Chapter 2 THE FAMILY JOKE.

The Judge, his brother William and the Rev. Mr. Bradley entered the office. "Yes, sir," said the Judge, "I'm delighted that you have been called to Chicago. We are full of enterprise here, religious as well as secular. Sit down. And we push religious matters, Mr. Bradley. Here everything takes up the vigorous character of the town. You know that one of our poets has said that when the time comes we'll make culture hum." Bradley sat down, smiling. "William," said the Judge, still standing, "can't you find a chair?"

"Oh, I believe so," William replied, sitting down. "But why do you make everybody sit down and then stand up yourself? Mr. Bradley, my brother John is a browbeater. He forgets that he ain't always on the bench."

The Judge winked at Bradley, and laughed. He was full of good humor, sniffing about on the scent of a prank, and when all other resources failed, he had the reserve fund of his brother, the family joke, the humorous necessity.

"You remember," said Bradley, "I told you, some time ago, that it was my ambition to have a charge here."

The Judge, standing in front of him, began to make convincing motions with his finger, laying down the law, as William termed it. "It's the field, Bradley. You can raise more money in a church here than-"

"Oh, it is not that, Judge," the preacher broke in. "Chicago presents a fertile opportunity for doing good, for making men better, life more worth living, and-"

"Death more certain," William suggested.

"My brother doesn't like it here," said the Judge.

Bradley turned his mild eyes upon the brother and in the form of a question, said, "No?"

William cleared his husky throat. "I have lived further West, where a fellow may make you get out of a stage-coach at the muzzle of a pistol, but he won't sneak up and slip his hand into your pocket."

"My brother took a whirl at the board of trade," said the Judge. He sat down, lighted a cigar, and offered one to Bradley. "Won't you smoke?"

"Not now," Bradley answered. "I am trying to break myself."

"Go down to the board of trade," William suggested. The Judge laughed, and looked as if he were proud of his family joke. "Won't you smoke, William?"

"No," replied the humorous necessity, "I'll wait till I go to my room and then smoke sure enough-a pipe."

"Smoke it here."

"No, I'll put it off-always enjoy it more then. I recollect the tenth of June, sixty-three-was it the tenth or the eleventh? Anyway, a party of us were going-it was the eleventh. Yes, the eleventh. I was only a young fellow at the time, but I liked a pipe, and on that day-no, it must have been the tenth. John, did I say the eleventh?"

"I think you hung a little in favor of the eleventh, William." He winked at Bradley. "And I was sorry to see it, too, for of all the days in June, the tenth is my favorite."

William looked at him and cleared his throat, but the Judge wore the mask of seriousness. The brother proceeded: "Well, I'm reasonably certain it was the tenth. Yes. Well, on the tenth of June, sixty-three, a party of us were going over to-yes, the tenth-over to-"

"Hold on a moment," said the Judge. "Are you quite sure it was the tenth? We want it settled, don't we, Bradley? Of course, you are much younger than we are, Bradley, but you are old enough to enter into the importance of this thing. As far as he can, a preacher should be as exact as a judge." Bradley nodded, laughing, and the flame of William's anger burst forth.'

"Confound it, John, don't you suppose I know?"

"I hope so, William," said the Judge.

William snorted. "You don't do anything of the sort, and you know it."

"Well, if I don't I know it, of course, but-"

"Oh, you be confound. You are all the time-"

"Go ahead with your story."

"I'll do nothing of the sort, sir; I'll do nothing of the sort. You are all the time trying to put it on me, and I'll do nothing of the sort; and the first thing you know, I'll pick up and leave here. I was simply going to tell of something that took place on the-Mr. Bradley, did I say the tenth?"

The preacher had not been able to keep a straight face, but with reasonable gravity he managed to say that the tenth was the final date agreed upon. "By all parties concerned," said the Judge, puffing at his cigar. William scratched his head. "But, after all, it must have been on the eleventh."

"Knocks out my favorite again," the Judge muttered, but William took no notice of the interruption. It is the duty of a family joke to be forbearing.

"Ab Tollivar came to me on that day," William began, "and said that there was to be-"

"On the tenth-came to you on the tenth?" the Judge broke in.

"I said the eleventh."

"William, I beg your pardon," the Judge replied, "but you said the tenth, raising my hopes, for you well know my predilection for that day. In many ways a man may be pardoned for recklessness, but not in the matter of a date. The exact time of an occurrence is almost as important as the occurrence itself. History would lose much of its value if the dates-"

"John, when you get into one of your tantrums you are enough to make a snow man melt himself with an oath. You'd make a dog swear."

