RIGHTS OF MAN.

I.

The old farm-house stands on a hill-top overlooking fields and woods with a distant glimpse of the Hudson. The last struggling tenant made but a bare living out of his thirty acres; he managed to build a small new barn, for the old one was falling down; but he left the house untouched. It is a plain rectangle, without porches or any other convenience, but well-built. Time and weather have colored it a soft grey and made its wooden shutters more blue than green. Its windows have small panes and the front door has side-lights of old glass and a portico. The house is of two stories, each of four square rooms with a narrow central hall from front to back. It has no heating system, no lights, no plumbing. But it has white wainscoting in the lower rooms and fire-places with narrow white mantels.

Several generations have lived in this house--hard-working people, hewers of wood and drawers of water. There is plenty of woodland, and a spring with a roof over it fifty feet from the back door. Lofty elm and maple trees arch over the house; it looks very small and humble. The old barn, with its stone foundation and solid oak framework fastened by wooden pegs, is twice as big; it has a double row of cow-stalls and an enormous hay-loft. The "stock" was the first consideration when this barn was built, the family came second.

The last generation but one planted acre upon acre of apple and pear trees. Orchards surround the house and stretch over rolling ground and down the hillside to a brook. There is a plantation of blackberry and raspberry behind the old barn. Currant bushes bound the space where was a kitchen-garden.

2

A few straggling lilac-trees among slabs of out-cropping rock stand on either side the front door, which of course faces north. The people who lived here had not much time or thought for the beautiful. They have passed, leaving little trace of themselves. For some years the house had stood empty.

## II.

When John McAdam and Eva married, each was self-supporting. John was police reporter on an evening paper, and perfectly satisfied with his job. He went through a routine which happened to be, to him, full of interest; he wrote, now and then, a human story, a third of a column sometimes, or perhaps only a couple of sticks; it might be a little jewel of insight and irony. He did not want to get on, even to the front page; or to be anywhere but where he was.

Eva was different. Beginning, after a family disaster, as stenographer in a business office, she had changed her job as often as she saw a chance to better herself. At twenty-five she was assistant to the editor of a popular magazine and did nearly all his work, all the drudgery of it at least. She was a steel-trap for efficiency. And she was so pretty that John McAdam fell in love with her at sight. Soon after, she made her first error in worldly tactics, and fell in love with him.

When they married, it was of course understood that both would keep on working. John made only thirty-five dollars a week, while Eva made double that. Earning were pooled; they had a nice little apartment, and collaborated on everything, even the cooking. They were as gay as larks. For more than a year they were as happy as any human being need expect to be. Work went well, and keeping house together was play.

John had more leisure than Eva; her business hours were nine to five. It was John who furnished and decorated the apartment. He showed a taste and knowledge of color, stuffs and material of all sorts, to which Eva

4

Another thing he knew was cookery. Eva was a dub at it, in comparison.
She could broil a steak and bake a potato, that was about all. She never
learned to make coffee, to mix a salad, or flavor a stew; she did not
know the taste of garlic from tarragon or chives, nor the difference
between black pepper and paprika, nor between French, Italian and Span-
ish oil. The delicate potencies of the onion, of the red or green pep-
per, of the vanilla bean, were a closed book to her. She had never heard
of tomato paste, of finocchi, of cream cheese mixed with chives or eaten
with Bar-le-Duc jelly. She did not know the elements of a single foreign
dish: not chop-suey, nor Hungarian goulash, nor pasta fata in casa; not
even Spanish omelet or Irish stew. But John could do all these and many
more.

It was natural that he should make the morning coffee, because he
couldn't drink Eva's coffee; and then he liked getting up early and Eva
didn't. And as to the evening meal, John preferred to cook that for
various reasons. He did not like crude simple food, such as Eva could
offer, and he liked to cook; it was an art, as he did it. He arranged
the EMMEDITION kitchen to suit himself: it was small, it contained a
multitude of things of which Eva did not know the uses, yet it was a
model of order. Each dish and implement had its place and was kept there,
except when Eva invaded the place; then John would find the corkscrew in
among the knives, the saucers piled up with the plates, the pots and
pans all mixed up. Eva never would wash the dishes after a meal, she said
it spoiled the whole effect; but John couldn't stand disorder, so he
would tidy up; ten minutes whirlwind work and all was done. Certainly he
had his own efficiency.

