 CHAPTER ONE, TWO AND THREE of Gretchen This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. RECORDED BY CELINE MAJOR Gretchen by Mary Jane Holmes CHAPTER ONE The Telegram Brevert House, New York, October 6, 1800, Blank To Mr. Frank Tracy of Tracy Park, Shannondale I arrived in the Scotia this morning and shall take the train for Shannondale at 3 p.m. Send someone to the station to meet us. Arthur Tracy This was the telegram which the clerk in the Shannondale office received one October morning and dispatched to the Hon. Frank Tracy of Tracy Park in the quiet town of Shannondale where our story opens. Mr. Frank Tracy, who since his election to the state legislature for two successive terms had done nothing except to attend political meetings and make speeches on all public occasions, had an office in town where he usually spent his morning smoking, reading the papers, and talking to Mr. Colvin, his business agent and lawyer for though born in one of the humblest New England houses, where the slanting roof almost touched the ground in the rear and he could scarcely stand upright in the chamber where he slept. Mr. Frank Tracy was a man of leisure now, and as he dashed along the turnpike in his handsome carriage with his driver beside him, people looked admiringly after him and pointed him out to strangers as the Hon. Mr. Tracy of Tracy Park, one of the finest places in the county. It is true it did not belong to him, but he had lived there so long that he looked upon it as his while his neighbors too seemed to have forgotten that there was a Mr. Arthur Tracy who might at any time come home to claim his own and demand an account of his brother's stewardship. And it was this Arthur Tracy whose telegram announcing his return from Europe was read by his brother with feelings of surprise and consternation. Not that everything isn't fair and above board and he is welcome to look into matters as much as he likes, Frank said to himself as he sat staring at the telegram while the cold chills ran up and down his back and arms. Yes, he can examine all Colvin's books, he will find them straight as a string, and didn't he tell me to take what I thought right as renumeration for looking after his property while he was gallivanting over the world? And if he objects that I have taken too much, I can at once transfer those investments in my name to him. No, it is not that which affects me so. It is a suddenness of the thing, coming without warning and to night of all nights when the house will be full of carousing and champagne. What will Dolly say? Hysterics, of course, if not a sick headache. I don't believe I can vase her till she has had a little time to brace up. Here, boy, I want you. And he rapped on the window at a young lad who happened to be passing with a basket on his arm. I want you to do an errand for me. He continued as the boy entered the office and, removing his cap, stood respectfully before him. Take this telegram to Mrs. Tracy, and here is a dime for you. Thank you, but I don't care for the money," the boy said. I was going to the park anyway to tell Mrs. Tracy that Grandma is sick and can't go there tonight. Sick? What is the matter? Mr. Tracy asked in dismay, feeling that here was a fresh cause of trouble and worry for his wife. She catch cold yesterday, fixing up Mother's grave, the boy replied, and as if the mention of that grave had sent Mr. Tracy's thoughts straying backward to the past, he looked thoughtfully at the child for a moment and then said, How old are you, Harold? Ten last August, was the reply, and Mr. Tracy continued, You do not remember your mother? No, sir, only a great crowd and Grandma crying so hard, was Harold's reply. You look like her, Mr. Tracy said. Yes, sir, Harold answered, while into his frank open face there came an expression of regret for the mother who had died when he was three years old, and whose life had been so short and sad. Now hurry off with the telegram, and mind you don't lose it, it is from my brother, he is coming tonight. Mr. Arthur Tracy, who sent the monument for my mother, is he coming home? Oh, I'm so glad. Harold exclaimed his face lighting up with joy as he put the telegram in his pocket and started for Tracy Park, wondering if he should encounter Tom and thinking that if he did, and Tom gave him any chaff, he should thresh him or try to. Darn him, he said to himself as he recalled the many times when Tom Tracy, a boy about his own age, had laughed at him for his poverty and coarse clothes. He ain't any better than I am if he does wear velvet trousers and live in a big house. Taint, isn't it? It's Mr. Arthur's, and I'm glad he is coming home. I wonder if he will bring Grandma anything. I wish he'd bring me a pyramid. He's seen him, they say. Meantime Mr. Frank Tracy had resumed his seat and with his hands clasped over his head was wondering what effect his brother's return would have upon him. Would he be obliged to leave the park and at the luxury he had enjoyed so long and go back to the old life which he hated so much? No, Arthur will never be so mean, he said. He has always shown himself generous and will continue to do so. Besides that, he will want somebody to keep the house for him. Unless... And here the perspiration started from every poor as Frank Tracy thought. What if he is married and the us and his telegram means a wife instead of a friend or servant as I imagined? That would indeed be a calamity, for then his reign was over at Tracy Park and the party he and his wife were to give that night to at least three hundred people would be their last. Con found the party, he thought as he rose from his chair and began to pace the room. Arthur won't like that as a greeting after eleven years absence. He never fancied being cheek by jowl with Tom, Dick and Harry and that is just what the smash is tonight. Dolly wants to please everybody thinking to get me votes for Congress and so she has invited all creation and his wife. There's old Peterkin, the roughest kind of a canal bummer when Arthur went away. Think of my fastidious brother shaking hands with him and widdle Shipley who kept a low tavern on the tow-path. She'll be there in her silks and long gold chain for she has four boys, all voters, who call me Frank and slap me on the shoulder. Ugh, even I hate it all. And in a most perturbed state of mind the would-be congressman continued to walk the room lamenting the party and wondering what his aristocratic brother would say to such a crowd in his house on the night of his return. And if there should be a Mrs. Arthur Tracy with possibly some little Tracy's. But that idea was too horrible to contemplate and he tried to put it from his mind and to be as calm and quiet as possible until lunchtime when, with no very great amount of alacrity and cheerfulness, he started for home. Chapter 2 Arthur Tracy Although it was a morning in October, the grass in the park was as green as in early June while the flowers in the beds and borders, the geraniums, the flocks, the stalks, and verbenas were handsomer if possible than they had been in the summertime. For the rain which had fallen almost continually during the month of September had kept them fresh and bright. Here and there the scarlet and golden tints of autumn were beginning to show on the trees. But this only added a new charm to a place which was noted for its beauty and was the pride and admiration of the town. And yet Mrs. Frank Tracy, who stood on the wide piazza looking after a carriage which was moving down the avenue which led through the park to the highway, did not seem as happy as the mistress of that house Arthur had been, standing there in the clear, crisp morning with a silken wrapper trailing behind her, a coquettish French cap on her head, and costly jewels on her short, fat hands which once were not as white and soft as they are now. For Mrs. Frank Tracy, as Dorothy Smith had known what hard labour and poverty meant, and slights too, because of the poverty and labour. Her mother was a widow, sickly and lame, and Dorothy and her girlhood had worked in the cotton mills at Langley and bound shoes for the firm of Newell and Brothers and rebelled at the fate which had made her so poor and seemed likely to keep her so. But there was something better in store for her than binding shoes or working in the mills, and from the time when young Frank Tracy came to Langley as clerk in the Newell firm, Dorothy's life was changed and her star began to rise. They both sang in the choir, standing side by side, and sometimes using the same book, and once their hands met as both tried to turn the leaves together. Dorothy's were red and rough and not nearly as delicate as those of Frank who had been in the store all his life, and still there was a magnetism in their touch which sent a thrill through the young man's veins and made him for the first time look critically at his companion. She was very pretty, he thought, with bright black eyes, a healthful bloom and a smile and blush which went straight to his heart and made him her slave at once. In three months' time they were married and commenced housekeeping in a very un-ostentatious way, for Frank had nothing but his salary to depend upon. But he was well connected and boasted some blue blood which, in Dorothy's estimation, made amends for lack of money. The Tracy's of Boston were his distant relatives, and he had a rich bachelor uncle who spent his winters in New Orleans and his summers at Tracy Park, on which he had lavished fabulous sums of money. From this Uncle Frank had expectations, though naturally the greater part of his fortune would go to his godson and namesake Arthur Tracy, who was Frank's elder brother, and is unlike him as one brother could well be unlike another. Arthur was scholarly in his tastes and quiet and gentlemanly in his manners, and, though subject to moods and fits of abstraction and forgetfulness, which won for him the reputation of being a little queer, he was exceedingly popular with everyone. Frank was very proud of his brother, and with Dorothy felt that he was honored when, six months after their marriage, he came for a day or so to visit them, and with him his intimate friend Harold Hastings, an Englishman by birth but so thoroughly Americanized as to pass unchallenged for a native. There was a band of crepe on Arthur's hat, and his manner was like one trying to be sorry, while conscious of an inward feeling of resignation if not content. The rich Uncle had died suddenly, and the whole of his vast fortune was left to his nephew Arthur, not a farthing to Frank, not even the mention of his name in the will, and when Dorothy heard it she put her white apron over her face and cried as if her heart would break. They were so poor, she and Frank, and they wanted so many things, and the man who could have helped them was dead and had left them nothing. It was hard, and she might not have made the young heir very welcome if he had not assured her that he would do something for her husband, and he kept his word and bought out a grocery and Langley and put Frank in it and paid the mortgage on his house and gave him a thousand dollars and invited Dolly to visit him, and then it would seem as if he forgot them entirely, for with his friend Harold he settled himself at Tracy Park and played the role of the grand gentleman to perfection. Few ladies ever called at the house for, with two or three exceptions, Arthur held himself aloof from the people of Shannondale. It was said, however, that sometimes when he and his friend were alone there was the sound of music in the parlor, where sweet Amy Crawford, daughter of the housekeeper, played and sang her simple ballads for the two gentlemen who treated her with as much deference as if she had been a queen instead of a poor young girl dependent for her bread upon her own and her mother's exertions. But beyond the singing in the twilight Amy never advanced and so far as her mother knew she had never for a single instant been alone with either of the gentlemen. How then was the household electrified one morning when it was found that Amy had fled and that Harold Hastings was the companion of her flight? I wanted to tell you, Amy wrote to her mother in the note left on her dressing table, I wanted to tell you and be married at home, but Mr. Hastings would not allow it. It would create trouble, he said, between himself and Mr. Tracy, who, I may confess to you in confidence, asked me twice to be his wife, and when I refused he was so angry and behaved so strangely and there was such a look in his eyes that I was afraid of him and it was this fear, I think, which made me willing to go away secretly with Harold and be married in New York. We are going to Europe, shall sail tomorrow morning at nine o'clock in the Scotia. The marriage ceremony will be performed before we go on board. I shall write as soon as we reach Liverpool. You must forgive me, mother, and I am sure you would if