Part 11 (1/2)

”I don't know, Molly--but not now--he never was needed there as he is now. It's a life-and-death matter, Molly Culpepper, with every creature on earth that's nearest and dearest to you--it makes or breaks us. It's a miserable business, I know well--but your duty is to act for the larger good. You can't afford to send Bob to jail and your people to the poorhouse just because--”

The girl looked up piteously and then cried out: ”Oh, John--don't, don't--I can't. It's awful, John--I can't.”

”But, Molly,” he replied as gently as he could, ”you must. You can't afford to be squeamish about this business. This is a woman's job, Molly, not a child's.”

She rose and looked at him a fleeting moment as if in search of some mercy in his face. Then she looked away. He stood beside her, barring her way to the door. ”But you'll try, Molly, won't you--you'll try?”

he cried. She looked at him again with begging eyes and stepped around him, and said breathlessly as she reached the door: ”Oh, I don't know, John--I don't know. I must think about it.”

She felt her way down the stairs, and stopped a minute to compose herself before she crossed the street and walked wearily up the hill.

That night at supper Colonel Culpepper addressed the a.s.sembled family expansively. ”The ravens, my dears, the ravens. Behold Elijah fed by the sacred birds. By Adrian P. Brownwell, to be exact. This morning I went down town with the sheriff selling the roof over our heads. This afternoon who should come to me soliciting the pleasure of lending, me money--who, I say, but Adrian P. Brownwell?”

”Well, I hope you didn't keep him standing,” put in Buchanan.

”My son,” responded the colonel, as he whetted the carving knife on the steel--a form which was used more for rhetorical effect than, culinary necessity, as there were pork chops on the platter, ”my son, no true gentleman will rebuke another who is trying to lend him money.

Always remember that.” And the colonel's great body shook with merriment, as he proceeded to fill up the plates. But one plate went from the table untouched, and Molly Culpepper went about her work with a leaden heart. For the world had become a horrible phantasm to her, a place of longing and of heartache, a place of temptation and trial, lying under the shadow of tragedy. And whose world was it that night, as she sat chattering with her father and the man she feared, whose world was it that night, if this is a real world, and not the shadow of a dream? Was it the colonel's gay world, or John's golden world, or Ward's harmonious world, or poor little Molly's world--all askew with miserable duties and racking heartaches, and grinning sneering fears, with the relentless image of the Larger Good always before her? Surely it was not all their worlds, for there is only one world. Then whose was it? G.o.d who made it and set it in the heavens in His great love and mercy only knows. Watts McHurdie once wrote some query like this, and the whole town smiled at his fancy. In that portion of his ”Complete Poetical and Philosophical Works” called ”Fragments” occur these lines:--

”The wise men say This world spins 'round the universe of which it is a part; But anyway-- The only world I know about is spun from out my heart.”

And perhaps Watts, sewing away in his harness shop, had deciphered one letter in the riddle of the Sphinx.

CHAPTER XII

”If I ever get to be a Turk or anything like that,” said Watts McHurdie, in October, two months after the events recorded in the last chapter had occurred, as he sat astraddle of his bench, sewing on a bridle, ”I'm going to have one red-headed wife--but not much more'n one.”

Colonel Culpepper dropped a ”Why?” into the reflections of the poet.

Watts replied, ”Oh, just to complete the set!”

The colonel did not answer and Watts chuckled: ”I figure out that women are a study. You learn this one and pat yourself on the breast-bone and say, 'Behold me, I'm on to women.' But you ain't.

Another comes along and you have to begin at the beginning and learn 'em all over. I wonder if Solomon who had a thousand--more or less--got all his wisdom from them.”

The colonel shook his head, and said sententiously, ”Watts--they hain't a blame thing in it--not a blame thing.” The creaking of the treadle on Watt's bench slit the silence for a few moments, and the colonel went on: ”There can be educated fools about women, Watts McHurdie, just as there are educated fools about books. There's nothing in your theory of a liberal education in women. On the contrary, in all matters relating to and touching on affairs of the heart--beware of the man with one wife.”

McHurdie flashed his yellow-toothed smile upon his friend and replied, ”Or less than one?”

”No, sir, just one,” answered Colonel Culpepper. ”A man with a raft of wives, first and last, is like a fellow with good luck--the Lord never gives him anything else. And I may say in point of fact, that the man with no wife is like a man with bad luck--the Lord never gives him anything else, either!” The colonel slapped his right hand on his knee and exclaimed: ”Watts McHurdie--what's the matter with you, man? Don't you see Nellie's all ready and waitin'--just fairly honin', and longin', I may say, for a home and a place to begin to live?”

McHurdie gave his treadle a jam and swayed forward over his work and answered, ”Marry in haste--repent at leisure.”

But nevertheless that night Watts sat with Nellie Logan on the front porch of the Wards' house, watching the rising harvest moon, while Mrs. Ward, inside, was singing to her baby. Nellie Logan roomed with the Wards, and was bookkeeper in Dorman's store. It was nearly ten o'clock and the man rose to go. ”Well,” he said, and hesitated a moment, ”well, Nellie, I suppose you're still waiting?” It was a question rather than an a.s.sertion.

The woman put her hands gently on the man's arms and sighed. ”I just can't--not yet, Watts.”

”Well, I thought maybe you'd changed your mind.” He smiled as he continued, ”You know they say women do change sometimes.”

She looked down at him sadly. ”Yes, I know they do, but some way I don't.”

There was a long pause while Watts screwed up his courage to say, ”Still kind of thinking about that preacher?”