Harry Lossing

: Stories Of A Western Town

THE note-book of Mr. Horatio Armorer, president of our street railways,

contained a page of interest to some people in our town, on the occasion

of his last visit.



He wrote it while the train creaked over the river, and the porter of

his Pullman car was brushing all the dust that had been distributed on

the passengers' clothing, into the main aisle.



If you had seen him writing it (with a stu by little pencil that he

occasionally brightened with the tip of his tongue), you would not have

dreamed him to be more profoundly disturbed than he had been in years.

Nor would the page itself have much enlightened you.



"See abt road M-- D-- See L

See E & M tea-set

See abt L."





Translated into long-hand, this reads: "See about the street-car road,

Marston (the superintendent) and Dane (the lawyer). See Lossing, see

Esther and Maggie, and remember about tea-set. See about Lossing."



His memoranda written, he slipped the book in his pocket, reflecting

cynically, "There's habit! I've no need of writing that. It's not

pleasant enough to forget!"



Thirty odd years ago, Horatio Armorer--they called him 'Raish, then--had

left the town to seek his fortune in Chicago. It was his daydream to

wrestle a hundred thousand dollars out of the world's tight fists, and

return to live in pomp on Brady Street hill! He should drive a buggy

with two horses, and his wife should keep two girls. Long ago, the

hundred thousand limit had been reached and passed, next the million;

and still he did not return. His father, the Presbyterian minister, left

his parish, or, to be exact, was gently propelled out of his parish by

the disaffected; the family had a new home; and the son, struggling to

help them out of his scanty resources, went to the new parish and not

to the old. He grew rich, he established his brothers and sisters in

prosperity, he erected costly monuments and a memorial church to his

parents (they were beyond any other gifts from him); he married, and

lavished his money on three daughters; but the home of his youth neither

saw him nor his money until Margaret Ellis bought a house on Brady

Street, far up town, where she could have all the grass that she wanted.

Mrs. Ellis was a widow and rich. Not a millionaire like her brother, but

the possessor of a handsome property.



She was the best-natured woman in the world, and never guessed how hard

her neighbors found it to forgive her for always calling their town of

thirty thousand souls, "the country." She said that she had pined for

years to live in the country, and have horses, and a Jersey cow and

chickens, and "a neat pig." All of which modest cravings she gratified

on her little estate; and the gardener was often seen with a scowl and

the garden hose, keeping the pig neat.



It was later that Mr. Armorer had bought the street railways, they

having had a troublous history and being for sale cheap. Nobody that

knows Armorer as a business man would back his sentiment by so much

as an old shoe; yet it was sentiment, and not a good bargain, that had

enticed the financier. Once engaged, the instincts of a shrewd trader

prompted him to turn it into a good bargain, anyhow. His fancy was

pleased by a vision of a return to the home of his childhood and his

struggling youth, as a greater personage than his hopes had ever dared

promise.



But, in the event, there was little enough gratification for his vanity.

Not since his wife's death had he been so harassed and anxious; for he

came not in order to view his new property, but because his sister

had written him her suspicions that Harry Lossing wanted to marry his

youngest daughter.



Armorer arrived in the early dawn. Early as it was, a handsome victoria,

with horses sleeker of skin and harness heavier and brighter than one

is used to meet outside the great cities, had been in waiting for twenty

minutes; while for that space of time a pretty girl had paced up and

down the platform. The keenest observer among the crowd, airing its meek

impatience on the platform, did not detect any sign of anxiety in her

behavior. She walked erect, with a step that left a clean-cut footprint

in the dust, as girls are trained to walk nowadays. Her tailor-made

gown of fine blue serge had not a wrinkle. It was so simple that only

a fashionable woman could guess anywhere near the awful sum total which

that plain skirt, that short jacket, and that severe waistcoat had once

made on a ruled sheet of paper. When she turned her face toward the low,

red station-house and the people, it looked gentle, and the least in the

world sad. She had one of those clear olive skins that easily grow pale;

it was pale to-day. Her black hair was fine as spun silk; the coil under

her hat-brim shone as she moved. The fine hair, the soft, transparent

skin, and the beautiful marking of her brows were responsible for an air

of fragile daintiness in her person, just as her almond-shaped,

liquid dark eyes and unsmiling mouth made her look sad. It was a most

attractive face, in all its moods; sometimes it was a beautiful face;

yet it did not have a single perfect feature except the mouth, which--at

least so Harry Lossing told his mother--might have been stolen from the

Venus of Milo. Even the mouth, some critics called too small for her

nose; but it is as easy to call her nose too large for her mouth.



The instant she turned her back on the bustle of the station, all the

lines in her face seemed to waver and the eyes to brighten. Finally,

when the train rolled up to the platform and a young-looking elderly man

swung himself nimbly off the steps, the color flared up in her cheeks,

only to sink as suddenly; like a candle flame in a gust of wind.



Mr. Armorer put his two arms and his umbrella and travelling-bag about

the charming shape in blue, at the same time exclaiming, "You're a good

girl to come out so early, Essie! How's Aunt Meg?"



"Oh, very well. She would have come too, but she hasn't come back from

training."



"Training?"



"Yes, dear, she has a regular trainer, like John L. Sullivan, you know.

She drives out to the park with Eliza and me, and walks and runs races,

and does gymnastics. She has lost ten pounds."



