Under Sealed Orders E-Book

H. A. Cody

• Herausgeber: Ktoczyta.pl
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2019

Beschreibung

The protagonist, nicknamed mad David, was auctioned off as a beggar for $ 100; then David’s life changed dramatically. He began to earn a lot and came to glory. Betty Bean is a feisty fifteen-year-old girl who has a maternal interest in Mad David.

Leseprobe

Contents

I. The Lure Of Falling Water

II. To The Lowest Bidder

III. One, At Least, Rings True

IV. A Little Cabin

V. Unmasked

VI. Out Of Bondage

VII. At The Close Of A Day

VIII. The Shadow Of Mystery

IX. United Forces

X. When Dreams Come True

XI. Curiosity And Anxiety

XII. Pyramid Rock

XIII. The Disturbing Letter

XIV. Subtle Influence

XV. The “Cut Off”

XVI. Christmas Eve

XVII. The Night Summons

XVIII. The Wild Nor’Easter

XIX. Developments

XX. Business Details

XXI. Harnessed Power

XXII. In The Path Of Destruction

XXIII. Rescued

XXIV. Gathering Clouds

XXV. Mystery

XXVI. Under Suspicion

XXVII. In The Toils

XXVIII. Light Breaks

XXIX. Lois Goes To The City

XXX. A Strange Commission

XXXI. Paper Number Two

XXXII. The Tables Turned

XXXIII. The Real Haven

CHAPTER I. THE LURE OF FALLING WATER

It was evening and a late April wind was whipping down the valley. It swayed the tops of the tall pine and spruce trees as they shouldered up from the swift brook below. It tossed into driving spray the water of Break Neck Falls where it leaped one hundred feet below with a thundering roar and swirl. It tossed as well the thin grey hair, long beard, and thread-bare clothes of an old man standing upon a large rock which towered high above the stream.

The entire scene was wild and made weird by the approach of night. But the old man did not seem to notice anything except the falling of the waters. His eyes glowed with an intense light as he kept them fixed upon the leaping and swirling columns below. His face was like the face of a lover turned toward the object of his affection.

For some time the man stood there drinking in the scene before him. Then he took a step forward which brought him perilously near the edge of the steep rock. His lips moved though no sound could be heard for the tumult of the falls which was rending the air. What connection had such a man with his surroundings? No boor or clown was he, for the simple dignity of face and manner marked him as one of Nature’s true gentlemen.

It was almost dark when he at last reluctantly left the rock and entered the thick woods where a trail led away from the falls. Along this he moved with the unerring instinct of one who had travelled it often and was sure of his bearings. But ever and anon he paused to listen to the sound of the falling waters which followed him like the voice of a loved one urging him to return.

“Yes, you want me,” he at length cried, as he once more paused. “I hear your voice calling, and I know its meaning. Others need you, too, but they do not know it. You have been calling to them for years, but they have not understood your language. It was left for me to listen and take heed. They will some day, and then you will show your power. I can see what you will do, beautiful falls, and the changes which will come to this fair land when your luring voice is heeded.”

He stood for awhile as if entranced after uttering these mystic words. Then he continued on his way and night wrapped more closely about him her dark mantle. He had to walk very cautiously now for the trail was rough, and there were sharp stones and roots ready to strike his feet and trip him up.

At length the trail ended and he reached the smooth surface of the broad highway. Along this he sped with the quick elastic step of one who has seen a vision. The fire of a great idea was burning fiercely within him which caused him to take no heed to his surroundings.

He had not gone far, however, ere some strong impulse caused him to pause again and listen to that fascinating sound of falling waters far off in the distance. It was on an elevation in the road where he stopped, and here the shadows which enwrapped the forest were not so heavy. The lingering light of departing day was still in the west and touched this part of the highway with its faint glow. It brought out into clear relief the silhouette of the old man as he stood there with his right hand placed to his ear so as not to miss the least sound drifting down the valley.

So intent was he upon what he heard that he did not notice the sounds of approaching footsteps, so when a man stopped a few yards away and watched him curiously, he was completely unaware of his presence. “Ring on, sweet waters,” he cried. “Your voice follows me no matter how far I go. I alone can understand your language, and know what you are saying. All are deaf but me. They hear but do not know your meaning.” He ceased, and again listened for a few seconds.

