March, Ebola had crossed the border into Liberia. It was confirmed in Sierra Leone in May.

In June, MSF described the Ebola outbreak as out of control

Nigeria had its first case of the disease in July and, in the same month, two leading doctors died from Ebola in Liberia and Sierra Leone

In August, the United Nations health agency declared an "international public health emergency", saying that a co-ordinated response was essential to halt the spread of the virus.

Senegal reported its first case of Ebola on 29 August. A young man from Guinea had travelled to Senegal despite having been infected with the virus, officials said.

By September, WHO director general Margaret Chan said the number of patients was "moving far faster than the capacity to manage them".

Director of the Centersfor Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) in the US, Thomas Frieden, said in October that the Ebola outbreak in West Africa was unlike anything since the emergence of HIV/Aids. But Senegal managed to halt transmissions by mid October.

Authorities in Mali confirmed the death of the country's first Ebola patient, a two-year-old girl, on 25 October. The girl had travelled hundreds of kilometres by bus from Guinea through Mali showing symptoms of the disease, the WHO said.

An infected Islamic preacher from Guinea, who was initially diagnosed with a kidney problem, was treated at a clinic in Bamako. The preacher died a few days after entering the country.

Two health workers who cared for the preacher also died after contracting the virus. In total, Mali recorded six deaths from Ebola. By


January 2015 however, the country was declared ebola-free.

Ebola outside West Africa

*In all but three cases the patient was infected with Ebola while in West Africa. Infection outside Africa has been restricted to health workers in Madrid and in Dallas. DR Congo also reported a separate outbreak of an unrelated strain of Ebola.

The first case of the deadly virus diagnosed on US soil was announced on 1 October . Thomas Eric Duncan, 42, who contracted the virus in Liberia before travelling to the US, died on 8 October.

He had not displayed symptoms of the disease until 24 September, five days after his arrival. Other people with whom he came into contact are being monitored for symptoms.

Two medical workers in Dallas, Texas, who treated Duncan tested positive for Ebola sincehis death but have both recovered. The second death on US soil was surgeon Martin Salia, from Sierra Leone. He was flown back to the United States in November and treated for Ebola at a hospital in Nebraska. But Dr Salia, who had US residency and was married to an American, died a short time later.

Spanish nurse Teresa Romero was the first person to contract the virus outside West Africa. She was part of a team of about 30 staff at the Carlos II hospital in Madrid looking after two missionaries who returned from Liberia and Sierra Leone after becoming infected.

Germany, Norway, France, Italy, Switzerland and the UK have all treated patients who contracted the virus in West Africa.

2014 outbreak in context

Ebola was first identified in 1976 and


occurs in regions of sub-Saharan Africa. There are normally fewer than 500 cases reported each year, and no cases were reported at all between 1979 and 1994.

In August 2014, the WHO confirmed a separate outbreak of Ebola in the Democratic Republic of Congo. By the beginning of October there had been 70 cases reported and 43 deaths.

However, the outbreak in DR Congo was a different strain of the virus and unrelated to the epidemic in West Africa, which now dwarfs all previous outbreaks.On 'A Day Without a Woman,' local women learn inner-workings of Maryland politics

There was a time when the women in red couldn't get a seat at the table, and now on Wednesday, there — quite literally— weren't enough.

"Look at us today," said Del. Sheila Hixson, D-Silver Spring, to the crowded room during the Women's Caucus of Maryland meeting. "We've obviously done something right."

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Like many around the country, the bi-partisan group acknowledged the A Day Without a Woman demonstration and International Women's Day, which both occurred Wednesday. They wore red pantsuits, red dresses, red flats and red scarves. They talked about the time when there weren't women bathrooms in the State House and how they would sometimes sneak a glass of wine in each others' offices on bad days.

Organized


by the leaders of the Women's March on Washington, A Day Without a Woman aims to recognize the impact women have on the economy. People around the country supported the movement by either not working, avoiding shopping at stores that weren't owned by women or minorities, or wearing red in solidarity.

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In Annapolis, about 20 women from all over the state — ranging from teenagers to mothers — celebrated by participating in Annapolis Shadow Day, where they learned the inner workings of a field that has yet to reach parity in its representation: Maryland politics.

Right now, women make up 11 of the 47 state senators and 49 of the 141 delegates in the Maryland General Assembly. With the retirement of former Sen. Barbara Mikulski and Rep. Donna Edwards unsuccessfullyrunning for her seat this past year, there are now no women representing Maryland in Congress.

The goal of the day is to connect women with delegates and show them that they, too, can run for political office, said Mriga Rao, organizer and chair of Young Democrats of America Women's Caucus. The caucus hopes to keep in touch with the participants and help them with resources if they decide to run for a local election. Baltimore State's Attorney Marilyn Mosby is a former participant of the program.

Rao said the fact that the event fell on the national demonstration was a coincidence, since its planning began in the fall. But the group leaned into the movement by encouraging women to wear red and stressed the importance of encouraging each other


to run for office.

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"Women need to be asked six or seven times before they run for congress," she said. "To increase the participation, we need to get them while they're young. They could be the next Barbara Mikulski."

Briana Harden, 16, of Fort George G. Meade, said she wanted to shadow a Maryland delegate since she's been in student government for years and has always been "vice president or president" of some organization. This was her first time visiting the State House, and she said it was interesting to watch the senators debate the merits of certain bills and delegate tasks to their staff.

Harden admitted that she was surprised to see men in the state house wearing red ties in honor of the day.

"It's nice to see that support,"she said.

For Annapolis resident Eve Hurwitz, she's been thinking of running for elected office for about a decade. The Navy veteran, now reservist, said the results of the 2016 election acted as a catalyst for her to run as a state senator. She plans to run against state Sen. Edward Reilly, R-Anne Arundel, in the District 33 senate race.

Hurwitz said there was "no better way" to celebrate International Women's Day than to meet with local politicians about how women could be better represented in government. Her 5-month-old daughter was with her for part of the day, and when Hurwitz couldn't find a good location to breast feed, she said it led to a productive discussion with Senate President Thomas V. Mike Miller Jr.'s staff about the needs of


mothers and maternity leave.

"For me, it's all about unity," she said. "Maybe this sounds like a hippie, but coming together will save us."

The day ended with a reception with state Sens. Douglas Peters, D-Prince George's County, and Nancy King, D-Montgomery County. The senators talked about issues that were important to them, like education and the paid sick leave bill, and encouraged the group of women to get involved in their school boards and community groups as soon as possible.

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For those interested in running for office, Peters recommended the women reach out to their representatives. By women creating that relationship, he said, the representatives can help build their resumes and point them to career-building opportunities.

Hurwitz asked the two senators about how they handle the "mud slinging" that can occurof colour… — Jody Southam (@jodyaisha) October 4, 2017

i blame the frida kahlo bracelet for theresa may's meltdown tbh — bonghoot ferretmarm (@TimMacGabhann) October 4, 2017

Kahlo is one of Mexico’s most famous artists and her largely self-portrait paintings raised questions about Mexican society – particularly gender, race, and social class.

The New York Times wrote of her in an obituary after her death in 1954:

“She was a painter and also had been active in leftist causes. She made her last public appearance in a wheelchair at a meeting in support of the now ousted regime of Communist- backed President Jacobo Arbenz Guzman of Guatemala.”

The New York Review of books outlined her importance as a left-wing figure who gave voice to the voiceless and stood up for vulnerable women:

“According to


legend, Tehuana women were the real figures of authority in their society, and Kahlo’s wearing of such outfits was a demonstration of strength and will. Appearing this way in Mexico meant that she was continuously announcing her leftist identification with the underclass (she was in fact an ardent Communist at times), while the same clothes, when she was abroad, might be more purely a hassle or an embarrassment. (In New York, kids ran up to her on the street and asked where the circus was.) Yet Kahlo took to wearing long skirts in the first place to hide her withered leg; and her wearing clothes that symbolized women being in control was belied by her slavish and often bruised relationship with her husband, Diego Rivera.”you could also oppose the federalization of civil rights, as Goldwater did, without being a racist, contrary to what Brookhiser and the P.C. left think. Perhaps I give Brookhiser too much credit — he may be less a neocon, even, than a plain-vanilla New York liberal.)

Flying home from London, where the subject of formal debate on the 70th anniversary of World War II had been whether Winston Churchill was a liability or asset to the Free World, one arrives in the middle of a far more acrimonious national debate right here in the United States.

At issue: Should Barack Obama be allowed to address tens of millions of American children, inside their classrooms, during school hours?

Conservative talk-show hosts saw a White House scheme to turn public schools into indoctrination


centers where the socialist ideology of Obama would be spoon-fed to captive audiences of children forced to listen to Big Brother — and then do assignments on his sermon.

The liberal commentariat raged about right-wing paranoia.

Yet Byron York of The Washington Examiner dug back to 1991 to discover that, when George H.W. Bush went to Alice Deal Junior High to speak to America’s school kids, the left lost it.

“The White House turned a Northwest Washington junior high classroom into a television studio and its students into props,” railed The Washington Post. Education Secretary Lamar Alexander was called before a House committee. The National Education Association denounced Bush. And Congress ordered the General Accounting Office to investigate.

Obama’s actual speech proved about as controversial as a Nancy Reagan appeal to eighth-gradersYou will definitely be the golden girl in this lustrous changeable silk evening gown from the 1950's made by the Fashion Workroom, New York. The intricate construction has a scoop neckline with a V shaped opening and a criss-cross panel above a wide fitted cummerbund style waistline. The full skirt is flat at the center front with wide inverted pleats starting over the hips and continuing around the back to the metal center back zipper. The petticoat has horsehair panels over the hips for shaping as well as several ruffles at the back for fullness.

Norman Norell was an American master of design, sophisticated and elegant, never overdone or over embellished, always chic and flattering.

This elegant sleeveless black wool dress is a perfect example of his classic style. Vintage


with two darts, and the shoulder straps are accented by flat bows. There is a metal center back zipper and a lining of silk organza. The gently gathered skirt has a wide cummerbund style waistband enhanced by a narrow belt with a flat bow at the center front. The skirt has a center back zipper as well, and it is also lined in red silk organza. Comes with a Cape

Sleeveless dresses are all the rage right now thanks in part to Michele Obama, a true fashion original. Pauline Trigere, another iconic fashion original designed this sleeveless wool crepe dress in the 1960's. Perfect for drinks or dinner, this sleeveless dress has a high collar with V shaped seaming mimicking the V shaped seams at the bustline. The armholesare cut square, the skirt is a full A-line with pockets concealed in the side seams. The only ornamentation is a fabric covered belt held in place by four belt loops covered with prong set rhinestones. The belt buckles in the center back. There are two buttons and loops on the collar and a zipper which starts just above the belt, allowing for a glimpse of skin at the center back.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

I have been going back to this AMAZING site where the owner showcases vintage clothing. She had sold a black Claire McCardell dress to Tracey when she contacted the owner Angie a while back when she needed a dress for the CFDA Awards.

