The Lion and The Mouse: A Story Of American Life

  CHAPTER X

  "What!" exclaimed Shirley, changing colour, "you believe that JohnBurkett Ryder is at the bottom of this infamous accusation againstfather?"

  It was the day following her arrival at Massapequa, and Shirley,the judge and Stott were all three sitting on the porch. Untilnow, by common consent, any mention of the impeachment proceedingshad been avoided by everyone. The previous afternoon and eveninghad been spent listening to an account of Shirley's experiences inEurope and a smile had flitted across even the judge's carewornface as his daughter gave a humorous description of thepicturesque Paris students with their long hair and peg-toptrousers, while Stott simply roared with laughter. Ah, it was goodto laugh again after so much trouble and anxiety! But whileShirley avoided the topic that lay nearest her heart, she wasconsumed with a desire to tell her father of the hope she had ofenlisting the aid of John Burkett Ryder. The great financier wascertainly able to do anything he chose, and had not his sonJefferson promised to win him over to their cause? So, to-day,after Mrs. Rossmore and her sister had gone down to the village tomake some purchases Shirley timidly broached the matter. She askedStott and her father to tell her everything, to hold back nothing.She wanted to hear the worst.

  Stott, therefore, started to review the whole affair from thebeginning, explaining how her father in his capacity as Judge ofthe Supreme Court had to render decisions, several of which wereadverse to the corporate interests of a number of rich men, andhow since that time these powerful interests had used all theirinfluence to get him put off the Bench. He told her about theTranscontinental case and how the judge had got mysteriouslytangled up in the Great Northern Mining Company, and of thescandalous newspaper rumours, followed by the news of theCongressional inquiry. Then he told her about the panic in WallStreet, the sale of the house on Madison Avenue and the removal toLong Island.

  "That is the situation," said Stott when he had finished. "We arewaiting now to see what the Senate will do. We hope for the best.It seems impossible that the Senate will condemn a man whose wholelife is like an open book, but unfortunately the Senate isstrongly Republican and the big interests are in complete control.Unless support comes from some unexpected quarter we must beprepared for anything."

  Support from some unexpected quarter! Stott's closing words rangin Shirley's head. Was that not just what she had to offer? Unableto restrain herself longer and her heart beating tumultuously fromsuppressed emotion, she cried:

  "We'll have that support! We'll have it! I've got it already! Iwanted to surprise you! Father, the most powerful man in theUnited States will save you from being dishonoured!"

  The two men leaned forward in eager interest. What could the girlmean? Was she serious or merely jesting?

  But Shirley was never more serious in her life. She was jubilantat the thought that she had arrived home in time to invoke the aidof this powerful ally. She repeated enthusiastically:

  "We need not worry any more. He has but to say a word and theseproceedings will be instantly dropped. They would not dare actagainst his veto. Did you hear, father, your case is as good aswon!"

  "What do you mean, child? Who is this unknown friend?"

  "Surely you can guess when I say the most powerful man in theUnited States? None other than John Burkett Ryder!"

  She stopped short to watch the effect which this name would haveon her hearers. But to her surprise neither her father nor Stottdisplayed the slightest emotion or even interest. Puzzled at thiscold reception, she repeated:

  "Did you hear, father--John Burkett Ryder will come to yourassistance. I came home on the same ship as his son and hepromised to secure his father's aid."

  The judge puffed heavily at his pipe and merely shook his head,making no reply. Stott explained:

  "We can't look for help from that quarter, Shirley. You don'texpect a man to cut loose his own kite, do you?"

  "What do you mean?" demanded Shirley, mystified.

  "Simply this--that John Burkett Ryder is the very man who isresponsible for all your father's misfortunes."

