The Markhams came to Lost Mountain early in December. The weather was
fair and mild and much of the time could be spent out of doors.
Matilda, frail but with that gentle tenacity of life that marks many
women for longevity, settled at once into the semi-rough life of the
cabin with innate delicacy and aptness. The rooms Sandy had so
lovingly planned and furnished became _hers_ after the first day, and
no truer compliment could have been paid her host than this homelike
acceptance of his thoughtfulness. To see her soft, bright knitting in
the sitting-room gave Sandy a positive thrill and when he came back,
after a long day of tramping about with Levi, and found the dear,
smiling woman awaiting him, he knew the first touch of the mother in
his own home that had ever been his. And sorely the poor fellow needed
it just then!
Levi, too, was a saving grace in those empty hours after Cynthia's
going. Swelling with pride, he followed Sandy about from cabin to
factory; from factory to Home-school. In vain he struggled to suppress
any outward show of the pride and delight he took in everything he saw.
He sought to keep things upon a dull, business level, but exultation at
times overcame him when Sandy was well out of sight. To Martin or
Matilda he permitted himself a bit of relaxation.
"Well," he had said to Martin after the first strangeness had worn off,
"so you are the father of this boy, eh?"
"I am, sir!"
The pride that rang in Morley's voice was never veiled, and his native
dignity was touching.
"I reckon any one might doubt it, sir, seeing him and me, but he's mine
and I'm his."
"Well, well!" Markham put his hand out frankly. "I hope you're
grateful."
"I am mighty grateful, sir. Mornin' an' night I kneel an' thank my
God, an' day in an' out I live the poor best I can, sir, my
thankfulness."
Markham gripped the thin, hard hand appreciatively. He knew more of
Martin than Martin suspected, for Marcia Lowe had made it her first
duty, after the Markhams' arrival, to get into touch with them. Not
Sandy alone had been the theme of the little doctor's discourse;
Martin's grim and self-sacrificing fight in her cabin was given in
detail with other happenings in The Hollow.
"Oh! they are so big and silent and patient," Miss Lowe had explained,
"they cannot for one moment comprehend their own importance in the
scheme of things. I feel it a duty to shine up their virtues."
Levi was deeply touched by all he heard, and when things puzzled him he
gruffly insisted that he needed a walk to calm his nerves, and always
it was the little doctor who straightened the tangle.
"Miss Interpreter," Markham dubbed her, and through her he became
acquainted with Smith Crothers and Crothers' mark upon recent
occurrences. Of course Levi knew of Lans Treadwell's visit to the
hills. Markham was not a superstitious man, but he had remarked to
Matilda before they came to Lost Hollow that it "looked like the hand
of God." After a séance or so at Trouble Neck, Levi changed his mind.
"I tell you, Matilda," he confided by her fireside one night after a
particularly satisfying day with Sandy, "we take for granted that God
Almighty's hand is the only guiding in the final analysis, but the
devil gets in a twist now and again, and I guess he had more to do with
Lansing's heading up here than God did. Once old Nick got the boy here
he did his best to use him, too, but from what I can learn Lans spunked
up at the end and showed himself more of a man than we might have
expected. He played a good deal of havoc in a few short weeks, though."
Marcia Lowe had eliminated Sandy from poor Cynthia's romance or
tragedy. She had put a purely commercial valuation upon Crothers'
interference, for the look on Sandy's face the night he bade Cynthia
good-bye haunted the little doctor and would to the last day of her
life. Before it her eyes had fallen, and whenever she recalled the
scene a silence fell upon her. No thought or word could express what
she, too late, surmised, and her lips guarded the sanctity of Sandy's
secret.
When Levi confided Marcia Lowe's interpretations to his sister she was
very unresponsive. She listened but made no comment other than:
"Sandy works too hard. He looks real peaked to me. It don't count to
your credit, Levi, or his either, for that matter, if he feels he's got
to pay you back in bone and muscle past a certain point."
"Now, 'Tilda," Levi put in, "what do you mean by that?"
"I mean----" Matilda condensed her impressions: "I think he looks real
pinched and peaked."
This put Markham on a new track, and the next day he fell upon Sandy
with the one weapon which, more than any other, caused Sandy to love
and honour him.
