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he closed the door of his soul with a sudden contraction of his eyes,
and said in a matter-of-fact tone:
"And now are you tired of the girl I intrusted to you? Is she still
a convalescent?"
"Why, we have no thought of surrendering her," I said, in some
surprise that he should renew the subject. "She is improving rapidly.
She is able to walk about, and is considered a most tractable
patient."
"That is very satisfactory," began Big Sam, but I interrupted:
"There is only one question agitating us about her. She seems
so much above the women of your race we see about us that we
should like to know something of her history."
Big Sam bowed courteously, as though I had offered him a
compliment.
"I see that you are looking for a romance," he said. "Well,
possibly I can gratify you. I had supposed myself that she sprang
from a low parentage--or at highest from the shopkeeper class--
though, as you say, she seems much above the Chinese women you
are privileged to see. She came hither from an orphan home in
Canton, and was said to be of unknown parentage. I have made
further inquiries, however, and have just received a letter from a
friend in Canton with a few details that may please you. The girl is
the daughter of a mandarin, descended from a long line of scholars.
But her father, mother, brothers and all known relatives perished in
the plague, their fortune was confiscated, and the girl--then an
infant--was turned over to the keeping of the orphanage."
"That is very interesting. Is there any chance of establishing her
rights?"
"Not the slightest. But you will be glad to hear that I shall soon
have a home for her among her own people." Big Sam was, as
usual, coming to his point by indirection.
"I trust it is one you can recommend," I said bluntly.
"It is one that exactly fills the conditions under which the girl
was taken," he responded dryly. "A reputable man of her own race--
a merchant--wishes to make her his wife."
"He is well-to-do, I assume."
"Naturally, or he would not be able to meet the demands of the
tongs."
"Has he another wife?" I asked, with mistrust of the Chinese
domestic arrangements.
"None."
"In that case, I think he may be ready to offer his credentials in
something less than a month."
"He will find it difficult to repress his impatience," said Big Sam
gravely. "He is a widower."
And with a bow of ceremony he dismissed me.
CHAPTER XXXII
THE ANSWER
The duties of the day were at last done, and I turned toward the
Kendrick house with a lively sense of my obligation to relieve the
anxieties that might still be felt in that household. The afternoon had
been taken up with the fag ends of our business complications, and
darkness had set in before I could leave the office. The streets were
quiet, and, except for the Vigilante patrols, were almost deserted.
As I neared my destination a large man halted me with a raised
pick-handle, and said:
"Vere go you, mine vrendt? Don'd you petter go home?"
I laughed and showed him my committee badge.
"That's where I'm going. And I hope you will have a quieter
time than they gave us last night."
"Oxcuse me," said the Vigilante. "I mine orders obey, and mine
block of hoodlums kept swept." And with a good night, I hastened
on my way to the Kendrick place.
I found Laura and Mercy together.
"Well," said Laura graciously, "I'm glad to see that you have
kept out of the fighting for one little while. I was supposing that you
were down on the Barbary Coast getting your head smashed. Take
that big easy-chair; it's the softest, and I'm sure you ought to
appreciate it after all the knocks you've had."
"Oh, it looks as though there was no more fighting to be done.
The hoodlums have taken to their holes, and the Vigilante pick-
handles rule the city."
"Well, if it's all over it will be a great relief to my mind," she
replied. "And I suppose you'll be glad to hear that uncle is better. He
has come to his senses again, and I've set his mind at rest about the
business, and Doctor Roberts says he will be out in a few weeks."
"Well, all our troubles are coming to an end at once then," I
said with a lightened spirit.
"Yes, I got your note saying that the worst was over, and the
business safe. It was good of you to send it. That was a shocking
thing about Mr. Bolton. He was an old--well, I won't say what, for
he's dead and gone--but I believe I feel sorry for him, after all."
"Yes," said Mercy, with a grave nod, "whomever he injured, we
know that it was himself he injured most of all. What will they do
with Mr. Merwin?"