Armorer wagged his head with a grin: "I dare say. I thought so when you

began. Meg is always moaning and groaning because she isn't a sylph!

She will make her cook's life a burden for about two months and lose ten

pounds, and then she will revel in ice-cream! Last time, she was raving

about Dr. Salisbury and living on beefsteak sausages, spending a fortune

starving herself."



"She had Dr. Salisbury's pamphlet; but Cardigan told her it was a long

way out; so she said she hated to have it do no one any good, and she

gave it to Maria, one of the maids, who is always fretting because she

is so thin."



"But the thing was to cure fat people!"



"Precisely." Esther laughed a little low laugh, at which her father's

eyes shone; "but you see she told Maria to exactly reverse the advice

and eat everything that was injurious to stout people, and it would be

just right for her."



"I perceive," said Armorer, dryly; "very ingenious and feminine scheme.

But who is Cardigan?"



"Shuey Cardigan? He is the trainer. He is a fireman in a furniture shop,

now; but he used to be the boxing teacher for some Harvard men; and he

was a distinguished pugilist, once. He said to me, modestly, 'I don't

suppose you will have seen my name in the Police Gazette, miss?' But

he really is a very sober, decent man, notwithstanding."



"Your Aunt Meg always was picking up queer birds! Pray, who introduced

this decent pugilist?"



Esther was getting into the carriage; her face was turned from him, but

he could see the pink deepen in her ear and the oval of her cheek. She

answered that it was a friend of theirs, Mr. Lossing. As if the name had

struck them both dumb, neither spoke for a few moments. Armorer bit a

sigh in two. "Essie," said he, "I guess it is no use to side-track the

subject. You know why I came here, don't you?"



"Aunt Meg told me what she wrote to you."



"I knew she would. She had compunctions of conscience letting him hang

round you, until she told me; and then she had awful gripes because she

had told, and had to confess to YOU!"



He continued in a different tone: "Essie, I have missed your mother

a long while, and nobody knows how that kind of missing hurts; but it

seems to me I never missed her as I do to-day. I need her to advise me

about you, Essie. It is like this: I don't want to be a stern parent

any more than you want to elope on a rope ladder. We have got to look

at this thing together, my dear little girl, and try to--to trust each

other."



"Don't you think, papa," said Esther, smiling rather tremulously, "that

we would better wait, before we have all these solemn preparations,

until we know surely whether Mr. Lossing wants me?"



"Don't you know surely?"



"He has never said anything of--of that--kind."



"Oh, he is in love with you fast enough," growled Armorer; but a smile

of intense relief brightened his face. "Now, you see, my dear, all I

know about this young man, except that he wants my daughter--which you

will admit is not likely to prejudice me in his favor--is that he is

mayor of this town and has a furniture store----"



"A manufactory; it is a very large business!"



"All right, manufactory, then; all the same he is not a brilliant match

for my daughter, not such a husband as your sisters have." Esther's lip

quivered and her color rose again; but she did not speak. "Still I will

say that I think a fellow who can make his own fortune is better than

a man with twice that fortune made for him. My dear, if Lossing has the

right stuff in him and he is a real good fellow, I shan't make you go

into a decline by objecting; but you see it is a big shock to me, and

you must let me get used to it, and let me size the young man up in my

own way. There is another thing, Esther; I am going to Europe Thursday,

that will give me just a day in Chicago if I go to-morrow, and I wish

you would come with me. Will you mind?"



Either she changed her seat or she started at the proposal. But how

could she say that she wanted to stay in America with a man who had not

said a formal word of love to her? "I can get ready, I think, papa,"

said Esther.



They drove on. He felt a crawling pain in his heart, for he loved his

daughter Esther as he had loved no other child of his; and he knew that

he had hurt her. Naturally, he grew the more angry at the impertinent

young man who was the cause of the flitting; for the whole European plan

had been cooked up since the receipt of Mrs. Ellis's letter. They were

on the very street down which he used to walk (for it takes the line of

the hills) when he was a poor boy, a struggling, ferociously ambitious

young man. He looked at the changed rows of buildings, and other

thoughts came uppermost for a moment. "It was here father's church used

to stand; it's gone, now," he said. "It was a wood church, painted a

kind of gray; mother had a bonnet the same color, and she used to say

she matched the church. I bought it with the very first money I earned.

Part of it came from weeding, and the weather was warm, and I can feel

the way my back would sting and creak, now! I would want to stop, often,

but I thought of mother in church with that bonnet, and I kept on!

There's the place where Seeds, the grocer that used to trust us, had

his store; it was his children had the scarlet fever, and mother went

to nurse them. My! but how dismal it was at home! We always got more

whippings when mother was away. Your grandfather was a good man, too

honest for this world, and he loved every one of his seven children;

but he brought us up to fear him and the Lord. We feared him the most,

because the Lord couldn't whip us! He never whipped us when we did

anything, but waited until next day, that he might not punish in anger;

so we had all the night to anticipate it. Did I ever tell you of the

time he caught me in a lie? I was lame for a week after it. He never

caught me in another lie."



"I think he was cruel; I can't help it, papa," cried Esther, with whom

this was an old argument, "still it did good, that time!"