All that year he was holding his job on the newspaper--just holding
it. The city editor was the only person on the paper who appreciated those

6

work, as Eva understood work. With him it seemed always afternoon, even if he got up at six in the morning; he had an air of boundless leisure. Or, as Eva sometimes put it harshly to herself, he dawdled, he fooled around, he pottered about. She never said this kind of thing to him, something prevented her, some kind of intuition or horse-sense. The inward monitor whispered to her that it wouldn't be safe, that he was the sort of man who, if really displeased, doesn't argue but packs a suitcase and leaves, perhaps permanently. In short she was a little afraid of him.

But she worked a good deal harder than he did, certainly; and got her reward, for her salary was raised, at the merest hint on her part. She was now assistant-editor of the magazine. She knew to a dot what would please the women who were its main readers; she did not follow their taste but led it, sometimes audaciously; the circulation climbed steadily. . . Eva was on the crest of the wave now. She was joyously conscious of her youth, energy, ability. . . If only John shared her ambition or had some of his own, she would be, she thought, perfectly happy.

They hadn't thought much about children, at least Eva hadn't; when lo, one gave promise of arriving, a thunder-clap out of a clear sky to Eva. She was rather stunned at first, but when she saw how John took it, re-considered the matter and began to see merit in it. She became reconciled, then pleased, then radiant, and grew now really beautiful. . . But she did not want to drop behind in her work, which was a necessity to her in more ways than one. She was splendidly strong, and managed with her usual cleverness, so that the short period of her enforced absence from the office only made the Chief appreciate her more. . . She had a strapping son, and was nearly as proud of him as John.

Junior was partly a bottle-bay from the start and soon entirely

8

"My step-father's leaving me fifteen thousand dollars. No reason why he should, but he seemed to want to. Very decent of him, considering how we used to hate each other...Now we'll have a place in the country. I grew up in the country, and Junior's going to have the same privilege. The city's no place for a kid...or, in my opinion, for anybody else."

"The country--in winter?" gasped Eva.

"We'll try it in summer first. You might like it...I'll tell you now, ever since I got off the land I've been wanting to get back to it. I think it's in my blood."

"But it's not in mine!" protested Eva in genuine alarm.

"Well, wait and see. You'll do just as you like, of course."

"But so will you!" she cried.

"I hope so."

"Supposing we don't like the same thing, what then?"

"I wouldn't worry about that..We've both done as we pleased so far, haven't we?..We'll continue to, that's all."

### III

One day in the middle of March Mrs. Horigan, the only neighbor living in sight of the old farm-house on the hill, and she with her spy-glass, reported that that young fellow who had been looking over the place had brought his wife to see it; that they must have walked up the hill, for no wagon let alone a car could get up that old road in the snow; that they had stayed an hour, and Jim Haines the real estate agent must be right in saying that at last he'd hooked a customer for that place and now the old man could go to Florida. Mr. Horigan, who was caretaker in winter and general utility man in summer on the estate of a widow woman just below the hill, said he wished them joy; that if the city people all came out on the farms all the farmers could go to Florida; that he could have gone

9

himself when he sold his farm to the widow woman if he hadn't had three
boys to set up in business. Whereto Mrs, Horigan said:

"The lucky man you. Do you envy the widow woman, with never a chick
nor child barring two Chinese dogs?"

From her kitchen window she could see, with her glass, pretty much
all that went on upon the hill; and later Himself would drop up that
way and talk to the workmen. They were pulling down the old barn; the oak
timbers were to be used in building a wide porch at the back of the
house and above this two sleeping porches and a bathroom.

"Sleeping-porches, two of them, and only two in family barring the
baby;" cried Mrs. Horigan. "Would they each sleep on a separate porch?
...They must be rich, and Jim Staines getting only nine thousand off them after all. What would poor Martha Brunner say, to see a bathroom
in her house and water piped to it and all, and she carrying water summer and winter for twenty years. It's as well she's where she won't
know it. That woman up there will be having an easy time."

"That's what it is to be educated," said Himself morosely. "That
young man now--he's hail fellow with everybody, when he comes out he
works along with the men, site and eats his dinner wizzzzzen along with
'em, but you can see he's high-class. . Smart too. . He's got everything
figgered out and maps for it--water and all. . What d'ye think he's doing
the place the old barn stood--them stone walls?"

"Chickens?" snapped Mrs, Horigan.

