The Wrong Twin

  CHAPTER II

  They came all too soon to a gate giving upon the public road and theworld of the living who make remarks about strange sights they witness.Still it was a quiet street, and they were accorded no immediatereception. There stood the pony cart of Miss Juliana, and this, she madeknown, they were to enter. It was a lovely vehicle, drawn by a lovelyfat pony, and the Wilbur twin had often envied those privileged to ridein it. Never had he dreamed so rich a treat could be his. Now it was tobe his, but the thing was no longer a lovely pony cart; it was atumbril--worse than a tumbril, for he was going to a fate worse thandeath.

  The shameful skirt flopped about his bare legs as he awkwardly clamberedinto the rear seat beside the sex-muddled creature in a boy's suit and agirl's hat. Miss Juliana and the godly Merle in the front seat had verydefinitely drawn aloof from the outcasts. They chatted on matters atlarge in the most polite and social manner. They quite appeared to haveforgotten that their equipage might attract the notice of the vulgar.When from time to time it actually did this the girl held her headbrazenly erect and shot back stare for stare, but the Wilbur twin bowedlow and suffered.

  Sometimes it would merely be astounded adults who paused to regard them,to point canes or fingers at them. But again it would be the young whohad never been disciplined to restrain their emotions in public. Some ofthese ran for a time beside the cart, with glad cries, their clear,ringing voices raised in comments of a professedly humorous character.Under Juliana's direction the cart did not progress too rapidly. At onecrossing she actually stopped the thing until Ellis Bristow, who wasblind, had with his knowing cane tapped a safe way across the street.The Wilbur twin at this moment frankly rejoiced in the infirmity of poorEllis Bristow. It was sweet relief not to have him stop and stare andpoint. If given the power at this juncture he would have summarilyblinded all the eyes of Newbern Center.

  Up shaded streets they progressed, leaving a wake of purest joy astern.But at last they began the ascent of West Hill, that led to the WhippleNew Place, leaving behind those streets that came alive at theirapproach. For the remainder of their dread progress they would elicitonly the startled regard of an occasional adult farmer.

  "What'll she do to us?" The Wilbur twin mumbled this under cover ofsprightly talk from the front seat. His brother at the moment wasboasting of his scholastic attainments. He had, it appeared, come onamazingly in long division.

  "She won't do a thing!" replied his companion in shame. "Don't you beafraid!"

  "I am afraid. But I wouldn't be afraid if I had my pants on again,"explained the Wilbur twin, going accurately to the soul of his panic.

  "I'll do it next time," said the girl. "I'll hurry. I won't stop at anyold graveyard."

  "Graveyard!" uttered the other, feelingly. "I should say not!" Neveragain was he to think of such places with any real pleasure.

  "All she wants," explained the girl--"she wants to talk up in her noselike she was giving a lecture. She loves to. She'll make a vile scene."

  Now they were through an imposing gate of masonry, and the ponylanguidly drew them along a wide driveway toward the Whipple mansion, anexperience which neither of the twins had ever hoped to brave; but onlyone of them was deriving any pleasure from the social elevation. TheMerle twin looked blandly over the wide expanse of lawn and flower bedsand tenderly nursed shrubs, and then at the pile of red brick with itsmany windows under gay-striped awnings, and its surmounting whitecupola, which he had often admired from afar. He glowed with rectitude.True, he suffered a brother lost to all sense of decent human values,but this could not dim the lustre of his own virtue or his pleasantsuspicion that it was somehow going to be suitably rewarded. Was he notbeing driven by a grand-mannered lady up a beautiful roadway pastmillions of flowers and toward a wonderful house? It paid to be good.

  The Wilbur twin had ceased to regard his surroundings. He gazed stolidlybefore him, nor made the least note of what his eyes rested upon. He wasthere, helpless. They had him!

  The cart drew up beside steps leading to a wide porch shaded by astriped awning.

  "Home at last," cooed Miss Juliana with false welcome.

  A loutish person promptly abandoned a lawn mower in the near distanceand came to stand by the head of the languid pony. He grinned horribly,and winked as the two figures descended from the rear of the cart. For amoment, halting on the first of the steps, the Wilbur twin became awarethat just beyond him, almost to be grasped, was a veritable rainbowcurved above a whirling lawn sprinkler. And he had learned that arainbow is a thing of gracious promise. But probably they have to benatural rainbows; probably you don't get anything out of one you makeyourself. Even as he looked, the shining omen vanished, somewhere shutoff by an unseen power.

  "This way, please," called Miss Juliana, cordially, and he followed herguiltily up the steps to the shaded porch.

  The girl had preceded her. The Merle twin lingered back of them,shocked, austere, deprecating, and yet somehow bland withal, as if theselittle affairs were not without their compensating features.

  The bowed Wilbur twin was startled by a gusty torrent of laughter. Withtorturing effort, he raised his eyes to a couple of elderly maleWhipples. One sat erect on a cushioned bench, and one had lain at easein a long, low thing of wicker. It was this one who made the ill-timedand tasteless demonstration that was still continuing. Ultimately thecreature lost all tone from his laughter. It went on, soundless butuncannily poignant. Such was the effect that the Wilbur twin wondered ifhis own ears had been suddenly deafened. This Whipple continued to shakesilently. The other, who had not laughed, whose face seemed ill-modelledfor laughing, nevertheless turned sparkling eyes from under shelvingbrows upon Juliana and said in words stressed with emotion: "My dear,you have brightened my whole day."

  The first Whipple, now recovered from his unseemly paroxysm, sat erectto study the newcomers in detail. He was a short, round-chested man witha round moon face marked by heavy brows like those of the other. He hadfat wrists and stout, blunt fingers. With a stubby thumb he now pushedup the outer ends of the heavy brows as if to heighten the power of hisvision for this cherished spectacle.

  "I seem to recognize the lad," he murmured as if in privacy to his ownhairy ears. "Surely I've seen the rascal about the place, perhapshelping Nathan at the stable; but that lovely little girl--I've not hadthe pleasure of meeting her before. Come, sissy"--he held outblandishing arms--"come here, Totte, and give the old man a kiss."

