OBADIAH "COMES TO"
As it is written that a prophet is not without honor save in his own
country and in his own house, it is deemed just that such matters as
have to do with the coming to pass of Aunt Kate's prediction concerning
her brother Obadiah should be duly set forth herein that they may be not
suppressed through local jealousy.
Obadiah received Virginia's letter late one afternoon as he was about
to return home. He did not immediately read it, but carried it with him
that he might enjoy it in the greater seclusion of his own domicile. What
took place thereafter is best described in the words of a confidential
communication from Serena to Ike. "Dat ole man is er ra'in' an' er
ta'in' 'roun' in dyar jes lak sumpin done stung 'im. It's de
badness er wo'kin' out. De hot fiah o' to'ment singe 'im an'
de cont'ary spi'it cry aloud fo' he'p lak er lamb afo' er ragin'
lion in de wilde'ness."
Ike received these tidings concerning the spiritual pass of his employer
with an interest that lacked the kindly sympathy which should be
extended to a brother struggling with the forces of evil. He made
answer in a casual manner, "Mr. Devil done run dat ole man to ea'th er
long time ergo. He jes er settin' back, lafin sof' to hisse'f, er
watchin' de houn's er scratchin' an' er clawin'. He gwine dig
'im out presently. Ah 'spects dat de 'pointed hour is at han'."
At dinner Obadiah was in a surly mood which he vented upon Serena by
making cutting criticisms concerning the food and service. She received
his comments in silence, storing them up until a more propitious hour of
reckoning. Meanwhile she solaced herself by certain outbursts at Ike.
Unconscious of impending disaster, the chauffeur had seated himself
adjacent to the range. Here he rested from the labors of the day, having
in view a tempting repast of chicken and sweet potatoes. He endeavored
by agreeable conversation, to make smooth, or grease if you wish, its
pathway to his stomach. "Miss Sereny, yo'all is er movin' mighty
peart dis evenin'," he remarked in tuneful tones, as the old negress
hastily re-entered the kitchen, severely wounded by a barbed dart of
Obadiah's temper.
She whirled upon him and snapped, "Shet up dat big mouf. Yer 'minds
me o' er ole alligator er settin' thar workin' yer jaws an' ain'
say nothin'."
A glance at Serena's face showed Ike that storm signals were
unmistakably flying. He thought to assuage the tempest by the tender of
assistance. "Caint ah he'p you, Miss Sereny? Ah 'spects dat
yo'all is plum ti'ed er wo'kin' in dis yere hot kitchen."
She fixed him with smoldering eyes. "He'p me, he'p me," she repeated
indignantly. "De onlies way er lazy nocount lummox lak yo'all kin
he'p me is by er movin' yer triflin' carcass out o' ma kitchen stid
o' layin' 'round ma stove lak er houn' dawg. Lif youse'f off dat
chair, boy."
Ike, the indirect victim of Virginia's letter, removed himself in haste
from his comfortable corner and retired to the cool steps of the back
stoop, to allow the domestic cyclone to blow itself out before attempting
again to procure his evening's nourishment.
Obadiah had an uncomfortable night. A remembrance of the lance like
thrusts of Aunt Kate, which, in the name of his daughter, had so cruelly
lacerated him in spite of his armor of egotism, drove sleep away. Tossing
upon a bed of discomfort, he heard the clocks toll out each passing
hour until, weary and tired eyed, he left his bed, ill prepared to face
the burdens and perplexities of the new day.
At breakfast, Serena served Obadiah efficiently; but her attitude was
hostile. The wounds of the proceeding night were yet raw. When he had
eaten, she faced him sternly and demanded, "When is yo'all 'spectin'
Miss Virginy is er gwine come home?"
"One of these days," he answered with indifference.
She was not to be thus summarily dismissed. "Dat day bettah be er
comin' mighty quick," she threatened. "Ah is er gittin ti'ed er
waitin' 'roun' yere. Presen'ly, ah gwine pack ma duds an' go whar
she at."
"You attend to your own business," he snarled petulantly.
