MR. JORDAN BECOMES MYSTERIOUS.
Little Flo heard Will’s merry whistle as he drew near, and gave, a
sigh of relief. It was dreary work weeding the radishes in the hot
sun, without a soul to talk to. Egbert was fixing slender poles in the
ground for the young beans to climb; but Egbert didn’t count much as
a companion, because he could neither talk nor hear, although he was
wonderfully quick to understand signs, or even a movement of the lips;
so the child was glad her brother Will had returned.
He only paused to toss his basket into the open door of the barn, and
then came straight to the radish bed.
“Working, sis?” he cried, cheerily.
“Mother said I must weed ’til noon,” she answered. “She’s baking, so
she can’t help.”
“Well, how does it go?” he asked, kneeling down to assist in the labor.
“Oh, I don’t mind,” she said, in a voice that sounded less indifferent
than the words. “Poor folks have to work, I s’pose; but Saturday ought
to be a holiday--oughtn’t it, Will?”
“Sure enough. Where do you want to go?”
“Mabel Allen’s got a new set of dishes for her birthday, and she said
if I’d come over we’d have tea. And Annabel Williams told me to stop in
and see Gladys’s doll’s new clothes.”
Will’s face hardened, and his whistle died away. He plucked at the
weeds savagely for a time, and then said:
“Look here, Flo; you run on and have tea with Mabel. I’ll ’tend to the
weedin’. But I wouldn’t go to the big house, if I were you.”
“Why not?” asked Flo, in surprise.
Will thought a minute--just long enough to restrain the angry words
that rose to his lips. Then he said:
“We’re poor, Flo, and the Williams family is rich, and they give
themselves airs. I don’t know as I blame ’em any for that; but the
Cardens are as good as the Williamses, even if we haven’t money, and I
don’t like to have them patronize us, that’s all.”
The girl looked puzzled.
“Annabel’s always been nice to me, and I like her. I like Gladys, too.
Why, Will, I thought all the Williams children were your friends!”
“So they are,” answered Will. “The children don’t put on airs, sis;
it’s Mrs. Williams that don’t like them to play with poor kids, like
us. So I wish you wouldn’t go there. When you see them in school, it’s
all right to be friendly; but they never come over here, so don’t let’s
go there.”
“All right, Will,” she answered, with a sigh for she longed to visit
the beautiful grounds and rooms at the big house. “But, do you think
you can spare me?”
“Easy,” said Will.
“But mother said--”
“I’ll fix it with mother. You run along and have a good time.”
Will did a lot of work in the garden that day, and all the time
he was thinking deeply of what he had heard from Doctor Meigs. It
never occurred to him to doubt a word of the story of his father’s
misfortunes and death.
At supper that night he cast many stealthy looks at Mr. Jordan, who sat
wholly unconscious of the scrutiny and as silent as ever. Indeed, this
peculiar gentleman was well worthy of examination, aside from the fact
that he had been a friend to John Carden in the old days.
Mr. Jordan--his name was Ezra, but few were aware of that--was fully
six feet in height, but wonderfully thin and gaunt of frame. His lean
face was close-shaven, and his head was bald save for a fringe of locks
above the ears. These were carefully brushed upward and plastered
close to his shiny skull. But his eyebrows were thick and bushy, and
sprinkled with gray, so that they gave him a rather fierce expression.
Over his eyes he constantly wore big, gold-rimmed spectacles, which
magnified the sight of those looking toward them; so that Mr. Jordan’s
eyes became unnaturally large and glaring, and apt to disturb one’s
composure and render it an uncomfortable thing to stare at him for long.
That glance of Mr. Jordan’s spectacles used to fill Will and Flo with
awe, when they were younger; but Will had found chances to get a side
view of the man’s face, and beneath the spectacles noted that the eyes
were really small and watery, and of a mild blue color; so that now the
spectacles were less horrible.