  Could hate destroy, these had been the dying words of Sharon Whipple.But the Wilbur twin could manage only a sidelong glare insufficient toslay. His brother giggled until he saw that he made merry alone.

  "What? Bless my soul, the minx is sulky!" roared the wit.

  The other Whipple intervened.

  "What was our pride and our joy bent upon this time?" he suavelydemanded. "I take it you've thwarted her in some new plot against thepublic tranquillity."

  "The young person you indicate," said Juliana, "was about to leave herhome forever--going out to live her own life away from these distastefulsurroundings."

  "So soon? We should be proud of her! At that tender age, going out tomake a name for herself!"

  "I gather from this very intelligent young gentleman here that she hadmade the name for herself before even starting."

  "It was Ben Blunt," remarked the young gentleman, helpfully.

  "Hey!" Sharon Whipple affected dismay. "Then what about this young girlat his side? Don't tell me she was luring him from his home here?"

  "It will surprise you to know," said Juliana in her best style, "thatthis young girl before you is not a girl."

  Both Whipples ably professed amazement.

  "Not a girl?" repeated the suave Whipple incredulously. "You do amazeme, Juliana! Not a girl, with those flower-like features, those starryeyes, that feminine allure? Preposterous! And yet, if he is not a girlhe is, I take it, a boy."

  "A boy who incited the light of our house to wayward courses by changingclothes with her."

  Th
e harsher Whipple spoke here in a new tone.

  "Then she browbeat him into it. Scissors and white aprons--yes, I knowher!"

  "He didn't seem browbeaten. They were smoking quite companionably when Ichanced upon them."

  "Smoking! Our angel child smoking!"

  This from Sharon Whipple in tones that every child present knew as amere pretense of horror. Juliana shrugged cynically.

  "They always go to the bad after they leave their nice homes," she said.

  "Children should never smoke till they are twenty-one, and then they geta gold watch for it," interjected the orator, Merle. He had felt that hewas not being made enough of. "It's bad for their growing systems," headded.

  "And this?" asked Gideon Whipple, indicating the moralist.

  "The brother of that"--Juliana pointed. "He did his best in the way ofadvice, I gather, but neither of the pair would listen to him. He seemsto be safely conservative, but not to have much influence over hisfellows."

  "Willing to talk about it, though," said Sharon Whipple, pointedly.

  The girl now glowered at each of them in turn.

  "I don't care!" she muttered. "I will, too, run away! You see!"

  "It's what they call a fixed idea," explained Juliana. "She doesn't careand she will, too, run away. But where is Mrs. Harvey?"

  "Poor soul!" murmured Sharon. "Think what a lot she's missed already! Docall her, my dear!"

  Juliana stepped to the doorway and called musically into the dusky hall:"Mrs. Harvey! Mrs. Harvey! Come quickly, please! We have somethinglovely to show you!"

  The offenders were still to be butchered to make a Whipple holiday.

  "Coming!" called a high voice from far within.

  The Wilbur twin sickeningly guessed this would be the cruel stepmother.Real cruelty would now begin. Beating, most likely. But when, a momentlater, she stood puzzling in the doorway, he felt an instant relief. Shedid not look cruel. She was not even bearded. She was a plump, meeklyprettyish woman with a quick, flustered manner and a soft voice. Shebrought something the culprits had not found in their other judges.

  "Why, you poor, dear, motherless thing!" she cried when she had assuredherself of the girl's identity, and with this she enfolded her. "I'dlike to know what they've been doing to my pet!" she declared,aggressively.

  "The pet did it all to herself," explained Gideon Whipple.

  "I will, too, run away!" affirmed the girl, though some deeperconviction had faded from the threat.

  "Still talking huge high," said Sharon. "But at your age, my youngfriend, running away is overchancy." Mrs. Harvey Whipple ignored this.

  "Of course you will--run away all you like," she soothed. "It's goodfor people to run away." Then she turned amazingly to the Wilbur twinand spoke him fair as a fellow human. "And who is this dear little boy?I just know he was kind enough to change clothes with you so you couldrun away better! And here you're keeping him in that dress when youought to know it makes him uncomfortable--doesn't it, little boy?"

  The little boy movingly ogled her with a sidelong glance of gratitudefor what at the moment seemed to be the first kind words he had everheard.

  "You have her give me back my pants!" said he. Then for the first timehe faced his inquisitors eye to eye. "I want my own pants!" he declared,stoutly. Man spoke to man there, and both the male Whipples stirredguiltily; feeling base, perhaps, that mere sex loyalty had not earlierrestrained them.

  "Indeed, you blessed thing, you shall have them this moment!" said thecruel stepmother. "You two march along with me."

  "And not keep them till Harvey D. comes home?" It was the implacableJuliana.

  "Well"--Mrs. Harvey considered--"I'm sure he would adore to see thelittle imps, but really they can't stand it any longer, can you, dears?It would be bad for their nerves. We'll have to be satisfied withtelling him. Come along quickly!"

  "I will, too, run away!"

  The girl flung it over her shoulder as she swaggered into the hall. TheWilbur twin trod incessantly on her heels.

  "Wants his pants!" murmured Sharon Whipple. "Prunes and apricots! Wantshis pants!"

  "Mistake ever to part with 'em," observed Gideon. "Of course shebrowbeat him."

  "My young friend here tells me she bribed him," explained Juliana.

  "She gave him a lot of money and I'm keeping it for him," said herself-possessed young friend, and he indicated bulging pockets.

  "Looted her bank," said Juliana.

  "Forehanded little tike," said Sharon, admiringly. "And smart! She canoutsmart us all any day in the week!"

  * * * * *

  In a dim upper bedroom in the big house Wilbur Cowan divested himself ofwoman's raiment for probably the last time in his life. He hurried morethan he might have, because the room was full of large, strange,terrifying furniture. It was a place to get out of as soon as he could.Two buttons at the back of the dress he was unable to reach, but thistrifling circumstance did not for more than a scant second delay hisrelease. Then his own clothes were thrust in to him by the stepmother,who embarrassingly lingered to help him button his own waist with thefaded horseshoes to the happily restored pants.

  "There, there!" she soothed when he was again clad as a man child, andamazingly she kissed him.