His irritation was an elixir of strength to her. Hands on hips she
gazed defiantly at him. "Ma business is whar Miss Virginy is. Ah ain'
promise Miss Elinor dat ah tek care o' yo'all. Ah gives ma word to
watch dat chil'. Ef you is er countin' on me er stayin' in dis yere
house yo'all bettah git dat gal back quick. Ah ain' got no time fo'
no man so se'fish dat 'is own kin folk done turn again 'im."
Before the righteous indignation of his own servant Obadiah fled from
his dining room, speechless with indignation.
He entered his office at nine o'clock. The sound of Mr. Jones's
typewriter should have greeted him and he should have perceived Kelly
recording profits in the great ledgers. This morning their seats were
vacant. There was a lonesomeness about the place distasteful to the
manufacturer. His sleepless night and the altercation with Serena had
caused him to develop a fit of indigestion which was not allayed by the
lack of punctuality on the part of his heretofore punctual subordinates.
Footsteps sounded in the hallway, also happy laughter. Tardy employees
approached their work joyously, not stealthily, as is the normal custom
of such miscreants. No cheery smile of cordial welcome mantled Obadiah's
face. No well turned quip, to amuse his minions in their hours of toil,
was upon his lip. He sternly awaited the coming of these frivolous
and delinquent workers.
As Mr. Jones and Kelly entered, there were glad smiles upon their faces.
There was something different about the stenographer. There was a marked
outward change in him. His clear complexion proclaimed good health. He
carried himself as if in complete control of his muscles. In place of
awkwardness had come a distinct grace of carriage.
There were more subtle changes in Mr. Jones, also. A clearness of eye,
a steadiness of gaze and a quiet self-confidence were a novelty to his
friends of other days.
But, strangest of all, the private secretary's old time beauty was
marred by a discoloration of the right eye, poorly disguised with powder,
by several small cuts upon his face and by certain bandages on his hands.
Obadiah gave Mr. Jones a sweeping glance which failed to grasp details
essential to a clear understanding of a subordinate. "What do you mean,
loafing in here at noon?" he demanded most inaccurately, "I pay you to
get here at nine o'clock. What does this mean?" The cruel glance of
Obadiah's eye pierced the optic of Mr. Jones as if to plumb the depths
of his soul and wrest his innermost secrets forth to be exposed, naked
and ashamed, in the pitiless light of publicity.
The mill owner's efforts to read the stenographer's mind through the
eye were futile. Had he succeeded, the result of his research would have
shocked him. Believing himself to be peeping into the eyes of a turtle
dove, he would have become aware that he might, with greater safety, have
attempted to stare down the baleful glare of a Bengal tiger.
Lacking in the ability to read the human mind, Obadiah could not know
that Fate, seeking a recipient for her favor, had plucked a peaceful soul
from in front of a typewriter and made it fierce.
Had the manufacturer been able to view Mr. Jones's mind as the scenes
of a movie, he would have beheld thrilling events taking place upon
the previous evening. He would have observed his stenographer simply
arrayed in trunks, socks and shoes, with eight ounce gloves laced upon
his hands, give battle for the feather-weight championship of the Fifth
ward, before a multitude of wildly excited male citizens.
Had Obadiah by similar means reviewed the mind of Kelly, he would have
watched the battle as through the eyes of a second. He would have seen,
beneath the electric lights, the muscles of the little fighting men
play, panther like, under the healthy pink of their skins. If one drop
of red blood remained in his anaemic old body, the mill owner would
have thrilled as Mr. Jones, his arms playing smoothly as well oiled
connecting rods, treading upon his toes softly as a cat, advanced,
retreated and side stepped, ever warily studying the face of his
opponent. He would have perceived that his stenographer ducked and dodged
with incredible swiftness, his gloved hands playing always to feign, to
ward and to deliver blows which resounded with the thud of leather
against quivering flesh. Obadiah's eyes would have recognized the rich
red of blood smearing the marble of human flesh, and he would have
tingled at the excitement of the spectators when, rising from their
seats, they tumultuously applauded the giver of a lucky blow.
