Captain Obed Bangs rose at his usual hour that Christmas morning, and
the hour was an early one. When he looked from his bedroom window the
clouds were breaking and a glance at his barometer, hung on the wall
just beside that window, showed the glass to be rising and confirmed
the promise of a fair day. He dressed and came downstairs. Hannah Parker
came down soon afterward. The captain wished her a merry Christmas.
Miss Parker shook her head; she seemed to be in a pessimistic mood.
“I'm much obliged to you, Cap'n Bangs,” she said, “and I'm sure I wish
you the same. But I don't know; don't seem as if I was liable to have
many more merry Christmases in this life. No, merry Christmases ain't
for me. I'm a second fiddle nowadays and I cal'late that's what I'm
foreordinated to be from now on.”
The captain didn't understand.
“Second fiddle,” he repeated. “What have you got to do with fiddlin',
for goodness' sakes?”
“Nothin', of course. I don't mean a real fiddle. I mean I shan't never
be my own mistress any more. I've been layin' awake thinkin' about it
and shiverin', 'twas so damp and chilly up in my room. There's a loose
shingle right over a knot hole that's abreast a crack in my bedroom
wall, and it lets in the dampness like a sieve. I've asked Kenelm to fix
it MORE times; but no, all he cares to do is look out for himself and
that inmate. If SHE had a loose shingle he'd fix it quick enough. All
I could do this mornin' was lay to bed there and shiver and pull up the
quilt and think and think. It kept comin' over me more and more.”
“The quilt, you mean? That's what you wanted it to do, wasn't it?”
“Not the quilt. The thought of the lonesome old age that's comin' to me
when Kenelm's married. I've had him to look after for so long. I've been
my own boss, as they say.”
She might have added, “And Kenelm's, too,” but Captain Obed added it for
her, in his mind. He laughed.
“That's all right, Hannah,” he observed, by way of consolation. “Kenelm
ain't married yet. When he is you can help his wife look out for him.
Either that or get married. Why don't you get married, Hannah?”
“Humph! Don't be silly, Obed Bangs.”
“That ain't silliness, that's sense. All you need to do is just h'ist
the signal, 'Consort wanted,' and you'd have one alongside in no time.
There's Caleb Hammond, for instance; he's a widower and--eh! look out!”
Miss Parker had dropped the plate she was just putting down upon the
table. Fortunately it fell only a few inches and did not break.
“What do you mean by that?” she demanded sharply.
“I meant the plate. Little more and you'd have sent it to glory.”
“Never you mind the plate. I can look out for my own crockery. 'Twas
cracked anyhow. And I guess you're cracked, too,” she added. “Talkin'
about my--my marryin' Caleb Hammond. What put that in your head?”
“I don't know. I just--”
“Well, don't be silly. When I marry Caleb Hammond,” she added with
emphasis, “'twill be after THIS.”
“So I cal'lated. I didn't think you'd married him afore this. There now,
you missed a chance, Hannah. You and he ought to have got married that
time when you went away together.”
Miss Parker turned pale. “When we went--away--TOGETHER!” she faltered.
“WHAT are you talkin' about?”
“When you went over to the Cattle Show that time.”
“Is that what you meant?”
“Sartin. What are you glarin' at me that way for? You ain't been away
together any other time, have you? No, Hannah, that was your chance. You
and Caleb might have been married in the balloon, like the couples we
read about in the papers. Ho! ho! Think of the advertisin' you'd have
had! 'A high church weddin'.' 'Bride and groom up in the air.' Can't you
see those headlines?”
Hannah appeared more relieved than annoyed.
“Humph!” she sniffed. “Well, I should say YOU was up in the air, Obed
Bangs. What's the matter with you this mornin'? Has the rain soaked into
your head? It seems to be softenin' up pretty fast. If you're so set on
somebody gettin' married why don't you get married yourself? You've been
what the minister calls 'unattackted' all your life.”
The minister had said “unattached,” but Captain Obed did not offer
to correct the quotation. He joked no more and, during breakfast, was
silent and absent-minded.