I have been looking at many dresses, because I like vintage clothing and


Sydney Cross the loud mouthed attorney; Chris and her lover Midge, a pro on the LPGA tour; Fern Rosenthal a Jewish retiree from Long Island living in Florida; Linda Granger ex star of the television show VIP Lounge; and the rest of Ullman's.

While her characters cross all boundaries of sex, race, religion, and age not once do they come across like stereotypes. Of course in some people's minds Ullman wearing black face in order to play an African American airport security officer named Sheneesha Turner, or her portrayal of Mrs. Non Nang Ning, the ancient Asian donut shop owner, is probably horribly politically incorrect. However as she's not holding back from skewering anyone or anything, I think these characters have to be taken within the context they arethese days who are willing to subordinate themselves to the character they're playing and even rarer to find one capable of creating a character with more depth than a cartoon cut out. Not only has Tracey Ullman created a very pointed, and sometimes poignant, look at modern life with her series Tracey Ullman Takes On, she does so by creating characters who are both funny and very real. As this was a cable television show originally, it comes with the requisite warnings about drug use, nudity, and some language. However it fails to give you two very important warnings that you'd be wise to heed before watching any of the material on this three disc set: Do not attempt to drink while watching this show because of the


stalked
outside. The stern features of the rugged old face sagged with
astonishment as he blinked at the small army of men swarming over his
littered yard.
"'Mornin', Cap'n," cheerily called Hank Simpson, the village storekeeper,
as he approached the irate man on the stoop.
Captain Pott was so completely jarred out of his usual complacency that
for once he had nothing to say. He forgot even to swear. As the
significance of the movements of the intruders suddenly dawned upon him
he mutely glared at Hank from beneath blackened and swollen eyelids.
"The women-folks said that you'd be wantin' to make your place look
peart, bein' as the new minister is goin' to stay here with you,"
explained Hank, who was apparently the leader of the group. "When we
men-folks heard that they was goin' to clean up on theinside we thought
it wouldn't be no more than neighborly for us to pitch in and give you a
hand with the outside."
It was evident that the Captain did not relish the explanation, for he
bristled with dangerous hostility as he took a step forward. But before
he could refer Hank Simpson and his entire male army to a certain warm
climate where he thought they might go with mutual advantage to himself
and them, the morning breeze carried within earshot another note, higher
in the scale, but unmistakable in significance. Silently the old man
stood and dumbly watched a procession of petticoats march up to his gate
and turn into the cinder path.
The female army took possession of the house even as the men had taken
possession of the yard, and he who had commanded mutinous crews


of every other article of furniture that was not actually built into
the walls. From his place beneath the elm the Captain heard all these
sounds, and watched his old pieces being piled in a confused mass about
the front yard. He was smoking incessantly, and swearing no less
frequently.
From up the road came the sharp thud of beating hoofs. As horse and
rider came into view he deliberately turned in the opposite direction.
At the gate the rider drew rein and swung lithely to the ground. Many
young admirers gathered quickly about the hitching-post, but the girl
was too swift for them. With a friendly nod and smile she tossed her
reins to a bashful youngster, and tripped up the path to where the
seaman was standing.
The daughter of the senior Elder of the Little River churchhad always
been fond of Captain Pott. When but an infant she had looked up into the
clear blue eyes, adoration and love in her own. During childhood she had
sat contentedly on his knee, or on a stool at his feet, listening with
rapt interest to his stories of adventure by land and sea. The Captain
had never been able to spin the wild yarns commonly known to be his
habit when Elizabeth Fox was his only audience. This was not due to any
fear that she would have detected fraud in his impossible tales, but to
the fact that he could not lie when the gaze of her big blue eyes was
fastened on him.
To-day she edged near and waited for recognition. Locks of her fair
hair, shaken loose by her ride, went straying bewitchingly over


her face
and forehead. The smile in her eyes crept down to the corners of her
mouth as she sought the averted face above her. But all she could
glimpse were violent motions of one ragged point of his moustache as it
kept imperfect time with the unseen end which was being viciously
chewed.
At length, the irresistible little attraction at his side proved too
strong for the Captain's stubbornness, and he looked down into her big
blue eyes. At sight of his own blackened and swollen lids Elizabeth
uttered a sharp cry. She took the roughened hand in hers and gave it a
gentle squeeze. But her deep concern was quickly followed by a ripple of
laughter. Hers was a laugh that was as good to see as to hear. The
Captain smiled a wholly unintentional smile and returnedshe done it against your father's ideas,
too. So he come over last night and tried to get Mr. McGowan to move
out. That made me madder than what Eadie had done, so I asked him right
then if he was willing to stay. He said he was. Your pa got sore, and
started real dignified to go home. The candle that Mr. McGowan had been
using was on the floor, and your pa's heel hit it. His cane went up and
he went down. His high hat took a swim in a bucket of soapy water that
the parson had been using to swab decks with."
"Father is so very dignified! It must have been quite funny," she
commented, between paroxysms of laughter. "I wish I could have seen
him!"
"'Twas a mite funny. I fished his beaver


out the pail, and he made off
holding it away from him like it was p'ison."
Sudden seriousness on the part of the girl caused the Captain to look in
the direction of her gaze. A tall young man had emerged from the back
door of the house, pail in hand. He came hurriedly toward the well.
"That's him," confirmed the seaman in answer to a look from Elizabeth.
"He? A minister?"
"You see now why I wa'n't strong enough to throw him out, don't you? I
cal'late Eadie Beaver would say the Lord took my strength away, but the
Lord don't need to give that feller a hand. He's a hull host to
himself."
"He doesn't look in the least like one," declared Elizabeth.
"He doesn't? Why, his arm is as big----"
"No, no! I mean he doesn't look likea minister."
"He ain't like none I ever see. He used to ship with me during the
summer months when he was in school, and he's man clean to the ground. I
can't see why in tarnation a big feller like him wants to take up such a
sissy's job of piloting a lot of women to heaven."
"But it isn't that kind of work, unless one makes it such," she
defended.
Mr. McGowan came to a halt on the opposite edge of the well-curbing. It
was very unladylike, and Elizabeth knew it, but in spite of herself she
continued to stare.
"Let me interduce you," suggested the Captain.
"Thank you, I'd better run along and help those in the house."
But she failed to suit the action to the word, and for the simple reason
that the gaze of two


hear you say that, and I trust you will be able to help the
members of the club," she said quietly. "But, there! I really must be
going. The ladies will think I have deserted them."
Elizabeth smiled, and the minister followed the smile down from her eyes
to the corners of her mouth. He made the mental observation that he had
never seen a more beautiful face. As she ran lightly up the path, he
watched her, unmindful of several pairs of observing eyes focused
knowingly in his direction.
When the day was over, and the furniture restored where the greater part
belonged, the "Cleaning Bee" gradually broke up. Captain Pott declared
to Elizabeth: "It wa'n't half so bad a day as I cal'lated it would be,
and it's many a year since the old craft has lookedso neat and togged
up."
That evening the Captain sat on his back doorstep, smoking his pipe, and
thinking. He thought about the transformation wrought by the hand of
women inside the house. He heaved a sigh, and thought of Clemmie Pipkin.
If she were only able to forget all the past and consent to his
oft-repeated proposal, but----He had thought that all out before, and
had brought all his persuasive powers against the citadel of her heart,
but to no avail. A new light dawned upon him. Perhaps----
Mr. McGowan came round the corner of the house. The Captain rose to meet
him.
"Mack, how'd you like to go out to the _Jennie P._ with me? That's the
name of my power-boat out there in the harbor. I thought it might be
sort of restful to take a little cruise


tables of the country folk
during Sunday dinner. The boys of the Athletic Club had received him
cordially, not only because of his athletic ability, but because he had
proved himself a good fellow. Elder Fox had strenuously opposed intimate
relationships between the club and former ministers, but he made no
attempt to interfere with Mr. McGowan, although he remained skeptical as
to the wisdom of such secular tendencies. Sim Hicks, the keeper of the
Inn, did not like the minister, and declared he would oust him from the
community if it were the last act of his life.
The one man who responded most naturally, whole-heartedly, and with
simple loyalty to the power of the young man's personality was Captain
Josiah Pott. These two became close companions, and one evening Mrs.
Eadie Beaver remarked concerning it:
"Ain't you glad Isaid concerning plans for the installation service
was true. Elder Fox was carrying the full responsibility, for he wished
to make this meeting one long to be remembered. He selected with great
care those who were to sit on the council. The Reverend Mr. Means had
been chosen for two reasons, first that he was a personal friend of the
Elder, and second because his presence would add dignity to the
occasion. It was even arranged that the city clergyman should be made
moderator.
The eventful day arrived, and with it dignitaries of city and
countryside. It was a fearfully hot humid day in July, one of those days
when to move about was torment, and to work was torture. Not a breath of
air stirred. The clergymen were plainly enervated as they descended from
the various vehicles which had


conveyed them over from Little River. The
Reverend Mr. Means mopped his face as the chauffeur assisted him from
the Elder's limousine. He greeted every one with deep sonorous tones.
His manner was graciously condescending, but never once familiar. He
made his way up the steps of the chapel with what was evidently meant
for a majestic stride, but his heavy frame turned it into a decided
waddle. He shook hands with a chosen few, all the while looking far
above their heads as though his vision were not of this world.
The Captain watched the clergyman till he had disappeared behind the
vestibule doors, and then remarked to Mrs. Beaver, "Them kind ain't hard
to sight. I could sight that feller a mile in the offin', on a dark
night, with my eyes shut! If Mack McGowan wasthat kind, he'd get to
stay here about twenty-four hours, and then he'd smell fire and
brimstone."
Mrs. Beaver surprised the seaman with a wry smile and vigorous nod.
Mr. McGowan arrived in due season under tow of the Elder. Mr. Fox led
him before the clergyman from the city, who was lounging near an open
window in the front of the auditorium.
"How do you do, Brother Fox!" boomed the deep voice of Mr. Means. "And
is this the fortunate young man who has been called to this delightful
little town?"
"Yes, this is Mr. McGowan. Mr. McGowan, this is the Reverend Mr. Means
from New York City."
The studied dignity of the visiting clergyman seemed to receive a
decided shock as he rolled up out of his chair. He stood before the
candidate to whom the Elder had introduced him