Through five gruelling rounds of fighting the manufacturer would have
followed the fortunes of his private secretary until that final moment
when, panting and heaving, he stood over the prone form of his adversary,
counting the motions of the referee's hands, whose voice could not
be heard above the thunderous applause which acclaimed him victor.
But no picture of this battle could have told Obadiah that in the moment
of triumph the spirit of Mr. Jones was reborn; that from the building,
into the portals of which he had been almost dragged by Kelly, he had
come forth a red-blooded fighting man whose gore had mixed with that of
his antagonist.
Ignorant of these happenings, Obadiah angrily awaited an answer from his
unpunctual servants.
The smile had faded from the face of Mr. Jones at Obadiah's rough
greeting. He failed to behave in accord with the best usages among
private secretaries. Squaring his shoulders, he took a deep breath,
thereby greatly straining a gusset only recently let into the back
of his vest. Suddenly he shoved his head forward. As his face advanced,
it changed into an ugly countenance with a nasty eye, such an one as
would make its recipient ill at ease. This was Mr. Jones's fighting
face, developed with care under the kindly advice of Kelly. Sporting
characters considered it a valuable asset.
Mr. Jones's expression startled Obadiah. For years, when at a loss for
words or thoughts, he had studied the lamb like face of his stenographer.
That timid look was gone now, replaced by a countenance which had
borrowed coldness from the glance of a rattlesnake and combined it with a
grizzly bear's cruelty of aspect. To Obadiah it spoke of arson, of the
assassination of capitalists, of the proletariat running mad. He quailed
before it.
"Where do you get that noon stuff?" snarled Mr. Jones.
Obadiah turned towards the clock as if to place the blame for any
misstatements of time upon that instrument. The hands pointed to five
minutes past nine thereby also indicating their owner to be a liar.
Again Mr. Jones spoke. Roughness replaced refinement.
"For five years I have worked overtime for you, two or three afternoons
a week, sometimes fifteen minutes, sometimes an hour. I also put in many
an evening and some Sundays for you. I never received a word of thanks
for it. Now, because I am delayed by important business and come in five
minutes late, you put up a squeal as if I'd stepped on your sore corn.
Say, what kind of a cheap skate are you?" the stenographer roared in
conclusion.
Obadiah ignored the question in haughty but uneasy silence.
"You think so much of your ugly old self that you can't think of
anything else. But believe me, everybody else has got your number and
they're wasting no time loving you. Say," growled Mr. Jones so roughly
that Obadiah jumped, "have you a friend in the world?"
For an instant it appeared that the manufacturer contemplated a hurried
retreat from his own office, but the pugnacious stenographer barred the
way.
"You hain't," announced Mr. Jones ungrammatically but emphatically,
producing a gigantic roll of currency from his pocket. It was his share
of the fight receipts, and, although the denominations averaged low, it
bulked large to the surprised eyes of Obadiah. Mr. Jones shook the money
in the face of his employer. "See that?" he inquired, as if suspecting
that his employer suffered from failing eyesight. "I don't care to
hold it too near to you or you might try to pinch it."
Obadiah viewed the roll of bills with a repugnance astounding in him.
"I had to work to get that money, last night," Mr. Jones continued.
"It wasn't the easy kind of money that you pull down. But that isn't
the point. Kelly and I have bought a gymnasium up the street. We intended
to treat you fair--to give you full notice so that you could fill our
places before we left. But as you've had to be a little meaner than
usual this morning, I think we'll bid you good-bye right now. How
about it, Kelly?"
"I say we will," agreed that successful trainer with emphasis, and he
and the fighter abruptly left the room.
Obadiah closed the door of the office with a resounding slam behind
his departing staff and, taking a bunch of unopened letters from Mr.
Jones's former place of labor, he bore them into his own lair. As he
sank down behind his desk he thumbed them over and, selecting one,
opened and read the paper it contained. It was a formal order from the
State Board of Health forbidding the further discharge of waste from the
dye house at his mill into the Lame Moose River. As the manufacturer
grasped the import of the document, his face purpled with rage and
the paper shook in his hands. Finally he petulantly cast it aside and
groaned aloud at a twinge of indigestion. Dropping back in his chair
he took Virginia's letter from his pocket and re-read it. "I've had
bad luck ever since she left," he growled. "Things don't break right.
