's political faith. 
 
 The others maintained a grim silence. 
 
 "Did you hear the dispatches read, Jep?" Mar- 
 lowe ventured to ask. 
 
 "No ; but " 
 
 " You came direct from the townhall? " 
 
 "Yes. I jest stopped a minute to talk to two 
 fellers on the street, John Davis an' Cad Burbank. 
 An' " 
 
232 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 "And they told you the glorious news, eh? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Oh, stuff! " ejaculated Airly Chandler disgust- 
 edly, his countenance falling. 
 
 "There's not a word of truth in the report," Mc- 
 Devitt asserted positively. "It's a grapevine dis- 
 patch. You bet if there was such good Republican 
 news as that, Clark would fire it up here too quick. 
 He'd want to clip my tail feathers — and he knows 
 I'm here." 
 
 Again the door swung upon its hinges ; and Lon 
 Crider entered. He shook hands all around, bow- 
 ing and smiling to each in turn. Then turning to 
 Ralph, he said in his quick voluble way : 
 
 " I told you I'd be around in a few weeks; and 
 I've made my promise good. I've put in a faithful 
 day to get here. Well, I reckon! I voted in 
 Zanesville this morning — one more ballot to swell 
 McKinley's majority, you know ; took the morning 
 train for Malconta ; worked that place this fore- 
 noon ; drove out to Foxtown and back in the after- 
 noon; took the evening train for this place; got 
 my supper with jolly Charley Williams; and come 
 up here. How's the old doc — and where is he?" 
 
 Marlowe vouchsafed the desired information. 
 
 " Sorry to hear the old man's under the weather," 
 the drummer replied, toying with his watch charm 
 and smiling as though Dr. Barwood's indisposition 
 was a royal joke. " But you can give me an order 
 just as well as he can — ^you did on my other trip, 
 you remember. Goods came all O. K., didn't they? 
 Of course — I knew they would. You say you had 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 233 
 
 to telegraph to hurry them up? That so! I'm 
 sorry about the delay. But it won't happen again. 
 I'll blow the shipping clerk up — or whoever's to 
 blame — when I get in. How's the election going 
 here, Marlowe ? " 
 
 " Democratic." 
 
 "What!" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Sure?" 
 
 Ralph nodded; and the congregated villagers 
 smiled at the traveling man's tone and manner. 
 
 " Well, don't that beat ! Why, I'm surprised ! 
 
 This township's usually Republican. It'll be the 
 only precinct in the state that'll show Democratic 
 gains." 
 
 "I'll bet you five dollars it won't be the only 
 one," cried Morris McDevitt, rising to his feet and 
 flashing a roll of bills. 
 
 "Put your money into your pocket, McDevitt," 
 Marlowe said quietly. " I won't allow any betting 
 in here — except the stakes be candy or cigars, or 
 some equally inexpensive trifle." 
 
 McDevitt grumblingly obeyed the behest. 
 
 "I don't want to bet anyhow," Crider laughed 
 good-humoredly. ' ' I always lose. But I am sur- 
 prised at the result here. Are they through count- 
 ing out?" 
 
 Ralph shook his head. 
 
 "But you know how the vote's running, eh? 
 Well, boys, have a smoke on me, anyhow. Here's 
 some fine ones. I like to see people enjoy them- 
 
234 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 selves. Pass them around, McDevitt." — Handing 
 the latter a bunch of cigars. 
 
 Then he continued : 
 
 "I'm interested in the election here, Marlowe. 
 How do you explain the fact that this precinct 
 shows such strong Democratic gains ? " 
 
 "It's due to the big Tenacre blow-out you Repub- 
 licans had here," George Hammond interjected. 
 
 " I don't understand," Crider said perplexedly. 
 " Wasn't the Tenacre meeting a success? " 
 
 "The Democratic gain," Ralph said solemnly — 
 but with a roguish wink and a nod of his head 
 toward Tucker, who was wheezingly puffing at a 
 fat cigar, "is due indirectly to the Tenacre mass 
 meeting. You see, Crider, there was an old brass 
 cannon in the town — I say was, advisedly, for it is 
 here no longer — and one Jep Tucker conceived the 
 idea of disinterring it from its resting place beneath 
 the moldy shavings of the coopershop, where it 
 had reposed in peace for many years, and using it 
 i.o welcome the visiting hosts and speed their de- 
 parture. He did not know — or he had forgotten — 
 that the old gun was a Democratic mascot. So he 
 carried out his intent, in spite of the advice of 
 friends and the opposition of foes. The hoodoo 
 piece exploded at the second and parting shot ; and 
 the result is as I have stated." 
 
 The crowd laughed at Jep and guyed him un- 
 mercifully. At last he pulled himself up from his 
 lounging attitude, and chuckled phthisically : 
 
 " I guess that statement's 'bout right. It's part 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 235 
 
 right, anyhow — an' a feller'd jest as well be killed 
 fer a sheep as a lamb. 'Tain't no more sin to eat 
 the devil 'n it is to sup his broth. That ol' cannon 
 lost us one Republican vote that I know of — Jim 
 Crawford's. I've had enough o' cannon shootin' to 
 last me a lifetime. I'm like Tomp Nutt was 'bout 
 his fight with Alf Sanders. I'm no hog; an' I 
 know w'en I've got enough." 
 
 "Tell the story, Jep," they chorused. 
 
 " Not tonight," he said, shaking his head unde- 
 cidedly. 
 
 It was evident he was itching to spin the yarn. 
 
 "Yes, now — while we are waiting for the dis- 
 patches," they insisted. ' 
 
 " Well, if I must, I must" he answered with as- 
 sumed reluctance, discarding his cigar stub and 
 taking a chew of tobacco. 
 
 ' ' The thing happened 'way back 'fore the war — 
 an' durin' it. I've heerd Hen Olcott tell the story 
 a hundred times. Some o' you fellers ought to 
 know ol' Hen. He lives down on Flat Bottom ; 
 an' has a crippled arm he carries in a leather sling 
 — got shot in the war. He's a kind o' curious 
 critter, too. His business is loggin', movin' build- 
 in's, sawmillin', an' so on. Says his game arm 
 keeps him from doin' heavy work. 
 
 "But to hurry 'long with the story — 'cause them 
 telegraphs '11 be comin' in purty soon, I feel it 
 in my bones — in them days jest 'fore the war, ol' 
 Tomp Nutt — he was young Tomp, then — was the 
 best man in Stonebury township. He could out- 
 run, out-iumg, throw down, drag out, an' whip 
 
236 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 any man o' his inches — no matter what his politics 
 'r religion might be. An' it got so nobody 'Id toe 
 the mark to meet him, 'r knock the chip from his 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Ev'ry neighborhood, in them days, had its 
 boss fighter. Out on the head-waters o' Monday 
 Creek — 'bout thirty miles from here — the cock o' 
 the walk was a big red-headed, raw-boned, lantern- 
 jawed feller named Alf Sanders. He heerd o' 
 Tomp, an' Tomp heerd o' him; an' each one was 
 anxious to have a try at the other. Well, finally 
 they come together — an' this was the way of it: 
 
 "Sanders rode into Malconta, one day in the 
 spring o' 'sixty, to 'tend to some business 'r other; 
 an' he fooled 'round so long he had to put up an' 
 stay all night in the town. The next mornin' he 
 bought a pint o' whisky, straddled his hoss, an' 
 rode down the river — lookin' fer cattle to buy, he 
 said ; but most people thought he was lookin' fer 
 Tomp Nutt. If he -was, he got accommodated — 
 but didn't know it till it was all over. 
 
 ' ' He crossed on the ferryboat at this place an' 
 set off out through Red Brush, toward the Ellis 
 schoolhouse— close to which Tomp's folks lived. 
 
 " That very mornin', as it happened, Tomp an' 
 Hen Olcott an' Elick Miles — all of 'em young men 
 at that time — was settin' on a rail fence close to the 
 schoolhouse, chawin' the'r tobacker an' swappin' 
 yarns 'bout coon huntin'. By-an'-by they saw a 
 feller ridin' a big gray hoss, up the hill, toward 'em. 
 
 "'That's a purty nice nag,' Elick Miles re- 
 marks. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 237 
 
 " ' An' th-that's a mighty g-g-good man astraddle 
 o' h-him,' says Tomp takin' in the stranger's p'ints. 
 " It was Sanders. An' he rides up even with the 
 three fellers on the fence; throws one foot out o' 
 the stirrup; an' kind o' loUin' over in the saddle, 
 says — as sassy as a chipmunk : 
 
 " ' I hain't got no money to throw at the birds ; 
 but I'll bet three dollars I can whip any feller on 
 that fence — an' not half try.' 
 
 " Tomp an' Hen an' Elick was knocked all in a 
 heap. They wasn't expectin' nothin' o' the kind ; 
 an' they couldn't do nothin' but hold the'r breaths 
 an' look at one another. 
 
 " ' I mean what I say,' Sanders goes on. ' I'll 
 bet three dollars I can whip any man in the crowd. 
 Now! Chip in — 'r don't cheep out.' 
 
 "Tomp studied a minute, an' then he says : 
 " 'I've a n-notion n-not to b-b-b'lieve it.' 
 " 'Put up y'r stuff an' shed y'r wamus, then,' 
 says Sanders. • I'll 'light an' hitch ; an' we'll have 
 it out right here.' 
 
 "'I hain't g-got n-no three d-doUars,' Tomp 
 'xplains ; ' b-but PU p-put up this w-watch 'g-'g- 
 'ginst y'r m-money.' 
 
 " An he drawed out a big silver timepiece worth 
 three 'r four times three dollars. 
 
 " ' It's a bargain,' says Sanders, his eyes spark- 
 lin' at sight o' the watch. 
 
 "So he got down an' hitched his boss, skinned 
 off his coat, an' tied his gallowses in a knot. Tomp 
 done the same. Then they put up the stakes in 
 Hen Olcott's hands, an' went at it. It was nip an' 
 
338 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 tuck, I tell you. It was knock down an' drag out, 
 rough an' tumble, claw an' tooth. The fight 
 lasted jest an hour — ^by Tomp's own watch; an' 
 most o' the time they was down on the ground, 
 fightin' like a couple o' bulldogs. 
 
 "At last Tomp got his thumb in Sanders's eye, 
 an' gouged it out onto his cheek. Then the bully 
 from Monday Creek come to a sudden c'nclusion 
 he was a whipped man ; an' he sung out : 
 
 " ' Cavy! I've got enough — I ain't no hog! ' 
 
 "'B-B'gosh, I'm g-glad of it!' Tomp panted 
 staggerin' to his feet. 
 
 "Tomp pocketed his watch an' money. Then 
 they shook hands, went out to the schoolhouse well, 
 an' begun to wash the'rselves. 
 
 "'Is ther' many more fellers in this strip o' 
 timber, that's as good men as you? ' Sanders asked, 
 feelin' of his gouged eye. 
 
 " ' p. Plenty of 'em,' says Tomp. ' The w-woods 
 is f-full of 'em. H-Here's H-Hen Olcott an' Elick 
 M-Miles — they're b-both b-b-better men 'n I am. 
 F-Fact is I'm the limberest s-saplin' in the c-c-clear- 
 in. 
 
 " ' If I wasn't 'fraid you'd jump onto me ag'in', 
 answers Sanders, ' I'd call that a lie.' 
 
 " ' Want to bet th-three d-d-dollars on it? ' 
 
 " ' No,' says Sanders, shakin' his head till the 
 water flew from his long red hair. ' But what 
 might be y'r name ? ' 
 
 " ' It m-might be J- Julius Csesar — b-but it ain't,' 
 answers Tomp, with a grin that made his swelled 
 face look awful. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 239 
 
 " ' What is it, then? ' asks Sanders. 
 
 " ' Tomp N-Nutt.' 
 
 " ' The devil! ' says Sanders. 
 
 " ' P-Purty n-near it, I g-g-guess,' says Tomp. 
 
 " 'My name's Alf Sanders.' 
 
 "'Th-That's what I thought,' stutters Tomp. 
 'An' y-you ain't m-much of a fi-fighter, after all.' 
 
 "Well," Jep continued, "that was the end o' 
 the fight. Sanders bid 'em good-bye, got on his 
 hoss, an' rode away. Him an' Tomp didn't meet 
 no more till after the war broke out. But it hap- 
 pened that all four of 'em, that was together that 
 Sunday, 'nlisted in the same regiment ; an' down 
 in front of Atlanta they was all in camp together. 
 
 " One day Sanders got on a spree an' come a 
 prancin' up through camp, crackin' his fists an' a 
 swearin' he could lick any man on top o' ground. 
 Tomp an' Hen Olcott was settin' on a log in front 
 0' the'r tent, whittlin'. Sanders come right up to 
 'em, danced 'round, bragged an' threatened, an' 
 finally rubbed his fist under Tomp's nose an' told 
 him to smell of his master. 
 
 " But Tomp jest set there — smilin' an' whittlin' 
 — ^an' never said a word back. At last Sanders 
 got tired o' the one-sided game an' went away, 
 
 " ' I don't see how you could stand it, Tomp 
 Nutt,' Hen Olcott says. ' Surely you wasn't 
 'feared of him. I don't see how you could stand 
 his blowin' an' braggin', an' rubbin' his fist under 
 y'r nose an' tellin' you to smell o' y'r master. I 
 don't see how you could stand it, at all.' 
 
240 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 " ' I c-could s-stand it,' Tomp grins. 
 
 " ' But you whipped him once' — Hen begins. 
 
 " 'Y-Yes,' Tomp answers. 'An' I can wh- 
 whip him ag'in. B-But it t-takes an hour to d-d-do 
 it — an' I ain't h-hankerin' f-fer the j-j-job.' 
 
 "An' that's the way with me," Jep concluded 
 hastily, as the door opened and a messenger boy 
 from the station put in an appearance; "I ain't 
 hankerin' fer no more cannon shootin'. Sing out, 
 youngster! How's the 'lection goin' ? " 
 
 "Here! Give me those dispatches," Morris 
 McDevitt cried excitedly. 
 
 " Let Marlowe read them," Airly Chandler sug- 
 gested. 
 
 "Yes, let Marlowe read them," a number of 
 others seconded. 
 
 The messenger boy handed the roll to Ralph and 
 hurried away. The latter proceeded to read the 
 telegrams, in order. There were a dozen or more 
 of them — all from the east — announcing great Re- 
 publican gains in that section of the country. 
 
 Perfect silence reigned during the reading; but 
 at the conclusion, the Republicans sprang to their 
 feet and cheered. 
 
 "Hurrah for McKinley! " shouted Lon Crider. 
 
 And then he laughed apologetically. 
 
 ' ' Mc — Kin — ley! Mc — Kin — ley ! " chorused his 
 confreres. 
 
 ' ' Just wait until you hear from the west and 
 south," McDevitt cried. 
 
 But his countenance was downcast. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 241 
 
 "No matter how the election goes," Crider 
 whispered to Marlowe, "you'll still want some 
 drugs. Can't you give me your order tonight? " 
 
 " We are not needing anything," was the reply. 
 
 "Nothing at all?" 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 "Then I'll go down to Charley's and turn in. 
 I'm tired out. See you next trip — in a few weeks. 
 Hold an order for me. Good night." 
 
 Quickly and quietly he withdrew. 
 
 " Let's go down to headquarters and see how 
 things are going," Airly Chandler suggested. 
 
 " Come on," said George Hammond, rising. 
 
 "Agreed," cried several more. 
 
 And out the door they trooped, leaving Ralph 
 and Jep alone. 
 
 ' ' Did you notice that somebody'd been drink- 
 in'?" the latter asked, leaning back against the 
 wall and peeping through his half -closed lids. 
 
 "Who?" Ralph inquired, searching his compan- 
 ion's face. 
 
 "Well— anybody?" 
 
 " You speak in the impersonal. Please be more 
 definite." 
 
 " Morris McDevitt, fer instance." 
 
 Marlowe walked about the room and made no 
 reply for some seconds. Then he said : 
 
 " Keep your observation to yourself, Jep. Per- 
 haps you are mistaken." 
 
 " P'r'aps I am — an' then ag'in, p'r'aps I ain't," 
 Tucker muttered. " But I'll mind what you say — 
 I won't say a word to nobody. An' I guess I'll go 
 16 
 
242 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 home an' go to bed. Whichever way the 'lection 
 goes, it won't make no difFer'nce to me. I'll have 
 flapjacks fer breakfast, tomorrer mornin', jest the 
 same anyhow." 
 
 With the words he arose and sauntered out, 
 yawning, stretching, and glancing into the show- 
 cases as he went. 
 
 Marlowe followed him to the door and stood 
 upon the step) his hot forehead bared to the cool 
 night air. 
 
 Far down the street he heard the buzz of voices. 
 All else was silence. " Mc — Kin — ley! Mc — Kin— 
 ley! " floated faintly to his ears. Then out of the 
 blackness emerged a figure ; and Morris McDevitt 
 ascended the steps. 
 
 ' ' Any more news ? " Ralph queried. 
 
 " Yes," McDevitt growled. • " Everything's gone 
 Republican, I — I guess. Dispatches 're coming in 
 from all over the — the — country." 
 
 His breath was redolent with liquor ; his tong^ue 
 was thick. 
 
 "Come in here," Marlowe said, taking him by 
 the arm and drawing him within doors. "Mc- 
 Devitt, you have been drinking too much," 
 
 "Me? " — With tipsy surprise and gravity. 
 
 "Yes, you," Ralph answered, looking squarely 
 into the flushed face and bloodshot eyes before him. 
 
 "Well, whose — whose business is it?" was the 
 sullen rejoinder. 
 
 " Your friends'." 
 
 " They needn't worry, if /don't. And I don't 
 care " 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 243. 
 
 "You don't care ! " Ralph interrupted in a tone 
 of mild amazement. 
 
 "No, I don't. Why should I care? Nobody 
 cares— cares for me; and the girl I love won't 
 marry me. So there ! " 
 
 "You are discouraged, broken-hearted, and 
 ready to throw yourself away, eh ? " Marlowe said 
 sneeringly. 
 
 "Yes, I am," answered McDevitt with maudlin 
 solemnity. 
 
 "You wouldn't talk such stuff, if you were 
 sober, McDevitt." 
 
 "Maybe I wouldn't talk it," grinned the be- 
 fuddled young man, staggering slightly as he 
 shifted his position; "but I'd think it." 
 
 " Did you come here to make a confidant of me?" 
 Marlowe asked, shrewdly guessing the truth. 
 
 " That's— that's it; that's what I did." 
 
 "Well, you are in no condition to make con- 
 fession or receive advice. I'll take you for a walk. 
 Sit down on the steps out there till I close up; 
 you'll get sick in this warm room. First, however, 
 take a whiff of this." 
 
 Ralph took a bottle from the shelf, removed the 
 stopper, and shoved the open mouth under his 
 companion's nose. The latter obediently took a 
 deep inspiration — and clutched at the empty air 
 with both hands, in an effort to recover his breath, 
 the tears starting from his eyes. 
 
 " Hartshorn! " he gasped at last. 
 
 Marlowe smilingly replaced the bottle upon the 
 
244 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 shelf and motioned toward the door. McDevitt 
 silently withdrew to the outer air. A few minutes 
 later the lights were out and the two were walk- 
 ing briskly up the street, arm in arm. 
 
 To the far end of the town they went, beyond 
 the last twinkling light, neither speaking. Then 
 they turned and started back at the same smart 
 pace — ^Ralph hurrying his lagging companion, 
 McDevitt's leaden feet grew lighter; his brain be- 
 gan to clear. At last he said in a cautious under- 
 tone : 
 
 " I'm coming around all right." 
 
 ' ' Glad to hear it, " muttered Ralph without 
 slacking his speed. 
 
 "And I'm heartily ashamed of myself, Mar- 
 lowe." 
 
 "Of course. Come on — step lively." 
 
 "Say?" 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " Let's stop. I want to talk to you." 
 
 " Wait until we are again within the drugstore. 
 Some one might overhear us." 
 
 " I'm not going back to the drugstore." — Stop- 
 ping suddenly and irritably jerking loose from his 
 companion. — " I'm going to dodge dovra this alley 
 and take the back street, for home. I'm afraid of 
 meeting somebody I know, if I go down Main 
 Street." 
 
 " You had no such fear an hour ago." 
 
 " I am sober now — or nearly so," — ^Forcing a low 
 laugh. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 245 
 
 "And you were drunk then — or nearly so." 
 
 McDevitt made no reply; and Ralph continued: 
 
 " I think your resolve to get home as quickly and 
 as secretly as possible, a good one. Good night." 
 
 "Wait," the other whispered. "I want to say 
 a word or two before we part. You have proven 
 yourself my friend tonight. I'll be ashamed to meet 
 you again — in daylight. And here and now I 
 promise you I will not again " 
 
 " Don't! " Marlowe interrupted. " The best way 
 to keep a promise is to keep it to one's self ; the 
 easiest way not to break a resolve is not to make it. 
 Simply do not do again that for which you are 
 sorry or ashamed." 
 
 " Let me shake your hand, at least." 
 
 Silently they clasped hands in the damp dark- 
 ness. The liquor had died in McDevitt's arteries ; 
 and he was shivering with cold and nervousness. 
 His teeth chattered as he said: 
 
 "Ralph Marlowe, I have known you but a few 
 short weeks ; and I do not know why I should 
 make a confidant of you. But I am going to do 
 so, if you will let me." 
 
 "Wait until another time. It is late; and you 
 are cold and ought to be abed." 
 
 " No, now! " Morris insisted obstinately, still 
 retaining his companion's hand. " I am going to 
 the devil as fast as I can — and I want your help. 
 For several months I have been drinking consider- 
 ably and gambling heavily. I am fast losing money 
 and morals; and it's all on account of Julia Bar- 
 wood " 
 
246 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 " Another case of Adam and Eve — ^the old, old 
 story," Marlowe said sarcastically. 
 
 "How?" 
 
 " ' The woman gave me of the tree and I did eat.' " 
 
 "Oh! No; you understand what I mean. And 
 I want your advice and assistance." 
 
 " Do you love Julia Barwood? " 
 
 " With all the ardor of my being." 
 
 " And to prove your love you sneakingly do the 
 things no good woman can approve^and can 
 hardly tolerate or forgive. For of course she is not 
 aware of your drinking and gambling? " 
 
 "No." — In a weak and humble whisper, the 
 single syllable quavering. 
 
 " Does she love you? " 
 
 " Yes — she says she does. But she won't marry 
 me." 
 
 "What is her reason for refusing — if she loves 
 
 you?" 
 
 "I am a Catholic." 
 
 "And she is a Protestant." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " She will not marry a Catholic." 
 
 " That's it." 
 
 "And you will not marry a Protestant." 
 
 McDevitt hesitated before replying. Then he 
 said: 
 
 "I would if I could; but I can't." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " It would mean my ruin. My father would dis- 
 own me, disinherit me, and cast me adrift without 
 a penny." 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 247 
 
 "With you, then, it is not so much a matter of 
 filial piety or religious principle, as it is a matter of 
 financial policy." 
 
 "You — you don't understand me, Marlowe" — 
 McDevitt began falteringly. 
 
 "Yes," Ralph hastened to say, speaking rapidly 
 and coldly, "I understand perfectly. With Julia 
 Barwood it is a matter of religious belief — bigoted 
 though that belief may be. With you, as I have 
 intimated, it is a matter of dollars and cents. You 
 have no religious convictions nor scruples. You 
 would renounce your faith, espouse hers, and marry 
 her — if you were not loth to lose your father's 
 money-bags. You do not care for your church or 
 for your father's approval ; all you desire is his tacit 
 consent to your marriage with a Protestant. I de- 
 spise such a spirit. It is mean, despicable. I have 
 no advice to offer you ; and I would give you no as- 
 sistance, if I could." 
 
 "You're pretty severe on a poor devil," Mc- 
 Devitt said in a whining tone. " You've never 
 been in such a fix, Marlowe." 
 
 "True," Ralph replied in a softened tone. 
 "Were I in your place, I might look at the matter 
 differently. But you will catch cold standing here ; 
 you are shivering. Go home — be a man. I will 
 think over what you have told me. If I discover 
 an honorable way to disentangle your love snarl, I 
 will not fail to communicate the secret to you. 
 Goodnight." 
 
 McDevitt dodged into a black alley and disap- 
 peared. Marlowe turned up his overcoat collar, 
 
248 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 thrust his gloved hands deep into the pockets, and 
 hurried down the street. As he went he muttered 
 under his breath : "Bah! A miserable weakling 
 — without moral stamina or manly courage. I 
 doubt if he knows what love is ; he is too utterly 
 weak and selfish. How can such a woman as 
 Julia Barwood love such a man? She is strong, 
 virile, self-reliant. Yet her strength is her weak- 
 ness. For it is but narrow-minded egoism and 
 self-righteousness. She might save him from him- 
 self by marrying him. But will she — when she 
 learns the truth? And is he worth the sacrifice? 
 And a sacrifice it would be — to her mind, at least. 
 What a tangle — what a snarl ! Yet / would cut 
 the gordian knot at one stroke. If I loved her as 
 I love — well, somebody else, I would win her love 
 and her consent to marriage, no matter- what bar- 
 riers — religious or otherwise — stood between us. 
 I would not be balked and discouraged by a little 
 opposition. I would have her — have her in spite 
 of all considerations of worldly gain or heavenly 
 security! " 
 
 As he entered the front hall leading to his rooms, 
 the tall clock in the corner struck the hour of 
 eleven. 
 
 Dowii at the station, Sam Clark — his green- 
 visored cap pulled low over his eyes — was still re- 
 ceiving telegraphic returns. 
 
 But the townhall was almost empty, a few only 
 of the most tenacious of both parties still figura- 
 tively clinging to the wires and hoping against 
 hope that the vague and conflicting dispatches 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 249 
 
 would soon bring the certainty of victory or defeat. 
 They talked in drowsy monotones ; and figured 
 and disputed in a half-hearted way. The lights 
 burned low and dim. All was silence without. 
 The great presidential election was over ; but the 
 res\ilt was still in doubt. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 THB morning following — ^just as Marlowe had 
 finished the dusting and sweeping, of course — 
 Tucker drifted into the store, and anchoring him- 
 self upon a chair near the stove remarked : 
 
 "Well, ther's more dispute 'bout the 'lection 
 this mornin' than ther' was when I went home last 
 night. Then ev'rything was Republican; an' I 
 went to bed calkylatin' on a place in McKinley's 
 cabinet. But this mornin' ev'rything's whopper- 
 jawed an' topsy-turvy. No tellin' what the out- 
 come's goin' to be, I guess ; both sides is claimin' 
 the victory. Wouldn't wonder my cabinet p'sition 
 had gone glimmer'n, would you? " 
 
 "McKinley is elected," Marlowe asserted posi- 
 tively. 
 
 " You think so? Hain't had no vision have you 
 — like ol' Phar'oh used to have? Well, I don't 
 know 'bout my friend McKinley bein' 'lected. 
 This 'lection business is a good deal like snipe 
 huntin' ; the feller that holds the bag don't alluz 
 git the snipes." 
 
 Then after taking an enormous chew of tobacco 
 and finding for it a comfortable resting place in his 
 cheek : 
 
 " But I come in to tell you that I've been up to 
 see the ol' doc this mornin'." 
 
 "How is he feeling?" Ralph inquired, rearran- 
 ging the cigar boxes in the case. 
 
 (850) 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 251 
 
 " Too sick to git well an' not sick enough to die," 
 Jep drawled nonchalantly. "I found him settin' 
 propped up in a big rockin' chair, an' a lookin' like 
 one o' the before-takin' pictures in an almanac. 
 He's got one ankle swelled up bigger 'n a nigger 
 maul ; an' he's grumpier 'n a hoot owl with a crip- 
 pled wing. He told me — after a good 'eal o' talk 
 'bout rheumatiz an' its beauties an' advantages — 
 that I was to stay here an' send you up to the house. 
 Said he wanted to give you 'nstructions 'bout some 
 work that must be done " 
 
 "Why didn't you tell me?" Ralph interrupted 
 testily. 
 
 " Why didn't I tell you? " Jep went on placidly. 
 " 'Cause I hain't had time yit. An' ain't I tellin' 
 you now? Say ! you put me in mind o' ol' Cale 
 Wiseman that used to live out on the Quakerville 
 road. He was the funniest ol' codger; an' was 
 alluz gittin' ev'rything back'ards that he went to 
 say. One time Chalkley Hanson drove down to 
 town — come right past ol' Gale's place — an' got his 
 load o' millin' an' started back. Ol' Cale was out 
 at the gate watchin' fer him. He says : 
 
 " 'Where was you goin' this mornin', Chalkley, 
 when I saw you goin' down to town ? ' 
 
 " ' I was goin' down to town, of course,' answers 
 Chalk; 'goin' down to mill.' 
 
 "'Well, I wish I'd seen you,' says Cale; 'I 
 wanted to send a letter down to the post-ofEce.' 
 
 " ' Thought you said you did see me,' says Chalk, 
 coverin' his mouth with his hand, to hide a grin. 
 
252 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 " ' Oh! Well, I did see you,' answers Cale ; ' but 
 it was after you got out o' sight.' 
 
 " Course the ol' man meant all right; but he 
 sort o' got things mixed. He meant to say that he 
 saw Chalk after he got out o' hearin'. But " 
 
 Jep broke off abruptly and looked around the 
 room. He was alone. His words had been ad- 
 dressed to empty air ; Marlowe had taken his hat 
 and slipped out. With a sigh of disappointment 
 and resignation, the eccentric lounged behind the 
 counter and betook himself to the large black bot- 
 tle for consolation. 
 
 Ralph rang Dr. Barwood's door bell, uncon- 
 sciously rearranged his tie and smoothed his hair — 
 and awaited an answer to his summons. A moment 
 later the door opened; and Dolly stood before him. 
 She wore a short frock of gray flannel, the entire 
 front of which was concealed by a big gingham 
 apron — a checkered monstrosity that hung two or 
 three inches below her dress. Her wealth of golden 
 hair was draw^n tightly back from her white fore- 
 head and twisted into an immense knot upon the 
 back of her coquettish head ; but in spite of the 
 hard usage to which it had been subjected, little 
 ringlets and tresses had escaped confinement and 
 were dallying about her ears and temples. One 
 dress sleeve was pushed above her dimpled elbow ; 
 and with nervous fingers she was tugging at it, 
 striving to pull it down. 
 
 Ralph's face mirrored the admiration he felt. 
 She appeared more childish than ever; but he 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 253 
 
 thought he had never seen her look so beautiful. 
 He was a man, you know. 
 
 "Oh!" she said with a little scream. "I did 
 not know it was you. I should not have come to 
 the door at all, but mother and Julia are both out. 
 I was at work in the kitchen." 
 
 Then she stopped speaking, blushed — ^yes, actu- 
 ally blushed, and pulled frantically at her refractory 
 sleeve, succeeding at last in restoring it to its 
 proper place. 
 
 " Good morning," he said, smiling and extend- 
 ing his hand. 
 
 " Good morning," she returned with a confused 
 but merry laugh, placing her soft, taper fingers in 
 his palm. " Come in. Of course you've come to 
 see father. Dear old daddy!" — Her voice soften- 
 ing tenderly. — "He's been suffering awfully for a 
 few days. Come this way. He's hobbled down 
 to the sitting room again this morning. We can't 
 keep him in bed. This hall is so dark. Don't fall 
 over that old eight-day clock. It takes up as much 
 room as a bedstead — ^almost; and it doesn't run 
 eight days out of the year. But father will have it 
 here; it's a family relic, you know." 
 
 At the second door on the right she stopped; and 
 pointing to the knob said : 
 
 "You'll find him in there. Dear grumbling, 
 grumpy old daddy! Don't mind his growls — he 
 won't bite." 
 
 Then laying her hand on his sleeve and smiling 
 archly up at him : 
 
 "You failed to come at my request; but you 
 
254 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 came promptly at my father' 6 bidding. Explain, 
 sir." 
 
 "I mean to keep my promise" — he began. 
 
 " When? " she broke in impatiently. 
 
 '* Some evening in the near future." 
 
 " When? "—Insistently. 
 
 " As soon as your father is better. Do you think 
 it will prove agreeable for me to call formally? " 
 
 "Agreeable?" 
 
 "To the other members of the family. Yon 
 alone have extended me an invitation." 
 
 "Oh!" — And she laughed softly, yet uneasily 
 glanced toward the rear of the dark, wide hall, as 
 though fearing or expecting the advent of some 
 one. — "You are over-sensitive, Mr. Marlowe; I 
 will not say over-egoistical. Father likes you — ^you 
 are aware of that ; mamma wishes to make your 
 acquaintance — she has so expressed herself; Julia 
 desires to argue with you; and I — I am anxious 
 to enjoy your company. Through me the others 
 extend you a most cordial invitation to call early 
 and often. Now, most exacting of mortals, are 
 you satisfied? " 
 
 In the dusky light of the hall, he could not see 
 her features distinctly ; but he knew she was noise- 
 lessly laughing at him. The wild impulse came to 
 him to catch her in his arms and kiss her saucy 
 mouth. As though divining his mad desire, she 
 drew away from him, saying : 
 
 "But I may not stand here idling away time 
 with you, Mr. Dignity. I must go to my pots and 
 kettles. Julia will return soon and accuse me of 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 255 
 
 dilatoriness. We keep no servant. Just think of 
 it! Mamma is old-fashioned; and won't have one 
 around. But listen to this awful threat, young sir, 
 and take warning. If you do not call soon, I'll get 
 sick and send for you — as daddy has done." 
 
