although he was amazed at the appearance of that individual at this time
and place, he was ready and willing to make his acquaintance. Bracing
himself against the window-frame, he reached out his hand, and in a few
moments Mr. Beam had scrambled into the room. Lodloe turned up the wick
of his lamp, and by the bright light he looked at his visitor.
He saw a man rather long as to legs, and thin as to face, and dressed in
an easy-fitting suit of summer clothes.
"Take a seat," said Lodloe, "and tell me to what I owe this call."
"To your lamp," said the other, taking a chair; "it wasn't burning very
brightly, but still it was a light, and the only one about. I was on my
way to Lethbury, but I couldn't get any sort of conveyance at Romney, so
I footed it, thinking I would like a moonlight walk. But by the time I
got to the squirrel on the post I thought I would turn in here and stay
with Stephen Petter for the night; but the house was all shut up and
dark except this room, and as I knew that if I woke Stephen out of a
sound sleep he'd bang me over the head with his everlasting Rockmores of
Germantown, I determined to take a night's lodging without saying a word
to him about it.
"There's a room back here that you can only get into by a ladder put up
on the outside. I knew all about it, so I went to the ice-house and got
a ladder and climbed into the room. I put my valise under my head, and
prepared to take a good sleep on the floor, but in three minutes I found
the place was full of wasps. I couldn't stay there, you know, and I was
just getting ready to go down the ladder again when I happened to look
out of a window that opened on the roof, and saw you in here. I could
see only the back of your head, but although it was pretty well lighted,
I couldn't judge very well by that what sort of a person you were. But I
saw you were smoking, and it struck me that a man who smokes is
generally a pretty good fellow, and so I came over."
"Glad to see you," said Lodloe; "and what can I do for you?"
"Well, in the first place," said Beam, "have you any liquid ammonia? The
first notice I had of the wasps in that room was this sting on my
finger."
Lodloe was sorry that he did not possess anything of the kind.
"If I'm not mistaken," said the visitor, "there is a bottle of it on the
top shelf of that closet. I have frequently occupied this room, and I
remember putting some there myself. May I look for it?"
Permission being given, Mr. Beam speedily found the bottle, and assuaged
the pains of his sting.
"Now then," said he, resuming his seat, "the next favor I'll ask will be
to allow me to fill my pipe, and put to you a few questions as to the
way the land lies about here at present. I've been away for a year and a
half, and don't know what's going on, or who's dead or alive. By the
way, have you happened to hear anybody speak of me?"
"I should think so," said Lodloe, laughing. "The greater part of this
evening was occupied in a discussion on your life, adventures, moral
character, disposition, and mental bias. There may have been some other
points touched upon, but I don't recall them just now."
"Upon my word," said Lanigan Beam, putting his arms on the table, and
leaning forward, "this is interesting. Who discussed me?"
[Illustration: "HAVE YOU HAPPENED TO HEAR ANYBODY SPEAK OF ME?"]
"Mr. and Mrs. Petter had the most to say," answered Lodloe.
"I'm glad to hear they're alive," interpolated the other.
"And Mrs. Cristie, who knew you when her husband was alive."
"Dead, is he?" said Beam. "Very sorry to hear that. A mighty pretty
woman is Mrs. Cristie."
"Miss Calthea Rose was not present," continued Lodloe, "but her opinions
were quoted very freely by the others, and sometimes combated."
"Calthea alive, is she?" ejaculated Beam. "Well, well, I ought to be
glad to hear it, and I suppose I am. Anybody else?"
"Yes; there was Mr. Tippengray, one of the guests at the inn. There are
only three of us in all. He had heard a great deal about you from Miss
Rose. She seems to have been very communicative to him."
"Chums, are they?" cried Lanigan Beam. "Well, bless his soul, I say,
whatever sort of man he is. Now what did they say about me?"
"It's my opinion," answered Lodloe, smiling, "that it is a very unsafe
thing to tell a man what other people say about him."
Lanigan sprang to his feet, and stood, pipe in hand, before the other.
"Now, sir," said he, "I have not heard your name yet--Lodloe; thank you.
Now, Mr. Lodloe, I have before me the greatest chance of my life. It
almost never happens that a man has an opportunity of hearing a
straightforward account of what people say about him. Now if you want to
do the biggest kind of favor to a fellow-being, just tell me what you
heard of me to-night. You are a perfect stranger to me, and you can
speak out plainly about it without having the least feeling one way or
the other."
