II
"DEAR SIS--Yours received. Have hunted up the name, and have found that your Reverend Richard Allen is an '89 man, one of the best all-round men we ever had on the track. He was a terror, too, so an old grad tells me. Got kicked out in his senior year. It seems that his chum and roommate was very deeply in the hole, not extravagantly, like yours truly, but by a series of hard knocks. Allen had no cash himself. And you know when you haven't any money in sight, you can't borrow any. One night at the Museum (there was a cheap show on) a prize-fighter offered $300 to any one who would stand up before him for five rounds. Allen jumped up on the stage and licked the pug to a standstill. He got a bad swipe on the ear, however; and if your Allen has what they call a tin ear, an ear that looks as if my best bullpup had tried to make his dinner off it, _ecce homo_! He paid his mate's debts, and then was requested to call on the fac. The old ladies told him to pack up. He did. He has never returned to college since. But why do you want to know all about him? They say he was a handsome duffer. You know I haven't seen him yet, not having been home since last Easter time. Now, for Heaven's sake, Sis, don't go and get daffy on his Riverince. I've got a man in tow for you, the best fellow that ever lived.
Affectionately, JACK."
"P.S.--Can't you shove a couple of 50's in your next letter to me? The governor's liver wasn't in good shape the first of the month."
Caroline dropped the letter into her lap and stared out of the window.It was snowing great, soft, melting flakes. She did not know whether tolaugh or to cry, nor what occasioned this impulse to do either. So hewas a Cambridge man, and had been expelled for prize-fighting; forcertainly it had been prize-fighting, even though the motive had been agood and manly one.
"A milksop!" There was no doubt, no hesitancy; her laughter rang outfresh and clear. What would her father say when he learned the truth?Her next thought was, why should the rector pose as a lamb, patient andunspeaking, when all the time he was a lion? She alone had solved themystery. It was self-control, it was power. This discovery filled herwith a quiet exultation. She was a woman, and to unravel a secret was asjoyful a task for her as to invent a fashionable hat.
The bygone rectors had interested her little; they had been eitherpedants, fanatics, or social drones; while this man had gone about hiswork quietly and modestly. He never said: "I visited the poor to-day."It was the poor who said: "The rector was here to-day with money andclothes." But his past he let remain nebulous; not even the trusteesthemselves had peered far into it, at least not as far back as theCambridge days. Thus, the element of mystery surrounding him firstattracted her; the man's personality added to this. The knowledge thathe was a college man seemed to place him nearer her social level, thoughshe was not a person to particularize so long as a man proved himself;and the rector had, beyond a doubt, proved himself.
There were dozens of brilliant young men following eagerly in her train.They rode with her, drove with her, and fought for the privilege ofplaying caddy to her game. Yet, while she liked them all, she caredparticularly for none. The rector, being a new species of man, became astudy. Time and time again she had invited him to the Country Club; healways excused himself on the ground that he was taking a course ofreading such as to demand all his spare time in the day. One morning shehad been riding alone, and had seen him tramping across country. In thespirit of fun she took a couple of fences and caught up with him. He hadappeared greatly surprised, even embarrassed, for her woman's eye hadbeen quick to read. She had rallied him upon his stride. He had becomesilent. And this man had "jumped upon the stage and licked the pug to astandstill!"
"Carol, are you there?"
Caroline started and hid the letter. She arose and admitted her father.
"James says that you received a letter this afternoon. Was it from theboy? Begging for money? Well, don't you dare to send it to him. Theragamuffin has overdrawn seven hundred dollars this month. What's hethink I am, a United States Steel Corporation?"
"He has asked me for one hundred dollars, and I am going to send it tothe poor boy to-night."
"Oh, you are, are you? Who's bringing up the scalawag, you or I?"
"You are trying to, daddy, but I believe he's bent on bringing himselfup." She ran her fingers through his hair. "I know the weather's bad,daddy, but don't be cross. Come over to the piano and I'll play foryou."
"I don't want any music," gruffly.
"Come," dragging him.
"That's the way; I have no authority in this house. But, seriously,Carol, the boy's spending it pretty fast, and it will not do him a bitof good. I want to make a man out of him, not a spendthrift. Play thatwhat-d'you-call-it from Chopin."
"The _Berceuse_?" seating herself at the piano.
The twilight of winter was fast settling down. The house across the waybegan to glow at various windows. Still she played. From Chopin sheturned to Schumann, from Schumann to Rubinstein, back to Chopin'spolonaise and the nocturne in E flat major.
"You play those with a livelier spirit than usual," was the general'sonly comment. How these haunting melodies took him back to the past,when the girl's mother played them in the golden courting days! He couldnot see the blush his comment had brought to his daughter's cheek. "Mydear, my dear!" he said, with great tenderness, sliding his arm aroundher waist, "I know that I'm cross at times, but I'm only an old barkingdog; don't do any harm. I'll tell you what, if my leg's all right nextSaturday I'll ride out to the Country Club with you, and we'll have teatogether."
She leaned toward him and kissed him. "Daddy, what makes you think someanly of the rector? I was thinking of him when you came in."
"I don't think meanly of him; but, hang it, Carol, he always says 'Yes'when I want him to say 'No,' and _vise versa_. He's too complacent. Ilike a man who's a human being to kick once in a while, a man who's gotsome fight in him.... What are you laughing at, you torment?"
"At something which just occurred to me. There goes the gong for dinner.I am ravenous."
"By the way, I forgot to tell you what I saw in the evening edition ofthe _Post_. Your parson is going to report the prize-fight to-night.He'll be frightened out of his shoes. I'm going up to the club; going toplay a few rubbers. It'll make me forget my grumbling leg. You run overto Cathewe's or telephone Mrs. Cathewe to run over here."
"Can't you stay in to-night? I don't want anybody but you."
"But I've half promised; besides, I'm sort of blue. I need theexcitement."
"Very well; I'll telephone Nan. Mr. Cathewe will probably go to thatawful fight in the interests of his new book. She'll come."
"Cathewe's going to the fight, you say? Humph!" The general scratchedhis ear thoughtfully.