 Ere he could make reply she had disappeared 
 through the rear door of the hall, closing it behind 
 her. 
 
 For a moment he stood staring blankly at the 
 wall through which she had gone, puzzling over 
 her words. Did she know he was a physician ? If 
 so, how had she ascertained the fact ? Had her 
 father informed her? Did her words imply any- 
 thing ; or had she simply uttered them to relieve 
 her own embarrassment? But she did not seem to 
 be embarrassed. He gave up the enigma and 
 turned the knob of the 'door handle before him. 
 
 " Is that you, Marlowe? " growled a voice from 
 the depths of a cushioned and padded armchair. 
 
 " It is Marlowe," the young man replied, closing 
 the door and moving toward the center of the 
 room. 
 
 " Come around here where I can see you. I can 
 scarcely stir hand or foot this morning. Take that 
 chair. Where the mischief have you been so long. 
 I sent that good-for-nothing Tucker after you, an 
 hour or more ago." 
 
 "I came as soon as he told me I was wanted," 
 Ralph replied, taking a seat before the fire. 
 
 "You did, eh? " — ^In a crusty, ungracious tone. 
 — " And when you got here you stood out there in 
 the hall for five minutes, talking to that chit of a 
 
256 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 girl, instead of coming in to see if I was dead or 
 alive. I don't blame you so much for that, though." 
 — His black eyes twinkling, his features drawn 
 into a scowl. — "Dolly would make any donkey 
 stop and talk. How are you getting along at the 
 store?" 
 
 " Smoothly, doctor," Ralph answered, looking 
 around the room. "How are you feeling this 
 morning? " 
 
 " As if I had slept on a bed of sickles. There's 
 no definite news from the election yet? No. I 
 wish you'd move that foot a little ; it's gone to ach- 
 ing again. Be careful — ^be careful ! " — With a 
 grimace and a half groan. — " The devil never in- 
 vented worse torment than articular rheumatism. 
 There — that feels better. You do know how to 
 handle an inflamed joint. Now, sit down, I 
 want to talk with you." 
 
 Marlowe resumed his seat, again looked around 
 him, and waited for his employer to go on. The 
 room was big and comfortable. A bright fire 
 blazed in the grate; the floor was-thickly carpeted. 
 The windows were high, narrow, and small-paned. 
 The walls were hung with rich, dark paper; and 
 upon them were a few prints, engravings, and 
 etchings. 
 
 "Well, what do you think of my prison? "the 
 older man demanded. ' ' I see you are taking an 
 inventory." 
 
 " I would pronounce it a comfortable place in 
 which to be ill," Ralph answered. 
 
 " Oh, you would 1 That shows you've never 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 257 
 
 been ill. I'll let you know there is no such thing 
 as a comfortable place for the poor unfortunate 
 with rheumatism. Ouch-! Hand me that bottle 
 on the mantel." 
 
 " What are you taking? " Marlowe asked, shak- 
 ing the bottle and holding it up to the light. 
 
 " What am I taking? " — Fiercely. 
 
 "Yes."— Coolly. 
 
 " It's none of your business! " 
 
 ' ' Possibly. You need not go to the trouble of in- 
 forming me.. I know what it is." 
 
 "You do?" 
 
 "Yes. It's a mixture of colchicum and guaiac 
 — a nasty mess." 
 
 " No matter. It's indicated in my case." 
 
 "Is it?" 
 
 "Is it! Isn't it?" 
 
 " I think not." 
 
 " You think not? " 
 
 Marlowe nodded — and replaced the bottle upon 
 the mantel. For several seconds silence reigned. 
 Then Dr. Barwood said : 
 
 " You object to my treatment. What would jow 
 advise? " 
 
 " Do you wish me to prescribe for you? " 
 
 "No." — Flatly. — "I wish your opinion — ^that's 
 all." 
 
 ' ' I would suggest the Alkaline treatment — the 
 salicylates, lithia salts, or lithia water in abun- 
 dance." 
 
 "Humph! " 
 
 "You have my opinion." 
 17 
 
2S8 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 " I have no faith in the Alkaline treatment." 
 
 " It is not a faith cure; it is legitimate therapy." 
 
 " Well said! " cried Dr. Barwood with a whole- 
 some laugh — that was cut short by a spasm of pain. 
 "Take my case and treat me. I have made a 
 miserable failure of it thus far. No physician can 
 treat himself intelligently ; he allows his feelings to 
 influence his judgment. Prepare what you think I 
 need and bring it up with you this evening. I'll 
 take it, if it kill me," 
 
 "Very well, doctor," Ralph replied, repressing 
 a desire to laugh. " What external treatment are 
 you using ? ' ' 
 
 "Oh, a stinking, disagreeable mess!' An old 
 woman remedy — hops and salt and vinegar." 
 
 "It's good enough — in its way. Has it given 
 you any relief? " 
 
 "Very little — none in fact. Do you know of 
 anything better? " 
 
 " I'll make you an embrocation." 
 
 "Embrocation!" the doctor snorted angrily. 
 Then, instantly controlling himself and smiling 
 whimsically : 
 
 "Bring it along, though. I'll try it. It'll be 
 like everything else I've used; it won't do any 
 good. But I can put in the dreary time rubbing it 
 on. It will help to amuse me. And you seem to 
 understand that it's necessary to amuse the patient, 
 while nature works the cure. I know what would 
 make an excellent soothing application — if only I 
 had it." 
 
 "What?" 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 259 
 
 "A plant that grows out on the headwaters of 
 Monday Creek, thirty miles from here. I've for- 
 gotten its name even. But when I was a boy the 
 natives used to make poultices of it ; and it relieved 
 pain like magic." 
 
 "Can't you get it?" 
 
 " Get what? "—Irritably. 
 
 "The plant, the drug — whatever you please to 
 call it." 
 
 "Get it? How?" 
 
 " By sending after it." 
 
 A sharp twinge of pain contorted the sufferer's 
 features; and he snapped angrily: 
 
 " I could get fire in hell, on the same conditions 
 — ^by sending after it. And one trip would be 
 about as hard as the other. Are you anxious to 
 undertake the mission ? ' ' 
 
 " To hell or Monday Creek, doctor? " Marlowe 
 inquired :with assumed innocence. 
 
 Then both laughed heartily. 
 
 " Enough of myself and my ailments," the older 
 man remarked presently. " Fix up your arma- 
 mentarium; and fire it into me. Now I wish to 
 talk about yourself. I want you to do some work 
 for me. Will you? " 
 
 " What is the character of it? " 
 
 " You seem to suspect." 
 
 "I do." 
 
 ' ' That I desire you to look after some of my 
 patients? " 
 
 » Yes." 
 
26o RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 "Well, will you do what I want? Somebody 
 must w^ait upon them." 
 
 " / would rather not." 
 
 " You have taken my case." 
 
 ' ' Tou know that I am a physician ; your patients 
 are not aware of the fact." 
 
 " They'll soon learn it — if you treat them." 
 
 " That is just what I fear." 
 
 " StufF ! " snorted Dr. Barwood. " Why do you 
 wish to hide your light under a bushel? Some of 
 the villagers, who know of the assistance you ren- 
 dered me in the Crawford case, already suspect 
 that you have a sheepskin. I laid a trap for you 
 there ; and caught you. The whole town is talking 
 about that operation — ^your part in it. People have 
 called here on purpose to question me. Your sins 
 are bound to find you out. You may as well throw 
 off the mask. Hang your diploma in the drugstore 
 and go to work. I have more than I can do when 
 I am able to be about. What do you say — you 
 shall share in the receipts? " 
 
 "Your offer is flattering, doctor — and I appreci- 
 ate the motive that prompts it ; but I must decline." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "My reasons are private, doctor." 
 
 ' ' I see. Then you will see my patients and 
 my practice suffer? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " No ? -What will you do ? " 
 
 "I will wait upon all you indicate; but I will 
 not proclaim myself a physician." 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 261 
 
 "Oh! Very well. Have your will and your 
 way — for the present. Time will do what you 
 refuse to do. Until I am able to get out, you must 
 dress Crawford's wounds once a day, make regular 
 visits to this list of patients," — Handing his com- 
 panion a folded paper, — ' ' and attend to all emer- 
 gency cases." 
 
 " And should I decline to do what you indicate?" 
 Ralph interrogated, receiving the proflFered paper 
 and thrusting it into the inside pocket of his coat. 
 
 "You will not decline," Dr. Barwood replied 
 composedly. ' ' Have Jep stay in the store when 
 you are out. He can keep the fire going and 
 inform people of your whereabouts. Report to me 
 once a day, at least, how things are coming on. 
 Another thing — if any oil men call to see me, bring 
 them up here. Don't send them ; come with them. 
 I might need your assistance in dealing with them. 
 I think that's all. Now, Dr. Marlowe, you may go 
 to work as soon as you like." 
 
 And his keen, black eyes — shadowed deeply by 
 his corrugated, beetling brows — sparkled with a 
 peculiar light, half humorous, half ironical. 
 
 Ralph took up his hat, bade the human oddity 
 good morning, and passed out. 
 
 When the front door had banged and the young 
 man's retreating footsteps had died away. Dr. 
 Barwood picked up a small hand bell that stood 
 upon the stand near his chair, and jangled it vigor- 
 ously. 
 
 In answer, Dolly came into the room, wiping 
 her hands upon her checkered apron. 
 
262 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 " What is it, daddy? " she asked, advancing to 
 his side, and caressingly smoothing his short iron- 
 gray hair. 
 
 " Don't stand behind me, daughter," he cried 
 crossly. "You know I can't turn around; and you 
 ought to know I like to face the person I address." 
 
 Obediently, smilingly, she moved in front of him 
 and dropped upon a low stool near his knee. 
 
 "Where's your mother and Julia?" he asked 
 brusquely. 
 
 " Don't you remember, daddy? They went 
 down to see Mrs. Carston, the miller's wife. She's 
 quite ill this morning. They had a physician from 
 Malconta to see her yesterday." 
 
 " And does that account for her increased illness 
 this morning?" 
 
 • " Oh, daddy! "—Softly patting his hand that lay 
 upon the arm of the chair, and laughing merrily. 
 
 A benign smile for a moment smoothed the harsh 
 lines from his countenance. Stretching forth his 
 hand and smoothing her golden hair, he asked: 
 
 "What have you been doing for the last hour, 
 that you have not been in to see me ? " 
 
 " Doing the morning's work in the kitchen. 
 Mamma and sister wanted to make their call early 
 in order to get back to their sewing." 
 
 A shaft of pain, at that moment, shot through 
 the doctor's swollen ankle, causing him to catch his, 
 breath and groan sharply. 
 
 "Poor daddy 1" Dolly murmured sympathetic- 
 ally, the tears starting in her violet eyes. " I wish 
 I could do something more for you." 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 263 
 
 "Confound it!" he growled savagely. "It 
 hurts like the — the devil, Dolly ! And our mother 
 and Julia have not returned f " 
 
 " No, daddy." 
 
 " Humph! " I could have made six calls in the 
 length of time ; and done six times as much good 
 — and not one-sixth as much harm. If Mrs. Cars- 
 ton isn't dangerously ill, she will be. For every 
 busybody in the town will push into her sick room 
 to hear what the savant from Malconta had to say 
 about her case. It matters not that they may be 
 her friends and interested in her welfare; the re- 
 sult will be the same. They will wear her nerves 
 threadbare with their chatterings and clamor- 
 ings ; and then wonder why she doesn't improve. 
 And when she dies — as die she will, if they have 
 their way — they'll lift their hands in holy awe and 
 prate about a mysterious dispensation of Provi- 
 dence." 
 
 Dolly simply smiled. His hand still rested affec- 
 tionately upon her head — and she was content. 
 
 " Dolly," he said so suddenly and sharply that 
 she started. 
 
 "What, daddy?" 
 
 "What were you and that young clerk of mine 
 talking about?" 
 
 "When— where?" 
 
 " When! Where! You sly minx! In the hall 
 as he came in. I heard you buzz-buzzing out there." 
 
 " Oh! " — With mock innocence. — " I had asked 
 Mr. Marlowe to call upon us; and was taking him 
 to task because he had not done so," 
 
364 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 ''You had asked him to call! " 
 
 "Yes, daddy." 
 
 'i Tou / A mere child— a baby! " 
 
 "I am seventeen, daddy." — Poutingly. 
 
 " Seventeen! A ripe old age! Why did you ask 
 him to call?" 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 Her father nodded, his eyes sparkling. 
 
 "Because — because I thought I ought to ask him 
 to call — because I wished him to call — because I — I 
 like him." 
 
 "Like him? You hardly know his face, 
 Dolly." 
 
 " I know him well enough to like him — ^to enjoy 
 his company." 
 
 "Look here, Dolly. We are comrades. Let's 
 be honest with each other. You entertain no silly 
 notions in regard to Ralph — ^Mr. Marlowe? " 
 
 " Silly notions? " — Blushing hotly. 
 
 " Yes. You do not fancy you love him, do you? 
 Speak out." 
 
 She remained silent — ^toying with her apron, her 
 eyes downcast, 
 
 "Answer my question — speak out," he insisted 
 in a firm but kind voice. 
 
 ' ' I — I do — not know, ' ' she faltered. 
 
 " Has he mentioned love or marriage to you; or 
 — or tried to caress you? " 
 
 ' ' No — never ! ' ' she answered stoutly, looking 
 her parent straight in the eyes. "As you say, 
 father, I have barely made his acquaintance. But 
 I like him. There!" 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 265 
 
 "And he has not expressed or intimated a liking 
 for you ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Well," he went on meditatively, earnestly, 
 ' ' keep a tight grip on your affections, Dolly. Once 
 misplaced they are not easily reclaimed. He may 
 care nothing for you — probably he does not ; and he 
 may be wholly unworthy of you. I know as little 
 of him as you do. Besides you are but a child — 
 entirely too young to think of such things. He 
 may call to see you — all of us — in a social way. 
 Enjoy his company as much as you please ; but con- 
 tinue to make a confidant of me. Will you, 
 daughter? " 
 
 "I will, daddy." 
 
 "Very well. Kiss me now — and go back to 
 your work." 
 
 Silently she obeyed him — placing her plump 
 arms around his neck, fondly kissing him several 
 times, and leaving the room, a tear sparkling upon 
 her cheek. 
 
 For some time Dr. Barwood sat shaking his head 
 and pondering deeply. He frowned — and anon he 
 smiled. At last he muttered huskily: 
 
 " I love the child dearly — and she loves me. I 
 understand her better than I understand her mother 
 and sister ; and she understands me better than they 
 do. It has been so since she was a little thing — 
 since she could barely toddle after me. A child — ' 
 yet a woman ! I can hardly realize it. She trusts 
 in me ; I must watch over her. He has won her 
 affection — I can see it — as he has won mine; and 
 
266 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 without apparent efFort. Who is he — what is he? 
 I wish I knew. I must know — soon. The idea of 
 my permitting him to prescribe for me ! I believe 
 I am growing childish." 
 
 Frowning and smiling by turns, he sat gazing 
 into the depths of the fire. Occasionally his lips 
 moved ; and he nodded his head approvingly or 
 shook it decidedly. 
 
 "You are to remain here," Marlowe, on his re- 
 turn to the drugstore, remarked to Tucker. " I 
 am going out to make some calls for the doctor." 
 
 The imperturbable Jep was for the once rudely 
 lifted out of his normal state of chronic placidity. 
 He was surprised — thoroughly surprised. His 
 dropped jaw and lifted brows showed it, as he 
 smoothed his stubby mustache with his knotty fore- 
 finger and ejaculated : 
 
 "Huh?" 
 
 "You heard what I said," Marlowe answered 
 coolly, filling his pockets with sundry articles he 
 had placed upon the counter. 
 
 " Goin' out to make calls fer the ol' doc! " Jep 
 murmured gaspingly. 
 
 Ralph merely nodded as he went on with his 
 preparations for departure. 
 
 ' ' Well, I'll — be — everlastin'ly — doggoned ! " 
 Tucker muttered — and lapsed into silence. 
 
 The latter state was abnormal, however, and 
 therefore of brief duration. 
 
 " Say ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 "What is it?" Marlowe inquired, starting for 
 the door. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 267 
 
 " W'y, you ain't no doctor." 
 
 "No?" 
 
 "No, you ain't — are you? " 
 
 "2oM say I am not." 
 
 " Well, what Aa you say? " 
 
 "I say for you to maintain your opinion, no 
 matter what you may hear to the contrary." 
 
 Then the door closed behind the younger man ; 
 and the older was left alone with his thoughts. 
 
 Jep pinched himself to discover if he were asleep 
 or awake. Having satisfied himself upon that 
 important point, he arose; and dragging his feet 
 up and down the long room, whispered to the four 
 walls : 
 
 " Goin' out to make calls fer the ol' doc! Well, 
 don't that beat anything you ever heerd of? Of 
 course he must be a doctor, then. But he wouldn't 
 say so. An' why? I tried to ketch him; but he 
 was too slick for me — slicker 'n a greased pig at a 
 county fair. Ther's some mystery 'bout that young 
 man. But he's a mighty nice feller; an' I like him. 
 He makes friends with ev'rybody, without tryin'. 
 The way he does it puts me in mind o' that ol' 
 buckwheat straw story. .1 mustn't fergit to tell 
 that one to him sometime. Ev'rybody's talkin' 
 'bout the way he managed things down to Jim 
 Crawford's that night — an' callin' him a doctor. 
 Wher,' ther's so much smoke ther' must be a little 
 fire. Ther's nothin' fer me to do, though, but wait 
 an' see. No matter what comes of it all, I'll stick 
 to him like clay mud to a cowhide boot. I like the 
 young feller." 
 
268 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 Marlowe's first visit was at Jim Crawford's. 
 When he entered the humble domicile and an- 
 nounced his intention of re-dressing the cobbler's 
 wounds, the latter eyed him askance and grum- 
 blingly gave his consent to the procedure. But 
 Mrs. Crawford greeted him effusively, got him the 
 hot water he requested, and appeared to place full 
 reliance upon his skill and knowledge. 
 
 Two or three whining, weakly-looking children 
 clung to the mother's skirts, as she went about the 
 room, and impeded her movements. 
 
 With deftness and celerity Marlowe performed 
 his surgical duties. The patient proved himself an 
 inpatient, by complaining and swearing through- 
 out the operation ; but his spouse openly expressed 
 her admiration at the quick and skillful way in 
 which the young man rerolled and reapplied the 
 bandages. 
 
 " What ought I to eat? " Crawford condescended 
 to inquire as Ralph was preparing to leave the 
 house. 
 
 With the dignity and aplomb of a veteran 
 practitioner, the young doctor imparted the desired 
 information. 
 
 " What's a feller goin' to do when he hain't got 
 nothin' to eat ? " was the cobbler's next question — 
 put in a surly, fault-finding tone. 
 
 " Are you in want? " Marlowe asked bluntly. 
 
 "Are we in want!" the cobbler echoed sneer- 
 ingly. 
 
 "Do you see any signs o' wealth an' opulence 
 'round here ? Course we're in want ; an' we'll 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 269 
 
 alluz he in want — so far as / can see. This arm 
 ain't goin' to be of no account. If ol' Doc Bar- 
 wood had knowed his business, he'd 'ave cut it oif 
 at the start. But the ol' ignoramus don't know 
 nothin', an' " 
 
 "Hush, Jim," his wife interrupted. " The ol' 
 doc's been mighty good to us." 
 
 " Good to us? " the husband snarled. " I'd like 
 to know how." 
 
 "You do know how," Mrs. Crawford went on 
 calmly — sadly. " What would me an' you an' the 
 children 'ave done, if the ol' doc hadn't left us that 
 ten dollars, on the night o' the accident, I'd like to 
 know? " 
 
 "Oh, shut up!" he snapped — and himself was 
 silent. 
 
 " It's not too late to amputate the limb," Ralph 
 said coolly. " I can take it ofiF at any time." 
 
 " You? " questioned Crawford. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "You ain't no doctor." 
 
 " Possibly. But I can take off your arm — with 
 an axe, for instance." 
 
 And the young athlete looked so savage, so in 
 earnest, that the little cobbler could only gasp and 
 stare. 
 
 Marlowe next visited Mrs. Crumbaker, a con- 
 sumptive! He percussed and auscultated her 
 thorax, took her temperature, and ascertained her 
 subjective and objective symptoms — ^and all so 
 quietly and scientifically that he won the admira- 
 tion and confidence of the emaciated patient and 
 
270 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 her female friends assembled. After he had fin- 
 ished his examination, he ordered her — as one hav- 
 ing authority — to continue her medicine; and 
 bowing and smiling, softly withdrew from the 
 house, leaving a buzz of wonder and favorable 
 comment behind him. 
 
 His next call was to see a child with tonsilitis, in 
 a cottage a few hundred yards down the Stonebury 
 road. How he immediately gained the little one's 
 favor, and sprayed its throat and otherwise min- 
 istered to it, was a subject for conversation among 
 the gossips of that suburb, for many a day. 
 
 Thus he made the rounds, returning to the drug- 
 store at eleven o'clock — to find Tucker asleep upon 
 the bench by the stove and the fire almost out. 
 
 That afternoon he saddled a horse and made a 
 wearisome trip of fifteen miles — including three or 
 four calls — over the rough and muddy country 
 roads. At five o'clock he was again behind the 
 counter — ^tired, sore, and hungry — with enough 
 work piled up before him, to keep him busy until 
 late bedtime. Yet he was happier than he had 
 been in weeks; he felt that he had been doing 
 something worth the while. 
 
 " J^P>" ^'^ ^^*<ii " I ^'^ goi*>g to supper. I will 
 be back in a half hour. If any one calls for Dr. 
 Barwood, or to leave a message for him, have the 
 party await my return." 
 
 On his way back to his place of employment, he 
 stopped at the post-office. Amongst the papers, 
 packages, and pamphlets for his employer, he 
 found a letter for himself. He started as he made 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 271 
 
 the discovery; and hastily studied the postmark 
 and superscription. The former was — "South 
 Bend, Indiana " ; the latter — " Dr. Ralph Marlowe, 
 Babylon, Ohio," written in a fine feminine hand. 
 
 He turned pale as he read ; and slyly glanced 
 around to note if his agitation was observed. Then 
 he hurriedly shot out of the post-office and made 
 his way to the drugstore. 
 
 " Gosh ! " Tucker exclaimed as he clapped his 
 eyes upon Marlowe's white face. "You don't look 
 as if playin' the doctor agreed with you over an' 
 above well. You wouldn't stand it year in an' 
 year out — as the ol' doc has — if one day knocks you 
 out like that. What's the matter of you, anyhow? " 
 
 Without attempting to make reply, Ralph passed 
 into the private office and turned the key in the 
 lock. There he tore open the envelope, and read : 
 
 " Dear Ralph : 
 
 " I dropped onto your hiding place by the merest ac- 
 cident. Harry Davenport is positive he saw you standing 
 in the door of the little station of the village to which 
 I send this letter. I was on the car with the troupe and 
 looked out of the window, at that place — that I remem- 
 ber distinctly — but / saw nothing of you. Yet Harry is 
 certain he saw you. Of course he may have been mis- 
 taken; and this letter may never reach you. How funny 
 it seems — writing to a person of whose existence even 
 one is not sure! 
 
 " But supposing that Harry is right, I have written 
 you. On my return to Cleveland, from our summer tour 
 of the watering places and resorts, I found you had left 
 the city; and none of your old friends and associates 
 knew of your whereabouts. I understand all; you delib- 
 erately ran away and left me. Do you think that was 
 
272 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 right? I presume you thought I was a disgrace to you. 
 And I have been — I admit it. But I love you, Ralph — 
 so there ! And I am going to hunt you up as soon as 
 the season is over. Of course it is foolish in me to tell 
 you this; it will give you a chance to skip again. But 
 then — as you know — I am always doing foolish things. 
 
 " Now, Ralph, listen to me. I am making good 
 money with the company this season. ' The Cider and 
 the Pie' is playing to crowded houses; and the manager 
 has twice advanced my salary. I am saving it, too. 
 Won't you come back and live with me and Freddie 
 when the season is over? I'll be good — and we'll go to 
 a new place, if you don't wish to live in Cleveland. 
 See — I don't scold you nor blame you. You have put 
 up with a great deal. But I won't make you ashamed of 
 me any more; I have turned over a new leaf. Let me 
 hear from you. Address me in care of the company. 
 New York. The letter will be forwarded. 
 " Lovingly yours — as ever, 
 
 " Stella. 
 
 " P. S. — Freddie is well; and contented with Mrs. Bush, 
 in Cleveland. He looks more and more like you as he, 
 grows older — / think. And why shouldn't he? I am 
 glad that he does. Do not expect to escape me by not 
 answering this. I will hunt you up. 
 
 " Stella." 
 
 Ralph Marlowe was pale as death as he finished 
 the perusal of the brief and rambling epistle. But 
 with steady fingers he refolded it, replaced it in the 
 envelope, and thrust it into his pocket. Then he 
 dropped into a chair, buried his face in his hands, 
 and groaned in agony of spirit : 
 
 ' 'Just as I feared— expected ! She is my Neme- 
 sis ; I cannot escape her. Oh, Stella — Stella! I 
 will not answer her letter— of course. But I shall 
 live in constant dread of her coming ; and come shie 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 373 
 
 will, I feel — I know. Shall I again flee? What 
 is the use? If I am not buried in this obscure vil- 
 lage, where could I find concealment. It is hard — 
 hard! Poor little Fred! I loye and pity him! 
 Poor little lad! What can I do? Nothing but 
 stay here — and face the inevitable. When it comes 
 it will mean ruin. And I thought to find a hidden 
 haven here! It is a shock — an awful shock! Just 
 when my prospects were brightening, too! " 
 
 He arose, smoothed his rumpled hair, and com- 
 posed his features as well as he could. Then he 
 resolutely opened the door and returned to the drug 
 room. It was deserted ; Jep had gone. 
 
 At eight o'clock Ralph closed the store and went 
 to report the day's doings, to his employer, taking 
 with him the medicine he had prepared. On reach- 
 ing the house he found the front door standing 
 open and the hall brilliantly lighted. The tinkling 
 notes of piano music came to his ears. He entered 
 and knocked upon the sitting room door. 
 
 " Come," was the gruff response from within. 
 
 The young man accepted the invitation— or 
 obeyed the summons, as you please — and found 
 himself in the presence of the master of the house. 
 The latter still sat huddled in the big armchair in 
 front of the grate, a look of intense suffering resting 
 lipon his countenance. The spicy smell of boiled 
 hops and vinegar pervaded the apartment. 
 
 "How are you this evening, doctor?" Ralph 
 inquired pleasantly. 
 
 " Getting no better fast," Dr. Barwood jerked 
 out. " You've been a long time in putting in an 
 i8 
 
274 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 appearance, young man. Why didn't you keep me 
 waiting all night? " 
 
 " Apparently you forget, doctor, that I have had 
 something to do today." — Wearily seating himself 
 and thrusting his feet toward the fire. 
 
 ' ' Huh ! Perhaps so — perhaps you have. How 
 did you get on ? " 
 
 "So-so. All of your patients I visited accepted 
 my services gratefully, except one." 
 
 "Jim Crawford? " 
 
 "Yes." — And Marlowe smilingly related what 
 the cobbler had said. 
 
 "The infernal drunken scoundrel and — Ouch!" 
 
 The sufferer gritted his teeth and grasped the 
 arms of his chair, as a paroxysm of pain shot 
 through his swollen ankle, warning him that he 
 must not get excited. 
 
 ' ' Let me give you a dose of this medicine and 
 rub your foot with this embrocation," Marlowe 
 suggested, taking the articles from his pocket. 
 
 Then, without waiting for the other's consent or 
 refusal, the younger man threw off his overcoat and 
 went to work. In a remarkably short time he had 
 removed the manifold cloths that enveloped the in- 
 flamed joint and was rubbing and kneading it 
 gently but firmly. The pungent, aromatic smell of 
 the liniment mingled with the spicy odor of the 
 discarded poultice. 
 
 "Whew!" sniffed Dr. Barwood. "That stuff 
 smells enough to do good, at any rate. It'll drive 
 the company out of the parlor, maybe." — With a 
 suppressed chuckle. — " If it does, I'll bless the day 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 275 
 
 you compounded it; for they've been gabbling and 
 thumping the piano, till my teeth are on edge. 
 Say! Go gently there. Remember that ankle's 
 fearfully tender. What are you going to do now 
 — wrap it up in flannel? " 
 
 Ralph nodded; and went on with his work. 
 The foot and leg rebandaged, he arose from his 
 kneeling posture and asked: 
 
 " How does it feel now? " 
 
 "Better," the doctor admitted. "Give me a 
 dose of your prescription." 
 
 When — with a wry face and a shudder — he had 
 swallowed a teaspoonful of the mixture and wiped 
 his lips upon the back of his hand, he said 
 briskly : 
 
 " Now let's get down to business. Is there any- 
 thing that needs my attention at the store — or else- 
 where?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Crawford can't get well unless he has some- 
 thing to eat. I can't keep him alive on medicine 
 alone." 
 
 "Let him die — the miserable ingrate ! " Dr. 
 Barwood barked angrily. " I've done the last in 
 that respect that ever I'll do for him. There ! " 
 
 "But his wife and children, doctor," Ralph in- 
 terposed in a pitying tone. 
 
 " Let the township trustees look after them." 
 
 "But will they?" 
 
 "I don't know — and I don't care. I'm done." 
 — Sullenly. 
 
276 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 "Theo, there is Mrs. Crumbaker, the consump- 
 tive," Marlowe suggested. 
 
 "See that she gets what she needs." — Snappishly, 
 — " You seem to think I ought to treat these people- 
 free of charge, keep them in food, clothing, and 
 shelter, and pay them a bonus for the privilege. 
 You'll find out you can't make money that way. 
 Is there anything else? " 
 
 "Yes, doctor." 
 
 " Out with it." 
 
 "I would like to have the drug room repainted 
 and repapered." 
 
 "It doesn't need it." 
 
 "But it does, doctor." 
 
 Dr. Barwood frowned darkly at his companioti, 
 who sat calmly facing him. The older man was 
 thoroughly angry. He gurgled and panted for 
 breath. At last he succeeded in gasping: 
 
 " You dare to flatly contradict me? " 
 
 "The drug room needs renovating, doctor," 
 Ralph answered smoothly. 
 
 Again Dr. Barwood was knocked speechless. 
 He could only sit and stare. But little by little the 
 tensC' lines of his visage relaxed; and a moment 
 later a smile elevated the drawn corners of his 
 mouth. 
 
 "You are the most positive, the most obstinate 
 man I ever met," he said. 
 
 " One cannot meet one's self," Marlowe laughed. 
 
 " Well said," the doctor chuckled dryly. 
 
 Then he went on : 
 
 "Now, Ralph — my boy, I'll tell you what I'll 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 27-} 
 
 do. I'll grant you permission to fix up the drug 
 room, to your own taste — on one condition." 
 
 "Name it." 
 
 " That you throw aside your foolish, squeamish 
 notions — no matter what may be their origin — hang 
 your medical diploma at the side of your certificate 
 of registration as a pharmacist, in the drugstore, 
 and thus let the public know you are a physi- 
 cian." 
 
 For a moment Ralph Marlowe nervously hesi- 
 tated. Instinctively his hand flew to the letter in 
 the inner pocket of his coat. Then compressing 
 his lips and wrinkling his brows, he turned sud- 
 denly, strode to one of the side windows, and stood 
 silently looking out at the night. 
 
 The older man closely watched his companion's 
 every movement and expression of countenance; 
 but said nothing. A full minute the younger stood 
 still as a statue. Then wheeling about he said with 
 startling abruptness : 
 
 "Dr. Barwood, I accept your proposition." 
 
 A smile of gratification lighted the older man 'a 
 face ; and he held out his hand saying : 
 
 "I'm glad to hear you eay that, my boy. You 
 will never regret your decision — my word for it. 
 From this day you do not work upon a salary ; but 
 for one half of the net proceeds of the drug busi- 
 ness and the practice. There — there! None of 
 that."— As Ralph started and shook his head. — 
 " I mean to have my way with you this once. 
 Now, go ahead and run things to suit yourself — ■ 
 until I can get out. Then I will assist you." 
 
278 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 He uttered the last sentence with a humorous ex- 
 pression of countenance and a jerky chuckle. 
 
 Marlowe was dumfounded. He tried to thank 
 his benefactor ; but his voice was husky with emo- 
 tion, and the words would not come. Seeing 
 which, Dr. Barwood — his own eyes gleaming with 
 moisture — again held out his hand, crying cheerily : 
 
 " Never mind. I don't want to be pestered with 
 your thanks. Here! Shake hands and be off. 
 I'm feeling better — and I want to go to bed." 
 
 Marlowe — his features working, his chest heav- 
 ing — grasped the outstretched hand and gave it 
 a hearty squeeze. Then he hurriedly donned his 
 hat and overcoat and made for the door. While 
 blindly groping for the knob, he managed to say in 
 tremulous accents : 
 
 "Good night, doctor. I'll see you tomorrow 
 evening." 
 
