CHAPTER VII
A GREAT ASTRONOMER
NOT LONG AGO a man died who had made astron-
omy a specific study for sixty years. He knew the
planets, Mars and Jupiter, and Saturn and all the
others. He knew the constellations and the zodiac in
fact he was familiar with the solar system and all the work-
ings of the universe. This man had predicted with con-
siderable accuracy what seasons would be wet, and what
seasons would be dry. He also foretold the seasons of
warmth and those of cold. And he had said that about
every twenty years, the world over would be gripped with
drought. This drought would begin in the far north, and*
would cover the extreme northern portion of the country
the first year. The second year it would reach further
south, and extend over the great central valleys and be most
severe near the northern tier of states. Following, it would
go a bit further south the next year, and so on until it would
finally disappear altogether.
So according to this man's prediction, the country of our
sfory would experience a severe drought soon, preceded by
a slight one as a forerunner. For two years the crops would
be inferior but the following year would see it normal again.
So be it.
It had been dry the year before, and had been just a little
bit so the year before that. We know by the shortage of
crops Jean Baptiste had raised that such had been so. So,
with hundreds of acres, and the sun shining hot, and the
318 THE HOMESTEADER
wind blowing from the south, it was no surprise when he
became now, an altogether different person. (For you see
the life that life that makes men strong and fearless and
cheerful had gone from the body of Jean Baptiste.) Then
he began to grow uneasy. It is, perhaps, somewhat difficult
to portray a drought and its subsequent disasters. We beg
of you, however, that you go back to the early years in the
peaceful, hopeful, vigorous country of our story: In the
years that had been before when everything had pointed to
success. Rainfall had been abundant; frost had waited until
October before it showed his white coat upon the window
sill. Land values had climbed and climbed, and had gone
so high until only the moneyed could even reckon to own
land. And Jean Baptiste controlled a thousand acres.
Over all the country, the pounding of steam and gasoline
tractors rilled the air with an incessant drumming; the
black streaks everywhere told the story of conquest. The
prairie was giving place to the inevitable settler, and hope
was high in the hearts of all. So the wind had blown hot
many days before the settlers became apprehensive of any-
thing really serious.
Never since they had come to this country had they ex-
perienced such intense heat; such regular heat; such con-
tinued heat. A week pa**ed and the heat continued. It
blew a gale, and then a blast; but always it was hot, hot,
hot!
Two weeks pa**ed, and still it blew. Before this it had
at least subsided at night, although it did begin afresh in the
morning. But now it blew all night and all day, and each
day it became hotter, the soil became dryer, and presently
the crops began to fire.
" Oh, for a rain ! " every settler cried. " For a rain, a
rain, a rain ! " But no rain came.
A GREAT ASTRONOMER 319
So every day there was the continual firing of the crops.
The corn had been too small in the beginning to require
much moisture, and the dry weather had enabled the farmer
to k** the weeds, so it stood the gaft quite well, for a time,
and grew like gourd vines in the meantime. It was the
wheat, the oats, the rye and the barley that were first to
suffer. These were at their most critical stage, the time
when tiny little heads must dare seek the light. And as
they did so, the cruel heat met and burned them until there-
upon they cried and died from grief. And still the drought
continued.
No showers fell. The crops needed water. After the
third week of such intense heat, the people groaned and
said " '93 " had returned with all its attendant disaster.
And still the wind kept blowing. The air grew hot, hotter ;
almost to stifling with the odor of the burning plants. The
aroma mixed with the intense heat was suffocating. The
gra** upon the prairie gave up, turned its tiny blades to
the sun and died to the roots, while all the grain of the land,
slowly became shorter. It struggled, it bent, and at last
turned what had pointed upward, downward, and also died
of thirst.
And then the people awakened to the emergency. They
began to take note of the fact that many had gone into
debt so deeply until there were many who could never get
out unless they sold their land ! This had been so with poor
managers, speculators, and others before. When they found
that they were unable to make it, there had always remained
the alternative of selling out. And this had been so easy,
because the people at large wanted the land. So instead,
heretofore, of retiring in defeat, the weakest had retired in
apparent victory. " For my homestead, I received $8,000,"
or maybe it had been $10,000. So it had been. Great prices
320
THE HOMESTEADER
to all who wanted to sell. Only a small portion of them,
however, had wanted to sell up to date.
But when the crops were surely a failure for the most
part, hundreds and thousands and even more quarters were
offered for sale. Then came the shock the jolt that
brought the people to a stern realization of what was before
them. The buyers ! There were no buyers ! No, the buy-
ers now when many wished to sell, stayed in Iowa, and
Illinois and wherever they lived, and refused to come
hither !
So, for the first time the people in the new country were
face to face with a real problem. And this continued to be
augmented by the intense heat. Hotter it had grown, and
at last came a day when all the small grain was beyond re-
demption, only the corn and the flaxseed were yet a possi-
bility. So to Jean Baptiste we now return.
He had written to his wife, and she had replied to his
letter. He read them where he lived, on the homestead she
had left, and longed simply for her to return. He lived
with his mind in a dull quandary. It was useless to try to
find consolation hating the cause of his troubles, so him, he
tried much to forget. It would all come right some day, he
still hoped, and worried between times over his debts. He
had borrowed more money to develop his land ; was behind
in the interest, now, and also the taxes, and his wife wrote
for money.
This was what Glavis had advised him to do Send her
money and all would be right. Yes, that was what Ethel
and her mother and her father had all thought right. Send
her money. But the day of plenty of money for Jean
Baptiste was slipping. The burning, dried crop that lay in
the field, would bring no money. But this he dared not
write. If he wrote and told the woman he had married
A GREAT ASTRONOMER
321
for a wife she surely was no more that would be to tell
the family. And that Prince of Evil, the Reverend, would
say with his wonted braggadocio : " Um-m. Didn't I tell you
right! That is a wild country out there for wild people,
only." So Baptiste kept what was ruining the crops to him-
self.
He sent her five dollars, and this brought the most pleas-
ant letter he had yet received. It also brought one from
Glavis, who followed the same with another, which was
more to the point. It was this he wrote :
" CHICAGO, ILL., June, 3Oth, 191
"Dear friend Baptiste:
" I have your recent letter, and it gives me a great pleas-
ure to reply to it. You would have had my last letter
sooner; but I left it to Ethel to mail, and this she did not
do, so that explains the delay.
" Now we are getting along very well in Chicago, and hope
the same prevails in the West. By the papers I read where
considerable dry weather is prevailing over a part of the
West, but hope it hasn't truck your part of the country.
Appreciating, however, your disposition to come directly to
a point, I will now turn to a subject that I am sure will be
of greater interest to you than anything else, and which is
Orlean, your wife.
" It gives me a pleasure to state that she appears more re-
lieved of recent than she has since returning home. But I
will not hesitate to tell you why. It is because of you, and
you only. Always she talks of you to me and it pleases
me to talk with her concerning you, for it is with you her
mind is at all times. I fear that you cannot appreciate her
now as you were once inclined to do; but really think you
would be justified, fully so, if you did.
" Now, for instance, when you sent the money not long
ago, it gave her great delight. That you haven't forgotten
that she is your wife and have some regards, in spite of all,
322 THE HOMESTEADER
meant to her very much. She took it and bought her a pair
of shoes, with a part; the other she spent to have pictures
made so that she might send you one. And I speak truly
that to send you one was the sole object in her having them
made.
" The poor girl has suffered much agonies. It is not
her disposition to be as she has somehow been compelled to
be. I can't quite explain it, but if it was left to Orlean's
dictates, things would not be as they are. Yet, you might
not appreciate this, either. But to make it plainer : Orlean
has her mother's disposition, and that is not to a**ert her
rights. Too bad.
" Well, there was a little incident that touched me the
other day, and which I will tell you of. A certain lady was
over and seeing her with the new shoes, she asked who had
bought them. Poor Orlean ! It is certainly to be regretted
that a girl of her temperament, and kind disposition must be
placed forever in a false light. Frankly it worries me. I
trust you will understand that the true state of affairs has
not been given to the public, and here I will draw a long
line instead of saying what will be best left unsaid
But Orlean replied to the lady in these words : ' My hus-
band bought them for me/
" I wish you could understand that it is all one great mis-
take. I wish you knew the truth and the suffering this poor
girl has been put to ; for if you did you would know that she
is a good girl, and loves the man she has married with all her
soul but Orlean is not like other women. She's weak
and oh, well, I must close here because it hurts me to
tell more.
" I will, however, in conclusion say : Do not despair,
or grow bitter toward her. This is a strange world, and
strange things happen in it. Of but one thing I can a**ure
you, and that is : The right must come and rule in the
end. Yes, nothing but right can stand, all else pa**es.
Therefore, hoping that you will be patient, and trust to that
I speak of, believe me to be,
" Always your friend,
" E. M. GLAVIS."
A GREAT ASTRONOMER 323
Now it so happened that when Glavis had completed this
letter, he was called to the phone, and later into the street.
He was gone a half hour or more, and in the meantime,
Ethel came upon it, and read it. Her evil little eyes nar-
rowd to mere slits when she had finished. She had noted
what had been going on Orlean and her husband always
finding each other's company so congenial.
"Well," she muttered after a time. " The time to
strike iron is while it's hot. I'll have to get that man of
mine straightened out." Whereupon she went to her room,
and here is the letter she wrote :
CHICAGO, ILL., June 3oth, 191
" The Reverend N. J. McCarthy, Cairo, III
" DEAR FATHER : We received your letter and were glad
to hear you say that you expected to come to Chicago soon.
I was just thinking awhile ago, that if you could come soon,
real soon, it might be best. Certain matters need your at-
tention. I will not state which, but I, you know, am aware
of how you have been slandered and vilified by a certain
person that you know. Well, that person is again finding
a way to influence those who are near to us. So knowing
how equal you are to the most arduous task, I take this
means of communicating that which is most expedient.
" Hoping that your health is the best, and that we may
see you real soon, believe me to be, as ever,
" Your loving daughter,
" ETHEL."
So it happened that out in the West where the most
terrific and protracted drought the country had ever ex-
perienced was burning crops and hopes of the people in-
cluded, Jean Baptiste was made joyful.
He understood Glavis' letter ; he understood what he had
said and what he had not said. He had suffered. He saw
disaster creeping upon him from the drought rent fields.
3^4
THE HOMESTEADER
Is it, therefore, but natural that in his moments of agony
and unhappiness, shattered hopes and mortal anguish, that
he should turn to the woman who had been his mate. To
have her to talk to ; her to tell the truth to and share what
little happiness there was to be had in life, he became overly
anxious? Thereupon he wrote her, sending another check
for five dollars.
July 5th, 191
"My dear wife:
" I am writing and sending you a little more money, and
since you must be well by now, and realize how much
I need you, I am enclosing a signed but not filled-in-amount
check, with the request that you come home right away.
You will start, say the loth, that will place you in Winner
on the night of the eleventh, on Saturday, where I will
meet you.
" I will expect you, dear ; and please don't disappoint me.
I have not seen you for three months now, and that has
not been my preference. The amount will be sufficient for
your fare, and expenses please, and I will write no more ;
but should anything happen that you can not start on that
date, then write or wire me that I may know.
" With love to you, I am,
"As ever, you husband,
" JEAN."
