"Captain Pott! Tell me the truth. Why did you leave your boat in the city docks?"

"For the reason I told you." He was looking away from her.

"Look at me, Uncle Josiah."

"Can't just now, Beth. I'm watching——"

"Oh, please tell me all about it!"

"There ain't nothing more to tell."

"You did not leave the Jennie P. in dry-dock for repairs!" she cried with apprehension.

He did not reply, but tightly gripped the hand which had been slipped into his.

"Tell me, please!" she implored. "You said a little while ago that you were singing to keep up your spirits. Something dreadful has happened. Did you wreck your boat?"

"Hey? Me wreck the Jennie P.? I tell you honest, Beth, there ain't nothing——"

Elizabeth lifted her hand and turned his face toward her. He looked down and gave up.

"There ain't no use pretending to you. I sold her."

"You sold the Jennie P.?"

"I sold the Jennie P.," he repeated slowly, as though it were hard for him to comprehend that fact. "You see, I didn't have no more real need for her, and 'twas kind of expensive to keep her afloat."

"Nonsense!" exclaimed the girl.

"It was a mite expensive, honest, Beth."

"Uncle Josiah! Why didn't you come to me if you were in need of money?"

"I owe your father more now than I'd otter."

"But I love you so!"

The big shoulders gave a decided heave. "That's wuth more to me than all the money in the world."

"Then, why didn't you come to me?"

"I didn't think of doing that."

"Oh, Uncle Josiah!"

"Yes, I sold my boat. There wa'n't no wonder I was singing, was there?" he asked, passing his hand across his face as if to clear his vision. "I cal'late that song wa'n't much like music to you, but I just naturally had to do something to keep my feelings afloat, didn't I, Beth?"

"Yes."

"I sold her," he said, speaking as though his thoughts were coming by way of his tongue. "It wa'n't easy. Just like parting with an old friend. It sort of pulled on me. Odd, ain't it, how an old boat like that can get a hold on a feller?"

"No, it is not odd. Some of the happiest moments of my life were spent on board the Jennie P."

"Do you honest feel that way about her?"

"Yes."

"I'm mighty glad, Beth," he said, his eyes gleaming with pride. "She sartin was a worthy craft."

"Who bought your boat?"

"Feller by the name of Peters, who runs a fish business down on East River near Brooklyn bridge. I knew him years ago. His wife's name is Jennie, and I named my boat after her 'cause he was the first man to help me sail her."

"Why did you go to him without first telling me?"

"There wa'n't no time to tell no one. You'd not likely——"

"Oh, you men! You treat us women as if we were numskulls. If you had given me the slightest idea that you intended to sell I should have put in my bid along with others."

"Do you mean you would have bought my Jennie P.?"

"Why not, pray tell? Haven't I as much right to own a boat as any man you know?"

"I do believe you'd have bought her, sartin as death!"

"Of course I should. If——" Her eyes suddenly widened. "Why did you sell?"

"Same as I said afore, I didn't have no need of her, and she was getting expensive to keep up." His face darkened, and an expression of pain shot through the shadows.

"You said you were not going to pretend to me. Tell me the real reason."

"I can't."

"In other words, that is the secret of your mysterious trip to the city."

"Yes, that's my secret."

"My dear old Uncle!" she cried. "I know your secret! You sold your boat to get money with which to pay Father. You've sold your one little luxury to pay a debt you can never pay."

"You're mistook. I can pay your father every cent I got from him to overhaul my place."

"But that isn't all!"

"It ain't all?"

"I thought I could tell you all about it, but I can't!"

"Do you mean you've something you want to say to me, Beth?"

"I can't! I can't! It is so——"

She broke down and cried without restraint. The old seaman put his arm about her.

"There! There! Don't cry like that. She ain't wuth it."

"But you are!" she sobbed.

"All that there flood sartinly ain't for an old feller like me! Tut! Tut! I sartinly ain't wuth it. I'm nothing but a leaky old ark what had otter been towed in long ago, safe and high to some dry-dock."

"Uncle Josiah, you are the only uncle I've ever had. I love you next to my father. You are the only man who has ever understood me. I have many times come to you before going to my own father. And, now, that you are in trouble, and I might have helped you——"

"Tush. Tush. Don't cry over an old salt like me. I tell you I ain't wuth it, not one precious drop."

"If you only knew!"

"Maybe I ain't so deep in the fog as you think. I took another trip while I was in the city to see a lawyer, and I found out some mighty interesting things."

"But he couldn't tell you everything."

"Beth, is there something you'd otter tell me?"

"There is—there was—but I guess——Did you see a good lawyer?"

"The best I could find."

"Then, why did you sacrifice your boat? It was so needless."

"I had to have that much money right off, and there wa'n't no time to look about. I didn't think you'd take it like this or I'd sartin never done it."

"If you had only come to me I could have let you have that much without you having to sell your boat."

"It would have been a mite queer to borrow from you to pay your dad, wouldn't it?"

"What does that matter?"

"Nothing, much.... But you was going to tell me something."

She lifted her tear-stained face, and slowly shook her head. "Not now. I might cry again, and I've been silly enough for one day."

"You ain't been silly, not one mite. I had no right to make you cry by telling you things that don't consarn you."

"Indeed, you should have told me, and it does concern, far more than you think," she replied, drying her eyes and cheeks. "I know I must look frightful."

"You don't look nothing of the sort. You couldn't if you tried to."

"Will you be home to-night, Uncle Josiah?" she asked, looking at her wrist-watch. It was half-past ten o'clock.

"Cal'late to be."

"May I come to see you?"

"That's a funny question. I should say you can come. Clemmie will be real glad to see you, and so will the minister."

"I'm coming to see you," she said, coloring. "I'm going home now. Good-bye."

She hurriedly kissed him, and before he had time to speak she was half-way up the hill. At the rear gate she waved, then disappeared behind the mass of shrubbery that lined her father's place.

Ten minutes later the Captain heard the roar of the open exhaust from the girl's motor. Like a red streak the car shot down the hill of the Fox estate and into County Road. The Captain gasped as he watched a cloud of dust engulf the flying car.



CHAPTER XVI

All those who saw the flying car stood and stared after it. Hank Simpson, who was on his way over from the Little River railroad station with a load of merchandise, heard the roar, and sprang from his wagon-seat. He ran to his horses' heads. But no sooner had he seized the bits of the frightened animals than he let go. He recognized the girl who sped past him. He clambered back into his wagon and whipped his team into a dead run. He drew rein on the racing horses before a group of gaping men in front of the general store.

"Did you see anything down yon way, Hank?" asked Jud Johnson.

"See!" exclaimed Hank, rubbing the dust from his eyes. "See! Good God! Boys, that damn thing was running away! Hear me? It was running like hell! What are you gaping fools standing here for, looking like a passel of brainless idiots! 'Phone!" he screamed.

"'Phone what? Who to?" asked Jud with exasperating calm.

"Everything! Everybody!" was the doubly illuminating reply. "She'll be killed! Do you hear me?"

"We'd have to be deaf as nails not to hear you," said Jud as he spat a mouthful of tobacco juice against the front wheel of the wagon. "All the 'phoning in creation won't stop her. If she ain't of a mind to pull that thing up to a halt from the inside, it ain't likely that a fellow could do it by getting in its path and yelling whoa, even if he'd holler as loud as you've been doing at us. Why didn't you try it when you see her coming?"

"But they've got to stop it! The constables——"

"How?"

"How'd you suppose I know? Get out of my way and let me get at the 'phone!"

"You ain't going to do nothing of the kind," replied Jud as he stepped in front of the belligerent Hank. "There's some reason for driving like that. I don't know what's up, but the first feller to interfere with her joy ride is going to get hurt. I was in the cellar of her dad's place doing an odd job of plumbing for him when she come to me, and said: 'Jud, I'm going for a drive.' I 'lowed that was real nice, wondering why she'd be telling me that. 'I may have to drive pretty fast, and I want you to telephone ahead as far as you can to have the road clear. Tell the policemen my name, and ask that they don't stop me.'"

"But her dad——"

"Her dad ain't home. He went over Riverhead way more than an hour ago."

"But, Jud——"

"Dry up that butting, Hank, or we'll lead you out in the alley behind your store and feed you tin cans."

Hank climbed back to his wagon-seat, and Jud, noticing the determined expression in the storekeeper's eyes, deputized two men to keep watch of him while he went inside and did some telephoning.