A strange half-mocking laugh startled him, and caused him to look quickly around. Seeing that he was observed, he was about to hurry away, when a man stepped forward.

“Pardon me,” he began. “I did not mean to offend you. But your words seem so strange, that I could not help laughing.”

“And were you listening to the voice?” the old man eagerly asked. “Do the falling waters speak to you as they do to me? Is that why you are here?”

“Yes, I hear them,” was the reply. “But they do not bring any special message to my mind.”

“And they do not tell you of power, of the wonderful things they are ready and willing to do when men will heed what they are saying?”

“No, I can’t say that they do. They make a noise up there among the trees, but I do not know what they are saying.”

“Strange, strange,” and the old man placed his hand to his forehead. “You are like all the rest, then. You hear but you do not understand.”

“What do you hear?” the newcomer asked, thinking that he was talking to a weak-minded creature.

“I hear great things, which will be for the welfare of the whole community. The waters tell me what they will do. They will make life worth living. They will give light and power to the people all along the river and revolutionise their daily tasks. Instead of hard labour by the sweat of the brow, the waters will do the work. People will be happy, and have time for the beautiful things of life. Grinding toil and sorrow will be banished forever.”

“Umph! So that is what you hear, eh? What is the good of hearing such a voice, if you have no power to make it come true?”

“But the people will hear and understand,” the old man insisted. “I am telling them about it.”

“Yes, I know you are, and they think you are a fool for your efforts. They laugh at you, and call you crazy.”

“But they will come to see that I am right. They, too, will hear the voice, and then they will not be able to resist its pleadings.”

“If you had the money they would listen to you, for that is the only voice people will heed to-day. If you came here with an abundance of gold, people would hear anything you asked them to in the falls up yonder. But because you are poor, like myself, your ideas will have no more weight with them than the lightest feather. Back your visions with money and people will crowd around you, and you will be heeded. But try to get along without money, and, bah! you are a fool.”

Scarcely had these words left his lips ere a raucous honk up the road startled him. Then an auto with blazing lights leaped out of the night. The old man was standing right in its way, unconscious of his danger. Almost instinctively two strong hands clutched him and hurled him into the ditch as the car swept past. Shouts of merriment sounded forth upon the night air from the occupants of the car. The fright they had given the two by the side of the road evidently gave them much amusement. Their laughter caused the rescuer to straighten suddenly up, and clutch the old man fiercely by the arm.

“Did you hear them?” he asked, and his voice was filled with suppressed emotion.

“Yes,” was the reply. “They are only thoughtless youths having a good time, I suppose.”

“It’s just what money does, though. I know who they are, for I caught a glimpse of them as they sped past. It’s money that talks with them; that is the only voice they hear. They will ride over the less fortunate, and crush them down as worms beneath their feet. They have been doing it for ages, and look upon it as their right. What do they care about the meaning of the falling waters when they are always listening to the voice of money. Curse them. Why should they revel and sport with ill-got gains, when honest men can hardly get enough to keep breath in their bodies.”

The young man was standing erect now on the side of the road. His companion shrank away somewhat fearful lest he should turn upon him and smite him.

“You seem to have suffered,” he at length remarked. “You appear to be annoyed at people who have money.”

“And why shouldn’t I?” was the savage reply. “Haven’t I suffered at their hands, young as I am? Haven’t I been scorned by them to the limit of all endurance? Haven’t they made a mock of me for years, calling me names behind my back? And why? Just because I happen to be poor, and have tried honestly to make my way in life. But there, enough of this. What’s the use of talking about such things? It will do no more good than the voice of the waters which you are continually hearing.”

Along the road the two walked in deep silence. The old man found it hard to keep up with his companion, and he was at last forced to fall behind. Soon he was alone, and then his thoughts went once more back to the falls, and the glorious vision which was in his mind.

It was only when he reached a small building by the side of the road that he stopped. Pushing open the door, he entered. All was dark and silent within. The strange loneliness of the place would have smitten any one else with the feeling of dread. But the old man never seemed to mind it. Fumbling in his vest pocket, he found a match. This he struck and lighted a tallow dip which was stuck into a rude candle-stick upon a bare wooden table. One glance at the room revealed by the dim light showed its desolate bareness. Besides the table there were two small benches and a wash-stand, containing a granite-iron basin. A small broken-down stove stood at one end of the room, by the side of which was a couch. Not a scrap of mat or rug adorned the floor. There were no blinds or curtains to the cheerless, windows, and not a picture adorned the walls.