CHAPTER VIII
N. JUSTINE MC CARTHY PREACHES A SERMON
f | ^HE text of Reverend N. J. McCarthy's sermon to
be delivered on Mothers' Day, was one of the most
-* inexhaustible. Most of his sermons he did not pre-
pare. But because this was one of the greatest days in
the annual of the church, he spent a half a day in the
preparation thereof. The title he selected for it suited
him fully, and he called it : " The Claim of the Wicked."
Into it he put all the emotion that was in him. He drew
a picture in illustrious words, of the wicked, the vicious
man, and the weak, the undefended woman, and made many
in his dark congregation burst into emotional discordance
thereby. He ridiculed the vain; he denounced, scathingly,
the hypocrite ; he made scores in his audience turn with per-
spiration at the end of their noses with conscious guilt.
Oh, never before in the years since he had mounted to the
pulpit and begun what he chose to call, " an effort for the
salvation of souls," had he preached such a soul stirring
sermon.
" Live right, live right, I say ! " he screamed at the top
of his voice. " How many of you are there as you sit here
before me, that have done evil unto thy neighbor ; have made
some one unhappy; have cast a soul into grief and eternal
anguish? Think of it! Think of what it means before
God to do evil, spite; vent your rotten deceit upon others!
I stand before you in God's glory to beseech you to desist;
to pray with you to live according to your consciences;
325
326 THE HOMESTEADER
to dispense with that evil spirit that in the end you may
face your God in peace ! Go forth hereafter in this world
of sin; go to those whom you have wronged and made
thereby to suffer, and ask forgiveness; ask there and re-
pent forthwith ! Oh, I'll tell you it is a glorious feeling to
know you have lived right," and he turned his eyes dra-
matically heavenward, and affected his audience by the
aspect. " To feel that unto others you have been just; that
you have been kind ; that you have not caused them to suffer,
but to feel happy! Think of the thrill, the sensation such
must give you, and then let your conscience be henceforth
your guide in all things ! "
When the services were over, and he had shaken hands
with all the sisters, and bowed to the brothers, a boy, the
son of the lady where he stayed, approached and handed
him a letter. He looked at it with his spectacles pinched
upon his nose, and then read it. It was from Ethel, and
we know the contents.
" So," he said easily as he read it. " The evil seeks to
influence my household in subtle matters, eh! Oh, that
man has the brain of a Caesar, but the purpose of Satan!
Drat him, and his infernal scheming! Ever since the day
I first knew him in the country four miles from this town,
he has been wont to annoy, to aggravate me and after
all my daughter, my poor daughter, and myself have done
for him!"
He began preparation to go to Chicago at the earliest
convenience. As his work was so urgent, he wrote Ethel
in reply that same day :
t My dear daughter:
" I am in receipt of your letter and make haste to reply.
To begin with, I am not surprised to hear what you wrote
MCCARTHY PREACHES A SERMON 327
in your letter. I am not surprised to hear anything these
days. Ever since your mother committed the unpardon-
able blunder of letting my poor child go straggling off into
the West, that wild West, where only the rough and the un-
civilized live, I have not been surprised with what each
day might bring. It is certainly to be regretted that when
one has sacrificed as much as I have to raise two of the
nicest girls that ever saw the light of day, a fortune hunter
should come along and bring misery into a peaceful home
as that man has done. God be merciful! But it is to be
hoped that we will see fit to adjust rightly the evil that we
are threatened with.
" I cannot come to Chicago until a week from next Thurs-
day or Friday. I am so behind with God's work, caused
by the trip we made to that land of wilderness last spring,
that I am almost compelled to be at Cairo next Sunday.
But should anything transpire that will necessitate my pres-
ence before that time, wire or write me right quick and I
will be there.
" From yours in Christ,
" N. JUSTINE MCCARTHY."
In the West Jean Baptiste got ready for the homecoming
of his wife. The small grain crop was gone. While the
drought was now burning the corn to bits, his large crop
of flax, which had been the most hopeful possible a few
days before, was showing the effect of the drought now as
well.
But with Jean Baptiste, he could almost forego anything
and be happy with the prospects. In his mind this became
so much so, until he looked forward to the day he had set
for her coming as if all the world must become righted
when she was once again near him.
Now during these months he had only his grandmother
for company, and her he wanted to send home. But she
would not leave him, always willing to wait until Orlean
328 THE HOMESTEADER
came back. During these long lonesome days he found a
strange solace in talking to his horses. There, for in-
stance, was John and Humpy, the mules that Orlean had
driven her father out to their home with when he had come
on his first visit. He told them that she was coming back
now, and to him they appeared to answer. They had be-
come round and plump since work had closed, and hav-
ing fully shed their winter's hair, and not yet become sun-
burned their dapple gray coating made them very attractive.
He rearranged the house, bought a few pieces of much
needed furniture, and made elaborate preparations for the
homecoming. At last the day arrived.
It was Saturday morning. The wind had died down, and
gave threats of rain for the first time in six long, hot dry
weeks. He hitched John and Humpy to the spring wagon,
and with a touch of his old enthusiasm, left his grandmother
cheerfully but for reasons of his own, did not tell her
that he was going for Orlean. Perhaps he wished to sur-
prise her, at least he did not tell her.
He drove to Winner more filled with hope than he had
been for months.
The town was filled that day, and because there was an
appearance of rain in the air, which could yet save much
of the corn, there was an air of hope and cheer abroad.
Jean thought to board a train and ride a few miles, and
return on the evening train on which she would be. Then
he decided he would wait for her and be ready to drive
directly home. As the train was due shortly after nine
p. M., he estimated that he could drive the distance in two
hours; thereby getting to her claim before midnight and
they could spend Sunday together celebrating their happy
reunion.
He had longed to talk with her and grieve with her
MCCARTHY PREACHES A SERMON 329
over their loss in the fine little boy who never knew his
parents. He thought of all this and of the happy days they
had spent together the summer before. He felt the love
and the devotion she had given him then. He wondered
sometimes whether he had ever loved her as he had
dreamed he would love his wife ; but this thought had ever
been replaced by his sense of duty. Marriage was sacred;
it was the institution of good; he always disliked to see
people part. He felt then, as he had ever felt before, that
nothing but infidelity could ever make him leave a woman
that he had married. He was still an enemy of divorce.
He recalled how they had gone to the Catholic church once
in Gregory, and had heard a learned priest discourse on
divorce and its attendant evils. Never before had any-
thing so impressed him. How plain the priest had made his
audience understand why the church did not tolerate di-
vorce. How decidedly he had shown that divorce could and
would be avoided if the people could be raised to feel that
" until d**h do us part/' And Baptiste and the woman he
had married had discussed it afterward. They had found
books and stories in the magazines to which they subscribed,
and had read deeper into it, and had been united in their
opinion on the subject. Divorce was bad; it was evil; it
was avoidable in almost every case. Then why should
it be?
They had agreed that duty toward each other was the
first essential toward combating it; that selfishness was a
thing that so often precipitated it. In all its phases he had
discussed it with her, and in the end, she had agreed with
him. And down in their hearts they had felt that such
would never be necessitated in the union they had formed.
So he lived again through the life that had been his, he
did not allow his mind to dwell on the evil that had come
330 THE HOMESTEADER
into and made his life unhappy; made his days and nights
and very existence a misery. He did not, as he lingered on
the platform of that little western station, think or dwell
on the things that were best forgotten. For a time he be-
came Jean Baptiste of old. Return to him then did all that
old buoyancy, all that vigor and great hope, all that was his
when he had longed for the love that should be every man's.
,And she had been away on a visit, to recover from the
illness that the delivery had given her. He was sorry for
their loss, and he would talk with her this night as they
drove along the trail. They would talk of that and all they
had lost, and they would talk of that which was to come.
Oh, it would be beautiful! Just to have a wife, the wife
that gives all her love and thought to making her husband
happy. And he would try to give her all that was in him.
And his wife would soon be with him in his arms, and
they would be happy as they had once been !
There it was ! From down the track the train whistled.
It was coming, and his wait was to an end. Near he saw
John and Humpy whom she had been delighted to drive.
They were groomed for the occasion, and were anxious to
go home. Tonight they would haul her and hear her voice.
He rose suddenly to his feet when at last the light fell
upon the rails and he could see the engine. The roar of
the small locomotive was approaching. Around him were
others whose wives had been away. They, too, were come
to meet their loved ones. Some were alone while around
the others were children all waiting to meet those dear to
their hearts.
The train came to a stop at last, and the people emerged
from the coaches. There was the usual caressing as loved
ones greeted loved ones. Little cries of "mama" and
" papa " were heard, and for a moment there was quite a
MCCARTHY PREACHES A SERMON 331
hubbub of exclamations. " Oh, John/' and " Jim " with
the attendant kiss. In the meantime he looked expectantly
down the line to where the car doors opened, and not seeing
the one for whom he was looking, he presently jumped
aboard the first car, and pa**ed through it. It was empty
and he estimated that she would be in the rear car. It was
the chair car, and the one in which he naturally would ex-
pect her to ride. He pa**ed into it bravely, with his lips
ready to greet her. The last of the pa**engers were filing
out. The car was empty, and his wife had not come.
Slowly he pa**ed out of the car as the brakeman rushed
in to change his apparel for the street. Across the street
was the team waiting. They seemed to know him before he
came in sight and they greeted him as though they thought
that she had come, too.
He got slowly into the wagon, and soon they were hur-
rying homeward.
CHAPTER IX
WHAT THE PEOPLE WERE SAYING
NJ. McCARTHY arrived in the city late on Friday
afternoon and was met by both his daughters.
Ethel had, of course, read the letters Jean Bap-
tiste had written his wife requesting her to return home, and
so she took Orlean with her to meet her father, instead of
permitting her to go to the station to return to the husband
who had asked for her. The Elder was due in about the
same time the train that would have taken Orlean West was
due out.
"Ah-ha," he cried as he stepped from the car. "And
both my babies have come to meet their father! That is
the way my children act. Always obedient to their father.
Yes, yes. Never have contraried or disobeyed him," a
compliment he meant for Orlean, but Ethel could share it
this once, although the times she had contraried or sauced
him would have been hard to recount.
Upon arriving home, they met Glavis just returning from
work, and he was also greeted in the same effusive manner
by the Reverend.
" And how is everything about the home, my son ? "
asked the Elder in a big voice. At the same time he eyed
Glavis critically. He had come to the city with and for a pur-
pose, and that purpose was to put down early the intimacy
that had been reported as growing up between Glavis and
Baptiste. So he had planned to attend to it diplomatically.
" Why everything is alright, father," glabbed Glavis,
332
WHAT THE PEOPLE WERE SAYING 333
grinning broadly and showing his teeth. He was ever af-
fected by the other's lordlyism, and he had never tried
matching his wits with those of the other's in an extraordi-
nary manner. The Elder was aware of this, and it made
him rather grateful. However, he regarded the other
closely as Glavis stepped about in quick attention to his
possible needs or desires. That was as he had hoped to
have both his sons-in-law, wherefore his team would have
been complete. It made him sigh now regretfully when he
recalled how he had failed in the one case. He gave up
momentarily to a siege of self pity. How different it
would have been had Jean Baptiste chosen to admire
him as Glavis apparently did. But and he straightened
up perceptibly when it occurred to him, instead of being
as Glavis was, the other had chosen to be independent, to
call him "Judge," "Colonel," "Reverend," and "Elder"
and any other vulgar title he happened to think of on the
moment. Moreover, he had also chosen to ask him a thou-
sand questions about things he did not understand that
was the trouble, though the Elder had not seen it that way
asking him questions about things he did not understand.
