The Lilac Girl

"You said your father was interested in some mines in Nevada. Do you mind telling me the name?"

"The New Century Consolidated, they were called."

"Oh, that was too bad," exclaimed Wade, regretfully. "That property never was any good. The whole thing was a swindle from first to last. Was your father very badly hit?"

"Ruined," answered Eve, simply. "He had to sell everything he had. They had made him a director, you see, and when the exposure came he paid up his share. The lawyer said he didn't have to, but he insisted. He was right, don't you think, Mr. Herrick?"

"No—well, perhaps. I don't know. It depends how you look at it, I reckon."

"There was only one way to look at it, wasn't there? Either it was right or it was wrong. Father believed it was right."

"So it was! But plenty of men would have hidden behind the law. I wish your father might have bought into our property instead of the New Century. I wanted Ed to write to him; we needed money badly at first, and I'd heard Ed speak of him once; but he wouldn't do it; said his uncle wouldn't have anything to do with any schemes of his."

"I'm afraid he was right," said Eve, sadly. "When I was a little girl my father and Ed's father had some sort of a misunderstanding and would never have anything to do with each other afterwards. It made it very hard for mamma, for she and Aunt Mary were very fond of each other. Please tell me about Cousin Edward, Mr. Herrick. I think I only saw him once or twice in my life, but he was my cousin just the same, and now that he's dead I suddenly realize that all the time I was unconsciously taking a sort of comfort out of the knowledge that somewhere I had some one that belonged to me, even if I never saw him and hardly knew him. What was he like?"

"A big, silent, good-hearted fellow. I think there was a resemblance to you, Miss Walton. He was dark complexioned, with almost black eyes, but—there's something in your expression at times—that reminds me of Ed." Wade frowned and studied the girl's face. "But I have a photograph of him at the Camp. I'll send for it. Shall I?"

"It wouldn't be too much trouble?"

"No trouble at all. I'll just send a wire to Whitehead, the superintendent. I met Ed in a queer way. It was at Cripple Creek. I'd been there almost a year. After my mother died there wasn't anything to keep me at home in Virginia, and there wasn't much money. So I hiked out to Colorado, thinking about all I'd have to do was to cinch up my belt and start to pick up gold nuggets in the streets. The best I could find was work with a shovel in one of the mines over Victor way. Then I got work in another mine handling explosives. I got in front of a missed hole one fine day and was blown down a slope with about a hundred tons of rock on top of me. As luck had it, however, the big ones wedged over me and I wasn't hurt much, just scratched up a bit."

"But that was wonderful!" breathed Eve.

"Yes, it was sort of funny. I was covered up from one in the afternoon until five, quite conscious all the time and pretty well scared. You see, I couldn't help wondering just what would happen if the rocks should settle. My eyes got the worst of it and I had to stay in the hospital about a month. But I'm afraid I'm boring you. I was just leading up to my meeting with Ed."

"Boring me! Don't be absurd! Then what happened?"

"Well, after I got out of the hospital I bought a burro and a tent and hiked out for the Sangre—for the southern part of the State. I still had some money coming to me for work when the trouble happened, and after I got out I cashed an accident policy I'd luckily taken out a month before. I stayed in the mountains pretty much all summer prospecting. I found the biggest bunch of rock I'd ever seen, but no yellow iron—I mean gold. Came sort of near starving before I got out. I sold my outfit and went back to Cripple and struck another job with the shovel and pick, digging prospect ditches. It was pretty tiresome work and pretty cold, too. So when I'd got a month's wages I told the boss he'd either have to put me underground or I'd quit. I said I was a miner and not a Dago. You see, I felt independently rich with a month's wages in my jeans—pockets, that is. The boss said I could quit. I've been wondering ever since," laughed Wade, "whether I quit or was fired."

"That was lovely," said Eve. "Oh, dear, I've often wished I'd been a man!"

"H'm; well, every one to his taste. But look here, Miss Walton, you're certain I'm not boring you to death?"

"Quite. What did you do with all that money? And how much did a month's wages amount to?"