you knew how much I love Mr. Hastings. I know he is poor and that I might be mistress of Tracy Park, but I love Harold best. It is ten o'clock and the train passes at eleven, so I must say good-bye. Yours lovingly, Amy. This letter Mrs. Grafford found upon entering her daughter's room after waiting more than an hour for her appearance at the breakfast, which they always took by themselves. To say that she was shocked and astonished would but faintly portray the state of her mind as she read that her beautiful young daughter had gone with Harold Hastings, whom she had never liked for though he was handsome and agreeable and gentlemanly as a rule, she knew him to be thoroughly selfish and indolent and she trembled for Amy's happiness when a little time had quenched the ardour of his passion. Added to this was another thought which made her brain real for a moment. Arthur Tracy had wished to make Amy his wife and the mistress of Tracy Park, which she would have graced so well, for in all the town there was not a fair, sweeter girl than Amy Crawford, or one better beloved. But it was too late now. There was no turning back the wheels of fate, and, forcing herself to be as calm as possible, she took the note to Arthur, who was waiting impatiently in the library for the appearance of his friend. Lazy dog! Mrs. Crawford heard him say as she approached the open door. Does he think he has nothing to do but to sleep? We were to start by this time and he in bed yet. Are you speaking of Mr. Hastings? Mrs. Crawford asked as she stepped into the room. Yes, was his heart he reply as if he resented the question and her presence there. He could be very proud and stern when he felt like it, and one of these moves was on him now, but Mrs. Crawford did not heed it in sinking into a chair she began. I came to tell you of Mr. Hastings and Amy. I found this note in her room. She has gone to New York with him. They took the eleven o'clock train last night. They are to be married this morning and sail for Europe. For a moment Arthur Tracy stood looking at her, while his face grew white as ashes and into his dark eyes there came a gleam like that of a madman. Amy, gone with Harold, my friend, he said at last, gone to be married. Traitors, both of them, curse them. If he were here I'd shoot him like a dog, and she, I believe I would kill her too. He was walking the floor rapidly and to Mrs. Crawford it seemed as if he really were unsettled in his mind. He talked so incoherently and acted so strangely. What else did she say? He asked suddenly stopping and confronting her. You have not told me all. Did she speak of me? Let me see the note, and he held his hand for it. For a moment Mrs. Crawford hesitated, but as he grew more and more persistent she gave it to him, and then watched him as he read it, while the veins on his forehead began to swell until they stood out like a dark blue network against his otherwise pallid face. Yes, he said between his teeth. I did ask her to be my wife and she refused, and with her soft, kittenish ways made me more in love with her than ever and more her dup. I never suspected Harold, and when I told him of my disappointment, for I never kept a thing from him, he laughed at me for losing my heart to my housekeeper's daughter. I could have knocked him down for his sneer at Amy, and I wish now I had. He does not mean to marry your daughter, madam, but if he does not I will kill him. He was certainly mad, and Mrs. Crawford shrank away from him as from something dangerous and going to her room took her bed in a fit of frightful hysterics. This was followed by a state of nervous prostration and for a few days she neither saw nor heard of nor inquired for Mr. Tracy. At the end of the fourth day, however, she was told by the housemaid that he had that morning packed his valise and without a word to anyone had taken the train for New York. A week went by and then there came a letter from him which was as follows. New York may blank a teen blank. Mrs. Crawford, I am off for Europe tomorrow and when I shall return is a matter of uncertainty. They are married, or at least I suppose so, for I found a list of the passengers who sailed in the Scotia and the names Mr. and Mrs. Hastings were in it. So that saves me from breaking the sixth commandment as I should have done if he had played Amy false. I may not make myself known to them, but I shall follow them, and if he harms a hair of her head I shall shoot him yet. My brother Frank is to live at Tracy Park. That will suit his wife and as you will not care to stay with her I send you a deed of that cottage in the lane by the wood where the gardener now lives. It is a pretty little place and Amy liked it well. We used to meet there sometimes and more than once I have sat with her on that seat under the elm tree and it was there I asked her to be my wife. Alas! I loved her so much and I could have made her so happy, but that is past and I can only watch her at a distance. When I have anything to communicate I will write again. Yours truly, Arthur Tracy. P.S. Take all the furniture in your room and Amy's and whatever else you need for your house. I shall tell Colvin to give you a thousand dollars and when you want more let him know. I shall never forget that you are Amy's mother. That was Arthur's letter to Mrs. Crawford while to his brother he wrote. Dear Frank, I am going to Europe for an indefinite length of time. Why I go it matters not to you or anyone. I go to suit myself and I want you to sell out your business in Langley and live at Tracy Park where you can see two things as if they were your own. You will find everything straight and square for Colvin is honest and methodical. He knows all about the bonds and mortgages and stocks so you cannot do better than to retain him in your service overseeing matters yourself of course and drawing for your salary what you think right and necessary for your support and for keeping up the place as it ought to be kept up. I enclose a power of attorney. When I want money I shall call upon Colvin. I may be gone for years and perhaps forever. I shall never marry and when I die what I have will naturally go to you. We have not been much like brothers for the past few years but I don't forget the old home in the mountains where we were boys together and played and quarreled and slept under the roof where the blankets were hung to keep the snow from sifting through the rafters upon our bed. And Frank do you remember the bitter mornings when the thermometer was below zero and we performed our ablutions in the woodshed and the black eye you gave me once for telling mother that you had not washed yourself at all it was so cold. She sent you from the table and made you go without your breakfast and we had ham and Johnny cake toast that morning too. That was long ago and our lives are different now. There are marble basins with silver chains and stoppers at Tracy Park and you can have a hot bath every day if you like in a room which would not shame Caracalla himself. And I know you will like it and Dolly too but don't make fools of yourselves. Be quiet and modest and act as if you had always lived at Tracy Park. Be kind to Mrs. Crawford who is a lady in every sense of the word. And now good-bye. I shall write occasionally but not often. Your Brother Arthur Tracy Chapter 3 Mr. and Mrs. Frank Tracy Mr. Frank in his small grocery at Langley was weighing out a pound of butter for the widow Simpson who was haggling with him about the price when his brother's letter was brought to him by the boy who swept his store and did errands for him. But Frank was too busy just then to read it. There was a circus in the village that day and it brought the country people into the town in larger numbers than usual. Naturally many of them paid Frank a visit in the course of the morning so that it was not until he went home to his dinner that he thought of the letter which was finally brought to his mind by his wife's asking if there were any news. Mrs. Frank was always inquiring for and expecting news but she was not prepared for what this day brought her. Neither was her husband and when he read his brother's letter which he did twice to assure himself that he was not mistaken he sat for a moment perfectly bewildered and stared at his wife who was putting his dinner upon the table. Dolly He gasped at last when he could speak at all. Dolly what do you think? Just listen. Arthur is going to Europe to stay forever perhaps and has left us Tracy Park. We are going there to live and you will be as grand a lady as Mrs. Atherton of Briar Hill or that young girl at Collingwood. Dolly had a platter of ham and eggs in her hand and she never could tell though she often tried to do so what prevented her from dropping the hole upon the floor. She did spill some of the fat upon her clean tablecloth. She put the dish down so suddenly and then sinking into a chair she demanded what her husband meant. Was he crazy or what? Not a bit of it. He replied recovering himself and beginning to realize the good fortune which had come to him. We are rich people Dolly. Read for yourself. And he passed her the letter which she seemed to understand better than he had done. Why yes, she said. We are going to Tracy Park to live but that doesn't make us rich it is not ours. I know that her husband replied but we shall enjoy it all the same and hold our heads with the best of them. Besides don't you see Arthur gives me carte blanche as to pay for my services and though I shall do right it is not in human nature that I should not feather my nest when I have a chance. Some of that money ought to have been mine. I shall sell out at once if I can find a purchaser and if I can't I shall rent the grocery and move out of this whole double quick. His ideas were growing faster than those of his wife who was attached to Langley and its people and shrank a little from the grand life opening before her. She had once spent a few days at Tracy Park as Arthur's guest and had felt great restraint even in the presence of Mrs. Crawford and Amy whom she recognized as ladies not with standing their position in the house. On that occasion she had with her brother-in-law been invited to dine at Briar Hill, the country seat of Mrs. Grace Atherton where she had been so completely overawed that she did not know what half the dishes were or what she was expected to do. But by watching Arthur and declining some things which she felt sure were beyond her comprehension she managed tolerably well though when the dinner was over and she could breathe freely again she found that the back of her new silk gown was wet with perspiration which had oozed from every pore during the hour and a half she had sat at the table. Such falderol, she said to a friend to whom she was describing the dinner. Such falderol, changing your plates all the time, eating peas in the winter with nothing under the sun with them and drinking coffee out of a cup about as big as a thimble. Give me the good old fashioned way I say with peas and potatoes and meat and things and cups that will hold half a pint and have some thickness that you can feel in your mouth. And now she was to exchange the good old fashioned way for what she termed falderol and for a time she did not like it. But her husband was so delighted and eager that he succeeded in impressing her with some of his enthusiasm and after he had returned to his grocery and her dishes were washed she removed her large kitchen apron and pulling down the sleeves of her dress went and stood before the mirror where she examined herself critically and not without some degree of complacency. Her hair was black and glossy or would be if she had time to care for it as it ought to be cared for. Her eyes were large and bright and perhaps in time she might learn to use them as Mrs. Atherton used hers. She is older than I am, she said to herself. There are crow tracks around her eyes and her complexion is not a bit better than mine was before I spoiled it with soap sites and stove heat and everything else. Then she looked at her hands but they were red and rough and the nails were broken and not at all like the nails which an expert has polished for an hour or more. Mrs. Atherton's diamond rings would be sadly out of place on Dolly's fingers but time and abstinence from work would do much for them she reflected and after all it would be nice to live in a grand house, ride in a handsome carriage and keep a hired girl to do the heavy work. So on the whole she began to feel quite reconciled and to wonder how she ought to conduct herself in view of her future position. She had intended going to the circus that night but she gave that up telling her husband that it was a second class amusement anyway and she did not believe that either Mrs. Atherton or the young lady at Collingwood patronized such places. So they stayed at home and talked together of what they should do at Tracy Park and wondered if