Elizabeth Fox reached the city limits without being molested. She then looked at her watch, and slowed down her car. She kept the speedometer needle wavering within the speed law till she set her brakes before the building where the law firm of Starr and Jordan maintained their offices. Harold was so surprised to see his sister that he gave her the name of the Trust Company for which she asked before he realized what he was doing. She glanced at the clock, hastily scribbled the address on a card, and ran from the room. Harold stood still in dumb amazement. He walked to the window and looked down into the street below. He recognized her red motor-car as it glided through the traffic at an alarming rate. A mild oath escaped him as it dawned upon him that the name of the bank was that of the firm through which the interest payments had been made on the Phillips loan. What on earth could she be up to?

It was far past the noon hour when Elizabeth returned. The office was empty, the force having gone home for the Saturday half-holiday. She turned from the locked door, but it flew open, and Harold called to her.

"I thought you'd come back, Sis. In fact, I meant to tell you that I wanted you to take dinner with me, but you blew in and out so suddenly that I didn't have time to collect my thoughts. What are you up to, anyway?"

"Oh, nothing much."

"How did you learn of this Phillips affair? I take it that that was what all your hurry was about."

She only laughed in reply, her eyes dancing.

"I didn't know that you were on the inside of this, and I don't know yet how much you really know."

"I know a lot."

"How did you find out?"

"Everybody has told me a little, and I have been piecing it together for several days. But can't we sit down, or go out to lunch? I'm really very tired, now that it's over, and awfully hungry."

"How did you know that I had the name and address of the firm which has been paying Father the interest on the Phillips loan?"

"Why, you told me."

"In my sleep?"

"Indeed, no. You were quite awake."

"Sis, have you been eavesdropping?"

"Harold Fox! The very idea!" she said indignantly. "I don't like you one bit for saying that. No, sir, I have not."

"I honestly didn't think it of you, but I couldn't imagine any other way you could get the notion in your head."

"You never told me a word till to-day."

"You didn't know that I had that name in my possession till you blew in here and asked for it?"

"Not really and truly, I didn't. But I took a chance. And you are such a poor actor that I was certain you'd tell me. Of course, I knew that you went over to Australia to find out about the man."

"The treats are certainly on me."

"Make it a good big lunch, please," she said smiling and starting for the door.

"Wait, Bets. What did you do over there at the George Henry Trust Company?"

"Must I tell, just now?"

"Of course not, but I'd like to know if you care to tell. It may save me from something very unpleasant."

"You mean you will force me to tell?"

"Mercy me! No. I am better acquainted with you than to try a thing like that."

"Will you keep a secret, without giving away one little word of it?"

"A client's counsel seldom repeats a confidential business transaction."

"I paid the two years of interest just a few minutes before that horrid old mortgage was due, so Uncle Josiah would not have to lose his place."

"Gosh!" was the inelegant reply. "You're a brick!"

His brow puckered.

"Won't that save him?" she asked with concern.

"Sure. But how did you know that Uncle Josiah was a party to this mix-up?"

"Father told me that."

"You should have been the lawyer of this family. I never saw any one like you for finding things out." Still apparently worried, he added: "But your check will give you away. What if that happens to fall into Dad's hands?"

"I didn't use my check. I went to our bank first, and drew out all my money. I didn't have enough left to put back, so I—well, I didn't put it back."

"What under heaven did you do with it?"

"I went down to an East River fish wharf, and——"

"Took a corner on fish?"

"Harold, don't think me foolish. Uncle Josiah had sold his boat, thinking to pay Father off and save his place. I——"

"You bought back the old fellow's boat!"

She nodded.

Harold did not laugh. Instead, he turned toward his desk and busily fumbled papers. When he spoke there was a note of tenderness in his voice. "You're the best little sport in seventeen States."

"Well, that doesn't keep me from starving."

"You didn't come for anything else?"

"No, except that I did want to talk with you. We can do that while we eat."

"I'd rather you would ask me any questions before we go out. State secrets have been known to leak out from restaurant tables."

"Tell me where this Adoniah Phillips lives."

"Whew! You don't pick the easy ones, do you? You certainly go right after what you want, Bets. But why do you ask?"

"Because I want to know."

"You'll have to think up a better reason than that."

"If he is one of your clients, why don't you make him pay that interest?"

"Lawyers may advise, but they can't drive unless they hold the reins of litigation."

"You are just as exasperating as all lawyers," she said with a show of impatience. "Do you know that your client has fallen heir to a very large fortune? And do you know that he could pay the principal as well as the interest?"

"Good Lord, Sis! You're a wonder! How on earth did you ferret all this mess out?"

"That doesn't matter. The thing that matters is what Father and that Phillips person are trying to do to Uncle Josiah. We must stop them. If you know the truth about the transaction between Father and Mr. Phillips you have no right to allow this thing to go on."

Harold's eyes narrowed. "Trying to trap me again, Bets?"

"Of course I'm not. I'm just trying to get you to look at things from Uncle Josiah's position."

"How many of the facts do you know about this case?" asked Harold in deep seriousness.

"I know enough to form pretty good conclusions of the injustice of the whole thing."

"Do you think you know everything?"

"No-o, not when you look at me like that," she said, surprised by the earnestness of his voice and manner.

"Has any one beside Father talked with you?"

She hesitated, then slowly shook her head. "You must not ask me that."

"Have you talked with Mr. McGowan?"

"I can't tell you," she answered, quickly checking the look of surprise that leaped into her eyes at the unexpected question.

"I don't know just how far Mr. McGowan's information may have led him into this matter, but I have feared all along that he is not half so ignorant as he appears. Come in here, Bets," he requested, pushing open a door to an inner office. "I have some things I want to show you."

"Mercy, Bud! How mysterious you can be!"

"An ounce of precaution is worth a pound of lawsuits, and I don't want the slightest possibility of a leak," he said as he locked the door.

"My sakes! I had no idea you could be so serious. Is this the way you act with all your clients? I'd think you'd frighten them all away. You almost do me. It reminds me of the way you would lock me up in the hall closet to scare me when we were children."

"For once in my life I am serious, Sis. We are no longer children, and this is far from play. I wish to God it were nothing more than that!"

"Why, Harold!"

"Bets, you've got a close tongue and loads of good sense. I've carried this thing just about as long as I can without breaking under it. I've got to let off steam. You know I've tried to be on the square since my little fling, and even then I was straight, but Dad has never believed it. I'm tempted now to go wrong, and——"

"Why on earth are you talking like this? Has some one been accusing you of doing wrong? Oh, Harold! You didn't fall into trouble after all over in Australia, did you?"

"No, nor in love either," he replied, trying to smile.

Elizabeth blushed.

"I see that doesn't apply to all our family."

"I don't think you're nice to say that. And I don't care——"

"Why, Bets, are you really in love with him?"

"You have no right to jest about such things."

"I'm not jesting, honestly. I've never been so far from it in my whole life. I don't blame you for liking that minister."

"Then, you were not making fun?"

"No! I've had all the fun-making knocked out of me."

"Harold," she said, coming nearer, "I've made him hate me."

"Hate you? There isn't a man living who could do that. No one was ever blessed with a more wonderful sister than I've been."

Elizabeth stared at her brother. Never had she heard him make such a sentimental statement. He had turned from her, and was looking into the street below. With a sharp swing he faced about.

"Come, tell me all you know about Phillips and the estate."

"I guess I really don't know very much more than I've told you. I know the man is a half-brother of Uncle Josiah, and that he mortgaged the old homestead to Father, and that he married some trader's daughter in Australia, and that the trader died, leaving a large fortune. That's all."

"Read those," said Harold, handing her some papers which he had brought with him from his own desk. "And keep your nerve. There are more."

Elizabeth read the papers through. One was the original document of the trader's will; the other was an Australian Government paper, exonerating Mr. Adoniah Phillips. A postscript to the will stated that Mr. Phillips had left Australia for America.

"I knew all that," said the girl as she returned the papers. "But they do help to make matters clearer. I wasn't really certain he had come over here. Have you found him?"

"No. I've never seen the man. What is more, not one penny of that vast estate has yet come into the possession of Adoniah Phillips."

"Why, Harold! Do you mean to tell me that you know where this man is, and that you have not looked him up? You say he has not received his inheritance? What are you trying to tell me?"

"I know what I'm saying. Neither he nor his heir has received one cent."

"And yet you know where they are?"

"I didn't say I knew of their whereabouts. But I will say that I know where to find the heir, a son."

"You should go to him at once, then, and give him the opportunity to pay off that mortgage on Uncle Josiah's home."

"Yes, I can do that. But it isn't so simple. Right there is where I've struck the snag that has nearly driven me insane. How to do it——"

"How? A lawyer saying a thing like that? Just go to him and explain how it all came about. If he is half a man he will do what is right without any litigation. That is so very simple that I wonder at you."

"Read that," he said, drawing from an inside pocket another paper, and handing it to her.

In the upper right-hand corner was an Australian stamp.

At the end of the first line the letters began to dance before her eyes, and to crowd into one another. Elizabeth turned to her brother, wild-eyed.