"Oh, no, he wasn't cruel, my dear," said Armorer, with a queer smile

that seemed to take only one-half of his face, not answering the last

words; "he was too sure of his interpretation of the Scripture, that was

all. Why, that man just slaved to educate us children; he'd have gone

to the stake rejoicing to have made sure that we should be saved. And of

the whole seven only one is a church member. Is that the road?"



They could see a car swinging past, on a parallel street, its bent pole

hitching along the trolley-wire.





"Pretty scrubby-looking cars," commented Armorer; "but get our new

ordinance through the council, we can save enough to afford some fine

new cars. Has Lossing said anything to you about the ordinance and our

petition to be allowed to leave off the conductors?"



"He hasn't said anything, but I read about it in the papers. Is it so

very important that it should be passed?"



"Saving money is always important, my dear," said Armorer, seriously.



The horses turned again. They were now opposite a fair lawn and a

house of wood and stone built after the old colonial pattern, as modern

architects see it. Esther pointed, saying:



"Aunt Meg's, papa; isn't it pretty?"



"Very handsome, very fine," said the financier, who knew nothing about

architecture, except its exceeding expense. "Esther, I've a notion; if

that young man of yours has brains and is fond of you he ought to be

able to get my ordinance through his little eight by ten city council.

There is our chance to see what stuff he is made of!"





"Oh, he has a great deal of influence," said Esther; "he can do it,

unless--unless he thinks the ordinance would be bad for the city, you

know."



"Confound the modern way of educating girls!" thought Armorer. "Now, it

would have been enough for Esther's mother to know that anything was for

my interests; it wouldn't have to help all out-doors, too!"



But instead of enlarging on this point, he went into a sketch of the

improvements the road could make with the money saved by the change,

and was waxing eloquent when a lady of a pleasant and comely face, and a

trig though not slender figure, advanced to greet them.





It was after breakfast (and the scene was the neat pig's pen, where

Armorer was displaying his ignorance of swine) that he found his first

chance to talk with his sister alone. "Oh, first, Sis," said he, "about

your birthday, to-day; I telegraphed to Tiffany's for that silver

service, you know, that you liked, so you needn't think there's a

mistake when it comes."



"Oh, 'Raish, that gorgeous thing! I must kiss you, if Daniel does see

me!"



"Oh, that's all right," said Armorer, hastily, and began to talk of

the pig. Suddenly, without looking up, he dropped into the pig-pen the

remark: "I'm very much obliged to you for writing me, Meg."



"I don't know whether to feel more like a virtuous sister or a villanous

aunt," sighed Mrs. Ellis; "things seemed to be getting on so rapidly

that it didn't seem right, Esther visiting me and all, not to give you a

hint; still, I am sure that nothing has been said, and it is horrid for

Esther, perfectly HORRID, discussing her proposals that haven't been

proposed!"



"I don't want them ever to be proposed," said Armorer, gloomily.



"I know you always said you didn't want Esther to marry; but I thought

if she fell in love with the right man--we know that marriage is a very

happy estate, sometimes, Horatio!" She sighed again. In her case it

was only the memory of happiness, for Colonel Ellis had been dead these

twelve years; but his widow mourned him still.



"If you marry the right one, maybe," answered Armorer, grudgingly;

"but see here, Meg, Esther is different from the other girls; they got

married when Jenny was alive to look after them, and I knew the men, and

they were both big matches, you know. Then, too, I was so busy making

money while the other girls grew up that I hadn't time to get real well

acquainted with them. I don't think they ever kissed me, except when I

gave them a check. But Esther and I----" he drummed with his fingers on

the boards, his thin, keen face wearing a look that would have amazed

his business acquaintances--"you remember when her mother died, Meg?

Only fifteen, and how she took hold of things! And we have been together

ever since, and she makes me think of her grandmother and her mother

both. She's never had a wish I knew that I haven't granted--why, d----

it! I've bought my clothes to please her----"



"That's why you are become so well-dressed, Horatio; I wondered how you

came to spruce up so!" interrupted Mrs. Ellis.



"It has been so blamed lonesome whenever she went to visit you, but yet

I wouldn't say a word because I knew what a good time she had; but if I

had known that there was a confounded, long-legged, sniffy young idiot

all that while trying to steal my daughter away from me!" In an access

of wrath at the idea Armorer wrenched off the picket that he clutched,

at which he laughed and stuck his hands in his pockets.



"Why, Meg, the papers and magazines are always howling that women won't

marry," cried he, with a fresh sense of grievance; "now, two of my girls

have married, that's enough; there was no reason for me to expect any

more of them would! There isn't one d---- bit of need for Esther to

marry!"



"But if she loves the young fellow and he loves her, won't you let them

be happy?"



"He won't make her happy."



"He is a very good fellow, truly and really, 'Raish. And he comes of a

good family----"



"I don't care for his family; and as to his being moral and all that, I

know several young fellows that could skin him alive in a bargain

that are moral as you please. I have been a moral man, myself. But the

trouble with this Lossing (I told Esther I didn't know anything about

him, but I do), the trouble with him is that he is chock full of all

kinds of principles! Just as father was. Don't you remember how he lost

parish after parish because he couldn't smooth over the big men in them?

Lossing is every bit as pig-headed. I am not going to have my daughter

lead the kind of life my mother did. I want a son-in-law who ain't going

to think himself so much better than I am, and be rowing me for my way

of doing business. If Esther MUST marry I'd like her to marry a man with

a head on him that I can take into business, and who will be willing to

live with the old man. This Lossing has got his notions of making a sort

of Highland chief affair of the labor question, and we should get along

about as well as the Kilkenny cats!"