"See here, son,"--it was oftener "son" than "boy" now--"don't get any
fool idea in your head that you owe me more than an eight hour day's
work."
They were going over the plans of the Home-school as Levi spoke, and
Sandy laughed lightly. "You are my agent, my--my promoter, son, and,
as such, you hold a responsible position at--at good pay!"
"Thank you, sir. I understand that and I am anxious to carry out your
wishes. I am eager to get this thing running, not for you, sir, alone,
but my people. Crothers seems hell-bound just now in frightening them
into signing contracts for themselves and their children for years to
come. Of course the contracts are not worth the paper they are written
on, but a general belief is spreading that our works cannot be relied
upon and, in order to benefit The Hollow, Crothers is offering to
protect the people against us by securing positions for them if they
will agree to stand by him. When I think of the baby-things, sir, and
the long, deadly hours of toil that lead to no preparation for
betterment, my soul sickens. Now this, sir"--Sandy pointed to a
particularly high and open space on the blue print--"is the hospital
room."
"The--the what?" Levi put on his glasses.
"The hospital room, sir, I'm going to put Miss Lowe in control; I'd
like to have another physician too, sir, and a few nurses. Right up
there"--Sandy's eyes gleamed as they followed his finger to the space
on the blue print--"we want to tackle the real trouble of the South,
sir. Why, do you know I only heard the other day that Tod Greeley went
to our representative, a year ago, and begged him to get an
appropriation from Congress to start the work against the hook worm in
this district and the request was refused." Sandy gave a hard laugh.
"Well, I reckon Greeley and I know why, sir. Lost Hollow is too
ignorant. Our votes can be got without the appropriation. The big,
human need does not matter! Where there is more intelligence the
representatives have to understand conditions. But it will matter by
and by, sir! I know what that little doctor did for my father. I know
what she's done for one or two of Mason Hope's children and the girl of
Tansey Moore's who was--who was like my sister Molly! I want Miss Lowe
and her helpers to have that high and bright place, sir, for their
workshop. It must have sun and air, sir, and books and toys and--and
music, too, for the fight is a hard and bitter one and the days and
nights, at best, are terrible."
Levi Markham leaned back, took off his glasses and fixed Sandy with his
keen glance. For a few moments he could not speak; he had been carried
far and beyond his normal depth. When he got command of himself, he
said slowly:
"Son, it looks to me as if we would need all we can make up North to
stamp out some of the evils of the South, but, God willing, we're going
to make a stab at it! See here, who is the representative for this
district?"
Sandy gave the name of a man many miles away.
"Well, I guess he can be brought to learn the language of Lost Hollow,
son, if some one shows him his duty. Some good laws, too, that would
put a quietus on this Smith Crothers' ambitions ought to be looked
after. He shouldn't be the say-all up here. No man is good enough or
safe enough to take the bit in his own teeth--not even you, Sandy
Morley!"
"Law, well carried out, is the best way, sir."
"Exactly! And now for the rest of the building, boy. What are these
little cubby holes?"
"Bedrooms, sir. This is only an idea of my own. It's rather
extravagant and it's subject to your decision, of course. I'd like to
have each child have his own room, sir. A boy or girl grows so in a
special little corner that is quite his own. I have a design of a
small chest of drawers that I'd like to show you later. It does not
take up much space and it combines washstand, bureau, table and--a
place for the boy or girl's things."
"Things?" Levi was again bending over the blue print.
"Yes, sir. Things dear to each child's heart. Stones, sticks,
anything that cannot be--explained." Sandy gave a low laugh. He was
harking back to the old shed beside his father's cabin and the gay
prints tacked to the worm-eaten boards.
"The separate rooms can stand, son, and those little jimcracks of
drawers are favourably passed on, too. And these?" Levi's thick
forefinger stopped at the elevation of the first floor.
Sandy gave a rich, satisfied laugh of content.
"Well, sir, it is this-er-way"--The Hollow's soft running of the words
together delighted Levi's ear--"when the poor little creatures have had
their fight out on the upper floor and have got down to these small
rooms and have realized that they are human beings, then we're going to
fix them--fix them, sir, right here!" Sandy's eyes flashed and his jaw
set in the stern, grim fashion that Levi had long since grown to watch
for and admire.