  The girl sank back in her seat pale and motionless, as if she hadreceived a blow. Was it possible? Could Jefferson's father havedone them such a wrong as this? She well knew that Ryder, Sr., wasa man who would stop at nothing to accomplish his purpose--thisshe had demonstrated conclusively in her book--but she had neverdreamed that his hand would ever be directed against her own fleshand blood. Decidedly some fatality was causing Jefferson andherself to drift further and further apart. First, her father'strouble. That alone would naturally have separated them. And nowthis discovery that Jefferson's father had done hers this wrong.All idea of marriage was henceforth out of the question. That wasirrevocable. Of course, she could not hold Jefferson to blame formethods which he himself abhorred. She would always think as muchof him as ever, but whether her father emerged safely from thetrial in the Senate or not--no matter what the outcome of theimpeachment proceedings might be, Jefferson could never beanything else than a Ryder and from now on there would be animpassable gulf between the Rossmores and the Ryders. The dovedoes not mate with the hawk.

  "Do you really believe this, that John Ryder deliberatelyconcocted the bribery charge with the sole purpose of ruining myfather?" demanded Shirley when she had somewhat recovered.

  "There is no other solution of the mystery possible," answered Stott."The Trusts found they could not fight him in the open, in a fair,honest way, so they plotted in the dark. Ryder was the man who hadmost to lose by your father's honesty on the bench. Ryder was the manhe hit the hardest when he enjoined his Transcontinental Railroad.Ryder, I am convinced, is the chief conspirator."

  "But can such things be in a civilized community?" cried Shirleyindignantly. "Cannot he be exposed, won't the press take thematter up, cannot we show conspiracy?"

  "It sounds easy, but it isn't," replied Stott. "I have had a heapof experience with the law, my child, and I know what I'm talkingabout. They're too clever to be caught tripping. They've coveredtheir tracks well, be sure of that. As to the newspapers--when didyou ever hear of them championing a man when he's down?"

  "And you, father--do you believe Ryder did this?"

  "I have no longer any doubt of it," answered the judge. "I thinkJohn Ryder would see me dead before he would raise a finger tohelp me. His answer to my demand for my letters convinced me thathe was the arch plotter."

  "What letters do you refer to?" demanded Shirley.

  "The letters I wrote to him in regard to my making an investment.He advised the purchase of certain stock. I wrote him two lettersat the time, which letters if I had them now would go a long wayto clearing me of this charge of bribery, for they plainly showedthat I regarded the transaction as a _bona fide_ investment. Sincethis trouble began I wrote to Ryder asking him to return me theseletters so I might use them in my defence. The only reply I gotwas an insolent note from his secretary saying that Mr. Ryder hadforgotten all about the transaction, and in any case had not theletters I referred to."

  "Couldn't you compel him to return them?" asked Shirley.

  "We could never get at him," interrupted Stott. "The man isguarded as carefully as the Czar."

  "Still," objected Shirley, "it is possible that he may have lostthe letters or even never received them."

  "Oh, he has them safe enough," replied Stott. "A man like Ryderkeeps every scrap of paper, with the idea that it may prove usefulsome day. The letters are lying somewhere in his desk. Besides,after the Transcontinental decision he was heard to say that he'dhave Judge Rossmore off the Bench inside of a year."

  "And it wasn't a vain boast--he's done it," muttered the judge.