Lodloe looked at him.
"Here's a chance," he said to himself, "that seldom comes to a man; an
opportunity to tell a man exactly what his friends and neighbors think
about him. It's a rare experience, and I like it. I'll do it."
"Very good," said he, aloud; "if you want to see yourself as others see
you, I'll turn on the lights and act as showman; but remember I have
nothing to do with the painting. I have no prejudices one way or the
other."
"All right," said Lanigan, reseating himself; "let the panorama move."
"About the first thing I was told," said Lodloe, "was that you were a
good-hearted fellow, but the fact that your father was an Irishman had
deprived your character of ballast."
"Umph," said Lanigan; "there are some people who are all ballast. I
don't mind that."
"And then I heard that, although you were a wild and irresponsible
youth, people generally expected that as you grew older you would
gradually accumulate ballast; but instead of that you had steadily gone
downhill from the moment of your birth."
"Now, then," said Lanigan, "I suppose I have no right to ask you, but I
would like very much to know who said that."
"I don't object in the least to telling you," said Lodloe; "it is fitter
that you should know it than that I should know it. That was a quoted
opinion of Miss Calthea Rose."
"Good for you," said Lanigan; "you'd be death to the members of a
scandal-monger society. You would break up the business utterly."
"To this Mr. Petter remarked," said Lodloe, "that he thought in many
ways you had improved very much, but he was obliged to admit that he
could never think of anything that you had done which was of the least
benefit to yourself or anybody else."
"Upon my word," cried Lanigan, "that's a pretty wide sweep for old
Petter. I shall have to rub up his memory. He forgets that I helped him
to make the plans for this house. And what did Mrs. Cristie say about
me?"
"She said she thought it was a great pity that you did not apply
yourself to something or other."
"She is right there," said Beam, "and, by George! I'll apply myself to
her. However, I don't know about that," he continued. "What else did
Calthea say?"
"One remark was that having proved false to every friend you had here
you had no right to return."
"That means," said Mr. Beam, "that having promised at least five times
to marry her, I never did it once."
"Were you really engaged to her?" asked Lodloe.
"Oh, yes," said the other; "it seems to me as if I had always been
engaged to her. Born that way. Sort of an ailment you get used to, like
squinting. When I was a youngster, Calthea was a mighty pretty girl, a
good deal my senior, of course, or I wouldn't have cared for her. As
she grew older she grew prettier, and I was more and more in love with
her. We used to have quarrels, but they didn't make much difference, for
after every one of them we engaged ourselves again, and all went on as
before. But the time came when Calthea kept on being older than I was,
and didn't keep on being pretty and agreeable. Then I began to weaken
about the marriage altar and all that sort of thing, but for all that I
would have been perfectly willing to stay engaged to her for the rest of
my life if she had wished it, but one day she got jealous, kicked up a
tremendous row, and away I went."
"Well," said Lodloe, "she must have considered that the best thing you
could do for her, for Mrs. Petter said that she had heard her declare
dozens of times that from her very youth you had hung like a millstone
about her neck, and blighted her every prospect, and that your return
here was like one of the seven plagues of Egypt."
"Mixed, but severe," said Mr. Beam. "Did anybody say any good of me?"
"Yes," answered Lodloe; "Mrs. Cristie said you were an obliging fellow,
although very apt to forget what you had promised to do. Mr. Petter said
that you had a very friendly disposition, although he was obliged to
admit the truth of his wife's remark that said disposition would have
been more agreeable to your friends, if you had been as willing to do
things for them as you were to have them do things for you. And Mrs.
Petter on her own motion summed up your character by saying, that if you
had not been so regardless of the welfare and wishes of others; so
totally given up to self-gratification; so ignorant of all kinds of
business, and so unwilling to learn; so extravagant in your habits, and
so utterly conscienceless in regard to your debts; so neglectful of your
promises and your duty; so heretical in your opinions, political and
religious, and such a dreadful backslider from everything that you had
promised to be when a baby, you would be a very nice sort of fellow,
whom she would like to see come into the house."
"Well," said Lanigan Beam, leaning back in his chair, "that's all of my
bright side, is it?"
"Not quite," said Lodloe; "Mr. Tippengray declared that you are the
first man he ever heard of who did not possess a single good point; that
you must be very interesting, and that he would like to know you."
