Wayside Courtships | Page 3

requesting
forgiveness--and money. No go! Couldn't raise neither. I then wrote
casting him off. 'You are no longer father of mine.'" He smiled again
radiantly. "You should have seen me the next time I went home! Plug
hat! Imported suit! Gold watch! Diamond shirt-stud! Cost me $200 to
paralyze the general, but I did it. My glory absolutely turned him white
as a sheet. I knew what he thought, so I said: 'Perfectly legitimate, dad.
The walls of Joliet are not gaping for me.' That about half fetched
him--calling him dad, I mean--but he can't get reconciled to my
business. 'Too many ups and downs,' he says. Fact is, he thinks it's
gambling, and I don't argue the case with him. I'm on my way home
now to stay over Sunday."
The train whistled, and Allen looked out into the darkness. "We're
coming to the crossing. Now, I can't go up to the boarding place when
you do, but I'll give you directions, and you tell the landlady I sent you,
and it'll be all right. Allen, you remember--Herman Allen."
Following directions, Stacey came at length to a two-story frame house
situated on the edge of the bank, with its back to the river. It stood
alone, with vacant lots all about. A pleasant-faced woman answered the
ring.
He explained briefly. "How do you do? I'm a teacher, and I'd like to get
board here a few days while passing my examinations. Mr. Herman
Allen sent me."
The woman's quick eye and ear were satisfied. "All right. Walk in, sir.
I'm pretty full, but I expect I can accommodate you--if you don't mind
Mr. Allen for a roommate."
"Oh, not at all," he said, while taking off his coat.

"Come right in this way. Supper will be ready soon."
He went into a comfortable sitting room, where a huge open fire of soft
coal was blazing magnificently. The walls were papered in florid
patterns, and several enlarged portraits were on the walls. The fire was
the really great adornment; all else was cheap, and some of it was
tawdry.
Stacey spread his thin hands to the blaze, while the landlady sat down a
moment, out of politeness, to chat, scanning him keenly. She was a
handsome woman, strong, well rounded, about forty years of age, with
quick gray eyes and a clean, firm-lipped mouth.
"Did you just get in?"
"Yes. I've been on the road all day," he said, on an impulse of
communication. "Indeed, I'm just out of college."
"Is that so?" exclaimed Mrs. Mills, stopping her rocking in an access of
interest. "What college?"
"Jackson University. I've been sick, and only came West----"
There came a look into her face that transformed and transfigured her.
"My boy was in Ann Arbor. He was killed on the train on his way home
one day." She stopped, for fear of breaking into a quaver, and smiled
brightly. "That's why I always like college boys. They all stop here
with me." She rose hastily. "Well, you'll excuse me, won't you, and I'll
go an' 'tend to supper."
There was a great deal that was feminine in Stacey, and he felt at once
the pathos of the woman's life. He looked a refined, studious, rather
delicate young man, as he sat low in his chair and observed the light
and heat of the fire. His large head looked to be full of learning, and his
dark eyes were deep with religious fervor.
Several young women entered, and the room was filled with clatter of
tongues. Herman came in a few moments later, his face in a girlish

glow of color. Everybody rushed at him with loud outcry. He was
evidently a great favorite. He threw his arms about Mrs. Mills, giving
her a hearty hug. The girls pretended to be shocked when he reached
out for them, but they were not afraid of him. They hung on his arms
and besieged him with questions till he cried out, in jolly perplexity:
"Girls, girls! This will never do."
Mrs. Mills brushed out his damp yellow curls with her hands. "You're
all wet."
"Girls, if you'll let me sit down, I'll take one on each knee," he said,
pleadingly, and they released him.
Stacey grew red with sympathetic embarrassment, and shrank away
into a corner.
"Go get supper ready," commanded Herman. And it was only after they
left that he said to Stacey: "Oh, you found your way all right. I didn't
see you--those confounded girls bother me so." He took a seat by the
fire and surveyed his wet shoes. "I took a run up to Mott's house--only
a half block out o' the way. He said they'd be tickled to have you at
Cyene. By the way, you're a theolog, aren't you?" Wallace nodded,