it was their duty to ask all their Langley friends to visit them. Mrs. Frank decided that it was. She was not going to begin by being stuck up, she said, and when she left Langley four weeks later every man, woman and child of her familiar acquaintance in town had been heartily invited to call upon her at Tracy Park if ever they came that way. Frank had disposed of his business at a reasonable price and had rented his house with all the furniture except such articles as his wife insisted upon taking with her. The bureau and bedstead and chairs which she and Frank had bought together in Springfield just before their marriage, the Boston rocker in which her old mother had sat until the day she died, the cradle in which she had rocked her baby boy who was lying in the Langley graveyard, were dear to the wife and mother and though her husband told her she could have no use for them, there was enough of sentiment in her nature to make her cling to them as something of the past and so they were boxed up and forwarded by freight to Tracy Park with her Mr. and Mrs. Tracy followed them a week later. The best dressmaker in Langley had been employed upon the wardrobe of Mrs. Frank who in her traveling dress of some stuff goods of a plaited pattern, too large and too bright to be quite in good taste, felt herself perfectly au fait until she reached Springfield where Mrs. Grace Atherton, accompanied by a tall, elegant looking young lady, entered the car and took a seat in front of her. Neither of the ladies noticed her but she recognized Mrs. Atherton at once and guessed that her companion was the young lady from Collingwood. Dolly scanned both the ladies very closely noticing every article of their costumes from their plain linen collars and cuffs to their quiet dresses of gray which seemed so much more in keeping with the dusty cars than her buff and purple plaid. I ain't like them and never shall be, she said to herself with a bitter sense of her inferiority pressing upon her. I ain't like them and never shall be if I live to be a hundred. I wish we were not going to be grand. I shall never get used to it and the hot tears sprang to her eyes as she longed to be back in the kitchen where she had worked so hard. But Dolly did not know how readily people can forget the life of toil behind them and adapt themselves to one of luxury and ease. And with her the adaptability commenced in some degree the moment Shannondale Station was reached and she saw the handsome carriage waiting for them. A carriage finer far and more modern than the one from Collingwood in which Mrs. Atherton and the young lady took their seats, laughing and chatting so gaily that they did not see the woman in the big plaid who stood watching them with a rising feeling of jealousy and resentment because she was not noticed. But when the Tracy carriage drew up Grace Atherton saw and recognized her and whispered in an aside to her companion. For goodness sake he did look. There are the Tracy's, our new neighbors. Then she bowed to Mrs. Tracy and said, Ah, I did not know you were on the train. I sat right behind you, was Mrs. Tracy's rather ungracious reply, and then, not knowing whether she ought to do it or not, she introduced her husband. Yes, Mr. Tracy, how do you do? was Mrs. Atherton's response, but she did not in return introduce the young girl whose dark eyes were scanning the strangers so curiously, and this dolly took as a slight and inwardly resented. But Mrs. Atherton had spoken to her and that was something and helped to keep her spirits up as she was driven along the turnpike to the entrance of the park. On the occasion of Mrs. Frank's first and only visit to her brother-in-law, it was winter and everything was covered with snow. But it was summer now, the month of roses and fragrance and beauty, and as the carriage passed up the broad, smooth avenue which led to the house, and dolly's eye wandered over the well-kept grounds, sweet with a scent of newly mown grass, and filled with every adornment which taste can devise or money procure, she felt within her the first stirring of the pride and satisfaction, and self-assertion, which were to grow upon her so rapidly and transform her from the plain, unpretentious woman who had washed and ironed and baked and mended in the small house in Langley, into the arrogant, haughty lady of fashion who courted only the rich and looked down upon her less fortunate neighbors. Now, however, she was very meek and humble and trembled as she alighted from the carriage before the great stone house which was to be her home. Isn't this grand dolly? Her husband said, rubbing his hands together and looking about him complacently. Yes, very grand, dolly answered him, but somehow it makes me feel weaker than water. I suppose though I shall get accustomed to it. End of CHAPTERS 1, 2, and 3 CHAPTERS 4 and 5 of Gretchen by Mary Jane Holmes This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. CHAPTER 4 GETTING ACUSTOMED TO IT In the absence of Mrs. Crawford, who for a week or more had been domesticated in the cottage which Arthur had given her, there was no one to receive the strangers except the cook and the housemaid, Mrs. Tracey entered the hall the two came forward bristling with criticism and ready to resent anything like interference in the newcomers. The servants at the park had not been pleased with the change of administration. That Mr. Arthur was a gentleman whom it was an honour to serve, they all conceded, but with regard to the new master and mistress they had grave doubts. Although none of them had been at the park on the occasion of Mrs. Tracey's first visit there, many rumours concerning her had reached them and she would scarcely have recognised herself could she have heard the remarks of which she was the subject. That she had worked in a factory, which was true, was her least offence, for it was whispered that once, when the winter was unusually severe and work scarce, she had gone to a soup-house and even asked and procured coal from the poor master for herself and her mother. This was not true and would have argued nothing against her as a woman if it had been, but the cook and the housemaid believed it and passed sundry jokes together while preparing to meet the pauper as they designated her. In this state of things their welcome could not be very cordial, but Mrs. Tracey was too tired and too much excited to observe their demeanour particularly. They were civil and the house was in perfect order and so much larger and handsomer than she had thought it to be that she felt bewildered and embarrassed and said, yes, and no, ma'am, to Martha, and told Sarah, who was waiting at dinner, that she might as well sit down in a chair as to stand all the time, she presumed she was tired with so many extra steps to take. But Sarah knew her business and persisted in standing and inflicting upon the poor woman as much ceremony as possible and then in the kitchen she repeated to the cook and the coachman with sundry embellishments of her own, the particulars of the dinner amid peals of laughter at the expense of the would-be lady. It was hardly possible that Mistress and Maids would stay together long, especially as Mrs. Tracey, when a little more assured and a little less in awe of her servants, began to show a disposition to know by personal observation what was going on in the kitchen and to hint broadly that there was too much waste here and expenditure there and quite too much company at all hours of the day. She didn't propose to keep a boarding house, she said, or to support families outside and the old woman who came so often to the basement door with a big basket under her cloak must discontinue her calls. Then there occurred one of those hibernian cyclones which sweep everything before them and which in this instance swept Mrs. Tracey out of the kitchen for the time being and the cook out of the house. Her self-respect, she said, would not allow her to stay with a woman who knew just how much coal was burned, how much butter was used, and how much bread was thrown away and who objected to giving a bite now and then to a poor old woman, who poor as she was had never yet been helped by the poor master or gone to a soup house like my lady. Martha's departure was followed by that of Sarah and then Mrs. Tracey was alone and for a few days enjoyed herself immensely, cooking her own dinner and eating it when and where she liked. In the kitchen mostly, as that kept the flies from the dining room and saved her many steps, for Dolly was beginning to find that there was a vast difference between keeping a house with six rooms and one with thirty or more. Her husband urged her to try a new servant, saying there was no necessity for her to make a slave of herself, but she refused to listen. Economy was a part of her nature and besides that she meant to show them that she was perfectly independent of the whole tribe, the tribe and them referring to the hired girls alone, for she knew no one else in town. No one had called and a bow for Mrs. Atherton whom she had seen at church was all the recognition she had received from her neighbors up to the hot July morning, a week or more after the housemaid's departure when she was busy in the kitchen canning black raspberries of which the garden was full. Like many housekeepers who do their own work, Dolly was not very particular with regard to her dress in the morning and on this occasion her hair was drawn from her rather high forehead and twisted into a hard knot at the back of her head. Her calico dress hung straight down for she was mine as hoops which in those days were very large. Her sleeves were rolled above her elbows and as a protection against the juice of the berries she wore an apron made of sacking. In this garb and with no thought of being interrupted she kept on with her work until the last kettle of fruit was boiling and bubbling on the stove and she was just glancing at the clock to see if it were time to put over the peas for dinner when there came a quick decisive ring at the front door. Who can that be? she said to herself as she wiped her hands upon her apron. Some peddler I dare say. Why couldn't he come round to the kitchen door I'd like to know? She had been frequently troubled with peddlers and feeling certain that this was one. She started for the door in no very amiable frame of mind for peddlers were her abomination. Something ailed the key which resisted all her efforts to turn it and at last putting her mouth to the keyhole she called out rather sharply. Go to the back door I can't open this. Then as she caught a whiff of burnt syrup she hurried to the kitchen where she found that her berries had boiled over and were hissing and sputtering on the hot stove raising a cloud of smoke so dense that she did not see the person who stood on the threshold of the door until a voice wholly unlike that of any peddler said to her. Good morning Mrs. Tracy. I hope I am not intruding. Then she turned and to her horror and surprise saw Gray Satherton attired in the coolest and daintiest of morning costumes with a jaunty French bonnet set coquettishly upon her head and a silver card case in her hand. For the moment Dolly's wits foresuck her and she stood looking at her visitor who perfectly at her ease advanced into the room and said, I hope you will excuse me Mrs. Tracy for this morning call. I came. But she did not finish her sentence for by this time Dolly had recovered herself a little and throwing off her apron said nervously. Not at all, not at all. I supposed you were some peddler or agent when I sent you to this door. They are the plague of my life and think I'll buy everything and give to everything because Arthur did. I am doing my own work you see. Come into the parlor. And she led the way into the dark drawing room where the chairs and sofas were shrouded in white linen and looked like so many ghosts in the dim uncertain light. But Dolly opened one of the windows and pushing back the blinds let in a flood of sunshine so strong and bright that she had once closed the shutters saying apologetically that she did not believe in fading the carpets if they were not her own. Then she sat down upon an ottoman and faced her visitor who was regarding her with a mixture of amusement and wonder. Grace Atherton was an aristocrat to her very fingertips and shrank from contact with anything vulgar and unsightly and to her mind Mrs. Tracy represented both and seemed sadly out of place in that handsome room with her sleeves rolled up and the berry stains on her hands and face. Grace knew nothing by actual experience of canning berries or aprons made of sacking or of bare arms except it were of an evening when they showed white and fair against her satin gown with bands of gold and precious stones upon them. And she felt that there was an immeasurable distance between herself and this woman whom she had come to see partly on business and partly because she