One peculiarity of the man was that he walked rigidly upright--“as
stiff as a ramrod,” Will declared--and on his evening strolls he never
used a cane; but stalked away as slowly as a ghost, with his hands
clasped behind his back and his spectacles staring straight ahead. He
always wore a long frock coat of black and a rusty silk hat, which
added to his tallness and made him quite remarkable.
No one could remember when Mr. Jordan had not lived in Bingham; yet he
had no relatives nor even intimate friends. While not reputed wealthy,
he was considered “a man of means,” and everyone bowed respectfully
but gravely to him as he passed by. At the mills he was called “the
Automaton” by the younger clerks, because he performed all duties with
absolute punctuality and unvarying deliberation.
No one knew why Chester D. Williams had given Mr. Jordan such full
control of the steel works, but his word was law in the offices, and
even the proprietor assumed a different air whenever he addressed his
secretary. As to the man’s capability, that could not be doubted. Under
his supervision no detail of the business was neglected and the concern
ran like clock-work.
The Carden children were of course accustomed to the presence of their
boarder. Perhaps Egbert might retain a vivid recollection of the days
when his father was alive, and Mr. Jordan was unknown to the parlor
bedroom or the seat at the head of the table; but to Will those times
were very hazy, and to Flo it seemed as if the boarder had always been
there, grim and silent from the first, but now scarcely noticed save
by tired-faced Mrs. Carden, whose daily duty it was to make Mr. Jordan
comfortable in return for the weekly five dollars that was so important
an item to the little household.
On this Saturday evening, when supper was over, Will sat upon a box
at the entrance to the tumble-down shed that was called by courtesy a
“barn,” and watched the boarder start out for his regular evening walk.
Mr. Jordan never neglected this exercise, no matter what the weather
might be. People in Bingham had long since decided that he walked for
the benefit of his health, as a relief from the close confinement at
the office during the day; and it amused the gossips that the man’s
habits were so regular that neither wind nor snow, frost nor blizzard
had never yet induced him to vary his daily programme by staying in
doors.
And he always walked in the same direction, turning down the lane to
the left of the cottage and following it a full half mile to a grove
of great oak and maple trees; through this to the Danville turnpike;
along the turnpike to Holmes’ Cross Roads; back to the village, and
through the village to the Carden house, where he hung up his hat and
went directly to his room for the night. A fine walk--four miles at
the least--and an evidence of the man’s perfect health and remarkable
physical endurance, when his age and lean body were taken into
consideration.
“Mr. Jordan is as tough as hickory,” the people declared; but as his
life was so absolutely regular he was never an object of curiosity
to his neighbors, who took but a casual interest in him. Perhaps,
had he ever varied his programme, even for a day, the act would have
occasioned great excitement in Bingham; but he never did.
Tonight Will looked after him thoughtfully, and followed with his eyes
Mr. Jordan’s upright form as it moved slowly down the lane toward the
distant grove. He wished he might speak with the silent man about his
father. If Mr. Jordan had loaned John Carden money and stood by him
during all his dark days of experimenting, as the doctor had said, he
must have been a good and faithful friend, thought the boy. Perhaps he
wouldn’t mind telling Will something more of those old days.
Impelled by this idea, the boy arose and started across lots to
overtake the solitary walker. When he came to the lane, Mr. Jordan
had not yet reached the grove, but was pacing the road with calm and
precise steps, no one an inch longer or shorter than another.
Something about the rigid, unemotional form caused Will to hesitate. He
had never spoken much with Mr. Jordan, and suddenly he became abashed
at his own temerity. Yet it was always hard for Will to abandon any
plan he had once formed. He did not go back; but he slackened his
pace, trying to think of the best way to approach the self-absorbed
man ahead of him. And so, while he trailed along the lane with halting
footsteps, Mr. Jordan came to the edge of the grove and entered it.
The path through the grove curved from left to right, and back again,
passing around the big trees that had been spared the axe on account of
some whim of their owner, who was none other than Mr. Jordan himself.
