 19 Echoes of the Monday night dinner reached me the following day. The affair had passed off pleasantly enough. The members of the Bohemian set conducting themselves quite as persons who mattered. With the exception of the Klondike woman herself, who I gathered, had descended to a mood of most indecorous liveliness, considering who the guest of honor was. She had not only played and sung those noisy native folk songs of hers, but she had it seemed conducted herself with a certain facetious familiarity toward his lordship. Every now and then, said cousin Egbert, my principal informant, she'd whirl in and josh the cap all over the place about them funny whiskers he wears. She told him out and out he'd just got to lose them. Shocking rudeness, I exclaimed. Oh sure, sure, he agreed, yet without indignation. And the cap just hated her for it. You could tell that by the way he looked at her. Oh, he hates her something terrible. He just can't bear the sight of her. Naturally enough, I observed, though there had been an undercurrent to his speech that I thought almost quite a little odd. His accents were clearly placed. Had I not known him too well, I should have thought him trying to be deep. I recalled his other phrases, that Mrs. Effie was seeing which way a cat would leap, and that the Klondike person would hand the ladies of the north side set a lemon squash. I put them all down as childish pattle and set as much to the mixer later in the day as she had a dish of tea at the grill. Yes, sourdough's right. She observed that Earl just hates the sight of her, can't bear to look at her a minute. But she, too, intoned the thing clearly. He's putting pressure to bear on her. I said, pressure, said the mixer, and then hum. Very dryly. With this news, however, it was plain as a pillar-box that things were going badly with his lordship's effort to release the Honourable George from his entanglement. The woman, doubtless, with his compromising letters, would be holding out for a stiffish price. She would think them worth no end. And plainly again his lordship had thrown off his mask, was unable longer to conceal his aversion for her. This, to be sure, was more in accordance with his character, as I had long observed it. If he hated her, it was like him to show it when he looked at her. I mean he was quite like that with almost anyone. I hoped, however, that diplomacy might still save us all sorts of a nasty row. To my relief, when the pair appeared for tea that afternoon, a sight no longer causing the least sensation, I saw that his lordship must have returned to his first or diplomatic manner. Doubtless he still hated her. But one would little have suspected it from his manner of looking at her. I mean to say, he looked at her another way, the opposite way in fact. He was being subtle in the extreme. I fancied it must have been her wretched levity regarding his beard that had goaded him into the exhibitions of hatred noted by Cousin Egbert and the mixer. Unquestionably his lordship may be goaded in no time if one deliberately sets about it. At the time doubtless he had sliced a drive or two, as one might say, but now he was back in form. Again I confess I was not a little sorry for the creature, seeing her there so smartly taken in by his effusive manner. He was having her on in the most obvious way, and she, poor Doub, taking it all quite seriously. Prime it was though, considering the creature's designs. And I again marveled that in all the years of my association with his lordship I had never suspected what a topping sort he could be at this game. His mask was now perfect. It recalled indeed Cousin Egbert's simple but telling phrase about the Honourable George. He looks at her. It could now have been said of his lordship with the utmost significance to any but those in the know. And so began, quite as had the first, the second week of his lordship's stay among us. Knowing he had booked a return from Cux, I fancied that results of some sort must soon ensue. The pressure he was putting on the woman must begin to tell. And this was the extreme of the encouragement I was able to offer the Billnab Jackson's. Both he and his wife were, of course, in a bit of a state. Nor could I blame them. With an earl for House Guest, they must be content with but a glimpse of him at odd moments. Rather a bad and honour they were finding it. His lordship's confidences with the woman were unabated. When not secluded with her at her own establishment he would be abroad with her in her trap or in the car of Billnab Jackson. The owner, however, no longer drove his car. He had never taken another chance. And well I knew these activities of his lordships were being basely misconstrued by the Gossips. The cap is certainly some queener, remarked cousin Egbert, which perhaps reflected the view of the deceived public at this time, the curious term implying that his lordship was by way of being a bit of a dog. But calm I remained under these aspersions, counting upon a clean cut vindication of his lordship's methods when he should have got the woman where he wished her. I remained, I repeat, serenely confident that a signal triumph would presently crown his lordship's subtly planned attack. And then, at mid-week, I was rudely shocked to the suspicion that all might not be going well with his plan. I had not seen the pair for a day, and when they did appear for their tea, I instantly detected a profound change in their mutual bearing. His lordship still looked at the woman, but the railery of their past meetings had gone. Too plainly something momentous had occurred. Even the woman was serious. Had they fought to the last stand? Would she have been too much for him? I mean to say, was the honourable George cooked? I now recalled that I had observed an almost similar change in the latter's manner. His face wore a look of wildest gloom that might have been mitigated perhaps by a proper trimming of his beard. But even then it would have been remarked by those who knew him well. I divined, I repeat, that something momentous had now occurred, and that the honourable George was one not least affected by it. Rather a sleepless night I passed, wondering fearfully if, after all, his lordship would have been unable to extricate the poor chap from this sordid entanglement. Had the creature held out for too much? Had she refused to compromise? Would there be one of those appalling legal things which our best families so often suffer? What if the victim were to cut off home? Nor was my trepidation allayed by the cryptic remark of Mrs Judson as I passed her at her tasks in the pantry that morning. A prince in his palace not too good. That's what I said. She shot the thing at me with a manner suspiciously near to flippancy. I sternly demanded her meaning. I mean what I mean. She retorted, shutting her lips upon it in a definite way she has. Well enough I knew the import of