"Not he. He's building new houses and runs for them. No, a garden,
what he called a sunken garden. Sunken."

"Ah," said Herself meditatively. "I'd like to see what he'll raise there. . I don't know if he's smart, but he's pleasant enough. I'll be
glad to have neighbors up there again."

10

"Neighbors?" grumbled Mr. Horrigan. "They're city people--they'll be neighbors for the widow woman, not for us."

"I don't know about his wife, but he comes in for a word or two and takes a cup of tea with me as friendly as you like."

Mr. Horigan bent a shapp gaze upon Herself, who with all her fifty years was as fine a fresh-colored, black-haired, buxom woman as you'd wish to see. And she threw back her head and laughed at him long and loud, too pleased for words.

"Well," she said at last, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, "He asked me would I do the washing for them and maybe step up and do a bit of cleaning now and then."

"You will not," said Mr. Horigan.

"I will, then," said Herself firmly. "And so I told him. . .Why wouldn't I make a bit of money for myself, and you crying salt tears whenever I want a dollar off you?"

"Won't they be having any help? . . .They must have money, the way he's doing."

"I don't know what they've got or what they'll be having. All I know is what I told you."

But as the snow melted off in April and building was going on, she learned a good deal more.

"I know all about it now," she announced one evening, as she put supper on the table for Mr. Horigan, "and you'll open your eyes when I tell you . . . He was here today and had a cup of tea or maybe two. He says they'll be moving out the first of the month and he'll finish the house inside himself. He asks me do I know a good clean smart girl, one that I swear to myself, that could stay with the baby days while he and his wife is in town. He says they both work and his wife makes a power of money in an office and she likes that better than to stay and mind the house and the baby. . .What d'ye think of that now?"

1/1

eating
"I don't care, if he don't," said Himself, SMILING peacefully.

"I says I don't know any such girl that you could ZUZ leave alone up
there in the house all day, and he says looking black, no, there's no
girl anyhow he'd trust with that baby, nor woman neither. I'd maybe have
offered myself if he hadn't said that. But he bites his lip and scowls and
says he doesn't mean any disrespect to the female sex but that boy is
just the most valuable thing on earth. Then he tells me how he takes
care of him and how he's got to be fed, just so, to the minute and sleep
and all by clock-work, and he always fixes his food and washes the bottles
himself, and no woman's got the conscience to do it just right. What
do ye say to that?"

Mr. Horigan, helping himself again to beef-stew, said "Nothing at all."

"And me that's raised three as fine boys as ever stepped!" cried
Herself. "I was near laughing in his face, but I says, Well, maybe you're
right the way things are nowadays. Then he tells me he come out here on
account of the boy, that the boy's got to be raised in the country, and
that he'll just stay at home and raise him, for he can do it better than
any woman, having been a boy himself. And I says to him, Seems like you
can do everything but the one thing for a child. And he says, I wish I
could do that too. That's what he says! "

"Must be crazy," mumbled Mr. Horigan, looking scandalized.

"I says to him, Do you wish you were a woman then? And he says, No,
not that, but women don't appreciate all the luck they've got. He says
a woman's job is the best one in the world, if they only knew it. And
it's a sure job, he says, while a man has got to go looking for a job
for himself and trying to think it's important. Then I says, Well, maybe

12

if you tried it, stewing over a hot stove, washing a lot of dishes and tending babies, you'd think different. And he says, women are not really interested in their job or they would find how to manage it better. And then he says," here Herself approached her dramatic climax, "that he does the cooking anyway and likes it, and that he can cook better than any woman and as to washing dishes and tidying up the house, he'll do it in the turn of a hand."

She was silent. Mr. Horigan refilled his coffee-cup and drank slowly. After long thought he remarked:

"It's a queer world.. He aint rich then."

"Not he. He had a good bit of money left him and he's putting it in the farm. Says he likes farming."

"Hah!" snarled Mr. Horigan. "What did I tell you?.. The fellow's a sissy, or a complete lunatic, one or the other."

"You told me he was smart, and I wouldn't wonder if he is.. There's money in them apples and pears if they was taken care of; then the hay; he says he'll raise chickens, and asparagus, strawberries and lettuce. He says the farm will support his family, if they'll stay on it."

"If they will!.. His wife, you mean?"

"He says, as long as she wants to work on a paper, all right, he wants her to. It seems she likes to feel independent and bring home a sack o' money, he says she makes a lot more'n he does."