Fox and his charge were out of sight, Mr. Means motioned
to Mr. Harry Beaver. He whispered in the little man's ear, and indicated
the groups of ministers gathered here and there about the room.
Harry Beaver had the misfortune to stutter, and in his eagerness to make
himself understood he would support himself, stork-like, on one leg, and
pump the other up and down with frantic jerks. Mr. Beaver's services
were invaluable in such cases as this when gossip was to be repeated,
for his stuttering compelled him to leave just enough unsaid to make
his news the more startling. He was seen slowly pumping his way from
group to group, and there followed in his wake the buzz of low
whisperings.
When Elder Fox later saw these signs, he was greatly perturbed. He went
directly to the ReverendMr. Means and demanded particulars. On hearing
what the clergymen had to say, the Elder declared that this was neither
the time nor the place to air theological differences. The city
clergyman leaned forward to whisper a further explanation, but was
interrupted by Mr. Beaver, who announced that he had finished his task.
Mr. Means looked at his watch, declared it was time to open the session,
and rapped sharply for order.
Minor matters of business were quickly dispatched, and Mr.
Means--according to the prearranged plan--was duly elected moderator.
"Brethren and sisters," he roared in his most effective tones, "we now
come to the most important, and, I hope, the most delightful part of
this program. We are to be favored with a statement from the Reverend
Mr. McGowan, who is the candidate for installation as pastor of this
very beautiful


church. The members of the council will be given an
opportunity to question Mr. McGowan after he has read to us his
statement. A word of caution needs to be uttered: you are to confine
your questions to theological matters as they may affect the fellowship
of the ministers and churches represented to-day by pastor and delegate.
Mr. McGowan will please come forward."
Mr. McGowan came forward in more ways than one. He concisely stated his
belief in applied Christianity, and followed with a program for future
work in the village. His short statement left the council under the
spell of an embarrassed silence. But the first question broke the
silence, and was followed by others both new and old, which were hurled
at the head of the candidate like shots from a rapid-fire gun.
Captain Pott stood the fusilladethan theology?"
"Religion is something that has outgrown both the classroom and the
cloister. It is the anonymous religion that we must take into account in
the future if the church is to progress with the needs of men."
It was the voice of the Captain who broke the silence of surprise which
followed the unusual statement.
"I want to know!" came the seaman's exclamation in a hoarse stage
whisper.
Every face in the room seemed to register the same question. Mr. McGowan
smiled and explained.
"By anonymous religion I mean every ideal striving for the right and
truth, wherever it is found, and by whatever name it may be known. It
may be found outside the church as readily as within it. Wherever good
is found, the church should make use of it, whether it is counted
orthodox or not."
First one,


and then another, was on his feet, till the moderator was
powerless to moderate. Some exclaimed for, and others declaimed against,
the candidate. Still others fired broadside after broadside into all
present.
"It ain't much like a heavenly craft, that there ark, now, is it?"
queried the Captain of his two friends. "Smells more like brimstone
round these parts than it does like heavenly ozone."
Mr. Fox assumed command, and under his steady hand and head the
spiritual elements began slowly to calm.
"In all my life," he lamented, "I have never seen such proceedings in
the house of God. The parish committee arranged this meeting--er--for
the purpose of fellowship, and you have seen fit to make of it child's
play. It is time for us to recognize that Mr. McGowan is big enough, and
broad enough, to supply the needsunorthodox men to our
pulpits. It is atrocious, and I shall wash my hands of the whole affair.
I regret very much that our beloved Brother Fox has forced me to
disagree with him, and if he is of the same opinion still, I shall have
to ask him to take the chair while the vote he has called for is being
registered."
Mr. Fox took the chair, and the motion passed without one dissenting
voice. Adjournment to the kitchen parlors followed, and when that vote
was taken the voice of him who had washed his hands of the action of the
council was heard booming an affirmative near the Captain's ear.
The bounteous provisions warmed heart and stomach, and that fact,
together with some persuasion from Elder Fox, led the city minister to
the decision that he would lose


nothing if he remained to deliver his
prepared address. And he did himself proudly. Even Captain Pott could
find no fault with the impassioned words of the speaker. He was heard
to remark, however, "Them there things he said wa'n't what was inside by
a damn sight, but just smeared on like honey."
It was late that night when the Captain reached home after closing the
church building. The minister was in his study, and the old man tapped
lightly on the door.
"Won't be disturbing your peaceful meditations about that meeting if I
come in for a spell, will I?"
Assured he would not, he entered. He took a chair on the opposite side
of the table and drew out his pipe.
"There ain't no wind so fierce that it don't blow you some good," he
philosophized, as with deliberationthat one of us is going to keep that feller company in hell.
Beyond that you'll have to guess," said the Captain, rising. "Only don't
you tie too tight to Means, that's all. Good night, I'm going to turn
in."
"All right, Cap'n, I'll promise," replied Mr. McGowan, smiling
appreciatively.
"You'd best go to bed, too, Mack. You're mighty tired."
But the minister did not follow his friend's advice about retiring. He
sat at his desk. The angry men of the afternoon slowly faded from his
thoughts, and into the center of his consciousness came the vision of
the loveliest face he had ever seen. He recalled the words of frank
approval with which Miss Fox had met him after the evening service, and
the cordial manner she had shown. Not that he was in love with one of
the members


of his church. That would never do. But there was something
different about the Elder's daughter, something which appealed to his
sense of the beautiful. This, he told himself, he could enjoy without
overstepping the conventions.
The next day he was to dine at the Fox home.
CHAPTER III
On the following evening, just as early as the rules of propriety would
permit, Mr. McGowan turned into the private road that led up to the Fox
estate. He walked slowly along the wide avenue beneath the spreading
elms and stately chestnuts. He had dined with the Elder many times
during the few months he had been in the village, but on those other
occasions Elizabeth had been absent. The house had always seemed cold
and forbidding both outside and inside. As he came out of the shaded
roadway into the sweepingsemicircle described before the main entrance
to the house, he caught himself wondering if the stiff interior would
seem softened by the presence of the girl. He began at once to chide
himself for entertaining such a sentimental notion, but before he could
finish the rebuke the door swung back, and Elizabeth Fox stood in the
opening. She was dressed in a simple blue frock of clinging stuff,
which set off the perfect lines of her athletic body. The blue of her
eyes took on a deeper hue as though to harmonize with the shade of her
gown.
"Good evening, Mr. McGowan. We are so glad you could come. Father will
be right down."
The minister's emotions played leap-frog with his heart, and he stumbled
awkwardly on the upper step. He made some stupidly obvious observation
concerning the condition of the


weather as he followed his hostess into
the library. He realized that he was acting strangely for one who had
reached the supposedly practical view of life where all sentiment is
barred from social intercourse with the fair sex, but he also realized
that he was powerless to check the surge of what he now felt within.
With kaleidoscopic rapidity there flashed through his mind every
occasion when he had been with Miss Fox, from the first meeting beneath
the elm-tree in the Captain's yard to the present time, and he
recognized what it was that had sent scurrying his practical views of
life. He was in love, not with the beauty of this girl, but with her.
That love had come like the opening strains of a grand symphony, subtly
and gently disturbing his emotional equilibrium, but withaccumulative
effect the transitions had come with the passing weeks, till now every
interest in his life seemed to be pouring out into the one emotion he
felt.
Elizabeth had preceded him into the library, and was standing motionless
before the mantel. She became suddenly aware of what was going on within
the mind of Mr. McGowan, and a shy embarrassment crept into her eyes.
Simultaneously, an unreasoning determination took possession of the
minister. Unconsciously, he began to move in her direction, unmindful of
the sound of footfalls on the stair. Only one step remained between Mr.
McGowan and Elizabeth when Elder Fox entered the room.
"I trust I'm not intruding----"
The Elder began nervously to stroke his chops. His breath came heavily,
shutting off his words. A hunted look leaped into his eyes as he
studied the tense face of the


eager young man. Could it be possible that
the fears of the Reverend Mr. Means--privately made known to the Elder
after the installation service--had foundation in fact? Or had the
suggestion of Mr. Means lodged in the Elder's mind, playing havoc with
his imagination?
Mr. McGowan drew off to the far end of the mantel, and began,
figuratively, to kick himself. He had often declared that a man in love
was the biggest mule on earth, and now here he was, the king of them
all, a genuine descendant of Balaam's mount with all his asinine
qualities, but lacking his common mule sense.
"I--I beg your pardon," he stammered.
"There is no occasion for excuses," graciously replied the girl.
"Father, Mr. McGowan and I were----" She paused, blushing in confusion.
"Really, Mr. McGowan, what were we saying?"
She laughed, and it wasyou answered the questions yesterday," commented the Elder
enthusiastically. "You showed a fine spirit, too, sir, one--er--which
some of the older men might well emulate."
"I feel greatly indebted to you, Mr. Fox, for the final outcome."
The Elder waved his hand as though lightly to brush aside such words of
praise, and yet in the same movement he modestly acknowledged that
without his aid the young minister could have done nothing.
"I might also add, that we are delighted with the work you are doing at
the church," continued the Elder magnanimously. "It is--er--very good.
Though I am still a little dubious about your associations down at the
club, still----"
"Father's ambition is to have all the pews filled," broke in Elizabeth,
attempting to divert her father from a delicate topic.
"No, my dear. That is hardly my position. There


could have doubtless given me valuable information concerning
the traders of his day, and thus have put me on the trail of my client.
This man was arrested on some charge trumped up by two scamps, but was
later released and exonerated. They'd arrest a man over there for
looking at his own watch if he happened to cross his eyes while doing
it. At the time when my client was in trouble the convict-ships were in
business."
The Elder dropped back from the edge of his chair which he had held
since the beginning of the conversation. He gave his son a look of dumb
appeal. With an effort he straightened and glared vacantly across the
table.
"I was aboard the convict-ship _Success_ while she was in the New York
harbor this spring," commented the minister. "I don't seewas sipping his coffee, and his cup fell into the saucer with
a crash, breaking both fragile pieces into fragments. The contents were
sprayed over the linen, and drops stained the Elder's white waistcoat.
"Father!" cried Elizabeth. "What is the matter? You are ill!"
He did not answer. He turned an ashen face toward Mr. McGowan, and with
a wild stare studied that young man's face. The two men sprang to the
old man's assistance, but as the minister reached out his hand Mr. Fox
gave a startled cry and threw up his arm as though to ward off a blow.
"Go back to your seats!" ordered the Elder thickly. "Do not mind me. I'm
all right, or shall be in a few seconds."
He fought helplessly for self-control.
"Come, Dad, you must go to your room," declared Harold,