thought she must call upon her for the sake of Arthur Tracy who was one of her friends. Her cook who had been with her seven years had gone to attend a sick mother and had recommended as a fit person to take her place the woman who had just left Tracy Park. I do not like to take a servant without first knowing something of her from her last employer, she said, and if you don't mind I should like to ask if Martha left you for anything very bad. Mrs. Tracy colored scarlet and for a moment was silent. She could not tell that fine lady in the white muslin dress with seas of lace and embroidery that Martha had called her second classy and stingy and snooping and mean because she objected to the amount of coal burned and bread thrown away and time consumed at the table. All this she felt would scarcely interest a person like Mrs. Atherton who might sympathize with Martha more than with herself so she finally said, Martha was saucy to me and on the whole it was better for them all to go and so I am doing my own work. Doing your own work! And Grace gave a little cry of surprise while her shoulders shrugged meaningly and made Mrs. Tracy almost as angry as she had been with Martha when she called her mean and stingy. It cannot be possible that you cook and wash and iron and do everything, Mrs. Atherton continued. My dear Mrs. Tracy, you can never stand it in a house like this and Mr. Arthur would not like it. Why he kept as many as six servants and sometimes more. Pray let me advise you and commend you to a good girl who lived with me three years and can do everything from dressing my hair to making blanc-mange. I only parted with her because she was sick and now that she is well her place is filled. Try her and do not make a servant of yourself. It is not fitting that you should. Grace was fond of giving advice and had said more than she intended saying when she began but Mrs. Tracy though annoyed was not angry and consented to receive the girl who had lived at Briar Hill three years before and who she reflected could be of use to her in many ways. While sitting there in her soiled working dress talking to Mrs. Atherton she had felt her inferiority more keenly than she had ever done before while at the same time she was conscious that a new set of ideas and thoughts had taken possession of her reawaking in her the germ of that ambition to be somebody which she had felt so often when a girl and which now was to bud and blossom and bear fruit a hundred fold. She would take the girl and from her learn the ways of the world as practice at Briar Hill. She would no longer wear sagging aprons and open the door herself. She would be more like Grace Atherton whom she watched admiringly as she went down the walk to the handsome carriage waiting for her with driver and footman in tall hats and long coats on the box. This was the beginning of the fine lady into which Dolly finally blossomed and when that day Frank went home to his dinner he noticed something in her manner which he could not understand until she told him of Mrs. Atherton's call and the plight in which the lady had found her. Served you right! Frank said laughing till the tears ran. You have no business to be digging around like a slave when we are able to have what we like? Arthur said we were to keep up the place as he had done and that does not mean that you should be a scullion. No, Dolly! Have all the girls you want and hold up your head with the best of them. Get a new silk gown and return Mrs. Atherton's call at once and take a card and turn down one corner or the other. I don't know which but this girl of hers can tell you. Bump her dry as a powder horn. Find out what the quality do and then do it and don't bother about the expense. I'm going in for a good time and don't mean to work either. I told Colvin this morning that I thought I ought to draw a salary of about four thousand a year besides our living expenses and though he looked at me pretty sharp over his spectacles he said nothing. Arthur is worth a million if he is worth a cent so go it Dolly while you are young and in the exuberance of his joy Frank kissed his wife on both cheeks and then hurried back to his office. That day they had dined in the kitchen with a leaf of the table turned up as they had done in Langley but the next day they had dinner in the dining room and were waited upon by the new girl as well as it was possible for her to do with her mistress' interference. Never mind Mr. Tracey's in a hurry. Give him his pie at once. She said as Susan was about to clear the table preparatory to the dessert but she repented the speech when she saw the look of surprise which the girl gave her and which expressed more than words could have done. Better let her run herself Frank said when Susan had left the room if she wants to take every darn thing off the table and tip it over to boot let her do it. If she has lived three years with Mrs. Atherton she knows what is what better than we do. But it takes so long and I have so much to see in this great house Dolly objected and her husband replied. Get another girl then, three of them if you like. What matter how many girls we have so long as Arthur pays for them and he is bound to do that. He said so in his letter. You are all together too economical. I've told you so a hundred times and now there is no need of saving. I want to see you a lady in silks and satins like Mrs. Atherton. Pump that girl I tell you and find out what ladies do. This was Frank's advice to his wife and as far as in her lay she acted upon it and whatever Susan told her was done by Mrs. Atherton at Briar Hill she tried to do at Tracy Park except staying out of the kitchen. That from her nature she could not do. Consequently she was constantly changing cooks and frequently took the helm herself to the great disgust of her husband who managed at last to imbue her with his own idea of things. In course of time most of the neighbors who had any claim to society called and among them Mrs. Crawford. But Mrs. Tracy had then reached a point from which she looked down upon one who had been housekeeper where she was now mistress and whose daughter's good name was under a cloud as there were some who did not believe that Harold Hastings had ever made Amy his wife. When told that Mrs. Crawford had asked for her Mrs. Tracy sent word that she was engaged and that if Mrs. Crawford pleased she would give her errand to the girl. I have no errand I came to call was Mrs. Crawford's reply and she never crossed the threshold of her old home again until the March winds were blowing and there was a little boy at the park. At the last moment the expected nurse had fallen sick and in his perplexity Mr. Tracy went to the cottage in the lane and begged Mrs. Crawford to come and care for his wife. Mrs. Crawford was very proud but she was poor too and as the price per week which Frank offered her was four times as much as she could earn by sewing she consented at last and went as nurse to the sick woman and the baby, Tom, on whose little red face she imprinted many a kiss for the sake of her daughter who was still abroad and over whom the shadow of hope and fear was hanging. Dolly Tracy's growth after it fairly commenced had been very rapid and when Mrs. Crawford went to her as nurse she had three servants in her employ besides the coachman and was imitating Mrs. Atherton to the best of her ability and when early in the following summer they received the wedding cards of Edith Hastings, the young lady from Collingwood who had married a Mr. St. Clair, she felt that her position was assured and from that time her progress was onward and upward until the October morning ten years later when our story proper opens and we see her standing upon the piazza of her handsome house with every sign of wealth and luxury about her person from the silken robe to the jewels upon her hands which once had canned berries in her kitchen where she received Grey Satherton with her sleeves above her elbows. There were five servants in the house now and they ran over and against each other and quarreled and gossiped and worried her life nearly out of her until she sometimes wished she could send them away and do the work herself. But she was far too great a lady for that. She was thoroughly up in etiquette and did not need Susan to tell her what to do. She knew all about visiting cards and dinner cards and cards of acceptance and regret and condolence and she read much oftener than she did her Bible a book entitled Habits of Good Society. Three children played in the nursery now, Tom and Jack and Maude and she strove with all her might to instill into their infant minds that they were the tracies of Tracy Park and entitled to do respect from their inferiors and Tom had profited by her teaching and was the various little braggart in Shannondale posting of his father's house and his father's money without a word of the uncle Arthur wandering no one knew where or cared particularly for that matter. Arthur had never been home since the day he quitted it to look after Amy Crawford now lying in the graveyard of Shannondale under the shadow of the tall monument which his money had bought. At first he had written frequently to Mrs. Crawford and occasionally to his brother and his agent Mr. Colvin. Then his letters came very irregularly and in one he told them not to feel anxious if they did not hear from him for a long time as in case of his death he had arranged to have the news communicated to them at once. After this letter nothing had been heard from him until the morning when his telegram came and so greatly disturbed the mental equilibrium of both Mr. and Mrs. Frank Tracy. Frank had at first grown faster than his wife and the change in his manner had been more perceptible for with all her foolishness Dolly had a keener sense of right and wrong and justice than her husband. She had opposed him stoutly when he raised his own salary from four thousand to six thousand a year on the plea that his services were worth it and that two thousand more or less was nothing to Arthur. And when he was a candidate for the legislature she had protested against his inviting to the house and giving beer and cider to the men whose votes he wanted and for whom as men he did not care a farthing. But when he came up for Congress she forgot all her scruples and was as anxious as himself to please those who could help him secure the nomination and afterward the election. It was she who had proposed the party to which nearly everybody was to be invited from old Peterkin and Whittle Shipley to Mr. and Mrs. St. Clair from grassy spring, Squire Harrington from Collingwood and Grace Atherton from Briar Hill. Very few who could in any way help Frank to a seat in Congress were omitted from the list, whether Republican or Democrat, for Frank was popular with both parties and expected help from both. Over three hundred cards had been issued for the party which was the absorbing topic of conversation in the town and which brought white kids and white Muslims into great requisition while swallowtails and non-swallowtails were discussed in the privacy of households and discarded or decided upon according to the length of the masculine purse or the strength of the masculine resistance for dress coats were not then the rule in Shannondale. Old Peterkin, however, whom Frank and his soliloquy had designated a canal bummer, was resolved to show that he knew what was OFEF for the occasion and a new suit throughout was in progress of making for him. Tracey should have his vote and that a fifty more of the boys to pay for his ticket to the Duans, he said, and this speech which was reported to Mrs. Tracey reconciled her to the prospect of receiving as a guest the coarsest, roughest man in town whose only recommendation was his money and the brute influence he exercised over a certain class. Dolly had scarcely slept for excitement since the party had been decided upon and everything seemed to be moving on very smoothly until the morning of the day appointed for the party when it seemed as if every evil came at once. First the colored boy who was to wait in the upper hall was attacked with measles. Then Grace Atherton drove round to say that it would be impossible for her to be present as she had received news from New York which made it necessary for her to go there by the next train. She was exceedingly sorry, she said, and for once in her life Grace was sincere. She was anxious to attend the party for as she said to Edith St. Clair in confidence, she wanted to see old Peterkin in his swallowtail and white vest with a shirt front as big as a platter. There was a great deal of sarcasm and ridicule in Grace Atherton's nature but at heart she was kind and meant to be just and after a fashion really liked Mrs. Tracey to whom she had been of service in various ways helping her to fill her new position more gracefully than she could otherwise have done and enlightening her