“Well, you see there's a deal of noise of the machinery,” said Shuey,
scratching his chin with a thoughtful air, “and they expect we've gone
up!”
“Best try, anyhow. This infernal machine may take a notion to drop!”
said Armorer.
“And that's true, too,” acquiesced Shuey. Forthwith he did lift up his
voice in a loud wailing: “OH--H, Jimmy! OH--H, Jimmy Ryan!”
Jimmy might have been in Chicago for any response he made; though
Armorer shouted with Shuey; and at every pause the whir of the machinery
mocked the shouters. Indescribable moans and gurgles, with a continuous
malignant hiss, floated up to them from the rebel steam below, as from
a volcano considering eruption. “They'll be bound to need the elevator
some time, if they don't need US, and that's one comfort!” said Shuey,
philosophically.
“Don't you think if we pulled on her we could get her up to the next
floor, by degrees? Now then!”
Armorer gave a dash and Shuey let out his muscles in a giant tug. The
elevator responded by an astonishing leap that carried them past three
or four floors!
“Stop her! stop her!” bawled Shuey; but in spite of Armorer's pulling
himself purple in the face, the elevator did not stop until it bumped
with a crash against the joists of the roof.
“Well, do you suppose we're stuck HERE?” growled Armorer.
“Well, sir, I'll try. Say, don't be exerting yourself violent. It
strikes me she's for all the world like the wimmen,--in exthremes, sir,
in exthremes! And it wouldn't be noways so pleasant to go riproaring
that gait down cellar! Slow and easy, sir, let me manage her. Hi! she's
working.”
In fact, by slow degrees and much puffing, Shuey got the erratic box to
the next floor, where, disregarding Shuey's protestations that he could
“make her mind,” Mr. Armorer got out, and they left the elevator to its
fate. It was a long way, through many rooms, downstairs. Shuey would
have beguiled the way by describing the rooms, but Armorer was in a
raging hurry and urged his guide over the ground. Once they were delayed
by a bundle of stuff in front of a door; and after Shuey had laboriously
rolled the great roll away, he made a misstep and tumbled over, rolling
it back, to a tittering accompaniment from the sewing-girls in the room.
But he picked himself up in perfect good temper and kicked the roll ten
yards. “Girls is silly things,” said the philosopher Shuey, “but being
born that way it ain't to be expected otherwise!”
He had the friendly freedom of his class in the West. He praised Mrs.
Ellis's gymnastics, and urged Armorer to stay over a morning train and
see a “real pretty boxing match” between Mr. Lossing and himself.
“Oh, he boxes too, does he?” said Armorer.
“And why on earth would he groan-like?” wondered Shuey to himself. “He
does that, sir,” he continued aloud; “didn't Mrs. Ellis ever tell you
about the time at the circus? She was there herself, with three children
she borrowed and an unreasonable gyurl, with a terrible big screech in
her and no sense. Yes, sir, Mr. Lossing he is mighty cliver with his
hands! There come a yell of 'Lion loose! lion loose!' at that circus,
just as the folks was all crowding out at the end of it, and them that
had gone into the menagerie tent came a-tumbling and howling back, and
them that was in the circus tent waiting for the concert (which never
ain't worth waiting for, between you and me!) was a-scrambling off them
seats, making a noise like thunder; and all fighting and pushing and
bellowing to get out! I was there with my wife and making for the seats
that the fools quit, so's to get under and crawl out under the canvas,
when I see Mrs. Ellis holding two of the children, and that fool
girl let the other go and I grabbed it. 'Oh, save the baby! save one,
anyhow,' cries my wife--the woman is a tinder-hearted crechure! And just
then I seen an old lady tumble over on the benches, with her gray hair
stringing out of her black bonnet. The crowd was WILD, hitting and
screaming and not caring for anything, and I see a big jack of a man
come plunging down right spang on that old lady! His foot was right
in the air over her face! Lord, it turned me sick. I yelled. But that
minnit I seen an arm shoot out and that fellow shot off as slick! it was
Mr. Lossing. He parted that crowd, hitting right and left, and he got
up to us and hauled a child from Mrs. Ellis and put it on the seats,
all the while shouting: 'Keep your seats! it's all right! it's all over!
stand back!' I turned and floored a feller that was too pressing, and
hollered it was all right too. And some more people hollered too. You
see, there is just a minnit at such times when it is a toss up whether
folks will quiet down and begin to laugh, or get scared into wild beasts
and crush and kill each other. And Mr. Lossing he caught the minnit!
The circus folks came up and the police, and it was all over. WELL, just
look here, sir; there's our folks coming out of the elevator!”
They were just landing; and Mrs. Ellis wanted to know where he had gone.