 " Say ! " the older man cried. 
 
 " Well? " — Without turning around. 
 
 " In regard to Jim Crawford. How long will it 
 be before he is able to work ? " 
 
 " Four or five weeks." 
 
 ' ' Well," — Slowly and reluctantly — ' ' look after 
 the family until I get out. You understand? " 
 
 "Yes." ' 
 
 "Good night." 
 
 "Good night." 
 
 As Marlowe was passing through the door, Dr. 
 Barwood again called after him : 
 
 " Step across to the parlor door and tell Dolly I 
 want her." 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 279 
 
 In answer to Ralph's knock, the younger daugh- 
 ter herself came to the door; and stepping out 
 closed it behind her. 
 
 "Your father desires your presence," he mur- 
 mured gutturally, attempting to brush past her and 
 escape her keen observation. 
 
 "I should have been with him," she replied in 
 an apologetic, explanatory tone, "but I was help- 
 ing to entertain some stupid callers. Mamma and 
 Julia desired me to play. Then" — Brightly — " I 
 heard you come in, and felt daddy was in good 
 hands." 
 
 As she finished she looked him full in the face ; 
 and observing his agitation she started back, ex- 
 claiming: 
 
 " Father is not worse? " 
 
 " No, he is feeling better," he answered reassur- 
 ingly, again essaying to pas§ her. 
 
 But she planted her small self resolutely in his 
 path and demanded : 
 
 "Then have you and daddy been quarreling?" 
 
 "No — no! " he hastened to say. "Everything 
 is right. Go to him." 
 
 Grasping his arm with both her hands, she 
 pushed her face up close to his — he involuntarily 
 bending toward her — and said pleadingly, plain- 
 tively : 
 
 "You never will get angry at dear old daddy's 
 growls and snarls, will you, Mr. Marlowe?" 
 
 "No, never," he answered decidedly, fervently. 
 
 ' ' What is the matter, then ? " she coaxed. ' ' You 
 are excited — worried. I read it in your face." 
 
28o RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 " Nothing — nothing! " he whispered hoarsely. 
 ♦' Good night." 
 
 And gently but firmly pushing her aside, he 
 almost leaped through the door and down the steps. 
 She stood and watched his swiftly flying figure 
 until it passed through the iron gate at the foot of 
 the flag walk and was swallowed up in the dark- 
 ness. Then she quickly turned and sought the 
 sitting room door. 
 
 Marlowe crushed his hat over his eyes and ran 
 hurriedly toward his apartments^ — on the opposite 
 side of the street and halfway between the Bar- 
 wood residence and the drugstore — muttering under 
 his breath: 
 
 " It is done — for weal or woe, it is donel Right 
 or wrong, the die is cast! I will stay here now 
 and face whatever may come. I will flee no more 
 — no farther. I can but be disgraced — ruined; and 
 as well here as elsewhere. I have tried to reform 
 her; I have stood by her. All in vain! Twice 
 have I tried to escape her thraldom ; twice have I 
 returned to it. This is the third effort — and the 
 final one. Let her come on — let her plead and 
 promise as she will, I will not listen to her — will 
 not own nor countenance her. I have done my 
 duty by her; I have tried to save her — to redeem 
 her. Each time it was black and bitter failure. I 
 will fail no more — for I will try no more! " 
 
 On reaching his rooms he threw himself upon the 
 bed, without disrobing, and pillowing his head 
 upon his crossed arms moaned : • 
 
 "God knows I have loved her — her and her 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 281 
 
 child! And my heart bleeds for the little lad! I 
 wish I had him away from her — had him here with 
 me. But she would come and take him from me ; 
 I have no legal right to him. And she will come 
 for me — I know it. What then ? A scandal — a 
 dish for carrion crows! " 
 
 Awhile he lay silent and motionless. Then im- 
 patiently he arose, and flinging himself into an 
 easy chair thus communed with himself : 
 
 " And my present prospects are bright — ^the 
 brightest I have ever known. If only I were rid of 
 the incubus that hangs like a millstone about my 
 neck! Dr. Barwood likes me; I like him. For- 
 tune lies within my grasp ; but fate says — ' nay.' 
 Does it? It shall not! And Dolly— Dolly! I 
 love her already — fondly, passionately. And she 
 shall be mine ; I vow it — I swear it! " 
 
 At last he staggered to his feet, wearily and me- 
 chanically disrobed, and crept into bed. After 
 hours of wakefulness, and acute mental agony, he 
 fell into a troubled sleep— in the after watches of 
 the long night. 
 
 u'lu" ©KJ^SifiGgP^'*" * ^^ 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 Dalph Marlowe came out of his nocturnal 
 ^^ struggle, looking a little pale and worn but 
 with an expression of fixed determination upon his 
 handsome face. 
 
 During the week following he completed the 
 furnishing of his own apartments, had the drug 
 room altered to his satisfaction and his diploma 
 framedr^nd displayed to the view of the curious — 
 all this in addition to his multifarious duties as 
 physician: and druggist. He would have appealed 
 to Dolly;' for potted plants to place in the front 
 windows of the store, but he realized that — with 
 the system of heating the building boasted — ^the 
 tender things would perish as soon as the weather 
 grew severe. 
 
 He worked early and late; and many nights was 
 so tired that he could hardly sleep. Yet the unre- 
 mitting toil was a mental relief. 
 
 His medical diploma, thus flaunted in the face of 
 the public, created a nine days' wonder — ^that died 
 in forty-eight hours. For every one wished to be 
 able to say to his neighbor — "I told you so." 
 Therefore, each individual who saw it concealed 
 the surprise he felt and treated the unexpected rev- 
 elation as a matter of course. Within a few days 
 after its resurrection and appearance the villagers 
 had forgotten its existence, apparently, and had 
 (282) 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 283 
 
 begun to speak familiarly — and aflFectionately, 
 even — of its possessor, as "the young doc." 
 
 Sam Clark heard of the diploma being hung up, 
 the first day it shook off the dust of obscurity and 
 braved the censorious eye of the public ; and that 
 evening when he met Marlowe at supper, he fol- 
 lowed him out upon the veranda and said : 
 
 " Hung out your sheepskin, have you? " 
 
 Ralph nodded and smiled. 
 
 "I knowed it was coming," Clark laughed, 
 dancing about and gleefully clapping his hands. 
 ' ' You couldn't fool me — not muchy ! I told Airly 
 Chandler, that night after we left Jim Crawford's, 
 you was a doctor. He 'lowed you wasn't — said 
 druggists got all such training in drug schools, 
 nowadays. But I give him the laugh; and he shut 
 up. No, sir ! I wasn't a particle surprised when 
 I heard your diploma was hanging up in the drug- 
 store." 
 
 Then in a lower tone — and with mock gravity : 
 
 " But you're more and better than a doctor, Mar- 
 lowe." 
 
 "Indeed? Explain." 
 
 " You're a wonder-worker — an eastern fakir. 
 You're a hoodoo doctor, that's it." 
 
 " I fail to catch your meaning." 
 
 " Oh! You can be awfully dense when it suits 
 you. You can't understand the multiplication 
 table, even. What's the use of letting on ? You 
 understand well enough what I mean. You've 
 mesmerized the old doc and got everything coming 
 your own way — drugstore all fixed up, a nice suite 
 
284 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 of rooms for yourself, doing his practice, and so 
 on. And all in a month or so. I wouldn't be 
 afraid to bet a week's salary you'll be in partners 
 with him, in less 'n six months, and " 
 
 Ralph smiled complacently — but sadly. 
 
 "Married to Dolly before next fourth of July," 
 Clark completed. 
 
 "That will do," Marlowe said, lowering his 
 brows and speaking sternly* 
 
 "What?" 
 
 " Please leave the young lady out of your 
 prophecy." 
 
 "I'm not going to publish my predictions," re- 
 plied Clark in an aggrieved tone. "You might 
 let me tell you what I think and predict," 
 
 " What more do you desire to tell me ? " 
 
 " That Dolly Barwood loves you already," Clark 
 answered quickly. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " Ralph muttered — but a pleased 
 expression for a moment rested upon his counte- 
 nance. " Why do you say that ? " 
 
 "Because I think it — that's why." 
 
 " Why do you think it, then ? " 
 
 " Do you take me for a blind fool, Marlowe? " 
 Clark grinned. " I can read women, as well as 
 the next fellow. And I've read Dolly Barwood — 
 and she loves you." 
 
 Ralph carelessly snapped the toothpick he held 
 in his fingers, but made no reply. Clark went on: 
 
 " I've got over my infatuation for Dolly; you're 
 welcome to her. I've got the prettiest, smartest 
 little girl there is in the valley — / have," 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 285 
 
 '• Off with the old love and on with the new," 
 Ralph remarked absent-mindedly. 
 
 "You bet! " — HilariouBly capering about the 
 floor. — ' ' Black eyes and hair, rosy cheeks, white 
 teeth, and red lips. But you've met her? " 
 
 " I do not know." 
 
 "Yes, you have — ^Mame Gridley." 
 
 ' ' I have seen her. " 
 
 " Well, isn't she a beauty— say? " 
 
 " She is a very pretty girl. How long have you 
 been — been——' ' 
 
 " How long have I been going with her — keeping 
 her company ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Oh! A week or two. And we're engaged." 
 
 Ralph laughed outright. Then he said — the 
 corners of his mouth still twitching: 
 
 "You railroad men are swift fellows — in your 
 courting as well as in other matters." 
 
 " Swift ? " Clark grinned good-naturedly. " Well, 
 I reckon ! And I'm going to run this thing through 
 on schedule time, or blow out a cylinder head. 
 I've got her parents' consent; and the day's set — 
 thirtieth of next May." 
 
 " You have made progress." 
 
 " Well, you see, I always did have a hankering 
 for Mame — ever since I come here. But somehow 
 she always shied away from me till just lately. 
 For a time I thought I was in love with Dolly Bar- 
 wood ; but I viasn't. A fellow can't get very deep 
 in love where he knows he hasn't a ghost of a show, 
 /can't, at least. And Dolly always laughed at me 
 
286 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 when I got spoony. It sent the shivers up my 
 spine and cooled me off luonderfully. Yes, I'm 
 going to get married and settle down here." 
 
 "I thought you didn't like the place," Ralph 
 said. 
 
 " I thought so, too." — And the pale young oper- 
 ator grinned a silly grin. — " But that was before I 
 was in love. It's different now. This is a bully 
 old town — all sunshine and roses. But I must tote 
 the mail. See you later." 
 
 Whistling merrily he set off toward his place of 
 employment. 
 
 Marlowe sauntered up the street, musing : 
 
 "What a magic thing is reciprocated love — 
 coupled with a successful wooing ! Here is Clark 
 in the seventh heaven of delight, all because he is 
 engaged to the maiden he loves — or fancies he loves. 
 On the contrary, McDevitt — poor devil ! — is in the 
 fourteenth hell of misery, because he can not marry 
 the woman of his choice. The success or failure of 
 the wooing makes the difference. " 
 
 He had left Jep in the drugstore; and found him 
 there on his return. That voluble bumpkin was 
 standing with legs far apart, looking unblinkingly 
 at the newly displayed diploma and vainly trying 
 to decipher it. He turned, as Ralph stepped into 
 the room, and said grumblingly: 
 
 ' ' Of all the darned unsatisfyin' things to try to 
 make out, one o' these diplomers is the darnedest ! 
 I seen that thing" — Pointing with his forefinger 
 — "hangin' on the wall there, at noon, but I didn't 
 take no p'rtickler notice of it. But while you was 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 287 
 
 at supper, in comes Sol Washburn, an' settin' his 
 specs astraddle of his pr'boscis says : 
 
 " ' So that's the young doc's diplomer.' 
 
 " Then I took a squint at it ; an' I've been 
 squintin' at it ever sence. It's worse 'n a railroad 
 map o' purgatory — it is, by gosh! The ol' doc's 
 hangs in the back room ; an' one day w'en I was 
 helpin' him to red up some, I spent the biggest part 
 o' the forenoon tryin' to read it. Read it ! I 
 couldn't even read the p'rfessor's hen-track scrib- 
 blin' at the bottom. Why the nation don't they 
 print 'em in United States lingo ? Of course I've 
 knowed for some time you was a doctor ; but I 
 might live to be older 'n my great gran' daddy's 
 gran' mammy's spinnin' wheel, an' I never could 
 prove it from that thing. I don't know this minute 
 whether it says you're a boss doctor 'r a Mormon 
 preacher." 
 
 Marlowe did not think it necessary to make 
 reply; but passing behind the counter busied him- 
 self with the compounding of a prescription. After 
 a brief silence — and a final squint at the offending 
 diploma — ^Tucker seated himself and said : 
 
 "Young feller, you're gittin' to be some punkins, 
 ain't you? " 
 
 " I fall to catch the import of your remark, 
 Jep," Ralph answered, as he skillfully balanced a 
 five-pint jar in his palm and poured a part of its 
 contents into a small bottle. "It is obscured by 
 the metaphor in which you clothed it." 
 
 " Yes, an' /fail to ketch the meanin' o' your'n 
 when you use them 'tarnal, big, jaw-breakin' 
 
288 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 words. But I mean that you're feelin' y'r oats — 
 gittin' to be some punkins — rollin' in clover. I 
 can't make it no plainer." 
 
 " I think I understand you. You mean that I 
 am in good health——" 
 
 " I don't mean nothin' o' the kind," Tucker in- 
 terrupted in a tone of disgust. " If I'd meant that, 
 I'd 'ave said so. I'd 'ave said you was friskier 'n 
 a yearlin' colt an' pearter 'n a pet coon. What I 
 do mean is this : You're a wearin' mighty good 
 clo'es, an' you've got money in y'r pocket. You've 
 ketched holt o' the coat tails o' prosper'ty, an' 're 
 hangin' on fer dear life. There ! " 
 
 "You think I am prospering, eh?" — As he 
 shook the ink to the point of his fountain pen and 
 pulled a label toward him. 
 
 " Yes, you are. Been here a month 'r so, an' in 
 cahoots with the ol' doc a'ready." 
 
 " In cahoots? " — With lifted brows and a blank 
 stare. 
 
 " Yes, sir. In cahoots with him — ^goin' it on the 
 sheers with him." 
 
 ' ' Who told you anything of the kind, Jep? " 
 Ralph cried in an irritated tone, ceasing to write — 
 pen in air. 
 
 "The ol' doc hisself." — Grinning triumphantly. 
 —"Told me this mornin', when I was up to the 
 house; an' mentioned that I was to do whatever 
 you said jest the same's if it was him givin' the 
 order. Said you was in cahoots with him now." 
 
 Marlowe frowned and went on with his work. 
 Jep continued : 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 289 
 
 " Yes, you're doin' purty well, fer a young buck 
 —I thank you. An' it's all on account o' y'r under- 
 standin' human natur'. Other folks, all the'r lives, 
 has been knucklin' to the ol' doc an' doin' the'r best 
 licks to please him. That didn't suit him— it made 
 him mad an' cranky ; an' he despised 'em fer weak- 
 lin's an' hadn't no use fer 'em. You come along— 
 holdin' y'r head high, an' champin' the bit an' 
 ready to kick over the traces at any minute — an, the 
 ol' doc thinks you're all ther' is. He pitches in to 
 bring you to time — ^jest as he's done with ev'rybody 
 else — but hopin' all the time he won't be able to do 
 it. An' he wasn't" — Jep concluded— " an' in 
 cons'quence he thinks the world an' all o' you; an' 
 means to do a good part by you. It's all as plain 
 as the nose on y'r face, to me." 
 
 Still Marlowe pursued his task and made no 
 answer. Shifting his position and recrossing his 
 legs. Tucker took a fresh start : 
 
 " The way you've handled the ol' doc puts me in 
 mind o' ol' Bob Huff an' the buckwheat straw. 
 Never told you that one, did I? " 
 
 Ralph was counting a number of pills into a box; 
 and abstractedly shook his head. 
 
 " or Bob Huff ," Jep began. 
 
 But at that moment a customer entered and en- 
 gaged Marlowe's attention. Nowise discouraged, 
 Tucker bided his time, determined to unburden 
 himself of the yam. When the man was gone, the 
 eccentric again commenced: 
 
 " Now I'm goin' to tell that story 'r bu'st a but- 
 ton, or Bob Huff an' ol' Bill Leggett was neigh* 
 19 
 
290 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 bors, twenty years ago, out on the road 'tween here 
 an' Onionville^-on the other side o' the river. Both 
 of 'em had good farms an' was well-to-do ; an' both 
 of 'em had a fam'ly o' purty, peachy-cheeked gals. 
 
 " or Bob was a short, dumpy man with a double 
 <:hin that hung down like a rooster's wattle ; an' 
 w'en he talked he wheezed an' panted like a corn- 
 fed shoat at butcherin' time. He was so c'ntrary 
 an' bull-headed he used to qiiar'l with hisself, w'en 
 he went to go to bed, 'bout which side o' the bed 
 he'd lay on. Used to say the climate here was the 
 choicest in the world ; 'cause if you didn't git the 
 kind o' weather that suited you one day you was 
 purty sure to git it the next. It was him that made 
 the remark 'bout the rest o' the jurymen in the 
 Hance line fence case. He was on the jury; an' 
 they disagreed. After it was over somebody asked 
 him how the jury stood. 
 
 " ' Oh! ' says ol' Bob, ' I was fer the plaintiff; 
 the other 'leven, fer the defense. 'Leven o' the 
 c'ntrariest men I ever saw. ' 
 
 ' ' Ol' Bill was as tall an' lanky as ol' Bob was 
 short an' thick. People used to say he was so tall 
 he couldn't walk under his own umberell. An' 
 when he set down in a chair, his knees stuck up so 
 high he couldn't see over 'em. That's what folks 
 used to say, anyhow. 
 
 ' ' But I started in to tell you the buckwheat straw 
 story. As I said, both ol' codgers had a number 
 o' purty gals. Bob's was jest as good-lookin' as 
 Bill's; an' Bill's was jest as smart an' jest as good 
 housekeepers as Bob's. But somehow 'r other, ol' 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 291 
 
 Bob's gals all got married off young ; while ol' Bill's 
 growed up an' staid at home. So not understandin' 
 the reason o' the matter, Bill says to Bob one day 
 — w'en they was workin' in 'joinin' fields : 
 
 " ' Bob,' says he, ' how does it come your gals 
 is all married off an' mine's left on my hands? ' 
 
 " Bob squints one eye an' looks kind o' wise an' 
 says: 
 
 "'When a young feller comes 'round courtin' 
 one o' y'r gals, how do you use him? ' 
 
 " ' First-rate,' answers Bill. ' I put his boss in 
 the barn, let him stay with the gal all night, an' 
 give him his breakfast 'fore he leaves in the mornin'. 
 Sometimes I even coax him to stay over Sunday an' 
 go to church with us.' 
 
 "'Huh!' snorts Bob. 'Ther's wher' you make 
 y'r mistake. You ort to set the dog on him an' 
 chase him off the place.' 
 
 "'That so?' says Bill, kind o' surprised like. 
 'Why?' 
 
 "''Cause you had 'answers Bob. 'That's the 
 way / done ; an' my gals is all off my hands — all 
 married an' doin' well. An' they wasn't no purtier 
 n'r smarter 'n your'n. You try my plan an' you 
 won't have a gal left to pester you in a year's 
 time. W'y, I used to git the shotgun out an' jest 
 rip an' tear ev'ry time a young feller I liked come 
 'round the house. That made him think I didn't 
 want him to have the gal ; an' he was jest crazy to 
 git her from that on. I had six gals ; an' five of 
 'em 'loped — an' me a chucklin' in my sleeve when 
 they done it. Now all my son-in-laws is on good 
 
292 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 terms with roe-— pattin' the'rselves on the back, 
 you know, an' feelin' good to think they outdone 
 me — an' ev'rytbing's lovely an' the goose hangs 
 high. You jest try my plan, Bill, an' see how 
 nice it works.' 
 
 " ' Durned if I don't do it 1 ' says ol' Bill. ' Ther's 
 a young school-teacher comin' to see Melissy this 
 very night. I've been good as pie to him — ^been 
 boardin' him an' his boss over Sunday fer six 
 months. An' I've noticed of late he's gittin' kind 
 o' cold on the trail — don't come once wher' he used 
 to come two 'r three times. When he shows up 
 tonight, I'll let his boss stand out in the weather, 
 kick the dog an' cuss 'round; an' wind up by tellin' 
 that young feller his room is better 'n his company. 
 Durned if I don't do it ! ' 
 
 " ' That's it— that's the way to do it,' says ol' Bob, 
 wheezin' an' chucklin' — an' finally chokin' on his 
 tobacker. 
 
 " Then," Tucker continued, " each of 'em 
 started to make another furrer 'round the lands they 
 was ploughin'. But jest as they got well started, 
 ol' Bill drops his lines, an' runnin' back to the fence 
 hollers an' motions to ol' Bob. 
 
 " Bob toddles back to the fence an' asks: 
 
 «' ' What d' you want. Bill? ' 
 
 " ' Want to know what ever made you think o* 
 such a plan o' gittin' y'r gals married oif ? ' answers 
 Bill. 
 
 " • Oh ! • laughs Bob. « I'll tell you. Remember 
 that year back in the 'sixties, w'en we all raised so 
 much buckwheat ? ' 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 293 
 
 " ' You bet I do,' answers Bill. 
 
 " ' An' I s'pose you remember ther' wasn't a hoof 
 o' stock that would eat the straw, don't you? ' 
 
 " 'Well, I reckon I remember that,' says ol' Bill, 
 makin' a face. 
 
 " ' Well,' ol' Bob goes on, 'I tried an' tried to 
 git my stock to eat that straw. But the bosses 
 sniffed up the'r noses at it, an' the cattle bawled 
 ev'ry time they come in sight of it. At last I got 
 a c'ntrary spell an' I vows to myself: If they won't 
 eat it, they shan't tramp it into the ground. I'll 
 pile it out in the middle o' the field, put a stake- 
 an'-rider fence 'round it, an' let it rot fer manure. 
 Well, I fenced it in. An' what do you s'pose hap- 
 pened, Bill?' 
 
 " ' I hain't got no idee,' says Bill. 
 
 " ' Well, dang me,' says ol' Bob, laughin' fit to 
 kill, ' if when I got up the next mornin' them 
 bosses an' cattle hadn't broke down that fence 
 durin' the night, an' wasn't in there eatin' that 
 straw, like they'd never tasted nothin' as good in 
 the'r lives! I set the dog on 'em, drove 'em out, 
 an' fixed up the fence. The next night they got in 
 ag'in. An' so it went — me a fixin' up the fence 
 an' them a breakin' it down. An' the end of it 
 was they didn't leave a straw o' that stuff — an' 
 stood 'round an' whinnied an' bawled fer more. 
 From that, Bill, I learnt a lesson ; an' w'en my gals 
 got big 'nough to think o' havin' beaux, I follered 
 the same plan with them. Try it. Bill — try it! ' 
 
 '"Durned if I don't!' muttered ol' Bill, goin' 
 back to his plough. 
 
294 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 "Well," Jep wound up as Ralph was turning 
 down the lights, preparatory to leaving, " ol' Bill 
 give the scheme a go ; an' it worked like a charm. 
 Melissy 'loped with the young school-teacher 'fore 
 the moon changed ; an' in less 'n a year ther' wasn't 
 a caliker dress on the place — 'ceptin' the ol' 
 woman's. An' you've played the buckwheat straw 
 racket on the ol' doc, young feller — that's what 
 you've done ; an you've done it in good shape, too. 
 Made him think you didn't keer fer nothin' but to 
 have y'r own way, an' didn't want to please him 
 n'r be friendly with him; an' 'mediately he got 
 dead set on makin' friends with you an' givin' you 
 a good show. Say ! you're closin' up rather early, 
 it 'pears to me. Must be goin' up to the ol' doc's, 
 ain't you ? " — This last with a sly grin. 
 
 At last Ralph saw fit to make reply. He said : 
 
 ' ' I have some medicine to deliver. After I have 
 done that I may call to see how Dr. Barwood is 
 resting. Good night." 
 
 " Good night to you," yawned Tucker sidling 
 through the door. 
 
 Then he shuffled down the steps and around the 
 corner, humming through his nose : 
 
 " Come, love, come — the boat lies low ; 
 She lies high an' drj on the O-hi-o. 
 Come, love, come — an' go along with me ; 
 I'll take you down to Ten-nes-see." 
 
 That evening — and many subsequent evenings — 
 Marlowe called at the Barwood residence. He met 
 Mrs. Barwood — a soft-voiced, matronly woman of 
 forty-eight, still showing distinct traces of youthful 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 295 
 
 beauty — and won her favor. She always accorded 
 him a smiling welcome to the family circle and 
 treated him affably. Dolly did not attempt to con- 
 ceal her liking for his company. At times the 
 master of the house was frankly friendly ; at other 
 times, markedly morose. But Ralph understood 
 him; and did not worry. Julia was the only thorn 
 in the young man's flesh. Otherwise he would 
 have felt quite at home at Dr. Barwood's fireside. 
 But the older daughter — always coldly courteous — 
 held him at a distance and resisted his magnetic 
 power, to the utmost. 
 
 Dr. Barwood slowly improved. Soon he was 
 able — with the aid of crutch and cane — to hobble 
 about the house ; and on fine days he rode down to 
 his place of business. But he remained ansemic 
 and weak; and it was patent to the keen observer 
 that "the. old doc" was permanently broken in 
 health — that never again would he be able to do the 
 hard work he had been in the habit of doing. 
 
 Almost daily, drilling and pumping machinery 
 for the oil fields back in the hills was unloaded 
 from train or boat, 'and was hauled out through the 
 town. Of evenings oil men swarmed at the hotel, 
 saloons, and other places of business. Excitement 
 ran high ; for a number of lucky strikes had been 
 made in the ' ' wildcat " territory a few miles away. 
 Every one was mad with the oil fever. Fabulous 
 prices were paid for leases — leases that in most 
 cases proved utterly worthless. All talk was oil 
 talk. Capitalists, prospectors, and adventurers and 
 gamblers flocked to the village. Many needy famr 
 
296 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 lies reached easy circumstances by keeping board- 
 ers. Money was plentiful; and business became 
 brisk. 
 
 Still the oil men whom Dr. Barwood had been 
 expecting, and for whom he had been inquiring, 
 did not put in an appearance until near the end of 
 the month — November. 
 
 One bright morning he hobbled down to the 
 drugstore ; with great difficulty climbed the steps ; 
 and gritting his teeth and panting hard, limped 
 back to the stove and sank into a chair. 
 
 Marlowe was getting ready for a trip to the 
 country. Pausing in his preparations, he remarked 
 casually— carelessly ; 
 
 " Why didn't you have Jep drive you down, 
 doctor?" 
 
 " Because I wanted to see if I could walk down," 
 muttered the irascible physician, nursing his pain- 
 ful ankle and grimacing. "And I did it. You 
 needn't waste any pity on me; I don't desire it. 
 I don't like to be babied and coddled." 
 
 "I was not offering you pity, doctor," Ralph 
 answered, turning his head to hide a smile. "I 
 was asking for information, merely." 
 
 "Well, you got it," growled the doctor, picking 
 up the poker and viciously prodding the fire. 
 
 Ralph shrugged his shoulders and said no more. 
 Presently Dr. Barwood asked pleasantly: 
 
 "Where do you have to go this morning, 
 Ralph? " — Adding quickly and apologetically — " I 
 ought to call you doctor — but I can't." 
 
 " I prefer that you address me as you have been 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 297 
 
 in the habit of doing," Marlowe returned. " In 
 answer to your inquiry, I am going to make two 
 visits on Heathen Ridge, recross the river at 
 Hawksburgh ferry, call at George Hummill's, and 
 return by the way of Norton Ridge and Bald Eagle 
 Creek," 
 
 ' ' A long and hard trip — the condition the roads 
 must be in," the older man remarked musingly. 
 ' ' Yet I have made hundreds as long and as hard ; 
 and may make many hundreds more, when I get 
 over this infernal rheumatism. But no— I never 
 will. When I get well I mean to take things 
 easier. You are young and strong ; I'll let you do 
 the country riding. I'll stay in town and play the 
 gentleman. I have done my share of hard work, 
 and have earned a rest." 
 
 As he finished he flung up his head, his nostrils 
 dilating like those of a wild beast that scents 
 danger, the lines of his face stiffening perceptibly. 
 Entering the door were the oil men he had been so 
 long expecting. 
 
 "Good morning," said the leader of the trio, 
 nodding toward Marlowe and advancing to where 
 the doctor sat. " Heard you was sick, since I got 
 into town this morning, doc. Glad to see you're 
 out. How are you this morning, doc, anyhow? " 
 
 Utterly ignoring the oil man's friendly tone and 
 gesture, and pointing to the bench running along 
 the wall. Dr. Barwood countered: 
 
 " Where have you been in hiding so long? " 
 
 A little disconcerted by the physician's brusque 
 behavior, the oil man dropped upon the seat indi- 
 
298 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 cated — where he. was joined by his two silent com- 
 panions — and embarrassedly rasping his calloused 
 palms together, replied : 
 
 "We haven't been hiding anywhere, doc. But 
 things was going all O. K. ; and we thought it was 
 well enough to let well enough alone. But we've 
 come in now to talk business." 
 
 " Well, go on — talk it," Dr. Barwood said curtly, 
 placing his lame foot upon the rung of a stool, and 
 ' leaning back in his chair, with an explosive exhala- 
 tion of breath. 
 
 " Hadn't we best go into the back room, doc," 
 the oil man suggested timidly. 
 
 " No."— Tartly— " There's no fire in there this 
 morning." 
 
 " You don't want to talk out here, do you, doc?" 
 —With a meaning glance at Ralph who was 
 buckling on a pair of canvas leggings. 
 
 " Go on — say what you've got to say," the doctor 
 commanded sharply. "It's nothing to you who 
 hears our conversation. It's my business, not yours.'' 
 
 " Of course it's your business and not ours, doc," 
 the man said humbly; " but you've always been so 
 careful and bound us to such secrecy, I thought " 
 
 "No matter what you thought." — Bringing his 
 fist down upon the arm of his chair. — " If you have 
 a report to make, make it here and now. " 
 
 " I am going, doctor," Marlowe called as he was 
 passing through the door, saddlebags and overcoat 
 upon his arm. 
 
 " No ! " roared Dr. Barwood. " Not yet. Come 
 back here." 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 299 
 
 " But I ought to be off," Ralph objected. " It is 
 now ten o'clock; it will be dark before I get back." 
 
 " The devil ! " shouted the angry physician, his 
 face purple. "You drive me crazy with your pig- 
 headedness, Ralph. Come back here. I want you 
 to hear what these fellows have to say — to witness 
 the settlement I make with them. It won't injure 
 your complexion to be out a little after dark. I'll 
 stay in the store today; the business shan't suffer by 
 your absence. There — that's reasonable." — As 
 the young man returned, threw down his things, 
 and resignedly seated himself. — ' ' Now " — To the 
 oil man — " make your report; and cut it short." 
 
 "Well," the man began hurriedly, "of course 
 you've been getting your returns, through the 
 Standard, from the wells on the Worden lease, 
 doc?" 
 
 Dr. Barwood nodded, his brows contracted. 
 
 "And the same with the Gaddus tract? " the fel- 
 low pursued. 
 
 "Yes." — With a scarcely perceptible movement 
 of the compressed lips. 
 
 "Well, as near as I could find out by a deal of 
 spying 'round, doc, the rest of the company is play- 
 ing fair with you in them two fields. Last month's 
 output was in the neighborhood of six thousand 
 barrels. Does that correspond with your checks 
 from the Standard and your report from the com- 
 pany." 
 
 Dr. Barwood made a swift mental calculation, 
 batting his eyelids and biting his nether lip. Then 
 he replied : 
 
30O RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 " Nearly so. Go on." 
 
 " I think they're doing a square business with 
 you, doc " 
 
 " Never mind what you think," the doctor cried 
 irritably. "Proceed with your report." 
 
 " To come down to our own work in the wildcat 
 district, then, after we was in here the last time, we 
 went back and packed off the well and plugged her. 
 Then I set about taking leases, as you suggested. 
 I've succeeded in getting everything within a mile 
 or two of the well. I didn't have no particular 
 trouble in getting them, for everybody thought the 
 well was a greaser — just that and no more. I've 
 had the leases all recorded-, and here they are — 
 nine of them." 
 