The Elder saw it as " impudent." He saw and regarded
that persistency which had been the making of the man
in Jean Baptiste as " hardheadedness." He regarded that
tenacity to stick to anything in the other, sufficient to char-
acterize " a bulldog."
" M-m, my boy," he said now to Glavis. " You are cer-
tainly a fine young man, just fine, fine, fine ! " He paused
briefly while Glavis could swallow the flattery, and then
went on : " Never in the thirty years I have been a min-
ister of the gospel and been compelled to be away from
home in God's work, has it ever been like it has since you
married Ethel. I simply do not have to worry at all now ;
334 T HE HOMESTEADER
whereas, I used to have to worry all the time." Whereupon
he paused again, affected a lordly sigh, and permitted Glavis
to become inflated with vanity before going on.
" Now, before you married Ethel, I was a little dubious."
He always said this for a purpose. " I am so well in-
formed and understand men so well, and the ways of men,
until I was hesitant to risk trusting you with my daughter's
love. You will understand how it is when you have raised
children with the care I have exercised in the training of my
precious darlings. A man cannot be too careful, and for
that reason, I was dubious regarding her marrying you.
Besides, we, I think you understand, are among the best col-
ored people of the city of Chicago, and the State of Illi-
nois, so it behooved me to exercise discretion."
" Yes, father," Glavis swallowed. He felt then the dig-
nity of his position as a member of such a distinguished
family.
" Well," went on the other, " you know how much grief
I must be enduring when I see this poor baby," pointing to
Orlean, " as she is. The finest girl that ever trod the earth,
and my heart always, and then to see her dragged
down to this, and all this attendant gossip, grieves my old
heart," whereupon big tears rolled down his dark face. All
those about sighed in sympathy and were silent.
" Oh, it's a shame, a shame, my father, it is a shame ! "
he cried between sobs. " Oh, his immortal soul ! Come in
here like a thief in the night, and with his dirty tongue just
deliberately stole her from her good home her an innocent
child to go out into that wilderness and sacrifice her poor
soul to make him rich ! " He ended with the eloquence that
his years of preaching had given him. He shed more tears
of mortification, and resumed :
" And my wife, her own mother, was a party to it! " He
WHAT THE PEOPLE WERE SAYING 335
was k**ing two birds witn one stone now. Nothing was
more gratifying to him than to seize every possible oppor-
tunity to place all his failures, all his shortcomings, all his
blunders, and last, but not least, all the results of his evil
nature, on the shoulders of his little helpless wife. For
years aye, since he had taken her as wife, had it been
so. Never had she shared even in reflected light the
honors that had come to him. She did as he requested,
and endeavored to please him in every way. The love he
had given her was an affected love. It was not from his
heart. He had given her little that was due her as his
wife.
" I went out there," he went on, " to find this child lying
there in the bed with only his sister and grandmother to
look after her. The doctor was coming twice a day, but
that man asked him, when she could but open her eyes,
whether such was necessary ; and that when it wasn't, then
to come but once. I sat there by her bed, I, her poor old
father, and nursed her back to life from the brink of d**h,
the d**h that surely would have come had it not been for
me. And when she was well enough, I went to all the ex-
pense of bringing her out of that wilderness back to her
home and health.
" And for that, for all that I have sacrificed, what am I
given ? Credit ? Well, I guess not ! I am being slandered ;
I'm being vilified by evil people and right in my own
church! Think of it! For thirty years I have preached
the law of the gospel and saved so many souls from hell,
and now, now when my poor old head its white and my
soul is grieved with the evil that has come into my home,
I am vilified !
" No longer than last week, I was approached by a
woman, a woman purporting to be a child of God, but who
336 THE HOMESTEADER
tips to me and said : ' Reverend Mac., what is the matter
with your daughter and the man she married? I hear they
are parted ? ' I was so put out that I did not attempt to
answer, but just regarded her coldly. But did that stop
her mouth ? Well, I guess not ! She went right on as flip
as she could be : ' Well, you know, Reverend, there is all
kinds of reports about to various effects. One is that you
didn't like him because of his independent ways, and be-
cause he was successful, and he didn't take much stock in
you because he didn't like the way you had lived. And then
there's other reports that he made an enemy of you be-
cause he didn't praise and flatter you, and that you did it
to " get even." They say that you had your daughter to
sign her husband's name to a check for a large sum of money
and used it to slip away from him and so on. But the one
thing that everybody seems to be agreed upon is, that there
was nothing whatever wrong between the couple, and that
they had never quarreled and never had thought of part-
ing. That all the trouble is between you and your son-in-
law/
" I had stood her gab about as long as I could, I was
so angry. So all I could say was : ' Woman, in the
name of heaven, get you away from me before I forget I
am a minister of the gospel and you a woman ! ' But be-
fore she had even observed how angry I was, she ups and
says : ' Why, now, Elder, as much as you love the ladies,
and then you'd abuse a poor woman like me,' and right
there, after such a tonguing as she had let out, fell to
crying !
" Those are some of the things I must endure, my son,
in this work. I must endure slander, vilification, misunder-
standing, and all that. It's terrible."
WHAT THE PEOPLE WERE SAYING 337
" People are certainly ungrateful," cried Ethel at this
point. "And they don't try to learn the truth about any-
thing before they start their rotten gossip. More, they
have nerve with it! A certain woman stopped me on the
street downtown the other day, a woman who claims to
have been my friend and a friend of our family for years.
And what do you think she had the nerve to say to me?
Well, here's what it was, and I hope she said it: 'Why,
Ethel, how is Orlean ? ' I replied that she was getting bet-
ter. She says : ' Is she sick physically, or mentally ? ' I
said : ' I don't understand you ? ' She looked at me kind
of funny as she replied, ' Why, don't you know, Ethel Glavis,
that it's the talk around Chicago everybody is saying it,
that you and your father went out West there, and made
her forge his name to a check for a large sum of money
and for spite and spite only, took poor Orlean away from
her husband and came back here and spread all this gossip
about her being sick and neglected when the doctor had
come to see her every day? I know Jean Baptiste and I
have not lived in this world for thirty-five years and not
able yet to understand people. And Jesus Christ couldn't
make me believe that Jean Baptiste would mistreat Orlean.
Besides, all this talk comes from you and your father.
Orlean has said nothing about it. She is just simple and
easy like her mother and will take anything off you and
your father. Now, it's none of my business; but I am a
friend of humanity, and I want to say this, that anybody
that is doing what you and your father are doing will suffer
and burn in hell some day for it ! ' And she flies away from
me and about her business."
" It's outrageous," the Reverend cried. " We hardly
dare show our heads on the street; to greet old friends for
338 THE HOMESTEADER
fear we are going to be ridiculed and abused for what we
have done."
" It's certainly an ungrateful world, that's all," agreed
Ethel.
CHAPTER X
IT DID NOT rain the night Jean Baptiste went to Win-
ner to meet the wife who failed to come, but the pro-
tracted drought continued on into July. For three
weeks into this month it burned everything in its path.
From Canada to Kansas, the crops were almost burned to
a crisp, while in the country of our story proper, only the
winter wheat, and rye, and some of the oats matured.
And this was confined principally to the county where Jean
Baptiste had homesteaded. Here a part of a crop of small
grain was raised, but everything else was a failure.
His flaxseed crop in Tripp County which had given some
promise if rain should come in time, had now fallen along
with all else, and when he saw it next, after his trip to
Winner, it was a scattered ma** of sickly stems, with army
worms everywhere cutting the stems off at the ground.
The whole country as a result, was facing a financial panic.
Interest would be hard to raise and this, in view of the
fact that the year before had seen less than half a crop
produced, was not a cheerful prospect. With Baptiste, and
others who had gone in heavily, disaster became a possi-
bility; and, unless a radical change intervened, disaster ap-
peared as an immediate probability.
During these days there was little to do. He had har-
vested what little crop he had raised, and having no haul-
ing or anything, to engage him he found going fishing his
only diversion. And it was at about this time that he re-
330
340 THE HOMESTEADER
ceived a letter. It bore the postmark of the town where
he had met his wife in the beginning, and read :
"My dear Jean:
" I thought I would be bold this once and write you, since
it is a fact that you are on my mind a great deal. You will,
of course, remember me when I mention that it was in my
home that you met your wife. Rather, the woman you
married, whom, I suppose, from what I hear, has not proven
very faithful. I daresay that your trip to my home that
day was the beginning of this episode. But it is of him, the
Reverend, her father, of whom I wish to speak.
" He used to speak of you. You see this town is in his
itinerary, and I therefore, see him quite often. In fact, he
is quite well known to me, and visits my home, and has been
here recently. He was here just a week ago yesterday
before going into Chicago, and I asked about you. He ups
with his head when I did so, and I estimated that the trou-
ble that is supposed to be between you and Orlean, is possi-
bly between him and yourself.
" Well, you see, it is like this. After you married Orlean,
we could hear nothing from him but you. You were the
most wonderful, the most vigorous, the wealthiest in fact
you were everything according to his point of view. He
preached of you in the pulpit; he set you up as the stand-
ard and model for other young men to follow. Therefore,
you must imagine our surprise when almost over night
you had changed so perceptibly. From everything a man
should be or try to be, as a young man, you became the
embodiment of all a man should not be. Now it is rather
singular. Apparently the Elder must have been possessed
with very poor judgment to begin with, or you must have
become in a few weeks an awfully bad man.
" Well, I don't know what to say ; but in as much as I
have known you some little time before you met Orlean
in the house where I write this, I cannot conceive or realize
how you could change so quickly. But what is more to the
point I have known the august Elder even longer than
I have you know him since I have been large enough to
" UNTIL THEN " 34 !
know anybody, and I have known him always to be as he
is yet. One wonders how such men can have the con-
science to preach and tell people to live right, to do right,
so they may be prepared to die right. But somehow we
take the Elder's subtle conduct down this way as a matter
of course. We think no more I daresay not as much -^
of what he does in that way than we would the most com-
mon man in town. But it is too bad that his daughter must
suffer for his evil. Orlean is a good girl, but she has been
raised to regard that old father as a criterion of righteous-
ness, regardless of the life he does, and always has lived.
But withal, honestly, I do feel so sorry for you. I am
aware that this letter and the nature of its contents is un-
solicited, but it is and has been in my heart to say it. I
really feel that it is no more than honest to protest against
in some manner, the wrong that man is practicing. But to
the point.
" The last time he was here, and mama asked him about
you, and he was made angry because of it, he remarked
among the discredits he endeavored to pay the country
and you, that there was no church for her to attend. I re-
marked that you had said you attended the white churches.
Thereupon he became very demonstrative. He said you
did attend the white churches, and had taken her, but that
you went to the Catholic church where there was, of course,
no religion in the sense to which she had been raised. I
hardly knew how to reply to or counter this, but I thought
that if you had, and she had belonged to the Catholic
church, how easy it would be now for you to lay your
cause before the priest and have it considered. But if you
did such before the ministers of his church oh, well, I
am saying too much.