"About ninety dollars. You get three a day and work seven days a week. But, of course, I owed a good deal of that ninety by the time I got it. Well, I paid my bills and then did a fool thing. I got my laundry out of the Chinaman's, put on a stiff shirt and went over to Colorado Springs. It just seemed that I had to have a glimpse of—well, you know; respectability—dress clothes—music—flowers. I remember how stiff and uncomfortable that shirt felt and how my collar scratched my neck. When I got over to the Springs I ran across some folks I'd known back home in Virginia. Richmond folks, they were. I dined with them and had a fine time. I forgot to tell them I'd been pushing a shovel with the Pinheads—that is, Swedes. They asked me to be sure and visit them when I went back to Virginia for Christmas, for of course I would go! I told 'em I'd do that very thing. Rather a joke, wasn't it? If railroads had been selling at forty dollars a pair I couldn't have bought a headlight! I went back to Cripple the next day, having spent most of my money, feeling sort of grouchy and down on my luck. That night I thought I'd have a go at the wheel—roulette, you know. I'd steered pretty clear of that sort of thing up to then, but I didn't much care that night what happened. I only had about fifteen dollars and I played it dollar by dollar and couldn't win once. Finally I was down to my last. I remember I took that out of my pocket and looked at it quite awhile. Then I put it back and started to go. But before I'd reached the door I concluded that a dollar wasn't much better than none in Cripple, and so I went back to the table. It was pretty crowded and I had to work my way in until I could reach it. Just when I got my dollar out again and was going to toss it on, blind, some one took hold of my arm and pulled me around. I'd never seen the fellow before and I started to get peeved. But he—may I use his words? They weren't polite, but they were persuasive. Said he: 'Put that back in your pocket, you damned fool, and come out of here."

Wade looked anxiously at his audience to see if she was shocked. She didn't look so; only eager and sympathetic. He went on.

"Well, I went. He lugged me over to his room across the street and—and was hospitable. He made me talk and I told him how I was fixed. He told me who he was and said he thought he could find a job for me. And he did. He was partner with a man named Hogan in an assay office and knew a good many mine managers and superintendents. The next day I went to work running an air-drill at four dollars a day. That's how I met Ed. We got to be pretty good friends after that. Later I went over and roomed with him. He was only two years older than I, but he always seemed about ten. I told him about the Sangre—about the country I'd prospected in the summer and we agreed to go over it together. In the spring, when the snow was off, we started out. We bought a good outfit, two burros, a good tent, and everything we could need. We expected to be away all summer, but we struck gold about five weeks after we reached the mountains. Struck it rich, too. All that summer we slaved like Dagoes and by fall we had a prospect good enough to show any one. But we needed money for development, and it was then I suggested to Ed that he write to Mr. Walton. You see, I'd heard a good deal about his folks and about Eden Village by that time. Evenings, after you've had supper and while you're smoking your pipe, there isn't much to talk about except your people and things back in God's country. And we'd told each other about everything we knew by autumn. But Ed wouldn't consider his uncle; said we'd have to find some one else to put in the money. So we had a clean-up and I started East with a trunk full of samples and a pocket full of papers. Ed gave me the names of some men to see. As luck had it, I didn't have to go further than Omaha. The first man I tackled bit and three months later we started development. Ed and I kept a controlling interest. Now the—" Wade pulled himself up, gulped and hesitated—"the mine is the richest in that district and is getting better all the time."

"It's like a fairy tale, almost," said Eve.

"What is the name of the mine, Mr. Herrick?"

"Well—er—we usually just called it 'The Mine.' It isn't listed on the exchange, you see. There aren't any shares on the market."

"Really? But I wasn't thinking of investing, Mr. Herrick," responded Eve, dryly. "If there's any reason why I shouldn't know the name, that's sufficient."

Wade observed her troubledly.

"I—I beg your pardon, Miss Walton. I didn't mean to be rude. The mine has a name, of course, and—and sometime I'll tell it to you. But just now—there's a reason—"

"It sounds," laughed Eve, "as though you were talking of a cereal coffee. Indeed, though, I don't want to know if you don't want me to."

"But I do! That is—sometime—"

"I understand; it's a guilty secret. But you were telling me about my cousin. When did he die, Mr. Herrick?"

"Last August. We'd both been working pretty hard and Ed was sort of run down, I reckon. He got typhoid and went quick. I got him to Pueblo as soon as I learned what the trouble was, but the doctor there said he never had a chance. We buried him in Pueblo."

Wade was looking down at his roughened hands and spoke so low that Eve had to bend forward a little to hear him.

"It—it was a pretty decent funeral," he added simply. "There were seven carriages."

