THE HOUSE DIVIDED AGAINST ITSELF.
Of the obsequies of Senator Mallard it is necessary to say little.
They were conducted with imposing ceremonies and attended by many of
his associates in the Senate.
After the funeral Mrs. Boyle returned to her home. The question of
heirship was some time in being satisfactorily settled. Durgenson's
wife, who, as has been stated, was Mallard's niece, would not
recognize John's right to the property. She and her husband lived in
one part of the house, and John and Mrs. Baldwin in another.
"I tell you," said Mrs. Baldwin to John one day, "we want to look out
for Durgenson. He is anxious to get you out of his way and has been
ever since you were born. That night when you were at Mrs. Boyle's, I
believe, just as much as I believe anything, that he meant to kill
you when you went to look at the horse."
"How could he harm us?" asked John.
"By putting poison in the water we drink, or in our food," replied
Mrs. Baldwin. "I tell you, John, we had better not stay in the same
house with them. You don't know anything about him. He is so
treacherous. You remember how he tried to get you away from us. I
haven't the least doubt that he meant to lure you to some
out-of-the-way place and kill you. One house is not large enough for
that family and us."
"What are we to do until the estate is settled?" asked John.
"Get them out of the house, or go ourselves," answered Mrs. Baldwin.
"How can we do that?" inquired John.
"If we cannot eject them by legal process, let us leave," said Mrs.
Baldwin.
"Ma'am," said the servant-girl, appearing in some excitement, "Mrs.
Durgenson told me not to dust the parlor, but to keep right out,
because her girl would attend to that."
"Which parlor?" asked Mrs. Baldwin.
"The south one," answered the servant. "I ain't been in the north
one."
"You see," said Mrs. Baldwin, "she is getting very bold. She
commenced it the day of the funeral."
"I will go in with you," said John, "and we will dust that room."
While John was dusting the furniture, he heard the querulous voice of
Mrs. Durgenson, saying, "I don't mean to have them much longer in my
house. Durgenson, if you had the proper spirit, you'd tell them to
go. You wonder they like to stay. You're as good as pie to them all
the time."
"There isn't any use in being cranky," said Durgenson. "You'll never
make anything by that. I can't get them out without the law and we'd
better wait a little."
"Now, Durgenson, you do take things so easy," continued the whining
voice. "It ain't pleasant to have folks you don't like in your own
house. You could tell 'em to go, and, if they don't go, put 'em out.
You could throw that Wrengell out, couldn't you?"
"Why, yes," replied Durgenson. "As to that, I could throw him out.
I'd risk that, but there'd be an after-clap. He'd have be arrested
for assault and battery right straight. I'll manage it by and by in a
better way."
"How do you mean?"
"Never you mind, Maggie. I'll attend to that. It isn't policy to use
violence."
John had been with Mrs Baldwin in the sitting-room but a short time
when the servant reappeared.
"Ma'am, the clothes is gone from the north bedroom."
"Why, that is Mr. Durgenson's part of the house," said Mrs. Baldwin.
"No," said the servant, "your north bedroom where you sleep."
"Can you not find them?" asked Mrs. Baldwin.
"No," replied the servant, "they ain't nowhere as I can see."
"I will get some clothes of my own uptown," said John. "It is as you
say. Aunt Martha. We cannot live long in the same house with the
Durgenson family. They will be robbing us of our cook-stove and our
flour. How did they happen to live here with you?"
"They came soon after your grandfather was hurt," said Mrs. Baldwin.
"They said they wanted to help take care of him. I knew they were
looking after the property they expected to get. George was not in
his right mind, and I could not turn them out, for Mrs. Durgenson was
more nearly related to him than I. So, you see, nothing could be
done. George did not fancy them, but, if he expressed an opinion, who
could prove that it was anything but the raving of an insane man?
They were not offensive at first, and, indeed Mr. Durgenson has not
been so any of the time. But, as soon as George died, Mrs. Durgenson
began to show her disposition. None of George's nephews are living,
and she, being his only niece, has always considered herself his
heir. You can hardly imagine how much your appearance has
disappointed her and pleased me. If my niece did die away from her
kindred and in poverty, my grand-nephew is restored to me, and, I
trust, will be to his rights."
"Ma'am," said the servant-girl as she again opened the door, "all the
carpet upstairs is gone, and somebody's took every wash-bowl and
pitcher and the looking-glasses and one of the mattresses and all the
clothes on the beds.
"I will tell Durgenson to put a stop to that," said John. "I will
stand it no longer."
When he inquired for Durgenson, the wife of that gentleman informed
him that her husband had gone uptown.
"When will he be back?" asked John.
"I can't tell anything about it," replied Mrs. Durgenson, rolling her
head to one side in a wearied manner. "I don't always ask him how
long he's going to stay."
