Part 1

PIG IRON

SHORT STORIES

_BY . DUDREA . PARKER_ [MRS. SUMNER PARKER]

[Illustration]

Printed in the U. S. A. at Baltimore, THE NORMAN, REMINGTON COMPANY, One Thousand Nine Hundred and Twenty-one.

_Copyright, 1921_ The Norman, Remington Company

_All rights reserved_

TO MY MOTHER

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Page

An Ephemeral Love, 11

The White Petal, 69

The Reporter, 89

AN EPHEMERAL LOVE

Betty listlessly extended her hand to Walter; he bade her good-bye and strolled slowly homeward. That he was worried was evidenced by the nervous energy with which he smoked one cigarette after another until a box was consumed before he reached the door of his home, which stood on the hill leading to the railroad and bordering the fashionable district of Baltimore.

Was it Betty’s interest in or love for another man that caused her apparent indifference, or was it his poverty that caused her to hold herself aloof from him? He knew full well that he had no luxuries to offer, yet the thought of her slipping from him forever made him desperate.

Walter was not visionary--he could not afford to be so; on the contrary, he was ultra-conservative, a quality not his by inheritance, but by compulsion. Since his father’s death he had paid off some bills, supported his mother, saved a few thousand dollars, and managed to extend his business somewhat. Yet, as I say, luxuries were far from his reach--but tonight he craved them as never before. He condemned himself and attributed his poverty to his bovine stupidity. He was thirty and had a well-established lumber business, by means of which he believed another man could have attained wealth and position by this time.

These and similar thoughts passed through his mind--they come to all of us at times when our personal affairs loom so large upon our horizons--as he sat in his bedroom rocking on a straight-back chair. He was debating a big idea--a resolution to embark upon a business venture that had presented itself to him a short while before. It was not a speculation, but an original idea that involved risk, yet offered in return great wealth if it proved successful.

After an hour or more of deliberation he started to retire, entirely convinced that the proposition was feasible, and that tomorrow he would act upon his decision.

Nine o’clock found him in the office of the National Transportation Company.

“Son, is Mr. Bailey, your purchasing agent, here?” he asked of the clerk.

“Just this second come,” answered the boy, showing Walter into the agent’s office.

Mr. Bailey, a jolly-faced man, arose.

“Good morning; what can I do for you?” he inquired, pushing forward a chair.

“My name is Walter Gary. I’m in the lumber business and I’ve come to talk to you about dunnage. I understand that you are paying about twenty dollars a thousand feet for the rough plank lumber, which you use to separate and pack your cargoes of wheat for England.”

“Yes,” replied the agent.

“My business,” continued Walter, “is wholesale lumber, and I represent large Southern mills, besides having a yard fairly well stocked on the water front. My proposition is to furnish you, without charge, lumber of good grade--ones, twos and commons, good lengths, which will make less work in separating cargoes, and being of good quality will be reasonably free from knots and shakes and much more satisfactory material to handle. However, we are not giving you something for nothing, although you will be free from expense in handling it. What we ask is that you deliver the lumber to our agents at dock in England when you have unloaded the wheat. You see, we both will profit by the transaction, as it will free you from your usual expense and at the same time will enable me to overcome the high rate of ocean freight.”

The agent paced slowly up and down, with his hands thrust into his pockets, listening attentively to what Walter had to say. He was not an agent possessed of his own importance, as agents usually are, but made the situation easy by a kindly nod of his head at intervals--and with each nod Walter saw visions of his own home and Betty as its mistress.

“That sounds like a pretty clever scheme,” he said, continuing to walk back and forth. “Can we always have dunnage when we want it? In other words can we depend upon you?”

“Most assuredly,” answered Walter, in the tone of one accustomed to keeping his word. “We will furnish bond guaranteeing deliveries.”

“Of course, it would have to be submitted to the president and directors before I could act, but if you care to put your proposition in writing and will return tomorrow at three, I shall try to get in touch with them immediately.”

It was hard for Walter to conceal his elation. Was it possible that he had at last found a means by which he could ship lumber to Europe where it was greatly needed for building and rebuilding and where his agent could dispose of it at almost any figure--all without the exorbitant freight rates imposed since the war started and which had not yet been removed?