 He took from the pocket of his greasy coat a 
 packet of folded papers and placed them in Dr. 
 Barwood's outstretched hand. The latter untied 
 the knotted cord that bound them, and unfolded 
 and minutely inspected each in turn. Then having 
 rearranged and retied them, he slapped his thigh 
 with the bundle and uttered a sharp — ' ' Well ? " 
 
 The spokesman for the oleaginous trio resumed: 
 
 " After I'd got all the leases I thought you'd 
 care to have, doc, I moved a couple of tanks over 
 from the Worden place — it took us two days to do 
 it, the roads was cut up so— and set the pumps to 
 going. I filled the two five-hundred-barrel tanks 
 in nine days. Then we had to stop, of course 
 Then I got some extra help, laid a pipe line to con- 
 nect with the Standard's, and commenced to punch 
 down another hole, a quarter of a mile further up 
 
RALPH MARLOWE ya\ 
 
 the run. People come 'round and laughed— said it 
 was wildcat territory and we was wastin' time and 
 money, But"-^Wxth a self-satisfied smile— -"they 
 was mistaken badly ; fer last evening we drilled in, 
 and the grease commenced to flow as soon as we 
 pulled the tools. She's a better well than the 
 other, by all odds. The word's got out ; and every- 
 body's crazy. The woods is full of prospectors 
 already. They're leasing all the land they can get 
 within three miles of your strip ; and cursing me 
 and you black and blue, doc, fer stealing a march 
 on them and getting all the 'joining land. That's the 
 shape things is in at the present time— and I guess 
 that's 'bout all I've got to tell." 
 
 With a quizzical expression of countenance, Dr. 
 Barwood turned to Marlowe and asked : 
 
 " How much will you take for your interest in 
 the new field ? " 
 
 "disinterest? " Ralph returned, greatly puzzled, 
 
 " Yes," answered the doctor, dryly chuckling. 
 " You have a half interest in the new well and 
 these nine leases." — ^Tapping them with his long, 
 white forefinger. 
 
 " I cannot understand you, doctor," the young 
 man replied gravely. "I did not invest a cent — 
 had nothing to invest " 
 
 ' ' True, " his benefactor interrupted, ' ' But / in- 
 vested — or set aside, rather— one thousand dollars, 
 five hundred for myself and five hundred for you. 
 We've got a good well, leases on all the adjoining 
 land; and the thousand dollars isn't all gone yet. 
 Eh, my friend?"— The question to the oil man. 
 
302 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 The latter smilingly shook his head, and an- 
 swered : 
 
 "No; enough left to put down another hole, 
 anyhow. " 
 
 " But, doctor, I cannot — I must not accept your 
 kind ," Ralph blundered. 
 
 Dr. Barwood silenced him with a frown and a 
 wave of the hand ; and turning to the oil man said 
 briskly : 
 
 ' ' Have you made out an account of time and ex- 
 penditures ? " 
 
 Silently the man produced a greasy memorandum 
 book containing a folded paper and handed it to the 
 doctor. After carefully inspecting both book and 
 paper, and comparing the figures in the one with 
 the figures upon the other, the latter said: 
 
 ' ' Ralph please bring me my receipt book from 
 the other room. You will find it in the top drawer 
 of the table. Here is the key." 
 
 While the young man was gone upon his errand, 
 the physician drew forth a check book and began 
 to fill out a check. 
 
 "I've forgotten your name," he said suddenly, 
 looking up from his writing. 
 
 "J. F. Rose," prompted the oil man. 
 
 Ralph returned with the receipt book. Dr. Bar- 
 wood handed the check to Rose, and requested 
 him to sign a receipt for the amount. This trans- 
 action over, the physician said : 
 
 " Now go back to the field and sink another well, 
 farther up the ravine. Select your own site. We 
 may as well have a string of wells; we can pump a 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 303 
 
 dozen as easily as we can. pump two or three — it 
 will take no more power. Well — what is it?" — 
 As Rose stirred uneasily and opened his mouth to 
 speak. 
 
 "I was going to say, doc — if you won't take it 
 out of place — that the tanks at the first well being 
 full, we'll have to turn into the pipe line before we 
 can pump any more. And oil being a fair price, I 
 thought we'd better keep the grease flowing. What 
 do you say? " 
 
 "Yes, you're right. Attend to that, of course. 
 Now, that's all. You can go." 
 
 The three oleaginous individuals arose and took 
 their departure. Once outside the door, one of 
 them remarked to his companions: 
 
 " The ol' cuss's crosser 'n the braces on a derrick, 
 an' harder to git at 'n a string o' lost drillin' tools ; 
 but he's good pay — an' he don't make no kick on 
 wages." 
 
 "I like to work for him," replied Rose, nodding 
 assent to the other's expressed opinion. ' ' Every- 
 thing's always understood beforehand — no chance 
 for disputes." 
 
 And they sauntered down the street — their desti- 
 nation the hotel bar. 
 
 When the door had closed behind the trio. Dr. 
 Barwood carelessly remarked : 
 
 "You are free to start upon your trip now, 
 Ralph." 
 
 " Doctor," returned Marlowe. 
 
 " Huh? " — Without looking up.. 
 
 " I cannot accept " 
 
304 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 " Hush! " 
 
 " You have done too much for me already." 
 
 "What have I done?" 
 
 " You have given me an opportunity to earn two 
 or three times as much money " 
 
 " Yes. And I have given you a chance to do 
 two or three times as much work, too." 
 
 " Dr. Barwood," Ralph said decidedly. " I will 
 not draw a cent of the profits of your venture " 
 
 "Good!" the older man laughed softly. "I'll 
 save it for you — place it to your credit in the 
 bank." 
 
 Realizing that he could not move him from his 
 purpose, Marlowe took up his traps and hastily left 
 the store. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 CHRISTMAS was drawing near. The earth was 
 covered with snow and the weather was se- 
 vere. At the Methodist Church a great revival was 
 in progress. Nightly the 'resident minister and a 
 sensational evangelist held forth to immense con- 
 gregations. Many professed conversion and united 
 with the church. 
 
 But the cold weather had driven the workers in 
 the oil fields to the village; and that rough element 
 held high carnival. Feasting and fighting, guzzling 
 and gaming, was the order of the day — and night 
 — with them. 
 
 Marlo.we saw little of Morris MdDevitt. When 
 he did meet the young merchant, he noted that the 
 latter bore upon his countenance the unmistakable 
 stamp of dissipation and profligacy. Ralph 
 shrewdly guessed that the advent of the roistering 
 oil men had been no advantage to the vacillating 
 young Irish-American, and that he was drinking 
 and gambling heavily. To a certainty, the young 
 physician knew that Morris did not now call at the 
 Barwood residence and that he and Julia were sel- 
 dom seen together. 
 
 Ralph's waking hours were well occupied. La 
 Grippe was prevalent; and the demands upon his 
 time were many. For Dr. Barwood — although 
 20 (305) 
 
3o6 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 able to limp down to the drugstore and help in 
 looking after the trade during the hcurs of daylight 
 — was not able to do outside work or to be out after 
 nightfall. Nevertheless the junior member of the 
 verbal firm managed to find time to accompany 
 Julia and Dolly to church, occasionally, or to go to 
 a private hop, with the younger sister. What 
 other leisure hours he could steal from sleep or his 
 pressing duties, he spent in his rooms, reading, or 
 chatting with Clark, Chandler, and other acquaint- 
 ances. Morris McDevitt seldom joined them ; and 
 when he did, he appeared ill at ease and did not 
 long remain in their company. 
 
 On several occasions Ralph sought a private talk 
 with the young Catholic, meaning to caution and 
 advise him anew, against the course he was pursu- 
 ing ; but McDevitt adroitly avoided the interview. 
 
 One morning, a week before the holidays, Dr. 
 Barwood bustled into the drugstore — he was fast 
 recovering from his lameness — frowning angrily 
 and thumping the floor with his heavy cane. 
 
 " Good morning, doctor," Ralph said pleasantly. 
 
 " Good morning," returned the doctor, in a tone 
 'twixt a grunt and a growl. 
 
 Then suddenly : 
 
 ' ' Ralph, Jep informs me you have been treating 
 members of the Gridley and Bentley families for 
 the grip. Is it true ? " 
 
 " Quite true, doctor." — Looking his companion 
 squarely in the face. 
 
 " Well," — With an angry snort, — " I am greatly 
 displeased. " 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 307 
 
 "I am sorry to displease you," Marlowe replied 
 in a tone of sincerity. 
 
 " Then will you give up the cases? " 
 
 " I will not," Ralph answered sturdily. " They 
 applied to me for aid ; I took charge of them. I 
 will not relinquish them to satisfy your whim." 
 
 " Whim? " gurgled Dr. Barwood almost choking 
 with rage. 
 
 Marlowe nodded, his eyes flashing warningly. 
 
 "You are impudent! " shouted the older man, 
 bringing his cane down upon the floor, with a re- 
 sounding thump. 
 
 " I am right, at any rate," Ralph said, unmoved. 
 
 The older physician stood and glared at the 
 younger in speechless rage. At last he said gut- 
 turally : 
 
 ' ' I cautioned you against becoming intimate 
 with those people. You have unheeded my in- 
 junction. Perhaps I ought not to ask you to give 
 up cases you have taken ; but you ought not to have 
 taken those cases. However, it is done now. 
 Have your hard-headed way — go on and treat them 
 to recovery. But I exact one thing." 
 
 "What is it, doctor?" 
 
 "That you place their accounts in a separate 
 book, and collect and keep all the money yourself. 
 I will not have a penny of it. There ! " 
 
 " I shall deposit it to your credit in one of the 
 
 Malconta banks, doctor," Ralph laughed; "as you 
 
 have done my half of the proceeds of the new oil 
 
 field." 
 
 . "I'll never draw it out," muttered the irate man. 
 
3o8 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 "Then you will have money in bank, always. 
 Be reasonable, doctor. You have been accepting 
 and using money from those families — the McDe- 
 vitts included — for two months or more. They have 
 been trading here ever since I came, almost." 
 
 Dr. Barwood stared at his partner in helpless 
 amazement. He moistened his dry lips with his 
 tongue and tried to speak; but could not articulate 
 a word. He had been trapped — beaten; and he 
 was consuming with impotent rage. At length 
 he uttered a contemptuous, explosive — "Huhl" 
 Then turned upon his heel, strode into the rear 
 room, and slammed the door. 
 
 After a lapse of fifteen minutes, he emerged from 
 his den, his demeanor completely altered. His 
 countenance was unruffled; the storm had spent 
 itself. Seating himself, he said cheerily : 
 
 "Ralph, my rheumatism is better this morning 
 than it has been in weeks." 
 
 " I am pleased to hear it, doctor." 
 
 " And I see Jep — for a wonder — has built a fire 
 in my office, and swept and dusted the room." 
 
 " Jep? " laughed Marlowe. " Not he. I did it 
 myself. I have been here since five o'clock." 
 
 " And did you fill the coal hod, too? " 
 
 " I did." 
 
 " Ponfound that lout ! " Dr. Barwood grumbled. 
 " He's becoming lazier and more nearly worthless 
 every day he lives. He doesn't desire to do any- 
 thing but sit by the fire, toast his shins, and tell 
 silly stories. Yes — he does. He wants to eat and 
 sleep. I shall have to haul him over the cpals." 
 
RALPH MARLOWE" 309 
 
 " Why don't you discharge him, doctor? " Ralph 
 asked, stooping to recover a cork he had dropped — 
 and thus concealing the smile upon his face. 
 
 " Discharge him ? " — Whirling around in his 
 chair and looking at his companion in open- 
 mouthed astonishment. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Discharge Jep ? " 
 
 Marlowe pursed his lips and nodded, his eyes 
 fixed upon the bottle he was wrapping. 
 
 "Why, man! " Dr. Barwood ejaculated. "Do 
 you want the poor devil to starve ? His wife and I 
 have to keep him — have kept him for twenty years. 
 She can't do it alone. He'd starve, sure as the sun 
 rises and sets, should I discharge him. For he's 
 too shiftless to get another position ; and too lazy 
 to hold one, if he had it. No, I can't discharge 
 him. It would be a cruelty of which I am not 
 capable. But I'll warm his jacket, figuratively 
 speaking, for his negligence. But say, Ralph." 
 
 "Well, doctor?" 
 
 "You'd better get out and make your morn- 
 ing calls. I'll attend to things here for a few 
 hours." 
 
 " I am just ready to start," was the reply. 
 
 And the younger partner donned hat and coat 
 and hurried forth, leaving the older sitting by the 
 fire and smiling inscrutably to himself. 
 
 The twenty-fourth of December dawned cold and 
 clear. A sleighing snow was upon the ground. 
 All the forenoon the still air was filled with sifting 
 
3id kALPIt MARLOWE 
 
 particles of hoar frost ; but by one o'clock the tem- 
 perature had risen, the skies were clouded, and 
 snow was falling. 
 
 There was a hurly-burly in Babylon that after- 
 noon. Sleigh bells jingled incessantly. Sleds and 
 sleighs glided into the village; and glided out, 
 laden with packages and bundles. The stores, gro- 
 ceries, and other places of business were crowded 
 with eager buyers, from noon till dark. Dozens of 
 Kris Kringles were abroad ; hundreds of little 
 hearts were throbbing expectantly. The evening 
 trains brought large numbers of travelers — come to 
 spend the holiday week with friends or relatives in 
 the village or adjoining country. 
 
 By nightfall it was again still, and clear and 
 cold. At the Methodist Church was a Christmas 
 tree, resplendent with wax tapers and laden with 
 strings of popcorn, bags of candy, and presents in- 
 numerable. At the saloons were light and warmth, 
 free and easy comradeship, hot soup and free lunch. 
 Many an aching heart left the house of worship 
 that night — for some holiday gifts are not as costly 
 and fine as others; and not a few aching heads 
 emerged from the haunts of good fellowship in the 
 small hours of the morning. 
 
 Christmas eve! What joys it brought — what 
 different joys for different individuals ! A Christ- 
 mas tree for the children and their piously inclined 
 elders ; a country dance and oyster supper at 
 Hawksburgh for the young people — to which two 
 sled loads went, laughing and rollicking as they 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 311 
 
 left the village ; and bacchanalian merriment and 
 the feverish delights of the card table for those that 
 were of the earth, earthy. 
 
 And every one was glad or happy or thankful — 
 or should have been. For each one had something 
 for which to be glad or happy or thankful. Julia 
 Barwood was serenely glad; her father had given 
 her money to spend upon her Sabbath School pro- 
 t6g6s, and had contributed fifty pounds of candy 
 for the Christmas tree. Dolly was exuberantly 
 haffy; she had the promise of a gold watch and a 
 sealskin jacket. Dr. Barwood himself was thank- 
 ful — though he would not have confessed it — that 
 his rheumatism was fast leaving him, that he was 
 financially able to give good gifts to his children, 
 and that Christmas comes but once a year. Mar- 
 lowe was thankful — how thankful he himself only 
 knew — that hard and incessant labor brings with it 
 the balm of forgetfulness. And last, but by no 
 means least, Sam Clark was supremely and ecstat- 
 ically glad, happy, and thankful; he was a lover — 
 an accepted suitor. 
 
 At eight o'clock that evening, Marlowe closed 
 the drugstore and went over to the church. It was 
 packed to the doors. The minister, the Sunday 
 School superintendent, and other notables had had 
 their say ; and the distribution of the gifts was in 
 progress. With many pranks and antics, a pursy, 
 bearded Santa Claus was reading the names upon 
 the packages taken from the tree by his nimble 
 young assistants, and was passing the articles back 
 through the crowd. Their rightful owners, with 
 
312 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 hands upheld and madly waving, were clamoring 
 for them. Little lassies were hugging huge dollies 
 to their hearts and softly crooning to them ; sturdy 
 laddies were critically examining new skates and 
 sleds, and loudly detailing their many points of ex- 
 cellence to admiring comrades. 
 
 All was bustle, chatter, confusion, and good na- 
 ture. Yet a few of the little people looked sad 
 and disappointed. Some childish lips trembled 
 and some baby eyes were moist with unshed tears. 
 Poor little tots ! They were learning the bitter 
 lesson that Santa Claus is a truckling respecter of 
 persons and worldly conditions. 
 
 Marlowe walked home with Mrs. Barwood and 
 her daughters, carrying their manifold bundles and 
 parcels. At the door he stopped and bade them 
 good night. 
 
 ' ' Are you not coming in ? " Dolly asked plain- 
 tively. 
 
 "Not tonight. It is late; and all of you are 
 tired and sleepy," 
 
 "Yes, come in, Dr. Marlowe," Mrs. Barwood 
 said shiveringly. " It is only half past nine." 
 
 Ralph yielded, and entered the big sitting room 
 with them. But he held his hat in his hand, while 
 he warmed at the fire, and did not remove his over- 
 coat — though Dolly urged him to do so. 
 
 Dr. Barwood was already abed. Mrs. Barwood 
 went to look after some household duties that had 
 been deferred. Presently she called Dolly to her 
 assistance; and Ralph found himself alone with 
 Julia. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 313 
 
 It was the opportunity he had been seeking; and 
 he hastened to improve it. 
 
 " Miss Barwood," he said, " ere your mother and 
 sister return, I desire to have a few words of private 
 conversation with you." 
 
 Interlocking her white fingers in her lap and 
 looking him full in the eyes, she replied calmly: 
 
 " I am listening, Dr. Marlowe." 
 
 " Do you love Morris McDevitt? " Ralph asked 
 bluntly. 
 
 "Sir!" — Her thin lips compressed, her black 
 eyes flashing. 
 
 " Perhaps you think I am taking an unwarranted 
 privilege, but " he started to explain. 
 
 "I certainly do," she interrupted icily. 
 
 " But," he went on unheeding, " I come as Mor- 
 ris McDevitt's friend — at his request. I insist that 
 you answer my question." 
 
 For a moment her eyes blazed and her chest 
 heaved. She half arose from her chair ; then frig- 
 idly reseated herself. Ralph kept his eyes fixed 
 upon her. At last her lids drooped and her lips 
 trembled. 
 
 "Do you love Morris McDevitt, Julia?" he 
 repeated softly. 
 
 She flung up her head, her black eyes swimming 
 with tears, and cried impulsively — a catch in her 
 voice : 
 
 "Yes, Ralph Marlowe, I love Morris McDevitt 
 — love him more than you think me capable of 
 doing! " 
 
314 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 "Pardon me," he said kindly, "if I have been 
 abrupt or rude. But I fear the return of your 
 mother or sister — I had to come to the point at once, 
 and insist upon your answering my question before 
 I could proceed. Julia, if you love Morris McDe- 
 vitt, why do you not save him? " 
 
 "Save him?" — With wide eyes and in a voice 
 barely above a whisper. 
 
 " Yes. Do you not know that your refusal to 
 marry him has discouraged him — unmanned him ; 
 that he is drinking and gambling heavily, is on the 
 highway to ruin ? " 
 
 Paling visibly, she gasped : 
 
 " I — I did not know. I have — have noticed that 
 he has not been himself of late ; but I thought " 
 
 She stopped abruptly. The blood surged to her 
 face ; she drew herself proudly erect and said 
 scornfully : 
 
 "Dr. Marlowe, what kind of man are you — to 
 come to me and speak disparagingly of him to 
 whom you claim you are a friend ? " 
 
 Again she was her hard cold self. 
 
 "And I am his friend," Ralph answered earnest- 
 ly; "and will be yours, Julia — if you will accept 
 my friendship." 
 
 " Which I will not do," she said in a decided 
 tone. " I do not need your friendship; I do not 
 desire it. I despise you for a meddler." 
 
 Marlowe's dark face flushed; but he answered 
 calmly : 
 
 "Miss Barwood, you are cruelly unjust. I came 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 315 
 
 to you at the solicitation of Morris McDevitt — 
 came as his sincere friend and well-wisher. But I 
 will not pursue the matter further." 
 
 " Thank you," she replied sneeringly. 
 
 For a few seconds a painful silence reigned. 
 Then Ralph said chokingly : 
 
 "Just one word more, Miss Barwood. What 
 answer shall I carry to Morris McDevitt? " 
 
 " None." 
 
 " He is expecting one." 
 
 " He has his answer from me." 
 
 " You will not marry him — although you confess 
 you love him ? " 
 
 For one brief moment she appeared on the point 
 of breaking down — of yielding. Her lips trembled ; 
 her eyes glistened with moisture. But she clenched 
 her white hands, set her teeth, and fairly hissed: 
 
 " No! I will not marry him." 
 
 " Because of his religion? " 
 
 "Because of his lack of religion." 
 
 "He is a Catholic." 
 
 " Catholicism is not true religion — true Christian- 
 ity. I will not marry him — and I have told him 
 so, over and over — until he renounces his false faith 
 and embraces Protestantism." 
 
 " Not to save him, even? " 
 
 " Save him! " she laughed scornfully, harshly. 
 
 Then rapidly — the fire of fanaticism in her voice 
 and eyes ; 
 
 " No one can be saved unless he is willing to put 
 himself in the way of salvation. When Morris 
 McDevitt feels the need of salvation, I will aid him 
 
3i6 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 all I can. But I will not risk my soul in a vain 
 effort to save his. He is in need of heavenly salva- 
 tion — ^not earthly salvation; and must first help 
 himself." 
 
 " Then you do not give credence to what I have 
 told you — in regard to his habits ? ' ' 
 
 "I do not. "—Flatly. 
 
 Ralph smiled sadly but attempted no reply. At 
 the moment Dolly bounced into the room, crying: 
 
 ' ' Let me have that morocco case I told you to 
 put in your pocket, Ralph — Dr. Marlowe." — And 
 she blushed confusedly, prettily. — " It contains my 
 finest present, a new watch from daddy. I want 
 to show it to you. And I thank you ever so much 
 for the books you gave me. How do you like your 
 tie? It's the prettiest one I could find. Julia 
 helped me to select it." 
 
 All the time she was rattling on, Marlowe was 
 searching his pockets for the tiny gold timepiece. 
 
 '• Ah ! " he said at last, " here it is. I had for- 
 gotten which pocket I put it in." 
 
 He drew it forth and placed it in her palm. As 
 he did so, an envelope came out with it and 
 dropped to the floor. There it lay unobserved. 
 
 A few minutes later Ralph took his departure, 
 Dolly accompanying him to the outer door. 
 
 When the two had passed into the hall, Julia 
 discovered the envelope and picked it up. It bore 
 — in a woman's fine chirography — ' ' Dr. Ralph 
 Marlowe, Babylon, Ohio." 
 
 Julia made a movement toward the door, intend- 
 ing to restore the letter to its owner. But at that 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 317 
 
 moment she heard him descending the steps and 
 Dolly returning along the hall, to the sitting room. 
 
 So, hastily thrusting it into her bosom, the older 
 sister made her exit by the rear door and went to 
 her room. 
 
 Several days elapsed ere Ralph became aware of 
 the loss of the letter. Then, of course, he made 
 diligent search for it; and, of course, did not find 
 it — and was greatly worried in consequence. 
 
 Christmas day was cold and clear. Most of the 
 business places were closed; and a Sabbath-like 
 stillness prevailed in the village. There was skat- 
 ing upon the backwater north of the town; and 
 many of the children and young people were en- 
 joying the exhilarating pastime. Sportsmen were 
 abroad in the fields and woods. The middle-aged 
 and old gathered around their own hearths and 
 softly, sadly talked of the past. So the streets 
 were practically deserted. The black smoke roll- 
 ing heavenward, from time-racked, crumbling 
 chimneys, a gliding sleigh, or a solitary pedestrian, 
 were the only signs of life. The silence was bro- 
 ken only by the reverberating roar of a shotgun in 
 the distance, the musical jingle of sleigh bells, or 
 the faint, far-away shouts and laughter of the 
 skaters upon the glassy pond. 
 
 At nine o'clock in the forenoon, Dolly Barwood 
 was at work in the upper chambers of the big 
 brick house she called home, caroling like a bird. 
 Suddenly she threw down the dust cloth she was 
 using, passed from the room she was putting to 
 rights, and tiptoed softly to the front end of the 
 
3i8 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 hall. There, with her warm breath, she melted a 
 space upon the frost-incrusted pane of the window, 
 wiped it dry with her apron, and peeped out. She 
 saw no one abroad. A brief time she stood gazing 
 down the wide street — in the direction of the drug- 
 store, which she could not see. Then, with a 
 little fluttering sigh, she returned to her work ; and 
 a minute later her clear young voice was again 
 ringing through the old house. 
 
 Down in the warm, spotless kitchen, Mrs. Bar- 
 wood and Julia were preparing the Christmas din- 
 ner. Savory odors pervaded the place. The table 
 was laden with pie dough, jars of mince-meat, and 
 open cans of fruit. A turkey was roasting in the 
 oven of the big steel range; and upon its top, a 
 number of vessels simmered and danced. Dolly's 
 merry voice floated down the back stairway. 
 
 "Mother," Julia said suddenly, brushing a spot 
 of flour from her apron and laying down the spoon 
 with which she had been stirring the contents of a 
 vessel upon the range, " will Dr. Marlowe be here 
 to dinner? " 
 
 " Of course," Mrs. Barwood replied, arising from 
 a kneeling position in front of the oven and looking 
 inquiringly at her daughter. "Your father has 
 invited him." 
 
 Julia walked to a window and silently gazed out 
 upon the snowy scene. 
 
 " Why did you ask? " queried Mrs. Barwood. 
 
 Turning quickly and facing her mother, Julia 
 replied : 
 
 "I asked, mother, simply to introduce a subject 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 319 
 
 upon which I wish to speak to you. it is very 
 well for father to take in Dr. Marlowe as a partner ; 
 no" doubt the young man is capable, industrious, and 
 honest. But it is an entirely different matter for 
 us to receive him into our home — to make an asso- 
 ciate, an intimate, of him. Don't you think so?" 
 
 "Why, I — I don't know," Mrs. Barwood stam- 
 mered. 
 
 She had fallen into the habit of trusting largely 
 io her older daughter's opinions and yielding to her 
 desires. 
 
 " We know nothing of him," Julia suggested. 
 
 "He seems like a genteel, moral young man," 
 the mother replied waveringly. 
 
 "Seems — ^yes," answered the daughter. "But, 
 as I said, we know nothing of him — his anteced- 
 ents, his past. And appearances are deceptive. 
 If father knows more of him than we do, he has 
 never told us." 
 
 Mrs. Barwood grasped at the straw. 
 
 She said meditatively : 
 
 "Undoubtedly your father knows Dr. Marlowe 
 is a moral gentleman or he would not invite him 
 here to dine — would not permit him to call at all, 
 in fact. Do you know anything against his charac- 
 ter, Julia?" 
 
 "No," the daughter replied deliberately, slowly 
 shaking her head. " But I have an opinion, mother, 
 that he is not what he would have us believe — that 
 he is sailing under false colors." 
 
 ' ' Have you a reason for your unfavorable opinion 
 of Dr. Marlowe, Julia?" 
 
320 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 "I have," the daughter replied, turning her back 
 upon hter mother and stooping to baste the turkey 
 in the oven. 
 
 "What is it?" Mrs. Barwood inquired quickly 
 — keen curiosity in voice and manner. 
 
 Arising from her stooping posture and dropping 
 upon a chair, Julia wiped her flushed face upon a 
 corner of her apron as she answered : 
 
 " I cannot tell you my reason, at present, mother; 
 that is, I may not — I iioiH not. But it is a good and 
 sufficient one, I assure you." 
 
 "You worry me — you vex me, Julia," Mrs. Bar- 
 wood cried irritably. " And one ought not to be 
 worried or vexed on Christmas day.^— of all others. 
 Let us drop the subject. You do not like Dr. 
 Marlowe, at any rate- " 
 
 " I — do — not! " Julia interrupted in a low sibi- 
 lant tone, her features hardening. "But that is 
 not the reason of my opinion of him, nor why I 
 desired to discuss his social relations with usJ* 
 
 " Your father is very fond of him." 
 
 "And you, mother?" — Fixing her black eyes 
 upon her parent's face, where rested a troubled ex- 
 pression. 
 
 "Why, I— Hike him, I think," Mrs. Barwood 
 answered in halting, undecided accents. " He ap- 
 pears to be a moral young man, intelligent and 
 genteel " 
 
 " He is not a Christian." 
 
 "No," Mrs. Barwood admitted, " nor is your 
 father — nor Dolly." 
 
 "But we knov) father and Dorothy," Julia pter- 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 321 
 
 sisted. " We know their past. They have done 
 nothing criminal, and little that is immoral — though 
 they are irreligious." 
 
 Then she proceeded earnestly, almost fiercely: 
 
 " Mother, do you think it proper and right to let 
 a young man come into your home and associate 
 with your daughters, who is avowedly irreligious, 
 of whose past life you know nothing — for Dr. Mar- 
 lowe has given no one a glimpse of its record — 
 simply because he makes a good appearance and 
 speaks you fair? If you care nothing for me, you 
 should at least think of Dorothy." 
 
 "Why of Dolly?" Mrs. Barwood inquired 
 calmly — but with a shade of anxiety in her voice. 
 
 " Why of Dolly! " Julia cried excitedly. " Are 
 you blind, mother? Can you not see that Dorothy 
 is growing very fond of Dr. Marlowe's company?" 
 
 " Do — Do you think she is growing fond of — of 
 him, Julia?" Mrs. Barwood asked faintly, falter- 
 ingly. 
 
 "Not grovjing fond of him," Julia answered, 
 with a covert sneer ; ' ' she is fond of him already. 
 The mischief is done." 
 
 " I cannot believe it," cried the mother wringing 
 her hands in great distress. "You must be mis- 
 taken, Julia; Dolly is but a child." 
 
 " She is nearly eighteen," Julia returned coolly. 
 " Quite old enough to fall in love with a handsome, 
 fascinating man like Dr. Marlowe ; and she has 
 done so." 
 
 " Oh, what is to be done! " groaned Mrs. Bar- 
 wood. " Why do you worry me with this, Julia? 
 
322 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 I can do nothing. Why do you not go to your 
 father? He is responsible for the state of affairs — 
 for Dr. Marlowe ever calling here, for Dolly ever 
 being in the young man's company. And your 
 father has not seemed to care ; and I have felt per- 
 fectly at ease. Why do you not go to him? " 
 
 ' ' You know I cannot talk to father — on any 
 subject," Julia answered, "He is so opinion-" 
 ative, so obstinate " 
 
 " You are so much alike," the mother whimpered. 
 
 "I cannot go to him with this," Julia pursued. 
 ' ' He would rebuff me — would command me to at- 
 tend to my own business. But you can talk to him, 
 mother; and you ought." 
 
 ' ' Oh ! I wish you and your father got along 
 better, Julia," Mrs. Barwood moaned. 
 
 " As you say, I suppose we are too much alike," 
 the daughter returned, with a toss of her head. 
 
 " Dolly and your father get along together — ^are 
 comrades, indeed," Mrs. Barwood said, drying her 
 tears and taking up the rolling pin. 
 
 " I am not Dorothy," Julia replied coldly. " But 
 will you talk to father on this subject, mother? " 
 
 " I suppose I must," murmured Mrs. Barwood 
 shuddering involuntarily ; ' ' but I fear it will do no 
 good. Your father is so set in his opinions ; and 
 he is so fond of Dr. Marlowe. However, I must 
 bring this matter to his notice " 
 
 A short while she stood at the table, in an atti- 
 tude of indecision. Then she laid down the rolling 
 pin and said with sudden resolution : 
 
 " He is in the sitting room ; I will go to him at 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 323 
 
 once. I may as well have done with the disagree- 
 able duty; I shall know neither peace nor sleep 
 until the interview is over. When Dolly comes 
 down keep her here to help you." 
 
 Dr. Barwood was reading the morning paper 
 and did not look up as his wife entered the room. 
 
 " Ephraim," she said timidly. 
 
 "Huh?" the doctor grunted, reading industri- 
 ously. 
 
 " Ephraim, I want to talk to you." 
 
 "Well, aren't you talking to me, Hannah?" — 
 Chuckling dryly, and noisily turning the pages of 
 his paper. 
 
 "Do stop your reading," Mrs. Barwood requested 
 pleadingly. 
 
 "I'm listening," the husband replied, running 
 his finger down the oil market column. " Go on — 
 go on! " 
 
 " But I want your undivided attention," the wife 
 insisted. 
 
 Dr. Barwood continued reading for a few sec- 
 onds, silently moving his lips and occasionally 
 nodding his head. At last, with a sigh of resigna- 
 tion, he removed his nose glasses and held them 
 aloft, threw down his paper, and said : 
 
 " Now, Hannah, out with it." 
 
 " Ephraim, what do you know about Dr. Mar- 
 lowe?" 
 
 " What do I know about Dr. Marlowe — Ralph? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I know all about him." 
 
324 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 An expression of relief and gratification rested 
 upon Mrs. Bar wood's countenance as she said: 
 
 "You don't know how glad I am to hear you 
 say that, Ephraim. I feared you might know no 
 more of him than the rest of us. Tell me." 
 
 "Tell you what?" — Taking out his watch and 
 yawningly consulting it. 
 
 "How provoking you can be!" grumbled the 
 wife. " You know what I desire. Tell me what 
 you know about Dr. Marlowe." 
 
 Dr. Barwood pocketed his watch, deliberately 
 produced his knife, opened it, and commenced to 
 pare and file his nails. 
 
 "Hurry — hurry!" Mrs. Barwood exclaimed, 
 playfully placing her hands upon his shoulders and 
 gently shaking him. " I must get back to the 
 kitchen." 
 
 "Well, go back to the kitchen," he replied 
 placidly. " The door isn't locked." 
 
 " Ephraim, you would provoke a saint." 
 
 " Don't you think that remark smacks of egotism, 
 Hannah f " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Calling yourself a saint." 
 
 "Pshaw ! " she laughed. 
 
 Then earnestly: 
 
 " Please tell me what I want to know." 
 
 " But I do not know what you want to know." 
 
 " You said you did." 
 