without seeming to do so on many points which puzzled her sorely. On the whole they were good friends and after expressing her regret that she could not be present in the evening Grace stood a few moments chatting familiarly and offering to send over flowers from her greenhouse and her own maid to arrange Mrs. Tracey's hair and a sister in dressing. Then she took her leave and it was her carriage which Mrs. Tracey was watching as it went down the avenue when little Harold Hastings appeared around the corner of the house and coming up the steps took off his cap respectfully as he said. Grandma sends you her compliments and is very sorry that she has rheumatism this morning and can't come tonight to help you. She thinks perhaps you can get Mrs. Mosher. Your grandmother can't come when I depended so much upon her and she thinks I can get Mrs. Mosher, that termigant, who would raise a mutiny in the kitchen in an hour. Mrs. Tracey said so sharply that a flush mounted to the handsome face of the boy who felt as if he were in some way a culprit in being reprimanded. She must come if she does nothing but sit in the kitchen and keep order, was Mrs. Tracey's next remark. She can't, Harold replied. Her foot and ankle is all swelled and aches so she almost cries. She is awful sorry and so am I for I was coming with her to see the show. This put a new idea in Mrs. Tracey's mind and she said to the boy, How would you like to come anyway and stay in the upper hall and tell the people where to go? The boy I engaged has disappointed me. You are rather small for the place but I guess you'll do and I will give you fifty cents. I'd like at first rate, Harold said, his face brightening at the thought of earning fifty cents and seeing the show at the same time. Half dollars were not very plentiful with Harold and he was trying to save enough to buy his grandmother a pair of spectacles for he had heard her say that she could not thread her needle as readily as she once did and must have glasses as soon as she had the money to spare. Harold had seen a pair at the drugstore for one dollar and without knowing at all whether they would fit his grandmother's eyes or not had asked the druggist to keep them until he had the required amount. Fifty cents would just make it and he promised at once that he would come but in an instant there fell a shadow upon his face as he thought of Tom, his tormentor who worried him so much. What is it, Mrs. Tracey asked as she detected in him a disposition to reconsider. Will Tom be up in the hall? Harold asked. Of course not, Mrs. Tracey replied. He will be in the parlours until ten o'clock and then he will go to bed. Why do you ask? Because, Harold answered fearlessly, if he was to be there I could not come. He chaffs me so and twits me with being poor and living in a house his uncle gave us. That is very naughty in him and I will see that he behaves better in future, Mrs. Tracey said rather amused than otherwise at the boy's frackness. As the mention of the uncle reminded Harold of the telegram he took it from his pocket and handed it to her. Mr. Tracey said I was to bring you this. It's from Mr. Arthur and he is coming tonight. I'm so glad and Grandma will be too. If Mrs. Tracey heard the last of Harold's speech she did not heed it, for she had caught the words that Arthur was coming that night and for a moment she felt giddy and faint and her hand shook so she could scarcely open the telegram. Arthur had been gone so long and left them in undisputed possession of the park that she had come to feel as if it belonged to them by right and she had grown so accustomed to a life of ease and luxury that to give it up now and go back to Langley seemed impossible to her. It never occurred to Dolly that they might possibly remain at the park if Arthur did come home. She felt sure they could not, for Arthur would hardly approve of his brother's stewardship when he came to realize how much it had cost him. They would have to leave and this party she was giving would be her first and last at Tracey Park. How she wished she had never thought of it or having thought of it that she had omitted from the list those who she knew would be obnoxious to the foreign brother and who had only been invited for the sake of their political influence which might now be useless, for Frank Tracey as a nobody with very little money to spend would not run as well even in his own party as Frank Tracey of Tracey Park with thousands at his command if he chose to take them. It is too bad and I wish we could give up the party she said aloud forgetting that Harold was still standing there. You hear yet I thought you had gone she continued as she recovered herself and met the boys wondering eyes. He asked him but you ain't going to give the party up he said afraid of losing his half dollar. Of course not how can I with all the people invited she asked questioningly and a little less sharply. I don't know unless I get a pony and go around and tell him not to come. Harold suggested thinking he might earn his fifty cents as easily that way as any other. But much as Mrs. Tracey wished the party had never been thought of she could not now abandon it and declining the services of Harold and the pony she again bad him go home with a charge that he should be on time in the evening adding as she surveyed him critically. If you have no clothes suitable you can wear some of Tom's you are about his size. Thank you I have my meet and close and do not want Tom's was Harold's reply as he walked away thinking he would go in rags before he would wear anything which belonged to his enemy Tom Tracey. The rest of the morning was fast by Mrs. Frank in a most unhappy frame of mind and she was glad when at an hour earlier than she had reason to expect him her husband came home. Well Dolly he said the moment they were alone this is awfully unlucky the whole business. If Arthur must come home why couldn't he have written in advance and not take us by surprise. Looks as if he meant to spring a trap on us don't it. And if he does by Job he has caught us nicely. It will be somewhat like the prodigal son who heard the sound of music and dancing only I don't suppose Arthur has spent his substance in righteous living with not over nice people but there is no telling what he has been up to all these years that he has not written to us. Perhaps he is married. He said in his telegram send to meet us. What does that mean if not a wife? A wife oh Frank and with a great gas Dolly sank down upon the lounge chair near where she was standing and actually went into the hysterics her husband had prophesied. In reading the telegram she had not noticed the little monosyllable us which was now affecting her so powerfully. Of course it meant a wife and possibly children and her day was surely over at Tracy Park. She was in vain that her husband tried to comfort her saying that they knew nothing positively except that Arthur was coming home and somebody was coming with him. It might be a friend or what was more likely it might be a valet and at all events he was not going to cross Fox River till he reached it when he might find a bridge across it. But Frank's reasoning did not console his wife whose hysterical fit was succeeded by a racking headache which by night was almost unbearable. Strong coffee, aconite, brandy and belladonna were all tried without effect. Nothing helped her until she commenced her toilet when in the excitement of dressing she partly forgot her disquietude and the pain in her head grew less. Still she was conscious of a feeling of wretchedness and regret as she sat in her handsome boudoir and felt that on the morrow another might be mistress where she had reigned so long. It was known in the house that Arthur was expected and someone with him but no hint had been given of a wife and Mrs. Tracy had ordered separate rooms prepared for the strangers who were to arrive on the half past ten train. How she should manage to keep up and appear natural until that time she did not know and her face and eyes were an anxious frightened look which all her finery could not hide. And still she was really very handsome and striking in her dress of peach-blow satin and lace when at last she descended to the drawing-room instead waiting for the first ring which would open the party. End of Chapter 4 and 5 Chapter 6 and 7 of Gretchen by Mary Jane Holmes This LibriVox recording is in the public domain Chapter 6 The Cottage in the Lane It was so called because it stood at the end of a broad, grassy avenue or lane which led from the park to the entrance of the grounds of Collingwood whose chimneys and gables were distinctly visible in the winter when the trees were stripped of their foliage. At the time when Mrs. Crawford took possession of it its color was red with the storms and rains of eleven summers and winters had washed nearly all the red away. And as Mrs. Crawford had never had the money to spare for its repainting it would have presented a brown and dingy appearance outwardly but for the luxurious woodbine which she had trained with so much care and skill that it covered nearly three sides of the cottage and made a gorgeous display in the autumn when the leaves had turned a bright scarlet. Thanks to the thoughtfulness of Arthur Tracy the cottage was furnished comfortably and even prettily when Mrs. Crawford entered it and it was from the same kind friend that her resources mostly had come up to the day when, three years after her marriage, Amy Hastings came home to die bringing with her a little two year old boy whom she called Harold for his father. Just where the father was if indeed he were living she did not know. He had left her in London six months before saying he was going to Paris for a few days and should be back before she had time to miss him. Just before he left her he said to her playfully, Cheer up, petite. I have not been quite as regular in my habits as I ought to have been but London is not the place for a man of my tastes. Too many temptations for a fellow like me. When I come back we will go into the country where you can have a garden with flowers and chickens and grow fat and pretty again. You are not much like the girl I married. Goodbye. Then he kissed her and the baby and went whistling down the stairs. She never saw him again and only heard from him once. Then he was in pole where he said they were having such fine fox hunts. Weeks went by and he neither wrote nor came and Amy would have been utterly destitute and friendless but for Arthur Tracy who when her need was greatest went to her telling her that he had never been far from her but had watched over her vigilantly to see that no harm came to her. When her husband went to Paris he knew it through a detective and from the same source knew when he went to pole where all trace of him had been lost. But we are sure to find him, he said encouragingly, and meantime I shall see that you do not suffer. As an old friend of your husband you will allow me to care for you until he is found. And Amy who had no alternative accepted his care and tried to seem cheerful and brave while waiting for the husband who never came back. At last when all hope was gone Arthur sent her home to the cottage in the lane where her mother received her gladly thanking heaven that she had her daughter back again. But not for long. Poor Amy's heart was broken. She loved her husband devotedly in his cruel desertion of her for she knew now it was that, hurt her more than years of suffering with him could have done. Occasionally she heard from Arthur who was still busy in search of the delinquent and who always sent in his letter a substantial proof of his friendship and generosity. And so the weeks and months went by and then there came a letter from Arthur saying that Harold Hastings had died in Berlin and been buried at his expense. A few weeks later and Amy too lay dead in her coffin and they buried her under the November snow which was falling in great sheets upon the frozen ground. What Arthur felt when he heard the news no one ever knew for he made no sign but at once gave orders to Calvin that a costly monument should be placed at her grave with only this inscription upon it. Amy aged 23. Of course the low-minded people talked and Mrs. Crawford knew they did but her heart was too full of sorrow to care what was said. Her beautiful daughter was dead and she was alone with the little boy who had inherited his mother's beauty with all her lovely traits of character. Had Mrs. Crawford consented Arthur would have supported him entirely but she was too proud for that. She would take care of him herself as long as possible she wrote him but if when Harold was older he chose to educate him she would offer no objection. And there the matter dropped and Mrs. Crawford struggled on as best she could sometimes going out to do plain sewing, sometimes taking it home, sometimes going to people's houses to superintend when they