  Shirley relapsed into silence. Her brain was in a whirl. It wastrue then. This merciless man of money, this ogre of monopolisticcorporations, this human juggernaut had crushed her father merelybecause by his honesty he interfered with his shady businessdeals! Ah, why had she spared him in her book? She felt now thatshe had been too lenient, not bitter enough, not sufficientlypitiless. Such a man
was entitled to no mercy. Yes, it was allclear enough now. John Burkett Ryder, the head of "the System,"the plutocrat whose fabulous fortune gave him absolute controlover the entire country, which invested him with a personal powergreater than that of any king, this was the man who now daredattack the Judiciary, the corner stone of the Constitution, theone safeguard of the people's liberty. Where would it end? Howlong would the nation tolerate being thus ruthlessly trodden underthe unclean heels of an insolent oligarchy? The capitalists, bandedtogether for the sole purpose of pillage and loot, had alreadysucceeded in enslaving the toiler. The appalling degradation ofthe working classes, the sordidness and demoralizing squalor inwhich they passed their lives, the curse of drink, the provocationto crime, the shame of the sweat shops--all which evils in oursocial system she had seen as a Settlement worker, were directlytraceable to Centralized Wealth. The labor unions regulated wagesand hours, but they were powerless to control the prices of thenecessaries of life. The Trusts could at pleasure create famine orplenty. They usually willed to make it famine so they themselvesmight acquire more millions with which to pay for marble palaces,fast motor cars, ocean-going yachts and expensive establishmentsat Newport. Food was ever dearer and of poorer quality, clothescost more, rents and taxes were higher. She thought of the horrorsin the packing houses at Chicago recently made the subject of asensational government report--putrid, pestiferous meats put upfor human food amid conditions of unspeakable foulness, freelyexposed to deadly germs from the expectorations of work peoplesuffering from tuberculosis, in unsanitary rotten buildings soakedthrough with blood and every conceivable form of filth and decay,the beef barons careless and indifferent to the dictates of commondecency so long as they could make more money. And while ourpublic gasped in disgust at the sickening revelations of the Beefscandal and foreign countries quickly cancelled their contractsfor American prepared meats, the millionaire packer, insolent inthe possession of wealth stolen from a poisoned public, impudentlyappeared in public in his fashionable touring car, with head erectand self-satisfied, wholly indifferent to his shame.

  These and other evidences of the plutocracy's cruel grip upon thenation had ended by exasperating the people. There must be a limitsomewhere to the turpitudes of a degenerate class of _nouveauxriches_. The day of reckoning was fast approaching for thegrafters and among the first to taste the vengeance of the peoplewould be the Colossus. But while waiting for the people to rise intheir righteous wrath, Ryder was all powerful, and if it were truethat he had instituted these impeachment proceedings her fatherhad little chance. What could be done? They could not sit andwait, as Stott had said, for the action of the Senate. If it weretrue that Ryder controlled the Senate as he controlled everythingelse her father was doomed. No, they must find some other way.

  And long after the judge and Stott had left for the city Shirleysat alone on the porch engrossed in thought, taxing her brain tofind some way out of the darkness. And when presently her motherand aunt returned they found her still sitting there, silent andpreoccupied. If they only had those two letters, she thought. Theyalone might save her father. But how could they be got at? Mr.Ryder had put them safely away, no doubt. He would not give themup. She wondered how it would be to go boldly to him appeal towhatever sense of honour and fairness that might be lying latentwithin him. No, such a man would not know what the terms "honour,""fairness" meant. She pondered upon it all day and at night whenshe went tired to bed it was her last thought as she dropped offto sleep.

  The following morning broke clear and fine. It was one of thoseglorious, ideal days of which we get perhaps half a dozen duringthe whole summer, days when the air is cool and bracing,champagne-like in its exhilarating effect, and when Nature donsher brightest dress, when the atmosphere is purer, the grassgreener, the sky bluer, the flowers sweeter and the birds sing inmore joyous chorus, when all creation seems in tune. Days thatmake living worth while, when one can forget the ugliness, theselfishness, the empty glitter of the man-made city and walk erectand buoyant in the open country as in the garden of God.

  Shirley went out for a long walk. She preferred to go aloneso she would not have to talk. Hers was one of those lonely,introspective natures that resent the intrusion of aimlesschatter when preoccupied with serious thoughts. Long Islandwas unknown territory to her and it all looked very flat anduninteresting, but she loved the country and found keen delightin the fresh, pure air and the sweet scent of new mown hay waftedfrom the surrounding fields. In her soft, loose-fitting linendress, her white canvas shoes, garden hat trimmed with red roses,and lace parasol, she made an attractive picture and everypasser-by--with the exception of one old farmer and he was halfblind--turned to look at this good-looking girl, a stranger inthose parts and whose stylish appearance suggested Fifth Avenuerather than the commonplace purlieus of Massapequa.

