14. CHAPTER XIV.
GOING HOME.
A rapid glance at the table, improvised by the
means of narrow boards taken surreptitiously
from a neighboring fence, revealed the fact that
the lunch was deficient in one important respect.
They had no beer. A pitcher of that innocuous
ale brewed in the mysterious recesses of
Nature's laboratory offered a tempting draught
to a really thirsty throat, but among these choice
spirits this beverage was held in light esteem.
“Boys,” said the president, flinging upon the
table a look of withering contempt, “has the
Free and Easy Social Club come to this? Is
the ancient spirit of the club so far extinguished
that the difficulty of procuring a keg of beer
cannot be overcome? Where is the chairman
of the Committee of Ways and Means?”
A red, freckled face, wearing at that time a
somewhat apprehensive look, rose from the
crowd, and a voice said, “Here.”
“Here,” repeated the president, severely;
“listen, ladies and gentlemen; Mr. Richard
Andrews will give an account of himself.”
There was a general laugh at the expense of
the chairman of the Committee of Ways and
Means. The pleasantry of the president was
highly applauded, for be it known, that Mr.
Richard Andrews was so generally known as
“Red-Headed Dick,” that at first his right to
the more substantial name with which he was
addressed was not recognized.
“Beg leave to report,” responded the chairman,
attempting to imitate the dignity that
characterized the president's address. “that the
resources of the Free and Easy Club are exhausted.”
The president was not in the least mollified
by this reply. He waved his hand majestically
and said:
“Mr Richard Andrews, your report is not accepted.
You simply state a fact, whereas it is
your duty, as chairman of the Committee of
Ways and Means, to overcome any fact which
may be detrimental to the well-being and honor
of the club. In the present instance it is clearly
your duty to provide keg of beer.”
The club applauded—Mr. Richard Andrews
alone remained silent. He saw that affairs were
taking such a course that he might have no
honorable alternative but to engage in a fistic
encounter with the president. He was no coward,
but he had been easily whipped by that
distinguished gentleman so frequently that the
element of chance essential to the thorough enjoyment
of such combats was wanting in the
present instance.
After the applause had subsided, the president
waited a moment for Mr. Andrews to speak,
but as that gentleman preferred not to make an
issue which was certain to result disastrously to
himself, the former continued:
“Just over the kill there lives a worthy Dutchman
who makes an honest livelihood by selling
beer to his neighbors. Now, for the time being,
we are his neighbors.”
“The Dutchman sells beer for cash,” responded
the chairman of the Committee on Ways and
Means, planting himself upon what in another
body of men would have constituted an impregnable
line of defense, “Where is the cash to
come from?'
“Where is the cash to come from?” thundered
the president. “Gentlemen, do you hear?
Why, any fool can get beer with cash; the point
is to get beer without cash.”
There was a wild shout at the unfortunate
chairman's expense. Even Mr. Andrews's young
lady, on whom he had squandered his income
for the previous month, joined in the laugh
against him.
To Mliss this scene was painful to a degree.
She was not accustomed to the deliberate “chaffing”
which constituted a leading feature in the
amusements of the club, and her active sympathies
always went with the weaker party. A
like impulse to that which had prompted her to
set Waters free, when at bay against a mob now
moved her to extricate the crushed chairman
from his ridiculous position. During the discussion
her fingers had played nervously with
one of the four five-dollar pieces which she had
provided for her intended journey, and now,
forgetting everything but the fact that she had
the means of relief in her power, she darted
forward and laid the coin on the table before the
object of her sympathy.
The nimble Mliss was back in her seat before
the company were aware of what she had done.
Andrews held the coin triumphantly above his
head, and the girls crowded round to see if it
was really gold. Satisfied on this point. Mliss
became the object of curiosity and attention.
Such munificence was unheard of. Who was the
little dark stranger who scattered her gold so
freely?
The president, though cheated of the fascinating
amusement of “chaffing” his subordinate,
graciously approved of the conduct of the daring
Mliss. To what extent his complacency
was influenced by the trifling fact that the
club would be liberally supplied with beer, we
need not inquire. Man is but man, and Robert
Shaw made no pretensions to moral superiority.
The beer was brought. For once a commercial
transaction between the beer-selling Dutchman
and the members of the Free and Easy So
cial Club was conducted on a basis satisfactory
to the former. The occurrence was one of such
marked moment that the Teutonic gentleman
sat meditatively in his bar-room the remainder
of the afternoon. The explanation was quite
beyond his power of divination, and it was not
until he had tested the genuineness of the coin
by all the processes known to the uninitiated
that he gave full credence to his good fortune.
Accepting, the fact at last as one of the mysterious
dispensations of Providence it was not
given to man to understand, he drank an extra
glass of his own beer and placidly dropped to
sleep.
The scene had excited the picnickers to an
unusual degree of hilarity. The beer which
flowed so freely added to the boisterousness of
their gayety. Mliss, favorably impressed at
first, began to doubt if her new friends represented
the first circles of society. The young
ladies drank more beer than was consistent with
her preconceived ideas of social propriety. Her
old model, the correct Clytie, rose up in contrast
to the free deportment of these city ladies, and
Clytie lost nothing of Mliss's good opinion
thereby. Clytie's gentle forwardness with the
master had seemed to Mliss peculiarly exasperating;
but Mliss was too just in her estimate of
her enemies to believe for one moment that Clytie
would have permitted such familiarities as
she now witnessed, had the master been so depraved
as to offer them.
Nigh came, and with it the question of returning
to their respective abodes. Night had
fairly come, and the question was still unsettled.
The young couples who had been together all
day had still a great deal to say to each other.
The still immature mind of Mliss could not
comprehend what topic presented such a wide
and fertile field for discussion. A peculiarity
of the discussions going on all around her was a
tendency developed in each couple to hold a private
conference. Each couple seemed suddenly
inspired with a distrust of all other couples.