"Harold, this is false! Tell me it is false!"

"I wish to God it were, Bets. But you must keep your feelings under better control if you are to help me out of this miserable state of affairs."

"You know it is false!" she implored. "I shall tell everybody it's a lie! No one can know him and believe that."

"You must remember that this all happened years ago, before you and I were born."

"But, his life now! Oh, Harold, you don't believe this! Tell me it isn't true!"

"I've been almost sweating blood over it since I discovered the truth. I've tried to find some other explanation or solution, but there is none other. Father is guilty of the crime for which Adoniah Phillips was made to suffer. I don't know how they got hold of his true name, for he was going under an assumed one over there. But they did, and the worst of it is, the old trader's wife is here in the city right now. She is on Father's track. I've been staving her off, but she smells a rat in the fact that I bear his name, and I can't hold her much longer from locating him."

"No! No! You shall not tell me that Father is a criminal! You must take back that awful word about him!"

Harold groaned, and settled back into his chair. The girl fell back into hers, and covered her face with trembling hands. She sprang suddenly to her feet and to her brother's side.

"Father was never in Australia! He made his money trading in Africa. We've heard him say that many times, and I believe him. I shall not believe those papers. They are blackmail."

"Then, I must go on alone. My temptation was to cover this up, but, Bets, I can't. I had hoped that you'd go through it with me, for it's going to be a mighty dirty mess to clean up. But if you persist in believing Father's story instead of mine——"

"I do believe you, too! But can't there be some mistake?"

"If there had been the slightest chance I should have discovered it before now, but there isn't. It is God's truth. All these years Father has been safe only because Adoniah Phillips refused years ago to disclose his identity. It's awful, Sis, but true."

"It's too awful to be true! It seems like a horrible dream."

"You have no idea what agony it has cost me. Do you think you can go through it with me?"

"I'll try, Harold. But, oh, it's hard!"

"Yes."

"Don't you think that Father might clear the whole matter up if we should tell him all we know? Maybe he could explain things——"

"That was the first thought that occurred to me. But the longer I worked on the case, and the more I discovered of the truth, the more impossible I saw that to be. I'm not so sure that we'd want him to save his skin, anyway. He ought to face the music for his wrong just the same as any other man."

Elizabeth did not once take her gaze from her brother's face, while she spoke slowly and distinctly: "Father will not be afraid to face the truth, even though it may mean financial ruin. He is brave, and he is honest now. I shall tell him all."

"Don't be too hasty, Bets. I admire your spunk. But answer me this: did it strike you as strange the way Father acted that night when I announced my contemplated trip to Australia to look up Phillips?"

She nodded ever so slightly.

"And did it strike you as strange the way he treated Mr. McGowan when he offered to help him to his room?"

"But why do you bring Mr. McGowan into this?"

"Bets, if I had known one grain of the truth that night I'd have flatly refused the appointment to this case at the risk of losing my position in the firm. Father was afraid that night. Here is one more paper I wish you to read. I had it copied in Washington last week."

Elizabeth unfolded the paper, and read: "Be it known that one Adoniah Phillips, after due application, and upon his own request, for reasons herein stated, is authorized to change his name to——"

The paper fell to the floor. The room began to swim. The furniture violently rocked. Elizabeth reached out and clutched her brother's arm.

"Mack McGowan!" she whispered faintly. "Oh, what am I saying? Why am I saying that name? What has happened to me?"

"Poor little girl! I thought my little sister was stronger than that. I've been a fool for letting you read all those papers after the strain you've been through."

"Mack McGowan!" she repeated. She seized the paper which her brother had lifted from the floor. "Oh, it's in that paper, and it's his name! Harold, what does it mean?"

"You must brace up, Beth. The man you are in love with is the son of Adoniah Phillips. He bears his father's new name."

She was suddenly weary. She felt just one desire: to get back home. She took Harold's arm and led him toward the door.

"I want to go home, and I need you to drive the car."



CHAPTER XVII

During the homeward trip Elizabeth was as one in a stupor. When they reached the brow of the hill above the village, Harold stopped the car. Elizabeth half turned about in her seat, resting her elbow on the back above and lifting her hand to her eyes to shade them from the light. She gazed upon the glory of the western sky where the sun was dropping into a bed of gold, lavishly splashing the low-hanging clouds with a radiance that seemed to drip from their edges. A shock suddenly brought her back to reality with a pain at her heart. Silhouetted against the gold of the sky-line, his head bared, his shoulders thrown back, was a tall figure: the son of Adoniah Phillips!

"That's a good view for sore hearts, Bets," commented her brother.

She caught her breath in quick gasps. "Yes. But, oh, Harold, it's so hard!"

"I know," he agreed, taking her hand. "Have you thought out a line of action? Where shall we begin?"

The girl did not answer. Harold followed with his eyes the direction of her gaze. His hand tightened in hers. The minister had just recognized them, and was waving his cap high over his head in welcome. Elizabeth lifted her handkerchief and permitted the light breeze to flutter it. Harold answered with a swing of his arm. Mr. McGowan started toward them.

"Drive me home, Harold. I can't see him now."

"But, Sis, this may be our only time together. Tell me what to do. I'm lost. I don't know which way to turn."

"I must see Uncle Josiah first. He has had time to think a lot, and he may know how to help us. I'm going to his place to-night."

"By George! You're right. I hadn't thought of going to him. He does know something about this. He was in my office the other day, and asked a host of questions. He'll help us if he can. Why not stop there now?"

"Not now. I'm not decent to see any one, or be seen. Please, take me home."

He threw in the clutch and the car shot down the hill, past a curious crowd in front of the general store, and on up the knoll into the Fox estate.

Mr. Fox had not yet returned from Riverhead. He had telephoned that he might get home for dinner. But the dinner hour came and went, and still he did not return. After the silent, and all but untasted, meal, Elizabeth left the house by the rear entrance. She hurried along the walk, out through the wicket gate at the back, and down to the beach. From here she turned into the path that zigzagged across town-lots, over sand-dunes, through brush heaps, to the rear of the Captain's place.

She walked round the house to the side door. She lifted the heavy knocker, and held it tightly as though fearing to let it drop against the rusty iron plate. What if Uncle Josiah had forgotten his engagement, and was not home? But Uncle Josiah had never yet forgotten a promise he had made her. She let the piece of iron fall. The sound echoed through the house. It frightened her, and she poised as though of a mind to run. Instead of the usual hearty boom for her to "Come in," the door swung wide, and she stood face to face with the minister.

"Oh!" she cried, stepping back into the shadows.

"I've been expecting you, Miss Fox. Will you come in?" he cordially invited.

"You were expecting me? But I——"

Hardly knowing what she did, and certainly not realizing why she did it, she accepted the invitation and entered. Her eyes slowly widened as he closed the door. She stood poised like a wild thing ready for flight at the slightest warning.

"I trust that your father isn't ill again?" said the minister solicitously.

"No-o. That is, not yet. He's quite well, thank you. He isn't home, or wasn't when I left."

"I'm glad."

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm glad your father isn't ill," he explained, growing quite as embarrassed as she.

"Oh! Yes. Thank you."

"Miss Fox, something must be wrong. May I help you?"

"No. Really, no. That is, not bad wrong, yet," she stammered. "Only he promised to be home, and—well, he isn't."

"The Captain will be back soon. He asked me to entertain you till his return. I fear I'm not doing it very well."

"Indeed, you are. That is, I guess you are. Is the Captain far away?"

"He took Miss Pipkin over to Miss Splinter's. Miss Splinter is very ill. Won't you be seated?"

"Yes, thank you. No, I think I'll stand. Dear me! What can be the matter with me? I'm acting quite stupid and silly, am I not?"

She tried to laugh, but her dry throat gave a cracked sound. Mr. McGowan noticed, and did not complete the smile that was beginning to form about his own lips.

"Really, I think I'll be going, and come back again. I feel so very queerly, and—uncomfortable with—with——"

"With me in the room?" he finished with a sad smile. "I'm sorry. I'll step into my study. If you need anything, please call."

He had reached the door and the knob had turned under his hand when she gave a cry, between a sob and a plea. He swung quickly about.

"Don't leave me, please!" she pleaded. "I mean, don't go on my account."

"But I seem to be disturbing you, and I don't wish to do that," he said kindly.

She broke down completely. "Oh, I do need you so much! Please stay! I'm afraid, afraid of everything, afraid of myself! You said one should keep a cool head, but I can't! I can't! I've tried so hard. Oh, Mack—Mr. McGowan, please help me!"