her uncivil speech. But I resolved not to bandy words with her, because in my position it would be undignified, because further of an unfortunate effect she has upon my temper at such times. She's being terrible careful about her associates. She presently went on with a most irritating effect of addressing only herself, nothing at all but just dukes and earls and lords, day in and day out. Too often, when the woman seems to wish it, she contrives to get me in motion, as the American saying is. And it is deeply to be regretted, I replied with dignity, that other persons must say less of themselves if put to it. Well she knew what I meant. Despite my previous clear warning, she had more than once accepted small gifts from the cattle persons, hank and buck, and had even been seen brazenly in public with them at a cinema palace. One of a more suspicious nature than I might have guessed that she conducted herself thus for the specific purpose of enraging me. But I am glad to say that no nature could be more free than mine from vulgar jealousy. And I spoke now from the mere wish that she should more carefully guard her reputation. As before, she exhibited a surprising meekness under this rebuke, though I uneasily wondered if there might not be guile beneath it. Can I help it? She asked. If they like to show me attentions. I guess I'm a free woman. She lifted her head to observe a glass she had polished. Her eyes were curiously lighted. She had this way of embarrassing me. And invariably, moreover, she aroused all that is evil in my nature against the two cattle persons, especially the buck one, actually on another occasion professing admiration for his wavy chestnut hair. I saw now that I could not trust myself to speak of the fellow. I took up another matter. That baby of yours is too horribly fat, I said suddenly. I had long meant to put this to her. It's too fat. It eats too much. To my amazement, the creature was transformed into a vixen. It, it, too fat. You call my boy it and say he's too fat. Don't you dare. What does a creature like you know of babies, why you wouldn't even know? But the thing was too painful. Let her angry words be forgotten. Suffice to say, she permitted herself to cry out things that might have given grave offense to one less surgeon of himself than I. Rather chilled, I admit, I was by her frenzied outburst. I was shrewd enough to see instantly that anything in the nature of a criticism of her offspring must be led up to, rather, perhaps couched in less direct phrases than I had chosen. Fearful I was that she would burst into another torrent of rage. But to my amazement, she all at once smiled. What a fool I am! She exclaimed, kidding me, were you, trying to make me mad about the baby? Well, I'll give you good. You did it. Yes, sir, I never would have thought you had a kidding streak in you, old glum face. Little you know me, I retorted, and quickly withdrew, for I was then more embarrassed than ever. And besides, there were other and graver matters forward to depress and occupy me. In my fitful sleep of the night before I had dreamed vividly that I saw the honorable George being dragged shackled to the altar. I trust I am not superstitious, but the vision had remained with me in all its tormenting detail. A veiled woman had grimly awaited him as he struggled with his uniformed captors. I mean to say he was being hustled along by two constables. That day, let me now put down, was to be the day of the most fearful shocks that a man of rather sensitive nervous organism has ever been called upon to endure. There are now lines in my face that I make no doubt showed then for the first time. And it was a day that dragged interminably, so that I became fair off my head with the suspense of it, feeling that at any moment the worst might happen. For hours I saw no one with whom I could consult. Once I was almost moved to call up Bernab Jackson, so intolerable was the menacing uncertainty. But this I knew bordered on hysteria, and I restrained the impulse with an iron will. But I wretchedly longed for a sight of Cousin Egbert, or the mixer, or even of the Honourable George, someone to assure me that my hearted dream of the night before had been a baseless fabric, as the saying is, the very absence of these people and of his lordship was in itself ominous. Nervously I kept to a post at one of my windows, where I could survey the street, and here at midday I sustained my first shock. Terrific it was. His lordship had emerged from the chemists across the street. He paused a moment, as if to recall his next mission, then walked briskly off. And this is what I had been stupefied to note. He was clean shaven. The Brinstead side whiskers were gone, whiskers that had been worn in precisely that fashion by a tremendous line of the earls of Brinstead, and the tenth of his line had abandoned them. As well I thought, could he have defaced the Brinstead arms? It was plain as a pillar box, indeed. The woman had our family at her mercy, and she would show no mercy. My heart sank as I pictured the Honourable George in her toils. My dream had been prophetic. Then I reflected that this very circumstance of his lords having pandered to her lawless whim about his beard would go to show he had not yet given up the fight. If the thing were hopeless, I knew he would have seen her dashed before he would have relinquished it. Their plainly was still hope for poor George. Indeed his lordship might well have planned some splendid coup. This defacement would be a part of his strategy, suffered in anguish for his ultimate triumph. Quite cheerfully became at the thought. I still scanned the street crowd for someone who could acquaint me with developments I must have missed. But then a moment later came the call by telephone of Belknap Jackson. I answered it, though with little hope that to hear more of his unending complaints about his lordship's negligence startled instantly I was, however, for his voice was stranger than I had known it, even in moments of his acutest distress. Horse it was, and his words alarming but hardly intelligible. Hurt! My God! Hurt! Hurt! My God! Marriage! Marriage! God! But here he broke off into the most appalling laughter, the blood curdling laughter of a chained patient in a madhouse. Hardly could I endure it, and grateful I was when I heard the line close. Even when he attempted vocables he had sounded quite like an inferior record on a phonographic machine, but I had heard enough to leave me aghast. Beyond doubt, now the very worst had come upon our family. His lordship's tremendous sacrifice would have been all in vain. Marriage! The honourable George was done for. Better had it been the typing girl, I bitterly reflected. Her father had at least been acutet. Thankful enough I now was for the lunch in our rush. I could distract myself from the appalling disaster. That day I took rather more than my accustomed