Butler Ellis Parker
In Pawn

CHAPTER V

As Lorna Percy, Lem, and Gay Loring sat on the porch a jaunty straw hat came into view above the terrace, and, as it reached the gate, proved to be on the head of a man as jaunty as the hat. The man paused at the gate to look up the street.

“There’s Freeman,” said Lorna. “He’s home early.”

“Not so very. It is getting toward supper-time.”

Gay answered. “I’d better be getting home to help mother set the table.”

“Poor excuse!” teased Lorna. “But run along if you want to have a nice little session at the gate all by your lonies. Gay – ”

“Yes?”

“I do think Freeman is in love with you.”

Gay colored.

“Why?” she asked.

“The way he acts, and everything. Don’t you think so yourself?”

“Well – he’s persistent enough. He’s never said anything outright. Not anything much. I don’t know whether he loves me or just wants to see how far he can go, Lorna.”

Lorna was silent for a moment.

“I’d say I was glad if he was n’t such a – you know, Gay. Flashy. Don’t you think he is rather flashy? Not very heavy. He’s fast, too. I’d rather have you like Carter Bruce.”

“For all I know he is a thousand miles from thinking anything serious,” Gay answered. “I’m simply not going to take him seriously until he is serious.”

“How old do you suppose he really is?”

“Twenty-five. Don’t you think so?”

“I doubt it, Gay. He may be. It is hard to judge. He’s queer. I don’t like him. He is queer sometimes. He – ”

“Sh!” said Gay, indicating Lem, who was listening with all his ears.

“I forgot. You’re such a quiet little boy,” she said to Lem. “Are you a little pitcher with big ears?”

“Yes’m,” said Lem. “I guess so.”

“What I meant,” said Lorna to Gay, “was L-i-q-u-o-r. Have you suspected it?”

“Ellicker,” said Lem. “What’s that mean?”

“Hush!” said Lorna. “He’s coming in.” Freeman Todder, the young man of whom they were speaking, climbed the terrace steps slowly. He carried a cane, which was an unusual bit of dandyism in Riverbank, and he was what Miss Redding called “dressy.” Very few young fellows in Riverbank were “dressy” and almost none of the older men. Trousers seldom or never were creased on week days, for the “Sunday suit” held sway on the Sabbath and at parties and dances. To be well dressed on a week day was almost a sign of ungodliness, because the few who were well dressed were certainly apt to be ungodly. They were thought to be interested in poker, woman, and wine.

Freeman Todder, when he arrived in Riverbank, had almost immediately affiliated himself with the dozen “dressy” young fellows. He was seen in Alberson’s drug store, in the Smokeorium, in front of Weltschaffel’s clothing store, and wherever the young bucks gathered. It was said that his first labors in Riverbank were in the nature of holding a handful of playing cards in Alberson’s back room, in company with a number of other young fellows, and it was some time before he had found a job. The job he found was serving soda water in Alberson’s store. In the winter, when the soda trade was slack, he was behind Alberson’s cigar counter.

Some wondered how Freeman Todder could live and dress on what Johnnie Alberson paid him. Some guessed that Freeman “knocked down” some of the change that passed through his hands, but those who knew Johnnie Alberson best did not believe that. None who knew Johnnie ever believed he would let even a penny that belonged to him go astray.

That Freeman could dress as he did and board at Miss Redding’s – which was not the cheapest place in Riverbank – and have silver dollars to dink in his pocket, and do it on what Alberson paid, was manifestly impossible. The answer that most of those who thought they were knowing gave was “poker.” Even the other “dressy” youths said, “Poker.” Freeman played a careful, not showy, game and did win now and then. No one ever bothered to foot up his winnings and compare them with his losses. As a matter of fact, Freeman Todder’s net poker winnings would not have paid for his showy shirts, the gayly striped cuffs of which always showed liberally below his coat sleeves.

As he came up the walk toward the two girls on Miss Redding’s porch steps, he raised his hat, and then let it hang in his hand.

“Hello, one and all,” he said. “Who’s the young gent you have clamped between you there?”

“This is Lem,” said Lorna. “Lem’s going to be among those present here after this, are n’t you, Lem?”

“Yes’m,” said Lem; and then to Freeman, “What’s ‘ellicker’?”

“Now hush, Lem!” said Lorna.

“Well, I want to know. What is it?” Lem insisted. “It’s about you,” he said, looking up at Freeman. “She said it. She said she expected it about you.”