  Every now and then Shirley espied in the distance the figure of aman which she thought she recognized as that of Jefferson. Had hecome, after all? The blood went coursing tumultuously through herveins only a moment later to leave her face a shade paler as theman came nearer and she saw he was a stranger. She wondered whathe was doing, if he gave her a thought, if he had spoken to hisfather and what the latter had said. She could realize now whatMr. Ryder's reply had been. Then she wondered what her future lifewould be. She could do nothing, of course, until the Senate hadpassed upon her father's case, but it was imperative that she getto work. In a day or two, she would call on her publishers andlearn how her book was selling. She might get other commissions.If she could not make enough money in literary work she would haveto teach. It was a dreary outlook at best, and she sighed as shethought of the ambitions that had once stirred her breast. All thebrightness seemed to have gone out of her life, her fatherdisgraced, Jefferson now practically lost to her--only her workremained.

  As she neared the cottage on her return home she caught sight ofthe letter carrier approaching the gate. Instantly she thought ofJefferson, and she hurried to intercept the man. Perhaps he hadwritten instead of coming.

  "Miss Shirley Rossmore?" said the man eyeing her interrogatively.

  "That's I," said Shirley.

  The postman handed her a letter and passed on. Shirley glancedquickly at the superscription. No, it was not from Jefferson; sheknew his handwriting too well. The envelope, moreover, bore thefirm name of her publishers. She tore it open and found that itmerely contained another letter which the publishers hadforwarded. This was addressed to Miss Shirley Green and ran asfollows:

  _Dear Madam._--If convenient, I should like to see you at my office, No. 36 Broadway, in relation to your book "The American Octopus." Kindly inform me as to the day and hour at which I may expect you.

  Yours truly, JOHN BURKETT RYDER, per B.

  Shirley almost shouted from sheer excitement. At first she wasalarmed--the name John Burkett Ryder was such a bogey to frightenbad children with, she thought he might want to punish her forwriting about him as she had. She hurried to the porch and satthere reading the letter over and over and her brain began toevolve ideas. She had been wondering how she could get at Mr.Ryder and here he was actually asking her to call on him.Evidently he had not the slightest idea of her identity, for hehad been able to reach her only through her publishers and nodoubt he had exhausted every other means of discovering heraddress. The more she pondered over it the more she began to seein this invitation a way of helping her father. Yes, she would goand beard the lion in his den, but she would not go to his office.She would accept the invitation only on condition that theinterview took place in the Ryder mansion where undoubtedly theletters would be found. She decided to act immediately. No timewas to be lost, so she procured a sheet of paper and an envelopeand wrote as follows:

  MR. JOHN BURKETT RYDER,

  _Dear Sir._--I do not call upon gentlemen at their business office. Yours, etc.,
SHIRLEY GREEN.

  Her letter was abrupt and at first glance seemed hardly calculatedto bring about what she wanted--an invitation to call at the Ryderhome, but she was shrewd enough to see that if Ryder wrote to herat all it was because he was most anxious to see her and herabruptness would not deter him from trying again. On the contrary,the very unusualness of anyone thus dictating to him would makehim more than ever desirous of making her acquaintance. So Shirleymailed the letter and awaited with confidence for Ryder's reply.So certain was she that one would come that she at once began toform her plan of action. She would leave Massapequa at once, andher whereabouts must remain a secret even from her own family. Asshe intended to go to the Ryder house in the assumed character ofShirley Green, it would never do to run the risk of being followedhome by a Ryder detective to the Rossmore cottage. She wouldconfide in one person only--Judge Stott. He would know where shewas and would be in constant communication with her. But,otherwise, she must be alone to conduct the campaign as she judgedfit. She would go at once to New York and take rooms in a boardinghouse where she would be known as Shirley Green. As for funds tomeet her expenses, she had her diamonds, and would they not befilling a more useful purpose if sold to defray the cost of savingher father than in mere personal adornment? So that evening, whileher mother was talking with the judge, she beckoned Stott over tothe corner where she was sitting:

  "Judge Stott," she began, "I have a plan."

