very sober look. 'You know, his mother an' father have gone South,
an' he'll be all alone.'
"'Ask him at once--call him on the 'phone,' I advised, an' bade her
good-bye.
"The happiness o' Lizzie an' the charm o' those kids had suggested
an idea. I made up my mind that I'd try to put Mr. an' Mrs. Bill
on the job o' keepin' up with Lizzie.
"'That's a wonderful woman,' said Mrs. Bill, as we drove away. 'I
envy her--she's so strong and well and happy. She loves those
babies, and is in the saddle every afternoon, helping with the work
o' the farm.'
"'Why don't you get into the saddle and be as well and strong as
she is?' Bill asked.
"'Because I've no object--it's only a way of doing nothing,' said
Mrs. Bill. 'I'm weary of riding for exercise. There never was a
human being who could keep it up long. It's like you and your
dumb-bells. To my knowledge you haven't set a foot in your
gymnasium for a month. As a matter of fact, you're as tired of
play as I am, every bit. Why don't you go into Wall Street an' get
poor?'
"'Tired of play!' Bill exclaimed. 'Why, Grace, night before last
you were playing bridge until three o'clock in the morning.'
"'Well, it's a way of doing nothing skilfully and on the
competitive plan,' said she. 'It gives me a chance to measure my
capacity. When I get through I am so weary that often I can go to
sleep without thinking. It seems to me that brains are a great
nuisance to one who has no need of them. Of course, by-and-by,
they'll atrophy and disappear like the tails of our ancestors.
Meanwhile, I suppose they are bound to get sore. Mine is such a
fierce, ill-bred, impudent sort of a brain, and it's as busy as a
bat in a belfry. I often wish that I had one of those soft,
flexible, paralytic, cocker-spaniel brains, like that of our friend
Mrs. Seavey. She is so happy with it--so unterrified. She is
equally at home in bed or on horseback, reading the last best
seller or pouring tea and compliments. Now just hear how this
brain of mine is going on about that poor, inoffensive creature!
But that's the way it treats me. It's a perfect heathen of a
brain.'
"Bill an' I looked at each other an' laughed. Her talk convinced
me of one thing--that her trouble was not the lack of a brain.
"'You're always making fun of me,' she said. 'Why don't you give
me something to do?'
"'Suppose you wash the dishes?' said Bill.
"'Would it please you?'
"'Anything that pleases you pleases me.'
"'I saw that she, too, was goin' to try to keep up with Lizzie, an'
I decided that I'd help her. When we arrived at the villa we made
our way to its front door through a pack of collie dogs out for an
airing.
"'By-the-way,' I said, when we sat down to luncheon at Bill's
house, 'congratulate me. I'm a candidate for new honors.'
[Illustration: I'm a candidate for new honors.]
"'Those of a husband? I've been hoping for that--you stubborn old
bachelor.' said Mrs. Bill, expectantly.
"'No,' I answered, 'I'm to be a father.'
"Bill put down his fork an' turned an' stared at me. Mrs. Bill
leaned back in her chair with a red look of surprise.
"'The gladdest, happiest papa in Connecticut,' I added.
"Mrs. Bill covered her face with her napkin an' began to shake.
"'S-Soc., have you fallen?' Bill stammered.
"'No, I've riz,' I said. 'Don't blame me, ol' man, I had to do it.
I've adopted some orphans. I'm goin' to have an orphanage on the
hill; but it will take a year to finish it. I'm goin' to have five
children. They're beauties, an' I know that I'm goin' to love
them. I propose to take them out of the atmosphere of indigence
an' wholesale charity. They'll have a normal, pleasant home, an' a
hired mother an' me to look after them--the personal touch, you
know. I expect to have a lot of fun with them.'
"'But what a responsibility!' said Mrs. Bill.
"'I know, but I feel the need of it. Of course it's different with
you--very different--you have all these dogs an' horses to be
responsible for an' to give you amusement. I couldn't afford that.
Then, too, I'm a little odd, I guess. I can get more fun out of
one happy, human soul than out of all the dogs an' horses in
creation.'
"'But children! Why, they're so subject to sickness and accident
and death,' said Mrs. Bill.
"'An' they're subject, also, to health an' life an' safety,' I
answered.
"'Yes, but you know--they'll be getting into all kinds of trouble.