" And only now have I arrived at the event I choose to
relate. It is always so when one chooses to gossip, to for-
get the things that may be of real interest. Well, word has
come that the Elder was taken violently ill in Chicago the
other day, and grave fears are held of his recovery. I
hear that he is very low, and perhaps the Lord might see
fit to remove a stumbling block. . . .
342
THE HOMESTEADER
" I must close. I am sure I have bored you with such a
long letter and so much gossip ; but I have at least satisfied
my own conscience. So hoping that all comes out well with
you in the end, believe me to be,
" Your dear friend,
" JESSIE MANSFIELD."
It so happened that the exhausted Jean Baptiste turned
to the hope that illness might claim his enemy, and he ex-
changed letters with Jessie Mansfield, regularly, and after
a time, found her correspondence a great diversion.
And so the summer pa**ed. Near the last days of July
the severe drought was broken, but too late to benefit the
crops which had been so badly burned by the drought. He
managed to get considerable land into winter wheat, and the
fall came on with only a crop of debts and overdue bills
that made him regard the mail box dubiously.
Winter followed, one of the coldest ever known, and
spring was approaching when Jean Baptiste decided to make
his last attempt for a reunion with his wife.
In all the months that had followed his previous trip he
had planned that if he could only see her, could only see her
and be alone with her for a day, they would abridge the
chasm that had been forced because of the Reverend. That
one had not obliged him by dying by any means, but had
regained his health in a measure, so Baptiste read in the
letters he received from Jessie. However, she wrote, it
seemed that something had come over him, for he was not
the same. He had lost much of his great flesh, wore a hag-
gard expression, and seemed to be weighted down with
some strange burden.
It was April again when at last he took the train for
Chicago, for the last time, he decided, on the same mission
that had taken him there twice before. He planned now, to
" UNTIL THEN
343
exercise more discretion. Inasmuch as the Reverend was
as a rule, always out of the city, he trusted to fate that he
would be out this time. The bitterness that had grown up
in his heart toward the Elder, he feared, might make him
forget to observe the law of the land if he chanced to en-
counter that adversary. So when he arrived in the great
city, he went about the task of seeing his wife under cover.
He first visited a barber shop. He happened into one
near Van Buren on State Street, where lady barbers did the
trimming. He did not find them efficient, and was glad
when he left the chair. He decided that he would act
through Mrs. Pruitt, who he had heard from the fall be-
fore, and who was being charged along with Mrs. Mc-
Carthy, as being the cause of all the trouble.
He had not written her that he was coming, calculating
that it would be best for her not to have too long to think
it over. Upon leaving the barber shop, he ventured up
State Street, through the notorious section of the " old
tenderloin " to Taylor Street, and presently turned and dis-
covered himself in the Polk' and Dearborn Street station.
He found that slipping about the street under cover like a
sneak thief was much against his grain, and he was nervous.
In all the months he had contemplated the trip, he had taken
great care not to let Ethel or any of the family know in
advance of his coming. He wanted his wife. The agony
of living alone, the dreaded suspense, the long journey and
the gradual breaking down of what he had built up, played
havoc with his ne'rves, and he was trembling perceptibly
when he took a seat in the station. He encountered a man
upon arrival there, whom he had known years before, and
because he had been so intent on keeping out of sight, the
recognition by the other frightened him. He managed to
control himself with an effort, and greeted the other
344 THE HOMESTEADER
casually. However, he was relieved when he recalled that
the other knew nothing of his relations not even that he
had ever married.
After he felt his nerves sufficiently calm, he ventured to
the telephone booth, and secured Mrs. Pruitt's number. He
paused briefly before calling her to steady his nerves, and
then got her in due time.
" Hello, Mrs. Pruitt," He called.
"'Hello," came back, and he caught the surprise in her
voice. " Is it you?" she asked, and he noted that her voice
was trembling.
" Yes," he called back nervously. " Do you recognize
my voice ? "
" Yes," he heard, and the uneasiness with which she an-
swered discouraged him. He had great faith in Mrs.
Pruitt. Notwithstanding the gossip that connected her
name with the Elder's she was regarded as a woman of un-
usual ability and mental force. She was speaking again in
a very low tone of voice. Almost in a whisper.
" Listen," said she. " Call this same number in about ten
minutes, understand? Yes. Do that. I'll explain later."
He sat before the clock now, in the station, and watched
the minutes pa**. They seemed like hours. He was now
aware that the strain of these months of grief and eternal
mortification, had completely unnerved him. His compos-
ure was like that of an escaped convict with the guards
near. His heart beat so loud until he looked around in cold
fear wondering whether those near heard it. And all the
while he sat in this nervous quandary, he kept repeating
over, and over again : " Mrs. Pruitt, Mrs. Pruitt surely
even you have not gone back on me, too. Oh, Mrs. Pruitt,
you can't understand what it means to me, what I have suf-
fered, the agony, the disgrace the hell! " He regarded
" UNTIL THEN "
345
the telephone booth before him and his eyes were like
gla**. All the busy station was a hubbub. After what
seemed to him an eternal waiting, he was slightly relieved
to see that fifteen minutes had pa**ed, and he got up and
slipped back into the booth and called Mrs. Pruitt.
" Yes, I'm here, Jean," she called, " and the reason I
told you to call later was that your people your father-
in-law is right here in the house at this moment. He was
sitting right here by the 'phone when you called awhile ago,
so now you understand."
" Oh," he cried, his head swimming, and everything grew
dark around him. After one long year of agony, of eternal
damnation, one long year of waiting and suspense, he had
banked his chances, and encountered his enemy the first
thing. Right under the telephone he had been ! Jean Bap-
tiste who had once been a strong, brave and fearless man,
was now trembling from head to foot.
"Now, Jean," he heard Mrs. Pruitt. "I understand
everything. You are here to see and get Orlean if you
can; but you want to do so without them knowing any-
thing about it, and I agree with you. You wish me to help
you, and I will. I'll do anything to right this terrible wrong,
but give me time to plan, to think! In the meantime, he
is so near that it is not safe for me to talk with you any
longer. So you go somewhere, and come back, say: in
about an hour. If he is still here, I will say: 'this is the
wrong number.' Get it ? "
" Yes, Mrs. Pruitt," he replied, controlling the storm of
weakness that was pa**ing over him. " I get you."
" Very well, until then."
" Until then," he called, and hung up the receiver.
CHAPTER XI
JEAN BAPTISTS had come eight hundred miles after
one terrible year, to the feet of his father-in-law, and
when he realized that such was the case upon hanging
up the receiver, his composure was gone. Bitter agony be-
yond description overwhelmed him when he came from the
booth at the end of his brief conversation with Mrs. Pruitt.
Never in his life had he been as miserable as he now was.
It seemed to him that in the next hour he must surely die
of agony. He found a place in the station where he was
very much alone, and for a time gave up to the grief and
misery that had come over him.
" Unless I find some diversion, I will be unfit for any-
thing but suicide ! " he declared, trying to see before him.
Out in the West all was wrong. He was now loaded down
with debt. His interest was unpaid, also his taxes. His
creditors for smaller amounts he had not even called upon to
say that he was unable to meet his financial obligations. He
had tried being blind to everything but the instance of his
wife. He had just deliberately cast everything aside until
he could have her. That was it. He had made himself
believe that only was it necessary to see her alone, and to-
gether they would fly back to the West. He had not
reckoned that his arch enemy would be lying like a great dog
right at the door he was to enter.
And now, before he was hardly in the city, he was all but
confronted with his hypocritical bulk.
" Oh, I can stand it no longer, no, no, no ! " he cried in
346
" IT'S THE WRONG NUMBER " 347
agonizing tones. The world to him was lost. The strong
shall be the weakest when it becomes so, it is said; and
surely Jean Baptiste had come to it in this hour. He had
no courage, he had no hope, he had no plans.
After minutes in which he reached nowhere; minutes
when all the manhood in him crept out, and went away to
hide, he staggered to his feet. He straightened his body,
and also his face; he became an automaton. He had de-
cided to seek artificial stimulation. Thereupon he made his
way into the main waiting room. He looked about him
as one in a daze, and finally turned his face toward the en-
trance of the station. When there he had arrived, he hesi-
tated, and looked from right to left. As he did so, his mind
went back to some years before when he first saw the city,
and had gone about its streets in search of work. A block
or two away he recalled Clark Street, that part of it which
had been notorious. He recalled where one could go and
see almost anything he wished.
Now, he was a man, was Jean Baptiste, a man who had
loved a wife as men should ; a man who had found a wife
and a wife's comfort all he had longed for in life. But that
one he had taken as wife had fled. She had left him to the
world, and all that was worldly. He was breaking down
under the strain, and his manhood was for the time gone.
He became as men are, as men have been, and he was at a
place where he did not care. He was alone in the world,
the prairies had not been good to him, and he felt he must
have rest, oh, rest.
He stepped from the station, and held himself erect with
an effort. He turned to his left, and walked or rather
ambled along. He did not know in particular where he was
going, but going somewhere he was. He kept his face
turned to the west, and after many steps, he came to a
348 THE HOMESTEADER
side street. It was a narrow street, and he recalled it
vaguely. It was called Custom House Place, and its repu-
tation for the worst, was equalled by none. Even from
where he stood the sound of ragtime music came to his
ears from a gorgeous saloon across its narrow way.
He listened to it without feeling, no thrill or inspiration
did it give him. He turned into this street after some min-
utes, and ambled along its narrow walkway. As he went
along, from force of habit, he studied the various forms of
vice about. In and out of its many ways, he saw the
familiar women, the painted faces and the gorgeous eyes.
He came presently to where Negroes stood before a saloon.
They, too, were of the type he understood. Characters with
soft hands, and soft skin, and he knew they never worked.
He turned into it. A bar was before him, and although for
liquor he had never cared especially, he could drink. He
went forward to the bar and ordered a co*ktail. He drank
it slowly, as he observed himself, all haggard and worn in
the bar mirror, and as he did so, he could see what was pa**-
ing behind him. A man sat in a small ante room near a
door, and he observed that men would pa** by this man to
a door opening obviously to a stairway beyond. He won-
dered what was beyond. He ordered another co*ktail, and
drank it slowly, studying those who pa**ed back and forth
through the door that the man opened with a spring. He
decided to venture thereforth.
When he had drank his co*ktail, he wandered toward the
door also, as if he had been accustomed to entering it. The
door opened before him and he entered. He found him-
self in a hallway, with a flight of stairs before him, and a
closed and locked door on the stairway. He stood regard-
ing it, and espied a bell presently. This he approached and
touched.
" IT'S THE WRONG NUMBER "
349
The door was opened straightway and the flight of stairs
continued to the landing above. He looked up and beheld
a woman standing at the top of the stairs, who had seem-
ingly opened the door by pressing a bu*ton. He entered and
approached her. As he did so, she turned and led him into
a small room, then into a larger room, where sat many other
women. He was directed to a chair, and became seated.
He regarded all the women about wonderingly ; for to him,
none had said a word. He might as well have been in a
house of tombstones, for they said naught to him, and did
not even look at him.