  Still tingling from this novel assault, he was led by the woman along adim corridor to a rear stairway. Down this they went, along anothercorridor to a far door. She brought him to rest in a small, meagrelyfurnished but delightfully scented room. It was scented with a generalaroma of cooked food, and there were many shelves behind glass doors onwhich dishes were piled. A drawer was opened, and almost instantly inhis ready hands was the largest segment of yellow cake he had everbeheld. He had not dreamed that pieces of cake for human consumptioncould be cut so large. And it was lavishly gemmed with fat raisins. Heheld it doubtfully.

  "Let's look again," said the preposterous woman. She looked again,pushing by a loose-swinging door to do it, and returned with a vast areaof apple pie, its outer curve a full ninety degrees of the circle. "Noweat!" said the woman.

  She was, indeed, a remarkable woman. She had not first asked him if hewere hungry.

  "I'm much obliged for my pants and this cake and pie," said the boy, sothe woman said, "Yes, yes," and hugged him briefly as he ate.

  Not until he had consumed the last morsel of these provisions and eke abumper of milk did the woman lead him back to that shaded porch where hehad lately been put to the torture. But now he was another being, cladnot only as became a man among men but inwardly fortified by food. Ifstepmothers were like this he wished his own father would find one. Thegirl with her talk about cruelty--he still admired her, but she must bean awful liar. He faced the tormenting group on the porch with almostfaultless self-possession. He knew they could not hurt him.

  "Well, well, well!" roared Sharon Whipple, meaning again to be humorous.But the restored Wilbur eyed him coldly, with just a faint curiositythat withered the humorist in him. "Well, well!" he repeated, but indry, businesslike tones, as if he had not meant to be funny in the firstplace.

  "I guess we'll have to be going now," said the Wilbur twin. "And we mustleave all that money. It wouldn't be honest to take it now."

  The Merle twin at this looked across at him with marked disfavour.

  "Nonsense!" said Miss Juliana.

  "Nonsense!" said Sharon Whipple.

  "Take it, of course!" said Gideon Whipple.

  "He's earned it fairly," said Juliana. She turned to Merle. "Give it tohim," she directed.

  This was not as Merle would have wished. If the money had been earned hewas still willing to take care of it, wasn't he?

  "A beggarly pittance for what he did," said Gideon Whipple, warmly.

  "Wouldn't do it myself for twice the amount, whatever it is," saidSharon.

  Very slowly, under the Whipple regard, the Merle twin poured the priceof his brother's shame into his brother's cupped hands. The brother feltreligious at this moment. He remembered s
eriously those things theytold you in Sunday-school--about a power above that watches over us andmakes all come right. There must be something in that talk.

  The fiscal transaction was completed. The twins looked up to becomeaware that their late confederate surveyed them from the doorway. Hereyes hinted of a recent stormy past, but once more she was decorouslyapparelled.

  "Your little guests are leaving," said the stepmother. "You must bidthem good-bye."

  Her little guests became statues as the girl approached them.

  "So glad you could come," she said, and ceremoniously shook the hand ofeach. The twins wielded arms rigid from the shoulder, shaking twice downand twice up. "It has been so pleasant to have you," said the girl.

  "We've had a delightful time," said the Merle twin.

  The other tried to echo this, but again his teeth were tightly locked,and he made but a meaningless squeak far back in his throat. He usedthis for the beginning of a cough, which he finished with a decentaplomb.

  "You must come again," said the girl, mechanically.

  "We shall be so glad to," replied the Merle twin, glancing a brightfarewell to the group.

  The other twin was unable to glance intelligently at any one. His eyeswere now glazed. He stumbled against his well-mannered brother andheavily descended the steps.

  "You earned your money!" called Sharon Whipple.

  The Wilbur twin was in advance, and stayed so as they trudged down theroadway to the big gate. With his first free breath he had felt hisimportance as the lawful possessor of limitless wealth.

  "Bright little skeesicks," said Sharon Whipple.

  "But the brother is really remarkable," said Gideon--"so well-mannered,so sure of himself. He has quite a personality."

  "Other has the gumption," declared Sharon.

  "I've decided to have one of them for my brother," announced the girl.

  "Indeed?" said Gideon.

  "Well, everybody said I might have a brother, but nobody does anythingabout it. I will have one of those. I think the nice one that doesn'tsmoke."

  "Poor motherless pet!" murmured the stepmother, helplessly.

  "A brother is not what you need most at this time," broke in Juliana."It's a barber."

  * * * * *

  Down the dusty road over West Hill went the twins, Wilbur stillforcefully leading. His brother was becoming uneasy. There was a strangelight in the other's eyes, an unwonted look of power. When they were offthe hill and come to the upper end of shaded Fair Street, Merle advancedto keep pace beside his brother. The latter's rate of speed hadincreased as they neared the town.

  "Hadn't I better take care of our money for us?" he at last asked in avoice oily with solicitude.

  "No, sir!"

  The "sir" was weighted with so heavy an emphasis that the tactful Merlemerely said "Oh!" in a hurt tone.

  "I can take care of my own money for me," added the speeding capitalist,seeming to wish that any possible misconception as to the ownership ofthe hoard might be definitely removed.

  "Oh," said Merle again, this being all that with any dignity he couldthink of to say. They were now passing the quiet acre that had been thescene of the morning's unpleasantness. Their pails, half filled withberries, were still there, but the strangely behaving Wilbur refused togo for them. He eyed the place with disrelish. He would not againwillingly approach that spot where he had gone down into the valley ofshame. Reminded that the pails were not theirs, he brutally asked whatdid he care, adding that he could buy a million pails if he took anotion to. But presently he listened to reason, and made reasonableproposals. The Merle twin was to go back to the evil place, salvage thepails, leave them at the Penniman house, and hasten to a certainconfectioner's at the heart of the town, where a lavish reward would beat once his. After troubled reflection he consented, and they went theirways. The Merle twin sped to the quiet nook where Jonas Whipple had beenput away in 1828, and sped away from there as soon as he had the pails.Not even did he bend a moment above the little new-made grave where laya part of all that was mortal of Patricia Whipple. He dislikedgraveyards on principle, and he wished his reward.