were not one-half their original size. But in spite
of the friction that was grinding at the religious machinery, Mr.
McGowan went on steadily about his work. He visited the Inn more
frequently, and won no little renown among the members of the club. But
here he also had his enemies, and they were becoming bolder in
proportion as the church grew more hostile toward its minister. Sim
Hicks, the keeper of the Inn, began an open fight against Mr. McGowan's
intrusions, declaring he would make good a former threat to oust the
"Psalm-singer" from the village.
One evening Mr. McGowan returned to his study deeply perplexed. What was
the meaning in the unjust persecution? Not that he complained; his
difficulty was rather his inability to get at the bottom of it all. He
stood before his window gazing absentlythem skunks at the Inn, and don't give 'em the inside of the
track. Cal'late you'd best go over to supper, and see if Harry's going
to shut off the rations."
Three days after this conversation Mr. McGowan's month was up, and the
hammer of Mr. Beaver's authority came down. Captain Pott stood in his
door, watching the pantomime as Mr. Beaver pumped, backed, stuttered,
and blinked out the minister's dismissal from his wife's table. The
Captain had an extra griddle on the stove when Mr. McGowan returned.
Without question or comment he indicated a chair, and the minister
smiled like a schoolboy as he drew it up before the place at the
Captain's table which he was to occupy from now on.
"Best eat 'em while they're sizzling hot," invited the Captain, dumping
a turnerful of cakes on the


the yarn to me that you've been spreading round
town," he said, slowly filling his pipe and offering the pouch to Harry
Beaver.
Mr. Beaver spurned the weed of peace with a ferocious glare. With a
little coaching the Captain brought out the story. The gist of the
matter was that Mr. Beaver considered McGowan morally lax in the free
way he was mixing with the boys at the Inn.
"Let's get this straight. Who is the feller you're talking about? Just
repeat his name to me."
"M-McGowan!" defiantly repeated Mr. Beaver.
"When mentioning him to me,"--requested the Captain in a tone that made
the other man start with apprehension,--"you'll call him _Mr._ McGowan.
Understand that?"
Mr. Beaver seemed fully to understand, for he obeyed. When he had
finished his yarn of sheer nonsense, Captain Pott slowly laid his pipe
on the tableand his hand on the little man's collar. He led him to the
door, and opened it. Harry tugged like a bull-pup on the end of a leash,
so that when the Captain released his hold--with ever so slight a
shove--Mr. Beaver described a spread-eagle on the cinder path.
"If you repeat that rotten truck to another soul, I ain't going to be
responsible for what happens to you!" He shot each word at the kicking
figure from between set teeth, and brushed one hand over the other as
though to clean them of filth.
Mrs. Beaver ran to her husband, lifted him out of the cinders, and
patted the ashes from his clothing. Harry Beaver stood irresolutely for
a moment, and violently shook his fist at the man standing in the door.
"Y-You'll p-p-pay for this!" He spit


out words and cinders with gasping
breath.
Captain Pott went inside. He washed his breakfast dishes. He was by no
means as calm as he appeared. The whole day through he fed the fires of
his anger. That night he urged the minister to stay at home. He even
begged him not to go to the Inn. Mr. McGowan asked the reason for his
deep concern. The Captain could give none, except to say that the
microbes were working overtime. But duty called more loudly than his
friend's fears, and Mr. McGowan went that evening to the Inn. An hour
later the Captain's intuition got the upper hand of his judgment, and he
followed.
CHAPTER V
An ominous murmur of voices, with a deep growling undertone, floated up
from the improvised gymnasium in the basement as Captain Pott entered
the swinging doorsof Willow-Tree Inn. This was followed by a more
ominous silence. The seaman bounded down the steps. The sight that met
his gaze caused him to stop short. On each side of the low room men and
boys were drawn up in lines, and the division was as clean cut as though
chosen for a tug of war. The doors at the far end of the gymnasium swung
back, and a stranger, stripped to the waist, stepped gingerly into the
room. Sim Hicks met the man, and began to tie a pair of boxing gloves to
his hands. While the Captain looked on in utter amazement, the doors
again swung back, and Mack McGowan entered. He did not appear surprised
at sight of the crowd, as large audiences had become quite the common
thing during his boxing lessons.


she was here. He says if what
we suspect is true, he couldn't show the white feather now. He's the
best sport I've ever seen, and I hate to see him beat up by that
white-livered slugger."
"I sha'n't see it!"
Captain Pott started toward the ring that was rapidly forming about the
boxers. He caught the minister's glance. He halted. In that glance there
was an expression which the Captain had come to recognize and respect.
Mack McGowan was going to take his medicine, or give it, and no one was
to interfere during the dose. The seaman dropped back into the shadow of
the stair.
The boxers faced each other. There was no doubt left in the minds of the
onlookers as to the profession of the stranger as he squared off for
action. The minister recognized, too, thetrap that had been set for
him, but he gave no evidence of worry. He met the malicious grin of the
other with a friendly, but grim smile.
The stranger lost no time in preliminaries. He thought himself in full
possession of the minister's boxing ability, and he showed a great
amount of over-confidence. He had studied the other's speed, he had
spied into his style, he had tested his reach. Certainly, with all this
knowledge, he should have a picnic. He had been very careful on all
occasions to appear as nothing more than a novice. He was not unmindful
of the other's endurance, but hoping to make a quick end of the matter,
he tried to force the minister under full headway at once. He went at
him in a whirlwind rush. It seemed to the observers


that Mr. McGowan
must certainly be swept from the floor.
But the minister was not caught off his guard. He quickly guessed the
other's intention. With a swiftness that took the breath of the
onlookers, he stepped aside, drew in his left toe under his right heel,
and faced to the right. It was done in a flash! With one long step he
swung out to the left of his adversary. Out of the range of terrific
blows, he smiled and made a closer study of his opponent, eye and brain
alert for information. It took but a moment, and he was facing the
stranger before the man was ready to meet him.
The Captain had never seen his young friend box with greater ease,
although the odds were against him in weight. He warded off blow after
blow witha precision that was maddening to the other. His foot-work was
as quick as that of a cat, and as sure. Again and again the stranger
would rush in with deadly intent, only to find himself blocked, or to
back away severely punished.
A breathless suspense hushed all rooting. The minister had dropped his
guard! Even the other boxer hesitated, as though he could not believe
his own eyes. Mr. McGowan had thrown back his head and shoulders as
though he had partially lost his foothold. The city boxer rushed in and
swung for the other's heart with all his weight behind the blow. When it
was too late he saw his mistake. He had been led into a trap, and the
very movement which had drawn the blow made it ineffective. With
lightning-like swiftness the minister stepped forward,


delivered three
blows on his opponent's head with bewildering rapidity, and recovered
himself with ease and without exertion. The stranger recoiled, and for
an instant appeared to be under the impulse to run. But blind rage
seized him as his unexpected punishment began to sting, and he came
back like a madman. Mr. McGowan shoved aside or blocked the terrific
shower of fists with a coolness and precision that drove the stranger
momentarily insane. He bellowed like a mad bull. He began to slug with
the force of a pile-driver without any pretense to fairness. He leaped
from left to right, and back again, like an orangutan stirred to
frenzied anger. Mr. McGowan tried to stop him by calling time, but with
a foul oath he shot a stiff arm into the minister's abdomen. Decidedly
jarred, Mr. McGowan swayed backunder the impact of the foul, but
recovered his footing in time to meet the other with a blow full in the
face. The stranger rushed in again, but Mr. McGowan ducked, landed his
glove with a heavy jar on his adversary's body, and cut the man's lip
with a right swing as he sprang to safety.
The sight and smell of his own blood sent the city pugilist into a
crazed frenzy. He threw his elbow into the minister's throat and hurled
him against the wall. Holding him there as though in a vise he landed a
wicked hook under the left ear. Sim Hicks gave an immoderate laugh. A
shout went up from the few who favored the stranger. A deep growl was
the answer from Hank Simpson and his following as they sprang forward.
They seized


Mr. McGowan, tore him away from the maddened pugilist, and
led him to a box. Hank steadied him while Jud Johnson massaged the
bruised neck and bathed the bleeding ear. Sim Hicks crossed to where
they were at work.
"Have you got enough?" he asked with a sneer.
"No! And by thunder, you ain't got all that's coming to you, neither,"
growled Jud.
Mr. McGowan leaned heavily against Hank Simpson. As it was apparent that
his mind was beginning to clear, Sim Hicks came closer.
"Are you ready to call quits and stop your damned meddling in my
affairs?" persisted the Innkeeper.
Mr. McGowan shook his head, slowly. Then, with a start, he straightened.
Between the uprights of the stair-banister he had see two faces peering
down into the room. As his vision cleared a little more he saw that one
faceMcGowan gave no sign of having suffered from the severe
punishment because of the other man's foul. Those who had been standing
about the box, now jostled the other faction out of the ring, and
pressed closely about the Captain.
During the next fifteen minutes the boxers worked swiftly. Although the
stranger had publicly defied the seaman's orders to fight fair, yet it
was apparent to all that he was obeying them. Only once did he attempt a
foul. The Captain's quick eyes saw, and with a thundering command that
shook the room he checked the pugilist's stiff arm movement to the
throat. Then the end came. Mr. McGowan brought forward his head and
shoulders with his usual lightning-like swiftness in order to draw a
lead before the other was prepared for it, and at the same time he
accompanied