"Not before me when I was on the bench. But your story. Ab Tollivar came to you and-"

"I'll not tell it." He got up and glared at the Judge. "Oughtn't I to know what day it was on?"

"Yes, and I believe you do. Sit down."

"I'll do nothing of the sort, sir. I'll not sit here to be insulted by you or anybody else." He moved off toward the door, but before going out, halted, turned, and said: "Mr. Bradley, I'll tell you the story some other time. But John shall never hear it." He gave his head a jerk, intended for a bow of indignation, and strode out.

"He's the dearest old fellow in the world," said the Judge, "and I couldn't get along without him."

"Isn't he somewhat younger than yourself?"

"Yes, two years. Come in."

Mrs. Elbridge entered the dingy room, brightening it with her presence. "Won't you please come into the drawing room?" she said. "It is so dreary in here. Judge, why do you bring visitors to this room? After the Judge retired from the bench, Mr. Bradley, he decided to move the main branch of his law office out here, and I didn't think that he would make it his home, but he has; and, worse than that, he makes it a home for all his clients. They can stroll in from the street at any time."

"A sort of old shoe that fits everybody," said the Judge. "The only way to live is to be comfortable, and the only place in which to find comfort is in a room where nothing can be spoiled."

"But won't you phase come into the drawing room?"

"Yes, my dear, as soon as I am done smoking."

"But you may smoke in there. Do come, please. The girls want to see Mr. Bradley. Won't you make him come?" she asked, appealing to the preacher.

"Yes, very shortly," replied Bradley. "If he doesn't drop his cigar pretty soon we'll have him driven out with Mr. William's pipe."

"The threat is surely dark enough," she rejoined. "Don't be long, Judge," she added, turning to go. "Agnes declares that you shall not drag Mr. Bradley into your den and keep him shut out from civilized life."

Agnes was a Miss Temple, a visitor, bright and full of mischief. And during all the talk the preacher's mind had been dwelling upon her, the mischief in her eyes and the dazzle of her smile.

"Miss Temple is an exceedingly charming woman," he said, when Mrs. Elbridge had quitted the room. "She and Miss Bodney were schoolmates, I believe."

"Yes, and although much separated, have not broken the gauze bonds of school fellowship."

"Gauze bonds, Judge?"

"The beautiful but flimsy friendship of girlhood."

"Younger than Miss Bodney, I fancy."

"Yes, a year or so. She lives in Quincy, and is here for a month, but we shall keep her longer if we can. She is a source of great entertainment. Of course, you have noticed Florence closely-you couldn't help it. She is one of the sweetest creatures that ever lived, and she has character, too. I couldn't think more of her if she were my daughter-and she is to be my daughter. She and my son Howard are soon to be married. It is the prettiest romance in life or fiction. They are near the same age. They went to school hand in hand-sat beside each other at table, year after year, and in innocent love kissed each other good-night. They don't know the time when they made their first vows-upon this life they opened their eyes in love; an infant devotion reached forth its dimpled hand and drew their hearts together. Beautiful."

The preacher was thoughtful for a few moments, and then he said: "The Spirit of God doing the work it loves the best. And they are soon to be married. May I hope to-"

"You shall join them together, Bradley."

"I thank you."

"No, thank the memory of your father. I knew him well. He was my friend at a time when friendship meant something to me."

"And the young woman's brother, Judge. I haven't seen much of him."

"George Bodney? A manly young fellow, sir, quiet and thoughtful. He and Howard are to take up the law when I put it down-indeed, they have begun already."

"You are a happy man, Judge."

The Judge leaned back in his chair and was thoughtful; his cigar had gone out, and he held it listlessly. "Yes, for the others are so happy." He dropped the cigar stub upon the ash tray, roused himself, and said: "Nothing bothers me now. I am out of the current of life; I am in a quiet pool, in the shade; and I don't regret having passed out of the swift stream where the sun was blazing. No, I am rarely worried. Yes, I am annoyed at times, to be perfectly frank, now, for instance, and by a most peculiar thing. I-er-a friend of mine told me a story that bothers me, although it is but a trifle and shouldn't worry me at all. He is a lawyer, situated very much as I am. He has been missing money from his safe. No one but himself knows the combination. He couldn't suspect either of his sons; they didn't know the combination-not to be considered at all. He doesn't keep large sums on hand, of course; just enough to accommodate some of his old-fashioned clients who like to do business in the old-fashioned way. It bothered him, for he took it into his head that he himself was getting up at night and in his sleep taking the money from the safe and hiding it somewhere. For years, whenever he has had anything important on hand, he has been in the habit of waking himself at morning with an alarm clock. And I told him to set the clock in the safe and catch himself. He has done better than that-has fixed a gong so that it will ring whenever the inner drawer of the safe is pulled open. Of course, it is nothing to me, but-ah, come in, Agnes."

