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TS 
 
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 CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
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 BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME 
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 FUND GIVEN IN 1891 BY 
 
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Cornell University Library 
 PS 1727.U5 1901 
 
 3 1924 021 969 039 
 

 Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of tiiis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
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 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924021969039 
 
UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
UNDER 
 THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 BY 
 
 HENRY B. JEULLER 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE CHEVALIER OF PENSIERl-VANI ' 
 "THE CLIFF-DWELLERS," ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 
 1901 
 
 -1 
 
Copyright, 1901, 
 By henry B. fuller. 
 
 AU rights reserved. 
 
PREFATORY NOTE 
 
 The short concluding section of this 
 book — that relating to Dr. Gowdy and the 
 Squash — is reprinted by permission from 
 Harper's Magazine. All the remaining mate- 
 rial appears now for the first time. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 FACB 
 
 The Downfall of Abner Joyce . . i 
 Little O'Grady ys. The Grindstone . 141 
 Dr. Gowdy and the Squash . . . 325 
 
THE DOWNFALL 
 OF ABNER JOYCE 
 
THE DOWNFALL 
 OF ABNER JOYCE 
 
 With the publication of his first book, This 
 Weary World, Abner Joyce immediately took 
 a place in literature. Or rather, he made it; 
 the book was not like other books, and readers 
 felt the field of fiction to be the richer by one 
 very vital and authentic personality. 
 
 This Weary World was grim and it was 
 rugged, but it was sincere and it was signifi- 
 cant. Abner's intense earnestness had left but 
 little room for the graces; — while he was bent 
 upon being recognised as a " writer," yet to 
 be a mere writer and nothing more would not 
 have satisfied him at all. Here was the world 
 with its many wrongs, with its numberless 
 crying needs; and the thing for the strong 
 young man to do was to help set matters 
 right. This was a simple enough task, were 
 it but approached with courage, zeal, deter- 
 mination. A few brief years, if lived stren- 
 uously and intensely, would suffice. " Man 
 
 3 
 
4 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 individually is all right enough," said Abner; 
 " it is only collectively that he is wrong." 
 What was at fault was the social scheme, — 
 the general understanding, or lack of under- 
 standing. A short sharp hour's work before 
 breakfast would count for a hundred times 
 more than a feeble dawdling prolonged 
 throughout the whole day. Abner rose be- 
 times and did his hour's work; sweaty, pant- 
 ing, begrimed, hopeful, indignant, sincere, 
 self-confident, he set his product full in the 
 world's eye. 
 
 Abner's book comprised a dozen short 
 stories — twelve clods of earth gathered, as it 
 were, from the very fields across which he 
 himself, a farmer's boy, had once guided the 
 plough. The soil itself spoke, the intimate, 
 humble ground; warmed by his own passionate 
 sense of right, it steamed incense-like aloft and 
 cried to the blue skies for justice. He pleaded 
 for the farmer, the first, the oldest, the most 
 necessary of all the world's workers; for the 
 man who was the foundation of civilized so- 
 ciety, yet who was yearly gravitating down- 
 ward through new depths of slighting indiffer- 
 ence, of careless contempt, of rank injustice 
 and gross tyranny; for the man who sowed 
 so plenteously, so laboriously, yet reaped so 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 5 
 
 scantily and in such bitter and benumbing toil; 
 for the man who Uved indeed beneath the 
 heavens, yet must forever fasten his soHcitous 
 eye upon the earth. All this revolted Abner; 
 the indignation of a youth that had not yet 
 made its compromise with the world burned 
 on every page. Some of his stories seemed 
 written not so much by the hand as by the 
 fist, a fist quivering from the tension of mus- 
 cles and sinews fully ready to act for truth and 
 right; and there were paragraphs upon which 
 the intent and blazing eye of the writer ap- 
 peared to rest with no less fierceness, coldly 
 printed as they were, than it had rested upon 
 the manuscript itself. 
 
 " Men shall hear me — and heed me," Ab- 
 ner declared stoutly. 
 
 A few of those who read his book happened 
 to meet him personally, and one or two of this 
 number — clever but inconspicuous people — 
 lucidly apprehended him for what he was: that 
 rare phenomenon, the artist (such he was al- 
 ready calling himself) — the artist whose per- 
 sonality, whose opinions and whose work are 
 in exact accord. The reading public — a body 
 rather captious and blase, possibly — over- 
 looked his rugged diction in favour of his 
 novel point of view; and when word was 
 
6 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 passed around that the new author was actu- 
 ally in town a number of the illnminati ex- 
 pressed their gracious desire to meet him. 
 
 II 
 
 But Abner remained for some time igno- 
 rant of " society's " willingness to give him 
 welcome. He was lodged in a remote and ob- 
 scure quarter of the city and was already part 
 of a little coterie from which earnestness had 
 quite crowded out tact and in which the de- 
 velopment of the energies left but scant room 
 for the cultivation of the amenities. With this 
 small group reform and oratory went hand in 
 hand; its members talked to spare audiences 
 on Sunday afternoons about the Readjusted 
 Tax. Such a combination of matter and man- 
 ner had pleased and attracted Abner from the 
 start. The land question was the question, 
 after all, and eloquence must help the conten- 
 tion of these ardent spirits toward a final issue 
 in success. Abner thirstily imbibed the doc- 
 trine and added his tongue to the others. Nor 
 was it a tongue altogether unschooled. For 
 Abner had left the plough at sixteen to take a 
 course in the Flatfield Academy, and after 
 some three years there as a pupil he had re- 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 7 
 
 mained as a teacher; he became the instructor 
 in elocution. Here his allegiance was all to 
 the old-time classic school, to the ideal that 
 still survives, and inexpugnably, in the rustic 
 breast and even in the national senate; the 
 Roman Forum was never completely absent 
 from his eye, and Daniel Webster remained 
 the undimmed pattern of all that man — man 
 mounted on his legs — should be. 
 
 Abner, then, went on speaking from the 
 platform or distributing pamphlets, his own 
 and others', at the door, and remained uncon- 
 scious that Mrs. Palmer Pence was desirous 
 of knowing him, that Leverett Whyland 
 would have been interested in meeting him, 
 and that Adrian Bond, whose work he knew 
 without liking it, would have been glad to 
 make him acquainted with their fellow au- 
 thors. Nor did he enjoy any famiUarity with 
 Clytie Summers and her sociological studies, 
 while Medora Giles, as yet, was not even a 
 name. 
 
 Mrs. Palmer Pence remained, then, in the 
 seclusion of her " gilded halls," as Abner 
 phrased it, save for occasional excursions and 
 alarums that vivified the columns devoted by 
 the press to the doings of the polite world; and 
 Adrian Bond kept between the covers of his 
 
8 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 two or three thin little books — a confinement 
 richly deserved by a writer so futile, superficial 
 and insincere; but Leverett Why land was less 
 easily evaded by anybody who " banged about 
 town " and who happened to be interested in 
 public matters. Abner came against him at 
 one of the sessions of the Tax Commission, a 
 body that was hoping — almost against hope 
 — to introduce some measure of reason and 
 justice into the collection of the public funds. 
 
 " Huh ! I shouldn't expect much from 
 him! " commented Abner, as Whyland began 
 to speak. j. 
 
 Whyland was a genial, gentlemanly fellow 
 of thirty-eight or forty. He was in the world 
 and of it, but was little the worse, thus far, for 
 that. He had been singled out for favours, to 
 a very exceptional degree, by that monster of 
 inconsistency and injustice, the Unearned In- 
 crement, but his intentions toward society 
 were still fairly good. If he may be capital- 
 ized (and surely he was rich enough to be), 
 he might be described as hesitating whether 
 to be a Plutocrat or a Good Citizen; perhaps 
 he was hoping to be both. 
 
 Abner disliked and doubted him from the 
 start. The fellow was almost foppish; — could 
 anybody who wore such good clothes have 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 9 
 
 also good motives and good principles? Ab- 
 nei- disdained him too as a public speaker; — 
 what could a man hope to accomplish by a 
 few quiet colloquial remarks delivered in his 
 ordinary voice? The man who expected to 
 get attention should claim it by the strident 
 shrillness of his tones, should be able to bend 
 his two knees in eloquent unison, and send one 
 clenched hand with a driving swoop into the 
 palm of the other — and repeat as often as nec- 
 essary. Abner questioned as well his mental 
 powers, his quality of brain-fibre, his breadth 
 of view. The feeble creature rested in no de- 
 gree upon the great, broad, fundamental prin- 
 ciples — principles whose adoption and en- 
 forcement would reshape and glorify human 
 society as nothing else ever had done or ever 
 could do. No, he fell back on mere expedi- 
 ency, mere practicability, weakly acquiescing 
 in acknowledged and long-established evils, 
 and trying for nothing more than fairness and 
 justice on a foundation utterly unjust and 
 vicious to begin with. 
 
 " Let me get out of this," said Abner. 
 
 But a few of his own intimates detained 
 him at the door, and presently Whyland, who 
 had ended his remarks and was on his way to 
 other matters, overtook him. An officious by- 
 
lO UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 stander made the two acquainted, and Why- 
 land, who identified Abner with the author of 
 This Weary World, paused for a few smiling 
 and good-humoured remarks. 
 
 " Glad to see you here," he said, with a 
 kind of bright buoyancy. " It's a complicated 
 question, but we shall straighten it out one 
 way or another." 
 
 Abner stared at him sternly. The question 
 was not complicated, but it was vital — too 
 vital for smiles. 
 
 "There is only one way," he said: "our 
 way." 
 
 " Our way? " asked Whyland, still smiling. 
 
 " The Readjusted Tax," pronounced Ab- 
 ner, with a gesture toward two or three of his 
 supporters at his elbow. 
 
 " Ah, yes," said Whyland quickly, recog- 
 nising the faces, " If the idea could only be 
 applied! " 
 
 " It can be," said Abner severely. " It 
 must be." 
 
 " Yes, it is a very complicated ques- 
 tion," the other repeated. " I have read 
 your stories," he went on immediately. 
 " Two or three of them impressed me very 
 much. I hope we shall become better ac- 
 quainted." 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE II 
 
 " Thank you," said Abner stiffly. Why- 
 land meant to be cordial, but Abner found him 
 patronizing. He could not endure to be pat- 
 ronized by anybody, least of all by a person 
 of mental calibre inferior to his own. He re- 
 sented too the other's advantage in age (Why- 
 land was ten or twelve years his senior), and 
 his advantage in experience (for Whyland had 
 lived in the city all his life, as Abner could 
 not but feel). 
 
 " I should be glad if you could lunch with 
 me at the club," said Whyland in the friendli- 
 est fashion possible. " I am on my way there 
 now." 
 
 " Club " — fatal word; it chilled Abner in a 
 second. He knew about clubs! Clubs were 
 the places where the profligate children of 
 Privilege drank improper drinks and told im- 
 proper stories and kept improper hours. Ab- 
 ner, who was perfectly pure in word, thought 
 and deed and always in bed betimes, shrank 
 from a club as from a lazaret. 
 
 " Thank you," he responded bleakly; " but 
 I am very busy." 
 
 " Another time, then," said Whyland, with 
 unimpaired kindliness. " And we may be able 
 to come to some agreement, after all," he 
 added, in reference to the tax-levy. 
 
12 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 " We are not likely to agree," said Abner 
 gloomily, 
 
 Whyland went on, just a trifle dashed. 
 Abner presently came to further knowledge of 
 him — his wealth, position, influence, activity 
 — and hardened his heart against him the 
 more. He commented openly on the selfish- 
 ness and greed of the Money Power in pun- 
 gent phrases that did not all fall short of Why- 
 land's ear. And when, later on, Leverett 
 Whyland became less the " good citizen " and 
 more the " plutocrat " — a course perhaps in- 
 evitable under certain circumstances — he 
 would sometimes smile over those unsuccess- 
 ful advances and would ask himself to what 
 extent the discouraging unfaith of our Abner 
 might be responsible for his choice and his 
 fall. 
 
 HI 
 
 Though Mrs. Palmer Pence kept looking 
 forward, ofif and on, to the pleasure of making 
 Abner's acquaintance, it was a full six months 
 before the happy day finally came round. But 
 when she read The Rod of the Oppressor that 
 seemed to settle it; her salon would be incom- 
 plete without its author, and she must take 
 steps to find him. 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 1 3 
 
 Abner's second book, in spirit and sub- 
 stance, was a good deal like his first: the man 
 who has succeeded follows up his success, 
 naturally, with something of the same sort. 
 The new book was a novel, however, — the 
 first of the long series that Abner was to put 
 forth with the prodigal ease and carelessness 
 of Nature herself; and it was as gloomy, 
 strenuous and positive as its predecessor. 
 
 Abner, by this time, had enlarged his cir- 
 cle. Through the reformers he had become 
 acquainted with a few journalists, and journal- 
 ists had led on to versifiers and novelists, and 
 chese to a small clique of artists and musicians. 
 Abner was now beginning to find his best ac- 
 count in a sort of decorous Bohemia and to 
 feel that such, after all, was the atmosphere 
 he had been really destined to breathe. The 
 morals of his new associates were as correct 
 as even he could have insisted upon, and their 
 manners were kindly and not too ornate. 
 They indulged in a number of little practices 
 caught, he supposed, from " society," but after 
 all their modes were pleasantly trustful and 
 informal and presently quite ceased to irk and 
 to intimidate him. Many members of his new 
 circle were massed in one large building whose 
 owner had attempted to name it the Warren 
 
14 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 Block; but the artists and the rest simply called 
 it the Warren — sometimes the Burrow or the 
 Rabbit-Hutch — and referred to themselves 
 collectively as the Bunnies. 
 
 Abner found it hard to countenance such 
 facetiousness in a world so full of pain; yet 
 after all these dear people did much to cushion 
 his discomfort, and before long hardly a Sat- 
 urday afternoon came round without his drop- 
 ping into one studio or another for a chat and 
 a cup of tea. To tell the truth, Abner could 
 hardly " chat " as yet, but he was beginning 
 to learn, and he was becoming more recon- 
 ciled as well to all the paraphernalia involved 
 in the brewing of the draught. He was board- 
 ing rather roughly with a landlady who, like 
 himself, was from " down state " and who had 
 never cultivated fastidiousness in table-linen 
 or in tableware, and he sniffed at the fanciful 
 cups and spoons and pink candle-shades that 
 helped to insure the attendance of the " de- 
 sirable people," as the Burrow phrased it, and 
 at the manifold methods of tea-making that 
 were designed to turn the desirable people into 
 profitable patrons. That is, he sniffed at the 
 samovar and the lemons and so on; but when 
 the rum came along he looked away sternly 
 and in silence. 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 1$ 
 
 Well, the desirable people came in num- 
 bers — studios were the fad that year — and as 
 soon as Mrs. Palmer Pence understood that 
 Abner was to be met with somewhere in the 
 Burrow she hastened to enroll herself among 
 them. 
 
 Eudoxia Pence was a robust and vigorous 
 woman in her prime — and by "prime" I mean 
 about thirty-six. She was handsome and rich 
 and intelligent and ambitious, and she was hesi- 
 tating between a career as a Society Queen and 
 a self-devotion to the Better Things: perhaps 
 she was hoping to combine both. With her 
 she brought her niece. Miss Clytie Summers, 
 who had been in society but a month, yet who 
 was enterprising enough to have joined al- 
 ready a class in sociological science, composed 
 of girls that were quite the ones to know, and 
 to have undertaken two or three little excur- 
 sions into the slums. Clytie hardly felt sure 
 just yet whether what she most wanted was 
 to gain a Social Triumph or to lend a Helping 
 Hand. It was Abner's lot to help influence 
 her decision. 
 
 IV 
 
 The Bunnies could hardly believe their 
 eyes when, one day, Mrs. Palmer Pence came 
 
l6 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 rolling into the Burrow. She was well enough 
 known indeed at the " rival shop " — by which 
 the Bunnies meant a neighbouring edifice 
 loftily denominated the Temple of Arti a vast 
 structure full of theatres and recital-halls and 
 studios and assembly-rooms and dramatic 
 schools; but this was the first time she had 
 favoured the humbler building, at least on the 
 formal, official Saturday afternoon. Long had 
 they looked for her coming, and now at last 
 the most desirable of all the desirable people 
 was here. 
 
 " Ah-h-h! " breathed Little O'Grady, who 
 made reliefs in plastina. 
 
 It was for Mrs. Palmer Pence that the 
 samovar steamed to-day in the dimly lighted 
 studio of Stephen Giles, for her that the can- 
 dles fluttered within their pink shades, for her 
 that the white peppermints lay in orderly little 
 rows upon the silver tray, for her that young 
 Medora Giles, lately back to her brother from 
 Paris, wore her freshest gown and drew tea 
 with her prettiest smile. Mrs. Pence was 
 building a new house and there was more than 
 an even chance that Stephen Giles might deco- 
 rate it. He held a middle ground between the 
 " artist-architects " on the one hand and the 
 painters on the other, and with this advanta- 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 1 7 
 
 geous footing he was gradually drawing a 
 strong cordon round " society " and was look- 
 ing forward to a day not very distant when he 
 might leave the Burrow for the Temple of Art 
 itself. 
 
 Mrs. Pence sat liberally cushioned in her 
 old carved pew and amiably sipped her tea 
 beneath a jewelled censer and admired the 
 dark beauty of the slender and graceful Me- 
 dora. Presently she became so taken by the 
 girl that (despite her own superabundant bulk) 
 she must needs cross over and sit beside her 
 and pat her hand at intervals. In certain ex- 
 treme cases Eudoxia was willing to waive the 
 matter of comparison with other women; but 
 to find herself seated beside a man of lesser 
 bulk than herself seriously inconvenienced 
 her, while to realize herself standing beside a 
 man of lesser stature embarrassed her most 
 cruelly. As she was fond of mixed society, 
 her liberal figure was on the move most of 
 the time. 
 
 She was too enchanted with Medora Giles 
 to be able to keep away from her, but the ap- 
 proach of Adrian Bond — he was a great studio 
 dawdler — presently put her to rout. For Adri- 
 an was much too small. He was spare, he was 
 meagre; he was sapless, like his books; and the 
 
l8 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 part in his smoothly plastered black hair 
 scarcely reached to her eyebrows. She felt 
 herself swelling, distending, filling her place to 
 repletion, to suffocation, and rose to iiee. She 
 was for seeking refuge in the brown beard of 
 Stephen Giles, which was at least on a level 
 with her own chin, when suddenly she per- 
 ceived, in a dark corner of the place, a tower of 
 strength more promising still — a man even 
 taller, broader, bulkier than herself, a grand 
 figure that might serve to reduce her to more 
 desirable proportions. 
 
 " Who is he? " she asked Giles, as she 
 seized him by the elbow. " Take me over 
 there at once." 
 
 Giles laughed. " Why, that's Joyce," he 
 said. " He's got so that he looks in on us 
 now and then." 
 
 "Joyce? What Joyce?" 
 
 " Why, Joyce. The one, the only, — as we 
 believe." 
 
 " Abner Joyce? This Weary World? 
 The Rod of the Op pressor f " 
 
 " Exactly. Let me bring him over and 
 present him." 
 
 " Whichever you like; arrange it between 
 Mohammed and the Mountain just as you 
 please." She looked over her shoulder; little 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE I9 
 
 Bond was following. " Waive all ceremony," 
 she begged. " I will go to him." 
 
 Giles trundled her over toward the dusky 
 canopy under which Abner stood chafing, 
 conscious at once of his own powers and of 
 his own social inexpertness. In particular had 
 he looked out with bitterness upon the airy 
 circulations of Adrian Bond — ^Adrian who 
 smirked here and nodded there and chaffed a 
 bit now and then with the blonde Clytie and 
 openly philandered over the tea-urn with the 
 brunette Medora. " That snip ! That water- 
 fly! That whipper-snapper! That " 
 
 Abner turned with a start. A worldly per- 
 son, clad voluminously in furs, was extending 
 a hand that sparkled with many rings and was 
 composing a pair of smiling lips to say the 
 pleasant thing. This attention was startlingly, 
 embarrassingly sudden, but it was welcome 
 and it was appropriate. Abner was little able 
 to realize the quality of aggressive homage 
 that resided in Mrs. Pence's resolute and un- 
 conventional advance, but it was natural 
 enough that this showy woman should wish to 
 manifest her appreciation of a gifted and rising 
 author. He took her hand with a graceless 
 gravity. 
 
 Mrs. Pence, upon a nearer view, found Ab- 
 
20 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 ner all she had hoped. Confronted by his stal- 
 wart limbs and expansive shoulders, she was 
 no longer a behemoth, — she felt almost like a 
 sylph. She looked up frankly, and with a 
 sense of growing comfort, into his broad face 
 where a good strong growth of chestnut beard 
 was bursting through his ruddy cheeks and 
 swirling abundantly beneath his nose. She 
 looked up higher, to his wide forehead, where 
 a big shock of confident hair rolled and tum- 
 bled about with careless affluence. And with 
 no great shyness she appraised his hands and 
 his feet — those strong forceful hands that had 
 dominated the lurching, self-willed plough, 
 those sturdy feet that had resolutely tramped 
 the miles of humpy furrow the ploughshare 
 had turned up blackly to sun and air. She 
 shrank. She dwindled. Her slender girlhood 
 — that remote, incredible time — was on her 
 once more. 
 
 " I shall never feel large again," she said. 
 
 How right she was! Nobody ever felt 
 large for long when Abner Joyce happened to 
 be about. 
 
 V 
 
 Abner regarded Mrs. Pence and her mag- 
 nificence with a sombre intensity, far from 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 21 
 
 ready to approve. He knew far more about 
 her than she could know about him — thanks to 
 the activities of a shamefully discriminating (or 
 undiscriminating) press — and he was by no 
 means prepared to give her his countenance. 
 Face to face with her opulence and splendour 
 he set the figure of his own mother — that 
 sweet, patient, plaintive little presence, now 
 docilely habituated, at the closing in of a long 
 pinched life, to unremitting daily toil still un- 
 rewarded by ease and comfort or by any hope 
 or promise or prospect of it. There was his 
 father too — that good gray elder who had 
 done so much faithful work, yet had so little 
 to show for it, who had fished all day and had 
 caught next to nothing, who had given four 
 years out of his young life to the fight for free- 
 dom only to see the reward so shamefully fall 
 elsewhere . . . Abner evoked here a fanciful 
 figure of Palmer Pence himself, whom he 
 knew in a general way to be high up in some 
 monstrous Trust. He saw a prosperous, 
 domineering man who with a single turn of 
 the hand had swept together a hundred little 
 enterprises and at the same time had swept out 
 a thousand of the lesser fry into the wide spaces 
 of empty ruin, and who had insolently settled 
 down beside his new machine to catch the rain 
 
22 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 of coins minted for him from the wrongs of 
 an injured and insulted people . . . 
 
 Abner accepted in awkward silence Mrs. 
 Pence's liberal and fluent praise of The Rod of 
 the Oppressor, — aside from his deep-seated in- 
 dignation he had not yet mastered any of those 
 serviceable phrases by means of which such a 
 volley may be returned; but he found words 
 when she presently set foot in the roomy field 
 of the betterment of local conditions. What 
 she had in mind, it appeared, was a training- 
 school — it might be called the Pence Institute 
 if it went through — and she was ready to lis- 
 ten to any one who was likely to encourage 
 her with hints or advice. 
 
 " So much energy, so much talent going 
 to waste, so many young people tumbling up 
 anyhow and presently tumbling over — all for 
 lack of thorough and systematic training," she 
 said, across her own broad bosom. 
 
 " I know of but one training that is 
 needed," said Abner massively: " the training 
 of the sense of social justice — such training of 
 the public conscience as will insist upon seeing 
 that each and every freeman gets an even 
 chance." 
 
 " An even chance? " repeated Eudoxia, 
 rather dashed. " What I think of offering is 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 23 
 
 an even start. Doesn't it come to much the 
 same thing? " 
 
 But Abner would none of it. Possessed of 
 the fatalistic belief in the efficacy of mere legis- 
 lation such as dominates the rural townships 
 of the West, he grasped his companion firmly 
 by the arm, set his sturdy legs in rapid mo- 
 tion, walked her from assembly hall to assem- 
 bly hall through this State, that and the other, 
 and finally fetched up with her under the dome 
 of the national Capitol. Senators and repre- 
 sentatives co-operated here, there and every- 
 where, the chosen spokesmen of the sover- 
 eign people; Abner seemed almost to have en- 
 rolled himself among them. Confronted with 
 this august company, whose work it was to set 
 things right, Eudoxia Pence felt smaller than 
 ever. What were her imponderable emana- 
 tions of goodwill and good intention when 
 compared with the robust masculinity that 
 was marching in firm phalanxes over solid 
 ground toward the mastery of the great Prob- 
 lem? She drooped visibly. Little O' Grady, 
 studying her pose and expression from afar, 
 wrung his hands. " That fellow will drive her 
 away. Ten to one we shall never see her pro- 
 file here again! " Yes, Eudoxia was feeling, 
 with a sudden faintness, that the Better 
 
24 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 Things might after all be beyond her reach. 
 She looked about for herself without finding 
 herself: she had dwindled away to nothing- 
 ness. 
 
 VI 
 
 " Do you take her money — such money? " 
 Abner asked of Giles with severity. Eudoxia 
 had returned to Medora and the samovar. 
 
 " Such money? " returned Giles. " Is it 
 different from other money? What do you 
 mean? " 
 
 " Isn't her husband the head of some trust 
 or other? " 
 
 " Why, yes, I believe so : the Feather-bed 
 Trust, or the Air-and-Sunlight Trust — some- 
 thing of that sort; I've never looked into it 
 closely." 
 
 " Yet you accept what it ofifers you." 
 
 " And give a good return for it. Yes, she 
 had paid me already for my sketches — a 
 prompt and business-like way of doing things 
 that I should be glad to encounter oftener." 
 
 Abner shook his head sadly. " I thought 
 we might come to be real friends." 
 
 " And I hope so yet. Anyway, it takes a 
 little money to keep the tea-pot boiling." 
 
 Abner drifted back to the shelter of his 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 2$ 
 
 canopy and darkly accused himself for his 
 acceptance of such hospitality. He ought 
 to go, to go at once, and never to come 
 back. But before he found out how to go, 
 Clytie Summers came along and hemmed 
 him in. 
 
 Clytie was not at all afraid of big men; she 
 had already found them easier to manage than 
 little ones. Indeed she had pretty nearly come 
 to the conclusion that a lively young girl with 
 a trim figure and a bright, confident manner 
 and a fetching mop of sunlit hair and a pair 
 of wide, forthputting, blue eyes was predes- 
 tined to have her own way with about every- 
 body alike. But Clytie had never met an 
 Abner Joyce. 
 
 And as soon as Clytie entered upon the 
 particulars of her last slumming trip through 
 the river wards she began to discover the dif- 
 ference. She chanced to mention incidentally 
 certain low-grade places of amusement. 
 
 "What!" cried Abner; "you go to the- 
 atres — and such theatres? " 
 
 " Surely I do! " cried Clytie in turn, no less 
 disconcerted than Abner himself. " Surely I 
 go to theatres; don't you? " 
 
 " Never," replied Abner firmly. " I have 
 other uses for my money." His rules of con- 
 
 3 
 
26 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 duct marshalled themselves in a stiff row be- 
 fore him; forlorn Flatlield came into view. 
 Neither his principles nor his practice of mak- 
 ing monthly remittances to the farm permitted 
 such excesses. 
 
 " Why, it doesn't cost anything," rejoined 
 Clytie. " There's no admission charge. All 
 you have to do is to buy a drink now and 
 then." 
 
 " Buy a drink? " 
 
 "Beer — that will do. You can stay as long 
 as you want to on a couple of glasses. Lots 
 of our girls didn't take but one." 
 
 " Lots of ? " 
 
 " Yes, the whole class went. We found 
 the place most interesting — and the audience. 
 The men sit about with their hats on, you 
 know, in a big hall full of round tables, drink- 
 ing and smoking " 
 
 " And you mixed up in such a ? " 
 
 " Well, no; not exactly. We had a box — ■ 
 as I suppose you would call it; three of them. 
 Of course that did cost a little something. 
 And then Mr. Whyland bought a few ci- 
 gars " 
 
 " Mr. Whyland ? " 
 
 " Yes, he was with us; he thought there 
 ought to be at least one gentleman along. He 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 2J 
 
 couldn't smoke the cigars, but one of the girls 
 happened to have some cigarettes " 
 
 " Cigarettes? " 
 
 " Yes, and we found their smoke much 
 more endurable. That was the worst about 
 the place — the smoke; unless it was the per- 
 formance " 
 
 " Oh! " said Abner, with a groan of dis- 
 gust. 
 
 " Well, it wasn't as bad as that! " returned 
 Clytie. "It was only dull and stale and stupid; 
 the same old sort of knockabouts and serio- 
 comics you can see everywhere down town, 
 only not a quarter so good — ^just cheap imi- 
 tations. And all those poor fellows sat mop- 
 ing over their beer-mugs waiting, waiting, 
 waiting for something new and entertaining to 
 happen. I never felt so sorry for anybody in 
 my life. We girls about made up our minds 
 that we would get together a little fund and 
 see if we couldn't do some missionary work in 
 that neighbourhood — hire some real good 
 artists " — Abner winced at this hideous per- 
 version of the word — " hire some real good 
 artists to go over there and let those poor crea- 
 tures see what a first-class show was like; and 
 Mr. Whyland promised to contribute " 
 
 "Stop!" said Abner. 
 
28 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 Clytie paused abruptly, astonished by his 
 tone and by the expression on his face. The 
 flush of innocent enthusiasm and high resolve 
 left her cheek, her pretty little lips parted in 
 amaze, and her wide blue eyes opened wider 
 than ever. What a singular man! What a 
 way of accepting her expression of interest in 
 her kind, of receiving her plan for helping the 
 other half to lead a happier life ! Adrian Bond, 
 a dozen, a hundred other men would have 
 known how to give her credit for her kindly 
 intentions toward the less fortunate, would 
 have found a ready way to praise her, to com- 
 pliment her . . . 
 
 Abner Joyce had a great respect for wom- 
 an in general, but he entertained an utter de- 
 testation of anything like gallantry; in his 
 chaste anxiety he leaned the other way. He 
 was brusque; he often rode roughshod over 
 feminine sensibilities. He was very slightly 
 influenced by considerations of sex. He 
 viewed everybody asexually, as a generalized 
 human being. He dealt with women just as 
 he dealt with men, and he treated young 
 women just as he treated older ones. He 
 treated Clytie just as he treated Eudoxia 
 Pence, just as he would have treated Whyland 
 himself — ^but with a little added severity, called 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 29 
 
 forth by her peculiar presence and her specific 
 offence. He brought her to book just as she 
 deserved to be brought to book — a girl who 
 went to low theatres and wore frizzled yellow 
 hair and made eyes at strangers and took her 
 share in the heartless amusements of pluto- 
 crats. 
 
 " Why, what is it? " asked Clytie. " Don't 
 you think we ought to try to understand mod- 
 ern social conditions and do what we can to 
 improve them? If you would only go through 
 some of those streets in the river wards and 
 into some of the houses — oh, dear me, dear 
 me!" 
 
 But Abner would none of this. " Do you 
 think your river wards, as you call them, are 
 any worse than our barn-yard in the early days 
 of March? Do you imagine your cheap 
 vawdyville theatres are any more tiresome than 
 our Main Street through the winter months? " 
 
 No, Abner's thoughts had been focused 
 too long on the wrongs of the rural regions to 
 be able to transfer themselves to the sufferings 
 and injustices of the town. He saw the city 
 collectively as the oppressor of the country, 
 and Leverett Whyland, by reason of Clytie's 
 innocent prattle, became the city incarnate 
 in a single figure. 
 
30 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 " I know your Mr. Whyland," he said. 
 " I've met him; I know all about him. He 
 lives on his rents. His property came to him 
 by inheritance, and half its value to-day is due 
 to the general rise brought about by the exer- 
 tions of others. He is indebted for food, cloth- 
 ing and shelter to the unearned increment." 
 
 " Lives on his rents? Is there anything 
 wrong in that? So do I, too — when they can 
 be collected. And if you talk about the un- 
 earned increment, let me tell you there is such 
 a thing as the unearned decrement." 
 
 " Nonsense. That's merely a backward 
 swirl in a rushing stream." 
 
 " Not at all! " cried Clytie, now in the full 
 heat of controversy. " If you were used to a 
 big growing city, with all its sudden shifts and 
 changes, you would understand. Even the 
 new neighbourhoods get spoiled before they 
 are half put together — builders treat one an- 
 other so unfairly; while, as for the old ones — 
 why, my poor dear father is coming to have 
 row after row that he can't find tenants for at 
 all, unless he were to let them to — to objec- 
 tionable characters." 
 
 Clytie threw this out with all boldness. 
 The matter was purely economic, sociologi- 
 cal; they were talking quite as man to man. 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 3 1 
 
 Abner brought every woman to this point 
 sooner or later. 
 
 As for the troubles of landlords, he had 
 no sympathy with them. And to him the 
 most 'objectionable of all " objectionable char- 
 acters " was the man who had a strong box 
 stuffed with farm mortgages — town-dwellers, 
 the great bulk of them. " Oh, the cities, the 
 cities!" he groaned. Then, more cheerfully: 
 " But never mind; they are passing." 
 
 " Passing? I like that! Do you know 
 that eighteen and two-thirds per cent of the 
 population of the United States lives in towns 
 of one hundred thousand inhabitants and 
 above, and that the number is increasing at the 
 rate of " 
 
 " They are disintegrating," pursued Abner 
 stolidly. " By their own bulk — like a big 
 snowball. And by their own badness. People 
 are rolling back to the country — the country 
 they came from. Improved transportation 
 will do it." The troubles of the town were 
 ephemeral — he waved them aside. But his 
 face was set in a frown — doubtless at the 
 thought of the perdurable afflictions of the 
 country. 
 
 " Don't worry over these passing difficul- 
 ties that arise from a mere temporary conges- 
 
32 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 tion of population. They will take care , of 
 themselves. Meanwhile, don't sport with 
 them; don't encourage your young friends to 
 make them a vehicle of their own selfish pleas- 
 ures; don't " 
 
 Clytie caught her breath. So she was a 
 mere frivolous, inconsequential butterfly, after 
 all. Why try longer to lend the Helping 
 Hand — why not cut things short and be satis- 
 fied with the Social Triumph and let it go at 
 that? " I was meaning to ask you to dine 
 with me some evening next week at a settle- 
 ment I know, but now . . ." 
 
 " I never ' dine,' " said Abner. 
 
 vn 
 
 " I SHOULD be so glad to have you call." 
 Mrs. Pence was peering about among the lan- 
 terns and tapestries and the stirring throng 
 with the idea of picking up Clytie and taking 
 leave. " My niece is staying with me just 
 now, and I'm sure she would be glad to see 
 you again too." 
 
 Abner looked about to help her find her 
 charge. Clytie had gone over to the tea-table, 
 where she was snapping vindictively at the 
 half of a ginger-wafer somebody else had left 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 33 
 
 and was gesticulating in the face of Medora 
 Giles. 
 
 " I never met such a man in my life! " 
 she was declaring. " I'll never speak to him 
 again as long as I live! He's a bear; he's a 
 brute!" 
 
 Little O' Grady, bringing forward another 
 sliced lemon, shook in his shoes. " He'll have 
 everybody scared away before long! " the poor 
 fellow thought. 
 
 Medora smiled on Clytie. " Oh, not so bad 
 as that, I hope," she said serenely. " Stephen, 
 now, is beginning to have quite a liking for 
 him. So earnest; so well-intentioned . . ." 
 
 " And you yourself? " asked Clytie. 
 
 " I haven't met him yet. I'm only on pro- 
 bation. He has looked me over — from afar, 
 but has his doubts. I may get the benefit of 
 them, or I may not." 
 
 " What doubts? " 
 
 " Why, I'm a renegade, a European. I'm 
 effete, contaminate, taboo." 
 
 " Has he said so? " 
 
 " Said so? Do I need to have things 
 'said'?" 
 
 " Well, if you really are all this, you'll find 
 it out soon enough." 
 
 " He's a touchstone, then? " 
 
34 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 " Yes. And I'm a nonentity, lightly con- 
 cerning myself about light nothings. He 
 won't mince matters." 
 
 " Don't worry about me," said Medora 
 confidently. " I shall know how to handle 
 him." 
 
 Mrs. Pence kept on peering. Dusk was 
 upon the place, and the few dim lights were 
 more ineffectual than ever. " There she is," 
 said Abner, with a bob of the head. 
 
 " Good-bye, then," said Eudoxia, grasping 
 his hand effusively, as she took her first step 
 toward Clytie. " Now, you will come and 
 see us, won't you? " 
 
 "Thank you; but " 
 
 Abner paused for the evocation of an in- 
 stantaneous vision of the household thus 
 thrown open to him. Such opportunities for 
 falsity, artificiality, downright humbuggery, 
 for plutocratic upholstery and indecorous 
 statues and light-minded paintings, for cynical 
 and insolent servants, for the deployment of 
 vast gains got by methods that at best were 
 questionable! Could he accept such hospital- 
 ity as this? 
 
 " Thank you. I might come, possibly, if I 
 can find the time. But I warn you I am very 
 busy." 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 35 
 
 " Make time," said Eudoxia good-hu- 
 mouredly, and passed along. 
 
 Abner made a good deal of time for the 
 Burrow, but it was long before he brought 
 himself to make any for Eudoxia Pence. He 
 came to see a great deal of the Bunnies; in 
 a month or two he quite had the run of the 
 place. There were friendly fellows who 
 heaved big lumps of clay upon huge nail- 
 studded scantlings, and nice little girls who 
 designed book-plates, and more mature ones 
 who painted miniatures, and many earnest, 
 earnest persons of both sexes who were hurry- 
 ing, hurrying ahead on their wet canvases so 
 that the next exhibition might not be incom- 
 plete by reason of lacking a " Smith," a 
 " Jones," a " Robinson." Abner gave each 
 and every one of these pleasant people his 
 company and imparted to them his views on 
 the great principles that underlie all the arts 
 in common. 
 
 " So that's what you call it — a marquise," 
 Abner observed on a certain occasion to one 
 of the miniature painters. "This creature 
 with a fiufify white wig and a low-necked dress 
 is a marquise, is she? Do you like that sort of 
 thing? " 
 
 " Why, yes, — rather," said the artist. 
 
36 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 " Well, / don't," declared Abner, return- 
 ing the trifle to the girl's hands. 
 
 " I'll paint my next sitter as a milkmaid — 
 if she'll let me." 
 
 " As a milkmaid? No; paint the milkmaid 
 herself. Deal with the verities. Like them 
 before you paint them. Paint them because 
 you like them." 
 
 " I don't know whether I should like milk- 
 maids or not. I've never seen one." 
 
 " They don't exist," chimed in Adrian 
 Bond, who was dawdling in the background. 
 " The milkmaids are all men. And as for the 
 
 dairy-farms themselves ! " He sank back 
 
 among his cushions. " I visited one in the 
 suburbs last month — the same time when I 
 was going round among the markets. I have 
 been of half a mind, lately," he said, more di- 
 rectly to Abner, " to do a large, serious thing 
 based on local actualities; The City's Maw — 
 something like that. My things so far, I 
 know (none better) are slight, flimsy, exotic, 
 factitious. The first-hand study of actuality, 
 
 thought I But no, no, no ! It was a place 
 
 fit only for a reporter in search of a — of a — I 
 don't know what. I shall never drink coffee 
 again; while as for milk punch " 
 
 " And what is the artist," asked Abner, 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 37 
 
 " but the reporter sublimated? Why must the 
 artist go afield to dabble in far-fetched artifi- 
 cialities that have nothing to do with his own 
 proper time and place? Our people go abroad 
 for study, instead of staying at home and 
 guarding their native quality. They return 
 affected, lackadaisical, self-conscious — they 
 bring the hothouse with them. Why, I have 
 seen such a simple matter as the pouring of a 
 cup of tea turned into " 
 
 " You can't mean Medora Giles," said the 
 miniaturist quickly, pausing amidst the laces 
 of her bodice. " Don't make any mistake 
 about Medora. When she goes in for all that 
 sort of thing, she's merely ' creating atmos- 
 phere,' as we say, — she's simply after the ' en- 
 velopment,' in fact." 
 
 " She is just getting into tone," Bond re- 
 enforced, "with the candle-shades and the 
 peppermints." 
 
 " Medora," declared the painter, " is as 
 sensible and capable a girl as I know. Why, 
 
 the very dress she wore that afternoon 
 
 You noticed it? " 
 
 " I — I " began Abner, 
 
 " No, you didn't — of course you didn't. 
 Well, she made every stitch of it with her own 
 hands." 
 
38 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 " And those tea-cakes, that afternoon," 
 supplemented Bond. " She made every stitch 
 of them with her own hands. She told me so 
 herself, when I stayed afterward, to help wash 
 things up." 
 
 " I may have done her an injustice," Ab- 
 ner acknowledged. " Perhaps I might like 
 to know her, after all." 
 
 " You might be proud to," said Bond. 
 
 " And the favour would be the other way 
 round," declared the painter stoutly. 
 
 Abner passed over any such possibility as 
 this. " How long was she abroad? " he asked 
 Bond. 
 
 " Let's see. She studied music in Leipsic 
 two years; she plays the violin like an angel — 
 up to a certain point. Then she was in Paris 
 for another year. She paints a little — not 
 enough to hurt." 
 
 " Leipsic? Two years? " pondered Abner. 
 It seemed more staid, less vicious, after all, 
 than if the whole time had been spent in Paris. 
 The violin; painting. Both required tech- 
 nique; each art demanded long, close applica- 
 tion. "Well, I dare say she is excusable." 
 But here, he thought, was just where the other 
 arts were at a disadvantage compared with 
 literature: you might stay at home wherever 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 39 
 
 you were, if a writer, and get your own tech- 
 nique. 
 
 " And you have done it," said Bond. " I 
 admire some of your things so much. Your 
 instinct for realities, your sturdy central 
 grasp " 
 
 " What man has done, man may do," re- 
 joined Abner. " Yet what is technique, after 
 all? There remains, as ever, the problem, the 
 great Social Problem, to be solved." 
 
 " You think so? " queried Bond, 
 
 " Think that there is a social problem? " 
 
 " Think that it can be solved. I have my 
 own idea there. It is a secret. I am willing 
 to tell it to one person, but not to more, — I 
 couldn't answer for the consequences. If Miss 
 Wilbur will just stop her ears " 
 
 The miniaturist laughed and laid her palms 
 against her cheeks. 
 
 " You are sure you can't hear? " asked 
 Bond, with his eye on her spreading fingers. 
 " Well, then " — ^to Abner — " there is the great 
 Human Problem, but it is not to be solved, 
 nor was it designed that it should be. The 
 world is only a big coral for us to cut our 
 teeth upon, a proving-ground, a hotbed from 
 which we shall presently be transplanted ac- 
 cording to our several deserts. No power can 
 
40 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 solve the puzzle save the power that cut it up 
 into pieces to start with. Try as we may, the 
 blanket will always be just a little too small for 
 the bedstead. Meanwhile, the thing for us to 
 do is to go right along figuring, figuring, fig- 
 uring on our little slates, — but rather for the 
 sake of keeping busy than from any hope of 
 reaching the ' answer ' set down in the Great 
 Book above." 
 
 " But " began Abner; his orthodox 
 
 sensibilities were somewhat offended. Miss 
 Wilbur, who had heard every word, laughed 
 outright. 
 
 " I beg," Bond hurried on, " that you" 
 won't communicate this to a living soul. I 
 am the only one who suspects the real truth. 
 If it came to be generally known all human 
 motives would be lacking, all human activities 
 would be paralyzed — the whole world would 
 come to a standstill. Mum's the word. For 
 if the problem is insoluble and meant to be, 
 just as sure is it that we were not intended 
 to suspect the truth." 
 
 Abner gasped — dredging the air for a 
 word. " Of course," Bond went ahead, less 
 fantastically, " I know I ought to shut my 
 eyes to all this and start in to accomplish some- 
 thing more vital, more indigenous — ^less of 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 4I 
 
 the marquise and more of the milkmaid, in 
 fact " 
 
 " Write about the things you know and 
 like," said Abner curtly. 
 
 His tone acknowledged his inability to 
 keep pace with such whimsicalities or to sym- 
 pathize with them. 
 
 " If to know and to like were one with 
 me, as they appear to be with you! A boy- 
 hood in the country — what a grand begin- 
 ning! But the things I know are the things 
 I don't like, and the things I like are not 
 always the things I know — oftener the things 
 I feel." Bond was speaking with a greater 
 sincerity than he usually permitted himself. 
 The right touch just then might have de- 
 termined his future: he was quite as willing 
 to become a Veritist as to remain a mere 
 Dilettante. 
 
 Abner tossed his head with a suppressed 
 snort; he felt but little inclined to give encour- 
 agement to this manikin, this tidier-up after 
 studio teas, this futile spinner of sophistica- 
 tions. No, the curse of a city boyhood was 
 upon the fellow. Why look for anything 
 great or vital from one born and bred in the 
 vitiated air of the town? 
 
 " Oh, well," he said, half-conteftiptuously,- 
 4 
 
42 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 and not half trying to hide his contempt, " you 
 are doing very well as it is. Some of your 
 work is not without traces of style ; and I sup- 
 pose style is what you are after. But meat 
 for me! " 
 
 Bond lapsed back into his cushions, feeling 
 a little hurt and very feeble and unimportant. 
 Clearly the big thing, the sincere thing, the 
 significant thing was beyond his reach. The 
 City's Maw must remain unwritten. 
 
 VIII 
 
 Abner tramped down the corridor and 
 walked in on Giles. He found the decorator 
 busy over two or three large sketches for 
 panels. 
 
 " For another Trust man? " he asked. 
 " No," replied Giles ; " these are for a 
 blameless old gentleman that has passed a life 
 of honest toil in the wholesale hardware busi- 
 ness. Don't you think he's entitled to a few 
 flowers by this time? " 
 
 " What kind of flowers are they? " 
 " Passion-flowers and camellias." 
 " Humph! Do they grow round here? " 
 " Hardly. My old gentleman hasn't given 
 himself a vacation for twenty-five years, and 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 43 
 
 he wants to get as far away from ' here ' as 
 possible." 
 
 Abner gave another " Humph! " Wigs 
 and brocades; passion-flowers and camellias. 
 All this in a town that had just seen the com- 
 pletion of the eighteenth chapter of Regenera- 
 tion. Well, regeneration was coming none too 
 soon. 
 
 "What's the matter with Bond?" he 
 asked suddenly. 
 
 " I do' know. Is anything? " 
 
 " I've just been talking with him, and he 
 seemed sort of skittish and dissatisfied and 
 paradoxical." 
 
 " He's often like that. We never notice." 
 
 " He seemed to shilly-shally considerable 
 too. Has he got any convictions, any prin- 
 ciples? " 
 
 " I can't say I've ever thought much about 
 that. He never mentions such things himself, 
 but I suppose he must have them about him 
 somewhere. He generally behaves himself 
 and treats other people kindly. Everybody 
 trusts him and seems to believe in him. I 
 presume he's got something inside that holds 
 him up — moral framework, so to speak." 
 
 Abner shook his head. If the framework 
 was there it ought to show through. Every 
 
44 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 articulation should tell; every rib should 
 count. 
 
 " If a man has got principles and beliefs, 
 why not come out flat-footedly with them like 
 a man? " 
 
 " I do' know. Dare say Bond doesn't 
 want to wear his heart on his sleeve. Hates 
 to live in the show-window, you under- 
 stand." 
 
 " He was fussing most about writing some 
 new thing or other in a new way. I seem to 
 have kind of started him up." 
 
 " He has been talking like that for quite 
 a little while. He's tenderly interested — that's 
 the real reason for it. He wants more reputa- 
 tion — something to lay at the dear one's feet, 
 you know. And he wants bigger returns — 
 though he has got something in the way of an 
 independent income, I believe." 
 
 " Who is she? " 
 
 " That little Miss Summers." 
 
 " He may have her," said Abner quickly. 
 "She may 'dine' hint at her settlement." 
 Then, more slowly: " Why, they hardly spoke 
 to each other, that day — except once or twice 
 to joke. They barely noticed each other." 
 
 " What should they have done? Sit side 
 by side, holding hands? " 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 45 
 
 " Oh, the city, the city! " murmured Ab- 
 ner, overcome by the artificiality of urban so- 
 ciety and the mockery in Giles's tone. 
 
 " You should have seen them in the coun- 
 try last summer." 
 
 " Them! In the country! " 
 
 " Why, yes; why not? We had them both 
 out on the farm." 
 
 "Farm? Whose?" 
 
 " My father's. We try to do a little liven- 
 ing up for the old people every July and Au- 
 gust. They got acquainted there; they took to 
 it like ducks to water. That's where Bond got 
 his idea for his cow masterpiece, — he may 
 have spoken to you about it." 
 
 " Humph! " said Abner. Why heed such 
 insignificant poachings as these on his own 
 preserves? 
 
 " We're going out home week after next 
 for the holidays," continued Giles. " Better 
 go with us." 
 
 " So you're a farmer's boy? " pondered 
 Abner. He looked again at the camellias, 
 then at Giles's loose Parisian tie, and lastly at 
 his finger-nails, — all too exquisite by half. 
 
 " Certainly. Brought up on burdock and 
 smart-weed. That's why I'm so fond of this," 
 — ^with a wave toward one of his panels. 
 
46 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 " Well, what do you say? Will you go? We 
 should like first-rate to have you." 
 
 Abner considered. The invitation was as 
 hearty and informal as he could have wished, 
 and it would take him within thirty miles of 
 Flatfield itself. 
 
 " Is your sister going along? " 
 " Surely. She will run the whole thing." 
 " Well," said Abner slowly, " I don't know 
 but that I might find it interesting." This, 
 Giles understood, was his rustic manner of ac- 
 cepting. 
 
 IX 
 
 Abner spent Christmas at the Giles farm, 
 as Stephen had understood him to promise; 
 and Medora, as her brother had engaged, 
 " went along " too, and " ran the whole 
 thing " from start to finish. Abner, with a se- 
 cret interest compounded half of attraction, 
 half of repulsion, promised himself a careful 
 study of this " new type " — a type so bizarre, 
 so artificial, and in all probability so thorough- 
 ly reprehensible. 
 
 Medora made up the rest of the party to 
 suit herself. She had heard of Adrian Bond's 
 struggles toward the indigenous, the simpli- 
 fied, and she was willing enough to give him a 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE A7 
 
 chance to see the cows in their winter quar- 
 ters. Clytie Summers had begged very pret- 
 tily for her glimpse too of the country at this 
 time of year. " It's rather soon, I know, for 
 that spring barn-yard; but I should so enjoy 
 the ennui of some village Main Street in the 
 early winter." 
 
 " Come along, then," said Medora. 
 " We'll do part of our Christmas shopping 
 there." 
 
 Giles accepted these two new recruits 
 gladly. " Good thing for both of them," he 
 declared to Joyce. " They'll make more prog- 
 ress on our farm in a week than they could in 
 six months of studio teas." 
 
 This remark admitted of but one interpre- 
 tation. 
 
 " Why! " said Abner; " do you want her to 
 marry hiw?. " — him, a fellow so slight, frivo- 
 lous, invertebrate! 
 
 " Oh, he's a very decent Httle chap," re- 
 turned Giles. " He'll be kind to her — he'll 
 see she's taken good care of." 
 
 " But do you want him to marry her? " — 
 her, so bold, so improper, so prone to seek en- 
 tertainment in the woes of others ! 
 
 " Oh, well, she's a very fair little chick," 
 replied Giles patiently. " She'll get past her 
 
48 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 notions pretty soon and be just as good a wife 
 as anybody could ask." 
 
 One of those quiescent, featureless Decem- 
 bers was on the land — a November prolonged. 
 The brown country-side, swept and garnished, 
 was still awaiting the touch of winter's hand. 
 The air was crisp yet passive, and abundant 
 sunshine flooded alike the heights and hollows 
 of the rolling uplands that spread through 
 various shades of subdued umber and medita- 
 tive blue toward the confines of a wavering, 
 indeterminate horizon. The Giles homestead 
 stood high on a bluff; and above the last of the 
 islands that cluttered the river beneath it the 
 spires of the village appeared, a mile or two 
 down-stream. 
 
 " Now for the barn-yard ! " cried Clytie, 
 after the first roundabout view from the front 
 of the blufif. " Adrian mustn't lose any time 
 with his cows." 
 
 Giles led the way to a trim inclosure. 
 
 " Why, it's as dry as a bone! " she declared. 
 
 " Would you want us water-logged the 
 whole year through? " asked Abner pun- 
 gently. 
 
 " And as for ennui," she pursued, " I'm 
 sure it isn't going to be found here — no more 
 in winter than in summer. However " — with 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 49 
 
 a wave of the hand toward the spires — 
 " there is always the town." 
 
 No, the parents of Giles had taken strong 
 measures to keep boredom at bay. They had 
 their books and magazines; they had a pair of 
 good trotters and a capacious carryall, with 
 other like aids to locomotion in reserve; they 
 had a telephone; they had a pianola, with a 
 change of rolls once a month ; they had neigh- 
 bours of their own sort and were indomitable 
 in keeping up neighbourly relations. 
 
 " I think you'll be able to stand it for a 
 week," said Medora serenely. 
 
 " We've done it once before," said Bond. 
 
 " Don't be anxious about us\ " added 
 Clytie. 
 
 Medora Giles took Abner in her own spe- 
 cial care. She knew pretty nearly what he 
 thought of her, and she was inclined to amuse 
 herself — though at the same time making no 
 considerable concession — by placing herself 
 before him in a more favourable light. In her 
 dress, her manner, her bearing there was a cer- 
 tain half-alien delicacy, finesse, aloofness. She 
 would not lay this altogether aside, even at 
 home, even in the informal country; but she 
 would provide a homely medium, suited to 
 Abner's rustic vision, through which her ex- 
 
so UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 otic airs and graces might be more tolerantly 
 perceived. 
 