  Wilbur Cowan kept his quick way down Fair Street. He had been lifted topecuniary eminence, and incessantly the new wealth pressed upon hisconsciousness. The markets of the world were at his mercy. There wereshop windows outside which he had long been compelled to linger insterile choosing. Now he could enter and buy, and he was in a hurry tobe at it. Something warned him to seize his golden moment on the wing.The day was Saturday, and he was pleasantly thrilled by the unwontedcrowds on River Street, which he now entered. Farm horses were tetheredthickly along hitching racks and shoppers thronged the marts of trade.He threaded a way among them till he stood before the establishment ofSolly Gumble, confectioner. It brought him another thrill that thepeople all about should be unaware of his wealth--he, laden withunsuspected treasure that sagged cool and heavy on either thigh, whilethey could but suppose him to be a conventionally impoverished smallboy.

  He tried to be cool--to calculate sanely his first expenditure. But hecontrived an air of careless indecision as he sauntered through theportals of the Gumble place and lingered before the counter of choicestsweets, those so desirable that they must be guarded under glass from aloftily sampling public.

  "Two of those and two of those and one of them!"

  It was his first order, and brought him, for five cents, two cocoanutcreams, two candied plums, and a chocolate mouse. He stood eating thesewhile he leisurely surveyed the neighbouring delicacies. Vaguely in hismind was the thought that he might buy the place and thereafter keepstore. His cheeks distended by the chocolate mouse and the last of thecocoanut creams, he now bartered for a candy cigar. It was of brownmaterial, at the blunt end a circle of white for the ash and at itscentre a brilliant square of scarlet paper for the glow, altogether acharming feat of simulation, perhaps the most delightful humoresque inall confectionery. It was priced at two cents, but what was money now?

  Then, his eye roving to the loftier shelves, he spied remotely above hima stuffed blue jay mounted on a varnished branch of oak. This was notproperly a part of the Gumble stock; it was a fixture, technically,giving an air to the place from its niche between two mounting rows ofladen shelves.

  "How much for that beautiful bird for my father?" demanded the nouveauriche.

  His words were blurred by the still-resistant chocolate mouse, and hewas compelled to point before Solly Gumble divined his wish. Themerchant debated, removing his skullcap, smoothing his grizzled fringeof curls, fitting the cap on again deliberately. Then he turned tosurvey the bird, seemingly with an interest newly wakened. It was indeeda beautiful bird, brilliantly blue, with sparkling eyes; a bit dusty,but rarely desirable. The owner had not meant to part with it; still,trade was trade. He meditated, tapping his cheek with a pencil.

  "How much for that beautiful bird for my father?"

  He had swallowed strenuously and this time got out the words cleanly.

  "Well, now, I don't hardly know. My Bertha had her cousin give her thatbird. It's a costly bird. I guess you couldn't pay such a price. I guessit would cost a full half dollar, mebbe."

  He had meant the price to be prohibitive, and it did shock thequestioner, opulent though he was.

  "Well, mebbe I will and mebbe I won't," he said, importantly. "Say, youkeep him for me till I make my mind up. If anybody else comes along,don't you sell him to anybody else till I tell you, because prob'ly I'llsimply buy him. My father, he loves animals."

  Solly Gumble was impressed.

  "Well, he's a first-class animal. He's been in that one place goin' onfive years now."

  "Give me two of those and two of those and one of them," said the Wilburtwin, pointing to new heart's desires.

  "Say, now, you got a lot of money for a little boy," said Solly Gumble,not altogether at ease. This might be a case of embezzlement such as hehad before known among his younger patrons. "You sure it's yours--yes?"
/>
  "Ho!" The Wilbur twin scorned the imputation. He was not going to tellhow he had earned this wealth, but the ease of his simple retort wasenough for the practical psychologist before him. "I could buy all thethings in this store if I wanted to," he continued, and waved apatronizing hand to the shelves. "Give me two of those and two of thoseand one of them."

  Solly Gumble put the latest purchase in a paper bag. Here was a patronworth conciliating. The patron sauntered to the open door to eat of hisprovender with lordly ease in the sight of an envious world. Calmlyelate, on the cushion of advantage, he scanned the going and coming oflesser folk who could not buy at will of Solly Gumble. His fortune hadgone to his head, as often it has overthrown the reason of the moremature indigent. It was thus his brother found him, and became instantlytroubled at what seemed to be the insane glitter of his eyes.

  He engulfed an entire chocolate mouse from his sticky left hand and withhis right proffered the bag containing two of those and two of those andone of them. Merle accepted the boon silently. He was thrilled, yetdistrustful. Until now his had been the leading mind, but his power wasgone. He resented this, yet was sensible that no resentment must beshown. His talent as a tactician was to be sorely tested. He gentlytried out this talent.

  "Winona says you ought to come home to dinner."

  The magnate replied as from another world.

  "I couldn't eat a mouthful," he said, and crowded a cocoanut cream intoan oral cavity already distended by a chocolate mouse.

  "She says, now, you should save your money and buy some useful thingwith it," again ventured the parasite. It was the sign of a nicelysensed acumen that he no longer called it "our" money.

  "Ho! Gee, gosh!" spluttered the rich one, and that was all.

  "What we going to have next?" demanded the wise one.

  "I'll have to think up something." He did not invite suggestions andnone were offered. Merle nicely sensed the arrogance of the newly rich."I know," said the capitalist at length--"candy in a lemon."

  "One for each?"

  "Of course!" It was no time for petty economies.

  Solly Gumble parted with two lemons and two sticks of spirally stripedcandy of porous fabric. Then the moneyed gourmet dared a new flight.

  "Two more sticks," he commanded. "You suck one stick down, then you putanother in the same old lemon," he explained.

  "I must say!" exclaimed Merle. It was a high moment, but he never usedstrong language.

