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A BICYCLE OF CATHAY

A Novel

By Frank R. Stockton

Author of "The Great Stone of Sardis," "The Associate Hermits" etc.

Illustrated by Orson Lowell

1900






[Illustration: The doctor's daughter]






CONTENTS


CHAPTER

    I. THE DOCTOR'S DAUGHTER

   II. A BAD TWIST

  III. THE DUKE'S DRESSING-GOWN

   IV. A BIT OF ADVICE

    V. THE LADY AND THE CAVALIER

   VI. THE HOLLY SPRIG INN

  VII. MRS. CHESTER IS TROUBLED

 VIII. ORSO

   IX. A RUNAWAY

    X. THE LARRAMIE FAMILY

   XI. THE THREE MCKENNAS

  XII. BACK TO THE HOLLY SPRIG

 XIII. A MAN WITH A LETTER

  XIV. MISS EDITH IS DISAPPOINTED

   XV. MISS WILLOUGHBY

  XVI. AN ICICLE

 XVII. A FORECASTER OF HUMAN PROBABILITIES

XVIII. REPENTANCE AVAILS NOT

  XIX. BEAUTY, PURITY, AND PEACE

   XX. BACK FROM CATHAY



ILLUSTRATIONS


THE DOCTOR'S DAUGHTER

HALF-TITLE

"I PUT ON MY COAT"

"THE RAIN WAS COMING DOWN HARD"

"ON MY RIGHT A LIGHTED DOORWAY"

A FEW THOUGHTS

"THE BEAUTY OF HER TEETH"

"I KICKED OFF MY EMBROIDERED SLIPPERS"

"IT WOULD BE WELL FOR ME TO SWALLOW A CAPSULE"

"AS SOON AS I HAD SPOKEN THESE WORDS"

"I DISMOUNTED AND APPROACHED THE WALL"

"I THOUGHT FOR A FEW MOMENTS"

"I WENT OUT FOR A WALK"

MRS. CHESTER

"SHE BEGAN TO TALK ABOUT WALFORD"

"BUT WE WERE NOT ALONE"

"TO MY LEFT I SAW A LINE OF TREES"

"HE WAS RUNNING AWAY"

"HE SOON FELT THAT HE WAS UNDER CONTROL"

"A LITTLE ARMY HAD THROWN ITSELF UPON ME"

"'WOULD IT BE EASIER TO MANAGE A BOY OR A BEAR?'"

"I TAPPED MY LEFT PALM"

"THERE WAS A SUDDEN FLUSH UPON HER FACE"

"THE SCENE VIVIDLY RECURRED TO MY MIND"

DECIPHERING THE DAGO'S LETTER

"'I DON'T THINK YOU OUGHT TO TAKE THIS LETTER'"

"'DO YOU THINK YOU COULD HIT IT WITH AN APPLE?'"

"TALKING ABOUT BABY BEARS"

"I HELD THAT PICTURE A GOOD WHILE"

"'NO, SIR,' SHE SAID"

"CUT LIKE THAT"

EUROPA




[Illustration]






CHAPTER I

THE DOCTOR'S DAUGHTER


It was a beautiful summer morning when slowly I wheeled my way along
the principal street of the village of Walford. A little valise was
strapped in front of my bicycle; my coat, rolled into a small compass,
was securely tied under the seat, and I was starting out to spend my
vacation.

I was the teacher of the village school, which useful institution had
been closed for the season the day before, much to the gratification
of pedagogue and scholars. This position was not at all the summit of
my youthful ambition. In fact, I had been very much disappointed when
I found myself obliged to accept it, but when I left college my
financial condition made it desirable for me to do something to
support myself while engaged in some of the studies preparatory to a
professional career.

I have never considered myself a sentimental person, but I must admit
that I did not feel very happy that morning, and this state of mind
was occasioned entirely by the feeling that there was no one who
seemed to be in the least sorry that I was going away. My boys were so
delighted to give up their studies that they were entirely satisfied
to give up their teacher, and I am sure that my vacation would have
been a very long one if they had had the ordering of it. My landlady
might have been pleased to have me stay, but if I had agreed to pay my
board during my absence I do not doubt that my empty room would have
occasioned her no pangs of regret. I had friends in the village, but
as they knew it was a matter of course that I should go away during
the vacation, they seemed to be perfectly reconciled to the fact.

As I passed a small house which was the abode of my laundress, my
mental depression was increased by the action of her oldest son. This
little fellow, probably five years of age, and the condition of whose
countenance indicated that his mother's art was seldom exercised upon
it, was playing on the sidewalk with his sister, somewhat younger and
much dirtier.

As I passed the little chap he looked up and in a sharp, clear voice,
he cried: "Good-bye! Come back soon!" These words cut into my soul.
Was it possible that this little ragamuffin was the only one in that
village who was sorry to see me depart and who desired my return? And
the acuteness of this cut was not decreased by the remembrance that on
several occasions when he had accompanied his mother to my lodging I
had given him small coins.

I was beginning to move more rapidly along the little path, well worn
by many rubber tires, which edged the broad roadway, when I perceived
the doctor's daughter standing at the gate of her father's front yard.
As I knew her very well, and she happened to be standing there and
looking in my direction, I felt that it would be the proper thing for
me to stop and speak to her, and so I dismounted and proceeded to roll
my bicycle up to the gate.