"They've turned him loose already. The committing magistrate
called it justifiable homicide, which is bad law, though there's some
elemental justice about it, and the crowd carried Merwin out of the
court on their shoulders. The Grand Jury may take it up, but Bolton
was not a popular character. At any rate Merwin is free now."
"Well, he is a much injured man," said Laura, "though I don't
see that he has bettered himself. And now what did you mean in
your note about having a very important communication from Big
Sam? I have some curiosity left after all the excitement."
"It's highly interesting. Moon Ying turns out to be the long-lost
daughter of a Somebody. Also Big Sam has a suitor for her hand."
"Who is he? What is he?" came in a breath from the two girls.
"A merchant, a Chinaman and a widower," I replied. And then I
gave them the information that Big Sam had confided to me.
"Well," said Laura decisively, "that's very interesting about Moon
Ying's family, but I don't see that it can do her much good. And that
widower can come up here, and we'll look him over. I can tell you
right now that he will have to pass a very rigid examination, and he
shan't have Moon Ying unless she wants him."
"Hm-m! I suspect he will have to acquire some new ideas on
the qualifications of an expectant husband, and I'm afraid he's rather
old to learn."
"Well, if the ideas are new to him, it's time he learned 'em," said
Laura, "and if he's too old to learn, why, so much the worse for him.
He can go back where he came from."
"Yes," said Mercy quietly, "if it is to be worse for him or worse
for her, why, he is the one who must give way."
"I'm afraid you are in a fair way to upset the whole scheme of
Chinese domesticity," I said.
"Well, it's high time it was upset," returned Laura. "And if I'm
not much mistaken, Moon Ying has learned a thing or two since she
has been here that will upset it for at least one household. So Mr.
No-Name Chinaman had better be preparing his credentials and
studying up to pass his examinations." And she thereupon gave such
a list of qualifications for a possible husband for Moon Ying that I
was disposed to condole with Big Sam's candidate on his chances of
election to the blessed state of matrimony.
Mercy Fillmore expressed a somewhat less exalted ideal of the
suitor who would fill the measure of Moon Ying's maiden fancies,
though I was certain that it was one that would astonish the celestial
widower. And then in sudden concern, lest her patients should be in
need of her attention, she excused herself, and Laura and I were left
alone.
For a little time she was silent, gazing dreamily at the floor, and
I was content to watch her without speech. The storm and stress of
the past few weeks had given something more of womanliness to
the delicately cut features, and, to my eyes at least, there was an
added grace to the attitude and movements of the small figure. It
seemed as though the woman in her had suddenly bloomed into the
strength that the girl had only suggested.
At last a little smile dimpled the corners of her mouth, and
without raising her eyes she said:
"Don't you know it's rude to stare at one so?"
"I beg your pardon," I returned impenitently, "but it's impossible
to help it."
"Oh," she said, with a quick return to her matter-of-fact tone,
"that's ruder yet. And now I want to know how much longer you're
going to keep this pack of men around the house. They're rather a
responsibility for a housekeeper, and it's something like living in a
public square."
"I'm going to cut the force in half to-morrow, but the rest of
them will stay till Moon Ying is out of the place. I'm taking no more
risks."
"I suppose you are right," she said slowly. Then she looked up
impulsively, and added: "How good you have been to us! I don't see
how we should have got through without you. We are through,
aren't we? I'm hoping you feel that you have our thanks, at least."
I stepped to her side and took her hand.
"I've asked for much more than that," I began. I intended to
say a good deal more, but a diabolic click in my throat interfered
with my voice, and a whirl of brain cells tangled my ideas into such
inextricable confusion that I was able only to gasp out: "I want an
answer to my question. I want you, and I'm going to have you."