 The illness of one of the servants came just 
 here to assist her. She descended upon the 
 kitchen, taking full charge and carrying Ab- 
 ner with her. She initiated him at the chop- 
 ping-block, she conferred the second degree at 
 the pump-handle, and by the time he was beat- 
 ing up eggs in a big yellow bowl beside the 
 kitchen stove his eyes had come to be focused 
 on her in quite a dififerent fashion. Surely no 
 one could be more deft, light-handed, practi- 
 cal. Was this the same young woman who 
 had sat in the midst of that absurd outfit and 
 had juggled rather afifectedly and self-con- 
 sciously \yith tea-urn and sugar-tongs and had 
 palavered in empty nothings with a troop of 
 overdressed and overmannered feather-heads? 
 She was still graceful, still fluent, still endowed 
 with that bafHing little air of distinction; but 
 she knew where things were — down to the last 
 strainer or nutmeg-grater — and she knew how 
 to use them. She was completely at home. 
 And so — ^by this time — was he. 
 
 To deepen the impression, Medora asked 
 Abner to help her lay the table. There were 
 no studio gimcracks, mercifully, to put into 
 place; but the tableware was as far removed. 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 5 1 
 
 on the other hand, from the ugly, heavy, time- 
 scarred things at Flatfield and from the care- 
 less crudities of his own boarding-house. Ab- 
 ner had had a tolerance, even a liking, for his 
 landlady's indifference toward finicky table- 
 furnishings; but now there came a sudden 
 vision of her dining-room, and the spots 
 on the table-cloth, the nicks in the crockery, 
 the shabbiness of the lambrequin drooping 
 from the mantel-piece, and the slovenliness 
 of the sole handmaiden had never been so 
 vivid. 
 
 " Shall I be able to go back there? " he 
 asked himself. 
 
 Finally, to seal the matter completely, Me- 
 dora led Abner to the place of honour and 
 bade him eat the meal she had prepared^ Ab- 
 ner ate and was hers. Even a good boarding- 
 house, he now felt, was a mistake; the best, 
 but a makeshift. 
 
 During the day the telephone had made 
 common property of the news of Abner's ar- 
 rival, and the next morning, an hour or so after 
 breakfast, the front yard resounded with the 
 loud cry of, "What ho, neighbours!" and 
 Leverett Whyland was revealed in a trig cart 
 drawn by a handsome cob. 
 
 " Why, what's that man doing here? '* Ab- 
 
52 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 ner asked Giles, as they stood by the living- 
 room window. 
 
 " He has a place three or four miles down 
 the river," replied Giles, casting about for his 
 hat. Clytie, meanwhile, had drubbed a glad 
 welcome upon the adjoining window and then 
 rushed out bareheaded to give greeting. 
 
 " He always comes out here with his fam- 
 ily for Christmas," said Stephen. 
 
 " His family? Is he married? Has he a 
 wife and children? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Yet he goes slam-banging around with a 
 lot of young girls into all sorts of doubtful 
 places? " 
 
 " Oh, I've heard something abotlt that," 
 said Giles. " Well, you wouldn't have them 
 in charge of a bachelor, would you? " 
 
 " What's he farming for? " asked Abner, 
 left behind with Medora. 
 
 " Sentiment," she replied. " He was born 
 down there, and has never wanted to let the 
 old place go. Do you think any the worse of 
 him for that? " 
 
 Whyland had come to fetch the men and 
 to show them his model farm. They spent the 
 forenoon in going over this expensive place. 
 Bond gave vent to all the " oh's " and " ah's " 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 53 
 
 that indicate the perfect visitor. Abner took 
 their host's various amateurish doings in glum 
 silence. It was all very well to indulge in 
 these costly contraptions as a pastime, but if 
 the man had to get his actual living from the 
 soil where would he be? Almost anybody 
 could stand on two legs. How many on one? 
 
 " Do you make it pay? " Abner asked 
 bluntly. 
 
 " Pay? I'm a by- word all over the coun- 
 ty. Half the town lives on my lack of 
 * gumption.' " 
 
 " H'm," said Abner darkly. He was as 
 far as ever from hitting it ofif with this smiling, 
 dapper product of artificial city conditions. 
 
 " I came across some of your Readjusters 
 the other day," observed Whyland, at the door 
 of his hen-house — a prodigal place with a 
 dozen wired-in " runs " for a dozen different 
 varieties of poultry: " Leghorns, Plymouth 
 Rocks, Jerseys, Angoras, Hambletonians and 
 what not," as Bond irresponsibly remarked. 
 " They say they haven't been seeing much of 
 you lately." 
 
 Abner frowned. Whyland, he felt, was 
 trying to put him at a disadvantage. But, in 
 truth, it could not be denied that he had prac- 
 tically left one circle for another, — ^was show- 
 
54 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 ing himself much more disposed to favour the 
 skylights of the studios than the footlights of 
 the rostrum. 
 
 " I am still for the cause," he said. " But 
 it can be helped from one side as well as from 
 another. My next book " 
 
 " I didn't dispute your idea; only its ap- 
 plication. I should be glad if you could make 
 it go. Anything would be better than the 
 present horrible mess. We have ' equality/ 
 and to spare, in the Declaration and the Con- 
 stitution, but whether or not we' shall ever get 
 it in our taxing " 
 
 " I am glad to hear you speaking a word 
 for the country people " began Abner. 
 
 " The country people? " interrupted Why- 
 land quickly, with a stare. Never more than 
 when among his cattle and poultry was he 
 moved to draw contrasts between the security 
 of his possessions in the country and the inse- 
 curity of his possessions in town. " What I 
 am thinking of is the city tax-payer. Urban 
 democracy, working on a large scale, has de- 
 clared itself finally, and what we have is the 
 organization of the careless, the ignorant, the 
 envious, brought about by the criminal and 
 the semi-criminal, for the spoliation of the 
 well-to-do." 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 5$ 
 
 Abner began to be rufHed by these cross- 
 references to the city — they were out of 
 place in the uncontaminated country. " I 
 beheve in the people," he declared, with 
 his thoughts on the rustic portion of the popu- 
 lation. 
 
 " So do I — ^within a certain range, and up 
 to a certain point. But I do not believe in 
 the populace," declared Whyland, with his 
 thoughts on the urban portion. 
 
 " All the difference between potatoes and 
 potato-parings," said Bond, catching at a pass- 
 ing feather. 
 
 " Soon it will be simply dog eat dog," said 
 Whyland. " No course will be left, even for 
 the best-disposed of us, but to fight the devil 
 with fire. From the assessor and all his 
 works " 
 
 " Good Lord deliver us," intoned Bond, 
 who fully shared Whyland's ideas. 
 
 Abner frowned. His religious sensibilities 
 were affronted by this response. 
 
 " And from all his followers," added Why- 
 land. " They threaten me in my own office 
 — it comes to that. Well, what shall a man 
 do? Shall he fight or shall he submit? Shall 
 I go into court or shall I compromise with 
 them? " 
 
S6 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 " It comes to one thing in the end," 
 said Bond, " if you value your peace of mind. 
 But even then you can put the best face 
 on it." 
 
 Whyland sighed. " You mean that there 
 is some choice between my bribing them and 
 their blackmaihng me? Well, I expect I may 
 slip down several pegs this coming year — 
 morally." 
 
 Abner drew away. He was absolutely 
 without any intimacy with the intricacies of 
 civic finances. He merely saw a man — ^his 
 host — ^who seemed cynically to be avowing his 
 own corruption and shame, — or at least his 
 wiUingness to lean in that direction. 
 
 " Reform," he announced grandly, " will 
 come only from the disinterested efiforts of 
 those who bring to the task pure motives and 
 unimpeachable practices." 
 
 Whyland sighed again. He thought of his 
 realty interests in town, as they lay exposed to 
 spoliation, to confiscation. " I am afraid I 
 shall not be a reformer," he said, in discour- 
 agement. 
 
 Abner shook a condemnatory head in full 
 corroboration. And Whyland, who may have 
 been looking for a prop to wavering princi- 
 ples, shook his own head too. 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE S7 
 
 X 
 
 " Don't work so hard at it," said Medora, 
 laying her violin on top of the pianola. " You 
 shake the house. A minute more and you'll 
 have that lamp toppling over. And you'll tire 
 yourself out." 
 
 Abner vi^iped his damp brow and felt of his 
 wilted collar. He never put less than his whole 
 self into anything he attempted. " Tire my- 
 self? I'm strong enough, I guess." 
 
 " Well, use your strength to better advan- 
 tage. Let me show you." 
 
 Medora slipped into his place, reset the 
 roll, pulled a stop or two, and trod out a dozen 
 ringing measures with no particular effort. 
 " Like that." 
 
 " Very well," said Abner, resuming his 
 seat docilely. The rest wondered; he seldom 
 welcomed suggestions or accepted correction. 
 
 " Now let's try it once more," said Me- 
 dora. 
 
 An evening devoted to literature was end- 
 ing with a bit of music. Abner and Bond had 
 both read unpublished manuscripts with the 
 fierce joy that authors feel on such occasions, 
 and the others had listened with patience if 
 not with pleasure. Abner gave two or three 
 5 
 
58 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 of the newest chapters of Regeneration, and 
 Bond read a few pages to show what progress 
 an alien romanticist was making in homely 
 fields nearer at hand. He had hoped for Ab- 
 ner's encouragement and approval in this new 
 venture of his, but he got neither. 
 
 " The way to write about cows in a pas- 
 ture," commented Abner, " is just to write 
 about them — in a simple, straightforward 
 style without any slant toward history or 
 mythology, and without any cross-references 
 to remote scenes of foreign travel. For in- 
 stance, you speak of a Ranz " 
 
 " Ranz des Vaches," said Medora: " a sort 
 of thing the Alpine what's-his-name sings." 
 
 " It's for atmosphere," said Bond, on the 
 defensive. 
 
 " Let the pasture furnish its own atmos- 
 phere. And you had something about a cer- 
 tain breed of cattle near Rome — Rome, was 
 it?" 
 
 " Roman Campagna. Travel reminis- 
 cences." 
 
 " Travel is a mistake," declared Abner. 
 
 " So it is," broke in Clytie. " Squat on 
 your own door-step, as Emerson says." 
 
 " Does he? — I think not," interposed 
 Giles the elder. " What he does say is " 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 5g 
 
 "We all know," interrupted Stephen, 
 " and ignore the counsel." 
 
 Abner did not know, but he would not 
 stoop to ask. " And there was a quotation 
 from one of those old authors, — ^Theocritus? " 
 
 " Theocritus, yes. Historical perspec- 
 tive." 
 
 " Leave the past alone. Live in the pres- 
 ent. The past, — bury it, forget it." 
 
 " So hard. Heir of the ages, you know. 
 Good deal harder to forget than never to have 
 learned at all. That's easy," jibed Bond, with 
 a touch of temper. 
 
 " Oh, now! " cried Medora, fearful that an- 
 other temper might respond. 
 
 " If you must bring in those old Greeks," 
 Abner proceeded, " take their method and let 
 the rest drop. All they knew, as I understand 
 it, they learned from men and things close 
 round them and from the nature in whose 
 midst they lived. They didn't quote; they 
 didn't range the world; they didn't go for sanc- 
 tion outside of themselves and their own en- 
 vironment." 
 
 " The Greeks didn't know so much," in- 
 terjected Clytie. 
 
 " Oh, didn't they, though! " cried Adrian, 
 sending a glance of thanks to counteract his 
 
6o UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 contradiction. " They finished things. The 
 temple wasn't complete till they had swept all 
 the marble chips off the back stoop, and had 
 kind of curry-combed down the front yard, and 
 had " 
 
 " 'Sh, 'sh! " said Medora. Abner looked 
 about, more puzzled than offended. " Let's 
 have some music, before our breasts get too 
 savage," said the girl, starting up. 
 
 Bond followed with the rest. " I'll stick 
 to my regular field," he said to Clytie, as he 
 thrust his crumpled-up manuscript into his 
 pocket. " Grififins, gorgons, hydras, chimeras 
 dire, — but no more cows. I was never meant 
 for a veritist." 
 
 " Samson is pulling down the temple," ob- 
 served Clytie. " Crash goes the first pillar. 
 Who will be next? " 
 
 " He'll be caught in the wreck," said Bond, 
 in a shattered voice. " Just watch and see." 
 
 XI 
 
 Medora, long before Abner had learned 
 to work the pedals of the pianola and to wrench 
 any expression from its stops, had banished 
 most of her " rolls " from sight. " Siegfried's 
 Funeral March " was unintelligible to him; the 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 6l 
 
 tawdry, meretricious Italian overtures filled 
 him with disgust. In the end the two confined 
 themselves to patriotic airs and old-time do- 
 mestic ditties. Medora accompanied on her 
 second-best violin (which was kept at the 
 farm) and Abner enjoyed a heart-warming 
 sense of doing his full share in " Tenting To- 
 night " or "Lily Dale." The girl's parents 
 had advanced far beyond this stage, but will- 
 ingly relapsed into it now and then for Auld 
 Lang Syne. 
 
 The final roll wound up with a quick snap. 
 
 "Well, you haven't told me what you 
 thought of that last chapter," said Abner, put- 
 ting the roll back in its box. He made no 
 demand on Medora's interest to the exclusion 
 of that of the others, however. His general 
 glance around invited comment from any 
 quarter. He had merely looked at her first. 
 
 " M — no," said Medora. 
 
 The girl, a few weeks before, had looked 
 over The Rod of the Oppressor. The Rod's 
 force had made itself felt most largely on 
 economics; but in its blossoming it had put 
 forth a few secondary sprigs, and one of these 
 curled over in the direction of domestic life, 
 of marital relation. Abner's chivalry — a chiv- 
 alry totally guiltless of gallantry — had gone 
 
62 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 out to the suffering wife doomed to a lifelong 
 yoking with a cruel, coarse-natured husband: 
 must such a yoking be lifelong? he asked ear- 
 nestly. Was it not right and just and reason- 
 able that she should fly (with or without com- 
 panion) — nor be too particular over the for- 
 malities of her departure? Medora had smiled 
 and shaken her head; but now the question 
 somehow seemed less remote than before. 
 She paused over this bird-like irresponsibility 
 and rather wondered that it should have the 
 power to detain her. 
 
 The new chapters of Regeneration had taken 
 up the same matter and had displayed it in a 
 somewhat different light. Abner had got hold 
 of the idea of limited partnership and had 
 sought to apply it, in roundabout fashion, to 
 the matrimonial relation. His treatment, far 
 from suggesting an academic aloofness, was 
 as concrete as characterization and conversa- 
 tion could make it; no one would have sup- 
 posed, at first glance, that what chiefly moved 
 him was a chaste abstract Platonic regard for 
 the whole gentler sex. In short, people — such 
 seemed to be his thesis — might very advan- 
 tageously separate, and most informally too, 
 as soon as they discovered they were incom- 
 patible. 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 63 
 
 " M— no," said Medora. 
 
 "Wouldn't that be rather upsetting?" 
 asked her mother. Mrs. Giles was an easy- 
 going old soul, from whom art, as personified 
 by her own children, got slight consideration, 
 and to whom literature, as embodied in a 
 stranger, was little less than a joke. " Would- 
 n't it result in a good deal of a mix-up? What 
 would have happened to you youngsters if 
 your father and I had all at once taken it into 
 our heads to " 
 
 " Mother! " said Medora. 
 
 "Oh, well," began Mrs. Giles, with the 
 idea of making a gradual descent after her sud- 
 den aerial flight. " But, then," she resumed, 
 " you must see that " 
 
 " Mother! " said Medora again. Abner, 
 eager to defend his thesis, looked round in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 " I agree with Mrs. Giles completely," 
 spoke up Clytie, with much promptitude. 
 " When I get married I want to get married 
 for good. Most of the people I know are mar- 
 ried in that way, and I believe it's the most 
 satisfactory way in the loilg run ■" 
 
 " But " began Abner polemically. 
 
 Clytie shook her head. " No, it won't do. 
 You've offered us the ballot, and we don't 
 
64 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 want it. And you've offered us — this, and 
 we don't want that either. Consider it de- 
 clined." 
 
 Abner stared at Clytie's brazen httle face 
 and dishked her more than ever. 
 
 " But don't you think " began Abner, 
 
 turning to Bond. 
 
 Bond shook his head slowly and made_ no 
 comment. 
 
 Abner looked round at Medora. She was 
 ranging the music-roll boxes in an orderly 
 row. Nobody could have been more intent 
 upon her work. 
 
 " Well, it stands, all the same," said Abner 
 defiantly. 
 
 XII 
 
 The clear, placid weather had been waiting 
 several days for Sunday to come and possess 
 it, and now Sunday was here. The young peo- 
 ple stood bareheaded on the porch and looked 
 down toward the village. 
 
 " Do I hear the church bells? " asked Ab- 
 ner. He was a punctilious observer of Sab- 
 bath ordinances and always reached a state 
 of subdued inner bustle shortly after the fin- 
 ish of the Sunday breakfast. 
 
 " We sometimes make them out," replied 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 65 
 
 Stephen Giles, " when the wind happens to 
 blow right." 
 
 " We are all going down this morning, I 
 suppose? " observed Abner, confidently taking 
 the initiative. 
 
 " I expect so," replied Giles. 
 
 " Count me out," said Clytie. 
 
 " You do not go to church? " asked Ab- 
 ner. 
 
 " Not often." 
 
 " You have no religion? " 
 
 " Yes, I have," replied Clytie, with much 
 pomp: "the religion of humanity." 
 
 " You run and get your things on," said 
 Medora. " You'll find as much humanity at 
 the First Church as you will anywhere else." 
 
 The party set out in two vehicles. Old Mr. 
 Giles drove one and the " hired man " the 
 other. Clytie, despite her best endeavours to 
 go in company with Bond, found herself asso- 
 ciated with Abner, and a spirit of unchristian 
 perversity took complete possession of her. 
 
 She cast her eye about, viewing the pros- 
 perous country-side, the well-kept farms, the 
 modest comfort symboHzed in her host's 
 equipage itself. 
 
 " You're a great sufferer, Mr. Giles," she 
 said suddenly; " aren't you? " 
 
66 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 The old gentleman let the lines fall slackly 
 on the fat backs of his sleek horses. " How? 
 What's that? " 
 
 " I say you're a great sufferer. You're a 
 downtrodden slave." 
 
 "Why, am I? How do you make that 
 out? " 
 
 " Well, if you don't know without having 
 it explained to you! The world is against 
 you — it's making a doormat of you." 
 
 Medora looked askant. What was the 
 child up to now? 
 
 " Poor father," she said. " If he hasn't 
 found it out yet, don't tell him." 
 
 " No wonder he hasn't found it out," re- 
 turned Clytie, making a sudden veer. " Is he 
 suffering for lack of fresh air and pure water? 
 And does he have to pay an extra price for sun- 
 light? And must he herd in a filthy slum full 
 of awful plumbing and crowded by more awful 
 neighbours? Does he have to put up with 
 municipal neglect and corruption, and worry 
 along on make-believe milk and doctored 
 bread and adulterated medicines, and endure 
 long hours in unsanitary places under a tyran- 
 nical foreman and in constant dread of 
 fines ? " 
 
 Abner was beginning to shift uneasily 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 67 
 
 upon his seat. " Clytie, please! " said Medora, 
 laying her hand upon the other's. 
 
 " Well, they're realities! " declared Clytie 
 stoutly. 
 
 " They're not my realities," growled Ab- 
 ner, without turning round. 
 
 " Can we pick and choose our realities? " 
 asked Clytie sharply. " Well, if you are at 
 liberty to pick yours, I am at liberty to pick 
 mine. Yes, sir, I'll go to that settlement right 
 after New- Year's, and I'll have a class in 
 basket-making and hammock-weaving before 
 I'm a month older." 
 
 " It will take more than basket-making to 
 set the world right," said Abner. 
 
 " Basket-making is enough to teach boys 
 the use of their hands and to keep them off 
 the street at night," sputtered Clytie. 
 
 " Clytie, please! " said Medora once more. 
 
 Clytie fell into silence and nursed her wrath 
 through a long service and through a hearty 
 rustic sermon from the text, " Peace on earth, 
 goodwill toward men." Abner, in exacerbated 
 mood, watched her narrowly throughout, that 
 he might tax her, if possible, with a humorous 
 attitude toward the preacher or a quizzical 
 treatment of his flock. He had not yet par- 
 doned her " ways " along Main Street, on the 
 
68 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 occasion of one or two shopping excursions. 
 She had not hesitated to banter the admiring 
 young clerks that held their places behind 
 those shop-fronts of galvanized iron in simula- 
 tion of red brick and of cut limestone, and she 
 had been startlingly free in her accosting of 
 several time-honoured worthies encountered 
 on the dislocated plank walks outside. 
 " Now," said Abner, " if she sniggers at that 
 old deacon's whiskers or says a single face- 
 tious word about the best bonnets of any of 
 
 these worthy women round about us " 
 
 But Clytie, outwardly, was propriety itself. 
 Inwardly she was revolving burning plans to 
 show Abner Joyce that none of his despising, 
 disparaging, discouraging words could have 
 the least power to move her from her purpose; 
 and on the way back to the farm she declared 
 herself — to Bond, in whose company, this 
 time, she had contrived to be; — they sat on the 
 back seat together. 
 
 " That's what I'll do," she stated, with 
 great positiveness. " I'll go right over there 
 as soon as I get back to town. I don't care 
 if the streets are dirty, and the street-cars 
 dirtier; and if I have to look after my own 
 room, why, I will. I'll take along my biggest 
 trunk and my full-length mirror and the very 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 69 
 
 pick of my new clothes You know they 
 
 like to have us dress; it interests them, — they 
 take it as a great compliment " 
 
 "And all for Abner Joyce!" said Bond. 
 " Another pillar of the temple tottering, eh? 
 and trying to brace itself against the modem 
 Samson." 
 
 " Not one bit! Not one speck! " cried 
 Clytie. "Only " 
 
 " Well, there are others," said Bond. " I'm 
 prostrate already, as you know. And Why- 
 land, only a few mornings back, got a good 
 jar that will help finish him, I'm thinking." 
 
 " Did he? And there's Aunt Eudoxia too. 
 If you could have seen how discouraged she 
 was after she came home from that first meet- 
 ing with him, when he took the wind out of 
 her training-school " 
 
 " But he isn't going to jar you? He isn't 
 going to cause you to totter? " 
 
 "Not a jar! Not a tot! You'll see 
 whether " 
 
 " Your object, then, is to show how much 
 stronger you are than I am? " 
 
 Clytie suddenly paused in her impetuous 
 rush. " Adrian," she breathed, with plaintive 
 contrition, " I wish you wouldn't say such 
 things — no, nor even think them," 
 
70 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 Her fierce alertness fled. She leaned a lit- 
 tle toward him, droopingly, a poor, feeble, 
 timid child in need of some strong man to 
 shield her from the rough world. 
 
 The other carriage reached home first. 
 Medora alighted gaily on the horse-block. 
 Abner helped her down with an earnest en- 
 deavour not to seem too attentive. 
 
 "Come," she said; "let's see how those 
 pies have turned out — Cordelia is so absent- 
 minded." 
 
 And Abner followed gladly. 
 
 XIII 
 
 Christmas-day came with a slight flurry 
 of snow. There was also a slight flurry in 
 society: the Why lands drove over to the farm- 
 house for dinner. 
 
 Medora had suggested their presence to 
 her mother, and Clytie had supported the sug- 
 gestion: " the more the merrier," she declared. 
 Why land himself had jumped at the opportu- 
 nity eagerly, and his wife, who had met Me- 
 dora a number of times at the studio and in 
 Paris and liked her, acquiesced after the due 
 interposition of a few objections. 
 
 " About the children " she began. 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 7 1 
 
 " They can take dinner with Murdock and 
 his wife for once in their lives." 
 
 " I don't know whether I can be said to 
 have called regularly on Mrs. Giles " 
 
 " Is Christmas-day a time for such sophis- 
 tications? And do you think that plain, simple 
 people, like the Gileses " 
 
 Mrs. Whyland allowed herself to be per- 
 suaded — as she had designed from the start. 
 She had no great fancy for a solitary Christmas 
 dinner, such as her husband's rural tastes had 
 so often condemned her to; besides, this new 
 arrangement would give her an opportunity to 
 take a look at Miss Clytie Summers, of whom 
 she had heard things. 
 
 Medora received Edith Whyland with 
 some empressement ; she regarded her guest 
 as the model of all that the young urban ma- 
 tron should be. Mrs. Whyland was rather lan- 
 guid, rather elegant, rather punctilious, rather 
 evangelical, and Abner Joyce, before he real- 
 ized what was happening to him, was launched 
 upon a conversation with a woman who, as 
 Clytie Summers intimated at the first opportu- 
 nity, was really high in good society. 
 
 " One of the swells, I suppose you mean," 
 said Abner. 
 
 " I mean nothing of the kind- Swell so- 
 
72 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 ciety is one thing and good society is another. 
 If you don't quite manage to get good society, 
 you do the next best thing and take swell so- 
 ciety. Vm swell," said Clytie humbly. " But 
 I'm going to be something better, pretty 
 soon," she added hopefully. 
 
 Abner had his little talk with Edith Why- 
 land, all unteased by consideration of the im- 
 perceptible nuances and infinitesimal grada- 
 tions that characterize the social fabric. He 
 thought her rather quiet and inexpressive; but 
 he felt her to be a good woman, and was in- 
 clined to like her. She dwelt at some length 
 on Dr. McElroy's Christmas sermon, and it 
 presently transpired that, whether in town or 
 country, she made it a point to attend services. 
 Abner, who for some dim reason of his own 
 had expected little from the wife of Leverett 
 Whyland, put down as mere calumnies the re- 
 ports that made her " fashionable." Through 
 the dinner he talked to her confidently, almost 
 confidentially; with half the bulk of Eudoxia 
 Pence she made twice the impression; and by 
 the time the feast had reached the raisins and 
 hickory-nuts his tongue, working independ- 
 ently of his will, was promising to call upon 
 her in town. 
 
 This outcome was highly gratifying to Me- 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 73 
 
 dora — it was just the one, in fact, that she had 
 hoped to bring about. City and country, oil 
 and water were mixing, and she herself was 
 acting as the third element that made the 
 emulsion possible. From her place down the 
 other side of the table she kept her eyes and 
 ears open for all that was going on. She saw 
 with joy that Abner was almost chatting. He 
 had given over for the present the ponderous 
 consideration of knotty abstractions; he totally 
 forgot the unearned increment; and what he 
 was offering to quiet and self-repressed Edith 
 Whyland was being accepted — thanks to the 
 training and temperament of his hearer — for 
 " small talk." Yes, Abner had broken a large 
 bill and was dealing out the change. He knew 
 it; he was a little ashamed of it; yet at the 
 same time he looked about with a kind of shy 
 triumph to see whether any one were com- 
 menting upon his address. 
 
 To tell the truth, Abner felt his success to 
 such a degree that presently he began to pre- 
 sume upon it. He had heard about the chil- 
 dren, left behind for a lonely dinner with the 
 farm superintendent, and he began to scent 
 cruelty and injustice in their progenitors. The 
 wrongs of the child — they too had their share 
 in keeping our generous Abner in his peren- 
 
 6 
 
74 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 nial state of indignation. He became didactic, 
 judicial, hortatory; Edith Whyland almost 
 questioned her right to be a mother. But she 
 understood the spirit that prompted this in- 
 tense young man's admonitions and exhorta- 
 tions; his feelings did him credit. She made 
 a brief and quiet defence of herself, and 
 thought no worse of Abner for his champion- 
 ship, however mistaken, of distressed child- 
 hood. He understood and pardoned her; she 
 understood and pardoned him. And the more 
 she thought things over, the more — despite 
 his heckling of her — she liked him. 
 
 " He's a fine, serious fellow, my dear," she 
 said to Medora, " and I'm glad to have met 
 him." 
 
 Medoi'a flushed, wondering why Edith 
 Whyland should have spoken just — just like 
 that. And Edith, noting Medora's flush, con- 
 siderately let the matter drop. 
 
 Mrs. Whyland also looked over Clytie 
 Summers, and found no serious harm in her. 
 " She is rather underbred — or ' modern,' I 
 suppose I should call it, and she's more or less 
 in a state of ferment; but I dare say she will 
 come out all right in the end. However, my 
 Evelyn shall never be taken through the 
 slums: I think Leverett will be willing to draw 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 75 
 
 the line tTiere." And, " Remember! " she said 
 to Abner, as she drove away. 
 
 Medora was delighted. She saw two steps 
 into the future. Abner should call on Mrs. 
 Whyland. And he should read from his own 
 works at Mrs. Whyland's house. Why not? 
 He read with much justness and expression; 
 he was thoroughly accustomed to facing an 
 audience. Indeed he had lately spoken of 
 meditating a public tour, in order to familiar- 
 ize the country with This Weary World and 
 The Rod of the Oppressor and the newer work 
 still unfinished. Well, then: the reading-tour, 
 like one or two other things, should begin at 
 home. 
 
 While these generous plans pulsed through 
 the girl's heart and brain Abner, all unaware 
 of the future now beginning to overshadow 
 him, was out in the stable considering the case 
 of a lame horse and inveighing against the 
 general irksomeness of rural conditions. He 
 threw back his abundant hair as he rose from 
 the study of a dubious hoof, — a Samson un- 
 conscious of the shining shears that threatened 
 him. 
 
76 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 XIV 
 
 Abner, on his return to town, found its 
 unpleasant precincts more crowded than ever 
 with matters of doubtful expediency and pro- 
 priety. Not that he felt the strain of any temp- 
 tation; he knew that he was fully capable of 
 keeping himself unspotted from the world — 
 the world of urban society — if only people 
 would leave him alone. Two dangers stood 
 out before all others: his impending call upon 
 Mrs. Whyland and the approaching annual 
 fancy-dress ball of the Art Students' League. 
 He had rashly committed himself to the one, 
 and his officious friends of the studios were 
 rapidly pushing him upon the other. He must 
 indeed present himself beneath the roof of a 
 man whom he could not regard as a " good 
 citizen," and must thus seem to approve his 
 host's improper composition, now imminent, 
 with the powers that be; but he should bestir 
 himself to withstand the pressure exerted by 
 Giles, by Medora herself, by Bond, by mis- 
 chievous Clytie Summers, by the whole idle 
 horde of studio loungers to force him into such 
 an atmosphere of frivolity, license and dissipa- 
 tion as could not but inwrap one of those wild 
 student " dances." 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 'JJ 
 
 " We should so like to have you present," 
 said Medora. " It will be rather bright and 
 lively, and you would be sure to meet any 
 number of pleasant people. You would enjoy 
 it, I know." 
 
 Abner shook his head. Fancy him, a seri- 
 ous man, with a reputation to nourish and to 
 safeguard, caught up in any such fandango as 
 that! 
 
 " I have never attended a dancing-party 
 yet," he said. " I couldn't waltz if my life de- 
 pended on it. And I wouldn't, either." 
 
 " You needn't," said Medora. " But you 
 would be interested in the grand march. 
 It's always very pictorial, and the girls are 
 arranging to have it more so than ever this 
 year." 
 
 Abner shook his head again. " I have 
 tiever had any fancy togs on. I — I couldn't 
 wear anything like that." 
 
 " You needn't. A great many of the gen- 
 tlemen go in simple evening dress." 
 
 Abner shook his head a third time. " I 
 thought you understood my principles on that 
 point. Dress is a badge, an index. I could 
 not openly brand myself as having surrendered 
 to the— to the " 
 
 Medora sighed. " You are making a great 
 
78 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 many difficulties," she said. " But you will 
 call on Mrs. Why land? " 
 
 " I have promised, and I shall do so," he 
 said, with all the good grace of a despairing 
 bear caught in a trap. 
 
 " I think she suggested some — some after- 
 noon? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You will go at about half-past four or 
 five, possibly? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Abner suddenly saw himself as he was six 
 months before: little likelihood then of his de- 
 voting an afternoon — fruitful working hours 
 of a crowded day — to the demands of mere 
 social observances. Which of his Readjusters 
 would have had the time or the inclination to 
 do as he had bound himself to do? But now 
 he was " running " less with reformers than 
 with artists, and these ill-regulated spendthrift 
 folk were prone to break up the day and send 
 its fragments broadcast as they would, with- 
 out forethought, scruple, compunction. 
 
 One day before long, then, Abner buttoned 
 his handsome double-breasted frock-coat 
 across his capacious chest and put on a neat 
 white lawn tie and sallied forth to call on Edith 
 Whyland. The day was sunny — almost de- 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 79 
 
 ceptively so — and Abner, who knew the good 
 points in his own figure and was glad to dis- 
 pense with a heavy overcoat whenever pos- 
 sible, limited his panoply to a soft felt hat and 
 a pair of good stout gloves. The wind came 
 down the lake and sent the waves in small 
 splashes over the gray sea-wall and teased the 
 bare elms along the wide, winding roadway, 
 and tousled Abner's abundant chestnut mous- 
 tache and reddened his ruddy cheeks and 
 nipped his vigorous nose — all as a reminder 
 that January was here and ought not to be dis- 
 regarded. But Abner was thinking less of 
 meteorological conditions than of Mrs. Why- 
 land's butler. He knew he could be brusquely 
 haughty toward this menial, but could he be 
 easy and indifferent? Yet was it right to seem 
 coolly callous toward another human crea- 
 ture? But, on the other hand, might not a 
 cheery, informal friendliness, he wondered, as 
 his hand sought the bell-push, be miscon- 
 strued, be ridiculed, be resented, be taken ad- 
 vantage of . . . 
 
 The door was opened by a subdued young 
 woman who wore a white cap and presented a 
 small silver tray. Abner, who dispensed with 
 calling cards on principle and who would have 
 blushed to read his own name in script on a 
 
80 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 piece of white cardboard, asked in a stern 
 voice if Mrs. Whyland was at home. The 
 maid dropped the tray into the folds of her 
 black dress; she seemed habituated enough to 
 the sudden appearance of the cardless. She 
 looked up respectfully, admiringly — she had 
 opened the door for a good many gentlemen, 
 but seldom for so magnificent and masterful a 
 creature as Abner — and said yes. But alas for 
 the credit of her mistress and of her mistress' 
 household: here was a lordly person who had 
 arrived with the open expectation of meeting 
 a " man " who should " announce " him! 
 
 Abner had come full of subject-matter; he 
 knew just what he was going to say. And 
 during the interval before Mrs. Whyland's ap- 
 pearance he should briefly run over his prin- 
 cipal points. But he found Mrs. Whyland 
 already on the ground. Nor was she alone. 
 Two or three other ladies were chatting with 
 her on minor topics, and before all of these 
 had gone others arrived to take their places. 
 Not a moment did he spend with her alone; 
 briefly, it was her " day." 
 
 These ladies referred occasionally to mat- 
 ters musical and artistic — somebody had given 
 a recital, somebody else was soon to exhibit 
 certain pictures — but they had little to say 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 8 1 
 
 about books and they made no recognition of 
 Abner as an author. " More of this artificial 
 social repression," he thought. " Why should 
 they be afraid of ' boring ' me, as they word it? 
 They bore Bond — they are always buzzing 
 Giles; I think I could endure a word or two." 
 His eye roamed over the rich but subdued fur- 
 nishings of the room. " No wonder that all 
 spontaneity should be smothered hefe! " And 
 when literary topics were finally broached he 
 experienced less of comfort than of indigna- 
 tion. A sweet little woman moaned that she 
 had attempted an authors' reading, but that 
 her authors could not command a proper de- 
 gree of attention from her guests. Her eyes 
 flashed indignantly as she called to mind the 
 ways of the people she had presuniptuously 
 ventured to entertain. " They were swells," 
 she murmured bitterly. "Yes, swells; — it's 
 a harsh word, but not undeserved. I never 
 tried having so many people of that particular 
 sort before, and they simply overrode me. 
 They banded against me; being quite in the 
 majority, they could keep one another in coun- 
 tenance. My poor authors were offended at 
 the open way in which they were ignored. 
 Poor dear Edward scarcely knew what to do 
 with such a " 
 
82 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 The plaintive little creature lapsed into si- 
 lence; great must have been her provocation 
 thus to speak of her own guests. Abner's eyes 
 blazed; his blood boiled with indignation. 
 Such treatment constituted an affront to all 
 art, to his own art — literature, to himself. 
 
 " I have heard of cases of that sort before," 
 he blurted out. " Mr. Giles told me of one 
 only yesterday. The victim in this case was 
 a young gentlewoman " — Abner's lips ca- 
 ressed this taking word — " a young gentle- 
 woman from the South. She had come to one 
 of those houses " — everybody, with the help 
 of Abner's tone, saw the insolent front of the 
 place — " to tell some dialect stories and to 
 sing a few little songs. The mob — it was 
 nothing less — could hardly be reduced to 
 order. All those people had seen one another 
 the day before, and they were all going to see 
 one another the day to follow, yet talk they 
 would and must and did. Engagements, mar- 
 riages, acceptances, excuses, compliments, tit- 
 tle-tattle, personalities — a rolling flood of chat- 
 ter and gossip. Mrs. Pence took her people 
 for what they were, apparently, and kept up 
 with the best of them herself. Now and then 
 her husband would do a little feeble something 
 to quiet the tempest, and then the poor girl. 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 83 
 
 half crying with mortification, would attempt 
 to resume her task. With her last word the 
 flood would instantly rise and obliterate her 
 once more " 
 
 Abner's voice vibrated with a hot anger 
 over this indignity put upon a fellow " artist." 
 His view of literature was sacramental, sacer- 
 dotal. All should reverence the altar; none 
 should insult the humblest neophyte. Mrs. 
 Whyland indulgently overlooked his reckless 
 use of names and liked him none the less; and 
 the little lady who had suffered on a similar 
 occasion, though in a different role, gave him 
 a glance of thanks. 
 
 " I know the type," said Mrs. Whyland. 
 " It is commoner than it should be ; others of 
 us besides are much too thoughtless. You 
 had too many at a time, my dear," she went on 
 quietly. " A few scattered grains of gunpow- 
 der do no great harm, but a large number of 
 them massed together will blow anything to 
 ruin. Our motto should be, ' Few but fit,' eh? 
 Or ought I to say, ' Fit though few '? " 
 
 Abner stayed on, and finally the last of the 
 ladies rose to go. Abner was just about to 
 throw open the stable door, preparatory to 
 giving his hobbies an airing, when a latch-key 
 was heard operating in the front door of the 
 
84 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 house itself. Then came a man's quick step, a 
 tussle with a heavy winter overcoat, and Why- 
 land himself appeared on the threshold. 
 
 He came in, tingling, exhilarated, cordial. 
 His cordiality overflowed at once; he asked 
 Abner to remain to dinner. 
 
 Abner had not looked for this; a mere call 
 was as far as he had meant to go. He parried, 
 he evaded, he shuffled toward the door. 
 
 " But where's your overcoat? " asked 
 Whyland, looking about. 
 
 " I didn't wear one." 
 
 " On such a day as this! " exclaimed Edith. 
 
 " I am strong," said Abner. 
 
 " You'll find our winter stronger," said 
 Whyland. " You are not out there in the 
 country a hundred miles back from the lake. 
 You must stay, of course." 
 
 Still Abner moved toward the door. 
 Could any city man be as friendly as Whyland 
 seemed? " It will be colder later on," he sub- 
 mitted. 
 
 " Our welcome will never be warmer." 
 Whyland looked toward his wife — their rustic 
 appeared to be exacting the observance of all 
 the forms. 
 
 " You will stay, of course," said Edith 
 Whyland; " I have hardly had a word with 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 8$ 
 
 you. And when you do go, it must be in a 
 cab." 
 
 Abner succumbed. He was snared, as he 
 felt. Other rooms, still more handsomely, 
 more lavishly appointed, seemed to yawn for 
 him. And then came crystal and silver and 
 porcelain and exquisite napery and the rare 
 smack of new and nameless dishes to help bind 
 him hard and fast. Abner was in a tremor; 
 his first compromise with Mammon was at 
 hand. 
 
 XV 
 
 Abner accepted his environment; after all, 
 he might force the conversation to soar far 
 above the mere materialities. His hobbies be- 
 gan to poke forth their noses, to whinny, to 
 neigh; but some force stronger or more dex- 
 terous than himself seemed to be guiding the 
 talk, and the name of Medora Giles began 
 to mingle with the click of silver on china 
 and to weave itself into the progress of the 
 service. 
 
 " A very sweet girl," declared Edith Why- 
 land. " Nothing pleased me more than her 
 nice domestic ways at the farm. I had got 
 the impression in Paris that, though she was 
 quite the pride of their little coterie, she 
 
86 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 was not exactly looked upon as practical, — 
 not considered particularly efficient, in a 
 word." 
 
 Abner's thoughts instantly reverted to the 
 farm-house kitchen. What were the paid serv- 
 ices of menials, however deft and practised, 
 compared with the intimate, personal exer- 
 tions, the — the — yes, the ministrations of a 
 woman like Medora Giles? 
 
 " She was probably just waiting for the 
 chance," said Whyland heartily. " You don't 
 often find talent and real practicality combined 
 in one girl as they are in Miss Giles. Even 
 httle Clytie Summers " 
 
 " We must not disparage little Clytie," 
 said his wife gravely. 
 
 "Oh, Clytie!" returned Whyland, giving 
 his head a careless, sidelong jerk. " Still, 
 she's good fun." He laughed. " That child 
 is always breaking out in some new place. 
 The next place will probably be the students' 
 ball. You'll be there to see? " he inquired of 
 Abner. 
 
 " No wine, thank you," said Abner to the 
 maid, placing his broad hand on the foot of a 
 glass already turned down. " At the ball? I 
 hardly think so. I never " 
 
 " You might find it amusing," said Mrs. 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 8/ 
 
 Whyland. " A good many of your friends 
 will be there — ourselves among them." 
 
 " Yes," said Whyland, turning his eyes 
 away from the imcontaminated glass, " my 
 wife is a patroness, or whatever they call it. 
 We go to help receive and to look on during 
 the march and to see the dancing started." 
 
 " I should like to have a hand in helping 
 Medora contrive a costume that would do her 
 justice," said Mrs. Whyland. " She is really 
 quite a beauty, and she has a great deal of dis- 
 tinction. Nothing could be better than her 
 profile and those exquisite black eyebrows." 
 Then, mindful of the presence of the children, 
 she proceeded by means of graceful periphrase 
 and carefully studied generalizations to a pres- 
 entation of Medora's mental and spiritual at- 
 tributes. She said many things, in the tone of 
 kindly, half-veiled patronage ; after all she was 
 talking to a country man about a country 
 maid. She even praised Abner himself by 
 indirection — as one strand in the general rus- 
 tic theme. The children, who caught every 
 word and put this and that together with mar- 
 vellous celerity and precision, were vastly im- 
 pressed by the attributes of the invisible par- 
 agon. They looked at Abner's bigness with 
 their own big eyes — though ignored by him. 
 
88 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 his interest being, despite his former cham- 
 pionship of them, less in children than in " the 
 child " — and envied him her acquaintance; and 
 they began to ask that very evening how soon 
 the admirable Medora might swim into their 
 ken. 
 
 The first result from Abner's dinner with 
 the Whylands was that Medora, thus formu- 
 lated by the sympathetic and appreciative 
 Edith, now became definitely crystallized in 
 his mind; the second was that he changed his 
 boarding-house. Mere crudity for its own 
 sake no longer charmed. The curtains and 
 bedspreads at the farm had served as the earli- 
 est prompters to this step, and the furnishings 
 of the Whyland interior now decided him to 
 take it. Mrs. Cole's stained and spotted lam- 
 brequin became more offensive than ever, and 
 the industrious hands of Maggie, which did 
 much more than merely to pass things at 
 table, were now less easy to endure. 
 
 " I know I'm a fastidious, ungrateful 
 wretch," he said to himself, as he saw his trunk 
 started off to a better neighbourhood and pre- 
 pared to follow it. " They've been very kind 
 to me, and little Maggie would do almost any- 
 thing for me " — little Maggie, whom he 
 treated as a mere asexual biped and hectored 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 8g 
 
 in the most lordly way, and who yet enter- 
 tained for him a puzzled, secret admiration; — 
 " but I can't stand it any longer, that's all." 
 
 A few days later Bond called at Abner's old 
 address and was referred by a grieved landlady 
 to his new one. " I don't make out Mr. 
 Joyce," said poor, hurt Mrs. Cole. 
 
 Bond went down the steps whistling, 
 "They're after me, they're after me!" in a 
 thoughtful undertone. 
 
 XVI 
 
 " Are you going to dress very much? " 
 grimaced Giles, with a precious little intona- 
 tion that caused Bond to laugh outright. 
 
 Abner, who was lounging under the Turk- 
 ish canopy, pricked up his ears to catch the 
 reply. Medora tossed aside one of her broth- 
 er's sketches and turned her eyes on Abner. 
 
 " I don't know what to do," replied Bond. 
 " We have had such a glut of Romeos and 
 Mephistos and cowboys. It has occurred to 
 me that I might go as a rough sketch — a boz- 
 setto — of a gentleman." 
 
 " How would you get yourself up for 
 that? " asked Giles. 
 
 " Just as you have often seen me. I should 
 7 
 
90 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 wear that old dress-suit with the shiny seams 
 and the frayed facings, and a shirt-front seen 
 more recently by the world than by the laun- 
 dry, and a pair of shoes already quite familiar 
 with tweeds and cheviots, and a little black 
 bow — this last as a sort of sign that I am not 
 fully in society, or if I am, only briefly at long, 
 uncertain intervals. And a black Derby hat — 
 or possibly a brown one." 
 
 Medora smiled, well pleased. This easy, 
 jocular treatment of a serious and formal sub- 
 ject was just what she wanted. It would help 
 show the listening Abner that the wearing of 
 the social uniform was nothing very formi- 
 dable after all, and did not necessarily doom 
 one's moral and spiritual fibre to utter blight 
 and ruin. 
 
 Abner set his lips. He might indeed go to 
 their wretched " fandango " in the end — they 
 had all been urging him, Stephen, Medora, 
 everybody — but never as a cheap imitation of a 
 swell so long as his own good, neat, well-made, 
 every-day wardrobe existed as it was. He had 
 turned down the wine-glass at Whyland's, and 
 he would turn down the dress-coat here. 
 
 Medora, unconscious that her precious lit- 
 tle seed had fallen, after all, on stony ground, 
 turned toward Abner with a smile — an intent. 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 9I 
 
 observing one. " Did Mrs. Whyland speak 
 to you about her ' evening '? " 
 
 " Her evening? What evening? " 
 
 " There, I knew she wouldn't dare. You 
 frightened her almost to death." 
 
 " What do you mean? " 
 
 " Why, she had been thinking of having 
 a few friends come in some night next week 
 for a little reading and some music. But you 
 were so violent in your comments on the be- 
 haviour of society that she didn't dare touch 
 upon her plan. She was meaning to ask you 
 to read two or three things from your Weary 
 World, but " 
 
 " Why " began Abner. 
 
 " Read," put in Bond. " I'm going to." 
 
 " Why," began Abner once more, " I had 
 no notion of offending her. But everything I 
 said was the truth." 
 
 " She wasn't offended," said Giles, with a 
 smile; " only ' skeered.' You must have been 
 pretty tart." 
 
 " I can't help it. It makes me so hot to 
 have such things happening " 
 
 " I know," said Giles. " We're all made 
 hot, now and then, in one way or another." 
 
 " You will read, won't you? " asked Me- 
 dora, in accents of subdued pleading. 
 
92 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 " Well, not next week," replied Abner, in 
 the tone of one who held postponement to be 
 as good as escape. " That tour of mine is 
 coming off, after all. They have arranged a 
 number of dates for me, and I shall go east- 
 ward for several readings and possibly a few 
 lectures." 
 
 " How far eastward? " asked Medora 
 eagerly. " As far as New York? " 
 
 " Maybe so," said Abner guardedly. 
 
 " How long shall you be gone? " she asked 
 with great intentness. 
 
 " A fortnight or more," purred Abner com- 
 placently, under this show of interest. " I 
 guess I can open the eyes of those Easterners 
 to a thing or two." 
 
 Medora dropped her glance thoughtfully 
 to the floor. An exchange of instruction 
 seemed impending, and she could only hope 
 that the East might prove a more considerate 
 tutor to Abner than Abner threatened to be 
 to the East. 
 
 XVH 
 
 The two long winding lines of gaily attired 
 young people joined forces and the procession 
 came marching down the hall by fours, by 
 eights, by sixteens, and Abner sat against the 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 93 
 
 wall next to Edith Whyland and watched the 
 shifting spectacle with a sort of fearful joy. 
 Eudoxia Pence, seated against the opposite 
 wall, glanced across at him, when occasion 
 once offered, and nodded and smiled, as if to 
 say, "Isn't it lovely! Isn't it fascinating!" 
 and Abner, in sudden alarm, recomposed his 
 tell-tale face and frowningly responded with a 
 grave bow. 
 
 Abner wore his double-breasted frock-coat 
 and his white lawn tie; and Edith Whyland, 
 who had come in a plain dark reception cos- 
 tume to stand in a row near the door with the 
 wives of the professors at the Art Academy, 
 now sat with him and brought him as far 
 into drawing as might be with the abounding 
 masculine figures in evening dress. Many of 
 these appeared in the march itself, along with 
 the sailors, the Indian chiefs and the young 
 blades out of Perugino. Giles passed by as a 
 Florentine noble of the late Quattrocento, in 
 a black silk robe that mufifled his slight indif- 
 ference to a function familiar from many repe- 
 titions. Little O' Grady wore his plaster- 
 flecked blue blouse over his shabby brown suit 
 and hardily announced himself as Phidias. 
 Medora walked with a languid grace as a 
 Druid priestess, and Miss Wilbur, the minia- 
 
94 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 turist, showed forth as Madame Le Brun, with- 
 out whose presence no fancy-dress ball could 
 be regarded as complete. 
 
 High above the marching host rose dozens 
 of the tall conical head-dresses of mediaeval 
 France with their dependent veils. A great 
 Parisian painter had just been exhibiting some 
 mural decorations in the galleries of the Acad- 
 emy, and half the girls, from the life class 
 down, wore candle-extinguishers on their 
 heads and trailed full robes of startlingly fig- 
 ured chintz — a material that was expected to 
 effect to the charitable eye and the friendly 
 imagination the richness of brocade. Many 
 of the younger men too had succumbed to 
 the same influence and appeared in long skin- 
 tight hose and bobby little doublets edged 
 with fur. 
 
 " How can they? How can they? " won- 
 dered Abner. 
 
 The music abruptly changed its tempo and 
 the march broke up into a waltz. Through 
 the swirling dancers a single figure, clad in 
 violet and green, zigzagged across to Eudoxia 
 Pence and bowed over her for a word or two. 
 Eudoxia moved her lips and spread out her 
 plump hands deprecatingly and shook her 
 head with a smile. 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 95 
 
 " I should hope she wouldn't," thought 
 Abner; — " not with a little squirt like that." 
 
 The figure immediately zigzagged back, 
 with the same effect of eager, inquiring haste. 
 It paused before Abner and Mrs. Whyland 
 and suddenly sidled up. Abner recognised 
 Adrian Bond. 
 
 "Clytie?" said Bond. "Has anybody 
 seen or heard anything of Clytie Summers? " 
 
 " Well, well," said Mrs. Whyland, looking 
 him over; " you are enrolled among the Bou- 
 tet de Monvel boys too, are you? " 
 
 Bond ran his eye down his slim legs with 
 fatuous complacency and fingered the fur 
 fringe of his doublet and pushed his steep flat- 
 topped cap over to a different angle. Abner 
 looked at him with contemptuous amazement 
 and would not even speak. 
 
 " Her aunt hasn't heard a word from her 
 for a week," said Bond. " That settlement has 
 claimed her, body and soul. All she does is to 
 write home for more clothes. I expect she 
 has completely forgotten all about our little 
 affair to-night. I thought of course she was 
 going to march with me, but " 
 
 And he darted away to resume his quest. 
 
 " She will come," said Mrs. Whyland. 
 " And her cap will be higher and her veil 
 
g6 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 longer and the pattern of her brocade bigger 
 and more startling than anybody else can 
 show." 
 
 Little O'Grady moved past with a Maid of 
 Astolat, who wore white cloth-of-gold and 
 carried a big lily above each ear and dropped a 
 long full-flowered stalk over her partner's 
 shoulder. Medora drifted by in company with 
 a Mexican vaquero. Her white garments flut- 
 tered famously against the other's costume of 
 yellow and black. She had let down her abun- 
 dant dark hair and then carelessly caught it 
 up again and woven into it a garland of mistle- 
 toe. She smiled on Abner with a plaintive, 
 weary lifting of her eyebrows; she appeared 
 to be " creating atmosphere " again, just as on 
 the afternoon when he had first seen her pour- 
 ing tea. She seemed a long way off. The oc- 
 casion itself removed her one stage from him, 
 and her costume another, and her bearing a 
 third. Was this the same girl who had so dex- 
 terously snatched open the stove door in that 
 farm-house kitchen and had been so active, as 
 revealed by glimpses from the corridor, in 
 beating up pillows and in casting sheets and 
 coverlets to the morning air? 
 
 The waltz suddenly ended and the Mexi- 
 can renounced Medora only a few steps be- 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 97 
 
 yond Abner. She came along and took a va- 
 cant chair next to Edith Whyland. 
 
 " Are you enjoying it? " she asked Abner. 
 
 " It is very instructive; it is most typical," 
 he replied. 
 
 The orchestra presently began again, but 
 Medora remained in her place. 
 
 " Aren't you dancing this time? " asked 
 Mrs. Whyland. 
 
 " Yes," replied Medora deliberately; " I'm 
 dancing with Mr. Joyce." 
 
 She handed Edith her card. Abner looked 
 across to her with a startled, puzzled expres- 
 sion. 
 
 " So you are," said Mrs. Whyland. 
 "J-o-y-c-e," she read, and handed the card 
 back. 
 
 " I don't care for the redowa, anyway," 
 Medora explained; "and I didn't want to 
 dance with the man that was moving along in 
 my direction to ask me. It was the only va- 
 cant line. What could I do? I looked about 
 and saw you " — to Abner — " standing by the 
 door " 
 
 " I suppose I was tall enough to see," said 
 Abner, feeling very huge and uncomfortable. 
 
 " A tower of strength, a city of refuge," 
 suggested Mrs. Whyland. 
 
98 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 " Precisely," said Medora. " So I snatched 
 a pencil out of Adrian Bond's hand — he had 
 just put himself down four times " 
 
 " What impudence! " thought Abner sav- 
 agely. 
 
 " — and scribbled this," — dropping her eye 
 on the card. " I hope you don't mind my hav- 
 ing taken your name? " she concluded. 
 