"Seems to me you got good and friendly," said Mr. Horigan, filling his pipe. "He must like to talk, telling you the story of his life—"

"He's sociable, like me--and you'd forget he's a gentleman.. He's no sissy, either. A fine clean-built lad, with a nice brown cheek and black eyes and a muscle in his arm like--"

"What d'ye mean, woman?" shouted Mr. Horigan, nearly dropping the pipe.

Herself laughed again till she cried with pleasure.

13.

IV.

About this time John lost his job on the newspaper; in his pre-
occupation with Junior he had let it fade away from him.

"It isn't worth while for you anyhow," said his friend the city
editor. "You can do better than that, and perhaps you will when you have to
Send me in some stories on space."

John reported this to Eva and added:

"I can do that, and I can always get a hack job when I want one, as
good as that. But I don't think I'll look for one now. I think I'll
spend the summer looking after Junior and fixing up the place. We'll save
money that way, giving up this apartment and living off the land."

"Vegetable" "Off the land?" enquired Eva sceptically.

"Vegetables, chickens, a pig and perhaps a cow. And there's that
lot of fruit on the place. You'll see, we'll be in clover."

On the first of May the hegira took place.

The old road had been repaired and was passable for taxis; Eva
was to commute, an hour to the city. She was not especially fond of the
rural life, and the first two weeks, with the house torn up and only the
porches really habitable, did nothing to change her opinion of it. She went
to town six days in the week, leaving John and Junior to their own devices.
They were a happy pair. Junior had his carriage and pen out on the big south
porch and had already begun to lead his own life. John was working on the
inside of the house. He stripped off all the old wall-paper and kalsomined
walls and ceilings a warm white; and painted all the woodwork ivory color;
and the floors dark blue or green. With the aid of a village carpenter he
took out a partition and made of two small rooms one good-sized living-room;
built corner-cupboards in the dining-room and shelves in the kitchen and
along one side of the living-room, for his books. With frilled organdie
curtains at all the windows and the pleasant old furniture put in place,
the house would be, Eva admitted, really charming.

14

The middle of May, after a few days of sudden warmth, the orchards flowered. Clouds of white and pink bloom covered the hillsides and surrounded the old house. Shade-trees and bushes were in freshest leaf; the lilacs flouzed and blossomed. The big kitchen-garden, sown early in April, showed geometrical rows of sprouting things. Around the base of the house iris had unexpectedly come up and flowered yellow and blue.

On her Sunday at home, this week, Eva stayed out-doors all day; in fact the whole family spent the day together on the porch. John was making screens, Junior was absorbing as much of the world as he could get hold of in one way or another and making comments on it in his own tongue; Eva was very quiet, looking at the flowering trees. She wore a blue linen dress, open at the neck; the warmth and beauty of the day were reflected in her eyes. John was in white ducks, which he always wore about the place except when he was in overalls; and Junior in his usual scanty attire displayed a plump body already well-browned by the sun.

In the afternoon they walked round their estate, Junior regarding it with keen interest over his father's shoulder. John computed for Eva's benefit how much wood could be cut in the wood-lot without harming the trees; how much hay the meadows would grow; and where, next year, he would plant fields of corn and potatoes. He showed her how the fruit-trees wanted pruning and spraying and estimated what they would produce when this had been done. He showed her the pasture for the cow, and where he would put bee-hives; and coming back to the house, how the small barn could be divided to accomodate both a cow and a Ford. The asparagus and strawberry roots were already planted. They stopped at the site of the old barn. This was the highest point on the place and had a wonderful view of the river and the valley. Stone steps had been laid roughly to lead down four or five feet into the space enclosed by the foundation walls. It was full now of timber and rubbish, but John explained how the garden would be laid out there, vines and shrubs against the walls, perhaps a fountain in the middle and

15

a tea-house in one corner. "All the rest of the place," he said, "will be
pure American country style. But here we can be a little exotic."I'll have
a color-scheme in this garden that will astonish you."

In the evening, when Junior had gone to sleep and Eva and John sat
under the apple-trees in the sweet twilight, she began to question him.

"John, you don't expect to get another job this summer, do you?"

"No, darling, I think not. I've got a good job here."

"Taking care of Junior, you mean, and--the house?"

"That, of course. But there's a lot to be done on the place too."

"You like it, don't you?"