They'll worry you.'
"'True; but as for worry, I don't mind that much,' I said. 'My
best days were those that were full of worry. Now, that I've won a
competence an' my worries are gone, so is half my happiness. You
can't have sunshine without shadows. There was one of my neighbors
who was troubled with "boils." He had to have 'em cured right
away, an' a doctor gave him some medicine that healed 'em up, but
he was worse off than ever. The boils began to do business inside
of him, an' he rushed back to the doctor.
"'What's the matter now?" said the medical man.
"'"Outside I'm sound as a dollar," said my neighbor, "but it seems
as if all hell had moved into me."
"'Now, cares are like boils: it don't do to get rid of 'em too
quick. They're often a great relief to the inside of a man, an'
it's better to have 'em on the surface than way down in your
marrow.'
"Bill an' his wife looked into each other's eyes for half a minute,
but neither spoke.
"'I'm goin' to ask a favor of you,' I said. 'I see that there's
nobody livin' in the old farm-house out back of the garden. I wish
you'd let me put my little family into it until I can build a home
for 'em.'
"'Oh, my!' Mrs. Bill exclaimed. 'Those children would be running
all over the lawns and the garden. They'd destroy my roses.'
"'True; but, after all, they're more beautiful than the roses,' I
urged. 'They're more graceful in form, more charming in color.
Then, too, roses cannot laugh or weep or play. Roses cannot look
up at you out of eyes full of the light of heaven an' brighter than
your jewels. Roses may delight, but they cannot love you or know
that you love them. Dear woman, my roses will wander over the
lawns. Their colors will be flickering about you, and the music of
their voices will surround the villa some days; but, God knows,
they'll look better, far better than the dogs or the bronze lions,
or the roses. I shall dress them well.'
"'I think he's right,' said Bill.
"'He's most disturbing and persuasive anyway--the revolutionist!'
said Mrs. Bill. 'If it's really a favor to you, Mr. Potter, I
shall agree to it. But you must have a trusty woman. I really
cannot assume any responsibility.'
"'I thanked her and promised to assume all responsibility, and Mrs.
Warburton was to get the old house ready at once.
"Three days later I drove to the villa with my matron and the
babies. Rather quick work, wasn't it? I hadn't let any grass grow
under my plan. When we lit at the front door every youngster broke
out in a loud hurrah of merriment. The three-year-old
boy--beautiful beyond all words--got aboard one of the crouched
lions and began to shout. A little girl made a grab at the
morning-glories on a Doric column, while her sister had mounted a
swinging seat an' tumbled to the floor. The other two were
chattering like parrots. Honestly, I was scared. I was afraid
that Mrs. Bill would come down and jump into hysterics. I snaked
the boy off the lion's back and rapped on him for order. The
matron got busy with the others. In a jiffy it seemed as if they
had all begun to wail an' roar. I trembled when a maid opened the
door an' I saw Mrs. Bill comin' down the staircase. I wouldn't
have been surprised to have seen the bronze lion get up an' run.
[Illustration: Three days later I drove to the villa.]
"'The saints defend us!' exclaimed Mrs. Bill, in the midst of the
uproar.
"'They're not at their best,' I shouted, 'but here they are.'
"'Yes, I knew they were there,' said Mrs. Bill. 'This is the music
of which you were speaking the other day. Take them right around
to the old house, if you please. I'm sorry, but I must ask you to
excuse me this morning.'
"I succeeded in quellin' the tumult, and introduced the matron, who
received a nod an' a look that made a dent in her, an' away we went
around the great house, a melancholy, shuffling troop, now silent
as the grave. It looked dark for my little battalion with which I
had been hoping to conquer this world within the villa gates. They
were of the great army of the friendless.
"I asked Mrs. Hammond, the matron, to see that they did as little
damage as possible, and left them surrounded by every comfort.
"They had a telephone and unlimited credit at the stores, an' Mrs.
Hammond was a motherly soul of much experience with children, an' I
knew that I could trust her.
"I was to dine with the Warburtons later in the week, an' before I
entered the big house that evening I went around to the lodge. The
children were all well an' asleep in their beds, an' the matron
apparently happy an' contented. She said that Mrs. Bill had met
them in the grounds that day, an' she told how the little
three-year-old boy had exerted his charms upon my lady Warburton,
who had spent half an hour leading him through the gardens.
