On a certain bright December day not many weeks after the occurrence of
the last related events, the town of Clarksville seemed to have assumed
a most unwonted bustle and confusion. People were actually hurrying in
and out of the little white Methodist church, carrying evergreen
boughs, chrysanthemums and sprays of holly and mistletoe. Wagons were
driving back and forth between town and the Barlow place, and the
Barlow house was in the hands of a Little Rock caterer and his
assistants. It was Checkers' wedding day. He and Pert were to be
married that night at six o'clock. Nothing they could think of had
been left undone to make the occasion a happy one.
Though the old man fumed and fretted at the expense, Checkers insisted
upon having things "right." "This is my first and last wedding," he
said, "and there 's going to be nothing Sioux City about it." So,
though the old man groaned in spirit, caterer, orchestra, flowers,
etc., were ordered, regardless of expense, from Little Rock, and all
the town took a surpassing interest in the event.
Checkers' return to Clarksville had been the triumphant return of
Caesar to Rome. As is usual in such cases, current report had
magnified his fortune twenty-fold. Mr. Barlow was now all smiles and
acquiescence; but his first meeting with Checkers was painfully
strained. Checkers treated him on the principle of "least said,
soonest mended;" but Mrs. Barlow he kissed and called "mother."
He had found Pert looking a little pale, and her bright eyes seemed
somewhat larger and brighter. But the happiness which accompanied his
return soon brought the color back to her cheeks.
[Illustration: PERT]
Of course Checkers urged an immediate marriage, and of course there was
the usual demur; but, in the end, a date was fixed upon as near as
would conveniently allow for such preparations as Pert and her mother
felt it necessary to make. And in the mean time Checkers and Pert were
ideally happy. They took long drives and walks through the woods, and
spent long evenings in talking over their plans for the future, with a
never-flagging interest.
It was practically decided that Checkers was to buy the Tyler place.
This was a fruit farm in perfect condition, with a neat little house
upon it, and not far from town. It could be purchased for cash at a
very low figure, and as the trees were all bearing, it seemed to
promise a large and sure return for the money, even cutting in half,
for possibilities of frost or drought, a conservative estimate of what
the trees should yield to the acre.
Mr. Barlow and Checkers figured upon it carefully from every
standpoint, and the more they figured, the more it seemed a
providential opportunity, Checkers knew nothing of any other business,
and his money was practically lying idle in the bank. No other safe
investment could promise so large an income and at the same time
furnish him with employment and a pleasant home.
And so at last the matter was decided. The earnest money was paid, and
the order given for the execution of the necessary papers. The house
was vacated and thoroughly renovated, and Pert found a new delight in
selecting paper, carpets and furniture to her liking--Checkers had
given her _carte blanche_.
As soon as the title to the property was found to be clear, Checkers
gave a certified check to Mr. Tyler for twenty thousand dollars, and a
warranty deed was signed, conveying the property, in fee, to Persis
Barlow. This was in accordance with Checkers' desire, and was a great
surprise to Pert and her parents. "What's mine is yours, dear," he
said with a smile, "and what's yours is your own." And that ended the
matter--unfortunately for Checkers.
There was just one question upon which the two had a serious
difference--the case of Arthur Kendall.
"Now, Edward," said Pert one evening (when she called him 'Edward' he
knew that something important was coming), "I want to talk to you about
something that has been worrying me dreadfully."
"What is it, sweetheart?"
"And I want you to promise to do as I ask you."