“Donu0027t make any mistake, Dell—he said,—about me. I donu0027t think thereu0027s anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like my girl any less. But if youu0027ll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first.”
White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an ecstatie seream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine crange to hysterical tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting powere of the lord of the flat.
For there lay The Combs—the set of combs, side and back, that Della had worshipped for long in a Brondway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with jewelled rims—just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were a pensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the tresses that should have adorned the coveted adormnents were gone.
But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up with dim eyes and a smile and say:“My hair grows so fast, Jim!\".
And then Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, “Oh, oh!”
Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to flash with a refleetion of her bright and ardent spirit.
“Isnu0027t it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. Youu0027ll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it.”
Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.
“Dell—said he,—letu0027s put our Christmas presents away and keepu0027em a while. Theyu0027re too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the moncy to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on.\"
The magi, as you know, were wise men—wonderfully wise men—who brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treastires of their house. But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest. Of all who give and receive gifts, such as they are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.
MAMMON AND THE ARCHER
Old anthony rockwall, retired manufacturer and proprietor of Rockwallu0027s Eureka Soap, looked out the library window of his Fifth Avenue mansion and grinned. His neighbor to the right—the aristocratic clubman, G.Van Schuylight SuffolkJones—came out to his waiting motorcar, wrinkling a contumelious nostril, as usual, at the Italian renaissance sculpture of the soap palaceu0027s front elevation.
“Stuckup old statuette of nothing doing! —commented the exSoap King.—The Eden Museeu0027ll get that old frozen Nesselrode yet if he donu0027t watch out. Iu0027ll have this house painted red, white, and blue next summer and see if thatu0027ll make his Dutch nose turn up any higher.\"
And then Anthony Rockwall, who never cared for bells went to the door of his library and shouted of the welkin on the Kansas prairies.
“Tell my son—said Anthony to the answering menial—to come in here before he leaves house.”
When young Rock wall entered the libriary the old man laid aside his newspaper, looked at him with a kindly grimness on his big, smooth, ruddy countenance, rumpled his mop of white hair with one hand and rattled the keys in his pocket with the other.
“Richard—said Anthony Rock wall, —what do you pay for the seep that you use?”
Richard, only six months home from college, was startled a little. He had not yet taken the measure of this sire of his, who was as full of unexpectedness as a girl at her first party.
“Six dollars a dozen. I think, dad.”
“And your clothes?”
“I suppose about sixty dollars, as a rule.”
“Youu0027re a gentleman—said Anthony, decidedly.—Iu0027ve heard of these young bloods spending 24 a dozen for soap, and going over the hundred mark for clothes. Youu0027ve got as much monny to wasteas any ofu0027em and yet you stick to whatu0027s decent and moderate. Now I use the old Eureka—not only for sentiment, but itu0027s the purest soap made. Whenever you pay more than 10 cents a cake for soap you buy bad perfumes and labels. But 50 cents is doing very well for a young man in your generation, position and condition. As I said, youu0027re gentleman. They say it takes three generations to make one. Theyu0027re off. Moneyu0027ll do it as slick as soap grease. Itu0027s made you one. By hokey! itu0027s almost made one of me. Iu0027m nearly as impolite and disagreeable and illmannered as these two old knickerbocker gents on each side of me that canu0027t sleep of nights because I bought in betweenu0027em.\"
“There are some things that money canu0027t accomplish,”remarked young Rockwall, rather gloomily.
“Now, donu0027t say that—said old Anthony, shocked.—I bet my money on money every time. Iu0027ve been through the encyclopedia down to Y looking for something you canu0027t buy with it; and I expect to have to take up the appendix next week. Iu0027m for money against the field. Tell me something money wonu0027t buy.”
“For one thing—answered Richard, rankling a little,—it wonu0027t buy one into the exciusive cireles of society.\"
“Oho! wonu0027t it?—thundered the champion of the root of evil.—You tell me where your exclusive cireles would be if the first Astor hadnu0027t had the money to pay for his steerage passage over?”
Richard sighed.
“And thatu0027s what I was coming to —said the old man, less boisterously,—Thatu0027s why I asked you to come in.
Thereu0027s something going wrong with you, boy. Iu0027ve been noticing it for two weeks. Out with it. I guess I could lay my hands on eleven millions within twentyfour hours, besides the real estate. If itu0027s your liver, thereu0027s the Rambler down in the bay, coaled and ready to steam down to the Bahamas in two days.\"
“Not a bad guess, dad; you havenu0027t missed it far.\"
“Ah,”said Anthony, keenly;“whatu0027s her name?”
Richard began to walk up and down the library floor. There was enough comrades ship and sympathy in this crude old father of his to draw his confidence.
“Why donu0027t you ask her?”demanded old Anthony. “Sheu0027ll jump at you. Youu0027ve got the money and the looks, and youu0027re a decent boy. Your hands are clean. Youu0027ve got no Eureka soap onu0027em. Youu0027ve been to college, but sheu0027ll overlook that.”
“I havenu0027t had a chance.”said Richard.
“Make one —said Anthony. —Take her for a walk in the park, or a straw ride, or walk home with her from church. Chance! Pshaw!”
“You donu0027t know the social mill, dad. Sheu0027s part of the stream that turns it. Every hour and minute of her time is arranged for days in advance. I must have that girl, dad, or this town is a blackjack swamp forevemore. And I canu0027t write it— I canu0027t do that.”
“Tut!—said the old man.—Do you mean to tell me that with all the money Iu0027ve got you canu0027t get an hour or two of a girlu0027s time for yourself?”
“Iu0027ve put it off too late. Sheu0027s going to sail for Europe at noon day after tomorrow for a two yearsu0027 stay. Iu0027m to see her alone tomorrow evening for a few minutes. Sheu0027s at Larchmont now at her auntu0027s. I canu0027t go there. But Iu0027m allowed to meet her with a cab at the Grand Central Station tomorrow evening at the 8∶30 train. We drive down Broadway to Wallacku0027s at a gallop, where her mother and a box party will be waiting for us in the lobby. Do you think she would listen to a declaration from me during that six or eight minutes under those eircumstances? No. And what chance would I have in the theatre or afterward? None. No, dad, this is one tangle that your money canu0027t unravel. We canu0027t buy one minute of time with cash: if we could, rich people would live longer. Thereu0027s no hope of getting a talk with Miss Lantry before she sails.”
“All right, Richard, my boy—said old Anthony, Cheerfully,—You may run along down to your club now. Iu0027m glad it ainu0027t your liver. But donu0027t forget to burn a few punk sticks in the joss house to the great god Mazuma from time to time. You say money wonu0027t buy time? Well, of course, you canu0027t order eternity wrapped up and delivered at your residence for a price, but Iu0027ve seen Father Time get pretty bad stone bruises on his heels when he walked through the gold diggings.”
That night came Aunt Ellen, gentle,sentimental, wrinkled, siging, oppressed by wealth, in to Brother Anthony at his evening paper, and began discourse on the subject of lovers woes.
“He told me all about it—said Brother Anthony. yawning.—I told him my bank account was at his service. And then he began to knock money. Said money couldnu0027t help. Said the rules of society couldnu0027t be bucked for a yard by a team of ten millionaires.”
“Oh, Anthony—sighed Aunt Ellen.—I wish you would not think so much of money. Wealth is nothing where a true affection is concerned. Love is all powerful. If he only had spoken earlier! She could not have retused our Richard. But now I fear it is too late. He will have no opportunity to address her. All your gold cannot bring happiness to your son.
At eight ou0027clock the next evening Aunt Ellen took a quaint old gold ring from a motheaten ease and gave it to Richard.
“Wear it tonight, nephew—she begged. —Your mother gave it to me. Good luck in love she said it brought. She asked me to give it to you when you had found the one you loved.”
Young Rockwall took the ring reverently and tried it on his smallest finger. It slipped as far as the second joint and stopped. He took it off and stuffed it into his vest pocket, after the manner of man. And then heu0027 phoned for his cab.
At the station he captured Miss Lantry out of the gabbing mob at eight thirtytwo.
“We mustnu0027t keep mamma and the others waiting,”said she.
“To Wallacku0027s Theatre as fast as you can drive!”said Richard, loyally.
They whirled up Fortysecond to Broadway, and then down the whitestarred lane that leads from the soft meadows of sunset to the rocky hills of morning.
At Thirtyfourth Street young Richard quickly thrust up the trap and ordered the cabman to stop.
“Iu0027ve dropped a ring—he apologized, as he climbed out.—It was my motheru0027s,and Iu0027d hate to lose it. I wonu0027t detain you a minute—I saw where it fell.”
In less than a minute he was back in the cab with the ring.
But within that minute a crosstown car had stopped directly in front of the cab. The cabman tried to pass to the left, but a dropped his reins and swore dutifully. He was blockaded in a tangled mess of vehicles and horses.
One of those street blockades had occurred that sometimes tie up commerce and movement quite suddenly in the big city.
“Why donu0027t you drive on?—said Miss Lantry, impatiently.—Weu0027ll be late.”
Richard stood up in the cab and looked around. He saw a congested flood of wagons, trucks, cabs, vans and street cars filling the vast space where Broadway, Sixth Avenue, and Thirtyfourth Street cross one another as a twentysix inch maiden fills her twentytwo inch girdle. And still from all the cross streets they were hurrying and rattling to ward the converging point at full speed, and hurling themselves into the straggling mass,locking wheels and adding their drivers imprecations to have jarmmed itself around them. The oldest New Yorker among the thousands of spectators that lined the sidewalks had not withessed a street blockade of the proportions of this one.
“Iu0027m very sorry,”said Richard, as the resumed his seat, “but it looks as if we are stuck. They wonu0027t get this jumble loosened up in an hour. It was my fault. If I hadnu0027t dropped the ring we——”
“Let me see the ring—said Miss Lantry.—Now that it canu0027t be helped, I donu0027t care. I think theatres are stupid, anyway.”
At 11 ou0027clock that night somebody tapped lightly on Anthony Rock wallu0027s door.
“Come in,”shouted Anthony, who was in a red dressing gown, reading a book of piratical adventures.
Somebody was Aunt Ellen, looking like a grayhaired angel that had been left on earth by mistake.