[Illustration: The boy had exerted his charms upon my lady
Warburton.]
"How beautiful he was lying asleep in his bed that evening!--his
face like the old dreams of Eros, with silken, yellow, curly locks
on his brow, an' long dark lashes, soft as the silk of the growing
corn, an' a red mouth, so wonderfully curved, so appealing in its
silence. Beneath it were teeth like carved ivory. Those baby lips
seemed to speak to me and to say: 'O man that was born of a woman,
and like me was helpless, give me your love or look not upon me!'
"But I could not help looking, an" as I looked he smiled in what
dreams--of things past or to come--I wish it were in me to tell
you. Something touched me--like a strong hand. I went out under
the trees in the darkness an' stood still an' wondered what had
happened to me. Great Scott!--me! Socrates Potter, lawyer,
statesman, horse-trader!
"'With that little captain I could take a city,' I whispered, an' I
got up an' brushed myself off, as it were, an' walked around to the
front door of the great house.
"Therein I was to witness an amusing comedy. The butler wore a new
sort of grin as he took my wraps at the door. There were guests,
mostly from New York an' Greenwich. We had taken our seats at the
table when, to my surprise, Mrs. Bill, in a grand costume, with a
tiara on her head, an' a collar of diamonds on her neck, began to
serve the caviar.
"'Ladies and gentlemen,' said she, 'this is to convince Mr.
Socrates Potter that I can do useful work. I'm dieting, anyhow,
and I can't eat.'
"'My friend, I observe that you are serving us, and we are proud,
but you do not appear to be serving a purpose,' I said.
"'Now, don't spoil it all with your relentless logic,' she began.
'You see, I am going to take a hand in this keeping-up-with-Lizzie
business. One of our ladies had to give up a dinner-party the
other day, because her butlers had left suddenly.'
"'"Why didn't you and a maid serve the dinner yourselves?" I said.
"'"Impossible!" was her proud answer.
"'"It would have been a fine lark. I would have done it," I said.
"'"I'd like to see you," she laughed.
"'"You shall," I answered, and here I am.'
"Now, there were certain smiles which led me to suspect that it was
a blow aimed at one of the ladies who sat at the table with us, but
of that I am not sure.
"'I'm also getting my hand in,' our hostess went on. 'Bill and I
are going to try the simple life. Tomorrow we move into the
log-cabin, where we shall do our own work, and send the servants
off for a week's holiday. I'm going to do the cooking--I've been
learning how--and I shall make the beds, and Bill is to chop the
wood, and help wash the dishes, and we shall sleep out-of-doors.
It will, I hope, be a lesson to some of these proud people around
us who are living beyond their means. That's good, isn't it?'
"'Excellent!' I exclaimed, as the others laughed.
"'Incidentally, it will help me to reduce,' she added.
"'An' it promises to reduce Bill,' I said. 'It will kill Bill, I
fear, but it will pay. You might change your plan a little--Just a
little--an' save poor Bill. Think of eating biscuit an' flapjacks
from the hand of a social leader! Between the millstones of duty
and indigestion he will be sadly ground, but with the axe he may,
if he will, defend his constitution.'
"'Well, what's a constitution between husband and wife?' she asked.
"'Nothin'.' I says. 'Bear in mind I wouldn't discourage you. With
the aid of the axe his ancestors were able to withstand the
assaults of pork an' beans an' pie. If he uses it freely, he is
safe.'
"'You see, I shall have him in a position where he must work or
die,' said Mrs. Bill.
"'He'll die,' said a guest.
"'I call it a worthy enterprise whatever the expense,' I said. 'It
will set a fashion here an' a very good one. In this community
there are so many dear ladies who are prisoners of gravitation.
They rely almost exclusively on hired hands an' feet, an' are
losin' the use o' their own. What confusion will spread among them
when they learn that Mrs. William Henry Warburton, the richest
woman in Fairfield County, and the daughter of a bishop, has been
doin' her own work! What consternation! What dismay! What female
profanity! What a revision of habits an' resolutions! Why,
there's been nothin' like it since the descent of Lizzie.'