"Your wife has sent a bench warrant for you," said the young woman, entering the room and shaking her finger at the Judge.

"To be served by a charming deputy," said Bradley.

She laughed. "No wonder preachers catch women," she replied. "I'm glad I struck you. I was afraid I might miss."

The Judge arose and bowed to her. "We might dodge an arrow but not a perfume," said he.

"Now, Mr. Judge, when did you come from the South?" she cried. "But are you going with me? There are some more people in there; a young fellow that looks like a scared rabbit. But he's got nerve enough to say cawn't. I told him that if he'd come to Quincy we'd make him say kain't."

"Well, Bradley," said the Judge, "we are prisoners. Come on."

Bradley halted a moment to speak to Agnes. The Judge turned and asked if Howard and George Bodney were in the drawing room. She replied that Howard had gone or was going to a reception and that Mr. Bodney was somewhere about the house. She had seen him passing along the hall with Mr. Goyle. Just then, in evening dress, Howard came into the room. "I thought I heard Florence in here," said he, looking about.

"Going to leave us?" said the Judge.

"Yes, to bore and be politely bored. I want Florence to see if I look all right."

"Oh, I wonder," cried Agnes, "if any man will ever have that much confidence in me. There she is now. Florence, here's a man that wants you to put the stamp of approval upon his appearance."

Howard turned to Florence. "I wanted you to see me," he said.

"I've been looking for you," she replied.

Bradley, in an undertone, spoke to the Judge. "I can see the picture you drew of them."

"No," replied the preacher, with the light of admiration in his honest eyes.

Agnes spoke to Howard. "It must have been nearly half an hour since you and Florence saw each other. What an age," she added, with the caricature of a sigh. "But come on, Judge, you and Mr. Bradley." She led the two men away, looking back with another mock sigh at Florence.

"I may not be back till late," said Howard, "and I couldn't go without my good-night kiss."

She smiled upon him. "I knew that you had not forgotten it. And yet," she added, looking at him-"and yet I was anxious."

"Anxious?"

"Yes, but I didn't know why. Howard, within the past few days my love for you has taken so-so trembling a turn. We have been so happy, and-"

"And what, Florence?"

"Oh, I don't know, but something makes me afraid now. You know that there are times when happiness halts to shudder."

He put his arm about her. "Yes, we are sometimes afraid that something may happen because it has not. But it is only a reproachful fancy. We see the sorrow of others and are afraid that we don't deserve to be happy. But I must go," he added, kissing her.

She continued to cling to him. "Do I look all right?" he asked.

"I don't know-I can't see."

"Can't see?"

"No. Love, which they say is blind, has blinded me."

He kissed her again. "But if love blinds, Florence, it would make a bat of me. You are serious tonight," he added, looking into her eyes.

"Yes, I am." The sound of laughter came from the drawing room. "Yes, I am, and I must go in there to be pleased. Howard, do you believe that anything could separate us?"

"Really, you are beginning to distress me. I have never known what it was to live without you, and I couldn't know it. But cheer up, won't you? To-morrow we-"

"Yes, I will," she broke in. "It was only a shadow and it has passed. But I wonder where such shadows come from. Why do they come? Who has the ordering of them?"

As they were walking toward the door opening into the hall, William entered from the passage, smoking his pipe, his thin hair rumpled as if he had just emerged from a contest. Howard and Florence did not see him, and he called to them.

"I say, there, Howard, I thought you were going out."

The young man halted and looked back with a smile. "Don't you see me going out, Uncle Billy?"

"Now look here, young fellow!" exclaimed the old man in a rage, his hair seeming to stand up straighter, "I don't want to be Uncle Billied by you, and I won't have it, either. Your daddy's got it in for me lately, and I'll be hanged if I'm going to put up with it much longer. And Florence, you'd better speak to him about it. I want to give him every opportunity to mend his ways toward me, and you'd better caution him before it's too late. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Uncle William," she answered. "And I will speak to him."

"Well, see that you do. And, mind you, I wasn't certain whether it was on the tenth or the eleventh; I was willing to give either the benefit of the doubt; I-"

"That's all right, Uncle William," said Howard.

The old man glared at him. "It's not all right, sir, and you know it. But go ahead. I don't belong to the plot of this household, anyway. I'm only a side issue." Howard and Florence passed out, and he shouted after them. "Do you hear me? Only a side issue."

Just then Bodney came in. "You are a what, Uncle William?" he asked, looking about.

"I said a side issue."