Lorna reddened. Freeman Todder’s eyes narrowed for an instant; then he smiled.

“I expect it is something devilish, then, son,” he said, “but it’s probably not half as bad as the truth. You’ll learn that, if you associate with this wicked man long. I’m a ‘horrid example.’ That right, Gay? They’ll take you by the hand, Lem, and point at me and say, ‘See that man? Beware! Do not be like him. He is a lost soul. He uses cigarettes and blows the smoke through his nose.’”

“Hah! I can do that!” scoffed Lem.

“You’re both of you wicked men, then,” said Gay, but lightly.

Lorna took Lem’s hand.

“Come around the house with me,” she said. “I want you to help me pick a lot of syringas for Gay,” and she dragged Lem away. Freeman seated himself beside Gay.

Freeman Todder was not twenty-five, but something hard in his face and eyes made him look older at times. His face was thin and his mouth like a healed wound, so thin were his lips. He did not have much chin. He did not look wholesome. He looked unsafe and cruel.

“L-i-q-u-o-r,” he spelled, and looked at Gay and laughed. “C-a-r-d-s. Also d-i-c-e. I’m a regular Satan, ain’t I?”

“Oh, Freeman!” she said reproachfully. “Don’t be sarcastic. We were only – ”

“Only talking me over. Well, that’s something, anyway. That’s a sort of flattery.”

He laid his cane across his knees.

“You have been drinking, Freeman,” Gay said.

“Yes. I’ve had a couple too many. Do you know how I feel? Like this – whoops!” He flung his hat off to the left on the lawn. “Whoops!” He threw his cane to the right.

“Ah!” exclaimed Gay, as if he had intentionally hurt her. “Why do you?”

Freeman spread out his hand on his knee and looked at his fingers one by one, raising each in turn. On one finger he wore a large, flashy ring. He moved the finger so that the light flashed from the facets of the stone. Suddenly he looked into the girl’s eyes.

“Keep away from me, Gay,” he said seriously. “I’m no good. I’m warning you, understand? Don’t have anything to do with me. I’m bad business. I like you, but I ‘m bad business.”

“But, Freeman – ”

“Not yet. You can ‘but Freeman’ me all you like when I get through, but this is my hiss, this is the rattle of my snake buttons. You keep away from me. I’m bad for you, and I’m saying so now because after this I won’t care a damn. This is my warning. After this you’ll have to look out for yourself. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes, but you don’t really mean it.”

“I do mean it. I’m warning you. If you know what is good for you, you’ll never speak to me, or let me speak to you again: Once! Twice! Third and last warning! Warned!”

He waited a moment. When he spoke it was no longer seriously, but in his usual flippant tone. “Who is the Lem kid?” he asked.

“Miss Redding’s nephew. His father left him here awhile ago. And – what do you think? Henrietta’s Bill has set the wedding day. I’m so glad for Henrietta. She has been so sweet about waiting.”

It was evident that Gay had not taken Freeman’s warning as seriously as she might have taken it. Freeman raised his eyebrows with an effect like that of shrugging one’s shoulders. He had warned her, and seriously, and that was more than he need have done.

“That so?” he said indifferently, referring to Henrietta. “Henrietta and her Bill give me a pain.”

“Why? Do you know anything about them?” asked Gay eagerly.

“I? No. Why should I?”

“Haven’t you suspected anything?” asked Gay.

Freeman turned and looked in her eyes.

“What do you suspect?” he asked as if the whole matter interested him little.

“Well, we may be doing her the most awful injustice,” Gay said, “but Lorna and I have been wondering if there is a Bill. We wonder if Henrietta is n’t just pretending there is a Billy Vane – and all.”

Freeman seemed more bored than interested.

“Why should she pretend a thing like that – a crazy thing like that?” he asked indifferently.

“Don’t you know how girls love to wear rings on their engagement fingers?” asked Gay. “It’s that sort of thing, Lorna and I think. It gives her a romantic hue. She thinks it makes us feel she is fortunate. Is n’t it killing!”

Freeman looked at the ants scurrying across the walk at his feet.

“I don’t know anything about it,” he said. “You girls may have seen a lot I never saw. You would n’t think of such a thing unless you had some reason. How about all the presents she says he sends her?”

“We think she buys them herself,” Gay said. Freeman turned his hand and looked at his long, well-kept nails.

“Can you keep a secret?” he asked.