As the doctor's daughter stood looking over the gate, her hands
clasped the tops of the two central pickets.

"Good-morning," said she. "I suppose, from your carrying baggage,
that you are starting off for your vacation. How far do you expect to
go on your wheel, and do you travel alone?"

"My only plan," I answered, "is to ride over the hills and far away!
How far I really do not know; and I shall be alone except for this
good companion." And as I said this I patted the handle-bar of my
bicycle.

"Your wheel does seem to be a sort of a companion," she said; "not so
good as a horse, but better than nothing. I should think, travelling
all by yourself in this way, you would have quite a friendly feeling
for it. Did you ever think of giving it a name?"

"Oh yes," said I. "I have named it. I call it a 'Bicycle of Cathay.'"

"Is there any sense in such a name?" she asked. "It is like part of a
quotation from Tennyson, isn't it? I forget the first of it."

"You are right," I said. "'Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle
of Cathay.' I cannot tell you exactly why, but that seems to suggest a
good name for a bicycle."

"But your machine has two wheels," said she. "Therefore you ought to
say, 'Better one hundred years of Europe than two cycles of Cathay.'"

"I bow to custom," said I. "Every one speaks of a bicycle as a wheel,
and I shall not introduce the plural into the name of my good steed."

"And you don't know where your Cathay is to be?" she asked.

I smiled and shook my head. "No," I answered, "but I hope my cycle
will carry me safely through it."

The doctor's daughter looked past me across the road. "I wish I were a
man," said she, "and could go off as I pleased, as you do! It must be
delightfully independent."

I was about to remark that too much independence is not altogether
delightful, but she suddenly spoke:

"You carry very little with you for a long journey," and as she said
this she grasped the pickets of the gate more tightly. I could see the
contraction of the muscles of her white hands. It seemed as if she
were restraining something.

"Oh, this isn't all my baggage," I replied. "I sent on a large bag to
Waterton. I suppose I shall be there in a couple of days, and then I
shall forward the bag to some other place."

"I do not suppose you have packed up any medicine among your other
things?" she asked. "You don't look as if you very often needed
medicine."

I laughed as I replied that in the course of my life I had taken but
little.

"But if your cycle starts off rolling early in the morning," she said,
"or keeps on late in the evening, you ought to be able to defend
yourself against malaria. I do not know what sort of a country Cathay
may be, but I should not be a bit surprised if you found it full of
mists and morning vapors. Malaria has a fancy for strong people, you
know. Just wait here a minute, please," and with that she turned and
ran into the house.

I had liked the doctor's daughter ever since I had begun to know her,
although at first I had found it a little hard to become acquainted
with her.

She was the treasurer of the literary society of the village, and I
was its secretary. We had to work together sometimes, and I found her
a very straightforward girl in her accounts and in every other way.

In about a minute she returned, carrying a little pasteboard box.

"Here are some one-grain quinine capsules," she said. "They have no
taste, and I am quite sure that if you get into a low country it would
be a good thing for you to take at least one of them every morning.
People may have given you all sorts of things for your journey, but I
do not believe any one has given you this." And she handed me the box
over the top of the gate.

I did not say that her practical little present was the only thing
that anybody had given me, but I thanked her very heartily, and
assured her that I would take one every time I thought I needed it.
Then, as it seemed proper to do so, I straightened up my bicycle as if
I would mount it. Again her fingers clutched the top of the two
palings.

"When father comes home," she said, "he will be sorry to find that he
had not a chance to bid you good-bye. And, by-the-way," she added,
quickly, "you know there will be one more meeting of the society. Did
you write out any minutes for the last evening, and would you like me
to read them for you?"

"Upon my word!" I exclaimed. "I have forgotten all about it. I made
some rough notes, but I have written nothing."

"Well, it doesn't matter in the least," said she, quickly. "I remember
everything that happened, and I will write the minutes and read them
for you; that is, if you want me to."

I assured her that nothing would please me better, and we talked a
little about the minutes, after which I thought I ought not to keep
her standing at the gate any longer. So I took leave of her, and we
shook hands over the gate. This was the first time I had ever shaken
hands with the doctor's daughter, for she was a reserved girl, and
hitherto I had merely bowed to her.

As I sped away down the street and out into the open country my heart
was a good deal lighter than it had been when I began my journey. It
was certainly pleasant to leave that village, which had been my home
for the greater part of a year, without the feeling that there was no
one in it who cared for me, even to the extent of a little box of
quinine capsules.




CHAPTER II

A BAD TWIST


It was about the middle of the afternoon that I found myself bowling
along a smooth highway, bordered by trees and stretching itself almost
upon a level far away into the distance. Had I been a scorcher, here
would have been a chance to do a little record-breaking, for I was a
powerful and practised wheelman. But I had no desire to be extravagant
with my energies, and so contented myself with rolling steadily on at
a speed moderate enough to allow me to observe the country I was
passing through.

There were not many people on the road, but at some distance ahead of
me I saw a woman on a wheel. She was not going rapidly, and I was
gaining on her. Suddenly, with no reason whatever that I could see,
her machine gave a twist, and, although she put out her foot to save
herself, she fell to the ground. Instantly I pushed forward to assist
her, but before I could reach her she was on her feet. She made a step
towards her bicycle, which lay in the middle of the road, and then she
stopped and stood still. I saw that she was hurt, but I could not help
a sort of inward smile. "It is the old way of the world," I thought.
"Would the Fates have made that young woman fall from her bicycle if
there had been two men coming along on their wheels?"

