A Romance of Billy-Goat Hill
from bringin' her a cake. Ain't she the purties' object you ever set yer
two optics on? Say 'Da-da,' Loreny,--leave off talkin' to her, Chick. Go
on, Loreny, say, 'Da-da' fer de purty lady!”
“He's that silly about her,” said Maria Flathers, trying to conceal her
own pride. “He won't leave me put anything but white dresses and blue
shoes on her, an' he works extra time to pay fer 'em. Myrtella says
there ain't no fools like old ones.”
“That's all right,” said Phineas; “she'll have more to say when I give
Loreny a diamond ring on her next birthday. Iseling'll be givin' me a
raise soon. He's as good as said so. He knows I'm good fer everything
from bossin' a big job to drivin' a wagon; then look at the trade I
command! Why, Mis' Squeerington, them Ladies' Aiders in the Immanuel
Church, follered me solid, an' Mrs. Ivy an' the Anti-Tobacs--Shoo, I
could start out fer myself tomorrow.”
“It's one o'clock!” warned Maria, anxious to speed her master on his way
in order that she might come in for a few conversational crumbs.
“One o'clock! Holy Moses! I must be hiking, if I want to hear the rest
of the trial.”
“The trial?” repeated Miss Lady instantly alert; “were you at the
courthouse this morning?”
“Yes, mam, I was. Everybody was. Court room packed to the doors. I sez
to Iseling this morning, I sez, 'I'll make the noon delivery all right,
but the rest of the day's my own. It ain't only because of my former
connection with the Sequin family,' sez I; 'it's because Mr. Don Morley
is a personal friend of mine. He's white an' he's square,' sez I, 'an'
the open-handedest young gent I ever done a favor for. If it's a case of
standin' by him in trouble, or losin' my job,' I sez, 'why ta-ta to the
job!'”
“But when you left,” urged Miss Lady, “what were they doing? How did
people feel about it?”
“Mighty shaky, mam. They ain't got a scrap of good evidence fer him, an'
enough ag'in him to sink a ship. Old man Wicker's son is puttin' up a
stiff fight, but he's up aginst Kinner, an' Kinner could convict St.
Peter hisself!”
“But can't they get the truth out of Sheeley? Can't they force him to
tell what happened?”
Phineas shrugged contemptuously: “Sheeley lost his memory when he lost
his eye. One was put out with lead, an' the other with silver. Says now
he wasn't in the fight at all.”
“It's a lie! He wuz!” Chick had risen from his pillow, and was leaning
forward excitedly.
“What do you mean, Chick? How do you know?”
“He _wuz_ in the fight!” he cried huskily. “It was 'tween him an' the
drunk. Sheeley ketched him fakin' a ace, an' he calls Sheeley a liar,
an' they fit all over the floor. The big one wasn't in it! He kep'
tryin' to stop 'em, buttin' in with his whip.”
“But how do you know all this, Chick?” cried Miss Lady almost fiercely;
“did the Sheeley boy tell you?”
“Skeeter? Shucks, he don't know nothin' 'ceptin' what his paw tole him.”
“But who told you?”
Chick closed his lips and shook his head: “He'll set the cop on me.”
“Who?”
“Skeeter's paw. Fer smashin' the slot machine. But I never took none of
his money, Mis' Squeerington; it was mine!” His lips began to tremble.
“The cop won't get you, Chick,” said Miss Lady, now on her knees beside
him, coaxing out each statement, and trying to keep down her excitement.
“Tell me, quick! How do you know about the shooting?”
“'Cause,” said Chick fearfully, “I--I seen it!”
“Well, if that ain't the limit!” said Phineas, while Maria gathered
Loreny up under the impression that Chick had lost his mind, and might
become dangerous.
“I got shut up in the saloon,” continued Chick, evidently torn between
the desire to be a hero and the fear of the consequences, “an' it was
night, an' I went to sleep.”
“Yes, yes!” pressed Miss Lady; “go on.”
“Then they come in an' got to rough-housin' an' I crawl up-stairs an'
lay on me stommick an' peek through the crack. An' Sheeley an' the Drunk
they got to scrappin' like I tole you. An' then while the big one was
tryin' to git Sheeley to quit, the Drunk he come over to the door right
where I was layin' at, an' he steady hisself aginst the wall an' bang
loose at Sheeley with a pistol.”
“Would you know the Big One again? Oh, Chick, try to remember what he
looked like!”
Chick shook his head, “Naw, I don't 'member what none of 'em looked
like. But you know which one he was; he gimme the silver knob offen his
whip.”
Miss Lady sprang to her feet: “We must get him to the courthouse, Mr.
Flathers. Quick! Help me with his clothes. I'll put on his shoes and
stockings.”
“But the train--” began Phineas.
“We can't wait for it!” cried Miss Lady. “You must drive us in the
wagon.” In a surprisingly few minutes Chick, bewildered but interested,
was fully clothed. “Give me the blankets off the bed and help me wrap
them around him,” said Miss Lady. “There! You carry him and I'll hold
the umbrella. Keep your mouth shut, Chick; don't you dare open it until
I tell you.”
The bewildered Chick, encased like a mummy, was rushed out to the wagon
and deposited between two ice-cream freezers, while Miss Lady knelt
beside him, trying to shield him from the wind. Just as Phincas was
driving away there was a call from the cottage.
For the first and only time in her life Maria Flathers had collided with
an idea. In vain she reversed her mental engines and tried to back off,
but the collision was head on, and she and the idea were firmly welded
together.