But the old man did not notice the desolation of the place. It was quite evident that he was beyond the influence of earthly surroundings for the moment. Going at once to the couch, he brought forth a roll of paper hidden away beneath the pillow. Carrying this over to the table, he sat down upon one of the benches and spread the paper out before him. By the light of the candle it was easy for him to study the carefully-made lines upon the large sheet. Eagerly he scanned the drawings, and then placing the forefinger of his right hand upon one central point, he moved it along one line extending farther than the rest until it stopped at a small square in which was the word “City.” This action gave him much satisfaction and a pleased expression lighted up his face. “Power, power,” he murmured. “Ay, quicker than thought, and bright as the sun shining in its strength. Great, wonderful! and yet they do not realise it. But they shall know, and understand.”

Along the other lines he also ran his finger, pausing at the end of each where was marked “Town,” “Village,” or “Settlement.” He talked continually as he did so, but it was all about “glory” and “power.” Over and over again he repeated these words, now in a soft low voice, and again in a loud triumphant manner.

At length he rose from the bench, crossed the room, opened the door, and stepped outside. Not a star was to be seen, and the wind was stronger than ever. It was keen, piercing. But the man heeded neither the one nor the other. He was listening intently, and the faint sound of Break Neck Falls drifting in from the distance was to him the sweetest of music.

And as he stood there a sudden change took place. His dead drooped, and he leaned against the side of the building for support. A shiver shook his body, and as he turned and entered the house his steps were slow, and he half-stumbled across the threshold. He looked at the wood-box behind the stove, but there was not a stick in it. He next opened the door of the little cupboard near by, but not a scrap of food was there. Almost mechanically he thrust his hand into his pocket and brought forth a purse. This he opened, but there was nothing inside. Half-dazed he stood there in the centre of the room. Then he glanced toward the paper with the drawings lying upon the table, and as he did so a peculiar light of comprehension shone in his eyes.

CHAPTER II. TO THE LOWEST BIDDER

There was an unusually large number of people gathered in front of Thomas Marshall’s store one morning about the last of May. Women were there as well as men, and all were talking and laughing in a most pleasant way. The cause of this excitement was explained by a notice tacked on the store door.

“The Board, Lodging, and Clothing of David Findley, Pauper, will be let to the lowest bidder for a period of one year, on Wednesday, May 30th inst., at Thomas Marshall’s store, Chutes Corner, at 10 o’clock A. M.

“Signed

“J. B. Fletcher

“T. S. Titus

“O. R. Mitchell

“Overseers of Poor.”

This notice had been posted there for about two weeks, and had attracted the attention of all the people in the parish. It was out of the ordinary for such a sale to take place at this season of the year. Hitherto, it had occurred at the last of December. But this was an exceptional case, and one in which all were keenly interested.

“I hear he is stark crazy,” Mrs. Munson was saying to a neighbour, Peter McQueen, “and that he has a funny notion in his head.”

“Should say so,” McQueen replied. “Any man who has lived as he has for months must be pretty well off his base. Why, he didn’t have a scrap of food in the house when he was found by Jim Trask one morning the last of April. Jim has been keeping him ever since.”

“Isn’t he able to work?” Mrs. Munson inquired.

“Seems not. I guess he’s a scholar or something like that, and did some book-keeping in the city until he drifted this way. He must have had a little money to live as long as he has. He’s always been a mystery to me.”

“And to everybody else, I guess.”

“Yes, so it appears. But it’s a great pity that we’ve got to be burdened with the likes of him. Our taxes are heavy enough now without having to take care of this strange pauper. We’ve got too many on our hands already for our good.”

“But do you know anything about that queer notion of his, Pete?” Mrs. Munson asked.

“Ho, ho, I’ve heard about it, and I guess it’s true all right. He’s in love with Break Neck Falls, and makes regular trips there every day, and sometimes at night. Jim followed him once, and saw him standing upon that high rock right by the falls. He kept waving his hands and shouting to the water, though Jim could not make out what he was saying. He has some writing on a piece of paper which he keeps very close. He has told, though, that his plan will do wonderful things for the city and the whole surrounding country. He once said that we don’t know what a valuable thing we have right in our midst. I guess we’ve lived here longer than he has, and should know a thing or two. It is not necessary for a half-cracked old man to come and tell us of our possessions. But, say, here he is now, coming along in Jim Trask’s farm waggon.”