As I jumped from my machine and approached her she turned her head and
looked at me. She was a pale girl, and her face was troubled. When I
asked her if she had hurt herself, she spoke to me without the
slightest embarrassment or hesitation.

"I twisted my foot in some way," she said, "and I do not know what I
am going to do. It hurts me to make a step, and I am sure I cannot
work my wheel."

"Have you far to go?" I asked.

"I live about two miles from here," she answered. "I do not think I
have sprained my ankle, but it hurts. Perhaps, however, if I rest for
a little while I may be able to walk."

"I would not try to do that," said I. "Whatever has happened to your
foot or ankle, you would certainly make it very much worse by walking
such a distance. Perhaps I can ride on and get you a conveyance?"

"You would have to go a long way to get one," she answered. "We do not
keep a horse and I really--"

"Don't trouble yourself in the least," I said. "I can take you to your
home without any difficulty whatever. If you will mount your machine I
can push you along very easily."

"But then you would have to walk yourself," she said, quickly, "and
push your wheel too."

Of course it would not have been necessary for me to walk, for I could
have ridden my bicycle and have pushed her along on her own, but under
the circumstances I did not think it wise to risk this. So I accepted
her suggestion of walking as if nothing else could be done.

"Oh, I do not mind walking a bit," said I. "I am used to it, and as I
have been riding for a long time, it would be a relief to me."

She stood perfectly still, apparently afraid to move lest she should
hurt her foot, but she raised her head and fixed a pair of very large
blue eyes upon me. "It is too kind in you to offer to do this! But I
do not see what else is to be done. But who is going to hold up my
wheel while you help me to get on it?"

"Oh, I will attend to all that," said I, and picking up her bicycle, I
brought it to her. She made a little step towards it, and then
stopped.

"You mustn't do that," said I. "I will put you on." And holding her
bicycle upright with my left hand, I put my right arm around her and
lifted her to the seat. She was such a childlike, sensible young
person that I did not think it necessary to ask any permission for
this action, nor even to allude to its necessity.

"Now you might guide yourself with the handle-bar," I said. "Please
steer over to that tree where I have left my machine." I easily pushed
her over to the tree, and when I had laid hold of my bicycle with my
left hand, we slowly proceeded along the smooth road.

"I think you would better take your feet from the pedals," said I,
"and put them on the coasters--the motion must hurt you. It is better
to have your injured foot raised, anyway, as that will keep the blood
from running down into it and giving you more pain."

She instantly adopted my suggestion, and presently said, "That is a
great deal more pleasant, and I am sure it is better for my foot to
keep it still. I do hope I haven't sprained my ankle! It is possible
to give a foot a bad twist without spraining it, isn't it?"

I assented, and as I did so I thought it would not be difficult to
give a bad twist to any part of this slenderly framed young creature.

"How did you happen to fall?" I asked--not that I needed to inquire,
for my own knowledge of wheelcraft assured me that she had tumbled
simply because she did not know how to ride.

"I haven't the slightest idea," she answered. "The first thing I knew
I was going over, and I wish I had not tried to save myself. It would
have been better to go down bodily."

As we went on she told me that she had not had much practice, as it
had been but a few weeks since she had become the possessor of a
wheel, and that this was the first trip she had ever taken by herself.
She had always gone in company with some one, but to-day she had
thought she was able to take care of herself, like other girls.
Finding her so entirely free from conventional embarrassment, I made
bold to give her a little advice on the subject of wheeling in
general, and she seemed entirely willing to be instructed. In fact, as
I went on with my little discourse I began to think that I would much
rather teach girls than boys. At first sight the young person under
my charge might have been taken for a school-girl, but her
conversation would have soon removed that illusion.

We had not proceeded more than a mile when suddenly I felt a very
gentle tap on the end of my nose, and at the same moment the young
lady turned her head towards me and exclaimed: "It's going to rain! I
felt a drop!"

"I will walk faster," I said, "and no doubt I will get you to your
house before the shower is upon us. At any rate, I hope you won't be
much wet."

"Oh, it doesn't matter about me in the least," she said. "I shall be
at home and can put on dry clothes, but you will be soaked through and
have to go on. You haven't any coat on!"

If I had known there was any probability of rain I should have put on
my coat before I started out on this somewhat unusual method of
travelling, but there was no help for it now, and all I could do was
to hurry on. From walking fast I began to trot. The drops were coming
down quite frequently.

"Won't that tire you dreadfully?" she said.

"Not at all," I replied. "I could run like this for a long distance."

[Illustration: "I PUT ON MY COAT"]

She looked up at me with a little smile. I think she must have
forgotten the pain in her foot.

"It must be nice to be strong like that," she said.

Now the rain came down faster, and my companion declared that I ought
to stop and put on my coat. I agreed to this, and when I came to a
suitable tree by the road-side, I carefully leaned her against it and
detached my coat from my bicycle. But just as I was about to put it on
I glanced at the young girl. She had on a thin shirt-waist, and I
could see that the shoulders of it were already wet. I advanced
towards her, holding out my coat. "I must lay this over you," I said.
"I am afraid now that I shall not get you to your home before it
begins to rain hard."