“Indeed, yes!”

“Do you remember the silver-backed hand mirror Billy Vane sent her? With her monogram engraved on it?”

“Yes.”

“All right! Johnnie Alberson ordered that for her from Chicago. I saw it when it came and I saw her when she came into the store to pay the bill.”

“Why, Freeman Todder! And you just this minute said you didn’t know anything about it!”

“About there being no Billy Vane,” he explained. “There might be a Billy Vane who did not do his duty in the way of presents. He might be a close-fist. Your Henrietta might be afraid you would think he was a cheap skate if presents did not come along regularly.”

Gay considered this.

“Yes,” she said, after a moment, “that might be, but we suspected there was no Billy before we thought of the presents at all. Of course, the presents she has to buy explain why she never has any money – why she is always borrowing – but that is not all. You won’t say a word, will you, Freeman?”

“No. It don’t interest me at all,” he said. Miss Redding, rosy-cheeked, came to the door then, and tinkled a small supper-bell. Gay, with an exclamation, jumped up and went to find Lem and Lorna and the promised flowers, and Freeman Todder picked up his hat and cane. He hung the hat on the rack in the hall and stood his cane in the umbrella jar and then climbed the stairs. As he reached the top Henrietta Bates’s door opened and she came out. They met just outside her door and she slipped something into his hand.

“There’s twenty dollars,” she said in a whisper. “It is all I could get. And I can’t borrow any more. They are suspicious now.”

“But, my God, Et,” whispered Freeman Todder angrily. “Twenty dollars is n’t going to do me any good.”

“All I could get,” said Henrietta shortly, and she hurried down the stairs to greet Lorna and Lem with the smiling face of a woman whose lover has just set the happy day.

CHAPTER VI

The next morning Miss Redding held a brief conversation at the breakfast table regarding Lem’s immediate future, the important question being whether Lem should be sent to school. With two school teachers at the table Susan felt she was sure to receive good advice. To Lem’s delight the unanimous opinion was that it was hardly worth while for him to go to school during the brief tag end of the term remaining. When Henrietta Bates said this, Miss Redding had no further doubts, for she had a very high opinion of Miss Bates. There was something safe and solid about Miss Bates that gave weight to her opinion.

Henrietta Bates had made an excellent impression on Miss Redding. Henrietta was one of half a dozen out-of-town teachers who had hastened to Riverbank at the time when, following the trouble over a certain Mrs. Helmuth’s case, the school board had arbitrarily decreed that never again should a married woman teach in Riverbank’s schools. The “foreigners,” as the intruding teachers were called, had immediately become the subject of some of the most ardent hatred and abuse, and some of them had made replies that made them exceedingly unpopular, but Miss Bates had, by good-natured diplomacy, avoided all this. The others had been sent packing as soon as local talent was available to supplant them, but Henrietta had not only remained, but had been rapidly promoted, and was a real favorite with all.

“She’s the kindest and affectionatest woman I ever knew in all my born days,” Miss Susan often said. “Just look how she does for Mr. Todder. It’s like he was her son. She sews on his buttons and mends his socks, and never a sign of flirting with him or anything. I do admire Henrietta Bates highly, and that’s a fact.”

Every one admired Henrietta. She was so large and so cheerful and, withal, so “safe.” She was so wholesome and healthy and free from complaints.

“It’s a wonder to me,” Miss Susan often said, “that no man has grabbed her long ago. If I was a man I’d marry her in a minute. She’s the best there is, to my notion.”

Miss Susan had rejoiced openly when Henrietta’s news came from Spirit Lake.

“Well, I’m glad!” Miss Susan said. “If ever a woman deserved a fine man, Henrietta does.”

As a rule Henrietta was cheerful. She would play the ancient piano any time she was asked, or sing in her very fair voice. She was always ready to make up a set at croquet; she even tried tennis, but had to give it up. “I’m too aged,” she laughed, meaning – as every one knew – she was too heavy.

When she did have her short periods of depression it was because she had not heard from Billy Vane, she said, or had had a letter that was not satisfactory.

“I don’t know what I’ll do when she gets married and goes away,” Miss Susan said. “She’s almost like a sister, the way she helps out. I guess folks don’t know how many things can come up in a boarding-house to set everybody cross at each other, but Henrietta just keeps the front part of the house all nice and friendly all the time. I don’t know whatever I ‘ll do without her.”

It was so in this matter of Lem.