had company and sometimes selling fruit and flowers from the garden attached to the cottage. But whatever she did she was always the same quiet lady-like woman who commanded the respect of all and who, poor as she was, was held in high esteem by the better class in Shannondale. Grace Atherton's carriage and that of Edith St. Clair stood oftener before her door than that at Tracy Park and though the ladies came mostly on business they found themselves lingering after the business was over to talk with one who, in everything save money, was their equal. Harold was a noble little fellow full of manly instincts and always ready to deny himself for the sake of others. That he and his grandmother were poor he knew but he had never felt the effects of their poverty save when Tom Tracy had jeered at him for it and called him a pauper. There had been one square fight between the two boys in which Harold had come off Victor with only a torn jacket while Tom's eye had been black for a week and Mrs. Tracy had gone to the cottage to complain and insist that Harold should be punished. But when she heard that Dick St. Clair had assisted in the fray taking Harold's part and himself dealing Tom the blow which blackened his eye she changed her tactics for she did not care to quarrel with Mrs. St. Clair of grassy spring. Harold and Richard St. Clair or Dick as he was familiarly called were great friends and if the latter knew there was a difference between himself and the child of poverty he never manifested it and played far oftener with Harold than with Tom whose domineering disposition and rough manners were distasteful to him. That Harold would one day be obliged to earn his living Mrs. Crawford knew but he was still too young for anything of that kind and when Grace Atherton or Mrs. St. Clair offered him money for the errands he sometimes did for them she always refused to let him take it. Had she known of Mrs. Tracy's proposition that he should present at the party as Hall Boy she would have declined for though she could go there herself as an employee she shrank from suffering Harold to do so. That Mrs. Tracy was not a lady she knew and in her heart there was a feeling of superiority to the woman even while she served her and she was not as sorry perhaps as she ought to have been for the attack of rheumatism which would prevent her from going to the park to take charge of the kitchen during the evening. I am sorry to disappoint her but I am glad not to be there. She was thinking to herself as she sat in her bright cheerful kitchen waiting for Harold when he burst in upon her exclaiming, Oh Grandma only think I am invited to the party and I told her I'd go and I'm to be there at half past seven sharp and to wear my meeting clothes. Invited to the party what do you mean? Only grown up people are to be there Mrs. Crawford said. Yes I know Harold replied but I'm not to be with the grown ups. I'm to stay in the upper hall and tell him where to go. Oh you are to be a waiter was Mrs. Crawford's rather contemptuous remark which Harold did not heed in his excitement. Yes I'm to be at the head of the stairs and somebody else at the bottom and they are to fitland and dancing. I've never seen anybody dance and I scream and cake with something like plaster all over it and oranges and cake and oh everything. Dick St. Clair told me. He knows. His mother has had parties and she's going tonight and her gown is crimson velvet with black and white fur on it like our cat only they don't call it that and oh I forgot they have had a telegraph and I took it to Mrs. Tracy who almost cried when she read it. Mr. Arthur Tracy is coming home tonight. Harold had talked so fast that his grandmother could hardly follow him but she understood what he said last and started as if he had struck her a blow. Arthur Tracy coming home tonight she exclaimed oh I am so glad. But Mrs. Tracy did not seem to be and I guess she wanted to stop the party Harold said repeating as nearly as he could what had passed between him and the lady. Harold was full of the party to which he believed he had been invited and when in the afternoon Dick St. Clair came up to the cottage to play with him he felt a kind of patronizing pity for his friend who was not to share his honor. Perhaps mother will let me come over and help you Dick said I know how they do it you mustn't talk to the people as they come up the stairs nor even say good evening only ladies will please walk this way and gentlemen that. And Dick went through with a pantomime performance for the benefit of Harold who when the drill was over felt himself competent to receive the Queen's guests at the head of the great staircase in Windsor Castle. Yes I know he said ladies this way and gentlemen that but when am I to go down and see the dancing and get some ice cream. On this point Dick was doubtful he did not believe he said that the waiters ever went down to see the dancing or to get ice cream until the party was over and then they ate it in the kitchen if there was any left. This was not a cheerful outlook for Harold whose thoughts were more intent upon cream and dancing than upon showing the people where to go and it was also the second time the word waiter had been used in connection with what he was expected to do. But Harold was too young to understand that he was not of the party itself. Later on it would come to him fast enough that he was only a part of the machinery which moved the social engine. Now he felt like the engine itself and long before six o'clock he was dressed and waiting anxiously for his grandmother's permission to start. I'll tell you all about it he said to her what they do and what they say and what they wear and if I can I'll speak to Mr. Arthur Tracy and thank him for mother's gravestone. By seven o'clock he was on his way to the park walking rapidly and occasionally saying aloud with the gesture of his hand to the right and the left and a bow almost to the ground ladies this way and gentlemen that. When he reached the house the gas jets had just been turned up and every window was ablaze with light from the attic to the basement. My eye ain't it swell? Harold said to himself as he stood a moment looking at the brilliantly lighted rooms. Don't I wish I was rich and could burn all that gas and maybe I shall be? Grandmas as Mr. Arthur Tracy was once a poor boy like me. Only he had an uncle and I haven't. I've got to earn my money and I mean to and sometime maybe I'll have a house as big as this and just such a party with a boy upstairs to tell him where to go. I wonder now if I'm expected to go into the kitchen door. Of course not. I've got on my Sunday clothes and I'm invited to the party. I shall ring. And he did ring a sharp loud ring which made Mrs. Tracy who had not yet left her room start nervously as she wondered who had come so early. Old Peterkin of course those whom you care for least always come first. Peering over the banister Tom Tracy saw Harold when the door opened and screaming to his mother at the top of his voice. It ain't old Peterkin mother it's Hal Hastings come to the front door. He ran down the stairs and confronting the intruder just as he was crossing the threshold exclaimed. Go long. You ain't no business ringing the bell as if you was a guest. Go to the kitchen door with the other servants. With the thrust of the hand he pushed Harold back and was able to shut the door upon him when with a quick dexterous movement Harold darted past him into the hall saying as he did so. Darn you Tom Tracy I won't go to the kitchen door and I'm not a servant and if you call me so again I'll lick you. How the matter would have ended is doubtful if Mrs. Tracy had not called from the head of the stairs. Thomas? Thomas Tracy I am ashamed of you come to me this minute and you boy go to the kitchen or no now you are here come upstairs and I'll tell you what to do. Her directions were very much like those of Dick St. Clair except that she laid more stress upon the fact that he was not to speak to anyone familiarly but was to be in all respects a machine. Just what she meant by that Harold did not know but he hung his cap on a bracket and taking his place where she told him to stand watched her admiringly as she went down the staircase followed by her husband who looked anxious and ill at ease. Tom had disappeared but his younger brother Jack who was wholly unlike him came to Harold's side and began telling him what quantities of good things there were in the dining room and pantry and that his uncle Arthur was coming home that night and his mother was so glad she cried. Then with a spring he mounted upon the banister of the long staircase and slipped swiftly to the bottom. Ascending the stairs almost as quickly as he had gone down he bad Harold tried with him. It's such fun and mother won't care I've done it forty times he said as Harold demurred and then as the temptation became too strong to be resisted two boys instead of one rode down the banister and landed in the lower hall and two pairs of little legs ran nimbly up the stairs just as the door opened and admitted the first arrival. Chapter 7 The Party The invitations had been for half past seven and precisely at that hour Peterkin arrived magnificent in his swallowtail and white shirt front were an enormous diamond shown conspicuously. With him came Mrs. Peterkin whose name was Mary Jane but whom her husband always called May Jane. She was a frail pale faced little woman who had once been Grace Atherton's maid and had married Peterkin for his money. This was her first appearance at a grand party and in her excitement and timidity she did not hear Harold's thrice-repeated words. Ladies go that way but followed her husband into the gentleman's dressing room where she deposited her wraps and then shaking in every limb descended to the drawing room where Peterkin's loud voice was soon heard as he slapped his host on the shoulder and said, You see we are here on time though May Jane said it was too early but I suppose half past seven meant half past seven and then I wanted a little time to talk out the ropes with you. We are going to run you in you bet and again his coarse laugh thrilled every nerve in Mrs. Tracy's body and she longed for fresh arrivals to help quiet this vulgar man. Soon they began to come by twos and threes and sixes and Harold was kept busy with his ladies this way and gentlemen that. After Mrs. Peterkin had gone downstairs leaving her wraps in the gentleman's room Harold who knew they did not belong there had carried them to the ladies room and deposited them upon the bed just as the girl who was to be in attendance appeared at her post asking him sharply why he was in there rummaging the ladies things. I'm not rummaging they are Mrs. Peterkin's she left them in the other room and I brought them here Harold said as he returned to the hall eager and excited and interested in watching the people as they came up the stairs and went down again. With the quick instinct of a bright intelligent boy he decided who was accustomed to society and who was not and leaning over the banister when not on duty watch them as they entered the drawing room and were received by Mr. and Mrs. Tracy. Unconsciously he began to imitate them bowing when they bowed and saying softly to himself oh how do you do good evening happy to see you pleasant tonight walk in yes. This was the monosyllable with which he finished every sentence and was the affirmation to the thought in his mind that he too would someday go down those stairs and into those parlors as a guest while some other boy in the upper hall bad the ladies go this way and the gentlemen that. It was after nine when Mr. and Mrs. St. Clair arrived with Squire Harrington from Collingwood. Harold had been looking for them anxious to see the crimson satin trimmed with ermine of which Dick had told him. Many of the guests he had mentally criticized unsparingly but Mrs. St. Clair he knew was genuine and his face beamed when in passing him she smiled upon him with her sweet gracious manner and said pleasantly good evening Harold I knew you were to be here. Dick told me and he wanted to come and help you but I thought he'd better stay home with Nina. Up to this time no one had spoken to Harold and he had spoken to no one except to tell them where to go but had as far as possible followed Mrs. Tracy's injunction to be a machine but the machine was getting a little tired. It was hard work to stand for two hours or more and Mrs. Tracy had impressed it upon him that he was not to sit down. But when Mrs. St. Clair came from the dressing room and stood before him a moment he forgot his weariness and forgot that he was not to talk and said to her involuntarily. Oh Mrs. St. Clair how handsome you look! Handsomer than anybody yet and different too somehow. Edith knew the compliment was genuine and she replied, Thank you Harold. Then laying her hand on his head and parting his soft brown hair