Joe helped to carry what was mortal of Eskew from Ariel's house to its
final abiding-place. With him, in that task, were Buckalew, Bradbury,
the Colonel, and the grandsons of the two latter, and Mrs. Louden drew
in her skirts grimly as her step-son passed her in the mournful
procession through the hall. Her eyes were red with weeping (not for
Eskew), but not so red as those of Mamie Pike, who stood beside her.
On the way to the cemetery, Joe and Ariel were together in a carriage
with Buckalew and the minister who had read the service, a dark,
pleasant-eyed young man;--and the Squire, after being almost overcome
during the ceremony, experienced a natural reaction, talking cheerfully
throughout the long drive. He recounted many anecdotes of Eskew,
chuckling over most of them, though filled with wonder by a coincidence
which he and Flitcroft had discovered; the Colonel had recently been
made the custodian of his old friend's will, and it had been opened the
day before the funeral. Eskew had left everything he possessed--with
the regret that it was so little--to Joe.
"But the queer thing about it," said the Squire, addressing himself to
Ariel, "was the date of it, the seventeenth of June. The Colonel and I
got to talkin' it over, out on his porch, last night, tryin' to
rec'lect what was goin' on about then, and we figgered it out that it
was the Monday after you come back, the very day he got so upset when
he saw you goin' up to Louden's law-office with your roses."
Joe looked quickly at Ariel. She did not meet his glance, but, turning
instead to Ladew, the clergyman, began, with a barely perceptible
blush, to talk of something he had said in a sermon two weeks ago. The
two fell into a thoughtful and amiable discussion, during which there
stole into Joe's heart a strange and unreasonable pain. The young
minister had lived in Canaan only a few months, and Joe had never seen
him until that morning; but he liked the short, honest talk he had
made; liked his cadenceless voice and keen, dark face; and, recalling
what he had heard Martin Pike vociferating in his brougham one Sunday,
perceived that Ladew was the fellow who had "got to go" because his
sermons did not please the Judge. Yet Ariel remembered for more than a
fortnight a passage from one of these sermons. And as Joe looked at the
manly and intelligent face opposite him, it did not seem strange that
she should.
He resolutely turned his eyes to the open window and saw that they had
entered the cemetery, were near the green knoll where Eskew was to lie
beside a brother who had died long ago. He let the minister help Ariel
out, going quickly forward himself with Buckalew; and then--after the
little while that the restoration of dust to dust mercifully needs--he
returned to the carriage only to get his hat.
Ariel and Ladew and the Squire were already seated and waiting.
"Aren't you going to ride home with us?" she asked, surprised.
"No," he explained, not looking at her. "I have to talk with Norbert
Flitcroft. I'm going back with him. Good-bye."
His excuse was the mere truth, his conversation with Norbert, in the
carriage which they managed to secure to themselves, continuing
earnestly until Joe spoke to the driver and alighted at a corner, near
Mr. Farbach's Italian possessions. "Don't forget," he said, as he
closed the carriage door, "I've got to have both ends of the string in
my hands."
"Forget!" Norbert looked at the cupola of the Pike Mansion, rising
above the maples down the street. "It isn't likely I'll forget!"
When Joe entered the "Louis Quinze room" which some decorator, drunk
with power, had mingled into the brewer's villa, he found the owner and
Mr. Sheehan, with five other men, engaged in a meritorious attempt to
tone down the apartment with smoke. Two of the five others were
prosperous owners of saloons; two were known to the public (whose
notion of what it meant when it used the term was something of the
vaguest) as politicians; the fifth was Mr. Farbach's closest friend,
one who (Joe had heard) was to be the next chairman of the city
committee of the party. They were seated about a table, enveloped in
blue clouds, and hushed to a grave and pertinent silence which
clarified immediately the circumstance that whatever debate had
preceded his arrival, it was now settled.
Their greeting of him, however, though exceedingly quiet, indicated a
certain expectancy, as he accepted the chair which had been left for
him at the head of the table. He looked thinner and paler than usual,
which is saying a great deal; but presently, finding that the fateful
hush which his entrance had broken was immediately resumed, a twinkle
came into his eye, one of his eyebrows went up and a corner of his
mouth went down.
"Well, gentlemen?" he said.
The smokers continued to smoke and to do nothing else; the exception
being Mr. Sheehan, who, though he spoke not, exhibited tokens of
agitation and excitement which he curbed with difficulty; shifting
about in his chair, gnawing his cigar, crossing and uncrossing his
knees, rubbing and slapping his hands together, clearing his throat
with violence, his eyes fixed all the while, as were those of his
companions, upon Mr. Farbach; so that Joe was given to perceive that it
had been agreed that the brewer should be the spokesman. Mr. Farbach
was deliberate, that was all, which added to the effect of what he
finally did say.
"Choe," he remarked, placidly, "you are der next Mayor off Canaan."
"Why do you say that?" asked the young man, sharply.
"Bickoss us here," he answered, interlocking the tips of his fingers
over his waistcoat, that being as near folding his hands as lay within
his power,--"bickoss us here shall try to fix it so, und so hef
ditcided."