A Pasteboard Crown Part 17

"Don't be unjust, my lad. The joy of counting one's dollars in seven figures is a joy without savor for me. Very great wealth is either a great trust or a greater temptation. I neither seek for nor desire it for our girls; but I cannot calmly face for them a future of such poverty as they are enduring now. You should be able, positively able, to provide at least a modest home; be able to make both of these inelastic ends not only meet but lap over a bit. The poor working-man has a right to marry a poor girl, but a poor gentleman has no right to condemn a girl with the training, tastes, and requirements of a lady to a lifelong struggle with ways and means. Then, remember, when a man marries he not only doubles his joys but his responsibilities as well.

Oh, my boy! if only you had a few thousands in hand--a wall to plant your back against if the fight went against you for awhile! But--but, I dare not give my child into empty hands! Why--why--boy? What in heaven's name?"

Galt was flinging his hat high in the autumn sunlight, catching it and flinging it again, like a boy at boisterous play! Then, with dancing eyes, he made apology for his antics, adding: "I have no father, as you know. So I think I'll follow the fashion of the j.a.panese and adopt one!"

taking a chill, veiny old hand in his firm, warm ones. "You, sir, by your leave? So, Father Lawton, listen! I have not deceived you at any time, but I may have been a trifle more reticent than was necessary, for I hate talking of myself. But now I'll tell you what, I see, should have been told before, and, when I've done, I'll ask again for Dorothy! No!

no! adopted father, you may only answer yea or nay when you have earned the right by listening!"

And just then both men fancied they heard a sort of screech from the house, and glanced up toward it. But old John said, indifferently: "An owl, I guess. Lena disturbs them when she's rooting about that tumbling barn behind the cedars. Go on!"

But, up in the sitting-room, William Henry Bulkley, rampant and blindly furious while charging Mrs. Lawton with insincerity and bad faith, had flung the engagement of Dorothy in her astonished face, and it was the screech of the stricken Let.i.tia that faintly reached them. But Mr.

Lawton, whose mind moved slowly, and who, though undoubtedly American, was yet no "guesser," being all at sea as to the meaning of Galt's sudden change from bitter disappointment to an exuberance of spirits he had not thought the grave young man capable of, repeated, more urgently: "Go on, please, go on!"

And, in the handsome weak old face and piteous faded eyes raised to him, Galt saw again the likeness to Dorothy, and, with a pang, he thought: "This is what years of sorrow and privation might put into her fair face," and swiftly prayed, "protect, defend her, Lord, in part at least, through my poor human agency," and then plunged into the simple story, whose telling might change the color of the sky for him and make the old world new for his young sweetheart and himself.

"You remember, sir, I told you before, that it was through Mr.

Wheatleigh's friendship for my dead father that I was first taken into the office where so many wished to secure a berth. He advanced me, too, as rapidly as he could, because he knew the mother I worked so hard for would not be with me long. Well, the only property my father left me, besides a small cottage, was an extensive sweep of swamp, over in our neighboring State. This inheritance was considered a great jest, and was continually referred to as my 'mosquito foundry.' The only harvest ever gathered from its acres was a harvest of poor and pointless jokes. My mother and I used to spend two or three months in the cottage during the summer, and the rest of the year an old couple used it rent free, save for keeping the small sh.e.l.l in repair. That my father had twice refused, when the neighboring town was making spasmodic spurts of growth, to sell portions of his swampy holdings, made people think him quite off his head. But my mother told me he had once declared the time would come when thousands of dollars would be offered eagerly where hundreds were then spoken of grudgingly. She had said, 'Why, do you believe these swamps can ever be made healthy enough to attract the wealthy?' and he had answered, 'My dear wife, wealthy people often have other uses for property than the making of homes. Nor do I antic.i.p.ate a sudden fad among millionnaires for personally cultivating cranberries.

Nevertheless, there's money lying in those mud-flats and out there in the meadows--money waiting for a Galt; and if we don't gather it up, Leslie will.'