"Rather. Never thought I'd care so much about owning anything."

"It looks to me as if you were planning to live right along
here, like this."

"It suits me."

"But how about your work in town. Don't you care about doing
that?"

"That was mostly hack-work. I don't care about it, except for
the money. We don't need money just now, you're making plenty. And some-
body's got to stay with Junior."

"We could get somebody."

"A servant?" John shook his head. "I wouldn't trust him with
one..He's more important than anything else just now." He glanced keenly
at Evelyn and said, "Tell me what's in your mind. I've seen you were bother-
about something. Me, isn't it?"

"I suppose it is. I don't quite understand you."

"Well, I can't blame you. You mean I don't fit into the usual
scheme of things. I know I'm an odd peg."

"I don't see how you can want to stay at home and do woman's
work," Evelyn burst out. "It isn't dignified."

16

There was a long pause. John filled and lit his pipe slowly, got up and walked away a little distance, came back and stood leaning against the apple-tree. Eva sat tense.

"Is woman's work undignified?" he asked gravely.

"It is for a man!"

"Somebody in our household has got to do it," he said, "Will you?"

"We can hire somebody. We don't have to do it ourselves--how absurd!"

"We could hire somebody to mess about and do some bad cooking and cleaning. But not to take care of Junior. Would you leave him out here alone with a stranger?"

"Then why on earth did you want to move out here?"

"Because I thought it would be good for Junior, and it is. I thought I'd like it and I do. I thought you'd like it too and you would, if this idea didn't bother you."

"It isn't an idea! It's what everybody thinks."

"Exactly, Eva. It's what everybody thinks that's bothering you."

"Well, I don't want you to appear undignified!" Eva cried with an angry sob. "I do care what people think of my husband! Do you think I want people to say that I support the family and you stay home and take care of the baby?"

"Well, do you support us?" he enquired. "Not that I would mind if you did, unless you minded, but--do you?..I don't think you did in town, that is, I could live on what I made, you know. And out here--"

"Why, of course we're living on your property, I know that..."

"And you see I'm adding to its value every day, and besides think what we'd have to pay a cook and nurse--can you say I don't earn my keep?..Now, Eva! Please, my darling! Listen--listen to me.."

17

He sat down beside her and waited till she was quiet, not try-
ing to soothe her by caresses. When he finally spoke his voice was calm
and rather cool.

"We mustn't let the conventions, or what people think, spoil
an arrangement that really suits us both.. You like your work in town and
want to go on with it. I like my work here. What difference does it make
who does which, so long as we're suited?.. I can always get a hack-job, Eva,
and make a living for the family, if you want to do the domestic end of it.
After all, you know, that's the usual arrangement. If you want to be con-
ventional, we'll do that. But the boy's got to be looked after, by one of us."

There was a tone new to Eva in his voice as he ended, hard,
even harsh. She realized that there was another side to the sweet-tempered
man she knew, a fanatical side. She would have to be careful if she didn't
want to quarrel with him. For the first time he seemed ready to quarrel.
That last sentence was an ultimatum. "

"I think as much of Junior as you do," she said.

"I don't know whether you do or not."

"You think more of him than you do of me."

"I don't know whether I do or not, because I've never separated you. I think of you and him together."

Another pause.

"Do you want me to give up my work?" Eva asked.

"Not as long as you want to do it. I know you like doing it
now. All I want is that you should do as you want and let me do as I want,
as far as possible, without any ill-feeling."

A pause, then he went on.

"You must realize, Eva, that I've lived more than you--more in
years and a lot more in experience. Some things that interest you I've lived
through and got tired of--for instance your idea of work and ambition. I
know pretty definitely what I want, and you don't as yet, nearly as definite-

18

ly. So you care more for public opinion than I do..I have, I guess, what
one of the Fathers called 'a decent respect to the opinions of mankind'
but not more than that. I should consider it indecent to let anybody's
opinion interfere with what I thought best to do. Mind, I say opinion.
Feeling is different, at least your feeling is..I would like you to find
out how much your real feeling is opposed to me on this, and let me know.
Take your time about it."

He walked away through the orchard. Eva was left to her thoughts.
They were confused and she felt that they couldn't be straightened out in
a hurry. She would have to go carefully.

The warm night closed softly about her. The air was faintly perfumed
and there was a thin new moon low down in the sky. It was so quiet that she
could hear the gurgling of the little brook down below the hill..The city
seemed a thousand miles away.