"By the time they reach the ground floor, sir, I reckon we can tackle
them and begin to make them pay for themselves. By that time they will
have something to draw on and we'll exact payment. Right here and
here"--Sandy's forefinger was going rapidly from point to point, and
Levi's stubby digit was laboriously following--"are the workshops, the
school rooms, the kitchens and conservatories. Why, sir, even the
idiot children can be utilized. They love flowers and animals; we must
find their one gleam and guide their poor feet on the way. Good food,
honest hours of work, systematic exercise and proper amusement--why,
sir, from this ground floor we are to send men and women out into the
world who will reflect credit on Lost Hollow and redeem its name. And
you, sir----"
The two men faced each other suddenly. Markham seemed to realize anew
the delicacy and fineness of the thin, brown face---Matilda's words
rang in his ears, "he looks real pinched and peaked." The homely
phrase carried more weight to Markham than any scientific terms of a
specialist. A sharp pain shot through his heart; he had the quick
impulse to shield and protect this young fellow who was being carried
afield on the wings of his enthusiasm. Protect him from what?
"See here, son, we cannot afford to go too fast with this hobby of
yours. Get the buildings up as soon as you can; carry out all the
material plans just as you have designed, but we've got to get our feet
on good firm ground before we tackle the human problems. You know I am
against paternalism, first and last. I'm willing to give opportunity,
but nothing else."
"That is all they need, sir. Some must be shown opportunity--others
are strong enough to grip it, but it's mighty good common sense, sir,
to open the eyes of the blind and strengthen the feet of the weak--it's
what you-all did for me, sir."
"Umph!" Markham exclaimed and then got suddenly up. "I'm going to take
a stroll down The Way," he said. "Fix things here in an hour or two
and see if you can get some kind of a rig for a drive this afternoon.
I want Matilda to get the lay of the land before the winter sets in."
And then, confused by mingled emotions, Markham bore down upon Smith
Crothers in his factory, a mile or so down the mountain, and attacked
that gentleman in such a blunt and utterly unlooked-for manner that
Crothers was startled and helpless.
The directness of the blows left Smith Crothers without defence; he was
obliged to use his own crude weapons with the ever-growing conviction
that they were worse than useless. Markham availed himself of no
propitiation--he rushed his opponent into the open at the first
onslaught, and thereafter he attacked him fore and aft mercilessly.
"See here, Crothers," he began, when the head of the factory had
invited him into his private office and, with smiles and bows, had
seated his guest; "you and I had better understand each other right
now. You know, and I know that you know, that I am The Company up
North which you are maligning here in The Hollow. Now I'm willing to
lay down my hand and show my cards. I'm going to back this boy of
Morley's by millions, if necessary, and there are millions to count
on--not millions to be made. _Why_ I am doing this is my concern--all
that matters is--I'm going to do it! Maybe it is a whim; maybe it is
plain tomfoolery; every man has his weak side--I have mine. That
factory up the hill is going to run as soon as it is finished; the
Home-school is going to open its doors likewise; and both institutions
are going to pay and don't you forget it! You put one product on the
market; I another. We won't clash there--the rock we may split on is
the labour question."
Crothers gasped feebly.
"I reckon I understand conditions here, sir, better than"--he longed to
say "any damned Yankee," but he controlled the impulse--"any stranger
from the North."
"No you don't!" Markham flashed back. "Exploitation isn't any fairer
here than where I come from. Because these people don't realize it is
no excuse for men like you and me. I know all about what you set forth
as explanation and excuse--it goes up North the same as it does here.
Supply and demand; business is business and all the rest of it, but you
and I know that it ought not go! We have no right to take it out of
the people."
"You've managed to take out your pile"--Crothers' smile was
vanishing,--"'cording to your own telling. Millions ain't got by
magic, these times."
Markham fixed the ugly eyes with his calm gaze.
"You are free to come and see how I have made my money," he said. "I
have a system that includes every employee in my money-getting. They,
every mother's son of them, have a chance with me to better themselves.