I can't keep my mind on my business. She must come home." Unhooking his
telephone, he asked Hezekiah Wilkins to come to him.
Hezekiah responded, smiling pleasantly. "Good morning," he exclaimed.
"What has happened to the boys? Not sick, I hope."
"I fired them," Obadiah rapped. "They were too fresh around here and
I let them go." His anger and resentment displayed itself. "They are no
good. I wouldn't give them recommendations as dog catchers."
"Hump," ejaculated Hezekiah. "Both at once? It leaves you short
handed."
Obadiah invited the attention of his attorney to business by handing him
the order of the Board of Health.
Hezekiah read the document with care and, returning it to the
manufacturer, gazed at the ceiling reflectively.
"Well, what do you think of it?" Obadiah's manner was short.
"I have been expecting it," the lawyer replied with calmness. "What
else could you expect? You are ruining the water that people have to
drink."
"I can't be forced. They won't drive me," Obadiah maintained with
his usual obstinacy.
"They'll drive you into court fast enough, if you don't obey that
order," Hezekiah warned him with a chuckle.
"That's just where I want to be. It's up to you to develop a plan
to flim-flam that bunch of fool doctors. You're losing your 'pep' or
you'd have worked out something before this," sneered Obadiah.
"Perhaps I am losing my 'pep,'" Hezekiah mimicked, and his eyes
flashed as he went on. "I have enough mental alertness left to advise
you not to bite off your nose to spite your face."
Obadiah flushed angrily but controlled his temper. "Listen," he
snarled, "while I tell you what I pay you to tell me. The Lame Moose
is a navigable stream, isn't it?"
Hezekiah nodded, his eyes dancing with amusement.
Obadiah frowned at his attorney and continued, "We'll raise a federal
question and get the case into the U. S. Courts and with dilatory pleas,
continuances and appeals it will take years before a final decision is
handed down. How's that?"
Hezekiah laughed. "As your legal adviser, I can't approve it. The
waste from the dye-house at your mill is spoiling the water that some
thousands of people have to drink. There is a simple remedy open to
you but they have none. Common justice demands that you consider the
rights of these beings." The attorney turned loose his oratorical voice.
"Common justice demands it, sir."
The manufacturer flushed and shifted uneasily. Quarrelsome as he was, he
could not afford a break with this man.
Hezekiah relapsed into a careful study of the metal cornice over the way.
"Think it over. Think about it," snapped Obadiah after a moment's
silence. "You may be able to catch my point of view. I have another
subject which I want to discuss with you--an embarrassing personal
matter."
Hezekiah gave him a covert glance but immediately resumed inspection of
the metal work across the street.
"It's about my daughter," continued Obadiah. "I have a letter from
her which I wish you to read."
Hezekiah perused Virginia's letter with great care and attention. "Did
she write that?" he asked abruptly, as he returned the communication.
"It's in my daughter's handwriting but I suspect that my sister Kate
may have had a hand in it. Virginia never wrote such a letter to me
before. It is an unusual letter."
"Yes, it is an unusual letter," Hezekiah agreed. There was merriment
in his eyes but otherwise he presented the serious aspect befitting a
counsellor in the presence of a client. "It is an implied threat to
sever domestic relations. Such counsel as I give should have in
contemplation the facts which led up to this--ahem--veiled ultimatum."
This reasonable request embarrassed Obadiah greatly; but after some
hesitation he explained the circumstances under which Virginia had left
home as the act of a defiant, headstrong girl.
"Dear me, an exceedingly unfortunate matter," exclaimed Hezekiah, as if
astonished at the revelation. Therein his manner partook of deceit, as
Hennie had favored him so often with the details of the matter, gathered
from Virginia herself and more completely, through Carrie, from Serena,
that he knew them by heart. The lawyer went on, "The adjustment of
such family differences requires tact--the utmost tact and diplomacy."
The happenings of the morning had sorely inflamed Obadiah's indigestion.