It could be no ordinary topic which engrossed
their attention, for the gentlemen spoke
earnestly and the ladies responded seriously. It
was, however, an exceedingly friendly discussion.
If the lady did not always quite agree
with the views advanced by the gentleman she
combated them in the most amiable manner. If
her fixed ideas of right and wrong compelled her
to reject any propositions to arrive at a better
understanding she coached her refusal in such
tender terms that the swain could but be
charmed though he were not gratified.
Three hours of night had passed when the last
of the stragglers returned to camp, and the party
prepared in earnest to go home. Mliss remained
the especial charge of Miss Brooks, and
it was arranged that she should be that young
lady's guest for the night. The following day,
at an hour to be agreed upon, Mr. Robert Shaw
was to call and escort Mliss to the office of his
illustrious father.
It was nearly eleven when the party left the
street-car to seek their respective homes. Mr.
Shaw escorted Miss Brooks to her somewhat
distant abode. Mliss followed, a little in the
rear, for the disposition to privacy she had observed
earlier in the evening suggested that her
presence might be a restraint. Her faith in her
new friends was somewhat shaken. She liked
Bob Shaw less than she had been disposed to at
first, when he so promptly espoused her cause
against her mother. Her heart, so long closed
to human sympathy, opened at the genial welcome
given by the young ladies, but their lightness
of conduct jarred upon her awakening sensibilities.
She was afraid she had been betrayed
into company that would not improve her case
should Mrs. Smith carry out her threat of having
her arrested for leading a wild and vagrant
life. Her ideas of what was socially proper were
undefined, but she felt certain Mr. Gray would
not approve of her present associates. Little
woman as she was, Mr. Gray's opinion was her
standard of right and wrong.
At the door of Miss Brooks's residence Mr.
Shaw lingered some moments, and then kissed
that young lady good night. He caught Mliss
and would have kissed her also, but she drew
fiercely back, and her parted lips showed her
wicked white teeth. Not accustomed to rebuffs
of this nature he sought to overcome her resistance
by force, but she slipped from his grasp,
dashed down the steps, and was lost in the darkness.
The young man uttered a profane ejaculation
and started in pursuit. At first he heard the
rapid patter of little feet in the distance, but
this sound was soon lost. The gas had been
turned off the street lamps in deference to the
calendar of the year which announced the rise
of the moon about that hour. The stars twinkled
brightly overhead but shed no light on the little
figure flying from a danger she could but vaguely
comprehend.
Robert stopped at last, convinced of the hopelessness
of pursuit. “Little idiot!” he muttered,
“does she think I would harm her,” and
retraced his steps to the door, where Miss Brooks
was waiting the result of his pursuit.
The young lady would perhaps have chided
him severely if she had felt safe in so doing.
But her hold on him was not very firm and she
realized the fact. She loved him in her light
way, but was too accustomed to his little irregularities
to feel very bad about so trifling a one
as this.
Proceeding along the darker side of the street
—if one side were darker than the other—Mliss
gradually left the city behind her. Her habits
of observation, which had been formed in her
wild wanderings in Red Mountain, enabled her
to direct her steps to the sand hills west of the
city, where she prepared to pass the night. A
warm shawl protected her in a measure from
the chill night air, and as she passed the thickly
inhabited portions of the city, her fears of arrest
gradually died away. Arrived at a locality
sufficiently lonely, she left the street, climbed
over a hill, which she regarded as a kind of fortification
against the enemy, penetrated to the
centre of a cluster of low-hanging bushes, and
there, without a thought of fear, but rather
with a sensation of relief, sank down upon the
soft warm sand and soon was lost in sleep.
It was broad daylight when she awoke. Her
first sensation was that of hunger. Her old enemy
had taken advantage of her unprotected
situation, and attacked her during the night.
This attack, however, was not formidable,
since means of defense were at hand. Fifteen
dollars of her little store still remained, and a
half hour's walk would bring her to a
bakery where she could feast to her heart's content.
Carefully reconnoitering, so as not to come
upon any straggler, she gained the road and
directed her steps to the city. A little reflection
dissipated the bugbear of arrest which had
haunted her the night before. She beheld herself
a very presentable young girl, comfortably
dressed, and old enough to be abroad by herself.
No one seeing her would suspect that she was
homeless or doubt that she was under proper
guardianship.
A half hour's walk brought her to a portion of
the city with which she was tolerably familiar.
In her wanderings she had often purchased cakes
of a bakery kept by a kindly German woman, and
thither she now directed her steps. The German
lady had a pleasant word for every one who entered,
and asked only such questions as any one
might answer. She welcomed Mliss with a
genial “Good morning,” and readily supplied
her wants.
The idea of consulting a lawyer had seized
firmly hold of the young girl's mind. There
was no reason why she should select Mr. Shaw
in preference to another, except she heard that he
was an elderly gentleman, distinguished in his
profession, who was above the meanness of
stealing from a little girl like herself. The fact
of his being an elderly man and the father of a
family was much in his favor. She ventured,
therefore, to ask the German lady if she could
give her the address of Mr. Shaw, the great
lawyer.
The German lady did not know the address of
Mr. Shaw, but she knew there was a City Directory
in which the names of all the lawyers were
given, with their respective offices and residences.
She had no directory herself, but she
would go with her young friend to the corner
grocery where they had one, and help her find
the name she wanted.
Aided by the experience of the German lady
Mliss had no trouble in finding Mr. Shaw's address.
The grocery man kindly wrote the name
and address on a piece of paper which he gave
to Mliss.
The young girl thanked him, paid for her
breakfast, and returned to her retreat in the
sand hills to give the question the serious consideration
which its importance demanded.