She finished her broken plea in muffled sobs in the folds of his coat. He drew her against him till his arms ached. She knew now that she could make of her love for this man no voluntary offering in order to save her father humiliation. All afternoon and evening she had been forming that resolution. But this love that had come to her, pure and undefiled from the hand of God, could not be denied for the sins of one man, even though that man be her own father. She felt herself being swept out into an engulfing current, nor did she wish to stay its overwhelming power. For the first time that afternoon she was conscious of real strength.

Mr. McGowan tried to lift her face from his shoulder, but she clung the closer.

"I want to look at you," he said jubilantly.

"Not just yet!" she sobbed. "I want to get used to this."

"Then, let me hear you say you love me!" entreated the man.

"Mack McGowan, I love you!" She drew back a pace. "Now, you may look at me just once, though I don't look like much with my eyes all swelled up and red."

He drank in the beauty of the face before him. "Thank God! You do love me! It isn't just pity."

She nodded her head so vigorously that the wisps of fair hair fell about her large blue eyes. "Yes, I love you, Mack. There, now, you've looked long enough. Kiss me, please." She lifted her face.

Mr. McGowan was unstintingly obeying the command when a loud knock jarred the side door. They started and sprang apart.

"Who can that be knocking like that?" asked the girl, hastily tucking away the stray locks of hair.

"It must be the Captain. But I wonder——"

Elizabeth laughed, and pointed toward a window where the curtain was above the lower sash. The Captain had seen them!

"I don't care if he did see. Let me go to the door."

She had taken one step in that direction when the door flew back and in came Mr. James Fox.

"Father! You!"

Without replying, Mr. Fox glared ferociously at the minister. His hand trembled on the head of his walking-stick. The blood surged into his face. Elizabeth, growing alarmed, started toward her father. But the Elder waved her back. Mr. McGowan broke the awful silence.

"We can't help it, Mr. Fox. I'm very sorry that this has come against your will."

"So it is true. God help me!" The Elder's words came with surprising calm, but his tone was harsh and hard. "So it is as I was warned. It is hard to believe that my little Beth has proven untrue to me." He was breathing hard. Pointing his stick in the direction of the minister, he finished with savage calm, "My little girl here alone, and with a man like you! God help me!"

"Be careful!" ordered Mr. McGowan. His words were sharp, as with blazing eyes he met the glare of the Elder.

"Father, you must not talk and look like that."

"Alone with him!" repeated Mr. Fox. "I saw the whole shameless proceeding through that window, and it is needless for you to deny what has happened."

"We are not trying to deny it, Father. I'm proud of it. We tried so hard not to love each other, too, when we found out how set you were against it. But we couldn't help it. We did try, didn't we, Mack?"

"You tried!" sneered her father. "I suppose this man forced you to steal from your home under cover of night, and come to him, over paths that were dark and out of the way, against your will. Do you expect me to believe that?"

Elizabeth came between the men as the minister took a step toward the Elder.

"I've done nothing to be ashamed of. I came here of my own accord, and you have no right to spy on me through those who are willing to do such vulgar things because you pay them. I came here to see Uncle Josiah. He wasn't in, and Mr. McGowan was—well, he was entertaining me."

"That will do! You shall not add perjury to your sin. You knew perfectly well that Pott was not home. You knew he was in the city. Your stories don't hang together."

"Father, you must not talk to me like that. Uncle Josiah came home this morning, and I made arrangements to meet him here to-night."

"And he was conveniently out, I suppose, so you might meet this fellow here alone."

"If you refuse to listen to reason, you may think what you like. I love that man you've been maligning!" she cried, her eyes filling with angry tears.

"You love him? Are you brazen enough to stand there and say that to my face?" he shouted, losing his self-control. "Him! You! I've a mind——Why, you silly little sentimental fool. You go so far as to flaunt——"

"Mr. Fox, allow me to explain," interrupted the minister.

The Elder did not heed the note of warning in the steady voice, but clutching his walking-stick with nervous fingers he started toward his daughter.

"Stand back!"

Mr. Fox stood back, almost falling against the wall. The minister's voice was as hard as his own.

"It seems that the time has come for a reckoning," said Mr. McGowan. "You have stood in my way long enough. Elizabeth, will you kindly step into my study?"

"I prefer to remain here, Mack. You may need me."

"What I say may be quite unpleasant."

"I may need to add to what you say. I'll stay."

"Very well. Mr. Fox, our strained relations must come to an end. If you can show any just cause why I'm at fault, I shall do all in my power to rectify it. I do not know the slightest reason for your attitude against me, but——"

"You lie, sir!"

The minister's lips tightened. "Only your age protects you in the use of that word to me. I repeat what I have said,—and it will be as well for you not to question my integrity again,—I do not know why you have treated me as you have. I now demand an explanation."

"If you will favor us with a little of your family history first," said the Elder with a sneering laugh, "there will be no need of any further explanation on my part."

"You seem to think me a vagabond, or something quite as bad if not worse. Well, I'm not. My family history is nothing to brag about, but the record is clean. If you'll be seated I'll be glad to furnish you with such bits as may be of interest to you. It isn't so difficult to hold one's temper while sitting."

Elizabeth lifted an imploring face to the minister. "Please, dear, don't say anything more! For my sake, don't. Wait till you both have had time to think over how foolish this all is."

"Foolish, you think! He need not speak, so far as I'm concerned," declared Mr. Fox, refusing the proffered chair. "I know his whole miserable story. I knew his parents. I take back my request. You doubtless would not tell the truth. What I wish my daughter to know, I shall tell her in the privacy of our own home."

Elizabeth looked as if she could not trust her own ears for what she had just heard from her father's lips.

"Mr. Fox, Elizabeth shall know my story now, and from my own lips. I have absolutely nothing to hide or be ashamed of. My father and mother were honest people. If it be a crime to be poor, then, they were guilty beyond redemption. They came to this country from Australia when I was little more than an infant. My father took ill and died shortly after our arrival. Mother said his death was the result of confining work he had done in Australia. I can remember my mother quite well, but she died before I was five. I was taken into a neighboring family, almost as poor as mine had been. As I grew up I worked hard, and saved every penny. My mother had left me one heritage that was priceless, a craving for knowledge. The people who brought me up sacrificed to help me along till I reached high school. I worked my way up through four hard years, into college, and then on into the seminary.

"That is about all there is to my uninteresting history. I came here as a candidate for this church. For the first time in my whole life I was beginning to taste real happiness. But no sooner had I taken my first breath of independence than I saw I must fight to hold the ground I had gained. I gloried in the opportunity. I was glad that I could do for your town what no other minister had been able to do. I took special delight in getting hold of those lads and men at the Inn. Hicks and his crowd didn't trouble me one bit, or even alter one plan I had for the members of the club. I didn't even grow discouraged when the opposition came from you, for I kept hoping that you'd see your mistake and come over to my aid. But time went on, and you did not. I sought reasons for your injustice. I concluded at last that you had discovered my love for your daughter, and that you did not consider my family connections to be sufficiently strong to permit any such union. I did all in my power to argue myself out of that love. But I soon discovered that a man cannot argue a cyclone out of his heart any more than he can argue one out of God's sky.

"If there is no other reason for your actions, sir, than my love for Elizabeth your opposition may as well be withdrawn right here and now. Otherwise, I shall marry Elizabeth against your will."

"It seems to me, young man, that you are quite sure of yourself about something you can't do. I admire your nerve,"—the Elder was pulling out each word with violent tugs at the side-whiskers,—"but we'll see, sir, who holds the trumps."

"You mean that you offer me no other alternative than to fight this through to a finish?" asked the minister.

"I offer you no alternative whatsoever. I command you to remain away from my daughter."

"And I refuse to obey any such order unless you give some just and adequate reason."

"I shall give you reason enough. Why did you stop with that little bit of family history where you did?"

"I had nothing to add of any importance."

"You do not think it of importance to tell us what that confining work was your father did in Australia?"

"I haven't the slightest idea. If Mother ever told me I was so very young that I have forgotten."

"Perhaps your mother wished to spare you. If so, I do not intend to tell you at this late hour in your life. But what he did is sufficient reason for my forbidding you to carry your attentions any further."

"Father, this is getting really ridiculous," declared his daughter. "We love each other, and that fact is greater than all else. Not one word which you may say against Mack's people will make the slightest difference with me."

"My dear child, if I dared tell you one-tenth of the truth,—but I dare not."

"You shall not talk like this any longer. It's silly."

"Since when has my child taken to giving her father orders? You are forcing me to speak. I'd rather cut off my right arm than do it, but I must save my little girl from——"

"I shall not listen to another word!" broke in the girl.

"Be still! I shall speak, and you shall listen."

"Father! You dare not. I love him, and——"

"You'll blush at the thought of having used that word in connection with that man before I have finished."

"It doesn't matter what you say, you can never change——"

"Beth, I must ask you to stop interrupting me. This man's father is an out——"

"You'd better not say that, Father!" cried Elizabeth. "You'll wish you hadn't when it is too late."