As the team drew near, all eyes were turned in its direction, for the first glimpse of “Crazy David,” as he was generally called. There was no difficulty about seeing him for he was sitting by Jim’s side on the rough board seat. He looked much older and careworn than the night he had awakened from his dream, and found his wood-box, cupboard, and pocket-book empty. He had sat huddled on the seat for most of the way up the road, but when near the store he lifted his eyes and fixed them curiously upon the people before him. There was something pathetically appealing in the expression upon his face. He seemed like a man trying to recall something to his mind. He appeared strangely out of place in that rough farm waggon. Even his almost ragged clothes could not hide the dignity of his bearing as he straightened himself up and tried to assume the appearance of a gentleman. The people saw this effort on his part, and several wondered and spoke about it afterwards.

At first the old man did not seem to realise the purpose of the gathering. But when he saw the auctioneer mount a box alongside of him and call for bids, the truth of the entire situation dawned upon him. He was to be sold as a pauper to the lowest bidder, so he heard the auctioneer say. For an instant a deep feeling of anger stirred within his bosom, and he lifted his head as if to say something. But seeing the eyes of all fixed upon him, he desisted.

“What am I offered for the keep of this old man?” the auctioneer cried. “The lowest bid gets him.”

“Two hundred dollars,” came from a man not far off.

“Two hundred dollars!” and the auctioneer turned fiercely upon him. “You’re out for a bargain, Joe Tippits. Why, he’s worth that to any man for a year’s work. He’ll be able to do many an odd job. Come, you can do better than that.”

“One seventy-five,” came from another.

“Too much,” the auctioneer cried. “The parish can’t stand that.”

“One fifty, then.”

“That’s better, Joe. Try again. You’re a long way off yet.”

“I’ll take the critter fer one hundred dollars, and not a cent less.”

At these emphatic words all turned and stared hard at the speaker. A perceptible shiver passed through the bystanders, while several muttered protests were heard.

“Oh, I hope he won’t get him, anyway,” Mrs. Munson whispered to a neighbour. “Jim Goban isn’t a fit man to look after a snake, and if he gets Crazy David in his clutches may God have mercy upon the poor old man.”

“One hundred dollars I am offered,” again the voice of the auctioneer rang out. “Can any one do better than that? One hundred dollars. Going at one hundred dollars. I shan’t dwell. One–hundred–dollars–and–sold to Jim Goban for one hundred dollars.”

This inhuman traffic did not seriously affect the people who had gathered for the auction. When it was over, they quickly dispersed, to discuss with one another about the life Jim Goban would lead Crazy David. It was an incident of only a passing moment, and mattered little more to them than if it had been a horse or a cow which had been sold instead of a poor feeble old man.

It was the custom which had been going on for years, and it was the only way they could see out of the difficult problem of dealing with paupers.

When Jim Goban reached home with his purchase, dinner was ready. There were five young Gobans who stared curiously upon David as he took his seat at the table. Mrs. Goban was a thin-face, tired looking woman who deferred to her husband in everything. There was nothing else for her to do, as she had found out shortly after their marriage what a brute he was.

David was pleased at the presence of the children and he often turned his eyes upon them.

“Nice children,” he at length remarked, speaking for the first time since his arrival.

“So ye think they’re nice, do ye?” Jim queried, leaning over and looking the old man in the eyes.

“Why, yes,” David replied, shrinking back somewhat from the coarse face. “All children are nice to me, but yours are especially fine ones. What nice hair they have, and such beautiful eyes. I suppose the oldest go to school.”

“Naw. They never saw the inside of a school house.”

“You don’t say so!” and David looked his astonishment. “Surely there must be a school near here.”

“Oh, yes, there’s a school all right, but they’ve never gone. I don’t set any store by eddication. What good is it to any one, I’d like to know? Will it help a man to hoe a row of pertaters, or a woman to bake bread? Now, look at me. I’ve no eddication, an’ yit I’ve got a good place here, an’ a bank account. You’ve got eddication, so I understand, an’ what good is it to you? I’m one of the biggest tax-payers in the parish, an’ you, why yer nothing but a pauper, the Devil’s Poor.”

At this cruel reminder David shrank back as from a blow, and never uttered another word during the rest of the meal. The iron was entering into his soul, and he was beginning to understand something of the ignominy he was to endure at this house.