She turned to me so suddenly that I made ready to catch her if her
unguarded movement should overturn her machine. "You mustn't do that
at all!" she said. "It doesn't matter whether I am wet or not. I do
not have to travel in wet clothes, and you do. Please put on your coat
and let us hurry!"

I obeyed her, and away we went again, the rain now coming down hard
and fast. For some minutes she did not say anything; but I did not
wonder at this, for circumstances were not favorable to conversation.
But presently, in spite of the rain and our haste, she spoke:

"It must seem dreadfully ungrateful and hard-hearted in me to say to
you, after all you have done for me, that you must go on in the rain.
Anybody would think that I ought to ask you to come into our house and
wait until the storm is over. But, really, I do not see how I can do
it."

I urged her not for a moment to think of me. I was hardy, and did not
mind rain, and when I was mounted upon my wheel the exercise would
keep me warm enough until I reached a place of shelter.

"I do not like it," she said. "It is cruel and inhuman, and nothing
you can say will make it any better. But the fact is that I find
myself in a very--Well, I do not know what to say about it. You are
the school-teacher at Walford, are you not?"

This question surprised me, and I assented quickly, wondering what
would come next.

"I thought so," she said. "I have seen you on the road on your wheel,
and some one told me who you were. And now, since you have been so
kind to me, I am going to tell you exactly why I cannot ask you to
stop at our house. Everything is all wrong there to-day, and if I
don't explain what has happened, you might think that things are
worse than they really are, and I wouldn't want anybody to think
that."

[Illustration: "THE RAIN WAS COMING DOWN HARD"]

I listened with great attention, for I saw that she was anxious to
free herself of the imputation of being inhospitable, and although the
heavy rain and my rapid pace made it sometimes difficult to catch her
words, I lost very little of her story.

"You see," said she, "my father is very fond of gardening, and he
takes great pride in his vegetables, especially the early ones. He has
peas this year ahead of everybody else in the neighborhood, and it was
only day before yesterday that he took me out to look at them. He has
been watching them ever since they first came up out of the ground,
and when he showed me the nice big pods and told me they would be
ready to pick in a day or two, he looked so proud and happy that you
might have thought his peas were little living people. I truly believe
that even at prayer-time he could not help thinking how good those
peas would taste.

"But this morning when he came in from the garden and told mother that
he was going to pick our first peas, so as to have them perfectly
fresh for dinner, she said that he would better not pick them to-day,
because the vegetable man had been along just after breakfast, and he
had had such nice green peas that she had bought some, and therefore
he had better keep his peas for some other day.

"Now, I don't want you to think that mother isn't just as good as
gold, for she is. But she doesn't take such interest in garden things
as father does, and to her all peas are peas, provided they are good
ones. But when father heard what she had done I know that he felt
exactly as if he had been stabbed in one of his tenderest places. He
did not say one word, and he walked right out of the house, and since
that they haven't spoken to each other. It was dreadful to sit at
dinner, neither of them saying a word to the other, and only speaking
to me. It was all so different from the way things generally are that
I can scarcely bear it.

"And I went out this afternoon for no other reason than to give them a
chance to make it up between them. I thought perhaps they would do it
better if they were alone with each other. But of course I do not know
what has happened, and things may be worse than they were. I could not
take a stranger into the house at such a time--they would not like to
be found not speaking to each other--and, besides, I do not know--"

Here I interrupted her, and begged her not to give another thought to
the subject. I wanted very much to go on, and in every way it was the
best thing I could do.

As I finished speaking she pointed out a pretty house standing back
from the road, and told me that was where she lived. In a very few
minutes after that I had run her up to the steps of her piazza and was
assisting her to dismount from her wheel.

"It is awful!" she said. "This rain is coming down like a cataract!"

"You must hurry in-doors," I answered. "Let me help you up the steps."
And with this I took hold of her under the arms, and in a second I had
set her down in front of the closed front door. I then ran down and
brought up her wheel. "Do you think you can manage to walk in?" said
I.

"Oh yes!" she said. "If I can't do anything else, I can hop. My mother
will soon have me all right. She knows all about such things."

She looked at me with an anxious expression, and then said, "How do
you think it would do for you to wait on the piazza until the rain is
over?"

"Good-bye," I said, with a laugh, and bounding down to the front
gate, where I had left my bicycle, I mounted and rode away.

The rain came down harder and harder. The road was full of little
running streams, and liquid mud flew from under my whirling wheels. It
was not late in the afternoon, but it was actually getting dark, and I
seemed to be the only living creature out in this tremendous storm. I
looked from side to side for some place into which I could run for
shelter, but here the road ran between broad open fields. My coat had
ceased to protect me, and I could feel the water upon my skin.

But in spite of my discomforts and violent exertions I found myself
under the influence of some very pleasurable emotions, occasioned by
the incident of the slender girl. Her childlike frankness was charming
to me. There was not another girl in a thousand who would have told me
that story of the peas. I felt glad that she had known who I was when
she was talking to me, and that her simple confidences had been given
to me personally, and not to an entire stranger who had happened
along. I wondered if she resembled her father or her mother, and I had
no doubt that to possess such a daughter they must both be excellent
people.