The Elder's face grew livid. His hands trembled violently as he steadied himself to deliver his final blow. Elizabeth drew close to Mr. McGowan as though to shield him, and shot a defiant glance at her father.

"I shall tell the truth, and you shall hear it. That man's father is an outlaw. He is a fugitive from justice. All this prattle about him being dead is a hoax."

The Elder now stood back to watch the result of his bomb. But what he saw was far more mystifying than satisfying. It was Mr. McGowan who drew back as the girl threw her arms about his neck. Elizabeth entreated him not to believe one word which her father had just uttered. Mr. Fox stood dumbfounded. Mr. McGowan did nothing but stare blankly across the room.

"Come here at once!" ordered the Elder. "Beth, do you hear me? Come away from that man. Don't you see he recognizes the truth? Are you entirely mad?"

For answer Elizabeth slipped her hands further over her lover's shoulders and locked her fingers behind. Mr. McGowan did not seem to realize the utter surrender with which she did this. He saw only the figure across the room and heard a faint whisper from out the past. It came from out his childhood, shortly after his father's death. It had made no definite impression on his young mind, but like a haunting shadow had stuck to him all these years. In a husky voice he demanded that the Elder explain.

"There is nothing more to explain, sir. You know to what I refer as well as I. If you are any kind of a man you will stop right where you are, and release my daughter from her foolish promise. Beth, if you love this man as you say you do you will come from him at once, for I'll ruin him if you persist in your sentimental infatuation. If you show a willingness to comply with my wishes, I shall let the matter drop, providing he leaves our town."

Mr. McGowan tried to push the girl from him, but she only tightened her grip.

"You dare not carry out your threat!" she shot at her father. Then without warning she released the minister, and turned about. The fire of indignation and anger leaped from those eyes that had only given her father love and kindness.

"I shall not threaten longer, I shall act. I shall apply for deportation papers for this man as an undesirable citizen."

"He is not that, Father!" cried the girl, making her last appeal.

"I shall have him deported if——"

She gave a dry hysterical laugh. "Try it, if you dare! I know his story. I know yours, too. Don't you touch me!" she cried, as her father started toward her. She fled again to the minister. "Don't let him touch me, Mack!"

Mr. Fox stopped abruptly. He dropped the papers which he had taken from his pocket. "Beth,—my dear,—have you lost all your senses? What were you saying?" he barely gasped.

The outer door opened, and Captain Pott entered his house.



CHAPTER XVIII

Captain Pott paused on the threshold. He looked from one to the other of the occupants of the room. He crossed over and picked up the paper which the Elder had dropped. He slowly read the contents.

"Ain't breaking in on an experience meeting, be I?" he asked.

"Oh! Uncle Josiah! Tell Father it isn't true!" entreated the girl.

"I'd say 'twas purty likely, according to all the signs." He chuckled.

"Please don't laugh. I can't stand it. Tell Father about——"

"There now, Beth, you and the parson set sail for a little cruise down the beach. I've something private to say to your dad."

"What you have to say to me, sir, will be said in the presence of my daughter," replied the Elder, making a pathetic attempt at stiffness.

"You're mistook on that p'int, Jim. I'm skipper aboard here, and them's orders."

The Elder's hands shook uncontrollably as he gripped the head of his walking-stick.

"You're all wasting good time," observed the seaman. "You'd best heave to, and obey orders. Mutiny won't be allowed."

"I intend to remain right here till this mystery concerning me is cleared up," declared the minister.

"Mystery about you?" exclaimed the Captain. "Why, Mack, there ain't nothing like that about you. You're as clear as an open sky. What I've got to say is just 'twixt Jim and me. You couldn't get in on it to save your soul. Now, you and Beth clear out."

"Josiah Pott, I recognize no right that permits you to intrude into my family affairs. If what you have to say is concerning the mortgage you had better speak at once. There is nothing about that which is confidential."

"That's according to the way you look at it. I'd a heap sight rather say it in private, Jim. It may prove embarrassing——"

"Then, good night. Come, Beth."

"There ain't no use of you going off mad, Jim. I only wanted a word with you about something that does consarn us both a mite. You ain't got no objection to that, have you?"

The show of apparent humility on the part of the Captain made it possible for the Elder to remain, providing the conference should be made brief.

"You ain't no more anxious to get it over than I be. We'll step right in here in Mack's cabin, if you don't mind."

The Elder balked. "I prefer witnesses," he said. "Otherwise, you may come to my home to-morrow evening. I did not seek this unpleasant interview, and since I leave it to my lawyers to carry on my business affairs, I do not intend to hound my debtors personally."

"You ain't been hounding me personally, Jim, but there's some things that you can't leave even to crooked lawyers. You'd best handle this personally. If that shyster tries to get in on this his neck won't be wuth the skin that covers it."

"You still persist in trying to threaten me, I see."

"No, Jim, this ain't a threat. If you want the witness part after I get through I'll accommodate you with plenty of 'em. But I cal'late we'd best talk it over private-like fust. I happened onto a feller the other day by the name of John Peters, and he spun me the likeliest yarn I ever heard about Australia. I thought you'd like to hear it, but I don't want to take your valuable time. Good night."

"Hold on, Josiah! I did not catch that name. Who was it you saw?"

But the Captain did not hold on to anything except to his news concerning John Peters. He entered the minister's study and closed the door.

A little later the side door opened and closed quietly. The seaman thought the Fox had run for his hole. But the study door soon opened. The Captain turned his back, drew out his pipe, and with slow deliberation began to pack the bowl with shavings from a black plug of tobacco.

"I think I can spare you a few minutes, Josiah," barely whispered the Elder. "I don't want to seem arrogant and high-handed in the matter of that small loan. And if there is anything——"

"That's all right, Jim, about that loan. Come right in, and set down. Thought you'd gone hum."

"That was the preacher going out with my daughter. He shall see the day when he'll pay for his impudence."

"Most of us get caught afore we're through life, Jim."

"I don't know why I'm doing this little service for you to-night, except it be for the sake of our boyhood friendship. I am willing to suffer this inconvenience——"

"It's mighty kind of you," cut in the Captain sharply. "But for once that boyhood rot ain't going to help you none. It ain't going to let you turn any more of them tricks of a black rascal simply because you pose as a shining martyr. The way you've treated Mack McGowan——"

"If this conversation is to be about the minister, I shall save you the trouble of speaking by going at once."

"It ain't no trouble for me to speak. What I've got to say does consarn Mack a heap, and you'd best listen. When I finish you'll see that it's best for him to stay right here in this church, if he wants to, after all the mean low-down tricks you've served him."

"I shall not allow you to pick a quarrel. I regret that you are so much inclined that way."

"You can keep all your regretting till later, you'll likely need it. What I want to make plain to you is that Mack is going to stay right here in Little River, perviding he wants to."

"Indeed? You surprise me. I usually get my way about church matters. Permit me to say that you shall not interfere in these affairs any more than in those of my own home."

"That's been the trouble with you all these years, Jim. You've been getting your own way too long. I'm not going to interfere one mite, I'm just going to dictate for this once. If I ain't way off in my soundings, you'll be mighty glad to have him as a son-in-law, too."

Mr. Fox rose and lifted his cane. He tapped the corner of the desk. He opened his mouth, but his anger choked him.

"You make me nervous, Jim. Set down and set still. I ain't going to speak of the parson right off. Ain't you going to set down? There, that's better."

The Elder's face was livid.

"I cal'late I'll talk better if I get this thing going," observed the seaman, lighting his pipe. "Now, Jim, I ain't sartin why I'm going to talk to you in private like this, but——"

"By God! It's time you're finding out! Your impudence has got beyond all bounds."

"I wouldn't swear like that. It ain't becoming to one of your position in the church. Them black scowls and blue cuss-words ain't going to get you nothing."

"You impudent dog! I thought you were intending to pay me that little debt, or I should never have entered this room. Your insults are——"

"Sartin sure. 'Most forgot that." The Captain drew out a bank-draft and handed it over to the surprised Elder. "Thanks for reminding me. It's best to clear all decks afore manoeuvers are begun in earnest."

"I shall be going now. But I cannot take that draft. You will learn more about that later."

"Suit yourself on both p'ints, Jim," replied the seaman studying the tips of his heavy boots. "You'd best take this money, though. It pays off all I owe you. Anyway, I'd stay if I was you. You'd sure enjoy Peters' yarn."

The two men eyed each other like a pair of wild animals. The Elder at length rose.

"Pott, I'll not listen to more of your insane talk. I fear all your trouble has gone to your head. I'm sorry if that is the case. You would do well to consult some brain specialist."