charge of the serving. I chatted with our business chaps, recommending the joint in the highest terms, drawing corks, seeing that the relish was abundantly stocked at every table. I was striving to forget. Mrs. Judson alone persisted in reminding me of the impending scandal. A prince in his palace! She would maliciously murmur as I encountered her. I think she must have observed that I was bitter, for she at last spoke quite amiably of our morning's dust-up. You certainly got my goat, she said in the quaint American fashion, telling me Little Nono was too fat. You had me going there for a minute, thinking you meant it. The creature's name was Albert, yet she persisted in calling it Nono, because the child itself would thus falsely declare its name upon being questioned. Having in some strange manner gained this impression, it was another matter I meant to bring to her attention. But at this crisis I had no heart for it. My crowd left. I was again alone to muse bitterly upon our plight. Still I scanned the street, hoping for a sight of Cousin Egbert, who I fancied would be informed as to the wretched details. Instead, now I saw the Honourable George. He walked on the opposite side of the Third Affair, his manner of dejection, precisely what I should have expected, followed closely as usual he was by the Judson Kerr. A spirit of desperate mockery seized me. I called to Mrs. Judson, who was gathering glasses from a table. I indicated the pair. Mr. Barker, I said, is dogging his footsteps. I mean to say I uttered the words in the most solemn manner. Little the woman knew that one may often be moved in the most distressing moments to a jest of this sort. She laughed heartily, being of quick discernment, and thus jauntly did I carry my knowledge of the lowering cloud. But I permitted myself no further sallies of that sort. I stayed expectantly by the window, and I dare say my bearing would have deceived the most alert. I was steadily calm. The situation called precisely for that. The hours sped darkly, and my fears mounted. In sheer desperation at length, I had myself put through to Belknap Jackson. To my astonishment he seemed quite revived, though in a state of feverish gaiety. He fair bubbled. Just leaving this moment with his lordship, to gather up some friends, we meet at your place. Yes, yes, all the uncertainty has passed. Better set up that largest table, rather a celebration. Almost more confusing it was than his former message, which had been confined to calls upon his maker, and to maniac laughter. Was he, I wondered, merely making the best of it? Had he resolved to be a dead sportsman? A few moments later he discharged his lordship at my door and drove rapidly on. Only a question of time it is when he will be had heavily for damages due to his reckless driving. His lordship bustled in with a cheerfulness that staggered me. He too was gay, almost debonair. A gardenia was in his lapel. He was vogue to the last detail, in a form-fitting grey-morning suit that had all the style essentials. Almost it seemed as if three valets had been needed to groom him. He briskly rubbed his hands. Biggest table, people. Tea, that sort of thing. Have a go of champagne, too, what what. Beard off, much younger appearing. Of course, of course. Trust women, these matters. Tea cake, toast, crumpets, marmalade, things like that. Plenty champagne, not happen every day. To my acute distress he here thumbed me in the ribs and laughed again. Was he, too, I wondered, madly resolved to be a dead sportsman in the face of the unavoidable? I sought to edge in a discreet word of condolence, for I knew that between us there need be no pretense. I know you did your best, sir, I observed. And I was never quite free of a fear that the woman would prove too many for us. I trust the Honourable George. But I had said as much as he would let me. He interrupted me with his thumb again, and on his face was what, in a lesser person, I should unhesitatingly have called a leer. You dog, you woman prove too many for us, what what. Dare say, you knew what to expect. Silly whole George, though how she could ever have fancied the jugons. I was about to remark that the creature had, of course, played her game from entirely sordid motives, and I should doubtless have ventured to applaud the game spirit in which he was taking the blow. But before I could shape my phrases on this delicate ground, Mrs. Effie, the Senator, and Cousin Egbert arrived. They somewhat formally had the air of being expected. All of them rushed upon his lordship with an excessive manner. Appetently they were all to be dead sportsmen together. And then Mrs. Effie called me aside. You can do me a favour. She began. About the wedding breakfast and reception. Dear Kate's place is so small. It wouldn't do. There will be a crush, of course. I've had the loveliest idea for it. Our own house. You know how delighted we'd be. The earl has been so charming and everything has turned out so splendidly. Oh, I'd love to do them this little part in kindness. Use your influence, like a good fellow. Won't you, when the thing is suggested? Only too gladly. I responded, sick at heart, and she returned to the group. Well, I knew her motive. She was by way of getting even with the Belnap Jacksons. As Cousin Egbert, in his American fashion, would put it, she was trying to pass them a bison. But I was willing enough she should house the dreadful affair. The more private the better, thought I. A moment later, Belnap Jackson's car appeared at my door, now discharging the Klondike woman, effusively escorted by the mixer, and by Mrs. Belnap Jackson. The latter, at least, I had thought, would show more principle. But she had buckled atrociously, quite as had her husband, who had quickly, almost merrily followed them. There was increased gaiety as they seated themselves about the large table, a silly noise of pretended felicitation over a calamity that, not even the tenth Earl of Princeton had been able to avert. And then Belnap Jackson beckoned me aside. I want your help, old chap, in case it's needed. He began. The wedding breakfast and reception, I said, quite cynically. You thought of it, good. Her own place is far too small. Crowd, of course. And it's rather proper at our place, too, his lordship having been our house guest, you see. Use what influence you have. The affair will be rather widely commented on. Even the New York papers, I dare say. Count upon me, I answered blandly. Even as I had promised Mrs. Effie, disgusted I was, left them maul each other about over the wretched honour. They could all be dead sports if they chose, but I was now firmly resolved that for myself I should make not a bit of pretense. The creature might trick poor George into a marriage, but I, for one, would not affect to regard it as other than a blight upon our house. I was just on the point of hoping that the victim himself might