CHAPTER III

THE DUKE'S DRESSING-GOWN


Thinking thus, I almost forgot the storm, but coming to a slight
descent where the road was very smooth I became conscious that my
wheel was inclined to slip, and if I were not careful I might come to
grief. But no sooner had I reached the bottom of the declivity than I
beheld on my right a lighted doorway. Without the slightest hesitation
I turned through the wide gateway, the posts of which I could scarcely
see, and stopped in front of a small house by the side of a driveway.
Waiting for no permission, I carried my bicycle into a little covered
porch. I then approached the door, for I was now seeking not only
shelter but an opportunity to dry myself. I do not believe a sponge
could have been more thoroughly soaked than I was.

At the very entrance I was met by a little man in short jacket and
top-boots.

"I heard your step," said he. "Been caught in the rain, eh? Well, this
is a storm! And now what're we going to do? You must come in. But
you're in a pretty mess, I must say! Hi, Maria!"

At these words a large, fresh-looking woman came into the little hall.

"Maria," said the man, "here's a gentleman that's pretty nigh drowned,
and he's dripping puddles big enough to swim in."

The woman smiled. "Really, sir," said she, "you've had a hard time.
Wheeling, I suppose. It's an awful time to be out. It's so dark that I
lighted a lamp to make things look a little cheery. But you must come
in until the rain is over, and try and dry yourself."

"But how about the hall, Maria?" said the man. "There'll be a dreadful
slop!"

"Oh, I'll make that all right," she said. She disappeared, and quickly
returned with a couple of rugs, which she laid, wrong side up, on the
polished floor of the hallway. "Now you can step on those, sir, and
come into the kitchen. There's a fire there."

I thanked her, and presently found myself before a large stove, on
which it was evident, from the odors, that supper was preparing. In a
certain way the heat was grateful, but in less than a minute I was
bound to admit to myself that I felt as if I were enveloped in a vast
warm poultice. The little man and his wife--if wife she were, for she
looked big enough to be his mother, and young enough to be his
daughter--stood talking in the hall, and I could hear every word they
said.

[Illustration: "ON MY RIGHT A LIGHTED DOORWAY"]

"It's of no use for him to try to dry himself," she said, "for he's
wet to the bone. He must change his clothes, and hang those he's got
on before the fire."

"Change his clothes!" exclaimed the man. "How ever can he do that?
I've nothing that'll fit him, and of course he has brought nothing
along with him."

"Never you mind," said she. "Something's got to be got. Take him into
the little chamber. And don't consider the floor; that can be wiped
up."

She came into the kitchen and spoke to me. "You must come and change
your clothes," she said. "You'll catch your death of cold, else.
You're the school-master from Walford, I think, sir? Indeed, I'm sure
of it, for I've seen you on your wheel."

Smiling at the idea that through the instrumentality of my bicycle I
had been making myself known to the people of the surrounding
country, I followed the man into a small bed-chamber on the
ground-floor.

"Now," said he, "the quicker you get off your wet clothes and give
yourself a good rub-down the better it will be for you. And I'll go
and see what I can do in the way of something for you to put on."

I asked him to bring me the bag from my bicycle, and after doing so he
left me.

Very soon I heard talking outside of my door, and as both my
entertainers had clear, high voices, I could hear distinctly what they
said.

"Go get him the corduroys," said she. "He's a well-made man, but he's
no bigger than your father was."

"The corduroys?" he said, somewhat doubtfully, I thought.

"Yes," she replied. "Go get them! I should be glad to have them put to
some use."

"But what for a coat?" said he. "There's nothing in the house that he
could get on."

"That's true," said she. "But he must have something. You can get him
the Duke's dressing-gown."

"What!" exclaimed the man. "You don't mean--"

"Yes, I do mean," said she. "It's big enough for anybody, and it'll
keep him from ketching cold. Go fetch it!"

In a short time there was a knock at my door, and the little man
handed me in a pair of yellow corduroy trousers and a large and gaudy
dressing-gown. "There!" said he. "They'll keep you warm until your own
clothes dry."

With a change of linen from my bag, which had fortunately kept its
contents dry, the yellow trousers, and a wonderful dressing-gown, made
of some blue stuff embroidered with gold and lined throughout with
crimson satin, I made a truly gorgeous appearance. But it struck me
that it would be rather startling to a beholder were I to appear
barefooted in such raiment, for my shoes and stockings were as wet as
the rest of my clothes. I had not finished dressing before the little
man knocked again, this time with some gray socks and a pair of
embroidered slippers.

"These'll fit you, I think," said he, "for I'll lay you ten shillings
that I'm as big in the feet as you are."

I would have been glad to gaze at myself in a full-length mirror, but
there was no opportunity for the indulgence of such vanity; and before
leaving the room I sat down for a moment to give a few thoughts to
the situation. My mind first reverted to the soaked condition of my
garments and the difficulty of getting them dry enough for me to put
them on and continue my journey. Then I found that I had dropped the
subject and was thinking of the slender girl, wondering if she had
really hurt herself very much, congratulating myself that I had been
fortunate enough to be on hand to help her in her need, and
considering what a plight she would have been in if she had been
caught in that terrible rain and utterly unable to get herself to
shelter.

Suddenly I stopped short in my thinking, and going to my bag I took
from it the little box of quinine capsules which had been given to me
by the doctor's daughter, and promptly proceeded to swallow one of
them.

"It may be of service to me," I said to myself.

When I made my appearance in the hallway I met the little man, who
immediately burst into a roar of laughter.