"Every word," the young man continued, "I treasured, and while I was yet a lad I used to rack my brain to find a cause for my father's faith, and though I found it not I yet resolved to follow his plan and--wait. So silently, tenaciously I kept my hold upon my 'mosquito foundry,' and endured many things in the name of wit from my companions, who sought information as to proper 'treatment of stings,' as to the usual period 'for mating among the young birds,' as to the 'outlook for cranberries,'

etc. As years went by the subject dropped, thank heaven! I had worked desperately for my mother's needs. Then--well, when I found myself alone, I worked desperately still, to prove to Mr. Wheatleigh that I was grateful. The firm noticed me. They tested my discretion. Then one day old Mr. Gordon said to Mr. Stone: 'A young fellow who can so lock his lips, and give the combination to no one is wanted in this office for confidential work.' It was a big step they offered me, and--and, Father Lawton, I did not have a soul to rejoice with me or say 'well done!' I was so desolately alone in my good fortune that when I locked my room door behind me I buried my face in my mother's old crepe shawl, and talked to it, and yet," he laughed a little, "upon my soul I quite expect people to consider me a man!

"Well, one day I was mildly surprised to receive a letter making an offer for a small portion of my land. The price was modest--I declined it, briefly. But before I had mailed my note another letter and another offer to purchase reached me. I declined both, and dropped the matter from my mind, when lo! my correspondents renewed their efforts to buy, doubling the price first offered, at a single bound. I had heard of no boom in town lots--no sudden growth outward in my direction, yet both letters expressly stated that 'simple cottage homes were to be built.'

Homes out there on those dreary flats? Builders of simple cottages were rarely able to double an offered price for the ground alone. I astonished Mr. Wheatleigh by asking for half a day's absence. The old pair at the cottage could only tell me that two or three of the widely scattered residents had recently sold out and all but one had gone away.

These people had lived along the river. I walked out in that direction, and stopped at the small truck garden, that had been sold but was not yet vacated. I questioned the woman--a dull creature--from whom I gained no information beyond her joy at going to live in the town. Her little girl was teasing for a penny to spend for that childish solace--gum.

Being refused, I told her if she would walk along with me for company I would give her a nickel; I paid in advance, and we went out together.

She was a sharp little monkey, as keen as her mother was dull. Inquiring about what had been going on, I learned of the advent of six puppies down the road a bit; of the lamentable fate of old Tom Hale, a local ne'er-do-weel, and also of the presence of the 'queer men,' who used to get dinner at her house. 'Why were they queer?' 'Why, because they did funny things, and were squintin' along the road and across the meadows,'

'Squinting?' I repeated. 'Yes,' she explained; 'they had three wooden legs, that had a funny bra.s.s and gla.s.s fixin' on top, that they squinched through, and then they'd make marks in books and stick sticks in the ground.' Surveyors, I thought. 'And,' went on the child, 'they used to say, before they came into dinner, "don't talk!"'

"Ah! I p.r.i.c.ked up my ears! Surveyors doing work that was not to be talked of. I dropped another nickel into the child's hand. 'Tell me,' I asked, 'what the funny men said outside the house, when they were squinting through the meadows.' The child's face clouded. 'They didn't say nothin'! Must I give back the nickel now?' 'Oh,' I urged, 'they must have talked among themselves, and you must have heard a word now and then, when you were watching them or playing. Come, think a bit! Perhaps I have another nickel.' Her eyes shone--she knit her brows and bit her lips. 'Well,' she said, doubtfully, 'I 'spose just words without no sense to 'em ain't no use? But they did use to say things about "the shops," and they said, too, "beds" many times.' 'Beds?' I repeated. 'Are you sure?' 'Yes, beds, 'cause I thought it was a funny thing for a man to say! And--oh, yes! Once, over by that mud flat, they said that their "beds" would cost lots of money, and one man said they might be glad there wasn't snakes here to cost more. And I told 'em there was snakes in some places, and they laughed at me, they did.' I caught her hand, and said: 'Lou, think again. Did not the men talk of "road-beds"?' I held my breath till the answer came. 'Well, my ma says I'm a fool, and I guess I am. That is just the kind of beds they said, "road-beds."' 'Oh, thank you, thank you!' I replied, for, like a cheap modern G.o.d, I showered my small Danae, not with gold, but with nickels and with dimes.