 A sudden gust of gallantry swept over Ab- 
 ner. " Let me have the card," he said. " I 
 have given my autograph a good many 
 times " — looking at" the faint pencilling — " but 
 I don't recognise this." He drew out a lead- 
 pencil and rewrote the name big and black 
 above the other. " There," he said, — " a sou- 
 venir of the occasion." He handed the card 
 back with the authentic autograph of a dis- 
 tinguished author. His name there wiped out 
 not merely one scribble but all, even to the 
 impertinent four traced by insignificant Bond. 
 A man who could pen such a signature need 
 have no regret for not being a carpet-knight 
 besides. 
 
 Medora took back her card, highly grati- 
 fied ; her cavalier had made a long stride ahead. 
 Abner himself rejoiced at his dexterity in as- 
 serting the man- — almost the man of gallantry, 
 at that — under the shield of the writer. Mrs. 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 99 
 
 Whyland kindly refrained from entering upon 
 an analysis to determine just what percentage 
 of egotism was to be detected in Abner's act, 
 and felt emboldened by such unlooked-for 
 graciousness and by the sustaining presence 
 of Medora to ask a favour for herself — that 
 " evening " was still in her mind. 
 
 " You will read, won't you? " pleaded Me- 
 dora. 
 
 "After my return from the East," ac- 
 quiesced Abner. 
 
 The two women looked at each other, well 
 pleased. 
 
 XVIII 
 
 Presently Leverett Whyland came 
 along. The cares of the urban property-owner 
 and of the gentleman farmer were alike cast 
 aside; Abner had never known him to appear 
 so natty, so buoyant, so juvenile. Another man 
 accompanied him, a man older, larger, heavier, 
 graver, with a close-clipped gray beards This 
 newcomer bowed to Mrs. Whyland with a re- 
 pression that indicated but a distant acquaint- 
 ance; and just as Medora was whisked away 
 by a new partner — it was Bond, claiming the 
 first of his four — ^Whyland introduced him to 
 Abner: " Mr. Joyce, Mr. M'm " Abner, 
 
100 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 occupied by Bond's appropriation of Medora, 
 lost the name. 
 
 " And where is Clytie? " asked Whyland, 
 looking about. " Has anybody seen or heard 
 anything of little Clytie Summers? " 
 
 " No doubt she will appear presently," said 
 his wife drily. 
 
 " And meanwhile ? " he suggested, 
 
 motioning toward the floor. 
 
 " It might not look amiss," replied his wife, 
 rising. They joined the dancers. 
 
 Abner was left alone with his new acquaint- 
 ance, who, arriving at an instant apprehension 
 of our young man's bulk, seriousness and es- 
 sential alienation from the spirit of the affair, 
 seized him as a spent and bewildered swim- 
 mer in strange waters lays hold upon some 
 massive beam that happens to be drifting past. 
 Abner clung in turn, glad to recognise a kin- 
 dred spirit in the midst of this gaudy, frivolous 
 throng. The two quickly found the common 
 ground of serious interests. The circling, 
 swinging dancers retired into the background; 
 their place was quietly taken by the Balance of 
 Trade, by the Condition of the Country, by 
 Aggregations of Capital, by Land and Labour; 
 and presently Abner was leading forth, all sad- 
 dled and bridled, the Readjusted Tax. 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE lOI 
 
 " This is something Hke," he thought. 
 
 The other made observations and com- 
 ments in a slow, grave, subdued tone. " Who 
 is he? " wondered Abner. " What can he be 
 connected with? Anyway, he's a fine, sohd 
 fellow — the kind Whyland might come to be 
 with a little trying." 
 
 Stephen Giles passed by, guiding the bil- 
 lowy undulations of Eudoxia Pence. Eu- 
 doxia had a buoyancy that more than counter- 
 acted her bulk, and she wafted about, a sub- 
 stantial vision in lemon-coloured silk, for all to 
 see. She looked at Abner's companion over 
 Giles's shoulder. 
 
 " Enjoying yourself, dear? " she asked. 
 Then she nodded to Abner and floated away. 
 
 Abner, instantly chilled, looked sidewise 
 at his companion with a dawning censorious- 
 ness in his eyes. He had probably been talk- 
 ing, for a good ten minutes and in full view of 
 the entire hall, to that arch-magnate of the 
 trusts. Palmer Pence. He began to cast about 
 for means to break up this calamitous situa- 
 tion. He welcomed the return of Leverett 
 Whyland with his wife. 
 
 " Well, Pence," said Whyland, " how has 
 the Amalgamated Association of Non-Dan- 
 cers been doing? " 
 
102 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 " Pence," Whyland had said. Yes, this 
 was the Trust man, after all. 
 
 " First-rate," returned the other briefly, 
 rising to go. " That's a fine, serious young 
 fellow," he added, for Whyland's ear alone. 
 " There's stufif in him." 
 
 " Been getting on with him, eh? " said 
 Whyland ruefully. " Well, you're in luck." 
 
 Abner glowered gloomily across the thin- 
 ning floor. Another dance had just ended and 
 Whyland had skimmed away once again. Ab- 
 ner, forgetful of the presence of Edith Why- 
 land, made indignant moan to himself over the 
 perverse fate that had led him on toward 
 friendliness with a man whose principles and 
 whose public influence he could not approve. 
 
 There was a sudden stir about the distant 
 doorway. Abner heard the clapping of hands 
 and a few hearty, jubilant yaps frankly emitted 
 by young barytone voices. " What now? " he 
 wondered, with a sidelong glance at Edith 
 Whyland. 
 
 Mrs. Whyland, herself half-risen, was look- 
 ing toward the door, like everybody else. 
 " Finally ! " she said, with a pleased sfnile, and 
 sank back into her place. 
 
 A tall, stalwart figure came through the 
 crowd amidst a storm of hand-clapping and of 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE I03 
 
 cheers. The maids of mediEeval France flut- 
 tered their long veils, and their young male 
 contemporaries waved their velvet caps. 
 
 It was a gentleman of sixty with a bunch 
 of white whiskers on either jaw and a pair of 
 flashing steel-gray eyes. He nodded brusque- 
 ly here and there and looked about with a 
 tight, fierce smile. " Hurrah! hurrah! " cried 
 all the students, from the Hfe class down to the 
 cubes and cones. 
 
 " Who is he? " asked Abner. 
 
 "Why, that's Dr. Gowdy," replied his 
 companion. " The ball would hardly be a ball 
 without him here. He has led the grand 
 march more than once " 
 
 " A man of his age and dignity! " mum- 
 bled Abner. 
 
 " — but he is late to-night, for some reason. 
 He is one of the Academy trustees," she added. 
 
 " Perhaps his patients kept him." Abner's 
 tone implied that professional duties would set 
 much more gracefully on such a figure than 
 social diversions. 
 
 " His patients? " 
 
 " Yes. You said he was a doctor." 
 
 " But not a doctor of medicine. A doctor 
 of theology." 
 
 " A minister? — a minister of the gospel? " 
 
104 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 " He is, indeed. And I " 
 
 "And you?" 
 
 " I am one of his parishioners. I sit under 
 him every Sunday." 
 
 Abner was dumb. This professing Chris- 
 tian, this pattern of evangeHcahsm, could wit- 
 ness such things without pronouncing a single 
 word of protest. " Is he going to dance? " he 
 asked finally. 
 
 " I think not. He is coming over here 
 presently to sit with me, just as you have been 
 doing. You shall meet him." 
 
 Abner was dazed. Palmer Pence, doubt- 
 less, was here under protest; but this man, his 
 superior in age, credit and renown, had ap- 
 parently come of his own free will. He sat 
 there staring at the smiling progress of the 
 Rev. William S. Gowdy through the throng 
 of jubilant students. He felt stunned, dislo- 
 cated. It was all too much. 
 
 " Well, well," he heard Mrs. Whyland say. 
 He looked about at her and then out upon the 
 clearing floor. 
 
 "Well, well," said Mrs. Whyland once 
 again. The wide, empty space before them 
 was lending itself to a second grand entree, by 
 a party of one. Clytie Summers had finally 
 arrived. 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 10$ 
 XIX 
 
 Clytie came on with the brisk and confi- 
 dent walk that she had cultivated along the 
 pavements of the shopping district, and she 
 was dressed precisely as if about to enter upon 
 one of her frequent excursions in that quarter 
 on some crisp, late-autumn afternoon. She 
 wore a very trig and jaunty tailor-made suit 
 and a stunning little garnet-velvet toque. She 
 tripped ahead in a solid but elegant pair of 
 walking-shoes and was drawing on a tan glove 
 with mannish stitchings over the back. The 
 Boutet de Monvel girls, the contemporaries of 
 Jeanne d'Arc, were immediately obliterated; 
 Clytie became the most conspicuous figure in 
 the whole big place. 
 
 She advanced tapping her heels, smooth- 
 ing her gloves, and looking every shirt-front 
 full in the face. Her forehead gathered in a 
 soft little frown ; he whom she sought was not 
 in sight. She got a glimpse of Mrs. Pence and 
 Medora Giles seated side by side in a far cor- 
 ner, and of Little O'Grady hovering near, with 
 a covetous eye upon her aunt's profile ; and she 
 took the remaining space in a quick little walk 
 that was almost a run. 
 
 "Adrian Bond?" she asked. "Tell me; 
 
 8 
 
I06 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 has anybody seen or heard anything of Adrian 
 Bond? " 
 
 " Well, Clytie child ! " exclaimed her aunt, 
 looking her over; " what's all this? " 
 
 Clytie passed her hand down the side of 
 her thick fawn-coloured skirt and readjusted 
 her toque. " These things were in that box 
 you sent me day before yesterday." 
 
 " That box from London? " 
 
 " That box from London. I thought they 
 were never coming. I wrote; I cabled; I im- 
 plored friends to go to Regent Street every 
 single day till they should be done. And here 
 they are, finally — a month late; but I'm wear- 
 ing them, all the same." 
 
 " Well, they're worth waiting for," said 
 Medora. " I suppose they are just about the 
 last word." 
 
 " Just about," replied Clytie complacently. 
 " Meanwhile, where is Adrian Bond? " 
 
 " Here he comes now," said Medora. 
 
 Clytie turned. She beheld the mediaeval 
 greens and violets. " Why, Adrian," she pro- 
 tested; "you told me you were coming dis- 
 guised as a gentleman." 
 
 " I thought better of it," said Bond. 
 
 " But," she proceeded, " I— I " She 
 
 spun round on one heel. " This is all for 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 107 
 
 you. I thought that if you were coming dis- 
 guised as a gentleman, it would be nice for 
 me to come disguised as a lady. No use," she 
 said regretfully. " Everybody knew me in a 
 minute," she added. 
 
 Bond laughed. " I thought you weren't 
 coming at all." 
 
 " But you got my note? " 
 
 " Not a word." 
 
 " Why, I wrote you how we were having 
 a ball of our own, and how I couldn't come to 
 this one till 1 had started off that one." 
 
 " What kind of a ball? " asked Mrs. Pence. 
 
 " One given by our Telephone Girls. I led 
 the grand march with a lovely young bartend- 
 er. I struck him all in a heap — can you won- 
 der? — ^and he told me just what he thought 
 of me. There wasn't much time to lead up 
 to it. He was very direct; he took a short 
 cut. Oh, I love the peoplel Why are the men 
 in our set so shy 1 " 
 
 " What did he say? " asked Bond sharply. 
 
 " Oh, never mind ! It was one of those 
 cannon-ball compliments that leave you 
 stunned and breathless, but willing to be 
 stunned again. What do you think of my 
 togs? " she asked, generally. 
 
 " Look at this jacket while it's a novelty," 
 
I08 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 she went on without waiting for any response. 
 " The girls were all tremendously taken by it; 
 I noticed a dozen of them trying to see how 
 it was made. — Oh, how do? " she said airily to 
 Abner, who came up just then. Having per- 
 ceived Medora in her remote corner, he had 
 finally summoned enough resolution to make 
 his first movement of the evening: leav- 
 ing Edith Whyland in the company of Dr. 
 Gowdy, he had succeeded in crossing the in- 
 tervening leagues alone and unaided. 
 
 Abner frowned to find this pert little piece 
 cutting in ahead of him in such a fashion. 
 " How do you do? " he responded stiffly. 
 
 " They'll all be making ones like it," Clytie 
 rattled on. " By next Sunday every street 
 from Poplar Alley to Flat-iron Park will 
 swarm with them, and not a milliner's window 
 along the length of Green-gage Road but will 
 have three or four of these toques on display. 
 Yes, sir; I'm a power in the Ward already, let 
 me tell you." 
 
 Bond placed his small hand on Abner's 
 broad shoulder. " Isn't she a winner? " he 
 murmured ecstatically. " If Medora, now, 
 could only have done something as spirited 
 and unconventional " 
 
 " I have no fault to find with Miss Giles," 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE IO9 
 
 retorted Abner in a stern undertone. "To 
 me she is perfectly satisfactory. She will al- 
 ways do the right thing in the right way, and 
 always be a lady." 
 
 Bond withdrew his hand. " Oh, come, I 
 say," he began protestingly. 
 
 Abner ignored this. " How about the 
 basket-weaving? " he asked Clytie. 
 
 "Well," Clytie responded hardily, "I 
 found plenty teaching that already. I have 
 chosen for my department instruction in tact, 
 taste, dress and manners. Such instruction is 
 badly needed, in more quarters than one." 
 
 Medora flushed. " Clytie Summers," she 
 said, the first moment that the two were alone, 
 " if ever you speak to Mr. Joyce like that again 
 you need never come to our studio nor count 
 me any longer among your acquaintances." 
 
 " Why, dear me " began Clytie, with 
 
 an affectation of puzzled innocence. 
 
 " I mean it," said Medora, with an angry 
 tear starting in her eye. " Mr. Joyce is too 
 much of a man to be treated so by a child 
 like you." 
 
 XX 
 
 Abner lingered on. He had meant to 
 leave early, but it was as easy to stay as to go; 
 
no UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 besides, he felt the stirring of a curiosity to see 
 what the closing hour of such an occasion 
 might be like. Everything, thus far, had been 
 most seemly, most decorous, full of a pleasant 
 informality and a friendly, trustful goodwill; 
 but the crucial point, he had read, always came 
 about supper-time, after which the rout turned 
 into an orgy. 
 
 Dr. Gowdy came across and launched him- 
 self upon Abner, just as he had done before, 
 when Mrs. Whyland had first made them ac- 
 quainted. He frankly admired the strength 
 and the stature of the only man in the room 
 who was taller and more robust than himself, as 
 well as the intent sobriety of his glance and the 
 laconic gravity of his speech. 
 
 " An admirable young fellow! " he had ex- 
 claimed to Edith Whyland, upon Abner's leav- 
 ing them to cross over to Medora. 
 
 "Oh yes, yes!" she had returned with 
 conviction. 
 
 " So serious." 
 
 " Oh yes," — with less emphasis. She 
 knew Abner was serious because he was puz- 
 zled. 
 
 " So grave." 
 
 " Yes," — faintly. She knew Abner was 
 grave because he was shocked. 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE III 
 
 " A painter? " 
 
 " A — an artist." 
 
 " He has personality. He will make a 
 name for himself, I am sure." 
 
 The good Doctor, now alone with Abner, 
 gave him a chance to celebrate himself, to 
 make known what there was in him. But Ab- 
 ner remained inexpressive; and the Doctor, 
 who himself was very ready of tongue and 
 who, like all fluent people, was much im- 
 pressed by reserve, presently went away with 
 a higher opinion of Abner than ever. 
 
 Medora came up, extending her card. " I 
 have secured another dance for you," she said. 
 " Mr. Bond was kind enough to give it up. 
 He will know what to do with the time. On 
 this occasion, if you please, we might walk it 
 out instead of sitting it out. At least we might 
 walk to the supper-room." 
 
 Abner rose. He had never before ofifered 
 his arm to a lady and was not sure that he 
 had ofifered it now, yet Medora's fingers rested 
 upon his coat-sleeve. For a few moments he 
 felt himself, half proudly, half uncomfortably, 
 a part of the spectacle, and then they entered 
 the room where the spare refreshments were 
 dispensed. 
 
 Medora found a place, and Abner, doing as 
 
112 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 he saw the other men do, went forward to 
 traffic across a long table with a coloured 
 waiter. He brought back to Medora what he 
 saw the other men bringing — a spoonful of 
 ice-cream with a thin slice of cake, and a cup 
 of coffee of limited size. Truly the material 
 for an orgy seemed rather scanty. 
 
 " I am glad you promised to read," said 
 Medora. " It is a favour that Mrs. Whyland 
 will appreciate very much." 
 
 Abner bowed. Surely it was a favour, and 
 appreciation was no more than his due. 
 
 " I only wish you could have seen your 
 way to being as nice to poor Mrs. Pence. I 
 overheard her — didn't I? — asking you once 
 more to call. Weren't you rather non-com- 
 mittal? Were you, strictly speaking, quite 
 civil? " 
 
 " I was as civil as those silly, chattering 
 people round her would let me be — that niece 
 of hers and the rest. I'm sure I was careful to 
 ask after her Training School." 
 
 " Oh, that's what made her look so dazed! " 
 
 " Why should it? " asked Abner, his spoon 
 checked in mid-air. 
 
 " She could hardly have expected such an 
 inquiry from you. Haven't I heard that you 
 threw her down on this training-school idea. 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE II3 
 
 and threw her down pretty hard too, the very 
 first time you met her? She wanted help, 
 sympathy, encouragement, suggestions, and 
 instead of that you gave her the — the marble 
 heart, as they say. You made her feel so feeble 
 and flimsy " 
 
 "Did I?" asked Abner gropingly. Eu- 
 doxia loomed before him in all her largeness. 
 
 " You did. She was disposed to be a 
 noble, useful worker, but now it seems as if 
 she might drop to the level of a mere social 
 leader. Do, please, treat Mrs. Whyland more 
 considerately. She means to arrange quite a 
 nice little programme, and it will be no dis- 
 advantage to you to take part in it. Mr. Bond 
 will read one or two of his travel-sketches, and 
 I may do a little something myself — a bit in 
 the way of music, perhaps." 
 
 " H'm," said Abner. " Travel-sketches? " 
 He ignored the promise of music. 
 
 " With folk-songs on the violin." 
 
 " I shall hope to oiifer something better 
 worth while than travel-sketches," said Abner. 
 " His things will hardly harmonize with mine, 
 I'm afraid; but possibly they will serve as a 
 sort of contrast." 
 
 " His things will be slight, of course, but 
 the songs will help him out. Very simple ar- 
 
114 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 rangements; people don't care much for any- 
 thing serious or heavy." 
 
 " I shall not show myself a mere frivolous 
 entertainer — a simple filler-in of the leisure 
 moments of the wealthy," said Abner. 
 
 Medora banished the vioHn — and her- 
 self. " What do you think of reading? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " One or two pieces from my first book, 
 I expect, — Jim McKay's Defeat and Less Than 
 the Beasts, with possibly one of the later chap- 
 ters in Regeneration." 
 
 " M— m," said Medora. 
 
 " You don't like Regeneration, I'm afraid ; 
 but there's going to be some good stuff in it, 
 let me tell you. People will open their eyes 
 and begin to think. This question of mar- 
 riage " 
 
 " You will read that part, then? " 
 
 " Why not? It's a vital question. It con- 
 cerns everybody, at all times." 
 
 " Yes, it always has — for thousands of 
 years." 
 
 " I don't know that I care for the thou- 
 sands of years. I care for this year and next 
 year." 
 
 "And a great deal of good thought has 
 been put into it already." 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 11$ 
 
 " But not the best. The whole subject 
 needs ventilating, shaking up." 
 
 " You would attack the fundamentals, 
 then? " 
 
 " Why not? I'm a radical. I've always 
 called myself such. I go to the root, without 
 fear, without favour." 
 
 " Still, the present arrangement, resulting 
 from the collective wisdom and experience of 
 the race . . ." said Medora, crumbling her 
 last bit of cake. 
 
 " You make me think of Bond and his ' his- 
 torical perspective.' " 
 
 " I meant to. It isn't enough to know at 
 just what point in the road we are; we must 
 know what steps we have taken, what course 
 we have traversed, to reach it." 
 
 " I never look behind. The hopes and pos- 
 sibilities of the immediate future are the things 
 that interest me. I shall read several chapters of 
 Regeneration — not merely one — on my tour." 
 
 " On your tour, yes. But for Mrs. Why- 
 land substitute something else. There was a 
 story you wrote at the farm — ^the one about 
 the girl and her step-mother " 
 
 " H'm, yes," said Abner, with less enthu- 
 siasm than he usually showed for his own 
 work. " In Winter Weather? H'm." 
 
Il6 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 This was a short tale, of a somewhat grisly 
 character, which Abner had composed during 
 the holiday season. Bond had taxed him with 
 using this work as a buffer to stave off other 
 work of a practical nature such as was abun- 
 dantly offered by Giles and his father about the 
 farm; and, to tell the truth, Abner had limited 
 his physical exertions to half-hour periods that 
 most other men would have charged to the 
 account of mere exercise. 
 
 " I might read that, I suppose," he said. 
 
 " And if there is any wild wind in it — ^why, 
 I should be on hand with my violin, you know. 
 I might be in white, as I am now, with snow- 
 flakes in my hair; — they would show, I think, 
 if this mistletoe does " 
 
 " Not that it represents my best and most 
 characteristic work," he went on, " or that it 
 bears upon any of the great problems of the 
 day . . ." 
 
 Medora dashed her spoon against her sau- 
 cer. Was there no power equal to teaching 
 this masterful, self-centred creature that a 
 woman was a woman and not a cold abstrac- 
 tion composed merely of the generalized at- 
 tributes of the race, male and female alike? 
 She had been his guide to-night, when she 
 might have left him to his own helpless floun- 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE I17 
 
 derings: might he not try now to show some 
 slight shade of interest in her as an individual, 
 at least, — as a distinct personality? 
 
 " Shall we be moving? " she suggested. 
 " It should not have taken so long to eat so 
 little." 
 
 XXI 
 
 "Well, good luck on your trip," said 
 Giles, accompanying Abner to the door of the 
 studio. 
 
 " And let us hear from you once in a 
 while," added Medora. 
 
 " Surely," said Abner. " Look for a clip- 
 ping, now and then, to show you what they 
 are saying of me." 
 
 "And for what you have to say of them 
 we must wait until your return? " said Me- 
 dora. 
 
 " Not necessarily," rejoined Abner. " I 
 might " — ^with the emission of an obscure, 
 self-conscious sound between a chortle and a 
 gasp, instantly suppressed — " I might write." 
 
 " Do, by all means," said Stephen. 
 
 "We shall follow your course with the 
 greatest interest," added Medora. 
 
 Almost forthwith began the receipt of 
 newspapers — indifferently printed sheets from 
 
Il8 UJ^DER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 minor cities scattered across Indiana and Ohio. 
 The first two or three of them came addressed 
 to Giles, but all the subsequent ones were sent 
 direct to Medora. These publications invari- 
 ably praised Abner's presence — for he always 
 towered magnificently on the lecture-platform, 
 and his delivery — for he read resoundingly 
 with a great deal of clearness and precision. 
 But they frequently deplored the sombreness 
 of his subject-matter, and as the tour came to 
 extend farther east, these objections began to 
 assume a jocular and satirical cast, until the 
 seaboard itself was reached, when newspapers 
 ceased altogether and letters began to take 
 their place. These were addressed, with com- 
 plete absence of subterfuge, to Medora, and 
 they displayed an increasing tendency toward 
 the drawing of comparisons between the East 
 and the West, with the difference more and 
 more in favour of the latter. Abner felt with 
 growing keenness the formality and insincerity 
 of an old society, its cynical note, its material- 
 istic ideals, the intrenched injustice resulting 
 from accumulated and inherited wealth, the 
 conventions that hampered initiative and froze 
 goodwill. " I shall be glad to get back West 
 again," he wrote. 
 
 Medora smiled over these observations. 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE II9 
 
 " What would the poor dear fellow think 
 of London or Paris, then, I wonder? " she 
 said. 
 
 " I am glad to see that you will come back 
 to us better satisfied with us," she wrote, — " if 
 only by comparison. Meanwhile, remember 
 that whether other audiences may be agree- 
 able or the reverse, there is one audience 
 waiting for you here with which you ought 
 to feel at home and — ^by this time — ^in sym- 
 pathy." 
 
 And indeed Abner faced Mrs. Whyland's 
 little circle, when the time finally came round, 
 with much less sense of irksomeness and re- 
 pugnance than he had expected. Some twen- 
 ty or thirty people assembled in the Whyland 
 drawing-room on one mid-March evening, 
 and he soon perceived, with a great relief, 
 that they meant to respect both him and their 
 hostess. 
 
 " There is every indication that they in- 
 tend to behave," said Bond in a reassuring 
 whisper. " Everything will go charmingly." 
 
 People arrived slowly and it was after nine 
 before the slightest evidence that anything 
 like a programme had been arranged came 
 into view. Abner, by reason of this delay, 
 would have had serious doubts of any real in- 
 
I20 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 terest in his art if a number of ladies had not 
 plied him in the interval with various little 
 compliments and attentions. He found things 
 to say in reply; he also engaged in converse 
 with a number of gentlemen, who possibly had 
 slight regard for literature but who could not 
 help respecting his size and sincerity. He 
 loomed up impressively in his frock-coat and 
 steel-gray scarf, and nobody, as in the satiric 
 East, was heard to comment on his lack of 
 conformity with the customs of " society." 
 
 " Tkh ! " said Whyland. " You have come 
 again without your overcoat, they tell me." 
 
 The lake wind was fiercely hectoring the 
 bare elm-trees .before the house, and the elec- 
 tric globes registered their tortures on the wide 
 reach of the curving roadway. 
 
 Abner tossed his head carelessly, in proud 
 boast of his own robustness. " What's three 
 blocks? " he asked. 
 
 " Come into the dining-room and have 
 something," said his host. 
 
 Abner shrank back. " You know I never 
 take wine." 
 
 "Wine!" cried Whyland. "You want 
 something different from wine. You want a 
 good hot whisky " 
 
 " No," said Abner. " No." 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 121 
 
 The male guests were mostly professional 
 men and representatives of great corporate in- 
 terests. They talked together in low under- 
 tones about familiar concerns during their half- 
 hour or so of grace. 
 
 " I see you have begun stringing your 
 wires," said one of them to Whyland. " We 
 are meeting with them all over town." 
 
 " Yes, yes," replied Whyland, with the 
 sprightly ingenuousness of a boy. " Who- 
 ever looks for a fair return on his money 
 nowadays must keep a little in advance of 
 legislation." 
 
 " Just what Pence was saying only yester- 
 day." 
 
 " I snatched that great truth from my 
 slight association with the Tax Commission," 
 burbled Whyland. " Almost everything 
 marked, spotted: property, real and personal; 
 lands, lots, improvements; bonds, stocks, 
 mortgages " 
 
 " Everything, in short, but franchises"? " 
 
 " Franchises, yes. Nothing left but to turn 
 one's attention to the public utilities " 
 
 " And to hope that legislation may lag as 
 far behind and as long behind as possible." 
 
 " Precisely," said Whyland. " Meanwhile, 
 we string our wires " 
 
 9 
 
122 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 " Pence up one pole and you up the 
 next " 
 
 Whyland shrugged his shoulders and 
 laughed. " And may it be long before they 
 call us down! " 
 
 Abner listened to all this in silence, shak- 
 ing his head sadly and conscious of a deep and 
 growing depression. Here was Whyland, a 
 clever, likeable fellow — and his host too — dis- 
 integrating before his very eyes. 
 
 Whyland looked askant at Abner. " Yes, 
 yes, I know," he almost seemed to be saying. 
 " But who can tell if a helping hand, extended 
 at the critical moment, might not have . . ." 
 
 XXII 
 
 " Is that her? Is that her? " asked the chil- 
 dren, the nursery door ajar. 
 
 " Yes, that is ' her,' " said their mother, as 
 Medora, muffled in white and with her violin- 
 case under her arm, slipped along through the 
 hall. 
 
 " How soon is she going to play? And 
 won't you please let us hear just one piece, 
 mamma? " 
 
 " You may lean over the banister. But 
 if you let anybody catch you at it " 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE I23 
 
 " How soon is she going to begin? " 
 
 " Not for some time yet." 
 
 " Oh-h! Then won't you bring her in so 
 that " 
 
 " 'Sh! 'sh! And shut the door." 
 
 But the door opened again and the banis- 
 ter was called upon to shield, if it could, three 
 little figures in white night-dresses as soon as 
 Medora began to " illustrate " Adrian Bond. 
 The children upstairs were delighted, and the 
 grown-up children downstairs scarcely less so 
 — for Medora knew the infirmities of the po- 
 lite world and never tired its habitues by her 
 suites and sonatas. She took her cue from 
 Bond's crisp, brief sketches of amusing travel- 
 types, and gave them a folk-song from the Ba- 
 varian highlands and one or two quaint bits 
 that she had picked up in Brittany. Abner, 
 who knew her abilities, was vastly discon- 
 certed to find her thus minimizing herself; as 
 for his own part of the performance, emphasis 
 should not fail. No, these rich, comfortable, 
 prosperous people should drink the cup to the 
 dregs — the cup of mire, of slackness, of drudg- 
 ery, of dull hopelessness that he alone could 
 mix. To tell the truth, his auditors tasted of 
 the cup with much docility and appeared to 
 enjoy its novel flavour. They listened closely 
 
124 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 and applauded civilly — and waited for more of 
 Bond and Medora. 
 
 Abner was piqued. The situation did not 
 justify itself. There was no reason why Me- 
 dora Giles should lend her talents to promote 
 the success of Adrian Bond — Bond with his 
 thin hair plastered so pitifully over his poor 
 little skull and his insignificant face awry with 
 a conventional society smirk. Yet how, pray, 
 could she contribute to his own? What was 
 there in any work of his for her to take hold 
 upon? He himself could not claim charm for 
 it, nor an alluring atmosphere, nor a soft poeti- 
 cal perspective, nor participation in the con- 
 secrated traditions so dear, apparently, to the 
 sophisticated folk around him. Medora, in 
 fact, had shaken herself loose from the farm- 
 yard, and if he were to follow her must he not 
 do the same? 
 
 He meant to follow her — he had come to 
 feel sure of that. He was not certain what it 
 would lead to, he was not certain what he 
 wanted it to lead to; but if he had not fully 
 realized her to be most rare and desirable there 
 were many round about him now to help open 
 his eyes. Hers, after all, was the triumph; 
 everybody was applauding her grace, her tact, 
 her beauty, her dress, discreetly classical, her 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE I2S 
 
 distinction; while she herself parried compli- 
 ments with smiling good-humour in the very- 
 accents of society itself. 
 
 And he was to follow her with Less Than 
 the Beasts. The farm-yard claimed him for its 
 own once more. He must go in up to his 
 knees, up to his middle, up to his chin. But 
 as he progressed he forgot his surroundings, 
 his auditory; all he felt was the fate of his poor 
 heroine, the pitiful farm-drudge, sunk in hope- 
 less wrong and misery. He read in his very 
 best manner, with abundant feeling and full 
 conviction, and for a moment his hearers felt 
 with him. Then came a last elegiac paragraph, 
 and here Abner's voice grew husky, his throat 
 filled, he coughed, and as he laid aside his last 
 sheet and turned to rise a quick pain darted 
 through his chest; he coughed again and in- 
 voluntarily raised his hand against his breast, 
 and the acute and sudden pang was signalled 
 clearly in his face. 
 
 Whyland advanced quickly. "Now," he 
 said, in a low tone, " you must let me have my 
 way — if it isn't too late. Come." He led Ab- 
 ner toward the dining-room. 
 
 " It is nothing," said Abner, on his return. 
 
 " It is something, I am sure," said Edith 
 Whyland, with great solicitude. 
 
126 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 " It is something serious, I feel certain," 
 said Medora, pale as her dress. 
 
 " Nonsense! " exclaimed Abner. " I shall 
 know just what to do as soon as I get 
 home " He clutched at his breast again. 
 
 " You will not go home to-night," said 
 Whyland. 
 
 Abner did not go home that night, nor the 
 next, nor the next. He was put to bed in an 
 upper chamber and remained there. Outside 
 was the gray welter of the lake. Its white- 
 capped waves knocked viciously against the 
 trembling sea-wall, and their spray, flying 
 across the drenched bed of the Drive, stung 
 on the window-panes as if to say, in every 
 drop, " It is we, we who have brought you to 
 this!" 
 
 Medora sent her brother next morning to 
 make inquiries, and at noon she came herself. 
 
 "The nurse will be here in an hour or 
 two," said Edith Whyland. 
 
 " I will stay till she arrives," said Medora. 
 
 For a fortnight Abner lay muffled in that 
 big, luxurious bed and did as he was told. 
 
 " Men ! " said Medora. " They don't know 
 anything; they have no idea of looking after 
 themselves. And the bigger they are, the 
 more helpless." 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 1 27 
 
 Abner had his good days and his bad, and 
 suffered the gentle tyranny of two or three so- 
 hcitous women, and trusted that his sudden 
 illness was making due public stir. 
 
 The Readjusters, who had lately been ask- 
 ing after him, first heard of his plight from the 
 press. The same newspapers that brought 
 them further details of the adventures of the 
 new Pence- Whyland Franchise in the Com- 
 mon Council informed them that Abner Joyce 
 — Abner, the one time foe of privilege — lay ill 
 in Leverett Whyland's own house. 
 
 "He is no longer one of us," pronounced 
 the Readjusters. " We disown him; we cast 
 him off." 
 
 XXIII 
 
 On one of the earliest days in April, Abner, 
 gaunt and tottering, went home to Flatfield. 
 Leverett Whyland's own carriage took him to 
 the station and Medora Giles's own hands ar- 
 ranged his cushions and coverlets. 
 
 " Spring is spring everywhere," said Why- 
 land; "but it's just a little worse right here 
 than anywhere else. If you're going to pick 
 up now, home's the place to do it." 
 
 " It's only three hours," said Abner. " I 
 can stand that." 
 
128 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 He shook Whyland's hand gratefully at 
 parting and held Medora's with a firm pressure 
 as long as he dared and longer than he real- 
 ized. It was a pressure that seemed to recog- 
 nise her at last as an individual woman, and 
 what his hand did not say his face said and said 
 clearly. And as soon as he was a man again 
 his tongue should say something too, and say 
 it more clearly still. 
 
 Medora's image travelled along with him 
 on the dingy window-pane and intercepted all 
 the well-beloved phenomena of earliest-awak- 
 ening spring. One slide followed another, like 
 the pictures of a magic lantern. Now she was 
 pouring tea, now she was baking bread; some- 
 times she was playing the violin, sometimes — 
 and oftenest — she was measuring medicines or 
 on guard against draughts. In any event the 
 sum total was a matchless assemblage of grace, 
 charm, talent, sympathy, efficiency. " I am 
 not worthy of her," he said humbly. " But I 
 must have her," he added, with resolution. 
 He was not the author of this ruthless mascu- 
 line paradox. 
 
 After another month of rest and of home 
 nursing Abner undertook a second tour (in 
 Iowa and Wisconsin, this time) to make sure 
 of his re-established health and to build up 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE I2g 
 
 again his shattered finances, — for sickness, 
 even in the lap of luxury, is expensive. 
 
 He had refused as considerately as he 
 could an offer from Whyland himself to do 
 literary work. The Pence-Whyland syndicate 
 had lately secured control of one of the daily 
 newspapers, and Whyland had suggested 
 semi-weekly articles at Abner's own figure. 
 But Abner could not quite bring himself to 
 print in a sheet that was the open and avowed 
 champion of privilege and corruption. 
 
 " You think you won't, then? " asked 
 Whyland, at the door of the Pullman. 
 
 " I don't believe I can," replied Abner 
 mournfully. 
 
 " Oh, yes, you can too," returned Why- 
 land. " In a week or two more you'll be as 
 strong as ever." 
 
 " I — I think I'd rather not," said Abner, 
 tendering an apologetic hand. 
 
 He wrote to Medora endless plaints about 
 the discomforts of country hotels ; and she, re- 
 membering how he had once luxuriated in 
 these very crudities — he had called them au- 
 thentic, characteristic, and other long words 
 ending in tic — smiled broadly. It seemed as 
 if that fortnight in the Whyland house had 
 finally done for him. 
 
I30 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 " He will become quite like the rest of us 
 in time," she said; — "and in no great time, 
 either! " 
 
 In the early days of June Abner spoke. 
 Medora listened and considered. 
 
 " I am like Clytie Summers " she be- 
 gan slowly. 
 
 " You are not a bit like her! " interrupted 
 Abner, with all haste. 
 
 " In one respect," Medora finished: " when 
 I get married I want to get married for good. 
 As Clytie says, it is the most satisfactory way 
 in the long run, and the long run is what I 
 have in mind." 
 
 Abner flushed. " I can promise you that, 
 I think." 
 
 " You must," 
 
 " I do." 
 
 " We will dismiss the new theory." 
 
 " If you demand it." 
 
 The idea of limited matrimonial partner- 
 ship therefore passed away. Then there 
 loomed up the question of an engagement- 
 ring. 
 
 " You agree with me, I hope," said Abner, 
 " that all these symbolical follies might very 
 well be done away with? " 
 
 " No," said Medora firmly; " folly — sheer, 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 13I 
 
 Utter folly — claims me for a month at least. 
 And as for symbols, they are the very bread of 
 the race, and I am as much of the human tribe 
 as anybody else is." 
 
 A few days later Medora was wearing her 
 engagement-ring. 
 
 This step accomplished, Abner felt himself 
 free to scale down to a minimum the custom- 
 ary attentions of a courtship. 
 
 Medora protested. " You are no more 
 than a man, and I am no less than a woman. 
 You must give all that a man is expected to 
 give and I must have all that a woman is ac- 
 customed to receive." 
 
 The engagement lasted through the sum- 
 mer, and Medora was married at the farm in 
 October. Abner's parents came the thirty 
 miles across country to their son's wedding. 
 His father disclosed a singularly buoyant and 
 expansive nature; he lived in the blessings the 
 day brought forth, and considered not too 
 deeply — as the poet once counselled — the 
 questions that had kept his son in the fume 
 and heat of unquenchable discussion. Mrs. 
 Joyce was quiet, demure, rock-rooted in her 
 self-respecting gravity — a sweet, sympathetic, 
 winning little woman. She advanced at once 
 into the bustle of the household, and it was 
 
132 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 plain that nature had endowed her with a 
 fondness for work for work's very sake, and 
 that she was proud of her own activity and 
 thoroughness. Abner, everybody saw, was 
 immensely wrapped up in her. " A man who 
 makes such a good son," said Giles to his wife, 
 " will make a good husband." 
 
 " I expect him to," said Medora, overhear- 
 ing. " And I intend to put on the last few 
 finishing touches myself." 
 
 XXIV 
 
 One after another several carriages dis- 
 missed their occupants with slams that car- 
 ried far and wide on the crisp air of the early 
 December evening, and a variety of mufHed 
 figures toiled up the broad granite steps and 
 disappeared in the maw of the cavernous 
 round-arched entrance-porch. At both front 
 and flank of the house a score of curtained 
 windows permitted the escape of hints of hos- 
 pitable intentions; and in point of fact Mr. and 
 Mrs. Palmer Pence were giving a dinner for 
 Mr. and Mrs. Adrian Bond. 
 
 Adrian and Clytie were but lately back 
 from their wedding-trip. Adrian, after several 
 years of unproductive traffic in exotic litera- 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 1 33 
 
 ture, had finally made a hit; he had been able 
 not only to lay a telling piece of work at the 
 dear one's feet, but also — by a slight discount- 
 ing of future certainties — to put a good deal of 
 money in his purse. He had at last found a way 
 to turn his " European atmosphere " and his 
 " historical perspective " to profitable account, 
 — to write something that thousands were will- 
 ing to read and to pay for. Thirty thousand 
 was the number thus far; and that number, 
 reached within six weeks, meant a hundred 
 thousand before the " run " should be over. 
 His method involved simply a familiar offhand 
 treatment of royalty, backed up by an excess of 
 beauty, bravery, sword-play, costume, and irre- 
 sponsible and impossible incident. " The only 
 wonder is," he said, "that I shouldn't have 
 taken up with this before. Anybody can do 
 it; almost everybody else has done it." 
 
 Clytie was delighted by this sudden showy 
 stroke of fortune, and readily allowed Adrian's 
 long string of hints and intimations — they had 
 come rolling in thick and fast through the ad- 
 vancing summer — to solidify into a concrete 
 proposal. 
 
 " With this and my little investments," he 
 said fondly, "we might rub along very de- 
 cently." 
 
134 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 " I hope SO," said Clytie. 
 
 " Let's try." 
 
 " Let's." 
 
 The Whylands were also of those who 
 climbed the granite steps. Mrs. Whyland had 
 required a little urging, as on some previous 
 occasions. 
 
 " I hope you won't make difficulties," her 
 husband had said. " Mrs. Pence is a nice 
 enough woman, as women go; and since my 
 new relations with her husband . . ." 
 
 " Well, if you think it necessary," she re- 
 turned resignedly. At need she might find the 
 means to avoid anything like a real intimacy; 
 and, after all, there would be a certain satis- 
 faction in finally seeing, with her own eyes, 
 Clytie Summers as somebody's actual wife. 
 
 Last to arrive were the Joyces. Medora 
 wore the wedding-gown that had astonished 
 the country neighbours for ten miles around, 
 and Abner was in the customary evening 
 dress. 
 
 " A bachelor and a genius," Medora had 
 declared, " may enjoy some latitude, but a 
 married man must consider his wife." 
 
 Abner had dutifully considered. He who 
 considers is like him who hesitates — lost. 
 
 " There will be wine," said Medora. 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 1 35 
 
 " Drink it. There may be toasts. Be ready 
 to respond." 
 
 Abner could think on his feet — speech 
 would not fail. And his fortnight with the 
 Whylands had reconciled him to more things 
 than wine. 
 
 " Let me be proud of you," said Medora. 
 
 Abner shook to his centre. Had he mar- 
 ried a Delilah and a Beatrice in one? 
 
 " And don't let's talk any more about our 
 book than they talk of theirs," she counselled 
 to end with. 
 
 Regeneration had appeared within a week 
 of My Lady's Honour and was doing well 
 enough among a certain class of hardy readers 
 who did not shrink from problems. Some 
 of the less grateful passages had been censored 
 by Medora's own hand and the unfriendlier of 
 the critics thus partially disarmed in advance. 
 But Regeneration was no longer a burning mat- 
 ter; Medora's thoughts were on the great, new, 
 different thing that Abner was now shaping. 
 He had finally come to an apprehension of the 
 city. In certain of its aspects it was as inter- 
 estingly crass and crude as the country, and 
 the deep roar of its wrongs and sufferings was 
 becoming audible enough to his ears to exact 
 some share of his attention. In The Fumes of 
 
136 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 the Foundry he was to show a bold advance 
 into a new field. This book would depict the 
 modern city in the making: the strenuous 
 strugglings of traditionless millions; the ris- 
 ing of new powers, the intrusion of new fac- 
 tors; the hardy scorn of precedent, the deci- 
 sive trampling upon conventions; the fight 
 under new conditions for new objects and pur- 
 poses, the plunging forward over a novel road 
 toward some no less novel goal; the general 
 clash of ill-defined, half-formulated forces. 
 All this study would explain much that was 
 obscure and justify much that appeared repre- 
 hensible. Such a book would find place and 
 reason for Fences and for Whylands. Indul- 
 gence would come with understanding, and 
 reconciliation to repellent ideals and to the 
 men that embodied them might not unnatu- 
 rally follow. 
 
 Full of his own new idea, Abner felt a 
 greater contempt than ever for Bond's late de- 
 parture and for the facile success that had at- 
 tended it. 
 
 " I know how you look upon me," said 
 Bond cheerfully. " Yet who, more than you 
 yourself, is responsible for my come-down? " 
 
 "I?" 
 
 " You. When the psychological moment 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 1 37 
 
 was on me and I needed most of all your en- 
 couragement, you dashed me with cold water 
 instead. Now see where I am! " 
 
 Abner presently disclosed himself as one of 
 the major ornaments of the feast. He talked, 
 with no lack of ease and dexterity, to three or 
 four ladies he had never seen before in his life, 
 and even showed his ability for give-and-take 
 with their husbands, on the basis of mutual tol- 
 erance and consideration. The quiet dignity 
 that was his natural though latent gift from 
 one parent he had learned how to maintain 
 with less of jealous and aggressive self-con- 
 sciousness; and a kind of congenital geniality, 
 his heritage from the other, had now made its 
 belated appearance and begun to show forth 
 its tardy glow. Everybody found Abner inter- 
 esting; one or two even found him charming. 
 Those who had never liked him before began 
 to like him now; those who had liked him 
 before now liked him more than ever. Me- 
 dora looked across at him; her eyes shone with 
 pleasure and pride. 
 
 Clytie sat between Pence and Whyland. 
 Whyland's face had already begun to take 
 on the peculiar hard-finish that follows upon 
 success — success reached in a certain way. 
 " How about the Settlement? " he asked. 
 
138 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 Clytie shrugged her shoulders. " I have 
 other interests now. Besides, I felt that my 
 efforts on behalf of the Poor were more or 
 less misunderstood and unappreciated." She 
 glanced down the table toward Abner. 
 
 Whyland glanced in the same direction 
 and shrugged his shoulders too. " I under- 
 stand. I might have turned out to be an ideal- 
 ist myself if a certain hand had not pushed me 
 down when it should have raised me up! " 
 
 " Ah! " sighed Clytie, who still saw the old 
 Abner bigger than the new, " I am sure that 
 both Adrian and I might have continued to be 
 among the Earnest Ones, but for that ruth- 
 less creature! " 
 
 Abner sat on one side of Eudoxia Pence — 
 Eudoxia gorgeous, affluent, worldly. Never 
 had she disclosed herself at a further remove 
 from all that was earnest, thoughtful, philan- 
 thropic, altruistic. 
 
 " No," she said, shaking her head with a 
 pleasant pretence of melancholy, " I was pre- 
 sumptuous. I did not realize how little my 
 poor hands could do toward untangling the 
 tangled web of life." Eudoxia, talking to a 
 literary man, was faithfully striving to take the 
 literary tone. She had waited for a year now, 
 but the tone was here and time had not im- 
 
THE DOWNFALL OF ABNER JOYCE 1 39 
 
 paired its quality. " There was a period when 
 I felt the strongest impulse toward the High- 
 er Things; but now — now my husband's grow- 
 ing success needs my attending step. I must 
 walk beside him and try to find my satisfac- 
 tions in the simple duties of a wife." She 
 dropped her head in the proud humility of wel- 
 come defeat. 
 
 Yes, Abner had brought down, one after 
 another, all the pillars of the temple. But he 
 had dealt out his own fate along with the fate 
 of the rest: crushed yet complacent, he lay 
 among the ruins. The glamour of success and 
 of association with the successful was dazzling 
 him. The pomp and luxury of plutocracy in- 
 wrapped him, and he had a sudden sweet shud- 
 dering vision of himself dining with still others 
 of the wealthy just because they were wealthy, 
 and prominent, and successful. Yes, Abner 
 had made his compromise with the world. He 
 had conformed. He had reached an under- 
 standing with the children of Mammon. He 
 — a great, original genius — had become just 
 like other people. His downfall was com- 
 plete. 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY 
 
 vs. 
 
 THE GRINDSTONE 
 
 141 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY 
 
 vs. 
 THE GRINDSTONE 
 
 Mrs. Palmer Pence was a stock-holder in 
 any number of banks — twenty shares here, 
 fifty there, a hundred elsewhere; but she was 
 a stock-holder and nothing more, while what 
 she most desired was to be a director: to act 
 on the board of one at least of these grandiose 
 institutions would have given her a great deal 
 of comfort. She was clever, she was forceful, 
 she was ambitious, — but she was a woman; and 
 however keen her desire, her fellow stock- 
 holders seemed bound by the ancient prejudice 
 that barred woman from such a position of 
 power and honour and left the whole flagi'ant 
 monopoly with man. 
 
 " Such discrimination is miserably unjust," 
 she would remonstrate. 
 
 Amongst her other holdings, Mrs. Pence 
 had forty-five shares in the Grindstone Na- 
 tional. This was her favourite bank. Her ac- 
 
 143 
 
144 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 counts with the great retail houses along 
 Broad Street were always settled by checks on 
 the Grindstone, as well as her obligations to 
 the insatiable cormorants that trafficked in 
 " robes and manteaux " farther up town. The 
 bank was close to the shopping centre, and 
 the paying-teller of the Grindstone was never 
 happier than on those occasions when Eudoxia 
 Pence would roll in voluminous and majestic 
 and ask him to break a hundred-dollar bill. 
 
 This had last happened during the press of 
 the Christmas shopping. As Eudoxia turned 
 away from the window of the complaisant 
 teller, a door opened for a moment in a near-by 
 partition and gave her a glimpse of eight or 
 ten elderly men seated round a long solid table 
 whose top bore a litter of papers — among 
 them, many big sheets of light brown. She 
 saw what was going on, — a directors' meeting. 
 Her unappeased longing rose and stirred once 
 more within her, and a shadow crossed her 
 broad handsome face — the face that Little 
 O'Grady had resolutely pursued all over the 
 hall the evening she had deigned to show it at 
 the Art Students' dance, with his long fingers 
 curved and straining as if ready to dig them- 
 selves instantly into the clay itself. 
 
 " I don't care so much about the other 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 145 
 
 banks," she sighed ; " but if I could only be 
 one of the board here! " 
 
 The door closed immediately, but not be- 
 fore she had caught the essential mass and out- 
 line of the situation. This august though lim- 
 ited gathering was submitting to an harangue 
 — it seemed nothing less — from a little fellow 
 who stood before the fireplace and wagged a 
 big head covered with frizzled sandy hair, and 
 gave them glances of humorous determination 
 from his narrow gray-green eyes, and waved a 
 pair of long supple hands in their protesting 
 faces. Yes, the faces were protesting all. 
 " Who are you, to claim our attention in this 
 summary fashion? " asked one. " What do 
 you mean by thrusting yourself upon us quite 
 unbidden? " asked another. " Why do you 
 come here to complicate a question that is 
 much too complicated for us already? " de- 
 manded a third. 
 
 Yes, the door closed immediately, yet Eu- 
 doxia Pence had a clairvoyant sense of what 
 was going on behind that rather plebeian par- 
 tition of black walnut and frosted glass. She 
 knew how they must all be hesitating, fum- 
 bling, floundering — snared by a problem 
 wholly new and unfamiliar, and readily falling 
 victims to intimidation from the humblest 
 
146 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 source. The entire situation was as clear as 
 sunlight in the gesture with which Jeremiah 
 McNulty, bhnking his ancient eyes, had laid 
 down that sheet of yellow-brown paper and 
 had scratched his gray old chin. 
 
 " They need me," said Eudoxia Pence. 
 " Indeed, they might be glad to have me. I 
 feel certain that, if left to themselves, they will 
 end by doing something awful." 
 
 She was perfectly confident that she could 
 be of service in the bank's affairs. Had she not 
 always been successful with her own? So it 
 pleased her to think — and indeed nothing had 
 developed in connection with her private 
 finances to bring her under the shadow of self- 
 doubt. The elderly hand of her husband, 
 which was deep in vaster concerns, seldom in- 
 terfered in hers, and never obtrusively. Now 
 and then he dropped for a moment his own 
 interests — he was engaged in forming the 
 trustful into trusts and in massing such com- 
 binations into combinations greater still — to 
 steady or to direct his wife's; but in general 
 Eudoxia was left to regard herself as the guid- 
 ing force of her own fortunes, and to believe 
 herself capable of almost anything in the field 
 of general finance. 
 
 The Grindstone National Bank, after ten 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 147 
 
 years of prosperity in rather shabby rented 
 quarters, had determined to present a better 
 face to the world by putting up a building of 
 its own. The day was really past when an in- 
 stitution of such calibre could fittingly occupy 
 a mere room or two in a big " block " given 
 over to miscellaneous business purposes. It 
 was little to the advantage of the Grindstone 
 that it shared its. entrance- way with a steam- 
 ship company and a fire-insurance concern, 
 and was roofed over by a dubious herd of light- 
 weight loan brokers, and undermined by boot- 
 blacking parlours, and barnacled with peanut 
 and banana stands. Such a situation called 
 loudly for betterment. 
 
 " It's time to leave all that sort of thing be- 
 hind," decreed Andrew P. Hill, waggling his 
 short chin beard decisively and shutting his 
 handsome porcelain teeth with a snap. 
 " What we want is to make a show and ad- 
 vertise our business." 
 
 Hill was president of the Grindstone and 
 its largest stock-holder. Mr. McNulty listened 
 to his words, and so did Mr. Rosenberg, and 
 so did Mr. Gibbons and Mr. Holbrook and the 
 rest of the directors; and they had all finally 
 agreed — all save Mr. Rosenberg — ^that the 
 time was come for the Grindstone to put up its 
 
148 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 own building and to occupy that building en- 
 tirely and exclusively. Mr. Rosenberg imaged 
 a few suites for tenants, but he was voted 
 down. 
 
 They had found a moderately old young 
 man who knew his Paris and his Vienna and 
 who could " render " elevations and perspec- 
 tives with the best. This clever person gath- 
 ered together Andrew P. Hill and Simon 
 Rosenberg and Jeremiah McNulty and all the 
 others of the hesitating little band and with 
 infinite tact " shood " them gently, step by 
 step, despite multiplied protests and backdraw- 
 ings, up the rugged slopes of doubt toward 
 the summit where stood and shone his own re- 
 splendent Ideal. Each of the flock took the 
 trip as his particular training and temperament 
 dictated. Andrew was a bit dazed, but none the 
 less exhilarated; Jeremiah shook his head, yet 
 kept his feet in motion; Simon grumbled that 
 the whole business spelt little less than ruina- 
 tion. But Roscoe Orlando Gibbons, who had 
 been about the world not a little and who 
 drew sanction for the young architect's doings 
 from more quarters of the Continent than one, 
 instantly rose to the occasion and landed on 
 the topmost pinnacle of the shining temple at 
 a single swoop. Here he stood tiptoe and 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 149 
 
 beckoned. This confident pose, this encour- 
 aging gesture, had its effect; the others toiled 
 and scrambled up, each after his own fashion, 
 but they all got there. Even old Oliver Dowd, 
 \iho had once been a member of the state legis- 
 lature and had won the title of watch-dog of 
 the treasury by opposing expenditures of any 
 kind for any purpose whatever, finally fell into 
 line. His name was the last to go down, but 
 down it went after due delay; and presently the 
 new building began to rise, only a street or 
 two distant from the old. 
 
