Mary Louise in the Country | Page 6

a frayed velvet collar on it.
His trousers were tight-fitting below the knee and he wore gaiters and a
wide-brimmed silk hat that rivaled his own age and had doubtless seen
happier days.
Mary Louise couldn't see all these details from her seat in the pavilion

across the river, but she was near enough to observe the general effect
of the old man's antiquated costume and it amazed her.
Yes, he was old, nearly as ancient as his apparel, the girl decided; but
although he moved with slow deliberation his gait was not feeble, by
any means. With hands clasped behind him and head slightly bowed, as
if in meditation, he paced the length of the well-worn path, reached the
bridge and disappeared down the road toward the village.
"That," said a voice beside her, "is the Pooh-Bah of Cragg's Crossing. It
is old Cragg himself."
Gran'pa Jim was leaning against the outer breast of the pavilion, book
in hand.
"You startled me," she said, "but no more than that queer old man did.
Was the village named after him, Gran'pa?"
"I suppose so; or after his father, perhaps, for the place seems even
older than old Cragg. He has an 'office' in a bare little room over the
store, and I rented this place from him. Whatever his former fortunes
may have been--and I imagine the Craggs once owned all the land
about here--old Hezekiah seems reduced to a bare existence."
"Perhaps," suggested Mary Louise, "he inherited those clothes with the
land, from his father. Isn't it an absurd costume, Gran'pa Jim? And in
these days of advanced civilization, too! Of course old Hezekiah Cragg
is not strong mentally or he would refuse to make a laughingstock of
himself in that way."
Colonel Hathaway stared across the river for a time without answering.
Then he said:
"I do not think the natives here laugh at him, although I remember they
called him 'Old Swallowtail' when I was directed to him as the only
resident real estate agent. I found the old man quite shrewd in driving a
bargain and thoroughly posted on all the affairs of the community.
However, he is not a gossip, but inclined to be taciturn. There is a

fathomless look in his eyes and he is cold and unresponsive. Country
life breeds strange characteristics in some people. The whimsical dress
and mannerisms of old Mr. Cragg would not be tolerated in the cities,
while here they seem regarded with unconcern because they have
become familiar. I was rather, pleased with his personality because he
is the Cragg of Cragg's Crossing. How much of the original plot of land
he still owns I don't know."
"Why, he lives in that hovel!" said the girl.
"So it seems, although he may have been merely calling there."
"He fits the place," she declared. "It's old and worn and neglected, just
as he and his clothes are. I'd be sorry, indeed, to discover that Mr.
Cragg lives anywhere else."
The Colonel, his finger between the leaves of the book he held, to mark
the place where he was reading, nodded somewhat absently and started
to turn away. Then he paused to ask anxiously:
"Does this place please you, my dear?"
"Ever so much, Gran'pa Jim!" she replied with enthusiasm, leaning
from her seat inside the pavilion to press a kiss upon his bare gray head.
"I've a sense of separation from all the world, yet it seems good to be
hidden away in this forgotten nook. Perhaps I wouldn't like it for
always, you know, but for a summer it is simply delightful. We can
rest--and rest--and rest!--and be as cozy as can be."
Again the old gentleman nodded, smiling at the girl this time. They
were good chums, these two, and what pleased one usually pleased the
other.
Colonel Hathaway had endured a sad experience recently and his
handsome old face still bore the marks of past mental suffering. His
only daughter, Beatrice Burrows, who was the mother of Mary Louise,
had been indirectly responsible for the Colonel's troubles, but her death
had lifted the burden; her little orphaned girl, to whom no blame could

be attached, was very dear to "Gran'pa Jim's" heart. Indeed, she was all
he now had to love and care for and he continually planned to promote
her happiness and to educate her to become a noble woman.
Fortunately he had saved considerable money from the remains of an
immense estate he had once possessed and so was able to do anything
for his grandchild that he desired. In New York and elsewhere Colonel
James Hathaway had a host of influential friends, but he was shy of
meeting them since his late unpleasant experiences.
Mary Louise, for her part, was devotedly attached to her grandfather
and