“Now look here,” Jim began when they were through with dinner, “I’ve a big pile of wood out there in the yard, an’ I want ye to tote it into the wood-house an’ pile it up. I’ll show ye where to put it. I’m gittin’ mighty little fer yer keep, an’ I expect ye to git a hustle on to help pay fer yer grub an’ washin’.”

“Don’t be too hard on him, Jim,” Mrs. Goban remarked. “He doesn’t look very strong.”

“Don’t ye worry, Kitty, I’ll attend to that. I know a wrinkle or two.”

David was accordingly taken to the wood-house and Jim explained to him how and where he was to pile the wood. “Ye needn’t kill yerself,” he told him in conclusion. “But I want ye to keep busy, fer when that job’s through I’ve got something else on hand. Ye can sit down when ye feel a little tired, but don’t sit too long or too often, see?”

For about half an hour David worked patiently at the wood, piling it as neatly as possible. The work was not hard, and he was quite satisfied with his task. He was alone, anyway, and could think about his beloved falls. His hands, however, were soft, and ere long they were bruised and bleeding from the rough sticks. At length a sharp splinter entered his finger, and he sat down upon a stick to pull it out. In trying to do this, it broke off leaving a portion deeply embedded in the flesh, which caused him considerable pain. Not knowing what to do, he sat looking upon the finger in a dejected manner.

“What’s the matter? You seem to be in trouble.”

At these words David looked quickly around, and saw a young girl standing by his side. Though her dress was old and worn, her face was bright, and her eyes sparkled with interest.

“Here, let me take that splinter out,” she ordered, as she sat down by his side, and drawing forth a needle, began to probe into the flesh. “There, I’ve got it!” she cried in triumph. “My! it’s a monster. You’ll have to be more careful after this. You should have gloves.”

“Thank you very much,” David replied. “To whom am I indebted for this kindness?”

“Oh, I’m Betty Bean, that’s all.”

“And you live here?”

“No. I’m just dying here.”

“Dying!” David exclaimed in surprise. “Why, you don’t look like a dying person.”

“Maybe I don’t, but I am. I’m just staying here because I have to. My mother’s a widow, and I want to earn some money to help her, and as this was the only place I could get I had to take it.”

“So you do not like it, then?”

“Who would like any place where there is such a brute as Jim Goban? My, I’m sorry for you. To think of any man getting into his clutches.”

“But surely I won’t be any worse off than you are.”

“I’m not so sure about that. You see, I’m about boss here, and do and say just what I like.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, I’m the only person Jim can get to work here. All the girls for miles around know what kind of a creature he is, and they wouldn’t come for any amount of money. They’re scared to death of him. But I’m not, and I tell him right to his face what I think of him, and the way he treats his poor wife. He would like to horsewhip me, but he knows that if I leave no one else would come in my place. But I’m glad now that I am here so I can look after you.”

“Look after me!”

“Yes. I guess you’ll need me all right. I know who you are, and I’m sorry for you. I’m going to stand between you and Jim Goban. He’s scared to death of me, for I’m the only one who dares give him a tongue-lashing, and I do it whenever it is necessary, which is quite often.”

“You’re a brave girl,” and David looked with admiration upon the slight form by his side. “How old are you?”

“Fifteen last March. But one’s age is nothing. I’ve done a woman’s work ever since I was ten. I stand up for my rights now, though. When I first came here Jim was bound that I should work all the time. But at last I told him that I was going to have every Saturday afternoon off, especially in summer, so I could go home or out upon the river. Can you row?” she suddenly asked.

“A little,” was the reply.

“That’s good. Now, look, I’m going to take you out in the boat next Saturday, and you’re going to meet somebody there you’ll like.”

“Somebody I like,” David repeated. “Who is it?”

“It’s a woman, that’s who it is. But I’m not going to tell you her name. She only came here last week, and she is so fond of the water, and spends so much time upon it. Oh, you’ll like her when you see her. She’s a beauty, with such lovely eyes and dark hair. And she’s not a bit stuck up, either. She just talks in a friendly way, and makes you feel easy all over. There, now, I guess you’d better pile some more wood. I have a bit of work to do, and when I’m through I’ll come out and give you a hand. I like to be with you. I know we’re going to be friends.”

The girl rose, and was about to leave. She paused, however, and looked inquiringly into the old man’s face.

