"Such a long, long, tiresome journey! It's such a pity you had to go."

"Oh, well, I had to, and that's the end of it. Don't let's talk about it any more. I hope that poor girl gets some sleep to-night; she needs it.

She can't hear us, can she?"

"No. Didn't you think she was sweet?"

"Yes, she seemed nice enough; she's pretty-a little stupid, perhaps."

"Oh, poor Dosia!" said Lois, "stupid! I should think she might have been, after all she had gone through. But then, you're so used to my cleverness!" She looked up at him with provocative eyes, into which he smiled faintly, in recognition of what was expected of him; then he said, with a sudden appealing change of tone, "I'm _very_ tired, Lois."

She kissed him good night tenderly, with magnanimous concession to his unresponsiveness; there was no room for her in his thoughts to-night, and she had been so longing to see him! But she would tell him all about it to-morrow.

Justin laid his head upon the pillow, but his eyes burned into the darkness; there was a proud and bitter disappointment at his heart, even while reason adjusted his losses to their proper place. Before him in disagreeable force came the face of Leverich, and it was not the face of a man to whom one would care to make excuse or from whom one would challenge reproof; he could see the heavy jowl, the piercing eyes, the half-pompous, half-shrewd expression of one who respected nothing but success. This tangle up of the machinery, unusual and costly in its parts and appointments-Heaven only knew what far-reaching complications the delay of its repair might occasion! Justin had seen only too well in others how a false step at the first may count.

Whether or not Dosia and the typometer were united in their destinies, they had at least one thing in common-they were both embarked upon perilous ways.

CHAPTER SIX

Joseph Leverich, however, proved unexpectedly kind and sympathetic when Justin approached him on the latter's return from the West. Justin had written to him, and then had been incidentally reenforced by the a.s.sistance of Mr. Angevin L. Cater. Bullen, the foreman, was versed in practical knowledge of the machinery, and how to go to work about repairs; different portions had to be sent for to all parts of the country. Justin pored over catalogues, and checked off and figured, and tried to find ready-made subst.i.tutes wherever he could for those they ordinarily manufactured for the typometer. Here Cater, who had worked up gradually into the manufacturing of his own machine, was of great use.

"You never can find anything just as you want it," he conceded, encouragingly, to Justin, "but you can whittle off here and there, and make it do. I had to get along that way at first. You can manage pretty well, only there isn't any real certainty to it. I got sort of weary"-he p.r.o.nounced it "weery"-"of sending for steel bars to fit, and then getting a consignment of 'em just two sizes too large, with a polite note saying that they were out of what I wanted, but thought it was best, at any rate, to send me what they had. You don't want to buck up against that kind of thing too often-not for your own good. So I started up the machinery, and even that goes back on you sometimes."

"Mine has," said Justin grimly.

"Oh, I don't mean that way-it's in the way it turns out the stuff. You get so cussed mi-nute nothing seems quite right to you. You get kinder soured even on the material in the rough; the grain is wrong in this, and that hasn't been worked sufficient, and that t'other weighs too light."

"How long do you guarantee the typometer for?"

"For a year."

"We stake out ours for two,-go you one better,-but it's all rot. You can't guarantee nothin' in this world; I know that isn't grammar, but it kinder seems to mean more'n if 'twas. You can't guarantee nothin', not unless you could have the making of the raw material, and then you couldn't. And you can't guarantee your workmen, especially when you have to keep changing; I reckon human imperfection's got to step in somewhere. Talk of skilled labor! That's what takes the blood out of a man, the everlasting wrench of trying to get 'skilled labor' that is skilled. Some of it is so loose-jawed it can't even chew straight."

"You're a pessimist," said Justin, smiling.

The other broke into a responsive grin.

"Yes, I reckon that's so; but I don't even guarantee to be that, steady.

Sometimes I get kinder mushy and pleasant, and think the world ain't a closed-up oyster,-Shakespeare,-but just nice soft cream-cheese that's ready to be spooned up when you want it. Those are the sort of spells a man's got to look out for, or he's likely to find himself up against the rocks, without even an oyster-sh.e.l.l in sight."

"That's a bad position," said Justin, and Cater nodded confirmatively.

After a moment he said:

"Well, I'll guarantee _that_; I've been there." As he was going, he asked: "How's Miss Dosia? Pretty well shook up, I suppose."

"Oh, she's all right now," said Justin. "She's been resting for a couple of days. You must come and see her; she will be glad to see a face from home."