"I understood at last the possible value of my property. Mosquito stock went up! This child had given me the clew to what was going on. At once I laid the facts before Mr. Wheatleigh. He chuckled. 'Leave this matter with us, my boy. Railroads are bulldozers! They pay low to the poor, but high to the rich and strong. If this thing works out as it should, and you should care to enter our firm as its youngest member in, say another year, I think it can be arranged.' Well, Father Lawton, it has been arranged, and the day that made me independent of money worries was the very day of the railroad accident in the tunnel. And as the crash came I was looking at Dorothy with all my heart in my eyes, for I had seen her twice before, and I knew quite well that I loved her, and that I should marry her, if we both lived long enough. You, sir, can have full details of my financial situation whenever you may desire. 'Tis true I have no splendor to offer. My only Aladdin's lamp is the partnership, but in such a firm that means rare opportunity, and good work brings good pay.

But even Aladdin had to rub his lamp before his wish was granted. So, never doubt my willingness to rub my lamp hard. I may not promise both town and country houses; and butler, coachman, and groom may be conspicuous by their absence--just at first. But a home, a pretty one of her very own, a few maids inside, a man to potter about a bit of lawn, and a jewel-box not quite empty--so much I can safely and reasonably promise to my wife, if you will trust your little girl to my honor and my love! Once more, Mr. Lawton, will you give me your daughter Dorothy for wife?"

Lawton closed his eyes, and in that moment he recalled the day when she was gurgling on his clasping arm, the yellow, downy covering of her baby head so like a wee new chick's coat that he had laughed, and when, at the sound, her blue eyes opened wide at him, and with a thrill he noted her likeness to himself. Then, half proud, half pitiful, he had kissed her many times--why! that was only yesterday--surely but little more!

Yet, here was this man, almost a stranger, asking her for his wife. He opened his eyes, and asked, piteously: "D-o-e-s, does Dorrie wish this?"

"I think she will tell you so, sir," Leslie answered, gently.

"Have you spoken to Leti--to Mrs. Lawton?"

"N-no, sir," said the young man. "I--I thought I should speak first to you."

"Dear me! I'm afraid you've made a mistake, my boy," murmured the old man, innocently. "Let.i.tia thinks that, in the case of daughters, you understand, the mother is in authority--is the head, so to speak--of the family. You--er, you should have spoken to her, but--now----"

"Yes, sir, now?" eagerly repeated Galt.

The old man rose. He held out his hand, which the younger man grasped tightly. "I believe you are an honest man, and since you have the power to care for and protect her I give you my Dorothy, than whom a truer, sweeter, purer girl G.o.d never gave to undeserving father or adoring lover!"

The two men stood eye to eye a long moment, then Leslie Galt said, slowly: "Thank you, sir!" dropped Lawton's hand, and, turning, walked rapidly away, leaving the shaken, excited, and confused old man in his gray green tent, trying to straighten things out and prepare himself for the meeting with his Let.i.tia.

CHAPTER XIX

A FAMILY SCENE

While Mr. Lawton still strove to regain his self-control he saw, pa.s.sing out through the further gate, the big chestnut, the battered looking livery buggy, and the gorgeous William Henry Bulkley, whose cowed, dispirited "man" was driving, while he--W. H.--gave himself the pleasure of vigorously d.a.m.ning the entire outfit, individually and collectively.

A little later the doctor drove his lightly built, dark bays out--full sisters they were, with faces so kind and manners so gentle as always to suggest a pair of nurses. After that John Lawton thought he might then go up to the house and get a quiet peep at Dorothy, whose face he half expected to see changed somehow since she had given him her morning kiss. "She had been a child then, and now, yes now, she was a woman." He did not realize that the sudden change had been but in his point of view.

Walking slowly up the steep rise to the porch, he thought he heard high voices, and, opening the door, he stood amazed. Looking up, where at the stair-top German Lena stood, one outstretched hand against the wall, the other on the bannister, both feet braced firm and wide apart, her small blue eyes a-light, a girl on guard! And just beneath her, hair disarranged, face crimson, and eyes snapping, Mrs. Lawton, in high, piercing tones, was spitting and hissing abusive epithets:

"You! how dare you? You German steerage rat! You stupid wooden-headed, wooden-shod _thing_! How dare you--dare you! In my days of wealth, my housekeeper, my _cook_, wouldn't have allowed you to care for my pots and pans! My daughter's nothing to you! I can say what I please to her, and say it how I please! How dare you interfere! You shall feel the law for your Dutch insolence! Stand aside, and let me into that room!"

"Nein! _nein!_" said Lena, savagely. "_Nein!_ I don't stand on my sides!