Mrs. Ellis knew more than Esther about Armorer's business methods,

having the advantage of her husband's point of view; and Colonel Ellis

had kept the army standard of honor as well as the army ignorance of

business. To counterbalance, she knew more than anyone alive what a good

son and brother Horatio had always been. But she could not restrain a

smile at the picture of the partnership.



"Precisely, you see yourself," said Armorer. "Meg"--hesitating--"you

don't suppose it would be any use to offer Esther a cool hundred

thousand to promise to bounce this young fellow?"



"Horatio, NO!" cried Mrs. Ellis, tossing her pretty gray head

indignantly; "you'd insult her!"



"Take it the same way, eh? Well, perhaps; Essie has high-toned notions.

That's all right, it is the thing for women. Mother had them too. Look

here, Meg, I'll tell you, I want to see if this young fellow has ANY

sense! We have an ordinance that we want passed. If he will get his

council to pass it, that will show he can put his grand theories into

his pockets sometimes; and I will give him a show with Esther. If he

doesn't care enough for my girl to oblige her father, even if he doesn't

please a lot of carping roosters that want the earth for their town and

would like a street railway to be run to accommodate them and lose money

for the stockholders, well, then, you can't blame me if I don't want

him! Now, will you do one thing for me, Meg, to help me out? I don't

want Lossing to persuade Esther to commit herself; you know how, when

she was a little mite, if Esther gave her word she kept it. I want

you to promise me you won't let Esther be alone one second with young

Lossing. She is going to-morrow, but there's your whist-party to-night;

I suppose he's coming? And I want you to promise you won't let him have

our address. If he treats me square, he won't need to ask you for it.

Well?"



He buttoned up his coat and folded his arms, waiting.



Mrs. Ellis's sympathy had gone out to the young people as naturally as

water runs down hill; for she is of a romantic temperament, though she

doesn't dare to be weighed. But she remembered the silver service, the

coffee-pot, the tea-pot, the tray for spoons, the creamer, the hot-water

kettle, the sugar-bowl, all on a rich salver, splendid, dazzling; what

rank ingratitude it would be to oppose her generous brother! Rather

sadly she answered, but she did answer: "I'll do that much for you,

'Raish, but I feel we're risking Esther's happiness, and I can only keep

the letter of my promise."



"That's all I ask, my dear," said Armorer, taking out a little shabby

note-book from his breast-pocket, and scratching out a line. The line

effaced read:



"See E & M tea-set."





"The silver service was a good muzzle," he thought. He went away for

an interview with the corporation lawyer and the superintendent of the

road, leaving Mrs. Ellis in a distraction of conscience that made her

the wonder of her servants that morning, during all the preparations for

the whist-party. She might have felt more remorseful had she guessed

her brother's real plan. He knew enough of Lossing to be assured that

he would not yield about the ordinance, which he firmly believed to be

a dangerous one for the city. He expected, he counted on the mayor's

refusing his proffers. He hoped that Esther would feel the sympathy

which women give, without question generally, to the business plans of

those near and dear to them, taking it for granted that the plans are

right because they will advantage those so near and dear. That was the

beautiful and proper way that Jenny had always reasoned; why should

Jenny's daughter do otherwise? When Harry Lossing should oppose

her father and refuse to please him and to win her, mustn't any

high-spirited woman feel hurt? Certainly she must; and he would take

care to whisk her off to Europe before the young man had a chance to

make his peace! "Yes, sir," says Armorer, to his only confidant, "you

never were a domestic conspirator before, Horatio, but you have got it

down fine! You would do for Gaboriau"--Gaboriau's novels being the only

fiction that ever Armorer read. Nevertheless, his conscience pricked

him almost as sharply as his sister's pricked her. Consciences are queer

things; like certain crustaceans, they grow shells in spots; and, proof

against moral artillery in one part, they may be soft as a baby's cheek

in another. Armorer's conscience had two sides, business and domestic;

people abused him for a business buccaneer, at the same time his private

life was pure, and he was a most tender husband and father. He had never

deceived Esther before in her life. Once he had ridden all night in a

freight-car to keep a promise that he had made the child. It hurt him to

be hoodwinking her now. But he was too angry and too frightened to cry

back.



The interview with the lawyer did not take any long time, but he spent

two hours with the superintendent of the road, who pronounced him "a

little nice fellow with no airs about him. Asked a power of questions

about Harry Lossing; guess there is something in that story about

Lossing going to marry his daughter!"



Marston drove him to Lossing's office and left him there.



He was on the ground, and Marston lifting the whip to touch the horse,

when he asked: "Say, before you go--is there any danger in leaving off

the conductors?"



Marston was raised on mules, and he could not overcome a vehement

distrust of electricity. "Well," said he, "I guess you want the cold

facts. The children are almighty thick down on Third Street, and

children are always trying to see how near they can come to being

killed, you know, sir; and then, the old women like to come and stand on

the track and ask questions of the motorneer on the other track, so that

the car coming down has a chance to catch 'em. The two together keep the

conductors on the jump!"



"Is that so?" said Armorer, musingly; "well, I guess you'd better close

with that insurance man and get the papers made out before we run the

new way."