"I reckon I'll wait awhile," said Cater, "till a face from home's more of a novelty. She ain't hankering for a sight of mine now." And, indeed, Dosia, on being informed of the prospect, showed no great enthusiasm.

Balderville and the people there were so far away in the past that she had lost connection with them.

And, after all, Leverich met Justin's explanation cordially.

"Oh, you couldn't help a thing like that," he said. "Don't know yet how the fire started, do they? Accidents are bound to occur when you least look for them. The loss was fully covered, wasn't it?"

"Oh, yes."

"I'm glad the orders came in, anyway. Just bluff those fellows off a bit-tell 'em you've got a lot more orders on and _they've_ got to wait; that's the way to do it."

"Oh, yes, I know that; the only thing I want is to be sure, myself, when the orders can be filled. I'm trying to get the machinery at work as soon as possible, and we're sending all over the country for what we need. Cater-he's the manufacturer of the timoscript, across the street, has told me of a place where they make small steel bars such as we use.

I've brought the catalogue with me. I sent for a consignment of them yesterday; Bullen says they'll do."

"Yes, that's all right," said Leverich. "Oh, you'll get along, you'll get along! I knew you wouldn't sit down and wait until I came home to get on your feet. Don't mind drawing on us for extra money if you need it-and we want to get in for the export trade. What do you think of this?" He took some papers out of his desk and began explaining them to Justin, who listened attentively before making suggestions. His mind, although not unusually quick, was singularly clear and comprehensive; he brought to Leverich's aid, if not the intelligence of the expert, something which is often harder to get, and which Leverich was experienced enough to appreciate at its full value-the intelligence which sees the matter from the standpoint of the big outer world, and not only from the inner radius of a little circle. Justin's vision was not, as yet, impeded by the technicalities and preconceived opinions which often obstruct the fresh point of view even in very clever men whose talent it is to see clearly.

"We haven't made any mistake in getting you," he said to Justin, as they parted.

The belated fifty dollars were carried to Lois that night, with a subdued joy in the glad provision of more to come. They were still to live on as little as they could, but the idea of the limit stretched to include those extra fives and tens whose expenditure was in the interest of true economy.

For a few days after her arrival Theodosia had kept her bed, in a reaction from the strain of the journey that made her too weak to care to do anything but lie in a half-drowsing and peaceful condition, hearing the sound of the children's voices as if they were very far off.

Lois brought up the dainty meals herself, and talked the little talk women use on such occasions, and at four o'clock each afternoon Zaidee appeared with a tiny lacquered tray on which stood an egg-sh.e.l.l cup filled with fragrant tea, and a biscuit, and watched Dosia, as she ate and drank, with benignant satisfaction. The younger Reginald was still afraid and was lured near her bedside only to rush off again; but with Zaidee there was a loving comradeship.

It was well that Dosia had even lost interest in Mr. Barr's call the next afternoon, for he did not come, and afterwards she grew ashamed that she had harbored the interest at all. Mr. Sutton, after sending more flowers, had departed for Boston.

But, after this convalescence, by the end of the week Dosia emerged, eager, alert, with pink cheeks and gleaming eyes, having pa.s.sed through some subtle transformation, and bent on pleasure. She was rather silent, indeed, except when carried away by sudden excitement, but she was rapturously happy at the prospect of a concert and a card-party and a large bazaar to be given soon; the concert and the bazaar were both for charity, and she was already engaged to serve at the flower-booth in the latter; there was to be dancing after the closing of both entertainments.

Clothes were the first requisite, after a definite arrangement had been made to begin the music lessons in two weeks' time. Every little preparation was a source of delight to Dosia, who thought Lois wonderful as a designer and adapter of fashions suitable to her purse, and the older woman threw herself into this work with a sort of fierce ardor.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Zaidee watched Dosia with benignant satisfaction_]

Dosia had never seen so much ready money spent in her life, and had never heard so much talk about it-why should she, in a place where no one bought anything, where long-outstanding bills for tiny sums were paid for mostly in lumber, or chickens, or cotton? Here the price of daily living and clothing and amus.e.m.e.nts was one of the stock topics in the intimate round of suburban dwellers. Women came to visit her cousin Lois who at times made it their sole subject of conversation, incidentally submitting the very garments they wore to appraisal, for the pleasure of springing an unexpected price in her face like a jack-in-the-box, at which she was to jump admiringly. Lois declaimed against the habit, even while she sometimes fell a victim to it, and Dosia found herself drawn into the same ways, after a delightful revel in shopping for new clothes with Aunt Theodosia's money. The chief requisite in any article bought was that it should look to be worth more than was paid for it.