 "No; I said I knew all about Ralph Marlowe. 
 You may not want to know all I know " 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 325 
 
 «' But I do." 
 
 " Very well. I know that he has a diploma from 
 a reputable medical school and that he is a graduate 
 in pharmacy." 
 
 "What else?" 
 
 ' ' That he is a capable physician and a pains- 
 taking and careful druggist." 
 
 " Hurry — go on ! " 
 
 "That he is intelligent, industrious, and honest; 
 that he is as proud as Lucifer and as independent 
 as the devil." 
 
 "Ephraim! " she exclaimed in atone of mild 
 horror and reproof. 
 
 "What?" — With an expression of serene sur- 
 prise. 
 
 "Don't use such language. You do it just to 
 tease me. Now, go on." 
 
 "There's no more to say." — Stooping and re- 
 covering his paper. 
 
 " What do you know of his past life, his ante- 
 cedents ? " 
 
 Dr. Barwood squinted shrewdly — almost closing 
 his eyes — and said drawlingly : 
 
 "Julia sent you to ask that question, Hannah. 
 I know her hobby — her language." 
 
 " Yes, she did," Mrs. Barwood admitted, blush- 
 ing. 
 
 The husband's face flushed also — but with anger, 
 not embarrassment — as he returned hotly, shaking 
 his finger at his wife : 
 
 " Go back to that girl and tell her I said for her 
 to attend strictly to her own business. She will 
 
326 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 have all she can do to look after Morris McDevitt 
 — who is not half the man Ralph Marlowe is. 
 There!" 
 
 Mrs. Barwood drew down the corners of her 
 mobile mouth and said in as reproachful a tone as 
 she could command : 
 
 "Ephraim Barwood " 
 
 " M. D.," he interjected. 
 
 Unheeding she went on : 
 
 "Is it possible you have taken this young man 
 into partnership with you, brought him into your 
 own home and permitted him to associate with 
 your wife and daughters, when you know nothing 
 about him ? " 
 
 " I tell you I know all about him," the doctor 
 replied smoothly, as he again unfolded his paper 
 and replaced his glasses astride his nose. 
 
 " You know nothing of his past life " 
 
 " Nor do I care to know anything of it," he in- 
 terrupted shortly. " I know his present behavior 
 — that is better." 
 
 " But, Ephraim, I fear that Dolly may — may " 
 
 She hesitated and came to a stop. 
 
 " May what? " — Scanning the column of edi- 
 torials. 
 
 " May grow too — too fond of Dr. Marlowe," 
 Mrs. Barwood resumed quaveringly. "It is so 
 easy for susceptible young girls to fall in love with 
 handsome, fascinating men." 
 
 " Some more of Julia's talk," grunted the doctor. 
 
 "Do put down that detestable paper and listen 
 to me ! " Mrs. Barwood cried tearfully. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 327 
 
 "What is it, Hannah — what is it?" he an- 
 swered crustily. 
 
 " Don't you fear that Dolly may fall in love with 
 Dr. Marlowe?" 
 
 Looking his wife squarely in the face, Dr. Bar- 
 wood replied calmly : 
 
 " She has already fallen in love with him — as you 
 express it." 
 
 Mrs. Barwood burst into tears ; and covering her 
 face with her apron and rocking herself to and fro, 
 sobbed convulsively. 
 
 Quickly arising, her husband put his arm around 
 her, smoothed her hair, and said kindly — tenderly: 
 
 "There — there, Hannah! There is no need of 
 taking on. Leave Ralph's and Dolly's affairs to 
 me. You were not at all concerned nor alarmed 
 until Julia put in her oar — and began her splashing. 
 Dry your tears now. No harm shall come to 
 Dolly, I promise you ; and you know how much I 
 think of her." — A quaver in his voice. — " Let Julia 
 look after her own love affair. She will have 
 enough to do. And my word for it, Hannah, she 
 will be sorry some day that she has not made a con- 
 fidant of her father, as her sister has done. That's 
 all now. To please you — not because / have any 
 doubts or fears — I will ascertain what you so much 
 desire to know. Here — give me a kiss. I am 
 going down to the store." 
 
 Mrs. Barwood uncovered her face, wiped away 
 her tears, and complied with her husband's request. 
 But when he had put on his hat and overcoat and 
 had reached the door, on his way out, she ventured: 
 
328 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 "Ephraim?" 
 
 "Well?"— Curtly. 
 
 "Julia has reason to think Dr. Marlowe is not 
 what he would have us believe, that he is sailing 
 under false colors " 
 
 " Stuff ! " he snorted angrily. "Julia has reason 
 to think the pioon is made of green cheese, too ; and 
 that heaven is a place for holding close communion 
 — doors barred to all but Methodists. Nonsense! 
 Go back to your work. I'll have Ralph up here to 
 dinner, about half past eleven." 
 
 The door closed behind him. Mrs. Barwood re- 
 moved all traces of her recent outburst of vexation 
 and grief, and smiling — half contentedly, half sadly 
 — returned to the kitchen. 
 
 Wi3 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 RALPH Marlowe was astir and abroad early 
 that bright Christinas morning. Barely had 
 he entered the drugstore and begun to stir the dying 
 coals in the stove, when Tucker came in, slapping 
 his palms together and shuffling along briskly. 
 
 " Cold enough to freeze the horns off 'm a muley 
 cow," he remarked shiveringly. 
 
 Ralph looked the surprise he felt at Jap's early 
 appearance and abnormal alacrity. 
 
 " What's the matter? " grinned that worthy. 
 
 ' ' I can do no better than fling your question 
 back at you," laughed Marlowe shoveling a quan- 
 tity of coal into the stove and closing the door. 
 " What's the matter withyouP " 
 
 "Well, you see, it's like this," Jep explained, 
 shoving his hands deep into his trousers' pockets 
 and stamping his benumbed feet. "The ol' doc 
 give me a goin' over the other day-^said I wasn't 
 half quick enough on trigger an' " 
 
 " Not quick enough on trigger? " Ralph echoed 
 questioningly. 
 
 " Yes. Not peart enough — not fast enough, you 
 understand. Said I was affected with laziness, an' 
 dilatoriness, an' idleness, an' shiftlessness, an' 
 sleepiness, an' hungriness — an' a few other com- 
 plaints ; an' said if I didn't turn over a new leaf 
 an' do better, he was goin' to give me my walkin' 
 
 {329) 
 
330 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 papers. So I made up my mind that the beginnin' 
 o' the new year I'd commence an' do better." 
 
 "This is not the beginning of the new year," 
 Marlowe suggested, seizing a broom and sweeping 
 vigorously. 
 
 " 'Tain't? " — In open-eyed astonishment. 
 
 "No. It's the twenty-fifth of December. The 
 year begins with the first of January. ' ' 
 
 " Well, I'll— be— durned ! " Jep exclaimed, his 
 jaw dropping. 
 
 Then bursting into a hearty laugh, he bawled. 
 
 " Ain't I a precious dunce, anyhow! Here I've 
 crawled out in the cold this mornin' — thinkin' all 
 the time it was the beginnin' o' the new year — 
 when I might 'ave been snoozin' the snoozes o' the 
 righteous, fer two hours yit. Well, drat my fool 
 head! What's the matter of it? Lea vin' Christ- 
 mas clear out — and jumpin' to New Year's. Huh! 
 Wouldn't the ol' woman laugh at me, if she 
 knowed! " 
 
 Then suddenly: 
 
 "You won't never tell her, will you — Say? I 
 wouldn't never hear the last of it." 
 
 " I shall not inform her." 
 
 " All right, then. An' maybe it's jest as well I 
 made a mistake an' started in to turn over a new 
 leaf five 'r six days ahead o' time. I can kind o' 
 come at the thing gradual-like — won't be so much 
 chance o' strainin' myself. But I mustn't stand 
 here gabblin', though. I've made up my mind 1 
 won't tell a yarn this comin' year. I don't mean a 
 lie ; I mean a big story — antidotes, I guess you call 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 331 
 
 'em. Now I'll go an' build a fire in the ol' doc's 
 room, an' fill up the coal boxes. I'm goin' to git a 
 move on. You jest watch me." 
 
 To Ralph's unbounded astonishment, Tucker did 
 "get a move on." The angular and awkward 
 fellow bustled from drug room to basement, and 
 from basement to private office; and soon had 
 finished what he had set about to do. Then he 
 helped Marlowe with the dusting, all the while 
 whistling softly but cheerily. 
 
 "' Bout breakfast time, ain't it?" he remarked 
 when they had finished. 
 
 Looking at his watch, Ralph answered : 
 
 "It is six- thirty. I do not breakfast until 
 seven." 
 
 " An' I eat mine whenever the ol' woman comes 
 to the door an' flirts her apron an' hollers — ' hoo- 
 hoo! ' Then I know the buckwheat flapjacks 'r 
 corn dodgers is done an' the coffee b'iled; an' I 
 don't lose no time in reportin' fer duty. Say. 
 young feller? " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " If you hain't no radical objections an' such 
 like, I b'lieve I'll take a snifter out o' that big 
 black bottle — seein' it's Christmas, an' Christmas 
 don't come but once a year." 
 
 "I have no objections. But you will be better 
 ofT without it." 
 
 " Don't you think nothin' o' the kind. It'll give 
 me an appetite fer ham an' eggs. You won't tell 
 the ol' doc." 
 
332 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 ' ' No. But you would better leave the black 
 bottle alone." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because it contains spirits of camphor. The 
 whisky is in that large jar having the gilt label. 
 I made the change several days ago." 
 
 " Jeeminy crickets!" gasped Jep. "Lucky I 
 wasn't here alone. I'd 'ave " 
 
 Then he stopped in confusion. 
 
 Ralph smiled but said nothing. His companion 
 quickly recovered his composure; and going behind 
 the counter poured out a small quantity of the raw 
 liquor and tossed it off. Then, smacking his lips 
 and wiping his mouth upon the corner of his coat- 
 tail, he came around and said: 
 
 " If I hadn't made up my mind not to tell any 
 more yarns, I could tell you a good one this mornin' 
 — one jest suited to the 'casion." 
 
 " A rash resolution is better broken than kept," 
 Marlowe remarked. 
 
 " 'Twon't do," Jep replied, lugubriously shaking 
 his head. " Still I'd like mighty well to tell it to 
 you." 
 
 "It's not the first of the year yet," Ralph sug- 
 gested temptingly. 
 
 "That's so, "Tucker answered brightening. 
 " You, won't say nothin' to the ol' doc 'bout it — if 
 I tell you jest this one ? ' ' 
 
 "Not a word," Marlowe said gravely — but in- 
 wardly convulsed with laughter. 
 
 Thus assuredv Tucker began : 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 333 
 
 "Years an' years ago — when I was jest a little 
 shaver — ther' used to be a saloon stood down on 
 Water Street, right wher' the depot now is. The 
 buildin' was a shackledy ol' frame, with up-an'- 
 down weather boardin' an' an tiutside chimbly. 
 The man that kept the saloon was a one-legged fel- 
 ler named Ike Beech — a hard drinker hisself an' a 
 tough customer. He stumped. 'round on a wooden 
 peg — an' could walk straight when he was so drunk 
 he couldn't knock a fly off 'm his nose. Used to say 
 the reason was he couldn't git that wooden leg 
 drunk ; an' used to pat it an' say one member of his 
 fam'ly was a teetotaler. Fer ol' Ike was a bach'lor 
 — and hadn't no fam'ly but hisself. 
 
 " Well, 'way back in the early 'sixties — while the 
 war was goin' on — there was a half-witted loafer 
 here in town, by the name o' Shem Frowser. He 
 had a freckled face, a short upper lip, an' great big 
 butter teeth — an' wasn't nothin' but a bundle o' 
 rags an' bones. He used to spend his days an' 
 evenin's hangin' 'round Beech's saloon, waitin' fer 
 some one to treat him ; an' he lived on cheese an' 
 crackers an' done his sleepin' in the ol' mill shed. 
 
 " One Christmas mornin' he come shiverin' into 
 the saloon, an' squatted dow^n on the hearth an' 
 huddled up to the fire in the big fireplace, his teeth 
 fairly chatterin'. Ol' Ike went on a waitin' on cus- 
 tomers an' didn't pay no 'tention to him. People 
 come in, got the'r hot toddy, an' went out; an' 
 never offered to treat Shem — an' him nearly dyin' 
 fer a drink. 
 
 "At last ev'rybody had got the'r nip an' gone 
 
334 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 home to breakfast. Shem couldn't stand it no 
 longer. Straightenin' up an' sidlin' over to the bar, 
 he stood there smackin' his lips an' hintin' his best 
 licks fer a drink. But Beech still didn't pay no 
 'tention. Finally Shem says : 
 
 " 'Ike, I'm purty dry this mornin'.' 
 
 " 'Then go an' jump in the river an' git wet,' 
 growls ol' Ike. 
 
 " 'Oh ! Now, Ike, you know what I mean,' the 
 poor feller says coaxin'-like. Bein' half simple, he 
 didn't know the meanin' of a joke, an' took ev'ry- 
 thing in dead earnest. ' I want a drink,' he says. 
 
 "'Ther's a pump right 'cross the street,' grins 
 Beech, pufEn' away at his pipe. 
 
 "'I don't want water,' Shem answers mighty 
 solemn. ' I'm cold.' 
 
 '"Well, you're welcome to warm at the fire,' 
 laughs ol' Ike, enjoyin' teasin' the poor wretch. 
 
 "'I want whisky — an' I must have it!' yells 
 Shem. 
 
 " ' How you goin' to git it? ' sneers Beech — layin' 
 down his pipe an' takin' a nip hisself, jest to ta'nt 
 the feller. 
 
 ' ' ' Goin' to g^it it from you,' says Frowser. ' This 
 is Christmas mornin'; an' you ort to treat me, Ike. 
 I spend ev'ry cent I git with you. Christmas gift! ' 
 
 " That made Beech mad ; an' he bellers out: 
 
 "'Now, Shem Frowser, you git right out o' 
 here ! I won't have you loafin' an' spongin' 'round 
 here no more. You ain't worth the powder to 
 blow you up. Git out — an' stay out! ' 
 
 " Shem looks up at Beech — the tears in his red 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 335 
 
 eyes, an' a look on his face like a whipped dog has 
 when he licks his master's hand an' tries to make 
 friends with him — an' whines: 
 
 " ' Ike, you won't be so hard on me as all that, 
 will you? Give me jest one drink, dn' I'll go out 
 an' not come in ag'in today.' 
 
 " 01' Ike frowned an' chawed his mustache fer a 
 little while. Then he says : 
 
 " ' I'll tell you what I'll do, Shem. 
 
 " ' What? ' says Shem. 
 
 " ' I'll give you a drink, if you'll take all I want 
 you to, an' in the luay I want you to.' 
 
 " ' I'll do it,' answers Shem. 
 
 " ' Come on, then,' says ol' Ike. 
 
 " An' motionin' Shem to f oiler him, he went into 
 the back room. In there was three 'r four bar'ls o' 
 liquor, restin' on a rack, 'bout a foot from the floor. 
 Beech p'inted to one of 'em an' says: 
 
 "'I guess 'bout the hottest stuff is in that 'n. 
 Lay down on the floor with y'r mouth under the 
 faucet.' 
 
 ".'What 're you goin' to do?' Shem asks, kind 
 o' startin' back an' lookin' tow^ard the door. 
 
 " ' Goin' to fill you up fer once,' answers ol' Ike, 
 with a string o' cuss words longer 'n a rake handle. 
 ' I'll learn you how to come 'round, whinin' an' 
 snivelin' fer a Christmas gift. I'll bet a peck o' 
 shinplasters you won't want no more, when I git 
 through treatin' you this time. Git down there 
 an' take y'r medicine. An' you're to drink the stuff 
 right down, fast as I turn it on ; an' not stop swal- 
 
336 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 lerin' till i turn it off. Git down under that spigot 
 an' turn y'r mouth up.' 
 
 " Shem knowed ol' Ike well enough to know he 
 was in earnest this time an' meant jest what he 
 said — no more an' no less. The poor simple critter 
 turned pale clean to the end of his nose — which 
 mostly was as red as a goose's foot on a frosty 
 mornin' — an' sort o' hung back. 
 
 " ' Git down there,' says Ike. 
 
 "Shem was famishin' fer liquor. So down he 
 flops on his back, gits his head under the faucet an' 
 opens his mouth. Beech — a chucklin' to hisself — 
 stoops an' turns the spigot. Shem shuts his eyes, 
 to keep the fumes o' the liquor out of 'em, an' 
 gulps an' swallers like this." 
 
 And Jep gave a pantomimic illustration of the 
 picture he had in his mind. 
 
 "Well," he continued, " ol' Ike finally got 
 skeered — thought maybe he'd strangle the feller 'r 
 give him so much it 'Id kill him; so he stooped and 
 shut the whisky off. An' what do you s'pose was 
 the first words Frowser said — when he could git 
 his breath an' say anything? " 
 
 " I have no idea," Marlowe said, shaking his 
 head. 
 
 " W'y, sir," Jep cried, slapping his thigh and 
 laughing uproariously, ' * that simple critter jest 
 winked at ol' Ike an' hollered — ' Netm Tear's 
 gift!'" 
 
 Marlowe laughed softly, indulgently — albeit a 
 little wearily. Jep finally controlled his own mer- 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 337 
 
 riment; and drawing down the corners of his 
 mouth said with mock gravity: 
 
 " Ev'ry story ort to have a moral to it, ortn't it, 
 young feller? " 
 
 " Y-e-s," Ralph admitted, wondering what was 
 coming. 
 
 "Well, this one ain't no 'xception to the rule," 
 Jep said, grinning broadly. "The moral of it is 
 — when you hain't got enough of a good thing 
 don't be afeared to ask fer more. An' like Shem 
 Frowser, I'm a sayin' — ' New Year's gift.' " 
 
 " Help yourself," Ralph laughed — this time 
 really amused. 
 
 Tucker promptly complied with the invitation. 
 Then smacking his lips — and with his battered cap 
 rakishly cocked over one eye — he ! untered out, 
 bent on getting his morning meal. A few min- 
 utes later Marlowe went to his own breakfast, still 
 smiling over the eccentric's ruse to obtain an extra 
 drink. 
 
 A little after ten o'clock Dr. Barwood put in an 
 appearance at the drugstore. 
 
 "Good morning," he said pleasantly. "Are 
 you all alone, Ralph ? " 
 
 " All alone," was the cheery response. "It's a 
 nice Christmas morning, doctor. How are you 
 feeling? " 
 
 " Better — getting better every day. I'll be able 
 to take to the saddle in a few days. Then you can 
 take things easier." 
 
 He seated himself; and idly drummed a tattoo 
 
33S RALPH MArL01V£ 
 
 upon the arm of his chair, while vacantly gazing 
 out at the side window. Presently he heaved a 
 sigh, and turning to his companion inquired: 
 
 " Have you had much to do this morning? ' 
 
 "Very little." 
 
 " Did Jep build a fire in my room? " 
 
 Ralph nodded. 
 
 "I administered a course of sprouts to him, 
 figuratively speaking," the doctor chuckled. " He 
 promised to curb his story-telling propensity and 
 attend more faithfully to his duties." 
 
 Again both men were silent. The older resumed 
 his abstracted drumming upon the arm of his chair; 
 the younger went on with his work behind the 
 counter. Several minutes passed. Marlowe felt 
 that some fateful event was impending — though 
 why he felt so he could not make plain to himself. 
 Suddenly Dr. Barwood arose and sauntering up to 
 the counter asked with assumed interest : 
 
 ' ' What are you doing ? ' ' 
 
 " Sorting these corks," was the answer. " They 
 have become badly mixed." 
 
 " Well, let theni remain mixed until another 
 time," the older man said airily. " This is a holi- 
 day — a holy day — and you ought not to do work that 
 you can postpone. Besides, you are to go up to 
 dinner with me ; and before we start I desire to 
 have a talk with you. Come into the office." 
 
 Marlowe gave his companion one searching, in- 
 quiring glance; then silently followed him into the 
 back room. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 339 
 
 When they were seated, Dr. Barwood toyed with 
 his long black watch-guard and bit his nether lip 
 for some moments. At last he asked abruptly : 
 
 "Ralph, is there any reason why I should not 
 invite you to my house — should not permit you to 
 associate with my wife and daughters ? ' ' 
 
 Marlowe felt the hot blood mounting to his face. 
 His lips moved ; and he was on the point of making 
 an angry reply. But with rare mastery he con- 
 trolled himself. The hot tide receded from his 
 countenance, leaving him a little pale as he 
 answered in cold sarcasm : 
 
 " I know of no reason, doctor. It is odd that 
 you should ask the question. You ought to know 
 your own family better than I. So far as my 
 knowledge and experience goes, your wife and 
 daughters are estimable ladies. If there be a reason 
 why I should not associate with them, you should 
 have informed ' ' 
 
 Dr. Barwood sprang to his feet, his features 
 working. 
 
 "Hold!" he shouted. "You maybe joking; 
 but you will find that Ephraim Barwood permits no 
 man to call his wife's and daughters' good names 
 in question — even jokingly." 
 
 Ralph retained his composure and his seat. 
 
 " T have not called your family's reputation in 
 question, doctor," he replied quietly. 
 
 "You have!" cried the other, bringing his 
 fist down upon the table. " And I demand an 
 apology." 
 
 " For what? " — Coolly. 
 
340 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 " For the question you have raised." 
 
 "You raised the question, doctor." 
 
 "I? " — Glaring savagely at his companion. 
 
 "Yes, doctor. You asked me if I knew of any 
 reason why. I should not associate — -. — ' ' 
 
 " You understood what I meant." 
 
 " Of course. And I returned the answer such a 
 question merited." 
 
 Dr. Barwood took a few turns around the room, 
 muttering angrily to himself and breathing heavily. 
 At last his features relaxed and his brow cleared. 
 Resuming his seat, he said tremulously: 
 
 " I don't blame you, Ralph, for resenting such a 
 question. I should have done the same. It was 
 an insult. Forget that I ever asked it ; and come 
 to my house whenever it pleases you." 
 
 " I will never again enter the portal of your 
 home. Dr. Barwood," Marlowe said softly but 
 firmly, ' ' until I have answered your question — 
 until I have entirely satisfied you that I am a gen- 
 tleman." 
 
 '* But I had no right to ask the question," the 
 older man said, laying his hand upon his compan- 
 ion's knee and looking at him pleadingly. 
 
 "And / had no reason to refuse to answer it," 
 returned Ralph smiling. 
 
 "I am already satisfied," Dr. Barwood pursued. 
 " I should not have thought of asking you such a 
 question, had it not been to keep peace in the .am- 
 ily. My older daughter suggested to her mother 
 that there might be something in your past " 
 
 "Listen, doctor," Ralph hurriedly interrupted. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 341 
 
 " Let us settle the matter once for all. There is no 
 reason, so far as I know, why I should not be the 
 intimate friend and associate of you and your fam- 
 ily. But I do not purpose to reveal my past, to 
 convince you of the truth of my statement. You 
 must take my unsupported word. Is my answer 
 satisfactory ? " 
 
 " Eminently. Now, let us drop the subject — and 
 forget it." 
 
 Smilingly the two men arose. Silently the older 
 extended his hand, which the younger grasped and 
 shook warmly. Then the latter said, his face flush- 
 ing slightly: 
 
 ' ' Doctor, I have a question to ask you — a ques- 
 tion I have wished for some weeks to ask." 
 
 " Well, ask it," was the crisp reply. 
 
 Ralph cleared his throat, dropped his eyelids, 
 and nervously shifted his position. Evidently he 
 was embarrassed. Dr. Barwood smilingly awaited 
 his companion's pleasure. After a half minute of 
 painful silence, Marlowe flung up his head and 
 blurted out : 
 
 " Dr. Barwood, I love Dolly. Have I your per- 
 mission to try to win her love? " 
 
 The smile suddenly left the older man's face. 
 Puckering his brows and tightening his thin lips, 
 he said sneeringly: 
 
 " Well, you are a modest young man! You— of 
 whom I know little or nothing — presume to ask 
 me for my favorite daughter's hand in marriage. 
 Do you think because I have given you an oppor- 
 tunity to earn a living, have taken you into a busi- 
 
342 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 ness partnership, that I am bound to go farther — 
 take you in as a member of my family and give 
 you a share of my property ? " 
 
 " I shall not answer your question, doctor. You 
 do not mean what you intimate. " 
 
 "I don't?"— Fiercely. 
 
 " No, you don't. You have not so poor an opin- 
 ion of me, I know. I love Dolly ; I do not care a 
 whit for your wealth — and you know it. Give me 
 your answer — do not keep me in suspense." 
 
 " And if I refuse to grant you permission to 
 court my daughter.? " — With a curl of his short 
 upper lip. 
 
 " It will not deter me from trying to win her." 
 
 "No?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " And you would marry her against my wishes? " 
 
 "I would." 
 
 "I might disinherit her." 
 
 " I should not care — except for her sake. But 
 you will grant my request, doctor." 
 
 " Oh, I will ! " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Well, I will not.'''' — In a tone of irrevocable 
 decision. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Because it would be useless for you to try to 
 win Dolly's heart." 
 
 " She — she loves another? " Ralph asked falter- 
 ingly — his heart throbbing sickeningly. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Then I— I can't understand " 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 343 
 
 " You can't win her heart, my boy, because she 
 already loves you.'''' — Affectionately slapping him 
 upon the shoulder. — " You are a proverbial lover — 
 blind as a bat. Now, let's have no more love-sick 
 nonsense. You fancy Dolly ; she fancies you. You 
 have my consent to keep her company — to have an 
 understanding with her at any time you choose. 
 But you must not think of marrying until I give 
 you permission. Do you agree to the arrange- 
 ment?" 
 
 "I do — certainly," Marlowe replied, rapture 
 beaming in his countenance. "And now^ let me 
 thank you, doctor, for the most precious Christmas 
 gift " 
 
 "Stuff and nonsense!" snorted Dr. Barwood 
 striding toward the door. " Come on. Let's go 
 up to the house; dinner will be waiting." 
 
 As they were leaving the drugstore, Morris Mc- 
 Devitt springing up the steps almost plumped into 
 them. 
 
 "Good morning," he muttered in confusion. 
 "Marlowe are you leaving? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I would like to see you a moment." 
 
 " Come into the store then." 
 
 Dr. Barwood remained standing upon the steps, 
 his countenance set and stern. The two young 
 men retired to the interior. 
 
 "Now, what is it, McDevitt?" Ralph inquired 
 briskly. 
 
 " Have you a Christmas gift for me? " the young 
 merchant asked in return. 
 
344 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 "A Christmas gift?" — And Marlowe glanced 
 toward the cigar case. 
 
 "Oh! You know what I want," McDevitt 
 muttered snappishly. 
 
 Ralph gave his companion a searching look of 
 inquiry. He saw that the latter's eyes were burn- 
 ing with the fire of a feverish unrest, that his hands 
 and lips were tremulous. His Whole appearance 
 betokened nights of sleeplessness and dissipa- 
 tion. 
 
 "Do you want liquor? "the young physician 
 asked coldly — though pity was in his heart, 
 
 "Hell — no! " McDevitt hissed, shaking his head 
 and gritting his teeth. "I can get that at the 
 saloons — too much of it. This is Christmas — the 
 day of peace on earth and good will toward men — 
 and I want a share in it. Have you had an oppor- 
 tunity to talk to Julia? " 
 
 " I have." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 " Yesterday evening." 
 
 " What did you Bay to her? " 
 
 " That you were disheartened over her refusal to 
 marry you and were going to the bad. Did I do 
 right?" 
 
 "Of coi'rse. What did she say to that?" — 
 Eagerly. 
 
 "She said she would gladly save you, if you 
 would put yourself in the way of salvation ; but 
 that she would never marry you -until you had re- 
 nounced Catholicism and embraced Protestantism." 
 
 McDevitt's countenance fell. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 345 
 
 "She said that? " he murmured in a smothered 
 tone. 
 
 " She did, McDevitt," Marlowe answered pity- 
 ingly. "But you should be a man; you should 
 not let her decision ruin you. Desert your haunts 
 and your companions; reform yourself. You can 
 do it, if you will. Some day she may change her 
 mind." 
 
 " She never will," he answered gloomily. " No, 
 she doesn't care for me. I know it now. And if 
 she doesn't care for me, I don't care for myself. I 
 am on the toboggan slide that leads to hell." — 
 Laughing gratingly. — " It's a mad and merry ride 
 I'm taking ; but I am fully aware of what awaits 
 me at the bottom. I thank you for what you have 
 tried to do for me. You have proven yourself a — 
 true — friend." 
 
 His voice broke a little. Recovering himself, he 
 went on: 
 
 ' ' If only I had your will power — but I have not. 
 Well, I'll keep you and the old doc waiting no 
 longer. I wish you better luck in your wooing, 
 than I have had." 
 
 With assumed recklessness, he jauntily cocked 
 his hat over one eye and crying — ' ' Ta-ta ! I must 
 get to my dinner; there's a big poker game this 
 afternoon," sprang through the door and down the 
 steps. 
 
 When Marlowe had relocked the door and 
 rejoined Dr. Barwood, he saw the young Irish- 
 American swaggering down the street, whistling 
 merrily as he went. 
 
346 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 The Christmas dinner at Barwood's passed pleas- 
 antly, in spite of the fact that Mrs. Barwood was 
 rather silent and thoughtful, and Julia, distantly, 
 coldly polite to the single guest. Dolly, however, 
 w^as all smiles and dimples; and Dr. Barwood 
 beamed benignly upon all around the board. Ralph 
 ate heartily of the savory viands and toothsome 
 dainties ; and feasted his eyes upon Dolly. 
 
 He prolonged his stay at the Barwood residence 
 until three o'clock. Much of the time he spent in 
 the parlor, alone with Dolly. She played and sang 
 to him, while he lolled upon the sofa and drowsily 
 listened. At last she arose, gave the piano stool a 
 dizzy whirl, and seating herself beside him cried 
 with playful petulance : 
 
 "Talk tome." 
 
 " Of what or whom? " he asked, smiling. 
 
 "Of yourself." 
 
 " A most uninteresting subject," he laughed. 
 
 " Not tome," she smiled, showing her white and 
 perfect teeth. 
 
 " You are interested in me, Dolly? " — His voice 
 growing tender. 
 
 ' ' Yes. ' ' — A faint murmur. 
 
 "How much?" 
 
 " Oh! ever so much," she replied in the same 
 low tone. 
 
 ' ' And you wish me to talk of myself — to you ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 And she coquettishly dropped her lids and 
 averted her face. 
 
 "Dolly, look at me." 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 347 
 
 But she did not. Instead, she trembled slightly 
 and made a move to arise. Quickly he slipped his 
 arm around her waist and whispered something in 
 her ear — something that caused her to settle back 
 upon the sofa and nestle close to him. Her cheeks 
 flushed to the roots of her golden hair, her breast 
 heaved; and she looked apprehensively toward the 
 door. 
 
 But what is the use? It is the old, old story so 
 sweet to the children of men. Yet there is no 
 need of repeating it here. 
 
 When he took his departure, she accompanied 
 him into the hall and assisted him in donning his 
 top coat. As a reward for her thoughtfulness he 
 bent and kissed her. 
 
 One by one — what a favor it is they do not de- 
 part in pairs ! — the short winter days flitted away. 
 The nights plumed their black wings and flew 
 after them. Life in the humdrum little village of 
 Babylon pursued its usual course — kept in its shin- 
 ing, well-worn grooves. 
 
 Dr. Barwood so far recovered his health as to re- 
 lieve Ralph of a little of the outside practice and 
 more of the drudgery and confinement of the store 
 and office. Jim Crawford was back at his bench 
 — "as good as new," Tucker expressed it. But 
 the ungrateful cobbler devoted his leisure time to 
 the unstinted criticism and abuse of his benefactors. 
 Lon Crider made his regular bimonthly visits to the 
 town — always smiling, and with a carnation in his 
 buttonhole. 
 
 Sam Clark continued to worship at the shrine of 
 
348 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 his lady love — and incidentally to attend to his 
 duties at the station. And Jep Tucker, Tomp 
 Nutt, and other eccentrics still persisted in making 
 life a dreary farce-comedy to Ralph Marlowe. 
 
 All through Janvjary and the early part of Feb- 
 ruary, the weather was so wet, cold, and disagree- 
 able, and the roads were so nearly impassable, that 
 the oil men could do little or no work. In conse- 
 quence, they remained in town, drinking and 
 gambling as was their habit — ^Morris McDevitt 
 taking part in their nightly carousals. 
 
 On the morning of St. Valentine's day, Marlowe 
 went to the post-office for the mail. In the lot 
 passed through the wicket to him, he discovered an 
 envelope bearing Dolly's name and the local post- 
 mark. 
 
 "A comic valentine," the young man smiled as 
 he hastily glanced at the scrawled address. " Who- 
 ever sent it has tried hard to disguise his handwrit- 
 ing. I shall take it to the house myself. I desire 
 to see my young lady open it." 
 
 Fifteen minutes later he stood in the dimly 
 lighted hall of the Barwood residence. Mrs. Bar- 
 wood had admitted him and, at his request, had 
 gone to call Dolly. Presently that young woman 
 came tripping down the stairs, a muslin cap atop 
 her fluffy curls. 
 
