V. V.s Eyes | Page 3

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 443
XXXII
Time's Jests, and now the Perfect Apology, to stand a Lifetime in Brick
and Stone; concluding with a Little Scene, which she will remember
while she lives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 459
XXXIII
Her Last Day, in this History; how she wakes with a Wonder in her
Heart, has her Banquet laid at the Board of the Cooneys, dreams back
over the Long Strange Year; finally how she learns Something that not
Everybody Knows: what it is like at the End of the World 476
XXXIV
In which to love much is to be much loved, and Kern's Dearest Dream
(but one) comes True. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 495

ILLUSTRATIONS
"IS THIS MISS HETH?" (Frontispiece)
"THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG, SIR, MR. V.V." . . . . . . . . . . . .
118
"PLEASE DON'T TROUBLE, HUGO" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 260
"PAPA--I WANT TO INTRODUCE A GOOD FRIEND OF
MINE--DR. VIVIAN". . . 474

From drawings by Raymond M. Crosby

V.V.'s Eyes
I
Two Houses, with a great Gulf between; of V. Vivian, M.D., and what
he thought of John the Baptist.
V. Vivian, M.D. by the paint upon his window, dwelt in the Dabney
House; Mr. Heth--pronounced Heath if you value his wife's good
opinion--dwelt in the House of his cognomen. Between the two lay a
scant mile of city streets. But then this happened to be the particular
mile which traversed, while of course it could not span, the Great Gulf
fixed.
In one sense (though the wrong one) the Dabney House was the more
impressive of the pair of domiciles: for it was seven stories tall and had
two hundred rooms; while the House of Heth was only four stories and
basement, and had but fourteen rooms, counting in the trunk-room. But
physical size is size only: whereby hang few tales. Over and in the Heth
House there prevailed the most charming air of ease with dignity, of
taste plus means, that you could well imagine: while the circumambient
atmosphere of the Dabney House, not to put too fine a point on it, was
the abomination of desolation, or that abomination's little brother.
Before the one stretched a brilliant street where imposing residences
crowded each other just as close as they could crowd, and still be
imposing, and residences. Behind the other stretched the likeliest the
city could show in the way of slums, and, farther back, just over the
brow of the sinister Hill, something less cheering than honest slums.
One glittered upon the future; the other decayed into the past. And it
would cost you--to clinch the comparison with the true and only--two
thousand dollars a year, say, to secure Mr. Heth's house, negotiating
with his executor at that; while in the great pile of the eponymous
Dabney, you could have all of three rooms and (portable) bath for
twelve dollars a month, though strictly cash in advance....
Cartographers, with their miserable mathematics, called this a statute
mile, which, as we say, a brisk man can walk in the smoking of a
cigarette. But the authors of the Blue Book, grave fellows who have
better struck the scales from their eyes, would have computed you this
distance at N, which is infinity: and so closed up the book. For what

bridge shall cross the uncrossable, what ferryman ply for silver pounds
on the Great Gulf? An image-breaking age; no doubt; but there are
limits, in decency. No thread of destiny or clue of circumstance shall
connect two Houses set upon the poles of the world....
So spoke the Blue Book: judging somewhat by the look of it, after all,
pronouncing not without a touch of the weary wisdom which comes of
knowing too much. But is it not written how the hussy Appearance
wears a painted face, justly open to interrogation?--how there stands a
summit from which a man shall see yet more sharply than his most
admired authors, above referred to? Hence, look down. And behold,
against the sunny day two clues now visible upon the bosom of the
Gulf, to wit: the dark-eyed lad so oddly taking hired-carriage exercise
up and down Washington Street, between eight-thirty and ten-thirty
A.M.; and yon half-column of winged words in "The People's Forum"
column of this morning's "Post," under the caption (supplied by the
editor): "Severe Arraignment of Local Factory Conditions."
The Dabney House felt the pluckings first. They were Nobodies