she said as she noticed a look of fatigue in his eyes. Are you not tired standing so long? Why don't you bring a chair from one of the rooms and sit when you can? She told me to stand. Harold replied nodding toward the parters from which a strain of music just then issued. The dancing had commenced and Harold's feet and hands be timed to the lively strains of the piano and violin until he could contain himself no longer. The dancing he must see at all hazards and know what it was like and when the last guests came up the stairs there was no hallboy there to tell them, ladies this way and gentlemen that. For Harold was in the thickest of the crowd standing on a chair so as to look over the heads of those in front of him and see the dancers. But alas for poor Harold he was soon discovered by Mrs. Tracy who asking him if he did not know his place better than that ordered him back to his post where he was told to stay until the party was over. Holy unconscious of the nature of his offense but very sorry that he had offended Harold went up the stairs wondering why he could not see the dancing and how long the party would last. His head was beginning to ache with the glare and gas, his little legs were tired and he was growing sleepy. Surely he might sit down now particularly as Mrs. St. Clair had suggested it and bringing a chair from one of the rooms he sat down in a corner of the hall and was soon in a sound sleep from which he was roused by the sound of Mr. Tracy's voice as he came up the stairs followed by a tall distinguished looking man who wore a Spanish cloak wrapped gracefully around him and a large broad brimmed hat drawn so closely as to hide his features from view. As he reached the upper landing he raised his head and Harold who was now wide awake and standing up caught a glimpse of a thin pale face and a pair of keen black eyes which seemed for an instant to take everything in. Then the head was dropped and the two men disappeared in a room at the far end of the hall. I'll bet that's Mr. Arthur how grand he is, looks just like a pirate in that cloak and hat was Harold's mental comment. Before he had time for further thought Frank Tracy came from the room and hurried down the stairs to rejoin his guests. Five minutes later and the door at the end of the long hall which communicated with the back staircase and the rear of the house opened and a man whom Harold recognized as the express man from the station appeared with a huge trunk on his shoulder and a large valise in his hand. These he deposited in the stranger's room and then went back for more until four had been carried in. But when he came with the fifth and largest of all a hand white and delicate as a woman's was thrust from the doorway with an imperative gesture and a voice with a decided foreign accent exclaimed for heaven's sake don't bring any more boxes in here why I'm positively stumbling over them now surely there must be some place in the house for my luggage besides my private apartment. Then the door was shut with a bang and Harold heard the sliding of the bolt as Arthur Tracy fastened himself into his room. End of Chapter 6 and 7 Chapter 8 of Gretchen by Mary Jane Holmes This Leberwock's recording is in the public domain. Chapter 8 Arthur All the time that Frank Tracy had been receiving his guests and trying to seem happy and at his ease his thoughts had been dwelling upon his brother's telegram and the ominous words send someone to meet us. How slowly the minutes dragged until it was ten o'clock and he knew that John had started for the station to meet the dreaded us. He had told everybody that he was expecting his brother and had tried to seem glad on account of it. You and he were great friends I believe, he said to Squire Harrington. Yes we were friends, the latter replied, but when he lived here my health was such that I did not mingle much in society. I met him however in Paris five years ago and found him very companionable and quite Europeanized in his manner and tastes. He spoke French or German altogether and might easily have passed for a foreigner. I shall be glad to see him. And so shall I, chimed in Peterkin, whose voice was like a trumpet and could be heard everywhere. A fast rate chap though we didn't use to hitch very well together. He was all fired big feeling and them days Peterkin was nowhere, but circumstances alter cases. He'll be glad to see me now no doubt. And with the most satisfied air the millionaire put his hand as if by accident on his immense diamond pin and pulling down his swallow-tail walked away. Frank saw the faint smile of contempt which showed itself in Squire Harrington's face and his own grew red with shame, but paled almost instantly as the outer door was opened by someone who did not seem to think it necessary to ring, and a stranger in Spanish cloak and broad-brimmed hat stepped into the hall. Arthur had come and was alone. The train had been on time and at just half past ten the long line of cars stopped before the Shannondale station where John, the coachman from Tracy Park, was waiting. The night was dark but by the light from the engine and the office John saw the foreign-looking stranger who sprang upon the platform and felt sure it was his man. But there was no one with him, though it seemed as if he were expecting someone to follow him from the car for he stood for a moment waiting. Then as the train moved on he turned with a puzzled look upon his face to meet John who said to him respectfully, Are you Mr. Arthur Tracy? Yes, who are you? was the response. Mr. Frank Tracy sent me from the park to fetch you, John replied. I think he expected someone with you, are you alone? Yes. No, no. And Arthur's voice indicated growing alarm and uneasiness as he looked around him. Where is she? Didn't you see her? She was with me all the way. Surely she got off when I did. Where can she have gone? He was greatly excited and kept peering through the darkness as he talked while John, a good deal puzzled, looked curiously at him as if uncertain whether he were in his right mind or not. Was there someone with you in the car? he asked. Yes, in the car, and in New York, and on the ship. She was with me all the way, Mr. Tracy replied. It is strange where she is now. Did no one alight from the train when I did? No one, John answered, more puzzled than ever. I was looking for you and there was no one else. She may have fallen asleep and been carried by. Yes, probably that is it. Mr. Tracy said more cheerfully. She was asleep and carried by. She will come back tomorrow. He seemed quite content with the solution of the mystery and began to talk of his luggage which lay upon the platform, a pile so immense that John looked at it in alarm knowing that the carriage could never take it all. Eight trunks, two portmantos and a hat-box, he said aloud, counting the pieces. Yes, and a nice sum those rascally agents in New York made me pay for having them come with me, Arthur rejoined. They wade them all and charged me a little fortune. I might as well have sent them by express, but I wanted them with me and here they are. What will you do with them? This is hers, and he designated a black trunk or box longer and larger than two ordinary trunks ought to be. I can take one of them with the box and portmanteau and the express man will take the rest. He is here. Hello, Brown! John said, calling to a man in the distance who came forward and on learning what was wanted began piling the trunks into his wagon while Arthur followed John to the carriage which he entered, and, sinking into a seat, pulled his broad brim-tad over his face and eyes and sat as motionless as if he had been a stone. For a moment John stood looking at him, wondering what manner of man he was and thinking of the woman who, he said, had been with him in the train. At last, remembering a message his master had given him, he began, Please, sir, Mr. Tracy told me to tell you he was very sorry he could not come himself to meet you. If he had known that you were coming sooner he would have done different, but he did not get your telegram till this morning and then it was too late to stop it. We are having a great breakdown tonight. During the first of these remarks, Arthur had given no sign that he heard, but when John spoke of a breakdown, he lifted his head quickly and the great black eyes flashed a look of inquiry upon John as he said, Breakdown, what's that? A party, a smasher. Mr. Tracy is running for Congress, was John's reply. And then over the thin face there crept a ghost of a smile which, faint as it was, changed the expression wonderfully. Oh, a party, he said. Well, I will be a guest, too. I have my dressing suit in some of those trunks. Frank is going to Congress, is he? That's a good joke. Drive on. What are you standing there for? The carriage door was shut and, mounting the box, John drove as rapidly toward Tracy Park as the darkness of the night would admit, while the passenger inside sat with his hat over his eyes and his chin almost touching his breast as if absorbed in thought. Once he spoke to himself and said, Poor little Gretchen, I wonder how I could have forgotten and left her in the train. What will she do alone in a strange place? But perhaps Heaven will take care of her. She always said so. I wish I had her faith and could believe as she does. They had turned into the park by this time and very soon drew up before the house, from every window of which lights were flashing while the sound of music and dancing could be distinctly heard. I need not ring at my own house, Arthur thought as he ran up the steps and opening the door stepped into the hall, and thus it was that the first intimation which Frank had of his arrival was when he saw him standing in the midst of a crowd of people who were gazing curiously at him. Arthur, he exclaimed, rushing forward and taking his brother's hand, welcome home again. I did not hear the carriage though I was listening for it. I am so glad to see you. Come with me to your room. And he led the way upstairs to the apartment prepared for the stranger. He had seen at a glance that Arthur was alone unless indeed he had brought a servant who had gone to the side door and thus relieved from a load of anxiety he was very cordial in his manner and began at once to make excuses for the party repeating in substance what John had already said. Yes, I know. That fellow who drove me here told me. Arthur replied, throwing off his coat and hat and beginning to lave his face and neck and hands in the cold water which he turned into the bowl until it was full to the brim and splashed over the sides as he dashed it upon himself. All this time Frank had not seen his face distinctly nor did he have an opportunity to do so until the ablutions were ended and Arthur had rubbed himself with not one towel but two until it seemed as if he must have taken off the skin in places. Then he turned and running his fingers through his luxuriant hair which had a habit of curling around his forehead as in his boyhood looked full at his brother who saw that he was very pale in that his eyes were unnaturally large and bright while there was about him an indescribable something which puzzled Frank a little. It was not altogether the air of foreign travel and cultivation which was so perceptible but a something else, a restlessness and nervousness of speech and manner as he moved about the room walking rapidly and gesticulating as he walked. You are looking thin and tired, are you not well? Frank asked. Oh yes, perfectly well. Arthur replied, only this infernal heat in my blood which keeps me up to fever pitch all the time. I shall have to bathe my face again and going a second time to the bowl he began to throw the water over his face and hands as he had done before. I'd like a bath in ice water, he said, as he began drying himself with a fresh towel. If I remember right there is no bathroom on this floor but I can soon have one built. I intend to throw down the wall between this room and the next and perhaps the next so as to have a suite. The second washing must have cooled him for there came a change in his manner and he moved more slowly and spoke with greater deliberation as he asked some questions about the people below. Will you come down by and by? Frank said after having made some explanations with regard to his guests. No, you will have to excuse me, Arthur replied. I am too tired to encounter old acquaintances or make new. I do not believe I could stand old Peterkin who you say is a millionaire. I suppose you want his influence. Your coachman told me you were running for Congress and Arthur laughed the old Mary musical laugh which Frank remembered so well. Then suddenly changing his tone he asked, when does the next train from the east pass the station? Frank told him at seven in the morning and he continued, please send the carriage to meet it. Gretchen will probably be there. She was in the train with me and should