"If we ever do run!" muttered the superintendent to himself as he drove

away.



Armorer ran his sharp eye over the buildings of the Lossing Art

Furniture Manufacturing Company, from the ugly square brick box that was

the nucleus--the egg, so to speak--from which the great concern had been

hatched, to the handsome new structures with their great arched windows

and red mortar. "Pretty property, very pretty property," thought

Armorer; "wonder if that story Marston tells is true!" The story was to

the effect that a few weeks before his last sickness the older Lossing

had taken his son to look at the buildings, and said, "Harry, this will

all be yours before long. It is a comfort to me to think that every

workman I have is the better, not the worse, off for my owning it;

there's no blood or dirt on my money; and I leave it to you to keep it

clean and to take care of the men as well as the business."



"Now, wasn't he a d---- fool!" said Armorer, cheerfully, taking out his

note-book to mark.



"See abt road M--D--"





And he went in. Harry greeted him with exceeding cordiality and a fine

blush. Armorer explained that he had come to speak to him about the

proposed street-car ordinances; he (Armorer) always liked to deal with

principals and without formality; now, couldn't they come, representing

the city and the company, to some satisfactory compromise? Thereupon

he plunged into the statistics of the earnings and expenses of the road

(with the aid of his note-book), and made the absolute necessity of

retrenchment plain. Meanwhile, as he talked he studied the attentive

listener before him; and Harry, on his part, made quite as good use of

his eyes. Armorer saw a tall, athletic, fair young man, very carefully,

almost foppishly dressed, with bright, steady blue eyes and a firm chin,

but a smile under his mustache like a child's; it was so sunny and so

quick. Harry saw a neat little figure in a perfectly fitting gray

check travelling suit, with a rose in the buttonhole of the coat lapel.

Armorer wore no jewellery except a gold ring on the little finger of his

right hand, from which he had taken the glove the better to write. Harry

knew that it was his dead wife's wedding-ring; and noticed it with

a little moving of the heart. The face that he saw was pale but not

sickly, delicate and keen. A silky brown mustache shot with gray and

a Van-dyke beard hid either the strength or the weakness of mouth and

chin. He looked at Harry with almond-shaped, pensive dark eyes, so like

the eyes that had shone on Harry's waking and sleeping dreams for months

that the young fellow felt his heart rise again. Armorer ended by asking

Harry (in his most winning manner) to help him pull the ordinance out of

the fire. "It would be," he said, impressively, "a favor he should not

forget!"



"And you must know, Mr. Armorer," said Harry, in a dismal tone at which

the president chuckled within, "that there is no man whose favor I would

do so much to win!"



"Well, here's your chance!" said Armorer.



Harry swung round in his chair, his clinched fists on his knee. He was

frowning with eagerness, and his eyes were like blue steel.



"See here, Mr. Armorer," said he, "I am frank with you. I want to please

you, because I want to ask you to let me marry your daughter. But I

CAN'T please you, because I am mayor of this town, and I don't dare to

let you dismiss the conductors. I don't DARE, that's the point. We have

had four children killed on this road since electricity was put in."



"We have had forty killed on one street railway I know; what of it? Do

you want to give up electricity because it kills children?"



"No, but look here! the conductors lessen the risk. A lady I know,

only yesterday, had a little boy going from the kindergarten home, nice

little fellow only five years old----"



"She ought to have sent a nurse with a child five years old, a baby!"

cried Armorer, warmly.



"That lady," answered Harry, quietly, "goes without any servant at all

in order to keep her two children at the kindergarten; and the boy's

elder sister was ill at home. The boy got on the car, and when he got

off at the crossing above his house, he started to run across; the other

train-car was coming, the little fellow didn't notice, and ran to cross;

he stumbled and fell right in the path of the coming car!"



"Where was the conductor? He didn't seem much good!"



"They had left off the conductor on that line."



"Well, did they run over the boy? Why haven't I been informed of the

accident?"



"There was no accident. A man on the front platform saw the boy fall,

made a flying leap off the moving car, fell, but scrambled up and pulled

the boy off the track. It was sickening; I thought we were both gone!"



"Oh, you were the man?"



"I was the man; and don't you see, Mr. Armorer, why I feel strongly on

the subject? If the conductor had been on, there wouldn't have been any

occasion for any accident."



"Well, sir, you may be assured that we will take precautions against

any such accidents. It is more for our interest than anyone's to guard

against them. And I have explained to you the necessity of cutting down

our expense list."



"That is just it, you think you have to risk our lives to cut down

expenses; but we get all the risk and none of the benefits. I can't see

my way clear to helping you, sir; I wish I could."



"Then there is nothing more to say, Mr. Lossing," said Armorer, coldly.

"I'm sorry a mere sentiment that has no real foundation should stand in

the way of our arranging a deal that would be for the advantage of both

the city and our road." He rose.



Harry rose also, but lifted his hand to arrest the financier. "Pardon

me, there is something else; I wouldn't mention it, but I hear you

are going to leave to-morrow and go abroad with--Miss Armorer. I am

conscious I haven't introduced myself very favorably, by refusing you a

favor when I want to ask the greatest one possible; but I hope, sir, you

will not think the less of a man because he is not willing to sacrifice

the interests of the people who trust him, to please ANYONE. I--I hope

you will not object to my asking Miss Armorer to marry me," concluded

Harry, very hot and shaky, and forgetting the beginning of his sentences

before he came to the end.