The red-headed servant-girl, who was sweeping, rolled a cloud of dust
into John's face and looked cunningly at her mistress, whose
countenance expressed approval of the act. John shifted his position
and said, "I would like to see him as soon as he comes. In the mean
time you will please leave the household articles in their present
places until the settlement of the estate."
Mrs. Durgenson again tipped her head to one side, this time in
defiance. The servant once more turned her broom toward John, and,
suppressing a giggle, sent the dirt flying about him in profusion.
"Oh," thought John, "we have met before."
"Oblige me by telling Mr. Durgenson of my visit," he said, "and
inform him that I would like to see him at the earliest opportunity."
"I ain't used to being a servant," said Mrs. Durgenson. "You'll have
to see him yourself. Jule, there's some dirt in that corner."
"Yes," said Julia Wallace, filling the air with floating particles,
which she energetically directed for John's inhalation.
"Good-morning," said John, passing through the door.
Mrs. Durgenson and her servant exchanged glances and tittered, and,
when John had gone a few steps, burst into loud laughter.
"The idea," said Mrs. Durgenson, purposely elevating her tone so that
it could be heard by her late visitor, "of a man of his birth telling
me what to do with my property that my uncle left me."
The ill-feeling between the two households was shared by the
servant-girls, and by them less repressed than by their employers.
Usually servants have the human aversion to doing unnecessary work,
but in this case the general rule was inapplicable. Both Julia and
Mrs. Baldwin's Ellen were anxious to have the care of as large a
share of the house as possible. The south parlor, the hall and the
library were the most frequent occasions of rivalry. At the beginning
of the war the girl who entered the room first was allowed undisputed
possession until the renovation was completed. This tacit agreement
stimulated each hurriedly to wash the morning dishes in order first
to reach the contested field. Gradually they rose earlier. By Mrs.
Durgenson's permission Julia, leaving her breakfast dishes unwashed,
"stole a march" on the hated Ellen. Next morning the enterprising
Ellen, resolved not to be beaten, swept the room before another
individual in the house was astir. Slurs, innuendoes and directly
personal remarks began to be used frequently by both parties.
Although Ellen had a considerable amount of fighting Irish blood, she
was not as aggressive as Julia, who seemed bent on precipitating a
quarrel. The encroachments on the rights of John and Mrs. Baldwin by
Wallace's promising daughter, who, in truth, had more spirit than her
father or her brother, were annoying in the extreme. She came to
Ellen's kitchen and helped herself to a panful of flour, saying that
the Durgenson supply was exhausted and she had as much right to this
as Ellen, because Mrs. Durgenson's uncle had bought it. She carried
away the entire stock of pear preserves, for Mrs. Durgenson liked
pear preserves, and not a single can had been provided her. She took
Ellen's good broom and left an old one in its place. The kitchen
where she worked had bad cracks in the floor, and no old stub could
dig them out. The chamber in the wing which Mrs. Baldwin had reserved
for the use of herself and John was steadily stripped of its
belongings. Fruit cans, dishes, bedding and pictures disappeared,
some secretly, some openly, into the rooms allotted to the
Durgensons. The crisis came when Julia called after a kettle which
Ellen had used since the beginning of her service. "I can't spare
that," said Ellen. "It's all the one I've got like it." "You can if
you have to, I guess," remarked Julia. "I've got to have it, because
the big kettle I use don't fit on the stove good." "You're a-getting
everything," said Ellen. "Don't you want the stove and my table?"
"Yes," replied Julia, "I'm a-going to have 'em before long, too, but
I shan't use the stove, because mine is better. You'll have to be
getting out of here before long. Mrs. Durgenson says so." "I guess I
shan't," screamed Ellen, grasping the kettle and putting it behind
her. "I'm a-going to stay right here. When you get Mr. Lehmann out of
this house, you'll know it."
"I'll know it about next week," retorted Julia, bobbing her head
furiously and approaching Ellen, who backed away with the kettle.
"There ain't any Mr. Lehmann here. That's John Wrengell, and he's a
nobody. He stole a horse and got chased out of Break o'Day. He come
to see me once. I told him to keep right away, for I wouldn't have
anything to do with him,--the scurf o' the earth. I'd like to claw
him." "I don't believe it," returned Ellen. "He wouldn't look at you,
nor the likes of you, you great freckled thing. You've stole
everything you could get your hands on, and I know you'd lie, too."
"You miserable Irish amount-to-nothing," cried Julia, advancing
toward her, "you want to shut right up. Hand me that kettle in a
hurry."
"What is all this about?" asked Mrs. Baldwin, coming to the relief of
the frightened Ellen.
"She won't let me have that kettle," said Julia, "and I'm a-going to
have it. I ain't got a big kettle that fits my cook-stove."
"We cannot spare that kettle," said Mrs. Baldwin. "You must get along
the best way you can."