"Lord, sir!" said he. "You must excuse me, but you look like a king on
a lark! Walk into the parlor, sir, and sit down and make yourself
comfortable. She's hurrying up supper to give you something warm after
your wettin'. Would you like a little nip of whiskey, sir, to keep
the damp out?"

[Illustration: A Few Thoughts]

I declined the whiskey, and seated myself in the neatly-furnished
parlor. It was wonderful, I thought, to fall into such a hospitable
household, and then I began to ask myself whether or not it would be
the proper thing to offer to pay for my entertainment. I thought I had
quite properly divined the position in life of the little man. This
small house, so handsomely built and neatly kept, must be a lodge upon
some fine country place, and the man was probably the head gardener,
or something of the kind.

It was not long before my hostess came into the room, but she did not
laugh at my appearance. She was a handsome woman, erect and broad,
with a free and powerful step. She smiled as she spoke to me.

"You may think that that's an over-handsome gown for such as us to be
owning. It was given to my man by the Duke of Radford. That was before
we were married, and he was an undergardener then. The Duchess
wouldn't let the Duke wear it, because it was so gay, and there wasn't
none of the servants that would care to take it, for fear they'd be
laughed at, until they offered it to John. And John, you must know,
he'd take anything! But I came in to tell you supper's ready; and, if
you like, I'll bring you something in here, and you can eat it on that
table, or--"

Here I interrupted my good hostess, and declared that, while I should
be glad to have some supper, I would not eat any unless I might sit
down with her husband and herself; and, as this proposition seemed to
please her, the three of us were soon seated around a very tastefully
furnished table in a dining-room looking out upon a pretty lawn. The
rain had now almost ceased, and from the window I could see beautiful
stretches of grass, interspersed with ornamental trees and
flower-beds.

The meal was plain but abundant, with an appetizing smell pervading it
which is seldom noticed in connection with the tables of the rich.
When we had finished supper I found that the skies had nearly cleared
and that it was growing quite light again. I asked permission to step
out upon a little piazza which opened from the dining-room and smoke a
pipe, and while I was sitting there enjoying the beauty of the
sunlight on the sparkling grass and trees I again heard the little man
and his wife talking to each other.

"It can't be done," said he, speaking very positively. "I've orders
about that, and there's no getting round them."

"It's got to be done!" said she, "and there's an end of it! The
clothes won't be dry until morning, and it won't do to put them too
near the stove, or they'll shrink so he can't get them on. And he
can't go away to hunt up lodgings wearing the Duke's dressing-gown and
them yellow breeches!"

"Orders is orders," said the man, "and unless I get special leave, it
can't be done."

"Well, then, go and get special leave," said she, "and don't stand
there talking about it!"

There was no doubt that my lodging that night was the subject of this
conversation, but I had no desire to interfere with the good
intentions of my hostess. I must stay somewhere until my clothes were
dry, and I should be glad to stop in my present comfortable quarters.

So I sat still and smoked, and very soon I heard the big shoes of the
little man grating upon the gravel as he walked rapidly away from the
house. Now came the good woman out upon the piazza to ask me if I had
found my tobacco dry. "Because if it's damp," said she, "my man has
some very good 'baccy in his jar."

I assured her that my pouch had kept dry; and then, as she seemed
inclined to talk, I begged her to sit down if she did not mind the
pipe. Down she sat, and steadily she talked. She congratulated herself
on her happy thought to light the hall lamp, or I might never have
noticed the house in the darkness, and she would have been sorry
enough if I had had to keep on the road for another half-hour in that
dreadful rain.

On she talked in the most cheerful and communicative way, until
suddenly she rose with a start. "He's coming himself, sir!" she said,
"with Miss Putney."

"Who is 'he'?" I asked.

"It's the master, sir Mr. Putney, and his daughter. Just stay here
where you are, sir, and make yourself comfortable. I'll go and speak
to them."

Left to myself, I knocked out my pipe and sat wondering what would
happen next. A thing happened which surprised me very much. Upon a
path which ran in front of the little piazza there appeared two
persons--one, an elderly gentleman, with gray side-whiskers and a pale
face, attired in clothes with such an appearance of newness that it
might well have been supposed this was the first time he had worn
them; the other, a young lady, rather small in stature, but
extremely pleasant to look upon. She had dark hair and large blue
eyes; her complexion was rich, and her dress of light silk was
wonderfully well shaped.

[Illustration: "The beauty of her teeth"]

All this I saw at a glance, and immediately afterwards I also
perceived that she had most beautiful teeth; for when she beheld me as
I rose from my chair and stood in my elevated position before her she
could not restrain a laugh; but for this apparent impoliteness I did
not blame her at all.

But not so much as a smile came upon the countenance of the elderly
gentleman. He, too, was small, but he had a deep voice. "Good-evening,
sir," said he. "I am told that you are the school-master at Walford,
and that you were overtaken by the storm."

I assured him that these were the facts, and stood waiting to hear
what he would say next.

"It was very proper indeed, sir, that my gardener and his wife should
take you under the protection of this roof, but as I hear that it is
proposed that you should spend the night here, I have come down to
speak about it. I will tell you at once, sir, that I have given my man
the most positive orders that he is not to allow any one to spend a
night in this house. It is so conveniently near to the road that I
should not know what sort of persons were being entertained here if I
allowed him any such privilege."

As he spoke the young lady stood silently gazing at me. There was a
remnant of a smile upon her face, but I could also see that she was a
little annoyed. I was about to make some sort of an independent answer
to the gentleman's remarks, but he anticipated me.