"No, it ain't my head it's gone to. It's my heart." His words were gentle, but his eyes were as hard as flint. "I've been itching to get hold of you for some time, Jim, but I ain't seen any handle till now. Since you made me that offer up to your house t'other night I've been wanting to choke you. Yes, to choke you till your lying old pipe of a gullet would shut off your wind for good and all. But the law won't allow me that pleasure." He continued with intense bitterness: "I s'pose you're wondering where I got that money to pay off your filthy loan."

"So this is the gratitude you offer for my kindness?"

"It's a fat lot you've ever done for me! You've just told me this ain't no good."

"The fact of the matter is, my lawyers probably foreclosed on the real mortgage at noon to-day."

"Then, that lawyer feller I see wa'n't far off his course, after all," replied the Captain, laying the draft on the table. "Now, Jim, show your hand and be damn quick afore I call your turn on the deal," demanded the seaman as though certain that a prior conclusion had proven correct.

"I have nothing to show at this time."

"By the Almighty, then, look out! I sold my Jennie P. to get you that money. It was purty hard to see her go, but it wa'n't all loss, not by a heap. John Peters bought her. I told him why I was selling her. He was real sorry, and then he spun me the yarn about your crookedness in Australia. I got the rest of the story by installments, about the way you treated Adoniah. John give me some mighty interesting news about an old Mrs. Rogers, who was the mother of Adoniah's wife. She's here right now looking for heirs and crooks."

The Elder had risen again, but the name spoken by the Captain struck him like a shot. He dropped back, his head fell forward, and his hands locked over the head of his stick.

"After that I seen Harold, and he told me where the woman was staying. I looked her up, and she told me the whole enduring yarn. It was Clemmie's last letter from Adoniah that set me going on your trail, and the old woman cleared up the fog. I had that letter in my pocket up to your place that night, but Providence or something kept me from showing it to you. That old lady had a picture of her darter Emmie, and it nearly knocked me over when she showed it to me. It was the same that Mack has here in this frame of his own mother. Take a look at that picture." He opened a drawer, lifted out a gilt-frame, and passed a small daguerreotype across to the Elder. "Mack has showed me this often, and I see that he was a chip off the old block on his mother's side. But I never dreamed the truth, because of his name." The Captain's eyes narrowed. "I've been wondering, Jim, if that wa'n't what went to your head that night he had dinner up there,—seeing the likeness, all of a sudden, to his mother."

He paused to give the Elder time to study the picture.

"Josiah, what on earth has all this nonsense to do with me? Just what are you accusing me of?"

"Nothing yet. I'm coming to that part. I looked up that feller who was with you over there, and I dragged your damned sin out of him. When it comes right down to it, I hate like time to take away your chart and compass this way, but you've been doing it to others for so long that I cal'late it's coming to you. I'd have let the old lady tear out your side-whiskers if it hadn't been for them children of yours. It was for them that I asked you in here."

The Elder roused and made a pathetic effort to straighten his drooping figure. "I think,—er,—Josiah, I see your game at last. You purpose to frighten me with these wild tales from some old witch. I shall compel you to offer proof, for all your insinuations, in court."

"Insinuations! Proof! Lord, Jim!" cried the Captain, aiming a powerful finger in the direction of the Elder. "I've got proof enough to lock you up in the London Towers, or wherever it was you let Adoniah suffer for your infernal wickedness. Proof! Hell! You ain't that big a fool. Set still and hear me. You never see the shores of Africa. It was in Australia that you and Adoniah got in with that trader Rogers,—Emmie's father,—and you was getting rich trading in opals. Then, the both of you fell in love with Emmie, and Adoniah beat you out and married her. It wa'n't long after that when Adoniah took down with a fever. God, man! When I think what you done to him when he couldn't fight back, I could kill you! You got trapped in a bad deal, and while Adoniah was raving with a fever you took all the money there was and skipped. You was careful to ship all the blame for your dirty work on Adoniah afore you sneaked out a rich man."

"Pott, that is enough. There is not a court in all this country that would believe your wild tale. Try it, and see how quickly they would lock you up in a madhouse."

"They won't believe what I say?"

"I dare you to go into any court and try it. I'm too well known."

"Jim, don't toss me that old line, it's a mite too green and slimy to look tasty."

"I'm through with this stuff and nonsense, sir!" shouted the Elder. He started for the door.

"Well, I ain't through with you. I'm only just begun." The Captain intercepted him. "You set there, or I'll set you. This trader, Rogers, got onto your little game afore you set sail, and tried to get you arrested. But you'd covered your dirty tracks. He caught you, though, and made you sign something——"

"That would not stand in court. I can prove that I was forced to sign a false statement at the point of a gun."

"Thanks, Jim. I'm glad I ain't got to prove to you that you done the signing." Carefully choosing his words, the Captain continued. "That feller you had hiding with you that night done some signing, too. I got hold both them papers. I found that other feller and made him dance the devil's tune. He done some purty things for a missionary of the Son of God. His name was Means.

"You know the rest of the yarn, how Adoniah was taken off on one of them floating hells, called a convict-ship. The thing was nearly wrecked, and he was making his escape after swimming to land when he turned into a mission place for a bite to eat. He come face to face with that fat missionary who got you out of the country. Instead of feeding him, and giving him decent clothing, like a Christian ought to do, he took him to the officers. They put him in a dungeon. For nigh onto two years he was kept there. Then this Rogers feller got hold of a lawyer with as much heart as brains, and they got him out. The old lady said he wa'n't much to look at when he come out. They sent 'em over here, thinking it would be good for Adoniah's health. But he was all wore out, and couldn't hold a job. He was a heap too proud to beg or ask help. Not wanting to disgrace his family name with the damned record you give him, he changed his. The old lady said it was about then that they lost track of 'em. I got the rest of the story from Harold on my way home to-night from Edna's place. That's why I was late.

"Adoniah and his family lived in them dirty streets of lower East Side. He was a wreck, and Emmie tried to work to keep things up. Both of 'em died, starved to death, while you and that damn missionary was getting fat on the money you stole. You had busted up the firm so Rogers couldn't help none then, even if he'd found 'em. The little boy they left was found by some neighbors. He was 'most starved and nearly froze. He was living with an old janitor woman, and she was sending him out on the streets to sell papers! Think of that, Jim Fox! A little boy, five years old, peddling papers to pay your bills with! Them folks found him one morning in a doorway, asleep!"

The old seaman's voice choked. He slowly refilled his pipe. When he resumed his narrative, his breath was coming heavily. "This Rogers feller lost all track of 'em. He made money fast after he got on his feet, but all his searching got him nothing. The old lady said they kept paying some interest or other on a debt Adoniah owed to you in order to save some property of his. I didn't tumble just then what 'twas she meant. But I found out to-night. When the old man died, Mrs. Rogers shut down on that paying business and began in real earnest to look for her darter."

The Elder had slouched forward in his chair.

"You thought you was hid, and so you come back to this town to stick your head in one of its sand-heaps. I tell you, Jim, I ain't been very strong on the p'int of a Providence directing our ways. It's always seemed to me like a blind force pushing us from behind. But I'm getting converted. When that there missionary showed up at the installing meeting, the devil come right forward and asked for his pay. Means wa'n't long in seeing the mother's face in Mack.

"It was Mack who sold them papers. It was that low-down missionary of a Means who was working in a mission down on the East Side after coming back who put him in with that janitor woman. You both done all the dirt you could to his dad by stealing all he had, and now because you've been scared that he'd squeal on you, the both of you are trying to steal his right to live as a man. I suppose if you'd have known that he was as ignorant as a babe about all this, you'd done nothing against him. But Providence come in by way of your own home. Harold got that woman over here afore he knew where the scent was going, but he can't stop her now. Beth found it all out to-day, too."

The expected blast of hot denial and bitter denunciation did not follow. Instead, the Elder merely bent his head and acknowledged it all. He did not bewail his misfortune. He seemed beyond that.

"It's a mighty bad thing, Jim, when a feller lets the furniture of his house get more important than himself, ain't it? It leaves him kind of bare when it's all moved out."

"Josiah, you're right. It's even worse when the furniture has been stolen," remarked the man. He raised his head and looked at the little gilt-framed picture on the desk. He covered his face. With a dry sob he folded his arms across the picture, and dropped his head upon them. "My God! I didn't mean to do it when I began. I must have been insane. It seemed so easy at the time. I've suffered a thousand hells all these years!"

"I know. You just went along the way that seemed easy-like. At fust it ain't hard to go with the greedy crowd, but the turning's mighty hard. You sartin went the easiest way for yourself, Jim, but them you done wrong to, died in awful poverty."

"I can't stand any more!"

"John told me that Adoniah was going to get your hide after he got back here, but when he see you was married and had a little baby——"

"Stop it, Josiah! Do with me as you like, but don't tell me any more. I'll go insane!"