  He smiled indulgently at her.

  "Another friend like that of yesterday?" he asked.

  "No," replied the girl, "listen. I am in earnest now and I wantyou to help me. You said that no one on earth could resist JohnBurkett Ryder, that no one could fight against the Money Power.Well, do you know what I am going to do?"

  There was a quiver in her voice and her nostrils were dilated likethose of a thoroughbred eager to run the race. She had risen fromher seat and stood facing him, her fists clenched, her face setand determined. Stott had never seen her in this mood and he gazedat her half admiringly, half curiously.

  "What will you do?" he asked with a slightly ironical inflectionin his voice.

  "I am going to fight John Burkett Ryder!" she cried.

  Stott looked at her open-mouthed.

  "You?" he said.

  "Yes, I," said Shirley. "I'm going to him and I intend to getthose letters if he has them."

  Stott shook his head.

  [Photo, from the play, of Shirley discussing her book with Mr. Ryder]

  "How do you classify him?" "As the greatest criminal the world has ever produced."--Act III.

  "My dear child," he said, "what are you talking about? How can youexpect to reach Ryder? We couldn't."

  "I don't know just how yet," replied Shirley, "but I'm going totry. I love my father and I'm going to leave nothing untried tosave him."

  "But what can you do?" persisted Stott. "The matter has beensifted over and over by some of the greatest minds in thecountry."

  "Has any woman sifted it over?" demanded Shirley.

  "No, but--" stammered Stott.

  "Then it's about time one did," said the girl decisively. "Thoseletters my father speaks of--they would be useful, would theynot?"

  "They would be invaluable."

  "Then I'll get them. If not--"

  "But I don't understand how you're going to get at Ryder,"interrupted Stott.

  "This is how," replied Shirley, passing over to him the letter shehad received that afternoon.

  As Stott recognized the well-known signature and read the contentsthe expression of his face changed. He gasped for breath and sankinto a chair from sheer astonishment.

  "Ah, that's different!" he cried, "that's different!"

  Briefly Shirley outlined her plan, explaining that she would go tolive in the city immediately and conduct her campaign from there.If she was successful it might save her father and if not no harmcould come of it.

  Stott demurred at first. He did not wish to bear alone theresponsibility of such an adventure. There was no knowing whatmight happen to her, visiting a strange house under an assumedname. But when he saw how thoroughly in earnest she was and thatshe was ready to proceed without him he capitulated. He agreedthat she might be able to find the missing letters or if not thatshe might make some impression on Ryder himself. She could showinterest in the judge's case as a disinterested outsider and somight win his sympathies. From being a sceptic, Stott now becameenthusiastic. He promised to co-operate in every way and to keepShirley's whereabouts an absolute secret. The girl, therefore,began to make her preparations for departure from home by tellingher parents that she had accepted an invitation to spend a week ortwo with an old college chum in New York.

  That same evening her mother, the judge, and Stott went for astroll after dinner and left her to take care of the house. Theyhad wanted Shirley to go, too, but she pleaded fatigue. The truthwas that she wanted to be alone so she could ponder undisturbedover her plans. It was a clear, starlit night, with no moon, andShirley sat on the porch listening to the chirping of the cricketsand idly watching the flashes of the mysterious fireflies. She wasin no mood for reading and sat for a long time rocking herselfengrossed in her thoughts. Suddenly she heard someone unfasten thegarden gate. It was too soon for the return of the promenaders; itmust be a visitor. Through the uncertain penumbra of the gardenshe discerned approaching a form which looked familiar. Yes, nowthere was no doubt possible. It was, indeed, Jefferson Ryder.

  She hurried down the porch to greet him. No matter what the fatherhad done she could never think any the less of the son. He tookher hand and for several moments neither one spoke. There aretimes when silence is more eloquent than speech and this was oneof them. The gentle grip of his big strong hand expressed moretenderly than any words the sympathy that lay in his heart for thewoman he loved. Shirley said quietly:

  "You have come at last, Jefferson."