 The new Grindstone, of all the Temples of 
 Finance within the town, was to be the most 
 impressive, the most imposing, the most un- 
 mitigatedly monumental. The bold young 
 architect had loftily renounced all economies 
 of space, time, material, and had imagined a 
 grandiose facade with a long colonnade of pol- 
 ished blue-granite pillars, a pompous attic 
 story above, and a wide flight of marble steps 
 below. The inside was to be quite as over- 
 bearingly classical as the outside. There was 
 to be a sort of arched and columned court un- 
 der a vast prismatic skylight; lunettes, span- 
 drels, friezes and the like were to abound; and 
 the opportunities for interior decoration were 
 to be lavish, limitless. 
 
ISO UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 Now these lunettes and spandrels were the 
 things that were making all the trouble. The 
 building itself was moving on well enough : the 
 walls were all up; and half the columns — de- 
 spite the groans of Simon Rosenberg — ^were 
 in place. Here no hitch worth speaking of had 
 occurred: merely a running short of material 
 at the quarry, the bankruptcy of the first con- 
 tractor, and a standstill of a month or two 
 when all the bricklayers on the job had de- 
 clined to work or to allow anybody else to 
 work. Such trifles as these could be foreseen 
 and allowed for; but not one of the Grind- 
 stone's devoted little band had ever grappled 
 with a general decorative scheme for the em- 
 bellishment of a great edifice raised to the 
 greater glory of Six-per-cent, or had attempted 
 to adjust the rival claims of a horde of painters, 
 sculptors, modellers, and mosaickers all eager 
 for a chance to distinguish themselves and to 
 cut down the surplus and the undivided 
 profits. No wonder that Jeremiah McNulty 
 scratched his chin, and that Simon Rosenberg 
 puckered up his yellow old face, and that 
 Roscoe Orlando Gibbons ran his fingers 
 through his florid side-whiskers as he tried to 
 find some sanction and guidance in Berlin or 
 in Rome, and that Andrew P. Hill frowned 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 151 
 
 blackly upon all the rest for being as unde- 
 cided as he was himself. 
 
 " This is awful! " he moaned. " We may- 
 have to calcimine the whole place in pale pink 
 and let it go at that! " 
 
 The door opened and a deferential clerk an- 
 nounced the waiting presence of one of the 
 Morrell Twins. Andrew, giving a sigh of 
 relief, swept the drawings quickly aside and 
 rose. Here, at last, his feet were back once 
 more on solid ground. 
 
 II 
 
 While Richard Morrell charmed the ears 
 of the Grindstone's directors with his tuneful 
 periods, and dazzled their eyes by the slow 
 waving to and fro of certain elegantly en- 
 graved certificates of stock, and made his de- 
 termined chin and his big round shoulders say 
 to the assembled body that there was no 
 chance of his going away before he had car- 
 ried his point, Eudoxia Pence was taking tea 
 at the Temple of Art. The early twilight of 
 mid-December had descended. " It's too late 
 for any more shopping," said Eudoxia, " and 
 I'm too tired." Though she was still on the 
 right side of forty by a year or two, this ad- 
 
152 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 vantage of youth was counterbalanced by the 
 great effort of pushing her abundant bulk 
 through the throng of Christmas strugglers 
 that crowded shop and sidewalk alike. " Only 
 to sit down for half an hour in some quiet 
 place! " she panted. " I believe I'll just drop 
 up and see Dafifingdon for a bit. That will 
 give me a chance at the same time to keep half 
 an eye on Virgilia," she added soberly. " A 
 hundred to one she'll be there; and if any- 
 body's to blame for her being there, I'm that 
 body." 
 
 The Temple of Art, after rooting itself in 
 drama and oratory, after throwing out a sturdy 
 limb of chaste traffic in bibelots here and in- 
 struments of music there and books and en- 
 gravings elsewhere, and after putting forth 
 much foliage in the shape of string-scraping 
 and key-teasing and anguished vocalizing and 
 determined paper-reading and indomitable lec- 
 ture-hearing, blossomed forth at last in a num- 
 ber of skylights, and under one of these lofty 
 covers Dafifingdon Dill carried on his profes- 
 sional activities. Eudoxia sank down upon his 
 big settle covered with Spanish leather, and 
 took her tea and her biscuits, and declined the 
 pink peppermints, and looked around to dis- 
 cover, by the dim help of the Japanese lantern 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 1 53 
 
 and the battered old brass lamp from Damas- 
 cus, just who might be present. Several peo- 
 ple were scattered about in various dusky 
 corners, and Virgilia Jeffreys was no doubt 
 among them. " I don't know just how all 
 this is going to end," sighed Eudoxia dubi- 
 ously. " I presume I'm as responsible as any- 
 body else," she added, in a reflective, judicial 
 tone. " More so," she tacked on. " Alto- 
 gether so," she added further, as she took a 
 first sip. 
 
 Daffingdon Dill was a newcomer, but he 
 had taken hold of things in a pretty confident, 
 competent fashion and had made more of an 
 impression in one year than many of his con- 
 freres had made in five or ten. To begin with, 
 he had unhesitatingly quartered himself in the 
 most desirable building the town could boast. 
 Many of his colleagues, no less clever (save in 
 this one respect), still lingered in the old Rab- 
 bit-Hutch, a building which had been good 
 enough in its day but which belonged, like the 
 building that Andrew P. Hill was preparing 
 to leave, to a day now past. Fearful of the 
 higher rents that more modern quarters ex- 
 acted, they went on paying their monthly sti- 
 pend to old Ezekiel Warren, with such regu- 
 larity as circumstances would admit, and made 
 
154 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 no effort to escape the affectionate banter that 
 grouped them under the common name of 
 the Bunnies. 
 
 Dill kept his studio up to the general level 
 of the Temple, and himself up to the general 
 level of the studio. There was little trace of 
 Bohemia about either. Society found his 
 workroom a veritable salon de reception. He 
 himself never permitted the painter to eclipse 
 the gentleman. People who came late in the 
 afternoon found his tall, slender figure inclosed 
 in a coat of precisely the right length, shape, 
 cut. People who came earlier found him in 
 guise more professional but no less elegant. 
 He took a great deal of pains with his hand- 
 some hands, which many visitors pressed with 
 cautious, admiring respect, as something a 
 little too good to be true, as something a little 
 too fine for this workaday world, and with his 
 well-grown beard, which hugged his cheeks 
 closely to make a telling manifestation upon 
 his chin, after the manner of Van Dyck. This 
 beard cried, almost clamoured, for picturesque 
 accessories, and when Daffingdon went to a 
 costume ball he generally wore a ruff and car- 
 ried a rapier. All these things had their effect, 
 and when people said, " How much? " and 
 Daiifingdon with unblinking serenity said, " So 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 155 
 
 much," they quailed sometimes, but they 
 never tried to beat him down. 
 
 " Why, after all, you know," they would 
 say to one another, as they reconsidered his 
 effective presence and his expensive surround- 
 ings, — " why, after all, it isn't as if " Then 
 
 they would think of the Rabbit-Hutch and ac- 
 knowledge that here was a great advance. 
 The poor Bunnies would have blinked — and 
 often had, you may be sure. 
 
 Daffingdon was a bachelor, and he was old 
 enough or young enough for anything, being 
 just thirty; and his sister Judith, who was some 
 years his senior, sat behind his tea-urn on most 
 occasions and made it possible for the young 
 things of society to flutter in as freely as they 
 willed. The young things came to little in 
 themselves, but some of them had vainglorious 
 mothers and ambitious, pomp-loving fathers, 
 and who could tell in what richly promis- 
 ing crevice their light-minded chatter might 
 lodge and sprout? So Dafifingdon and his 
 sister encouraged them to come, and the 
 young things came gladly, willing enough to 
 meet with a break in the social round that 
 was already becoming monotonous; and 
 among the others came Preciosa McNulty, — 
 dear little Preciosa, pretty, warm-hearted, self- 
 
156 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 ■willed But we will wait a bit for her, if 
 
 you please. 
 
 Daffingdon had spent many years abroad 
 and still kept au courant with European art 
 matters in general; he knew what they were 
 doing in Munich no less than in Paris, and let- 
 ters with foreign postmarks were always drop- 
 ping in on him to tempt his mind to little ex- 
 cursions backward across the sea. He kept 
 himself more or less in touch too with the kin- 
 dred arts, and readily passed in certain circles 
 for a man of the most pronouncedly intellec- 
 tual and cultivated type. 
 
 Thus, at least, Virgilia Jeffreys saw him. 
 Virgilia herself was intellectual to excess and 
 cultivated beyond the utmost bounds of rea- 
 son; indeed, her people were beginning to 
 wonder where in the world they were to find 
 a husband for her. Not that Virgilia intimi- 
 dated the men, but that the men disappointed 
 Virgilia. They stayed where they always had 
 stayed — close to the ground, whereas Vir- 
 gilia, with each successive season, soared 
 higher through the blue empyrean of general 
 culture. She had not stopped with a mere 
 going to college, nor even with a good deal of 
 post-graduate work to supplement this, nor 
 even with an extended range of travel to sup- 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 1 57 
 
 plement that; she was still reading, writing, 
 studying, debating as hard as ever, and paying 
 dues to this improving institution and making 
 copious observations at the other. She too 
 had her foreign correspondents and knew just 
 what was going on at Flbrence and what 
 people were up to in Leipsic and Dresden. 
 She possessed, so she considered, a wide out- 
 look and the greatest possible breadth of inter- 
 ests, and she knew she was a dozen times too 
 good for any man she had ever met. 
 
 There were scores of other girls like her — 
 girls who were forging ahead while the men 
 were standing still: a phenomenon with all 
 the fine threatenings of a general calamity. 
 Where should these girls go to find husbands? 
 Virgilia herself had been very curt with a 
 young real-estate dealer, who was that and 
 nothing more; and she had been even more 
 summary with a stock-broker's clerk who, 
 flashing upon her all of a sudden, had pointed 
 an unwavering forefinger toward a roseate, 
 coruscating future, but who had finished his 
 schooling at seventeen and had had neither 
 time nor inclination since to make good his 
 deficiencies. The first had just installed his 
 bride in a house of significant breadth and 
 pomposity, and the other, having detached 
 
IS8 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 himself from the parent office, was now execut- 
 ing a comet-Hke flight that set the entire town 
 astare and agape. 
 
 " Well, that's nothing to me," said Virgilia 
 disdainfully. " I couldn't have lived with 
 either of them a month. I'm only twenty-six 
 and I don't feel at all alarmed." 
 
 Then somebody or other had piloted her 
 aunt Eudoxia toward the Temple of Art, and 
 Eudoxia, after about so much of dawdling and 
 of sipping and of nibbhng and of gentle pa- 
 tronage and of dilettante comment and criti- 
 cism through this studio and that, had opened 
 up a like privilege to her niece. Together 
 they had dawdled and sipped and suggested 
 up one corridor and down another, and in due 
 course they arrived at the studio of Daffing- 
 don Dill, and presently they were as good as 
 enrolled among the habitues of the place. 
 
 Eudoxia peered about among the tapes- 
 tries and the sombre old furniture. " Yes, 
 there she is over in the corner with Preciosa 
 McNulty." Then she looked back toward 
 Dill and sighed lightly. " I wonder how this 
 thing is coming out? I wonder how I want it 
 to come out? And I wonder how much re- 
 sponsibility I must really bear for the way it 
 does come out? " 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE I5g 
 
 III 
 
 She handed back her cup to Dill. " What 
 are those two girls giggling about? " she asked 
 him. 
 
 Dill snatched a moment from his cares as 
 host. Little had he expected to hear Virgilia 
 Jeffreys taxed with giggling. 
 
 Yet giggling she was, — with some em- 
 phasis and spirit too. She seemed to have 
 slipped back from sedate and dignified young 
 womanhood to mere flippant girlishness and 
 not to have gained appreciably by the transi- 
 tion. Preciosa McNulty, still a girl and giv- 
 ing no immediate promise of developing into 
 anything more, shared with her the over-cush- 
 ioned disorder of the Persian canopy and gig- 
 gled too. 
 
 Preciosa could laugh and chatter easily, 
 volubly, spontaneously — all this, as yet, was 
 the natural utterance of her being. But Vir- 
 gilia was keeping pace with her, was even sur- 
 passing her. Yet she showed evidences of 
 efifort, of self-consciousness, of serious inten- 
 tion ; now and then the arriere pensee disclosed 
 its puckered front. 
 
 This, and nothing but this, could excuse 
 Virgilia to-day. For she was too old to gig- 
 
l6o UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 gle, far too learned, much too sober-minded. 
 Dill himself felt this, and shook his head in 
 reply to Eudoxia Pence's question, as he 
 stepped away for a moment to accompany a 
 pair of gracious amateurs to the door. 
 
 A little figure that was passing rapidly 
 along the corridor stopped on seeing the door 
 ajar and waved a long supple hand and wagged 
 a frizzly flaxen poll and gave a humorous wink 
 out of his gray-green eyes and called unabash- 
 edly, before he resumed his skurrying flight: 
 
 " I've got 'em on the run, DaflE; I've got 
 'em on the run! " 
 
 "Oh, that little O'Grady!" sighed Dili 
 genteelly; " he is impossible; he will end with 
 disgracing us. What can the fellow be up to 
 now? " he wondered, closing the door, and 
 preparing to return to his study of Virgilia Jef- 
 freys. 
 
 " Your poor grandfather! — can't I fancy 
 him! " Virgilia was saying to Preciosa. She 
 gave a light dab at the other's mufif with her 
 long slender hand. " Dear, puzzled old soul! " 
 — and she crinkled up her narrow green eyes. 
 
 " Can't you? " Preciosa laughed back. 
 " ' I don't know anything about such things,' 
 grandpa insisted. ' Go and see Mr. Hill, 
 young man, or Mr. Gibbons.' But the young 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE l6l 
 
 man kept unrolling sheet after sheet. ' Grand- 
 pa,' I said, ' we shall miss the whole of the first 
 act.' Then the young man had to go. He 
 didn't want to, but he had to." 
 
 "The 'young man'!" laughed Virgilia, 
 dandling a cushion. " Didn't he have any 
 name? " 
 
 " Some queer one: Ig — Ig I don't 
 
 remember." 
 
 " Nor any address? " 
 
 " Some far-away street you never heard 
 of." 
 
 "How ridiculous!" chirped Virgilia, 
 throwing back her head. " Do let them give 
 you another cup of tea or some more of those 
 biscuits. Ask for what you want. Don't be 
 backward, even if you are a newcomer." 
 
 " Dear me," said Preciosa; " don't tell me 
 I'm bashful." 
 
 " Did his sketches amount to anything? " 
 asked Virgilia, herself reaching for the bis- 
 cuits. 
 
 " Well, there were plenty of them. By a 
 quarter to eight they had covered all the tables 
 and chairs and about two-thirds of the floor. 
 There was every evidence of that young man's 
 being after us — a regular siege. I have no 
 doubt he was waiting outside all through din- 
 
l62 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 ner; he rang the bell the very minute poor un- 
 suspecting grandpa turned up the gas in the 
 front parlour. But that's nothing to the one 
 just before him." 
 
 " What did he do? " asked Virgilia, with 
 all her fine blonde intentness. 
 
 Preciosa threw back her mop of chestnut 
 hair. " Followed grandpa all the way home 
 and would hardly let him have his dinner. He 
 had it this time, however. And then, as I say, 
 he turned up the gas; and then " 
 
 " And then the shower began? " suggest- 
 ed Virgilia, putting her delicate eyebrows 
 through their paces. 
 
 " The downpour. I never knew anybody 
 to talk faster, or give out more ideas, or wave 
 his hands harder, — like this." Preciosa cast 
 her mufif away completely and abandoned her 
 plump little fingers to unbridled pantomime. 
 " The room was peopled — isn't that the way 
 they say it, peopled? — in no time; a regular 
 reception. There were ladies in Greek dra- 
 peries seated on big cogged wheels with fac- 
 tory chimneys rising behind, and strong young 
 fellows in leather aprons leaning against anvils 
 and forges, and there were " 
 
 " I know, I know," declared Virgilia, duck- 
 ing her head into her cushion, with the effect 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 163 
 
 of suppressing a shriek of laughter. " And 
 more ' ladies ' reading from scrolls to children 
 standing at their knee. And all sorts of folks 
 blowing trumpets and bestowing garlands; 
 Commerce, Industry, Art, Manufacturing, 
 Education, and the rest of them. Dear child! 
 how good of you to call all these things 
 ' ideas ' ! No wonder such novelties puzzled 
 your poor dear grandfather! " 
 
 She clutched Preciosa's chubby little hand 
 with her long white fingers, as if to squeeze 
 from it an answering shriek. 
 
 But Preciosa contained herself. "And 
 there was a lady engineer," she went on, after 
 a short pause, " in a light blue himation- — is 
 that what they call it, himation? — and she was 
 fluttering it out of the cab-window " 
 
 " The Railway! " declared Virgilia, trying 
 to laugh tears into her eyes. 
 
 " And one drawing showed a lot of Cupids 
 nesting on top of a telegraph pole " 
 
 "What did Jeremiah McNulty think of 
 that? " 
 
 " — with their httle pink heels dangling 
 down just as cute " 
 
 " In a bank! " cried Virgilia, in a perfect 
 transport of merriment. Preciosa, with whom 
 a growing admiration for these abundant 
 
164 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 decorative details seemed to be overlaying her 
 sense of fun, stopped in her account and then 
 complaisantly gave forth the laugh that Vir- 
 gilia seemed to expect, 
 
 " Oh, these young men! " exclaimed Vir- 
 gilia, with a gasp and a gurgle to indicate that 
 the limit was nearly reached; " these young 
 men whom you never heard of, whose names 
 you can't pronounce, and who live you don't 
 know where ! They will be too much for your 
 poor grandfather. Let him escape them while 
 he can. He is too old and too busy for such 
 annoyances. Let him find some other young 
 man whose name is known and whose studio 
 is in a civilized part of the town and who has 
 done some rather good work for some rather 
 nice people." Virgilia crinkled up her eyes 
 in a little spasm of confidential merriment and 
 then opened them on her surroundings — the 
 rich sobriety of the furniture; the casual pic- 
 turesque groupings of "nice people"; the shin- 
 ing tea-urn flanked by the candles in their 
 fluted paper shades; the heavy gilded frames 
 inclosing copies made by Dill in the galleries 
 of Madrid and St. Petersburg; other canvases 
 set against the base-boards face back so as at 
 once to pique and to balk curiosity with re- 
 gard to the host's own work; the graceful dig- 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 165 
 
 nity of Dill himself, upon whom Virgilia's eyes 
 rested last yet longest. 
 
 " I might mention Mr. Dill to grandpa," 
 said Preciosa, with returning seriousness. 
 This, her first intrusion into the strange, rich 
 world of art, had rather impressed her, after 
 all; such novel hospitality really required some 
 acknowledgment. 
 
 " Do," said Virgilia, now in quite a gale. 
 " Don't drink his tea for nothing! And if it's 
 ' ideas ' that are wanted," she went on, as she 
 grasped Preciosa lightly by both shoulders and 
 gave her a humorous shake, " this is the 
 shop!" 
 
 Preciosa paused for a moment's considera- 
 tion. She was not sure that Virgilia knew her 
 well enough to shake her, nor had she sup- 
 posed that Virgilia was giddy enough to 
 shake anybody. Neither was she sure that 
 what she most wanted was to ridicule the 
 facile and voluminous sketches spread out 
 so widely and so rapidly by that young man 
 with the burning eyes and the quick, ner- 
 vous hands and the big shock of wavy black 
 hair. Still, it was as easy to laugh as not to 
 laugh; besides, which of the two might better 
 set the tone, and authoritatively? Virgilia, 
 surely; by reason of her age — she was some six 
 
l66 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 or eight years the senior, by reason of her 
 stature — she was several inches the taller, and 
 by reason of her standing as an habituee — 
 surely she must know how to behave in a 
 studio. So Preciosa tossed her pretty little 
 head, and laughed, as she felt herself ex- 
 pected to. 
 
 " The shop, yes," she acquiesced gaily. 
 *' And if I come again " 
 
 " If? " repeated Virgilia, raising her eye- 
 brows archly. 
 
 " And when I come again," amended Pre- 
 ciosa, rising, " I might bring grandpa with me. 
 I'm sure all this would be new to him." 
 
 " Do, by all means," cried Virgilia. " And 
 don't be too long doing it. We won't keep 
 him from his food and drink; ?ve won't worry 
 his poor tired brain, if we can help it; we won't 
 give him ladies seated beneath factory chim- 
 neys; we won't You are going? Good- 
 bye, dear. So glad to have met you here. 
 Aunt and I drop in quite frequently, and you 
 should learn to do so too." 
 
 She gave Preciosa a parting smile, then 
 composed her features to a look of grave in- 
 tentness and turned about to impose this look 
 upon Daffingdon Dill wherever found. 
 
 Her eyes found him on the opposite side of 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 1 67 
 
 the room, in company with her aunt. Both of 
 them were studying her with some seriousness 
 and some surprise. VirgiHa, having already 
 resumed her customary facial expression, now 
 took on her usual self-contained manner as 
 well and crossed over to them. 
 
 IV 
 
 " Well, well, Vjrgilia," said her aunt, as 
 the door closed on Preciosa, " you see more 
 in that girl than I do." 
 
 " I see her grandfather," whispered Vir- 
 giHa, with the obscure brevity of an oracle. 
 She drew down her brows and looked at the 
 wondering Dill, — or rather, through him, past 
 him. 
 
 " Oh," replied her aunt softly. It was im- 
 possible that she should misunderstand; Mc- 
 Nulty and Hill and the rest of them had just 
 been in her own thoughts, on her own tongue. 
 " I shall be responsible, after all," she said 
 within herself. Then she gave Virgilia a slight 
 frown of disapproval: it was not precisely a 
 maidenly part that her niece had chosen to 
 play; neither did it show the degree of defer- 
 ence due to an elder, a chaperon and — if you 
 came right at it— to a stock-holder. " If this 
 
l68 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 thing must be engineered," thought Eudoxia, 
 " I think I should prefer to engineer it myself." 
 Heaven pardon her, though, for ever having 
 brought Virgilia Jeffreys to Daffingdon Dill's 
 studio! 
 
 She herself had come there full of Jeremiah 
 McNulty and Andrew P. Hill and Roscoe Or- 
 lando Gibbons. " It's a big undertaking," she 
 had told Dill. " They're struggling with it 
 now, poor things. They need expert advice. 
 If I were only one of the board of directors! " 
 
 Dill came up to the mark gingerly. " The 
 air has been full of it for the last fortnight," 
 he said, struggling between eagerness and 
 professional dignity. " I know a number of 
 fellows who have thought of going in for it." 
 
 " I suppose you haven't thought of go- 
 ing in? " 
 
 Dill drew himself up. "How can I?" He 
 suggested the young physician who will starve 
 but who will not infringe the Code by any 
 practice that savours in the least of advertising, 
 of soliciting. However, he was a thousand 
 miles farther away from starvation than was 
 Ignace Prochnow, for example; much better 
 could he afford to await the arrival of an em- 
 bassy. 
 
 Eudoxia Pence fumbled her boa. " Does 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY ys. THE GRINDSTONE 169 
 
 Virgilia really want him? Does he want Vir- 
 gilia? Do I want them to have each other? 
 Shall I exert myself in his behalf? " Such 
 were the questions she submitted to her own 
 consideration as her eyes roved over the chat- 
 ting, sipping throng. " Can he do for her all 
 that a girl in her position would expect? 
 Could such a fastidious, exacting young 
 woman hope to find anybody she would like 
 better — or as well? " Eudoxia had three or 
 four swift successive visions of herself in a 
 variety of circumstances and pleading or dis- 
 couraging a variety of causes. Now, for ex- 
 ample, she was saying to Virgilia, " Yes, he's 
 a very nice fellow, I know; but he has only 
 his wits and his brush, while you must always 
 live as you always have lived — a rich girl to 
 whom nothing has been denied." Again, she 
 saw herself bent over the desk of Andrew P. 
 Hill, with her forty-five shares clutched in her 
 resolute hand, and saying, " I demand to be 
 heard; I demand to have a voice in this mo- 
 mentous matter; I demand a fair and even 
 chance for my nephew-in-law-to-be." Once 
 more, she was wringing her hands and ask- 
 ing Virgilia in tones of piteous protest, " Why, 
 oh why, didn't you take Richard Morrell when 
 you could have got him? — a fine, promising, 
 
I/O UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 pushing fellow, with his million or more al- 
 ready, and barely thirty-five, just the right age 
 for you ! " Yet again, she was saying to that 
 poor little vulgarian, Preciosa McNulty, " If 
 Virgilia will, she will, and there's an end of 
 it; therefore should you, dear child, promise 
 me to use your influence with that loutish old 
 peasant of a grandfather, you shall have the 
 beatitude of actually pouring tea at one of my 
 Thursday afternoons, and I'll even invite your 
 
 mother to my next large reception " 
 
 Eudoxia paused, struck suddenly by the 
 earnest scrutiny of both Dafifingdon and Vir- 
 gilia. She saw that she had tied her boa into 
 a double knot, and surmised that she had been 
 doing the same with her features too. 
 
 V 
 
 By this time every " art circle " in the city 
 knew from its centre to its circumference that 
 the Grindstone National Bank was moving to- 
 ward the elaborate decoration of its new 
 building and that the board of directors was 
 thinking of devoting some twenty thousand 
 dollars or more to this purpose. The Temple 
 of Art took on its reception smile ; the Rabbit- 
 Hutch began a nervous rummaging for ideas 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 171 
 
 among cobwebs and dusty portfolios and for- 
 gotten canvases; decorators of drawing-rooms 
 and libraries put on their thinking-caps and 
 stood up their little lightning-rods; and one or 
 two of the professors at the Art Academy be- 
 gan to overhaul their mythology and to sketch 
 out broad but hazy schemes for a succession of 
 thumping big masterpieces, and to wonder 
 whether the directors would call on them or 
 whether they should be summoned to meet 
 the directors. 
 
 " Gee! " said Little O'Grady (whose forte 
 was reliefs in plastina), as he hopped around 
 Dill's studio on one leg; "but ain't it a god- 
 send for us! " 
 
 Little O'Grady was celebrated for keeping 
 the most untidy and harum-scarum quarters 
 throughout the entire Rabbit-Hutch, and for 
 being wholly beyond the reach of reproof or 
 the range of intimidation. The stately sobri- 
 ety of Dill's studio had no deterring effect 
 upon him. Nothing could impress him; no- 
 body could repress him. He said just what he 
 thought to anybody and everybody, and act- 
 ed just as he felt wherever he happened to 
 be. Just now he felt like dancing a jig — and 
 did so. 
 
 " But, dear me, where do you come in? " 
 
172 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 asked Dill, moving his easel a bit farther out 
 of Little O'Grady's range. 
 
 " Where do I come in? Everywhere. I 
 come in on the capitals of the columns round 
 that court, which will all be modelled after 
 special designs of me own " 
 
 " I hadn't heard about them. I should 
 suppose such things would follow established 
 patterns." 
 
 " So does the architect. But I shall con- 
 vince him yet that he's mistaken." O'Grady 
 gave a pirouette in recognition of his own 
 powers of persuasion. 
 
 " And I come in on the mantel-piece in 
 the president's private parlour," he continued. 
 " It will be a low relief in bronze: ' The Genius 
 of the West Lighting the Way to Further 
 Progress,' or else, ' Commerce and Finance 
 Uniting to Do Something or Other ' — don't 
 know what just yet, but shall hit on some no- 
 tion or other in due time " 
 
 " You've seen the plans, then? You've 
 been striking up an acquaintance with the 
 architect himself? " Dill frowned repugnance 
 upon such a bit of indelicacy, such an indiffer- 
 ence to professional etiquette. 
 
 " Well, perhaps I have. Why not? But if 
 there's a president — I s'pose there is? " 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 1 73 
 
 " I suppose so." 
 
 " Then there'll sure be a parlour. And 
 where there's a parlour there's a fireplace — 
 see? A large official cavern with never any 
 fire in it. And I come in on the drinking-foun- 
 tains at each side of the main entrance: bronze 
 dolphins twisted upside down and spouting 
 water into marble basins." 
 
 " They're included too, are they? " 
 
 " Well, I suggested them. Don't those 
 old coupon-clippers ever get thirsty? Sure 
 they do. Well, can't I wet their whistles for 
 them? I guess yes — and I told 'em so." 
 
 "Them? Whom?" 
 
 " The directors." 
 
 " You've seen them? " 
 
 " I attended a meeting of the board, as 
 I suppose I might as well tell you," said Little 
 O'Grady grandly. 
 
 " You did, eh? " returned Dill, balanced 
 between reprobation of Little O'Grady's push 
 and admiration for his nerve. 
 
 " Yep. I spoke a good word for myself. 
 And one for the others — Gowan and Giles and 
 you and Stalinski and " 
 
 " Um," said Dill, none too well pleased. 
 The last thing he desired was co-operation 
 from the Rabbit-Hutch and association with 
 
174 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 the band of erratic, happy-go-lucky Bohemians 
 that peopled it. " You're laying out a good 
 deal of work for yourself," he remarked coldly, 
 dismissing the Bunnies. 
 
 " Work? That's what I'm here for," de- 
 clared O'Grady brightly. " And if I slip up 
 on any of these little notions, why I'll just take 
 a hand in the painting itself — didn't I help on 
 a panorama once? Sure thing. There was a 
 time when I could kind o' swing a brush, and I 
 guess I could do it yet. Let's see: ' The God- 
 dess of Finance,' in robes of safJron and pur- 
 ple, ' Declaring a Quarterly Dividend.' Gold 
 background. Stock-holders summoned by the 
 Genius of Thrift blowing fit to kill on a silver 
 trumpet. Scene takes place in an autumnal 
 grove of oranges and pomegranates — trees 
 loaded down with golden eagles and half- 
 eagles. Marble pavement strewn with fallen 
 coupons. Couldn't I do a fairy-scene like 
 that? I should say! " Little O'Grady threw 
 out his leg again with sudden vehemence and 
 toppled over among Dill's heaped-up cushions. 
 
 Dill laughed. " How are the other fel- 
 lows over your way feeling about it? " 
 
 " Same as me — hopeful. We may have to 
 sleep on excelsior for a while yet, but we shall 
 soon stop eating it. And the first thing we 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 1 75 
 
 do with the coin will be to give old Warren 
 heart-disease by going down in a body and 
 paying up all our back rent. I'm figuring on 
 pulling out about two thousand for my share. 
 Then if I want pie I can have it, without stop- 
 ping to feel in my pocket first." 
 
 Little O' Grady babbled along as he deline- 
 ated the mental state of the other Bunnies. 
 They all felt the situation in the air — ^they all 
 felt it in their bones. They all wanted a hand 
 in things — a finger in the pie. There was 
 Festus Gowan, who did little beyond land- 
 scapes, but who thought he could make some 
 headway with faces and draperies if pushed to 
 it. There was Mordreth, who did little but 
 portraits — and " deaders " at that — ^but who 
 fancied he might come out reasonably strong 
 on landscape and on architectural accessories if 
 somebody would only give him a chance. 
 There was Felix Stalinski, who had lately left 
 " spot-knocking " for general designing and 
 who thought that if a man was able to turn out 
 a good, effective poster he might consider 
 himself equEil to almost anything. And there 
 was Stephen Giles, who had recently been dec- 
 orating reception halls and dining-rooms for 
 the high and mighty and who saw no reason 
 why he shouldn't take a higher flight still and 
 
1/6 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 adorn the palaces where the money was made 
 instead of those where it was spent. " No use 
 in my talking to you about him, though," 
 broke off Little O'Grady. " He ain't one of 
 us any more. He's one of you, now." 
 
 " I hope you fellows don't feel that 
 way " began Dill. 
 
 " He's a renegade," declared Little 
 O'Grady. " But never mind; we like him all 
 the sSme. Some day he may be glad to leave 
 the Temple and come back to us again at the 
 Warren. That'll be all right. We'll welcome 
 him; we'll share our last mouthful of excelsior 
 with him." Little O'Grady gave another joy- 
 ful kick into the air. " Well, his room didn't 
 stay empty long; Gowan moved down right 
 away, and a new man took Gowan's room only 
 day before yesterday — so old Ezekiel won't 
 lose more'n about fourteen dollars' rent, after 
 all. Chap's got his name out already: Ignace 
 
 Pr — Pr Well, anyway, it begins with a 
 
 P. He makes rattling strong coffee, by the 
 smell, and tinkles now and then on the thing- 
 a-ma-jig. They say he's terrible smart — full 
 of the real old stuff." 
 
 " Has Gowan been thinking up anything 
 in particular? " 
 
 " Well, he's thinking he sees that money 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 1 77 
 
 piled up in the bank vaults. We all do. And 
 we want to get at it. Say, great thing to be 
 working for a bank, eh? No flighty, shilly- 
 shallying, notional women, but a lot of steady, 
 sober business-men who'll make a good 
 straight contract and keep it. No saying, 
 ' Well, my daughter doesn't altogether fancy 
 this,' or, ' I will take your sketches home to 
 my husband and we will think about them,' — 
 and then never telling us what they think. 
 Sure pay, too. And prompt, as well. Quarter 
 down, let us say, on submitting the general 
 scheme of decoration; another quarter as soon 
 as we begin actual work Yes, sir, I al- 
 most feel as if I saw my way to meat once a 
 day right through the week!" 
 
 VI 
 
 " Then I don't see but that he is about the 
 man for us," said Roscoe Orlando Gibbons; — 
 " at least he seems to provide a point for us to 
 start from." 
 
 Jeremiah McNulty rescued some loose 
 memoranda from the absent-minded pokings 
 of his caller's plump forefinger and scratched 
 his chin. 
 
 " You were pretty favourably impressed, 
 
178 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 weren't you? " asked Roscoe Orlando, leaning 
 forward across the corner of the other's desk. 
 " / was. I thought he had something in him, 
 and something behind him. Seemed to me 
 like a very dependable chap — for one in that 
 line. These artists, you know, — erratic, no- 
 tional, irresponsible. You never feel sure how 
 you have them; you can't treat with them as 
 you can with a downright, sensible, methodi- 
 cal business-man. I assure you I've heard the 
 most astonishing tales about them. There's 
 Whistley, for example — sort of sharp, perverse 
 spoiled child, I should say. And the time my 
 own brother-in-law had over the portrait 
 painted by that man from Sweden ! We've got 
 to make up our minds to be patient with them, 
 to humour them. But Dill, now " Ros- 
 coe Orlando Gibbons ran his fingers through 
 his graying whiskers and waited for Jeremiah's 
 belated observation. 
 
 Jeremiah took his time in making it. He 
 had accompanied his granddaughter to Daf- 
 fingdon Dill's studio, but he was in no haste 
 to formulate his impressions. His eyes were 
 still blinking at the duskiness of the place, his 
 nose was still sniffing the curious odour of 
 burning pastilles, his ears were still full of the 
 low-voiced chatter of a swarm of idle fashion- 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 1 79 
 
 ables, and his feet (that humpy tiger-rug once 
 passed) still had a lingering sense of the shin- 
 ing slipperiness of the brown polished floor. 
 That floor! — poor Jeremiah had stood upon it 
 as helpless as a cripple on a wide glare of ice, 
 at a cruelly embarrassing disadvantage and 
 wholly at the mercy of that original and 
 anomalous person in the brown Van Dyck 
 beard. Vainly had he cast about for something 
 to lay hold of. None of the people there had 
 he ever seen before; none of the topics bandied 
 about so lightly and carelessly had he ever 
 heard broached before. The sole prop upon 
 which he had tried to repose his sinking spirit 
 had looked indeed like an oak, but had turned 
 out to be merely a broken reed. " That's the 
 only man here," he had muttered, on looking 
 across toward a stalwart, broad-shouldered 
 figure standing half in the shadow of some 
 frayed and discoloured drapery. " He's sort 
 o' like one of those ' swells,' in that slick new 
 coat and all, but I'll risk him." However, this 
 robust young man had shown himself as 
 prompt as any in his use of the teasing jargon 
 of the place; he assumed on Jeremiah's part 
 some interest and some knowledge and dog- 
 matized as readily and energetically on the 
 general concerns of culture as any of the 
 
l8o UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 others. Jeremiah, prostrate, soon moved 
 away. 
 
 " Who is he — ^that tall young fellow over 
 by that curtain? " he could not refrain from 
 asking his granddaughter. How, he was 
 thinking to himself, — how could such a big, 
 vigorous young man betray such a range of 
 trivial interests? 
 
 " Why, grandpa," Preciosa had returned 
 reproachfully, " that's Mr. Joyce — Abner 
 Joyce, the great writer. You've heard of him, 
 surely? " 
 
 " H'm," said Jeremiah. He hadn't. 
 
 " And that lovely creature in the long, 
 bottle-green coat," Preciosa went on, " is his 
 wife. Isn't it stylish, though? — they're just 
 back from London. Aren't they a splendid 
 couple? And isn't she just the ideal type of 
 the young matron ? " 
 
 Jeremiah touched bottom. It was all of a 
 piece — everything was growing worse and 
 worse. "Young matron," indeed! — ^where 
 had his grandchild picked up that precious 
 phrase? She was growing all too worldly- 
 wise for his simple old mind. His abashed 
 eyes turned away from her and began to blink 
 at the twinkling candles on the tea-table; it 
 stood there like an altar raised for the cele- 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE l8l 
 
 bration of some strange, fearsome ritual — an 
 incident in the dubious life toward which a 
 heartless and ambitious daughter-in-law was 
 pushing his poor little Preciosa. He almost 
 felt like grasping her by the arm and bolting 
 with her from the place. 
 
 But most uncertain of all these uncertain- 
 ties had been the young painter himself. He 
 could not be brought down to business. He 
 dodged; he slipped away; he procrastinated. 
 He wouldn't show his work; he wouldn't talk 
 in figures; he wouldn't come within a mile of 
 a contract. Instead, he slid about, asking peo- 
 ple if they wouldn't have another biscuit, drop- 
 ping a word to a lady here and there about 
 Pater or Morelli (who were probably some- 
 where over there in the dark), confabulating 
 determinedly with people who were pointed 
 out as authors (more of them!), urging other 
 people, who were musical, in the direction of 
 the piano . . . 
 
 Some of these considerations Jeremiah 
 haltingly placed before Roscoe Orlando. 
 
 " Oh, well," returned Roscoe, twiddling 
 his fingers vaguely in the air, " you can't ex- 
 pect anything different on an ' afternoon.' 
 There are occasions when a man must let 
 down, must expand, must cultivate society a 
 
l82 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 little. It was very much like that the first time 
 I went there myself." 
 
 Roscoe Orlando's " first time " had been 
 but a week before. Preciosa McNulty had 
 communicated her novel impressions to his 
 daughters, who, in turn, had commented on 
 Preciosa's naivete in their father's hearing; 
 then Roscoe Orlando, who had never hurt 
 himself by overwork and who was developing 
 a growing willingness to leave his maps and his 
 plats and his subdivisions a little earlier in the 
 afternoon, had determined to step round and 
 patronize the new man. 
 
 " That we should never have met before! " 
 said Roscoe Orlando to Daffingdon; " I can 
 hardly credit it. Certainly it is no great thing 
 in my own favour, for I really claim to know 
 what is going on and to keep in touch with 
 the better things. In my own defence I must 
 say that I am an annual member of the Art 
 Academy and that people who have etchings 
 to sell invariably send me a copy of the cata- 
 logue. Your ateHer is charming — most 
 charming." 
 
 Roscoe Orlando was fat, florid and forty- 
 eight, and as he began to expand he promised 
 to take up a good deal of room. But Dill did 
 not grudge the space when he learned that 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 1 83 
 
 Roscoe Orlando was one of the directors of 
 the Grindstone. Roscoe Orlando declared this 
 with a broad, benevolent smile, accompanied 
 by a confidential little gesture to indicate that 
 a golden shower might soon descend and that 
 it was by no means out of his power to help 
 determine the favoured quarter. 
 
 " But this is no time to talk about that," 
 declared Roscoe Orlando, casting an eye over 
 the other visitors present. " I may drift in 
 again before long and look at some of your 
 things more seriously and have a little chat 
 with you about our project." 
 
 Roscoe Orlando had somehow failed to 
 drift in again, but he was now having the little 
 chat — or trying to have it — with Jeremiah Mc- 
 Nulty. 
 
 He looked across at the old man once 
 more. " Yes, I rather think, after all, that if we 
 were to try to arrange things with Dill we 
 shouldn't be going much amiss." 
 
 Jeremiah scratched his chin slowly, and 
 worked the tip of a square-toed boot against 
 his waste-paper basket. " I dunno. It's 
 a good deal of an undertaking," he de- 
 clared. 
 
 " Surely," assented Roscoe Orlando. " Do 
 we want it to be anything less? Don't we 
 
1 84 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 want to do something — a big thing, too — that 
 will be a credit to ourselves and a real adorn- 
 ment to our city? " 
 
 Jeremiah puckered up his mouth and slow- 
 ly blinked his little red eyes. " I've had one 
 or two of those young painter fellows after me 
 lately," he said in ruminative tone, as he picked 
 at the green baize of his desk-top. He spoke 
 with a slight querulousness, as if these wily 
 and hardy adventurers had wilfully hit upon 
 him as the weak spot in the defences, as the 
 vulnerable point of the Grindstone. In par- 
 ticular he saw a pair of burning black eyes, a 
 pair of eager, sinewy hands strewing drawings 
 over the pink and gold brocades of his front 
 parlour suite, and a shock of dark hair that 
 swished about over a high square forehead as 
 the work of hurried exposition raged along 
 against a pitiless ticking of the marble-and- 
 gilt clock and Preciosa's hasty adjustment of 
 the green velvet toque. 
 
 " Haven't I had them after me\ " cried Ros- 
 coe Orlando, jealous of his standing as an en- 
 lightened and sympathetic amateur. " But 
 we ought to deal — really, we ought to — with 
 painters of standing and responsibility, and no 
 others. We must keep in mind such things 
 as position, reputation, clientele. My partner, 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 1 85 
 
 for example, once contracted — or tried to — 
 for a large landscape of his stock-farm out be- 
 yond Glenwood Park; and the artist, sir 
 
 Well, you wouldn't believe the trouble we had 
 before we got through. Our lawyer himself 
 said that never in the whole course of his pro- 
 fessional career had he " 
 
 Jeremiah blinked and puckered a little 
 more, and sighed as he abstractedly prodded 
 among his pigeonholes. That slippery floor 
 typified it all, — that dim room full of dusky 
 corners! Ah, if he could only get that slim 
 young man with the long coat and the pointed 
 beard out on the black-and-white chequered 
 pavement of the Grindstone, fair and square in 
 the honest light of day! In such a situation 
 a downright, straightforward old contractor 
 could do himself something like justice. It 
 would be playing a return match on his own 
 ground. 
 
 " I dunno," said Jeremiah. " I'd 'most as 
 soon not have anything to do with such mat- 
 ters and with that sort of people " 
 
 He saw Dill as a dog might view a lizard, 
 or a goat a swan; after all, there was no com- 
 mon ground for them — no way of coming 
 together. 
 
 " But if it's got to be done," he concluded, 
 13 
 
1 86 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 " perhaps he would do as well to start with as 
 anybody else." 
 
 " I think so," said Roscoe Orlando. " I'll 
 speak about it in a day or so to Hill." 
 
 VII 
 
 Preciosa McNulty, after all, lost noth- 
 ing of The Princess Pattie except half of the 
 overture — a loss that, as operettas go, might 
 indeed be counted a gain; but the succeeding 
 activities of the prima donna, the ponderous 
 basso and the brace of " comedians " were sub- 
 ject to a series of very sensible impediments 
 and interruptions. Several times — and often 
 at the most inopportune of moments — a 
 swarthy, earnest young man walked across the 
 stage, throwing out big sheets of brown paper 
 right and left and looking at her and her alone. 
 He wore one unvarying expression — a min- 
 gling of reproach and of admiration. His eyes 
 said across the footlights; " You are a heart- 
 less, cruel little creature, but that green velvet 
 hat looks amazingly well on your chestnut hair 
 — so amazingly well that I almost forgive you. 
 Yet an hour lost by you from the theatre is 
 nothing, while an hour gained by me here in 
 your home almost makes the difference be- 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 1 87 
 
 tween life and death." Yes, there the young 
 man was, fifty feet away from her, yet she could 
 plainly see the blood pulsing through his 
 veined hands and could almost hear the ideas 
 ticking in his brain. How they had ticked, to 
 be sure, and clicked and clanked and jarred and 
 rattled and rumbled — a perfect factory, a per- 
 fect foundry of ideas ! Preciosa, who had never 
 had a dozen ideas in her life, and had seldom 
 encountered a human brain running full force 
 and full time, was a good deal impressed. " I 
 shouldn't wonder but what he was a pretty 
 smart fellow, after all. It was rather sudden, 
 the way I brought him up. Yes, I'm afraid 
 I'm a real cruel girl," said Preciosa compla- 
 cently, and reverted to the deplorable antics of 
 the " comedians." 
 
 Within a day or two Preciosa began to no- 
 tice the railway trains. Whenever she was de- 
 tained at a " grade crossing " she caught her- 
 self looking at the locomotive to find a lady 
 in a blue himation. Then the telegraph poles 
 began to trouble her; she got into the habit 
 of glancing aloft for nests of Cupids, and once 
 or twice she thought she saw them. Then 
 her father's letter-heads began to afifect her. 
 They sometimes lay carelessly about the house, 
 and whenever she saw the tall chimney of his 
 
l88 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 sash-and-blind factory looming above the 
 blank date-line she always looked for a female 
 in Greek drapery seated on a cogged wheel at 
 the base of it. 
 
 " This won't do," she told herself. " Dear 
 me, I don't even know his name. Why, for 
 heaven's sake, didn't I pay better attention? " 
 
 Not knowing his name did not prevent her 
 from thinking about him, nor even from talk- 
 ing about him. When Virgilia Jeffreys started 
 her up, she went on because she couldn't stop 
 and because she didn't want to, anyway. She 
 would not deny herself that small comfort. 
 
 Preciosa was the pride and the hope of the 
 McNultys — especially of her mother. This 
 ambitious lady had lived long in obscurity — 
 a prosperous, well-fed obscurity, but an ob- 
 scurity all the same — and now she was tired of 
 it and was rebelling against it and was mean- 
 ing to emerge from it. Every inch of her tall, 
 meagre figure was straining with the wish to 
 attract attention; every feature of her thin, 
 eager, big-eyed face showed forth the tense 
 desire to shine. She realized that Preciosa was 
 the only one of them who could raise the fam- 
 ily to a higher level and bring it within range 
 of the glamouring illumination of " society." 
 The child's grandfather doted on her, true, but 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 1 89 
 
 had never been quite able to leave behind him 
 the lusty young peasant of the bogs. He had 
 a regrettable taste in foot-gear, a teasingly un- 
 certain fashion of lapsing back into his shirt- 
 sleeves at table, and a slight brogue that had 
 stood a good deal of smothering without ever 
 reaching the point of actually giving up the 
 ghost. The girl's father lived and thought in 
 terms of blinds and frames and panellings; he 
 could never bring himself into sympathy with 
 his wife's social yearnings or even realize the 
 verity of their existence. Their boy was too 
 young; besides, what can be done with a boy, 
 anyway? As for herself, she had begun too 
 late; she was a little too stifif, too diffident; so- 
 ciety slightly intimidated her; she felt sure she 
 could never hope to associate in easy, intimate 
 fashion — even should the most abundant op- 
 portunity present — with the ladies whose 
 names were so often printed in the papers. 
 She might serve as a chaperon, a supernumer- 
 ary, perhaps, but as a leading figure, no. 
 
 There remained only Preciosa. But Pre- 
 ciosa would suffice. So the child was bundled 
 out at the earliest moment. She was made to 
 fence at the Young Ladies' Athletic League, 
 where the Gibbons girls went, and rather en- 
 joyed it. She was made to study and discuss 
 
19° UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 at the Philomathian Club, of which Virgilia 
 Jeffreys was a shining light, and enjoyed it 
 not at all. Then she began to go to musi- 
 cales and dramatic matinees at the Temple 
 of Art, finding a wide range of novel diver- 
 sion at these little functions and making 
 some acquaintances worth while. " And as 
 soon as spring is fairly here," said her inde- 
 fatigable mother, " she shall join a good golf 
 club; and then things will really have begun to 
 move." 
 
 But things had begun to move already. 
 The fairest, topmost blossom on the family 
 tree had set itself to swaying in the gentle 
 breezes of sentiment, regardless of the dotings 
 of the gnarled old root, of the indifference of 
 the sturdy trunk, of the solicitous rustlings of 
 the foliage. The blossom began to peer over 
 and to look down, as if conscious of the hon- 
 est, earthy odour of the dear lowly soil itself — 
 though not, perhaps, the soil of the links. 
 Preciosa was preparing to revert. 
 
 " No," she said again, " I don't even know 
 his name." 
 
 VIII 
 
 When Ignace Prochnow found himself 
 able to move into the Rabbit-Hutch, he con- 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE I9I 
 
 gratulated himself on having made a marked 
 advance in fortune. 
 
 "Oh, Lord!" thought Little O'Grady, 
 upon Prochnow's venturing this disclosure, 
 which he made in all sincerity and simplicity 
 and with a complete absence of false shame; 
 " how must he have lived before ! " 
 
 The Rabbit-Hutch, the Warren, the Bur- 
 row — it went by all of these names — was a hap- 
 less property that was trying to pay taxes on 
 itself between the ebbing of one tide of pros- 
 perity and the hoped-for flood of another. 
 Centres were shifting, values were see-sawing, 
 and old Ezekiel Warren was waiting for the 
 nature of the neighbourhood to declare itself 
 with something like distinctness. Mean- 
 while, — as regarded its upper floors, at least, 
 — broken panes of glass were seldom mended, 
 sagging doors seldom rehung, smoky ceilings 
 seldom whitewashed, and the corridors rarely 
 swept, save when the tenants formed them- 
 selves into a street-cleaning brigade, as Little 
 O'Grady called it, and co-operated to make 
 an immense but futile dust and stir. 
 
 " You're in a palace, sure," declared Little 
 O'Grady, on the occasion of his first call upon 
 the newcomer. This took place the third 
 day of Prochnow's tenancy — he had scarcely 
 
192 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 got his poor belongings into shape and had 
 barely afiSxed his name to the door. But Little 
 O' Grady cared nothing for conventions; he 
 was ready to overstep any boundary, to break 
 through any barrier. " How did it occur to 
 you to come among us? " he asked, sitting 
 down on the bed. " What made you want to 
 be a Bunny? " 
 
 " I found I must be where I could reach 
 people, and where I could give them a chance 
 to reach me." 
 
 Prochnow spoke with a slight accent — 
 slight, but quaint and pungent. To have come 
 among the Anglo-Saxons three or four years 
 sooner would have been an advantage; to have 
 deferred coming three or four years longer, a 
 calamity. 
 
 " Yep, they ' reach ' us good and hard," 
 said O'Grady; " processions of millionairesses 
 and peeresses marching through the halls with 
 gold crowns on their heads and bags of double- 
 eagles in both hands — nit. We did have a 
 real swell, though — once. She called when 
 Giles was here — it convulsed the premises. 
 We all lost our sleep and appetite and thought 
 of nothing else for a month. It was Mrs. 
 Pence — expect you haven't heard of her. 
 Money to burn — husband head of some tre- 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE I93 
 
 mendous trust or other — house as big as a 
 hotel — handsomest profile in six states. 
 ' Stevy,' says I to Giles, ' Stevy, for the love of 
 heaven, introjooce me. Take a quart of me 
 heart's blood, but only give me a chance to do 
 her lovely head.' He wouldn't. She came 
 when he had one of those good big rooms 
 lower down — very fair, nothing like these of 
 ours up here. He did wonders about fixing it 
 up, too. But now we've lost him; he's gone, 
 and taken my best chance with him." Little 
 O 'Grady rocked to and fro in melancholy 
 mood and the cot creaked and swayed in 
 unison. 
 
 " Show me something," he said suddenly, 
 jerking himself back to his own bright hu- 
 mour. " I've smelt your coffee and I've heard 
 your mandolin, and now I want to see your 
 pictures." 
 
 " I've just sold one or two of my best 
 ones," said Prochnow. " That's why I was 
 able to come here." 
 
 " Sold a picture! " cried Little O'Grady, 
 
 with staring eyes. " Sold a Have you 
 
 spent the money? " 
 
 " Most of it." 
 
 " Well, let it pass. Only we generally look 
 for a supper after the sale of a picture. We 
 
194 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 had one six months ago. We're getting hun- 
 gry again. But let that pass too. Show me 
 something." 
 
 Prochnow looked at Little O' Grady, open- 
 ly and unaffectedly appraising him. Little 
 O'Grady jovially blinked his gray-green eyes 
 and tossed his fluffy, sandy hair. " Don't 
 make any mistake about me; I can appreciate 
 a good thing. What's that big roll of brown 
 paper behind the washstand? " 
 
 Prochnow reached for it. " Just a scheme 
 for decoration I got up two or three years ago. 
 It didn't quite — how do you say? — come off." 
 
 " Such things seldom do," said the other. 
 " That's the trouble. Let's look." 
 
 " It isn't much," said Prochnow, undoing 
 the roll. " It isn't quite what I would do now. 
 It's the sort of thing I show to ordinary peo- 
 ple." 
 
 " It will do to begin on. H'm, I see; just 
 a lot of ladies playing at Commerce and Edu- 
 cation and Industry and so on. Still, those 
 cherubs up in the air are well done." He 
 glanced over behind the wood-box. " Bust 
 open that portfolio." 
 
 Prochnow looked at his visitor again — 
 longer, more studiously. 
 
 " Oh, come now," said Little O'Grady, 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE I95 
 
 " you'll have me red-headed in a minute. I'm 
 no chump; I know a good thing when I see it." 
 
 Prochnow opened the portfolio and hand- 
 ed out several sketches one after another. 
 "These are more recent," he said; — "all 
 within the last few months." 
 