"I do not want you to think, sir, on account of what I have said, that
I intend to drive you off my property at this hour of the evening, and
in your inappropriate clothing. I have heard of you, sir, and you
occupy a position of trust and, to a certain degree, of honor, in your
village. Therefore, while I cannot depart from my rule--for I wish to
make no precedent of that kind--I will ask you to spend the night at
my house. You need not be annoyed by the peculiarity of your attire.
If you desire to avoid observation you can remain here until it grows
darker, and then you can walk up to the mansion. I shall have a
bed-room prepared for you, and whenever you choose you can occupy it.
I have been informed that you have had something to eat, and it is as
well, for perhaps your dress would prevent you from accepting an
invitation to our evening meal."

I still held my brier-wood pipe in my hand, and I felt inclined to
hurl it at the dapper head of the consequential little gentleman, but
with such a girl standing by it would have been impossible to treat
him with any disrespect, and as I looked at him I felt sure that his
apparent superciliousness was probably the result of too much money
and too little breeding.

The young lady said nothing, but she turned and looked steadily at her
father. Her countenance was probably in the habit of very promptly
expressing the state of her mind, and it now seemed to say to her
father, "I hope that what you have said will not make him decline what
you offer!"

My irritation quickly disappeared. I had now entered into my Cathay,
and I must take things as I found them there. As I could not stay
where I was, and could not continue my journey, it would be a sensible
thing to overlook the man's manner and accept his offer, and I
accordingly did so. I think he was pleased more than he cared to
express.

"Very good, sir!" said he. "As soon as it grows a little darker I
shall be glad to have you walk up to my house. As I said before, I am
sure you would not care to do so now, as you might provoke remarks
even from the servants. Good-evening, sir, until I see you again."

During all this time the young lady had not spoken, but as the two
disappeared around the corner of the house I heard her voice. She
spoke very clearly and distinctly, and she said, "It would have been a
great deal more gracious if you had asked him to come at once, without
all that----" The rest of her remarks were lost to me.

The little man and his wife presently came out on the porch. Her
countenance expressed a sort of resignation to thwarted hospitality.

"It's the way of the world, sir!" she said. "The ups are always up and
the downs are always down! I expect they will be glad to have company
at the house, for it must be dreadfully lonely up there--which might
be said of this house as well."

It soon became dark enough for me to walk through the grounds without
hurting the sensibilities of their proprietor, and as I arose to go
the good wife of the gardener brought me my cap.

"I dried that out for you, sir, for I knew you would want it, and
to-morrow morning my man will take your clothes up to the house."

I thanked her for her thoughtful kindness, and was about to depart,
but the little man was not quite ready for me to go.

"If you don't mind, sir," said he, "and would step back there in the
light just for one minute, I would like to take another look at you. I
don't suppose I'll ever see anybody again wearing the Duke's
dressing-gown. By George, sir, you do look real royal!"

His wife looked at me admiringly. "Yes, sir," said she, "and I wish it
was the fashion for gentlemen to dress something like that every day.
But I will say, sir, that if you don't want people to be staring at
you, and will just wrap that gown round you so that the lining won't
be seen, you won't look so much out of the way."

As I walked along the smooth, hard driveway I adopted the suggestion
of the gardener's wife; but as I approached the house, and saw that
even the broad piazza was lighted by electric lamps, I was seized with
the fancy to appear in all my glory, and I allowed my capacious robe
to float out on each side of me in crimson brightness.

The gentleman stood at the top of the steps. "I have been waiting for
you, sir," said he. He looked as if he were about to offer me his
hand, but probably considered this an unnecessary ceremony under the
circumstances. "Would you like to retire to your room, sir, or would
you prefer--prefer sitting out here to enjoy the cool of the evening?
Here are chairs and seats, sir, of all variety of comfort. My family
and I frequently sit out here in the evenings, but to-night the air is
a little damp."

I assured the gentleman that the air suited me very well, and that I
would prefer not to retire so early; and so, not caring any longer to
stand in front of the lighted doorway, I walked to one end of the
piazza and took a seat.

"We haven't yet--that is to say, we are still at the table," he
remarked, as he followed me; "but if there is anything that you would
like to have, I should be--"

I interrupted him by declaring that I had supped heartily and did not
want for anything in the world, and then, with some sort of an
inarticulate excuse, he left me. I knew very well that this nervously
correct personage had jumped up from his dinner in order that he might
meet me at the door and thus prevent my unconventional attire from
shocking any of the servants.

It was very quiet and pleasant on the piazza, but, although I could
hear that a great deal of talking was going on inside, no words came
to me. In a short time, however, a man-servant in livery came out
upon the piazza and approached me with a tray on which were a cup of
coffee and some cigars. I could not refrain from smiling as I saw the
man.

"The old fellow has been forced to conquer his prejudices," I said to
myself, "and to submit to the mortification of allowing me to be seen
by his butler!"

I think, however, that even had the master been regarding us he would
have seen no reason for mortification in the manner of his servant.
The man was extremely polite and attentive, suggesting various
refreshments, such as wine and biscuits, and I never was treated by a
lackey with more respect.