Lumber men had often tried to buy this bit of fine timber; but the
owner refused all offers.
“It will keep,” was his unvarying reply. And it had “kept” for many
years.
When Will reached the edge of the trees the man was out of sight around
the bend; so the boy, encouraged to hasten, pressed quickly along until
the turn in the road was reached, when he stopped in great surprise.
For Mr. Jordan had halted in the center of the grove--really a most
unexpected thing for him to do--and, turned half around, was staring
fixedly at a large oak that grew a few paces from the road.
Now was the time for Will to join him and open the conversation. He
realized his opportunity, and was mustering up the necessary courage to
advance, when Mr. Jordan walked straight to the oak tree, cast a hasty,
half suspicious glance around him, and then passed one hand swiftly up
and down the shaggy bark of the trunk at a point about on a level with
his own head.
Will, shrinking back so as to be nearly hidden by a clump of bushes,
stared open mouthed at this amazing sight, and while he stared Mr.
Jordan returned to the road, faced ahead, and marched as stiffly and
deliberately as ever upon his way.
The incident had not occupied more than a minute’s time, but it was
strange enough to deprive Will of any desire to overtake or speak with
the man he had unwittingly spied upon. He let Mr. Jordan continue his
walk, and turning back made his own way leisurely home.
[Illustration: Mr. Jordan passed one hand swiftly up and down the
shaggy bark of the tree. Page 48.]
The next morning, when he came to think it all over, he decided that
Mr. Jordan’s action in the grove was not nearly so remarkable as he
had considered it in the dim light of the preceding evening. Doubtless
the owner of those splendid trees had seen some hole in the bark of
this oak, or had fancied it damaged in some way, and so had felt of the
trunk to reassure himself. Anyone might have done the same thing, and
for a dozen different reasons.
Yet why did the man glance around in that curious half-frightened way,
as if fearful of being seen, if he was merely about to do an ordinary
thing? It was the flash of that single look that had made Will uneasy;
that rendered him uneasy every time he thought about it. But he could
not explain why. If there was any one person in Bingham who was in no
way mysterious that person was Mr. Jordan.
Sunday was a bright, delightful day, and soon after the late breakfast
was over the Carden children, dressed in their best, started for
the Sunday-school service, which was held before the regular church
services began. Egbert and Will walked on either side of little Flo,
and the three were as merry and wholesome a group of young folks as
one could wish to see. Egbert was not a bit ill-natured or morose on
account of his infirmities, but always wore a smile upon his cheerful
face. And the village children liked him, as was easily seen by their
pleasant nods when the three Cardens joined the group at the church
door.
The Williams children were there, too, and while Gladys grabbed Flo’s
hand and drew her aside with eager whispers, the others formed a circle
around Will and Egbert and tried to make the former feel that they
were as friendly as ever, in spite of their mother’s banishment of the
“vegetable boy” the day before.
“Mother was a little bit nervous yesterday,” said Mary Louise, in her
sweet and sympathetic way. “You mustn’t mind it, Will.”
“Of course I won’t,” he answered, promptly.
“Mother,” said the saucy Annabel, in a reflective tone of voice, “is a
reg’lar _caution_ when she gets nervous; and she’s nervous most of the
time.”
“Mrs. Williams was quite right,” said Will; “and it was lucky she sent
me home, for I’d an awful lot of work to do, and that kite made me
forget all about it.”
The bell rang just then, calling them in; but Reginald whispered to
Will: “You’re a brick!” and Theodore shyly took his friend’s hand and
pressed it within his own as they entered the doorway.
All this did much to warm Will Carden’s heart and restore to him his
self-respect, which had been a little shattered by Mrs. Williams’
contemptuous treatment.
However disdainful of poverty some of the grown folks may be, children,
if they are the right sort, are more apt to judge a comrade by his
quality and merit, than by the amount of his worldly possessions. And
Will decided the Williams children were “the right sort.”