 Little O' Grady snatched them, devoured 
 them, immediately took fire. Prochnow 
 caught the flame and burned and blazed in re- 
 turn. " Whew! this is warm stuff! " cried Lit- 
 tle O'Grady, who had not an envious bone in 
 his body; " and you — you're a wonder! " Lit- 
 tle O'Grady made a last sudden grab. " Oh, 
 this, this! " He dropped the sheet and threw 
 up both hands. Then, being still seated on 
 the cot, he threw up both feet. Then he placed 
 his feet upon the floor and rose on them and 
 gave Ignace Prochnow a set oratorical appre- 
 ciation of his qualities as a thinker and a 
 draughtsman, and then, swept away by a sud- 
 den impulse to spread the news of this magnifi- 
 cent new " find " right under their own roof, 
 he rushed downstairs to communicate his dis- 
 covery to Festus Gowan. 
 
 " Will return in half an hour," said the card 
 on Gowan's door; so Little O'Grady sped back 
 upstairs and burst in on Mordreth. 
 
 Mordreth was sitting composedly before a 
 
196 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 half-finished portrait of an elderly man of rustic 
 mien. About him were disposed a number of 
 helps and accessories: a pair of old-fashioned 
 gold spectacles, an envelope containing a lock 
 of gray hair, two or three faded photographs, 
 and a steel engraving extracted from the 
 Early Settlers of Illinois. With these aids 
 he was hoping to hit the taste and satisfy 
 the memory of certain surviving grandchil- 
 dren. 
 
 Little O'Grady ignored the presence of any 
 third person and let himself out. " He's a 
 genius, Mark; he's full of the real stuff. He 
 can draw to beat the band, and he's got ideas 
 to burn — throws them out as a volcano does 
 hot stones. And I expect he can paint too, 
 from what little I saw — says he's just sold off 
 all his best things. Yes, sir, he's an out-and- 
 out genius and we've got to treat him right; 
 we must let him in on this bank scheme of ours 
 — that's all there is about it ! " 
 
 IX 
 
 " Well, it comes to this, then," said Vir- 
 gilia. " We must give them something defi- 
 nite — a fully outlined projet; and we must 
 give it to them as soon as possible." She 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 197 
 
 cleared away the ruck of evening papers from 
 the library table, sent her younger sister off 
 with arithmetic and geography to the dining- 
 room, extracted a few sheets of monogrammed 
 paper from the silver stationery-rack close by, 
 and turned on two or three more lights in the 
 electrolier overhead. " Now, then. We'll 
 choke ofif that foolish notion of theirs; we'll 
 smother it before it has a chance to mature." 
 
 She put a pen into Daffingdon's hand, with 
 the open expectation of immediate results. 
 She herself always thought better with a pen 
 in her hand and a writing-pad under it; no 
 doubt a painter would respond to the same 
 stimulus. 
 
 Daffingdon bit at the end of the penholder 
 and made a dog-ear on the topmost of the 
 steel-gray sheets. 
 
 " Come," said Virgilia. " Whatever follies 
 may have begun to churn in their poor weak 
 noddles, we will not draw upon the early pages 
 of the local annals, we will not attempt to re- 
 construct the odious architecture of the primi- 
 tive prairie town. Come; there are twelve 
 large lunettes, you say? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Well, now, just how shall we handle 
 them? " 
 
198 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 " I had thought of a general colour-scheme 
 in umber and sienna; though Giles's idea of 
 shading the six on the left into purple and olive 
 and the six on the right into " 
 
 " Dear me ! Can we hope to impress An- 
 drew P. Hill with any such idea as that? No; 
 we must have our theme, our subject — our 
 series of subjects." 
 
 " I don't want to be simply pictorial," said 
 Dafifingdon reluctantly; " and surely you can't 
 expect me to let my work run into mere litera- 
 ture." 
 
 " They're business-men," returned Virgilia. 
 " For our own credit — for our own salvation, 
 indeed — we must be clear-cut and definite. 
 Even if we are artists we mustn't give those 
 hard-headed old fellows any chance to accuse 
 us of wabbling, of shilly-shallying. We must 
 try to be as business-like as they are. So let's 
 get in our work — and get it in first." 
 
 Daffingdon's eyes roamed the rugs, the 
 hangings, the furniture. " ' The Genius of the 
 City/ " he murmured vaguely, " ' Encourag- 
 ing — Encouraging ' " 
 
 " Yes, yes," spoke Virgilia, doing a little 
 encouraging herself. 
 
 " Or, ' The— The Westward Star of Em- 
 pire Illuminating the ' " proceeded Daf- 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY ys. THE GRINDSTONE I99 
 
 fingdon mistily, raising his eyes toward the 
 electrolier. 
 
 " Yes, yes," responded Virgilia quickly, by 
 way of further encouragement. 
 
 " Or — or — ' The Triumphal March of 
 
 Progress through Our ' " Daffingdon 
 
 confusedly dipped the wrong end of the pen- 
 holder into the big sprawling inkstand. 
 
 Virgilia's teeth began to feel for her lips, 
 and her eyebrows to draw themselves down in 
 an impatient little frown of disappointment. 
 Not through " Our Midst," she hoped. What 
 was the matter with her idol? What had he 
 done with all his fund of information? What 
 had become of his ideas, his imagination? She 
 felt that if she were to approach a bit closer 
 to his pedestal and sound him with her 
 knuckles he would be found hollow. What a 
 calamity in such a discovery! She put her 
 hand behind her back and kept her distance. 
 
 " 'The Genius of the City,' " she mused; 
 " ' The Star of Empire.' Those might do for 
 single subjects but not for a general scheme. 
 ' The March of Progress ' — that might be bet- 
 ter as a broad working basis, although " 
 
 She saw the " lady " seated on the cogged 
 wheel beneath the factory chimney and 
 stopped. 
 
200 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 "'The Prairie-Schooner '— ' The Bridg- 
 ing of the Mississippi ' — ' The Last of the Buf- 
 faloes ' — ' The Corner-Stones of New Capi- 
 tols ' " pursued Daffingdon brokenly. 
 
 " Would you care very much for that sort 
 of thing? " asked Virgilia. 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Nor I. Come, let me tell you; I have it: 
 ' The History of Banking in all Ages ' ! There, 
 what do you think of that? " she asked, rising 
 with an air of triumph. 
 
 Dill hesitated. " I don't believe I know so 
 very much about the history of banking." 
 
 " Don't you? But / do — enough and more 
 than enough for the present purpose. Come, 
 tell me, isn't that a promising idea? What a 
 series it would make! — so picturesque, so 
 varied, so magnificent ! " 
 
 Dafifingdon looked up at his Egeria; her 
 visible inspiration almost cowed him. " Isn't 
 that a pretty large theme? " he questioned. 
 " Wouldn't it require a good deal of thought 
 and study ? " 
 
 " Thought? Study? Surely it would. 
 But / think and study all the time! Let me 
 see; where shall we begin? With the Jews and 
 Lombards in England. Think what you have! 
 — contrast, costumes, situations, everything. 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 201 
 
 Then take the ' Lombards ' in Italy itself; the 
 founding of the earliest banks in Venice, Luc- 
 ca, Genoa, Florence; the glamour of it, the 
 spectacularity of it, the dealings with popes 
 and with foreign kings! And there were the 
 Fuggers at Augsburg who trafficked with em- 
 perors: houses with those step-ladder gables, 
 and people with pufifed elbows and slashed 
 sleeves and feathers of all colours in those wide 
 hats. And then the way that kings and em- 
 perors treated the bankers: Edward the Second 
 refusing to repay his Florentine loans and 
 bringing the whole city to ruin; Charles the 
 First sallying out to the Mint and boldly ap- 
 propriating every penny stored there — ^plain, 
 barefaced robbery. Then, later, the armies 
 of Revolutionary France pillaging banks 
 everywhere — grenadiers, musketeers and cui- 
 rassiers in full activity. Among others, the 
 Bank of Amsterdam — the one that loaned all 
 those millions of florins to the East India Com- 
 pany. And that brings in, you see, turbans, 
 temples, jewels, palm-trees, and what not be- 
 sides " 
 
 " So much trouble," breathed Daffingdon; 
 "so much efifort; such an expense for cos- 
 tumes." 
 
 " And if you want to enlarge the scheme," 
 14 
 
202 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 pursued Virgilia, waiving all considerations of 
 trouble, effort and expense, " so as to include 
 coining, money-changing and all that, why, 
 think what you have then! The brokers at 
 Corinth, the mensarii in the Roman Forum. 
 And think of the ducats designed by Da Vinci 
 and by Cellini ! And all the Byzantine coins in 
 Gibbon — the student's edition is full of them! 
 Why, there are even the Assyrian tablets — 
 you must have heard about the discovery of 
 the records of that old Babylonian bank. 
 Think of the costumes, the architecture, the 
 square curled beards, the flat winged lions, 
 and all. Why, dear me, I see the whole series 
 of lunettes as good as arranged for, and work 
 laid out for a dozen of you, or more ! " cried 
 Virgilia, as she pounced upon a sheet of paper 
 and snatched the pen from Dill. 
 
 " A dozen? " he murmured. " A hun- 
 dred! " 
 
 " Nonsense ! " she returned. " Four or five 
 of you could manage it very handily. You, 
 and Giles, and " 
 
 " The Academy would expect recogni- 
 tion," said Dill. " One of the professors for 
 a third. And somebody or other from the 
 Warren, I suppose, for a fourth." 
 
 " Three subjects apiece, then," said Vir- 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY FS. THE GRINDSTONE 203 
 
 gilia. " Go in and win ! — By the way, did I 
 mention Phidion of Argos? He was one of 
 the primitive coiners. And then there was 
 Athelstane, who regulated minting among the 
 early Saxons . . ." 
 
 X 
 
 Dill passed out into the cool starry night 
 to recover his breath and to regain his com- 
 posure. It was as if he had struggled through 
 a whirlpool or had wrenched himself away 
 from the downpour of a cataract. Virgilia's 
 interest, her enthusiasm, her co-operation had 
 reared itself above him and toppled over on 
 him just like a high, ponderous wall; the bricks 
 bruised him, the dust of scattered mortar filled 
 his lungs and his eyes. " Such a mind! " he 
 thought; " such readiness; such a fund of 
 information!" Never before had anybody 
 offered so panting, so militant a participation 
 in his doings. He doubted too whether Vir- 
 gilia could ever have felt so extreme an inter- 
 est in the doings of any other man whomso- 
 ever. Certainly it was a fair surmise that 
 Richard Morrell, during the formative period 
 of the Pin-and-Needle Combine, had never so 
 succeeded in enlisting her sympathy and sup- 
 port, — otherwise she would not have turned 
 
204 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 him off in the summary fashion that had kept 
 society smiling and gossiping for a fortnight. 
 
 As Daffingdon walked thoughtfully down 
 the quiet street a deep sense of gratitude stirred 
 within him — he felt himself prompted to the 
 most chivalrous of acknowledgments. He saw 
 himself taking her hand — with such delibera- 
 tion as to preclude any shock of surprise, and 
 looking into her eyes as ardently and earnestly 
 as good taste would permit; and heard himself 
 saying, in a voice as tremulous with passion as 
 the voice of a well-bred gentleman could be 
 allowed to become, such things as should make 
 quite unmistakable his appreciation of her 
 qualities both as an amateur and a woman. 
 Certainly if this great undertaking went 
 through he should be able to say all that was 
 
 in him and to maintain it to the last word. She 
 
 « 
 
 had turned a deaf ear to others, but there was 
 reason to think she might listen to him. 
 
 Then all at once the magnitude of the 
 scheme rose before him; such a vast expendi- 
 ture of time on books of plates in libraries — 
 and weeks and months to be devoted to 
 sketches, to compositions, to colour-schemes 
 of this sort and that; such a tremendous outlay 
 for models, for costumes, for multifarious ac- 
 cessories! But as Daffingdon gradually pulled 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 205 
 
 himself together, a comforting little sense of 
 flattery came to soothe his bruises and to clear 
 his eyes. Yes, she believed in him. This bril- 
 liant and learned young woman had impetu- 
 ously placed her boundless stores of erudition 
 at his disposal; she had loaded the work of 
 twenty men on his shoulders and was con- 
 fidently expecting him to carry off the whole 
 vast undertaking with jaunty ease. He must 
 not fail. Fortunately, she was willing to ad- 
 mit the co-operation of a few of his brother 
 artists. 
 
 Dill laid her plan — their plan — before two 
 or three of his own guild, experimentally. 
 They gaped at it as a plainsman would gape at 
 the Himalayas. Nor was it, as has been said, 
 the smallest of mouthfuls to himself. How- 
 ever, the distinguished assistance of a young 
 woman of fashion, means and cultivation was 
 not a matter to hide under a bushel; besides, 
 some firm, concrete scheme must be put 
 promptly before the Nine Old Men of the 
 Bank before they should have glued their de- 
 sires undetachably upon some crude, prepos- 
 terous plan of their own. 
 
 " It would cost like smoke," said Giles, 
 " but it's an idea." 
 
 " Let's try it on," said the Academy pro- 
 
206 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 fessor. " It would show us as on deck and 
 would help us to take their measure. Who 
 knows but it might be the means of staving off 
 a series of medallion portraits of the board 
 themselves! " 
 
 " An idea, yes," reiterated Giles. " But it 
 lays out a terrible lot of work for us. Such a 
 job would be enormous." 
 
 " Tackle it," said Abner Joyce. He 
 claimed as a matter of course the right to be 
 present at such conferences. Joyce himself 
 had the strength and the pluck to tackle any- 
 thing. 
 
 " Well, let's try it on," assented Giles. 
 " We've got to cut in first, that's sure — if we 
 can. Come, let's put out our feelers." 
 
 This was more or less in harmony with Vir- 
 gilia's parting advice. " Show them to them- 
 selves in historical perspective," she had sug- 
 gested to Dill in bidding him good-night at 
 the front door, — " the last link in one long, 
 glittering chain. Flatter them; associate 
 them with the Romans and Venetians — 
 bring in the Assyrians if need be. Tell them 
 how the Bardi and the Peruzzi ruled the 
 roost in old Florence. Work in Sir Thomas 
 Gresham and the Royal Exchange — ruffs, 
 rapiers, farthingales, Drake, Shakespeare and 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY K5. THE GRINDSTONE Z0^ 
 
 the whole ' spacious ' time of Elizabeth.. Make 
 them a part of the poetry of it — make them a 
 part of the picturesqueness of it. That will 
 bring Mr. Gibbons around easily enough, 
 and ought to budge two or three of the 
 others." 
 
 Daffingdon took his great scheme to the 
 bank, but it failed to charm. Andrew P. Hill 
 poked at Dafifingdon's neatly drawn-up mem- 
 orandum with a callous finger and blighted it 
 with an indifferent look out of a lack-lustre 
 eye. The mensarii of Rome and the trapezites 
 of Athens seemed a long way oflf. The pictur- 
 esque beginnings of the Bank of Genoa left 
 him cold. The raid of the Stuart king on the 
 Tower mint appeared to have very little to do 
 with the case. And Jeremiah McNuIty, who 
 happened to be about the premises, showed 
 himself but slightly disposed to fan Hill's 
 feeble interest to a flame. 
 
 " This is not just what we want," said 
 Hill. " It is not at all what any of us had in 
 mind. It is very little in accord, I must say, 
 with the ideas I gave you last week. I don't 
 think it will do. Still, if you want to get up 
 some drawings to show about how it would 
 come out, and bring them around in a week 
 or so . . ." 
 
208 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 Daffingdon groaned inwardly; after all, 
 they were wedded to their own notion. He 
 explained to them the unfairness of their pro- 
 posal — detailing the cost of models, the matter 
 of draperies, the time required for study, the 
 labours and difficulties of composition. To 
 do experimentally what they were asking him 
 to do would be to execute half the entire work 
 on a mere chance. 
 
 " Well, we won't buy a pig in a poke," said 
 old Jeremiah sturdily. He was now on the 
 familiar chequered pavement of black and 
 white and felt a good deal at home. " We've 
 got to see what we're going to pay for. That's 
 business." 
 
 " Never mind," said Andrew. " After all, 
 we want something nearer to our own time 
 and closer to our own town. We want to show 
 ourselves loyal to the place where we've made 
 our money. We want to put on record the 
 humble beginnings of this great metropolis. 
 The early days of our own city are plenty good 
 enough for us." 
 
 " That's right," said Jeremiah. He saw 
 himself a lusty young fellow of twenty-five, the 
 proud new head of a contractor's shop, with his 
 own lumber pile, a dozen lengths of sewer 
 pipe, a mortar bed, a wheelbarrow or two and a 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 209 
 
 horse and cart. No need of going farther 
 back than that. Those early days were glori- 
 ous and fully worthy to be immortalized. 
 
 " We want to make our new building 
 talked about," said Hill. " We want every 
 daily paper in town, and throughout the 
 whole country, to be full of it. We want 
 to make it an object of interest to every 
 man, woman and child in our own commu- 
 nity. When the little boys and girls come 
 down Saturday morning to deposit their 
 pennies — for we shall open a savings depart- 
 ment that will welcome the humblest — we 
 want them to learn from our walls the story of 
 the struggles and the triumphs of their fathers' 
 early days " 
 
 " That's right," said Jeremiah again. " If 
 you had lived here as long as I have, young 
 man, you would understand that there's no 
 need of going outside our own bor^r-ders for 
 annything we may require." 
 
 " Yes, a great deal of history has been 
 transacted on this site," said Hill, — " more 
 than enough to meet the requirements of our 
 present purpose. I have here " — he opened a 
 drawer in one side of his desk and drew out 
 a paper — " I have here a list of subjects that I 
 think would do. Mr. McNulty and I drew it 
 
2IO UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 Up together. Take it and look it over; it might 
 be an " 
 
 A shadow darkened the door. It was an- 
 other interruption from the Morrell Twins. 
 This time it was not Richard Morrell, but 
 Robin, his brother. His pocket bulged with 
 what seemed to be papers of importance, and 
 his face signalled to Andrew P. Hill to clear 
 the deck of lesser matters. 
 
 " — it might be an advantage to you," An- 
 drew concluded. " This about represents our 
 ideas; see what you can do with it." 
 
 Andrew passed the paper over to Jeremiah, 
 and Jeremiah passed it on to Dafifingdon with 
 an expression of unalterable firmness and de- 
 cision. " You must do something with this, if 
 you are going to do anything for us at all," his 
 air said. " It's this or nothing. It is our own 
 idea; we're proud of it, and we insist upon it. 
 Go." 
 
 XI 
 
 The Morrell Twins were among the newer 
 powers. They had rolled up a "surprisingly big 
 fortune — if it was a fortune — in a surprisingly 
 short time, and were looked up to as very per- 
 fect gentle knights by all the ambitious young 
 fry of the " street." They were the head and 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY ys. THE GRINDSTONE 211 
 
 front of the Pin-and-Needle Combine. They 
 did not deal with the Grindstone only; they 
 had made their business the business of half 
 the banks of the town, — for how could these 
 institutions be expected to stand out when all 
 the investors and speculators of the street were 
 pressing forward eager to add to their collec- 
 tions a few good specimens of the admirably 
 engraved and printed certificates of the Com- 
 bine, and more than willing to pay any price 
 that anybody might ask? Some of the banks 
 — the more fortunate among them — ^were at- 
 tending to this business during business hours ; 
 others of them worked on it overtime, and one 
 or two were beginning to work on it all night 
 as well as all day. They worried. The Twins 
 were not worrying nearly so much, — they 
 knew they must be seen through. 
 
 The Twins had been grinding pins and 
 needles for a year or two with striking acumen 
 and dexterity. Sometimes Richard would 
 turn the handle and Robin would hold the poor 
 dull pins to thp stone; and then again they 
 would change places. Whichever arrange- 
 ment happened to be in force, people said the 
 work had never been done more neatly, more 
 precisely. And now the Twins had enlarged 
 their field and had begun to grind noses. 
 
212 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 They were showing themselves past masters 
 in the art. They had all the legislation of 
 nose-grinding at their fingers' ends; the lack 
 of legislation, too, as well as the probabilities 
 of legislation yet to come. They knew just 
 how fast the wheel might be turned in this 
 State, and just how close the nose might be 
 held in that, and just how loud the victim must 
 cry out before the Rescue Band might be 
 moved to issue from some Committee Room 
 to stop the treatment. They knew where nose- 
 grinding was prohibited altogether, and they 
 knew where enactments against it had thus far 
 completely failed. They knew where the pen- 
 alty was likely to be enforced, and they knew 
 where it might be evaded. " Learn familiarly 
 the whole body of legislative enactment, state 
 by state, and then keep a little in advance of 
 it," — such was their simple rule. 
 
 No man is to be denied the right to profit 
 by his own discovery, and so, though the glory 
 of the Twins was envied, their right to luxuri- 
 ate in it was seldom questioned. They were 
 seen in all sorts of prominent and expensive 
 places — at the opera, at the horse-show, on the 
 golf links, and were very much envied and ad- 
 mired, — envied by other young men that were 
 trying to do as they had done, but not succeed- 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 213 
 
 ing; admired by multitudes of young women 
 who felt pretty sure that to " have things," 
 and to have them with great abundance and 
 promptness and conspicuousness, was all that 
 made life worth living. In this environment 
 Richard Morrell could hardly fail to be fairly 
 well satisfied with himself. To ask and to re- 
 ceive would come to the same thing. And so 
 he spoke to Virgilia one crisp October morn- 
 ing, between the fifth and sixth holes in Smoky 
 Hollow, and awaited in all confidence her re- 
 ply. But Virgilia quickly made it plain that he 
 would not do — not for her, at least. She was 
 by no means one of the kind to be impressed 
 by tally-ho coaches, however loudly and dis- 
 cordantly the grooms might trumpet, nor to 
 be brought round by country-club dinners, 
 however deafening the chatter or however pre- 
 ponderant the phalanx of long-necked bottles. 
 So his raw, red face turned a shade redder still; 
 and as he sat, later, on the club veranda, hec- 
 toring the waiter and scowling into his empty 
 glass, he growled to himself in a thick under- 
 tone: 
 
 "What's the matter with the girl, any- 
 way? If she doesn't want me, who does she 
 want? " 
 
 Virgilia wanted, in a general way, an inti- 
 
214 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 mate and equal companionship, a trafficking in 
 the things that interested her — the higher 
 things, she sometimes called them to herself. 
 She wanted a gentleman; she wanted cultiva- 
 tion, refinement — even to its last debilitating 
 excess. What she wanted least of all was 
 a " provider," a steward, an agent, a busi- 
 ness machine. " We must live," she would 
 say, looking forward toward her matrimonial 
 ideal; " we mustn't let our whole hfe run out in 
 a mere stupid endeavour to accumulate the 
 means of living, and then find ourselves only 
 beginning when at the finish: " — an idea held 
 substantially by so different a young person as 
 Preciosa McNulty, who was preparing to set 
 aside her mother's careful ambitions and to 
 take a step forward on her own account. Only, 
 Preciosa was looking less for cultivation and 
 gentility than for " temperament." Less the 
 dry specialist, however successful in the accu- 
 mulation of this world's goods, than the reso- 
 nant adventurer that would bring her full 
 chance at all the manifold haps and mishaps 
 of Hfe as it runs. 
 
 " Nothing more tedious than a set pro- 
 gramme," declared Preciosa. " If my whole 
 future were to be arranged for me to-morrow, 
 I should want to die the day after. A whole 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 215 
 
 play " — Preciosa was a most persevering lit- 
 tle theatre-goer — " carried through with one 
 stage-setting — how tiresome that would be! " 
 
 XII 
 
 " Come, now," said Little O'Grady; " help 
 the lame duck over the stile. Be a good 
 Gowan — give the poor fellow the use of your 
 studio. Mordreth's isn't enough better to be 
 worth asking for, and Stalinski is working 
 from the model. Come, — as a personal favour 
 to me. It was I let you in on the bank scheme 
 and gave you a chance to make big money; 
 and now you must just let Ignace have the use 
 of your place for a few hours — ^he can't paint 
 the girl's picture in that little hole upstairs." 
 
 "Much you let me in! " retorted Gowan 
 with a grin. " Tell me who is in, anyway, and 
 how far, and for how much, and I'll give you 
 half I get." 
 
 " Haven't I seen them? " returned Little 
 O'Grady. " Didn't I address the whole board? 
 Didn't I go for them with the architect himself 
 to help me? Haven't I got the mantel-piece 
 in the president's parlour? And now if Ignace 
 can only get a chance to paint the fav'rite 
 grandchild of one of the Yes, sir; I 
 
2l6 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 talked to them as a business-man to business- 
 men, and it went. They're square; they're 
 solid; they'll treat us right. Never you fear. 
 In a year from now you'll be wearing diamonds 
 and saying: ' O'Grady, you're the wan that 
 hung them on me.' Now will you give Ignace 
 your room? " 
 
 " Why, he's no portrait painter, is he? " 
 
 " She thinks he is. And it's what the girls 
 think of us that makes us what we are. As for 
 me, I believe he can do anything. Come, give 
 the poor lad a show." 
 
 " What could he do in an hour or 
 two? " 
 
 " He could get acquainted with her," said 
 Little O'Grady. 
 
 Preciosa, thanks to O'Grady's chatterings 
 through the Temple of Art — he blew in and 
 out with great freedom and was as much at 
 home there as in the humbler establishment 
 — had come to some knowledge of Ignace 
 Prochnow. She learned his name — in itself an 
 immense advance, and the location of his 
 studio; and she arranged with the Gibbons 
 girls, who, by reason of their fencing, were 
 developing great self-reliance and a high ca- 
 pacity for initiative, to search him out in his 
 private haunts. 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY FS. THE GRINDSTONE 2X7 
 
 "Set the day," chirped Little O'Grady, 
 " and we'll be ready for you." 
 
 Preciosa set the day; Little O'Grady 
 traced Prochnow's name in elaborate letter- 
 ings and clapped this new placard over Cow- 
 an's own; and all waited intent to see just 
 what of interest would develop in the coun- 
 tenance of the daughter of the McNultys, and 
 just what Ignace Prochnow would be able to 
 make of it. 
 
 Preciosa wore her green velvet toque, and 
 let her chestnut hair stray and ramble whither- 
 soever it would, and sat in Gowan's best high- 
 backed mahogany chair with the brass ro- 
 settes, and tried to view with kindly indul- 
 gence his flimsy knick-knacks and shabby 
 hangings (they came nowhere near Dill's) on 
 account of her interest in their supposed pro- 
 prietor. Nor did she find in her painter any 
 of Dill's soft suavity. Prochnow was direct 
 and downright almost to brusqueness, seeming 
 to see no need of such graduated preliminaries 
 as even O'Grady found place and reason for. 
 Pie admired her, and admired her extremely, 
 as she perceived at once; but he offered none 
 of the appropriate deferences that she had 
 received on occasion from obscure young men 
 of less than modest fortune. He was intent, 
 
21 8 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 he was earnest, he was even a bit peremptory; 
 but she felt perfectly certain that he was not 
 treating her as a subject and a subject merely. 
 His black eyes looked at her with a sort of 
 sharp severity across the leg of the easel, and 
 his rasping crayon promptly scratched down 
 his impressions upon the promising blank of 
 his canvas. Preciosa was slightly puzzled, but 
 on the whole pleased. She knew she was 
 worth looking at, and felt herself fit to stand 
 the keenest scrutiny. She leaned back easily 
 in her chair. Let time attend to the rest. 
 
 " Doesn't she composel " said Little 
 O'Grady in a poignant whisper to Elizabeth 
 Gibbons, as he thrust out his arms akimbo and 
 squinted learnedly at Preciosa through his fin- 
 gers. " And hasn't the lad got linel " he pres- 
 ently added in a rapturous undertone, as the 
 black and white tracing began to take shape. 
 Prochnow was drawing with immense free- 
 dom, decision, confidence; every stroke told, 
 and told the first time. "He knows how ! He 
 knows how\ " moaned Little O'Grady, lock- 
 ing his hands and forearms in a strange twist 
 and rocking to and fro with emotion. " He's 
 got the wrist! — the wristl " he exclaimed fur- 
 ther, liberating his hands and fanning the air 
 with long pendulous fingers. " There, he's 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY FS. THE GRINDSTONE 219 
 
 caught her already ! " he cried, leaning for- 
 ward, — " inside of five minutes. Not a line 
 more, Ignace; not a line more! " 
 
 Prochnow turned on him with a grim tight 
 smile — a smile that slightly dilated the nos- 
 trils of his good firm nose and shifted in ever 
 so small a degree the smutch of black beneath 
 that was slowly advancing to the status of a 
 moustache. It was an acknowledgment from 
 one who could to one who knew. " Ah, si 
 jeunesse. . . . !" ejaculates the poet; but here 
 jeunesse, by a doubling of forces, both pouvait 
 and savait. 
 
 Then Prochnow turned the canvas itself 
 round toward Preciosa. " Does Mademoi- 
 selle recognise herself? " 
 
 " It's you, Preciosa, to the life," said the 
 daughter of Roscoe Orlando Gibbons. 
 
 "Oh, Ig!" cried Little O' Grady, much 
 moved, " you're the king-pin sure. People 
 shall know you ; people must know you ! " He 
 faced about toward Preciosa. " Ah, my fair 
 young thing, he's got you dead. Why, Daff 
 himself couldn't have reached this in an 
 hour! " 
 
 Preciosa was like most of the rest of us 
 — inclined to take good workmanship for 
 granted; where there was nothing to criticise 
 
220 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 there was nothing to take hold of. But the 
 words and actions of Little O' Grady — he was 
 now hopping about on one leg, holding the 
 other in his hand — made the matter perfectly- 
 certain. Her painter had done a notable 
 thing, and done it easily, promptly, without 
 revisions, without fumblings. His own face 
 and attitude expressed his consciousness of 
 this. " Nobody could have done it better," 
 she read in his eyes; " and you, you blooming 
 young creature, have been the inspiration." 
 He had called her " Mademoiselle " too; could 
 anything be more charming? Nothing save 
 his accent itself, — a trick of the tongue, an in- 
 tonation ever so slightly alien that addressed 
 her ear just as some perfume's rich but smoth- 
 ered pungency might address the nose. Yes, 
 the first stage in her apotheosis was an un- 
 doubted success. All that was needed now 
 was her translation from black and white to 
 colour. Well, the chariot was ready to take 
 her up still higher. 
 
 " I have found you very easily. Mademoi- 
 selle," — Preciosa felt a sugary little shudder 
 at this repetition of the word, — " I have found 
 you very easily," said Prochnow, casting about 
 for his palette and brushes; " and now I may 
 just as easily lose you." 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY ys. THE GRINDSTONE 22T 
 
 " Oh no," said Elizabeth Gibbons, with 
 great earnestness. 
 
 " Never fear," said Little O'Grady confi- 
 dently. " Though the Hkeness generally gets 
 submerged at first, it comes to the surface 
 again in the end." 
 
 " Don't risk it," continued Elizabeth Gib- 
 bons. 
 
 " What has been done once," said Proch- 
 now, motioning with a brush-handle toward 
 the charcoal sketch, " can be done once more." 
 
 Prochnow handled his brushes with the 
 same firmness and confidence that he had 
 shown in handling his crayon. The " resem- 
 blance " soon sank beneath the waves, as 
 prophesied, but Little O'Grady continued to 
 ride on the topmost crest with unabated en- 
 thusiasm. "Wheel hasn't he got the nerve! 
 hasn't he got the stroke! Doesn't he just 
 more than slather it on ! " he cried. " Catch 
 the shadows in that green velvet! R-r-rip! — 
 and the high light on that tan jacket ! " he pro- 
 ceeded in a smothered shout, as he nudged 
 Elizabeth Gibbons in the side. Elizabeth had 
 never been nudged before, and moved farther 
 down the settle, after giving him a look. Little 
 O'Grady, who never knew when he was 
 squelched — he never, as a fact, had been 
 
222 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 squelched by anybody whomsoever — moved 
 along after her. "Oh, my! Can't he paintl 
 Can't he more than lay it on\ Did you get that 
 last one, now? " 
 
 Buoyed up by such support as this, Proch- 
 now forged ahead with quadrupled brio, and 
 Preciosa felt the chariot rising heavenward 
 cloud by cloud. Little O'Grady continued to 
 lead the performance, prompting Preciosa to 
 look her prettiest and Prochnow to do his best. 
 " Ah, my sweet child," he declared, " you've 
 fallen into good hands. You're trying to get 
 away, true: you've nearly lost those bright 
 eyes, and I wouldn't want to swear to your ears 
 or your chin, just yet; but your blessed old- 
 gold hair is there all right, and it's put on to 
 stay. The rest of you will be coming back to- 
 morrow, or next day, or the day after. And 
 then you'll be all on deck, jew'l. You'll see; 
 you'll hear; you'll speak, by heaven! Won't 
 she, Lizzie? " 
 
 Miss Gibbons gave Little O'Grady another 
 look. Preciosa paused in her heavenward as- 
 cent, and seemed to be wondering with a ques- 
 tioning little glance just how far along, after 
 all, she had got. When she finally left her 
 high-backed chair — " That's as far as we will 
 go to-day," Prochnow had said — she felt her- 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY P^S. THE GRINDSTONE 223 
 
 self very close to earth again: the cherished 
 " resemblance " had vanished altogether. But 
 Prochnow seemed satisfied with the result, and 
 Little O'Grady was rapturously fluent over the 
 brushwork. " Ignace is a wunder-kind," he 
 declared to the doubting girl. " I never saw 
 such swing, such certainty. He'll fish you 
 back, and he'll have you to the life in less than 
 a week. Or I'll eat my hat." 
 
 There was a knock at the door. O'Grady 
 rushed to open it. " Go right away," Miss 
 Gibbons thought she heard him say, in a tense 
 undertone. 
 
 The face of Kitty Gowan showed in the 
 doorway, puzzled, protesting. Medora Joyce 
 was behind, her hands full of parcels. 
 
 " Go away? " repeated Mrs. Gowan. 
 " What does this mean? Let me in at 
 once." 
 
 " Depart! " hissed Little O'Grady. " This 
 is not Mr. Prochnow's day. Come to-mor- 
 row." 
 
 " Step aside, O'Grady," said Kitty Gowan 
 spunkily. " Let me pass." An afternoon of 
 shopping had tired her and shortened her 
 temper. 
 
 " Well, as a visitor, possibly," said 
 O'Grady condescendingly. " Ignace, do you 
 
224 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 feel disposed to " He glanced back and 
 
 forth between Prochnow and the petitioners. 
 
 Prochnow took down the canvas and set its 
 face against the wall. 
 
 Kitty Gowan strode in holding her head 
 high. " How do? " she said carelessly, by way 
 of general salute. " Sit there, Medora," she 
 directed Mrs. Joyce, indicating a chair. 
 
 " Sit here, Medora," said O'Grady firmly, 
 placing another. " Prochnow, Preciosa dear, 
 
 allow me to present " and so on. " And 
 
 you sit here," he said to Kitty Gowan, placing 
 a third chair. " You're a visitor, remember," 
 he whispered to her fiercely; " so behave like 
 one. Stay where you're put and don't own the 
 earth. We have loaned the shop for the day. 
 Understand? " 
 
 Preciosa passed lightly over Kitty Gowan, 
 whom she found brusque in her manners and 
 plain in her looks; but she fixed her best at- 
 tention on Medora, with whom she was as 
 much charmed as at the first. Idealist and 
 heroine-worshipper, she was always ready to 
 prostrate herself before a young married wom- 
 an of Medora's gracious and fashionable cast. 
 
 O'Grady lingered over Medora's chair. 
 " We've had a wonderful session," he said, lay- 
 ing his hand affectionately on her shoulder. 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 225 
 
 " You ought to have come a bit sooner, my 
 dear." 
 
 Preciosa shivered. It was like the profana- 
 tion of an idol. 
 
 Medora unconcernedly pushed away his 
 hand. Preciosa envied such serenity and self- 
 poise. 
 
 "Why, how's this?" asked O'Grady, 
 studying his hand curiously, as some detached 
 thing, some superfluity rejected and returned. 
 " Ain't we friends? Ain't we old pals? You 
 can't mean to stand me off with your London 
 clothes and your London manners? Don't 
 say you're trying to do that, Dodie! " 
 
 Preciosa shuddered. Medora laughed 
 carelessly — oh, how could she! , Kitty Gowan 
 jumped up and boxed O'Grady's ear with one 
 of Medora's long, flat parcels. " Get away, 
 you saucy child! " she said. 
 
 O'Grady grimaced and nursed his ear. " It 
 serves you right!" said Elizabeth Gibbons 
 tartly. 
 
 Preciosa was placated; the great retribu- 
 tion had fallen. She banished the wish that 
 she herself might have had the daring to be a 
 third avenging fury, and fell to studying the 
 folds of Medora's bottle-green cloak. She 
 wondered if she herself were not as pretty as 
 
226 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 Mrs. Joyce — oh, in an entirely different way! 
 — ^and if she were glad or sorry that Medora 
 and her companion had come a little late for 
 seeing the picture. Would it be a success — 
 this portrait? Was it all that Mr. Prochnow's 
 lively little friend seemed to think? 
 
 Prochnow, putting away his palette and 
 brushes, grandly overlooked the late irruption 
 of trivialities. He glanced across to Preciosa, 
 and she felt that he was thanking her for hav- 
 ing held herself quite aloof from them. 
 
 Preciosa went away not completely reas- 
 sured, yet on the whole pretty well pleased. 
 She felt that she had been taken hold of by a 
 strong, decided hand. She had made an ex- 
 cursion into a new land where feeble compli- 
 ments were dispensed with and where meek- 
 eyed ingratiation seemed not to exist. Yes, he 
 was a forcible, clever fellow. That Virgilia 
 Jeffreys should have tried to make her think 
 anything else, and that she should have per- 
 mitted Virgilia to make the attempt! She 
 should see Virgilia soon, somewhere, and 
 should regain the lost ground; she should not 
 allow herself to be walked over a second time. 
 She should probably say something very cut- 
 ting, too — if she could but find the right 
 words. Suppose she were younger than Vir- 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 22 J 
 
 gilia and less expert? Was that any reason 
 why she should be played with, be cajoled into 
 
 making fun of a Yes, Ignace Prochnow 
 
 was a fine clever fellow; good-looking too, in 
 a way; and masterful, beyond a doubt. Had 
 she been kind enough to him to cancel her 
 cruelty at their first meeting? She was afraid 
 not. Should she have been kinder but for the 
 abundance of company and the absorbing na- 
 ture of the work? Probably so. Should she 
 be kinder next time? That would depend on 
 him; — ^yes, if he became a little less profes- 
 sional and a little more personal. Would he 
 become so? She hoped he might. And if he 
 didn't? Then he might be encouraged to. 
 How? Preciosa opened her purse for her fare 
 and postponed an answer. 
 
 At that same moment, Prochnow, banished 
 along with the canvas to his own room by the 
 return of Gowan, sat staring at the portrait 
 as it stood propped against his trunk. Little 
 O'Grady, if he had been present, instead of be- 
 ing occupied on the other side of the partition 
 in sweeping up the dried plaster that littered 
 his floor, would have decided that the personal 
 interest was in fair proportion to the profes- 
 sional, and would have rated Prochnow no 
 higher as an artist than as a man. 
 
228 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 XIII 
 
 ViRGiLiA, after dismissing Daffingdon 
 with the detailed memoranda of her great deco- 
 rative scheme, went through the vain forms 
 of going upstairs and getting to bed. But 
 sleep was out of the question. Her brain still 
 kept at work, elaborating the ideas already 
 proposed and adding still others to the plan. 
 Why hadn't she laid more stress on the 
 Medici? How had she contrived to overlook 
 John Law and the South Sea Bubble, with all 
 its attendant wigs, hooped petticoats and shoe- 
 buckles? Then the Pine-Tree Shilling jumped 
 to her eyes, and Virginia's use of tobacco as a 
 currency; — possibly the entire scheme might 
 be arranged on a purely American basis, in 
 case sympathy for her wider outlook were to 
 fail. 
 
 Virgilia ate her breakfast soberly enough; 
 she checked all tendency toward expansive- 
 ness with her own people, who were sadly 
 earth-bound and utilitarian. But immediately 
 after breakfast she put on • her things and 
 stepped round the corner to have a confab with 
 her aunt. She found Eudoxia upstairs, clad in 
 a voluminous dressing-gown and struggling 
 with her over-plump arms against the rebel- 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 229 
 
 liousness of her all but inaccessible back hair. 
 Virgilia was very vivid and sprightly in her re- 
 port on the evening's conference, and Eudoxia, 
 studying her with some closeness, was barely 
 able to apply the check when she found herself 
 asking: 
 
 " Has he— has he ? " 
 
 Virgilia dropped her eyes. No, he hadn't. 
 
 But the acceptance of these magnificent 
 proposals might easily make another proposal 
 possible, and again Eudoxia Pence asked her- 
 self: 
 
 " Do I want it, or don't I? Certainly only 
 the bank's acceptance of Daff's scheme will 
 make possible Virgilia's acceptance of Dafif 
 himself." 
 
 That evening Dill called again on Virgilia, 
 bringing the Hill-McNulty plan. 
 
 " So this is the sort of thing they want? " 
 she cried. " They insist on it, after all, do 
 they? " She cast her eye over the paper and 
 hardly knew whether to laugh or to weep. 
 " ' The First Fire-Engine House,' " she read. 
 "'Old Fort Kinzie'; 'The Grape-Vine 
 Ferry '; ' The Early Water-Works '—oh, this 
 is terrible! " she exclaimed. 
 
 " Read on," said Dill plaintively. 
 
 " ' The Wigwam ' " 
 
230 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 " What in heaven's name is that? " 
 
 " A place where they used to hold con- 
 ventions, I believe. ' The Succotash Tav- 
 ern ' " 
 
 " What does that mean? " 
 
 " I've heard it spoken of, I think," said 
 Virgilia faintly. " It was built of cottonwood 
 logs and stood at the fork in the river. 
 
 'The Hard-Shell Baptist Church,' " she 
 
 read on. 
 
 " Do you know anything about that? " 
 
 " I think I've seen it in old photographs. 
 It stood on one side of Court-House Square." 
 
 " Did it have a steeple? " asked Dill droop- 
 ingly. 
 
 " I believe it did — quite a tall one." 
 
 "Of course it did!" he groaned. "And 
 so it goes. One building hugs the ground 
 and the next cleaves the sky. Yet they've all 
 got to be used for the decorative fiUing of a lot 
 of spaces precisely alike." 
 
 "What does Giles think of this?" asked 
 Virgilia. 
 
 " He's crazy." 
 
 " And Adams, at the Academy? " 
 
 " He's gone out to buy a rope." 
 
 " And Little O'Grady? " 
 
 " He fell over in a dead faint. He's lying 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 23 1 
 
 in it yet. But before he lost consciousness he 
 made one suggestion " 
 
 " What was it? " 
 
 Dill paused. " Have you ever heard of a 
 painter named Proch — Prochnow? " he pres- 
 ently asked, with some disrelish. " A new- 
 comer, I beheve." 
 
 " I don't think I have." 
 
 " He has lately taken a studio in the War- 
 ren. O'Grady has seen his work and speaks 
 well of it." 
 
 " What particular kind of work? " 
 
 " Decorative. Portraits too, I understand. 
 He has been doing one of that little Miss Mc- 
 Nulty." 
 
 Virgilia frowned. " What ! " she was 
 thinking to herself, " have I been taken in by 
 that viper, that traitress? — ^by a child who 
 looked like an innocent flower and is turning 
 out to be the serpent under it? Prochnow! — 
 the hard name that nobody could pronounce! 
 It's easy enough: Prochnow; Prochnow. She 
 could have pronounced it fast enough if she 
 had wanted to! And now she has gone over 
 to the other side and taken O'Grady with her 
 — and her grandfather too! " Then, aloud: 
 
 " Well? " 
 
 " O'Grady says he's full of — ideas " 
 
232 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 "And what has O'Grady got to do with 
 it? " asked Virgilia tartly. " Has anybody 
 asked his help? Why is he mixing up in the 
 matter, anyway? And if he wants to suggest, 
 let him stop suggesting painters and suggest a 
 few sculptors. I haven't heard of his doing 
 anything like that! " 
 
 Dill sighed wearily. " You can't keep 
 O'Grady out if he wants to get in. But I 
 must say I hadn't expected to be loaded down 
 with any more of the Warren people. Gowan 
 is more a drag than a help, and O'Grady is 
 doing all he can to bring us under a cloud. 
 The directors can't understand such freedom, 
 such language, such shabbiness, such Bohe- 
 mianism. Take it all around, they are making 
 it a heavier load than I can carry through." 
 
 " And now they want to add another of 
 their miserable crowd to it. Well, there will 
 be no room for Prochnows and their ideas," 
 declared Virgilia, wounded in her tenderest 
 point. " We will attend to the ideas. Let us 
 take Hill's absurd notion, if we must, and rush 
 in and wrench victory from defeat. Let us 
 take his cabins and taverns and towers and 
 steeples and use them in the background " 
 
 " That would be the only way." 
 
 " — and then put in people — Hill and Mc- 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 233 
 
 Nulty can't be insisting upon mere ' views.' 
 Fill up your foregrounds with traders and 
 hunters and Indians and ' early settlers ' and 
 * prairie-schooners ' " 
 
 " Giles has gone out to bring them round 
 to something like that." 
 
 " They really won't have the Bank of 
 Genoa? They won't listen to Phidion of Ar- 
 gos? 
 
 " I couldn't bring them within hailing dis- 
 tance of him." 
 
 " Where is Roscoe Orlando Gibbons in 
 such an hour as this? " 
 
 " I haven't been able to find him." 
 
 " / shall find him. Aunt Eudoxia is a large 
 stock-holder in that wretched bank, and he's 
 the only man of taste and refinement on the 
 board. If we have lost Jeremiah, that's all the 
 more reason why we should have Roscoe Or- 
 lando. I shall get her and go to his office at 
 once. He can't refuse support to our plan; he 
 won't let this barbarous notion of Hill's make 
 any headway." 
 
 Dill looked at Virgilia with mounting ap- 
 preciation. Where was her equal for resource, 
 for elasticity, for devotion, for erudition? She 
 was at home in Grote and Sismondi, and she 
 was just as much at home in the early local 
 16 
 
234 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 annals of the town itself. She knew about the 
 Parthenon and Giotto's Tower, and she knew 
 about the Succotash Tavern and the Hard- 
 shell Baptist Meeting-House too. With 
 matchless promptitude and resiliency she be- 
 gan the broad sketching out of an entirely new 
 scheme — a thoroughly local one. Was there 
 not Pere Marquette and the Sieur Joliet and 
 La Salle and Governor D'Artaguette? Was 
 there not the Fort Kinzie Massacre and the 
 Last War-Dance of the Pottawatomies? Was 
 there not the prairie mail-coach and the arrival 
 of the first vessel in the harbour? Were there 
 not traders and treaties and Indian commis- 
 sioners? "There!" she cried, "you and 
 Stephen Giles just sharpen your teeth on such 
 matters as those! We have almost got the 
 Nine Old Ogres on the run, and we mustn't 
 slow up on them for a single minute! " 
 
 Dill stared at her with dazzled eyes. Such 
 vim, such spirit, such knowledge, such loyalty ! 
 — and all for him, all in his service! He felt 
 confusedly that he was upon the verge of tak- 
 ing her hand and saying in broken trembling 
 tones that she was his guiding star, his ruling 
 spirit, his steadfast hope — what lesser expres- 
 sions could fitly voice his gratitude, his admira- 
 tion, his devotion? Then he caught himself: 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 235 
 
 things were still in the air. His fortune was 
 yet to be made, and who could say but that its 
 making might yet be marred? Let him once 
 come to an understanding with those trying 
 old fellows, let him but have a hard-and-fast 
 agreement with them in downright black 
 and white, and then — who could tell what 
 might be said and done? 
 
 XIV 
 
 Dill and his coadjutors had two or 
 three more conferences, and a second detailed 
 scheme was sent over to the bank. History in 
 general was decisively thrust aside, — the only 
 history worth recording was the history the 
 Nine themselves had helped, to make. " We 
 will go to the libraries for ' ana,' " said Gowan ; 
 " they will help us with the earlier years of the 
 last century." 
 
 " And to the Historical Association for 
 more," said Giles. " Old Oliver Dowd is an 
 ex-secretary of it, and him at least we can cap- 
 ture beyond a doubt." 
 
 " Hurray! " cried Little O'Grady, who had 
 insisted on being present. That very after- 
 noon he threw his " First Coinage of Venetian 
 Sequins " back into the clay-box and started 
 
236 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 in on a relief of " The Earliest Issue of Wild- 
 Cat Currency." 
 
 " We've got a good thing this time," said 
 Adams. " It's homogeneous; it's picturesque; 
 it's local. It gives all they want and a great 
 deal more. I think we can tussle with it suc- 
 cessfully and not be ashamed of the out- 
 come." 
 
 " As business-men they ought to appre- 
 ciate the completeness of our new scheme," 
 said Giles, " and our promptness in furnish- 
 ing it." 
 
 " They will," said Joyce. " This beats the 
 other idea all hollow. Go in and win." 
 
 Each one of them spoke in terms of un- 
 wonted confidence. Little O' Grady himself 
 was in such a state of irrepressible buoyancy 
 that he left the earth and fairly sailed among 
 the clouds. All this reacted on Dill. For the 
 first time he felt the great commission fully 
 within his grasp and the net profits as safely 
 to be counted upon. He began to warm to his 
 subjects. To him, who had learned a good 
 deal in regard to shipping and the handling of 
 water from lounging about the ports of Mar- 
 seilles and Leghorn, had fallen the arrival of 
 the first vessel: he would reconstruct the primi- 
 tive lighthouse that Mr. Hill had set his heart 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 237 
 
 on, and would eke out the angular emptiness 
 of the subject by a varied group of expectant 
 pioneers big in the foreground. He had also 
 taken the Baptist church, of whose Bible-class 
 Andrew P. Hill had been a member. He 
 would suppress the spire, and would show the 
 pillared front on some Sunday morning in 
 midsummer, with an abundance of wide petti- 
 coats and deep bonnets of the period of 1845, 
 or thereabouts, displayed upon its front steps. 
 And finally, as he was fairly strong on figures 
 in action, he had intrepidly undertaken the 
 Pottawatomie war-dance; and as soon as the 
 conference in Giles's studio broke up, he took 
 the express-train out to the Memorial Museum 
 to see what the ethnological department there 
 could do for him in the way of moccasins, 
 tomahawks and war-bonnets. 
 
 He made his way through several halls 
 filled with tall glass cases, skirting the Polyne- 
 sians, bearing away from the Eskimos and 
 finally reaching the North Americans. Their 
 room was empty, save for a slender girl in 
 brown who was making notes on a collection 
 of war-bonnets in a morocco memorandum- 
 book. It was Virgilia. 
 
 " Why, what are you doing out here? " he 
 asked. 
 
238 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 " Turning the odd moments to account. 
 Collecting data for you on the aborigines, — 
 I am sure we can put them to use. I ran out 
 to hear the lecture on Earthquakes in Japan — 
 you know I have a chance to go there with 
 the Knotts in April— and I thought I might 
 incidentally pick up a few notions for the War- 
 Dance." 
 
 So authentic and thoroughgoing a piece 
 of loyalty as this affected Dill tremendously; 
 the hint of an Oriental exodus scarcely less so. 
 Never should she go to Japan with the Knotts; 
 she should go with him. His share in the 
 work at the Grindstone would make this the 
 easiest as well as the most delightful of pos- 
 sibilities. Now was the time; no matter about 
 waiting for the contract. He felt the flood 
 rising within him. Here at last was the mo- 
 ment for taking her hand (she had put the 
 memorandum-book back into her pocket), and 
 for looking earnestly into her eyes with all the 
 ardour perfect good taste would permit, and for 
 saying in a voice tremulous with well-bred pas- 
 sion the words that would make her his loyal 
 coadjutor through life. These different things 
 he now said and did with a flawless technique 
 (Virgilia recalled how sadly the young real- 
 estate dealer had boggled), and a row of gaudy 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 239 
 
 Buddhistic idols that looked in through the 
 wide door leading to the Chinese section stood 
 witnesses to her unaffected surrender. The 
 pair passed back through the Aztecs and the 
 South Sea Islanders in a maze of happy mur- 
 murs and whisperings, and when next Eudoxia 
 Pence asked her niece: 
 
 " Has he— has he ? " 
 
 Virgilia, as she again dropped her eyes, was 
 able to reply, this time: 
 
 " He has." 
 
 Daffingdon and Virgilia passed out 
 through the great row of Ionic columns and 
 down the wide flight of steps into the bare, 
 brown wind-swept landscapes of the park. 
 
 " And about Japan? " asked Dill. " You 
 can wait a year longer for that, can't you? We 
 shall find the earthquakes just the same." 
 
 Virgilia laughed happily. " Of course I 
 can. What will such a year count for as a 
 mere delay? — a year so short, so full, so busy, 
 so happy, so successful! By next February 
 we shall be famous, we shall be rich, the whole 
 country will be ringing with our pictures " 
 
 Dill found it easy to fall in with her mood. 
 He foresaw the immediate acceptance of a 
 scheme so complete and so well-considered; 
 the early signing of a binding contract; the re- 
 
240 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 ceipt, without undue delay, of his honorarium 
 — a business-like tribute from a methodical 
 and trustworthy body of business-men; grow- 
 ing fame, increasing prosperity After all, 
 
 why dwell on Japan? The world was beauti- 
 ful everywhere, even in the bare, flat rawness 
 of the suburbs. 
 
 XV 
 
 A FEW days later, and his bold step seemed 
 justified. The directors were an elusive body, 
 and even when got together they found it hard 
 to act with anything like unanimity and de- 
 spatch; but one afternoon Stephen Giles en- 
 countered Mr. Holbrook in the office of one of 
 the hotels and was told that the plan was re- 
 ceiving favourable consideration and was not 
 unlikely to be accepted. As Mr. Holbrook 
 was the most passive member of the director- 
 ate, drifting quietly along with the general cur- 
 rent, it seemed safe to accept him as repre- 
 senting the feeling of that body. 
 
 Giles carried the good news to Adams, at 
 the Academy. Adams hurried home with it to 
 his wife and little Frankie. 
 