“Theyu0027re engaged, Anthony,”she said, softly. She has promised to marry our Richard. On their way to the theatre there was a street blockade, and it was two hours before their cab could get out of it.
“And oh, Brother Anthony,donu0027t ever boast of the power of money again. A little emblem of true love—a little ring that symbolized unending and unmercenary affection—was the cause of our Richard finding his happiness. He dropped it in the street, and got out to recover it. And before they could continue the blockade occurred. He spoke to his love and won her there while the cab was hemmed in. Money is dross compared with true love, Anthony.”
“All right—said old Anthony.—Iu0027m glad the boy has got what he wanted. I told him I wouldnu0027t spare any expense in the matter if——”
“But, Brother Anthony, what good could your money have done?”
“Sister—said Anthony Rockwall,—Iu0027ve got my pirate in a devil of a scrape. His ship has just been scuttled, and heu0027s too good a judge of the value of money to let drown. I wish you would let me go on with this chapter.”
The story should end here. I wish it would as heartily as you who read it wish it did. But we must go to the bottom of the well for truth.
The next day a person with red hands and a blue polkadot necktie, who called himself Kelly, called at Anthony Rock wallu0027s house, and was at once received in the library.
“Well—said Anthony, reaching for his checkbook,—it was a good bilinu0027 of soap. Letu0027s see —you had 5,000 in cash.”
“I paid out 300 more of my own—said Kelly. —I had to go a little above the estimate. I got the express wagons and cabs mostly for 5; but the trucks and twohorse teams mostly raised me to 10. The motormen wanted 10, and some of the loaded teams 20. The cops struck me hardest —50 I paid two, and the rest 20 and 25. But didnu0027t it work beautiful, Mr Rock wall? Iu0027m glad William A. braby wasnu0027t onto that little outdoor vehicle mob scene. I wouldnu0027t want William to break his heart with jealousy. And never a rehearsal, either! The boys was on time to the fraction of a second. It was two hours before a snake could get below Greeleyu0027s statue.”
“Thirteen hundred—here you are, Kelly—said Anthony, tearing off a check.—Your thousand, and the 300 you were out. You donu0027t despise money, do you, Kelly?”
“Me?—said Kelly. —I can lick the man that invented poverty.”
Anthony called Kelly when he was at the door.
“You didnu0027t notice—said he, —anywhere in the tieup, a kind of a fat boy without any clothes on shooting arrows around with a bow, did you?”
“Why, no,”said Kelly, mystified.“I didnu0027t. If he was like you say, maybe the cops pinched him before I got there.”
“I thought the little rascal wouldnu0027t be on hand—chuckled Anthony.—Goodby,Kelly.”
A BLACKJACK BARGAINER
The most disreputable thing in Yancey Goreeu0027s law office was Goree himself, sprawled in his creaky old armchair. The rickety little office, built of red brick ,was set flush with the street—the main street of the town of Bethel.
Bethel rested upon the foothills of the Blue Ridge. Above it the mountains were piled to the sky. Far below it the turbid Catawba gleamed yellow along its disconsolate valley.
The June day was at its sultriest hour. Bethel dozed in the tepid shade. Trade was not. It was so still that Goree, reclining in his chair, distinetly heard the clicking of the chips in the grandjury room, where the “courthouse gang”was playing poker. From the open back door of the office a wellworn path meandered across the grassy lot to the courthouse. The treading out of that path had cost Goree all he ever had —first in her itance of a few thousand dollars, next the old family home, and, latterly, the last shreds of his selfrespect and manhood. The “gang” had cleaned him out. The broken gambler had turned drunkard and parasite; he had lived to see this day come when the men who had stripped him denied him a seat at the game.His word was no longer to be taken. The daily bout at cards had arranged itself accordingly, and to him was assigned the ignoble part of the onlooker. The sheriff, the county clerk ,a sportive deputy, a gay attorney, and a chalkfaced man hailing “from the valley,”sat at table, and the sheared one was thus tacitly advised to go and grow more wool.
Soon wearying of his ostracism, Goree had departed for his office, muttering to himself as he unsteadily traversed the unlucky pathway. After a drink of corn whiskey from a demijohn under the table, he had flung himself into the chair, staring ,in a sort of maudlin apathy, out at the mountains immersed in the summer haze. The little white patch he saw away up on the side of Blackjack was Laurel, the village near which he had been born and bred. There, also, was the birthplace of the feud between the Gorees and the Coltranes. Now no direct heir of the Gorees survived except this plucked and singed bird of misfortune. To the Coltranes, also, but one male supporter was left—Colonel Abner Coltrane, a man of substance and standing, a member of the State Legislature and a contemporary with Goreeu0027s father. The feud had been a typical one of the region; it had left a red record of hate, wrong, and slaughter.
But Yancey Goree was not thinking of feuds. His befuddled brain was hopelessly attacking the problem of the future maintenance of himself and his favorite follies. Of late, old friends of the family had seen to it that he had where of to eat and a place to sleep, but whiskey they would not buy for him, and he must have whiskey. His law business was extinct; no case had been intrusted to him in two years. He had been a borrower and a sponge, and it seemed that if he fell no lower it would be from lack of opportunity. One more chance—he was saying to himself —if he had one more stake at the game, he thought he could win; but he had nothing left to sell, and his credit was more than exhausted.
He could not help smiling, even in his misery, as he thought of the man to whom ,six months before, he had sold the old Goree homestead. There had come from“back yanu0027”in the mountains two of the strangest creatures, a man named Pike Garvey and his wife. “Back yanu0027,”with a wave of the hand toward the hills, was understood among the mountaineers to designate the remotest fastnesses, the unplumbed gorges, the haunts of lawbreakers, the wolfu0027s den, and the boudoir of the bear. In the cabin far up on Black jacku0027s shoulder, in the wildest part of these retreats, this odd couple had lived for twenty years. They had neither dog nor children to mitigate the heavy silence of the hill. Pick Garvey was little known in the settlements, but all who had dealt with him pronounced him“crazy as a loon.”He acknowledged no occupation save that of a spuirrel hunter, but he“moonshined”occasionally by way of diversion. Once the “revenues”had draggted him from his lair, fighting silently and desperately like a terrier, and he had been sent to stateu0027s prison for two years. Released, he popped back into his hole like an angry weasel.
Fortune, passing over many anxious wooers, made a freakish flight into Blackjacku0027s bosky pockets to smile upon Pike and his faithful partner.
One day a party of spectacled, knickerbockered, and altogether absurd prospectors invaded the vicinity of the Garveys cabin Pike lifted his squirrel rifle off the hook and took a shot at them at long range on the chance of their being revenues. Happily he missed, and the unconscious agents of good luck drew nearer, disclosing their innocence of anything resembling law or justice. Later on, they offered the Garveys an enormous quantity of ready, green, crisp money for their thirtyacre patch of cleared land, mentioning, as an excuse for such a mad action, some irrelevant and inadequate nonsense about a bed of mica underlying the said property.
When the Garveys became possessed of so many dollars that they faltered in computing them, the deficiencies of life on Black jack began to grow prominent. Pike began to talk of new shoes, a hogshead of tobacco to set in the corner, a new lock to his rifle;and, leading Martella to a certain spot on the mountainside, he pointed out to her how a small cannon—doubtless a thing not beyond the scope of their fortune in price—might be planted so as to command and defent the sole accessible trail to the cabin, to the confusion of revenues and meddling strangers forever.
But Adam reckoned without his Eve. These things represented to him the applied power of wealth, but there slumbered in his dingy cabin an ambition that soared far above his primitive wants. Somewhere in Mrs Garveyu0027s bosom still survived a spot of femininity unstarved by twenty years of Blackjack. For so long a time the sounds in her ears had been the scalybarks dropping in the woods at noon, and the wolves singing among the rocks at night, and it was enough to have purged her vanities. She had grown fat and sad and yellow and dull. But when the means came, she felt a rekindled desire to assume the perquisites of her sex—to sit at tea tables; to buy inutile things; to white wash the hideous veracity of life with a little form and ceremony. So she coldly vetoed Pikeu0027s proposed system of fortifications, and announced that they would descend upon the world, and gyrate socially.
And thus, at length, it was decided, and the thing done. The village of Laurel was their compromise between Mrs Garveyu0027s preference for one of the large valley towns and Pikeu0027s hankering for primeval solitudes. Laurel yielded a halting round of feeble social distractions comportable with Martellau0027s ambitions, and was not entirely without recommendation to Pike, its contiguity to the mountains presenting advantages for sudden retreat in case fashionable society should make it advisable.
Their descent upon Laurel had been coincident with Yancey Goreeu0027s feverish desire to convert property into cash, and they bought the old Goree homestead, paying four thousand dollars ready money into spendthriftu0027s shaking hand.
Thus it happened that while the disreputable last of the Gorees spraw led in his disreputable office, at the end of his row, spurned by the cronies whom he had gorged, strangers dwelt in the halls of his fathers.
A cloud of dust was rolling slowly up the parched street, with something traveling in the midst of it. A little breeze wafted the cloud to one side, and a new, brightly painted carryall, drawn by a slothful gray horse, became visible. The vehicle deflected from the middle of the street as it neared Goreeu0027s office, and stopped in the gutter directly in front of his door.
On the front seat sat a gaunt, tall man, dressed in black broadcloth, his rigid hands incarcerated in yellow kid gloves. On the back seat was a lady who triumphed over the June heat. Her stout form was armored in a skintight silk dress of the description known as “changeable,”being a gorgeous combination of shifting hues. She sat erect, waving a muchornamented fan, with her eyes fixed stonily far down the street. However Martella Garveyu0027s heart might be rejoicing at the pleasures of her new life, Blackjack had done his work with her exterior. He had carved her countenance to the image of emptiness and inanity; had imbued her with the stolidity of his crags and the reserve of his hushed interiors. She always seemed to hear, whatever her surroundings were, the scalybarks falling and pattering down the mountainside. She could always hear the awful silence of Blackjack sounding through the stillest of nights.
Goree watched this solemn equipage, as it drove to his door, with only faint interest but when the lank driver wrapped the reins about his whip, and awkwardly descended, and stepped into the office, he rose unsteadily to receive him,recognizing Pike Garvey,the new, the transformed, the recently civilized.