Leaning back in a comfortable chair, I sipped my coffee and puffed
away at a perfectly delightful Havana cigar. "Cathay is not a bad
place," said I, to myself. "Its hospitality is a little queer, but as
to gorgeousness, luxury, and----" I was about to add another quality
when my mind was diverted by a light step on the piazza, and, turning
my head, I beheld the young lady I had seen before. Instantly I rose
and laid aside my cigar.

"Please do not disturb yourself," she said. "I simply came out to give
a little message from my father. Sit down again, and I will take this
seat for a moment. My father's health is delicate," she said, "and we
do not like him to be out in the night air, especially after a rain.
So I came in his stead to tell you that if you would like to come into
the house you must do so without the slightest hesitation, because my
mother and I do not mind that dressing-gown any more than if it were
an ordinary coat. We are very glad to have the opportunity of
entertaining you, for we know some people in Walford--not very many,
but some--and we have heard you and your school spoken of very
highly. So we want you to make yourself perfectly at home, and come in
or sit out here, just as your own feelings in regard to extraordinary
fine clothes shall prompt you."

At this she reassured me as to the beauty of her teeth. "As long as
you will sit out here," said I, to myself, "there will be no in-doors
for me."

She seemed to read my thoughts, and said: "If you will go on with your
smoking, I will wait and ask you some things about Walford. I dearly
love the smell of a good cigar, and father never smokes. He always
keeps them, however, in case of gentlemen visitors."

She then went on to talk about some Walford people, and asked me if I
knew Mary Talbot. I replied in the affirmative, for Miss Talbot was a
member of our literary society, and the young lady informed me that
Mary Talbot had a brother in my school--a fact of which I was aware to
my sorrow--and it was on account of this brother that she had first
happened to see me.

"See me!" I exclaimed, with surprise.

"Yes," said she. "I drove over to the village one day this spring, and
Mary and I were walking past your school-house, and the door was wide
open, for it was so warm, and we stopped so that Mary might point out
her brother to me; and so, as we were looking in, of course I saw
you."

"And you recognized me," I said, "when you saw me at the gardener's
house?"

"We call that the lodge," said she. "Not that I care in the least what
name you give it. And while we are on a personal subject, I want to
ask you to excuse me for laughing at you when I first saw you in that
astounding garb. It was very improper, I know, but the apparition was
so sudden I could not help it."

I had never met a young lady so thoroughly self-contained as this one.
None of the formalities of society had been observed in regard to our
acquaintance with each other, but she talked with me with such an easy
grace and with such a gentle assurance that there was no need of
introduction or presentation; I felt acquainted with her on the spot.
I had no doubt that her exceptionally gracious demeanor was due to the
fact that nobody else in the house seemed inclined to be gracious, and
she felt hospitality demanded that something of the kind should be
offered me by some one of the family.

We talked together for some minutes longer, and then, apparently
hearing something in the house which I did not notice, she rose rather
abruptly.

"I must go in," she said; "but don't you stay out here a second longer
than you want to."

She had left me but a very short time when her father came out on the
piazza, his coat buttoned up nearly to his chin. "I have been
detained, sir," he said, "by a man who came to see me on business. I
cannot remain with you out here, for the air affects me; but if you
will come in, sir, I shall be glad to have you do so, without regard
to your appearance. My wife is not strong and she has retired, and if
it pleases you I shall be very glad to have you tell me something of
your duties and success in Walford. Or, if you are fatigued, your
room is ready for you, and my man will show you to it."

I snatched at the relief held out to me. To sit in the company of that
condescending prig, to bore him and to be bored by him, was a doleful
grievance I did not wish to inflict upon myself, and I eagerly
answered that the day had been a long and hard one, and that I would
be glad to go to bed.

This was an assertion which was doubly false, for I was not in the
least tired or sleepy; and just as I had made the statement and was
entering the hall I saw that the young lady was standing at the parlor
door; but it was too late now for me to change my mind.

"Brownster," said Mr. Putney to his butler, "will you give this
gentleman a candle and show him to his room?"

Brownster quietly bowed, and stepping to a table in the corner, on
which stood some brass bed-room candlesticks, he lighted one of the
candles and stood waiting.

The gentleman moved towards his daughter, and then he stopped and
turned to me. "We have breakfast," he said, "at half-past eight But if
that is too late for you," he added, with a certain hesitation, "you
can have--"

At this moment I distinctly saw his daughter punch him with her elbow,
and as I had no desire to make an early start, and wished very much to
enjoy a good breakfast in Cathay, I quickly declared that I was in no
hurry, and that the family breakfast hour would suit me perfectly.

The young lady disappeared into the parlor, and I moved towards the
butler; but my host, probably thinking that he had not been quite as
attentive to me as his station demanded, or wishing to let me see what
a fine house he possessed, stepped up to me and asked me to look into
the billiard-room, the door of which I was about to pass. After some
remarks of deprecatory ostentation, in which he informed me that in
building his house he thought only of comfort and convenience, and
nothing of show, he carelessly invited my attention to the
drawing-room, the library, the music-room, and the little
sitting-room, all of which were furnished with as much stiffness and
hardness and inharmonious coloring as money could command.

When we had finished the round of these rooms he made me a bow as
stiff as one of his white and gold chairs, and I followed the butler
up the staircase. The man with the light preceded me into a room on
the second floor, and just as I was about to enter after him I saw the
young lady come around a corner of the hall with a lighted candle in
her hand.

[Illustration: "I kicked off my embroidered slippers"]