 A few days more, and it laboriously trans- 
 pired that old Jeremiah McNulty was readjust- 
 ing himself to the plan as modified and elabo- 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY ys. THE GRINDSTONE 241 
 
 rated by Dill and his associates. Old Jeremiah 
 was particularly taken by the idea of the First 
 Ferry — suggesting only that the scene be 
 slightly enlarged, so as to take in the site of his 
 early " yard," 
 
 " At last we're gathering them in! " de- 
 clared Adams to his wife. They began to 
 figure up their share of the spoils and to study 
 how they would lay this immense sum out. 
 
 First of all they would bring a smile to the 
 wan face of a patient landlord by paying the 
 back rent in full. As for the rest, Frankie 
 must have a pair of new shoes; and a thousand 
 dollars at least must be placed on deposit in 
 some good savings bank. 
 
 " For we have never been able to put any- 
 thing by, and now at last comes this chance to 
 provide for the rainy day." They looked at 
 each other in mutual content and admiration — 
 this was prudence, this was thrift. 
 
 Next, word came to Dill that the attorney 
 for the bank was actually engaged in drawing 
 up the contract. "We may even be able to sign 
 it to-morrow," he said to Virgilia. " We shall 
 have Japan in good season, and much more in 
 between. Tell me; are we not selfish in keep- 
 ing our happiness to ourselves? Shall you 
 not " 
 
242 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 " I am ready to let the whole world know, 
 dear Daff," she responded. " And oh, to think 
 that I have had my part in bringing your great 
 good fortune about! " 
 
 At the very moment when Daffingdon and 
 Virgilia were taking notes on the aborigines 
 and planning for Japan, Preciosa McNulty was 
 strolling with Ignace Prochnow through the 
 galleries of the Art Academy. The portrait 
 was now finished. The submerged " resem- 
 blance " had risen once more to the surface, 
 as Little O'Grady had foretold, and the can- 
 vas had been borne home in triumph to Pre- 
 ciosa's fond, admiring family. 
 
 " Who did it? " asked her grandfather, 
 boundlessly pleased. 
 
 " That young man," replied Preciosa. 
 
 " What young man? " 
 
 " The one who came here that night and 
 threw those big sheets of paper all over the 
 furniture." 
 
 " It's you to the life, my child," he said. 
 
 " Grandpa," proceeded Preciosa, " I want 
 him to come here again and throw some more 
 sheets over the furniture. He's awfully smart, 
 and he's just bursting with ideas." 
 
 Her grandfather scratched his chin. There 
 were so many smart young men bursting with 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 243 
 
 ideas — the wrong sort of ideas. " Let him go 
 to Mr. Hill." 
 
 " They're better than those others were." 
 
 Still the old man shook his head. " Let 
 him go to Mr. Hill," he repeated. 
 
 " With a letter or something from you? " 
 
 " Let him go and talk for himself." 
 
 " No. You just sit down and write it 
 now." Then, to herself: "There! I think 
 Virgilia Jeffreys will find she can't wind me 
 round her finger quite as easily as she thought 
 she could! " 
 
 Preciosa gave Prochnow his letter in front 
 of the Parthenon pediment (where the current 
 of visitors was thinnest), and counselled him 
 to advance on the Grindstone. He was as 
 quick and clever as any of them, she declared, 
 and was entitled to take his share. 
 
 Prochnow tossed his head. " I don't know 
 that I care for a ' share,' " he said. 
 
 " Do you want to do it all? " asked Preci- 
 osa, awe-struck. 
 
 " All or none," replied Prochnow loftily. 
 " I am not one to co-operate. I could do the 
 whole as easily as a part." 
 
 They strolled on through one spacious 
 hall after another; none seemed too roomy for 
 the manoeuvres of this young genius. The 
 
244 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 largest studio in the Burrow, Gowan's own, 
 cramped him — most of all on the days when 
 Mrs. Gowan came down, set forth the tea-pot, 
 lit up her candles and gave her moving little 
 imitation of the handsomer functions that took 
 place through the upper tiers of the Temple of 
 Art. Prochnow had scant patience with the 
 mild hospitalities that accompanied, obbligato- 
 like, art's onward course; he could not accom- 
 modate himself, he could not fit in. There 
 were days when the streets and the parks 
 themselves seemed none too spacious, and 
 Preciosa, who was beginning to accompany 
 him abroad, soon got the widest notion of his 
 limitless expansiveness. He saw things with 
 an eye that was new, informed, penetrating, 
 and he spread comments acute, critical, pun- 
 gent, with the freest possible tongue. He 
 showed her the tawdry, restless vulgarity of 
 the architecture along the most splendid of 
 her favourite thoroughfares, and the ludicrous- 
 ness of much of the sculpture that cumbered 
 the public parks; and with the mercilessness of 
 youth for mediocrity in his seniors, the arrives, 
 he would run through the canvases of current 
 exhibitions, displaying an abrupt arrogance, a 
 bald, raw, cursory cruelty that only the Ueber- 
 mensch of art would have ventured to employ. 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY ys. THE GRINDSTONE 245 
 
 " And what do you think of our front par- 
 lour furniture?" asked Preciosa; "and of all 
 that fancy woodwork on pur cupola? " 
 
 Prochnow placed his hand over his mouth 
 and turned away. It seemed as if these things 
 were too awful for characterization, yet he 
 would spare them for her sake. Let him 
 laugh, though, if he wished; and she would 
 laugh with him. 
 
 Thus her world daily became smaller, more 
 insignificant, less to be regarded, while Ignace 
 himself grew bigger, more preponderant. 
 How could she refuse confidence in one who 
 had such boundless confidence in himself? 
 
 In the course of these strolls he told her 
 something about his own early life. He had 
 been born, she made out, somewhere between 
 the Danube and the Oder; he spoke familiarly 
 of the frontier of Silesia. He had studied in 
 Munich and Vienna, and some of his things 
 — sumptuous, highly-charged, over-luscious — 
 showed clearly enough the influence of Ma- 
 kart and the lawless vicinity of gipsy Hungary. 
 He had crossed to America with his family five 
 years before; they were still in New Jersey. 
 "They came half-way," he declared; "and I 
 have come all the way — an adventurer in a 
 new land." 
 
246 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 Preciosa tried to realize the newness, which 
 she had always taken for granted, and the re- 
 moteness, which had never made itself particu- 
 larly plain to her consciousness; all this that 
 she might reach some appreciation of his ven- 
 turesomeness, — a gallant, spirited quality not 
 misplaced in one so youthful, so self-confident, 
 so fitted for success and mastery. 
 
 " Well, you're ready for one adventure, 
 anyway," declared Preciosa, motioning to- 
 ward the letter still held in Prochnow's 
 brown, veined hand. She saw herself helping 
 •him into the saddle and passing him up his 
 lance. 
 
 " So I am," he acquiesced. He brought 
 his eyes back from the large, pale, formidable 
 Amazonian figures before him to the warm- 
 hearted, warm-coloured little creature by his 
 side. Her wealth of chestnut hair was glowing 
 in its most artful disorder; and there was limit- 
 less enticement in the turn of her long curling 
 eyelashes, just on a level with his moustache- 
 to-be. Her slim little body was subordinated 
 to her head and to her spreading hat in pre- 
 cisely the degree imposed by modern taste and 
 recognised by the canons of modern art; noth- 
 ing less grandiose, pallid, remote was to be 
 imagined. Her dress, full of rich, daring col- 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 247 
 
 ours and latter-day complications of design, 
 completed, the spell; those very large white 
 women in crinkled draperies might remain 
 where they were, when such a one as this was 
 here, as close to him as his own self, as con- 
 temporaneous as the last stroke of the clock, 
 as rich and brilliant in colouring as any of the 
 canvases of his master's master, as necessary as 
 bread and wine. He must put to its best use 
 the weapon she had placed in his hand, when 
 there was so much — all the world, in fact — to 
 gain. 
 
 " Do your best," said Preciosa, mindful of 
 the portfolios that Little O'Grady had lugged 
 downstairs and had opened in Festus Gowan's 
 studio. " Leave them all behind," she added, 
 feeling as keenly as ever the smart of her feeble 
 complaisance toward Virgilia Jefifreys. 
 
 " Can I fail with such encouragement? " 
 asked Prochnow, in an intonation unwontedly 
 tender, as he tried to look under those long 
 curling lashes. 
 
 Preciosa flushed — a thing those great, 
 over-admired marble women would have tried 
 in vain to do. Yes, she was no closer to him 
 than she was necessary to him. He began to 
 look forward to the time when he might take 
 her by the hand, restraining such modest im- 
 
248 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 pulse as she was now showing to move on 
 to the next room, and reproduce that blush by 
 telling her all she was to him and must be 
 ever. Only the wills, the whims, the preju- 
 dices of a few unenhghtened old men stood in 
 his way; these he must bend, dissipate, brush 
 aside. He felt himself equal to the task. 
 
 XVI 
 
 EuDOXiA Pence, after receiving the news 
 of Virgilia's engagement, felt more easy in her 
 mind; she knew, now, just what ground she 
 stood on and saw just what she had to do. 
 She realized that she had rather liked Dafifing- 
 don Dill all along and had secretly been hop- 
 ing that he and Virgilia would hit it off. What 
 she must see to was that Dafifingdon got the 
 commission from the Grindstone, or his proper 
 share in it: those nine old men must accept his 
 ideas and his sketches if this marriage were to 
 become a fact. Virgilia, who always ran with 
 wealthy people, often gave the impression of 
 possessing greater means than she really com- 
 manded; this was doubly serious when it came 
 to her taking up with a man who was alto- 
 gether dependent on his wits, his skill and his 
 invention, and subject to the passing whims of 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY ys. THE GRINDSTONE 249 
 
 a fickle public taste. She went down to the 
 library, to discuss the affair with her husband. 
 
 " It isn't as if Palmyra had been left with 
 abundant means and only one daughter," she 
 submitted. " It's different when Virgilia is 
 one of four. And her brother is too taken up 
 
 with his own wife and children to be of 
 
 Are you listening. Palmer? " 
 
 " Eh? What's that? " asked her husband, 
 lifting his elderly face from a mass of papers 
 that lay in the bright circle made by the library 
 lamp. He was generally deep in his own con- 
 cerns, and they were large ones. He seldom 
 gave more than scant attention to such domes- 
 tic details as developed from relations through 
 marriage. 
 
 Eudoxia sighed and forbore to tax him 
 further. And when, next morning, Virgilia 
 came round to report the fate of the second 
 decorative scheme she sighed again. 
 
 For the new plan had not been successful, 
 after all; it had failed ignominiously at the 
 eleventh hour. A great deal of effort had been 
 expended in the private office of this director 
 and that, and a futile attempt made to bring 
 four or five of them together at the office of 
 the bank itself, that the matter might be 
 clenched and the contract signed. But the di- 
 17 
 
2SO UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 rectors were elusive, and cost a great deal of 
 time; and when found, evasive, and cost a 
 great deal of patience. But it was the delay 
 that had worked the ruin. It gave opportunity 
 for tangles and hitches, for the reconsideration 
 of points already settled, for the insinuation of 
 doubts as to this, that and the other. Andrew 
 P. Hill developed a sulky dislike for all the 
 laboured superfluities that now encumbered 
 the chaste simplicity of his original conception, 
 and Roscoe Orlando Gibbons began to ques- 
 tion (though, to tell the truth, he was just 
 about to bring forward a candidate of his own) 
 whether the artists thus far considered were 
 sufficiently skilled to carry out the work. As 
 a matter of fact, the only striking and convinc- 
 ing demonstration of ability witnessed thus 
 far was that reported by his daughter from the 
 studio of Festus Gowan. 
 
 No, that overwrought presentation of early 
 local history was not quite what they wanted. 
 The contract remained unsigned, and presently 
 it slid oflf into the waste-paper basket under 
 Andrew P. Hill's desk. 
 
 The whole circle boiled at this outrage. 
 Joyce, who was highly articulate and who pos- 
 sessed a tremendous capacity for indignation, 
 would have made himself a mouth-piece to 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 251 
 
 voice the protests of his infuriate friends; but 
 Little O' Grady wrenched the task from him. 
 
 O'Grady could not contain himself — nor 
 did he try to. " This is business-dealing with 
 business-men, is it? " he cried to Dill. " This 
 is what comes of treating with solid citizens 
 of means and method, is it? Where is my 
 hat? I'll go round to that bank and just tell 
 them what I " 
 
 " O'Grady! " protested Dill. " Behave! or 
 you'll have the fat in the fire for good and all." 
 
 " No, Daff," insisted Little O'Grady. " I 
 got you into this, and now " 
 
 " I don't understand it so," said Dill coldly. 
 
 " Oh yes, I did. And now I'll see you 
 through. Where is my hat? " 
 
 While Daffingdon was trying to hold 
 O'Grady in check, Virgilia was making moan 
 to her aunt. 
 
 She sat down on Eudoxia's bed with a 
 desperate flounce. "They don't want it! 
 What, in heaven's name, do they want? " she 
 asked angrily. " I think it is time for you, 
 aunt, to make yourself felt. You are as much 
 interested in the bank as any of them, and as 
 much entitled to speak. Go down there as a 
 stock-holder and find out what they are trying 
 to do." 
 
25 2 UNDER THE SKVLIGIITS 
 
 " I will if you wish," said her aunt. " In 
 the meantime, why don't you go round and 
 talk to Mr. Gibbons? He's an agreeable 
 enough man, and the only one of the lot that 
 knows anything about such things. Learn 
 from him, if you can, what the trouble is." 
 
 Virgilia found Roscoe Orlando Gibbons in 
 the midst of his plats and charts — he was 
 pushing a new subdivision to the northward; 
 but he gallantly dropped his work at the en- 
 trance of a lady. 
 
 Virgilia asked for his support ; she appealed 
 to him both as a man of business who should be 
 willing to carry on things in a business way, 
 and as a cultivated amateur whose influence 
 should not fail in supporting a fine scheme 
 contrived by reputable artists. 
 
 " Ah — um, yes," replied Roscoe Orlando 
 vaguely. " The town is developing a number 
 of strong talents — really, we are pushing ahead 
 wonderfully. I — ah, in fact, I may say," he 
 went on, with some little grandiloquence, 
 " that I have just been the means of bringing 
 such a talent to light myself — an absolute dis- 
 covery, and one of no little importance." 
 
 " Indeed? " said VirgiHa coldly. 
 
 " Yes ; a young Pole — a young Bohemian 
 • — a young I-don't-know-what." Roscoe Or- 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY ys. THE GRINDSTONE 253 
 
 lando waved his fingers with a vague, easy 
 carelessness. " His name is Prochnow. Very, 
 very gifted. I found him living out on the 
 West Side — incredible distance — impossible 
 neighbourhood — starving in the midst of mas- 
 terpieces," pursued Roscoe Orlando compla- 
 cently. " I bought a few." 
 
 " Prochnow! " thought Virgilia angrily; 
 " that fellow who painted Preciosa McNulty's 
 portrait!" He had doubtless won over old 
 Jeremiah by that stroke, and now he was run- 
 ning off with Roscoe Orlando Gibbons. It was 
 little less than a landslide; she and her aunt 
 must stop it. 
 
 " One of his pictures is in my own draw- 
 ing-room," said Gibbons. " The other I have 
 presented to our club. Such colour! " he 
 cried, rolling his eyes. " Such composition! " 
 he added, running his fat fingers through his 
 whiskers. " A talent of the first order; more 
 — an out-and-out genius ! " he concluded. 
 
 Yes, it was Roscoe Orlando who had pur- 
 chased Prochnow's pictures and thus enabled 
 him to take quarters in the Burrow. They 
 were large unwieldy things, painted in the lat- 
 ter days of his Viennese apprenticeship, and 
 they had cost him cruelly for freight and stor- 
 age; but he had always clung to the belief that 
 
2S4 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 he could sell them sometime, to somebody : at 
 least, they would serve to show what he could 
 do. Or rather, what he had once done and 
 been satisfied to do. He should hardly care 
 to do such things now; he was not ashamed 
 of them — he had merely left them a little be- 
 hind. 
 
 "Oh, Ig, Ig, Igl" Little O'Grady had 
 cried upon learning of all this, " why won't 
 you be fair and above-board? Why will you 
 be so secretive, so self-sufficient? Why didn't 
 you tell me it was Roscoe Orlando Gibbons 
 who had bought those pictures? " 
 
 " Why, what difference does it make? " 
 asked the other, in wonder. 
 
 " It makes all the difiference in the world — 
 to anybody who knows this town and its peo- 
 ple. Has nobody ever told you that Roscoe 
 Orlando Gibbons was one of the directors of 
 the Grindstone? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Well, he is, and you've got him on your 
 side. Did you say he had given one of 'em to 
 some club? " 
 
 "Yes. Why?" 
 
 "What club?" 
 
 " The Is there such a club as the 
 
 Michigan? " 
 
LITTLE O'GR'ADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 25$ 
 
 " Yes. And old Oliver Dowd is the presi- 
 dent of it. Now you can get him too." 
 
 " Him? " 
 
 " Yes; he's another of the directors. Oh, 
 Ignace, you poor lost lamb, why haven't you 
 told your Terence all these things before? " 
 
 As a fact, Roscoe Orlando's gift to the 
 club (it had not cost him any great sum) had 
 been accepted with empressement and given 
 a good place in the general lounge. The 
 younger members welcomed it gladly. It pre- 
 sented an odalisque, very small in the waist and 
 with a wealth of tawny hair black in the shad- 
 ows; the foreground was a matter of foun- 
 tain basins and barbaric rugs; infants with 
 prominent foreheads waved palm-branches in 
 the corners; and one or two muscular bronzed 
 slaves loomed up in the dim background. 
 Dill, who had some acquaintance among the 
 members of the club and was now and then 
 asked in to lunch, was promptly brought up 
 to look at it. To him it had a public, official 
 aspect, not amiss in that place — surely the lady 
 offered herself most admirably to the general 
 male gaze. The thing was done knowingly, 
 and with a certain brio, he acknowledged ; but 
 it seemed rather exotic and already slightly out 
 of date. He saw Roscoe Orlando Gibbons 
 
2S6 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 openly gloating over its floridity, and bringing 
 up other members, old and young, to gloat 
 with him; but he thought it more than doubt- 
 ful whether its dripping lusciousness would 
 prove grateful to the dry mind and sapless per- 
 son of Oliver Dowd. And he was glad to no- 
 tice that Abner Joyce, who had lately joined 
 (in the hope that the club's well-known in- 
 terest in public affairs would offer him some 
 opportunity to work for civic and national bet- 
 terment), turned away from Gibbons's ill- 
 judged offering with disdain and disgust, 
 
 " The fellow has training and facility," said 
 Dafifingdon; " but a great monumental scheme 
 
 conceived in such a spirit as that No, we 
 
 have nothing to fear from him." 
 
 But there was much to fear from the com- 
 placency of Roscoe Orlando Gibbons. Could 
 he, as he asked Virgilia with a maddening, self- 
 satisfied smile, withdraw his support from a 
 talent that he had introduced into his own 
 house and indorsed in the eyes of the com- 
 mercial and professional public? Virgilia saw 
 that what she had to contend against was van- 
 ity, and she went away in very low spirits. If 
 Prochnow had but come to Roscoe Orlando's 
 notice through the ordinary channels! If his 
 patron were not glowing, palpitating, expand- 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 257 
 
 ing with the conscious joy of discovery! But 
 crude ore brought to hght by our own pick 
 and shovel is more precious to us than refined 
 gold that enters into circulation through the 
 assayer and the mint. 
 
 "Ugh!" said Virgilia to her aunt; "you 
 should have heard him. He simply — blotted. 
 It was disgusting. And now, what are we 
 going to do? " 
 
 XVII 
 
 "We must get at the girl herself," de- 
 clared Eudoxia, — " that is, if it isn't too late, 
 if she isn't utterly infatuated with him." 
 
 " I don't think I've heard as much as that 
 said," replied Virgilia. She knew of but one 
 young woman who might justly go to such a 
 length. " What shall you do first? Shall you 
 ask her to pour tea? " 
 
 " No need, yet, of going as far as that. 
 Can't you get together a little party and give 
 her a sort of lunch out at the Whip and Spur? 
 Then one of us, I suppose, might call on her 
 mother — if she's got one." 
 
 "Whatever you suggest," said Virgilia, 
 with a suppressed sob. " You may think I'm 
 a perpetual fount of ideas, but I'm not." The 
 Grindstone's rejection of her second scheme 
 
'2S8 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 had hurt her cruelly. She put her handker- 
 chief to her eyes — as if she had become, in- 
 stead, a fount of tears. 
 
 And as such she next appeared to Dill. " I 
 felt so sure, dear Daflf, that we could put it 
 through," she mourned. " And now — and 
 now " 
 
 Dafifingdon drew her discouraged head 
 down against his shoulder, in his most noble 
 and manful mode. " Let the lions take us, if 
 they will," he seemed to say, casting his eyes 
 around the arena. 
 
 Little O'Grady came over, bearing a mar- 
 tyr's palm. The universal sadness was re- 
 flected in his face. Little Frankie Adams was 
 to go along wearing his old shoes, and Kitty 
 Gowan, who had been figuring on a belated 
 winter suit, had tearfully thrown a handful of 
 samples in the fire and put the fond notion 
 aside. 
 
 Little O'Grady wiped a sympathetic eye. 
 " Oh, Daff, I'm so sorry for you; just at the 
 
 time, too, when " He dared not proceed, 
 
 awed by Dill's protesting pathos. " Come, 
 now," he ventured presently, " why shouldn't 
 we let Ignace in on this? He's so inventive; 
 he's so full of ideas " 
 
 Dafifingdon recalled the sensuous Oriental 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 259 
 
 masterpiece at the club and saw no reason why 
 the possessor of such a particular talent could 
 be expected to succeed in a bank. He shook 
 his head; no member of another sect — no 
 heretical Viennese — should share his martyr- 
 dom with him. This left Prochnow free to 
 rush upon the lions on his own account. 
 Little O' Grady, returning to the Rabbit- 
 Hutch, found his neighbour's loins fully 
 girded for the task — the fine frenzy of in- 
 spiration had already turned the place upside 
 down. 
 
 " That's right, Ignace! " he called from the 
 threshold; " sail in. What is the plan this 
 time? " he asked, tiptoeing along over the scat- 
 tered sheets that littered the floor. 
 
 Prochnow ran his nervous fingers through 
 his wild black forelock, and cast on Little 
 O' Grady a piercing, inspirational glance from 
 a pair of glittering eyes. 
 
 " The two great modern forces," he pro- 
 nounced, " are Science and Democracy. I 
 shall show how each has contributed to the 
 progress of society. Science shall have the six 
 lunettes on the right and Democracy the six 
 on the left." 
 
 "H'm," said Little O'Grady; "an alle- 
 gory?" 
 
260 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 " Precisely. No better basis for a grand 
 monumental work." 
 
 " Well, Ignace," declared Little O'Grady, 
 "you'll put it through if anybody can!" 
 
 He hurried back to his own room, 
 shrugged himself into his plaster-flecked 
 blouse of robin's-egg blue, threw " The First 
 Issue of Wild-Cat Currency " (a group of 
 frontier financiers in chokers and high beaver 
 hats) back into the clay-box, and began at 
 once on a bold relief of " Science and De- 
 mocracy Opening the Way for the Car of 
 Progress." 
 
 " Science," he explained to Prochnow, 
 next day, " will be clearing the air of the bats 
 of ignorance, and Democracy will be clearing 
 the ground of the imps of aristocracy — or 
 maybe they'll be demons. And between the 
 two, right in the middle, of course, the Car 
 of Progress will advance in very low relief. I 
 haven't quite got it all where it will pull to- 
 gether yet, and I can see the foreshortening of 
 the horses will be something terrible; but I'm 
 pretty sure I shall find some way out within 
 a week or so. Let me tell you one thing, 
 though, about your own job, Ignace. Your 
 
 allegory will go down easier if Say, you 
 
 wouldn't take Hill's hints, would you? " 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY FS. THE GRINDSTONE 261 
 
 " No," said Prochnow, with the loftiest 
 contempt. 
 
 " It will go down easier, I say, if you'll just 
 work in some portraits of our Nine Worthies. 
 Ghirlandajo did that racket, for instance; so 
 did Holbein. So did plenty of others. 
 Wouldn't Andrew P. Hill's chin-beard come 
 in great on Fortitude? And if you've got any 
 gratitude in your composition, Roscoe Or- 
 lando ought to go in as Prosperity. Give him 
 two cornucopias, instead of one, to balance 
 those side-whiskers " 
 
 " Hush ! " called Prochnow reprovingly. 
 He never jested about his patrons and he never 
 made facetious observations about art. 
 
 "Well, don't get mad," said Little 
 O'Grady, slightly abashed. " I'm doing just 
 that thing with Simon Rosenberg; he's going 
 to be my archdemon of aristocracy." 
 
 Prochnow remained smilelessly severe; and 
 Little O'Grady, after one or two more feeble 
 efforts to save his " face," slunk away — vastly 
 impressed, as he never failed to be when he 
 met the rare person that could put him 
 down. 
 
 " What makes Ignace so grouchy to-day, 
 I wonder? " he muttered, as he returned to the 
 Car of Progress. 
 
262 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 Prochnow soon forgot this interrup 
 and jumped back into liis work with redou 
 vigour. He took a serious view of him 
 of his art, of things in general; above all 
 took a serious view of his immediate fu 
 and of the place that Preciosa McNulty m 
 come to have in it. Little O'Grady, an e 
 going bachelor, everybody's friend, and 
 much the champion of the whole gentler 
 to set any one of its members apart from al 
 rest, might indulge in such jestings aboui 
 own life and his own work as he saw fit. 
 for himself, a man of the warmest and hig 
 ambitions, yet with the most restricted m 
 for realizing them, play by the roadside 
 quite out of the question. 
 
 XVIII 
 
 While Ignace Prochnow was busy in 
 justing science, democracy and progres 
 the requirements of finance, Preciosa, in wl 
 behalf this great work had been underta 
 was lunching with Virgilia Jeffreys at 
 Whip and Spur. A mild, snowless season 
 dry firm roads had induced the manager 
 this club to try the experiment of reopei 
 for the remainder of the winter: surely enc 
 
UTTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 263 
 
 devotees of out-of-door activity, desirous of 
 filling in the weeks that intervened between 
 now and spring, must exist to make the step 
 worth while. 
 
 At first Preciosa had had her doubts. But 
 Virgilia had known how to execute a cordial 
 grasp with her cold slim hand and how to put 
 a warm friendly look into those cool narrow 
 eyes. After all, Preciosa was not one to hold 
 a grudge; besides, she could think of none of 
 those cutting things she had once wished to 
 say. 
 
 Virgilia had asked Elizabeth Gibbons, from 
 whom she had heard the particulars about the 
 portrait, and whom she hoped to bring round 
 even if she had not succeeded with the girl's 
 father. She had asked Dill too, and his sister 
 Judith, both of whom were to show them- 
 selves very gracious and winning with the 
 granddaughter of Jeremiah McNulty and the 
 supporter of a rival painter. And she had 
 added two or three other young men, who 
 might be expected to appreciate this chance 
 of making a fresh, youthful addition to their 
 own limited and tiresome circle. There was a 
 crackling fire in the big dining-room chimneyr 
 place; and three or four other little parties, 
 scattered about, helped to remove some of the 
 
264 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 empty chill from the great, bare, shining place 
 so full of disused chairs and tables. 
 
 Preciosa, who somehow found it impos- 
 sible to take the thing simply, was decked out 
 to considerable effect; most of the other young 
 women struck her as rather underdressed, and 
 she wondered that they could seem so very 
 much at home. She felt they viewed her, as 
 they passed, first with a slight curiosity (giving 
 questioning glances that referred the matter to 
 their sweet, whimsical Virgilia), and then with 
 a slighting indifference. Clearly, in their eyes, 
 she was here for just this once; she would not 
 occur again, and they need not bother Vir- 
 gilia by asking reasons. Preciosa began to 
 feel very cold and lonely. 
 
 But Virgilia had ilo idea of permitting any 
 such effect as this. She had been very gracious 
 all the way out, and now she stared her in- 
 quiring friends into the background and 
 worked with redoubled vigour to restore Pre- 
 ciosa's circulation. The fire helped; so did the 
 good cheer — including some excellent bouil- 
 lon; and so did the rattling remarks of the two 
 or three young men, who were not at all over- 
 come by Preciosa and who treated her with 
 an ingenuously condescending informality that 
 she took for the friendliest goodwill. 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 265 
 
 But most of all was the dear child affected 
 by the confidential hints and whisperings of 
 Virgilia, as they came to her in the wardrobe, 
 or before the great fireplace, or across the cor- 
 ner of the table itself, or up in the bay-window, 
 overlooking the gray lake, where they cosily 
 took their coffee. This delightful function, 
 Virgilia as much as intimated, might be but 
 the beginning of many; this, if little Preciosa 
 rightly understood, was only the withdrawal of 
 the first of the filmy, silvery curtains that inter- 
 vened, between her and the full splendour of 
 society. Virgilia murmured of the present 
 opening of the golf season — it would come 
 early this year; and she did not stop with pro- 
 posing Preciosa for the Knockabout (which 
 was good enough for a certain sort of people), 
 but even suggested the possibility of her little 
 friend's reception within her own club, the 
 Fairview itself. She had charming acquaint- 
 ances too, it delicately transpired, who had 
 taken an opera-box for the season, but who 
 were kept away from it by a sudden death in 
 the family; and she, Virgilia, had the use of the 
 tickets as freely as another. Certain dear 
 friends of hers, she added, were expecting to 
 give a cotillon next month — and why should 
 
 they call her friend if she were not at liberty to 
 18 
 
266 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 ask cards for a friend or two of her own? And 
 it was an easy probability, she intimated fur- 
 ther, that Mamma McNulty might receive the 
 honour of a call from one lady or another of 
 the Pence connection and even be invited to 
 assist at her aunt's charity bazar for the bene- 
 fit of the Weil-Connected Poor . . . 
 
 Yes, the veils lifted one by one, and the 
 shining heavenly host of society drew nearer 
 and nearer. And finally, as in the Lohengrin 
 Vorspiel, the surcharged moment came when 
 the violins, though pushed to their utmost, 
 could go no further, and the clashing cymbals 
 took up the bursting tale. The last clouds 
 rolled away, the Ultimate Efifulgence was re- 
 vealed, and Preciosa McNulty was vouchsafed 
 a vision of herself as the central figure in a 
 blinding apocalypse: she was pouring tea at 
 one of Mrs. Palmer Pence's authentic Thurs- 
 day afternoons, with the curtains drawn, the 
 candles glimmering, the right girls lending 
 their aid, the street outside blocked with shim- 
 mering carriages, and the great ones of the 
 earth saying to an alien, inexperienced little 
 nonentity, " No lemon, thank you," or, " An- 
 other lump of sugar, please," — a palpitating 
 child who felt that now it but rested with her 
 to readjust her halo and clap her wings and 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY FS. THE GRINDSTONE 267 
 
 soar onward and upward with the departing 
 host toward the realm of glory. 
 
 Preciosa was in a glow. She forgot the 
 nippy ride out through the bare, bleak suburbs, 
 and the weltering waste of the raw gray lake 
 just below, and the cold glare from the dozens 
 of disused table-tops, and the cool stares of 
 people who wondered why she was here. Let 
 them but wait a little, and they might soon 
 meet her elsewhere. 
 
 Then Virgilia took Preciosa up into the 
 bay-window on the landing and set her to sip- 
 ping her coflfee and delicately indicated to her 
 the price she was to pay. She spoke of Mr. 
 Dill's recognised primacy among the city's 
 painters, and of the exertions by which he had 
 won his place. She reminded Preciosa that he, 
 as a fact, had been the first to take up and 
 study the great problem proposed by the 
 Grindstone, and that both professional cour- 
 tesy and plain, everyday honesty forbade his 
 summary supplanting by another. Preciosa 
 listened with lowered eyes, — eyes that once or 
 twice slid down the stairs and rested upon the 
 prepossessing young gentleman for whom this 
 plea was made. She felt that she was trapped; 
 Virgilia Jeffreys had set a snare for her once 
 more. She was conscious of the sidelong 
 
268 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 glance out of Virgilia's narrow green eyes, and 
 of Virgilia's sharp nose and vibrating nostrils 
 and fine intent eyebrows; they were all at work 
 upon her to subdue her to Virgilia's will. She 
 felt very feeble, very defenceless, greatly em- 
 barrassed, thoroughly uncomfortable. She 
 thought suddenly of Medora Joyce, with her 
 long bottle-green cloak and her friendly face. 
 Why were not more of the " nice " people 
 powers in the social world? Why must the 
 gates be kept by the selfish, the insincere, the 
 calculating? Medora, she felt sure, would 
 have lent a hand without asking one to give 
 up, in return, one's own thumb and forefin- 
 ger .. . 
 
 There was a sudden stir outside — the sound 
 of crunching wheels and grinding machinery 
 and escaping steam. The two girls looked 
 down from the bay. A bulky figure got out of 
 an automobile, gave a command or two in a 
 peremptory tone, entered the house and made 
 his wants known to the steward. 
 
 "H'm," said Virgilia; "one of the Mor- 
 rells." 
 
 The newcomer picked up all the men avail- 
 able and invited them to assist in his libations. 
 Robin Morrell, the second of the Twins, had 
 passed an active forenoon in the populariza- 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 269 
 
 tion of those unequalled certificates, and now 
 he was more than willing to spend money 
 freely in the eyes of the right people. Every- 
 body he had approached earlier had met his 
 views as to the value of those documents (they 
 were at two-hundred-and-thirty, or some such 
 incredible figure) — including a bank president 
 or so, who had accepted them as collateral on 
 this basis; and all whom he invited, or sum- 
 moned, now (refusal seemed impossible), must 
 needs show a like unanimity in sharing his 
 pleasures. He was big and red, and took up a 
 great deal of room. By contrast, Daffingdon 
 Dill looked more of a gentleman than ever. 
 
 "He's like his brother — ^just!" said Vir- 
 gilia to herself. " Imagine ! " she added ellip- 
 tically. 
 
 While Morrell collected the men and im- 
 pressed his very urgent and particular demands 
 upon the intimidated steward, Virgilia, leav- 
 ing Preciosa, bestowed a few moments' exer- 
 tions upon Elizabeth Gibbons. Virgilia gently 
 but decidedly held the girl's father up to rep- 
 robation. Elizabeth professed herself utterly 
 shocked by this disclosure of her parent's diva- 
 gations and conveyed the impression that he 
 should be brought back into the right path and 
 should turn from Prochnow and all his works. 
 
270 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 " What sort of a thing did he make of it? " 
 asked Virgilia, thinking of the portrait. 
 
 " Why, really, do you know, it came out 
 very well." 
 
 " What kind of a person is he? " 
 
 " Clever enough, I should say; but not by 
 any means what you would call a gentleman." 
 
 " Um," murmured Virgilia darkly. How 
 could anybody be interested in a painter that 
 was not a gentleman? This was more than 
 she could understand. " Don't let it go any 
 further, dear," she counselled gently. 
 
 " Certainly not," said Elizabeth promptly, 
 and put the matter out of her mind for once 
 and for all. 
 
 After Morrell had imposed himself upon 
 the men he turned his attention to the women. 
 Virgilia had always impressed him as a trifle 
 meagre and acidulous, and Elizabeth Gibbons 
 had never impressed him at all; but he instant- 
 ly caught at the flamboyant and, high-charged 
 beauty of little Preciosa McNulty. However, 
 she was too chill and lonely once more to be 
 greatly affected by the blusterous gallantries of 
 this prosperous swain. She was very subdued 
 in her acceptance of his heavy attentions; — 
 " more so than I should — ^well, than I should 
 have expected," as he himself observed. 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 271 
 
 Really, she was too young for so much poise, 
 too " temperamental," by every indication of 
 her physiognomy, for such complete self-con- 
 trol. 
 
 " I say, she has a very good tone, do you 
 know," he took occasion to remark to Dill. 
 And he spoke as a man whose authority in 
 such delicate matters was beyond dispute. 
 There is only one way to impress the pusher, 
 and that way Preciosa had unconsciously 
 taken. The more she repulsed him the more 
 worthy he thought her. " I must see her 
 again, somewhere," he decided. 
 
 " Millions," whispered Virgilia to Preciosa, 
 behind Robin Morrell's broad back. " Quite 
 one of us. And you can see for yourself how 
 immensely he is taken with you." 
 
 Yes, here was something more glorious 
 even than the Thursday tea. 
 
 On the way home Preciosa was quiet and 
 thoughtful. Her mother, devoured by a hun- 
 gry curiosity and a sharp solicitude, plied her 
 with questions. Whom had she met? What 
 had they said and done? How had they 
 dressed and acted? For the love of heaven, 
 names, descriptions, particulars! 
 
 Preciosa looked back at her mother and 
 held an unbroken silence. 
 
272 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 XIX 
 
 Prochnow spent the whole day working 
 for Preciosa, obUvious of Virgilia's snares or 
 of the debut of Robin Morrell. He heaved 
 history, tradition, legend, mythology into the 
 furnace, worked the bellows with indefatigable 
 hand, blew his brains to a white heat and kept 
 them there, and dropped down at dusk with 
 his project complete. He had outlined two or 
 three of his cartoons as well, and had even 
 dashed out, on a small scale, the colour-scheme 
 of the one that made the most immediate ap- 
 peal. 
 
 Little O' Grady, who had had all the trouble 
 he anticipated with the chariot of Progress — 
 and a good deal more — came in for a cup of 
 Prochnow's potent, bewitching cofifee. 
 
 " Ignace ! " he cried, wiping his clay-en- 
 crusted hands on the blue blouse, " you beat 
 us all! You'll run away ahead of any one of 
 us! Only, you'll kill yourself doing it! " 
 
 " My first great chance," replied Proch- 
 now. " I mustn't let it slip by." 
 
 Within a few days this third scheme was 
 brought into intelligible shape and sent off in 
 pursuit of the scattered sons of finance. " It's 
 a dead go! " cried Little O'Grady; " this time 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 273 
 
 we get 'em sure! " His confidence was the 
 light from the blazing furnace, just as Proch- 
 now's intensity was its heat. When each be- 
 lieved so fully in himself and in the other how 
 could the thought of failure intrude? 
 
 " Ignace," said Little O'Grady, " this time 
 they'll treat us right. You must take a better 
 room than you have here. You must move 
 downstairs, where people can find you, and 
 where you will be able to let them in when they 
 do. Ladies, now — how could you possibly re- 
 ceive them in such quarters as these? " 
 
 Prochnow easily allowed himself to be per- 
 suaded. He was already beginning to see 
 about how the cat jumped and to understand 
 how much depended upon the gentle patron- 
 age of the luminaries of society. There was 
 one little star, surely, whose light he should 
 be glad to focus on himself once more — nor 
 be indebted to another's kindness for the privi- 
 lege. He had indeed ventured to call on Pre- 
 ciosa once or twice at her own home — in par- 
 ticular there was the evening on which, defy- 
 ing niggardly Fortune, he had invited her to 
 the theatre, her passion; but Euphrosyne Mc- 
 Nulty had not seemed fully able to understand 
 him. She appeared to view him as a sort of 
 unclassifiable young artisan and to find slight 
 
274 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 justification for his presence. She had other 
 ideas for her daughter. 
 
 " Come, make a stagger," said Little 
 O'Grady encouragingly. " Take that other 
 big room down there next to Gowan's. I'll 
 cough up a few for you, and I'll let you have 
 all the traps of mine you need. Take the Az- 
 tec jars and both the priceless Navajos that I 
 have clung to through all my days of misery 
 and privation." 
 
 Prochnow made the move. Preciosa was 
 among his first callers. His studio came to 
 little compared with Dill's, and to little more 
 compared with Gowan's; but the jars and the 
 blankets did their part, the mandolin and the 
 coffee-pot theirs; the portfolios were broken 
 open to decorate the walls, and, 
 
 " You'll do," said Little O'Grady. 
 
 Preciosa's back missed the tall mahogany 
 chair with the brass rosettes. " We've loaned 
 it to Gowan," explained Little O'Grady; 
 " we're helping him out on a portrait." 
 
 Preciosa's feet missed the thick-piled Per- 
 sian rug. " It was getting full of moths and 
 dust," said Little O'Grady. " We've given it 
 to some poor chaps upstairs for a coverlet." 
 
 " Are they very destitute? " asked Preciosa 
 tenderly. 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 275 
 
 "Tumble," replied Little O'Grady. 
 " There's one sufferer up there who's just 
 about cleaned out — nothing left but his bed 
 and one chair. He's eating his mattress. It'll 
 last a week longer." 
 
 Preciosa leaned back luxuriously on the 
 wood-box, which was covered by one of the 
 blankets, and tapped her delicate little foot on 
 the other, spread over the floor. How fortu- 
 nate that Ignace was spared all these priva- 
 tions! 
 
 Prochnow himself could not feel that he 
 was poor. She was here; his drawings were 
 with the bank; his Odalisque was at the club; 
 and his Fall of Madame Lucifer, in a bright 
 new frame, adorned the chaste walls of Roscoe 
 Orlando Gibbons. The future was bright with 
 promise. He dared to speak now. He would. 
 He did. 
 
 As soon as Little O'Grady had the grace 
 to make a move toward departure, Prochnow 
 hastened it on. O'Grady went upstairs to ban- 
 ish one or two more obstacles from the way of 
 the Car of Progress, and Prochnow took Pre- 
 ciosa over to the Academy to see the Winter 
 Exhibition. 
 
 Preciosa, as has already been said, was not 
 a girl of many ideas; yet a single one, detached. 
 
276 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 isolated, and presented to her with some ar- 
 dour and directness, was easily within her 
 grasp. The idea was now presented, and Pre- 
 ciosa forgot all about the pictures. For sure- 
 ly he who offered it was a most complete and 
 admirable mechanism; the pulse of his heart, 
 the beat of his brain, the flash of his eye, the 
 tremor of his masterful hands — all these now 
 worked in fullest harmony and told her here 
 was a man. Preciosa, never inclined to make 
 too much of worldly considerations, now set 
 them aside altogether. Any idea of mere lucre 
 slipped from her mind, and if she thought at 
 all of a mother's strained social ambitions for 
 a favourite child, it was but to feel with a wil- 
 ful joy that she was extricating herself from 
 the selfish grasp of Virgilia Jeffreys. Her own 
 humble and obscure origin stirred within her, 
 — her, the granddaughter of peasants who had 
 trotted their bogs, — and she gave no heed to 
 her lover's gentility or lack of it, in her uncon- 
 scious tendency, even her active willingness, to 
 " revert." 
 
 Prochnow felt the utmost confidence in his 
 own powers, in his future, in the great scheme 
 now under the scrutiny of the Grindstone. He 
 glanced round the walls of the gallery, and 
 here and there a canvas due to one hand or 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 277 
 
 another that had co-operated in the rival 
 scheme came to his view. He made silent, 
 acidulous comments on certain manifestations 
 of mediocrity placed there by men so much 
 better quartered, better known, better circum- 
 stanced than himself. " Never mind," he said; 
 " next year / shall be here, and then the dif- 
 ference will be seen by everybody." Well 
 might the director welcome work from one 
 who had distanced all others in a fair race and 
 who unaided had brought to a triumphal issue 
 the greatest piece of monumental decoration 
 the town had ever known. And this little 
 thing close by his side, panting, palpitating, 
 flushing divinely, had helped him to conquer 
 his success. 
 
 "It will be your triumph, too!" he told 
 her. 
 
 " Mine? " she asked, in self-depreciation. 
 " Why, I have not made you a single sugges- 
 tion." Too truly she was no VirgiHa Jefifreys. 
 
 " You have had a hand in every drawing," 
 he insisted warmly. " You have moved the 
 crayon over every sheet. The whole work is 
 full of you — it is You yourself." 
 
 Preciosa accepted this full, round declara- 
 tion with easy passivity; she was not clever, 
 only happy. If he thought thus, and felt thus 
 
278 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 — why, that was enough. He was a slr 
 young man — let him have his way. It all 
 in with his " handling " of the whole situat 
 Little enough had he depended upon soft 
 auction, upon gallantry, upon flattery; 
 less had he tried to wheedle, to propitiate, 
 had grasped her with an intent, smileless 
 verity, and he was not to be opposed. 
 words, like his works, were full of sweep 
 decision, and empty of all light humours, 
 they lifted her up and carried her away. 
 
 " Yes," she said, " it will be my triur 
 too." And she seemed to have said 
 words he wished to hear. 
 
 XX 
 
 A WEEK or two went by. The paladin 
 finance found it as hard as ever to get 
 gether. Nothing moved ahead save the 
 building itself. Even the Car of Prog 
 stood stock-still in the roadway, while L 
 O'Grady gnawed his nails. Only the ( 
 tractors and their men had any advance 
 show. They had put on the roof and had 
 gun to plaster the interior. The vagaries 
 uncertainties of a few struggling, befogged 
 gentlemen had no terrors for them — their 1 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 279 
 
 tracts had been signed hard and fast months 
 before, and their receipts of money had kept 
 close and exact step with the progress of the 
 work itself. " I wish I was a bricklayer — 
 or even a hod-carrier! " said Little O'Grady, 
 throwing a despairing eye upon the Car, stuck 
 fast in the mire. 
 
 Prochnow was still confident. He saw a 
 bride, a home, a .year of satisfying and profit- 
 able activity; he even saw more than one new 
 ring on Preciosa's dear, overloaded little fin- 
 gers. Yes, he had fully justified his summary 
 snatching of this child of luxury from that 
 front parlour full of contorted chairs with 
 gilded arms and with backs of pink brocade. 
 He even heard Euphrosyne McNulty say to 
 him in a voice tremulous with generous feel- 
 ing: " Dear Ignace, you are all I hoped to find 
 you — and more. You have made little Pre- 
 ciosa's mother completely content." 
 
 At last the Grindstone made a revolution. 
 Andrew P. Hill, weary of waiting for the help 
 of his associates, none of whom save Roscoe 
 Orlando Gibbons could be brought to the 
 scratch, took hold of the handle and struck out 
 a few sparks. 
 
 Together Hill and Gibbons considered 
 "Science and Democracy." Prochnow had 
 
280 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 devised a scheme that was properly severe and 
 monumental; though the intellectual cherubs 
 and the muscular blacks were present in modi- 
 fied form, all odalisques and such had been 
 suppressed. Still, the general tone was too 
 luscious for Andrew, who, even in his young 
 days, had been a pattern of sapless rectitude; 
 and on the other hand, it was not luscious 
 enough for Roscoe Orlando, who, in his young 
 days, had been quite the reverse. Andrew had 
 no affinity for fluttering garments and sensu- 
 ously waving palm-fronds — little did they con- 
 sort with the angular severity of " business." 
 Roscoe Orlando, on the other hand, had an in- 
 tense affinity for such things as the Fall of 
 Madame Lucifer, and was hoping, for some- 
 thing more of the same sort. Madame was 
 falling in red tights and Parisian slippers, with 
 black bat-wings inserted between her straight, 
 slim legs and her outstretched arms, while 
 Lucifer himself, a much smaller figure, fell 
 some distance behind her; and her staring eyes 
 and open mouth and streaming hair were a 
 sight to see — even upside down. As Roscoe 
 Orlando turned over Prochnow's sketches 
 with a discontented hand he asked querulously 
 where was the chic, the snap that he had hoped 
 to see. No, no; the boy had done his best 
 
I LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 28 1 
 
 work already; he was on the down grade — that 
 was plain. 
 
 " And then, all this allegory," objected 
 Andrew. " It's too blind; it's too complicated. 
 People can't stop to figure it out. Besides, 
 I'm not so sure that every bit of it is perfectly 
 proper." 
 
 So the Grindstone made another revolu- 
 tion and took off the tip of poor Prochnow's 
 nose. He came into Little O'Grady's dirty 
 and disorderly place, and O' Grady, even be- 
 fore he could scramble forward through his 
 ruck of dusty casts and beplastered scantlings, 
 saw that the blow had fallen. 
 
 He gave one look at Prochnow's face, 
 drawn, haggard, black with disappointment 
 and anger, and began to work himself out of 
 his blouse. " Where is my hat? " he muttered 
 wildly. 
 
 " Where are you going? " asked Proch- 
 now. His voice was hoarse. O' Grady looked 
 at him a second time, to make sure who was 
 speaking. 
 
 " I got you into this, Ignace; and now 
 I " 
 
 " You did not," said Prochnow. His pride 
 of intellect, still unhumbled, forbade his ac- 
 knowledgment of any such claim. ' 
 19 
 
282 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 " Oh, yes, I did, Ignace; and now I must 
 get you out of it." 
 
 " Are you going to see those men? " 
 i am. 
 
 " Don't. There is still some hope left," 
 said Prochnow thickly, " and you would only 
 make matters worse. A great deal of unsus- 
 pected talent has been developed, it appears, 
 by these experiments, as I have heard them 
 called," he went on chokingly, with blazing 
 eyes, in a gallant attempt at cold irony; " and 
 much more may be waiting still. Enough, in 
 fact, to justify a concours — how do you say? — 
 a competition." He clenched his fists against 
 his rigid thighs and turned his face away. 
 
 " A competition? They say that now? " 
 Little O'Grady threw of? his blouse and 
 jumped on it with both feet. " Where is my 
 hat? " he cried, running his fingers through his 
 long, fluffy hair and toppling over a disre- 
 garded cast or two. 
 
 Prochnow caught him by the arm. " You 
 must not go," he said. 
 
 But Little O'Grady was obsessed by a vi- 
 sion of the Grindstone directors — the whole 
 Nine — assembled round the council-board in 
 that shabby, out-of-date parlour. It had been 
 hard to get them together for Dill and Giles 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY FS. THE GRINDSTONE 283 
 
 and Prochnow and Adams, but there they sat 
 now, waiting for him. A new figure entered 
 the vision, the little Terence O'Grady they 
 were expecting: the spokesman for honour, for 
 fair play; the champion of the poor girls whose 
 tenderest hopes had been blighted; the whip 
 of scorpions that was to lash the ignorance, 
 the ineptitude and the careless cruelty that had 
 brought so many hearts and talents to fury 
 and despair. 
 
 " Get out of my way! " cried Little 
 O'Grady. He pushed Prochnow aside, 
 clapped on his hat and rushed from the room. 
 
 He tumbled down five flights of stairs. 
 At the bottom he met Gowan. 
 
 "A competition!" cried O'Grady, with 
 raging scorn. 
 
 " I know," returned Gowan. " But there's 
 something later. They have formed a com- 
 mittee, under the lead of an ' expert ' — some- 
 body that I never heard of — to pass the Win- 
 ter Exhibition in review. They want to see 
 •which of us do the best work and to deter- 
 mine whether any of us at all can do good 
 enough for their wants." 
 
 " Ow! " shrieked O'Grady. 
 
 " Furthermore, old Rosenberg has pro- 
 posed to cut down the appropriation for decor 
 
284 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 rations from twenty-five thousand to four. If 
 they're bad, after all, so much less will the 
 loss be." 
 
 " Ow! " shrieked O'Grady again, as he 
 tried to bolt past. 
 
 " Where are you going? " asked Gowan. 
 
 " To the Bank! To the Bank! " It was 
 as if Revolutionary Paris were yelling, "A la 
 lanterne! d la lanterne! " 
 
 Again O'Grady saw the Nine in confer- 
 ence. Again he heard their voices. " There's 
 nobody here," said Holbrook, making, to do 
 him justice, his first and only suggestion; 
 " send East." " There's nobody here," said 
 Gibbons, — oh, how Little O'Grady hated him 
 now! — " send abroad." " No," came the voice 
 of Hill, " we need not go outside of our own 
 city. Surely we can find within the corporate 
 limits somebody or other to do our bidding; " 
 and Jeremiah McNulty agreed with him. 
 " Why spend four thousand dollars? " asked 
 Simon Rosenberg; " why spend one? Calci- 
 mine and have done, and save the money; " 
 and Oliver Dowd took the same view. All 
 these enormities rang clearly in Little 
 O'Grady's ears and put wings to his heels. 
 
 " Get out of my way, Gowan! " he cried, 
 and ran full speed down the street. 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINibsTONE 285 
 XXI 
 
 " Yes, they're all in there," said the watch- 
 man who stood, decorated with a police star, 
 in front of the partition of black walnut and 
 frosted glass. " But you can't see them now; 
 they're busy." 
 
 "I can't, eh?" said Little O'Grady. 
 " We'll find out if I can't! " He dodged the 
 watchman, wrenched open the flimsy door and 
 threw himself upon the board. 
 
 Yes, they were all there, including the two 
 or three that Little O'Grady had not seen the 
 time before— that first time of all. And the 
 Morrell Twins were there too, one of them re- 
 morseful and the other defiant. And Andrew 
 P. Hill, who presided, was in a blue funk — 
 O'Grady could see his chin-beard waggle and 
 could almost hear his teeth chatter; for it was 
 Andrew who had amassed all that Pin-and- 
 Needle collateral, accepting it at the street's 
 own mad valuation. Pin-and-Needle, pushed 
 too far, blown too big, was now shaky at the 
 knees, and Andrew and all the Nine were trem- 
 bling sympathetically from top to toe. The 
 Grindstone might sui-vive in a single service- 
 able mass, or it might fly to pieces, dispersed 
 in a thousand useless fragments. 
 
286 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 Little O'Grady looked round upon the 
 other faces; they were all like Andrew's. Re- 
 morse, shame, contrition sat upon them. Ah, 
 these men knew they had not given fair treat- 
 ment to him and to Ignace and to Dill and to 
 Preciosa and all the rest. " Just see how 
 they're looking at me ! " he said to himself. 
 " Never mind; I won't let up on them. I'll 
 rub it in; I'll drive it home." 
 
 What drawn faces! What anxious eyes! 
 What sharp noses! — who had been grinding 
 them? Answer: the Morrell Twins. Not for 
 nothing their long practice in sharpening pins 
 and needles! It had come into play here. 
 Richard had turned the crank and Robin had 
 held down each ofificial proboscis, and the 
 board had winced. Then Richard and Robin 
 had changed places, and the board had 
 groaned. Now Richard and Robin were 
 changing back, and soon the board might 
 scream. " I'll take a hand too," said O'Grady. 
 