The mountaineer took the chair Goree offered him. They who cast doubts upon Garveyu0027s soundness of mind had a strong witness in the manu0027s countenance. His face was too long, a dull saffron in hue, and immobile as a statueu0027s. Pale blue, unwinking round eyes without lashes added to the singularity of his gruesome visage.Goree was at a loss to account for the visit.
“Everything all right at Laurel, Mr Garvey? —he inquired. —Everything all right, sir, and mighty pleased is Missis Garvey and me with the property. Missis Garvey likes you0027old place, and she likes the neighborhood. Society is what sheu0027 lows she wants,and she is gettinu0027 of it. The Rogerses, the Hapgoods, the Pratts, and the Troys hew been to see Missis Garvey, and she hev et meals to most of thar houses. The best folks hev axed her to differu0027nt kinds of doinu0027s. I cyanu0027t say, Mr Goree, that sech things suits me—fur me, give me them thar.” Garveyu0027s huge yellowgloved hand flourished in the direction of the mountains.“Thatu0027s whar I bu0027long,u0027 mongst the wild honey bees and the bu0027ars. But that ainu0027t what I come fur to say, Mr Goree. Tharu0027s somethinu0027 you got what me and Missis Garvey wants to buy.”
“Buy!—echoed Goree.—From me?—Then he laughed harshly. —I reckon you are mistaken about that. I sold out to you, as you yourself expressed it, `lock, stock, and barrel,u0027 There isnu0027t even a ramrod ieft to sell.\"
“Youu0027ve got it; and weu0027uns want it. `Take the money—says Missis Garvey, —and buy it fau0027r and squaru0027.u0027\"
Goree shook his head. “The cupboardu0027s bare,” he said.
“Weu0027ve riz—pursued the mountaineer, undeflected from his object, —a heap. We was pore as possums, and now we could hev folks to dinner every day. We been recou0027nized, Missis Garvey says, by the best society. But thereu0027s somethinu0027we need we ainu0027t got. She says it ought to been put in theu0027 ventory ov the sale, but itu0027 tainu0027t thar.‘Take the money,then —she says, —and buy it fau0027r and squaru0027.u0027\"
“Out with it, ”said Goree, his racked nerves growing impatient.
Garvey threw his slouch hat upon the table,and leaned forward, fixing his unblinking eyes upon Goreeu0027s.
“Tharu0027s a old feud—he said, distinctly and slowly,—u0027tween youu0027uns and the Coltranes.\"
Goree frowned ominously. To speak of his feud to a feudist is a serious breach of the mountain etiquette. The man from “back yanu0027” knew it as well as the lawyer did.
“Na offense—he went on, —but purely in the way of business. Missis Garvey hev studied all about feuds. Most of the quality foks in the mountains Boyds, the Silers and the Galloways, hev all been cyarinu0027 on feuds fu0027om twenty to a hundred year. The last man to drap was wheny ou0027uncle, ledge Paisley Goree,u0027journed cou0027t and shot Len Coltrane fu0027om the bench. Missis Garvey and me, we come fu0027om the pou0027white trash. Nobody wouldnu0027t pick a feud with weu0027uns, no mou0027n with a famu0027ly of treetoads. Quality people everywhar, says Missis Garvey,—and buy Mr Gorceu0027s feud, fau0027r and squaru0027.u0027\"
The squirrel hunter straightened a leg half across the room, drew a roll of bills from his pocket, and threw them on the table.
“Tharu0027s two hundred dollars, Mr Goree, what you would call a fau0027r price for a feud thatu0027s beenu0027 lowed to run down like yourn hev. Tharu0027s only you left to cyaru0027on you0027 side of it, and youu0027d make mighty pou0027 killinu0027. Iu0027ll take it off you0027hands, and itu0027ll set me and Missis Garvey up among the quality. Tharu0027s the money.”
The little roll of currency on the table slowly untwisted itself, writhing and jumping as its folds relaxed. In the silence that followed Garveyu0027s last speech the rattling of the poker chips in the courthouse could be plainly heard. Goree knew that the sheriff had just won a pot, for the subdued whoop with which he always greeted a victory floated acrossthe square upon the crinkly heat waves. GBeads of moisture stood on Goreeu0027s brow. Stooping, he drew the wickercovered demijohn from under the table, and filled a tumbler from it.
“A little com liquor, Mr Garvey? Of course you are joking about—what you spoke of? Opens quite a new market, doesnu0027t it? Fends, prime, twofifty to three. Fends, slightly damaged— two hundred. I believe you said, Mr Garvey?”
Goree laughed selfconsciously.
The mountaineer took the glass Goree handed him, and drank the whiskey without a tremor of the lids of his staring eye. The lawyer applauded the feat by a look of envious admiration. He poured his own drink, and took it like a drunkard, by gulps, and with shudders at the smell and taste.
“Two hundred—repeated Garvey. —Tharu0027s the money.”
A sudden passion flared up in Goreeu0027s brain. He struck the table with his fist. One of the bills flipped over and touched his hand. He flinched as if something had stung him.
“Do you come to me — he shouted, —seriously with such a ridiculous, insulting, darnfool proposition? ”
“Itu0027s fau0027r and squaru0027,”said the squirrel hunter,but he reached out his hand as if to take back the money; and then Goree knew that his own flurry of rage had not been from pride or resentment, but from anger at himself, knowing that he would set foot in the deeper depths that were being opened to him. He turned in an instant from an outraged gentleman to an anxious chafferer recommending his goods.
“Donu0027t be in a hurry. Garvey—he said, his face crimson and his speech thick.— I accept your ppproposition, though itu0027s dirt cheap at two hundred. A ttradeu0027s all right when both ppurchaser and bbuyer are ssatisfied. Shall I wwrap it up for you. Mr Garvey?”
Garvey rose, and shook out his broadcloth. “Missis Garvey will be pleased. You air out of it, and it stands Coltrane and Garvey. Just a scrap ov writin,u0027 Mr Goree, you beinu0027a lawyer, to show we traded.”
Goree seized a sheet of paper and a pen. The money was clutched in his moist hand. Everything else suddenly seemed to grow trivial and light.
“Bill of sale, by all means. `Right, title, and interest in and tou0027...` forever warrant and ——’No, Garvey, weu0027ll have to leave out thatu0027 defend,u0027”said Goree with a loud laugh.“Youu0027ll have to defend this title yourself.”
The mountaineer received the amazing screed that the lawyer handed him, folded it with immense labor, and placed it carefully in his pocket.
Goree was standing near the window, “Step here— he said, raising his finger,—and Iu0027ll show you your recently purchased enemy. There hs goes, down the other side of the street.”
The mountaineer crooked his long frame to look through the window in the direction indicated by the other. Colonel Abner Coltrane, an erect, portly pentleman of about fifty wearing the inevitable long, doublebreasted frock coat afthe Southern lawmaker, and an old high silk had, was passing on the opposite sidewalk. As Garvey looked. Goree glanced at his face. If there be such a thing as a yellow wolf, here wasits counterpart. Garvey snarled as his unhuman eyes followed the moving figure, disclosing long ambercolored fangs.
“Is that him? Why, thatu0027s the man who sent me to the penu0027tentiary once!”
“He used to be district attorney—said Goree, carelessly. —And, by the way, heu0027s a firstclass shot.”
“I kin hit a squirrelu0027s eye at a hundred yard—said Garvey. —So that tharu0027s Coltrane! I made a better trade than I was thinkinu0027. Iu0027ll take keer ov this feud. Mr Goree, betteru0027n you ever did!”
He moved toward the door, but lingered there, betraying a slight perplexity.
“Anything else today?”inquired Goree with frothy sarcasm.“Any family traditions, ancestral ghosts, or skeletons in the closet? Prices as low as the lowest.”
“Thar was another thing—replied the unmoved squirrel hunter, —that Missis Garvey was thinkinu0027 of. `Tainu0027t so much in my line as tu0027other, but she wanted particu0027lar that I should inquire, and ef you was willinu0027, `pay fur it—she say, —fau0027r and squaru0027.u0027 Tharu0027 a buryinu0027 grounu0027, as you know, Mr Goree, in the yerd of you0027old place, under the cedars. Them that lies thar is you0027folks what was killed by the Coltranes. The monyments has the names onu0027em. Missis Garvey says a famu0027ly buryinu0027 grounu0027 is a shou0027 sign of quality. She says ef we git the feud, tharu0027s somethinu0027else ought to go with it. The names on them monyments is `Goree,u0027but they can be changed to ourn by——”
“Go! Go!”screamed Goree, his face turning purple. He stretched out both hands toward the mountaineer, his fingers hooked and both hands toward the mountaineer, his fingers hooked and shaking. “Go, you ghoul! Even a ChChinaman protects the ggraves of his ancestors—go!”
The squirrel hunter slouched out of the door to his carryall. While he was climbing over the wheel Goree was collecting, with feverish celerity, the money that had fallen from his hand to the floor. As the vehicle slowly turned about, the sheep with a coat of newly grown woo′, was hurrying, in indecent haste, along the path to the courthouse.
At three ou0027clock in the morning they brought him back to his office, shorn and unconscious. The sheriff, the sportive deputy, the county clerk, and the gay attorney carried him the chalkfaced man “from the valley”acting as escort.
“On the table,”said one of them, and they deposited him there among the litter of his unprofitable books and papers.
“Yance thinks a lot of a pair of deuces when heu0027s liquored up,”sighed the sheriff, reflectively.
“Too much _ said the gay attorney. —A man has no business to play poker who drinks as much as he does. I wonder how much he dropped tonight.\"
“Close to two hundred. What I wonder is whar he got it. Yance ainu0027t had a cent fur over a month, I know.”
“Struck a client, maybe. Well, letu0027s get home before daylight. Heu0027ll be all right when he wakes up, except for a sort of beehive about the cranium.”
The gang slipped away through the early morning twilight. The next eye to gaze upon the miserable Goree was the orb of day .He peered through the uncurtained window, first deluging the sleeper in a flood of faint gold, but soon pouring upon the mottled red of his flesh a searching, white, summer heat. Goree stirred, half unconsciously, among the tableu0027s debris, and turned his face from the window. His movement dislodged a heavy law book, which crashed upon the floor. Opening his eyes, he saw, bending over him, a man in a black frock coat. Looking higher, he discovered a well worn silk hat, and beneath it the kindly, smooth face of Colonel Abner Coltrane.