the movement with a quick jerking back of his left hand as
though suddenly changing his mind. The city man did the rest. He halted.
Mr. McGowan stepped to the left just as the other delivered his spent
blow, and with the added weight of his moving body landed his right
glove against the stranger's ear. This was quickly followed with a
crashing upper-cut to the heavy jaw. There was a loud rending and
ripping of splintered wood as the big man fell through one of the thin
panels of the partition. He slid to the floor and lay motionless amidst
the wreckage.
Sim Hicks bawled at him to get up and go on with the fight. Mr. Beaver
squirmed and whined under the tightening grip like a beaten pup. The
crowd stood dumb with amazement. Few of thosepresent had ever witnessed
the effect of a knock-out blow.
Mr. McGowan was the first to the side of the prostrate man. He lifted
him to his feet, and began walking him about. As the stranger regained
his senses, he smiled faintly at Hicks' repeated requests that the
fight be finished.
"How long was I out?" asked the pugilist.
Sim caught the savage glare in the Captain's eyes, and reluctantly
admitted that it had been over a minute.
"But this ain't no regular match!" he shouted.
The pugilist looked in the direction of the Captain as he drew away from
the minister and steadied himself against an upright.
"I guess we'll have to call it regular enough to go by rules," declared
the city boxer. "I'm beaten, Hicks."
"I was sorry to do it, but there seemed no other way. There was


fire, if
her presence in his home would change her attitude toward him. This
question wakened anew the desire of his youth, and after he had retired
it kept sleep from his eyes through the long hours of the night. He
must have Clemmie Pipkin to take care of his house.
Daylight had barely kindled her fires over the eastern waters when the
two men boarded the _Jennie P._ Mr. McGowan noticed that the Captain
took particular pains in cleaning and polishing the few brass trimmings.
They both worked hard till the sun appeared, and then hastily ate a
lunch which they had brought aboard with them. After finishing the
sandwiches, the Captain went forward and dropped a measuring-stick into
the gasoline tank.
"I'll swan!" he ejaculated. "There ain't a drop of 'ile in that there
tank. And I left thesprung a surprise on his
teacher. "Ain't you going to welcome 'em? You'll find their name on the
roster, and they brought their grub with 'em."
"This is a very delightful surprise," faintly declared the minister.
Elizabeth looked troubled, and her discomfort did not add to the
minister's ease. She had been anything but cordial since the incident at
her home when Mr. Fox had taken ill. He had not seen her since the
fight. He feared that the interpretation placed on that by her father
had not bettered his standing.
"I didn't go to bed last night right off, Mack, when I said I was
going," explained the Captain. "I went out and fixed up this little
party for a sort of surprise to all hands. I stowed that 'ile in the
boat-house on purpose so as I could


they stood by the
wheel together steering the _Jennie P._ through them rollers. Beth takes
to water just the same way she takes to everything, with her whole
soul."
It was noon when they cast anchor in the Riverhead Inlet. The men
prepared to go ashore while the girls took out the lunches. As the
baskets were opened, and bundles untied, Mr. McGowan suggested that they
make for shore before their appetites demanded otherwise.
At the landing the men parted, for the Captain had expressed the desire
to make his visit alone. He did not tell the minister that his
destination was the County Farm for fear that he, Mr. McGowan, would not
understand that Clemmie Pipkin was the matron, and not an inmate.
Captain Pott found Miss Pipkin without difficulty. During the past ten
years, he had been a frequentme to get you."
"He did?"
"Sartin did."
"Poor thing! He's been treated so scandalously that he's willing to do
'most anything. Well, it may be the death of me, but I've got this far,
and I may as well go on."
Mr. McGowan was waiting for them at the end of the wharf. The skipper
introduced them with a malicious wink at Miss Pipkin as he indicated
the physical strength of the minister. Her face flushed as nearly
crimson as it had in years. When they finally got into the dory she
leaned close to the Captain and set his staid old heart palpitating. Mr.
McGowan was engaged, waving to the girls in the _Jennie P._
"You ain't going to tell him what I said about his being delicate, and
the like, are you, Josiah?"
He answered with a vigorous shake


of the head as he leaned back to draw
the oars through the water. Each time he swung forward he looked into
the eyes of Miss Pipkin. Did he imagine it, or did he see there
something more than interest in her own question?
Aboard the _Jennie P._ the young ladies took charge of Miss Pipkin, and
soon they were chatting companionably. The girls had removed the door to
the cabin, and laying it from seat to seat, had improvised a table. Over
it they had spread cloths, and on the cloths were plates piled high with
good things. The odor of coffee greeted the Captain's nostrils, as he
came forward after securing the dory.
"Well, I'd like to know! Where in tarnation did you get the stove to
b'ile the coffee on?" he asked, sniffing the air.
"We broughtthink of him for his part in the
affair at the Inn? He decided that he would take advantage of the first
opportunity to prove to her that no other course had been left open for
him.
Dinner over, the Captain filled his pipe, and stood in the door of the
cabin. He smoked quietly, and watched the ladies put the things away.
Miss Pipkin was folding the cloths, and on her the seaman's gaze came to
a rest. Would the old home seem different with her in it?
"Hadn't we better start?"
The Captain jumped. "I cal'late I'm getting nervous, jumping like
that."
"Or in love?"
"Maybe you're right, Mack."
"Honest confession?"
"I ain't confessing nothing. I was referring to your idea that we'd best
be under way," explained the Captain, with a wry smile.
As he spoke he leaned over the engine,


and gave it a turn. Tommy, Miss
Pipkin's black cat, was mincing contentedly at some scraps when the
chug-chug of the exhaust shot from the side of the boat. Tommy shot from
the cockpit. He paused on the upper step, a startled glare in his eyes.
He forgot the tempting morsels; he forgot his rheumatism; he was bent on
flight. And fly he did. With a wild yodeling yell he sprang forward.
Like a black cyclone he circled the deck. On his fourth time round he
caught sight of the minister's legs. He and Elizabeth were standing at
the wheel, ready to steer the boat out of the harbor. To the cat's
excited glance the man's legs suggested the beginnings of tree trunks,
at the top of which there was safety and repose from the spitting demon
at theside of the boat. Like a flying bat he made the leap. But he had
misjudged both the distance and his own rheumatic muscles. He landed on
the girl, and came to a rest half-way to her shoulder. His claws sank
into the thick folds of her sweater. Elizabeth released her hold on the
wheel, and with a cry fell back against the minister. A pair of strong
arms lost neither time nor opportunity. With a little persuasion Tommy
saw his mistake, and dropped to the deck. He took up his interrupted
flight, finally coming to an uncertain rest somewhere aloft.
Elizabeth looked up, smiled, blushed like a peony, took hold the wheel,
and gently released herself.
"Oh, thank you! Wasn't it stupid of me to let that old cat frighten me
so?"
Mr. McGowan declared that he was delighted


to have been of service, and
his emotions began to be very evident to him.
It took considerable coaxing on the part of the Captain, and more
clawing on the part of Tommy, before he could be convinced that the
cabin was as safe as the mast. At last he gave in and came down, and as
the boat left the harbor he was purring contentedly, folded safely in
the arms of Miss Pipkin.
Before they reached Little River harbor, Miss Pipkin had many times
declared she was going to die. The Captain as many times remonstrated
with her, but she only showed a greater determination to die. When the
boat was anchored, she refused to move or be moved. The minister lifted
her bodily, and carried her to the dory. As he was handing her over the
side intothe Captain's arms, she objected to the transference by a
sudden lurch, which sent the minister to his knees. His foot caught on
the gunwale, and his ankle was severely wrenched. On releasing his shoe
string that night he discovered a serious sprain.
CHAPTER VII
"Lan' sakes!" exclaimed Miss Pipkin, who, fully recovered, was busily
engaged in the kitchen on the following morning when the minister
entered. "Now, what is the matter with you, Mr. McGowan?"
He was leaning on the back of a chair which he was sliding along the
floor in front of him.
"I twisted my ankle last evening as I was leaving the boat."
"You did! And you never said one word! How did you do it?"
"I slipped just as I handed you over the side."
"It was my foolishness that made you do it. Josiah!"


she called, as the
Captain came down by the rear stair. "Get me a basin of water and the
cayenne pepper, quick!"
The Captain obeyed with alacrity. Miss Pipkin soon had the ankle in the
water, and the water was a fiery red in color.
"It'll take the swelling out," she affirmed.
"Ain't you got it a mite too hot with pepper, Clemmie?"
"No, I ain't. That's all you men know about such things."
"Well, I didn't know."
The swelling began to disappear according to the prophecy of the
housekeeper, but the skin took on the color of the reddened water in the
basin. An hour later Mr. McGowan was undecided which was the more
undesirable, the pain from the sprain, or the blisters from the
treatment.
"Cal'late I'll run down to the _Jennie P._," announced the Captain after
breakfast. "You can't navigateno channel so long that it ain't got an
outlet of some sort, and the rougher 'tis, the shorter it's li'ble to
be. We're going to get out, you bank on that, and when we do, your daddy
is going to be aboard."
"Thank you, Uncle Josiah. I'm ready now to go ashore."
The look of relief on her beautiful face, as the tears of gratitude
filled her eyes, caused the Captain to swallow very hard, and to draw
the back of his hand across his eyes, remarking that the smoke was
getting into them. He was unmindful that his pipe had gone out long
ago.
On his way home the skipper became uncomfortably aware of the
seriousness of his promise to the Elder's daughter. He had pledged
himself and his support indirectly to Jim Fox! What that might mean


he
could not foresee. He remembered what Elizabeth had told him concerning
her father's condition, and this set a new train of thought going
through his brain. He recalled that there had always been times since
Jim Fox had first come to Little River when he had seemed dejected and
melancholy. Could it be possible that there had been some physical
disease working all these years in the Elder's body, and might that not
be an explanation for the mental state into which he seemed to be
heading? Might that not be the reason for his strange actions against
the minister and himself?
Captain Pott entered the dining-room just as Miss Pipkin emerged from
the minister's study. She was carrying a large crock. The seaman looked
intently at the bowl.
"There was a mite too much pepper in that basin, Josiah.to the tongues of
them present. Most women lean to tongue, excepting you, Clemmie."
"Josiah, you ain't fit for the minister to live with! You shouldn't talk
like that about the business of the Lord."
"Cal'late I am sort of a heathen. But I'll wager that you'll find them
there aiders interested in some things aside the business of the Lord."
Miss Pipkin left him and hurried into the kitchen for broom and duster.
It was late in the afternoon when she had finished her house-cleaning,
and sailed forth in the direction of the church. The Captain was
sitting on the front steps of the chapel, and rose to meet her as she
turned in at the gate.
"I hope the meeting ain't over," she said, breathless.
"Just got her off the ways, I'd say," he commented, jerking his head
toward