"I ain't afraid of you both," said Julia. "Hand that kettle here."
"Get out of this kitchen, or I will have you arrested," said John,
suddenly appearing. "You have taken things enough. I warn you not to
molest this part of the house."
"Oh, you low-lived galoot," said Julia, as she took her departure, "I
guess I'm as respectable as the Wrengells. There never was a decent
one amongst you. I've heard all about your tribe, you son of a thief.
Mrs. Durgenson'll have you out of here in a week." "Durgenson has
avoided me for several days," said John to Mrs. Baldwin. "I must see
him and put a stop to these annoyances. I would rather talk to him
than to the women. They always get the advantage of me." As he was
passing the library in pursuance of his intention, he heard steps
inside. Peering in, he saw Mrs. Durgenson standing on a chair in the
act of tearing off the scraps which Mallard had pasted on the walls.
These clippings, which were very valuable to political and
biographical students, he prized especially because they had been
arranged by his grandfather's hand. Such a desecration of his
venerated ancestors memory filled John with indignation, and he was
quick to show his displeasure.
"Mrs. Durgenson," he said, "I cannot allow that paper to be torn off.
It was pasted there by my grandfather, and there it must stay, at
least until the court decides against my claim."
"Why, this is my house," said Mrs. Durgenson, beginning to cry. "It's
a pity if I can't do what I want to in my own house." As she spoke
she tore from the wall a strip of paper, which fell to the floor.
"You must leave this room immediately," said John.
"You'll get yourself into trouble," said the angry woman, sobbing
violently. "There'll be somebody after you. I'll tell Durgenson of
this, and he'll fight you. He can do it."
"Tell him to come now," said John. "I will wait here in the library
for him."
"Oh, Durgenson," wailed the wife, as she came into the presence of
her husband, "I've been insulted in my own house."
"Who's been insulting you?" asked Durgenson.
"It's that low-bred Wrengell," replied Mrs. Durgenson between her
sobs. "The library looks awful with those dirty papers on. I wanted
to tear 'em off and fix it decent. He--he wouldn't let me. Oh,
Durgenson will you let the wife of your bosom be insulted in her own
house?"
"Now, wife of my bosom," said Durgenson, with a smile, "you get
insulted very easy. In the first place, you hadn't ought to have been
in there tearing off the paper, and in the next place, when he told
you to go, you ought to have gone without a word."
"I never thought that of you, Durgenson," whimpered the wife. "You
take up sides with him."
"Pshaw, now," said Durgenson, "if he had really insulted you, I would
whip that paper off the wall with him. But, if I should pound him
without any cause, it would hurt our claim to the estate. Just let me
tell you, Maggie. Let him work and have it his own way for a while.
What do we care if the paper stays on a week or two? And I wouldn't
have the girl snake away any more quilts or truck from their part of
the house."
"I can't be so spiritless," said Mrs. Durgenson. "It ain't natural
for me. I can't bear to have that jail-bird around. Only think of it,
what a low descent! We know the pedigree of the Wrengells."
"I'll admit all that," said Durgenson, lowering his voice, "but come
here, Maggie. This is confidential, you know. It mustn't be lisped,
even to the girl. We can get the start of him better to have him
think we're friendly. Between you and me, he's got strong testimony
to back his claim. No matter if it's false, it will count all the
same in law. There isn't any doubt in my mind but what he'll get it."
"And we can't have Uncle George's property?" asked Mrs. Durgenson,
again beginning to cry.
"Not unless we're lucky or mighty sharp," said Durgenson. "Don't cry
your eyes out, Maggie. Something may turn up for us yet. He may go
out in a rain-storm and catch his death of cold, or the cars may run
over him, or he may eat too many vegetables and get downed by the
colic."
"I don't just want him to die," said Mrs. Durgenson.
"No, nor I," said Durgenson, "but, if he does, we can't help it. We
didn't want your Uncle George to die. He did, though, and we wouldn't
have any objection to taking the property. Our chances are a good
deal better if we can stay right here. So, you see, we better not
quarrel with him, not stir him up to push his claim very fast."
"He said he wanted to see you in the library," said Mrs. Durgenson.
"I'd better go, too," said Durgenson. "I'll smooth matters over. And,
Maggie, tell Jule not to quarrel any more with that girl in the south
part. She'll be scratching her eyes out the next thing we hear."
"Durgenson, I have been wishing to see you for a week," was John's
greeting, "For some reason you have avoided me."
"Oh, no, not a bit of it," said the cattle-buyer, stroking his
well-trimmed beard with what seemed the essence of good-nature, "What
can I do for you?"
"Keep your wife and your servant in your own part of the house," said
John, "They come to this part and take everything they can find. I
have endured it for a long time, because I disliked to speak to them
about the matter and you have kept out of my way. I have stood it as
long as I will."