After breakfast he went out for a walk. The storm had gullied the hills
and flooded the hollows. There were pools of water everywhere, shining
cold and steely in the winter sunshine. The captain remembered the low
ground in which the barn and outbuildings upon the “Cap'n Abner place”
stood, and judged that he and Kenelm might have to do some rescue work
among the poultry later on. He went back to the house to suggest that
work to Mr. Parker himself.
Kenelm and his sister were evidently in the midst of a dispute. The
former was seated at the breakfast table and Hannah was standing by the
kitchen door looking at him.
“Goin' off to work Christmas Day!” she said, as the captain entered. “I
should think you might stay home with me THAT day, if no other. 'Tain't
the work you're so anxious to get to. It's that precious inmate of
yours.”
Kenelm's answer was as surprising as it was emphatic.
“Darn the inmate!” he shouted. “I wish to thunder I'd never seen her!”
Captain Obed whistled. Miss Parker staggered, but she recovered
promptly.
“Oh,” she said, “that's how you feel, is it? Well, if I felt that way
toward anybody I don't think I'd be plannin' to marry 'em.”
“Ugh! What's the use of talkin' rubbish? I've GOT to marry her, ain't
I? She's got that paper I was fool enough to sign. Oh, let me alone,
Hannah! I won't go over there till I have to. I'd ruther stay to home
enough sight.”
Hannah put her arms about his neck. “There, there, Kenelm, dearie,” she
said soothingly, “you eat your breakfast like a nice brother. I'LL be
good to you, if nobody else ain't. And I didn't have to sign any paper
afore I'd do it either.”
Kenelm grunted ungraciously.
“'Twas your fault, anyhow,” he muttered. “If you hadn't bossed me and
driven me into workin' for Thankful Barnes 'twouldn't have happened. I
wouldn't have thought of gettin' engaged to be married.”
“Never mind, dearie. You ain't married yet. Perhaps you won't be. And,
anyhow, you know I'LL never boss you any more.”
Kenelm looked at her. There was an odd expression in his eyes.
“You bet you won't!” he said, slowly. “I'll see to that.”
“Why, Kenelm, what do you mean?”
“I don't mean nothin'--maybe. Give me some more coffee.”
Captain Obed decided that the present was not the time to suggest a trip
to the High Cliff House. He went out again, to walk along the path and
think over what he had just heard. It was interesting, as showing the
attitude of one of the contracting parties toward the “engagement,” the
announcement of which had been such a staggering finish to the “big day”
of the County Fair.
Winnie S. came whistling up the path from the village.
“Hi, Cap'n Bangs!” he shouted. “I was just goin' to stop at Hannah's to
tell you somethin'.”
“You was, eh?”
“Yup. Then I was goin' on to the High Cliff. I've got somethin' to take
to Mrs. Thankful. What do you suppose 'tis?”
He exhibited the long envelope.
“John Kendrick sent it to her,” he said. “I don't know what's in it. And
he wants you to come to his office right off, Cap'n Obed. That's what
I was goin' to tell you. He says not to wait till afternoon, same as he
said, but to come now. It's important, he says.”
John was seated at the desk in his office when the captain opened the
door. He bowed gravely.
“Take off your hat and coat, Captain,” he said. “Sit down. I'm glad you
got my message and came early. I am expecting the other party at any
moment.”
Captain Obed was puzzled.
“The other party?” he repeated. “What other party?”
“My--er--well, we'll call him my client. He is on his way here and I may
need you--as a witness.”
“Witness? What to?”
“You will see. Now, Captain, if you'll excuse me, I have some papers
to arrange. Make yourself as comfortable as you can. I'm sure you won't
have to wait long.”
Fifteen minutes later the rasping, arrogant “honk” of a motor horn came
from the road outside. Heavy, important steps sounded upon the office
platform. The door opened and in came Mr. E. Holliday Kendnick.
Captain Obed had known of the great man's expected arrival, but he
had not expected it so early in the day. E. Holliday wore a luxurious
fur-lined coat and looked as prosperous and important as ever, but
also--so it seemed to the captain--he looked disturbed and puzzled and
angry.
The captain rose to his feet and said, “Good morning,” but except for
a nod of recognition, his greeting was unanswered. Mr. Kendrick slammed
the door behind him, stalked across the office, took a letter from his
pocket and threw it down upon his attorney's desk.
“What's the meaning of that?” he demanded.