have gotten out when I did but she must have been asleep and carried by. G-Gretchen, who is she? Frank stammered while the cold sweat began to run down his back. Instantly into Arthur's eyes there came a look of cunning as he replied. She is Gretchen. See that the carriage goes for her, will you? His voice and manner indicated that he wished the conference ended and with a great sinking at his heart Frank left the room and returned to his guests and his wife who had not seen the stranger when he entered the hall and did not know of Arthur's arrival until her husband rejoined her. He has come. He whispered to her while she whispered back. Is he alone? Yes, but somebody is coming to-morrow. I do not know who. Gretchen, he calls her, was Frank's reply. Gretchen? Mrs. Tracey repeated in a trembling voice. Who is she? I don't know. He merely said she was Gretchen, his daughter perhaps, was Frank's answer which sent the colour from his wife's cheeks and made her so faint and sick that she could scarcely stand and did not know at all what her guests were saying to her. Meantime Arthur had changed his mind with regard to going down into the parlours and unlocking the trunk which held his own wardrobe, he took out an evening suit fresh from the hands of a London tailor and, arraying himself in it, stood for a moment before the glass to see the effect. Everything was faultless from his necktie to his boots and, opening the door, he went into the hall which was empty except for Harold who was sitting near the stairs half asleep again. Most of the guests were in the supper room but a few of the younger portion were dancing and the strains of music were heard with great distinctness in the upper hall. Ugh! Arthur said with a shiver as he stopped a moment to listen while his quick eye took in every detail of the furniture and its arrangement in the hall. That violinist ought to be hung. The pianist too. Don't they know what horrid discord they are making? It brings that heat back. I believe upon my soul I shall have to bathe my face again. Suiting the action to the word he went back and washed his face for the third time, then returning to the hall he advanced toward Harold who was now wide awake and standing up to meet him. As Arthur met the clear brown eyes fixed so curiously upon him he stopped suddenly and put his hand to his head as if trying to recall something, then going nearer to Harold he said, Well, my little boy, what are you doing up here? Telling the folks which way to go was Harold's answer. Who are you? Arthur continued. What is your name? Harold Hastings, was the reply, and instantly there came over the white face and into the large bright eyes an expression which made the boy stand back as the tall man came up to him and laying a hand on his shoulder said excitedly. Harold Hastings. He was once my friend or I thought he was, but I hate him now, and he was your father and Amy Crawford was your mother. Nesbah, answer me. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. But I don't know what you mean by Nesbah, Harold said in a frightened voice and Arthur continued as he tightened his grasp on his shoulder. I hated your father and I hate you and I am going to throw you over the stair railing and seizing Harold's coat collar he swung him over the banister as if he had been a feather while the boy struggled and fought and held on to the rails until help appeared in the person of Frank Tracy who came swiftly up the stairs demanding the cause of what he saw. He had been standing near the drawing room door and had caught the sound of his brother's voice and Harold's as if in altercation. Excusing himself from those around him he hastened to the scene of action in time to save Harold from a broken limb if not a broken neck. What is it? What have you been doing? He asked the boy who replied amid his tears. I ain't been doing anything only minding my business and he came and asked me who I was and when I told him he was going to check me over the railing darn him. I wish I was big. I'd lick him. Harold's cheeks were flushed and the great tears glittered in his eyes as he stood up brave and defiant and resentful of the injustice done him. Arthur, are you mad? Frank said. And whether it was the tone of his voice or his words, something produced a wonderful effect upon his brother whose mood changed at once and who advanced towards Harold without stretched hand saying to him. Forgive me, my little man. I think I must have been mad for the instant. There is such a heat in my head and the crash of that music almost drives me wild. Shall it be peace between us, my boy? It was next to impossible to resist the influence of Arthur Tracy's smile and Harold took the offered hand and said, between a sob and a laugh, I don't know why you wanted to throw me downstairs. Nor I, and I will make it up to you some time, was Arthur's reply as he took his brother's arm and said, now introduce me to your guests. The moment the gentleman disappeared from view Harold's resolution was taken. It was nearly midnight. He was very tired and sleepy and his head was aching terribly. He could not see the dancing. He had had nothing to eat. He had stood until his legs were ready to drop off and to crown all a lunatic had tried to throw him over the banister. I won't stay here another minute, he said. And leaving the hall by the rear entrance and slipping down a back stairway he was soon in the open air and running swiftly through the park toward the cottage in the lane. Meanwhile the two brothers had descended to the drawing room where Arthur was soon surrounded by his old acquaintances whom he greeted with that cordiality and friendliness of manner which had made him so popular with those who knew him best. Every trace of excitement had disappeared and had he been master of ceremonies himself he could not have been more gracious or affable. Even old Peterkin was treated with a consideration which put that worthy man at his ease and set his tongue in motion. At first he had felt a little over-odd by Arthur's elegant appearance and had whispered to his neighbor, That's a swell and no mistake. I suppose that's what you call a foreign get up. Well, me and Ma is going to Europe sometime and hang me if I don't put on style when I come home. I'd kind of like to speak to the fellor. I wonder if he remembers that I was running a boat when he went away. If Arthur did remember it he showed no sign when Peterkin at last pressed up to him claiming his attention as Captain Peterkin of the Liza Ann, the fastest boat on the canal and by George the all-firedest meanest too I guess. He said, but them days is past and the old captain is past with them. I dabbed a little in aisle and if I do say it I could almost buy up the whole canal if I wanted to. But I ain't an atom proud and I don't forget the old boat and days and I've got the Liza Ann hauled up into my backyard as a relic. The children use it for a playhouse, but to me it is a, a, what do you call it? A gall darn what is it? The souvenir suggested Arthur vastly amused at this tirade which had assumed the form of a speech and drawn a crowd around Peterkin. Well yes, I suppose that's it, though taint exactly what I was trying to think of. He said, it's a reminder and keeps down my pride for when I get to feeling pretty big after hearing myself pointed out as Peterkin the millionaire. I go out to that old boat in the backyard and says I, Liza Ann says I. You and me has took many a trip up and down the canal with about the worst crew and the worst houses and the worst boys that was ever created. And though you've got a new coat of paint on to you and can set still all day and do nothing, well I can wear the finest of broad cloth and set still too. It won't do for us to forget the pit from which we was dug and I don't forget it neither. No more than I forget favors shown when I was not just cut. You, sir, rode on the Liza Ann with that crony of yours. Hastings was his name. And you paid me handsome, though I didn't ask nothing. And there's your brother, Frank, I call him. I don't forget that he used to speak to me civil when I was nobody. And now, though I'm a Democrat, as everybody who knows me knows and everybody most does know me, for Shannondale, alas, was my native town. I'm going to run him into Congress if it takes my bottom dollar and anybody Republican or Democrat who don't vote for him ain't my friend and must expect to feel the full heft of my... my... powerful disapprobation," Arthur said softly and Peterkin continued. Thank you, sir, that's the word. Powerful, sir, powerful. And he glowered threateningly at two or three young men in white kids and high-shirt collars who were known to prefer the opposing candidate. Peterkin had finished his harangue and was swiping his wet face with his handkerchief when Arthur, who had listened to him with well-bred attention, said, I thank you, Captain Peterkin, for your interest in my brother, who, if he succeeds, will I am sure owe his success to your influence and be grateful in proportion. Perhaps you have a bill you would like him to bring before the house. No, Peterkin said with a shake of the head. My bill is a little shaver eight or nine years old, too young to go from home, but... and he lowered his voice a little. I don't mind saying that if there should be a chance I'd like the post office fast rate. It would be a kind of hiss, you know, to see my name in print. Captain Joseph Peterkin, P.M. Here the conversation ended, and this aspirant for the post office stepped aside and gave place to others who were anxious to renew their acquaintance with Arthur. It was between one and two o'clock in the morning when the party finally broke up, and as the Peterkins had been the first to arrive, so they were the last to leave, and Mrs. Peterkin found herself again in the gentleman's dressing room, looking for her wraps. But they were not there, and after a vain and anxious search she said to her husband, Joe, somebody has stole my things and was my Indian shawl, too, in gold-headed pin with a little diamond. Mrs. Tracy was at once summoned to the scene and the missing wraps were found in the ladies room where Harold had carried them, but the gold-headed shawl pin was gone and could not be found. Lucy, the girl in attendance, said when questioned that she knew nothing of the pin or Mrs. Peterkin's wraps, either, except that on first going up after the ladies' arrival she had found Harold Hastings fumbling them over in that she sent him out with a sharp reprimand. Harold was then looked for and could not be found, for he had been at home and in bed for a good two hours. Clearly then he knew something of the pin, and Peterkin and his wife said good night resolving to see the boy the first thing in the morning and demand their property. When the Peterkin's were gone Arthur started at once for his room but stopped at the foot of the stairs and said to his brother, Don't forget to have the carriage at the station at seven o'clock. Gretchen is sure to be there. All right, was Frank's reply. While Mrs. Tracy asked, Who is Gretchen? If Arthur heard her he made no reply but kept on up the stairs to his room where they heard him for a long time walking about, opening and shutting windows, locking and unlocking trunks and occasionally slashing water over his face and hands. Your brother is a very elegant looking man, Mrs. Tracy said to her husband as she was preparing to retire. Quite like a foreigner, but how bright his eyes are and how they look at you sometimes. They almost make me afraid of him. Frank made no direct reply. In his heart there was an undefined fear which he could not then put into words, and with the remark that he was very tired he stepped into bed and was just falling into a quiet sleep when there came a knock upon his door loud enough it seemed to him to waken the dead. Starting up he demanded who was there and what was wanted. It is I, Arthur said. I thought I smelled gas and I have been hunting round for it. There is nothing worse to breathe than gas whether from the furnace or the drain. I hope that is all right. Yes, Frank answered a little crossly. Had a new one put in two weeks ago. If there's gas in the main sewer it will come up just the same and I am sure I smell it, Arthur said. I think I shall have all the waste pipes which connect with the drain cut off. Good night. I'm sorry I disturbed you. They heard him as he went across the hall to his room and Frank was settling down again to sleep when there came a second knock and Arthur said in a whisper, I hope I do not trouble you but I have decided to go myself to the station to meet Gretchen. She is very timid and does not speak much English. Good night once more and pleasant dreams. To sleep now was impossible and both husband and wife turned restlessly on their pillows Frank wondering what ailed his brother and Dolly wondering who Gretchen was and how her coming would affect them.