"Noble Tippengray!" said Mr. Beam. "And he's the man who is chumming it
with Calthea?"
"Not at present," said Lodloe; "she is jealous, and doesn't speak to
him."
Mr. Beam let his head drop on his breast, his arms hung down by his
side, and he sank into his chair, as if his spine had come unhinged.
"There goes the last prop from under me," he said. "If Calthea had a man
in tow I wouldn't be afraid of her, but now--well, no matter. If you
will let me take that bottle of ammonia with me,--I suppose by rights it
now belongs to the house,--I'll go back to that room and fight it out
with the wasps. As I haven't any good points, they'll be able to put
some into me, I'll wager."
Lodloe laughed. "You shall not go there," he said; "I have more
bed-covering than I want, and an extra pillow, and if you can make
yourself comfortable on that lounge you are welcome to stay here."
"Sir," said Lanigan Beam, rising, "I accept your offer, and if it were
not that by so doing I would destroy the rare symmetry of my character,
I would express my gratitude. And now I will go down your stairs, and up
my ladder, and get my valise."
XII
LANIGAN CHANGES HIS CRAVAT
Early the next morning, without disturbing the sleep of Walter Lodloe,
Lanigan Beam descended from the tower, carrying his valise. His face
wore that air of gravity which sometimes follows an early morning hour
of earnest reflection, and he had substituted a black cravat for the
blue one with white spots that he had worn on his arrival.
Walking out towards the barn he met Mr. Petter, who was one of the
earliest risers on the place.
The greeting given him by the landlord of the Squirrel Inn was a mixture
of surprise, cordiality, and annoyance.
"Lanigan Beam!" he exclaimed. "Why, I thought--"
"Of course you did; I understand," said the other, extending his hand
with a dignified superiority to momentary excitement in others. "You
thought I would arrive at Lethbury in a day or two, and had no idea of
seeing me here. You have reason, but I have changed my plans. I left New
York earlier than I intended, and I am not going to Lethbury at all. At
least not to the hotel there. I greatly prefer this house."
A shade of decided trouble came over Mr. Petter's face.
"Now, Lanigan," he said, "that will not do at all; of course I don't
want to be hard on you, and I never was, but my season is commenced, I
have my guests, my rules are in full force, and I cannot permit you to
come here and disarrange my arrangements. If for once, Lanigan, you will
take the trouble to think, you will see that for yourself."
"Mr. Petter," said the younger man, setting his valise upon the ground,
"I have no desire to disarrange them; on the contrary, I would stamp
them with fixity. And before we go any further I beg that you be kind
enough not to call me by my Christian name, and to endeavor to produce
in yourself the conviction that since you last saw me I have been
entirely rearranged and reconstructed. In order to do this, you have
only to think of me as you used to think, and then exactly reverse your
opinion. In this way you will get a true view of my present character.
It does not suit me to do things partially, or by degrees, and I am now
exactly the opposite of what I used to be. By keeping this in mind any
one who knew me before may consider himself or herself perfectly
acquainted with me now."
Stephen Petter looked at him doubtfully.
"Of course," he said, "I shall be very glad--and so will Mrs. Petter--to
find that you have reformed, but as to your coming here--"
"Now, then," said Mr. Beam, "I know you are not the man to allow
trifles to stand in the way of important movements. I am here for a
purpose, a great purpose, with which you will be in entire sympathy. I
will say at once, frankly and openly, that my object is the improvement
of Lethbury. I have a project which--"
[Illustration: "I AM HERE FOR A PURPOSE."]
"Now, now, now!" exclaimed Mr. Petter, with much irritation, "I don't
want to hear anything more of any of your projects; I know all about
them. They all begin with a demand for money from your friends, and
that is the end of the project and the money."
"Stephen Petter," said the other, "you are not looking at my character
as I told you to look at it. Every cent of the capital required for my
operations I will contribute myself. No one will be allowed to subscribe
any money whatever. This, you see, is exactly the opposite of what used
to be the case; and when I tell you that the success of my plan will
improve the business of Lethbury, elevate its moral and intellectual
standard, exercise an ennobling and purifying influence upon the tone of
its society, and give an almost incredible impetus to faith, hope, and
charity in its moral atmosphere,--and all that without anybody's being
asked to give a copper,--I know you will agree with me that a mere
matter of residence should not be allowed to block this great work."