“Do you smoke?” she asked.

Into David’s eyes came an eager expression, which Betty was not slow to see.

“I know you do,” she cried, “but you have no tobacco.”

“I have a pipe,” and David fumbled into a pocket of his coat. “But I haven’t had a smoke for weeks, because–”

“I know, I know,” the girl hastily replied. “I’ll get you some in a jiffy.”

She was gone only a short time when she returned, and handed David half a fig of tobacco.

“There, take that,” she said. “It’s a piece Jim left on the kitchen window-sill.”

“But is it right for me to take it?” David asked.

“Sure it’s right. Didn’t Jim agree to feed and lodge you for one year? You can’t live without tobacco. It’s a part of your food, see? If Jim says anything about it, I’ll soon settle him.”

“You are a good girl,” David returned, as with trembling hands he hastily whittled off a few slices of tobacco with an old knife, and filled his pipe. “This will put new life into me. I can never repay you for your kindness.”

CHAPTER III. ONE, AT LEAST, RINGS TRUE

With the small boat pulled well upon the beach, Lois Sinclair stood for a few moments looking out over the water. Her eyes were fixed upon a little boat in the distance containing two people, an old man and a young girl. The wind, which was steadily increasing, tossed her wavy, luxuriant hair over her brow, while several tresses fell across her cheeks, flushed by the recent rowing. She knew that she should be home, for supper would be waiting and her father would be impatient. But she hesitated. Her thoughts were out there on the water where she loved to be. The twang of the wind as it swept through the trees along the shore, and the beat of the surf upon the gravelly beach were music sweet to her ears.

At length, with one more lingering glance out upon the river, she turned and walked along a path leading from the shore. She moved slowly, for she was not at all anxious to reach the house situated about two hundred yards beyond. And yet it was an attractive house, well-built, and cosy in appearance, designed both for summer and winter use. A spacious verandah swept the front and ends, over which clambered a luxuriant growth of wild grape vines. Large trees of ash, elm, and maple spread their expansive branches over the well-kept lawn, providing an excellent shade when the sun was hot. Altogether, it was a most delightful spot to spend the summer months away from the smoke and confusion of the city.

The place, however, did not altogether appeal to Lois Sinclair. If she had needed rest, the situation would have been ideal. But it was activity she desired, and not luxurious ease such as so many crave, especially two young men lolling on the verandah awaiting her coming. Even though one was her brother, she could not restrain a feeling of contempt as she looked upon their white faces, soft hands, and immaculate clothes. Why should men, she asked herself, be so ready and willing to give themselves completely up to effeminate habits when their blood was hot within them, and the great Open was calling them with such a strong insistent voice?

The young woman’s arrival brought one of the young men to his feet, with the offer of a hammock.

“Please do not trouble yourself,” she told him. “I must hurry and get ready for dinner. I know that father is very angry with me.”

“He is not the only one who is angry, I can assure you,” Sammie Dingle remarked. “We have been furious with you for leaving us this afternoon when we needed your company so much in the car. I cannot understand how you can enjoy yourself alone out on the river in that nasty boat.”

“No, I suppose you cannot,” Lois replied, and so infatuated was Sammie with the young woman that he did not notice the slightest sarcasm in her words.

“Hurry up, Lois,” her brother ordered, “I’m almost starved. Dad’s got it in for you.”

“All right, Dick,” was her reply. “I shall be down in a few minutes. Why did you wait for me? You had better go to dinner at once, if you are so hungry.”

It took Lois but a short time upstairs, and when she came down she found the three men in the dining-room. Her father was in one of his surly moods, and this she could tell at the first glance. He was a short man, somewhat stout, and pompous both in appearance and manner. Fortunate it was that his only daughter had inherited none of his qualities, but was more like her mother, whose memory she cherished with undying affection. Since her death home had been more of a prison to her than anything else. Neither her father nor her only brother had understood her, and she was forced to depend more and more upon her own reliant self.

“What kept you so late, Lois?” her father asked as soon as she had taken her place at the table. “You know very well that I do not like to wait for dinner.”

“I am very sorry, father,” was the reply, “but I became so greatly interested in an old man and a girl out on the river that I had no idea how time was passing.”

“Who were they, Lois?” her brother enquired.

“What new creatures have you picked up now? You haven’t run out of homeless cats and dogs, have you?”

