HAVING caught a train out of the city at a fairly early hour in the
forenoon, I made a daylight ride of it to Levant, and I stepped out upon
the platform at Lower Comers just before sundown.
I remember that the red March sun was almost touching the rocky edge
of the beech ridge, and, with the bare trunks of the trees striping it,
looked like a coal fire with the stove cover off and a griddle on. In
fact, as I looked up at the sun and reflected on the general condition
of my affairs, I felt as if I were the particular live lobster destined
for the griddle in Levant.
But I walked past the platform loafers, leaving my satin-lined overcoat
open so that they might get the full effect of my frock suit. No one
seemed to recognize me; Levant Comers is all of three miles from Levant
village, and there was never much mixing between the communities when I
was a boy. I set off at a good pace to walk the three miles to Dodovah
Vose’s tavern.
Men in several teams which overtook me offered a lift, and one of
them addressed me as “Elder.” Evidently my clothes were producing an
impression! But I declined all offers. I had waved the stage-driver
aside, and now if I accepted a free ride I might have brought suspicion
on my financial ability. So I told them all politely that I needed
exercise and walked on in all my dignity--and, being encumbered by
nothing except a skull under my arm, I found my tramp pleasurable.
I went along at such a clip that I topped the long rise from the river
where the railroad winds and was able to look down on distant Levant
village before the lingering dusk had settled into night. The stripped
trees had left all the houses bare and rather bleak; there was no
beauty anywhere. The afternoon chill had hardened the road mud into
iron ridges. Being back on my native heath was not so consoling and
heart-thrilling as I had pictured. That faded, sodden, frozen landscape
was depressing. I looked like a millionaire, but I belonged on the
town farm. There was one thing to remember, however. My uncle as first
selectman was also overseer of the poor, by virtue of his office.
I wondered what he would say to me if I walked up to him and tried to
borrow money! On second thought, I knew so well what he would say that
I promptly decided that I would keep my mouth shut in regard to my
finances.
I hurried on, for there was an inviting twinkle of light in the windows
of Vose’s tavern. I was carrying a rather gruesome ticket of admission,
but a message from Jodrey Vose went along with it and it would make me
especially welcome.
For some distance the highway was bordered by woods, and at last I saw
a roadside sign which gave me a bit of a thrill, for it bore the magic
name of Kingsley.
“For Sale. This Wood-lot. Apply to Z. Kingsley.”
That’s what the sign said.
Before I was fairly on my way, after stopping to read, I was able to put
eyes on Z. Kingsley, himself. He was in a carriage which was coming
in my direction and his daughter was driving a horse which was too
likely-looking to have been furnished by my uncle.
I did not reflect or consider. I had no clear notion in my mind at that
instant. I suppose I was overcome by an irresistible hankering to hear
her voice--to speak to her.
At any rate, backed by that longing or by courage or cheek or whatever
else it might be called, I stepped out into the middle of the road and
put up my hand. I reckon if Judge Kingsley had been driving he would
have run over me. His blessed daughter pulled up short.
I took off my hat and he gave me a sharp glance and recognized me. And
so did Celene, for she smiled even while she looked a bit startled.
“Drive on!” snapped her father.
“Judge Kingsley, I want to--”
He checked me with much impatience, and I was glad of it, for I was not
prepared to tell him just what I did want. I knew I wanted to rush up to
her and say a lot of things, but I was conscious that the action would
not have made much of a hit with her father.
“I have no time to waste on you, sir. I have to catch a train.”
“But the train has gone along,” I stalled. “I just came in on it.”
“I am going the other way--to the city!” He showed considerable temper.
“We have plenty of time before the down train is due, father,” Celene
told him. He reached after the reins, but she held them away from him,
showing that she had more or less of the Kingsley obstinacy, herself.
“What do you want, sir? Quick!”
It was a rather contemptuous command, but it was showing more
consideration for a member of the Sidney family than I had dared to hope
for. If he had taken up the whip and lashed at me at first meeting
I would not have been surprised. It was evident that my personal
appearance was having weight with him. I ventured to believe that the
Sortwell boys had been advertising me in town, though they were only a
few hours ahead of me.
I rolled my eyes around, trying to think of something sensible. I saw
the sign again.
“What is your price on this wood-lot, Judge Kingsley?”
“I can’t stop to talk business, sir.”
“But I’m simply asking the price. You’re advertising it. You must have
put a price on it.”
“I’ll be back in a week or ten days. Come to me then. I’m in a hurry.”