A little uncertain of the outcome,the colonel waited for the other to make some sign of recognition. Not in twenty years had male members of these two families faced each other in peace. Goreeu0027s eyes lids puckered as he strained his blurred sight toward his visitor, and then he smiled serenely.
“Have you brought Stella and Lucy over to play?”he said, calmly.
“Do you know me, Yancey?”asked Coltrane.
“Of course I do. You brought me a whip with a whistle in the end.”
So he had—twentyfour years ago; when Yancey father was his best friend.
Goreeu0027s eyes wandered about the room. The colone understood.“Lie still, and Iu0027ll bring you some,”said he There was a pump in the yard at the rear, and Goree close his eyes. listening with rapture so the click of its handle and the bubbling of the falling stream. Coltrane brought a pitcher of the cool water, and held it for him to drink. Presently Goree sat up—a most forlorn object. his summer suit of flax soiled and crumpled, his discredi table head tousled and unsteady. He tried to wave one of his hands toward the colonel.
“Exexcuse—everything, will you? —he said. —I must have drunk too much whiskey last night, and gone to bed on the table.\" His brows knitted into a puzzled frown.
“Out with the boys a while?”asked Coltrane, kindly.
“No, I went nowhere. I havenu0027t had a dollar to spend in the last two months. Struck the demijohn too often, I reckon, as usual.”
Colonel Coltrane touched him on the shoulder.
“A little while ago, Yancey—he began, —you asked me if I had brought Stella and Lucy over to play. You werenu0027t quite awake then, and must have been dreaming you were a boy again. You are awake now, and I want you to listen to me. I have come from Stella and Lucy to their old playmate, and to my old friendu0027s son. They know that I am going to bring you home with me, and you will find them as ready with a welcome as they were in the old days. I want you to come to my house and stay until you are yourself again, and as much longer as you will. We heard of your being down in the world,and in the midst of temptation, and we agreed that you should comem over and play at our house once more. Will you come, my boy? Will you drop our old family trouble and come with me?\"
“Trouble!—said Gorce, opening his eyes wide.—There was never any trouble between us that I know of.Iu0027m sure weu0027ve always beenthe best of friends.But, good Lord, Colonel,how could I go to your home as I am-a drunken wretch.a miserable. degraded spendthrift and gambler—\"
He lurched from the table to his armchair, and began to weep maudlin tears.mingled with genuine drops of remorse and shame. Coltrane talked to him persistently and reasonably, reminding him of the simple mountain pleasures of which he had once been so fond. and insisting upon the genuineness of the invitation.
Finally he landed Goree by telling him he was counting upon his help in the engineering and transportation of a large amount of felled timber from a high mountainside to a waterway. He knew that Goree had once invented a device for this purpose-a series of slides and chutes-upon which he had justly prided himself.In an instant the poor fellow.delighted at the idea of his being of use to any one, had paper spread upon the table, and was drawing rapid but pitifully shaky lines in demonstration of what he could and would do.
The man was sickened of the husks: his prodigat heart was turning again toward the mountains. His mind was yet strangely elogged, and his thoughts and memories were returning to his brain one by one,like carrier pigeons over a stormy sea.But Coltrane was satisfied with the progress he had made.
Bethel received the surprise of its existence that afternoon when a Coltrane and a Goree rode amicably together through the town.Side by side they rode, outfrom the creek bridge, and washed and combed himself to a more decent figure, but he was unsteady in the saddle, and he seemed to be deep in the contemplation of some vexing problem. Coltrane left him in his mood relying upon the influence of changed surroundings to restore his equilibriun.
Once Goree was seized with a shaking fit. and almost came to a collapse. He had to dismount and rest at the side of the road. The colonel. foreseeing such a condition. had provided a small flask of whiskey for the journey but when it was offered to him Goree refused it almost with violence, declaring he would never touch it again. By and by he was recovered,and went quietly enough for a mile or two. Then he pulled up his horse suddenly. and said:
“I lost two hundred dollars last night,playing toker. Now. where did I get that money?\"
“Take it easy. Yancey. The mountam air will soon clear it up.Weu0027ll go fishing. first thing,at the Pinnacle Falls. The trout are jumping there like bullfrogs. Weu0027ll take Stella and Lucy along, and have a picnic on Eagle Rock.Have you forgotten how a hickory-cured-ham sandwich tastes, Yancey, to a hungry fisherman?\"
Evidently the colonel didnot believe the story of his lost wealth; so Goree retired again into brooding silence.
By late afternoon they had traveled ten of the twelve miles between Bethel and Laurel.Half a mile this side of Laurel lay the old Goree place; a mile or two beyond the village lived the Coltranes. The road was now steep and laborious, but the compensations were many. The tilted aisles of the forest were opulent with leaf and bird and bloom. The tonic air put to shame the pharmacopaeia. The glades were dark with mossy shade, and bright with shy rivulets winking from the ferns and laurels. On the lower side they viewed, framed in the near foliage, exquisite Coltrane was pleased to see that his companion was yielding to the spell of the hills and woods.For now they had but to skirt the base of Painteru0027s Cliff: to cross Elder Branch and mount the hill beyond and Goree would have to face the squandered home of his fathers. Every rock he passed, every tree, every foot of the roadway,was familiar to him.Though he had forgotten the woods, they thrilled him like the music of“Home. Sweet Home\".
They rounded the cliff. descended into Elder Branch. and paused there to let the horses drink and splash in the swift water. On the right was a rail fence that comered there, and followed the road and stream. Inclosed by it was the old apple orchard of the home place: the house was yet concealed by the brow of the steephill. Inside and along the fence,pokebrries. elders,sassafras, and srmac grew high and dense. At a rustle of their branches, both Goree and Coltrane glanced up,and saw a long, yellow,wolfish face above the fence, staring at them with pale,unwinking eyes. The head quickly disappeared; there was a violent swaying of the bushes, and an ungainly figure ran up through the apple orchard in the direction of the house zig-zagging among the trees.
“Thatu0027s Garvey-said Coltrane:-the man you sold out to. Thereu0027s no doubt but heu0027s considerably crached. I had to send him up for moonshining once, several years ago, in spite of the fact that I believed him irresponsible. Why, whatu0027s the matter, Yancey?\"
Goree was wiping his forehead, and his face had lost its color, “Do I look queer, too?-he asked, trying to smile.-Iu0027m just remembering a few more things.-some of the alcohol had evaporated from his brain.-I recollect now where I got that two hundred dollars.\"
“Donu0027t think of it-said Coltrane, cheerfully.-Later on weu0027ll figure it all out together.\"
They rode out of the branch, and when they reached the foot of the hill Goree stopped again.
“Did you ever suspect I was a very vain kind of fellow, Colonel?-he asked.-Sort of foolish proud about appearances?\"
The colonelu0027s eyes refused to wander to the soiled, sagging suit of flax and the faded slouch hat.
“Itu0027s seems to me-he replied,mystified. but humoring him,-I remember a young buck about twenty, with the tightest coat, the sleekest hair, and the prancingest saddle horse in the Blue Ridge.\"
“Right you are-said Goree, eagerly.-And itu0027s in me yet, though it donu0027t show. Oh, Iu0027m as vain as a turkey gobbler, and as proud as Lucifer. Iu0027m going to ask you to indulge this weakness of mine in a little matter.\"
“Speak out, Yancey. Weu0027ll create you Duke of Laurel and Baron of Blue Ridge, if you choose; and you shall have a feather out of Stellau0027s speacocku0027s tail to wear in your hat.\"
“Iu0027m in earnest. In a few minutes weu0027ll pass the house up there on the hill where I was born, and where my people have lived for nearly a century. Strangers live there now-and look at me! I am about to show myself to them ragged and poverty stricken, a wastrel and a beggar. Colonel Coltrane, Iu0027m ashamed to do it.I want you to let me wear your coat and hat until we are out of sight beyond.I know you think it a foolish pride, but I want, to make as good a showing as I can when I pass the old place.\"
“Now, what does this mean?\" said Coltrane to himself, as he compared his compaionu0027s sane looks and quiet demeanor with his strange request. But he was already unbuttoning the coat, assenting readily, as if the fancy were in no wise to be considered strange.
The coat and hat fitted Goree well. He buttoned the former about him with a look of satisfaction and dignity. He and Coltrane were hearly the same size-rather tall, protly, and erect. Twenty-five years were between them, but in appearance they might have been brothers. Goree looked older than his age; his face was puffy and lined; the colonel bad the smooth, fresh complexion of a temperate liver. He put on Goreeu0027s disreputable old flax coat and faded slouch hat.
“Now-said Goree, taking up the reins,-Iu0027m all right. I want you to ride about ten feet in the rear as we go by, Colonel, so that they can get a good look at me. Theyu0027ll see Iu0027m no back number yet, by any means. I guess Iu0027ll show up pretty well to them once more, anyhow. Letu0027s ride on.\"
He set out up the hill at a smart trot, the colonel following, as he had been requested.
Goree sat straight in the saddle, with head erect, but his eyes were turned to the right, sharply scanning every shrub and fence and hiding-place in the old homestead yard. Once he muttered to himself,“Will the crazy fool try it, or did I dream half of it?\"
It was when he came opposite the little family burying ground that he saw what he had been looking for-a puff of white smoke, coming from the thick cedars in one corner. He toppled so slowly to the left that Coltrane had time to urge his horse to that side, and catch him with one arm.
The squirrel hunter had not overpraised his aim. He had sent the bullet where he intended, and where Goree had expected that it would pass-through the breast of Colonel Abner Coltraneu0027s black frock coat.
Goree leaned heavily against Coltrane,but he did not fall. The horses kept pace,side by side, and the colonelu0027s arm kept him steady. The little white houses of Laurel shone through the trees, half a mile away.Goree reached out one hand and groped until it rested upon Coltraneu0027s fingers, which held his bridle.
“Good friend,\" he said, and that was all.
Thus did Yancey Goree, as he rode past his old home, make, considering all things, the best showing that was in his power.