He sat where he was for perhaps two minutes. Then he
arose and walked to the door which he had entered, and
turned to look back into the room. It was empty, every
woman had disappeared without a sound in a twinkling, all
except the woman who had admitted him. She stood be-
hind, regarding him noncommittally.
" What is this place ? " he inquired of her. She looked
up at him, and he thought he caught something queer in
her eyes. But she replied in a pleasant tone:
" Why, it is anything."
" Oh," he echoed. She continued to stand, not urging
him to go, nor to stay. He looked at her closely, and saw
that she was a white woman, perhaps under thirty.
" A sort of cabaret? " he suggested.
" Yes," she replied, in the same pleasant tone of voice.
" A sort of cabaret."
" So you serve drinks here, then ? "
" Yes, we serve drinks here."
"Where?"
" Well," and she turned and he followed her to another
room apparently the abode of some one. Included in the
furniture there was a table and two chairs, and while he
350 THE HOMESTEADER
became seated in one, she took the other and her eyes asked
what he wished.
" A co*ktail," he said.
She went to a tube and called the order.
" And something for yourself," he said.
She did as he directed, and duplicated his order. She
came back to where he sat by the table and sat before him,
without words, but a pleasant demeanor.
" Here's luck," he said, when the drinks had been
brought up.
" Same to you," she responded, and both drank.
He told her then to bring some beer, and when the order
had been given, he bethought himself of his errand. In-
stantly he became oblivious of all about him, and the old
agony again returned. He stretched across the table, and
was not aware that he groaned. He did not hear the woman
who stood over him when she returned with the beer. He
was living the life of a few minutes before, misery.
" Here is your beer," she said, but he made no move.
Presently she touched him lightly upon the shoulder, where-
upon he sat erect, and looked around him bewilderingly.
" Your beer," she said, and he regarded her oddly.
" What is the matter ? " she said now, and regarded him
inquiringly.
" I was thinking," he replied.
"Of something unusual," she ventured.
" Yes," he answered, wearily. " Of something unusual/'
She observed him more closely. She saw his haggard
face ; his tired, worn expression, and beneath it all she
caught that sad distraction that had robbed him of his com-
posure. In some way she really wished to help him. Here
was an unusual case. She, this woman who was for sale,
became seated again, and regarding him kindly she said:
"IT'S THE WRONG NUMBER" 351
" You are in trouble."
He sighed but said no word.
" In great trouble."
He sighed again, and handed her the money for the beer.
" I wish I could help you," she said thoughtfully and her
eyes fell upon the table. His hat lay there, and she saw
therein the name of the town where it had been purchased.
" You don't live here ? " she suggested then.
" No," he mumbled, trying to dispel the heaviness that was
over him. If he could just forget. That was it. If he
could forget and be normal; be as he had been until that
evil genius had come back again into his life. " No," he
repeated, " I don't live here."
"And you you have just come?" she said. Her
voice was kind. "Is it it a woman?"
He nodded slowly.
" Oh," she echoed. " Your wife, perhaps ? "
He nodded again.
"Oh!"
They were both silent then for some moments; he
struggling to forget, she wondering at the strange circum-
stances.
" Has some one come between you ? " she inquired after
a time.
" Yes," he whispered.
"Oh, that's bad," she uttered sympathetically. "It is
bad to come between a man and his wife. And you " she
paused briefly then bit her lip in slight vexation, then ob-
served him with head bent before her. It was rather un-
usual, and that was what had vexed her. Could it mean
anything what a woman like her thought of or sympathized.
Yet, she was moved by the condition of the stranger before
her. She felt she had to say something. " And you
352 THE HOMESTEADER
you don't look like a bad fellow at all." He looked up at
her with expressionless eyes. She returned the look and
then went on:
" You have such honest, frank and truthful eyes. Hon-
estly, I feel sorry for you."
" Oh, thank you," he said gratefully then. To have some
one even such a woman look at him so kindly, to say
words of condolence was like water to the thirsty. He
thought then again of that other, and the father that was
hers, who at that moment sat in the company of another
man's wife. He recalled that Mrs. Pruitt said that he had
been in town for several days and every day since he had
been there. Naturally. This man courted another man's
wife openly, yet was ready with all the force in him, the
moment Jean Baptiste sought his God-given mate, to rise
up in pious dignity to oppose him. Wrath became his now,
and his eyes narrowed. In the moment he wanted to go
forth and slay the beast who was making this. He rose
slightly. She saw it, and her eyes widened. She reached
out and touched his hand where it gripped the table.
" Please don't do that" she said, and in her voice there
was a slight appeal.
He regarded her oddly, and then understood. He sank
back listlessly in the seat, and sighed.
" Poor boy," she said. " Some one has done you a ter-
rible wrong. It is strange how the world is formed, and
the ill fortune it brings to some. I can just see that some
one has done you a terrible wrong, and that when you rose
now you would have gone forth and k**ed him."
He regarded her with gratitude in his eyes, and the ex-
pression upon his face told her that she had spoken truly.
" But try to refrain from that desire. Oh, it's justifi-
able it seems. But then when we stop to think that we will
" IT'S THE WRONG NUMBER "
353
never feel the same afterward about it, it's best to try to
forget our grief. You are young, and there are worlds
of nice girls who would love and make for you happiness.
Some day that will be yours in spite of all. So please, just
think and don't k** the one who has done this."
" You are awfully kind," he whispered. He felt rather
odd. Of all places, this was not where men came to be
consoled, indeed. But herein he had gotten what he could
not get on Vernon Avenue where church members were sup-
posed to dwell. He arose now. . . . He reached out his
hand and she took it. " I don't quite understand what has
happened, but you have helped me." He reached into his
pocket and withdrew some coins, and this he handed her.
She drew back her hand, but he insisted.
" Yes, take it. / understand your life here. But you
have helped me more than you can think. I was awfully
discouraged when I came. Almost was I to something
rash. Take it and try to remember that you have helped
some one." He squeezed her hand, and she cast her
eyes down, and as she did so, he saw a tear fall to the floor.
He turned quickly then and left.
He retraced his steps toward the Polk Street station, and
to the booth he had been inside of an hour before. He
called Mrs. Pruitt, and after a time came back over the wire,
in a low, meaning voice :
" It's the wrong number."
CHAPTER XII
MRS. PRUITT EFFECTS A PLAN
HE had some friends who lived on Federal Street and
to their home he decided to go. He thought of
the day when he had married. The man ran on
the road. His wife he had known long, her name being
Mildred, Mildred Merrill. She had been invited to his
wedding but had not attended. When he had seen her a
year later, and had asked her why she had not attended, she
replied that she had been unable to purchase a suitable
wedding gift.
Her parents had been lifelong friends of his parents, and
he had been provoked because she stayed away. She and
her husband had been quietly married in the court house and
had since lived happily together.
" Oh, Jean," Mildred cried, when the door opened and she
saw his face. " We have just been talking of you," as she
swung the door wide for him to enter.
" Mama," she called, " here is Jean Baptiste ! " Her
mother came hurriedly forward, grasped his hand, and ex-
changed a meaning look with Mildred.
" And you are back again/' she said as all three became
seated.
" Yes," he said, and sighed.
" It's awful," commented her mother.
" Isn't it the truth, oh, my God, how can those people
be so mean ? " cried Mildred.
354
MRS. PRUITT EFFECTS A PLAN
355
" He's in Chicago," said her mother.
" Yes," said Mildred, " and I'll bet right over at Mrs.
Pruitt's every day."
" He wouldn't be likely to be home," commented her
mother.
" He returns as a rule along about midnight." The two
laughed then, and regarded the man.
" You ought to give her up, Jean," said Mildred. " A
woman that has no more will power than she has, isn't fit
isn't worth the grief you are spending."
" Yes, Mildred, it does seem so, but she is my wife, and
somehow I feel that I should give her every chance."
" The case is unusual," commented her mother again.
" The man has a reputation for such actions rather, he
has been known to persecute, and does persecute the preach-
ers that are under his dictation in the church. But that
such would extend to the possible happiness of his own
children ! Indeed, it hardly seems credible."
" Vanity, mama. Reverend McCarthy is regarded as the
most vain man in the church. Jean here has never flat-
tered him tickled his vanity, and this is the price he's
paying."
" Well," said her mother. " Such as this can't keep up.
Some day he's going to be called on to pay and the debt
will be large."
" Understand that he aspires for the bishopric in the
convention next month," said Mildred.
"Shucks!" exclaimed her mother. "That's all bluff.
He seeks to grab off a little cheap notoriety around Chicago
before he goes to conference. There is as much chance of
his being even entered as a candidate for the office as there
is of me."
" That's what I think," from Mildred.
356 THE HOMESTEADER
" What are your plans, Jean? " her mother now inquired
of Baptiste who sat in a sort of stupor listening to their
talk.
" I am trying to get to see her without the old man's
knowledge." And he told them of his conversation with
Mrs. Pruitt.
" Isn't that a wife, now ! " exclaimed Mildred. " Afraid
to meet the man she has married."
" Orlean and old lady McCarthy have no voice in that
house," said her mother. " First it's the Reverend, and
then follows Ethel."
" And it hardly seems credible when one knows how he
has always flirted with other women," said Mildred.
" I asked Orlean the last time I saw her," said Mildred
again, "what was the matter; was Jean mean to her, or
had he neglected her. She said: No, that he was just as
good to her as he could be, but that she could not stay out
in that wild country; that it would impair her health, and
she just couldn't stay out there, and that was all."
" Reverend McCarthy," said her mother.
" Of course. But that is one thing I have observed.
They have never got her to lie as they have done, and say
that he mistreated her." From Mildred.
" It's to be regretted that she has not more will to stand
up for what she knows to be right," said her mother.
" You have taken it up with the right person, Jean,"
said Mildred. "If any one can help you in such a delicate
undertaking, it is Mrs. Pruitt. She has more influence with
that old rascal than his wife. In fact, his wife, from what
I hear, has no influence at all."
" Well, Jean," said Mildred's mother, " you are to be ad-
mired for the patience you have exercised with Orlean.
The average man would have knocked that old white headed
MRS. PRUITT EFFECTS A PLAN
357
rascal stiff and let Orlean go, and I don't wonder that if I
was a man that I wouldn't have done so myself."
" If I were that weak, and could see things as I do now, I
would want my husband to shoot me. I'm getting out of
patience with Orlean's weakness," Mildred added.
" Well," said Baptiste at this point, " it is now eleven,
and I will call up Mrs. Pruitt to go ahead with certain
plans that I have in view. Have you a 'phone ? "
" Just outside," said Mildred, and opened the door.
He got Mrs. Pruitt directly, and again came back over
the wire:
" It's the wrong number ! " But during the recent con-
versation he had forgotten for the moment the " counter
sign," and continued calling back. Frantically he heard
again and again, " The zvrong number! You have the
wrong number!" Suddenly he caught on, and as sud-
denly hung up the receiver with a jerk.
He didn't go to the Keystone that night. He felt as
though he wanted to be near some friends. Accordingly he
went to Miss Rankin's. She was glad to see him, and, like
all his friends, knew his troubles, and welcomed him.
" You will awaken me early tomorrow say, six
o'clock ? " he asked, and upon being a**ured she would,
he went to bed.