  "I came as soon as I could," he replied gently. "I saw father onlyyesterday."

  "You need not tell me what he said," Shirley hastened to say.

  Jefferson made no reply. He understood what she meant. He hung hishead and hit viciously with his walking stick at the pebbles thatlay at his feet. She went on:

  "I know everything now. It was foolish of me to think that Mr.Ryder would ever help us."

  "I can't help it in any way," blurted out Jefferson. "I have notthe slightest influence over him. His business methods I considerdisgraceful--you understand that, don't you, Shirley?"

  The girl laid her hand on his arm and replied kindly:

  "Of course, Jeff, we know that. Come up and sit down."

  He followed her on the porch and drew up a rocker beside her.

  "They are all out for a walk," she explained.

  "I'm glad," he said frankly. "I wanted a quiet talk with you. Idid not care to meet anyone. My name must be odious to yourpeople."

  Both were silent, feeling a certain awkwardness. They seemed tohave drifted apart in some way since those delightful days inParis and on the ship. Then he said:

  "I'm going away, but I couldn't go until I saw you."

  "You are going away?" exclaimed Shirley, surprised.

  "Yes," he said, "I cannot stand it any more at home. I had a hottalk with my father yesterday about one thing and another. He andI don't chin well together. Besides this matter of your father'simpeachment has completely discouraged me. All the wealth in theworld could never reconcile me to such methods! I'm ashamed of therole my own flesh and blood has played in that miserable affair. Ican't express what I feel about it."

  "Yes," sighed Shirley, "it is hard to believe that you are the sonof that man!"

  "How is your father?" inquired Jefferson. "How does he take it?"

  "Oh, his heart beats and he can see and hear and speak," repliedShirley sadly, "but he is only a shadow of what he once was. Ifthe trial goes against him, I don't think he'll survive it."

  "It is monstrous," cried Jefferson. "To think that my
fathershould be responsible for this thing!"

  "We are still hoping for the best," added Shirley, "but theoutlook is dark."

  "But what are you going to do?" he asked. "These surroundings arenot for you--" He looked around at the cheap furnishings which hecould see through the open window and his face showed realconcern.

  "I shall teach or write, or go out as governess," replied Shirleywith a tinge of bitterness. Then smiling sadly she added: "Povertyis easy; it is unmerited disgrace which is hard."

  The young man drew his chair closer and took hold of the hand thatlay in her lap. She made no resistance.

  "Shirley," he said, "do you remember that talk we had on the ship?I asked you to be my wife. You led me to believe that you were notindifferent to me. I ask you again to marry me. Give me the rightto take care of you and yours. I am the son of the world's richestman, but I don't want his money. I have earned a competence of myown--enough to live on comfortably. We will go away where you andyour father and mother will make their home with us. Do not letthe sins of the fathers embitter the lives of the children."

  "Mine has not sinned," said Shirley bitterly.

  "I wish I could say the same of mine," replied Jefferson. "It isbecause the clouds are dark about you that I want to come intoyour life to comfort you."

  The girl shook her head.

  "No, Jefferson, the circumstances make such a marriage impossible.Your family and everybody else would say that I had inveigled youinto it. It is even more impossible now than I thought it was whenI spoke to you on the ship. Then I was worried about my father'strouble and could give no thought to anything else. Now it isdifferent. Your father's action has made our union impossible forever. I thank you for the honour you have done me. I do like you.I like you well enough to be your wife, but I will not accept thissacrifice on your part. Your offer, coming at such a criticaltime, is dictated only by your noble, generous nature, by yoursympathy for our misfortune. Afterwards, you might regret it. Ifmy father were convicted and driven from the bench and you foundyou had married the daughter of a disgraced man you would beashamed of us all, and if I saw that it would break my heart."

  Emotion stopped her utterance and she buried her face in her handsweeping silently.