I make by Herr Doctor's orders, und I keep my Miss Lady quiet uf I can!"

Then, catching sight of John Lawton, she cried: "Oh, my Herr Mister! is dat you? Oh, you vas velcome as never vas!"

"John Lawton!" cried Mrs. Lawton, at the same time, "if you have one spark of manhood in you, if you even dimly remember your promise to protect and cherish me, you will order this crazy Dutch slattern to the scullery!"

"Let.i.tia! Let.i.tia!" remonstrated the mortified and bewildered man, "come away, I beg of you, and explain quietly what has happened."

But a perfect shriek of rage leapt from the woman's throat: "What has happened? Do you know, that _thing_ there has struck me--me--a lady!"

"Nein! nein!" stoutly protested Lena, "I don't strike n.o.bodys, my Herr Mister! She com' mad by me! for dat--dat doctor mans--ven he have put der sticks und shplinters on der Miss Lady's arm, dat com' got break by der Bergamots man, he com' say dat I must make for der quiet! Und two time he tell me dot! He say she make of der fever rite avay quick uf she com' get excite! und n.o.body shall com' by her, for much talk! Und I shall vatch until der odder vun, der Miss Sybells com', und take care by her! Und--und--I tell you true now, Herr Boss, he say der mutter downstair seem very hy-strikle like, und not fit to com' by der sickroom! Und den he go und der Frau Mistress, she com' fly in der room, und she com' mad like a vitch! Und she say some tings at my Miss Lady 'how she dare do sometings?' Und my Miss Lady, she com' vite, com' red, und begin shake! Und I say, 'Blease for go!' Und she say, 'Miss Doroty is a G.o.d-forsakens simpletons!' und I say vonce more, 'Blease!' und--und den I don't strike, I don't shuf der Frau Mistress, I youst pick her round by der waist, und I histe her out of der room! Und she shmack me on der cheek und try to come by der room again! Und I lock der door, und now I stand here und keep my Miss Lady quiet, youst so long as I have der legs to shtand by! Ja! So!"

The old man's face was a study of pained bewilderment. He slowly ascended the stairs, and taking by the arm the dishevelled creature, in whom it was hard for him to recognize his wife, he said: "Come to your room, Let.i.tia. You will bring upon yourself an attack of nerves if this continues. You need some drops." And the innocently spoken words wrung a cry of rage from the woman, as she recalled how, down-stairs, a few minutes before, William Henry Bulkley had hurled the bottle across the room to the sofa, with the courteous words: "There's your d.a.m.ned old drops! Much good they've done us, haven't they!"

"Come!" continued John. Then, looking back, he added to Lena: "Open Miss Dorothy's door and tell her 'my love' and I'll be with her directly, and will read a little out of Sybbie's play to her while you get tea ready."

"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Mrs. Lawton. "When you hear of her outrageous conduct it will be a lecture, not Sybil's play, that you will read!

Anything, _anything_ but slyness in a girl!"

"_Let.i.tia!_" The tone rather startled the angry woman. She allowed herself to be led into her room, where John filled the basin with water, added a little cologne, and opened out a fresh towel ready for use. For though Let.i.tia had had no maid for years past, she had not been without trained service. Now, however, she could not put aside her grievance even to lave her burning face. She went on: "Never have I been so--so discredited, so lowered, so belittled! One does not often meet two such hypocrites on the same day! She, with her pretended coyness and shyness!

That any child of mine should be capable of such deception, such concealment!"

"My dear! my dear!" interrupted John Lawton, "you are not stopping to consider the force of your words. There has been no deception, no concealment. Our young people have been learning to love each other, wife, and we were too blind to see what was going on."

"W-why! w-why! do you know about it?" surprisedly questioned Mrs.

Lawton. "Did Mr. Bulkley tell you, too, before he drove away?"

"Mr. Bulkley?" frowned Lawton, "I don't see what on earth Mr. Bulkley has to do with our affairs. Besides, he has been most unpleasant in his manner toward Leslie Galt."

"It's a pity that we have not followed his example--the young hypocrite!

with his suave tone and underhand conduct!"

"No! no!" interrupted Lawton, "there has been nothing underhand in Leslie Galt's conduct. He loves Dorothy; there's no crime in that, surely, and he has come like a man and asked for her, and----"