 " Mamma says you have a valentine for me, 
 Ralph," she exclaimed gleefully. ' ' Let me have it." 
 
 "Will you open it in my presence?" he asked, 
 holding the envelope beyond her reach. 
 
 "Is it a comic?" 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 349 
 
 " Yes — at any rate it bears a one-cent stamp and 
 the village postmark." 
 
 "And you sent it yourself, you scamp," she cried 
 archly, shaking her finger at him. 
 
 "I did not." 
 
 " No? " — With an incredulous shake of the head. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Well, give it tome." 
 
 " Will you let me see it? " 
 
 "Maybe." 
 
 "Promise!" 
 
 Incautiously he had lowered his arm. With a 
 sudden movement she snatched the envelope from 
 his hand ; and laughing merrily danced halfway up 
 the stairs. There, stopping and peeping over the 
 banisters at him, she cried teasingly: 
 
 " Do you want to see my valentine, Ralph? " 
 
 "I see mine," he replied, looking up at her 
 admiringly. 
 
 " Answer my question, sir," she cried, imperi- 
 ously stamping her little foot and frowning. " This 
 is no time for idle compliments. Answer the 
 question put to you by your queen. Do you wish 
 to see my valentine ? ' ' 
 
 " Yes," he laughed; "but there is no mirror at 
 hand." 
 
 " Egotist ! " she smiled. 
 
 Then she calmly inspected the address upon the 
 envelope, turning it toward the transom to catch 
 the light. 
 
 A woman sent it, " she announced. ' ' Probably 
 
3SO RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 she is envious and jealous because I am leading you 
 captive, sir " 
 
 Abruptly she broke off, and crinkled the envelope 
 between her fingers. 
 
 " This is no comic valentine," she resumed ; "it 
 is a letter. And posted in the village — who can 
 have sent it ? " 
 
 Marlowe silently shook his head. 
 
 " Well," she said, " I will not let you see it till 
 I know what it is, at any rate. Come up this 
 evening. There — ^that's your valentine." 
 
 She had descended a few steps, leaned over the 
 banisters, and kissed him. 
 
 As Ralph passed through the doorway, he saw 
 her waving her hand to him, from the landing. 
 
 Dolly went direct to her room. There she tore 
 open the envelope. It contained another bearing 
 the address — "Dr.Ralph Marlowe, Babylon, Ohio." 
 It was the letter Ralph had dropped in the sitting 
 room and Julia had picked up. 
 
 With trembling fingers — a nameless dread tug- 
 ging at her heart strings — Dolly drew forth the 
 crumpled sheet. As she unfolded it she murmured 
 under her breath : 
 
 ' ' Of course Ralph posted it himself. But why 
 did he send it? If he wanted me to have it, why 
 did he not give it to me, simply? " 
 
 She began a perusal of the brief enclosure. As 
 she proceeded the blood deserted her face — and she 
 shivered. When she had finished she sat for some 
 time, staring wildly, vacantly at the opposite 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 351 
 
 wall. At length she moistened her dry lips, with 
 the tip of her tongue, and whispered shudderingly: 
 
 " What does it mean — what can it mean? Who 
 isStella— his wife? Oh, my God! My God! It 
 is his letter — addressed to him in a woman's hand. 
 Yes, there is no doubt about that. But why did he 
 send it to me? He? He did not! I see it all — I 
 see it all now ! He lost it ; somebody found it and 
 sent it to me. My valentine ! False — a deceiver — 
 a married man! Oh, Ralph — Ralph! And I love 
 you so fondly — so dearly! " 
 
 The hot tears started from her eyes and slowly 
 trickled down her pale cheeks. Resolutely she 
 dashed them aside; and again closely examined the 
 envelope bearing her own name. 
 
 "Some woman sent it to me," she concluded. 
 "Who was it? Oh, cruel— cruel! I was so happy 
 — and now my life is marred — ruined! What shall 
 I do ? Shall I show the letter to daddy — dear old 
 daddy? Shall I make a confidant of him, as I have 
 always done? No— no! I cannot — I must not! 
 He would drive Ralph away — expose and ruin 
 him." 
 
 Again she sat panting and staring at the blank 
 wall for some minutes. Then she sprang to her 
 feet, and lifting her hands toward heaven groaned 
 in a voice of wild intensity : 
 
 "Oh, God! How can I bear it? Ralph — 
 Ralph ! You are false and deceitful ! But I love 
 you still — I love you still! " 
 
 Overcome by her conflicting emotions, she threw 
 herself upon the bed and wept and moaned. 
 
352 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 At length, however, her native resolution reas- 
 serted itself. Calmly arising, she bathed her face 
 and rearranged her disheveled tresses. When she 
 had done this — and closely scrutinized her features 
 in the mirror — she mechanically resumed her morn- 
 ing duties, whispering sobbingly to herself as she 
 moved about the upper floor: 
 
 "It is all over — only a beautiful dream! Shall 
 I return him his letter? No, I will never let him 
 know that I am aware of his — his — Oh ! I cannot 
 utter the harsh word. For I love him ; and — God 
 help me! — I still believe in him, in spite of this 
 revelation. But I will refuse to see him. No, that 
 will not do. I will meet him and break off our 
 engagement. Engagement ! Oh, the mockery ! I 
 will tell him I have found I do not love him. No 
 — no ! I can't do that — I can't. He would read 
 the lie in my eyes. I must not meet him at all — 
 until I am stronger. For I love him; and I am 
 weak — so weak! " 
 
 All day she went about the house, quietly — apa- 
 thetically. Except for her unwonted silence and 
 paleness, she showed no outward sign of the emo- 
 tional storm she had experienced. 
 
 Mrs. Barwood noticed her daughter's unusual 
 lack of vivacity and questioned her concerning the 
 cause ; but received only monosyllabic, unsatisfac- 
 tory replies. The father became cognizant of her 
 pallor and listlessness — and forthwith resolved to 
 prepare her an iron tonic. Julia was not blind; 
 but she kept her own counsel. 
 
 That evening Marlowe called. Mrs. Barwood 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 353 
 
 came into the sitting room and informed him that 
 Dolly was indisposed and would not be able to see 
 him. After expressing his concern, he took his 
 departure, greatly worried. 1 
 
 The evening following, the young man again 
 called; and again he was informed that his sweet- 
 heart was confined to her room and was not able 
 to see him. 
 
 Dr. Barwood being present supplemented his 
 wife's information, by saying : 
 
 " It's nothing alarming, Ralph. A little anaemic 
 neurasthenia, I think. She'll be all right in a 
 short time. She complains of headache, has no 
 appetite, and wishes to remain undisturbed in her 
 room. Come up tomorrow evening. Perhaps she 
 will be able to be down stairs by that time." 
 
 Marlowe slept little that night. By nine o'clock 
 the next forenoon, he was wild with anjciety. For 
 Dr. Barwood had gone to the country some time 
 during the hours of darkness, and the lover had 
 had no opportunity to hear from the object of his 
 adoration. At last he could stand the suspense no 
 longer; and he went to the house to inquire about 
 her. 
 
 " I am going up to see her," he said positively, 
 when Mrs. Barwood had once more told him her 
 daughter was no better and was still confined to 
 her room. 
 
 "No," the mother replied, shaking her head, 
 "You must not." 
 
 "May I ask why?" 
 
 " She is nervous and — ^and " 
 
 23 
 
354 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 Then the good lady hesitated and ceased speak- 
 ing. 
 
 " Is she dangerously ill?" Ralph inquired in a 
 voice tremulous ■with emotion. 
 
 "Oh, no!" Mrs. Barwood hastened to say, 
 wrapping an end of her apron string around her 
 index finger, in a nervous, embarrassed way. " But 
 she told me to say to you that — ^that " 
 
 " What? " Marlowe interrupted impatiently. 
 
 " That she does not desire to see you," Mrs. Bar- 
 wood completed. " She breaks down and cries 
 w^henever your name is mentioned in her presence ; 
 and says she will never meet you again. Still she 
 will give no reason for her strange behavior." 
 
 A moment the two looked at each other in grave 
 silence. Then Ralph muttered hoarsely: 
 
 " I cannot understand her humor, Mrs. Barwood. 
 She must be more seriously ill than you suspect. 
 Has she fever — is she delirious, do you think? " 
 
 Mrs. Barwood shook her head. Then, her eyes 
 glistening with moisture and her voice quavering, 
 she asked abruptly : 
 
 "Dr. Marlowe, do you love Dolly? " 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Barwood — with all my heart," 
 Ralph answered in a tone of deep sincerity. 
 
 ' ' And you and she are engaged ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes, Mrs. Barwood. I supposed you knew." 
 
 " No. Dolly has not told me; but I suspected. 
 She has never made a confidant of me ; she has 
 always gone to her father for advice and counsel. 
 I presume she obtained his consent to the engage- 
 ment—or you did. But now she will not confide 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 355 
 
 to her father, even, the cause of her trouble. Yoa 
 and she have not quarreled. Dr. Marlowe ? ' ' 
 
 " Indeed, no," Ralph answered in a tone of sur- 
 prise and perplexity. 
 
 Then with sudden decision ; 
 
 "Mrs. Barwood, I can stand this uncertainty, 
 this suspense, no longer. I am going up to see 
 Dolly." 
 
 With the words he began to ascend the stairs. 
 
 " But she does not desire to see you," the mother 
 objected, closely following him. 
 
 " The more reason I should see her and have an 
 explanation," was the resolute response. 
 
 Mrs. Barwood raised no further objections. 
 
 On reaching the upper hall, she stepped in front 
 of Dolly's door and said : 
 
 " Let me go in first." 
 
 Ralph nodded assent ; and leaning against the 
 wall impatiently awaited a summons to enter. 
 Through the partly open door he caught the petu- 
 lant, tearful query ; 
 
 "Oh, mother! Why did you permit him to 
 come up here ? ' ' 
 
 This was followed by Mrs. Barwood's mumbled 
 reply. A moment later she threw wide the door 
 and signed for him to enter. Stepping into the 
 room, he observed Dolly occupying a reclining 
 chair near the window. His professional eye and 
 intelligence made note of the fact that she appeared 
 a little pale and worn — but not at all ill. 
 
 At sight of her visitor the young woman trem- 
 bled visibly and turned away her face. Without 
 
3S6 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 a word Ralph drew a chair to her side and gently 
 but firmly took her hand. At this juncture, Mrs. 
 Barwood discreetly withdrew, closing the door 
 behind her. 
 
 " They tell me you have been ill, Dolly," he re- 
 marked, with forced cheerfulness. 
 
 " Do they? " she replied in cold inflexible tones. 
 " Then they misinform you." 
 
 ' ' Have you not been ill ? " — In great surprise. 
 
 " No, I have not." — Still keeping her face 
 averted and attempting to withdraw her hand 
 from his restraining clasp. 
 
 Marlowe was nonplused. But he resolutely per- 
 sisted : 
 
 " Then why have you thus secluded yourself, 
 Dolly — why have you refused to see me ? ' ' 
 
 "To both your questions," she replied icily, "I 
 answer — because it pleased me to do so. But you 
 are so little a gentleman you invade my privacy — 
 force your unwelcome presence upon me." 
 
 Stung to the quick, Marlowe dropped her hand 
 and sprang to his feet. 
 
 " Dolly," he cried, " I demand an explanation." 
 
 *'Oh, you do!" — Suddenly facing him, her 
 cheeks and eyes ablaze. 
 
 "I do." 
 
 " And if I refuse? " — With a faint sneer. 
 
 " Then, indeed, I will never again force my un- 
 welcome presence upon you," he answered sol- 
 emnly, decidedly. 
 
 For the first time during the interview, she 
 wavered. The thought of losing him was torture. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 357 
 
 But her inherited will power came to her rescue ; 
 and setting her teeth she thrust one hand into her 
 bosom and drew forth the fateful letter. 
 
 " There is the explanation you so much desire!" 
 she cried shrilly, dramatically thrusting the missive 
 toward him. " Also, it is the valentine you were 
 so anxious to see." 
 
 Marlowe did not recoil or turn pale, as she ex- 
 pected. Instead he quietly took the proffered 
 letter, and unflinchingly fixing his eye upon her 
 face said in a tone of deep sadness : 
 
 ' ' And this is the valentine you received, Dolly — 
 and the cause of your strange behavior, your cruel 
 treatment of me ? " 
 
 " Yes," she replied in an almost inaudible whis- 
 per, a sweet hope springing in her breast, in spite 
 of her fixed resolve not to believe a word he said. 
 
 "Poor little girl!" he said huskily, the tears 
 shining in his eyes, " You have doubted me ; you 
 have struggled and suffered. Yes, this is my letter. 
 I lost it. Some unprincipled person found it and 
 sent it to you — some one that desired you to lose 
 faith in me, that wished to see you suffer. Have 
 you any idea who is guilty of the base act, Dolly? " 
 
 " No," she answered faintly. 
 
 " Will you believe me, Dolly, if I tell you I am 
 guiltless of the crime of which this letter seems to 
 accuse me ? Will you accept my word unsupported 
 by any proof or explanation ? ' ' 
 
 She looked at him helplessly, pleadingly — ^but 
 was silent. 
 
3S8 RALPH MARL O WE 
 
 Smiling sadly he thrust the letter into his pocket; 
 and holding out his arms to her said: 
 
 " Come to me, then. I will tell you all. I should 
 have done so sooner. Come." 
 
 Totteringly she rose to her feet and made a step 
 toward him. Then she halted and drew back, 
 panting : 
 
 " I must not listen to you. Do not tempt me — 
 go away " 
 
 Springing forward he caught ker in his arms, 
 whispered a few words in her ear, and smilingly 
 released her. The next moment her arms were 
 around his neck and she was sobbing upon hit 
 shoulder. 
 
 As he left the house, a half hour later, she play- 
 fully threw him a kiss from her window ; and that 
 afternoon she went about her household duties as 
 usual, singing blithely. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 ON A dark and stormy evening in the early part 
 of March, Ralph Marlowe sat alone in the 
 drugstore, hugging the hot stove and glancing over 
 the evening paper. All day he had ridden in the 
 wind and rain; and now he was stiff, chilly, and 
 drowsy. 
 
 Outside, the wind whistled around the gables and 
 chimneys and screamed and chuckled as it sped 
 away among the leafless tree tops. The rain fell 
 fitfully, alternated with showers of snow pellets 
 that rattled like handfuls of birdshot against the 
 window panes. 
 
 The door opened, and Tucker dragged his water- 
 soaked boots into the room, leaving a trail of wet 
 footprints upon the floor. Tumbling into his ac- 
 customed seat behind the stove, and relaxing into a 
 limp and lazy heap, he produced a long cigar and 
 lighted it. Then placing his wet footwear upon 
 the projecting hearth of the upright stove, he 
 puffed away meditatively for some time. 
 
 Ralph went on with the perusal of his paper. 
 The horsy smell arising* from Jep's steaming boots 
 and garments filled the room. Presently he 
 knocked the ashes from his cigar and remarked 
 drawlingly : 
 
 " Mighty bad night out, ain't it? " 
 
 Marlowe nodded slightly. 
 
 (359) 
 
36o RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 "Yes, sir," Jep continued; "it's a mighty bad 
 night. Guess the groundhog must 'ave seen his 
 shadder an' gone back into his den. That means six 
 weeks more o' winter. It's turning cold fast, too ; 
 an' blowin' stiff enough to untie a hard knot in a 
 shoestring. By mornin' the ground '11 be froze 
 harder 'n ol' Phar'oh's heart ; an' ther'll be ten 
 inches o' snow on." 
 
 " So much? " Ralph smiled, turning his paper. 
 
 " Well, maybe not quite that much," Jep grinned. 
 " But a few inches more 'r less don't make much 
 differ'nce in anything — 'cept on the end of a feller's 
 nose. One inch there makes a heap o' diflfer'nce. 
 Ever notice that, young feller? " 
 
 "Frequently," Marlowe replied abstractedly, 
 without taking his eyes from the printed sheet. 
 
 Again Jep was silent for a few moments, puflF- 
 ing vigorously at his cigar which threatened to go 
 out. When the lighted end of the roll of cheap 
 tobacco was once more aglow, he resumed mus- 
 ingly. 
 
 " This sort of a night is bad for all kinds o' 
 business 'cept drinkin' an' gamblin'. That busi- 
 ness goes on in all kinds o' weather — an' week 
 days an' Sundays. Them oil men is keepin' things 
 a goin', I tell youy an' Morris McDevitt's tryin' to 
 keep up with 'em. He'll bu'st hisself an' his ol' 
 daddy, too, 'fore he quits, if somethin' 'r some- 
 body don't head him off. He gambles ev'ry night; 
 an' ev'ry night he gambles he loses money. Well, 
 let him go it. I never did like him very well, any- 
 how. He was alluz too stuck up fer me. Thinks 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 361 
 
 he's made of a little better clay 'n anybody else ; 
 when the fact is he's nothin' but common crock'ry- 
 ware — an' a cracked vessel at that. Him an' the 
 ol' doc's oldest gal is a good deal alike. She's 
 stuck up, too— not much like Miss Dolly. Yes, 
 sir, Morris an' Miss Julia ort to git married ; it's a 
 'tarnal shame to spile two houses with 'em. She 
 wants to reform the universe; an' if she'd marry 
 him, she'd 'ave a piece o' timber to begin on — an' 
 one that 'Id try her little hatchet " 
 
 "Jep," Ralph broke in, "you should not talk 
 so about your employer's daughter." 
 
 "You're 'bout right," Tucker admitted. " An* 
 I won't say no more 'bout her. But I can't keep 
 from thinkin' 'bout 'er. An' as fer him — I'll say 
 what I please. I don't like a bone in his body." 
 
 Marlowe refolded his paper, and leaning far 
 over tossed it upon the end of the counter. Then, 
 settling back in his chair, he said mischievously : 
 
 " If Morris McDevitt should hear of your re- 
 marks, Jep, he might chastise you." 
 
 " You mean he might whip me? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " He'd better hire the job out," Tucker replied, 
 scowling. "W'y," — His features immediately re- 
 laxing into a grin — " I could take the little whiffet 
 'cross my knee an' break him in two — like I would 
 a stick o' kindlin'." 
 
 " But you should not seek to injure his reputa- 
 tion, Jep." 
 
 "It's purty toler'ble hard to spile an addled 
 egg," Tucker retorted. " The truth is he's got his 
 
362 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 tail in a crack ; an' he's goin' to git it pinched. 
 He's hatchin' a chicken that'll come home to roost 
 at last, no matter what other people may do 'r say. 
 Wy, ev'rybody knows what he's doin' ; an' ev'ry- 
 body's talkin' 'bout it, too. His poor ol' daddy 
 an' mammy looks ten years older 'n they did twelve 
 months ago." 
 
 " That is one very good reason," Ralph answered 
 soberly, " why people should be more careful what 
 they say. They should have regard for the feelings 
 of Morris's relatives and friends, if they have no 
 respect for him. They should be more charitable." 
 
 Jep silently pondered his companion's words. 
 At length he roused himself and said slowly — and 
 with evident reluctance : 
 
 " Y-e-s, I guess that's so. But ther's somethin' 
 funny 'bout that word charity. The Bible says — I 
 guess it's in the good book — that charity covers a 
 multitude o' sins. That must mean that it's 
 stretchier 'n a lawyer's conscience. An' w'en it 
 gits drawed out so everlastin' thin, it can't be o' 
 much account, it 'pears to me. Then some folks 
 says charity begins at home. That's as true as 
 gospel, whether it is gospel 'r not. Charity begins 
 at home; an' with most people it never goes 
 abroad. An' w'en it does happen to take a trip, it 
 travels in a circle an' comes right straight back to 
 its place o' beginnin'." 
 
 Then cocking his head and casting an eye toward 
 the door : 
 
 "There's that Lon Crider. He comet 'round as 
 reg'lar as tax-payin' time." 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 363 
 
 The drug drummer bustled into the store, bring- 
 ing the chill, moist breath of the storm with him. 
 
 "How are you, Marlowe, anyhow?" he cried 
 effusively, slapping the young physician upon the 
 shoulder. 
 
 "Beastly night out, isn't it? Hello, Jep ! " — 
 With a nod and a smile. " You bet — a beastly bad 
 night ! And the day wasn't any better, either. 
 You're a lucky dog, Marlowe — sit by the fire and 
 toast your shins. I've been out in this weather 
 ever since seven o'clock this morning " 
 
 "I have ridden all day myself," Ralph inter- 
 jected. 
 
 " That so ! " — Pulling up the lapel of his coat 
 and snifHng at the flower in his buttonhole. — 
 " Well, I hope you've made more out of it than I 
 have. I haven't taken an order today. But you've 
 got an order for me, haven't you? " 
 
 "A small one." 
 
 " Small favors are gratefully received — and big 
 ones in proportion," laughed Crider, growing red 
 in the face and producing his order book and pencil. 
 " By the way, how's the old doc? " 
 
 " He is in fair health and humor," Ralph replied. 
 
 " Good ! " cried the traveling man. " Glad to 
 hear it." 
 
 Seating himself and nervously tapping the back 
 of his book with his pencil, he continued : 
 
 " Now, I'm ready for that order. Business first 
 and pleasure afterward is my motto. Get your 
 list; I don't want you to miss anything. You 
 are a lucky dog, Marlowe — and no mistake. They 
 
364 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 say a good man can't be kept down ; and I'm 
 beginning to believe it. You came to this town a 
 few months ago, a poor drug clerk. Now you've 
 blossomed out as a full-blown physician ; arid are 
 in partnership with the old doc and running things 
 to suit yourself. Then I hear since getting in 
 tonight that you've got a good thing in oil, and 
 that you're going to marry the old doc's youngest 
 girl and become one of the family." 
 
 " Crider, I am ready to give you the order," 
 Ralph said frigidly. 
 
 " And I'm ready to take it," hastily replied the 
 jolly commercial man, suddenly growing grave and' 
 blushing like an embarrassed urchin. " I meant no 
 offense, Marlowe." 
 
 "And I have taken none," Ralph answered. 
 " Please say no more. You may send me ten 
 pounds of borax." 
 
 Thus they went on for some time, the one nam- 
 ing the things he wanted, the other industriously 
 writing. Tucker arose, yawned, stretched him- 
 self, and wandered around the room, softly whistl- 
 ing. 
 
 " That is all," Ralph said at last. 
 
 "Much obliged," answered Crider slapping to- 
 gether the lids of his order book and returning it to 
 his pocket. " Now have a smoke with me. You 
 won't. Then I'll have to burn incense all by my 
 lonesome. Oh ! Here's Tucker. Have a smoke. 
 Tucker?" 
 
 ' " Don't care if I do," grinned that human oddity 
 receiving and fondling the pursy cigar. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 365 
 
 "You'd better have a care, Jep," Marlowe re- 
 marked roguishly ; " that cigar may be loaded." 
 
 Jep did not deign to make reply, until he had 
 lighted his cigar and started it going to his satisfac- 
 tion. Then he drawled between puffs : 
 
 "Maybe 'tis; but I'm goin' to smoke it, anyhow. 
 If a feller crawfished from ev'rything that might 
 be loaded, he wouldn't git no pleasure out o' life. 
 Fer most things is loaded more 'r less, is my 'xpe- 
 rience. Ther' ain't no rose without its thorn ; an' 
 ther' ain't no spree without its headache. Speakin' 
 o' loaded things, though, puts me in mind o' the 
 story 'Dout ol' Ezry Barnhouse an' the sleigh bells." 
 
 "Let's have it," laughed Crider, winking at 
 Marlowe. 
 
 "No," Jep replied, soberly shaking his head, " I 
 ain't 'tellin' no stories these days. Am I, young 
 filler?" 
 
 " You haven't told many of late," Ralph an- 
 swered. 
 
 "Many?^' Jep gasped. "I hain't told none — 
 not a single one fer months an' months. An' it's 
 beginnin' to wear on me, too. I'm a little off on 
 my feed an' can't sleep more 'n twelve hours at a 
 stretch. Don't know how long I'll be able to hold 
 out." 
 
 He cast an appealing look at Marlowe, as though 
 expecting the latter to say something in reply — 
 something that he, Jep, desired very much to hear. 
 
 He was not disappointed. 
 
 " Considering your suffering condition," Ralph 
 laughed, " I think you would better break your 
 
366 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 rash resolve — this once, at any rate — and tell us the 
 story, Jep." 
 
 " Of course neither one of you'll ever say any- 
 thing to the ol' doc 'bout it," Tucker said with a 
 dubious shake of his frowsy head. 
 
 " Certainly not — go ahead," cried Crider. 
 
 ' ' Thus assured, and having reseated himself and 
 disposed of his clumsy nether limbs, Tucker 
 yawned sleepily once or twice and began — punctu- 
 ating his sentences with sundry puffs at his vanish- 
 ing cigar. 
 
 " ' Tain't a very long yarn ; but I alluz thought 
 it was a purty good one. 'Spect neither one o' you 
 fellers ever knowed ol' Ezry Barnhouse, did you ? " 
 
 His auditors shook their heads. 
 
 " He was a Quaker an' lived out at Foxtown," 
 Jep proceeded. " Outside he had all the symp- 
 toms of a dyed-in-the-wool Broad'rim — the hat, the 
 shad-belly coat, an' the thee-an'-thou lingo; but 
 inside he was a worldly ol' ripscallion — drunk 
 whisky, played cards, an' swore like a deck hand. 
 
 ' ' One time he moved down here to Babylon, an' 
 lived in the town sev'r'l years. Bought a little 
 dinky of a steamboat named the Lindy; an' run 
 'er in the trade from here to Zanesville an' back. 
 He acted as captain; an' carried a crew that was as 
 drunken an' worthless as hisself. The end o' the 
 matter was that they all got boozy one day, run 
 the Lindy over the dam at Eagleport, an' bu'sted 
 'er all to flinders. Wasn't enough left of 'er to 
 build a decent-sized johnboat. Whole caboodle 
 come purty near drowndin'. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 367 
 
 "01' Ezry finally j'ined the Murphies, moved 
 back to Foxtown, an' went to makin' temper'nce 
 speeches over the country. Used to tell 'bout his 
 steamboatin' 'xperience ; an' 'Id alluz wind up by 
 say in' : 
 
 " ' Yes, ladies an' gentlemen, the reason the 
 Lindy was wrecked, thee knows, was because o' 
 strong drink. Fer she drawed fourteen inches o' 
 water an' sixteen inches o' whisky ; there was 
 more steam in the officers than there was in the 
 b'iler; an' they blowed off twice to the b'iler's 
 once. It was drink wrecked the Lindy thee 
 knows — it was drink.' 
 
 " But I've sort o' got out o' the main channel. 
 I started to tell you 'bout ol' Ezry an' the sleigh 
 bells. One winter day — ^years 'fore he moved down 
 here to Babylon — the ol' scalaw^ag went down to 
 Malconta an' got on a rousin' spree. A lot o' the 
 young dudes o' the town got a hold of him an' was 
 havin' a heap o' fun — fer he was a comic ol' scamp 
 when he was rosumed up a little. Finally them 
 young bloods got him up to the hardware store an' 
 strung strings o' sleigh bells all over him, an' had 
 him prancin' an' dancin' up an' down street, while 
 they laid back an' nearly died a laughin'. 
 
 " Well, the'r little game was loaded — though of 
 course they didn't know it. Ol' Ezry — trigged out 
 worse 'n Santy Glaus ever was — went a prancin' 
 up to the corner o' the street 'bove the hardware 
 store, jest a pawin' the ground an' a neighin' like 
 an army hoss on parade day. An' them young 
 fellers seen him turn the corner, an' heerd the 
 
368 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 people talkin' an' titterin' on the next street, an' 
 they slapped one another on the back an' whooped 
 an' hollered like a pack o' Injins, thinkin' what a 
 picnic they was havin'. 
 
 " But purty soon they didn't hear the jingle o' 
 the sleigh bells no more; an' they looked at one 
 another kind o' questionin' like. 
 
 " ' Guess we'd better go up there an' see what's? 
 become o' our ol' hoss,' says one. 'Maybe he's 
 fell down an' can't git up. He was purty full o' 
 barley juice.' 
 
 " 'Oh!' says another, 'he's stopped to gab to 
 somebody. He'll be back in a minute.' 
 
 "But they all stopped the'r laughin' an' stood 
 grinnin' sickly grins at each other an' a listenin' 
 fer the sound o' sleigh bells. Then all of a sudden 
 all of 'em started an' run up to the corner, tight as 
 they could go. Ol' Ezry wasn't nowhere to be 
 seen; an' his hoss was gone from the hitchin' 
 rack. The joke was he' was on his way to Foxtown, 
 fast as hoss flesh could carry him, takin' twenty 
 dollars' worth o' sleigh bells with him. An' he 
 never brung 'em back ; an' them young dudes had 
 to foot the bill at the hardware store an' " 
 
 Jep stopped suddenly. Then exclaimed: 
 
 " W'y, there comes Tomp Nutt. What's brung 
 that ol' codger out such a night as this? " 
 
 Tomp entered — a dripping bundle of loose and 
 ragged clothing — and, as if in answer to Tucker's 
 exclamation, stuttered: 
 
 "Theol' w-woman's g-g-got the n-newrology. I 
 w-want s-somethin' f-f-fer it." 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 369 
 
 While Marlowe was preparing the desired ano- 
 dyne, Nutt stood leaning against the counter, idly 
 shaking the wet from his saturated headpiece. 
 Crider and Tucker smoked on in silence. 
 
 Presently Tomp remarked: 
 
 " I c-come up p-p-past T-Torbert's s-s'loon. 
 They m-must be br-breakin' up h-housekeepin' in 
 there ; fer I n-never heard s-such a r-rumpus in my 
 life." 
 
 " Think they was havin' a free-fer-all fight, 
 Tomp ? ' ' Tucker asked, craning his neck to peep 
 around the stove. 
 
 " D-Don't know," Nutt answered with a shake 
 of the head. 
 
 Then receiving his package of medicine he 
 shuffled toward the door. 
 
 As he passed out Sam Clark and Airly Chandler 
 came in. Both looked pale and agitated. 
 
 " Come here a minute, Marlowe," Clark re- 
 quested, beckoning with his finger. 
 
 "They're having a regular Indian war dance 
 down to Torbert's place," he went on breathlessly 
 when Ralph had reached his side. "McDevitt's 
 down there pretty tipsy. We want you to go 
 down with us, and see if we can't get him out — 
 and up home. There's going to be hell there be- 
 fore morning." 
 
 "Have you been down there?" Marlowe in- 
 quired in tones too low for Tucker's and Crider' s 
 ears. 
 
 Airly Chandler nodded ; and Clark made cautious 
 
 reply: 
 34 
 
370 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 "Yes. We was passing the place — me and 
 Airly — and we heard a rumpus in there, as though 
 there was a fight going on. We thought Morris 
 might be mixed up in it, so we went in. Three or 
 four fellows were fighting over a game of seven-up 
 —dollar a corner. McDevitt was among them. 
 Torbert finally got them quieted down; and then 
 we tried to get McDevitt to come away with us. 
 But it was no go — he's drunk, you know. Two 
 or three oil men have him in tow ; and they'll 
 fleece him good. Besides there's a young cattle 
 dealer there from Foxtown. He's got three hun- 
 dred dollars in his pocket, and is drinking and 
 gambling. Somebody'U swipe his roll before day- 
 light. Then there'll be a trial, likely, and ex- 
 posure for everybody concerned — ^Morris included. 
 Maybe you can get him to come away. Won't you 
 go down with us and try? " 
 
 Ralph answered with an almost imperceptible 
 nod of the head ; and turning to the two by the 
 stove, said briefly : 
 
 " I'm going to close up." 
 
 " All right," replied Crider, with alacrity rising 
 and making for the door, closely followed by 
 Tucker, 
 
 A few seconds later, Marlowe and his two com- 
 panions were on their way to Torbert's saloon. That 
 den of iniquity was on the ground floor of a barn- 
 like building of two stories, standing just south of 
 the village hotel, at the intersection of a cross 
 street and side street. Its front door looked 
 toward the river and was reached by a flight o£ 
 
RALPH MARLOWE yi\ 
 
 crazy wooden stairs. Its rear entrance was upon 
 the cross street. 
 
 The three young men entered at the rear door, 
 and found themselves in a large bare-floored room 
 containing a bar, a lopsided pool table, a number 
 of card tables, and sundry chairs and stools. The 
 walls were adorned with unframed chromos and 
 lithographs — pictures of pugilists, jockeys, and 
 actors and actresses. A stove occupied one corner 
 of the room ; and three or four big oil lamps hung 
 from the ceiling. 
 
 Everything presented a quiet and orderly appear- 
 ance. Two oil men stood at the bar, leisurely sip- 
 ping at schooners of foaming beer and talking in 
 low, confidential tones. They scowled as the trio 
 of newcomers put in an appearance. Near the 
 stove, Crawford and his comrade, the bridge-tender, 
 sat with their chairs tilted against the wall. The 
 cobbler was tipsily humming a few bars of his 
 favorite drinking song and batting at the lamp over 
 his head. Brady had fallen into a drunken sleep, 
 and was breathing stertorously. At one of the 
 small tables a number of men' were playing seven- 
 up, for the drinks ; and at another a game of poker 
 was in progress. At the latter table sat Morris 
 McDevitt. Several onlookers were watching the 
 two games. 
 