“It is quite useless to send him to school for the short time there is left,” Henrietta told Miss Susan. “He wouldn’t fit into any class, and he’d be unhappy and make work for the teacher and be so far behind his class that the schooling would n’t do him any good. Let him wait until the fall term. Gay and Lorna and I can tutor him a little this summer.”

“If you ain’t too busy getting ready to get married and quit us,” said Susan. “You’ll be so busy getting ready – ”

“I’ll have a little time for Lem, I hope,” Henrietta said brightly, smiling at him. “And Gay and Lorna will be here.”

“Not being lucky enough to have our Billy Vanes,” said Lorna.

“Now don’t be jealous of a poor old maid,” Henrietta teased.

“But we are,” said Lorna, and smiled inwardly. “Nobody loves us.”

She glanced at Freeman Todder, but it was one of his bad mornings, of which he had a great many. He was pale and heavy-eyed and his hand shook. No one at the table knew when he had come in the night before, but it had been after three in the morning. He had had a long session of poker, with bad luck, and his pocket held just eighteen cents. He kept his eyes on his plate.

“What do you think, Mr. Todder?” Susan asked.

“What?” he asked, looking up suddenly.

“Do you think Lem ought to wait until fall to start schooling?”

“What do I know about it?” he asked. “It’s nothing to me.”

There was an unpleasant pause. Rudeness, even when coming from a man as evidently out of sorts as Freeman was, kills lively spirits. Henrietta came to the rescue.

“Did you ever see a lovelier day?” she asked. “Just see the sun on that vase of syringas! This is the sort of day I wish I was a Maud Muller. Lem, it is a crime to be in school a day like this, isn’t it?”

“Yes’m,” said Lem. “I guess so.”

“So we won’t make you go,” she said gayly. “Lorna and I are poor slaves. We have to go whether we like it or not.”

She arose and went to the door, humming.

She went into the hall and stood a moment at the screen door, looking out, and then went out upon the porch and walked slowly down toward the gate, stopping to pick a dandelion. At the top of the terrace steps she stood, waiting. Freeman Todder, taking his hat and cane, followed her. To any one seeing them at the top of the steps they would have seemed to have met there by chance.

“Well?” Henrietta asked. There was no lightness, no affection in her voice; no anger either.

“It went against me last night. I lost the whole twenty. The damnedest luck, Et.”

“I don’t care the least about your luck,” Henrietta said. “You are an ungrateful, inconsiderate wretch. I ‘ll say it plainly. I’m utterly disgusted.”

“Oh, quit it!” said Todder rudely.

“I feel like quitting it – like quitting everything – forever,” she said. “I get so tired. God! how tired I get! And you never show the least consideration.”

She looked toward the house.

“We can’t stand here,” she said. “Walk along with me. We must settle this now, Freeman.”

“Settle nothing!” he growled, but he walked beside her, going down the steps and turning down the street.

“It is not fair to me, Freeman,” she said. “I owe both the girls so much already, and Miss Redding for weeks and weeks. It has been hard, letting them think I am a silly old fool, and planning to make them think it. I don’t know how much longer I might have gone on with it. Now that is ended.”

Freeman said nothing.

“I could n’t have gone on with it much longer, but now it has come to an end,” Henrietta continued. “For one reason they simply can’t lend me any more. No matter how amused they may be over thinking that I am a great silly, buying myself presents and pretending I get them from my Billy Vane, they can’t spare the money. And you make me so furious, doing as you did last night, getting rid of even the few dollars I could get. You might at least spend the money sensibly. You might try to help me, when everything I do is for you.”

“A lot you’d do for me if I did n’t scare it out of you,” Freeman scoffed, and turned his hard eyes on her. “And you’ll do a lot more for me, too. You’ve got to. I’m in bad.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, frightened, turning to look into his face.

“I’m in bad, I say,” he answered. “I’ve been tapping Alberson’s till and he knows it. You think you’ve been keeping me going? What could I do with the scraps of money you’ve been giving me? Chicken feed!”

Henrietta was very white.

“You’ve been stealing?” she whispered.

“Yes, and got caught; that’s the worst of it. And I’ve got to make it good, for Johnnie is going to put me through. Now you know it; what are you going to do about it?”

“Oh, Freeman!” she moaned. She dared not weep, for Gay, or any one, might be watching her. Mrs. Bruce, in one of the houses across the street, did come to her door and Henrietta waved a merry hand. “How much did you take?” Henrietta asked Freeman.