Since he had been assured that he was not to be asked to contribute
money, Mr. Petter's face had shown relief and interest; but now he shook
his head.
"This is my season," he said, "and I have my rules."
Lanigan Beam laid his hand upon the shoulder of his companion.
"Petter," said he, "I don't ask you to infract your rules. That would be
against my every principle. I do not know the Rockmores of Germantown,
but if it were necessary I would immediately go and find them, and make
their acquaintance--I should have no difficulty in doing it, I assure
you, but it is not necessary. I staid last night with Mr. Lodloe, who
occupies the top room of your tower. Don't jump out of your boots. I
went to him because there was a light in his room and the rest of the
house was dark, and he explained to me the Rockmorial reason why he
occupies that room while the rest of your house is nearly empty. Now you
can do the same thing for me. Let me have that upper room with no
stairway to it; give me the use of a ladder, and I shall be perfectly
satisfied."
"But the room's not furnished," said Mr. Petter.
"Oh, we can easily get over that little difficulty," replied Mr. Beam;
"whatever furniture may be needed can easily be put in through the
window. If there are any wasps up there I can fumigate them out. Now we
call that settled, don't we? None of your rules broken, Lethbury
regenerated, and nothing for you to do but look on and profit."
Mr. Petter gazed reflectively upon the ground.
"There can be no doubt," said he, "that Lethbury is in a stagnant
condition, and if that condition could be improved, it would be for the
benefit of us all; and considering, furthermore, that if your
project--which you have not yet explained to me--should be unsuccessful,
no one but yourself will lose any money, I see no reason why I should
interfere with your showing the people of this neighborhood that your
character has been reconstructed. But if you should lodge in that room,
it would make a very odd condition of things. I should then have but
three male guests, and not one of them literally living in my house."
"Ah, my good friend Petter," said Lanigan, taking up his valise, "you
should know there is luck in odd conditions, as well as in odd numbers,
and everything will turn out right, you may bet on that. Hello," he
continued, stepping back a little, "who is that very pretty girl with a
book in her hand? That cannot be Mrs. Cristie."
"Oh, no," said Mr. Petter, "that is her maid, who takes care of her
child. I think the young woman has come out to study before beginning
her daily duties."
"Upon my word," said Lanigan Beam, attentively regarding Miss Ida
Mayberry as she daintily made her way across the dewy lawn to a rustic
seat under a tree. And then, suddenly turning to Mr. Petter, he said:
"Look you, my good Stephen, can't you let me go in somewhere and furbish
myself up a little before breakfast?"
And having been shown into a room on the ground floor, Mr. Beam
immediately proceeded to take off his black cravat and to replace it by
the blue one with white spots.
[Illustration]
XIII
DECREES OF EXILE
Towards the end of the afternoon of the day after Mr. Lanigan Beam had
been installed as an outside guest of the Squirrel Inn, Miss Calthea
Rose sat by the window at the back of her shop. This shop was a small
one, but it differed from most other places of business in that it
contained very few goods and was often locked up. When there is reason
to suppose that if you go to a shop you will not be able to get in, and
that, should it be open, you will not be apt to find therein anything
you want, it is not likely that such a shop will have a very good run of
custom.
This was the case with Miss Calthea's establishment. It had become rare
for any one even to propose custom, but she did not in the least waver
in regard to her plan of closing up the business left to her by her
father. As has been said, she did not wish to continue this business, so
she laid in no new stock, and as she had gradually sold off a great
deal, she expected to be able in time to sell off everything. She did
not adopt the usual methods of clearing out a stock of goods, because
these would involve sacrifices, and, as Miss Calthea very freely said
to those who spoke to her on the subject, there was no need whatever for
her to make sacrifices. She was good at waiting, and she could wait.
When she sold the few things which remained on the shelves--and she, as
well as nearly every one in the village, knew exactly what these things
were without the trouble of looking--she would retire from business, and
have the shop altered into a front parlor. Until then the articles which
remained on hand were for sale.
Miss Calthea was busily sewing, but she was much more busily engaged in
thinking. So earnestly was her mind set upon the latter occupation that
she never raised her head to look out at the special varieties of
hollyhocks, dahlias, and marigolds which had lately begun to show their
beauties in the beds beneath her window, nor did she glance towards the
door to see if any one was coming in. She had much more important things
to think about than flowers or customers.