have cut off to unknown parts when I saw him enter. By the other members of the party he was hailed with cries of delight. Though his own air was finally honest, being dejected in the extreme, he was dressed as regrettably as usual, this time in parts of two lounge suits. As he joined those at the table I constrained myself to serve the champagne. Senator Flood arose with a brimming glass. My friends! he began in his public speaking manner. Let us remember that Red Gap's loss is England's gain, to the future Countess of Brinstead. To my astonishment this appalling breach of good taste was received with the loudest applause, nor was his lordship the least clamorous of them. I mean to say, the chap had as good as wished that his lordship would directly pop off. It was beyond me. I walked to the farthest window and stood a long time gazing pensively out. I wished to be away from that false show. But they noticed my absence at length and called to me. Monstrously I was desired to drink to the happiness of the groom. I thought they were pressing me too far. But as they quite gabbled now with their tea and things, I hoped to pass it off. The senator however seemed to fasten me with his eyes. He proposed the toast. To the happy man! I drank, perforce. A body would think Bill was drinking to the judge! remarked Cousin Egbert in a high voice. Eh, I said, startled to this outburst by his strange words. Good old George! exclaimed his lordship. Oh it all to the old juggins, what-what! The clondike person spoke. I heard her voice as a bell pealing through breakers at sea. I mean to say, I was now fair dazed. Not to old George, said she, to old Ruggles. To old Ruggles! promptly cried the senator, and they drank. Muddled indeed I was. Again in my eventful career I felt myself tremble. I knew not what I should say. Any Savoir fair being quite gone. I had received a crumpler of some sort. But what sort? My sleeve was touched. I turned blindly as in a nightmare. The hob's cub, who was my vestillari, was handing me our evening paper. I took it from him, staring until my knees grew weak. Across the page, in clarion type, rang the unbelievable words. British peer wins American bride. His lordship, Tenth Earl of Brinstead, to wed one of Redgap's fairest daughters. My hands so shook that in quick subterpuge I dropped the sheet, then strooped for it, trusting to control myself before I again raised my face. Mercifully the others were diverted by the journal. It was seized from me, passed from hand to hand. The incredible words read aloud by each in turn. They gested of it. Amazing chaps, your press men! Thus the Tenth Earl of Brinstead, while I pinched myself viciously to bring back my lost aplomb. Speedy beggars, what what! Never knew it myself till last night. She would, and she wouldn't. I think you knew, said the lady. Stricken as I was, I noted that she eyed him rather strangely. Quite as if she felt some decent respect for him. Marriage is serious, boomed the mixer. Don't blame her, swear I don't. Returned his lordship. Few days to think it over? Quite right, quite right. Got to know their own minds, my word. While their attention was thus mercifully diverted from me, my own world, by painful degrees, resumed its stability. I mean to say, I am not the fainting sort, but if I were, then I should have keeled over at my first sight of that journal. But now I merely recovered my glass of champagne and drained it. Rather pigged it a bit, I fancy. Badly needing a stimulant I was, to be sure. They now discussed details, the ceremony, that sort of thing. Before a registrar, quickest way, said his lordship. Nonsense, church, of course, rumbled the mixer very arbitrarily. Quite so, then, assented his lordship. Get me the rector of the parish, Avica, a curate, something of that sort. Then the breakfast and reception suggested Mrs. Effie with a meaning glanced at me before she turned to the lady. Of course, dearest, your own tiny nest would never hold your host to friends. I've never noticed, said the other quickly. It always seemed big enough, she added in pensive tones and with downcast eyes. Oh, not large enough by half, put in Belknap Jackson, most charming little home nook, but world's too small for all your well-wishers. With a glance at me he narrowed his eyes in friendly calculation. I'm somewhat puzzled myself. Suppose we see what the capable Ruggles has to suggest. Let Ruggles suggest something by our means! cried Mrs. Effie. I am in to say they both quite thought they knew what I would suggest. But it was nothing of the sort. The situation had entirely changed. Quite another sort of thing it was. Quickly I resolved to fling them both aside. I too would be a dead sportsman. I was about to suggest, I remarked, that my place here is the only one at all suitable for the breakfast and reception. I can promise that the affair will go off smartly. The two had looked up with such radiant expectation at my opening words, and were so plainly in a state at my conclusion that I dare say the future Countess of Brinstead had once knew what. She flashed them a look, then eyed me with quick understanding. Great! she exclaimed in a hearty American manner. Then that settled. She continued briskly, as both Belknap Jackson and Mrs. Effie would have interposed. Ruggles shall do everything, take it off our shoulders, ices, flowers, invitations. The invitationist will need great care, of course, remarked Belknap Jackson with a quite savage glance at me. But you just called him the capable Ruggles, insisted the fiancé. We shall leave it all to him. How many will you ask, Ruggles? Her eyes licked from mine to Belknap Jackson. Quite almost everyone, I answered, firmly. Fine, she said. Ripping, said his lordship. His lordship will, of course, wish a best man, suggested Belknap Jackson. I should be only too glad. You're going to suggest Ruggles again. Quite the lady, just the man for it. You're quite right. Why, we owe it all to Ruggles, don't we? She here beamed upon his lordship. Belknap Jackson wore an expression of the keenest disrelish. Of course, course, replied his lordship. Dashed good man, Ruggles, owe it all to him. What, what? I fancy, in the cordial excitement of the moment, he was quite sincere. As to her ladyship, I am to this day unable to still effaint suspicion that she was having me on. True, she owed it all to me, but I hadn't a bit meant it, and well she knew it. Subtle she was, I daresay. But bore me no malice, though she was not above setting Belknap Jackson back a pace or two each time he moved up. A final toast was drunk and my guests drifted out. Belknap Jackson again glared savagely at me as he went, but Mrs. Effie rather outglared him. Even I should hardly have cared to face her at that moment. And I was still in a high state of muddle. It was all beyond me. Had his lordship, I wondered, too seriously taken my careless words about American