There was meat for gossip a plenty in Canaan that afternoon and
evening; there were rumors that ran from kitchen to parlor, and rumors
that ran from parlor to kitchen; speculations that detained housewives
in talk across front gates; wonderings that held cooks in converse over
shadeless back fences in spite of the heat; and canards that brought
Main Street clerks running to the shop doors to stare up and down the
sidewalks. Out of the confusion of report, the judicious were able by
evenfall to extract a fair history of this day of revolution. There
remained no doubt that Joe Louden was in attendance at the death-bed of
Eskew Arp, and somehow it came to be known that Colonel Flitcroft,
Squire Buckalew, and Peter Bradbury had shaken hands with Joe and
declared themselves his friends. There were those (particularly among
the relatives of the hoary trio) who expressed the opinion that the
Colonel and his comrades were too old to be responsible and a
commission ought to sit on them; nevertheless, some echoes of Eskew's
last "argument" to the conclave had sounded in the town and were not
wholly without effect.
Everywhere there was a nipping curiosity to learn how Judge Pike had
"taken" the strange performance of his daughter, and the eager were
much disappointed when it was truthfully reported that he had done and
said very little. He had merely discharged both Sam Warden and Sam's
wife from his service, the mild manner of the dismissal almost
unnerving Mr. Warden, although he was fully prepared for bird-shot; and
the couple had found immediate employment in the service of Ariel Tabor.
Those who humanly felt the Judge's behavior to be a trifle flat and
unsensational were recompensed late in the afternoon when it became
known that Eugene Bantry had resigned his position on the Tocsin. His
reason for severing his connection was dumfounding; he had written a
formal letter to the Judge and repeated the gist of it to his
associates in the office and acquaintances upon the street. He
declared that he no longer sympathized with the attitude of the Tocsin
toward his step-brother, and regretted that he had previously assisted
in emphasizing the paper's hostility to Joe, particularly in the matter
of the approaching murder trial. This being the case, he felt that his
effectiveness in the service of the paper had ceased, and he must, in
justice to the owner, resign.
"Well, I'm damned!" was the simple comment of the elder Louden when his
step-son sought him out at the factory and repeated this statement to
him.
"So am I, I think," said Eugene, wanly. "Good-bye. I'm going now to
see mother, but I'll be gone before you come home."
"Gone where?"
"Just away. I don't know where," Eugene answered from the door. "I
couldn't live here any longer. I--"
"You've been drinking," said Mr. Louden, inspired. "You'd better not
let Mamie Pike see you."
Eugene laughed desolately. "I don't mean to. I shall write to her.
Good-bye," he said, and was gone before Mr. Louden could restore enough
order out of the chaos in his mind to stop him.
Thus Mrs. Louden's long wait at the window was tragically rewarded, and
she became an unhappy actor in Canaan's drama of that day. Other
ladies attended at other windows, or near their front doors, throughout
the afternoon: the families of the three patriarchs awaiting their
return, as the time drew on, with something akin to frenzy. Mrs.
Flitcroft (a lady of temper), whose rheumatism confined her to a chair,
had her grandson wheel her out upon the porch, and, as the dusk fell
and she finally saw her husband coming at a laggard pace, leaning upon
his cane, his chin sunk on his breast, she frankly told Norbert that
although she had lived with that man more than fifty-seven years, she
would never be able to understand him. She repeated this with genuine
symptoms of hysteria when she discovered that the Colonel had not come
straight from the Tabor house, but had stopped two hours at Peter
Bradbury's to "talk it over."
One item of his recital, while sufficiently startling to his wife, had
a remarkable effect upon his grandson. This was the information that
Ariel Tabor's fortune no longer existed.
"What's that?" cried Norbert, starting to his feet. "What are you
talking about?"
"It's true," said the Colonel, deliberately. "She told me so herself.
Eskew had dropped off into a sort of doze--more like a stupor,
perhaps,--and we all went into Roger's old studio, except Louden and
the doctor, and while we were there, talkin', one of Pike's clerks came
with a basket full of tin boxes and packages of papers and talked to
Miss Tabor at the door and went away. Then old Peter blundered out and
asked her point-blank what it was, and she said it was her estate,
almost everything she had, except the house. Buckalew, tryin' to make
a joke, said he'd be willin' to swap HIS house and lot for the basket,
and she laughed and told him she thought he'd be sorry; that all there
was, to speak of, was a pile of distillery stock--" "What?" repeated
Norbert, incredulously.