  When the candy had been imbedded in the lemons they sauntered out to thestreet, Merle meekly in the rear, the master mind still coerced by brutewealth. They paused before other shop windows, cheeks hollowed above thesavory mechanism invented by Patricia Whipple. Down one side of RiverStreet to its last shop, and up the other, they progressed haltingly. Atmany of the windows the capitalist displayed interest only of the mostacademic character. At others he made sportive threats. Thus before thejewellery shop of Rapp Brothers he quite unnerved Merle by announcingthat he could buy everything in that window if he wanted to--necklacesand rings and pins and gold watches--and he might do this. If, say, hedid buy that black marble clock with the prancing gold horse on it,would Merle take it home for him? He had no intention of buying thisobject--he had never found clocks anything but a source ofannoyance--but he toyed with the suggestion when he saw that it agitatedhis brother. Thereafter at other windows he wilfully dismayed hisbrother by pretending to consider the purchase of objects in no sensedesirable to any one, such as boots, parasols, manicure sets, groceries,hardware. He played with the feel of his wealth, relishing the power itgave him over the moneyless.

  And then purely to intensify this thrill of power he actually purchasedat the hardware shop and carelessly bestowed upon the mendicant brotheran elaborate knife with five blades and a thing which the vender saidwas to use in digging stones out of horses' feet. Merle was quiteovercome by this gift, and neither of them suspected it to be the firststep in the downfall of the capitalist. The latter, be it remembered,had bought and bestowed the knife that he might feel more acutely hispower over this penniless brother, and this mean reward was abundantlyhis. Never before had he felt superior to the Merle twin.

  But the penalties of giving are manifold, and he now felt a novel glowof sheer beneficence. He was a victim to the craze for philanthropy. Tooyoung to realize its insidious character, he was to embark upon aruinous career. Ever it is the first step that costs. That carelesslygiven knife--with something to dig stones out of a horse's foot--was towipe out, ere night again shrouded Newbern Center, a fortune supposed tobe as lasting as the eternal hills that encircled it.

  They again crossed River Street, and stopped in front of the Cut-RatePharmacy. The windows of this establishment offered little to enticesave the two mammoth chalices of green and crimson liquor. But thesewere believed to be of fabulous value. Even the Cut-Rate Pharmacy itselfcould afford but one of each. Inside the door a soda fountain hissedprovocatively. They took lemon and vanilla respectively, and the lordlypurchaser did not take up his change from the wet marble until he haddrained his glass. He had become preoccupied. He was mapping out acareer of benevolence, splendid, glittering, ostentatious--ruinous.

  In a show case near the soda fountain his eye rested upon an object ofstriking beauty, a photograph album of scarlet plush with a silverclasp, and lest its purpose be misconstrued the word "Album" writ inpurest silver across its front. Negotiations resulting in its sale werebrief. The Merle twin was aghast, for the cost of this thing was adollar and forty-nine cents. Even the buyer trembled when he counted outthe price in small silver and coppers. But the result was a furtheruplift raising him beyond the loudest call of caution. The album wasplaced in the ornate box--itself no mean bibelot--and wrapped in paper.

  "It's for Winona," the purchaser loftily explained to his white-facedbrother.

  "I must say!" exclaimed the latter, strongly moved.

  "I'm going to buy a beautiful present for every one," added the nowfatuous giver.

  "Every one!" It was all Merle could manage, and even it caused him togulp.

  "Every one," repeated the hopeless addict.

  And even as he said it he was snared again, this time by an immenseadvertising placard propped on the counter. It hymned the virtues of theAjax Invigorator. To the left sagged a tormented male victim of manyailments meticulously catalogued below, but in too fine print foroffhand reading by one in a hurry. The frame of the sufferer was bent,upheld by a cane, one hand poignantly resting on his back. The face wasdrawn with pain and despair. "For twenty years I suffered untoldagonies," this person was made to confess in large print. It washeartrending. But opposite the moribund wretch was a figure of richhealth, erect, smartly dressed, with a full, smiling face and happyeyes. Surprisingly this was none other than the sufferer. One couldhardly have believed them the same, but so it was. "The Ajax Invigoratormade a new man of me," continued the legend. There were further detailswhich seemed negligible to the philanthropist, because the pictured heroof the invigorator already suggested Judge Penniman, the ever-ailingfather of Winona. The likeness was not wholly fanciful. True, the judgewas not so abject as the first figure, but then he was not soobtrusively vigorous as the second.

  "A bottle of that," said Wilbur, and pointed to the card.

  The druggist thrust out a bottle already wrapped in a printed cover, andthe price, as became a cut-rate pharmacy, proved to be ninety-eightcents.

  A wish was now expressed that the advertising placard might also betaken in order that Judge Penniman might see just what sort of new manthe invigorator would make of him. But this proved impracticable; theplacard must remain where it stood for the behoof of other invalids. Butthere were smaller portraits of the same sufferer, it seemed, in theliterature inclosing the bottle. It was the Merle twin who carried thepurchases as they issued from the pharmacy. This was fitting,inevitable. The sodden philanthropist must have his hands free to spendmore money.

  They rested again at the Gumble counter--and now they were not alone
.The acoustics of the small town are faultless, and the activities ofthis spendthrift had been noised abroad. To the twins, as two of thoseand two of those and one of them were being ordered, came four otherboys to linger cordially by and assist in the selections. Hospitalitywas not gracefully avoidable. The four received candy cigars and becamemere hangers-on of the rich, lost to all self-respect, fawning, falselysolicitous, brightly expectant. Chocolate mice were next distributed.The four guests were now so much of the party as to manifest quickhostility to a fifth boy who had beamingly essayed to be numbered amongthem. They officiously snubbed and even covertly threatened this fifthboy, who none the less lingered very determinedly by the host, and waspresently rewarded with sticky largesse; whereupon he was accepted bythe four, and himself became hostile to another aspirant.

  But mere candy began to cloy--Solly Gumble had opened the second box ofchocolate mice--and the host even abandoned his reenforced lemon, whichwas promptly communized by the group. He tried to think of something toeat that wouldn't be candy, whereupon mounted in his mind the pyramid ofwatermelons a block down the street before the Bon Ton Grocery.

  "We'll have a watermelon," he announced in tones of quiet authority, andhis cohorts gurgled applause.