All the night through his sleep was fitful. He saw
gorgeous processions that frightened him, and then again
he was thrilled; but never did he seem to feel just right.
Then he saw his enemy. He dreamed that he came to him
and kissed him; he heard him saying kind words, and saw
his wife by his side. They were back in the West and his
wife was returning from a visit. He was aroused, and
jumped to his feet. He looked at the clock, and the time
was half past five. All the agony of the day before came
358 THE HOMESTEADER
back with a rush, and he was overwhelmed. Thereupon he
got him up, and, dressing quickly, hurried out of the house
and caught a car to where Mrs. Pruitt lived on the west
side, in the basement of an apartment building, of which
her husband was janitor.
He estimated that the other would go home during the
night, and early morning would be the time to form some
plan of action. It seemed a long way to the west side, and
it was after seven when he arrived there.
He was greeted by Mrs. Pruitt, and the expression upon
her face did not disappoint him.
" Now, Jean," she said, " I have prepared you some break-
fast, and you must eat first, for I'll wager that not a bite
have you eaten since you talked with me yesterday."
" It is so, Mrs. Pruitt," said he, recalling then that eating
had not occurred to him for the last eighteen hours or more.
"Well," said she, becoming seated, " he left here at al-
most midnight, and I have been planning just what to do,
that you may see Orlean. I certainly shoufd have little
patience with a girl that has no more gumption than Orlean ;
but since I know that she gets it from her mother, who
has not as much as a chicken, I have accepted the in-
evitable.
" Now, to begin with. If I called up and had her come
over here, he would come with her, of course, and also
maybe Ethel. And you know what that would mean. It
is so unusual that such a thing could be, but that is Reverend
McCarthy. He has always been this way, and I could not
change him. You erred when you didn't flatter him. But
that you did not have to do, and I don't blame you. He
has done you dirty, and some day he's going to pay for it.
I wouldn't be surprised if he did not soon, either. He is
a disturbed man, he is. Never has he been happy as he
MRS. PRUITT EFFECTS A PLAN
359
was before he brought that girl home. The crime he has
committed is weighing on him, and I wouldn't wonder if he
wouldn't be glad to have Orlean go back with you. The
only thing is, that he has been a**ociated with a hard headed
lot of Negro preachers so long, until his disposition is in-
grained. He actually couldn't be as he should. He would
let Orlean go back to you, but he would determine on a lot
of ceremony, and something else that you are ill fitted to
forego. So the best way, as I can see, is for you to meet
Orlean somewhere, and there reason it out with her."
She paused briefly then, and was thoughtful.
" She loves you as her mother loves, in a simple, weak
way ; but what is a love like that worth ! In truth, while I
admire your courage, and desire to uphold the sacredness
of the marriage vow, you ought to get a divorce and marry
a girl with some will and force."
" I realize so, Mrs. Pruitt, but I am determined to live
with Orlean and protect her if it is within my power."
" I understand your convictions and sentiments, Jean, and
admire you for it. If the world contained more men like
you, the evil of divorce would lessen ; but on the other
hand, as long as it contains men like the Reverend, and
women like Orlean, there will always be ground for
divorce."
" But every man should exhaust all that is in him for
what he feels is right, shouldn't he, Mrs. Pruitt?" spoke
Baptiste.
" Of course," she said somewhat absently. She looked
quickly at him then, and her eyes brightened with an in-
spiration.
" By the way, Jean," she said. " You remember Mrs.
Merley?"
" Who ? Blanche's mother ? "
360 THE HOMESTEADER
" The same."
" Most sure. Why "
" Well," said Mrs. Pruitt. " I have been thinking. She's
a friend of yours, a good friend, although you might not
have known it."
" It is news to me that is, directly."
" Well, she is, and has been very much wrought up over
the Reverend's treatment of you."
" Indeed!"
" Yes, it is so. You see, moreover, she is a distant re-
lation of Mrs. McCarthy's, and is fairly well-to-do."
" So I have understood."
" Yes, they are, and McCarthys sort of look up to them."
"Yes?"
" Mrs. Merley is independent, and hasn't much patience
with the Elder."
" So."
" No, and for that reason he admires her."
" Indeed."
" Yes, and she was over there and sort a ' bawled ' them
out over what they were doing. Understand that she just
spat it in the Elder's face and he had to take it."
"Well?"
" Yes. You see Blanche got married this last summer,
and didn't quite please her mother."
"Oh, is that so?"
" Yes, Mary Merley is a friend of mine, and frankly she
almost told me that she wished Blanche had married some
one on your order.
"Oh! . . ."
" Yes, she did. And meant it ! She admired your type,
and I know she would have been more fully pleased in such
MRS. PRUITT EFFECTS A PLAN 361
He was silent.
" Anyhow, I have planned that it will be through her that
you and Orlean may be brought together."
He was attentive.
" But before you go into it, my request is that my name
shall be left out."
His eyes asked a question that she answered.
" It is so. While Mary is a friend of mine, she has cer-
tain habits that I don't like."
He regarded her more questioningly.
" I will say no more."
His face blanched, and then his mind went back two
years. Orlean had made just such a remark. He was
sorry.
" So I don't want you to mention me, since it would do
no good."
" I understand."
" I want her to have the credit for whatever success
might come of this."
" Yes."
" And my plans are that you go over there, and see
her?"
" Yes."
" Jolly her a little, and don't let on that you are aware
that she admires you. "
" Very well."
" Get her to call Orlean up, and suggest a show."
" I get you."
" And there you are."
" Your plan is simple, but practical," and he smiled upon
her thankfully.
He was standing now. He held out his hand. She
grasped it, and bending forward, kissed him.
362 THE HOMESTEADER
" Be careful, Jean," she said. " And don't do anything
rash."
When he went his way, he understood.
CHAPTER XIII
MRS. MERLEY
THE APRIL morn shone beautifully over Chicago,
when Jean Baptiste came from the basement of
the apartment where Mrs. Pruitt lived, and had
bade Godspeed to him. It was election day over all the
state, a preferential primary for the purpose of choosing
delegates to the G. O. P. convention to be held two months
later. And when Jean Baptiste thought of it, he understood
what had brought the Reverend to the city.
Baptiste arrived at Mrs. Merley's an hour after he left
Mrs. Pruitt, went directly to the number and pulled the
bell. It was responded to by a young woman he did not
know, but she a**ured him that the one he sought was in,
and after seating him in the parlor, hurried to tell Mrs.
Merley.
She came at once all joy and gladness, and greeted him
with a shake of both hands, and kissed him into the bar-
gain.
" Sit right down, sit right down," she said profusely.
" And, oh, my, how glad I am to see you ! " she smiled upon
him happily, proving how glad she really was, and he was
moved.
" And you came to see me," she continued. " You could
have called on no one who would have been more delighted
to see you ! "
" You do me too much honor, Mrs. Merley/' said he
gratefully.
363
364 THE HOMESTEADER
" Indeed," she returned. " I could not do you enough/'
" I hadn't hoped for so much kindness, I am sure."
" But, Jean, you don't know how much I have thought
about you in the last two years, and I have longed to talk
with you ! "
" Oh, really ! But I thought I was forgotten by every-
body in Chicago."
" You have never been forgotten by us. And especially
have we talked of you in this last year. . . ."
He was silent, though he felt he understood her reference.
" Some dirty sinner ought to be in torment ! "
And still he did not speak.
" Oh, I know all that has been done to you, Jean," she
went on tenderly.
" Your words give me much relief, Mrs. Merley."
" I wish they could give you more. It is my wish that
an opportunity could be given me to help you."
He straightened. Now was the time to state his mission.
But she was speaking again:
" I spoke my sentiments to his face, the rascal ! All his
dirty life has been given to making people miserable, wher-
ever he could."
Jean said nothing, but was listening nevertheless.
" He has been a rascal for thirty-five years, and has made
that simple cousin of mine he married, the goat." She
paused to get her breath. " I saw Orlean not long ago, and
asked her where her will was, or if she had any."
He was attentive. Always he liked to hear her.
" She, of course, tried to stand up for that arch hypo-
crite. But I waived that aside. Said I to her : ' Orlean,
I could never believe you if you said Jean Baptiste
abused, mistreated or neglected you.' She looked down
when I had spoken and then said evenly. ' No, Jean did
MRS. MERLEY 365
not do any of those things/ ' Then/ said I. * Why do you
live apart from him, the man you married? Where is your
sense of duty?' 'But, Mrs. Merley/ she tried to protest.
' I just couldn't live out there in that wilderness, it was too
lonesome/ ' Oh, Orlean/ I said disgustingly, ' do you ex-
pect me to believe that? And if even I believed you, how
could I respect you ? '
" But that is it, Jean. Here is this family posing as
among the best Negro families in Chicago, but with no more
regard for what is morally right than the worst thief. In-
deed, no thief would do what that man is doing/'
He mumbled something inaudible. She was out to talk,
so he heard her on :
" I understand the whole line up, and their vain shielding
of that old rascal, just because you didn't lie to him and
become a hypocrite like he himself is. Everybody near him
must bow to him and tell him he is great, else he will
use what influence is his to * get even/ So that's the whole
output. He took her away from you because he raised her
as he has willed my cousin, his wife, to subserve to him.
And now he goes around here with all that dirty affected
piety and wants people to sympathize with him in his evil."
She paused again for breath, and then he spoke :
" I am glad to know you have taken the view of this you
have, Mrs. Merley," he said slowly, " And I am wondering
therefore, whether you would be willing to help me in a
certain Christian cause/'
" Why, Jean ! Why ask me ? You must know that I
would help you in any way I could/'
He then told her just what he had planned. She inter-
rupted him at times with little bursts of enthusiasm, and
there was no hesitancy on her part.
"Anything, Jean, anything! You don't know how anx-
3 66 THE HOMESTEADER
ious I am, and how glad I am to have the opportunity!
The only thing I regret is that you ever married such a
weakling. You might have heard that Blanche is
married? "
" I have," he replied. " I trust she is happy."
" Well," said the other slowly, " she appears to be, withal.
And for that reason I suppose I should be thankful. But
she did not quite please me in her selection."
" Oh," he echoed.
" No," she said slowly, and as if she felt the disappoint-
ment keenly. " She did not. Her husband, it is true, is
good to her, but he did not come up to my hope. Yet, and
it is singular," she said thoughtfully, " to think that a man
with all you possess financially, and mentally, should get
'in' as you have." She paused again a little embarra**ed,
and then pursued :
" I wish Blanche had a husband of your disposition and
attainments."
" Blanche, I thought, was a sweet girl," he said reflec-
tively.
" And a good girl," said Mrs. Merley. " I would have
given anything to have had her marry a promising young
farmer of your order, and be now living in the West."
" I love the West, and had hoped others would be loving
it too," he said ruefully.
" He came back here after his first visit, and sitting right
where you are now, said that you was one of the race's most
progressive young men. He added to this everywhere he
had half a chance and eulogized you to the highest. It hap-
pened that the minister who married you, was here, and he,
too, very much admired you, and voiced the same to the
Reverend. That old devil just swelled up like a big frog
with vanity. Three months later he comes back here, and,
MRS. MERLEY 367
to seek to justify his action, he spreads the town with lies
that nobody believes."
The other shifted his position.
" Well, Jean," she said now more soberly, " just what
shall I do ? "
" If you would not mind "
"Oh, don't say that!"