 "Good evening," Torbert grunted gruffly, as 
 Marlowe and his companions passed the end of the 
 bar, on their way to where McDevitt sat. 
 
 None of the three returned an answer to the 
 surly greeting. They reached the poker table. 
 
372 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 Ralph in the lead. The green baize was piled with 
 chips and coin. Evidently the play was for hign 
 stakes. 
 
 For a short time McDevitt remained unaware of 
 the presence of his friends. Ralph noted that the 
 young merchant's face was flushed and that his 
 hands shook as he scanned his cards. Then the 
 young physician's attention was drawn to a player 
 on the opposite side of the table — a mere boy, he 
 appeared, with wavy chestnut hair and regular 
 features. 
 
 " It's up to you, Edgerton," one of the players 
 cried. "Rader's bet three dollars — an' crowded 
 ev'rybody out but you an' McDevitt. Stay with 
 him — if you think you've got the best ones." 
 
 "I see that, and raise it five dollars," said 
 Edgerton-^the youthful stranger Ralph had noticed 
 — shoving a stack of chips and coin to the center of 
 the table. 
 
 "I'm out," muttered McDevitt with an oath, 
 angrily throwing down his cards. ' ' Everybody 
 skins me." 
 
 "The young rooster from Foxtown can't knock 
 me o£F the roost," leered Rader, an oil driller of 
 forty. " I'll just learn him to stay out till he's got 
 something. My cattle dealing friend, I raise you 
 ten dollars more." 
 
 " And I call you," replied the youthful gambler, 
 tossing a ten dollar bill upon the pile of chips and 
 pioney. " What have you ? " 
 
 " Four little ones," laughed Rader. 
 
 ►'That beats an ace-full," Edgerton returned 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 373 
 
 quietly. — But his mouth quivered and he swallowed 
 a lump in his throat. — " Take the money." 
 
 Marlowe had seen all he cared to see — and more. 
 Stepping behind McDevitt's chair, he laid a hand 
 upon the latter' s shoulder and whispered : 
 
 " Morris, I desire to speak with you a moment. 
 Come outside." 
 
 McDevitt wheeled at the sound of the familiar 
 voice in his ear and stared stupidly at the speaker. 
 Then, recognizing Ralph, he staggered to his feet 
 and said: 
 
 " Hello, Marlowe ! What the devil are you 
 doing here ? ' ' 
 
 " I came to see you." 
 
 " Did, eh? Won't you take a hand in the game? 
 There's room for another good player." 
 
 Shaking his head, Ralph answered : 
 
 "No. Come outside. I have something to say 
 to you." 
 
 "Can't you talk here? I don't want to leave 
 the game, and " 
 
 Suddenly he became aware of the presence of 
 Clark and Chandler. The sight of them threw him 
 into an instant rage. 
 
 " Sam Clark," he cried hoarsely, "you brought 
 Marlowe down here — you sneak 1 Well, you've 
 had your trouble for nothing. I'm going to stay 
 here until I get ready to leave. There! " 
 
 " That's the stuff ! " shouted Rader. " Sit down 
 and let's go ahead with the game. If your mis- 
 sionary friends don't like the company you keep, 
 let them take a walk — let them chase themselves." 
 
574 RALPH MARLOWE^ 
 
 "Will you not come with me, Morris?" Mar- 
 lowe asked in persuasive tones. 
 
 " No, I won't," McDevitt answered sneeringly. 
 "Who appointed you my guardian, Mr. Ralph 
 Marlowe — hey? " 
 
 The gamblers around the tables laughed heartily. 
 Torbert winked and grinned at the two oil men 
 who stood at the bar ; and Jim Craw^ford began to 
 sing lustily — ' 'Once I was a pussy ol' landlord's pet;" 
 
 Of all the players, Edgerton was the only one 
 who did not join in the laugh. He sat with 
 drooped eyelids and set features, nervously drum- 
 ming upon the table. 
 
 Rader arose, softly approached McDevitt, and 
 taking him by the arm whispered wheedlingly: 
 
 "Sit down, and let's go ahead with the game. 
 Pay no attention to the old grannies." 
 
 Ralph Marlowe saw the driller's sly movements 
 and heard the whispered words. Instantly the 
 young physician's mobile features froze to stony 
 hardness. 
 
 "Loose his arm and stand aside," he said in 
 low, intense accents, looking Rader squarely in the 
 eyes. 
 
 "You mean that for me?" the latter asked 
 blusteringly. 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "Take that for your smartness, then! " shouted 
 Rader, springing forward and shoving his fist full 
 at Ralph's face. 
 
 The latter easily parried the blow ; and the next 
 instant the surprised driller measured his length 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 375 
 
 upon the dusty floor. In a moment there was a 
 wild scramble and uproar. Clark and Chandler 
 turned deathly pale, but drew near to Marlowe's 
 side — the agent shoving up his sleeves and clench- 
 ing his blue-veined hands. The other oil men 
 sprang to their feet and assisted their prostrate 
 comrade to rise. Then, with muttered threats and 
 maledictions, they surrounded the young doctor. 
 The latter calmly stood his ground, his arms folded, 
 his brown eyes alert. Torbert, the saloon keeper, 
 made no move to quell the disturbance. Plainly 
 his sympathy was with his customers. He wished 
 to see Ralph receive chastisement at the hands of 
 Rader and his friends. 
 
 But the driller had no intention of again putting 
 himself within reach of Marlowe's fist. Feelingly 
 rubbing his bruised jaw and shaking his head in a 
 dazed way, he sullenly drew away from his excited 
 and angry companions. 
 
 " Come on, Rader ! " cried one of them. " You 
 don't have to take that." 
 
 "Oh, don't I!" growled the driller. "Well, 
 I'd have to take more if I got in his reach again. 
 I've had plenty. If you fellows want to fight him, 
 you can. I know a prize fighter when I run up 
 against his fist!" 
 
 But those who had not tested Marlowe's prowess 
 were not so easily satisfied. With scowling faces 
 and threatening gestures — two or three of them 
 had caught up chairs and were holding them aloft 
 
 they gradually drew nearer to the object of their 
 
 wrath. 
 
376 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 Marlowe's face was a trifle pale ; but he made no 
 move to retreat. 
 
 "Back!" 
 
 Like a flashing blade leaping from its sheath, 
 the single word sprang from the young physician's 
 lips. His eyes were flashing ; his nostrils quiver- 
 ing. His assailants looked upon him and instinc- 
 tively recoiled. Taking instant advantage of their 
 hesitation, Ralph proceeded : 
 
 " I did not come in here to participate in a sa- 
 loon brawl, but to rescue my friend from your 
 clutches. I was attacked ; I retaliated. I am un- 
 armed. Throw aside your weapons, and I will 
 fight any or all of you, single-handed." 
 
 Partially sobered by the turn affairs had taken, 
 Morris McDevitt placed himself at Marlowe's side, 
 saying : 
 
 "Yes! And by all that's right and just, Ralph 
 Marlowe, I'll stand by you and see fair play! " 
 
 The oil men had counted upon McDevitt's sym- 
 pathy and support, and were completely taken aback 
 by his sudden change of sentiment — his resolute 
 avowal. Slowly they lowered the chairs they held 
 aloft, and silently looked at one another. Still 
 they were very angry; and it is problematical how 
 the affair might have terminated had not a diver- 
 sion occurred. 
 
 The rear door flew open and a short, heavy-set 
 man dashed into the room. His hat was in his 
 hand and his long, iron-gray hair was streaming 
 about his round, rubicund face. It was Hugh Mc- 
 Devitt, Morris's father. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 377 
 
 Going straight up to his son — ^totally oblivious 
 of those present — the old man cried wildly : 
 
 "Morris, my boy, come home, for God's sake! 
 Your mother and sister are up there, crying their 
 eyes out over your doings. They wouldn't let me 
 have a minute's peace till I promised to come for 
 you. Come home with me. Do — please, do ! " 
 
 At sight of his father young McDevitt started. 
 His countenance underwent a change of expression. 
 The light of noble resolve faded from it ; and 
 dogged obstinacy was there in its stead. In answer 
 to his parent's pleading words, the son said sul- 
 lenly : 
 
 "I'm only doing what you did when you were 
 young. I've heard how you sowed your wild oats.'' 
 — ^Mr. McDevitt dropped his eyes and sadly nodded. 
 •^" And I'm not going to be drug around like a 
 five-year-old boy. I'll come home when I get 
 ready — and not a minute sooner. I'll send Airly 
 Chandler up to console Rose — he'll do much better 
 than I." — ^The last sentence with a sneer. 
 
 ' ' But your mother, Morris ! ' ' the father plead 
 tearfully. 
 
 " Tell her to go to bed. I'll be up home in an 
 hour or two. That's all now. I won't go with 
 you or anybody else." 
 
 Knowing that further persuasion would be idle, 
 the father put on his hat and left the place, sobbing 
 as he went. Marlowe and his two companions 
 followed. 
 
 During the whole disturbance, Edgerton had sat 
 at the poker table, his elbows upon it, his chin rest- 
 
378 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 ing upon his hands — a picture of apathetic despair. 
 Five minutes after the departure of Marlowe and 
 his friends, the game was again going on — as if 
 nothing unusual had happened. 
 
 On leaving the saloon, the four men, who had in- 
 terested themselves in Morris McDevitt's welfare, 
 made their way from the muddy cross street into 
 the main thoroughfare. There they divided, Clark 
 and the young school-teacher crossing to the hotel 
 and Marlowe and Mr. McDevitt continuing up the 
 dark avenue. Until his residence was reached, the 
 heart- stricken father did not utter a word; nor did 
 Ralph intrude upon his grief. 
 
 At his gate the old man gave his hand to his 
 companion, saying in a moved voice : 
 
 "Dr. Marlowe, you were down there trying to 
 get my boy out of that hell of vice. Accept my 
 thanks — and an old man's blessing. As we sow, 
 so shall we reap. In my youth I sowed to the 
 wind ; tonight I am reaping the whirlwind." 
 
 Then, without waiting for a reply, he turned 
 and groped his way toward the house, his head 
 bowed in sorrow. 
 
 Marlowe went direct to his rooms, and to bed. 
 But for hours he could not sleep. His last con- 
 scious thought was : 
 
 "Yes, Hugh McDevitt is reaping the whirlwind 
 of his own appetites and passions. What will the 
 harvest be? There are but three things that shape 
 our destinies — heredity, environment, and our- 
 selves," 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 A s Ralph was unlocking the drugstore the fol- 
 **■ lowing morning, Brady, the bridge-tender — 
 who, also, was the town marshal — came hurrying 
 up to him. It was just gray daylight. 
 
 "Have you seen Frank Edgerton this mornin', 
 doc?" the officer asked. 
 
 "Frank Edgerton?" Ralph echoed, throwing 
 open the door and making a move to step within, 
 
 "Yes," Brady replied in a low tone. "You 
 was down at Torbert's place last night, I was told. 
 I didn't see you ;" — With a shameless grin. — " I was 
 too far gone. But you saw the feller there — ^that 
 young cattle dealer from Foxtown. You hain't 
 seen anything of him this mornin' ? " 
 
 "No," Ralph answered quickly. "What of 
 him?" 
 
 "I don't know what of him," Brady laughed 
 uneasily; "that's jest the trouble. You see when 
 the boys quit playin' — 'bout three o'clock this 
 mornin' — the cattle dealer was consider'ble behind 
 the game, an' purty much put out. He was purty 
 drunk, too; but he wouldn't go to the hotel an' go 
 to bed, as the other fellers wanted him to — ^jest 
 moseyed off down toward the river by hisself. 
 An' nobody's seen him sence. 
 
 "I went into Charley Williams's bar, to git a 
 
 (379) 
 
38o RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 nip, a little while ago; an' some o' the oil men was 
 in there an' wanted me to hunt Edgerton up. 
 They was worried 'bout him. Well, I started out 
 an' found his horse tied to the rack in the alley by 
 McDevitt's store. The beast had been out in the 
 storm all night ; an' was shakin' with cold. I took 
 it to the liv'ry stable an' had it rubbed down an' 
 fed. But I'd like right smart to know where its 
 master is." 
 
 Marlowe looked up and down the hoof-trampled 
 street. The scene was wintry and drear. The 
 earth was half frozen; a light fall of snow accentu- 
 ated the inequalities in the ground. The sky was 
 still overcast with scudding clouds, and the wind 
 was keen. 
 
 The young doctor shivered involuntarily as he 
 replied to Brady's question : 
 
 ' ' You will find Frank Edgerton in the bottom of 
 the river, is my opinion." 
 
 "Don't say that!" gasped the bridge-tender 
 turning pale. " That's just what I'm 'fraid of 
 myself — an' it scares me to think of it. If he's 
 gone an' can't be found, it's goin' to make no end 
 o' trouble fer the boys that played with him. Fer 
 he had lots o' money with him ; an' lost the most 
 of it. I wonder " 
 
 " What time did Morris McDevitt leave the 
 place ? " Ralph asked. 
 
 " Same time the rest did — three o'clock." 
 
 At that moment a ragged boy of twelve years 
 came whistling up the street, swinging a limp object 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 381 
 
 in his hand. As he drew near, the two men saw 
 that the thing the lad carried was a water-soaked 
 corduroy cap. 
 
 "Where'd you git this, Tom Sandy? "Brady 
 demanded sharply, snatching the wet headgear 
 from the youngster's hand. 
 
 " Give it here; 'tain't yours," whined the boy. 
 
 " No, 'tain't mine," Brady answered deliberately; 
 " but I know whose it is. It's Frank Edgerton's." 
 — ^To Marlowe who gravely nodded. — " Where'd 
 you git it, Tom? " 
 
 " Down on the 'proach o' the bridge," the lad 
 answered sullenly. ' ' I was goin' over to Down- 
 ing's after milk ; an' I found the cap an' a whisky 
 bottle right together." 
 
 " Where's the bottle? " asked Brady. 
 
 "Here 'tis." — Pulling a flask containing a small 
 quantity of liquor from the pocket of his ragged 
 coat. 
 
 "Give me that, too," commanded the bridge- 
 tender. 
 
 Tom reluctantly obeyed. 
 
 "You say you was goin' over to Downing's after 
 milk? " Brady queried. 
 
 "Yes, I was."— Sullenly. 
 
 " Where's y'r milk?" 
 
 "They didn't have none to spare. I left my 
 bucket; an' am goin' back this evenin'." 
 
 " You found these things as you went over? " 
 
 "Yes, Idid." 
 
 "When was that?" 
 
 " Jest a little while ago — maybe a quarter 'r a 
 
382 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 half an hour ago. Give 'em back to me. They're 
 mine ; I found 'em." 
 
 "That may be," growled the bridge-tender. 
 " But as they was found on the bridge, an' I'm the 
 marshal, I guess I'd better take charge of 'em. 
 Now " — Gruffly, as the boy began to whine — " trot 
 'long home, 'fore I put you in the lockup fer havin' 
 stolen goods in y'r possession." 
 
 Tom Sandy did not hesitate to obey the order. 
 Like all the other boys in the village, he had a 
 wholesome dread of the law — and its unworthy 
 representative, the drunken marshal. 
 
 When the lad was out of hearing, Brady turned 
 to Marlowe and said in a stage whisper : 
 
 " Frank Edgerton's drowned hisself ! " 
 
 The young doctor silently inclined his head. 
 
 " He's gone out onto the 'proach o' the bridge," 
 Brady continued in awe-stricken voice, ' ' an' 
 jumped off — leavin' his cap an' whisky bottle be- 
 hind, so's folks would know what he'd done." 
 
 Again Ralph nodded — frigidly; and passing 
 into the drugstore closed the door behind him. 
 
 The bridge-tender hurried off down the street. 
 
 An hour later news of the youthful cattle dealer's 
 disappearance — of his probable suicide — had spread 
 to the outermost limits of the village. His name 
 was upon the tongues of all ; and more or less dis- 
 torted reports of the night's doings at Torbert's 
 were current. Sullen murmurings arose — the first 
 breath of the storm that was to clear Babylon of its 
 undesirable element ; and open threats against Tor- 
 bert and those who frequented his den were heard. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 383 
 
 Brady and a gang of volunteer helpers began an 
 effort to recover the body from the cold, silent 
 depths of the river. They anchored the hulk of 
 the old ferryboat just below the bridge; and armed 
 with grappling irons and gaff hooks, proceeded to 
 drag the bottom of the stream. About nine o'clock 
 the body was found and brought ashore. 
 
 The recovery of the remains of the young suicide 
 increased the excitement — the intensity of feeling 
 against those who had been instrumental in driv- 
 ing him to his death. The oil men — who during 
 the search for the body had stood upon the bank 
 and interestedly, anxiously watched the proceed- 
 ings — now perceiving the scowls and threats di- 
 rected toward themselves, sought the security of 
 the hotel and remained there. 
 
 A messenger was dispatched to Foxtown to ap- 
 prise Edgerton's relatives of his death ; and another 
 to Malconta to bring the coroner. Upon the 
 arrival of the latter, warrants were sworn out for 
 the arrest and detention of Torbert and all who 
 had participated in the poker game of the night 
 before, pending an investigation. 
 
 The oil men were easily secured ; but Morris 
 McDevitt had disappeared from home and could 
 not be found. 
 
 A coroner's jury was quickly impaneled and 
 an investigation begun. Within the pockets of 
 the dead youth was found nothing of value but a 
 silver watch and three dollars in coin. No marks 
 of violence were upon the body. 
 
 Shortly after noon stern-faced men came riding 
 
384 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 in from Foxtown, by dozens and scores, until more 
 than a hundred had arrived. The opinion of one 
 and all was that Edgerton had been murdered for 
 his money and his body cast into the river. No 
 amount of reasoning or argument could convince 
 them to the contrary; and they demanded that 
 swift and stern justice be dealt out to the guilty, 
 threatening to take the law into their own hands, 
 otherwise. Many of the Babylonians believed 'as 
 did Edgerton's friends, and openly lent them sup- 
 port. Excitement was at fever heat. The surging 
 crowd upon the village street became a mad mob. 
 A reckless leader alone was needed to precipitate 
 another tragedy— a tragedy compared with which 
 the initial one would have paled into insignificance. 
 It was all that cooler heads could do to avert the 
 threatened act of vengeance. And Torbert, the 
 saloonist, and his companions under arrest sat in 
 the dark, damp rooms of the village calaboose and 
 trembled as they heard the blood-curdling threats 
 and imprecations without. 
 
 Marlowe spent the forenoon in the country ; Dr. 
 Barwood, in the drugstore. When the latter went 
 to dinner his older daughter did not appear at the 
 table. Dolly was mute and evidently greatly de- 
 pressed in spirits. Mrs. Barwood's face showed 
 traces of recent grief. 
 
 "Where's Julia?" the father inquired with 
 assumed carelessness. 
 
 "In her room," the mother made reply, surrep- 
 titiously wiping away a trickling tear. 
 
 " Is she not coming to dinner? " 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 385 
 
 " No, she is lying down ; she has a headache." 
 
 " She has heard the — the reports of that young 
 man's death, then ; and what people are saying 
 about — about the men who gambled with him ? " 
 Dr. Barwood ventured lamely. 
 
 "Of course she has," his wife replied tartly. 
 " How could she help but hear when so many kind 
 friends have taken it upon themselves to come in 
 and tell her? She knows all." 
 
 No more was said on the subject. Dr. Barwood 
 finished his meal in silence and returned to the 
 drugstore. 
 
 Julia rejected the proffered sympathies of her 
 mother and sister, who sought to condole with her. 
 Cold and white she lay upon her bed, her face 
 turned to the wall. No moan escaped her ; no tear 
 wet her lashes. Yet it was patent she was suffer- 
 ing as few have the capacity to suffer. 
 
 The afternoon passed, and night fell, bleak and 
 black. 
 
 Excitement still ran high; and squads of vocifer- 
 ous men were upon the streets until almost mid- 
 night. 
 
 Ralph Marlowe went to his rooms at nine 
 o'clock. He did not go to bed ; but sinking into 
 the depths of an easy chair and stretching his feet 
 toward the grate, he lay back and gave himself up 
 to thought. The hours passed. The fire burned 
 low, leaving the room in semidarkness — for he 
 had not lighted a lamp ; and the wind whimpered 
 and wailed about the gables. At last his lids 
 drooped ; and he slept. 
 25 
 
386 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 Suddenly he awoke with the impression he had. 
 heard some one calling his name. The fire had 
 almost expired; and the room was cold and dark. 
 Yawning and shivering, the young physician arose 
 and stared vacantly into the black corners, listen- 
 ing intently. But he saw nothing but the dim out- 
 lines of the furniture ; heard nothing but the voice 
 of the gale. 
 
 " I must have been dreaming," he muttered. " I 
 thought I heard Morris McDevitt calling me." 
 
 At that moment his quick ear caught the sound 
 of a gentle tapping against the pane of an end 
 window. Striding quickly to the spot, he cau- 
 tiously lifted the blind. Pressed closely against 
 the glass was a human face ; but the light was so 
 faint he could not distinguish the features. 
 
 " Marlowe — Ralph, let me in." 
 
 The occupant of the room caught the faint but 
 distinct words. 
 
 " All right," he whispered in reply — his mouth to 
 the crack beneath the sash. "Go around to the door." 
 
 The face immediately disappeared. Marlowe 
 went into the hall and undid the outer door. A 
 moment later Morris McDevitt stood within the 
 double apartment. 
 
 "Don't strike a light," he cautioned. "They 
 are still on the outlook for me." 
 
 " Have a chair," Ralph said. 
 
 McDevitt accepted the invitation, sighing 
 wearily. 
 
 " Where have you been ? " Marlowe asked care- 
 lessly. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 387 
 
 " I've been hiding in the attic of the store build- 
 ing since nine o'clock yesterday." 
 
 "Yesterday? " Ralph exclaimed. 
 
 " Yes. Talk low. It's now one o'clock in the 
 morning." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 "You're still dressed; you haven't been to bed, 
 Marlowe." 
 
 " No. Did your parents or your sister know of 
 your hiding place ? " 
 
 " No. I didn't tell them ; I didn't want them to 
 have to lie for me — a worthless cur ! An hour ago 
 — when things had got quiet upon the street — I 
 slipped out of the store and into the house. As 
 soon as my sister could prepare it, I got something 
 to eat. Then I bid them good-bye, pocketed the 
 money my fdther gave me, and came directly here. 
 I am going to leave the town tonight, never to 
 return." 
 
 "It is best," Marlowe returned quietly. "But 
 I could not do it. I would stay and face " 
 
 He broke off abruptly, muttering under his 
 breath : 
 
 "But would I— did I?" 
 
 " You would stay and face the storm," McDevitt 
 completed. " I know ^oa would ; but /can't. I 
 haven't the moral courage ; I never have had the 
 moral courage to do right. But what would be 
 the use in my staying? I am guilty of no crime. 
 No crime has been committed, except the crime of 
 winning Edgerton's money. I got none of it; I 
 lost fifty dollars myself. The oil men fleeced us 
 
388 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 both. Edgerton had the grit and sense to commit 
 suicide. I wish I had as much. No, there is 
 nothing left for me to do but to leave here. I have 
 brought disgrace upon myself, and sorrow to my 
 parents and sister. I am going away tonight^- 
 never to look upon their faces again." 
 
 He said all this in hard, hopeless tones. Marlowe 
 made no reply. He did not know^ w^hat to say. 
 
 "I came to say good-bye," McDevitt went on, 
 rising to his feet. ' ' But before I go I want you to 
 do me one more favor. I w^ant you to carry this 
 note to Julia and bring me her reply. Will you .? " 
 
 Marlowe hesitated a moment. Then he said : 
 
 " Do you mind telling me what you have written, 
 McDevitt?" 
 
 "No. I have simply assured her of my inno- 
 cence — so far as the death of Edgerton is concerned 
 - — and have asked her if she will come to me when 
 I have made a man of myself. Of course I am a 
 fool to ask the question ; I know pretty well what 
 her answer will be. I cannot go to her myself ; I 
 fear her father might hand me over to the authori- 
 ties. Will you carry this note to her? " 
 
 " Yes. Give it to me ; and stay here until I re- 
 turn." 
 
 A few minutes later Marlowe stood within the 
 hall of the Barwood residence, facing the master of 
 the house, who — in gown and slippers — had 
 shuffled down the stairs to answer the alarm at the 
 door. In answer to the older man's wondering 
 look, the younger said: 
 
 •' Here's a note for your daughter, doctor," 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 389. 
 
 "For Julia?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Morris McDevitt sent it." 
 
 "He did." 
 
 Marlowe expected his admission to be greeted 
 by a storm of rage. On the contrary, Dr. Bar- 
 wood's voice and demeanor expressed naught but 
 pity and sadness as he made reply : 
 
 "I'll take it to her at once. It may bring her 
 comfort. Ever since nightfall she has been almost 
 delirious from anxiety and grief. She has done 
 nothing but walk the floor, wringing her hands and 
 accusing herself of absurd things. She says she 
 has driven Morris McDevitt to ruin ; and that she 
 will have to suffer for the loss of his soul. Musty 
 nonsense ! Also, she keeps saying, over and over, 
 she is being punished for a sin she has committed ; 
 but she won't tell what it is. I fear for her sanity 
 — I do, indeed. She has lost her self-reliance, and 
 has turned to me in her great trouble — a thing 
 unprecedented. But she will not allow her sister 
 to enter the room ; and hardly can bear the sight of 
 her mother! Yes, I'll take the note to her at once. 
 Go into the sitting room, you will find light and 
 fire there." 
 
 Marlowe entered the apartment named and seated 
 himself. A shaded lamp turned low burned upon 
 a stand in the middle of the room ; a few dying 
 embers shone between the bars of the grate. In 
 front of the hearth was Dr. Barwood's easy chair ; 
 and his daily paper lay beside it. 
 
 Ralph heard the tramp of feet overhead and the 
 
390 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 opening and closing of doors. Occasionally he 
 caught the muffled murmur of conversation. Sev- 
 eral minutes passed. Impatiently he drew forth his 
 watch — and stretched his limbs and yawned. At 
 length Dr. Barwood entered and asked agitatedly : 
 
 "Ralph, where is this — this young seal — ^young 
 man?" 
 
 "Why do you inquire?" Marlowe asked in 
 return. 
 
 With a sly grin the older man replied: 
 
 "Oh! I don't intend to betray him into the 
 hands of the officers of the law. Where is he ? " 
 
 " At my rooms." 
 
 "Well, bring him here at once. Julia desires to 
 see him. For the first time in years — the first time 
 in her life, almost — she has appealed to me for ad- 
 vice and help. Hitherto she has looked upon me 
 as an old bear, a hard-hearted tyrant, a wicked, un- 
 regenerate monster. Her mother has been her 
 companion and confidant. She has held me aloof. 
 But tonight she became desperate; she needed a 
 stronger arm to lean upon — a cooler, clearer head 
 to advise. In her extremity she turned to the old 
 father she has ignored — condemned." — His voice 
 quavered slightly. — "And that father pities her, 
 loves her — has always loved her, in spite of the 
 usage he has received from her — and means to stand 
 by her. For I have not been blameless. Both of 
 us have been proud — and foolish. Go, Ralph, and 
 bring Morris McDevitt here. He is a McDevitt — 
 one of my enemies — but he may come here and talk 
 with Julia ; and whatever they decide on doing, 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 391 
 
 they shall do. He is a weakling — I despise him. 
 Julia with all her faults is worth a dozen such 
 specimens of humanity. But she says she loves 
 him; and if she decides to marry him, I will do all 
 I can for them — not in this town, however, but 
 elsewhere. Bring him here." 
 
 Without making reply, Marlowe put on his hat 
 and left the house. When he returned with Mc- 
 Devitt, Dr. Barwood met them at the door, saying 
 coldly : 
 
 "Julia is in her room, Morris McDevitt. I will 
 conduct you to her." 
 
 The two silently ascended the stairs; and Ralph 
 again entered the sitting room. There he found 
 Dolly and her mother, clad in loose robes — and in 
 tearful dejection. They looked up at his entrance. 
 Dolly attempted to speak ; but choked, swallowed 
 — and was silent. Mrs. Barwood rocked herself to 
 and fro and moaned heart-brokenly. 
 
 Presently Dr. Barwood came in. Mechanically 
 he threw a few shovelfuls of coal upon the grate 
 and dropped into his chair. There he sat staring 
 into the fire, his brows contracted, his jaws set. 
 
 A half hour passed. Outside the wind sobbed 
 and wailed; inside the silence was unbroken by 
 human speech. At last footsteps descended the 
 stairs. Dr. Barwood did not change his attitude 
 nor expression. Dolly and her mother looked at 
 each other and heaved sighs of relief and expect- 
 ancy. Ralph glanced toward the door. It opened; 
 and Morris and Julia came in, hand in hand. The 
 young Irish- American held his head defiantly erect. 
 
392 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 as though challenging any one to take her from 
 him ; and upon his countenance rested an expression 
 of stern resolve — real or assumed — ^that was unusual 
 with him. Julia was ghastly pale ; but her eyes 
 were shining and she walked with firm and elastic 
 step. Stopping just inside the door and fixing her 
 gaze upon her father's bowed form, she said in low, 
 measured tones: 
 
 "Father, I am going to marry Morris and go 
 away with him." 
 
 Dolly gave a fluttering little gasp. The mother 
 burst into tears and pillowed her head upon the arm 
 of her chair. Dr. Barwood stiffly arose, and turn- 
 ing toward his older daughter uttered the one 
 word : 
 
 "When?" 
 
 " Tonight," Julia answered. 
 
 "No — no!" sobbed Mrs. Barwood. "Not to- 
 night — not tonight ! " 
 
 " Hush, Hannah," the father commanded gently 
 but firmly. " She shall have her way. What are 
 your plans, Julia ? " 
 
 " We will drive to Malconta tonight, father. 
 There be married; and tomorrow morning — this 
 morning — take the train for Texas. Morris has an 
 uncle in business in Austin, who will give him 
 employment." 
 
 "Very good," her father answered quietly. 
 "Hannah, rouse yourself. You and Dolly must 
 help Julia to pack her things. Ralph, will you go 
 to the livery stable and engage a team and driver. 
 Have them at the gate in a half hour." 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 393 
 
 Marlowe started toward the door; but Julia 
 stopped him. 
 
 " Wait a moment," she said in a semi-whisper, 
 her white lips twitching. 
 
 Then recovering herself and taking his hand, she 
 looked him full in the face and began : 
 
 " Dr. Marlowe, I have a confession to make. It 
 was I who found your letter and sent it to Dorothy. 
 I didn't like you — I envied her her happiness. It 
 was a mean, low act. Can you forgive me? " 
 
 Dr. Barwood and his wife looked at Julia and at 
 each other, in mute surprise, neither understanding 
 what the penitent meant. Dolly sprang to her 
 feet, her eyes flashing fire; but as quickly sank 
 back into her seat, pale and trembling. McDevitt 
 paid little heed to what was passing. He was 
 thinking of his own affairs — was impatient to be 
 gone. 
 
 "It was a despicable act, Julia," Ralph replied 
 with great emotion ; " but I freely forgive you." 
 
 At her lover's words Dolly again arose ; and 
 throwing her arms around her sister, wept silently. 
 For a few moments their sobs mingled. 
 
 "Come — come!" Dr. Barwood cried briskly. 
 " Tears mend nothing. We are wasting precious 
 time. Ralph, be off upon your errand. Julia, 
 here is money for your trip. When you are settled, 
 I will send you more. Hurry with your prepara- 
 tions for departure, now. Take only what you must 
 have ; we will send you the rest. Daylight should 
 find you in Malconta." 
 
 Three quarters of an hour later a closed carriage 
 
394 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 was at the door, Julia calmly took leave of her 
 weeping mother and sister. Then throwing her 
 arms around her father's neck, she kissed him again 
 and again, the tears raining down her wan cheeks. 
 
 He gently put her from him, saying huskily: 
 
 " Good-bye, my daughter. Sometimes trouble is 
 a blessing. At last we understand each other." 
 
 Then he shook hands with McDevitt, muttering 
 hoarsely : 
 
 " Good-bye. Try to be a man — try to be worthy 
 of the great love she bears you." 
 
 The door closed behind the young couple. They 
 entered the waiting carriage and rolled away into 
 the night, leaving two homes in mourning. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 JUNE had come — June with its sunshine and 
 roses, its moonlight and dew. The clattering 
 rattle of mowing machines in the meadows adja- 
 cent to Babylon mingled with the incessant twitter 
 of birds in the branches of the trees bordering the 
 village streets. One perfect crystal day succeeded 
 another; and to the town loafer, life was a lazy, 
 dream of physical delight. 
 
 One afternoon, about the middle of the jocund 
 month, Ralph Marlowe occupied a chair upon the 
 broad top step in front of the drugstore, alternately 
 perusing the pages of a medical journal and list- 
 lessly gazing up and down the main thoroughfare. 
 The sun's rays were fierce ; the shade of the awn- 
 ing was welcome. The vagrant breeze, drowsily 
 sweet with the smell of timothy and clover blooms, 
 idled by and toyed with the young man's brown 
 locks. He was well dressed, well fed, healthy, and 
 prosperous ; and, in consequence, was contented 
 and happy. To add to his tranquil happiness- 
 raising it to the sublimity of absolute bliss, almost 
 — he was in love with Dolly Barwood and was to 
 marry her in the early autumn. 
 