“We run away from ye, shure,” said Shuey, grinning; and he related the
adventure. Armorer fell back with Mrs. Ellis. “Did you stay with Esther
every minute?” said he. Mrs. Ellis nodded. She opened her lips to
speak, then closed them and walked ahead to Harry Lossing. Armorer
looked--suspicion of a dozen kinds gnawing him and insinuating that the
three all seemed agitated--from Harry to Esther, and then to Shuey. But
he kept his thoughts to himself and was very agreeable the remainder of
the afternoon.
He heard Harry tell Mrs. Ellis that the city council would meet that
evening; before, however, Armorer could feel exultant he added, “but may
I come late?”
“He is certainly the coolest beggar,” Armorer snarled, “but he is sharp
as a nigger's razor, confound him!”
Naturally this remark was a confidential one to himself.
He thought it more times than one during the evening, and by consequence
played trumps with equal disregard of the laws of the noble game of
whist and his partner's feelings. He found a few, a very few, elderly
people who remembered his parent, and they will never believe ill of
Horatio Armorer, who talked so simply and with so much feeling of
old times, and who is going to give a memorial window in the new
Presbyterian church. He was beginning to think with some interest of
supper, the usual dinner of the family having been sacrificed to the
demands of state; then he saw Harry Lossing. The young mayor's blond
head was bowing before his sister's black velvet. He caught Armorer's
eye and followed him out to the lawn and the shadows and the gay
lanterns. He looked animated. Evening dress was becoming to him. “One of
my daughters married a prince, but I am hanged if he looked it like this
fellow,” thought Armorer; “but then he was only an Italian. I suppose
the council did not pass the ordinance? your committee reported against
it?” he said quite amicably to Harry.
“I wish you could understand how much pain it has given me to oppose
you, Mr. Armorer,” said Harry, blushing.
“I don't doubt it, under the circumstances, Mr. Lossing.” Armorer spoke
with suave politeness, but there was a cynical gleam in his eye.
“But Esther understands,” says Harry.
“Esther!” repeats Armorer, with an indescribable intonation. “You spoke
to her this afternoon? For a man with such high-toned ideas as you
carry, I think you took a pretty mean advantage of your guests!”
“You will remember I gave you fair warning, Mr. Armorer.”
“It was while I was in the elevator, of course. I guessed it was a
put-up job; how did you manage it?”
Harry smiled outright; he is one who cannot keep either his dog or his
joke tied up. “It was Shuey did it,” said he; “he pulled the opposite
way from you, and he has tremendous strength; but he says you were a
handful for him.”
“You seem to have taken the town into your confidence,” said Armorer,
bitterly, though he had a sneaking inclination to laugh himself; “do you
need all your workmen to help you court your girl?”
“I'd take the whole United States into my confidence rather than lose
her, sir,” answered Harry, steadily.
Armorer turned on his heel abruptly; it was to conceal a smile. “How
about my sister? did you propose before her? But I don't suppose a
little thing like that would stop you.”
“I had to speak; Miss Armorer goes away tomorrow. Mrs. Ellis was kind
enough to put her fingers in her ears and turn her back.”
“And what did my daughter say?”
“I asked her only to give me the chance to show her how I loved her, and
she has. God bless her! I don't pretend I'm worthy of her, Mr. Armorer,
but I have lived a decent life, and I'll try hard to live a better one
for her trust in me.”
“I'm glad there is one thing on which we are agreed,” jeered Armorer,
“but you are more modest than you were this noon. I think it was
considerably like bragging, sending that woman to tell of your heroic
feats!”
“Oh, I can brag when it is necessary,” said Harry, serenely; “what would
the West be but for bragging?”
“And what do you intend to do if I take your girl to Europe?”
“Europe is not very far,” said Harry.
Armorer was a quick thinker, but he had never thought more quickly in
his life. This young fellow had beaten him. There was no doubt of it. He
might have principles, but he declined to let his principles hamper him.
There was something about Harry's waving aside defeat so lightly, and
so swiftly snatching at every chance to forward his will, that accorded
with Armorer's own temperament.
“Tell me, Mr. Armorer,” said Harry, suddenly; “in my place wouldn't you
have done the same thing?”
Armorer no longer checked his sense of humor. “No, Mr. Lossing,” he
answered, sedately, “I should have respected the old gentleman's wishes
and voted any way he pleased.” He held out his hand. “I guess Esther
thinks you are the coming young man of the century; and to be honest,
I like you a great deal better than I expected to this morning. I'm not
cut out for a cruel father, Mr. Lossing; for one thing, I haven't the
time for it; for another thing, I can't bear to have my little girl cry.
I guess I shall have to go to Europe without Esther. Shall we go in to
the ladies now?”
Harry wrung the president's hand, crying that he should never regret his
kindness.
“See that Esther never regrets it, that will be better,” said Armorer,
with a touch of real and deep feeling. Then, as Harry sprang up the
steps like a boy, he took out the note-book, and smiling a smile in
which many emotions were blended, he ran a black line through
“_See abt L._”
End of Project Gutenberg's Stories of a Western Town, by Octave Thanet