As he repeated his woes to the attorney, remembrances of the lonely
hours he had spent since the girl's departure came to him and he
believed himself a sadly ill-used man. Miserable in body and spirit,
he flamed into tempestuous rebellion at the mild measures proposed
by his legal adviser.
"Tact and diplomacy the devil!!" he exploded. "I'll use force, if
necessary. She is my daughter, isn't she?"
Hezekiah gravely conceded Obadiah's claim of paternity.
"The law gives me some control of her?"
"As an unmarried woman, you have certain rights over her," Hezekiah
admitted.
"Well then, I want her back," bellowed Obadiah, the notes of his voice
getting higher as the intensity of his feeling increased. "You go and
get her and make her come home."
"Did you have in mind legal proceedings to compel your daughter to
return under your roof?" inquired Hezekiah in a suave manner, in marked
contrast to the bluster of his employer.
"It doesn't make any difference how you do it. Kidnap her for all I
care. What I want is to get her back," the mill owner stormed.
"Has it occurred to you, that in such matters care must be taken to
avoid a serious rupture of those affectionate relations which, after
all, are the basis of the home and the natural tie between a father and
daughter?" Hezekiah suggested quietly.
Obadiah's face was swollen with passion, his obstinacy written deep in
it. "She must come home," he proclaimed. "I want her. I'm tired of
living alone. You go and make her come back."
The smooth shaven countenance of the lawyer hardened. His usual
good-humored expression melted into one of resolution as he said with
great calmness, "I have thought, sometimes, Obadiah, that you fail
to display a clear conception of an attorney's duties."
"What?"
"You don't appreciate the scope of my employment."
"What has that got to do with my daughter?"
"It has this. I do not conceive it my duty to force your daughter to
return to your home against her wishes."
"You refuse to obey my instructions?" Obadiah almost screamed, throwing
discretion to the winds in the tumult of his wrath.
"Yes, I refuse," answered the lawyer, leaping to his feet and talking
down at his employer. "I refuse," he repeated in a voice in which
passion found no place, "as I have always refused when you would
have seduced me into doing an unjust act. There are questions upon
which fair minds may differ. Men of honor may argue for the side in
which they believe or have been retained. From divers contentions,
strongly maintained, comes the bright star of right, shining clear,
in its purity, above the storm clouds of litigation. But, Your Hon--"
Hezekiah paused and began anew--"But, sir, there are fundamental
questions involving moral law upon which right minded men must agree."
"What's this tirade got to do with me?" Obadiah demanded.
Hezekiah silenced the mill owner with a gesture of great dignity.
"Never interrupt counsel in the midst of argument," he protested,
absently. "Undoubtedly you will be afforded ample time to present
your own views." He paused, blinking nervously. The interruption had
disturbed his train of thought, but in a moment he continued. "At
stated periods, prudent merchants take trial balances and invoices that
they may know the condition of their business. It is likewise well for
men at times to take account of their relations with their associates.
It is my purpose to do that now, Obadiah Dale." In Hezekiah's eyes
was a far away look now. "It's nearly thirty years since I entered
your employ--thirty years, Obadiah, the cream of my life. Its period
of highest power I have given to you. My life must be judged by my
accomplishments for you. You and I alone know what part my judgment
has had in the development of your great business. As a young man, I
liked you, Obadiah. I admired your energy and perseverance and that
combativeness which made you give battle in open competition for new
fields of commercial activity. Success came to you in a measure permitted
to but few, and the tremendous power of wealth accompanied it. Thoughts
come to me of your wife, that fair rose of the Southland, who not only
brought sunshine into your own house but spread it among all those
who were privileged to know her. In her you were a twice blessed
man. A daughter was born to you, the image of her mother, and so were
you thrice blessed."
Hezekiah's face became stern. "I have tried to judge you fairly at
the bar of my heart, Obadiah. Old friendship has pleaded for you.
Unhappiness over the loss of your wife may have swayed you. Yet,
something tells me that you were always the man that you have been
of late, concealing the evil in you that you might the better court
success. At any rate, there has been a gradual outward change in you
until here and now"--Hezekiah was very grave--"I impeach you before
the high court of my heart for divers crimes and offenses, treasonable
in their nature, against the good will and happiness of your fellowmen."