A LICKPENNY LOVER
There were 3,000 girls in the Biggest Store. Masie was one of them. She was eighteen and a saleslady in the gentsu0027 gloves. Here she became versed in two varieties of human beings-the kind of gents who buy their gloves in department stores and the kind of women who buy gloves for unfortunate gents. Besides this wide knowledge of the human species, Masic had acquired other information.She had listened to the promulgated wisdom of the 2,999 other girls and had stored it in a brain that was as secretive and wary as that of a Maltese cat. Perhaps nature, foreseeing that she would lack wise counsellors, had mingled the saving ingredient of shrewdness along with her beauty. as she has endowed the silver fox of the priceless fur above the other animals with cunning.
For Masie was beautiful. She was a deep-tinted blonde, with the calm poise of a lady who cooks butter cakes in a window. She stood behind her counter in the Biggest Store; and as you closed your hand over the tape-line for your glove measure you thought of Hebe; and as you looked again you wondered how she had come by Minervau0027s eyes.
When the floorwalker was not looking Masie chewed tutti frutti; when he was looking she gazed up as if at the clouds and smiled wistfully.
That is the shopgirl smile, and I enjoin you to shun it unless you are well fortified with callosity of the heart, caramels, and a congeniality for the capers of Cupid. This smile belonged to Masieu0027s recreation hours and not to the store; but the floorwalker must have his own. He is the Shylock of the stores. When he comes nosing around the bridge of the stores. When he comes nosing around the bridge of his nose is a toll-bridge.It is goo-goo eyes or “git\" when he looks toward a pretty girl. Of course not all floorwalkers are thus. Only a few days ago the papers printed news of one over eighty years of age.
One day Irving Carter, painter, millionaire.traveller, poet, automobilist, happened to enter the Biggest Store. It is due to him add that his visit was not voluntary. Filial duty took him by the collar and dragged him inside. while his mother philandered among the bronze and terra-cotta statuettes.
Carter strolled across to the glove counter in order to shoot a few minutes on the wing. His need for gloves was genuine; he had forgotten to bring a pair with him. But his action hardly calls for apology, because he had never heard of glovecounter flirtations.
As he neared the vicinity of his fate he hesitated, suddenly conscious of this unknown phase of Cupidu0027s less worthy profession.
Three or four cheap fellows. sonorously garbed, were leaning over the counters, wrestling with the mediatorial hand-coverings, while giggling girls played vivacious seconds to their lead upon the strident string of coquetry. Carter would have retreated, but he had gone too far.Masie confronted him behind her counter with a questioning look in eyes as coldly, beautifully, warmly blue as the glint of summer sun shine on an iceberg drifting in Southern seas.
And then lrving Carter, painter,millionaire, etc, felt a warm flush rise to his aristocratically pale face. But not from diffidence. The blush was intellectual in origin. He knew in a moment that he stood in the ranks of the ready-made youths who wooed the giggling girls at other counters. Himself leaned against the oaken trysting girls at other counters.Himself leaned against the oaken trysting place of a cockney Cupid with a desire in his heart for the favor of a glove salesgirl. He was no more than Bill and Jack and Mickey. And then he felt a sudden tolerance for them, and an elating, courageous contempt for the conventions upon which he had fed, and an unhesitating determination to have this perfect creature for his own.
When the gloves were paid for and wrapped Carter lingered fr a moment. The dimples at the cornrs of Masieu0027s damask mouth deepened. All gentlemen who bought gloves lingered in just that way. She curved an arm, showing like Psycheu0027s through her shirt-waist sleeve, and rested an elbow upon the show-case edge.
Carter had never before encountered a situation of which he had not been perfect master. But now he stood far more awkward than Bill of Jack of Mickey. He had no chance of meeting this beautiful girl socially. His mind struggled to recall the nature and habits of shopgirls as he had read of heard of them. Somehow he had received the idea that they sometimes did not insist too strictly upon the regular channels of introduction. His heart beat loudly at the thought of proposing an unconventional meeting with this lovely and virginal being. But the tumult in his heart gave him courage.
After a few friendly and well-received remarks on general subjects, he laid his card by her hand on the counter.
“Will you please pardon me-he said,-if I seem too bold; but I earnestly hope you will allow me the pleasure of seeing you again. There is my name; I assure you that it is with the greatest respect that I ask the favor of becoming one of your fr—acquaintances. May I not hope for the privilege?\"
Masie knew men—especially men who buy gloves. Without hesitation she looked him frankly and smilingly in the eyes, and said:
“Sure, I guess youu0027re all right. I donu0027t usually go out with strange gentlemen, though. It ainu0027t quite ladylike. When should you want to see me again?\"
“As soon as I may—said Carter.—If you would allow me to call at your home, I—\"
Masie laughed musically. “Oh, gee,no!—she said.emphatically.—If you could see our flat once! Thereu0027s five of us in three rooms.Iu0027d just like to see mau0027s face if I was to bring a gentleman friend there!\"
“Anywhere, then—said the enamored Carter,-that will be convenient to you.\"
“Say-suggested Masie, with a bright-idea look in her pearch-blow face;—I guess Thursday night will about suit me. Suppose you come to the corner of Eighth Avenue and Forty-eighth Street at 7:30. I live right near the corner.But Iu0027ve got to be back home by eleven. Ma never lets me stay out after eleven.\"
Carter promised gratefully to keep the tryst, and then hastened to his mother, who was looking about for him to ratify her purchase of a bronze Diana.
A salesgirl, with small eyes and an obtuse nose, strolled near Masie, with a friendly leer.
“Did you make a hit with his nobs, Masie?\" she asked, familiarly.
“The gentleman asked permission to call,\" answered Masie, with the grand air, as she slipped Carteru0027s card into the bosom of her waist.
“Permission to call!—echoed small eyes, with a snigger.—Did he say anything about dinner in the Waldorf and a spin in his auto afterward?\"
“oh, cheese it!—said Masie, wearily.—Youu0027ve been used to swell things, I donu0027t think. Youu0027ve had a swelled head ever since that hose-cart driver took you out to a swelled head ever since that hose-cart driver took you out to a chop suey joint. No, he never mentioned the Waldorf; but thereu0027s a Fifth Avenue address on his card, and if he buys the supper you can bet your life there wonu0027t be no pigtail on the waiter what takes the order.\"
As Carter glided away from the Biggest Store with his mother in his electric runabout, he bit his lip with a dull pain at his heart. He knew that love had come to him for the first time in all the twenty-nine years of his life.And that the object of it should make so readily an appointment with him at a street corner, though it was a step toward his desires, tortured him with misgivings.
Carter did not know the shopgirl. He did not know that her home is often either a scarcely habitable tiny room or a domicile filled to overflowing with kith and kin.The street corner is her parlor, the park is her drawing room; the avenuc is her garden walk; yet for the most part she is as inviolate mistress of herself in them as is my lady inside her tapestried chamber.
One evening at dusk, two weeks after their first meeting. Carter and Masie strolled arm-in-arm into a little, dimly-lit park. They found a bench, tree-shadowed and sectuded, and sat there.
For the first time his arm stole gently around her. Her golden-bronze head slid restfully against his shoulder.
“Gee!—sighed Masie, thankfully.—why didnu0027t you ever think of that before?\"
“Masie—said Carter, earnestly,—you surely know that I love you.I ask you sincerely to marry me.You know me well enough by this time to have no doubts of me. I want you, and I must have you. I care nothing for the difference in our stations.\"
“What is the difference?\" asked Masie, curiously.
“Well, there isnu0027t any—said Carter, quickly.—except in the minds of foolish people. It is in my power to give you a life of luxury. My social position is beyond dispute, and my means are ample.\"
“They all say that—remarked Masie.—Itu0027s the kid they all give you. I suppose you really work in a delicatessen or follow the races. I ainu0027t as green as I look.\"
“I can furnish you all the proofs you want—said Carter, gently.—And I want you, Masie. I loved you the first day I saw you.\"
“They all do—said Masie, with an amused laugh.—to hearu0027em talk. If I could meet a man that got stuck on me the third time heu0027d seen me I think Iu0027d get mashed on him.\"
“Please donu0027t say such things—pleaded into your eyes you have been the only woman in the world for me.\"
“Oh, ainu0027t you the kidder!—smiled Masie.—How many other girls did you ever tell that?\"
But Carter persisted. And at length he reached the flimsy, fluttering little soul of the shopgirl that existed somewhere deep down in her lovely bosom. His words penetrated the heart whose very lighness was its safest armor. She looked up at him with eyes that saw. And a warm glow visited her cool cheeks. Tremblingly, awfully, her moth wings closed, and she seemed about to settle upon the flower of love. Some faint glimmer of life and its possibilities on the other side of her glove counter dawned upon her. Carter felt the change and crowded the opportunity.
“Marry me, Masie—he whispered, softly,—and we will go away from this ugly city to beautiful ones. We will forget work and business, and life will be one long holiday. I know where I should take you—I have been there often.Just think of a shore where summer is eternal,where the waves are always rippling on the lovely beach and the people are happy and free as children. We will sail to those shores and remain there as long as you please. In one of those faraway cities there are grand and lovely palaces and towers full of beautiful pictures and statues. The streets of the city are water, and one travels about in—\"
“I know—said Masie, sitting up suddenly.—Gondolas.\"
“Yes,\" smiled Carter.
“I thought so,\" said Masie.
“And then—continued Carter,—we will travel on and see whatever we wish in the world. After the European cities we will visit India and the ancient cities there, and ride on elephants and see the wonderful temples of the Hindoos and the Brahmins and the Japanese gardens and the camel trains and charion races in Persia, and all the queer sights of foreign countries. Donu0027t you think you would like it, Masie?\"
Masie rose to her feet.
“I think we had better be going home—she said, coolly.—Itu0027s getting late.\"
Carter humored her.He had come to know her varying, thistle-down moods, and that it was useless to combat them. But he felt a certain happy triumph. He had held for a moment, though but by a silken thread. the soul of his wild Psyche, and hope was stronger within him. Once she had folded her wings and her cool hand had closed about his own.
At the Biggest Store the next day Masieu0027s chum, Lulu, waylaid her in an angle of the counter.