"I cal'late what you said about suffering your share is as nigh the truth as you've come in many a year. If I'd been intending to give you up to that old woman, do you cal'late I'd brought you in here?"

"Josiah, do you mean that you do not intend to give me up?" asked the crumpled man incredulously. He raised his head and peered across the room.

"Not if you're willing to obey orders. Others have been suffering, and that's got to stop."

"I'll do anything you say."

"The fust thing, that Sim Hicks and his gang has got to be choked off."

"I don't know what you refer to, but——"

"Jim, I thought we'd cut out that old green line of pretending. I ain't going to nibble, so just stop casting it at me. I mean his booze-selling to them boys."

"That can be arranged," hurriedly agreed the Elder.

"Thought it likely could. The second little matter is that Mr. McGowan is going to stay right here in this church as minister."

"I'll do my best——Yes, I shall see to that."

"Now, about that money you stole from his dad. That goes back to Mack with interest."

"But, Josiah, I can't do that. It would ruin me. I wouldn't mind for myself, but my family——"

"I know, that's the hard part of paying off old debts, the innocent has got to suffer. But that can be fixed so it won't bother you much. It might do you good to take a taste of your own medicine."

"Can this be done without the village finding it out?"

"It's purty hard to give up your position as village hero, ain't it, Jim? I cal'late it's going to be purty tolerable hard to dress a hypocrite up like a saint without people finding it out sooner or later, but we'll try it for a spell. Harold said to-night that he'd draw up papers for you. We're going to try to keep this a sort of family skeleton."

"How can I ever thank you!"

"You'd best give them thanks to the Almighty."

"I do, most heartily."

"Just touch a match to this paper you dropped. Here 'tis. I cal'late you wa'n't intending for no one to see this but Beth."

"That is true, Josiah. I wished to keep her from going any further with Mr. McGowan." With trembling fingers he set fire to that piece of paper.

"One word more about money. What are you going to do about the loan on this place?"

"You may keep that, Josiah, as a token of my appreciation for what you have done."

"Not this one," said the Captain. "That's honest enough to pass. I mean that one the interest has been paid on all these years."

"I'm afraid that my lawyers foreclosed on that at noon——"

"From what Harold said, I cal'late you'll find the interest was paid afore they had a chance to foreclose. If I was you, Jim, I'd just cancel that mortgage. The interest has more than paid it back these years. Mack's estate otter be clear."

The man before whom great ones had been made to tremble because of financial power, now meekly nodded assent to a sea captain.

"And we'll just include everything you owe Mack in the papers Harold is going to draw up?"

"I'll be only too glad to do as you say. But how about this Rogers woman?"

"I'll see to her. She'd never recognize you as the dude who beat her son-in-law. You've changed consider'ble since then. You've even changed a mite to-night."

The Captain took up his pipe from the table, shook off the ash, and relighted it.

"Is that all, Josiah?"

"Yes. I cal'late you'd best be going." He handed the Elder his hat, and lifted his walking-stick from the floor.

"Thanks, Josiah. You have been very kind to me. More than I deserve."

"There ain't no room for argument on that p'int."

As the Elder reached the door the Captain halted him.

"If I was you, Jim, I'd keep my oar out of that love affair of Mack and Beth."

"Quite right, Josiah. Good night."

The Elder got out of the house and into the road in a stumbling fashion. He climbed the knoll to his estate, a saddened and broken old man, but with a relief of mind and heart that he had not known for years.



CHAPTER XIX

"Now, ain't you a pair to look at, and you to give your sermon this morning, Mr. McGowan! You look a heap sight worse than Edna Splinter, and she's been raving with a fever all night."

Miss Pipkin made this observation while the three of them sat at breakfast Sunday morning.

The minister absent-mindedly asked concerning the condition of Miss Splinter.

"She 'peared to be a trifle easier this morning. But what's ailing the both of you? Look as if you'd been setting up all night like two owls."

"Cal'late we're on our uppers, Clemmie. But we'll be fit as fiddles when we get some of them cakes stowed amidships, and ballast 'em down with a few swallers of that coffee. There ain't everybody that can b'ile coffee like you, Clemmie."

"Don't be foolish, Josiah."

After a very light breakfast, Mr. McGowan excused himself from the table, saying he must do some work on his sermon before the church hour. As the door to the study closed the Captain pushed back his plate and chair. He slid the latter round the end of the table, and placed it by Miss Pipkin.

"For the lan' sakes, Josiah! You ain't going to make love to me this morning, be you?"

"I ain't sartin, Clemmie. It depends on your partic'lar frame of mind," he replied slowly, a quiet kindness in his old eyes.

"I don't know as I feel like being made love-sick," she said, but without the old spirit of stubbornness.

"All right, Clemmie," he said resignedly. "I cal'late you know best. I'm going to spin you a yarn about what took place round these premises last night. That is, if you're willing to listen."

"Why, of course I'm willing to listen. Did that lawyer show up here again with his old mortgage?"

"No, you bet he didn't. And what's more, he won't come prowling round again, either."

The Captain told his housekeeper the whole story. He passed as lightly as he could over the part where Adoniah had married the trader's daughter. Miss Pipkin gave no sign that she cared in the least, or that the news had shocked her. But when the Captain rehearsed the treachery of Mr. James Fox, she grew rigid. She dabbed her apron into the corners of her eyes as he unfolded the story of the suffering of the little family. The old man paused to wipe the tears from his own eyes as he recounted the finding of the lad in the doorway with a pile of morning papers in his lap. For some time after he had finished neither spoke. The Captain dangled his bandanna at the end of his nose, and Miss Pipkin dabbed her checked apron against her wet cheeks.

"Josiah," she whispered eagerly, "have you found the boy yet? Is he still alive?"

"Yes." A prolonged blow followed.

She laid her hand in his. "Where is he? Do you think I could see him?"

"He's in there." He pointed toward the study door.

"In that study with Mr. McGowan? Is that what you said?"

He nodded.

"You brought him here from the city yesterday?"

The seaman shook his head. "He come long afore that."

"Where've you been keeping him? Ain't you going to fetch him out?" she cried, rising. "I'll go get him."

"Wait, Clemmie. It's been nigh onto twenty-five year since he was born, so he ain't a baby. Let Mack fetch him. Mack!" called the Captain sharply. A slight twinkle in his eyes offset the assumed severity of his command.

The door opened and Mr. McGowan stood on the threshold. Miss Pipkin stared from the one to the other.

"Be the both of you clean crazy?" she demanded, as the men grinned rather foolishly at each other.

"No, Clemmie. We've just woke up to our senses, that's all."

"If you think this a good joke,——"

"It ain't no joke," said the Captain, motioning Mr. McGowan to come nearer. "I give you my word, it ain't, Clemmie. There's Adoniah Phillips' son."

With a smothered exclamation Miss Pipkin dropped back against the table. "You—you——" But she ended with a gasp for breath and words.

"The Cap'n is telling you the truth," confirmed the minister.

"You—and you let me tell you all that nonsense about him and me!"

"You're doing me an injustice, Miss Pipkin. I did not know one thing about all this till last night."

Captain Pott had risen. In his eagerness he stretched out his arms to the confused housekeeper. She turned from staring at the minister, and like a bewildered animal fled blindly in the direction of the kitchen. She found herself, instead, in the seaman's arms. Here she stuck, and with hysterical sobs clung to the old man. Mr. McGowan came nearer. At sight of him she fled to his arms. For the next few minutes the practical, every-day Miss Pipkin did things of which no one had ever imagined her capable. The Captain's voice roused her.

"Here, young feller, you go loving where you're wanted. I've been waiting for this too many years to be cheated out by a young rascal like you." He seized the not unwilling Miss Pipkin, and pushed the minister in the direction of the kitchen.

"Clemmie, ain't this grand?" asked the old man.

"It's really been you all these years, Josiah."

"Been me? You mean you've loved me all the time, Clemmie?"

"Um-hm," she nodded vigorously. "But I was that stubborn that I wouldn't give in. I always looked forward to your proposing. You ain't proposed to me for a long time, Josiah."

"But, Clemmie, are you sartin sure it'll be all right now? If you get your rest, are you sartin you won't feel different? Don't you think you'd otter wait?"

"Josiah, ask me right now, so I can't back out, or get on another stubborn streak. I thought it all out 'longside Edna's bed last night. She was raving, and calling for some one, poor thing, who she'd refused to marry when she was young. I said then and there that I wasn't going to my grave with that kind of thing hanging over me. That is, if you ever asked me again."

"You say you made up your mind last night, Clemmie? You sure it wa'n't what I told you about Adoniah being married?"

"That had nothing to do with my decision."

"Then, you mean we're going to get married?"