“Three hundred, I guess, but old Johnnie don’t know it. He says it is two hundred. That’s what I have to make good. ‘Make good or go to the jug,’ was what he said. And he’ll do it. I ‘m nobody, you see. I ‘m none of the ancient and honorable Riverbank families. Nobody’ll stop trading with Johnnie if I’m jugged. It will be ‘whoof!’ and I’m gone.”

“Oh, Freeman! How could you? And so little I can do. What can I do? Do you think, if I saw him – ” questioned Henrietta.

“If you saw him? Yes, with a roll of cash in your fist,” laughed Freeman. “What would you do? Kiss him? The best thing you can do is hunt up two hundred ducats.”

“That’s impossible, of course,” Henrietta said flatly. “How long will he wait?”

“He’ll be quick enough, don’t fret!”

“Freeman, if I think I can do some good by seeing him, may I?”

“I don’t care a hoot what you do,” Freeman Todder said. “And I don’t care a hoot what happens. That’s how I feel.”

Henrietta put her hand ever so briefly on his arm.

“I know. And I’m sorry. It is all my fault. I’ll do the best I can. I must go back now.”

“So long,” Freeman said, and went on down the hill.

Henrietta turned and went toward the house, trying to make her step springy and her face bright. She felt very old and worn. As she neared the gate Gay came across the street and Henrietta waited for her and slipped her arm through Gay’s and forced a smile.

“You look happy,” Gay laughed.

“Happy? Why shouldn’t I?” asked Henrietta. “I feel like a Pippa ready to chirp, ‘All’s right with the world,’ this fair morn.”

“I honestly believe you’re the youngest thing I know,” said Gay, and she meant it. She was a bit jealous. She had seen Henrietta place her hand on Freeman Todder’s arm and, as such thoughts will come, had come the thought that Henrietta might be in love with Freeman.

What more the two women might have said was interrupted by the rattle of a cart that drove to the gutter and stopped at the Redding gate. In the vehicle were Harvey Redding, the newly self-appointed saint, as fat as ever, and a man of spare and awkward construction whose long neck suggested that of an ostrich in the act of swallowing an orange. He was in his shirt sleeves, without a waistcoat, but on one of his suspenders straps he wore one of the largest nickel-plated stars that ever adorned a human being. This star bore the legend, “Riverbank Municipal Police; Canine Division, No. I,” and had been presented to Officer Schulig by a group of playful citizens with a speech. While properly credentialed as a deputy member of the Riverbank police force and as full and complete Dog Warden, Officer Schulig now received no pay and considered it fitting to do no work except when driven to it by direct orders from the Town Marshal. As he said himself, he had “soured onto the schob” when the City Council took away the twenty-five cent fee for capturing and impounding stray dogs. He had even given up wearing his star in public, except when it was absolutely necessary, because it had become the custom of the lighter-minded to shield their eyes when the star approached, as if its glory was too great. At the same time these ungodly rascals would read the badge, saying, “Rifferbangk Muntzipipple Poleetz. Canine Divitzion. No one,” this having been the manner in which Officer Schulig had read it upon its presentation. What made it more annoying to Officer Schulig was that when any one read “Canine Divitzion. No one,” some one always chanted, with surprise, “What, no one at all?” and the answer, apologetically given, was, “Well, hardly any one.”

The custom of teasing Officer Schulig when he was performing any police duty had become so common, and made him so angry, that he no longer waited to be teased; he became angry as soon as he was called upon to perform any official task. And he was angry now.

“Got a hurry mit you, und out from my buggy get. By gollies, I ain’t got all day yet for fooling aroundt. I shouldt take a club to you if I ain’t left it to home already,” he ordered; and Saint Harvey hefted his huge bulk from the seat and clambered out of the cart backward. When he turned toward the house he, too, was red with anger and with the unusual exertion. On his fat wrists were a pair of glittering handcuffs.

“Dod-baste you!” he exclaimed whole-heartedly to Officer Schulig. “You ain’t got no right to drag me into my sister’s house with these here things on me. Take ‘em off!”

“Stop now! You don’t say to me dot you baste me!” shouted Schulig, white with rage. “Nobody hass a righdt to baste me. Baste yourself! Und I don’t take hand-cuffers off from any man vot says he bastes me. Und anyhow I don’t. I leaf my keys by my house. So shut up once!”