Mrs. Petter had driven over to Lethbury that morning, and had told
Calthea all the news of the Squirrel Inn. She had told her of the
unexpected arrival of Lanigan Beam; of his unwillingness to go to
Lethbury, as he had originally intended, and of the quarters that had
been assigned to him in the ladder-room. She also told how Lanigan, who
now wished to be called Mr. Beam, had a wonderful plan in his mind for
the improvement of Lethbury, but whether it was electric lights, or gas,
or water, or street railroads, or a public library, he would not tell
anybody. He was going to work in his own way, and all he would say about
the scheme was that he did not want anybody to give him money for it.
And this, Mrs. Petter had remarked, had helped Mr. Petter and herself to
believe what Lanigan had said about his amendment, for if anything could
show a change in him it would be his not wanting people to give him
money.
Mrs. Petter had said a great deal about the newcomer, and had declared
that whatever alterations had gone on in his mind, soul, and character,
he certainly had improved in appearance, and was a very good-looking
young man, with becoming clothes. In one way, however, he had not
changed, for in a surprisingly short time he had made friends with
everybody on the place. He talked to Mr. Lodloe as if he had been an old
chum; he had renewed his acquaintance with Mrs. Cristie, and was very
gallant to her; he was hand-in-glove with Mr. Tippengray, both of them
laughing together and making jokes as if they had always known each
other; and, more than that, it wasn't an hour after breakfast when he
and Mrs. Cristie's nurse-maid were sitting on a bench under the trees,
reading out of the same book, while Mr. Tippengray was pushing the
baby-carriage up and down on the grass, and Mrs. Cristie and Mr. Lodloe
were putting up the lawn-tennis net.
"I could see for myself," Mrs. Petter had remarked at this point, "that
you were right in saying that there was no use in my talking about the
boarders associating with servants, for when they made up the
lawn-tennis game it turned out that Mr. Tippengray didn't play, and so
that girl Ida had to take a hand while he kept on neglecting his Greek
for the baby."
At last Miss Calthea let her sewing drop into her lap, and sat looking
at an empty shelf opposite to her.
"Yes," she said to herself, her lips moving, although no sound was
audible, "the first thing to do is to get Lanigan away. As long as he is
here I might as well not lift a finger, and it looks as if that
impertinent minx of a child's nurse would be my best help. If he doesn't
have one of his changeable fits, he will be ready in three days to
follow her anywhere, but I must look sharp, for at this very minute he
may be making love to the widow. Of course he hasn't any chance with
her, but it would be just like Lanigan to go in strongest where he knew
he hadn't any chance. However, I shall see for myself how matters stand,
and one thing is certain--Lanigan has got to go."
About this time Mr. Lanigan Beam, finding himself with a solitary
quarter of an hour on his hands, was reflecting on a bench upon the lawn
of the Squirrel Inn. "Yes," he thought, "it is a great plan. It will
elevate the social tone of Lethbury, it will purify the moral atmosphere
of the surrounding country, and, above all, it will make it possible for
me to live here. It will give me an opportunity to become a man among
men in the place where I was born. Until this thing is done, I can have
no chance to better myself here, and, more than that, the community has
no chance to better itself. Yes, it must be done; Calthea Rose must go."
At this moment Mr. Petter came along, on his way to supper.
"Well, Lanigan," said he, "are you thinking about your great
enterprise?"
"Yes," said the other, rising and walking with him; "that is exactly
what my mind was working on."
"And you are going to do it all yourself?" said Mr. Petter.
"Not exactly," said Beam. "I shall not require any pecuniary assistance,
but I shall want some one to help me."
"Is there anybody about here who can do it?"
"Yes; I hope so," said Lanigan. "At present I am thinking of Mr.
Tippengray."
"A very good choice," said Mr. Petter; "he is a man of fine mind, and it
will certainly be to your advantage if you can get him to work with
you."
"Indeed it will be," said Lanigan Beam, with much earnestness.
XIV
BACKING OUT
Ida Mayberry was walking on the narrow road which led through the woods
from the Squirrel Inn to the public highway. She had been much
interested in the road when she had been driven through it on the day of
her arrival, and had availed herself of the opportunity given her this
pleasant afternoon, by the prolonged slumbers of Master Douglas Cristie,
to make a close acquaintance with its attractions.