  "Shirley," said Jefferson gently, "you are wrong. I love you foryourself, not because of your trouble. You know that. I shallnever love any other woman but you. If you will not say 'yes' now,I shall go away as I told my father I would and one day I shallcome back and then if you are still single I shall ask you againto be my wife."

  "Where are you going?" she asked.

  "I shall travel for a year and then, may be, I shall stay a coupleof years in Paris, studying at the Beaux Arts. Then I may go toRome. If I am to do anything worth while in the career I havechosen I must have that European training."

  "Paris! Rome!" echoed Shirley. "How I envy you! Yes, you areright. Get away from this country where the only topic, the onlythought is money, where the only incentive to work is dollars. Gowhere there are still some ideals, where you can breathe theatmosphere of culture and art."

  Forgetting momentarily her own troubles, Shirley chatted on aboutlife in the art centres of Europe, advised Jefferson where to go,with whom to study. She knew people in Paris, Rome and Munich andshe would give him letters to them. Only, if he wanted to perfecthimself in the languages, he ought to avoid Americans andcultivate the natives. Then, who could tell? if he worked hard andwas lucky, he might have something exhibited at the Salon andreturn to America a famous painter.

  "If I do," smiled Jefferson, "you shall be the first tocongratulate me. I shall come and ask you to be my wife. May I?"he added,

  Shirley smiled gravely.

  "Get famous first. You may not want me then."

  "I shall always want you," he whispered hoarsely, bending overher. In the dim light of the porch he saw that her tear-stainedface was drawn and pale. He rose and held out his hand.

  "Good-bye," he said simply.

  "Good-bye, Jefferson." She rose and put her hand in his. "We shallalways be friends. I, too, am going away."

  "You going away--where to?" he asked surprised.

  "I have work to do in connection with my father's case," she said.

  "You?" said Jefferson puzzled. "You have work to do--what work?"

  "I can't say what it is, Jefferson. There are good reasons why Ican't. You must take my word for it that it is urgent andimportant work." Then she added: "You go your way, Jefferson; Iwill go mine. It was not our destiny to belong to each other. Youwill become famous as an artist. And I--"

  "And you--" echoed Jefferson.

  "I--I shall devote my life to my father. It's no use,Jefferson--really--I've thought it all out. You must not come backto me--you understand. We must be alone with our grief--father andI. Good-bye."

  He raised her hand to his lips.

  "Good-bye, Shirley. Don't forget me. I shall come back for you."

  He went down the porch and she watched him go out of the gate anddown the road until she could see his figure no longer. Then sheturned back and sank into her chair and burying her face in herhandkerchief she gave way to a torrent of tears which affordedsome relief to the weight on her heart. Presently the othersreturned from their walk and she told them about the visitor.

  "Mr. Ryder's son, Jefferson, was here. We crossed on the sameship. I introduced him to Judge Stott on the dock."

  The judge looked surprised, but he merely said:

  "I hope for his sake that he is a different man from his father."

  "He is," replied Shirley simply, and nothing more was said.

  Two days went by, during which Shirley went on completing thepreparations for her visit to New York. It was arranged that Stottshould escort her to the city. Shortly before they started for thetrain a letter arrived for Shirley. Like the first one it had beenforwarded by her publishers. It read as follows:

  MISS SHIRLEY GREEN,

  _Dear Madam._--I shall be happy to see you at my residence--Fifth Avenue--any afternoon that you will mention. Yours very truly, JOHN BURKETT RYDER, per B.

  Shirley smiled in triumph as, unseen by her father and mother, shepassed it over to Stott. She at once sat down and wrote thisreply:

  MR. JOHN BURKETT RYDER,

  _Dear Sir._--I am sorry that I am unable to comply with your request. I prefer the invitation to call at your private residence should come from Mrs. Ryder.

  Yours, etc., SHIRLEY GREEN.

  She laughed as she showed this to Stott:

  "He'll write me again," she said, "and next time his wife willsign the letter."

  An hour later she left Massapequa for the city.