equality? Of course I had meant them to apply only to those stopping on in the States. Cousin Egbert lingered to the last, rather with a troubled air, of wishing to consult me. When I had length came up with him he held the journal before me, indicating lines in the article. Relict of an Alaskan capitalist. Now for some years one of Red Gap's social favorites. Read that there, he commanded grimly. Then with a terrific earnestness I had never before remarked in him. Say, listen here, I better go round right off and mix it up with that fresh guy. What's he hinting around at by that there word relict? Why say she was married to him? I hastily corrected his preposterous interpretation of the word much to his relief. I was still in my precious state of muddle. Mrs. Judson took occasion to flounce by me in her work of clearing the table. A prince in his palace, she taunted. I laughed in a lofty manner. Why, you poor thing, I've known it all for some days, I said. Well, I must say you're the deep one, if you did, never letting on. She was unable to repress a glance of admiration at me as she moved off. I stood where she had left me, meditating profoundly. Two days later, at high noon, was solemnized the marriage of his lordship to the woman who, without a bit meaning it, I had so curiously caused to enter his life. The day was for myself so crowded with emotions that it returns in rather a jumble patches of incidents, little floating clouds of memory, some meaningless, and one at least to be significant to my last day. The ceremony was had in our most nearly smart church. It was only a Methodist church, but I took pains to assure myself that a ceremony performed by its curate would be legal. I still seem to hear the organ strains of the voice that breathed through Eden as we neared the altar. Also, the mixer's rumbling whisper about a lost handkerchief, which she apparently found herself needing at that moment. The responses of bride and groom were unhesitating, even firm. Her ladyship, I thought, had never appeared to better advantage than in the pearl-tinted lusterless going-away gown she had chosen. As always, she had finally known what to put on her head. Senator Floud, despite Belknap Jackson's suggestion of himself for the office, had been selected to give away the bride, as the saying is, he performed his function with dignity. Though I recall being seized with horror when the moment came, almost certain I am, he restrained himself with difficulty from making a sort of a speech. The church was thronged, I had seen to that. I had told her ladyship that I should ask quite almost everyone, and this I had done, squarely in the face of Belknap Jackson's pleading, that discretion be used. For a great white light, as one might say, had now suffused me. I had seen that the moment was come when the warding factions of Red Gap should be reunited. A bismarck I felt myself, indeed, that I acted ably was later to be seen. Even for the wedding breakfast, which occurred directly after the ceremony, I had shown myself a dictator in the matter of guests. Covers were laid in my room for seventy, and among these were included not only the members of the Northside set, and the entire Bohemian set, but many worthy persons, not hitherto socially existent, yet who had been friends, or well-wishers, of the bride. I am persuaded to confess that in a few of these instances I was not above a snarky little wish to correct the social horizon of Belknap Jackson, to make it more broadly accord, as I may say, with the spirit of American equality, for which their forefathers bled and died on the battlefields of Boston, New York, and Vicksburg. Not the least of my reward, then, was to see his eyebrows more than once eloquently raised, as when the cattle persons, Hank and Buck, appeared in suits of decent black, or when the driver-chap Pierce entered, with his quite obscure mother on his arm, or a few other cattle and horse persons, with whom the Honourable George had paled up during his process of going in for America. This laxity I felt that the Earl of Brinstead and his bride could amply afford, while for myself I had soundly determined that red gap should henceforth be without sets. I mean to say, having frankly taken up America, I was at last resolved to do it wholeheartedly. If I could not take up the whole of it, I would not take up apart. Quite instinctively I had chosen the slogan of our Chamber of Commerce, don't knock, boost, and boost altogether. Rudely worded, though it is, I had seen it to be sound in spirit. These thoughts ran in my mind during the small repast that now followed. Insidiously I wrought among the guests to amalgamate into one friendly whole certain elements that had hitherto been hostile. The Bohemian set was not segregated. Almost my first inspiration had been to scatter its members widely among the conservative pillars of the Northside set. Left in one group I had known they would plume themselves quite intolerably over the signal triumph of their leader. Perhaps in the American speech start something. Widely scattered they became mere parts of the whole I was seeking to achieve. The banquet progressed gaily to its finish. Tose were drunk, no end, all of them proposed by Senator Flood, who toward the last kept almost constantly on his feet. From the bride and groom he expanded geographically through red gap, the Coulange Valley, the State of Washington, and the United States to the British Empire, not omitting the Honourable George, who I noticed, called for the relish and consumed quite almost an entire bottle during the meal. Also I was proposed. Through whose lifelong friendship for the illustrious groom, this meeting of hearts and hands, has been so happily brought about. Her ladyship's eyes rested briefly upon mine as her lips touched the glass to this. They conveyed the unspeakable. Rather a fool I felt, and unable to look away until she released me. She had been wondrously quiet through it all, not dazed in the least, as might have been looked for in one of her lowly station, thus prodigiously elevated, and not feverishly gay, as might also have been anticipated. Simple and quiet she was, showing a complete but perfectly controlled awareness of her position. For the first time then I think I did envision her as the Countess of Brinstead. She was going to carry it off. Perhaps quite as well as even I could have wished his lordship's chosen mate to do, I observed her look at his lordship with those strange lights in her eyes, as if only half realizing, yet wholly believing, all that he believed. And once at the height of the gaiety I saw her reach out to touch his sleeve, furtively, swiftly, and so gently he never knew. It occurred to me there were things about the woman we had taken to little trouble to know. I wondered what old memories might be coming to her now? What staring faces might obtrude? What old