 He began at once; he gave the discom- 
 fited directors no chance to forestall him. 
 He taxed them roundly with their delays, their 
 double-dealings, their invertebrate wabblings. 
 They had blown hot and cold. They had 
 played fast and loose. He and his friends had 
 worked, had thought, had studied, had in- 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 287 
 
 vented, had torn their very brains from their 
 heads; and what had they to show for it? 
 Nothing; nothing at all. On the con- 
 trary 
 
 " Get out of here," said Andrew P. Hill 
 sternly. " This is a business meeting." 
 
 " Business meeting! " cried Little O'Grady 
 scornfully. " What do any of you know about 
 business, I'd like to ask? Nobody who 
 wanted to do business by business methods 
 would come here to do it, I'm thinking! No, 
 sir; he'd go to our shop, where we do as we say 
 we will, and do it up sharp and ship-shape, no 
 matter how unreasonable the demands of the 
 shilly-shallying old grannies we have to deal 
 with. Business! You don't bluff me! " 
 
 " Take care, young man," said Hill, 
 " or " 
 
 " Or nothing! " cried Little O'Grady un- 
 daunted. " And now, for a finisher, you ofifer 
 us a competition. You wind us, and then ask 
 us to run against a fresh batch that haven't 
 even left the stable! After we've pulled our 
 brains out of our heads strand by strand, you'd 
 have us stuflf them back and pull them out all 
 over again, would you? Nobody but a man 
 with cotton-batting for brains, could ask a 
 thing like that! " 
 
288 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 " Brains! " said Dowd contemptuously. 
 He had always looked upon himself as a lofty 
 intellectual force. In his view there was no 
 great play for intellect outside of finance and 
 law. 
 
 Little O' Grady pounced upon this inso- 
 lence at once. " There's not one of you here, 
 I'll venture, that has had an idea in the last 
 twenty years. You just sit beside your little 
 old machine and turn the crank — why, the 
 crank almost turns itself. We, on the other 
 hand, live on our ideas. We keep alive on our 
 own brains and hearts and blood and emo- 
 tions " 
 
 " Emotions! " said Dowd, carelessly crum- 
 pling up a paper and throwing it into the 
 waste-basket. He himself had not had an emo- 
 tion — foolish, superfluous things — in his life. 
 Little O'Grady looked at his nose. It was 
 the sharpest of the lot. 
 
 " Get oudt of here, young man," said 
 Simon Rosenberg. " This is no place for 
 you." 
 
 O'Grady passed over Rosenberg's nose in 
 contempt. 
 
 " We turn in scheme after scheme," he pur- 
 sued; — "schemes to be welcomed and appre- 
 ciated anywhere — but here. And what is your 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 289 
 
 own? All you can think of is a mongrel 
 heap of cabins and spires and chimneys and 
 shacks that would set a tombstone to grin- 
 ning. What chance is there for art in such 
 a hotch-potch as that? What could a self-re- 
 specting " 
 
 Up rose Andrew P. Hill. He expressed all 
 his nervous dread, his vexation, his irritability 
 by one tremendous whack of his fist on the 
 table. 
 
 "To hell with art!" he said. "What I 
 wanted to do was to advertise my business." 
 
 Dead silence. Nobody had ever heard An- 
 drew P. Hill swear before; nobody had sup- 
 posed that he could. But the unlooked-for, 
 the impossible had happened. 
 
 To Little O' Grady this profanity was no 
 more than the profanity of anybody else. It 
 did not stop him. 
 
 " To advertise your business? " he mocked. 
 " Then why didn't you say so before? It ain't 
 too late to do so yet, is it? I'll do it for you 
 myself. I'll advertise you' and your business 
 and your building fit to make you dizzy. I'll 
 make you celebrated. I'll make you talked 
 about. You won't have to pay twenty-five 
 thousand dollars for it, either. Nor four. Nor 
 one. Just give me a week's time and a scaf- 
 
290 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 folding — I worked on a panorama once — and 
 I'll see that you're advertised. I'll do it with 
 my eyes bandaged and with one hand — either 
 one — tied behind me. I'll see to it that you 
 get the Merry Laugh. I'll see that you get 
 the Broad Grin. I'll see that you get the Un- 
 restrained Cachinnation. I'll get you into the 
 guide-books and the art journals — nit! Why, 
 you poor creatures " — Little O'Grady's liberal 
 glance took in the entire assembly — " who do 
 you think bestow the sort of celebrity you have 
 presumed to hope for? Your kind? Not on 
 your life. The cheap twaddlers of cheap daily 
 stuff for cheap people? Never imagine it. 
 Who, then? The few, wherever they may be, 
 who knoiv. Good work by good men; and 
 then a single word from the right source, how- 
 ever distant, starts the ball rolling and the 
 stream running. The city feels proud of your 
 taste and liberality, travelling strangers turn 
 aside to see the fruit of it, and you get praise 
 and celebrity indeed. But nothing of that kind 
 will ever happen to you, whether you think 
 yourselves art patrons or not;" — here O'Grady 
 dealt a deadly look at Roscoe Orlando Gib- 
 bons. " Do what you like; people will snicker 
 and guffaw and hold their sides and pant for 
 somebody to fan them and bring them to. As 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 291 
 
 for me, I utterly scorn and loathe the whole 
 pack of you. I curse you; I rue the day when 
 first I " 
 
 Little O' Grady thrust out his angry hands 
 to rend his garment, but found that he had 
 left it behind. Balked here, he was about to 
 let them loose on his hair, when the Morrell 
 Twins, at a sign from Andrew P. Hill, now 
 speechless with anger, sprang up and seized 
 Little O'Grady by both shoulders and hustled 
 him out of the room. Robin Morrell gave him 
 a cuff on the ear to boot — a cuflf that was to 
 cost him dearer than any other action of his 
 life. Little O'Grady paused on the other side 
 of the partition to curse the board again, but 
 the watchman hustled him out into the street. 
 He paused on the curbstone to curse the bank, 
 but a policeman told him to move along. On 
 his way back to the Warren, Little O'Grady 
 went a block out of his road to curse the new 
 building, now almost ready for occupancy. 
 He lifted up his arm against it and anathema- 
 tized it, and a passing patrol-wagon almost 
 paused, as if wondering whether he were not 
 best picked up. 
 
 " Don't bother about me," said Little 
 O'Grady to the patrol-wagon. " I'm all 
 right." He looked again at the long row of 
 
292 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 columns : they were still standing. " There 
 yet? " he said. " Well, you'll be down before 
 long, if I'm any guesser." 
 
 XXII 
 
 The columns were still standing a week 
 later; and the Pin-and-Needle Combine, too, 
 still managed to hang together. But every 
 moment was precious, and Roscoe Orlando 
 Gibbons lost no time in giving a dinner for 
 Preciosa McNulty. 
 
 Robin Morrell's first impression of Pre- 
 ciosa had lost nothing of its intensity — on the 
 contrary. He had taken every possible occa- 
 sion for seeing more of her. He had invaded 
 a stage-box at the theatre where she happened 
 to be sitting; he had made an invitation to call 
 upon her at home impossible to withhold, and 
 he had called. Elizabeth Gibbons, who was 
 hand and glove with Preciosa (except that, 
 like everybody else, she knew nothing of her 
 engagement), speculated aloud on the prob- 
 able outcome of all this, and her father him- 
 self, overhearing, had laid these considera- 
 tions before old Jeremiah. Briefly, Preciosa 
 must marry Robin, and Roscoe Orlando 
 himself would help to the extent of bringing 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 293 
 
 them together once more by means of a 
 dinner. 
 
 Jeremiah bhnked solemnly at Roscoe Or- 
 lando's florid side-whiskers and wide sensuous 
 mouth. Both the afifairs of the heart and the 
 functions of society life were far removed from 
 the range of Jeremiah's interests and sympa- 
 thies. 
 
 " Save Morrell, and you save the bank," 
 urged Roscoe Orlando. 
 
 Jeremiah blinked again. He was fully able 
 to do this, if he chose. He was immensely well 
 off. He drew rentals from every quarter of 
 the city. Those gilded Louis Quinze chairs 
 and sofas in his front parlour were, as every- 
 body knew, stuffed with bonds and mortgages, 
 and coupons and interest-notes were always 
 bursting out and having to be crammed back 
 in place again. Yes, Jeremiah was the richest 
 member of the board; but he was also one of 
 the smallest among the stock-holders. He 
 shook his head. Why risk so much to save 
 so little? 
 
 " Then save your grandchild," pursued 
 Roscoe Orlando, 
 
 Jeremiah stopped blinking and opened his 
 eyes to a wide stare. " Aha ! this fetches him ! " 
 thought Roscoe Orlando. 
 
294 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 " Will you have her marry a business-man 
 of means and ability," he went on, " or will 
 you have her tie up to a poor devil of a painter, 
 with no friends, no position, no influence, no 
 future? " Roscoe Orlando's brief period of 
 easy patronage was over; no longer was he the 
 caressing amateur, but the imperilled stock- 
 holder (rather a large one, too), and Ignace 
 Prochnow need look for no further support 
 from his quarter. Roscoe told Jeremiah 
 bluntly that his granddaughter was as good 
 as engaged (this was his own daughter's guess) 
 to that obscure young man from nowhere, and 
 asked him if he wanted the thing to end in 
 matrimony. 
 
 Jeremiah scratched his chin. Roscoe Or- 
 lando saw with disappointment that neither ex- 
 plosion nor panic was to ensue. Yes, Jeremiah 
 remembered Prochnow; he recalled the bold, 
 brainy young fellow, so full of vigour and vi- 
 tality. He himself had reached an age when 
 such things made their impression, and when 
 he wistfully envied so signally full a repository 
 of youthful hope, energy, persistence. 
 
 Gibbons eyed him narrowly; clearly his ar- 
 gument was failing. " However," he went on 
 hurriedly, therefore, " this is no affair for us. 
 Speak to the child's mother; she will know 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 295 
 
 how to handle it. Meanwhile, my daughters 
 will arrange for the dinner." 
 
 Euphrosyne McNulty jumped at the din- 
 ner. As for Preciosa's infatuation for Proch- 
 now (upon which Jeremiah had touched very 
 lightly), she refused to consider any such pos- 
 sibility. At most it was but a passing fancy, 
 due to the painting of that portrait; it would 
 quickly dissipate: least said, soonest mended. 
 A girl like Preciosa, brought up so carefully, 
 a girl who had always had everything and who 
 would always need to have everything, would 
 know how to choose between two such men. 
 As for Robin Morrell, Euphrosyne had been 
 greatly taken with him. He blew into her 
 arid parlour the long-awaited whiff from the 
 golden fields of " society." He was big, loud, 
 self-confident, tremendously and immediately 
 at home (in a condescending way, though this 
 she hardly grasped), — a man to open up his 
 own path and trample through the world, Pre- 
 ciosa by his side, and Preciosa's mother not 
 far behind. So, up to the very hour of the 
 Gibbons dinner, she sang his praises in Pre- 
 ciosa's ear. 
 
 Preciosa was preparing to revert; she 
 sought the soil, but she was determined it 
 should be the soil of her own choosing. She 
 
296 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 found Morrell coarse, dry, hard, sandy, gritty. 
 What she sought was some dank, rich loam, 
 dark, moist, productive. To be sure, great 
 towering things grew in the sand — pine-trees, 
 for example, with vast trunks and with broad 
 heads that spread out far above the humbler 
 growths below; but on the whole she preferred 
 some lustrous-leaved shrub full of buds that 
 would soon open into beautiful red flowers. 
 She told her mother that she had no interest 
 in the Gibbons dinner and did not mean to go. 
 " But I mean that you shall! " retorted 
 Euphrosyne. " After all that's been done to 
 get you into society you turn round now, do 
 you, and cut off your own parents from it? 
 You'll go, make sure of that; and your father 
 and I will go with you." 
 
 XXIII 
 
 Daffingdon and Virgilia were bidden to 
 the Gibbons dinner, along with the rest. 
 
 " It's a sop," declared Virgilia; " it's to 
 propitiate us. It's to make amends — he 
 knows he hasn't treated us fairly. Shall we 
 go? 
 
 " He has treated us no worse than he has 
 treated everybody else," said Dill, bent upon 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY FS. THE GRINDSTONE 297 
 
 the preservation of his amour propre. " Look 
 at that young Prochnow — ^picked up one day 
 and dropped the next." 
 
 " They say he's really clever," replied Vir- 
 gilia. " If we failed, we failed in good com- 
 pany. Just how good, we might see by going. 
 Mr. Gibbons has something of his at the house, 
 you remember." 
 
 " We haven't failed yet," persisted Daffing- 
 don. " The field is clear — ^just as it was to start 
 with. We may be able to bring them round 
 yet. Anyway, we'll keep up the pretence of 
 good terms. Let's go." 
 
 Virgilia and Dafifingdon had given over all 
 mention of Japan, and had left of? the shy, des- 
 ultory house-hunting that had occupied the 
 spare hours of their engagement. This great 
 question with the bank must be settled first. 
 Nor was Virgilia sure that DafI was proving 
 to be all she had fancied him. He had shown 
 less head than he might have shown in plan- 
 ning the scheme, and less spunk than he 
 should have shown in pushing it. As she 
 thought things over she felt that all the ideas 
 and all the efiforts had been her own. And 
 now the question of money. Money; it did 
 not come in, and yet it was the prime need. 
 These considerations filled her mind as they 
 
298 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 bowled along in the cab together, and she was 
 not sure but that their engagement was a mis- 
 take. At Roscoe Orlando's carriage-block 
 their cab was close behind the livery brougham 
 of the Joyces — Abner and his wife were going 
 everywhere, now; and she looked after Me- 
 dora half in envy, as upon a woman whose fu- 
 ture, whether small or great, was at least as- 
 sured. Nothing consoled her but Daffingdon's 
 seeming determination not to give up. Yes, 
 there was room for more ideas, for further 
 efforts. But whose? His or hers? 
 
 Elizabeth Gibbons welcomed her father's 
 guests, and Madame Lucifer backed her up 
 bravely. Dill gave this canvas the closest 
 scrutiny. " It is strong," he said; " it has chic 
 without end." But it had no earthly bearing 
 on the great problem. Another point in his 
 own favour: he was here and Prochnow wasn't. 
 
 Yes, he was here, and he tried to take ad- 
 vantage of the fact. Before long he met Gib- 
 bons himself in front of the picture — a juncture 
 he had privately hoped to bring about — ^and 
 was speaking of its merits and of its author 
 and of their common participation in the great 
 scheme and of the prospects and possibilities 
 of the early future. Roscoe Orlando tried to 
 seem smiling and cordial and encouraging, but 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 299 
 
 clearly his thoughts were somewhere else. 
 And his eyes. And his ears. They were wher- 
 ever Preciosa McNulty and Robin Morrell 
 happened to be sitting or standing together. 
 It was no longer a question of decorations, nor 
 of the walls that were to give them place, nor 
 of the colonnade through which the public 
 would pass to view them. It was a question of 
 the very vaults themselves; of the capital, the 
 deposits, the surplus, the undivided profits, of 
 his own five hundred shares; of safety, of cred- 
 it, of honour — oh, might this painter but eat 
 his dinner in quiet and let the matter of art go 
 hang! 
 
 Eudoxia Pence looked at the new picture 
 too, comparing its spirit and quality with a 
 number she had recently added to her own 
 gallery. She also attempted a word with her 
 host about the thwarted pageantry at the 
 Grindstone, but Roscoe Orlando put off her 
 just as he had put off Dill. 
 
 " Very well, sir," said Eudoxia firmly, 
 within herself; " if I can't speak here, then I 
 will speak elsewhere. If not to you, then to 
 others. Have eyes and ears if you will for that 
 poor little vulgarian alone ; all the same, I shall 
 know how to make my point." 
 
 Preciosa was in full feather and in high 
 
300 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 colour; she seemed like a sumptuous pocket- 
 edition of some work bound more richly, 
 perhaps, than it deserved to be. She was in yel- 
 low tulle, and her mother had clapped an im- 
 mense bunch of red roses upon the child's cor- 
 sage and had crowded innumerable rings upon 
 her plump little fingers. Her chestnut hair 
 fell in careless affluence round her neck and 
 blew breezily about her temples, and a bright 
 spot in each cheek gave her even more than 
 her wonted colour. Robin Morrell, who was, 
 of course, to take her out to dinner, seized 
 upon her at the very start. It was as if he had 
 wrenched a peach from the tree and had hastily 
 set his greedy teeth in it — one almost saw the 
 juices running down his chin. Yet his satis- 
 faction was not without its drawbacks; the 
 peach seemed a clingstone, after all; and there 
 was a bitter tang to its skin. Preciosa's eyes 
 blazed as well as her cheeks, but not, as some 
 thought, from exhilaration or from gratified 
 vanity; rather from protestant indignation and 
 a full determination not to be moved. Vir- 
 gilia, from her place, saw how Euphrosyne 
 McNulty constantly watched the child on one 
 side and how Roscoe Orlando Gibbons as con- 
 stantly watched her on the other; and when 
 Dill asked her, " What does it mean? " she re- 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 3OI 
 
 plied: " Leave it to me; this is nothing that a 
 mere man can hope to master. I shall know 
 all about it before I quit this house." 
 
 Roscoe Orlando put the men through their 
 liqueurs and cigars in short order — more im- 
 portant concerns were at hand ; Joyce, who was 
 now beginning to feel himself an authority in 
 such matters, almost found in his host's un- 
 ceremonious haste good cause for resentment. 
 James W. McNulty, who saw nothing but the 
 surface, supposed himself here by virtue of his 
 growing importance in the business world, and 
 was fain to acknowledge the attention by the 
 recital of a number of appropriate " stories." 
 During the slight delay thus occasioned, the 
 ladies made shift, as usual, to entertain one 
 another. Preciosa, relieved temporarily of 
 the pressing attentions of Morrell, sat with 
 Medora Joyce on the drawing-room sofa, 
 proud and flattered to have the undivided re- 
 gards of the most charming " young matron " 
 present. At the same time, Virgilia, in a 
 shaded corner of the library, was sounding 
 Elizabeth for a clew. Elizabeth had little, 
 consciously, to tell; but, like many persons 
 in that position, she told more than she real- 
 ized. It was not enough for the purpose, 
 but it dovetailed in with other information 
 
302 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 that came from other sources the day follow- 
 ing. When Morrell led Preciosa into the con- 
 servatory, at the earliest possible moment, Vir- 
 gilia was as keen over their exit as Euphrosyne 
 McNulty or as Roscoe Orlando himself. She 
 knew what was impending and she almost 
 knew why. 
 
 And when Robin Morrell issued from the 
 conservatory she knew just what had hap- 
 pened. Nobody could be so dashed, so dum- 
 founded for nothing. Yes, that incredible 
 child had refused him. Richard had not been 
 good enough for the one, but surely Robin 
 was good enough for the other. 
 
 Preciosa's no had been without qualifica- 
 tion or addition. Morrell knew as little as her 
 own mother that she considered herself fully 
 pledged to Ignace Prochnow. 
 
 Roscoe Orlando came up to Eudoxia. His 
 lips were white. 
 
 " A little plan I had set my heart upon," 
 he said, trying to smile lightly, " has received 
 a slight check. May I not rely on you to 
 help it through? " 
 
 " A little plan I had set my heart upon," she 
 returned significantly, " has received a slight 
 check. May I not rely on you? In other 
 words, I have my problem, just as you have 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 303 
 
 yours. I must insist that justice be done to 
 Mr. Dill." 
 
 Roscoe Orlando bowed — only too glad to 
 acquiesce in anything. 
 
 " One straggler brought back to camp," 
 said Eudoxia. " To-morrow I shall try to 
 bring back one or two others." 
 
 XXIV 
 
 Eudoxia Pence immediately got herself 
 into motion. During the watches of the night 
 she evolved plans for such a function as she 
 thought the present situation required. Her 
 picture gallery, re-enforced by those six or 
 eight new masterpieces from Paris, she should 
 throw open to the general public. She would 
 call the thing an afternoon reception, and there 
 would be tea. People were to be invited with 
 some regard to form, but the opportunity 
 would be made rather general — almost any- 
 body might come who was willing to pay a 
 dollar. This crush would supplement her ba- 
 zar, and would be announced as for the bene- 
 fit of — oh. well, of any one of the half-dozen 
 charities that looked to her for support. She 
 ■would throw open the whole house and tea 
 should flfow like water. These doings must 
 
304 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 take place within' three days, at the out- 
 side. Time was precious and none of her 
 friends would take seriously anything of 
 hers given at so short a notice. No matter, 
 then, who paid; no matter who poured; no 
 matter about anything, if only her net took 
 in all the different people she wanted to 
 catch. 
 
 Next morning she rose for a busy day. 
 She had brought back Gibbons, and now she 
 must bring back Hill. Young Prochnow was 
 off the board, but that did not put Dafifingdon 
 Dill back upon it; nor would he be there till 
 she should have placed him there. " We must 
 have that commission," said Virgilia. " You 
 shall, if I've got any influence," replied her 
 aunt. 
 
 She had long foreseen that, one day or an- 
 other, she must seize her Grindstone stock in 
 her talons, beat her wings about the head of 
 Andrew P. Hill, raise a threatening beak 
 against his obdurate front, and ask him what he 
 meant by behaving so. 
 
 She drove to the bank. The old office 
 stood empty; a last load of ancient ledgers and 
 of shabby furniture was just driving away. 
 She ordered her coupe to go to the new build- 
 ing. Here she found Andrew adjusting him- 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 30S 
 
 self to his grandiose environment, and deliv- 
 ered her assault. 
 
 What had he and the directors meant by 
 such a game of fast-and-loose? Why had they 
 treated an artist of Mr. Dill's standing with 
 such inconsiderateness and injustice? Why 
 had they tried to handle so important a ques- 
 tion by themselves? Why had they not con- 
 sulted the stock-holders? Why had they not 
 consulted her — a stock-holder since the foun- 
 dation of the bank and an amateur of approved 
 standing? And many more interrogatories no 
 less hard to answer. 
 
 Hill listened to her cowed, intimidated; it 
 was one more trouble in a time of trouble. He 
 presently found his voice — or a part of it — 
 and explained in low, trembling tones that con- 
 cerns of much greater importance had come to 
 the front; that this entire matter of decoration 
 must be set aside for the present, perhaps for 
 all time; that some other 
 
 Eudoxia threw an indignant frown upon 
 him and drove off to see his wife. 
 
 Almira Hill was at home — in these latter 
 days she was seldom anjrwhere else. Socially 
 speaking, she had evaporated years ago; but 
 there was no reason why she should not pre- 
 cipitate herself and appear once more in con- 
 
306 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 Crete form. Eudoxia had an intuitive sense 
 that Almira would welcome the chance. 
 
 " Receive with us," Eudoxia urged her. 
 What easier way for Almira to see some of her 
 old friends? She considered. She consented. 
 
 Then Eudoxia opened against the bank. 
 " Give me your help for my — nephew," she 
 said to end with. 
 
 " Mr. Hill has spoken of this to me," re- 
 plied the old lady slowly; " but he is so wor- 
 ried, so anxious, about something these days, 
 that I hardly " 
 
 " We are worried ; we are anxious, too, my 
 dear Mrs. Hill. Figure the situation. Im- 
 agine the strain upon two young people " 
 
 Almira had not lost all her sentiment, nor 
 all her jnterest in the concerns of youth. She 
 promised to give what help she could. 
 
 Eudoxia sped on to see Euphrosyne Mc- 
 Nulty. She found the household in a state of 
 suppressed tumult. The servant who opened 
 the door was all at sea; obscure sounds of sob- 
 bing came from somewhere above; and when 
 Euphrosyne finally washed in she was like the 
 ocean half-subsided after a storm. She had 
 just learned that Preciosa had refused Robin 
 Morrell. 
 
 " Such a caller at such a time! " she had 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 307 
 
 articulated over Eudoxia's card. It took away- 
 half the sweetness of the triumph. She rushed 
 to her toilet-table, hoping, meanwhile, that 
 Norah had not boggled with the tray and 
 that her father-in-law had not left his pipe on 
 top of the piano. 
 
 Eudoxia was brief. She made no vain 
 passes of regret that Euphrosyne had not taken 
 her place earlier on her invitation-list. She 
 invited her, now, with all emphasis, to attend 
 her " art reception," and hoped that she would 
 allow her dear daughter to help pour tea. A 
 sunburst exploded before Euphrosyne's un- 
 ready eyes. She recovered herself and ac- 
 cepted for both. 
 
 Eudoxia drove to the office of the Pin-and- 
 Needle Combine. Like every other moneyed 
 person in town, she had a finger in that pie. 
 Why shouldn't she drop in on the cooks? 
 
 Robin Morrell was not there; she was re- 
 ceived by Richard. Richard had heard from 
 Gibbons what was in the wind, but knew noth- 
 ing as yet, of course, about his brother's re- 
 jection. 
 
 Eudoxia understood that Richard was 
 hand and glove with Hill. She asked his in- 
 fluence as a matter of justice to Daffingdon 
 Dill. Richard had been impatient and resent- 
 
308 [UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 ful to begin with; now he became dogged and 
 surly. She had come at the wrong time and 
 about the wrong business. Virgilia had dis- 
 missed him with no gentle hand — people had 
 smiled over his discomfiture for a week. The 
 memory of this still rankled. Why in the 
 world should he exert himself for DafHngdon 
 Dill? 
 
 Let him exert himself for his brother then. 
 But he became more dogged and surly still. 
 Why should his brother succeed when he him- 
 self had failed? Why should his brother need 
 help anyway? Why must this woman come 
 poking into a man's most private affairs? Eu- 
 doxia surmised, through the medium of his 
 sullen mood, a house divided against itself. 
 She left Morrell in anger and drove to her 
 husband's office. 
 
 Every man had rebuffed her. Only the 
 women had been complaisant — and even these 
 she had had to pay. As she sat by her hus- 
 band's desk, waiting for his attention, her 
 wrath rose against the Grindstone and Hill, 
 against the Mbrrells and their Cofnbine. 
 
 " I'll take my Grindstone stock," she de- 
 clared, " and hawk it up and down the street 
 at eighty — half what it's worth. Let us see 
 where Andrew Hill will be then\ " 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY ys. THE GRINDSTONE 309 
 
 Pence turned on her slowly. " I doubt 
 whether you could get eighteen for it to-day. 
 The street is talking — talking low, but it's 
 talking." 
 
 " Why, is anything wrong with the Grind- 
 stone? " 
 
 " Well, rather. Hill, I judge, has come as 
 close to the edge as a man can without fall- 
 ing over. I'm glad your holdings are no 
 heavier." 
 
 " Ah! " said Eudoxia; " that's why he has 
 choked off Dill! Well," she resumed with un- 
 impaired energy, " I'll take my Pin-and- 
 Needle and sell it for next to nothing. I'll 
 give it away. I'll stick it under the cracks of 
 doors. I'll present it with every pound, or 
 rather every cup of tea. Let us see, then, how 
 Richard Morrell " 
 
 " Do that," said her husband, " and half 
 the banks in town will fail. You're not ready 
 for such a crash as that, are you? " 
 
 " Why, what's the matter with Pin-and- 
 Needle? " asked Eudoxia. 
 
 " It's at death's door. It's gasping. Un- 
 less something is injected, unless somebody 
 galvanizes it " 
 
 " Ah! " cried Eudoxia; " so that's why Or- 
 lando Gibbons gave the McNulty dinner! 
 
3IO UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 Oh, things must hold off a few days longer! 
 Make them, Palmer! That girl must marry 
 him, so that I can save my Grindstone stock 
 and my Pin-and-Needle investments, and so 
 that Daff can get those pictures to paint, and 
 so that Virgilia can get him! " Oh, heavens! 
 She had once aspired to guide the chariot of 
 finance, yet all she had to offer against this 
 threatening squadron of calamities was an 
 " art reception " with tea! 
 
 XXV 
 
 "Go? Of course we'll go!" said Little 
 O'Grady spiritedly. " Anybody may go 
 who's able to pay a dollar and who's got a 
 friend to name him. I hope you and I can 
 cough up as much as that, Ignace; and then 
 if we have to live the rest of the week on saw- 
 dust, why, we will. Go? I guess yes. If I'm 
 ever to make the Queen's acquaintance and 
 get her profile, this is no, chance to throw 
 away." 
 
 Prochnow was in a deplorable state and 
 needed all the support Little O'Grady could 
 give him. He had not seen Preciosa for sev- 
 eral days. He had called at the house once or 
 twice — that vast florid pile, which had always 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 311 
 
 looked lackadaisical rather than cruel; but it 
 had refused to admit him. Euphrosyne had 
 repulsed him with the utmost contumely; even 
 old Jeremiah (who may not have meant to be 
 harsh, but who seemed to be acting under 
 superior orders) told him he must not appear 
 there again. Nothing came to console him 
 except three or four tear-stained little scrawls 
 from Preciosa herself. In these she vowed in 
 simple and slightly varying phrases to be faith- 
 ful; nobody should come between them, no- 
 body should make her untrue, nobody should 
 prevent her from keeping her promise, no- 
 body should take her away from him, and 
 the like. 
 
 " What does it mean, Terence? " asked 
 Prochnow, vastly perturbed by these blind re- 
 iterations. 
 
 Little O'Grady pondered. " Her folks 
 are against us, that's all," he replied. " They're 
 trying to marry her to somebody else," he told 
 himself. " Who can it be? " Then, aloud and 
 cheerfully: " If you can't see her at one house, 
 why, just see her at another. Come along with 
 you." 
 
 They found the town moving on Eudoxia 
 Pence en masse, with several policemen in front 
 to keep order. On the front steps they grazed 
 
312 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 elbows with the Joyces and the Gowans; and 
 with these and other members of the general 
 public they swept on, joining the vast throng 
 of those who were so eager to press the great 
 lady's Smyrna rugs with their own feet and 
 fumble her silk hangings with their own fin- 
 gers and rap her Japanese jars with their own 
 knuckles and smell her new paintings with 
 their own noses and see Mrs. Palmer Pence 
 herself with their own eyes. "Gee! ain't it 
 swell! " whispered Little O'Grady, who could 
 make swans out of geese or geese out of swans 
 with equal facility. 
 
 Prochnow ignored the swells, the jars, the 
 pictures and all the rest; he sought only Pre- 
 ciosa. Little O'Grady was not in a new field 
 for nothing, and he looked at everybody. 
 First of all, there was the great Eudoxia her- 
 self, and her profile was as lovely as ever. 
 When, when, when should he reach the point 
 of modelling it? She stood there with a vain 
 pretence of receiving, — she was too conven- 
 tional to dispense with the recognised forms 
 even on the occasion of a mere popular out- 
 pouring. Little O'Grady went up to her 
 boldly and shook hands; he was outside the 
 general understanding that made her, in so 
 promiscuous a function, something to be 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 313 
 
 looked at rather than touched — save by a few 
 intimates. Only let him bring her within 
 range of his aura, he thought, and her sub- 
 jugation would inevitably follow. Then he 
 stepped back and watched her. There was still 
 a determined cordiality in her smile, but a fur- 
 tive anxiety marked the glance she sent now 
 and then into the second or third room be- 
 yond, where a pressing crowd and a subdued 
 glare of candle-light seemed to indicate a focus 
 of interest hardly second to the picture gallery 
 itself. Little O' Grady caught this anxious 
 look. " Is she afraid for her bric-a-brac or her 
 spoons? " he wondered. " No, it's something 
 more than that." 
 
 Beside Eudoxia stood Almira Hill, — " a 
 mother in Israel, if ever there was one," 
 O'Grady commented. " And what's the mat- 
 ter with herl ShyT Awkward? No, she's too 
 old and experienced for that. There, she's 
 looking in the same direction. Something's 
 up. What is it?" 
 
 It was this: Almira's husband had told her 
 that morning how it all depended upon Pre- 
 ciosa McNulty. 
 
 Roscoe Orlando Gibbons came through 
 the crowd, with a great effect of smiling jo- 
 viality. But he too glanced over the press of 
 
314 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 heads toward the glare of candle-light with a 
 strained intensity not to be concealed. 
 
 Roscoe Orlando suddenly turned aside to- 
 ward an old fellow who sat on a pink brocade 
 sofa. " See, there's her grandfather," whis- 
 pered Prochnow. Old Jeremiah had instinc- 
 tively taken refuge on the one piece of furni- 
 ture that reminded him of home. Here he sat, 
 awkwardly twisting his hands and blinking 
 every now and then at the great light that 
 shone afar off. " I could never in the world 
 have got him to anything resembling a din- 
 ner," declared Eudoxia. " He acts like a stray 
 cat," said Little O'Grady. " But he needn't, 
 — there seem to be plenty of the same sort 
 here, after all." Yes, at a second glance old 
 Jeremiah appeared to be less the victim of so- 
 ciety than of circumstances; and when Roscoe 
 Orlando Gibbons bowed over him and whis- 
 pered and they both looked toward the illu- 
 mination while Eudoxia Pence looked at them, 
 Little O'Grady was surer than ever that some- 
 thing was in the air. 
 
 He felt Prochnow suddenly slipping be- 
 hind him. " Her mother! " the young fellow 
 explained. Yes, it was Euphrosyne in full fig 
 and in very active circulation. She rustled, 
 she swooped, she darted, she was as if on 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY FS. THE GRINDSTONE 315 
 
 springs. " Well, she feels her oats," com- 
 mented Little O'Grady. He looked at her 
 again. No, what moved her was not vain- 
 glory, not a restless sense of triumph. She 
 was keyed up to the most racking pitch of 
 anxious expectation. She looked whither 
 Eudoxia and Roscoe Orlando and all the 
 others had looked, but with an intensified ex- 
 pression, and Little O'Grady almost felt as if 
 challenged to solve some obscure yet widely 
 ramified enigma. 
 
 He turned round as if in search of help. 
 In a doorway near-by he saw another familiar 
 face. " Why, there's DafJ ! " he cried. " It's 
 Dill, our hated rival," he explained to Proch- 
 now. " And that girl with him is Miss Jef- 
 freys, the one he's going to marry." 
 
 Prochnow looked at the tall handsome fig- 
 ure in the long frock-coat with the bunch of 
 violets, and felt abashed by his own short 
 jacket and indifferent shoes. He noted too 
 the assumption of ease and suavity with which 
 the other was entertaining a little knot of 
 ladies. It was this person, then, an out-and- 
 out man of the world, against whom he, un- 
 couth and unpractised boy, had presumed to 
 pit himself! 
 
 Little O'Grady was not able immediately 
 
3l6 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 to detach Dill's attention from his associates. 
 Meanwhile he studied both Dill and Virgilia. 
 The general effect was brilliant enough, 
 
 yet Yes, surely they were too loquacious, 
 
 too demonstrative; they were talking against 
 time, they were working under cover, they 
 were kicking up a dust. And, yes — both Daff 
 and Virgilia, in the midst of this gay chatter, 
 shot certain furtive, sidelong glances whither 
 so many had been sent before. 
 
 The group in the doorway showed signs 
 of breaking up. " Dafif," said Little O'Grady, 
 " for the Lord's sake, what's on? " 
 
 " Ah, O'Grady," said Dill, in a cool, form- 
 al manner; "are you here?" Since that 
 calamitous episode at the bank, he had cared 
 less than ever for O'Grady: they had been quite 
 right in throwing him out. He had found it 
 hard to tolerate his forwardness at the begin- 
 ning of the negotiations, and to carry the bur- 
 den of his Bohemian eccentricity through 
 them; and harder still to pardon the slap-dash 
 sally that had thrown the common fat into the 
 fire. Now up popped the fellow, knowing him 
 as intimately and familiarly as ever. 
 
 " Oh, Da£f," said Little O'Grady earnest- 
 ly, and all unmindful of any possible rebuff, 
 " what's out in that room? " 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 317 
 
 Daffingdon smiled at Virgilia. " Why 
 don't you go and see? " he asked. 
 
 " But don't break off the match! " said Vir- 
 gilia, with a nervous titter. What state of 
 overtension could have prompted her to a 
 piece of bravado so rash, so superfluous? 
 
 Little O' Grady gave her one look and sped 
 away. 
 
 After pushing through two or three room- 
 fuls of tall people, he finally reached the de- 
 sired threshold. He felt a hand upon his arm 
 and found Prochnow beside him. They both 
 saw the same sight together. 
 
 It was a table like Dill's — only larger, with 
 candles on it — five times as many, and flowers 
 — ten times as handsome, and silver and glass 
 and china — only a hundred times more bril- 
 liant, and girls seated about it — a thousand 
 times more fetching than poor sister Judith. 
 Among them was Preciosa, with a big 
 feathered hat toppling on her head and the 
 desperate look of some hunted creature on 
 her face. Yes, they had hung her with chains 
 and tied her to the stake. " If she is to 
 pour here, after all," Eudoxia had said grimly, 
 " let her pay for the privilege." And close 
 to the girl's elbow sat the chief inquisitor, 
 Robin Morrell, big, bold, unabashed, persever- 
 
3l8 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 ing, bringing all possible pressure to force 
 her to recant. People about them — his un- 
 conscious familiars — sipped and chattered, 
 and fluttered up and away, but he remained 
 fixed throughout. He must have her, he was 
 determined to dominate her; in the end she 
 could not but yield. There was no other way 
 out for her, and none for him. And that sole 
 way must be taken at once. 
 
 Little O' Grady recognised the red face, the 
 broad shoulders, the thick neck, the heavy 
 hand; he still felt those fingers in his collar, 
 that palm against his ear. "A-a-ah!" he 
 emitted in a long sibilant cry of repressed 
 rage. 
 
 " Stay where you are a minute," he said 
 to Prochnow, and slipped away. Ignace 
 stared now at his rival in love just as before he 
 had stared at his rival in art, — yet held in 
 check both by the intimidating splendour of 
 the ceremonial and by his own uncertainty as 
 to the precise significance of the situation. 
 
 O'Grady hurried back to Dill. " Dafif, 
 Daff ! " he cried with wide eyes and with a 
 tremulous finger that pointed back toward the 
 tea-table, " is that the man? " 
 
 " What man? " 
 
 " The big brute sitting beside her." 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY ys. THE GRINDSTONE 319 
 
 " Robin Morrell to a ' t,' " said Virgilia. 
 " Or Richard, either." 
 
 "Are they trying to make her marry 
 him? " demanded Little O'Grady, his gray- 
 green eyes staring their widest. 
 
 " That is the plan, I believe," returned 
 Dill. 
 
 " It won't come off! " cried Little O'Grady, 
 and dashed away. 
 
 He pushed and trampled his course back 
 to Prochnow. In the library he brushed 
 against Medora Joyce. 
 
 " Oh, Dodie," he panted, " they're sacri- 
 ficin' our little Preciosa to that big brute of a 
 Morrell! " 
 
 " I was afraid so," said Medora, with con- 
 cern. " Stop it." 
 
 " I'm going to! " said O'Grady. 
 
 As he regained Prochnow's side Preciosa 
 was just rising from the table, and Elizabeth 
 Gibbons was slipping into her place. Pre- 
 ciosa left the room by another door, and 
 Morrell walked close beside her. 
 
 He looked about the crowded place with 
 an air that was both determined and desperate. 
 People here, there, everywhere; the rabble 
 swarmed in the library, the morning-room, 
 the den, chattering, staring, gaping, wonder- 
 
320 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 ing. It was disgusting, it was barbarous, 
 it made matters impossible. Every corner 
 bespoken, every angle occupied. Nothing 
 left save a nook under the great stairway — 
 a nook shaded by dwarf palms, however, and 
 not too open to the general eye. He half led, 
 half crowded Preciosa toward it. He should 
 speak now, a second time, and trust to bear 
 her down. 
 
 He spoke a second time, and a second time 
 Preciosa refused. She had but one idea, — 
 an idea a bit obscured by Prochnow's absence, 
 — yet she held it fast. 
 
 " You will not marry me, then? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " You have a reason? " 
 
 " The best." 
 
 " What is it? " 
 
 " I am engaged to marry some one else." 
 
 " Who is he? " 
 
 Prochnow appeared in the hall, with Little 
 O'Grady close behind him. Little O'Grady's 
 mobile face was taxed to the utmost to ex- 
 press all that was within him, but Preciosa saw 
 sympathy and the promise of instant help as 
 clearly as Morrell saw detestation and mock- 
 ing mischievousness. O'Grady pushed aside 
 a palm-frond and pointed toward Proch- 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 32 1 
 
 now. "We've come for you, darlin'," he 
 said. 
 
 Preciosa rose; the one idea to which she 
 had clung throughout came uppermost and 
 crystallized before her eyes. " Who is he? " 
 Morrell had asked. She raised her arm, 
 pointed to Ignace like a true little heroine of 
 the drama, and said: 
 
 "There he stands!" 
 
 She went out to meet them, and the three 
 instinctively began to push toward the front 
 door. She had her hat — never mind her 
 jacket. Dill saw them moving away and bit 
 his lip. Roscoe Orlando Gibbons grasped a 
 door-jamb for support. A smothered scream 
 was heard behind the palms; it was Euphros- 
 yne McNulty, fainting away, as Preciosa, 
 Prochnow and Little O'Grady went out 
 through the vestibule and down the front 
 steps together. 
 
 XXVI 
 
 The Pin-and-Needle Combine fell apart 
 the next day. The Grindstone National Bank 
 followed it the day after. Richard and Robin 
 had turned the handle a little too briskly and 
 the Grindstone had flown to pieces. Three or 
 four other banks followed. 
 
322 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 Little O'Grady danced with joy. His 
 curse had told. And the great hulking bully 
 that had dared to cuff him was flat on his back 
 with the rest. When O'Grady fully realized 
 what he — he — had done his breast heaved 
 proudly. He ran over to see the fatal placard 
 fastened on one of the Grindstone's great pol- 
 ished columns, and then tramped on down the 
 avenue of ruin with the step and mien of a 
 conqueror. All this devastation was due to 
 him — whatever the foolish newspapers, grop- 
 ing in the dark, might say. He alone was the 
 Thunderer; he alone wielded the lightning. 
 
 There was but one drawback; never should 
 he get Eudoxia Pence's profile — now. 
 
 Eudoxia felt that the McNultys had dis- 
 graced her, — " as people of that sort always 
 will if you give them a chance." Virgilia lin- 
 gered in the limbo of engagement; impossible 
 to say, now, when matrimony might ensue. 
 The question of money was the question still. 
 Dill was no Prochnow, to carry her off by main 
 force, nor was she a Preciosa to permit it. She 
 could not conceive of existence beyond the 
 pale of society; the impulsive action of a pair 
 of social outcasts could scarcely serve as a 
 precedent. " I must wait," said Virgilia. 
 Unconsciously she compared Dafifingdon with 
 
LITTLE O'GRADY VS. THE GRINDSTONE 323 
 
 Ignace Prochnow and realized how easy it 
 would be for her to wait quite a while without 
 discomfort, regret or protest. 
 
 Prochnow and Preciosa were married in 
 the midst of the crash. Little O'Grady and 
 Medora Joyce took the other two seats in 
 their carriage and saw them through the 
 ceremony. Preciosa knew that her mother 
 would never forgive her, but she thought it 
 not improbable that her grandfather might 
 acquiesce. In any event, she would marry 
 the man of her choice. 
 
 Little O'Grady patted Preciosa's hand pa- 
 tronizingly as the carriage rolled along. He, 
 none other, was the good angel of the whole 
 affair. " What do we care, darlin'," he said, 
 " for the Morrell Combine? — hasn't it kept us 
 on pins and needles long enough? What do 
 we care for the Grindstone, either? — hasn't it 
 ground our noses as long and hard as it could? 
 Down wid 'em both — and let 'em stay down, 
 too! And let anybody think twice, my chil- 
 dren, before he tries to prick the skin or grind 
 the nose of little Terence O'Grady! " 
 
DR. GOWDY 
 AND THE SQUASH 
 
 325 
 
DR. GOWDY 
 AND THE SQUASH 
 
 When Dr. Gowdy finally yielded to the 
 urgings of Print, Push, and Co. — a new firm 
 whose youthful persistency made refusal im- 
 possible — and agreed to steal from his sermon- 
 writing the number of half-hours needed for 
 putting together the book they would and 
 must and did have, he certainly looked for a 
 reward far beyond any recognisable in the 
 liberal check that had started up his pen. For 
 Onward and Upward was to do some good in 
 the world: the years might come and go for an 
 indefinite period, yet throughout their long 
 procession young men — it was for them he 
 was writing — would rise up here, there, and 
 everywhere and call him blessed. To scrimp 
 his sermons in such a cause was surely justi- 
 fiable ; more, it was commendable. " Where 
 it has been dozens it will now be thousands," 
 said the good Doctor. " I will guide their feet 
 into the right path, and the thanks of many 
 
 327 
 
328 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 earnest stragglers shall be my real recom- 
 pense." 
 
 Onward and Upward was full of the cus- 
 tomary things — things that get said and be- 
 lieved (said from mere habit and believed from 
 mere inertia), — things that must be said and 
 believed (said by the few and beheved by a fair 
 proportion of the many) if the world is to keep 
 on hanging together and moving along in the 
 exercise of its usual functions. In fact, the 
 book had but one novel feature — a chapter on 
 art. 
 
 Dr. Gowdy was very strong on art. Ra- 
 phael and Phidias were always getting into his 
 pulpit. Truth was beauty, and beauty was 
 truth. He never wearied of maintaining the 
 uplifting quality resident in the Sunday after- 
 noon contemplation of works of painting and 
 sculpture, and nothing, to his mind, was more 
 calculated to ennoble and refine human nature 
 than the practice of art itself. The Doctor was 
 one of the trustees of the Art Academy; he 
 went to every exhibition, and dragged as many 
 of his friends with him as could be induced 
 to listen to his orotund commentaries; and he 
 had almost reached the point where it was a 
 tacit assumption with him that the regenera- 
 tion and salvation of the human race came to 
 
DR. GOVVDY AND THE SQUASH 329 
 
 little more than a mere matter of putting paint 
 upon canvas. 
 
 These were the notions that coloured the 
 art chapter of Onward and Upward. I hard- 
 ly know where the good Doctor got them; 
 surely not from the ordinary run of things in 
 the Paris studios, nor from any familiarity with 
 the private lives of the painters of the Italian 
 Renaissance, which show, if anything does, 
 that one may possess a fine and rigorous con- 
 science as an artist, yet lapse into any irregu- 
 larity or descend to any depravity as a man. 
 But Dr. Gowdy ignored all this. Art — the 
 contemplation of it, the practice of it — worked 
 toward the building up of character, and pro- 
 moted all that was noblest in human life. 
 
 These views of his were spread far and 
 wide. They competed with the novel of ad- 
 venture on the news-stands, and were tossed 
 into your lap on all the through trains. One 
 copy penetrated to Hayesville, Illinois, and fell 
 into the hands of Jared Stiles. 
 
 II 
 
 Jared was an ignorant and rather bump- 
 tious young fellow of twenty-four, who was 
 
 hoping to make something of himself, and 
 22 
 
330 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 was feeling about for the means. He had a 
 firm jaw, a canny eye, and vague but deter- 
 mined ambitions. These sufficed. 
 
 Jared lived on a farm. He liked the farm 
 life, but not the farm work — a fine distinction 
 that caused his fellow-labourers to look upon 
 him as something of a shirk. He would rove 
 the fields while the rest were working in them. 
 He thought his own thoughts, such as they 
 were, and when a book came his way, as now 
 and then happened, he read it. 
 
 Onward and Upward was lent to him by 
 the daughter of the county attorney. She 
 thought it would tone him up and bring his 
 nebulousness toward solidity — she too being 
 anxious that Jared should make something of 
 himself, and unwilling to wait indefinitely. 
 Jared took the book and looked at it. He 
 passed quite lightly over the good Doctor's 
 platitudes on honesty, perseverance, and the 
 like, having already encountered them else- 
 where; but the platitudes on art arrested his 
 attention. " I shouldn't wonder but what all 
 this might be so," said Jared to himself; " I 
 don't know but what I should like to try it " — 
 meaning not that he had any desire to refine 
 and ennoble himself, but only a strong hanker- 
 ing to " get his hand in," as the phrase goes. 
 
DR. GOWDY AND THE SQUASH 33 1 
 
 It was about this time that the Western 
 Art Circuit began to evangelize Hayesville. 
 The Western Art Circuit had been started up 
 by a handful of painters and literary men in 
 " the city "; among them, Abner Joyce, nota- 
 ble veritist; Adrian Bond, aesthete, yet not 
 without praiseworthy leanings toward the 
 naturalistic; Stephen Giles, decorator of the 
 mansions of the great, but still not wholly for- 
 getful of his own rustic origins; and one or two 
 of the professors at the Art Academy. All 
 these too believed that it was the mission of 
 art to redeem the rural regions. It was their 
 cardinal tenet that a report on an aspect of 
 nature was a work of art, and they clung tena- 
 ciously to the notion that it would be of in- 
 estimable benefit to the farmers of Illinois to 
 see coloured representations of the corn-fields 
 of Indiana done by the Indianians themselves. 
 So presently some thirty or forty canvases that 
 had been pushed along the line through 
 Bainesville and Miller and Crawford Junction 
 arrived at Hayesville, and competed in their 
 gilt frames with the canned peaches and the 
 drawn-work of the county fair. 
 
 " There, Jared," said the county attorney's 
 daughter, who was corresponding secretary of 
 the woman's club that had brought about this 
 
332 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 artistic visitation, " you see now what can be 
 done." 
 
 Jared saw. He walked the farm, and drew 
 beads on the barn-yard, and indulged in long 
 " sights " over the featureless prairie land- 
 scape. The wish to do, to be at it, was set- 
 tling in his finger-tips, where the stores of elec- 
 tric energy seemed to be growing greater 
 every day. 
 
 " I believe I could do something of the 
 kind myself," said Jared. " I like the coun- 
 try, and I'm handy at light jobs; and if some- 
 body would give me an idea of how to start 
 in . . ." 
 
 The Hayesville Seminary had just cele- 
 brated the opening of its fifth fall term by add- 
 ing an " art department " ; a dozen young 
 women were busy painting a variety of objects 
 under the guidance, good as far as it went, 
 of an eager lady graduate of Dr. Gowdy's 
 Academy. 
 
 " Why don't you get Miss Webb to show 
 you? " asked the county attorney's daughter. 
 
 " I can't study with a lot of girls," mut- 
 tered Jared loutishly. 
 
 " Of course not," quickly replied the other. 
 " Make it a private, individual matter. Get 
 some ideas from her, and then go ahead alone." 
 
DR. GOWDY AND THE SQUASH 333 
 
 Jared picked up a few elementary facts 
 about colours, canvas, and composition in the 
 art atmosphere of the Seminary, and then set 
 to work by himself. " Something sizable and 
 simple, to start with," he said. Autumn was 
 over the land; nothing seemed more sizable, 
 more simple, more accessible, than the winter 
 squash. " Some of 'em do grapes and 
 peaches," he observed, in reminiscence of the 
 display of the Circuit at the fair, " but round 
 here it's mostly com and squashes. I guess 
 I'll stick to the facts — that is, to the verities," 
 he amended, in accord with the art jar- 
 gon whose virus had begun to inoculate the 
 town. 
 
 He elected the squash. And he never went 
 far beyond it. But the squash sufficed. It led 
 him on to fame (fame of a certain curious kind) 
 and to fortune (at least a fortune far beyond 
 any ever reached by his associates on the 
 farm). 
 
 Ill 
 
 Yes, Jared kept to the squash, and made 
 it famous; and in due course the squash made 
 him famous. He came to be known all over 
 Ringgold County, and even beyond, as the 
 " squash man." He painted this rotund and 
 
334 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 noble product of the truck-farm in varying as- 
 pects and with varying accessories. Some- 
 times he posed it, gallantly cleft asunder, on 
 the corner of the bran-bin, with its umber and 
 chrome standing out boldly against a back- 
 ground of murky bitumen; and sometimes he 
 placed it on the threshold of the barn door, 
 with a rake or a pitchfork alongside, and other 
 squashes (none too certain in their perspec- 
 tive) looming up from the dusky interior. 
 
 Jared mastered the squash with all the ease 
 of true genius. He painted industriously 
 throughout the early winter. He had saved 
 two or three of his best models from the fall 
 crop, and they served him for several months. 
 Squashes keep. Their expression alters but 
 slowly. This one fact alone makes them easier 
 to paint than many other things — the human 
 countenance, for example. By the end of 
 January Jared was emboldened to exhibit one 
 of his squashes at a church sociable. 
 
 " Well, Jared," said the minister's wife, 
 " you be a genius. I don't know that I ever 
 see anything more natural." Other ladies were 
 equally generous in their praise. Jared felt 
 that at last he had found his life-work. Hence- 
 forward it was to be onward and upward in- 
 deed. 
 
DR. GOWDY AND THE SQUASH 335 
 
 The men were more reserved; they did not 
 know what to make of him. But none of them 
 openly called him a fool — a sort of negative 
 praise not without its value. Nor was this for- 
 bearance misplaced — as was seen when, along 
 in March, Jared's father ended his fifty un- 
 profitable years of farm routine by dying sud- 
 denly and leaving things more or less at loose 
 ends. Farming was not his forte — perhaps it 
 is nobody's. He had never been able to make 
 it pay, and he had gone in seeming willingness 
 to shuffle off the general unsatisfactoriness of 
 it all on to other shoulders. 
 
 In the settlement that followed, nobody 
 got the better of Jared. There were itching 
 fingers among the neighbours, and sharp wits 
 too in the family itself, but Jared shrewdly 
 held his own. He climbed into the saddle and 
 stuck there. He cajoled when he could, and 
 browbeat when he must. " No, he ain't no 
 fool," said Cousin Jehiel, who had come up 
 from Bainesville, with his eye on a certain 
 harvester and binder. "He may make the 
 farm pay, even if the old man didn't." 
 
 About this time Jared, partly for solace, 
 subscribed to an art journal. It came once a 
 month, and its revelations astounded him. He 
 took a day off and went into " the city," and 
 
336 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 spent eleven dollars to satisfy himself that such 
 things could really be. 
 
 " I declare, Melissa," he reported to the 
 daughter of the county attorney on his return 
 to Hayesville, " but it was an eye-opener. The 
 way the people poured into that place! — and 
 just to look at creeks and corn-fields and sacks 
 of potatoes! " 
 
 " Of course," replied the girl. " Why not? 
 Doesn't your paper tell you that the hope of 
 American art is in the West, and that the best 
 thing we can do is to paint the familiar things 
 of daily life? That's all the cry just now, and 
 you want to take advantage of it." 
 