I have never worked a child in my mills nor a woman about to become a
mother, or for months after. I don't talk about these things--I live
them! Now I mean to make money up here--honest money; my just share,
and I'm going to follow my past line of action. I find it pays. Young
Morley knows conditions here, and I'm going to pay him a big salary as
interpreter. He's a high class man. Why, good God! Crothers, I
sometimes think he was called to lead his people out of bondage."
Having permitted himself this flight Markham struck another blow that
completed Crothers' dismay.
"There have got to be laws protecting these mountain folks from
themselves. I'm not casting reflections, but you have all been passed
by in the general scuffle, down yonder, and some one has got to sit up
and take notice. There should be child labour laws, educational laws
and sanitary laws. There should be appropriations made for carrying on
good work in the mountains!" The light of Sandy's torch was flaring
well ahead of Markham and he was following eagerly.
"Such men as you ought to be up and doing. It's going to be an open
fight, as far as I'm concerned, and I want to tell you now that so long
as there is decent and clean methods used, all may be well, but I'm
going to see fair play, and I thought it was only friendly to come to
you and show my cards."
"Thank you!" Crothers moistened his lips and plunged his hands in his
pockets. "Is this a threat, sir?"
"No; a warning."
"Well, sir, I mean to do business along my own lines."
"I mean to do the same, Crothers, and I'd like to add, that in any
clash please remember you are up against me--not Sandford Morley."
"I'm not likely to forget that, sir."
There was a little more talk, pro and con, and then the two men parted
as men can do, after a heated and vital discussion, apparently on the
best of terms.
It was the night of that day when, before the fire in the little
sitting-room devoted to the Markhams' use, Levi sought to ease his
sister's mind concerning Sandy.
"The boy was up against it with Crothers," he explained, "and making no
outcry. You know Sandy's way. He wouldn't confide in us about that
poor little sister of his--he thought it wasn't in the bargain. He
meant to fight this big bully in his own fashion without calling on me,
but I've taken a hand in the game and put Crothers wise as to
principles. I may have to get a few knocks before I am done, but Sandy
won't be the buffer. I guess the boy will pick up from now on. He's
nervy and stronger than he looks."
Matilda sat in her low, broad rocker. Her dressing gown of pale violet
enshrouded her tiny figure like the soft petals of a flower; her faded
eyes and gentle face were lowered, and her gaze fixed upon the burning
logs.
"Brother," she said tenderly and wistfully; "the boy has had a mortal
hurt. This evil man has not dealt it, and neither you nor I can cure
it. It has not killed his mind and spirit, but it's killed the heart
of the lad."
Levi Markham got up and stood with his back to the fire. He was going
to be enlightened--he knew that--but in man fashion he pushed the
inevitable from him.
"Whim-whams, 'Tilda! Now what do you mean in plain American? Who's
given the boy a blow--a hurt, or whatever you fancy?"
"It's the--the little girl, brother, that Land has run away with."
"Good God, Matilda!"
"Levi, I do wish you would curb your language. You know how I dislike
profanity."
"I beg your pardon, 'Tilda."
"While you have been sensing business conditions, brother, I've sensed
something else. I've sort of gathered this Cynthia Walden up piece by
piece. The old woman who works here gave me a bit; that dear little
woman doctor--the aunt of the girl--has told me some of the story; from
Martin Morley I've taken a mite. Little by little it has come to me,
until I've patched the whole together and I can see real plain and
clear, now, the spirit of Lost Hollow that led Sandy out and up and
then--escaped to a place he cannot reach! Oh! brother, when one is
lonely and old and not over strong, it is so easy to get at the heart
of a thing for them one loves."
Matilda was crying gently into her dainty little handkerchief, and
Markham stared at her, speechless and helpless.
"There! there! 'Tilda," was all he could think to say, but his tone was
loving beyond description.
"She's the girl whose face haunted that picture of the dogwood flowers,
brother. She's the girl he wrote to just once, you remember, that time
when we stopped in New York on our way from here to Bretherton. I
guess she's called and called to him from these hills ever since he
left, and now----"
"Well, 'Tilda?"
"She's gone away and the call is--stilled."
Markham sat down again before the fire and buried his head in his
hands. Quietly the old brother and sister sat for a full half hour,
then Levi got up.
"Good-night, sister," he said.
"Good-night, brother."
That was all. They knew that they were unable to reach the hurt that
Sandy had received.