John came strolling back to lean against the apple-tree and
say lazily:

"I forgot to tell you one reason I wanted to move out here--I
want to learn to play the flute, I'm sure Junior won't mind and there'll
be nobody else to kick, if he doesn't..There are more men than you realize,
Eva, who would rather stay home and play the flute than work in an office-
...You women have your rights..Haven't we got any?"..If I like to cook and
take care of a baby, am I not entitled to life, liberty and the pursuit of
happiness along those lines?..Perhaps," said John, "It's time for a new
declaration of man's inalienable right to do as he likes..and if you want
to look upon it in that light, maybe this is It."

19

V.

During the next month they discussed the matter a good deal, but
amicably.

How about the winter? Did he mean to stay on out here?..Not necessary,
not this year anyway, there was a cheap heating-system that he was looking
into, but they would have an apartment in town this winter, if she liked;
she was making plenty of money to pay for it.

How about friends? Didn't he ever want to go about and see people?
No, he didn't. Now the house was in shape they could have people out when
they wanted to, and there weren't many that he cared about seeing anyhow.
Besides, he liked the country people. The Horigans were as amusing as
anybody, the carpenter was a socialist and read Thoreau and Emerson, the
plumber was a rampant Sinn Feiner. As to going about, he was in treaty
for a Ford car, practically new; he could take Junior and go anywhere he
wanted to, about the country.

How about the future, Junior's education and--others, perhaps?..He
intended to make the land pay, enough for necessaries; when Eva got tired
of her job she could chuck it and stay home; if she wanted kuxuries, she
would have to earn them herself.

"But I like the world I've been" said Eva. "I want to make a figure in it, and
have you make one too!. As it is, when people ask me about you I have to
say you're writing a book."

"That's all right, you can say so if it makes you feel better, though
I don't see why you shouldn't tell the truth. I might write a book some
day, if I feel like it. But as to making a figure, probably not, unless
you'd consider a successful truck-farmer a figure..But I see no reason why
shouldn't make one, that's within your rights, but it isn't your right
to expect me to make one for you. That's old style."

"You wouldn't think any corner of me if I made a success, would"

20

you?

"I couldn't very well think more of you than I do," he said judicially.

"Not I of you!" admitted Eva, exasperated. "Though you're not at all the sort of man I ever thought I should admire in the least!..I do admire you, but I don't know why, unless it's because you always get your own way.."

"Love me and know not why, so hast thou the more reason to dote upon me ever," he said smiling.

The big house below the hill was opened, and the widow woman arrived with dogs, servants and guests. One evening John reported to Eva that their new neighbor had called, that he and Junior had entertained her with tea and talk, that she had been perfectly charmed with the house and the whole situation, had invited him over to tennis and wanted them all to come to dinner any evening. She was, he said, a personable female of perhaps thirty-five, and she had sat on the porch with him stringing beans while he peeled potatoes for supper. She had fallen in love with Junior and had said that her dearest wish was fulfilled now that there were some real people on the hill.

"Perhaps she was stringing you as well as the beans," said Eva crossly, "I don't see why you had to drag the beans and potatoes into it."

"I'll drag anything into it like," said John, in the level tone that was a wet-blanket on her hot temper. "Don't be a snob, Eve."

Eva, however, knew that she was one, rather, and also that would probably be jealous of the widow. She lost no time in getting a look at her, and found her much too attractive and very much too appreciative of the male members of her household.. It was really annoying to think of John and Junior spending pleasant afternoons at tennis and tea with the widow while she was toiling in town..

21

Yet when she thought of giving up this form of toil, she found herself quite unwilling to do so. She liked her work, it amused her, and she liked meeting and managing people, lunching with this person and that, sometimes an author of celebrity, sometimes a new light she had discovered. She liked the authority which was falling more and more into her hands as the Chief got lazier. She liked him too. He was a genial and amusing person, with a sub-acid flavor, a pessimistic philosophy, and a frank contempt for his own position. He drew a large salary, which was needed by his family, and had made the magazine pay in all obvious ways. But he was personally bored by the thing that paid.

He was away a good deal during the summer. When he came in, he would look Eva over thoughtfully and sometimes say: "You're not looking quite so fit. Better take a week or so off." Or he would ask: "Anything bothering you?" Privately he suspected that the inevitable was happening and that Eva was quarrelling with her husband. But when one day she suddenly laid the situation before him, as fairly as possible, and without mentioning the widow, who of course had nothing to do with the real problem.