“I shall return at three tomorrow, Mr. Bailey, good-day.”

“Good-day.”

Walter stepped briskly into his office, did a little two-step, tossed his hat in the air, and said, “I have great hopes, Miss Franklin, great hopes.”

The little typewriter smiled a smile of mingled interest and apprehension.

“I wish you good luck, Mr. Gary,” she responded.

A full three-quarters of an hour elapsed while Walter waited the following day in the office of the National Transportation Company. Had Bailey forgotten his appointment? Had the directors accepted or rejected his offer? When would they take a consignment? He was thinking these and other thoughts, as he sat leaning in the chair, turning his hat around and around in his hands.

“Well, I’ve kept you waiting some time,” said Mr. Bailey, hastily entering the office.

Walter tried to conceal his anxiety.

“You asked me to come at three, and I like to be on time, although I am in a bit of a rush.”

“Yes, these are busy times for all of us. This question of feeding Europe is a perplexing one, aside from business transactions. Food stuffs must be rushed to the hungry ones at any cost. If you have been over seas you no doubt know how they need our help.”

“No, I didn’t get over,” replied Walter somewhat dolefully. “I tried even before our country declared war. I wanted to go over with the Canadians: after I failed there and the U. S. took it up I tried again, but they turned me down, too. I have a dislocated shoulder and a broken knee cap--got them playing football at college; in fact, I was on my back two months with them. But I thought I was pretty well over it by this time--only feel it when the weather is bad.”

“Those who wanted to serve and were rejected should have had a badge, stripe or something to show they were not slackers,” sympathetically replied Mr. Bailey. “The country rejects the individual for things that are not his fault, and the world thinks as it pleases.”

“Oh, well, it could have been worse. I did what I could at home putting Liberty Loans over, buying bonds, and making the soldiers comfortable in a general way, but none of it compensates for the real thing.”

“Well, I think I’ve put the lumber deal through for you, although I had some difficulty doing it. Everybody is suspicious of free goods. I explained to the directors that your reason for giving the dunnage was to have it turned over to your London agent for disposal, after the cargoes were unloaded on the other side. They thought it a very fair proposition.”

Bailey drew his chair nearer to Walter and smiled encouragingly.

“It will certainly serve both your purpose and mine,” interposed Walter. “It will save you the expense of buying lumber with which to pack your wheat, and it will enable me to place quantities of it on the other side.”

“A clever idea,” repeated Bailey. “Can you have two hundred thousand feet delivered to me by Thursday?”

“I think so--by rushing like Sam Hill.”

“All right, draw up your contract and get a move on you.”

“I have already prepared it and have it here in my pocket. You see, I was hoping for the best.”

The contract was signed, and he hurried to break the good news to Miss Franklin.

“If this plan is successful,” said he, “you shall have a long vacation, and I--I have promised myself too much already--but if it fails! I tremble to think of the consequences.”

“Mr. Gary,” asked Miss Franklin, “are you sure there is such a wild demand for lumber on the other side as you say there is?”

“Yes, quite sure. My doubt lies in the question: Will Proctor be equal to the occasion! If this lumber is properly handled we should be able to make a million easily before the time expires.”

“It’s a big undertaking, isn’t it,” she said, astounded at the figure mentioned.

“Yes, but there is a big stake,” responded Walter, and the little typist detected a note of sadness in his voice.

He hurried to disclose the good news to his mother, and as he pulled a chair to her side he patted her joyfully upon the cheeks, “Mother, perhaps we shall soon be rich,” he said.

“Rich!” repeated Mrs. Gary, softly, yet in a tone of surprise. “I thought we were doing remarkably well for our bad beginning. Indeed, I was thinking only yesterday of what a comfortable feeling it was to have our debts paid and a little money laid away besides?”

“I--I used the money, Mother,” confessed Walter, overcome with a feeling of remorse. “But I am quite sure to have it back soon, besides a great deal more. A big opportunity presented itself and I took advantage of it.” Walter tried to appear more confident than he really was.