"Does my daughter love you, do I understand, Mr. Lossing?"



"I don't know, sir. I wish I did."



"Well, Mr. Lossing," said Armorer, wishing that something in the young

man's confusion would not remind him of the awful moment when he asked

old Forrester for his Jenny, "I am afraid I can do nothing for you. If

you have too nice a conscience to oblige me, I am afraid it will be too

nice to let you get on in the world. Good-morning."



"Stop a minute," said Harry; "if it is only my ability to get on in the

world that is the trouble, I think------"



"It is your love for my daughter," said Armorer; "if you don't love her

enough to give up a sentimental notion for her, to win her, I don't see

but you must lose her, I bid you good-morning, sir."



"Not quite yet, sir"--Harry jumped before the door; "you give me the

alternative of being what I call dishonorable or losing the woman I

love!" He pronounced the last word with a little effort and his lips

closed sharply as his teeth shut under them. "Well, I decline the

alternative. I shall try to do my duty and get the wife I want, BOTH."



"Well, you give me fair warning, don't you?" said Armorer.



Harry held out his hand, saying, "I am sorry that I detained you. I

didn't mean to be rude." There was something boyish and simple about the

action and the tone, and Armorer laughed. As Harry attended him through

the outer office to the door, he complimented the shops.



"Miss Armorer and Mrs. Ellis have promised to give me the pleasure of

showing them to them this afternoon," said Harry; "can't I show them and

part of our city to you, also? It has changed a good deal since you left

it."



The remark threw Armorer off his balance; for a rejected suitor this

young man certainly kept an even mind. But he had all the helplessness

of the average American with regard to his daughter's amusements. The

humor in the situation took him; and it cannot be denied that he began

to have a vivid curiosity about Harry. In less time than it takes to

read it, his mind had swung round the circle of these various points of

view, and he had blandly accepted Harry's invitation. But he mopped a

warm and furrowed brow, outside, and drew a prodigious sigh as he opened

the note-book in his hand and crossed out, "See L." "That young fellow

ain't all conscience," said he, "not by a long shot."



He found Mrs. Ellis very apologetic about the Lossing engagement. It was

made through the telephone; Esther had been anxious to have her father

meet Lossing; Lossing was to drive them there, and later show Mr.

Armorer the town.



"Mr. Lossing is a very clever young man, very," said Armorer, gravely,

as he went out to smoke his cigar after luncheon. He wished he had

stayed, however, when he returned to find that a visitor had called, and

that this visitor was the mother of the little boy that Harry Lossing

had saved from the car. The two women gave him the accident in full, and

were lavish of harrowing detail, including the mother's feelings. "So

you see, 'Raish," urged Mrs. Ellis, timidly, "there is some reason for

opposition to the ordinance."



Esther's cheeks were red and her eyes shone, but she had not spoken. Her

father put his arm around her waist and kissed her hair. "And what did

you say, Essie," he asked, gently, "to all the criticisms?"



"I told her I thought you would find some way to protect the children

even if the conductors were taken off; you didn't enjoy the slaughter of

children any more than anyone else."



"I guess we can fix it. Here is your young man."



Harry drove a pair of spirited horses. He drove well, and looked both

handsome and happy.



"Did you know that lady--the mother of the boy that wasn't run over--was

coming to see my sister?" said Armorer, on the way.



"I did," said Harry, "I sent her; I thought she could explain the reason

why I shall have to oppose the bill, better than I."



Armorer made no reply.



At the shops he kept his eye on the young man. Harry seemed to know

most of his workmen, and had a nod or a word for all the older men. He

stopped several moments to talk with one old German who complained of

everything, but looked after Harry with a smile, nodding his head. "That

man, Lieders, is our best workman; you can't get any better work in the

country," said he. "I want you to see an armoire that he has carved, it

is up in our exhibition room."



Armorer said, "You seem to get on very well with your working people,

Mr. Lossing."



"I think we generally get on well with them, and they do well

themselves, in these Western towns. For one thing, we haven't much

organization to fight, and for another thing, the individual workman has

a better chance to rise. That man Lieders, whom you saw, is worth a good

many thousand dollars; my father invested his savings for him."



"You are one of the philanthropists, aren't you, Mr. Lossing, who are

trying to elevate the laboring classes?"



"Not a bit of it, sir. I shall never try to elevate the laboring

classes; it is too big a contract. But I try as hard as I know how to

have every man who has worked for Harry Lossing the better for it. I

don't concern myself with any other laboring men."



Just then a murmur of exclamations came from Mrs. Ellis and Esther, whom

the superintendent was piloting through the shops. "Oh, no, it is too

heavy; oh, don't do it, Mr. Cardigan!" "Oh, we can see it perfectly well

from here! PLEASE don't, you will break yourself somewhere!" Mrs. Ellis

shrieked this; but the shrieks turned to a murmur of admiration as a

huge carved sideboard came bobbing and wobbling, like an intoxicated

piece of furniture in a haunted house, toward the two gentlewomen.

Immediately, a short but powerfully built man, whose red face beamed

above his dusty shoulders like a full moon with a mustache, emerged, and

waved his hand at the sideboard.



"I could tackle the two of them, begging your pardon, ladies."