“How are you and your swell friend making it?\" she asked.
“Oh,him?—said Masie, patting her side curls.—He ainu0027t in it any more. Say, Lu,what do you think that fellow wanted me to do ?\"
“Go on the stage?\" guessed Lulu,beathlessly.
“Nit; heu0027s too cheap a guy for that. He wanted me to marry him and go down to Coney Island for a wedding tour!\"
Comprehension Questions
1.How much has Della been able to save?
2.How has she saved this money?
3.Why do her cheeks burn when she deals with shopdeepers?
4.Why does she cry after she counts the money she has saved?
5.What kind of flat do they have?
6.How much does Jim earn now?
7.Why do you think the letters of the word“Dillingham\" look ready to contract?
8.What impression is given by “she looked out dully at a gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard\"? Why do you think “gray\" is repeated?
9.Why hasnu0027t she been able to save more?
10.What kind of present does she want to buy for Jim?
11.Why does a person have to be slim and agile to see himselff or herself in the Youngsu0027 mirror?
12.What are the possessions in which the Youngs take so much pride? Why?
13.Why do you think Della cried a little before going out?
14.What kind of business does Mme Sofronie do?
15.How does Della obtain the twenty dollars?
16.What does she do as soon as she has the money?
17.Why is the fob chain“worthy\" of the watch?
18.What is meat by “Quietness and value-the description applied to both\"?
19.What is meat by “With that chain on his watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company\"?
20.Why does Jim sometimes look at his watch “on the sly\"?
21.Why is “repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love\" a “mammoth task?\"
22.What does she look like after her work with the curling irons?
23.What do you think a “Coney Isiand chorus girl\" looks like?why might Jim not be pleased?
24.How does Della feel while waiting for Jim?
25.What, in Jimu0027s appearance, shows the Youngs have not much money?
26.How does Jim react when he sees Della?
27.How does Della expect him to teact? Why is she surprised?
28.Why does the writer invite his readers to “regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in the other direction\"?
29.What is meant by“if youu0027ll unwrap that package you may see why you had me going a while at first\"?
30.How does Della react on seeing the combs?
31.What is Jimu0027s reaction when he sees his present? What does he suggest they should do? Why?
32.Who were the Magi?
33.Why does the writer affirm “let it be said that of all who give gifts these two were the wisest\"?
MAMMON AND THE ARCHER
1.How has Anthorny Rockwall made his fortune?
2.Why does he grin at the sight of his neighbour?
3.Why does he think his neighbour belongs in a museum?
4.What is meant by “Iu0027ll have this house painted red, white, and bule next summer and see if thatu0027ll make his Dutch nose turn up any higher\"? Does he really intend to paint his house?
5.What kind of man do you think Rockwall is?
6.What is meant by “He had not yet taken the measure of this sire of his\"? Why not?
7.What makes Rockwall decide his son is a gentleman?
8.What does Rockwall think of expensive soap?
9.What, in Rockwallu0027s opinion, can make a gentleman?
10.On what grouds does Rockwall think he, himself,is“almost\" a gentleman?
11.Why does he think the “two old knickerbocker gents on each side\" canu0027t sleep at night?
12.What is young Rockwallu0027s opinion of money?
13.What does Rockwall think money can do?
14.What is meant by “You tell me where your exclusive circles would be if the first Astor hadnu0027t had the money to pay for his steerage passage over\"? What does this tell you about the first Astor?
15.What does Rockwall think may be wrong with his son at first?
16.Why does Rockwall say“Sheu0027ll jump at you\" when his son admits heu0027s in love?
17.What is the difficulty in the way of young Rockwallu0027s love affair?
18.Where and when is the girl going?
19.How much time has young Rockwall got with her before she leaves?
20.What is meant by “We canu0027t buy one minute of time with cash; if we could, rich people would live longer\"?
21.Does Rockwall agree with his sonu0027s opinion on time and money?
22.Why do you think Aunt Ellen is “opressed by wealth\"?
23.What is Aunt Ellenu0027s opinion of money and love?
24.What is meant by “All your gold cannot bring happiness to your son\"?
25.Why does Aunt Ellen give him the ring?
26.Why does he put the ring in his pocket?
27.How do Richard and Miss Lantry travel to Wallacku0027s theatre?
28.Why does Richard stop the cab?
29.What happens during the minute Richard is picking up the ring?
30.What happens during the street blockade?
31.Why does Anthony Rockwall object to being disturbed that evening?
32.What part does Kelly play in the street blockade?
33.Why does Kelly go to see Rockwall?
34.Why do you think Rockwall asks Kelly if he has seen “a kind of a fat boy without any clothes on shooting arrows around with a bow\"?
A BLACKJACK BARGAINER
1.What kind of place is Bethel? Where is it?
2.What do the words “sprawled\",“creaky\" and“rickety\" tell you about Goree and his office?
3.Why can Goree hear the noise of the chips in the grand-jury room?
4.What is meant by “The treading of that path had cost Goree all he ever had\"?
5.What is meant by “The broken gambler had turned drundard and parasite\"?
6.What is the final humiliation as far as Goree is concerned?
7.What does Goree do after being excluded from the game?
8.What is meant by “Now no direct heir of the Gorees survived except this plucked and singed bird of misfortune\"?
9.What is the difference between the only descendent of the Gorees and the only descendent of the Collranes?
10.Why are there only these two descendents of the two familes?
11.What is Groee thinking about on that sultry atternoon?
12.How has he been living since he lost all his money? What is his problem?
13.What is meant by “if he fell no lower it would be from lack of opportunity\"?
14.Why does he smile when he remembers the people who bought his homestead?
15.Where and what is “Back yan\"?
16.What kind of man is Pike Garvey?
17.How does Rike live?
18.What is meant by “Fortune, passing over many anxious wooers,made a treakish flight into Blackjaoku0027s bosky pockets to smife upon Pike and his faithful partner\"?
19.What does Pike do when he first sees the prospectors? Why?
20.What does Pike want to do with the money?
21.What does Pikeu0027s wife decide to do with the money? Why?
22.How does Laurel represent a “compromise\"?
23.Describe Pike and his wife.
24.What contacts have the Garverys had with“society\"? Are they satisfied?
25.Why does Goree frown “ominously\" when Pike speaks of his feud?
26.Why does Pike think that nobody would pick a feud with them? Why does he want Goreeu0027s?
27.How does Goree react towards Pikeu0027s other to buy his frud?
28.What is meant by“Goree knew that his own flurry of rage had not been from pride and resentment, but from anger at himself,knowing that he would set foot in the deeper depths that were being opened to him\"?
29.Describe Colonel Abner Collrane.
30.Why is Pike pleased when Goree points Coltane out to him?
31.What other thing does Pike want to buy“fau0027r and squar\"?
32.What is Goreeu0027s reaction to this?
33.What happens to the two hundred dollars?
34.In what state is Goree the next morning? What shows this?
35.Why has Cltrane come to see Goree?
36.How does Coltrane persuade Goree to go with him?
37.What is the countryside like?
38.When does Goreeu0027s memory begin to return? What makes him remember everything?
39.How does Goree persuade Coltrane to change hats and coats with him?
40.What happens?
41.What is meant by “Thus did Yancey Goree...make, considering all things, the best showing that was in his power\"?
A LICKPENNY LOVER
1.Describe Masieu0027s appearance and character.
2.How does lving Carter come to meet Masie?
3.Why does lving Carter blush?
4.Why is Carter “far more awkward than Bill of Jack or Mickey\"?
5.Why doesnu0027t Masie want him to call at her home?
6.Whatu0027s meant by“Youu0027ve been used to swell things, I donu0027t think\"?
7.Why is Carter shocked despite himself by Masleu0027s acceptance of his invitation without hesitation?
8.Why is it normal for a shopgirl to meet somebody on the street?
9.Why canu0027t Carter understand this fact?
10.Does Masie talk Carteru0027s proposal of mamiage seriously? Why? Why not?
11.What is meant by “at length he teached the flimsy, fluttering little soul of the shopgirl\"?
12.What is meant by “the heart whose very lightness was its safest armor\"?
13.Where does Carter prpose to take her?
14.What is meant by “He had come to know her varying, thistledown moods, and that it was useless to combat them\"?
15.Why does Masie decide to finish with Carter?
16.What do you think caused the misunderstanding?
內容梗概
麥琪的禮物
紐約一套周租八美元的公寓房裏，年輕的主婦德拉跌坐在破舊的沙發裏啜泣著。桌子上是分分角角的零錢，總共一元八角七分。隻有這些了，德拉已數過三遍了，而且這還是她省吃儉用了幾個月積攢起來的——丈夫每周二十美元的工資的確不大夠用。可明天就是聖誕節了，這麼點錢又能買什麼禮物呢?
漸漸地，德拉止住了抽泣，走向穿衣鏡前。突然她眼前一亮，但同時臉上卻失去了血色。她望著鏡中自己那瀑布般的棕色長發，淚水再一次濺落在破舊的地毯上。對於吉姆和德拉來說，有兩樣東西令他們引以自豪，一個吉姆祖傳的金表，另一個便是德拉的滿頭秀發。遲疑了片刻之後，德拉將頭發盤起，穿上破舊的外套，戴上帽子，奔出門去。
不一會兒，德拉便攥著二十美元，穿梭在各家商店，為吉姆挑選禮物了。最後她選中了一條漂亮的表鏈來配他的金表。
七點鍾左右，吉姆下班回到家。一推開門，他便驚呆在門口，眼睛緊盯著德拉的短發，臉上呈現出一種古怪的表情。一直坐在桌前等候的德拉一邊仰向丈夫，一邊解釋著，而吉姆卻隻是困惑不解的追問：“你把頭發剪了?!” 隨後，他從大衣口袋裏掏出一個包裹，放在桌上。那是他送給妻子的聖誕禮物——一套昂貴的玳瑁梳子!可是他哪來這麼多的錢呢?原來他把自己的金表賣了!