  They pressed noisily about him as he went to the Bon Ton. Theyremembered a whale of a melon they had seen there, and said they wouldbet he never had enough money to buy that one. Maybe he could buy amedium-sized one, but not that. All of them kept a repellent manner forany passing boy who might be selfishly moved to join them. Thespendthrift let them babble, preserving a rather grim silence. The whaleof a melon was indeed a noble growth, and its price was thirty-fivecents. The announcement of this caused a solemn hush to fall upon thesycophants; a hush broken by the cool, masterful tones of their host.

  "I'll take her," he said, and paid the fearful price from a stillweighty pocket. To the stoutest of the group went the honour of bearingoff the lordly burden. They turned into a cool alley that led to therear of the shops. Here in comparative solitude the whale of a meloncould be consumed and the function be unmarred by the presence ofvolunteer guests.

  "Open her," ordered the host, and the new knife was used to open her.

  She proved to be but half ripe, but her size was held to atone for thisdefect. A small, unripe melon would have been returned to the dealerwith loud complaining, but it seemed to be held that you couldn't expecteverything from one of this magnitude. It was devoured to the rind,after which the convives reclined luxuriously upon a mound of excelsiorbeside an empty crate.

  "Penny grabs!" cried the host with a fresh inspiration, and they cheeredhim.

  One of the five volunteered to go for them and the money-drunken hostconfided the price of three of them to him. The messenger honorablyreturned, the pennygrabs were bisected with the new knife, and all ofthem but Merle smoked enjoyably. He, going back to his candy and lemon,admonished each and all that smoking would stunt their growth. It seemednot greatly to concern any of them. They believed Merle implicitly, butwhat cared they?

  Now the messenger in buying the pennygrabs had gabbled wildly to anotherboy of the sensational expenditures under way, and this boy, thoughincredulous, now came to a point in the alley from which he could surveythe fed group. The remains of the whale of a melon were there toconvince him. They were trifling remains, but they sufficed, and the sixfuming halves of pennygrabs were confirmatory. The scout departedrapidly, to return a moment later with two other boys. One of the latterled a dog.

  The three newcomers, with a nice observance of etiquette, surveyed therevellers from a distance. Lacking decent provocation, they might notapproach a group so plainly engaged upon affairs of its own--unless theywent aggressively, and this it did not yet seem wise to do. Therevellers became self-conscious under this scrutiny. They were moved tonew displays of wealth.

  "I smelled 'em cookin' bologna in the back room of Hire's butcher shop,"remarked the bringer of the pennygrabs. "It smelt grand."

  The pliant host needed no more. He was tinder to such a spark.

  "Get a quarter's worth, Howard," and the slave bounded off, to returnwith a splendid rosy garland of the stuff, still warm and odorous.

  Again the new knife of Merle was used. The now widely diffused scent ofbologna reached the three watchers, and appeared to madden one of thembeyond any restraint of good manners. He sauntered toward them,pretending not to notice the banquet until he was upon it. He was adesperate-appearing fellow--dark, saturnine, with a face of sullenmenace.

  "Give us a hunk," he demanded.

  He should have put it more gently. He should have condescended a littleto the amenities, for his imperious tone at once dried a generous springof philanthropy. He was to regret this lack of a mere superficial polishthat would have cost him nothing.

  "Ho! Go buy it like we did!" retorted the host, crisply.

  "Is that so?" queried the newcomer with rising warmth.

  "Yes, sat's so!"

  "Who says it's so?"

  "I say it's so!"

  This was seemingly futile; seemingly it got them nowhere, for thenewcomer again demanded: "Is that so?"

  They seemed to have followed a vicious circle. But in reality they weremuch farther along, for the mendicant had carelessly worked himself to apoint where he could reach for the half circle of bologna stillundivided, and the treasure was now snatched from this fate by thewatchful legal owner.

  "Hold that!" he commanded one of his creatures, and rose quickly to hisfeet.

  "Is that so?" repeated the unimaginative newcomer.

  "Yes, that's so!" affirmed the Wilbur twin once again.

  "I guess I got as much right here as you got!"

  This was a shifty attempt to cloud the issue. No one had faintlyquestioned his right to be there.

  "Ho! Gee, gosh!" snapped the Wilbur twin, feeling vaguely that this wasirrelevant talk.

  "Think you own this whole town, don't you?" demanded the aggressor.

  "Ho! I guess I own it as much as what you do!"

  The Wilbur twin knew perfectly that this was not the true issue, yet hefelt compelled to accept it.

  "For two beans I'd punch you in the eye."

  "Oh, you would, would you?" Each of the disputants here took a stepbackward.

  "Yes, I would, would you!" This was a try at mockery.

  "Yes, you would not!"

  "Yes, I would!"

  "You're a big liar!"

  The newcomer at this betrayed excessive rage.

  "What's that? You just say that again!" He seemed unable to believe hisshocked ears.

  "You heard what I said--you big liar, liar, liar!"

  "You take that back!"

  Here the newcomer flourished clinched fists and began to prance. TheWilbur twin crouched, but was otherwise motionless. The newcomercontinued to prance alarmingly and to wield his arms as if against aninvisible opponent. Secretly he had no mind to combat. His real purposebecame presently clear. It was to intimidate and confuse until he shouldbe near enough the desired delicacy to snatch it and run. He was anexcellent runner. His opponent perceived this--the evil glance of desireand intention under all the flourish of arms. Something had to be done.Without warning he leaped upon the invader and bore him to earth. Therehe punched, jabbed, gouged, and scratched as they writhed together. Amoment of this and the prostrate foe was heard to scream with the utmostsincerity. The Wilbur twin was startled, but did not relax his hold.

  "You let me up from here!" the foe was then heard to cry.

  The Wilbur twin watchfully rose from his mount, breathing heavily. Heseized his cap and drew it tightly over dishevelled locks.

  "I guess that'll teach you a good lesson!" he warned when he had breathfor it.

  The vanquished Hun got to his feet, one hand over an eye. He wasabundantly blemished and his nose bled. His sense of dignity had beenoutraged and his head hurt.

  "You get the hell and gone out of here!" shouted the Wilbur twin, quiteas if he did own the town.

 
"I must say! Cursing and swearing!" shrilled the Merle twin, but noneheeded him.