"Really?" she murmured.

"Yes." He raised his head and looked at her a trifle wistfully. "You can't understand just what Ed's death meant to me, Miss Walton. You see, he was about the only real friend I ever had, the only fellow I ever got real close to. And he was such a thoroughbred, and—and was so darn—so mighty good to me! I tell you, it sort of knocked me out for awhile."

"I'm sorry I didn't know him," said Eve, softly. "I'm sure I'd have liked him as well as you did. And perhaps he'd have liked me."

"I'm sure of that," said Wade with conviction.

"I suppose he never spoke of me?"

"Only once, I think. Before he died he told me he had made a will and left me his share of the mine and everything else he had. I—oh, well, I didn't like it and said so. 'You'll have to take it,' he answered. 'There's no one else to leave it to; I've got no relatives left except an uncle and a cousin, and they have all the money they need. You see, he didn't know about—"

"I understand. And even had papa been alive he would have accepted nothing from Edward, I'm certain."

"But you—"

"Nor I."

"I'm sorry to hear you say that," said Wade, frowningly. "I've been thinking that perhaps—something might be done. There's so much money, Miss Walton, and it doesn't belong to me. Don't you think—"

"No." Eve shook her head gently, but decisively. "It's nice of you to want it, Mr. Herrick, but you mustn't think any more about it. Papa would never have allowed me to accept any of Cousin Edward's property if he had been alive, and I shan't do it now that he is dead. We won't speak about that any more, please. Tell me how you came to visit Eden Village. To see the house you'd inherited?"

"Yes. Ed wanted me to. He was very fond of this place and fond of the house. 'I'd rather you always kept it,' he told me. 'If the time ever comes when you have to sell it, all right; but until then see that it's looked after and kept up.' So this summer, when I found I was going to have a vacation—the first real one for six years, Miss Walton—I decided that the first thing I'd do would be to come here and look after Ed's place."

"Then yours is only a flying visit? I'm sorry."

"No, I think I shall stay some time," replied Wade. "I like it immensely. It's so different from where I've been. And, besides, the house needs looking after. I think I'll have it painted."

"Then you'll be sure to make mistakes," laughed Eve. "Or perhaps you'll paint it a different color from this?"

"No, I shan't; white it must be. Then, you see, I'll have every excuse for mistaking this house for my own."

"I hope you won't feel that you need an excuse to come here, Mr. Herrick. We're not a ceremonious people here. We can't afford to be; neighbors are too scarce."

Wade thanked her and there was a moment's silence. Then Eve, who had been smilingly watching the players, turned with lowered voice.

"And sometimes when you come to see us, Mr. Herrick, won't you come through the gate in the hedge, please?"

"Certainly," he answered, looking a little puzzled.

"Does that sound queer?" she asked with a soft laugh. "I suppose it does. There was a time when the dwellers in your house and in mine used that gate in the hedge as my poor old grandfather meant they should. Perhaps I have a fancy to see it used so again. Or perhaps that isn't the reason at all. You have your secret; we'll call this mine. Maybe some day we'll tell our secrets."

"Is that a promise?" he asked, eagerly.

She hesitated a moment. Then, "If you like," she answered, smiling across at him.

"Good! Then let us have it all shipshape, in contract form."

"Oh, you business men!"

"I hereby agree to tell you before I leave Eden Village the name of my mine, and you agree to tell me why—why—"

"Why you are to come to see us by way of the gate in the hedge. Agreed, signed, sealed, and delivered in the presence of Miss Caroline Mullett and Doctor Joseph Crimmins."

"Eh?" asked the Doctor. "What's that? I heard my name spoken, didn't I?"

"You did, Doctor, but quite respectfully," answered Eve.

"Respectfully!" grumbled the Doctor. "That's all age gets, just respect! Thirty years ago, madam, you wouldn't have dared to respect me! I beg your pardon, Miss Mullett; you are right, it is my first count. Fifteen-two, fifteen-four, fifteen-six, and a pair's eight and one's nine. And that puts me out!"

"Brute!" said Miss Mullett.

"Who won?" asked Eve.

"I, Miss Eve, but an empty victory since I have incurred this dear lady's displeasure," replied the Doctor, arising. "I had the misfortune to run out when she needed but one to win, an unpardonable crime in the game of cribbage, Mr. Herrick."