“Here's the whip han'le!” she called wildly, as the wind caught her
skirts and twisted them about her. “I been usin' it fer a thimble. An'
here's the whip itself--Take'em along! Take'em fer a witness!”
Once again the red-topped wagon got started, this time in earnest.
Through the mud and slush of Bean Alley, past the Dump Heap, across the
Common, the sturdy little mare dashed furiously.
“Don't breathe through your mouth, Chick!” implored Miss Lady. “And
don't be afraid. All you have to do is to tell what you saw. Don't keep
back anything, tell it just as you told it to me.”
“'Bout the slot machine?” queried an anxious voice from the blankets.
“About everything. Nobody is going to hurt you, or blame you. You aren't
catching cold, are you? Here put on my gloves, and you mustn't talk, not
another word.”
For an interminable time they splashed through the slush of the road,
before they came to the pavements of the city. Looking out of the wagon,
they could see the broad yellow waters of the river with its long, black
coal barges, and the dim outline of Billy-goat Hill, growing fainter in
the distance.
“Faster, Mr. Flathers, drive faster!” implored Miss Lady.
Phineas willingly laid the whip across the flank of the little mare, and
they dashed along, through the crowded thoroughfare into a broad street
of warehouses, where they followed the tramway straight across the
murky city. All the while the sleet beat on the red top of the wagon
and rattled under the horse's hoofs, and Miss Lady sat clasping Chick,
counting the passing moments.
At last the dark courthouse loomed up ahead of them, and Phineas
rounding a curb by a fraction, dashed for the open square.
“Morley case gone to the jury?” he hung half out of the wagon to shout
to a man coming down the wide steps.
“Not yet.”
Miss Lady was already frantically pulling the blankets from the
submerged Chick.
“Wait for Mr. Flathers to carry you,” she cried, springing to the ground
and looking up at him anxiously. “Remember you are going to tell them
everything. You are helping to save Mr. Morley, and you're doing it for
me.”
The eyes of the pale, spindle-legged child, standing in the end of
the wagon, flashed past the courthouse to the barred windows of the
adjoining jail. Suddenly his legs fell to shaking harder even than they
had shaken at the hospital, and his lips quivered threateningly.
“Chick!” cried Miss Lady despairingly. “You aren't going to fail me--you
are going to stand by me, aren't you?”
For a moment he shut his eyes very tight, then he transferred the small
quid of tobacco which had been his one solace in the past hour, from his
right cheek to his left.
“Sure!” he said resolutely.
CHAPTER XXX
“One! two! three! four!”
The big clock that had ticked away so many anxious moments for so many
anxious watchers, hurled its announcement over the crowded court room.
The last testimony had been given, Chick had told his story, produced
his proofs and identified Morley; the prosecuting attorney had torn
his story to tatters, and confused the youthful witness hopelessly; the
counsel for the defense had now risen to make his final speech to the
jury. Suspense hung thick as a fog over the court room.
Miss Lady, sitting between Mr. Gooch and Connie, pushed back her short
black veil impatiently. The hours she had fought through since midnight
seemed as nothing compared to this eternity of waiting. Since entering
the room she had not once looked at Donald. She dared not open even a
tiny sluice in the dike that held back the sea of her love. But in
every fiber of her being she felt him sitting there under suspicion, his
future in the hands of twelve men who had the power of making him suffer
the penalty of a crime which he had not committed. It was unjust, cruel,
infamous! Surge after surge of indignation swept over her. She would
fight for him against them all. She would get up and tell what she knew
of the story, and his reason for staying abroad.
“Isn't he magnificent?” whispered Connie, clasping her arm; “he has
been perfectly calm and quiet like that all along, and yet think what it
means to him! Look at his eyes!”
Miss Lady could not look, the grip at her throat was tightening and a
dull roar sounded in her ears.
“But if he loses, Connie? If he loses, what then?”
“He won't lose. He's going to win. You ought to have heard him this
morning. He was perfectly magnificent! Even Mr. Gooch said he made him
think of Lincoln. Listen to him now!”
Miss Lady followed Connie's adoring gaze until it rested on the stern,
earnest face of Noah Wicker, then the truth rushed upon her.
For a moment a blindness seized her, then she sprang to her feet and
lifted her face to Don. He had been waiting for that look ever since she
entered the court room, and when it came he was ready for it.
As Noah Wicker sat down amid a thunder of applause, and the jury,
after a brief charge from the bench made ready to retire, a slender,
black-gowned figure pushed her way impetuously through the crowd. She
circled the rear seats and rushed headlong to where the defendant sat.
“Are you a member of Mr. Morley's family?” asked the deputy sheriff.
“No,” said Miss Lady, brushing him aside, “but I'm going to be.”
CHAPTER XXXI
That evening Mr. Gooch went home with the Ivys whom, as he was now
adrift, he purposed adopting. For a long time they sat over the fire
discussing the exciting events of the day.
“I could scarcely believe my eyes,” murmured Mrs. Ivy, “when at the
verdict,' Not Guilty,' I saw her fling her arms about his neck!”
“Why surprised?” snapped the attorney. “Aren't women born fatuous?”
“But the whole thing is so indelicate, so heartless! A young widow who
ought to be mourning beside her husband's grave, and a wild young man
who has just escaped the penitentiary. Hasn't suffering taught them
anything?”
Gerald, sitting on a hassock before the fire with hands clasped about
his knees, looked up with shining eyes:
“You don't understand, Mater! All this has been the price they've paid
for each other. A great love like theirs comes high. One must pay for
it with suffering. Jove, it was worth it! That one look they gave each
other, there at the end--“,