"Yes. It was the truth," said the Colonel, solemnly. "I saw it
myself: blocks and blocks of stock in that distillery trust that went
up higher'n a kite last year. Roger had put all of Jonas's good
money--"
"Not into that!" shouted Norbert, uncontrollably excited.
"Yes, he did. I tell you I saw it!"
"I tell you he didn't. He owned Granger Gas, worth more to-day than it
ever was! Pike was Roger's attorney-in-fact and bought it for him
before the old man died. The check went through my hands. You don't
think I'd forget as big a check as that, do you, even if it was more
than a year ago? Or how it was signed and who made out to? It was
Martin Pike that got caught with distillery stock. He speculated once
too often!"
"No, you're wrong," persisted the Colonel. "I tell you I saw it
myself."
"Then you're blind," returned his grandson, disrespectfully; "you're
blind or else--or else--" He paused, open-mouthed, a look of wonder
struggling its way to expression upon him, gradually conquering every
knobby outpost of his countenance. He struck his fat hands together.
"Where's Joe Louden?" he asked, sharply. "I want to see him. Did you
leave him at Miss Tabor's?"
"He's goin' to sit up with Eskew. What do you want of him?"
"I should say you better ask that!" Mrs. Flitcroft began, shrilly.
"It's enough, I guess, for one of this family to go runnin' after him
and shakin' hands with him and Heaven knows what not! NORBERT
FLITCROFT!"
But Norbert jumped from the porch, ruthlessly crossed his grandmother's
geranium-bed, and, making off at as sharp a pace as his architecture
permitted, within ten minutes opened Ariel's gate.
Sam Warden came forward to meet him.
"Don't ring, please, suh," said Sam. "Dey sot me out heah to tell
inquirin' frien's dat po' ole Mist' Arp mighty low."
"I want to see Mr. Louden," returned Norbert. "I want to see him
immediately."
"I don' reckon he kin come out yit," Sam said, in a low tone. "But I
kin go in an' ast 'em."
He stepped softly within, leaving Norbert waiting, and went to the door
of the sick-room. The door was open, the room brightly lighted, as
Eskew had commanded when, a little earlier, he awoke.
Joe and Ariel were alone with him, leaning toward him with such white
anxiety that the colored man needed no warning to make him remain
silent in the hallway. The veteran was speaking and his voice was very
weak, seeming to come from a great distance.
"It's mighty funny, but I feel like I used to when I was a little boy.
I reckon I'm kind of scared--after all. Airie Tabor,--are you--here?"
"Yes, Mr. Arp."
"I thought--so--but I--I don't see very well--lately.
I--wanted--to--know--to know--"
"Yes--to know?" She knelt close beside him.
"It's kind of--foolish," he whispered. "I just--wanted to know if you
was still here. It--don't seem so lonesome now that I know."
She put her arm lightly about him and he smiled and was silent for a
time. Then he struggled to rise upon his elbow, and they lifted him a
little.
"It's hard to breathe," gasped the old man. "I'm pretty near--the big
road. Joe Louden--"
"Yes?"
"You'd have been--willing--willing to change places with me--just
now--when Airie--"
Joe laid his hand on his, and Eskew smiled again. "I thought so! And,
Joe--"
"Yes?"
"You always--always had the--the best of that joke between us. Do
you--you suppose they charge admission--up there?" His eyes were
lifted. "Do you suppose you've got to--to show your good deeds to git
in?" The answering whisper was almost as faint as the old man's.
"No," panted Eskew, "nobody knows. But I hope--I do hope--they'll have
some free seats. It's a--mighty poor show--we'll--all have--if
they--don't!"
He sighed peacefully, his head grew heavier on Joe's arm; and the young
man set his hand gently upon the unseeing eyes. Ariel did not rise
from where she knelt, but looked up at him when, a little later, he
lifted his hand.
"Yes," said Joe, "you can cry now."