far-off, perhaps hated, voices might be sounding to her? What of remembered hurts and heartaches might newly echo back to make her flinch and wonder if she dreamed? She touched the sleeve again, as it might have been in protection from them. Her eyes narrowed, her gaze fixed. It clearly occurred to me that his lordship might find her as difficult to know as we had, and yet would keep always trying, more than we had, to be sure. I mean to say, she was no gabbler. The responses to the senator's toasts increased in volume. His final flight, I recall, involved terms like, Our blood cousins of the British Isles, and introduced a figure of speech about, Hands across the sea, which I thought striking indeed. The applause aroused by this was noisy in the extreme. A number of the cattle and horse persons, including the red-skinned tuttle, emitting a shrill concerted yipping, which, though it would never have done with us, seemed somehow not out of place in North America. Although I observed Bernab Jackson to make gestures of extreme repugnance while it lasted, there ensued a rather flurried wishing of happiness to the pair. A novel sight it was. The most austere matrons of the north side set vying for places in the line that led past them. I found myself trying to analyze the inner emotions of some of them I best knew, as they fondly greeted the now radiant Countess of Brinstead. But that way madness lay, as Shakespeare has so aptly said of another matter. I recalled, though, the low-toned comment of Cousin Egbert, who stood near me, Don't them dames stand the gaffe noble? It was quite true. They were heroic. I recalled, then, his other quaint prophecy that a ladyship would hand them a bottle of lemonade, as is curiously usual with this simple soul he had gone to the heart of the matter. The throng dwindled to the more intimate friends. Among those who lingered were the Belnap Jackson's and Mrs. Effie. Quite solicitous they were for the dear Countess, as they rather defiantly called her to one another. Belnap Jackson casually mentioned, in my hearing, that he had been asked to Chains Wharton for the shooting. Mrs. Effie, who also heard, swiftly remarked that she would doubtless run over in the spring, the dear Earl was so insistent. They rather glared at each other. But in truth his lordship had insisted that quite almost everyone should come and stop on with him. Of course, course, Whart-what. Jolly party, no end of fun. Weekend, that sort of thing. No, she'll like her old friend's best. Wouldn't be keen for the creature if she'd not. Have them all. Capital, by jove. To be sure it was a manner of speaking, born of the expansive good feeling of the moment. Yet I believe cousin Egbert was the only invited one to decline. He did so with evident distress at having to refuse. I lack your little woman a whole lot, he observed to his lordship. But Europe is too kind of uncomfortable for me. Keeps me upset all the time. What with all the foreigners, and one thing and another. But listen here, Cap. You pack the little woman back once in a while, just to give us a flash-adder. We'll give you both a good time. What-ho! returned his lordship. Of course, course. Fancy we'd like it, vastly. What-what? Yes, sir. I fancy you would too. And rather startlingly, cousin Egbert seized her lordship and kissed her heartily. Whereupon her lordship kissed the fellow in return. Yes, sir. I daresay I fancy you would. He called back a bit nervously as he left. Belnap Jackson drove the party to the station, feeling, I am sure, that he scored over Mrs. Effie. Though he was obliged to include the mixer, from whom her lordship bluntly refused to be separated, I inferred that she must have found the time and seclusion in which to weep a bit on the mixer's shoulder. The waist of the latter's purple satin gown was quite spotty at the height of her lordship's eyes. Belnap Jackson, on this occasion, drove his car with the greatest solicitude, proceeding more slowly than I had ever known him to do. As I attended to certain luggage details at the station, he was regretting to his lordship that they had not had a longer time at the country club the day it was exhibited. Look a bit after, silly old George! said his lordship to me at parting. Chaps, dotty, I daresay, talking about a plantation of apple trees now, for his old age, that sort of thing. Be something new in a fortnight, though, like him, of course, course. Her lordship closed upon my hand with a remarkable vigor of grip. We owe it all to you, she said, again with dancing eyes. Then her eyes steadied queerly. Maybe you won't be sorry. No, I shan't. I fancy I rather growled it, stupidly feeling I was not rising to the occasion. Knew his lordship wouldn't rest till he had you where he wanted you. Glad he's got you. And curiously I felt a bit of a glad little squeeze in my throat for her. I groped for something light, something American. Eh, you are some countess, I at last added in a silly way. What, what? said his lordship. But I had caught her eyes, they brimmed with understanding. With the going of that train all life seemed to go. I mean to say, things all at once became flat. I turned to the dull station. Give you a lift, old town? said Bill Knapp Jackson. Again he was cordial. So firmly had I kept the reins of the whole affair in my grasp. Such prestige he knew it would give me. He dared not broach his grievance. Some half-remembered American phrase of cousin Egbert's ran in my mind. I had put a buffalo on him. Thank you, I said. I'm needing a bit of a stretch and a breeze out. I wished to walk that I might the better meditate. With Bill Knapp Jackson one does not sufficiently meditate. A block up from the station I was struck by the sight of the Honourable George. Plodding solitary down that low street he was, healed as usual by the Judson Kerr. He came to the Spilmer public-house, and for a moment stared up, quite still at the lost chance on its chaffing sign-board. Then he wheeled abruptly and entered. I was moved to follow him, but I knew it would never do. He would row me about the service of the grill, something of that sort. I daresay he had fancied her ladyship, as keenly as one of his volatile nature might. But I knew him. Back on our street the festival atmosphere still lingered. Groups of recent guests paused to discuss the astounding event. The afternoon paper was being scanned by many of them. An account of the wedding was its feature, as they say. I had no heart for that. But on the second page my eye caught a minor item. A special meeting of the ladys onward and upwards club is called for tomorrow afternoon at Too Sharp at the residence of Mrs. Dr. Percy Haley Martingale for the transaction of important business. One could fancy, I thought, what the meeting would discuss. Nor was I wrong, for I may here state that the evening paper of the following day disclosed that her ladyship, the Countess