"That's Cardigan," explained Harry, "Miss Armorer may have told you

about him. Oh, SHUEY!"



Cardigan approached and was presented. He brought both his heels

together and bowed solemnly, bending his head at the same time.



"Pleased to meet you, sir," said Shuey. Then he assumed an attitude of

military attention.



"Take us up in the elevator, will you, Shuey?" said Harry. "Step in, Mr.

Armorer, please, we will go and see the reproductions of the antique; we

have a room upstairs."



Mr. Armorer stepped in, Shuey following; and then, before Harry could

enter it, the elevator shot upward and--stuck!



"What's the matter?" cried Armorer.



Shuey was tugging at the wire rope. He called, in tones that seemed to

come from a panting chest: "Take a pull at it yourself, sir! Can you

move it?"



Armorer grasped the rope viciously; Shuey was on the seat pulling from

above. "We're stuck, sir, fast!"



"Can't you get down either?"



"Divil a bit, saving your presence, sir. Do ye think like the

water-works could be busted?"



"Can't you make somebody hear?" panted Armorer.



"Well, you see there's a deal of noise of the machinery," said Shuey,

scratching his chin with a thoughtful air, "and they expect we've gone

up!"



"Best try, anyhow. This infernal machine may take a notion to drop!"

said Armorer.



"And that's true, too," acquiesced Shuey. Forthwith he did lift up his

voice in a loud wailing: "OH--H, Jimmy! OH--H, Jimmy Ryan!"



Jimmy might have been in Chicago for any response he made; though

Armorer shouted with Shuey; and at every pause the whir of the machinery

mocked the shouters. Indescribable moans and gurgles, with a continuous

malignant hiss, floated up to them from the rebel steam below, as from

a volcano considering eruption. "They'll be bound to need the elevator

some time, if they don't need US, and that's one comfort!" said Shuey,

philosophically.



"Don't you think if we pulled on her we could get her up to the next

floor, by degrees? Now then!"



Armorer gave a dash and Shuey let out his muscles in a giant tug. The

elevator responded by an astonishing leap that carried them past three

or four floors!



"Stop her! stop her!" bawled Shuey; but in spite of Armorer's pulling

himself purple in the face, the elevator did not stop until it bumped

with a crash against the joists of the roof.



"Well, do you suppose we're stuck HERE?" growled Armorer.



"Well, sir, I'll try. Say, don't be exerting yourself violent. It

strikes me she's for all the world like the wimmen,--in exthremes, sir,

in exthremes! And it wouldn't be noways so pleasant to go riproaring

that gait down cellar! Slow and easy, sir, let me manage her. Hi! she's

working."



In fact, by slow degrees and much puffing, Shuey got the erratic box to

the next floor, where, disregarding Shuey's protestations that he could

"make her mind," Mr. Armorer got out, and they left the elevator to its

fate. It was a long way, through many rooms, downstairs. Shuey would

have beguiled the way by describing the rooms, but Armorer was in a

raging hurry and urged his guide over the ground. Once they were delayed

by a bundle of stuff in front of a door; and after Shuey had laboriously

rolled the great roll away, he made a misstep and tumbled over, rolling

it back, to a tittering accompaniment from the sewing-girls in the room.

But he picked himself up in perfect good temper and kicked the roll ten

yards. "Girls is silly things," said the philosopher Shuey, "but being

born that way it ain't to be expected otherwise!"



He had the friendly freedom of his class in the West. He praised Mrs.

Ellis's gymnastics, and urged Armorer to stay over a morning train and

see a "real pretty boxing match" between Mr. Lossing and himself.



"Oh, he boxes too, does he?" said Armorer.



"And why on earth would he groan-like?" wondered Shuey to himself. "He

does that, sir," he continued aloud; "didn't Mrs. Ellis ever tell you

about the time at the circus? She was there herself, with three children

she borrowed and an unreasonable gyurl, with a terrible big screech in

her and no sense. Yes, sir, Mr. Lossing he is mighty cliver with his

hands! There come a yell of 'Lion loose! lion loose!' at that circus,

just as the folks was all crowding out at the end of it, and them that

had gone into the menagerie tent came a-tumbling and howling back, and

them that was in the circus tent waiting for the concert (which never

ain't worth waiting for, between you and me!) was a-scrambling off them

seats, making a noise like thunder; and all fighting and pushing and

bellowing to get out! I was there with my wife and making for the seats

that the fools quit, so's to get under and crawl out under the canvas,

when I see Mrs. Ellis holding two of the children, and that fool

girl let the other go and I grabbed it. 'Oh, save the baby! save one,

anyhow,' cries my wife--the woman is a tinder-hearted crechure! And just

then I seen an old lady tumble over on the benches, with her gray hair

stringing out of her black bonnet. The crowd was WILD, hitting and

screaming and not caring for anything, and I see a big jack of a man

come plunging down right spang on that old lady! His foot was right

in the air over her face! Lord, it turned me sick. I yelled. But that

minnit I seen an arm shoot out and that fellow shot off as slick! it was

Mr. Lossing. He parted that crowd, hitting right and left, and he got

up to us and hauled a child from Mrs. Ellis and put it on the seats,

all the while shouting: 'Keep your seats! it's all right! it's all over!

stand back!' I turned and floored a feller that was too pressing, and

hollered it was all right too. And some more people hollered too. You

see, there is just a minnit at such times when it is a toss up whether

folks will quiet down and begin to laugh, or get scared into wild beasts

and crush and kill each other. And Mr. Lossing he caught the minnit!