The prisoner at the bar gave a start, possibly remembering that the
historical punishment for treason was the headsman's axe.
"You have hardened, Obadiah," the lawyer continued relentlessly,
"until you have grown as icy cold as the winter hills of your native
lands. You have become cruel and rapacious in your business dealings.
Of late years your commercial pathway is strewn with the wrecks of
enterprises, which in no sense affected your own safety but which you
have ruined through a sheer desire to dominate, a naked lust for power.
Controlled by greed and avarice, no generous thought for your fellowmen
actuates you. Steeped in your own selfishness, you sit in this room
like--" shaking a forefinger at Obadiah the attorney hesitated, seeking
a fitting condemnatory simile. Suddenly he concluded--"like a fat
hog," and struck the desk of the alleged swine such a thump that the
pork jumped.
"Your memory will tell you how many times I have blocked your devilish
schemes by convincing you that, if persisted in, the anti-trust laws must
land you behind prison bars."
Hezekiah in the pose of a stout statue of liberty, thrust up his right
arm and clasped his left hand to his breast. He fixed accusing eyes upon
the manufacturer and cried in a big voice, "If the world knew as much
about you as I do, I am not so sure but they'd incarcerate you under the
first law of nature--self-preservation."
"Hush!" Obadiah paled visibly and with great nervousness viewed the
open transom.
Hezekiah leveled an arraigning hand at his employer. "Your actions
should be such that you could rest in equanimity while they are cried
aloud in the market places. The hour of reckoning is at hand, Obadiah.
You believe yourself invincible. Blinded by a curtain of obstinacy
you have not read your destiny. I tear it aside and expose your dark
future. Your daughter, beautiful and affectionate, filled, as was her
mother, with thoughts of others, discovers your true character and,
turning from you, prefers the peace of a good conscience amidst humbler
surroundings to a home of wealth in your company. She leaves you--alone."
Obadiah winced.
Hezekiah returned to his task with renewed vigor. "This morning your
personal staff--men who have been with you for years--separate from you.
I have no hesitation in assuming that they departed rankling beneath
injustice. They leave you--alone. Now your attorney"--Hezekiah's
voice was filled with feeling--"your adviser for years, tenders his
resignation rather than to be a party to enforcing your selfish demands
against your own daughter. He leaves you--alone."
Stunned by this unexpected shot, Obadiah appeared to shrink in his chair.
Highly pleased at the effect and sound of his own words, Hezekiah seized
upon the order of the Board of Health and, shaking it in the face of the
mill owner, waxed ever more eloquent. Floating away upon the wings of
his own fervid oratory, he continued in ringing tones.
"The keen eye of this great Commonwealth has found you out. Now does its
strong right arm, the law, reach forth to protect the weak and restrain
the strong. In ardent pursuit of evil it draws ever nearer and nearer,
until at last it embraces even the waste--"
Hezekiah stopped short. A look of horror, loathing and disgust swept his
countenance. He was inexpressibly shocked at the extraordinary conclusion
to which his simile hastened.
To Obadiah, the repugnance in Hezekiah's face depicted antipathy towards
himself. For years the attorney had been the manufacturer's one friend.
He had admired the lawyer's learning and leaned upon his judgment. For
years he had known that words were playthings in his legal adviser's
mouth; but that look was too much. The aversion and detestation displayed
crushed the mill owner. Humbled to the dust he reviewed the calamities
which Hezekiah had so ably painted. With due allowance for rhetorical
exaggeration, they frightened him. He must save Hezekiah to pilot him
through the darkness.
Sick and weary and miserable but above all else lonely, Obadiah arose
from his desk and confronted the lawyer. "Hezekiah, you will not leave
me?" he begged, in pitiful humiliation, his anger gone.
The placid Hezekiah was shaken to the depths of his soul at the
catastrophe which had befallen him. Vain of his oratorical ability,
he regarded his address to Obadiah as a worthy effort until his final
bull. Such slips are remembered by one's professional brethren
until the end of one's life. He took his grievance out on the abased
Obadiah.