an open window through which came the sound of many voices.
"You'd best tell 'em where you're staying, Clemmie, or you're li'ble to
hear some things not intended for your ears."
She bridled past him and swept into the church. There was a brief pause
in the buzz, but the hubbub that followed was doubled in intensity.
That evening while Miss Pipkin was placing the food on the table she
appeared worried. She inquired solicitously concerning the minister's
ankle, but there was a distant polite tone in her voice. After supper
she asked the Captain to dry the dishes for her, and went to the
kitchen. The seaman took his place at the sink only to have the cloth
snatched from his hand.
"Josiah,"--she whispered,--"close that door to the dining-room, I've got
something to ask you."
"Ain't you going to letdecided her in favor of being present to witness the
thing which the Captain intended to do.
CHAPTER VIII
On Sunday evening the chapel was packed. It was evident that many were
there, not for the service, but for what promised to be a sensational
after-meeting. Members of the Athletic Club were scattered through the
room, and the same dogged determination was on their faces as on the
night of the boxing affair.
Mr. McGowan hobbled up the pulpit stair. He announced his text: "Launch
out into the deep and let down your nets." Captain Pott felt Elizabeth,
who was sitting beside him, stiffen. Miss Pipkin leaned forward in her
eagerness to catch every word, and as the minister proceeded her
expression changed from perplexity and doubt to one of deep respect.
There were others who followed the thought of the


finished, he stood looking out over his
congregation. The Captain whispered to Elizabeth, "Ain't he the
finest-looking specimen of human natur' you ever see, six foot of him
standing up there reading the riot act to 'em! And I got all he said,
too. I cal'late there's some here to-night that feel like they'd been
overhauled and set adrift."
Without announcing the usual closing hymn, Mr. McGowan very quietly
pronounced the benediction, and left the church by the rear door.
The only move that followed his leaving was made by the members of the
Athletic Club. They filed out one by one, but reconvened beneath the
window where the Captain sat inside. Captain Pott was plainly nervous
when Mr. Fox rose and went forward. He opened the window slightly as
though in need of fresh air.
The Elder clapped loudly fororder, and the boys beneath the Captain's
window joined in so heartily that the Elder was forced to shout for
order.
"This meeting has been called for the members of this church, _only_!"
he shouted. "Will those who are not members in regular standing adjourn
to the rooms below to complete their visiting?"
Few heard, none obeyed. Instead, all began to take seats as near
the front as possible. Mr. Fox grew red in the face, and dark of
countenance. But he preserved his dignity.
"Must I repeat that this meeting has been called for the members of the
church. Will the others kindly leave us to ourselves?"
It became evident that there was no intention on the part of any to
leave the room, and so the Elder called the mixed crowd to order.
The first half-hour proved so tame


but I feel that it is not
necessary. Your committee has gone over every detail--er--prayerfully
and thoughtfully. Truly, it gives me a pain----"
"Get a bottle of Watkins' Relief!" piped a shrill voice through the
partially opened window.
Taken by surprise, and with his mouth open, the Elder lost every
expression of dignity as he gazed in the direction whence the advice had
come. Before he could again gather up the threads of his closing remarks
several men were demanding the floor. The Elder scanned the faces of
all, in order to place friend and foe. He then fixed his glance on some
one at the rear of the room. In answer to the Elder's nod a heavy basso
pealed forth.
Every head turned about, and as the buzz of comment broke from the
astonished crowd the Elder rapped for order.The Reverend Mr. Means of
New York City moved ponderously forward.
The faces of the sympathetic ones in the audience became exceedingly
serious as each looked into the face of the city clergyman. Certainly,
this meeting must be of tremendous importance to lead so great a man to
leave his metropolitan pulpit to attend a gathering in so small a
church.
"We must have better order!" cried Mr. Fox, smiling a welcome to the
visiting minister. "We have the unexpected pleasure of a visit
from--er--our much-loved friend and brother. Shall we dispense with the
business of the hour and hear what the Reverend Mr. Means may have on
his heart?"
Mr. Means took his position near the moderator. With a long sympathetic
look he searched the invisible among the shadows of the ceiling. He was
calm, too calm, thought the Captain. He


drew his frock coat about him,
and plunged the fingers of his right hand in between the two buttons
over his heart. That attitude, as of one weary with the struggles of men
and yet tolerant because of long-suffering kindness, had an immediate
effect on part of the audience. From somewhere near the center of the
room applause started, and soon swelled to a moderate ovation. He
acknowledged the respect shown him by bringing his eyes down to the
level of his audience.
"Brethren,"--his voice trembled as he began to speak,--"I have no
special message for you to-night; my heart is too sore from the things I
have just seen and heard. I have been in the rear of this room during
your entire service. I have listened to the unfortunate sermon which
your bright young minister was so unwiseassembly, I hope that every man and woman present may see
fit to support you."
Captain Pott had grown more and more restless as time went on, and now
as the city minister began to move from the platform the Captain began
to move toward the open window.
"I am ready to entertain any motion which you care to make," announced
the chairman.
Mr. Beaver rose. With the first hiss from his lips, the Captain dropped
his hand over the sill and tapped the outside of the casing. Shouts went
up from the boys who stood beneath the window. These were answered by
cries of fire from various parts of town. The clang of the gong at the
fire-house broke through the stillness of the crowded room. Distant
alarms were rung with steady regularity. The meeting adjourned in a
body.
The seaman


had kept his promise, and "Providence had cut the pack for
the new deal."
CHAPTER IX
In an incredibly short time the church was emptied. Each one in the
crowd was shouting wild conjectures as to whose place was on fire as
they ran in the direction of the blaze. It was a strange sight that met
the gaze of the excited people as they came in full view of Dan Trelaw's
place. He was busily engaged pouring oil on unburned sections of his
hen-coops! Dan's hen-houses were located at the rear of his property,
and had been built from a collection of dry-goods boxes. They had been
the pride of his life, and as the crowd watched him pour on more oil,
some one declared that Dan must have gone out of his senses. Nor would
he permit thefire company to play their chemical hose.
"It's come to a purty pass," Dan stated to the onlookers, "when a man
can't burn down his own coops to get rid of the mites without the whole
blame town turning out to interfere. If the very last one of you don't
clear out, I'll use my office as constable of this town to run the lot
of you in!"
Hank Simpson was the chief of the volunteer corps, and Dan was chief of
the Little River police system. The two chiefs argued as to the rights
of the respective offices. Hank declared it was his official duty to put
the fire out. Dan as emphatically declared it was his official duty to
disperse the crowd. Finally, Hank admitted that Dan had a right to burn
his own property so long


by a window,
and some of the boys from your club was on the outside, waiting. He
h'isted the window a little so's to get his hand through. Hank Simpson
and some others was at the fire-house, and when Josiah give them beneath
the window some sort of signal, they all shouted '_Fire_.' That was the
sign for others scattered round town, and they begun to shout, too.
Then, those at the fire-house got the cart out and rung the bells. It
was real funny, but don't tell Josiah I said so, because he was all
puffed up last night. He gave his signal just as Mr. Beaver got up to
make a motion to have you put out. Things was pretty strong against you
after Reverend Mr. Means spoke."
"Mr. Means!"
"Um-hm. He was there as big as lifeand I ain't going to tell you, for I don't think he was square
with Adoniah, but I can't prove it."
The thud of heavy boots on the rear stair checked further comment she
seemed inclined to make, and she dried out the tears that stood in her
eyes with short quick dabs as she hurried to the kitchen.
"Lan' of mercy!" she exclaimed, returning with a smoking waffle-iron. "I
clean forgot these, and they're burned to ashes. Here, don't you drink
that cold coffee, I'll heat it up again," she said, taking the cup.
Leaning closely to his ear, she whispered, "Mind, you ain't to tell a
living soul about what I said, and him above all others."
The minister nodded.
Miss Pipkin entered the kitchen just as the Captain opened the
stair-door. He sniffed the air as he


there. I didn't mean
nothing, honest, I didn't."
But Miss Pipkin did not come out. She did not so much as answer his
importunings. When the men were out of the dining-room she went
up-stairs, not to appear again that day.
It was afternoon when Mr. McGowan hobbled out of his study, ate a light
lunch, put a few sandwiches in his pocket, and started in the direction
of the peninsula road that led to the beach.
CHAPTER X
Mr. McGowan left the highway a little beyond the Fox estate, and
followed a crooked, narrow old footpath across-lots. The path dipped and
rose with the contour of the land till at last it lost itself in the
white level stretch of sandy beach. He walked on and on, so deeply
absorbed in his thoughts that he was unmindful of the blisteredfoot. It
was only when hunger pains conspired with the irritation of his foot
that he dropped on a log. He drew the sandwiches from his pocket, and
proceeded to devour them with genuine relish. For hours after he had
finished his lunch, he sat with his back to the warming rays of the
afternoon sun, and gazed vacantly across the wide stretches of
sand-dunes.
The chill of the evening air roused him at length to the fact that he
must be going home. But when he tried to rise, he discovered that his
long walk had produced an ill effect on Miss Pipkin's remedy for
sprained ankles. He dropped back again on the log, pondering on how he
was to retrace his steps. The sun slipped into the misty haze that hung
low above the horizon of the autumn


sky. The shadows crept slowly up out
of the waters and over the landscape. A thin cloud drifted in over the
Sound, through which a pale moon pushed a silvery edge. With the
gathering darkness there came a deep mystery over land and sea which
seemed to creep round and envelop him.
Suddenly, the chill of the evening air was filled with a glowing warmth,
as when one senses the presence of a friend. He stared about him. He
listened intently. Could it be possible that this sudden change was only
a mental fancy? He hobbled a short way up the beach, and as he rounded a
promontory his weakened ankle turned on a loose stone. With an
exclamation he settled down on the sand.
A figure near the water's edge rose as though startled. She paused,
ready for flight.while he
directs the play. When I was ordained to the ministry in the New York
Presbytery, that man fought me desperately, while he raised no
objections to others who were ordained at the same time, and who held
views far more radical than mine. That man was at the installation.
When your father told me that he was coming, I made no protest, for I
saw that there was a fast friendship between the two. You know what that
man tried to do at the installation. You doubtless know, too, that he
has been much with your father of late. You also saw him at the meeting
last night.
"Miss Fox, if we knew all the facts, we should be able to lay the blame
for this trouble and your father's condition right where it belongs."
"You refer to


hours he
sat, his mind a blank. He was roused at last by the opening of his study
door. He looked up into the face of his old friend. The blue eyes,
usually clear and steady, had a faded look as though the fire in them
had suddenly gone out.
CHAPTER XI
"I've been shut up with the most onreasonable feller I ever see in all
my life," said the Captain to the unasked question in the minister's
eyes. "I cal'late I'll keep my thoughts to myself to-night, Mack, and
sleep on them. The way I feel wouldn't be conducive to prayer-meeting
language. Good night, son."
It was scarcely daylight when Miss Pipkin began work in the kitchen on
the following morning. Shortly afterward the Captain descended.
"Morning, Clemmie." He held the kitchen door ajar, and his voice wavered
as he spoke.
Misslawyer, the best you
can find. If them papers ain't straight he'll show plain that he's
worried." She drew her hand from his. "Josiah, I'm going to show you
something I ain't ever showed to a living soul. It ain't much, but it
might start you along the right way of finding something out."
She went to her room, and soon returned with a piece of paper. It was
yellow with age, and had to be handled with care to keep it from falling
apart at the creases. She handed it to the Captain, indicating a section
for him to read. He nearly tumbled from his chair as the truth it
conveyed concerning the past life of Jim Fox flashed into his mind.
"Holy mackerel!"
The entrance of the minister prevented further comment, except for the
Captain to whisper:
"Thanks, Clemmie.