John was perfectly calm. “Sit down, Mr. Kendrick,” he said.
“No, I won't sit down. What the devil do you mean by sending me that
thing? You expected me, didn't you? You got my wire saying I was
coming.”
“Yes, I got it. Sit down. I have a good deal to say and it may take some
time. Throw off your coat.”
E. Holliday threw the fur coat open, but he did not remove it. He jerked
a chair forward and seated himself upon it.
“Now what does that thing mean?” he demanded, pointing to the envelope
he had tossed on the desk.
John picked up the envelope and opened it. A letter and a bank check
fell out.
“I will explain,” he said quietly. “Mr. Kendrick, you know Captain Obed
Bangs, I think. Oh, it is all right. The captain is here at my request.
I asked him to be here. I wanted a reliable witness and he is reliable.
This,” he went on, taking up the letter, “is a note I wrote you, Mr.
Kendrick. It states that I am resigning my position as your attorney.
And this,” picking up the other paper, “is my check for five hundred
dollars, the amount of your retainer, which I am returning to you. . . .
You understand this so far, Captain?”
E. Holliday did not wait to hear whether the captain understood or not.
His big face flamed red.
“But what the devil?” he demanded.
John held up his hand.
“One moment, please,” he said. “Captain Bangs, I want to explain a few
things. As you know, I have been acting as Mr. Kendrick's attorney in
the matter of the property occupied by Mrs. Barnes. He wished me to find
a means of forcing her to sell that property to him. Now, when a person
owning property does not wish to sell, that person cannot be forced into
giving up the property unless it is discovered that the property doesn't
belong to that particular person. That's plain, isn't it?”
He was speaking to Captain Obed, and the captain answered.
“But it does belong to her,” he declared. “Her Uncle Abner Barnes willed
it to her. Course it belongs to her!”
“I know. But sometimes there are such things as flaws in a title. That
is to say, somewhere and at some time there has been a transfer of that
property that was illegal. In such a case the property belongs to the
previous holder, no matter in how many instances it has changed hands
since. In the present case it was perfectly plain that Mrs. Barnes
thought she owned that land, having inherited it from her uncle.
Therefore she could not be forced to sell unless it was discovered that
there was a flaw in the title--that she did not own it legally at all. I
told my client--Mr. Kendrick, here--that, and he ordered me to have the
title searched or to search it myself. I have spent a good deal of
time at the recorder's office in Ostable doing that very thing. And I
discovered that there was such a flaw; that Mrs. Barnes did not legally
own that land upon which her house stands. And, as the land was not
hers, the house was not hers either.”
Holliday Kendrick struck the desk a thump with his fist.
“Good!” he cried. “Good enough! I told 'em I generally got what I
wanted! Now I'll get it this time. Kendrick--”
“Wait,” said John. “Captain Obed, you understand me so far?”
The captain's outraged feelings burst forth.
“I understand it's durn mean business!” he shouted. “I'm ashamed of you,
John Kendrick!”
“All right! all right! The shame can wait. And I want YOU to wait,
too--until I've finished. There was a flaw in that title, as I said.
Captain Bangs, as you know, the house in which Mrs. Barnes is now living
originally stood, not where it now stands, but upon land two or three
hundred yards to the north, upon a portion of the property which
afterward became the Colfax estate and which now belongs to Mr. Kendrick
here. You know that?”
Captain Obed nodded. “Course I know it,” he said. “Cap'n Abner could
have bought the house and the land it stood on, but he didn't want to.
He liked the view better from where it stands now. So he bought the
strip nigher this way and moved the old house over. But he DID buy it
and he paid cash for it. I know he did, because--”
“All right. I know he bought it and all the particulars of the purchase
perhaps better than you do. A good deal of my time of late has been
given to investigating the history of that second strip of land.
Captain Abner Barnes, Mrs. Barnes' uncle, bought the land upon which
he contemplated moving, and later, did move the house, of Isaiah Holt,
Darius Holt's father, then living. Mr. Holt bought of a man named David
Snow, who, in turn, bought of--”
Holliday Kendrick interrupted. “Snow bought of me,” he growled. “Worse
luck! I was a fool to sell, or so I think now; but it was years ago; I
had no idea at that time of coming here to live; and shore land was of
no value then, anyhow. The strip came to me as a part of my father's
estate. I thought myself lucky to get anything for it. But what's all
this ancient history got to do with it now? And what do you mean by
sending me this letter and that check?”