財神與愛神
退休的肥皂大王安東尼·羅克華爾沒受過什麼教育，但令他引以自豪的是自己白手起家，創下了一份很大的家業。用他自己的話說，“有了錢就好辦。它幾乎使我成了個上流人物。”對此，他的兒子理查德卻不以為然。在理查德看來，金錢不是萬能的——金錢買不到時間，也換不來愛情。
理查德的這一看法立刻博得了艾倫姑媽的讚同。當她聽說侄子愛上了一位周旋於社交界的美麗姑娘蘭特小姐卻又苦於沒有時間和機會向她表白心跡時，馬上送來了一枚式樣古樸的金戒指，並特別說明這是理查德的媽媽去世前托她轉交的，能夠給情人帶來好運和幸福。但是戒指太小了，理查德沒能戴上，便隨手把它放入了馬夾口袋，隨後便出發去車站，接剛剛從拉奇蒙的姨媽家作客歸來的蘭特小姐去劇院看戲。
在他們乘馬車去劇院的路上，理查德突然發現戒指掉了，便立刻讓車夫停車，他下車去找。誰知他們這一停車卻引起了一場交通阻塞。足足耽擱了兩個小時。這漫長的兩個小時中發生了什麼事呢?
當晚十一時，艾倫姑媽興衝衝地跑來告訴安東尼：“他們訂婚了!……”
故事到此本該結束了吧?可是第二天一個名叫凱利的人來到安尼東的書房向他報帳。報什麼帳?原來那場交通阻塞是他奉安東尼之命雇人製造的!
黑桷的買主
在貝瑟爾鎮開辦律師事務所的揚西·戈裏出生於、成長於黑桷山邊的月桂村，那裏也是戈裏和科爾特蘭兩家世仇的發源地。現如今這兩大家族卻隻剩下了一位男性後代——揚西·戈裏和艾布納·科爾特蘭少校。少校是州議會的議員，有錢有勢；而揚西卻由於賭博、酗酒成性幾乎輸掉了自己所有的一切——遺產、房宅、甚至自尊心。
六個月前，揚西不得已將自家的老宅賣給了“山那邊來的”派克·加維夫婦。他們之所以買得起是因為他們原先所居住的地方發現了雲母礦，探礦隊高價買下了他們的三十畝開墾地。派克沒有正當的職業，但槍法卻很好，以打鬆鼠為營生，並曾因販私酒而坐過兩年牢。
這一天，當揚西在自己的事務所裏醉意正濃時，派克·加維再次來訪。當他說明來意——要買戈裏家同科爾特蘭家的世仇，以便成為“上流人”——時，揚西心頭火起。但是一看到那二百塊錢，………
當揚西把加維“新買到的”仇人指給他看時，加維驚呼，“原來是他!?”
加維走後，揚西迫不及待地奔向賭場……清晨三時，他被抬回事務所。第二天醒來時，他所看到的是科爾特蘭少校和氣光潤的麵孔。此時揚西混亂不清的腦海中憶起的卻不是兩家的世仇，而是小時候自己同少校的女兒們一起嬉戲的場麵。當少校再三墾請他幫忙搞個設計，把一大批砍伐好的木材從高山邊運到水道時，他同意了。兩人馬上前往月桂村。然而，馬背上的顛簸卻令揚西突然記起了昨晚發生的一切……路過戈裏家老宅時，他們停下來稍事休息，瞥見了林中加維窺視的眼睛。
再次上馬後，揚西提出要與少校換穿衣服，以免在舊日的朋友鄰居麵前丟人現眼，少校同意了……
吝嗇的情人
芳齡十八的梅西姑娘美麗超群而且聰明機靈，是一家大百貨公司男式手套櫃台的售貨員。遺憾的是，梅西家境貧寒卻又虛榮心極強。她看不起那些同她一起站櫃台的姑娘們，卻又為自己也是他們中的一員而苦惱不已……
一天，畫家、百萬富翁、遊客、詩人兼汽車商歐文·卡特先生被母親硬拖進這家商店選購青銅雕像。當母親在藝術品櫃台前流連忘返時，卡特漫步到手套櫃台，想要給自己買副手套。一看到梅西，卡特立刻被她的美貌所吸引，一見鍾情愛上了她。付了錢，接過手套，卡特又在櫃台前逗留了一會兒——他還從未麵臨過這種自己不知如何去應付的局麵：怎樣去邀一位素不相識的姑娘呢?但是心中燃燒的愛情之火終於令他鼓起了勇氣，走上前去……
相識兩周後的一個傍晚，在一個樹林掩映的幽靜公園裏，卡特向梅西求婚，並且許諾要帶她去周遊世界——遊威尼斯到印度，去日本……
那麼梅西呢?她答應他了嗎?
快樂王子
奧斯卡·王爾德(1854～1900)1854年生於愛爾蘭。曾就讀於都柏林三一學院和牛津大學馬格德蘭學院。大學期間，王爾德投身於唯美派文學運動，由於智慧過人而贏得廣泛的聲望。
大學畢業後，王爾德遷居倫敦，不久便成為倫敦各界的寵兒。他的諷刺，辛辣的社會批評和和洞察力，反傳統的思想以及奇異的行為成為倫敦人街談巷議的話題。1895年，他被指控有同性戀行為，判處兩年監禁。這件醜聞使先前的崇拜者和朋友疏遠了他。最後窮困潦倒的他於1900年死在巴黎。
《快子王子及其它故事》發表於1888年。這本童話集具有象征意義及道德內容，老少鹹宜，經久不衰。
王爾德的其它主要作品包括他惟一的一部小說《道林·格雷的畫》，劇本《溫德米爾夫人的扇子》(1892)、《一個無足輕重的女人》(1893)、《理想丈夫》(1895)及《誠摯的重要性》(1895)。
The Happy Princeand and other tales
Oscer Wilde (1854-1900) was born in Ireland in 1854. He attended Trinity College in Dublin and Magdalen College at Oxford. While still a university student, Wilde became involved in the aesthetic movement, and gained a widespread reputation for his brilliant wit.
After completing his studies, Wilde moved to the capital, and rapidly became the darling of London society. His irony, biting social criticism and insight, unconventional ideas, and eccentric behaviour made him the talk of the town. A scandal brought his downfall in 1895. He was accused of homosexuality, and sentenced to two years in prison. Ostracized by his former admirers and friends, demoralized and in poor health, Wilde died in Paris in 1900.
The Happy Prince and Other Tales was published in 1888. It is a collection of fairy tales with symbolic and moral content. This famous work of Oscar Wilde has been read and reread by young and old alike over several generations.
Other wellknown works by Oscar Wilde include his only novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray (1891), and his plays:Lady Windermereu0027s Fan (1892), A Woman of No lmportance(1893)，An Ideal Husbant (1895),and the Importance of Being Earnest (1895), Which is considered his masterpiece.
THE HAPPY PRINCE
High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his swordhilt.
He was very much admired indeed. `He is as beautiful as a weathercock,u0027 remarked one of the Town Councillors who wished to gain a reputation for having artistic tastes; `only not quite so useful,u0027 he added, fearing lest people should think him unpractical, which he really was not.
‘Why canu0027t you be like the Happy Prince?u0027 asked a sensible mother of her little boy who was crying for the moon. `The Happy Prince never dreams of crying for anything.u0027
‘I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy,’ muttered a disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue.
‘He looks just like an angel,’ said the Charity Children as they came out of the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks, and their clean white pinafores.
‘How do you know?’ said the Mathematical Master, `you have never seen one.u0027
‘Ah! but we have, in our dreams,’answered the children; and the Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did not approve of children dreaming.
One night there flew over the city a little Swallow. His friends had gone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind, for he was in love with the most beautiful Reed. He had met her early in the spring as he was flying down the river after a big yellow moth, and had been so attracted by her slender waist that he had stopped to talk to her.
‘Shall I love you?’said the Swallow, who liked to come to the point at once, and the Reed made him a low bow. So he flew round and round her, touching the water with his wings, and making silver ripples. This was his courtship, and it lasted all through the summer.
‘It is ridicnious attachment,’twittered the other Swallows, `she has no money, and far too many relations: and indeed the river was quite full of Reeds. Then, when the autumn came, they all flew away.
After they had gone he felt lonely, and began to tire of his ladylove. `She has no conversation,u0027he said, `and I am afraid that she is a coquette, for she is always flirting with the wind.u0027And certainly, whenever the wind blew, the Reed made the most graceful cursies. `I admit that she is domestic,u0027he continued,`but I love travelling, and my wife, consequently, should love travelling also.u0027
‘Will you come away with me?’he said finally to her; but the Reed shook her head, she was so attached to her home.
‘Yow have been trifling with me,’ he cried, `I am off to the Pyramids. Goodbye!u0027and he flew away.
All day long the flew, and at nighttime he arrived at the city. `Where shall I put up?u0027he said; `I hope the town has made preparations.u0027
Then he saw the statue on the tall column. `I will put up there,u0027 he cried; `it is a fine position with plenty of fresh air.u0027So he alighted just between the feet of the Happy Prince.
‘I have a golden bedroom,’ he said softly to himself as he looked round, and he prepared to go to sleep; but just as he was putting his head under his wing a large drop of water fell on him. `What a curious thing!u0027 he cried,`there is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars are quite clear and bright, and yet it is raining. The climate in the north of Europe is really dreadful. The Reed used to like the rain, but that was merely her selfishness.u0027
Then another drop fell.
‘What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off?’he said; `I must look for a good chimneypot,u0027and he determined to fly away.
But before he had opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he looked up, and sawAh! what did he see?
The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity.
‘Who are you?’he said.
‘I am the Happy Price.’
‘Why are you weeping then?’asked the Swallow, `you have quite drenched me.u0027
‘When I was alive and had a human heart,’answered the statue,`I did not know what tears were, for I lived in the Palace of SansSouci, where sorrow is not allowed to enter. In the daytime I played with my companions in the garden, and in the evening I led the dance in the Great Hall, Round the garden ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared to ask what lay beyond it, everything about me was so beautiful. My courtiers called me the Happy Prince, and happy indeed I was, if pleasure be happiness. So I lived, and so I died. And now that I am dead they have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot choose but weep.u0027
‘What is he not solid gold?’said the Swallow to himself. He was too polite to make any personal remarks out loud.
