Kindred of the Dust

  XXXVI

  A month passed, and to the Sawdust Pile one evening, instead of DirtyDan, there came another messenger. It was Mr. Daney. To Nan'sinvitation to enter and be seated, he gave ready acceptance; onceseated, however, he showed indubitable evidence of uneasiness, andthat he was the bearer of news of more than ordinary interest wasapparent by the nervous manner in which he twirled his hat andscattered over her clean floor a quantity of sawdust which hadaccumulated under the rim during his peregrinations round the millthat day.

  "Well, Nan, he went home to The Dreamerie this afternoon," the generalmanager began presently. "Got up and dressed himself unaided, andinsisted on walking out to the car without assistance. He's back on asolid diet now, and the way he's filling up the chinks in hissuperstructure is a sight to marvel at. I expect he'll be back on thejob within a month."

  "That is wonderful news, Mr. Daney."

  "Of course," Daney continued, "his hair is falling out, and he'll soonbe as bald as a Chihuahua dog. But--it'll grow in again. Yes, indeed.It'll grow in."

  "Oh dear! I do hope it will grow out," she bantered, in an effort toput him at his ease. "What a pity if his illness should leave poor Donwith a head like a thistle--with all the fuzzy-wuzzy inside."

  He laughed.

  "I'm glad to find you in such good spirits, Nan, because I've calledto talk business. And, for some reason or other, I do not relish myjob."

  "Then, suppose I dismiss you from this particular job, Mr. Daney.Suppose I decline to discuss business."

  "Oh, but business is something that has to be discussed sooner orlater," he asured her, on the authority of one whose life had beendedicated to that exacting duty. "I suppose you've kept track of yourexpenses since you left New York. That, of course, will include theoutlay for your living-expenses while here, and in order to makedoubly certain that we are on the safe side, I am instructed to doublethis total to cover the additional expenses of your return to NewYork. And if you will set a value upon your lost time from the day youleft New York until your return, both days inclusive, I will includethat in the check also."

  "Suppose I should charge you one thousand dollars a day for my losttime," she suggested curiously.

  "I should pay it without the slightest quibble. The Laird would bedelighted to get off so cheaply. He feels himself obligated to you forreturning to Port Agnew--"

  "Did The Laird send you here to adjust these financial details withme, Mr. Daney?"

  "He did not. The matter is entirely in my hands. Certainly, in alljustice, you should be reimbursed for the expenses of a journeyvoluntarily incurred for the McKaye benefit."

  "Did he say so?"

  "No. But I know him so well that I have little difficulty inanticipating his desires. I am acting under Mrs. McKaye's promise toyou over the telephone to reimburse you."

  "I am glad to know that, Mr. Daney. I have a very high regard forDonald's father, and I should not care to convict him of an attempt tosettle with me on a cash basis for declining to marry his son. I wishyou would inform The Laird, Mr. Daney, that what I did was donebecause it pleased me to do it for his sake and Donald's. They havebeen at some pains, throughout the years, to be kind to the Brents,but, unfortunately for the Brents, opportunities for reciprocity havealways been lacking until the night Mrs. McKaye telephoned me in NewYork. I cannot afford the gratification of very many desires--evenvery simple ones, Mr. Daney--but this happens to be one of the rareoccasions when I can. To quote Sir Anthony Gloster, 'Thank God I canpay for my fancies!' The Laird doesn't owe me a dollar, and I beg you,Mr. Daney, not to distress me by offering it."

  "But, my dear girl, it has cost you at least five hundred dollars--"

  "What a marvelous sunset we had this evening, Mr. Daney. Did youobserve it? My father always maintained that those curious cloudspredicated sou'west squalls."

  "I didn't come here, girl, to talk about sunsets. You're foolish ifyou do not accept--"

  The outcast of Port Agnew turned upon Mr. Daney a pair of sea-blueeyes that flashed dangerously.

  "I think I have paid my debt to the McKayes," she declared, and in hercalm voice there was a sibilant little note of passion. "Indeed, Ihave a slight credit-balance due me, and though Mrs. McKaye and herdaughters cannot bring themselves to the point of acknowledging thisindebtedness, I must insist upon collecting it. In view of the justiceof my claim, however, I cannot stultify my womanhood by permitting theMcKaye women to think they can dismiss the obligation by writing acheck. I am not an abandoned woman, Mr. Daney. I have sensibilitiesand, strange to relate, I, too, have pride--more than the McKayes Ithink sometimes. It is possible to insult me, to hurt me, and cause meto suffer cruelty, and I tell you, Mr. Daney, I would rather lie downand die by the roadside than accept one penny of McKaye money."

  Mr. Daney stared at her, visibly distressed.

  "Why, what's happened?" he blurted.

  She ignored him.

  "I repeat that The Laird owes me nothing--not even his thanks. I methim one night with Mrs. McKaye on the hospital steps, and he tenderedme his meed of gratitude like the splendid gentleman he is."

  "Oh, I see!" A great light had suddenly dawned on Mr. Daney. "TheLaird led trumps, but Nellie McKaye revoked and played a littledeuce?"

  "Well, Mr. Daney, it seemed to me she fumbled the ball, to employ asporting metaphor. She bowed to me--like this--and smiled at me--likethat!" Her cool, patronizing nod and the sudden contraction andrelaxation of Nan's facial muscles brought a wry smile to old Daney'sstolid countenance. "Even if I felt that I could afford to or wasforced to accept reimbursement for my expenses and lost time," Nanresumed, "her action precluded it. Can't you realize that, Mr. Daney?And Jane and Elizabeth went her one--no, two--better. I'm going totell you about it. I went up-town the other day to send a telegram,and in the telegraph-office I met Donald's sisters. I knew they wouldnot care to have me speak to them in public, so, when the telegrapherwasn't looking at me and intuition told me that Elizabeth and Janewere, I glanced up and favored them with a very small but very politesmile of recognition."