of Brinstead, had unanimously been elected to a life-honorary membership in the club. Back in the grill I found the work of clearing the tables well advanced, and very soon its before-dinner aspect of calm waiting was restored. Surveying it, I reflected that one might well wonder if odd momentous had indeed so lately occurred here. A motley day it had been. I passed into the linen and glass pantry. Mrs. Jetson, polishing my glassware, burst into tears at my approach, frankly stanching them with her towel. I saw it to be a mere overflow of the meaningless emotion that women stalk so abundantly on the occasion of a wedding. She is an almost intensely feminine person, as can be seen at once by anyone who understands women. In a goods-box in the passage beyond I noted her nipper fast asleep, a mammoth beef-rib clasped to its fat chest. I debated putting this abuse to her once more, but feared the moment was not propitious. She dried her eyes and smiled again. A prince in his palace. She murmured inainly. She thought first he was going to be as funny as the other one. Then she found he wasn't. I liked him too. I didn't blame her a bit. He's one of that kind. His barks worse than his bite. And to think you knew all the time what was coming off. My, but you're the Mr. Deep One. I saw no reason to stultify myself by denying this. I mean to say, if she thought it, let her. The last thing yesterday she gave me this dress. I had already noted the very becoming dull blue house gown she wore. Quite with an air she carried it. To be sure it was not suitable to her duties. The excitements of the day, I suppose, had rendered me a bit sterner than is my want. Perhaps a little authoritative. A handsome gown, I replied, icely. But one would hardly choose it for the work you are performing. Rubbish! she retorted plainly. I wanted to look nice. I had to go in there lots of times, and I wanted to be dressed for to-night. Why to-night, may I ask? I was all at once uncomfortably curious. Why, the boys are coming for me. They're going to take no-no home. Then we're all going to the movies. They've got a new bill at the Bijou, and Buck Edwards especially wants me to see it. One of the cowboys in it that does some star-riding looks just like Buck. Wavy chestnut hair. Buck himself is one of the best riders in the whole Kool-Age. The woman seemed to have some fiendish power to enrage me. As she prattled thus, her eyes demurely on the glass she dried, I felt a deep flush mantle my brow. She could never have dreamed that she had this malign power. But she was now at least to suspect it. Your Mr. Edwards, I began, calmly enough, may be like the cinema actor. The two may be as like each other as makes no difference, but you are not going. I was aware that the latter phrase was heated, where I had merely meant to be impressive. Dignified firmness had been the line I intended, but my rage was mounting. She stared at me, astonished beyond words she was, if I can read human expressions. I am, she snapped at last. You are not, I repeated, stepping a bit toward her. I was conscious of a bit of the rowdy in my manner, but I seemed powerless to prevent it. All my culture was again but the flimsiest veneer. I am too, she again said, though plainly dismayed. No, I quite thundered it, I daresay. No, no, no, no! The nipper cried out from his box. Not until later did it occur to me that he had considered himself to be addressed in angry tones. No, no, I thundered again. I couldn't help myself, though silly rot I call it now. And then, to my horror, the mother herself began to weep. I will, she sobbed. I will, I will, I will. No, no, I insisted, and I found myself seizing her shoulders, not knowing if I mightn't shake her smartly. So drawn out had the woman got me, and still I kept shouting my senseless, no, no, at which the nipper was now yelling. She struggled her best as I clutched her, but I seemed to have the strength of a dozen men. The woman was nothing in my grasp, and my arms were taking their blind rage out on her. Secure I held her, and presently she no longer struggled, and I was curiously no longer angry, but found myself soothing her in many strange ways. I mean to say, the passage between us had fallen to be of the very shockingly most sentimental character. You are so masterful, she panted. I'll have my own way. I threatened. I've told you often enough. Oh, you're so domineering, she murmured. I daresay I am a bit that way. I'll show you who's to be master, but I never dreamed you meant this, she answered. True, I had most brutally taken her by surprise. I could easily see how, expecting nothing of the faintest sort, she had been rudely shocked. I meant it all along, I said firmly, from the very first moment. And now again she spoke in almost odd tones of my deepness. I have never believed in that excessive intuition, which is so widely boasted for woman. I never dreamed of it. She said again, and added, Mrs. Kenner and I were talking about this dress only last night, and I said, I never dreamed of such a thing. She broke off with sudden inconsequence, as women will. We had now to quiet the nipper in his box. I saw even then that, domineering though I may be, I should probably never care to bring the child's condition to her notice again. There was something about her, something volcanic in her femininity. I knew it would never do. Better let that thing continue to be a monstrosity. I might, unnoticed, of course, snatch a bun from its grasp now and then. Our evening rush came and went quite as if nothing had happened. I may have been rather absent, reflecting pensively. I mean to say, I had at times considered this alliance as a dawning possibility, but never had I meant to be sudden, only for the woman's remarkably stubborn obtuseness. I daresay the understanding might have been deferred to a more suitable moment and arranged in a calm and orderly manner. But the die was cast. Like his lordship I had chosen an American bride, taken her by storm, and carried her off her feet before she knew it. We English are often that way. At ten o'clock we closed the grill upon a day that had been historic in the truest sense of the word. I shouldered this sleeping nipper. He still passionately clutched the beef rib, and for some reason I felt averse to depriving him of it, even though it would mean a spotty topcoat. Strangely enough, we talked but little in our walk. It seemed rather too tremendous to talk of. When I gave the child into her arms at the door, it had become half awake. Ruggums! It muttered sleepily. Ruggums! echoed the mother, and again very softly in the still night. Ruggums! Ruggums! That in the few months since that rather agreeable night, I have acquired the title of Red Gap's social dictator, cannot be denied. More than one person of discernment may now be heard to speak of my reign, though this, of course, is coming at a bit thick. The removal