The colour mounted to Lois’ temples at these words, for it was not the first time she had been sneered at for her tenderness of heart for all suffering creatures. With difficulty she restrained an angry reply, and went on calmly with her dinner.

“Come, Lois,” Sammie urged, “never mind Dick. He must have his little joke, don’t you know. He was only in fun.”

“A joke with a sharp thorn in it isn’t much fun,” and Lois looked Sammie full in the eyes. “One might do far worse than take an interest in such people as I met this afternoon out upon the river. They appealed to me very much and I am not ashamed to confess it. The man is a perfect gentleman, while the girl is so pretty, and full of life and fun.”

“What’s her name?” Dick asked. “I’m getting quite excited over her.”

“She’s Betty Bean, so she told me, and the old man is David Findley.”

“What, Crazy David, that miserable pauper?” Mr. Sinclair asked. “And you call such a creature a gentleman?”

“Certainly, and why not? His face is so beautiful, and his whole manner shows that he has moved much in refined society.”

“Ho, ho, that’s a good one,” and Dick leaned back in his chair and laughed aloud. “Crazy David a gentleman, with a beautiful face, and refined manners! Think of that, dad.”

“Lois evidently doesn’t know that Crazy David is a pauper, the Devil’s Poor, and was sold to Jim Goban to board and lodge for a year. He went pretty low, so I understand.”

At these words an expression of surprise came into Lois’ eyes, mingled with indignation. She looked keenly into her father’s face, thinking that he must be merely joking.

“I can hardly believe that what you say is true,” she at length remarked. “I did not know that such things were carried on in a Christian community. Is it possible that an old man such as that was sold like a cow or a horse to the lowest bidder!”

“Well, what else could have been done with him, then?”

“Wasn’t there any one in the whole parish, willing to take care of him?”

“H’m, I guess people have all they can do to look after themselves without being burdened with a half-cracked creature such as that. It was the best thing they could do. It would not be fair for one person to have the entire expense of keeping him, so by this method all have a share in his support.”

“But I call it degrading,” Lois insisted, “not only to the old man himself, but to the people living here. He seems such a gentleman, that I was drawn to him this afternoon.”

“Going to take him under your wing, eh?” Dick bantered. “He’ll be as interesting as your other protégé, I assure you. By the way, I saw him this afternoon, and he looked his part all right, ho, ho,” and Dick laughed as he gulped down his tea.

“Who’s that, Dick?” Mr. Sinclair inquired.

“Oh, Lois knows,” was the reply. “She can tell you all about “Spuds’ as well as I can, and maybe better.”

“Why should I know?” his sister asked, somewhat sharply. “I only met him once, and that was years ago.”

“But you always take his part, though, so he seems to be somewhat under your care.”

“And why shouldn’t I? He deserves great credit for what he has done, and it is very unbecoming of you to make fun of him.”

“I wish you could have seen him this afternoon, though,” and Dick glanced across the table at Sammie. “We were speeding along in the car when we saw him hoeing potatoes in a field by the road. His clothes were all soiled, his sleeves rolled up, and he looked like a regular bushman. I called out to him as we sped past, and you should have seen the expression on his face when he saw us. It was like a thunder cloud. I guess he felt pretty well cut up at being caught at such work, ha, ha.”

“Whom are you talking about, anyway?” Mr. Sinclair demanded. “What’s all this about “Spuds,’ I’d like to know?”

“Oh, it’s only that country chap we met several years ago, don’t you remember?” Dick explained. “His real name, I believe, is Jasper Randall, though we have always called him Spuds, because he was digging potatoes when we first met him.”

“You don’t mean that big overgrown boy who helped us to carry Lois home the day she sprained her ankle at Daltan Creek?”

“The very same, dad. And you remember what fun we had at the way he sat and drank his tea out of the saucer?”

“But I didn’t.” Lois spoke sharply, while a flush mantled her cheeks.

“Oh, no, you didn’t make fun,” Dick laughed. “You were mad through and through, and gave us a good solid lecture afterwards.”