She had risen to her feet, and I was panic-stricken with the fear
that she was going to run away. Then, while I was struggling to get
my ideas and my vocal organs into subordination that would make
them of use in this emergency, the hereditary instinct coming from
some ancestor with, more courage than I--may Heaven bless him for
coming into the family!--inspired my arm, and I clasped her in close
embrace. She struggled for a moment. Then she looked up at me,
and, my ancestor's courage inspiring me once more, I bent down
and kissed her.
"Oh, it isn't fair," she whispered in protesting accent; and I
repeated the offense. "How can I answer?" she added. "You know I
can't."
"There's only one answer," I whispered in return, "and you
might as well give it now."
At this moment I heard a gasp, and Mercy Fillmore's voice
exclaimed in consternation:
"Oh, I beg pardon--I hadn't any idea--"
At the sound, Laura whirled about and was out of my clasp,
with a strength and quickness marvelous and unexpected.
"You may come in, Mercy," she said with an enviable self-
possession, though her face bloomed into a most admirable variety
of rose-colors. "You shall be the first to congratulate us. We--we
didn't intend to announce it yet--but we are engaged to be married."
Mercy gave her good wishes most prettily, and though I
suspected that she considered Mr. Baldwin a more suitable match,
she was kind enough not to give any hint of it, and kissed Laura,
and assured me that I had won the greatest prize in the world.
EPILOGUE
Big Sam was as good as his word. As soon as Moon Ying was
pronounced in a state to receive callers, his Chinese merchant
abated so much of his dignity as to pay a stately visit to the Kendrick
house. He fell several points below the standard of eligibility set by
Miss Kendrick and Miss Fillmore. But Moon Ying asserted her
individuality to the extent of approving him with such earnestness as
to weep at unfavorable comments. At this demonstration of affinity,
Mercy Fillmore promptly surrendered her doubts. Miss Kendrick went
around with her nose tip-tilted for a full day, but as Moon Ying
continued to weep, she finally said:
"Well, I suppose you couldn't expect to get anything better out
of Chinatown."
This form of approval was not resented, either by the enamored
merchant or the fair Moon Ying. So the marriage was celebrated in
double form: First, and with many protests, one of which went even
to the length of a temporary rupture of the marriage negotiations,
there was a lawful Christian ceremony at the Kendrick house. On this
point the protectresses were inexorable. Therefore, before the
Reverend Doctor Western, appeared Lan Yune Yow, portly, shiny,
erect, dressed like a rainbow and looking convinced that he was
making a fool of himself; and Moon Ying, radiant in silks, dazzling
with pearls and embroideries, and beaming with celestial happiness;
and in lawful form they were pronounced man and wife. Secondly,
there was a wedding in Chinatown, which was reported to be the
most magnificent celebration ever witnessed in the oriental quarter.
We were not favored with an invitation to this part of the marriage
ceremonies, but we were participants in the wedding-feast, for there
descended on the Kendrick house such a shower of Chinese
confections and nuts and fruits that it seemed impossible that any
could be left for the bidden guests.
So Moon Ying went out of our lives, and carried with her our
lasting gratitude for the services she had unconsciously rendered.
Mr. Baldwin affected not to see me the next time we met, and
then repenting of his churlishness gave me his congratulations; but
he never called again at the Kendrick house, and presently consoled
himself by marrying the heiress of the Bellinger fortune.
Wharton Kendrick recovered strength slowly, but at last
resumed his place at the head of his business. He enlivened his
convalescence by telling me how much better he could have
managed certain details of our campaign if he could have been in
command; but when he was wholly himself again he made more
handsome acknowledgments of his approval--both verbal and
financial--than I had a right to expect. While he was still on his sick-
bed, I asked him if he would mind telling me the origin of the
Bolton-Kendrick feud, now that it was all over.
"I'm ashamed to tell it," he said. "But if you will have it, the
whole thing started with a blackboard caricature that I drew of
Bolton when we were barefoot boys together at the old school-
house. He retaliated by drawing attention to a caricature I had made
of the teacher, and I can feel the tingle yet from the licking I got. It
went on from one thing to the other, like a fire spreading from a little
match, until even San Francisco wasn't big enough to hold both of
us. Sounds foolish when you tell it, doesn't it? But it's been serious
enough."