The circus folks came up and the police, and it was all over. WELL, just

look here, sir; there's our folks coming out of the elevator!"



They were just landing; and Mrs. Ellis wanted to know where he had gone.



"We run away from ye, shure," said Shuey, grinning; and he related the

adventure. Armorer fell back with Mrs. Ellis. "Did you stay with Esther

every minute?" said he. Mrs. Ellis nodded. She opened her lips to

speak, then closed them and walked ahead to Harry Lossing. Armorer

looked--suspicion of a dozen kinds gnawing him and insinuating that the

three all seemed agitated--from Harry to Esther, and then to Shuey. But

he kept his thoughts to himself and was very agreeable the remainder of

the afternoon.



He heard Harry tell Mrs. Ellis that the city council would meet that

evening; before, however, Armorer could feel exultant he added, "but may

I come late?"



"He is certainly the coolest beggar," Armorer snarled, "but he is sharp

as a nigger's razor, confound him!"



Naturally this remark was a confidential one to himself.



He thought it more times than one during the evening, and by consequence

played trumps with equal disregard of the laws of the noble game of

whist and his partner's feelings. He found a few, a very few, elderly

people who remembered his parent, and they will never believe ill of

Horatio Armorer, who talked so simply and with so much feeling of

old times, and who is going to give a memorial window in the new

Presbyterian church. He was beginning to think with some interest of

supper, the usual dinner of the family having been sacrificed to the

demands of state; then he saw Harry Lossing. The young mayor's blond

head was bowing before his sister's black velvet. He caught Armorer's

eye and followed him out to the lawn and the shadows and the gay

lanterns. He looked animated. Evening dress was becoming to him. "One of

my daughters married a prince, but I am hanged if he looked it like this

fellow," thought Armorer; "but then he was only an Italian. I suppose

the council did not pass the ordinance? your committee reported against

it?" he said quite amicably to Harry.



"I wish you could understand how much pain it has given me to oppose

you, Mr. Armorer," said Harry, blushing.



"I don't doubt it, under the circumstances, Mr. Lossing." Armorer spoke

with suave politeness, but there was a cynical gleam in his eye.



"But Esther understands," says Harry.



"Esther!" repeats Armorer, with an indescribable intonation. "You spoke

to her this afternoon? For a man with such high-toned ideas as you

carry, I think you took a pretty mean advantage of your guests!"



"You will remember I gave you fair warning, Mr. Armorer."



"It was while I was in the elevator, of course. I guessed it was a

put-up job; how did you manage it?"



Harry smiled outright; he is one who cannot keep either his dog or his

joke tied up. "It was Shuey did it," said he; "he pulled the opposite

way from you, and he has tremendous strength; but he says you were a

handful for him."



"You seem to have taken the town into your confidence," said Armorer,

bitterly, though he had a sneaking inclination to laugh himself; "do you

need all your workmen to help you court your girl?"



"I'd take the whole United States into my confidence rather than lose

her, sir," answered Harry, steadily.



Armorer turned on his heel abruptly; it was to conceal a smile. "How

about my sister? did you propose before her? But I don't suppose a

little thing like that would stop you."



"I had to speak; Miss Armorer goes away tomorrow. Mrs. Ellis was kind

enough to put her fingers in her ears and turn her back."



"And what did my daughter say?"



"I asked her only to give me the chance to show her how I loved her, and

she has. God bless her! I don't pretend I'm worthy of her, Mr. Armorer,

but I have lived a decent life, and I'll try hard to live a better one

for her trust in me."



"I'm glad there is one thing on which we are agreed," jeered Armorer,

"but you are more modest than you were this noon. I think it was

considerably like bragging, sending that woman to tell of your heroic

feats!"



"Oh, I can brag when it is necessary," said Harry, serenely; "what would

the West be but for bragging?"



"And what do you intend to do if I take your girl to Europe?"



"Europe is not very far," said Harry.



Armorer was a quick thinker, but he had never thought more quickly in

his life. This young fellow had beaten him. There was no doubt of it. He

might have principles, but he declined to let his principles hamper him.

There was something about Harry's waving aside defeat so lightly, and

so swiftly snatching at every chance to forward his will, that accorded

with Armorer's own temperament.



"Tell me, Mr. Armorer," said Harry, suddenly; "in my place wouldn't you

have done the same thing?"



Armorer no longer checked his sense of humor. "No, Mr. Lossing," he

answered, sedately, "I should have respected the old gentleman's wishes

and voted any way he pleased." He held out his hand. "I guess Esther

thinks you are the coming young man of the century; and to be honest,

I like you a great deal better than I expected to this morning. I'm not

cut out for a cruel father, Mr. Lossing; for one thing, I haven't the

time for it; for another thing, I can't bear to have my little girl cry.

I guess I shall have to go to Europe without Esther. Shall we go in to

the ladies now?"



Harry wrung the president's hand, crying that he should never regret his

kindness.



"See that Esther never regrets it, that will be better," said Armorer,

with a touch of real and deep feeling. Then, as Harry sprang up the

steps like a boy, he took out the note-book, and smiling a smile in

which many emotions were blended, he ran a black line through



"See abt L."