He listened with interest, and with a curious expression, at first sardonic, then serious. When she had finished he remained serious and silent, and she thought he looked, all of a sudden, old and tired. At last he said peevishly:

"I don't see what you have to kick about." Then he eyed her with a hostile look and said, "Seems to me you women want everything on earth."

Eva gazed at him in surprise, and he added moodily:

"He's a smart man, you won't get him into the traces...Makes me want to kick over 'em myself, but I'm too old. I'll go on to the end doing a fool job to get a lot of extravagant people things they don't need..."

He retreated suddenly into his private office and shut the door with a slam

22

That was Saturday before lunch; and early in the afternoon Eva start-
ed home, carrying a bundle of manuscripts to read over Sunday. The Septem-
ber day was hot in town and the train was stuffy. The ramshackle taxi whib
usually hurled her homeward from the station broke down just out of the
village, and she walked the remaining half-mile up hill. As she ascended,
a breeze met her; the air was cooling; afternoon shadows lay deep and blue
over the road and the fields. She turned in the grassy roadway that led
through the orchard, heavy with foliage but nearly bare now of fruit. The
apples and pears had gone to market by truck direct to the consumer.

As Eva approach ed noiselessly over the thick grass she heard, ming-
ling with the cackle of chickens out by the barn, the broken but not un-
melodious notes of a flute.. John sat on a bench leaning back against an
apple-tree and at his feet was junior on a blanket, fair-haired, rosy,
looking up with wide blue eyes and waving his arms vigorously.

Eva stood unnoticed a moment, contemplating her husband's face and
long slim figure, the whole expression of which was beatitude. The flute
rambled, now a low note, now a high one, without much apparent connectin
but with reedy sweetness..

"Old style?"

"Yes. Not the thing any more. If you want a career you must attend to it yourself."

"But it isn't for me I want you to do it!..It's for yourself!"

"No, it isn't, Eve darling..Unless you're beginning to lose interest in me and want me to do something to get it back, is that it?"

"No," said Eva exasperated. "I can't say you're any less interesting."

"But you don't admire me?"

"Well, I do! Though I can't say why...unless it's because you always get your own way...But I want other people to admire you too! "

"Love me and know not why, so hast thou the more reason to dote upon me ever." he said. "Never mind about the others."

V.

The big house below the hill was opened, and the widow woman arrived, with dogs, servants and guests. Oneazing evening John reported that their new neighbor had called, that he and Junior had entertained her with tea and conversation, that she had been perfectly charmed with the house and the whole situation, had invited him over to tennis and wanted them all to come to dinner tomorrow. She was, he said, a personable female of perhaps thirty-five, and she had sat on the porch stringing beans while he peeled potatoes for supper. She had fallen in love with Junior and had said that her dearest wish was fulfilled now that there were some real people on the hill.

"Perhaps she was stringing you as well as the beans," said Ema crossly. "I don't see why you had to drag the beans and potatoes into it."

"I'll drag anything into it I like," said John in the level tone that spelled danger. "Don't be a snob, Eve."

21-

Eva, however, knew that she was one, rather; she was uneasy until she had seen the widow and found out just what impression had been made upon her. And then, finding that the impression was if anything too favorable, and the widow herself too attractive, she was annoyed to think of John and Junior spending pleasant afternoons at tennis and tea while she was toiling in town. She would not confess it to herself, much less to John, but she was afraid that woman would laugh at him perhaps. She was terribly sensitive on John's account, lest he should appear ridiculous to any one, but she didn't dare indicate this to him. And when she said something about the widow obviously making eyes at him, he returned, "I thought you wanted other people to admire me."

It was rather appalling to think how many pleasures that man had, in his daily life, how happy he seemed to be... Not that Eva was so badly off herself. She liked her work, it amused her and she liked meeting and managing people, lunching with this person and that, sometimes an author of celebrity, a sometimes a new light that she had discovered. She liked the feeling of importance and the authority that was falling more and more into her hands as the Chief got lazier. She liked him too. He was a genial and witty person with a sub-acid flavor, a pessimistic philosophy and a frank contempt for his own position. He drew a large salary, which was needed by his family, and had made the magazine pay in all obvious ways. But he was personally bored by the怪 thing that paid.