by his lordship of one, who, despite her sterling qualities, had been a source of discord, left the social elements of the town in a state of the wildest disorganization. And having for myself acquired a remarkable prestige from my intimate association with the affair, I promptly seized the reins and drew the scattered forces together. First, at an early day, I sought an interview with Belknap Jackson and Mrs. Effie, and told them straight precisely why I had played them both false in the matter of the wedding breakfast. With the honour granted to either of them, I explained, I had foreseen another era of cliques, divisions, and acrimony. Therefore I had done the thing myself as a measure of peace. Flatly then I declared my intention of reconciling all those formerly opposed elements, and of creating a society in Red Gap that would be a social union in the finest sense of the word. I said that contact with their curious American life had taught me that their equality should be more than a name, and that, especially in the younger settlements, a certain relaxation from the rigid requirements of an older order is not only unavoidable but vastly to be desired. I meant to say, if we were going to be Americans, it was silly rot trying to be English at the same time. I pointed out that their former social leaders had ever been inspired by the idea of exclusion. The soul of their leadership had been to cast others out, and that the campaign I planned was to be one of inclusion, even to the extent of Bohemians and well-behaved cattle-persons, which I believed to be in the finest harmony with their North American theory of human association. It might be thought a naive theory, I said, but so long as they had chosen it I should staunchly abide by it. I added what I dare say they did not believe, that the position of leader was not one I should cherish for any other reason than the public good, that when one better fitted might appear, they would find me the first to rejoice. I need not say that I was interrupted frequently and acridly during this harangue, but I had given them both a buffalo and well they knew it, and I worked swiftly from that moment. I gave the following week the first of a series of subscription balls in the dancing hall above the grill, and both Mrs. Bernab Jackson and Mrs. Effie early enrolled themselves as patronesses, even after I made it plain that I alone should name the guests. The success of the affair was all I could have wished. Red Gap had become a social unit, nor was appreciation for my leadership wanting. There will be mal-contents, I foresee, and from the informed inner circles I learned that I have already been slightingly spoken of as a foreigner wielding a scepter over native-born Americans. But I have the support of quite all who really matter, and I am confident these rebellions may be put down by tact alone. It is too well understood, by those who know me, that I have equality for my watchword. I mean to say, at the next ball of the series, I may even see that the fellow Hobbes has a card, if I can become assured that he has quite freed himself from certain debasing class ideals of his native country. This, to be sure, is an extreme case, because the fellow is that type of our serving class, to whom equality is unthinkable. They must, from their centuries of servility, look either up or down, and I scare snow in which attitude they are more offensive to our American point of view. Still I mean to be broad. Even Hobbes shall have his chance with us. It is late June, Mrs. Ruggles and I are comfortably installed in her enlarged and repaired house. We have a foul run on a stretch of her freehold, and the kitchen garden thrives under the care of the Japanese agricultural laborer I have employed. Already I have discharged more than half my debt to Cousin Egbert, who exclaims, oh shacks, each time I make him a payment. He and the Honourable George remain pally no end, and spend much of their abundant leisure at Cousin Egbert's modest country house. At times when they are in town, they rather consort with street persons, but such is the breadth of our social scheme that I shall never exclude them from our gayities, though it is true that more often than not they decline to be present. Mrs. Ruggles, I may say, is a lady of quite amazing capacities, combined, strangely, with the commonest feminine weaknesses. She has acute business judgment at most times. Yet would fly at me in a rage if I were to say what I think of the nippers appalling grossness? Quite naturally I do not push my unquestioned mastery to this extreme. There are other matters in which I amusedly let her have her way, though she fondly reminds me almost daily of my brutal self-will. On one point I have just been obliged to assert this. She came running to me with a suggestion for economising in the manufacture of the relish. She had devised a cheaper formula. But I was firm. So long as the inventor's face is on that flask, I said, its contents shall not be debased atuppance. My name and face will guarantee its purity. She gave in nicely, merely declaring that I needn't growl like one of their bears with a painful foot. At my carefully mild suggestion she has just brought the nipper in from where he was cattying the young fowls much to their detriment. But she is now heaping compote upon a slice of thickly buttered bread for him, glancing meanwhile at our evening newspaper. Ruggums always has his awful own way, dozentums. She remarks to the nipper, deeply ignoring this, I resume my elocutionary studies of the Declaration of Independence, for I should say that a signal honour of a municipal character has just been done me. A committee of the Chamber of Commerce has invited me to participate in their exercises on an early day in July. The fourth, I fancy. When they celebrate the issuance of this famous document, I have been asked to read it, preceding a patriotic address to be made by Senator Flood. I accepted with the utmost pleasure, and now on my vine-cheltered porch have been trying it out for the proper voice effects. Its substance, I need not say, is already familiar to me. The nipper is horribly gulping at its food, jam-smears quite all about its countenance. Mrs. Ruggles glances over her journal. How would you like it? She suddenly demands. If I went around town, like these English women, burning churches and houses of parliament, and cutting up fine oil paintings, how would that suit your grouchy highness? This is not England, I answer shortly. That sort of thing would never do with us. My, but isn't he the fierce old Ruggums? She cries, in effected alarm, to the now half-suffocated nipper. Once more I take up the Declaration of Independence. It lends itself rather well to reciting. I feel that my voice is going to caddy. The end. End of Chapter 20. End of Ruggles of Red Gap by Harry Leon Wilson. Recording by Carol Pelster.