Lois made no reply, so while the men talked, she let her mind dwell upon that scene of years ago. She saw again the lank awkward lad who was so concerned about her accident. While helping to carry her home, he had been much at his ease, and his eyes glowed with a sympathetic light. But when once in the house, his natural shyness had come upon him, and he did not know what to do with himself in the presence of strangers. One thing stood out above everything else, and that was his look of indignant defiance when Dick laughed because he drank his tea out of the saucer. She liked the way he had straightened himself suddenly up, while his eyes flashed with a peculiar light. The next that she heard of him was several years later when he entered college in Dick’s year. Then every time her brother had come home he had such stories to tell her about Spuds. And so he was now living near working on a farm. Why did he not go home? she asked herself. She wondered also what he looked like now. Was he lank and awkward as when she saw him? She longed to ask Dick several questions, but desisted, knowing that it would be to little purpose. Her brother would only make fun of him, and she would be sure to get angry.

When supper was over, the men sauntered out upon the verandah for a smoke. Lois went, too, but sat somewhat apart with a piece of needlework in her hands. She preferred to be alone that she might think. She thought first of old David, and his pitiable condition. What could she do to help him? she asked herself. It was not right that he should be kept as a pauper while there were several people in the parish who could provide for him without the least trouble. Her father was one of them, and she was determined to speak to him just as soon as she could.

From old David it was only natural that her mind should turn to Jasper Randall. She recalled his animated face the day her ankle had been sprained. He was but a big overgrown boy then, and she had just graduated from school. She had never forgotten him, and had followed his career while at college as well as she could from what her brother told her. And so he was now working on a farm nearby. A longing came upon her to see him, and to learn if he had changed much since that day years ago. As she glanced toward her brother and Sammie, so effeminate in their manner, and dressed with such scrupulous care, a feeling of contempt smote her. They disdained honest toil, and would scorn to soil their soft white hands with manual labor. But over there was a young man toil-worn, and no doubt sunburnt, clad in rough clothes earning his living by the sweat of his brow. Such a person appealed to her. He would form an interesting study, if nothing else. There must be some connection between that potato patch and the college, she told herself, and she was determined to find out what it was.

As she thus sat and worked, her thoughts keeping time to her fingers, Sammie came and took a seat by her side. She glanced quickly up, with a shade of annoyance on her face. They were alone on the verandah, for her father and Dick were nowhere to be seen.

“You are very quiet this evening, Lois,” the young man began. “I have been watching you for the last half hour, and you never looked our way once, nor took any interest in what we were saying. You are not offended, are you?”

“Offended! At what?” Lois asked as she let her needlework fall upon her lap.

“At me. Have I done anything to annoy you?”

“I wasn’t thinking about you at all, Sammie,” and Lois looked him full in the eyes. “My mind was upon more important things.”

“And you don’t consider me important?” the young man demanded, visibly embarrassed.

“Why should I? What have you done that you should be considered important?”

“But my father is rich, and we belong to a good old family. I am a gentleman, and that should count for much.”

“So you seem to think,” was the somewhat sarcastic reply. “I do not for a moment deny that such things are valuable, but they count for very little in my estimation of a true man. He must prove his worth in the battle of life, and show to the world that he is something apart from how much money his father may have or his family history. Now what have you done that I should consider you important?”

“Nothing at present, Lois, for I am not through college yet. But I am going to do great things some day, and then you will change your opinion of me.”

“I hope so,” and Lois gave a sigh as she picked up her work.

“You don’t believe what I say?” and Sammie reddened.

“Not until I see you settle down to something definite. You do not know how to work, and how, then, can you expect to succeed?”

“But you would not want to see me working like Spuds, for instance, would you?”

“And why not? He is not afraid to soil his hands at honest labor. Why he is doing so I do not know, but there must be some good reason.”

“Oh, I know. He wants money to help him to finish his college course. He left very suddenly, so I understand. Of course, he was not in our set, and so I know very little about him. He studied hard, and kept much to himself, so he has always been somewhat of a mystery. But say, Lois, never mind talking about him. I want to ask you something, for I am going away to-morrow.”

“What is it, Sammie?” and again Lois laid down her work. She had an idea what he wanted to say, though it did not affect her in the least.

“I–I want to s-say,” the young man stammered, “that you are the o-only–”

Sammie was suddenly arrested in his protestation of love by Dick’s voice at the door.

“Say, come inside,” he called. “It’s beginning to rain, and it’s spoiled my ride this evening. It’s going to be confounded dull to-night, so give us some music, Lois, to liven things up a bit.”

With an amused smile, his sister willingly obeyed. Sammie followed her into the house, mentally cursing Dick for his untimely interruption.