"I'm not sure we wouldn't hang you for that out our way, Doctor," said Wade, with a smile.

"Well, something ought to be done to him," grumbled Miss Mullett, closing the cribbage box with a snap.

"Madam, leave me to the reproaches of my conscience," advised the offender.

"Your conscience!" jeered Miss Mullett. "You haven't any. You're a doctor."

"STERN IN HER ANGER, MR. HERRICK, BUT OF AN AMIABLE AND FORGIVING DISPOSITION"

"Mr. Herrick, let us be going, I pray.

"'From pole to pole the thunder roars aloud,And broken lightnings flash from ev'ry cloud.'

"Besides which, sir, it is close upon ten o'clock, I see, the bed-hour of our virtuous village. Miss Mullett, I shall pray for your forgiveness. Miss Eve, I trust you to say a good word for me. If the storm clears, do you hang a white handkerchief from the window there and I, going by, will see it and be comforted." The Doctor laid a hand on Wade's shoulder and, with a mischievous glance at Miss Mullett, whispered hoarsely: "Stern in her anger, Mr. Herrick, but of an amiable and forgiving disposition."

"I'll forgive you when I've had my revenge," answered Miss Mullett, laughingly.

"Ah, the clouds break! Let us be gone, Mr. Herrick, while the sun shines on our pathway!"

When the front door had closed Miss Mullett turned eagerly to Eve.

"Sit down, dear, and tell me! Was he nice? What did he say?"

IX

"'When He cometh, when He comethTo make up His jewels,All His jewels, precious jewels,His loved and His own.Like the stars of the morning,His bright crown adorning,They shall shine—'"

"Mr. Herring, sir, breakfast's most ready."

"So am I," answered Wade, throwing open the door. "It certainly smells good, Zephania. Got lots of coffee?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. Herring."

"Herrick, Zephania."

"Yes, sir; excuse me; Herrick."

After breakfast Zene, as his father and Zephania called him, or Zenas Third, as he was known to the Village, appeared with Wade's trunk on a wheelbarrow. Zenas Third was a big, broad-shouldered youth of twenty with a round, freckled, smiling face and eager yellow-brown eyes. He always reminded Wade of an amiable animated pumpkin. Wade got his fishing tackle out of the trunk and he and Zenas Third started off for a day's fishing.

They took the road past The Cedars, Wade viewing the house on the chance of seeing the ladies. But although he failed and was a little disappointed he did not escape observation himself.

"There goes Mr. Herrick with Zenas Third," announced Miss Mullett, hurrying cautiously to the sitting-room window. As she had been in the act of readjusting her embroidery hoops when she arose, her efforts to secure all the articles in her lap failed and the hoops went circling off in different directions. "They're going fishing, Eve."

"Are they?" asked Eve from the old mahogany desk by the side window, with only a glance from her writing.

"Yes, and—Did you see where those hoops rolled to?"

"No, I didn't notice. But your handkerchief is over by the couch and you're stepping on a skein of linen."

"So I am." Miss Mullett rescued and reassembled her things and sat down again. "Are you very busy, dear?"

"No." Eve sighed impatiently and laid her pen down. "I'm not at all busy. I wish I were. I can't seem to write this morning."

"I'm so glad. Not that you can't write, of course, but that you're not busy. I want to talk."

"Talk on." Eve placed her hands behind her head and eyed the few lines of writing distastefully.

"But I want you to talk, too," said Miss Mullett, snipping a thread with her tiny scissors.

"I haven't anything to say."

"Nonsense, dear! There's always plenty to say. Why, I'm sure if I lived to be a thousand, I'd not be talked out. There's always so many interesting things to talk about."

"And what is it this morning?" asked Eve, smiling across at the sleek head bent above the embroidery frame.

"Mr. Herrick. Tell me what you think of him, Eve."

"I haven't thought—much."

"But you ought to. I'm positive he is very much impressed, dear."

"Really? With what?"

"With you." Eve laughed, softly.

"Carrie, you're incorrigible! You won't be satisfied until you've got me married to some one."

"Of course I shan't. I don't intend that you shall make the mistake I did."

"You didn't make a mistake, you dear thing. Your mistake would have been to marry. You'd never have been contented with just one man, Carrie; you know you think every one you meet is perfectly beautiful."'