“I'll explain. I am trying to explain. The peculiar point comes in just
here. You, Mr. Kendrick, never owned that land.”
E. Holliday bounced in his chair.
“Didn't own it!” he roared. “What nonsense are you talking? The land
belonged to my father, Samuel Kendrick, and I inherited it from him.”
“No, you didn't.”
“I tell you I did. He left everything he had to me.”
“Yes, so he did. But he didn't own that land. He owned it at one time,
probably he owned it when he made his will, but he didn't own it at the
time of his death. Your father, Mr. Kendrick, was in financial straits
at various times during his residence here in Orham and he borrowed a
good deal of money. The most of these were loans, pure and simple, but
one at least wasn't. At one time--needing money badly, I presume--he
sold this strip of land. The purchaser thought it was worth nothing,
no doubt, and never mentioned owning it--at least, until just before
he died. He simply had the deed recorded and forgot it. Everyone
else forgot it, too. But the heirs, or the heir, of that purchaser, I
discovered, was the legal owner of that land.”
Captain Obed uttered an exclamation.
“Why, John Kendrick!” he shouted. “Do you mean--”
“Hush, Captain! Mr. Kendrick,” addressing the red-faced and furious
gentleman at his left, “have I made myself clear so far? Do you follow
me?”
“Follow you? I don't believe it! I--I--don't believe it! Who was he? Who
did my father sell that land to?”
“He sold it to his brother, Bailey Kendrick, and Bailey Kendrick was my
father. Under my father's will what little property he had came to me.
If anything is sure in this world, it is that that land occupied by Mrs.
Barnes belonged, legally, to me.”
Neither of his hearers spoke immediately. Then E. Holliday sprang to his
feet.
“It belongs to you, does it!” he shouted. “It belongs to you? All right,
so much the better. I can buy of you as well as anybody else. That's why
you sent me back your retainer, was it? So you and I could trade man to
man. All right! I don't believe it yet, but I'll listen to you. What's
your proposition?”
John shook his head.
“No,” he said. “You're wrong there. I sent you the retainer because I
wished to be absolutely free to do as I pleased with what was mine. I
couldn't remain in your employ and act contrary to your interests--or,
according to my way of thinking, I couldn't. As I saw it I did not own
that land--morally, at least. So, having resigned my employment with
you I--well, I gave the land to the person who, by all that is right
and--and HONEST, should own it. I had the deed made out in her name and
I sent it to her an hour ago.”
Captain Obed had guessed it. Now HE sprang from his chair.
“John Kendrick,” he shouted, in huge delight, “you gave that land to
Thankful Barnes. The deed was in that big envelope Winnie S. Holt was
takin' to her this very mornin'!”
The happenings of the next few minutes were noisy and profane. E.
Holliday Kendrick was responsible for most of the noise and all of the
profanity. He stormed up and down the office, calling his cousin every
uncomplimentary name that occurred to him, vowing the whole story to
be a lie, and that the land should be his anyway; threatening suit and
personal vengeance. His last words, as he strode to the door, were:
“And--and you're the fellow, the poor relation, that I gave my business
to just from kindness! All right! I haven't finished with you yet.”
John's answer was calm, but emphatic.
“Very well,” he said. “But this you must understand: I consider myself
under no obligation whatever to you, Mr. Kendrick. In the very beginning
of our business relationship you and I had a plain talk. I told you when
I consented to act as your attorney that I did so purely as a matter of
business and that philanthropy and kinship were to have no part in it.
And when you first mentioned your intention of forcing Mrs. Barnes to
give up her home I told you what I thought of that, too.”
East Wellmouth's wealthiest summer resident expressed an opinion.
“You're a fool!” he snarled. “A d--d impractical fool!”
The door slammed behind him. John laughed quietly.
“As a judge of character, Captain Bangs,” he observed, “my respected
cousin should rank high.”
Captain Obed's first act after E. Holliday's departure was to rush
over, seize the young man's hand with one of his own, and thump him
enthusiastically upon the back with the other.