 " And there was a sort of book," pursued 
 Jared, " hung up by the door near the desk 
 where that girl sat and kept track of things. I 
 see people looking at it, so I looked too. You 
 won't believe me! ' No. 137, two hundred and 
 fifty dollars. No. 294, six hundred and seventy- 
 five dollars.' I looked for No. 137, and what 
 do you suppose it was when I found it? It 
 wasn't more'n two foot by eighteen inches 
 — ^just a river and a haystack and a cow or 
 two. No. 294 was some bigger, but there 
 wasn't nothin' in it except a corn-field — ^just a 
 plain corn-field, with some hills 'way off and 
 mebbe a few clouds. And there was a ticket 
 
DR. GOWDY AND THE SQUASH 337 
 
 on it, and it said ' Sold.' What do you think 
 of that? " 
 
 " That's all right," said Melissa. " If you 
 want to get money, you've got to get it out 
 of the people that have got it. And you've got 
 to go where they are to get it." 
 
 " And there was another picture that the 
 book said was ' still life ' — apples and ears of 
 com and a bunch of celery or such and a sum- 
 mer squash. Not my kind, but a squash all 
 the same. About a foot square — one hundred 
 and twenty dollars. What do you think of 
 that? " 
 
 " I think the squash has its chance, the 
 same as anything else." 
 
 " I asked the girl who it was painted all 
 these things. ' This is the second annual ex- 
 'bition of the Society of Western Artists,' says 
 she." 
 
 " There! " cried Melissa. " ' Western art- 
 ists ' ! " 
 
 " ' Are they all for sale? ' says I. 
 
 " ' Cert'nly,' says she. 
 
 " ' Are folks interested? ' says I. 
 
 " ' Look around you,' says she, 
 
 " I did look around. People was walking 
 along close to the wall, one after another, 
 a-smellin' every picture in turn. In the other 
 
338 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 rooms there was women standin' on clouds, 
 and there was children with wings on and 
 nothin' else; but everybody give them things 
 the complete go-by^ Yes, sir, let me tell you, 
 Melissa Crabb, all those folks was once just 
 country folks like you and me. Those there 
 city people had all come from the country 
 some time or other, and they was all a-longin' 
 for country sights and country smells. 
 They're Western people, too, and they want 
 Western scenes painted for them by Western 
 artists. There's fame a-waitin' for the man 
 who can do that — and money too. I guess 
 I'm beginning to see a way to make the 
 old farm pay, after all." 
 
 IV 
 
 jAREt) during his visit to the city had not 
 confined his attention to the display of the 
 Western artists. He had talked with several 
 dealers, and had visited one or two makers of 
 picture-frames, and had taken note of the 
 prominence given to " art " in the ofifices and 
 corridors of the great hotels. 
 
 " I tell you," he declared roundly, " paintin' 
 's got the call everywhere. You go into one 
 of them bang-up hotels, and what is the first 
 
DR. GOWDY AND THE SQUASH 339 
 
 thing you notice? A painting — scenery; ten 
 or twelve feet long, too — some of 'em. Well, 
 that's all right; I can paint as big as they want 
 'em, and frame 'em too, I guess." 
 
 He had formed some ideas of his own about 
 framing. The prices mentioned by the frame- 
 makers astonished him as much as those en- 
 tered in the sale catalogue by the fond artists 
 themselves. " No gilt for me. That's clear." 
 He thought of a wide flat frame he had seen 
 at the exhibition. " It was just a piece of plain 
 boarding daubed over with some sort of gilt 
 paint. It had a fish-net kind o' strung round 
 it, I recollect." 
 
 " What was that for? " asked Melissa. 
 
 " It was a sea view, with boats and things. 
 Seemed a pretty good notion to me." 
 
 " Why, yes." 
 
 " But there was one old codger come along 
 who didn't seem to like it. Specs and white 
 whiskers standing out. Lot of women with 
 him. ' Well, I declare,' says he, ' what are we 
 coming to? I can't understand how Mr. Eng- 
 lish could have let in such a thing as that! ' 
 He was going for the frame. I stepped over 
 to the girl at the desk " 
 
 " Seems to me you talked a good deal to 
 that girl." 
 
340 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 "Well, I did. She was from Ringgold 
 County too, it turned out; hadn't been in town 
 but six months. She was up to all sorts of 
 dodges, though — ^knew the whole show like a 
 book." 
 
 " Oh, she did, did she? " 
 
 " Well, she wasn't so very young, nor so 
 very good-looking, if that's what you're after." 
 
 " Oh, she wasn't, wasn't she? " said Me- 
 lissa, somewhat mollified. 
 
 " ' Who is that funny old feller? ' says I 
 to her. He was poking out his arms every 
 which way and talking like all possessed. 
 
 " ' Why,' says she, sort o' scared like, 
 ' that's Doctor Gowdy.' You might have 
 thought I had let drive at the President him- 
 self. I see I had put my foot in it, so I pulled 
 out as fast as I could." 
 
 " Gowdy," reflected Melissa; " haven't I 
 heard that name before? " 
 
 " It didn't seem altogether new, some- 
 how," acknowledged Jared. 
 
 But neither of them immediately associ- 
 ated this name with the authorship of Onward 
 and Upivard. They laid no more stress on the 
 title-page of a book than you, dear reader, lay 
 on the identity of the restaurant cook that gets 
 up your dinner. 
 
DR. GOWDY AND THE SQUASH 34 1 
 
 " It seemed all right enough," said Jared, 
 reverting to the frame. 
 
 " Why, yes," assented Melissa. " I don't 
 see'what could have been more appropriate." 
 
 " Well, you watch me," said Jared, " and 
 I'll get up something equally as good." For 
 this choice collocation of words he was in- 
 debted to a political editorial in the county 
 weekly. 
 
 Next morning he was strolling along the 
 roadway, carefully scrutinizing a stretch of 
 dilapidated fence. 
 
 " What you up to, Jared? " inquired Uncle 
 Nathan Hoskins, who happened to be driving 
 past. The fresh morning air had a tonic effect 
 upon Uncle Nathan; he showed himself dis- 
 posed to be sprightly and facetious. 
 
 " Lookin' after my fences," said Jared 
 shortly. 
 
 " 'Bout time, ain't it? — he, he! " continued 
 Uncle Nathan. 
 
 "Just about," assented Jared. 
 
 " Might 'a' begun a little sooner, mebbe," 
 proceeded Uncle Nathan, running his eye 
 over several rods of flat, four-inch stuflf, weath- 
 er-worn and lichen-stained, that sagged and 
 wobbled along the road-side. " So far gone 
 ye hardly know where to begin, eh? " 
 
342 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 " Where would you begin? " 
 
 " Well, that len'th right in front of you has 
 got a little more moss on it than 'most any 
 of the others." 
 
 "All right; I'll begin here," returned 
 Jared. He struggled up through the tangled 
 growth of smartweed and bittersweet, tore a 
 length of lichened boarding from the swaying 
 posts, and walked down the road with it. 
 
 Here at last was a suitable setting for the 
 Squash. 
 
 V 
 
 Yes, the Squash, before which all other 
 squashes were to pale. It was to be his best 
 and biggest work, and worthy of the post he 
 designed it to take at the next Exhibition of 
 Western Artists. He enlarged its scope so as 
 to take in a good part of the barn's interior; 
 he boldly added a shovel — an implement that 
 he had never attempted before ; and he put in 
 not only bins, but barrels — chancing a faulty 
 perspective in the hoops. All these things 
 formed a repellent background of chill gray- 
 blue, but they brought out the Squash. It 
 shone. Yes, it shone like a beacon-light call- 
 ing the wear}' and sophisticate town-dwellers 
 back to the peace and simplicity of country 
 
DR. GOWDY AND THE SQUASH 343 
 
 life. And it was inclosed by four neatly mor- 
 tised lengths of fencing, lichened and silvered 
 by a half-century, it may be, of weather taken 
 as it was sent. Furthermore, the abundance of 
 simulated seeds developed by his bold halving 
 of his model was re-enforced by a few real 
 seeds pasted upon the lower part of the frame. 
 
 " If all that don't fetch 'em," said Jared, 
 " what will? " 
 
 But the exhibition jury frowned upon this 
 ingenuous offering. Stephen Giles pitied it; 
 Dafifingdon Dill, an influential member, and a 
 painter not especially affiliated with the Cir- 
 cuit, derided it cruelly; Abner Joyce himself, 
 when appealed to as a man and a brother by 
 the disappointed farmer-artist, bleakly turned 
 away. Not even the proprietors of the sales- 
 galleries seemed willing to extend a welcome. 
 Jared was puzzled and indignant. Then he 
 bethought himself of the hotels, with their 
 caiions and jungles and views along the Can- 
 adian Pacific. 
 
 "Yes, the hotels — there's where I'll try. 
 That's where you get your public, anyway." 
 
 But the hotels were cold. One after an- 
 other they refused him. Just one was left, 
 and this was so magnificent that he had never 
 even thought of carrying his proposal into it. 
 
344 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 He did so now — nothing else was left to do. 
 The clerk was even more magnificent and in- 
 timidating than the house, but Jared faced 
 him, and asked for space in which to show his 
 work. 
 
 Jared had one of his minor works under 
 his arm — style of painting and style of framing 
 being fully representative of his biggest and 
 best. " It's this kind, only larger," submitted 
 Jared. 
 
 The clerk condescended to look, and was 
 interested. He even became affable. His im- 
 posing fa9ade was merely for use in the busi- 
 ness, and for cloaking the dire fact that, but 
 two short years back, he himself had been a 
 raw country boy from a raw country town. 
 He looked at the picture, and at Jared — his 
 knuckles, his neck-tie, the scalloped hair on 
 his forehead. " Could / have been anything 
 like that? " he thought. He refused consid- 
 eration to such a calamitous possibility, and 
 became a little more grandly formal as he went 
 on listening to Jared's business. 
 
 " Oh, George! " he presently called across 
 his slab of Mexican onyx; " come here." 
 
 George came. He was a "drummer": 
 nobody could have supposed for an instant 
 that he was anything else. 
 
DR. GOWDY AND THE SQUASH 34S 
 
 " What do you think of this? " The clerk 
 took the picture out of Jared's hands and 
 twirled it round on one corner of its clumsy 
 frame. 
 
 George looked at it studiously. " Why, 
 it ain't so worse," he said. " That squash is 
 great — big as life and twice as natural." 
 
 " What do you think of the frame? " asked 
 the clerk, venturing with no little fondness to 
 run a finger over the lichens. 
 
 " Made out of fencing, ain't it? Why, I 
 like it first-rate. Maybe I haven't kicked my 
 bare heels on just such a fence many a time! " 
 
 So had the clerk, but refrained from con- 
 fession. 
 
 " Buying it? " asked George. 
 
 " No; house-room," responded the clerk, 
 with a motion toward Jared. 
 
 " Yours? " asked the drummer. 
 
 " Yes, sir; I painted it." 
 
 " Frame your idea, too? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " From the country, I suppose? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, so are most of the rest of us, I 
 
 expect. Why, yes, give it room — why not? " 
 
 the drummer counselled his friend, and turned 
 
 on his heel and walked ofif. 
 23 
 
346 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 The clerk clanged his bell. " Just have 
 Tim come here," he directed. " How much 
 you expecting to get for it? " he asked Jared. 
 
 " Well, for this one about a hundred and 
 fifty, I should think." 
 
 " Right," commented the clerk. " Put a 
 good price on a thing if you expect people 
 to look at it. Never mind about Tim," he 
 called, reminded by Jared's emphasis that the 
 " house-room " vi^as not for this painting, but 
 for another. " Well, you get your picture 
 round here to-morrow, and I'll have it put in 
 the writing-room or somewhere." And he 
 turned toward a new arrival bent over the 
 register. 
 
 VI 
 
 After the squash had triumphed in the 
 rotunda of the Great Western, the surrender 
 of the other hotels was but a matter of time. 
 They reconsidered; Jared was able to place a 
 specimen of his handiwork, varying in size if 
 not in character, with almost every large house 
 of public entertainment. He walked daily 
 from caravansary to caravansary, observing 
 the growth of interest, straining his ear for 
 comments, and proffering commentaries of his 
 own wherever there seemed a possibility of ac- 
 
DR. GOWDY AND THE SQUASH 347 
 
 ceptance. He dwelt upon his aims and am- 
 bitions too, and gave to the ear that promised 
 sympathy the rustic details of his biography. 
 At first there was some tendency to quiz him, 
 especially among the commercial travellers, 
 who seemed to be, of all the patrons of the 
 hotels, the most numerous and authoritative. 
 But they soon came to a better understanding 
 of him. Beneath all his talk about being a 
 poor farmer boy and a lover of nature whose 
 greatest desire was to make others share the 
 joy that nature gave him, they saw that his 
 eye was as firmly set on " business " as theirs, 
 and a sort of natural freemasonry kept them 
 from making game of him. He had chosen 
 a singular means, true, but the end in view was 
 in substantial accord with their own. 
 
 About this time a great synod, or confer- 
 ence, or something of the kind, flooded the 
 hotels with ministers from town and country 
 alike. One forenoon the chief clerk of the 
 Pandemonium — these functionaries were all 
 on familiar terms with Jared by this time, and 
 had begun to class him with the exhibitors of 
 reclining-chairs and with the inventors of self- 
 laying railways — called our artist's attention 
 (temporarily diverted) back to his own work, 
 before which a group of black-clad men were 
 
348 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 Standing. A stalwart figure in the midst of 
 them, with shining spectacles and bushy- 
 white whiskers, was waving his arms and 
 growing red in the face as he poured forth 
 a flood of words that, at a moderate remove, 
 might have passed either for exposition or for 
 expostulation. 
 
 " There's a big gun," said the clerk. 
 
 Jared followed the other's quick nod. 
 
 "Why," said Jared, "it's Doctor— Doc- 
 tor " 
 
 " Dr. Gowdy," supplied the clerk. " The 
 Rev. William S. Gowdy, D. D.," he continued, 
 amplifying. " He's the king-pin." 
 
 " The Rev. William S. Gow " repeated 
 
 Jared. The title-page of Onward and Upward 
 flashed suddenly before his eyes. The man to 
 whom he owed his earliest quickening im- 
 pulse, the man whose book had shone before 
 his vision like a first light in a great darkness, 
 stood there almost within reach of his grateful 
 hand. He stepped forward to introduce him- 
 self and to voice his obligations. 
 
 But Dr. Gowdy, with what, to a disinter- 
 ested spectator, would have seemed a final ges- 
 ture of utter rejection and condemnation, 
 turned on his heel and stalked down a long 
 corridor, with his country members (who were 
 
DR. GOWDY AND THE SQUASH 349 
 
 prepared to like the Squash, but now no 
 longer dared) pattering and shuffling behind. 
 
 " Of all the false and mistaken things! Of 
 all the odious daubs! " pufifed Dr. Gowdy to 
 his cowed and abashed following. For Dr. 
 Gowdy, town-bred and town-bom, had no 
 sympathy for ill-considered rusticity, and was 
 too rigorous a purist to give any quarter to 
 such a discordant mingling of the simulated 
 and the real. 
 
 " I've never seen anything worse," he con- 
 tinued, as he swept his party on; " unless it's 
 that." He pointed to another painting past 
 which they were moving — a den of lions be- 
 hind real bars. " That's the final depth," he 
 said. 
 
 The country parsons, left to themselves, 
 would have admired the ingenuity of this zo- 
 ological presentation, but Dr. Gowdy's intimi- 
 dating strictures froze their appreciation. 
 They pattered and shuffled along all the 
 faster. 
 
 Meanwhile Jared, proud to have awakened 
 the interest of the " Rev. Gowdy " (as the 
 reading of the Ringgold County Gazette had 
 taught him to express it), was busy whirling 
 the leaves of the hotel's directory to learn the 
 good man's address. 
 
3SO UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 VII 
 
 Before Jared could catch up with the 
 Doctor a new tidal wave broke upon the town 
 and slopped through the corridors of the 
 hotels. The provincials (both clerical and lay) 
 were enticed to the metropolis by a " Trade 
 Carnival." The Squash met them every- 
 where. Here, in the midst of the city's 
 strange and shifting life, was something sim- 
 ple, tangible, familiar, appealing. Jared had 
 had the happy thought to mount one or two 
 of his best pieces on easels fitted out with a re- 
 ceptacle for holding a real squash. " Which is 
 which? " cried the dear people, delightedly. 
 The country merchants expressed their appre- 
 ciation to the commercial travellers, and these 
 factors in modern life, whose business it was 
 to know what the " public wanted " and to 
 act accordingly, passed on the word (casually, 
 perhaps) to the heads of the great mercantile 
 houses. In this way the eminent firm of 
 Meyer, Van Horn, and Co. became conscious 
 of the Squash. 
 
 Now, individually considered, the mem- 
 bers of this firm made no great figure. No- 
 body knew Meyer from Adam. Nobody knew 
 Van Horn from a hole in the wall. Who the 
 
DR. GOWDY AND THE SQUASH 351 
 
 " Co." might be there was nobody outside of 
 certain trade circles that had the slightest no- 
 tion. But collectively these people were a 
 power. Except the street-railway companies, 
 they were the greatest influence of the town. 
 They paved the thoroughfares around their 
 premises to suit themselves; they threw out 
 show-windows and bridged alleys in complete 
 disregard of the city ordinances; they adver- 
 tised so extensively that they dictated the 
 make-up of the newspapers, and almost their 
 policy. Above all, they were the arbiters of 
 taste, the directors of popular education. 
 That they sold shoes, hardware, soda-water,' 
 and sofa-pillows to myriads was nothing; that 
 they pulled your teeth, took your photograph, 
 kept your bank account, was little more. For 
 they supplied the public with ideas and ideals. 
 They determined the public's reading by 
 booming this book and barring that; their 
 pianos clanged all day with the kind of music 
 people ought to like and to buy; and the dis- 
 play in their fifteen great windows (during the 
 Christmas season people came from the re- 
 motest suburbs expressly to see them) solidi- 
 fied and confirmed the popular notions on art. 
 Well, Meyer, Van Horn, and Co. had set 
 their minds on having a " ten-thousand-dollar 
 
352 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 painting." It would be a good advertise- 
 ment. 
 
 They sent for Jared. 
 
 "Ten thousand dollars!" gasped the 
 young fellow. He saw the heavens opening. 
 " Why, I could get up a great thing for that! " 
 
 " I guess you could! " retorted old Meyer 
 brusquely. ■" You could do it for five hundred. 
 That's what you will do it for, if you do it at 
 all." He treated Jared with no more considera- 
 tion than he would have given a peddler vend- 
 ing shoe-strings and suspenders from the curb. 
 
 " Why," said Jared, abashed, indignant, 
 " you said ten thou " 
 
 " Let me explain," put in Van Horn, a 
 little less inconsiderately. " We want a ten- 
 thousand-dollar painting, and we're willing to 
 pay five hundred dollars for it." 
 
 " Who'd come to see a. painting billed at 
 five hundred dollars, do you think? " snarled 
 Meyer. " Nobody. You can see that kind 
 of thing anywhere, can't you? " 
 
 " I s'pose you can," assented Jared, mind- 
 ful of his first exhibition. 
 
 " But ten thousand will fetch 'em." 
 
 " Five hundred dollars, then," said Van 
 Horn; "that's what we'll give you. And it 
 wants to be bigger than anything you've got 
 
DR. GOWDY AND THE SQUASH 353 
 
 on show anywhere, and the frame wants to be 
 twice as wide. I suppose you've got plenty 
 more of that fence left? " 
 
 " Yes," assented Jared. 
 
 " Well," said Meyer, " you'll never have a 
 chance to realize any more on it than you've 
 got right here. And don't economize with 
 your seeds — stick 'em on good and plenty." 
 
 " We'll give you a whole window, or a 
 place at the foot of the main stairs close to the 
 fountain," proceeded Van Horn. " We put it 
 out as a ten-thousand-dollar production and 
 bill you big as the artist. Everybody in town 
 will see it, and the advertising you'll get — 
 why, ten thousand won't begin to express it." 
 
 " And we want you to put in a lot of farm 
 stuff," said Meyer junior, whose taste in win- 
 dow-dressing had often roused the admiration 
 of the entire town. " Vines and grasses, and 
 a lot of squashes — real ones. I suppose you've 
 got enough faith in your work to face the 
 comparison? " 
 
 " I s'pose I have," said Jared. " I guess 
 I've faced it before this." 
 
 " I want some real squashes on the frame 
 too," said the elder Meyer, from whom the 
 son's fine taste was directly derived. " Ever 
 tried that? " 
 
354 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 " In a small way," said Jared. 
 
 " Try it now in a large way. Half a squash, 
 like a big rosette, on each corner of the frame 
 — the half with the handle on it, y'under- 
 stand." Meyer saw the squash as a kind of 
 minor pumpkin. 
 
 " If I put it in the window," said the son 
 thoughtfully, " I shall want some saw-horses 
 and bushel baskets and " 
 
 " Take 'em right out of stock," said his 
 fond father. 
 
 — " something to make a real country 
 scene, in fact. And possibly a farmer sitting 
 alongside in jeans. Just the place for the artist 
 himself. It might be better, though, to put 
 the whole show by the fountain. In that case 
 I'd have a band, and it would play, ' On the 
 Banks of the Kankakee.' " 
 
 " Have you got that song on hand? " 
 asked his father. 
 
 " It ain't written yet, but it will be in- 
 side of a week; and in a week more the 
 whole town will be going wild over it, or my 
 name " 
 
 Van Horn cut short the youthful visionary. 
 " Well," he said to Jared, " you hustle off and 
 get the show together. Check for five hun- 
 dred on delivery. And mum's the word," he 
 
DR. GOWDY AND THE SQUASH 355 
 
 added, with good-natured vulgarity, " on both 
 sides." 
 
 " Ain't nobody ever said I talked too 
 much," mumbled Jared, reaching for his hat. 
 
 VIII 
 
 Soon the Squash dawned on the town — 
 the Last, the Ultimate. Jared had soothed his 
 ruffled feelings and gone back to his old barn 
 and worked for a fortnight. The result was 
 in all men's eyes: a " Golden Hubbard " — an 
 agricultural novelty — backed up by all the 
 pomp and circumstance a pillaged farm could 
 yield. 
 
 " There it stands, Mehssa," he said to the 
 girl, who had come out with an admiring little 
 company to bid Jared's masterpiece godspeed.., 
 " And here / stand — a ten-thousand-dollar 
 artist, and the only one in the country." 
 
 "I'm proud of you, Jared," panted Me- 
 lissa, with little effort to conceal the affection- 
 ate admiration that filled her. 
 
 " And I'm grateful to you. You believed 
 in me — ^you encouraged me " 
 
 "Yes, I did, Jared," said Melissa shyly. 
 They were alone, behind the shelter of the 
 bam door. 
 
35^ UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 " And next to Dr. Gowdy " 
 
 " You've seen him? You've thanked 
 him? " 
 
 " Not yet. But I'm going to as soon as I 
 get this picture in place. This here ain't the 
 end, Melissa; it ain't hardly the beginning. 
 There ain't a picture of mine all over town that 
 won't be worth double next week what it is 
 this — and people anxious to pay the money, 
 too. Just wait a little, Melissa; there's a good 
 deal more to follow yet " — an ambiguous 
 utterance to which the girl gave the meaning 
 that her most vital hope required. 
 
 A few days later the city press was teem- 
 ing with matter pertinent to young Mr. 
 Meyer's newest display — the paper that re- 
 fused to teem would have had to tell him why. 
 Jared stood in the calcium-light of absolute 
 unshaded publicity. " An American Boy's 
 Triumph." " A New Idea in American Art." 
 " The Western Angelus " — this last from a 
 serf that submitted, indeed, yet grimaced in 
 submitting. Under head-lines such as these 
 were detailed his crude ideas and the scanty in- 
 cidents of his life. And there were editorials, 
 too, that contrasted the sturdy and wholesome 
 truthfulness of his genius with the vain im- 
 aginings of so-called idealists. These accounts 
 
DR. GOWDY AND THE SQUASH 357 
 
 rolled back to Ringgold County. " Ten thou- 
 sand dollars! ten thousand dollars! " rang 
 through township after township. " Ten 
 thousand dollars! ten thousand dollars! " mur- 
 mured the crowds that blocked the street be- 
 fore the big entrance to Meyer, Van Horn, 
 and Co.'s. All this homage helped Jared to 
 gloss over the paltriness of their actual check. 
 By reason of this double hosanna he was a 
 ten-thousand-dollar man in very truth. 
 
 " And now" said Jared, " I will go and see 
 Dr. Gowdy." 
 
 IX 
 
 " Dr. Gowdy is not at home this after- 
 noon," they told Jared in response to his ring; 
 " he is addressing a public meeting down 
 town." 
 
 This would have applied to half the days 
 of every calendar month throughout the year. 
 When Dr. Gowdy let a day pass without mak- 
 ing some public utterance, he counted that 
 day as good as lost. He spoke at every op- 
 portunity, and was as much at home on the 
 platform as in the pulpit. Perhaps even more 
 so; there were those who said that he carried 
 the style of the rostrum and the hustings into 
 the house of prayer. Certainly his " way " was 
 
358 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 immensely " popular " — vigorous, nervous, 
 downright, jocular, familiar. Whether he 
 talked on Armenia, or Indian famines, or 
 street-railway franchises, or primary-election 
 reform, or the evils of department stores (he 
 was very strong on this last topic), the reports 
 — he was invariably reported — ^were sure to be 
 sprinkled freely with " laughter " and " ap- 
 plause." To-day Dr. Gowdy was talking 
 on art. 
 
 "It's going to be a hot one!" said the 
 students among themselves. And they 
 packed the assembly-hall of the Academy half 
 an hour before the Doctor's arrival. 
 
 The lecturer who was delivering the Wed- 
 nesday afternoon course on Modern French 
 Sculpture had failed to come to time, and 
 Dr. Gowdy, almost on the spur of the mo- 
 ment, had volunteered to fill the breach. He 
 telephoned down that he would talk on Re- 
 cent Developments in Art. This meant the 
 display of Meyer, Van Horn, and Co. 
 
 Dr. Gowdy had seen the abominable ex- 
 hibition — who, during the past week, had not? 
 — and had been stirred to wrath. He fumed, 
 he boiled, he bubbled. But it was not merely 
 this that had roused his blood to fever-heat. 
 No; Jared Stiles, emboldened by his success 
 
DR. GOWDY AND THE SQUASH 359 
 
 in the shopping district, had applied to Mr. 
 Enghsh, the director of the Academy, for a 
 room in which to make a collective exhibit of 
 the masterpieces at present scattered through 
 various places of public resort and entertain- 
 ment. Mr. English had of course refused, and 
 Dr. Gowdy, of course, had warmly backed him 
 up. But Mr. Hill, the vice-president, and Mr. 
 Dale, the chairman of the finance committee, 
 had taken the other side. They had both been 
 country boys — one from Ogle County, the 
 other from the ague belt of Indiana — and their 
 hearts warmed to Jared's display over on 
 Broad Street. Their eyes filled, their breasts 
 heaved, their gullets gulped, their rustic boy- 
 hood was with them poignantly once more. 
 They murmured that English was a hide- 
 bound New-Englander who was incapable of 
 appreciating the expansive ideals of Western 
 life, and that Gowdy, city-born and city-bred, 
 was wholly out of sympathy with the sturdy 
 aims and wholesome ambitions of the farm and 
 prairie. For once Art might well take a back 
 seat and give honest human feeling a fair 
 show. They hinted, too, that the approaching 
 annual election might bring a general shake- 
 up; English might find himself supplanted by 
 some other man more in touch with the local 
 
360 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 life and with that of the tributary territory; 
 and Gowdy — well, Gowdy might be asked to 
 resign, for there were plenty of citizens who 
 would make quite as good a trustee as he had 
 been. 
 
 Some inkling of these sentiments had 
 come to Dr. Gowdy's ears. He scented the 
 battle afar ofif. He said "Ha! ha!" to the 
 trumpets. He pranced, he reared, he cara- 
 coled, he went through the whole manege. He 
 outdid himself. The students, his to the last 
 man, simply went mad. 
 
 For the past year there had been a feud 
 between Dr. Gowdy and Andrew P. Hill. 
 Hill, relying on his own taste and judgment, 
 had presented the city with a symbolical 
 group of statuary, which had been set up in 
 the open space before the Academy. This 
 group, done by a jobber and accepted by a 
 crass lot of city ofificials, was of an awful, an 
 incredible badness, and the better sentiment 
 of the community had finally crystallized and 
 insisted upon its removal. Dr. Gowdy and 
 Professor English stood on the steps of the 
 Academy and watched the departure of the 
 truck that was carrying away the last sec- 
 tion of this ambitious but mistaken monu- 
 ment. 
 
DR. GOWDY AND THE SQUASH 361 
 
 " Well," said English, with a quizzical 
 affectation of plaintive patience, " we learn by 
 doing." 
 
 " And sometimes by undoing," retorted 
 Dr. Gowdy tartly. 
 
 Hill heard of this observation, and came to 
 the scratch with animadversions on Dr. 
 Gowdy's maladroit management of the fi- 
 nances of the Famine Fund (a matter that can- 
 not be gone into here). This was blow for 
 blow, and ever since then Dr. Gowdy had 
 panted to open the second round. 
 
 Jared Stiles, standing on his own merits 
 or demerits, might have got off more lightly, 
 but Jared Stiles, as a possible protege of An- 
 drew P. Hill, was marked for slaughter. This 
 new heresy and all its supporters must be 
 stamped out — especially the supporters. 
 
 X 
 
 Dr. Gowdy stamped it out — and the 
 crowd stamped with him. The fiery denuncia- 
 tions of the Doctor kindled an answering 
 flame in the breasts of his youthful auditory. 
 In five minutes hands, lungs, and feet were all 
 at work. The youths before him awakened 
 the hot, headlong youth still within him, and 
 34 
 
362 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 he launched forth upon a tirade of invective 
 that was wild and reckless even for him. 
 
 " This folly, this falsity, this bumptious 
 vulgarity — shall we not put an end to it? " 
 cried the Doctor. 
 
 " Yes, yes," responded the house. 
 
 " No; go on," said a single voice. 
 
 The Doctor laughed with the rest, and a 
 wave of delighted applause swept over the 
 place. 
 
 " Shall we not purify the temple of art? 
 Shall we not drive out the money-changers? " 
 
 " Yes, yes," called the audience. For 
 Jared had never drawn from the antique — he 
 was trying to climb in like a thief and a robber. 
 
 " Shall we not? " repeated the Doctor, 
 searching the house for that single voice. 
 
 " Sure," said the voice, and another wave 
 of applause rolled from the foyer to the ros- 
 trum. 
 
 "Ten thousand dollars!" shouted the 
 Doctor. " The man who says he paid ten 
 thousand dollars for that agglomeration of 
 barn-yard truck is one of two things: if he did 
 pay it, he's a fool; and if he didn't, he's a liar! 
 Which is he? " 
 
 " He's a fool! " cried half the men. 
 
 " He's a liar! " cried the other half. 
 
DR. GOWDY AND THE SQUASH 363 
 
 " Oh — h! " shrilled the young women. 
 
 The Doctor wiped his streaming brow. 
 
 " What kind of a community is this, any- 
 how? " he resumed, stuffing back his handker- 
 chief into his pocket. " Here we have this 
 magnificent school [applause] that for the 
 past fifteen years has been ofifering the highest 
 possible grade of art instruction. A corps of 
 thirty earnest and competent teachers [loud 
 applause and a few cat-calls] are ministering to 
 the needs of three thousand promising and 
 talented young people, the flower of our great 
 Northwest " [Tremendous and long-con- 
 tinued applause, during which the continuity 
 of the speaker's remarks was lost.] The Doc- 
 tor filled in the minutes of tumult by taking 
 several sips of water. 
 
 " Why, you, we, this Academy, should be 
 the leaven, the yeast, to work upon our great 
 metropoHs; not merely the flower, but the 
 self-raising flour " — a pause for appreciation of 
 the pun — " the self-raising flour [loud laugh- 
 ter, easily yielded and unnecessarily pro- 
 longed] that is to lift yourselves, and the city 
 with you, from the abyss of no-art, and from 
 the still deeper abyss of false art. That's where 
 we're groping; that's where we're floundering. 
 I declare, when I was elbowing my way 
 
364 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 through that struggling, gaping crowd [cries 
 of "Oh, Doctor!" and laughter], I could 
 only ask myself the question that I have just 
 asked you here: what kind of a community is 
 this, anyhow? " 
 
 Up popped a shock of black hair from 
 northern Michigan. 
 
 " It's rotten! " Shouts. Cat-calls. 
 
 " I should think it was! " vociferated the 
 Doctor. 
 
 He went ahead for half an hour longer, 
 crowding on more steam, acquiring a more 
 perilous momentum, throwing out an ever- 
 widening torrent of reckless personalities, not 
 forgetting the ill-fated monument of Andrew 
 P. Hill. (" Applause " and " laughter " were 
 very frequent just here.) He ended his im- 
 provisation without the clearest idea in the 
 world of just what he had said, and went 
 home well pleased. 
 
 XI 
 
 When Dr. Gowdy took up the Daily Task 
 next morning — there were sixteen pages of it 
 — the first thing that met his eye was a picture 
 of himself — the familiar two-column cut that 
 had not had an airing for more than three 
 
DR. GOWDY AND THE SQUASH 365 
 
 months. " Gowdy Gives Us Up," said the 
 head-line. 
 
 " What now? " wondered the good Doc- 
 tor. " Or rather, which? " For he knew that 
 every public utterance reported in the daily 
 press of the town was given one of two twists, 
 the local or the personal. This was apparently 
 the local. The personal was to follow — and it 
 did. 
 
 Yes, the Daily Task had been represented 
 at the Academy, and its young man, by a mar- 
 vel of mutilation and misrepresentation, had 
 put together a column to convey the impres- 
 sion that Dr. Gowdy was a carping Jeremiah, 
 intent upon inflicting a deadly wound on local 
 pride. " Oh, shucks! " said the worthy man, 
 and went on with his toast and coffee. 
 
 But the other papers, though unrepre- 
 sented at the Academy, had quickly detected 
 the possibilities resident in Dr. Gowdy's 
 abounding personalities, and the evening 
 sheets were full of interviews. What did Ja- 
 red Stiles think of the attack on him as a 
 representative Western artist? What did 
 Meyer, Van Horn, and Co. think of Dr. Gow- 
 dy's characterization of their enterprise and 
 the pointed alternative it presented? What 
 did Andrew P. Hill, as the representative of 
 
366 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 local wealth and culture, think of Dr Gowdy's 
 strictures on the self-made man's endeavour 
 to adorn the city that had given him success 
 and fortune? What did the distinguished 
 members of the Western Art Circuit think of 
 such treatment toward their most promising 
 and conspicuous protege? All these people 
 had thoughts, and none of them was slow in 
 expressing them. 
 
 " I can't understand it, nohow; I swan, I'm 
 completely knocked off my feet," said Jared 
 to the young man of the Evening Rounder, in 
 the rustic dialect of the vaudeville. " Why, 
 that there man — I've alius looked on him as 
 my best friend. It was that book of his'n that 
 give me my start, and now he turns agen me. 
 But he's wrong, and I've got the hull town 
 to prove it. And if he's wrong, by gum, he'll 
 have to pay for it. He can't trip up the heels 
 of an honest country boy and not get tripped 
 up hisself. I don't know yet just what I'll do, 
 but " 
 
 With the Evening Pattern Jared was more 
 academic. " I acknowledge that this attack 
 comes as a great surprise. I had always re- 
 garded the reverend gentleman as the chief 
 of my friends. His own book for young men 
 [name not mentioned — Print, Push, and Co. 
 
DR. GOWDY AND THE SQUASH 367 
 
 did not advertise in the Pattern] was my earli- 
 est inspiration. Such conduct seems as incon- 
 sistent as inconsiderate. The pubHc, I think, 
 will be certain to support me. And if the 
 words of the address are correctly reported, I 
 shall be found, I believe, to have good grounds 
 for an action at law. An intelligent jury, I 
 
 make no doubt " 
 
 The two Meyers were delighted. This was 
 advertising indeed! Van Horn, a shade less 
 thick-skinned, stuck at the animadversions 
 made so spiritedly by the Doctor and so vo- 
 ciferously supported by his audience. They 
 wore upon him; they seemed almost action- 
 able. He sent for the son of their credit man, 
 a youth enrolled at the Academy, where he 
 was learning to design carpets and curtains, 
 and tried to get from him just what the Doc- 
 tor had really said. This solicitude reacted 
 upon the Meyers, and Meyer junior, who gave 
 the interview, intimated that such language 
 was actionable beyond a doubt. " Our Mr. 
 Levy will attend to this. We have the en- 
 dorsement of the general pubHc, and that 
 makes us still less willing to have anybody 
 challenge our business acumen " — all this was 
 but an elegant paraphrase of Sidney Meyer's 
 actual remarks, for he had left school at six- 
 
368 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 teen and had never looked into a book since — 
 " or our business integrity." 
 
 Abner Joyce, on behalf of the Circuit, gave 
 out a grave interview in a few guarded words. 
 Though Joyce by no means looked upon Jared 
 as a protege of his organization, yet his 
 essential sympathy with the country still 
 held full sway, and he felt it possible to re- 
 gard young Stiles not as a mere freak, but as 
 a human creature like ourselves, and strug- 
 gling upward, like the rest of us and to the 
 best of his powers, toward the light. But the 
 town did not want restraint and reason just 
 then, and Joyce's well-considered words went 
 — much to his mortification — for next to noth- 
 ing. Bond, who better apprehended the spirit 
 of the hour, let himself loose in a vein of pure 
 fantasy, — he ventured on the whimsical, the 
 sprightly, the paradoxical. The poor fellow 
 sent to interview him might as well have tried 
 to grasp a bundle of sunbeams or a handful of 
 quicksilver. His report turned out a frightful 
 bungle; the wretched Bond, made clumsy, 
 fatuous, pointless, sodden, when he had meant 
 to show himself as witty and brilliant as pos- 
 sible, was completely crushed. With Joyce 
 going for next to nothing and Bond for worse 
 than nothing, the Art Circuit could hardly be 
 
DR. GOWDY AND THE SQUASH 369 
 
 said to shine. It paled, it sickened, it drooped 
 away, and presently it died. 
 
 As for Andrew P. Hill, he did not wait 
 for the interviewer; he wrote to his favourite 
 journal over his own signature. If he himself, 
 straying outside of his legitimate field (bank- 
 ing and investments), had failed with " Our 
 City Enlightening the Universe," Dr. Gowdy, 
 astray in the field of finance, had failed no less 
 egregiously. Yes, his handling of the Famine 
 Fund had been maladroit and eccentric to the 
 point that permitted doubts as to his own per- 
 sonal integrity: why, then, should he be cast- 
 ing doubts upon the veracity, the business 
 honour, of others. 
 
 This was a word for Meyer, Van Horn, 
 and Co., who were tenants of Hill's. Land- 
 lord and tenant were just now in the midst 
 of some delicate negotiations, and Hill hoped 
 that a word of the right kind from him might 
 help to make adjustment easier. Meyer, Van 
 Horn, and Co. were intending to arrange a 
 summer garden on their roof. Query: was the 
 roof theirs — was it included in the lease? Hill 
 felt sure of carrying his point, — decidedly the 
 roof was an entirely distinct matter from the 
 ten floors beneath it; but the situation might 
 well stand a little lubrication if good feeling 
 
37° UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 were to endure. Therefore Meyer, Van Horn, 
 and Co. had the satisfaction of reading that 
 William S. Gowdy was altogether too impul- 
 sive, erratic and unreliable — happily Hill did 
 not employ the word " untrustworthy " — for 
 •holding a quasi-pubhc position of some im- 
 portance. Age was impairing his judgment 
 and setting a term to his usefulness. 
 
 Dr. Gowdy flew into a passion. Threat- 
 ened with legal proceedings! — he, the blame- 
 less citizen. Accused of dishonesty! — he, the 
 pattern of integrity. Taunted with failing 
 powers! — he, the inexhaustible reservoir of 
 vigour, of energy! What, after all this, were 
 the pin-pricks daily, hourly inflicted by the 
 press, the post, the tongues of indignant asso- 
 ciates, all intent on vindicating the honour of 
 a community he had so wantonly attacked? 
 What were squibs, caricatures, saucy verses, 
 anonymous letters, cold looks from former 
 friends, hot taunts from casual acquaintances? 
 For art had been attacked in the very home 
 and haunt of art! The town had been knifed 
 under the ribs by one of her own sons! — made 
 ridiculous in the eyes of the ribald East, and 
 dubious in the regard of the trusting, tributary 
 West! 
 
 Well, what would they have? demanded 
 
DR. GOWDY AND THE SQUASH 37I 
 
 the Doctor. Should we gain anything what- 
 ever by always throwing bouquets at our- 
 selves? Could we go along forever living on 
 the flubdub of self-praise? 
 
 But a truce to all this! — for Dr. Gowdy 
 was coming to see, to feel, to consider but one 
 thing — the Squash. Here was the fountain- 
 head of all his woes. " Perdition take that fel- 
 low! " he exclaimed, with his thoughts fiercely 
 focused on the unseen Jared Stiles. 
 
 XII 
 
 Yes, the Squash had begun to run, and 
 nothing, apparently, had the power to stop it. 
 It was putting out leaves here, blossoms there, 
 and tendrils everywhere. Particularly in the 
 press. Interviews continued. Generals, 
 judges, merchants, capitalists — ^the whole try- 
 ing tribe of " prominent citizens " — were 
 asked what they thought of such an attack on 
 the fair fame of the city by one of its own sons. 
 Less prominent citizens sent in their views un- 
 asked. Professors of crayon portraiture wrote 
 to tell the Doctor he knew nothing of art. 
 Lecturers to classes in civics advised him that 
 he little realized the citizen's duty to his na- 
 tive town. The Noonday Worm, which had 
 
372 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 more than once praised the Doctor's public 
 spirit, now turned on him and called him a 
 renegade. The £0^/3; Morning Fly, among 
 other buzzings, buzzed this: " If you don't 
 like our city, Doctor, there is Another — 
 higher up. Good-bye; we'll see you later!" 
 The Doctor, who had always felt that he had 
 done as much as any for the town's well-being 
 within, and more than many for its repute 
 abroad, saw now that he had been taking much 
 too favourable a view of himself. 
 
 Only the staid old Hourglass had a word in 
 his behalf — a sober editorial on the art condi- 
 tions actually prevalent. The Hourglass was 
 in some degree Dr. Gowdy's mouthpiece. It 
 had a yearly contract with him for the publi- 
 cation of his sermons — they came out every 
 Monday morning — and Dr. Gowdy handed 
 over the proceeds to the Board of Foreign 
 Missions. This contract was about to expire, 
 and it was a question whether it should be 
 renewed. Meyer, Van Horn, and Co. said 
 no. Dr. Gowdy had a column or two in 
 the Hourglass on one day in the week, but 
 Meyer, Van Horn, and Co. had a whole page 
 every week-day and a double one on Sunday. 
 And they paid for it! They disliked the edi- 
 torial. They disapproved the sermon. The 
 
DR. GOWDY AND THE SQUASH 373 
 
 contract was not renewed, and Dr. Gowdy 
 raged. 
 
 On the heels of this came a bill from 
 Meyer, Van Horn, and Co. for tin-ware. It 
 had been purchased but a week before, yet the 
 bill bore these words, stamped in red ink and 
 set askew with a haste that seemed to denote 
 a sudden gust of spite: " Please remit." 
 
 " Henrietta! " called the Doctor to his 
 wife; " how's this? You know I never trade 
 at any of those abominable department stores ! 
 You know what I think of them: they de- 
 moralize trade; they take the bread out of the 
 mouth of the small dealer; they pay sinfully 
 low wages to the poor girls that they en- 
 slave " 
 
 It was the new cook, it appeared, who had 
 purchased a few pie-pans on her own initia- 
 tive. 
 
 " Discharge her! " roared the Doctor. 
 
 Two or three days later the Squash put 
 forth a new tendril. It had invaded his home, 
 and now it invaded his pulpit, so to speak. 
 Exacerbated by persecution. Dr. Gowdy had 
 thrown off all restraint. His one real weak- 
 ness, his inability to keep from talking when 
 talking was going on, grew plainer every hour 
 in exact proportion as his invective, his vitu- 
 
374 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 peration, grew stronger. He rushed into 
 print, like some of the others, and his ex- 
 pressions were made matter for consideration 
 at the monthly meeting of the ministers of 
 his own denomination. Briefly, his brethren 
 themselves (brutishly insensible to the abun- 
 dant provocation) censured him for language 
 that was violent and unchristian. 
 
 " I'll resign! " said Dr. Gowdy. 
 
 " You'll do nothing of the sort," said his 
 wife. 
 
 " Of course I sha'n't," he returned. 
 
 Then the Squash invaded the Academy, 
 The shake-up came; Professor English was re- 
 moved; and Dr. Gowdy was requested to with- 
 draw from the board of trustees. 
 
 " I'll resign this time, anyway! " said he. 
 
 " I wish you would," said his wife. 
 
 Next day came a letter from " our " Mr. 
 Levy. It as good as asked Dr. Gowdy's at- 
 tendance at the store. Dr. Gowdy tore the 
 letter into very small scraps, thrust them into 
 an envelope, slapped on a stamp with a furious 
 hand, and sent them back. 
 
 Then " our " Mr. Levy called at the house, 
 accompanied by a Mr. Kahn, whose particular 
 function was left in some vagueness. 
 
 Mr. Kahn felt around the edge of the 
 
DR. GOWDY AND THE SQUASH 37$ 
 
 thing. " It can be settled, I am inclined to 
 think," he said, smoothly. 
 
 " So it can," said the Doctor — " by your 
 both going out that door inside of ten sec- 
 onds." . 
 
 But Mr. Kahn remained. " Your libellous 
 utterances " he began. 
 
 " Mine? Those students', you mean. Sue 
 them — in a body! " 
 
 " We may prefer to sue you." 
 
 " Sue away, then! I'll put my standing 
 against that of any department store in ex- 
 istence! This is a mere impudent specu- 
 lation, impossible to carry out in the face 
 of the public opinion of a Christian com- 
 munity " 
 
 " Is it? " asked Mr. Kahn blandly. 
 
 This equivoke checked Dr. Gowdy for an 
 instant. " It used to be," he said, with a fierce 
 smile. The smile vanished and the fierceness 
 remained. " Go," he said. " I'm stronger 
 than both of you together. There's the 
 door. Use it! " He towered over them 
 with red face, threatening arm, bristling white 
 whiskers. 
 
 " Drop it," said Mr. Kahn to Mr. Levy, as 
 they went down the Doctor's front steps; 
 " he's a fighter." 
 
37^ UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 XIII 
 
 An hour later the Doctor, looking out of 
 his study window, saw a buggy drive up and 
 stop at his carriage-block. It contained a 
 rustic-looking young man, dressed in new and 
 showy garments that had the cachet of the de- 
 partment store, and a young woman brave in 
 such finery as young women wear when ap- 
 proaching the most important hour of their 
 lives. Instinctively the Doctor reached for 
 his prayer-book, an inspired volume that had 
 a way of opening almost automatically at the 
 marriage service. 
 
 But only the young man alighted. He 
 came up the front walk with an expression of 
 fell determination about his firm-set mouth. 
 The young woman, holding the reins, frowned 
 at Dr. Gowdy's house-front in marked repug- 
 nance and indignation. 
 
 Jared had come to tell Dr. Gowdy what he 
 thought of him — their first and only meeting. 
 Dr. Gowdy at a distance had impressed him as 
 an abstract moral force, but Dr. Gowdy close 
 at hand was a mere man like himself. Jared 
 pushed aside all deference and spoke his mind. 
 
 " You set me up an inch," said Jared 
 hardily, " and then you went to work to take 
 
DR. GOWDY AND THE SQUASH 377 
 
 me down an ell. You've tried to harm me all 
 you could; you've tried to ruin me. But it 
 couldn't be done. Let me tell you this: I've 
 sold seventeen hundred dollars' worth of my 
 work here, and the first of the month I'm go- 
 ing East with a lot more of it. A man with 
 money in his pocket can get his rights," said 
 Jared truculently. 
 
 Dr. Gowdy, to whom Jared too had been 
 an abstraction— an abstraction compact of 
 bumptious heresy as regarded art and of crass 
 ignorance as regarded life in general — finally 
 realized him now as a human being, faulty and 
 ill-regulated, indeed, but not altogether un- 
 likeable, and by no means lacking in a sort of 
 rude capacity. He experienced, not for the 
 first time, the alleviating quality resident 
 sometimes in personal presence, even the pres- 
 ence of an antagonist. 
 
 But Jared had no sense of this. " You've 
 made fun of me," he went on ; " you've made 
 me ridiculous in my own home. They're all 
 laughin' at me down there. All but her " — 
 with an awkward gesture toward Melissa, 
 visible through the front window. " She's 
 stuck to me right along. She believed in me 
 from the beginning. It was her gave me that 
 
 book of yours " 
 
 25 
 
378 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 "That book, that book!" groaned Dr. 
 Gowdy. Alas for the refining and ennobling 
 influences of art ! Threatened and hectored in 
 his own house by a loutish, daubing plough- 
 boy! 
 
 " You've interfered with my success; 
 you've taken money out of my pocket. Do 
 you want to know what I'm goin' to do? I'm 
 goin' to sue you, that's what! Her father is 
 our county attorney, and he'll help me see that 
 I get my rights! " 
 
 " Sue me? Do, you poor ignorant young 
 cub! " cried the Doctor. " I've just had one 
 lawsuit to-day, and what I want more than 
 anything else is another! " 
 
 Jared glowered at him heavily — a look 
 that was not without its effect on the Doctor. 
 Jared knew nothing of the complexities and 
 delays and expenses and uncertainties of the 
 law, but he had already taught Dr. Gowdy that 
 the overbearing power of sheer ignorance was 
 not to be despised. 
 
 " I may be a poor ignorant young cub," 
 he retvirned, " but, for all that, I know how 
 to take care of myself. And of another 
 too — that right will be mine within half 
 an hour." A second slight gesture toward 
 the window. Dr. Gowdy's accustomed ear 
 
DR. GOWDY AND THE SQUASH 379 
 
 .recognised the confident tone of the bride- 
 groom. 
 
 " Now, see here," said he, with a sudden 
 lurch into what seemed an unceremonious 
 frankness. " Let me make amends." For 
 there was a positive note in Jared that re- 
 sponded to the positive strain within himself. 
 Jared was more likeable than Mr. Kahn, and 
 better worthy of cautious heed as an antago- 
 nist. Why, indeed, should he be further an- 
 tagonized at all? 
 
 " Yes, let me make amends," said the Doc- 
 tor. " Let me " — here the prayer-book 
 opened almost of its own accord — " let me — 
 marry you." 
 
 Jared's eyes blazed. " Do you think that 
 Melissa Crabb would " 
 
 " Yes, I do," said the Doctor. 
 
 " We're going to Mr. Shears, two blocks 
 down the street," said Jared imperviously. 
 
 " You're going to stop here," said the 
 Doctor. 
 
 The force of personal relation prevailed 
 — as it almost always does when given a 
 chance. Jared yielded; Melissa acquiesced. 
 She detached her frown from the Doc- 
 tor's house-front, climbed down out of the 
 buggy, accompanied Jared and the Doc- 
 
38o UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 tor indoors, and he made them one forth- 
 with. 
 
 The Doctor's performance of the marriage 
 ceremony was famous — the town was full of 
 people who would never let anybody but Dr. 
 Gowdy marry them. To those who knew, Mr. 
 Shears was nowhere. The Doctor's method 
 was a wonderful blend of gravity and of inti- 
 macy; he made you feel that you were the one 
 man and woman in the world — the world 
 summed up, indeed, in a single pair — and that 
 you were going through a ceremony just a 
 shade more solemn than any other man or 
 woman had ever gone through before. His 
 voice would be shot through with little tre- 
 mors that showed his sincerity and his indi- 
 vidual interest — briefly, Jared and Melissa had 
 no cause to regret Mr. Shears. 
 
 The Doctor kissed the bride in hearty, 
 fatherly fashion — Henrietta kissed her too — 
 and refused the fee Jared ofifered him. 
 
 " No," he said; " I've cost you too much 
 already." 
 
 Jared wrung the Doctor's hand, and won- 
 dered that any mere man could fill his heart 
 with such a tremor and such a glow. 
 
 " I'm going to see you again before you 
 leave for the East? " asked the Doctor. 
 
DR. GOWDY AND THE SQUASH 38 1 
 
 " Well, I have two weeks, at three hun- 
 dred a week, with the Gayety Theayter," said 
 Jared. " I put the finishing-touches to a pic- 
 ture every night in full view of the audience, 
 and frame it with my own hands." 
 
 " Good-bye here, then," said the Doctor. 
 
 XIV 
 
 This was the turning of the tide for Dr. 
 Gowdy. From this time on, things began to 
 run his way once more. The ministerial body, 
 at its next meeting, reconsidered its resolution 
 of censure; surely their brother had been 
 sorely tried. The threatened suit of Meyer, 
 Van Horn, and Co. was quashed by the Doc- 
 tor's own dauntless bearing. The Hourglass 
 agreed to open its columns to him, though 
 but for a short synopsis and without remu- 
 neration — so that he had to go into his own 
 pocket for the Foreign Missions. And finally, 
 the students at the Academy refused to hear 
 of his withdrawal as trustee. They met; they 
 protested; they resolved; they clamoured. 
 " We want our Gowdy back ! we want our 
 Gowdy back! " — such was their cry. Their 
 cry was heard; they got their Gowdy back. 
 When next he addressed them (it was only on 
 
382 UNDER THE SKYLIGHTS 
 
 Ephesian Antiquities — a. safe subject) their cry- 
 was heard again — heard, possibly, in the inte- 
 rior of the next State. It was the proudest 
 moment of the Doctor's public life. 
 
 Jared Stiles's " Golden Autumn," handled 
 and framed in his usual manner, and " valued 
 at " ten thousand dollars — none of Jared's 
 larger pieces now falls below that figure — will 
 soon go trailing, exhibitionwise, through the 
 halls of the Eastern seaboard. But it is an 
 error to assert that the name of the painting 
 was suggested by the Rev. William S. Gowdy. 
 No; he still stubbornly ranges all this work, 
 and indeed all similar work in any other field 
 of art, under the generic name of the Squash. 
 
 THE END 
 
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