When the subject of an approaching wedding was broached to
Wharton Kendrick, I had an indistinct impression that he thought his
niece could have done better. But as the date drew near, I had no
fault to find with his growing enthusiasm, and indeed had to enter
into conspiracy with Laura to curb his extravagance. He gave away
the bride with exemplary dignity, made a speech that set the
wedding-table in a roar, and as we drove away, sent a farewell shoe
after me with such unerring aim that I spent the first part of the
honeymoon in an odor of arnica and opodeldoc. And even now a
whiff of liniment carries me back in fancy to that happy time.
Mercy Fillmore made a most charming bridesmaid at our
wedding, and General Wilson was so loud in her praise, and so frank
in telling what he would do if he were thirty years younger, that she
went through the evening with an unwonted color in her face. But a
few months later she was married--at our house, and with many
misgivings on our part--to Parks. But we were happily disappointed
in our fears. Whether from the calming influence of Mercy, or the
black eye bestowed upon him by an ungrateful constituency, Parks
ceased to be a militant reformer, and turned his energies to the
prosaic but more remunerative business of selling groceries. He cut
his hair, and though on occasion he delivers addresses before
numberless clubs, in which he declares that the remedy for the evils
of society is to be found in socialism, he is careful to insist that this
panacea is to be applied in the distant future, and is not adapted to
present conditions.
It is a good many years since I married my wife, and it is my
candid opinion that she is prettier than ever. I can join the children
in testifying that her talent for managing a family is unsurpassed.
Perhaps there is a little more of it than is absolutely necessary, but it
is some time since I ceased to offer that suggestion. As for me--well,
I've grown stouter than in the hurrying days of old; but Mrs.
Hampden affects to believe that a portly form is highly becoming in
a man, and I shouldn't think of being the one to contradict her.
POSTSCRIPT
The author offers his apologies to the Muse of History for a few
liberties that have been taken with chronology in the tale. Kearney's
rise to prominence followed instead of preceding the riots of 1877.
Otherwise, the history of the time, where touched on, has been
faithfully followed, and, I hope, the spirit of the self-reliant men who
organized a city for its own defense has given some inspiration to
these pages.
The city of which the tale is told is gone. Such buildings of the
era as had survived the march of time and progress were swept
away by the mightiest conflagration of history, and all that is left of
the old San Francisco is a memory. That the new city that springs
from its ashes may prove as picturesque as the old, and be animated
by the same spirit, is the hope of the author of these pages.
* * * * * * * *
D'RI AND I: A Tale of Daring Deeds in the Second War with the
British. Being the Memoirs of Colonel Ramon Bell, U.S.A. By Irving
Bacheller. With illustrations by F. C. Yohn.
"Mr. Bacheller is admirable alike in his scenes of peace and war. D'ri,
a mighty hunter, has the same dry humor as Uncle Eb. He fights
magnificently on the 'Lawrence,' and was among the wounded when
Perry went to the 'Niagara.' As a romance of early American history
it is great for the enthusiasm it creates."--New York Times.
"As pure as water and as good as bread," says Mr. Howells. "Read
'Eben Holden'" is the advice of Margaret Sangster. "It is a forest-
scented, fresh-aired, bracing and wholly American story of country
and town life. * * * If in the far future our successors wish to know
what were the real life and atmosphere in which the country folk
that saved this nation grew, loved, wrought and had their being,
they must go back to such true and zestful and poetic tales of
'fiction' as 'Eben Holden,'" says Edmund Clarence Stedman.
"A modern Leatherstocking. Brings the city dweller the aroma of the
pine and the music of the wind in its branches--an epic poem * * *
forest-scented, fresh-aired, and wholly American. A stronger
character than Eben Holden."--Chicago Record-Herald.
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