“I said it!” he crowed. “I knew it! I knew you was all right and square
as a brick all the time, John Kendrick! NOW let me meet some of those
folks that have been talkin' against you! You never did a better day's
work in your life. HE'S down on you, but every decent man in Ostable
County'll be for you through thick and thin after this. Hooray for our
side! John, shake hands with me again.”
They shook, heartily. The captain was so excited and jubilant that he
was incoherent. At last, however, he managed to recover sufficiently to
ask a question.
“But how did you do it,” he demanded. “How did you get on the track of
it? You must have had some suspicions.”
John smiled. His friend's joy evidently pleased him, but he, himself,
was rather sober and not in the least triumphant.
“I did have a suspicion, Captain,” he said. “In fact, I had been told
that I had a claim to a piece of land somewhere along the shore here
in East Wellmouth. My father told me years ago, when he was in his last
sickness. He said that he owned a strip of land here, but that it was
probably worth little or nothing. When I came here I intended looking
into the matter, but I did not do so. Where the original deed may be, I
don't know even now. It may be among some of my father's papers, which
are stored in New York. But the record of the transfers I found
in Ostable; and that is sufficient. My claim may not be quite as
impregnable as I gave my late client to understand, but it will be hard
to upset. I am the only possible claimant and I have transferred
my claim to Mrs. Barnes. The land belongs to her now; she can't be
dispossessed.”
“But--but, John, why didn't you say so sooner? What made you let
everyone think--what they did think?”
Before John could reply there came an interruption. The door opened and
Thankful Barnes entered. She paid no attention to Captain Obed, but,
walking straight to the desk, laid upon it the long envelope which
Winnie S. had brought to her house that morning.
“Will you tell me,” she asked, sharply, “what that means?”
John rose. “Yes,” he said, “I will tell you, Mrs. Barnes. It is a rather
long story. Sit down, please.”
Thankful sank into the chair he indicated. He took up the envelope.
“I will tell you, Mrs. Barnes,” he said, “why I sent you this deed.
Don't go, Captain Bangs, you know already and I should like to have you
stay. Here is the story, Mrs. Barnes.”
He told it briefly, without superfluous words, but so clearly that there
could be no possibility of a misunderstanding. When he began Thankful's
attitude was cold and unbelieving. When he finished she was white and
trembling.
“Mrs. Barnes,” he said, in conclusion, “I'm a peculiar fellow, I'm
afraid. I have rather--well, suppose we call them impractical ideas
concerning the ethics of my profession, duty to a client, and that sort
of thing. I have always been particular in taking a case, but when
I have taken it I have tried to carry it through. I--as you know, I
hesitated before accepting my cousin's retaining fee and the implied
obligation. However, I did accept.”
He might have given his reasons for accepting but he did not. He went
on.
“When this matter of your property came up,” he said, “I at first had no
idea that the thing was serious. You owned the property, as I supposed,
and that was sufficient. I had told my cousin that and meant to tell
you. I meant to tell you a portion of what I have just told the captain
here, but I--well, I didn't. Mr. Daniels' remarks irritated me and
I--well, he put the case as a test of legal skill between himself and
me, and--and I have my share of pride, I suppose. So I determined to
beat him if I could. It was wrong, as I see it now, and I beg your
pardon.”
Thankful put a hand to her forehead.
“But you did--beat him, didn't you?” she stammered. “You found I didn't
own the land.”
“Yes. I found I owned it myself, legally. If I had found it belonged to
anyone else, I--well, I scarcely know what I should have done. You see,”
with a half smile, “I'm trying to be perfectly frank. Finding that I was
the owner made it easy.”
She did not understand. “It made it easy,” she repeated slowly. “But you
gave it to ME!”
He leaned forward. “Please don't misunderstand me,” he said earnestly.
“As I see it, that land belonged to you by all that is right and fair.
Legally, perhaps, it didn't, but legal honesty isn't always moral
honesty. I've found that out even in my limited practice.”
Captain Obed tried to put in a word. “Don't you see, Thankful?” he said.
“John knew you thought you owned the land and so--”
“Hush! Please don't. I--I don't see. Mr. Kendrick, you--you have prided
yourself on bein' honest with your clients, and Mr. Holliday Kendrick
WAS your client.”