 At the young physician's feet, lazily lolling upon 
 the flight of stone steps, rested Jep Tucker, his 
 cotton trousers rolled up, his feet and legs bare; 
 and, squatting upon the brick pavement, his back 
 
 (395) 
 
396 kALPtr MARLOWE 
 
 supported by an upright of the awning frame, 
 was Tomp Nutt. Both eccentrics were idly smok- 
 ing ; and the fishy smell exhaling from their gar- 
 ments and persons — but ill-masked and not at all 
 improved by the rank tobacco smoke eddying about 
 them — proclaimed them disciples of Izaak Walton. 
 
 Marlowe continued to read; Tomp and Jep 
 smoked away in silence. At length Tucker re- 
 moved the corncob pipe from his lips and drawled 
 dreamily : 
 
 "Mighty purty day, I tell you. Clear sky, an' 
 water jest a little r'ily — good time fer fishin'. We 
 ort to ketch a wagonload today, Tomp Nutt." 
 
 "Y-Yes," Tomp stuttered, without lifting his 
 half-closed eyelids. 
 
 " Better go down an' run the line purty soon, 
 hadn't we?" 
 
 " ^ g-gi^ss s-so." 
 
 Tucker lapsed into silence, puffing feebly — sleep- 
 ily. Presently, however, he roused himself and 
 turning to Ralph said with a yawn : 
 
 " Say, young feller ? " 
 
 " What is it, Jep?" — Turning a leaf and read- 
 ing industriously. 
 
 " Me an' Tomp's goin' down to run the trot-line 
 purty soon. Want to hear a mighty good yarn, 
 'fore we go ? " 
 
 " A good one — yes." 
 
 "Well, I'm the feller can tell it to you. Shut 
 up that almanac. 1 never could talk to a feller 
 with his nose stuck fast 'tween the pages of a 
 book." 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 397 
 
 " I am all attention," Ralph replied, closing the 
 n:edical journal — but keeping his place with his 
 ijrefinger. 
 
 Without further preface Tucker proceeded : 
 
 "You know ol' Abe Kackly an' his wife that 
 iives in that little shack on the river bank, down 
 at the foot o' Silverheels riffle ? I know you do ; 
 'cause you was down there once last winter to 
 see Mary Ann — that's the ol' woman — w'en she 
 had the grip. 
 
 "Well, they've lived there fer years an' years. 
 Abe fishes in summer an' traps in winter ; an' 
 Mary Ann picks berries in summer an' knits stock- 
 in's an' mittens in winter. That's the way they 
 make the'r livin'. Mighty honest, good ol' people 
 — but kind o' foolish an' superstitious like. Abe's 
 a powwow doctor — cures by layin' on of hands ; 
 an' Mary Ann's a fortune teller. She reads peo- 
 ple's fortunes in the coffee grounds o' the'r cups. 
 Read mine once — I give her a dime fer doin' it. 
 She told me I was very 'ndustrious an' savin', an' 
 said I'd be rich some day. But that day hain't 
 come 'round yit — still I keep lookin' fer it. 
 
 " Abe used to make some remarkable cures, when 
 he was younger an' could tramp 'round a good 'eal. 
 They sent fer him to come up Turk'ey Run, once, 
 to see a woman that had the high strikes. Guess 
 that's the name o' the complaint. It's a cross 'twixt 
 the popsylals an' the fantods ; an' it's that trouble 
 where there ain't nothin' the matter, re'ly, but the 
 patient makes b'lieve ther' is. It's a disease pecool- 
 iar to women ; men don't know }i(yw to Jiaye Ut 
 
398 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 "As I was sayin', ol' Abe went to see that 
 woman on Turkey Run. She'd had about a dozen 
 doctors ; an' none of 'em couldn't do 'er no good. 
 Abe powwowed 'er to beat all git out ; but she jest 
 howled an' screeched right along, an' didn't git no 
 better — not a mite. So he got disgusted an' took 
 up his hat an' left, sayin' as he went out the door: 
 
 ' ' ' That woman'll never git well till Christ comes 
 ag'in. He's the only doctor that has the pow'r to 
 cast out devils.' 
 
 " But pshaw ! Here I am dribblin' 'long like a 
 grain cradle with two 'r three fingers knocked out. 
 I was goin' to tell you 'bout the time the alligator 
 got after Abe. It was this way : Miles Orton's 
 show wintered up at Malconta sever'l years ago; 
 an' late in the spring when they went to pack up 
 an' leave, they took the stuffed alligator — it was 
 kind o' frayed 'round the edges an' a little moth- 
 eaten, I guess — an' throwed it in the river. It 
 floated over the dam an' lodged 'mong some willers; 
 an' some weeks later it drifted on down to this 
 place. 
 
 ' ' One warm day Abe was a fishin' down at the 
 head o' Silverheels riffle — ^jest at the place the water 
 makes an eddy after comin' over the dam. He was 
 in his skiff an' floatin' 'round an 'round that eddy 
 — fishin' over the stem of his boat. 
 
 "All to once that doggoned stuffed alligator 
 popped out o' the water, right at the side o' the 
 skiff, an' shoved its nose into Abe's face. Its 
 mouth was wide open an' its glass eyes was a 
 starin' like a dead man's. Abe dropped his pole 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 399 
 
 an' line, jumped to his feet, an' let ofT a howl that 
 roused the whole lower end o' town. Then the al- 
 ligator — ^jest like a live one would do— sunk out o' 
 sight, passed under the skiff, an' popped up on 
 t'other side, purty near jumpin' into the boat. The 
 thing was so light, an' the water was swirliri' it so, 
 it bobbed 'round like a cork doddler. 
 
 "In his young days Abe used to run ilatboats 
 down to New Orle'ns ; an' he knowed in a minute 
 what the critter was. So he grabbed up an oar an' 
 givin' another yell struck a ton at it. But by jee- 
 miny! He lost his equil'brium an' lummoxed over 
 the gunwale into the river. Abe thought he was a 
 goner ; an' he hung onto the side o' the skiff an' 
 screamed an' kicked fer dear life. 
 
 "His ol' woman heerd him an' went out to him, 
 in the johnboat. She towed him, an' the skiff, an' 
 the fish pole ashore. An' w'en they landed there 
 was that stuffed alligator tangled in the fish line — 
 floatin' belly up. 
 
 "Well, sir, do you know what that ol' rip up 
 an' done to keep people from knowin' what a fool 
 he'd made of hisself. He took an' buried that alli- 
 gator, an' blowed 'round fer a month how he'd 
 killed a live one with an oar. Yes, he did. But 
 the whole thing leaked out at last an' " 
 
 Jep stopped abruptly and flung up his head. 
 
 " W'y, the down train's in!" he exclaimed. 
 " An' here comes Lon Crider up street. I didn't 
 think it was more 'n the middle o' the afternoon. 
 Come on, Tomp. Le's go down an' run over the 
 line." 
 
400 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 Crider sprang up the steps, and grasping Mar- 
 lowe's extended hand said breezily : 
 
 ' 'Hello, Ralph, old boy ! How are you, anyway ?" 
 
 Then removing his straw hat and vigorously 
 mopping his brow: 
 
 " Beastly hot day, isn't it? " 
 
 " It's very warm," Ralph replied, smiling at his 
 companion's flustered manner. 
 
 " Makes a fellow sweat like a Trojan," Crider 
 rattled on breathlessly. " You look as cool as a 
 cucumber, though. How would you like to be the 
 ice-man? Ha! ha! ha! But" — With a quick 
 change of countenance — " let's go inside. I've got 
 something to tell you." 
 
 Marlow led the way into the cool, dusky interior, 
 wondering carelessly what news Crider had to im- 
 part. The latter stepped about uneasily, nervously 
 plucked at his mustache, and kept his eyes bent 
 upon the flower in his buttonhole. At last he be- 
 gan — blushing and stammering : 
 
 " It's always business before pleasure with me, 
 Ralph — that is. Dr. Marlowe. You — ^you know 
 that. And — and it's duty before business, too. 
 I've got something to tell you, I feel it's my duty 
 to tell you at once. It may amount to nothing at 
 all — I don't know; and it may amount to a great 
 deal. I " 
 
 He stumbled and stopped. 
 
 " Go on," Ralph said encouragingly. 
 
 " Are — are you expecting a call — a visit — from 
 any one — a young lady, for instance ? " Crider 
 asked with great effort. 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 401 
 
 A wave of sickening dread swept over Ralph 
 Marlowe, making him conscious of his heart beats 
 and causing him to heave a deep inspiration. But 
 he answered with outward calmness : 
 
 "No — not "t present." 
 
 "Well, I must tell you," Crider went on, 
 "that a young woman came down on the train 
 just now, that told me she was coming here to see 
 you. She sat across the aisle from me ; and hap- 
 pened to drop her handkerchief. I picked it up 
 and restored it to her ; and we struck up a conver- 
 sation. She got off here — and is down at the hotel 
 now — a dark-complexioned, dark-eyed, stylishly 
 dressed young woman. Do you know her, Mar- 
 lowe? " 
 
 A hunted look had crept into Ralph Marlowe's 
 eyes; an expression of unutterable misery rested 
 upon his handsome face. 
 
 "I know her," he answered in hard, even tones. 
 
 ' ' Is — is there anything wrong ? " Crider inquired 
 in accents of commiseration. " Is she likely to give 
 you trouble, Marlowe? If so, depend upon me to 
 do anything I can to help you out." 
 
 " You say she is at the hotel? " Ralph asked. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " No one was with her — a child, no one? " 
 
 Crider shook his head. 
 
 " Did you notice — that is did she appear to be — 
 be herself — to have full command of her faculties ?" 
 
 " Since you mention it — ^no. To be blunt, Mar- 
 lowe, I thought she was just a little tipsy. She 
 26 
 
402 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 talked somewhat at random ; and when she got off 
 the car I noticed she staggered a little." 
 
 The young physician shuddered and groaned 
 aloud, clenching his hands until his knuckles 
 showed white through the bronzed skin. 
 
 After a moment's embarrassing silence, Crider 
 laid his hand upon his companion's shoulder and 
 said: 
 
 "You've been a friend to me, Marlowe; now I 
 want to be a friend to you — and help you out of 
 this tangle, if it can be done. Who is she? " 
 
 Ralph's pale face flamed instantly. He appeared 
 about to resent Crider's inquisitiveness and reject 
 his proffered sympathy and aid. But checking 
 himself he answered hoarsely : 
 
 " She is my sister." 
 
 " Your sister ! " Crider exclaimed. 
 
 Then, after a moment's consideration, he con- 
 tinued : 
 
 " That isn't so bad as I expected. I expected to 
 hear you say — 'my wife.' Now what can I do to 
 help you out of the embarrassing situation ? " 
 
 Ralph replied promptly — though despondently : 
 
 "Go up and send Dr. Barwood down here at 
 once. You will find him at work among the shrub- 
 bery in the yard." 
 
 Crider did not wait to make answer but hurried 
 away upon his mission. Hardly ^was he gone, ere 
 the doorway was again darkened and Marlowe's 
 unwelcome visitor stepped into the room. Just 
 Virithin the door she stopped and blinkingly sur- 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 403 
 
 veyed the place and its occupant. Then she stag- 
 gered a pace or two forward and sank upon a stool, 
 remarking with a tipsy smile — ^and in a tone of 
 keenest sarcasm: 
 
 " Brother mine, I am delighted to find you alive 
 and well. I did not herald my coming, for fear 
 you might put yourself out to meet me — and send 
 me back." 
 
 At the conclusion of her introductory words, she 
 lay back against the counter and laughed shrilly, 
 immoderately. Ralph looked at her steadfastly; 
 but his features were working, his chest heaving, 
 
 " Oh, Stella — sister! " he moaned. "Why have 
 you come here — and in such a condition? " 
 
 Unsteadily she rose to her feet. Her face was 
 flushed ; her eyes, preternaturally bright. Her hat 
 was a little askew; her hair, tousled; her clothing, 
 slightly disarranged. 
 
 " Oh, Stella! " she mimicked scornfully. " Why 
 have you come here — and in such a condition! 
 That's a fine welcome to receive from a long lost 
 brother! It seems to me I have heard you remark 
 that on more than one occasion. Why have I come 
 here, Ralph ? " — Her voice rising higher and 
 higher. — " I'll tell you. I've come to take you 
 back to Cleveland with me. I want you — and 
 Freddie wants you. You never answered my let- 
 ter; but it was not returned to me, and I knew you 
 had received it. You're going back to live with 
 me, too; you are — ^you shall." 
 
 She was screaming excitedly and stamping the 
 floor. 
 
404 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 " Hush — hush ! " he cried, springing forward and 
 seizing her arm. " For shame, Stella! " 
 
 "I won't hush," she shrieked, striving to disen- 
 gage herself. " Not until you promise to go back 
 with me. I'll turn this town topsy-turvy. I'll " 
 
 Placing a hand over her mouth, he caught her 
 up in his arms and bore her struggling into the 
 rear room. There he placed her in a chair; and 
 closing doors and windows, said with forced calm- 
 ness: 
 
 " Stella, we must have a full and final under- 
 standing. But first you shall sleep off the effects 
 of the liquor you have taken. I do not care to 
 talk to you, in your present condition — and I will 
 not." 
 
 " I'm not intoxicated," she panted. "I just took 
 a little wine " 
 
 " Stop! " he commanded sternly. " Do not at- 
 tempt to deceive me. It is useless. Recall the 
 fact that I have seen you in this state many times 
 before. This is not the first time you have grieved 
 me — have disgraced me." 
 
 "That's a pretty way in which to talk to your 
 only sister," she whined, squeezing a few tears 
 from her dark, beautiful eyes. "And I'm weak 
 and sick, too. I've been in the hospital two 
 months — ^just got out a week ago. You don't love 
 me, RalphJ " 
 
 Unheeding her wild words, he proceeded to 
 spread a large fur rug at her feet ; and rolling an- 
 other into a pillow, said decidedly : 
 
 " Stella, lie down here. I will bring you a dose 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 40$ 
 
 of medicine to quiet your nerves. You must sleep. 
 Remove your hat and lie down." 
 
 Apparently she knew it would be useless to de- 
 mur. Whimpering like a conquered child, she 
 obeyed the command. 
 
 "Now," he said, "if you will remain quiet, I 
 will raise the rear windows to admit air." 
 
 She made no r-eply ; but covering her face with 
 her perfumed handkerchief, lay sobbing. Her 
 brother opened the windows. Then he brought 
 her the medicine he had mentioned and forced her 
 to take it. 
 
 " I must leave you for a short time," he remarked 
 gently. " When you have had a nap, I will take 
 you to my rooms." 
 
 On returning to the drug room he found Dr. 
 Barwood and Crider there. 
 
 '' "What do you want, Ralph?" was the older 
 physician's grumpy inquiry. 
 
 " Come this way, doctor," answered the younger. 
 "I desire to speak with you." 
 
 When they stood together in the entrance lead- 
 ing to the basement, Ralph proceeded to reveal to 
 his partner — and prospective father-in-law — all he 
 had hidden so carefully, hitherto. In conclusion 
 he said : 
 
 "I have told you all, Dr. Barwood. Now, I 
 want your advice. Stella is a wreck — a slave to 
 drink; but she is my sister. What am I to do 
 with her — for her ? What can I do more than I 
 have done? We were left orphans at a tender age. 
 Against my wish, she went upon the stage ; against 
 
4o6 RALPH MARLOWE^ 
 
 my will, she married a scoundrel who led her into 
 vice and then deserted her and her child. I have 
 tried in vain to save her from herself. In sheer 
 desperation at last, I left Cleveland — where I 
 might have done well, but for her escapades — and 
 came here. She was upon the road, with a theat- 
 rical company, at the time. But she spied out my 
 hiding place and wrote to me. Her letter to me 
 was the one Julia found and sent to Dolly on Val- 
 entine's day. Here it is. You may read it." 
 
 The older physician took the proffered sheet of 
 paper and glanced it over. Then he said with a 
 hard and bitter smile : 
 
 "Ralph, my boy, every household has its own 
 family skeleton. You have seen mine; I now get a 
 glimpse of yours. I knew all along you had one in 
 hiding — at times I could hear the rattle of the dry 
 bones. I see but one thing that you can do with 
 your sister. Keep her at your rooms tonight. 
 Tomorrow take her away to some sanitarium ; and 
 leave her there until she has been cured of her 
 appetite for drink. Then bring her and her child 
 here and make a home for them." 
 
 " That I have done more than once, doctor," was 
 the hopeless reply. 
 
 ' ' Make a virtue of necessity and do it once more. 
 There is no other way open. You say she has just 
 got out of a hospital ? " 
 
 "That is what she tells me," Ralph answered 
 cautiously. 
 
 "Well," Dr. Barwood continued, "I presume 
 the people at the hotel noticed her condition when 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 407 
 
 she stopped there. Something must be done to 
 close their mouths. I will cause the report to be 
 circulated that your sister has been sick and is but 
 just convalescent — ^that she is still weak, mentally 
 and physically. Crider is a good talker; I'll send 
 him to spread the report. Make your arrangements 
 to take her away on the morning train. I'll get 
 along all right in your absence; there isn't much to 
 do right now." 
 
 Then smiling whimsically : 
 
 ' ' If you don't want to draw any of your oil 
 money and haven't enough by you, I can let you 
 have what you need." 
 
 " I have all I want," Ralph replied soberly. 
 "But I do feel sincerely grateful to you, doctor, 
 for your words of encouragement and your offer of 
 substantial aid." 
 
 " Stuff! " snorted Dr. Barwood, wheeling and 
 leaving. 
 
 Stella slept until dusk. When she awoke her 
 brother took her to supper at the hotel. From 
 there they went to his apartments. 
 
 Ralph lighted the lamps, turned them low, 
 arranged the blinds to exclude the gaze of passers- 
 by, and taking a chair by his sister's side, said: 
 
 " Stella, I have resolved to make a final effort 
 for your redemption. Tomorrow I will take you 
 to a private asylum for people of your class, in 
 Columbus. I shall take you there because it is near 
 to Babylon, and I can see you frequently while you 
 are compelled to remain an inmate of the retreat." 
 
 She was very quiet now — but her white, shapely 
 
4o8 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 hands were fluttering nervously. Since her nap 
 she had scarcely spoken. Her face appeared hag- 
 gard and gray in the subdued light. 
 
 "It will do no good," she murmured apathetic- 
 ally. 
 
 " To take you to a private sanitarium? " 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " I can't be cured." 
 
 "But you can — ^you shall." — ^Very earnestly. 
 
 "You have tried before, Ralph — and failed." 
 
 " I shall try once more." 
 
 "And if you meet with another failure? " 
 
 " Hush! I will entertain no such thought." 
 
 "You will be disappointed," she said sadly. 
 
 "And you have endured enough — too much." 
 
 Her voice trembled; her beautiful dark eyes were 
 wet with tears. Laying a hand caressingly upon 
 his knee, she continued: 
 
 " I should not have come here. I was mad or I 
 would not have done so. Let me go away by my- 
 self. And never more will I trouble you ; never 
 more will I cross your path." 
 
 "No," he said firmly, placing his hand upon 
 her's. "I was a poltroon to desert you, Stella; 
 for whatever you have done — whatever you are — 
 you are my sister. But as you just said of yourself, 
 I was mad — mad with the sorrow and disgrace of 
 it all. There — there!" — She was quivering in 
 every fiber. — " I do not mean to upbraid you. Let 
 us turn from the past to the future. Let us " 
 
 " Ralph," she interrupted in a shivering whisper, 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 409. 
 
 ' ' when — when I am cured, what then ? Will — will 
 you go back to Cleveland with me ? " 
 
 "No, Stella," he answered kindly. " But I will 
 bring you and little Fred here." 
 
 "To live in this miserable little town?" she 
 gasped. ' ' I could not stand it, Ralph — I don't 
 understand how you do ! " 
 
 "You will like the place after you are here 
 awhile," he replied with assurance. "The life 
 here — quiet and peaceful — will prove a blessed 
 boon to you after the feverish existence you have 
 known." 
 
 " Oh, no — no ! " she moaned, wringing her hands 
 and swaying from side to side. "I could not en- 
 dure it — I could not ! Say you will go back to 
 Cleveland with me — please do ! " 
 
 " No, Stella," he said decidedly, " I will promise 
 you nothing of the kind. There is nothing but 
 heartaches in Cleveland for either of us. You 
 must leave the old life behind — as I have done — and 
 turn toward the new, a quieter and better. My 
 interests are all here. I have a share in a good 
 practice, a half interest in a paying business, and 
 an investment in oil lands. I cannot — I will not 
 leave. If you wish to be wth me — ^you and Freddie 
 — you must come here. I will rent you a neat little 
 cottage and provide for you. It will not take a 
 large house for you and the child." 
 
 "And you?" she asked with wide-open eyes. 
 
 " Do you not intend to live with us? Surely you 
 do not think of keeping your rooms and letting us 
 live alone, do you?" 
 
4IO RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 Ralph hesitated a moment. Then he replied: 
 
 "Stella, I am to marry my partner's younger 
 daughter this fall." 
 
 The sister lay back limp and white and we&rily 
 closed her eyes. For several minutes she did not 
 speak. At length she answered vacantly : 
 
 "Then you will have no place in your heart for 
 me — and Freddie." 
 
 "Do not say that, Stella," he cried in an irri- 
 tated tone. "It is cruelly untrue. You do me an 
 injustice. I have looked after you in the past ; and 
 am proposing still to do so." 
 
 She did not look up nor speak. 
 
 " Now you must go to bed and get a good night's 
 rest," he said in softened tones. "We will take 
 the early train." 
 
 " I shall take the early train for — for no one 
 knows where," she whispered. "But I shall go 
 alone. " ' 
 
 "We will talk no more tonight," he answered. 
 ' ' I insist that you go to bed now. I will occupy 
 the reclining chair. I have slept in it many times 
 before." 
 
 Silently, mechanically, she arose and went into 
 the adjoining room. He heard her disrobe 
 and retire to rest. Going to the door, he in- 
 quired : 
 
 "Are you comfortable, Stella? Do you feel as 
 though you could sleep ? " 
 
 "Yes," she answered from the farther side of 
 the bed, "I shall sleep soundly — have no fear. 
 Good night " 
 
RALPH MARLOWE 411 
 
 ••Good night," he said in reply; and went back 
 to his chair. 
 
 Presently he heard her rhythmic breathing. Re- 
 assured, he composed himself to sleep. A few- 
 minutes later — completely worn out with the day's 
 exciting events — he was in the land of dreams. 
 
 He awoke with a start and sprang to his feet, 
 half awake. A choking sensation, like the clutch 
 of a sinewy hand, was griping at his throat. His 
 mouth was dry ; a penetrating odor — the odor of 
 peach kernels — was in his nostrils. 
 
 "Hydrocyanic acid!" he muttered, confusedly 
 pushing his hair back frorni his forehead. 
 
 Then in an instant a full realization of the situa- 
 tion intuitively flashed upon his mind. With two 
 bounds he reached the inner room. Hastily turn- 
 ing up the light, he bent over the still form of his 
 sister, his heart throbbing wildly. One glance was 
 sufficient to reveal the truth. She Was dead. A 
 tiny silver-stoppered vial of cut glass, upon the 
 white counterpane, told the tale of suicide. . . 
 
 Ralph Marlowe had his erring sister laid to rest 
 in one of the suburban cemeteries of Cleveland — 
 a cemetery in which they had loved to stroll hand 
 in hand when children. On his return to Babylon 
 he brought with him a sturdy lad of five years — a 
 pocket edition of himself — who clung trustingly to 
 his hand and called him, " Uncle Walph." 
 
 In the early autumn Ralph and Dolly were mar- 
 ried. Her parents insisted on the young couple 
 living with them ; and there, also, little Fred found 
 a pleasant home. The old house rang with his 
 
412 
 
 RALPH MARLOWE 
 
 childish shouts and laughter. And — strange to re- 
 late — ^he and gruff old Dr. Barwood became insep- 
 arable companions. 
 
 Four years have passed, bringing marked changes 
 to the sleepy little town. It has taken on a steady 
 growth. Large factories are springing up; and 
 the commercial spirit is rampant. New churches 
 and public buildings mark the site of the old ones. 
 The streets are paved. The town is sewered, well 
 lighted, and has a telephone system. The saloons 
 are still there — more of them than ever ; but law 
 and order prevails. King Oil has worked wonders 
 during his brief reign. Swiftly and surely a new 
 Babylon is rising upon the ruins of the old. 
 
 ♦^C^'»^'fe»'fe1Sfe»> i 
 
THE 
 BOW- 
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 GHOST, 
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 THB Anthor has dealt with the fanny 
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THE FEASTS 
 
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 of recipes, but directions for the making of the 
 daintiest and most delicious dishes. A plea for 
 the exquisite in color, arrangement and selections of 
 the different foods. Bright little devices are sug- 
 gested to make the breakfast, luncheon, tea or din- 
 ner exceedingly tempting and inviting. 
 
 Cloth; lamo; Artistic Cover Design, Si.as 
 
 A COLLECTION of monologues, in which the author 
 shows his brightest humor, and discloses the un- 
 natural and hypocritical make-ups, poses and 
 expressions of society people. Full of keen sarcasm, 
 catchy sayings, and merriment. 
 
 Once taken up, the reader is loath to put this 
 book down, being led along by a fascinating humor 
 to the end of the series. 
 
 Cloth; gold lettering; lamo, $1.35 
 
 ASTORT in monologue, containing specially bril- 
 liant character sketches. A book which may be 
 read and re-read and never lose its fascination. 
 Pure mirth and truthful representations of human 
 weaknesses and foibles. 
 
 Throughout the entire book runs a charming love 
 story, and the way in which the author has told this 
 is pleasing in the extreme. 
 
 Cloth; Special Cover Design; lamo, Si.as 
 
 PADDY FROM 
 
 CORK, And 
 
 Other Stories, 
 
 By STEPHEN FISKE. 
 
 CLEVER and original in idea. * There is not a 
 dull story in the book, and the person who 
 starts on the first will not be satisfied until he 
 has finished the last." — Boston TVanscript. 
 
 « The stories, are redolent of human nature, ^rtly 
 interpreted, and we would like to read some mote oi 
 the same." — Burlington Hawk-eye, 
 
 Bound In Qreen and White Cloth; lamo, Si.oo 
 
 Any of the above sent, all charges prepaid, upon receipt of price. 
 
 THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING CO., Akron, 0. 
 
KINGS OF THE PLATFORM and puLPIT 
 
 By ELI PERKINS (Melville D. Landon) 
 
 WHO has delivered thousands of humorous and philosophical lectures 
 throughout the United States, and who numbers among his friends 
 the most distinguished authors of our country. 
 
 In « KINGS OP THE PI,ATFORM AND PULPIT » you will find biogra- 
 
 Shies, reminiscences, and lectures of our most popular humorists, 
 ivines, authors, journalists, evangelists, and orators of to-day. 
 More comical anecdotes, queer epigrams, touching incidents, pathetic 
 stories, merry wit, and sound advice is crowded into this one volume than 
 the ordinary person will meet with in a lifetime. As only the best writ- 
 ings have been selected, the book is a true index of the wondrous wealth 
 of knowledge and humor manifested by prominent literary men of 
 America. 
 
 Some of the Contributors to 
 
 " KINGS OP THE PLATFORM AND PULPIT:" 
 
 David Harum, Aktemus Wakd, Josh Billings, 
 
 Hbnry Ward Bbecher, John B. Gonen, ' George W. Peck, 
 Robert J. Burdbttb, Bill Nye, Robert G. Ingersoll, 
 
 Chauncey M. Depew, Dwight X,. Moody, Mrs. Partington, 
 T. dbWitt Talmage, Sam Jones, C. H. Spurgeon, 
 
 Wendell Phillips, Archdeacon Farrar, Robert Collyek, 
 
 Etc., etc., etc., etc. 
 Many who have not the leisure or opportimity to hear our learned 
 orators, humorists, etc., will find in this book, « KINGS OF THB Pr,AT- 
 FORM AND PULPIT » a treasure indeed. No matter how far removed 
 from the metropolis, you can brine into your home, through this book, the 
 ennobling influences of the best, the grandest, the most successful men of 
 the day. Hear what is said of it : 
 
 PRES. WILLIAM Mckinley : « I have read ' Kings of the Platform 
 and Pulpit' with delight. It is full of amusement and instruction. I 
 esteem it a valuable addition to my library." 
 
 GROVER CLEVELAND : « I have put it in my library and read it with 
 pleasure." 
 
 T. deWitt Talmage : « The authors of ' Kings of the Platform and 
 Pulpit > are the apostles of American wit and wisdom, and have a mission 
 Ihat they are grandly fulfilling." 
 
 Chaunoey M. Depew : « " Kings of the Platform and Pulpit > is a wonder- 
 ful book. It is a whole library ; and people who cannot hear the great 
 lectures can now read them just as delivered." 
 
 John Wanamaker: « It is a valuable and entertaining book." 
 
 A large, octavo volume, Sxio^, with nearly six hundred pages; 
 
 e tinted on calendered paper; many full-page fllustratlons, and numerous 
 alf-tone portraits of tbe distinguished contributors ; bound as follows : 
 Large Edition, with Marginal Drawings,— Small Edition,— 
 
 Cloth, title In gold, $a.7S Cloth, title In gold, $1.50 
 
 Half Morocco, " *• 3.50 Half Morocco *• '* a.oo 
 
 Pull IVlorocco, " gilt edges, 5.00 Pull Morocco, " gilt edges, 2.50 
 
 Sent all charges prepaid upon receipt of price 
 
 THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING CO., Akron, 0. 
 
NAPOLEON, THE WOSLB'S OSEATEST HESO 
 
 HAFOLEOH, LOVER AND HUSBAND 
 
 By Fkedbjuc Masson, translated by J. M. Howell. If there is any 
 figure in the world's history that the present age might suppose that it 
 knew, Napoleon Bonaparte would be taken as preeminently the best 
 known; and yet, the real Napoleon, the I,over and Husband, has been 
 fairly left untouched until to-day. Frederic Masson reveals the lover side 
 of Napoleon in the most fascinating manner, and shows that his greatest 
 enterprises have been to a grave extent influenced or modified by femi- 
 nine associations. Polished buckram ; gold side and back stamps ; gilt 
 top ; 320 pages ; printed on fine paper. Price, $i,zs. 
 
 NAPOLEON'S HILITAR7 CAREER 
 
 By MONTGOMBKY B. GiBBS. A gossipy, auecdotal account of Napoleon 
 as his marshals and E^nerals knew him on the battlefield and around the 
 camp-fire. Reveals something new on every page concerning this son of 
 a poor Corsican gentleman who "played in uie world the parts of Alex- 
 ander, Hannibal, Csesar, and Charlemagne." 
 
 " The illustrations beginning with the famous 'snuff-box ' portrait are 
 capital, and the book is a dignified adjunct to modern study of a redoubt- 
 able giant." — Chicago Htratd. 
 
 Crown Svo., with 32 full-page illustrations. Nearly 600 pages. Half green 
 leather, gilt top and back ; Bnglish laid paper, uncut edges. Price, 4n.a5. 
 
 NAPOLEON FROM CORSICA TO ST. HELENA 
 
 By JOHM X,. Stosdarx). A pictorial work illustrating the remarkable 
 career of the most famous military genius the world has ever known. It 
 contains pictures of all of Napoleon's marshals and generals, his relatives, 
 the famous places where Napoleon lived as Emperor, and the monuments 
 erected toperpetuate his brilliant achievements on the battlefields of 
 Europe. The pictures in themselves constitute a priceless collection, and 
 the descriptions by John I,. Stoddard a truthful history of the great hero. 
 
 De I^uxe edition^ bound in cloth, gilt edges, 20 full-page colored plates 
 prepared expressly in France, 11x14 inches. Price, $4.00. 
 
 Plain edition, bound in green linen with Napoleonic coat-of-arms in 
 silver embossed on cover. Price, f a.oo. 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF THE PRIVATE LIFE OF NAPOLEON 
 
 By Constant, Premier Valet de Chambre ; translated by Walter Clark. 
 Three superb volumes, cloth, handsomely stamped in gold. Although 
 first pubhshed in 1830, it has just recently been translated into English. 
 Notes have been added by the translator, greatly enhancing the interest of 
 the original work of Constant. 
 
 This man has been studied as a sol- 
 dier, a statesman, an organizer, and a 
 politician, but, although he was unde- 
 niably great in all, men will always seek 
 to know something about Napoleon as a 
 man. These volumes will supply^ the 
 desired information, for they are written 
 by one who joined him in 1800, and was 
 with him constantly until he laid down 
 the sceptre fourteen years later. 
 
 Napoleon's 
 
 Foibles, 
 
 Peculiarities, 
 
 Vices, 
 
 Kindness of Heart, 
 
 Vast Intellect, 
 
 Knowledge of Men, 
 
 Extraordinary Energy, and 
 
 Public Spirit 
 are depicted without reserve. 
 
 Price, ♦3.75. 
 
 Any of the above Books sent postpaid upon receipt of price by 
 
 THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY, AKROH, OHIO