What most impressed Dosia in the big city was, not the size of it, nor the height of the buildings, nor the magnificence of the shops-she accepted these wonders, indeed, with the provoking acquiescence which dwellers in outlying sections of the country display when confronted with the reality they have seen so often depicted. It was the crowd, the rush of the people, the tense expression on the faces, that struck her with amazement; everyone looked in grim haste to get somewhere, and forged ahead untiringly with set and definite purpose, as if there were not a minute to lose. Dosia had been used to sauntering aimlessly, and to seeing everyone else saunter. There was no hurry at Balderville, except in Northern people on their first arrival, and they soon lost it.

Dosia clung to Lois' arm on their first excursion, but the next time she suddenly dropped the arm and forged ahead breathlessly, being caught, as she was crossing a street, by a policeman just in time to escape being run over by an electric car. When Lois came up to her, horrified and indignant, the girl was laughing in wild exhilaration.

"Oh, it's such fun!" she said. "I'm going to walk like the other people after this; but I'll stop when I get to the crossings, so you needn't mind." People turned around to look at the pretty girl with the hair blown back from her face, standing still in the street and laughing. The excitement was all part of the first intoxication of the new life.

In the intervals of going to town, there were calls to be received, some from married women, and some from young girls who were asked especially to meet Dosia, and who expressed pleasure that she was to spend the winter with them. She was asked to join a book club and a card club, and to pour tea at the next meeting of the Junior Guild-proceedings that at the first blush appeared radiantly festive. It was understood that she was to be of the inner circle.

When the other functions took place, Dosia was a success both at the concert and the bazaar; a score of youths were introduced to her, with whom she laughed and chatted and promenaded and danced; she danced every time. The society of a new place is apt to appear extraordinarily attractive until one begins to resolve it into its component parts, when it is seen to differ but little from that one has. .h.i.therto known. Of these dancing youths, Dosia was yet to realize that half of them were younger even than she; some who seemed to take a great fancy for her were the bores whom all the other girls got rid of, if possible; others were just a little below the grade of real refinement; the really nice fellows were not there at all, with the exception of a stray few, and those who were attendant on their fiancees. Just at present the rhythm of the music and the joy of motion were all in all to Dosia. Her honest and artless pleasure shone so plainly from her face that for the moment it was a compelling attraction in itself-for the moment, as neither good looks, nor honesty, nor the artlessness of joy in one's own pleasure, serve as a power of fascination: it takes a subtler quality, combined of both sympathy and reserve-something always given, something always withheld.

This happiness of healthy youth, which as yet depended on no individual note, could last but such a brief time! When she looked back upon it, it seemed like a little sunny, transfigured place that somebody else had lived in-the Dosia who was just glad.

Lois watched her enjoyment, half preoccupied, yet smilingly, pleased with the girl's prettiness and success. Dosia thought, "How kind she is!" and yet, when another woman came to her and said, with warm impulsiveness, "My dear child, it's a pleasure to look at you!" she felt that she had now the one thing she had missed.

She went to the last evening of the bazaar clad in a floating blue gown that matched her eyes. The curve of her arms, bare to the elbow, the way the tendrils of her hair fell across her forehead, her sudden dimpling smile, the glad, unconscious motions of her beautiful youth, would have made her, to those who loved, the personification of darling maidenhood, with that haunting tinge of pathos which is the inheritance of the woman-child.

She sold more flowers than any other girl at the bazaar that night, and there she met Mr. Sutton, who had, indeed, called upon her, but at a time when she was out. This guaranteed man was rather short, stocky, and common-place-looking, with a large, round, beardless face, and a long, newly shaven upper lip. But his appearance made no difference; Dosia's radiant happiness flowed over on him with impartial delight, and if she sold many flowers, it was he who bought most of them, presenting them to her again afterwards, so that one corner of the room was heaped up with her spoils, and her arms were full of roses. She trailed around the crowded room with him in her blue gown, as he had insisted on her advice in buying, and received gifts of books and candy in the interests of organized charity. It was like being in the Arabian Nights to have inconsequent gifts showered upon one in this way, but she succeeded in dissuading him from offering her a large green and pink flowered plaque of local art, and was relieved when he gave it to the lady who had it for sale.