John smiled. “I compromised there,” he answered. “I returned his money
and resigned as his attorney before I sent you the deed. It was a
compromise, I admit, but I had to choose between him and--well, my
honor, if you like; although that sounds theatrical. I chose to be
honest with myself--that's all. The land is yours, Mrs. Barnes.”
He handed her the envelope containing the deed. She took it and sat
there turning it over and over in her fingers, not looking at it, but
thinking, or trying to think.
“You give it to me,” she said. “It was yours and you give it to me. Why
should you? Do--do you think I can TAKE it from you?”
“Certainly, you must take it.”
“But I can't! I can't!”
“Certainly you can. Why not?”
“Why NOT? After the things I've thought about you? And after the way
I've treated you? And--and after Emily--”
“She didn't know either,” broke in Captain Obed. “She didn't understand.
She--”
“That's enough, Captain,” interrupted John. “Mrs. Barnes, you
mustn't misunderstand me again. Neither you nor--nor Miss Howes must
misunderstand my motives. I give this to you because I honestly believe
it belongs to you, not because I expect anything in return. I--I confess
I did hesitate a little. I feared--I feared she--”
“He means Emily,” broke in the irrepressible captain. “You mean Emily,
don't you, John?”
“Yes,” with some embarrassment. “Yes, I do mean Miss Howes. She and I
had been--friends, and I feared she might misinterpret my reasons.
It was not until yesterday afternoon, when I learned of the--of the
engagement, that I felt certain neither you nor she could misunderstand.
Then I felt perfectly free to send you the deed.”
Captain Obed, who had grasped his meaning, would have spoken, but
Thankful spoke first. She, evidently, was quite at sea.
“The engagement?” she repeated. “What engagement?”
“Miss Howes' engagement to Mr. Daniels. They were congratulating him
on his engagement yesterday at the station. I overheard the
congratulations. I had not known of it before.”
At last Thankful understood. She looked at the speaker, then at Captain
Obed, and the color rushed to her face.
“And even though Emily--Hush, Obed Bangs! you keep still--and even
though you knew Emily was engaged to Heman Daniels, you could still give
me and her--this?”
“Now, Mrs. Barnes, do you think--”
“Think! John Kendrick, I think I ought to get down on my knees and
beg your pardon for what I've thought these last two months. But I'm
thinkin' right now and you ain't. Heman Daniels ain't engaged to Emily
Howes at all; he's engaged to that Bayport woman, the one he's been so
attentive to for a year or more. Oh, it's true! Winnie S. told me so
just now. The news had just come to town and he was full of it. Heman's
over to Bayport spendin' Christmas with her this very minute.”
Even Captain Obed had not a word to say. He was looking at John Kendrick
and John's face was white.
“And I'll tell you somethin' else,” went on Thankful, “somethin' that
Emily herself told me last night. She might have been engaged to Heman
Daniels; he asked her to be. But she wouldn't have him; she told him
no.”
John stepped from behind the desk. “She--she told him no,” he repeated.
“She . . . Why?”
Thankful laughed aloud. “That,” she cried, “I SHAN'T tell you. If you
don't know yourself then I ain't the one to tell you.”
Obed was at her side. “That's enough,” he ordered, taking her by the
arm. “That's enough, Thankful Barnes. You come right along with me and
fetch that deed with you. This young feller here has got some thinkin'
to do, I cal'late. His mind needs overhaulin'. You come with me.”
He led her out to the sidewalk and on until they reached the postoffice.
Then, still grasping her arm, he led her into that building. The office
was open for a few hours, even though the day was Christmas.
“Here!” he whispered, eagerly. “Stand here by the window where we can
see whether he comes out or not.”
“But, Obed, what are you doin'?”
“Doin'! I'm waitin' to see whether that boy is a permanent fool or just
a temporary one. Wait now; wait and watch.”
The wait was but momentary. The door of John Kendrick's office opened
and John himself came out. He shut the door, but he did not wait to lock
it. They saw him cross the road and stride off down the lane toward the
shore.
Captain Obed laughed aloud.
“No,” he cried, exultantly, “'twas only temporary. He's got his senses
now. Thankful, let's you and me go for a walk. We shan't be needed at
the High Cliff House for a spell--and we won't be WANTED there, either.”