  The repulsed enemy went slowly to the corner of the alley. Here heturned to recover a moment of dignity.

  "You just wait till I catch you out some day!" he roared back withgestures meant to terrify. But this was his last flash. He went on hisway, one hand still to the blighted eye.

  Now it developed that the two boys who had waited the Hun had profitedcunningly by the brawl. They had approached at its beginning--a fightwas anybody's to watch--they had applauded its denouement with shrilland hearty cries, and they now felicitated the victor.

  "Aw, that old Tod McNeil thinks he can fight!" said one, and laughed inharsh derision.

  "I bet this kid could lick him any day in the week!" observed hiscompanion.

  This boy, it was now seen, led a dog on a rope, a half-grown dog thatwould one day be large. He was now heavily clad in silken wool of richlymixed colours--brown, yellow, and bluish gray--and his eyes were stillthe pale blue of puppyhood.

  Both newcomers had learned the unwisdom of abrupt methods of approachingthis wealthy group. They conducted themselves with modesty; they werepolite, even servile, saying much in praise of the warrior twin. The onewith the dog revealed genius for this sort of thing, and insisted onfeeling the warrior's muscle. The flexed bicep appeared to leave himaghast at its hardness and immensity. He insisted that his companionshould feel it, too.

  "Have some bologna?" asked the warrior. He would doubtless have pressedbologna now on Tod McNeil had that social cull stayed by.

  "Oh!" said the belated guests, surprised at the presence of bolognathereabouts.

  They uttered profuse thanks for sizable segments of the now diminishedcircle. It was then that the Wilbur twin took pleased notice of the dog.He was a responsive animal, grateful for notice from any one. Receivinga morsel of the bologna he instantly engulfed it and overwhelmed thegiver with rough but hearty attentions.

  "Knows me already," said the now infatuated Wilbur.

  "Sure he does!" agreed the calculating owner. "He's a smart dog. He'sthe smartest dog ever I see, and I seen a good many dogs round thistown."

  "Have some more bologna," said Wilbur.

  "Thanks," said the dog owner, "just a mite."

  The dog, receiving another bit, gave further signs of knowing the donor.No cynic was present to intimate that the animal would instantly knowany giver of bologna.

  "What's his name?" demanded Wilbur.

  The owner hesitated. He had very casually acquired the animal but a fewhours before; he now attached no value to him, and was minded to be ridof him, nor had the dog to his knowledge any name whatever.

  "His name is Frank," he said, his imagination being slow to start.

  "Here, Frank! Here, Frank!" called Wilbur, and the dog leaped for morebologna.

  "See, he knows his name all right," observed the owner, pridefully.

  "I bet you wouldn't sell him for anything," suggested Wilbur.

  "Sell good old Frank?" The owner was painfully shocked. "No, I couldn'thardly do that," he said more gently. "He's too valuable. My littlesister just worships him."

  The other guests were bored at this hint of commerce. They had no wishto see good money spent for a dog that no one could eat.

  "He don't look to me like so much of a dog," remarked one of these. "Helooks silly to me."

  The owner stared at the speaker unpleasantly.

  "Oh, he does, does he? I guess that shows what you know about dogs. Ifyou knew so much about 'em like you say I guess you'd know this kindalways does look that way. It's--it's the way they look," he floundered,briefly, but recovered. "That's how you can tell 'em," he concluded.

  The Wilbur twin was further impressed, though he had not thought the doglooked silly at all.

  "I'll give you a quarter for him," he declared bluntly.

  There was a sensation among the guests. Some of them made noises to showthat they would regard this as a waste of money. But the owner was firm.

  "Huh! I bet they ain't money enough in this whole crowd to buy that dog,even if I was goin' to sell him!"

  The wishful Wilbur jingled coins in both pockets.

  "I guess he wouldn't be much of a fighting dog," he said.

  "Fight!" exploded the owner. "You talk about fight! Say, that's all heis--just a fighter! He eats 'em alive, that's all he does--eats 'em!"This was for some of them not easy at once to believe, for the dog'sexpression was one of simpering amiability. The owner seemed to perceivethis discrepancy. "He looks peaceful, but you git him mad once, that'sall! He's that kind--you got to git him mad first." This soundedreasonable, at least to the dog's warmest admirer.

  "Yes, sir," continued the owner, "you'll be goin' along the street withGeorge here--"

  "George who?" demanded a skeptical guest.

  For a moment the owner was disconcerted.

  "Well, Frank is his right name, only my little sister calls him Georgesometimes, and I get mixed. Anyway, you'll be goin' along the streetwith Frank and another dog'll come up and he's afraid of Frank and mebbehe'll just kind of clear his throat or something on account of feelingnervous and not meaning anything, but Frank'll think he's growling, andthat settles it. Eats 'em alive! I seen some horrible sights, I want totell you!"

  "Give you thirty-five cents for him," said the impressed Wilbur.

  "For that there dog?" exploded the owner--"thirty-five cents?" He let itbe seen that this jesting was in poor taste.

  "I guess he wouldn't be much of a watchdog."

  "Watchdog! Say, that mutt watches all the time, day and night! You let aburglar come sneaking in, or a tramp or someone--wow! Grabs 'em by thethroat, that's all!"

  "Fifty cents!" cried the snared Cowan twin. Something told the ownerthis would be the last raise.

  "Let's see the money!"

  He saw it, and the prodigy, Frank, sometimes called George by theowner's little sister, had a new master. The Wilbur twin tingled throughall his being when the end of the rope leash was placed in his hand.

  A tradesman now descried them from the rear door of his shop. He sawsmoke from the relighted pennygrabs and noted the mound of excelsior.

  "Hi, there!" he called, harshly. "Beat it outa there! What you want todo--set the whole town afire?"

  Of course nothing of this sort had occurred to them, but only Merleanswered very politely, "No, sir!" The others merely moved off, holdingthe question silly. Wilbur Cowan stalked ahead with his purchase.

  "I hate just terrible to part with him," said the dog's late owner.

  "Come on to Solly Gumble's," said Wilbur, significantly. He must dosomething to heal this hurt.

  The mob followed gleefully. The Wilbur twin was hoping they would meetno other dog. He didn't want good old Frank to eat another dog right onthe street.