‘Far away,’continued the statue in a low musical voice,`far away in a little street there is a poor house. One of the windows is open, and through it I can see a woman seated at a table. Her face is thin and worn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress. She is embroidering passionflowers on a satin gown for the love liest of the Queenu0027s maidsof honour to wear at the next Courtball. In a bed in the corner of the room her little boy is lying ill. He has a fever, and is asking for oranges. His mother has nothing to give him but river water, so he is crying. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not bring her the ruby out of my swordhilt? My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move.u0027
‘I am waited for in Egypt,’said the Swallow. `My friends are flying up and down the Nile, and talking to the large lotusflowers. Soon they will go to sleep in the tomb of the great King. The King is there himself in his painted coffin. He is wrapped in yellow linen, and embalmed with spices. Round his neck is a chain of pale green jade, and his hands are like withered leaves.u0027
‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’said the Prince, `will you not stay with me for one night, and be my messenger? The boy is so thirsty, and the mother so sad.u0027
‘I donu0027t think I like boys,’answered the Swallow. `Last summer, when I was staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the milleru0027s sons, who were always throwing stones at me. They never hit me, of course; we swallows fly far too well for that, and besides, I come of a family famous for its agility; but still, it was a mark of disrespect.u0027
But the Happy Prince looked so sad that the little Swallow was sorry.`It is very cold here,u0027he said; `but I will stay with you for one night, and be your messenger.u0027
‘Thank you, little Swallow,’said the Prince.
So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the Princeu0027s sword, and flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town.
He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were sculptured. He passed by the palace and heard the sound of dancing. A beautiful girl came out on the balcony with her lover.`How wonderful the stars are,u0027 he said to her` and how wonderful is the power of love!u0027 `I hope my dress will be ready in time for the Stateball,u0027 she answered; `I have ordered passionflowers to be embroidered on it; but the seamstresses are so lazy.u0027
He passed over the river, and saw the lanterns hanging to the masts of the ships. He passed over the Ghetto, and saw the old Jews bargaining with each. other, and weighing out money in copper scales. At last he came to the poor house and looked in. The boy was tossing feverishly on his bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired. In he hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the womanu0027s thimble. Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boyu0027s forehead with his wings. `How cool I feel,u0027said the boy, `I must be getting better;u0027and he sank into a delicious slumber.
Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince,and told him what he had done. `It is curious,u0027he remarked, `but I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold.u0027
‘That is because you have done a good action,’said the Prince. And the little Swallow began to think, and then he fell asleep. Thinking always made him sleepy.
When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath. `What a remarkable phenomenon,u0027said the Professor of Ornithology, as he was passing over the bridge. `A swallow in winter!u0027 And he wrote a long letter about it to the local news paper. Every one quoted it, it was full of so many words that they could not understand.
‘Tonight I go to Egypt,’said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits at the prospect. He visited all the public monuments, and sat a long time on top of the church steeple. Wherever he went the Sparrows chirruped, and said to each other, `What a distinguished stranger!u0027so he enjoyed himself very much.
When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. `Have you any commissions for Egypt?u0027he cried; `I am just starting.u0027
‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’said the Prince, `will you not stay with me one night longer?u0027
‘I am waited not in Egypt,’answered the Swallow, `Tomorrow my friends will fly up to the Second Cataract. The riverhorse crouches there among the bulrushes, and on a great granite throne sits the God Memmon. All night long he watches the stars. and when the morning star shines he utters one cry to joy, and then he is silent. At noon the yellow lions come down to the wateru0027s edge to drink. They have eyes like green beryls, and their roar is louder than the roar of the cataract.u0027
‘Swallow, swallow, little Swallow,’said the Prince, `far away across the city I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over a desk covered with papers, and in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch of withered violets. His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as a pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes. He is trying to finish a play for the Director of the Theatre, but he is too cold to write any more. There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him faint.u0027
‘I will wait with you one night longer,’said the Swallow, who really had a good heart. `Shall I take him another ruby?u0027
‘Alas! I have no ruby now,’said the Prince:`my eyes are all that I have left. They are made of rare sapphires. which were brought out of India a thousand years ago. Pluck out one of them and take it to him. He will sell it to the jeweller, and buy food and firewood, and finish his play.u0027
‘Dear Prince,’said the Swallow, `I cannot do that;u0027and he began to weep.
‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallo,’said the Prince, `do as I command you.u0027
So the Swallow plucked out the Princeu0027s eye, and flew away to the studentu0027s garret. It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in the roof. Through this he darted, and came into the room. The young man had his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of the birdu0027s wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful sapphire lying on the withered violets.
‘I am beginning to be appreciated,’he cried; `this is from some great admirer. Now I can finish my play,u0027and he looked quite happy.
The next day the Swallow flew down to the harbour. He sat on the mast of a large vessel and watched the sailors hauling big chests out of the hold with ropes. `Heave aboy!u0027they shouted as each chest came up. `I am going to Egypt!u0027cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.
‘I am come to bid you goodbye,’he cried.
‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’said the Prince, `will you not stay with me one night longer?u0027
‘It is winter,’answered the Swallow, `and the chill snow will soon be here. In Egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and the crocodiles lie in the mud and look lazily about them. My companions are building a nest in the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white doves are watching them and cooing to each other. Dear Prince, I must leave you, but I will never forget, you, and next spring I will bring you back two beautiful jewels in place of those you have given away. The ruby shall be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be as blue as the great sea.u0027
‘In the square below,’said the Happy Prince, `there stands a little matchgirl. She has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they are all spoiled. Her father will beat her if she does not bring home some money, and she is crying. She has no shoes or stockings, and her little head is bare. Pluck out my other eye ,and give it to her, and her father will not beat her.u0027
‘I will stay with you one night longer,’said the Swallow, `but I cannot pluck out your eye. You would be quite blind then.u0027
‘Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,’said the Prince, `do as I command you.u0027
So he plucked out the Princeu0027s other eye, and darted down with it. He swooped past the matchgirl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her hand. `What a lovely bit of glass,u0027cried the little girl; and she ran home, laughing.
Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. `You are blind now,u0027he said, `so I will stay with you always.u0027
‘No, little Swallow,’said the poor Prince, `you must go away to Egypt.u0027
‘I will stay with you always,’said the Swallow, and he slept at the Princeu0027s feet.
All the next day he sat on the Princeu0027s shoulder, and told him stories of what he had seen in strange lands. He told him of the red ibises, who stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile, and catch gold fish in their beaks;of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself, and lives in the desert, and knows everything; of the merchants, who walk slowly by the side of their camels, and carry amber beads in their hands; of the King of the Mountains of the Moon, who is as black as ebony, and worships a large crystal; of the great green snake that sleeps in a palmtree, and has twenty priests to feed it with honeycakes; and of the pygmies who sail over a big lake on large flat leaves, and are always at war with the butterflies.
‘Dear little Swallow,’said the Prince,u0027 you tell me of marvellous things, but more marvellous than anything is the suffering of men and of women. There is no My stery so great as Misery. Fly over my city, little Swallow, and tell me what you see there.u0027
So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merry in their beautiful houses. while the beggars were sitting at the gates. He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets. Under the archway of a bridge two little boys were lying in one anotheru0027s arms to try and keep themselves warm. `How hungry we are!u0027they said. `You must not lie here,u0027shouted the Watchman, and they wandered out into the rain.
Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.
`I am covered with fine gold,u0027 said the Prince, `you must take if off, leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor; the living always think that gold can make them happy.u0027
Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the Happy Prince looked quite dull and grey. Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he brought to the poor, and the childrenu0027s faces grew rosier, and they laughed and played games in the street. `We have bread now!u0027they cried.
Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The street looked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright and glistening; long icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves of the houses, everybody went about in furs, and the little boys wore scariet caps and skated on the ice.
The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave the Prince, he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside the bakeru0027s door when the baker was not looking, and tried to keep himself warm by flapping his wings.
But at last he knew that he was going to die. He had just strength to fly up to the Princeu0027s shoulder once more. `Goodbye, dear Prince!u0027he murmured, `will you let me kiss you hand?u0027
‘I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow,’said the Prince, `you have stayed too long here; but you must kiss me on lips, for I love you.u0027
‘It is not to Egypt that I am going,u0027 said the Swallow. `I am going to the House of Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?u0027
And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his feet.
At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if something had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had smapped right in two. It certainly was a dreadfully heart had snapped right in two. It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost.
Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in company with the Town Councillors. As they passed the column he looked up at the statue:`Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince looks!u0027he said.
‘How shabby indeed!’cried the Town Councillors, who always agreed with the Mayor, and they went up to look at it.
‘The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he is golden no longer,’said the Mayor; `in fact, he is little better than a beggar!u0027
‘Little better than a beggar,’said the Town Councillors.
‘And here is actually a dead bird at his feet!’continued the Mayor. `We must really issue a proclamation that birds are not to be allowed to die here.u0027And the Town Clerk made a note of the suggestion.
So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince. `As he is no longer beautiful he is no longer useful,u0027said the Art Professor at the University.
Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a meeting of the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the metal, `We must have another statue, of course,u0027he said, `and it shall be a statue of myself.u0027
‘Of myself,’said cach of the Town Councillors, and they quarrelled. When I last heard of them they were quarrelling still.
‘What a strange thing!’said the overseer of the workmen at the foundry. `This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We must throw it away.u0027So they threw it on a dustheap where the dead Swallow was also lying.
‘Bring me the two most precious things in the city.’said God to one of His Angels; and she Angel brought Him the leaden heart and the dead bird.
‘You have rightly chosen,’said God. `for in my garden of Paradise this little bird shall sing for evemore, and in my city of gold the Happy Prince shall praise me.u0027
THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE ROSE
‘She said that the would dance with me if I brought her red roses,’cried the young Student;‘ but in all my garden there is no red rose.’
From her nest in the holmoak tree the Nightingale heard him, and she looked out through the leaves, and wondered.
‘No red rose in all my garden!’he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled with tears.‘Ah, on what little things does happiness depend! I have read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made wretched.’
‘Here at last is a true lover,’said the Nightingale.‘Night after night have I sung of him, though I knew him not: night after night have I told his story to the stars, and now I see him. His hair is dark as the hyacinthblossom, and his lips are red as the rose of his desire; but passion has made his face like pale ivory, and sorrow has set her seal upon his brow.’