"What's that?"

"If you haven't got sense enough to know, I haven't the indulgence to tell you."

"Where did you get that pipe, Uncle William?"

"I got it in the Rocky Mountains," said the old fellow.

"It must have come there about the time the mountains arrived. Whew!"

"Now, look here, George Bodney, don't you bring up the tail end of an entire evening of insult by whewing at my pipe. I won't stand it, do you hear?"

Bodney undoubtedly heard, but he did not reply; he went over to the desk and began to look about, moving papers, as if searching for something. "I left my knife here, somewhere," said he. "Must have a little more light." He turned up the gas drop light on the table, went back to the desk, and, pretending to find his knife, turned down the drop light lower than it had been before.

"There's no use to put out the light simply because you've found your knife," said William. "It may be to your advantage to have it dark, but I like to see. I haven't always lived in this soot and smoke; I have lived where I could see the sky from one year's end to another."

"I beg your pardon," said Bodney, "but how long do you expect to stay in this room?"

"Oh, don't pay any attention to me. I don't belong to the plot."

"What plot?" Bodney exclaimed, with a start.

"Why, the plot of this household-the general plot of the whole thing."

"Oh, yes, I see," said Bodney.

"I'm glad you do. And, here, just a minute. The Judge and I had a difference tonight."

"Not a serious one, I hope."

"Devilish serious. Wait a moment. I set out by admitting that I was not exactly certain whether it was on the tenth or the eleventh. But I settled it, finally, I think, on the eleventh. I-"

"Eleventh of what?"

"Of June, sixty-three. On that day, as I started to tell them-now, I want to be exact, and I'll tell you all about it." The old man sat down, crossed his legs, took a few puffs at his pipe, preliminaries to a long recital; but the young fellow, standing near, began to shift about in impatience. "I remember exactly what sort of a day it was. There had been a threat of rain, but the clouds-"

"Oh, I don't care anything about it."

"What!"

"I say, I don't care anything about it."

"The hell you don't! Why, you trifling rascal, I raised you; you owe almost your very existence to me. And now you tell me that you don't care anything about it. Go on out, then. You shan't hear it now, after your ingratitude." Bodney strode out, and the old man shouted after him, "I wouldn't tell you that story to save your life." Laughter came from the drawing room. William grunted contemptuously. "There's John telling his yarns. And that preacher-why, if I couldn't tell a better story than a preacher-" He broke off and got up with sudden energy. "But they've got to hear that story. They can't get away from it." And muttering, he walked out briskly.

Bodney stepped back into the room. He looked at the light, turned it lower, sat down and, leaning forward, covered his face with his hands. But he did not remain long in this position; he got up and went to the safe, put his hand upon it, snatched it away, put it back and stood there, gazing at the light. Then he went to the door and beckoned. Goyle, disguised as Howard, walked in with insolent coolness. In Bodney's room he had dressed himself, posing before the glass, arranging his bronze beard, clipping here and there, touching up his features with paint-and Bodney had stood by, dumb with astonishment. The dress suit, everything, was complete, and when he came out he imitated Howard's walk. Bodney could not help admiring the superb control he had of his nerves; but more than once he felt an impulse to kill him, particularly when, in response to the beckoning, he stepped into the office.

"If it fails, I shoot you," Bodney whispered.

"Rot. It can't fail. Don't I look like him?"

"Yes. You would deceive me-you-"

"Art, bold art," said Goyle. "A man ought to be willing to die for his art. Turn the light a little higher."

"No, it's high enough."

Goyle walked over leisurely and turned up the light. "That's better. We must give him a chance to see."

"Wait a moment," said Bodney, as Goyle took his position at the safe. "Wolf, I want to acknowledge myself the blackest scoundrel on the earth."

"Not necessary. Taken for granted. Go ahead."

Bodney turned to go, but hesitated at the hall door and seemed again to struggle with something that had him in its grasp. Goyle motioned, and said, "Go ahead, fool." Bodney passed into the hall, and Goyle began to turn the knob of the safe, holding his paper to catch the light. He heard the voice of Bodney. "It won't take long. I want you to help me-" The door swung. Goyle pulled open the drawer, and then followed three sharp strokes of the gong, just as loud laughter burst from the drawing room. Goyle jumped back. The Judge rushed in, with Bodney clinging to him. Goyle turned as if he had not seen the Judge and rushed from the room. Bodney struggled with the Judge, his hand over his mouth, and forced him down upon a chair. "Judge, father, not a word-for his mother's sake. You must freeze your heart for her sake." The old man dropped with a groan, Bodney bending over him.

Goyle began to turn the knob of the safe.