  Back in Solly Gumble's he bought lavishly for his eight guests. Theguests were ideal; none of them spoke of having to leave early, thoughthe day was drawing in. And none of the guests noted that the almostcontinuous stream of small coin flowing to the Gumble till came now butfrom one pocket of the host. Yet hardly a guest but could eat fromeither hand as he chose. It was a scene of Babylonian profligacy--eventhe late owner of Frank joined in the revel full-spiritedly, and itendured to a certain moment of icy realization, suffered by the host. Itcame when Solly Gumble, in the midst of much serving, bethought him ofthe blue jay.

  "I managed to save him for you," he told the Wilbur twin, and reacheddown the treasure. With a cloth he dusted the feathers and tenderlywiped the eyes. "A first-class animal for fifty cents," he said--"anddurable. He'll last a lifetime if you be careful of him--keep him in theparlour just to be pretty."

  The munching revellers gathered about with interest. There seemed nolimit to the daring of this prodigal. Then there came upon the Wilburtwin a moment of sinister calculation. A hand sank swiftly into a pocketand brought up a scant few nickels and pennies. Amid a thickeningsilence he counted these remaining coins.

  Then i
n deadly tones he declared to Solly Gumble, "I only gotforty-eight cents left!"

  "Oh, my! I must say! Spent all his money!" shrilled the Merle twin on anote of triumph that was yet bitter.

  "Spent all his money!" echoed the shocked courtiers, and looked upon himcoldly. Some of them withdrew across the store and in low tonespretended to discuss the merits of articles in another show case.

  "I guess you couldn't let me have him for forty-eight cents," said theWilbur twin hopelessly.

  Solly Gumble removed his skullcap, fluffed his scanty ring of curls, anddrew on the cap again. His manner was judicial but not repellent.

  "Mebbe I could--mebbe I couldn't," he said. "You sure you ain't got twocents more in that other pocket, hey?"

  The Wilbur twin searched, but it was the most arid of formalities.

  "No, sir; I spent it all."

  "Spent all his money!" remarked the dog seller with a kind of pityingcontempt, and drew off toward the door. Two more of the courtiersfollowed as unerringly as if trained in palaces. Solly Gumble bent abovethe counter.

  "Well, now, you young man, you listen to me. You been a right goodcustomer, treating all your little friends so grand, so I tell youstraight--you take that fine bird for forty-eight cents. Not to manywould I come down, but to you--yes."

  Wilbur Cowan, overcome, mumbled his thanks. He was alone at the counternow, Merle having joined the withdrawn courtiers.

  "I'm a fair trader," said Solly Gumble. "I can take--I give. Here now!"And amazingly he extended to the penniless wreck a large and goldenorange, perhaps one of the largest oranges ever grown.

  The recipient was again overcome. He blushed as he thanked thisopen-handed tradesman. Then with his blue jay, his orange, his dog, heturned away. Now he first became aware of the changed attitude of hislate dependents. It did not distress him. It seemed wholly natural, thisicy withdrawal of their fellowship. Why should they push about him anylonger? He was, instead, rather concerned to defend his spendthriftcourses.

  "Spent all his money!" came a barbed jeer from the Merle twin.

  The ruined one stalked by him with dignity, having remembered a finespeech he had once heard his father make.

  "Oh, well," he said, lightly, "easy come, easy go!"

  The Merle twin still bore the album and the potent invigorator that wasto make a new man of Judge Penniman. His impoverished brother carriedthe blue jay, looking alert and lifelike in the open, the mammothorange, gift for Mrs. Penniman--he had nearly forgotten her--andtenderly he led the dog, Frank. Not to have all his money again wouldhe have parted with his treasures and the memory of supreme delights.Not for all his squandered fortune would he have bartered Frank, thedog. Frank capered at his side, ever and again looking up brightly athis new master. Never had so much attention been shown him. Never beforehad he been confined by a leash, as if he were a desirable dog.

  Opposite the Mansion House, Newbern's chief hotel, Frank gave signalproof of his intelligence. From across River Street he had been espiedby Boodles, the Mansion House dog, a creature of dusty, pinkish white,of short neck and wide jaws, of a clouded but still definite bullancestry. Boodles was a dog about town, wearing many scars of combat, aswashbuckler of a dog, rough-mannered, raffish; if not actuallyquarrelsome, at least highly sensitive where his honour was concerned.He made it a point to know every dog in town, and as he rose from asitting posture, where he had been taking the air before his inn, itcould be observed that Frank was new to him--certainly new and perhapsobjectionable. He stepped lightly halfway across the now empty streetand stopped for a further look. He seemed to be saying, "Maybe it ain'ta dog, after all." But the closer look and a lifted nose wrinkling intothe breeze set him right. He left for a still closer look at what wasunquestionably a dog.

  The Wilbur twin became concerned for Boodles. He regarded him highly.But he knew that Boodles was a fighter, and Frank ate them up. Hecommanded Boodles to go back, but though he had slowed his pace and nowhalted a dozen feet from Frank, the cannibal, Boodles showed that he wasnot going back until he had some better reason. Violence of thecruellest sort seemed forward. But perhaps Frank might be won from hisloathly practice.

  "You, Frank, be quiet, sir!" ordered Wilbur, though Frank had not beenunquiet. "Be still, sir!" he added, and threatened his pet with an openpalm. But Frank had attention only for Boodles, who now approached,little recking his fate. The clash was at hand.

  "Be still, sir!" again commanded Wilbur in anguished tones, whereuponthe obedient Frank tumbled to lie upon his back, four limp legs in air,turning his head to simper up at Boodles, who stood inquiringly abovehim. Boodles then sniffed an amiable contempt and ran back to his hotel.Frank strained at his leash to follow. His proud owner thought therecould be few dogs in all the world so biddable as this.

  The twins went on. Merle was watching his chance to recover thatspiritual supremacy over the other that had been his until the accidentof wealth had wrenched it from him.

  "You'll catch it for keeping us out so late," he warned--"and cursingand fighting and spending all your money!"

  The other scarce heard him. He walked through shining clouds far abovean earth where one catches it.