" Very well, Mrs. Merley. I would like you to call her
up and suggest a matinee."
" Why not just go to one? "
" That would please me if you would condescend? "
" I'd be glad to go, and in view of the circumstances, I
think it would be a suggestive idea. Let her get used to
your presence again, without coming directly to the point
at once."
" A capital idea, I agree ! "
" Call her up and ask her to come over and go with you
to the matinee."
" That is the plan, and I understand."
" I will appreciate your kindness," said he heartily. She
arose then and advancing toward him, embraced him im-
pulsively.
Thereupon she went to the telephone, and succeeded in
getting his wife on the wire. He heard her answer the
call, and laugh over something humorous Mrs. Merley said.
His heart beat faster, and he was conscious .that he was
more hopeful than he had been for a long time.
" Yes. . . ." Mrs. Merley was saying. " I want you to
go with me to a matinee. ... Be here at one forty-
five. . . . Yes, I have the tickets. . . . And you'll not be
late."
She was standing before him again, and her face was
lighted up with the joy of what she had accomplished. He
368 THE HOMESTEADER
was grateful, and rose to thank her, whereupon she em-
braced him again. The next moment she went quickly up
the stairs to prepare for the occasion.
" You may come upstairs, too, Jean," she invited, " and
from the front room there, you can watch for yours."
" Oh, Mrs. Merley, you make me happier than I have
been for a long time," he said, and almost was he emotional.
" And I have a nice spare bedroom for you and her, to-
night. And tomorrow, she is yours!'
Jean Baptiste waited and watched, and then suddenly he
heard a voice. It was that of the girl who had admitted
him, who was also watching.
" Here she comes/' she cried, excitedly. Jean Baptiste
looked quickly out of the window arid up the street, and
saw his wife coming leisurely toward the house wherein
he was sitting.
CHAPTER XIV
QH, MERCIFUL GOD, CLOSE THOU MINE EYES !
REVEREND NEWTON JUSTINE McCARTHY
had once lived in Peoria, Illinois, and was well ac-
quainted with the late Robert Ingersoll. Moreover,
he had admired the noted orator, and although he had not the
courage, in truth, he believed as Ingersoll believed. And
because he did, and was forced to keep his true convictions
a secret, while he preached the gospel he did not believe,
he had grown to hate almost all people. But N. J. Mc-
Carthy was not aware of this fact himself.
Ever since he brought his daughter home, and had
thereby parted her from the man she married, - he had
never been the same. Always he was troubled with some-
thing he could not understand. His dreams were bad.
The awful sensations he very often experienced while in
slumber, grew so annoying that at times he found that
he was almost afraid to sleep. Then, a persistent illness
continually knocked at his door. The truth of it was, that
he was battling with a conscience he had for years crucified.
But it would persist. So deep had he sowed the habits he
followed, and so intrenched were the roots of these habits,
until it was no easy task to uproot them.
He had left Mrs. Pruitt near midnight of the day when
Jean Baptiste had arrived on his trip in a last effort to
secure his wife. The family had retired before he ar-
rived home, and having some business in the rear of the
house, he pa**ed through the room which contained the
369
370 THE HOMESTEADER
bed wherein his daughter, Orlean, lay in peaceful slum-
ber. When he was returning he paused briefly to ob-
serve the face of the sleeping girl in the moonlight. Peace-
fully she slept, and for the first time in his life he saw
therein something he had never seen before. He felt his
flesh and wondered at the feeling that was come over him.
It seemed that he was asleep, but positively he was awake.
He was awake, and looking into the sleeping face of his
daughter. But if he was awake, what was it he saw?
Surely not. But as he stood over her, he thought he
could see her eyes open, and look at him strangely, regard
him in a way she had never done before. And as she looked
at him, he thought she raised her hand that lay under the
cover, and with her forefinger leveled, she pointed at him.
In the trance he imagined he could hear her voice. She
called him :
" Father ? " And betimes he answered.
" Yes, daughter."
" Where is my husband? " He gave a start. He thought
he caught at something, and then he heard her again :
" You have sent him away, out of my life, and the day
is coming when you will be called upon to answer for your
sins ! "
He thought he was trembling. All about him was tur-
moil. He saw the people, the friends of the family, and
all the people he had preached to in thirty years, and all were
pointing an accusing finger at him. And out of the chaos
he heard them crying: "Shame, oh shame! That you
should be so evil, so vile, such a hypocrite, and let your evil
fall upon your own daughter!" He saw then the wife he
had taken from Speed. He saw that one in his misery, he
saw him sink, and renounce from weakness the sentiments
he had started in the world to teach. He saw him struggle
CLOSE THOU MINE EYES !
371
vainly, and then saw him fall, low, lower, until at last the
flames of hell had swallowed him up. " Merciful God," he
cried, and he was sure he staggered. " Was it / who
brought all this?" But before he could recover, the pro-
cession kept pa**ing.
Behind Speed came the wife he had robbed him of. She
carried in her arms a baby that he had given her. By the
hand she led the other illegitimate offspring. There they
were, the innocents that had no name. He saw the bent
head of the woman, and saw the grief and anguish in her
face. He saw her suddenly stop and fall, and while she
lay upon the earth, her children were taken, and grew up
surrounded with all that was bad and evil. He saw one
suddenly dead, while still a boy, murdered by the compan-
ions he kept. He saw his 'young body in the morgue. And
before all this had pa**ed, he saw this one's mother again,
the woman he had fooled, in the depth of the " tenderloin."
He saw her a solicitor, and he could hear himself groan in
agony.
The years pa**ed, and while he grew older, other things
came and went ; a train of evil deeds he had committed, and
at last came his own daughter. He saw her pa**ing and
when he saw her face, the agony therein frightened him.
Was it so ! Had he, done that, too ? Was he the cause of
what he saw in this girl's face? Suddeny he saw her
change, and in the distance he saw Jean Baptiste, and all he
had suffered. " Oh, merciful God, close thou mine eyes,"
he thought he could hear himself call. But his eyes would
not close, and the one to whom he appealed appeared to be
deaf, and the procession continued.
He saw Orlean stretch her hands out to Baptiste, and he
came toward her with arms outstretched, and he thought
he heard a voice, the voice of the man Jean Baptiste. And
372 THE HOMESTEADER
the words he cried rang in his ears : " My wife, oh, Or-
lean, my wife ! Come unto me ! " But lo ! When the
two had came close, and the man would have held her to
him, a shadow suddenly rose between them, and shut them
out from each other's sight. He thought he raised his
voice to call out to the one of the shadow. And when he
called to him, and the one of the shadow turned, and be-
hold ! It was himself ! He suddenly came out of the
trance, to see Orlean sitting up in bed. He caught his
breath and held his hand over his heart, as he heard her
voice :
" Papa, is that you ? My, how you frightened me ! I "
and then she quickly stopped. She had started to say, " I
thought it was Jean,'' for in truth she had dreamed of him,
and that he had come for her, and she was glad, and when
she arose to go she had awakened to find her father standing
over her.
" Yes, yes, my dear," he said rather awkwardly. " It is
I. I stopped to look at you and seemed to forget myself/*
He hurried away then, and up the stairs to his room and
went to bed, but it was near morning when he fell asleep.
It so happened when Jean Baptiste had gone upstairs to
call on Mildred and her mother, he had knocked at the door
below. A man lived there whom he had known in the years
gone by and who had educated himself to be a lawyer. His
name was Towles, Joseph Towles. Always before when he
was in the city, he had called on Towles and his family,
and when their door rose before him, on the impulse he
had forgotten all else but to greet them. He pushed the
bell, and no sooner had he done so than he recalled his
mission, and that he was avoiding his acquaintances. He
CLOSE THOU MINE EYES! 373
quickly pa**ed upstairs but not before Mrs. Towles had
opened the door and caught a glimpse of him pa**ing.
She was aware of his difficulty, and had pretended to sym-
pathize with him. But Mrs. Towles was a gossipy, penuri-
ous woman, and did not get along with her neighbors over-
head. So when she saw Jean Baptiste pa**ing up the stairs,
and hurrying from her without speaking, she at once became
angry, and with it apprehensive. She went back to where
she had been working over some sewing. She was thought-
ful, and then regarded the clock.
" I wonder what he is doing here ? " she mused to her-
self. And then she suddenly brightened with an inspira-
tion. "His wife, of course," she cried, and fell to think-
ing further.
She happened to be a close friend of a certain lady who
lived next door to the McCarthys on Vernon Avenue, and
it was to her that she decided to pay a visit on the mor-
row. And, of course she would discuss the fact that she
had gotten a glimpse of Jean Baptiste, and would try to
find out what she could.
It was the following afternoon that she found the time
to visit her friend in Vernon Avenue. She pa**ed by the
house wherein lived the McCarthys, and made up her
mind to call there later in company with her friend to hear
the news.
" Why, Mrs. Towles ! " cried her friend when she saw her
face upon opening the door. " How nice it was of you
to call, when I was not expecting you ! Such a pleasant sur-
prise," whereupon they kissed in womanly fashion. She
took a seat by the window, for she wished to look into the
street. The other took a chair just facing her, and together
they fell to talking. As they sat there, Orlean suddenly
374 THE HOMESTEADER
came out of the house next door, down the steps, and pa**ed
before Mrs. Towles' gaze as she went up the street to Wa-
bash Avenue to-fill the engagement with Mrs. Merley.
" Oh, look," cried Mrs. Towles, pointing to the figure of
the other. " There goes Orlean ! "
The other strained her neck, and said:
" M-m."
" And I saw her husband last night."
" You did ! " exclaimed the other in great surprise. She
had a grown daughter who was very much accomplished, but
unmarried. So she took a delight in such cases as Jean
Baptiste's. . . .
" I did," replied the other, making herself comfortable
and getting ready to relate his strange actions.
" Well, well, now ! " echoed the other, all attention.
" Yes," said Mrs. Towles, and then related all that had
pa**ed which was not anything but catching a glimpse of
Baptiste as he had disappeared up the steps.
" I don't think they know next door, that he is in town,"
suggested the other.
"Don't they?"
" Why, not likely. You know the last time he was here
they wouldn't admit him!" They eyed each other jubi-
lantly, and then went on.
" Then we ought to go right over and inform them at
once ! " said Mrs. Towles.
" Just what we should do," agreed the other.
And so it happened that the Reverend learned that Jean
Baptiste was in the city; but for once he was not excited.
Somehow, he hoped that Jean would meet Orlean, and he
knew then that she had gone out for that purpose. He knew
that she was supposed to go to a matinee, and he realized
CLOSE THOU MINE EYES! 375
from previous statements, that Mrs. Merley was the "go
between."
So he took no part in the gossip that followed, nor did
he for once sigh in self pity.
Perhaps after all he had decided not to interfere.
CHAPTER XV ,
"LOVE YOU GOD, i HATE YOU!"
THE PLAY they witnessed that afternoon was an
emotional play, and in a degree it sufficed to arouse
the emotion in all three. The meeting between Or-
lean and her husband had been without excitement. As if
she had been expecting him, she welcomed him, and they
had proceeded directly to a play at the Studebaker Theater
downtown.