  "And then," quoted Mr. Daney, reaching into his ragbag of a mind andbringing up a remnant of Shakespeare, "'there came a frost--a killingfrost!'"

  "Two hundred and forty-five degrees below zero, and not even a stickof kindling in the wood-box," she assured him humorously. "They lookedat me, through me, over me, beyond me--"

  "And never batted an eye?"

  "Not even the flicker of an eyelash."

  His canine loyalty bade Mr. Daney defend The Laird's ewe lambs.

  "Well, maybe they didn't recognize you," he protested. "A good deal ofwater has run under a number of bridges since the McKaye girls saw youlast."

  "In that event, Mr. Daney, I charge that their manners would have beenextremely bad. I know town dogs that smile at me when I smile at them.However, much as I would like to assure you that they didn't know me,I must insist, Mr. Daney, that they did."

  "Well, now, how do you know, Nan?"

  "A little devil took possession of me, Mr. Daney, and inspired me tosmoke them out. I walked up and held out my hand to Jane. 'How do youdo, Jane,' I said. 'I'm Nan Brent. Have you forgotten me?'"

  Mr. Daney raised both arms toward the ceiling.

  "'Oh, God! cried the woodcock,--and away he flew!' What did the chitsay?"

  "She said, 'Why, not at all,' and turned her back on me. I thenproffered Elizabeth a similar greeting and said, 'Surely, Elizabeth,_you_ haven't forgotten me!' Elizabeth is really funny. She replied:'So sorry! I've always been absent-minded!' She looked at me steadilywith such a cool mirth in her eyes--she has nice eyes, too--and I musthave had mirth in mine, also, because I remember that at preciselythat minute I thought up a perfectly wonderful joke on Elizabeth andJane and their mother. Of course, the poor Laird will not see thepoint of the joke, but then he's the innocent bystander, and innocentbystanders are always, getting hurt."

  "Ah, do not hurt him!" Daney pleaded anxiously. "He's a good, kind,manly gentleman. Sp
are him! Spare him, my dear!"

  "Oh, I wouldn't hurt him, Mr. Daney, if I did not know I had the powerto heal his hurts."

  Suddenly she commenced to laugh, albeit there was in her laugh aquality which almost caused Mr. Daney to imagine that he had hackleson his back and that they were rising. He much preferred the note ofanger of a few minutes previous; with a rush all of his oldapprehensions returned, and he rasped out at her irritably:

  "Well, well! What's this joke, anyhow? Tell me and perhaps I maylaugh, too."

  "Oh, no, Mr. Daney, you'd never laugh at this one. You'd weep."

  "Try me."

  "Very well. You will recall, Mr. Daney, that when Mrs. McKaye rang meup in New York, she was careful, even while asking me to return, tolet me know my place?"

  "Yes, yes. I was listening on the line. I heard her, and I thoughtshe was a bit raw. But no matter. Proceed."

  "Well, since she asked me to return to Port Agnew, I'm wondering whois going to ask me to go away again?"

  "I'll be shot if I will! Ha! Ha! Ha!" And Mr. Daney threw back hishead and laughed the most enjoyable laugh he had known since the nightan itinerant hypnotist, entertaining the citizens of Port Agnew, hadrequested any adventurous gentleman in the audience who thought hecouldn't be hypnotized, to walk up and prove it. Dirty Dan O'Leary hadvolunteered, had been mesmerized after a struggle, and, upon beingtold that he was Dick Whittington's cat, had proceeded to cut somefeline capers that would have tickled the sensibilities of atotem-pole. Mr. Daney's honest cachinnations now were so infectiousthat Nan commenced to laugh with him--heartily, but no longer withthat strident little note of resentment, and cumulatively, as Mr.Daney's mirth mounted until the honest fellow's tears cascaded acrosshis ruddy cheeks.

  "Egad, Nan," he declared presently, "but you have a rare sense ofhumor! Yes, do it. Do it! Make 'em all come down--right here to theSawdust Pile! Make 'em remember you--all three of 'em--make 'em sayplease! Yes, sir! 'Please Nan, forgive me for forgetting. Please Nan,forgive me for smiling like the head of an old fiddle. Please, Nan,get out of Port Agnew, so we can sleep nights. Please, Nan, be carefulnot to say "Good-by." Please, Nan, knock out a couple of your frontteeth and wear a black wig and a sunbonnet, so nobody'll recognize youwhen you leave, follow you, and learn your address.'" He paused towipe his eyes. "Why, dog my cats, girl, you've got 'em where the hairis short; so make 'em toe the scratch!"

  "Well, of course," Nan reminded him, "they are not likely to toe thescratch unless they receive a hint that toeing scratches is going tobe fashionable in our best Port Agnew circles this winter."

  Mr. Daney arched his wild eyebrows, pursed his lips, popped his eyes,and looked at Nan over the rims of his spectacles.

  "Very well, my dear girl, I'll be the goat. A lesson in humility willnot be wasted on certain parties. But suppose they object? Supposethey buck and pitch and sidestep and bawl and carry on? What then?"

  "Why," Nan replied innocently, regarding him in friendly fashion withthose wistful blue eyes, "you might hint that I'm liable to go to TheLaird and tell him I regard him as a very poor sport, indeed, toexpect me to give up his son, in view of the fact that his son'smother sent for me to save that son's life. Do you know, dear Mr.Daney, I suspect that if The Laird knew his wife had compromised himso, he would be a singularly wild Scot!"

  "Onward, Christian soldier, marching as to war!" cried Mr. Daney, and,seizing his hat from the table, he fled into the night.