"'I think it's terrible,' said a fat lady from Louisville,
distinguished for her appetite, an' often surreptitiously referred
to as 'The Mammoth Cave of Kentucky.' 'The idea of trying to make
it fashionable to endure drudgery! I think we women have all we
can do now.'
"'To be respectable,' said Mrs. Bill; 'but let's try to do
something else.'
"'Why don't you form a Ladies' Protective Union,' Bill suggested,
'an' choose the tiara for a symbol, an' strike for no hours a day
an' all your husbands can earn?'
"'And the employment of skilled idlers only,' Mrs. Bill put in.
'They must all know how to do nothing in the modern way--by
discussing the rights of women and the novel of lust, and the
divorces past and prospective, by playing at bridge and
benevolence. How absurd it all is! I'm not going to be an
overgrown child any longer.'
"I saw that Mrs. Bill was makin' progress, an' with her assistance
I began to hope for better things in that neighborhood.
"You've got to reach the women somehow, you see, before you can
improve the social conditions of a community. I love them, but
many are overgrown children, as Mrs. Bill had put it, an' doin'
nothing with singular skill an' determination an' often with
appalling energy.
"Our pretty hostess had been helping a butler, as this talk went
on, an' presently one of the other ladies joined her, an' never was
any company so picturesquely an' amusingly served.
"'I've quite fallen in love with that three-year-old boy,' said
Mrs. Bill, as we rose from the table. 'I had a good romp with him
to-day.'
"'I wish you'd go over to the old farm-house with me; I want to
show you something,' I said.
"In a moment we were in wraps an' making our way across the lawn.
"'I was glad to get a rap at that Mrs. Barrow,' she whispered, as
we walked along. 'She's just got back her jewels that were stolen,
and has begun to go out again. She's the vainest, proudest fool of
a woman, and her husband is always borrowing money. Did you know
it?'
"'Some--that is, fairly well,' I said, with bitterness.
"'So does Bill, and she goes about with the airs of a grand lady
and the silliest notions. Really, it was for her benefit that I
helped the butler.'
"'If it weren't for Bill I'd call you an angel,' I said. 'You have
it in your power to redeem the skilled idlers of this community.'
"We reached the little house so unlike the big, baronial thing we
had left. It was a home. Mrs. Hammond sat by the reading-lamp in
its cozy sitting-room before an open fire. She led us into the
bedroom with the lamp in her hand. There lay the boy as I had left
him, still smiling with a lovelier, softer red in his cheeks than
that of roses.
[Illustration: She led us into the bedroom.]
"'See the color and the dimples,' I said.
"She looked from one to another, an' suddenly the strong appeal of
their faces fell upon her. She raised the boy from his bed, an' he
put his arms around her neck an' began to talk in a tender baby
treble.
"Did you ever hear the voice of a child just out of dreamland, when
it expresses, not complaint, but love an' contentment? Well, sir,
it is the sweetest, the most compelling note in all nature, I
believe. It is like a muted violin--voice of God or voice of
man--which is it? I dare not say, but I do know that the song of
the hermit-thrush is but sounding brass compared with that.
"I felt its power, an' I said to myself: 'I will waste my life no
longer. I will marry.'
"She, too, had felt it. The little captain had almost overcome
her. She laid him down, an' we turned away.
"We walked through the garden paths, an' neither spoke, but in the
stillness I could hear trumpets of victory. We entered the great
hall an' sat with the others by its fireside, but took little part
in the talk. When I made my adieus she shook my hand warmly and
said I was very good to them.
"Save for its good example, the log-cabin experiment was not a
success. They slept with all the doors and windows open, an' one
night a skunk came in an' got under the bed. Mrs. Bill discovered
that they had company, an' Bill got up an' lit the lantern, an'
followed the clew to its source. He threatened an' argued an'
appealed to the skunk's better nature with a doughnut, but the
little beast sat unmoved in his corner. The place seemed to suit
him.
"Bill got mad an' flung the axe at him. It was a fatal move--fatal
to the skunk an' the cabin an' the experiment, an' a blow to the
sweetness an' sociological condition of Connecticut.
"They returned to the big house, an' by-an'-by told me of their
adventure.
"'Don't be discouraged,' I said. 'You will find skunks in every
walk of life, but when you do, always throw down your cards an'
quit the game. They can deal from the bottom of the pack. You
haven't a ghost of a show with 'em.'