When they were again in the street, they went to another
theater where they purchased tickets to witness Robert
Mantell in Richelieu. And, later, taking a surface car
on State Street, proceeded to a restaurant near Thirty-first
Street where they had supper, after which they retired to
the home of Mrs. Merley.
Of course that one left them to themselves in due time,
and in a few minutes they were engaged in congenial con-
versation. After a time Jean caught her hand, and despite
the slight protest she made, he succeeded in drawing her up
on his knee.
" I ought not to sit here," she said.
" Why not, Orlean ? " he said kindly, placing his arm
about her waist fondly.
" Because."
"Because what, dear?"
She looked at him quickly. He met her eyes appealingly.
She looked away, and then down at her toes.
376
" LOVE YOU GOD, I HATE YOU ! " 377
" How you have fleshened," he commented.
" Do you think so? " she returned, inclined to be sociable.
" It is quite noticeable. And you are better looking when
you are so."
" Oh, you flatter me," she chimed.
" I would like to flatter my wife."
She did not reply to this. She appeared to be comforta-
ble, and he went on.
" Don't you know that I have longed to see you, and that
it has not been just right that I could not? "
And still she made no answer.
" I never want to live so again. I want you always,
Orlean."
" When did you leave home ? " she asked now.
" A couple of days ago."
" And how long have you been here ? "
" I came yesterday afternoon."
"And when to Mrs. Merley's?"
" This morning."
She was thoughtful then. Indeed they were getting
along better than he had hoped. There remained but one
thing more. If he could persuade her to stay the night at
Mrs. Merley's and not insist on going home. If he could
keep her out of her father's sight until morning, he would
have no more worry. That, indeed, was his one point of
uneasiness. Keeping her out of her father's sight. He re-
called how he had refrained from buying a revolver when
he left home. It would not have been safe after all that
had pa**ed between himself and her father for him to have
anything of the kind about, and he was glad now that he had
been sensible.
He drew his wife's head down, turned her face to his,
and kissed her lips. He caught the sigh that pa**ed her
378 THE HOMESTEADER
lips. He saw her eyebrows begin to contract. What was
pa**ing in her mind? Duty? Then, to whom?
He kissed her again, and caressed her fondly. This
meant much to him. He told her so then, too.
" It has been very hard on me, wife, for you to have
stayed away a whole year. Awfully hard. It was never
my plans or intention for such to be." He was full up now.
He wanted to talk a long time with her. If they could just
retire and talk far into the night as they had done in the
eleven months that had been theirs.
His confidence was growing. All that was expedient now,
he felt sure, was to keep the Reverend out of it until morn-
ing. By that time no further effort on his part would be
necessary.
" Do you love me, Orlean ? " he said now, drawing her
face close to his again.
She made no reply audibly, but she seemed to be strug-
gling with something within herself. In truth she did not
want to say that she did, and she would not tell him she did
not. She let her arm unconsciously encircle his neck. Her
hand found his head and stroked his hair, while she was
mentally meditative.
In the meantime, his head rested against her breast, and
he could hear the beating of her heart.
" Oh, my wife," he cried, intended for himself but she
heard it. It aroused her, her emotion began to a**ert itself.
How long would it take for her to be his mate again at this
rate?
" How is everything back home? " she asked, as if seeking
a change. He hesitated. She looked down into his face
to see why he did not answer directly. He caught her eyes,
and she could see that he was not wishing to tell her some-
thing.
" LOVE YOU GOD, I HATE YOU ! " 379
" What is the matter, Jean ? " she asked now, slightly ex-
cited and anxious.
" Oh, nothing," he replied. He wanted to tell her the
truth, all the truth, but it was not yet time he feared. Un-
til she had given up to him, he decided to withhold anything
serious.
" There is something, Jean, of that I am sure," she in-
sisted, shifting where she could see his face more clearly.
"If there is anything, wife, I would discuss it later.
Now, I can think of but one thing, and that is you,"
whereupon he caressed her again fondly. She sighed then
and her emotion was becoming more perceptible.
"You are going back home with me tomorrow, dear?"
he dared to say presently.
For answer she shifted uneasily, and then her eyes espied
the clock on the wall. It was five-thirty.
" I think I should call up home," she said thoughtfully.
He caught his breath, and trembled perceptibly. She re-
garded him inquiringly.
And here again we must remark about Jean Baptiste. In
the year of misery, of agony and suffering in general he
had endured, he had settled upon one theory. And that was
that if he and his wife were to ever live together again and
be happy, the family were to be kept out of it. Perhaps
if this could have been forgotten by him in this moment,
we would not have had this story to tell; but when she
mentioned her folks, all that he had wished to avoid all
that he felt he must avoid, came before him. As he saw it
now, if she called her father, they would never live together
again. He was nervous when he anticipated the fact.
He started, and took on unconsciously a fearsome expres-
sion.
" Please don't, Orlean," he said, beseechingly.
380 THE HOMESTEADER
"Don't what?" she asked, apprehensive of something she
did not like.
" Call your father," he said. He wanted to tell her that
if she called her father, it would mean the end of every-
thing for them, but he withheld this.
" Now, I wish him to know where I am," she said, pro-
testingly, and arose from his knee. She stood away from
where he sat hesitatingly. In that moment, she was not
aware that she stood between duty and subservience. As
she saw it, she forgot from her training that there was a
duty> she only remembered that she was obedient. Obedi-
ent to the father who had reared her so to be.
It was the psychological moment in their union. Near
her the husband that she had taken, regarded her uneasily.
He had come to her to do the duty that was his to do.
They were estranged because of one thing, and one thing
only, and that was her father, the man her husband would
never yield to. And as she hesitated betwen obedience to
one and duty toward the other, her life, her love and future
was in the balance.
Which?
" Orlean," she heard now, from the lips of her husband.
" Listen, before you go to the 'phone." He became suddenly
calm as he said this. " I married you two years gone now,
for better or for worse, and ' until d**h do us part.' That
was the vow that I took and also you. I've done my best
by you under the circumstances. I gave you a home and
bed that you left. I gave you my love, and am willing to
give you my life if that be necessary. But, Orlean, I didn't
contract to observe the ideas and be subservient to the opin-
ion of others. To force me to regard this is to do me a
grave injustice. You cannot imagine, appreciate, maybe,
how humiliating it is to be placed in such a position. I can-
"LOVE YOU GOD, I HATE YOU!" 381
not explain it with you standing impatiently before me as
you are. I have come here to try and have you discuss
this matter with me from a practical point of view. Surely,
having taken me as your God-given mate, you owe me that.
You force me to honor and respect certain persons "
" Don't you," she cried. " Don't you insinuate my
father ! " She advanced toward him threateningly in her
excitement, and all sense of duty was gone. Only obedience'
to the one who had made it so remained. That she should
rally to the support of his adversary, displaced his com-
posure. He had hoped to have her reason it out with him,
and he had prayed that he be given a little time, and then
all would be well. He was aware that she was unequal to a
woman's task. Not one woman in a thousand he knew
would place a father before a husband; but his wife was
different. She had been trained to be devoutly subservient
to her father. For that reason he was willing to be
patient he had been patient. But at the same time he had
suffered much, and her love and obedience to his worst
enemy even if it was her father, unfitted him for that
with which he was now confronted. He was fast losing his
composure, likewise his patience. Nothing in the world
should stand between him and his wife. He became ex-
cited now, but calmed long enough to say :
" Go ahead, or come to me. There are two things a
woman cannot be at the same time," and he waved his hand
toward her resolutely. "A wife to the man she has
married, and a daughter to her father." With this state-
ment he sank back into the chair from which he had partly
risen. He had said the last statement with such forceful
logic, that it made her stop, pause uneasily, and then sud-
denly she straightened and turning, went to the telephone.
But when she called over the wire to her father, all the
382 THE HOMESTEADER
--jmposure that Jean Baptiste ever had left him. All the
suffering and agony that he had experienced from the hand
of the other a**erted itself. He arose from the chair and
came toward her. His eyes were bloodshot, his attitude was
threatening. She called to her father, and the words she
said were :
" Yes, papa. ... Is this you. . . . Yes. ... I am at
Mrs. Merley's. . . . And ah papa," she hesitated and
her voice broke from fear. "Ah papa a Jean is
here, papa. . . . Yes, Jean. He is here." She was
trembling now, and the man standing behind her saw it.
He saw her pa**ing out of his life forever, and desperation
overtook him. In that moment something within him
seemed to snap.
He reached over her shoulder and grasped the receiver
and pushed her roughly aside. The next instant she was
protesting wildly, while Mrs. Merley was br ught to the
front by his loud voice screaming over the 'phone.
"Hell, hello, you!" he cried savagely. "Hello, I say!
. . . How am I! My God, how could I be after what you
have done to me, my life. . . . Why didn't I come to the
house? . . . Why should I come to your house, when the
last time I was there I was kicked out, virtually kicked out,
do you hear? "
" You get away from here ! " he heard in his ear, and
turned to see his wife gone wild with excitement. Her eyes
were distraught, her attitude was menacing, as she struggled
at his arm to try and wrest the receiver from his hand. He
heard the other saying something in his ear. He did not
understand it, he was too excited. Everything was in a
whirl around him. He became conscious that he had
dropped the receiver after a time. He felt himself in con-
tact with some one, and saw the face of his wife. In her
" LOVE YOU GOD, I HATE YOU ! " 383
excitement she was striking him; she was trying to do him
injury.
He became alive to what was going on, then. The re-
ceiver hung suspended ; he was in a grapple with his excited
wife.
" You you ! " she creamed. " You abuse my father,
my poor father ! You have abused him ever since I knew
you. You will not respect him, and then come to ask me to
live with you. You abuser! you devil! Do I love you?
God, / hate you ! "
He made no effort to protect himself. He allowed her to
strike him at will and with a strength, born of excitement,
she struck him in his face, in his eyes, she scratched him, she
abused him so furiously until gradually he began to sink.
He reached out and caught her around the waist as he lost
his footing and fell to his knees. As he lingered in this
position his face was upturned. She struck him then with
all the force in her body. He groaned, as he gradually
loosened his hold upon her, and slowly sank to the floor.
And all the while she fought him, she punctuated her blows
with words, some abusing him, others in defense of her
father.
At last he lay upon the floor, while around her, Mrs.
Merley and the other girl begged and beseeched. But she
was as if gone insane. As he lay with eyes closed and a
slight groan escaping from his lips at her feet, she sud-
denly raised her foot and kicked him viciously full in the
face. This seemed, then, to make her more vicious, and
thereupon she started to jump upon him with her feet, but
Mrs. Merley suddenly caught her about the waist and drew
her away.
How long he lay there he did not know, but he opened his
eyes when from the outside he heard hurried footsteps. He
384 THE HOMESTEADER
continued to lay as he was, and then somebody pulled the
bell vigorously. Mrs. Merley went to it, opened it, and let
some one in. He looked up through half closed eyes to
see the Reverend standing over him. In that instant he
saw his wife dash past him and fall into the other's arms.
He heard her saying words of love, while he was aware that
the other pacified her with soft words. They took no
notice of the man at their feet.
And then he saw them open the door, while the others
stood about in awe. While the door was open he caught a
glimpse of the street outside and of Glavis on the side-
walk below.
The next instant the door closed softly behind them, and
she went out of his life as a wife forever.