He was away a good deal during the summer. When he came in, he would look Eva over thoughtfully and say, "You're not looking so fit. Better take a week or so off." Or he would ask, "Anything bothering you?" Privately he suspected that the inevitable was happening and that Eva was Quarrelling with her husband. But then one day she told him all about it, on impulse and because it was so much on her mind.

He laughed, uproariously, and Eva flushed scarlet with anger and mortification. But that sardonic laughter stopped suddenly. He became serious

22

and sat in silent thought; and Eva noticed that he looked all of a sudden,
old and tired. To her astonishment he fixed a hostile KIMKIN gaze on her,
and after a while said, peevishly:

"I don't see what you have to kick about... Seems to me you women want everything on earth."

She looked at him, bewildered, and he added moodily:

"He's a smart man, you won't get him into the traces, make up your mind to that... Makes me want to kick over 'em myself, but I'm too old. I'll go on to the end doing a fool job to get a lot of extravagant people things they don't need.."

He got up and retreated into his private office and slammed the door.
In a moment the door opened, he put his head out and shouted: "I used to
want to play the flute myself!"

She sat at her desk, staring out the window over the city roofs. The
electric fan was whirring; sultry heat had tried even her nerves that day.
Nearly four o'clock, time to be going home... There would be a real breeze
out on the hill... Absently she locked her desk, put on her hat, took a
bundle of manuscripts to read over Sunday. Then she tapped at the Chief's
door and put her head in to say, "I'm going now."

He was sitting with his chair tipped back and his feet on a desk-drawel,
smoking a cigar. He said, "Come here, Eva," and put out his hand to take
hers. It was the first time in the years of their association that he had
addressed her so informally or shown any personal feeling. He said:

"I wish you well---take some good advice from an old fellow... Let
that man alone. He's happy... And so are you, if you knew enough to know it.
Now run along."

She took a crowded car up to the station, vaguely conscious of discomfort, of the dusty wilted aspect of the sweltering city. The train too was crowded and hot. She felt a longing for the hill-top among the apple-trees..

23

She thought of the old farm-house as she had first seen it, and as it was now, made comfortable and charming. With some wonder she thought of the women, the women who had lived there, lives so different from her own--meagre shut-in lives, it seemed..

She thought of the Chief..No, she wouldn't like John to be like that, chafing under a harness, feeling futile and bored..Anyhow John wouldn't do it, that was clear, he had made up his mind to stay out...and play the flute. In time he would play it well--he would do well whatever he wanted to do, and he wouldn't do at all what he didn't want to do...

You had to hand it to him, anyway, for that.

Triumphant.. Yes, he had emancipated himself. She saw now how clever he had been, getting that farm.. She remembered things he had said to her: "A man needs to get his two feet planted firmly on the earth.. If he gets up in these big buildings he's insulated, cut off, he doesn't feel real." No, he would never now achieve any distinction in the world, as she had vaguely expected when she married him.. However, she hadn't married him for that, it was only fair to say... "Producing food and children is a real job," he had said. "Or cooking food and taking care of children.. You don't know, Eve, what marvelous entertainment it is to watch a child grow from day to day.." She hadn't taken those remarks very seriously, but she saw now that they were serious.. rather!

Her ramshackle taxi broke down at the foot of the hill--and she walked up. Trees over-arched the road; the sun was low now and threw long shadows over the fields. The air was warm and sweet with the smell of apples falling under the trees, crushed under wheels in the road. As she went up through the orchard she heard the flute. Sweet reedy notes...pan-pipes sounding through the trees.. teasing, triumphant, full of earthy joy...

24

Yes, there he was, on the bench under the appletree, looking cool and
lazy in his white ducks, stretched out at his ease, after a long days work.
Sunlight filtered through the leaves on his smooth dark head, and on Junior
blond and radiant, sitting at his feet on a blanket. Junior was waving his
arms excitedly and gurgling, he bounced up and down on the ground, evident-
ly he wished to dance.

John stopped playing to address his son gravely:
"Like it? Good old sport! Listen to this."

And he blew softly a gay little tune.

The pan-pipes...In those cool artless notes there was laughter and some
kind of hardly human wisdom...Evelyn, still unseen among the trees, wonder-
ed what sort of creature it was that she had caught there--a faun or a poet?

Or--the poor old Chief too had wanted to play the flute!---was this
actually after all the natural man?