'Twill help, I cal'late. You're a good woman," he
finished, taking her hand between both of his. "You're smart, too.
You've helped me more than you know, and God bless you!"
CHAPTER XII
That evening the Captain dropped the brass knocker to the Elder's front
door with a heavy thud. A servant opened the door.
"I want to see Mr. Fox."
"He's not in, sir. Will you leave any----"
"Who is it, Debbs?" called a voice from the top of the stair.
"Captain Pott, sir. I thought you was to see no one to-night, sir."
"That's all right. Send him right up to my room."
The Elder's den was across the hall from his daughter's room, in the
most quiet part of the house.
"Right in here, Josiah. We shall be more private here than down-stairs."
The Captain entered, and took thehouse without hearing the mumbled petition of an apparently
penitent Elder.
Captain Pott half ran, half stumbled, down to the wharf. He hurriedly
untied his dory, and rowed out to the _Jennie P._ A little later he
anchored his power-boat in the harbor of Little River where the
railroad station was located. He rowed ashore, secured his dory, and ran
to the depot. He climbed aboard the city-bound train just as it began to
move.
CHAPTER XIII
Daylight was beginning to peep through the morning darkness when the
Captain threaded his way along the crooked path to the rear of his
house. He drew off his boots outside the kitchen door, and tiptoed to
his room. Without removing his clothing he threw himself on the bed. The
sunlight was streaming through the eastern windows when he awoke. He
stretched himself off the


up the woman you love."
The minister gave the fire a vigorous poke, sending a thick shower of
sparks up the chimney. The seaman glanced at him.
"Have you the slightest idea where your brother is?"
"No. I ain't heerd from him for more than twenty years, and then it
wa'n't direct. He left because he was 'feared Clemmie was going to make
him marry her, and he knew if he took to sailing the seas she'd never
foller him. Damn him! He didn't treat her square. That's why I don't
have much use for him. If he'd told her out and out that he wa'n't going
to marry her, I'd forgive him. But----"
"Did Mr. Fox know this half-brother?"
"About as well as he knew the rest of us about town. He always was sort
of h'ity-t'ity, Jim was."
"Didsimilar effect on
the Elder."
"Go on, Mack. Don't mind me. I'm a mite narvous. All unstrung, I
cal'late."
"As I said I had just mentioned that fact to Harold, and the conversation
naturally turned back to the days of the early traders who went to that
country. Harold then told his father that the law firm, of which he
has recently been made a junior member, had put him on a case which
necessitated his going over to Australia. It seems that they had been
trying to clear it up for a long time. The case came from Sydney, and
had been referred to him because he had once spent some time over there.
It was when he mentioned the name of the client that Mr. Fox nearly
fainted."
Mr. McGowan gave the fire another vigorous poke before continuing. The
Captain


had both left
this country."
"How do you know that?"
"Just by putting two and two together."
The seaman took the yellow bit of paper from his pocket, and in his
excitement crumpled it into a wad. "But Adoniah went to Australia, and
Jim says he was in Africa," he said, testing out the other's fund of
information.
"I know all about that story, but I don't believe one word of it. Mr.
Fox did not make his money in Africa, and he knew your half-brother."
"What's all this got to do with that there client Harold spoke of the
last night you ate up there?"
"Everything. The man he mentioned was a trader in Sydney. He had married
an only daughter of an older trader, and then something happened. The
younger man disappeared very suddenly. The old trader searched for
years, butin vain. Recently, he died, leaving a large estate. His wife
has taken up the search for the lost daughter. It was the name of the
old trader's son-in-law that crumpled up Mr. Fox like an autumn leaf.
The young trader's name was Adoniah Phillips."
Though he had been anticipating this, the Captain fell back into his
chair and stared blankly at the minister. "But why did he act like the
devil toward you, Mack? That's what I want to know."
"I don't know. That is the thing that puzzles me."
"What more do you know?"
"Harold said that Mr. Phillips came over to this country."
The Captain again sprang from his chair as though hurled out by a
strong spring. Mr. McGowan rose to face him.
"My brother in America? Mack, it's a lie! He'd have looked me up!"
"Perhaps


seized her, and it steadily
grew more and more acute as the exhaust from the engine exploded less
and less distinctly. As the lights went out of view into the rain-soaked
night, resentment replaced fear. The minister had doubtless heard of the
plans that were being laid by Sim Hicks for his forceful ejection from
Little River, and rather than face further trouble was slinking away
like a coward under cover of night and storm.
Her better judgment soon began to form excuses for his action. The
Athletic Club, thoroughly reorganized, had been placed under good
leadership, and Mr. McGowan doubtless thought that the members could
get on without his further aid. In all probability, he feared that his
presence might interfere with the promised consummation of fellowship
between the club and the church, and was leaving quietly so anotherman
less aggressive than he might accomplish the thing he had so well begun.
Had he remained, he would have been compelled to fight his way through
by brute force. He had been forsaken by all those who should have stood
by him. He was not a coward! He was taking the most difficult course.
His going was the most heroic act of all.
Why had every man's hand been against him? Why had her father not so
much as lifted a finger to stay the persecutors? She drew in her lip
between her teeth, and mercilessly bit the pretty Cupid's arch. She
kicked her foot against a stool till the piece of furniture lay beyond
reach of her toe. Her father had not made a single effort to prevent one
action of those who had set themselves against


the minister. Instead, he
had aided them, and in many instances had even led in the opposition
against the young man.
One thought at length inhibited all others. She drew back from the
window, and sinking into a deep chair, covered her face with her arm.
Mack McGowan had gone out of her life! Suddenly, she knew that she loved
him, loved him as passionately as he had declared his love for her. Why
had she been unable to understand him that night on the beach? Had she
really tried? She classed herself with all the others who had been so
blind as to force this man to leave their village.
She jerked the pins from her hair, letting the fair mass fall over her
shoulders. The stand she had taken had been because of the attitude of
her father.He had no right to come between her and the man she loved.
Why had he done it? Her fingers paused in the act of delving for a
buried hairpin, and her arm fell limply over the wing of the chair. A
vision of her father's face had come before her, startling her
imagination. She saw him again as she had seen him that night when
Harold had announced his intended trip to Australia. She recalled his
ghostly features on the night of Harold's return from abroad. Could
there be some unknown reason for her father's actions against the young
minister? And did that reason justify his action?
Her conjectures were cut short by the sound of footfalls on the stair.
The tread was heavy, as though the climber were dragging himself up by
main force. On the top


landing he halted, and turned toward her door.
What caprices emotion plays with judgment! One moment judgment may map
out a course as clear as the noonday, and the next moment emotion may
lead judgment into a blind alley. Thus did the emotions of Elizabeth
suddenly halt her judgment, leaving all her reason deaf, dumb, and
blind.
"Beth, are you asleep?" whispered a tired, husky voice.
"No, Father. I haven't retired yet. Come in."
She blindly felt that her father had need of her, and although she could
not understand the meaning of the battle he had been called upon to
general, she must give him her aid.
Mr. Fox entered and felt his way across the dark room. He found a chair
and dropped into it.
"You're in the dark, dear," he observed.
"Yes, Father. I've been thinking here since twilight.line of his haggard face. The side-whiskers, which to his
daughter's mind he had worn with great distinction, now gave to his worn
features a grotesque expression.
"I feel pretty well worn out to-night, my dear,"--weariness was in every
word he uttered,--"and as if I need some one to lean on. If I did not
need you to help me, I should not be bothering you at this hour of the
night."
The girl drew before her father's chair the footstool which earlier in
the evening she had kicked into a far corner. She sat at his knee, and,
taking his hand in hers, pressed it against her cheek. For some time
they sat thus in silence. Her father broke in on the quietness of the
room with a peculiar question.
"The Bible tells us that we should love our


of the action I must take. But at bottom
it is an act of true friendship. He does not know the particulars, and I
am in no position to explain."
"What is it you are going to do?" she asked, drawing farther into the
corner near the window.
"I must request that you ask me no questions. You are not familiar
enough with the law to comprehend."
Her gaze was fixed on him, and the Elder hitched sidewise in his chair,
vainly trying to avoid her eyes. Failing in this, he attempted to meet
her look squarely. His eyes shifted unsteadily, and he looked above her
head. But the eyes of his child continued to bore into his guilty soul.
"Why do you stare at me in that manner, Beth?" he questioned, motioning
her to his side.
"I don't know." Sheto peculiar circumstances, I put in a provision
that there was to be no foreclosure so long as the interest was paid. I
even went beyond the request which the man made, by including another
clause which prevents me or my heirs from foreclosing before the
expiration of two years after the last payment of interest. Have you
followed me closely?"
She nodded.
"Well, each year the interest has been paid in full up to the last two.
As long as it was forthcoming I said nothing. I have not mentioned a
word of this transaction between the half-brother and me, for I knew his
hot temper would get the better of him. He thinks the man was drowned
at sea, and it is best that he continue to think so. I have misled him
into the belief that I