"I'm tired," he growled, "tired of your greed and selfishness, tired
of your confounded pigheadedness and the continual scrap in which you
live. You're old, Obadiah. I bet you ten dollars that the hearse is in
use which will haul you to the cemetery."
Obadiah shuddered and displayed no disposition to take the wager.
Hezekiah went on testily. "You worry about money until every one hates
and despises you. It's bad for my reputation to work for you--to be
caught in your company. I have saved enough to keep me comfortable
until I die and I'm going to take it easy. I want to quit fighting
law suits and go to compromising." A glint of his usual humor flashed in
Hezekiah's eyes. "If you'd let me compromise your cases, I might
stay."
Obadiah made a quick motion as of consent.
Hezekiah viewed his shaking employer with great severity. "You must
prove your conversion by your works," he rapped. "You've got to show
me."
"What should I do, Hezekiah?" the manufacturer, looking helpless and
old, begged. "Give me the benefit of your advice."
"Do?" snapped Hezekiah petulantly. "Decide how you think a thing ought
to be done and do the opposite. You're always wrong."
"Please be specific, Hezekiah."
At the word "please," the lawyer started in surprise. In a moment he
growled, "Compromise. Learn to consider the rights and wishes of other
people. The compromise is a most valuable instrument in bringing about
domestic happiness," and with this sage advice, Hezekiah, the bachelor,
left his employer.
Stricken low by physical disorder and verbal assaults, it was a day of
gloomy forebodings to Obadiah. After Hezekiah's oration, the path ahead,
usually certain and clear to him, seemed beset with obstacles and lined
with eyes of hatred.
When he went home that night there seemed to be a stoop in his usually
erect carriage and a deep anxiety dwelt in his eyes. Hardly touching his
dinner, he sat through it, in his dining room, plunged in thought.
Serena marked the change in the behavior of her employer with great
interest. Returning to the kitchen, she told Ike, "Mr. Devil done
sna'ah dat ole man wid er bait o' shinin' gol'. Now he gwine hawg
tie 'im wid hot chains outen de fu'nace o' to'ment so dat he kin
tote 'im to de aige o' de bottomless pit an' cas' 'im into de
fiah an' brimstone. Dat ole man is er strivin' mighty fie'ce to git
loose. He's er gnawin' off er leg to git outen de sn'ah, as de hot
i'on burns 'im an' de brimstone smoke choke 'im."
The chauffeur, being for the moment in high favor, was enjoying a piece
of pie as a fitting appetizer for his later dinner. "He ain' lif' up
his voice in prah or mek no sign er tall," responded the youth, giving
close attention to the pastry and but little heed to the demoniacal
trapping going on in the neighborhood.
"Dey's er fightin' ete'nally, boy," explained Serena with scorn.
Ike rolled his eyes, exposing large areas of white until they rested
upon the woman. "Ain' you mek er mistake, Miss Sereny?" he suggested
respectfully. "Ain' you mean infe'nally?"
"Look yere, boy," she retorted with great dignity, "ah ain' er
astin' no trash lak yo'all to teach me nothin'. Ah gits ma 'ligion
f'om de good book in de chu'ch house. Min' you' own business."
Obadiah retired early and again tossed backwards and forwards through
long hours. Hezekiah had indeed torn aside a concealing veil from the
manufacturer's life. Obadiah was not a man given to introspection,
but, for the first time in years, the words of his attorney had forced
it upon him. Tonight his boasted accomplishments were nothing, while
episodes which he would have gladly forgotten loomed large. Above all
else a great loneliness and fear of the future crushed him.
In this hour of deepest humility, recollections of his wife and the far
away days of his married life came to him. Sweet and tender memories
these, of occurrences almost forgotten. He softened to them, and
moments followed when it was as if the spirit of Elinor Dale had crossed
the span of years and labored with the troubled soul of the selfish,
obstinate, purse-proud old rich man until at last, Obadiah--slept in
peace.
When he appeared in the morning, a change had taken place in him. There
was strength and decision in his face; but it seemed as if the lines of
cruelty and obstinacy were altered and smoothed away as the ruts and
tracks upon a sandy beach after a great storm.