THE FLYING-MACHINE
If it had not been for a surprising and amusing event which somewhat
relieved the depression in the office of the _Star_ of Hempfield, the
following weeks would certainly have been among the most dismal of my
life.
All the elasticity and interest and illusion seemed to have departed
from us when Nort disappeared. Every one, except the old Captain, who
was like a raging lion, was constrained and mysterious. It would have
been amusing if it had not been so serious. Each of us was nursing a
mystery, each was speculating, suspicious.
The only one of us who seemed to get any satisfaction out of the
situation was Ed Smith. I think he was unaffectedly glad that Nort was
gone. It left the field clear for him, and on the Saturday night after
Nort left, Ed put on his hat just as Anthy was leaving the office and
quite casually walked home with her. He ran on exactly as he had always
done--chat about the business, and town gossip, which always gravitated
toward the personal and intimate, and, finally, if there was half an
opportunity, descended to the little soft jokes and purrings of
sentimentality. He followed Anthy up the steps of her home, and stood,
hat in hand, still talking, and half expecting to be invited in to
supper. He did observe that she was silent--but then she was never very
talkative. He saw nothing in her face, nothing in her eye, that he had
not seen before.
But to Anthy, Ed Smith appeared in a wholly new light. Through all the
experiences and turmoil in the office of the _Star_ Ed had not changed
in the least, and never would change. He was the sort of person, and the
world is full of them, who is made all of a piece and once for all, who
is not changed by contact with life, and who, if he possesses any marks
of personality at all, takes on in time a somewhat comical aspect. One
comes to grin when he sees him wandering among immortal events with such
perfect aplomb, such unchangeable satisfaction. As Anthy looked now at
Ed Smith, it seemed to her that she had travelled an immeasurable
distance since she had left college, since she took hold of the _Star_,
since she first knew Ed Smith and had even been mildly interested in
having him call upon her. She saw everything about her life, the career
of the old Captain, the recent events in the history of the _Star_, with
incredible clearness. Everything before had been hazy, unreal,
dreamlike.
Fergus was by turns depressed and exultant, extremely silent or
extremely loquacious (for him). Anthy felt certain that he had some
knowledge concerning Nort that he was concealing, but she shrank
curiously from asking him.
It was in this moment of strain and depression that Hempfield passed
through one of its most notable experiences, and the old Captain
established himself still more firmly upon the pinnacle of his faith in
what he loved to call "immutable laws."
Imagine what it must have meant to a tranquil old village, settled in
its habits, with a due sense of its own dignity and of the proprieties
of life, unaccustomed to surprises of any kind, to behold, upon looking
up into the sky on a pleasant spring afternoon, a sight which not even
the oldest inhabitant, not even the oldest hills, had ever beheld, to
wit, a flying-machine soaring through the air. With the sunlight
flashing upon its wings it was as beautiful and light as some great
bird, and it purred as it flew like a live thing.
All Hempfield ran into the streets and opened its mouth to the heavens.
Even old Mrs. Dana, who could not leave her chair, threw open the window
and craned her head outward to catch a glimpse of the miracle. Marvel of
marvels, the flyer circled gracefully in two great spirals above the
town, and then disappeared across the hills toward Hewlett. We held our
breath until we could not even see the black speck in the sky, and then
we all began to talk at once. We told one another in detail about our
impressions and emotions. We described our feeling when we first saw the
wonder, we told exactly what we were doing and thinking about, we
explained what we said to George Andrews, and how comical Ned Boston
looked.
It was Joe Crane, the liveryman, who rushed into the office of the
_Star_ with the great news. In the simplicity and credulity of our faith
we all turned out instantly to see the wonder in the sky, all except the
old Captain. The old Captain was deep in the preparation of an editorial
demolishing the Democratic party, and expressing his undying allegiance
to the high protective tariff. When Joe Crane stuck his head in at the
door, he merely glanced around with an aspect of large compassion.
Had he not, again and again in the columns of the _Star_, proved the
utter absurdity of attempting to fly? Had he not shown that human flight
was contrary, not only to immutable natural laws, but to the moral law
as well? For over five thousand years men had lived upon this planet,
and if the Creator had intended his children to fly, would he not have
provided wings for them?
[Illustration: "Toys!" "Mere circus tricks to take in fools!"]
It did not shake the old Captain in the least when accounts of
flying-machines--with pictures--began to appear in the newspapers and
magazines. He passed grandly over them with a snort. "Toys!" "Mere
circus tricks to take in fools!" And if pressed a little too hard, and
there were those who delighted in slyly prodding the Captain with
innocent remarks about flying-machines, until it had become not a little
of a town joke, he would clear the air with an explosive "Fudge!" and go
calmly about his business.
When the supreme test came, and we credulous ones all rushed out of the
office, and craned our necks, and searched the ancient sky for the
miracle, the old Captain stood staunchly by his faith. It couldn't be
so, therefore it wasn't--a doctrine which, I am convinced, leads to much
satisfaction and comfort in this world. The old Captain was, upon the
whole, a happy man.
The _Star_, therefore, remained oblivious to the most interesting event
that had taken place in Hempfield for many a day.
[Illustration]