"You ain't asked me yet."

"Miss Clemmie Pipkin," he began, bending his knees in the direction of the floor, and upsetting the table as he went down with a thud, "will you ship aboard this here old craft as fust mate with a rough old skipper like me?"

"Lan' sakes! Get up off that floor. You look awful silly. Get up this minute, or I'll say no."

The Captain got up with more alacrity than he had gone down.

"Will you marry me, honest, Clemmie?"

"Yes. You see, I kind of wanted to hear myself say it, because I'd made up my mind that way."

An exclamation from the kitchen interrupted what the seaman was doing. The minister had retired thither to clear the mist from his eyes which had gathered there at signs of spring-time in the fall of these dear old lives. He now stood in the door, holding a dripping coffee-pot.

"Oh, my coffee!" cried the housekeeper. "It's boiled all over the place."

"Drat the coffee. Let her b'ile!"

Boil it certainly had, over the stove, on to the floor, and had collected in a puddle at the threshold.

"That's what comes of not attending to your cooking," observed the practical Miss Pipkin. The other Miss Pipkin, who had been sleeping for years in the living sepulcher of her heart, was saying and doing many things quite different.

From the cross-roads came the sound of the church-bell, calling the people of Little River Parish to worship.

"There's the bell!" exclaimed Miss Pipkin. "It's only a half-hour before service. If you'll excuse me, Mack, I don't think I'll go this morning. You don't mind if I call you Mack here at home, do you?"

"I want you to call me that, Aunt Clemmie." He gave her a hurried kiss, and started toward his room. At the corner of the upset table he paused. "If I didn't have to preach this morning I'd stay home, too."

"You mean you'd go walking down 'long the beach," corrected the Captain.

Miss Pipkin looked oddly at her lover. "Be they engaged?"

"They was, but I guess they ain't."

"What do you mean?"

"Jim came nigh sp'iling things last night. Mack said they'd call it all off till he found out more about his people. He was 'feared from what Jim had said to him that he had no right to love Beth. I cal'late he see that it was right enough to go ahead afore I got through with him this morning."

"Josiah, he'll marry us, won't he?"

"You just bet he will!"

"Ain't it funny he never said nothing about being glad we was engaged?"

"We ain't told him."

"But he saw."

"Script're says something about having eyes and seeing not, and having ears and hearing not. Mack's as nigh to obeying the sayings of Script're as any one I know."

"That's so, Josiah. He is so good without trying to be," declared Miss Pipkin. She lifted a hand to each of the old man's shoulders, and he put his arms about her. "Do you believe in the care of Providence, Josiah, and in the guiding hand of God?"

The Captain tightened his embrace, and one of the bony hands of the housekeeper slipped into the knotty fingers about her waist.

"I'm larning to, Clemmie, but I'm going to need a heap of help. I ain't used to these religious channels, and I cal'late you'll have to take the helm right often."

They had not heard the sound of footsteps in the outer room. It was Mrs. Beaver's voice that caused them to start.

"I thought I'd come over to borrow some——"

Mrs. Beaver stopped short on the threshold, looked at the Captain and the housekeeper, and began to retreat. The practical Miss Pipkin was the first to recover speech.

"Come on right in, Mrs. Beaver. That's a silly thing for me to say, seeing you're already in. But what is it you'd like to borrow?"

Mrs. Beaver continued to retreat and stare. She saw the puddle of coffee on the floor. She eyed with interest the upset table. She saw that the Captain was undetermined what he ought to do with his hands. She watched him as he stumbled backward into the cupboard. Her face was a study.

"What was it you was going to ask for, Eadie?" asked the seaman, trying to appear unconcerned in his decided embarrassment.

"Well, I never!" exclaimed Mrs. Beaver.

"We're engaged," announced Miss Pipkin in matter-of-fact tones.

"Engaged! You and——"

"Yes, she and me," finished the Captain eagerly.

Mrs. Beaver's hands dropped helplessly to her sides.

"Is there anything more you'd like to know?" asked Miss Pipkin kindly, as she crossed the room and put an arm about the spare figure of her neighbor. "We're that happy that I wanted you to know, and I'm real glad you come over when you did."

"Anything else I want to know?" she asked. "I should say there is. What has happened to Harry? He come home last night all different, talking for the minister till I couldn't get a word in edgewise. It was awful late, too. And he told me that Sim Hicks had left town, or was going this morning."

"I cal'late some one's clothed Harry in his right mind. You know, Eadie, that's Script're. Sim has took a trip for his health."

"And Harry tells me that Mr. Fox is for the minister, too. Something must have happened."

"Yes, something has happened. Eadie, you rec'lect that time when you fust spoke to me about the minister staying in my house you said I'd be in the way of the Lord if I'd do it. I wa'n't very pleasant to you for going ahead and doing it while I was away, but you sartin did what Providence wanted that time."

Mrs. Beaver did not attempt to reply.

"What was it you wanted to borrow?"

She looked from the one to the other, and made this comment: "I'm mighty glad for the both of you. You're good, and you both deserve what you've got." She kissed Miss Pipkin on the cheek, and turned toward the door.

"Eadie, what was it you come for?" asked the housekeeper in a strange voice.

"I come over for a pinch of salt, but——"

"Give her the hull sack, dear," ordered the Captain.

"I guess—I think——I really don't need the salt," stammered Mrs. Beaver.

"Here, Eadie, don't go off mad. I didn't mean anything by what I said. I'd give half what I own this morning to a hobo if he'd ask for a crust of bread."

"Thanks, Josiah. But I guess I got what I really come for. God bless you both!"

With that she was gone.

"Now, ain't that the strangest you ever see?" observed the Captain.

He was cut short by the sound of a familiar toot out in the harbor. He stared at the housekeeper in dumb amazement.

"Clemmie, did you hear that? What in tarnation was it?"

"It sounded like your power-boat."

"But it ain't round here."

Together they went outside. Together they stood on the stoop and watched a boat nose its way to the old mooring of the Jennie P.

"It's her!" whispered the seaman hoarsely. "It's my Jennie P.!"

He did not move from his place beside Miss Pipkin, but held tightly to her hand as John Peters came up from the wharf.

"Here's a paper for you, Josiah. A girl come into my place about noon yesterday and made me sign it."

Captain Pott was too surprised to even reach out for the piece of paper offered him.

Miss Pipkin took it, and unfolded it carefully.

"Read it for me, Clemmie."

"It only says that the Jennie P. was bought back by Josiah Pott."

"But I never——"

"That girl said she'd come to represent you, and paid cash."

Without a word the three went down to the wharf, and John Peters rowed the dory, with two passengers aboard, out to the Jennie P.

* * * * *

It was late in the afternoon when Mr. McGowan left the house. Fall permeated the air with an invigorating twang. Here and there the landscape showed the touch of frost. The marsh grass was turning brown. Among the trees and shrubbery color ran riot. The Fox knoll was a blend of beauty. As the minister passed the estate he sought for a glimpse of the Elder's daughter among the trees, or in the garden. But she was not to be seen.

For a long way he kept his course up the beach. He was thinking. How could he explain to Elizabeth the meaning of his actions last night? Would she listen after he had refused to give heed to her explanation?

Suddenly, he became aware that he stood on the spot where he had turned his ankle the night she had come to him from the water's edge, and his thoughts were choked in the furrows of his brain. He seemed to hear her voice again as she had spoken that night of the impossibility of his love. He looked about. Far up the peninsula he recognized her. She was coming to him as straight as the line of the beach permitted. He started in her direction. She waved him back. He waited. On she came. Neither attempted to speak till she had reached his side.

"I've been waiting for you," she said. "I thought you would never come."

"You still want to see me after the way I treated you last night?"

"Please, don't speak of that. I knew Uncle Josiah would tell you everything."

"He did tell me all. I want you to forgive me for not taking your word that there was nothing in my past which would prevent our love, or mar it. I didn't realize that you knew what you were saying. I feared that I had no right to love you after your father had spoken as he did of my parentage."

With intense anticipation he held out his hands, but she drew away.

"Not now. I did not understand what Father's obligation to you would involve."

"Elizabeth, dear, do you mean you won't forgive me?"

"I have nothing to forgive in you, Mack." In her eyes was a return of the warmth of love she felt, but her attitude was one of firm resolve. "I have come to you to-day because I want to tell you that just for the present we must be only good friends. I've been thinking all night long about you, and now that you know who you are, and what my father has done against your father——"

"But that is all past!"

"Not for me. Father ruined your father, and has grown rich on your money. Not till every cent of that is paid back can I think of marrying you." There was the weight of dead finality in every word.

"But, Elizabeth——"

"Please, Mack, don't make it harder for me than you must. This is not easy, but you will see where it is best, when you have taken time to think it over."

THE END