I did not mean to speak his name, but it can do no harm."
"Why,--that was the first name----Is he the same man Harold is trying to
find?"
"I'm sorry to say that he is."
"The one whose last name was Phillips?"
"Yes. But why do you take such interest in him?"
"And he is a brother of Uncle Josiah?"
"A half-brother," he replied, showing that he was becoming nettled.
Elizabeth rose from her stool, and crossed over to the door that led
into the hall. She did not seem to sense just what she was doing till
her hand touched the cold knob. With a start, as though wakened from a
bad dream, she turned about and faced her father.
"Father,"--her breath came in short gasps,--"you have no right to keep
your word to such a man as you sayunbidden thoughts and emotions swept over her,
carrying all her promises like chaff before a hurricane. While her
father had been in the room she had thought herself quite determined to
take the hard step of explaining to Uncle Josiah just enough to remove
the blame from the one she loved to the half-brother. But now that the
Elder had gone her will to explain seemed gone, too. Again he rose
before her imagination, a white trembling figure. She heard Harold speak
the name of Adoniah Phillips, and saw her father stagger from the table.
Had these two things been a mere coincidence? Doubts began to rise. Why
must the mortgage be foreclosed on Uncle Josiah's place? Why had her
father acted so on the evening when Harold had spoken his client's name?
Had her father told her all?


the rocks below her father's
place, whose eyes filled with tears as she listened. Elizabeth thought
she was prepared to fulfill the promise made to her father three days
ago, but, now that the opportunity was upon her, she felt her resolution
slipping away. She loved her dear old friend as never in all her life.
The singer rounded a projection of sandy beach just beyond the rock-pile
where the girl was sitting. He was hurrying up the shore in the
direction of his home, his dejected figure revealing his utter
loneliness, despite the lightness of his song. His brow was puckered,
more with furrows of perplexity than with lines of anger, as he made his
way with labored difficulty up the steep incline from the beach.
"Oh, Uncle Josiah!" involuntarily cried the girl as she caught a glimpse
ofhere cruise was like the proposing to
the old maid: unexpected-like. For that reason I wa'n't prepared for
saying good-byes." His eyes clouded as he slowly continued, "It's a
fact, I never went off afore without telling you good-bye. I don't----"
He stopped and looked down at the girl. She was no longer the child who
had clung to him on the eve of departures for long cruises, asking,
"Take me 'long, Unca Josi?" She had grown to womanhood! He wondered that
the thought had not occurred to him before. And yet, as he continued to
gaze, he saw the eager child staring up into his face from the big
eyes.
"I cal'late I ain't got no right to expect them partings no more," he
faltered.
"Why, Uncle Josiah Pott! I don't like that one little bit."
"You seem so growed


to-night, Uncle Josiah?" she asked, looking at her
wrist-watch. It was half-past ten o'clock.
"Cal'late to be."
"May I come to see you?"
"That's a funny question. I should say you can come. Clemmie will be
real glad to see you, and so will the minister."
"I'm coming to see you," she said, coloring. "I'm going home now.
Good-bye."
She hurriedly kissed him, and before he had time to speak she was
half-way up the hill. At the rear gate she waved, then disappeared
behind the mass of shrubbery that lined her father's place.
Ten minutes later the Captain heard the roar of the open exhaust from
the girl's motor. Like a red streak the car shot down the hill of the
Fox estate and into County Road. The Captain gasped as he watched a
cloud of dust engulf the flying car.
CHAPTERXVI
All those who saw the flying car stood and stared after it. Hank
Simpson, who was on his way over from the Little River railroad station
with a load of merchandise, heard the roar, and sprang from his
wagon-seat. He ran to his horses' heads. But no sooner had he seized the
bits of the frightened animals than he let go. He recognized the girl
who sped past him. He clambered back into his wagon and whipped his team
into a dead run. He drew rein on the racing horses before a group of
gaping men in front of the general store.
"Did you see anything down yon way, Hank?" asked Jud Johnson.
"See!" exclaimed Hank, rubbing the dust from his eyes. "See! Good God!
Boys, that damn thing was running away! Hear me? It was running like
hell!


that they don't stop me.'"
"But her dad----"
"Her dad ain't home. He went over Riverhead way more than an hour ago."
"But, Jud----"
"Dry up that butting, Hank, or we'll lead you out in the alley behind
your store and feed you tin cans."
Hank climbed back to his wagon-seat, and Jud, noticing the determined
expression in the storekeeper's eyes, deputized two men to keep watch of
him while he went inside and did some telephoning.
Elizabeth Fox reached the city limits without being molested. She then
looked at her watch, and slowed down her car. She kept the speedometer
needle wavering within the speed law till she set her brakes before the
building where the law firm of Starr and Jordan maintained their
offices. Harold was so surprised to see his sister that he gave her the
name of theTrust Company for which she asked before he realized what he
was doing. She glanced at the clock, hastily scribbled the address on a
card, and ran from the room. Harold stood still in dumb amazement. He
walked to the window and looked down into the street below. He
recognized her red motor-car as it glided through the traffic at an
alarming rate. A mild oath escaped him as it dawned upon him that the
name of the bank was that of the firm through which the interest
payments had been made on the Phillips loan. What on earth could she be
up to?
It was far past the noon hour when Elizabeth returned. The office was
empty, the force having gone home for the Saturday half-holiday. She
turned from the locked door, but it flew open, and Harold


faced about.
"Come, tell me all you know about Phillips and the estate."
"I guess I really don't know very much more than I've told you. I know
the man is a half-brother of Uncle Josiah, and that he mortgaged the old
homestead to Father, and that he married some trader's daughter in
Australia, and that the trader died, leaving a large fortune. That's
all."
"Read those," said Harold, handing her some papers which he had brought
with him from his own desk. "And keep your nerve. There are more."
Elizabeth read the papers through. One was the original document of the
trader's will; the other was an Australian Government paper, exonerating
Mr. Adoniah Phillips. A postscript to the will stated that Mr. Phillips
had left Australia for America.
"I knew all that," said the girl as she returned the papers.But they did, and the worst of it
is, the old trader's wife is here in the city right now. She is on
Father's track. I've been staving her off, but she smells a rat in the
fact that I bear his name, and I can't hold her much longer from
locating him."
"No! No! You shall not tell me that Father is a criminal! You must take
back that awful word about him!"
Harold groaned, and settled back into his chair. The girl fell back into
hers, and covered her face with trembling hands. She sprang suddenly to
her feet and to her brother's side.
"Father was never in Australia! He made his money trading in Africa.
We've heard him say that many times, and I believe him. I shall not
believe those papers. They are blackmail."
"Then, I must


request, for reasons
herein stated, is authorized to change his name to----"
The paper fell to the floor. The room began to swim. The furniture
violently rocked. Elizabeth reached out and clutched her brother's arm.
"Mack McGowan!" she whispered faintly. "Oh, what am I saying? Why am I
saying that name? What has happened to me?"
"Poor little girl! I thought my little sister was stronger than that.
I've been a fool for letting you read all those papers after the strain
you've been through."
"Mack McGowan!" she repeated. She seized the paper which her brother had
lifted from the floor. "Oh, it's in that paper, and it's _his_ name!
Harold, what does it mean?"
"You must brace up, Beth. The man you are in love with is the son of
Adoniah Phillips. He bears his father's new name."
She was suddenlyweary. She felt just one desire: to get back home. She
took Harold's arm and led him toward the door.
"I want to go home, and I need you to drive the car."
CHAPTER XVII
During the homeward trip Elizabeth was as one in a stupor. When they
reached the brow of the hill above the village, Harold stopped the car.
Elizabeth half turned about in her seat, resting her elbow on the back
above and lifting her hand to her eyes to shade them from the light. She
gazed upon the glory of the western sky where the sun was dropping into
a bed of gold, lavishly splashing the low-hanging clouds with a radiance
that seemed to drip from their edges. A shock suddenly brought her back
to reality with a pain at her heart. Silhouetted against the


gold of the
sky-line, his head bared, his shoulders thrown back, was a tall figure:
the son of Adoniah Phillips!
"That's a good view for sore hearts, Bets," commented her brother.
She caught her breath in quick gasps. "Yes. But, oh, Harold, it's so
hard!"
"I know," he agreed, taking her hand. "Have you thought out a line of
action? Where shall we begin?"
The girl did not answer. Harold followed with his eyes the direction of
her gaze. His hand tightened in hers. The minister had just recognized
them, and was waving his cap high over his head in welcome. Elizabeth
lifted her handkerchief and permitted the light breeze to flutter it.
Harold answered with a swing of his arm. Mr. McGowan started toward
them.
"Drive me home, Harold. I can't see him now."
"But, Sis, this may be our only timeHe had telephoned that he
might get home for dinner. But the dinner hour came and went, and still
he did not return. After the silent, and all but untasted, meal,
Elizabeth left the house by the rear entrance. She hurried along the
walk, out through the wicket gate at the back, and down to the beach.
From here she turned into the path that zigzagged across town-lots, over
sand-dunes, through brush heaps, to the rear of the Captain's place.
She walked round the house to the side door. She lifted the heavy
knocker, and held it tightly as though fearing to let it drop against
the rusty iron plate. What if Uncle Josiah had forgotten his engagement,
and was not home? But Uncle Josiah had never yet forgotten a promise he
had made her. She let the piece


of iron fall. The sound echoed through
the house. It frightened her, and she poised as though of a mind to run.
Instead of the usual hearty boom for her to "Come in," the door swung
wide, and she stood face to face with the minister.
"Oh!" she cried, stepping back into the shadows.
"I've been expecting you, Miss Fox. Will you come in?" he cordially
invited.
"You were expecting me? But I----"
Hardly knowing what she did, and certainly not realizing why she did it,
she accepted the invitation and entered. Her eyes slowly widened as he
closed the door. She stood poised like a wild thing ready for flight at
the slightest warning.
"I trust that your father isn't ill again?" said the minister
solicitously.
"No-o. That is, not yet. He's quite well, thank you. He isn't home, or
wasn't whenMcGowan was unstintingly obeying the command when a loud knock
jarred the side door. They started and sprang apart.
"Who can that be knocking like that?" asked the girl, hastily tucking
away the stray locks of hair.
"It must be the Captain. But I wonder----"
Elizabeth laughed, and pointed toward a window where the curtain was
above the lower sash. The Captain had seen them!
"I don't care if he did see. Let me go to the door."
She had taken one step in that direction when the door flew back and in
came Mr. James Fox.
"Father! You!"
Without replying, Mr. Fox glared ferociously at the minister. His hand
trembled on the head of his walking-stick. The blood surged into his
face. Elizabeth, growing alarmed, started toward her father. But the
Elder waved her back. Mr. McGowan broke the awful silence.
"We