"Being driven out of the cabin, Mrs. Bill gave most of her leisure
to the farm-house, where I had spent an hour or more every day.
"Suddenly I saw that a wonderful thing had happened to me. I was
in love with those kids, an' they with me. The whole enterprise
had been a bluff conceived in the interest of the Warburtons. I
hadn't really intended to build a house, but suddenly I got busy
with all the mechanics I could hire in Pointview, and the house
began to grow like a mushroom.
"Another wonderful thing happened. Mrs. Warburton fell in love
with the kids, and they with her. She romped with them on the
lawn; she took them out to ride every day; she put them to bed
every night; she insisted upon buying their clothes; she bought
them a pony an' a little omnibus; she built them a playhouse for
their comfort. The whole villa began to revolve around the
children. They called her mama an' they called me papa, a
sufficiently singular situation.
VI
IN WHICH THE PURSUIT OF LIZZIE BECOMES HIGHLY SERIOUS
Dan had been out of town, an' immediately on his return he came to
my office.
"'How's business?' I asked.
"'Well, the ham war was a little hard on us, but we're picking up,'
says he. 'They're still selling hams way below a decent price over
at Henshaw's. I don't see how they can do it.'
"'I do,' I says.
"'Please explain," says Dan.
"'Don't you know that Lizzie was buyin' most o' those hams that you
sold way below the wholesale price, an' that she's now makin' a
good profit on 'em?' I says.
"'Great Scott!' Dan exclaimed, as he sank in a chair.
"'The fact is, Dan, the only way to keep up with that girl is to
marry her,' says I. 'Get busy. If you don't somebody else will.
Put a mortgage on her an' foreclose it as soon as possible. As a
floatin' asset Lizzie is dangerous.'
"Dan picked up his hat an' started for the door.
"'Tell her she must do business or you'll cut the price of
Pettigrews,' I suggested.
"'Good idea!' he answered, as he went away.
"Meanwhile Mr. an' Mrs. Bill Warburton were hot on the trail of
Lizzie.
"Bill came to me one day an' said: 'Those babies have solved the
problem; my wife is happy and in excellent health. She sleeps an'
eats as well as ever, an' her face has a new look--you have
observed it?'
"'Certainly, Bill, an' you're goin' to hear some rather chesty an'
superior talk. I saw what was the matter long ago--she was
motor-sick, an' tiara-sick, an' dog-sick, an' horse-sick. She was
sick of idleness an' rich food an' adulation. She has discovered
that there are only three real luxuries--work, children,
motherhood--that to shirk responsibility is to forfeit happiness.
I have been a little disappointed in you, Bill. Your father was a
minister; he had the love of men in his soul. You seem to have
taken to dogs an' horses with an affection almost brotherly. I
don't blame you so much. When men get rich they naturally achieve
a passion for the things that money will buy. They think they've
got to improve the breed o' dogs an' horses, an' they're apt to
forget the breed o' men. You've been pursuin' Happiness with dogs,
horses, an' motor-cars. You never can catch her in that
way--never. Don't you remember, Bill, that in the old days we
didn't pursue Happiness? Why, Happiness pursued us an' generally
caught us. Some days she didn't succeed until we were all tired
out, an' then she led us away into the wonderful land o' dreams,
an' it was like heaven. You never get Happiness by pursuin'
_her_--that's one dead sure thing. Happiness is never captured.
She comes unbidden or not at all. She travels only in one path,
an' you haven't found it. Bill, we've strayed a little. Let's try
to locate the trail o' Happiness. I believe we're gettin' near it.
"'Last year a colt of yours won a classic event of the turf. How
much finer it would be if you had some boys in training for the
sublime contests of life, an' it wouldn't cost half so much. You
know, there are plenty of homeless boys who need your help.
Wouldn't it pay better to develop a Henry M. Stanley--once a
homeless orphan--than a Salvator or an Ormonde or a Rayon d'Or?'
"'Pound away,' said Bill. 'Nail an' rivet me to the cross. I
haven't a word to say, except this: What in the devil do ye want me
to do?'
"'Well, ye might help to redeem New England,' I said. 'The Yankee
blood is runnin' out, an' it's a pity. To-day the Yankees are
almost a childless race. Do ye know the reason?'
"He shook his head.