"Because I haven't one of my very own," replied Miss Mullett, tranquilly. "I made a great mistake in not marrying. I would have been happier married, I'm sure. Every woman ought to have a man to look after; it keeps her from worrying over trifles."

"Do you think I worry over trifles?" asked Eve.

"You're worrying over that story this minute."

"If I am, it's unkind of you to call my stories trifles. Please remember that if it wasn't for the stories, such as they are, I couldn't afford marmalade with my tea."

"And you probably couldn't afford me," said Miss Mullett, "and I guess I'm a good deal like marmalade myself—half sweet and half bitter." Miss Mullett laughed at the conceit.

"Anyway, dear, you don't cloy," said Eve. "But you're not like marmalade the least bit; you're—you're like a nice currant jelly, just tart enough to be pleasant. How's that?"

"Just so long as you don't call me a pickle I don't mind," replied the other. Presently: "You must acknowledge that he's very attractive, dear."

"Who?" asked Eve, coming suddenly out of her thoughts.

"Mr. Herrick. And I think he has the most wonderful voice, too; don't you? It's so deep and—and manly."

"Carrie, if his Satanic Majesty called on us, you'd be telling me after he'd gone how manly he looked!"

"Well, I'm not one to deny the resemblance between man and the Devil," responded Miss Mullett, with a chuckle. "I dare say that's why we like them so—the men, I mean."

"Does Mr. Herrick strike you as being somewhat devilish?" inquired Eve, idly.

"N-no, I suppose not. Not too much so, at least. I think he must be very kind; he has such nice eyes. He's the sort of man that makes a lovely husband."

Eve clapped her hands to her ears, laughing.

"Carrie, stop it! I refuse to listen to any more laudations of Mr. Herrick! Think how the poor man's ears must burn!"

"Let them. He has very nice ears, Eve. Did you notice how small and close they were?"

"I did not!" declared Eve despairingly. "Nor did I specially observe his teeth or his hair or his feet, or—"

"But you noticed the scar on his face, didn't you?"

"Yes, I couldn't very well help doing that," owned Eve. "Any more than I could help noticing his hands."

"So strong looking, aren't they?" asked Miss Mullett, eagerly.

"Are they? I thought them rather ugly."

"Oh, how can you say so? Just think of all the wonderful things those hands must have done! And as for the scar, I thought it gave him quite a distinguished air, didn't you?"

"Carrie Mullett, I am not interested in Mr. Herrick. If you say another word about him before luncheon—"

"You can say that if you like," interrupted Miss Mullett placidly, "but you are interested in him, my dear."

"Carrie!"

"Then why can't you write your story? Oh, you can't fool me, my dear!"

Eve turned a disdainful back and picked up her pen, resentful of the warmth that she felt creeping into her cheeks.

Miss Mullett smiled and drew a new thread from the skein.

X

"You observe," said Wade the next morning, "I come through the gate in the hedge."

The intermittent showers of yesterday afternoon and night had cleaned the June world, and the four ancient cedars from which the Walton place had received its name, and in the broken shade of which Eve was reading, exhaled a spicy odor under the influence of moisture and warmth. Eve, a slim white figure against the dark-green of the foliage, the sun flecking her waving hair, looked up, smiled and laid her book down.

"Good morning," she said. "Have you come to help me be lazy?"

"If you need help," he replied. "I brought these. They're not much, but I think they're the last in the village." He handed her a half-dozen sprays of purple lilac, small and in some places already touched with brown.

"Oh," she said, "they're lovely!" She buried her face in them and crooned over them delightedly. Witnessing her pleasure, Wade had no regrets for his hour's search over the length and breadth of Eden Village. She laid them in her lap and looked up curiously. "Where did you get them? Not from your hedge?"

"Oh, I just stopped at the florist's as I came along," he laughed. "He apologized for them and wanted me to take orchids, but I told him they were for the Lilac Girl."

"Is that me?" smiled Eve. "Thank you very much." She made a little bow. "I feel dreadfully impolite and inhospitable, Mr. Herrick, at not asking you to sit down, but—you see!" She waved a hand before her. "There's nothing but the ground, and that's damp, I'm afraid. So let us go indoors. Besides, I must put these in water."

"Please don't," he begged. "The ground isn't damp where the sun shines, and I wouldn't mind if it were. If I'm not keeping you from your book I'll sit down here. May I?"