LITMIR.BIZ

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the doorway, said he would be back, and went out. He was evidently avoiding Halliday. Judge March felt belittled and began to go.

      "If you're bound for home, Brother March, I'll be riding that way myself, presently. You see, in a few minutes Suez'll be as quiet as it ever was, and I sent word to General Halliday just before you came in, that no one designs, or has designed, to abridge any personal liberty of his he may think safe to exercise." The speaker suddenly ceased.

      Both men stood hearkening. Loud words came up the stairs.

      "Your son stepped down into the street, Judge," said Ravenel. The next instant the three rushed out and down the stairway.

      John had gone down to see the two armed bands move off. They had been gone but a few minutes when he noticed General Halliday, finely mounted, come from a stable behind the hotel and trot smartly toward him. The few store-keepers left in town stared in contemptuous expectation, but to John this was Fannie's father, and the boy longed for something to occur which might enable him to serve that father in a signal way and so make her forever tenderly grateful. The telegraph office was up these same stairs on the other side of the landing opposite the Courier office; most likely the General was going to send despatches. John's gaze followed the gallant figure till it disappeared in the doorway at the foot of the staircase.

      Near the bottom the General and the editor met and passed. The editor stopped and cursed the General. "You jostled me purposely, sir!"

      Halliday turned and smiled. "Jim Haggard, why should you shove me and then lie about it? can't you pick a fight for the truth?"

      "Don't speak to me, you white nigger! Are you armed?"

      "Yes!"

      "Then, Launcelot Halliday," yelled the editor, backing out upon the sidewalk and drawing his repeater, "I denounce you as a traitor, a poltroon, and a coward!" Men darted away, dodged, peeped, and cried —

      "Look out! Don't shoot!" But John ran forward to the rescue.

      "Put that thing up!" he called to the editor, in boyish treble. "Put it up!"

      "Jim Haggard, hold on!" cried Halliday, following down and out with his weapon pointed earthward. "Let me speak, you drunken fool! Get that boy – "

      "Bang!" went the editor's pistol before he had half lifted it.

      "Bang!" replied Halliday's.

      The editor's weapon dropped. He threw both hands against his breast, looked to heaven, wheeled half round, and fell upon his face as dead as a stone.

      Halliday leaped into the saddle, answered one shot that came from the crowd, and clattered away on the turnpike.

      John was standing with arms held out. He turned blindly to find the doorway of the stairs and cried, "Father! father!"

      "Son!"

      He started for the sound, groped against the wall, sank to his knees, and fell backward.

      "Room, here, room!" "Give him air!" "By George, sir, he rushed right in bare-handed between 'em, orderin' Haggard" – "Stand back, you-all, and make way for Judge March!"

      "Oh, son, son!" The father knelt, caught the limp hands and gazed with streaming eyes. "Oh, son, my son! air you gone fum me, son? Air you gone? Air you gone?"

      A kind doctor took the passive wrist. "No, Judge, he's not gone yet."

      Ravenel and the physician assumed control. "Just consider him in my care, doctor, will you? Shall we take him to the hotel?"

      Garnet supported Judge March's steps. "Cast your burden on the Lord, Brother March. Bear up – for Sister March's sake, as she would for yours!"

      Near the top stairs of the Ladies' Entrance Ravenel met Fannie.

      "I saw it all, Mr. Ravenel; he saved my father's life. I must have the care of him. You can get it arranged so, Mr. Ravenel. You can even manage his mother."

      "I will," he said, with a light smile.

      Election-day passed like a Sabbath. General Halliday returned, voted, and stayed undisturbed. His opponent, not Garnet this time, was overwhelmingly elected. On the following day Haggard was buried "with great éclat," as his newspaper described it. Concerning John, the doctor said:

      "Judge March, your wife should go back home. There's no danger, and a sick-room to a person of her – "

      "Ecstastic spirit – " said the Judge.

      "Exactly – would be only – "

      "Yes," said the Judge, and Mrs. March went. To Fannie the doctor said,

      "If he were a man I would have no hope, but a boy hangs to life like a cat, and I think he'll get well, entirely well. Move him home? Oh, not for a month!"

      Notwithstanding many pains, it was a month of heaven to John, a heaven all to himself, with only one angel and no church. As long as there was danger she was merely cheerful – cheerful and beautiful. But when the danger passed she grew merry, the play of her mirth rising as he gained strength to bear it. He loved mirth, when others made it, and always would have laughed louder and longer than he did but for wondering how they made it. A great many things he said made others laugh, too, but he could never tell beforehand what would or wouldn't. He got so full of happiness at times that Fannie would go out for a few moments to let him come back to his ordinary self.

      Two or three times, when she lingered long outside the door, she explained on her return that Mr. Ravenel had come to ask how he was.

      Once Halliday met this visitor in the Ladies' Entrance, departing, and with a suppressed smile, asked, "Been to see how 'poor Johnnie' is?"

      "Ostensibly," said the young man, and offered a cigar.

      The General overtook Fannie in the hallway. He shook his head roguishly. "Cruel sport, Fan. He'll make the even dozen, won't he?"

      "Oh, no, he'd like to make me his even two dozen, that's all."

      When the day came for the convalescent to go home, he was not glad, although he had laughed much that morning. As he lay on the bed dressed and waiting, he was unusually pale. Only Fannie stood by him. Her hand was in both his. He shut his eyes, and in a desperate, earnest voice said, under his breath, "Good-by!" And again, lower still, – "Good-by!"

      "Good-by, Johnnie."

      He looked up into her laughing eyes. His color came hot, his heart pounded, and he gasped, "S-say m-my John! Won't you?"

      "Why, certainly. Good-by, my Johnnie." She smiled yet more.

      "Will – will" – he choked – "will you b-be my – k – Fannie – when I g-get old enough?"

      "Yes," she said, with great show of gravity, "if you'll not tell anybody." She held him down by gently stroking his brow. "And you must promise to grow up such a perfect gentleman that I'll be proud of my Johnnie when" – She smiled broadly again.

      – "Wh-when – k – the time comes?"

      "I reckon so – yes."

      He sprang to his knees and cast his arms about her neck, but she was too quick, and his kiss was lost in air. He flashed a resentful surprise, but she shook her head, holding his wasted wrists, and said, "N-no, no, my Johnnie, not even you; not Fannie Halliday, o-oh no!" She laughed.

      "Some one's coming!" she whispered. It was Judge March. His adieus were very grateful. He called her a blessing.

      She waved a last good-by to John from the window. Then she went to her own room, threw arms and face into a cushioned seat and moaned, so softly her own ear could not catch it – a name that was not John's.

      XIV.

      A MORTGAGE ON JOHN

      As John grew sound and strong he grew busy as well. The frown of purpose creased at times his brow. There was a "perfect gentleman" to make, and only a few years left for his making if he was to be completed in the stipulated time. Once in a while he contrived an errand to Fannie, but it was always in broad day, when the flower of love is never more than half open. The perfect transport of its first blossoming could not quite return; the pronoun

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