"I'm sorry about that," said Durgenson. "It must be the girl. The
women, you know, have got to sputter around and quarrel anyway. We
hadn't ought to mind them. You and I can't afford to have a falling
out just because the women don't agree."
"That talk sounds very well," replied John, "It does not, however,
make up for the loss of household articles which are necessities."
"What have you missed?" inquired Durgenson.
"Too many things for enumeration," replied John. "Never mind what has
been taken. If the evil is stopped now, I shall be satisfied."
"But I shan't be satisfied," said Durgenson. "Make out a list of what
is missing, and I will bring them back, or pay you for them."
"I will take no pay for them," said John, ashamed that he had spoken
harshly to a man who was so willing to rectify a wrong which he did
not perpetrate.
"Yes," said Durgenson, "that is no more than square. Now, Wrengell,
or Lehmann (excuse me, I didn't think), why don't you lock up these
rooms? You know what women folks are. It may bother me to keep them
within bounds."
"The keys are missing," replied John. "We have not seen them since
last Tuesday."
"I wonder if that Jule has got them," remarked Durgenson. "I saw some
keys hanging up in the sitting-room. Stay here a minute till I look."
He very shortly returned with a bunch of keys.
"Those are the ones," said John. "Keep those which belong to your
part of the house."
"I don't care anything about them," said Durgenson.
"I was thinking about your claim to-day. It looks plausible enough,
so that it may make us a good deal of trouble. That Dabney would
swear to a lie as quick as he'd yarn it about his salves and dopes.
What will you take for your interest here, Lehmann?"
"I do not care to dispose of it," replied John. "I had rather have my
honorable lineage acknowledged than to possess all the real estate in
Lansing without the respectable lineage. If I sell out, it will look
like a confession that I am an impostor."
"What will you give us for our interest?" asked Durgenson. "A lawsuit
would be apt to eat a hole in what Uncle George earned."
"I will not give very much," answered John, "not more than five
thousand dollars."
"That is pretty small," said Durgenson, "considering the amount of
the property. Give me a little time to think it over, Lehmann."
Durgenson, seemingly in the best of humor, went to his sitting-room.
Half an hour after their conversation John was passing through the
hall when he heard a strange voice saying in the adjacent parlor,
"There's no use of being worried about this matter, Mrs. Durgenson.
It's my duty to take him with me and I shall have to. If I could help
it, I would."
"Oh, Durgenson," wailed the wife, "you're going to leave your Maggie!
Oh, Durgenson, dear, when will you be back?"
"Before a great while," responded Durgenson cheeringly. "I haven't
hired anybody to steal horses. Some thieves killed a man in Illinois
when he tried to stop them from taking his horse. I'm not responsible
for it, and I can prove it. Can I speak a minute with my wife?"
"Talk away," said the officer, for the man was, indeed, a minion of
the law. "Go to that side of the room if you want to, but I can't let
you go out of my sight."
The reader, if he chooses, may peruse the whispered consultation,
which was unintelligible to the officer and to John.
"Maggie," said Durgenson, "Lehmann has got us foul. He'll have this
estate as sure as we're standing here. He has offered us five
thousand to give up our claim. It isn't much, but you had better take
it."
"We ought to see if we can't get something more," said Mrs.
Durgenson.
"No," said Durgenson; "if we do, some disagreeable things will be
brought up in court. We will lose the five thousand dollars and pay
out besides. I did play sharp with him when he was a kid, Maggie, and
we don't want it talked about much. Sign off your interest for what
he offers."
"I'll have to interrupt you," said the officer. "Come on."
"Hadn't you better stay to dinner?" asked Durgenson. "We'll have it
ready in a little while."
"No," said the officer, "I can't wait at all. It's nearly time for
the train. Get on your hat now."
"Oh, don't take him! Don't take my Hiram!" pleaded Mrs. Durgenson,
throwing her arms about her husband. "I can't live without him."
"Oh, yes, you can," said the officer, motioning Durgenson to go with
him. "You'll flourish all right."
With many tears and apostrophic declarations of love Mrs. Durgenson
bade farewell to her husband, who, in apparently good spirits, set
out for Chicago to face the charge which had been brought against
him.
Mrs. Baldwin was rejoiced at the removal of the great danger which,
she said, had threatened them. She was not afraid of poison when
Durgenson was in jail. Mrs. Durgenson, accepting her husband's
advice, signed away her interest in the property for the five
thousand dollars which was offered her. At her departure she took
away large quantities of household goods as souvenirs of her Uncle
George.
In a short time John was in undisputed possession of the Mallard
estate. He longed to hear specific news from the Ratke neighborhood.
The several letters which he addressed to Manie were signed John and
brought him no answer. He did not reflect that his correspondent
might be ignorant or forgetful of the recent change in his name.