“What?” asked Mrs. Gary, in a voice that indicated alarm. “You have not used all the money, have you?”

“Yes, I used it on a big deal.”

“Pray, what could such a deal be?” inquired Mrs. Gary, who had been more than apprehensive of her son’s restlessness of late. As they talked together she quietly assorted remnants of wool, left from the many sweaters she had knit; and from her demeanor one could detect at a glance that she was a woman of composure and experience.

“Usually I prefer to tell you, Mother, before I take a leap, as you know, but this time I acted upon my own initiative.”

“What have you done?”

Walter related to his mother, in detail, the story of his lumber transaction. He finished by saying, “You see the National Transportation Company have contracted to use my lumber for two years. Of course, I mean to send a good quality, and this will aid in reconstruction work on the other side and besides give us a big profit.”

“I see,” she responded, and gave her boy an admiring look.

“To carry out the program means sacrifice, and that’s what is worrying me.”

“The step is taken, so let us hope for the best,” answered Mrs. Gary, cheerfully. “When do you deliver your first consignment!”

“Thursday, two hundred thousand feet.”

Walter’s mother arose, took her boy’s face gently between her two hands, and looking steadfastly into his honest, dark eyes, said, “if you fail you have only done your best. Opportunities rarely present themselves. It is by the creation of them that men succeed. Half of success is grit.”

“You are a dear brave ‘sport.’ The next time I shall not be afraid to consult with you on all my business problems.”

“And I shall try not to retard progress.”

“It gives me more courage to go ahead when I know you are in on the deal; things seem to turn out better.”

“We all feel that way, dear. The troubles of life diminish when they are shared by others. Even the greatest becomes smaller when one knows that others are helping to bear it. It seems selfish, but misery loves company.”

* * * * *

“The cable, has it come yet, Miss Franklin?”

“Not yet.”

Walter seated himself at his desk. There was a far away look in his face. “It should have been here four days ago. What do you think could be delaying Proctor?”

“Possibly it is the cable that’s delayed, and not Mr. Proctor. Forget it, Mr. Gary, then it will be sure to come.”

“How can I forget it when so much depends on that first consignment? I’ve hardly slept a wink since it was sent.”

“You’ll be a wreck if you keep worrying like this,” rejoined the little stenographer.

“I’d be all right if I could only hear from Proctor.”

Walter rose nervously from the chair at every turn of the door-knob. Would the thing never come? Surely, he must take Miss Franklin’s advice and stop worrying about it. So he bade her close up, and strolled slowly homeward. He shrank from telling his mother again that he had had no word from London, for he knew only too well with what effort she was suppressing her anxiety.

He thought of diverting his course to Betty’s office, but his better judgment caused him to continue; for he knew that even though Betty were ready to leave, some admirer would be waiting for her in his car, and she generally preferred riding to walking.

As he entered the door he heard his mother’s voice softly singing a familiar tune; it encouraged him.

“Mother,” he called, feigning indifference, “that darn thing hasn’t come yet.”

“Mr. Proctor appears to be having some difficulty in disposing of the goods, doesn’t he?”

“I don’t know what to think. Even if there was no market for the lumber, I should think he would wire.”

“Never mind,” suggested Mrs. Gary. “Don’t cross bridges until you come to them. Go and see Betty this evening, she will cheer you up a bit.”

“Oh, no, I’ll wait and see if I make a success of this deal first; because if I lose, it will be good-bye to her anyway.”

“Why good-bye! It will surely make no difference to her if you win or lose. I shouldn’t think she was that sort of a girl.”

“She’s a fine girl, but she loves money and all it buys.”

“No more than other girls; they all love money.”

“But there is a difference. Take Sarah White for instance, the question of money isn’t in her make up. She’d as soon marry Jack Evans and keep her position, if it would help, as not.”

“Yes, I believe she would,” affirmed Mrs. Gary, “but wouldn’t Betty?”

“Never; she wouldn’t marry the best man on earth unless he were rich.”

“Perhaps she has never loved.”

“Mere love of a man will never sway Betty.”

“She has great aspirations--she loves luxuries, and the one who can supply them will be the one she will take.”

“You do her an injustice. She never impressed me as having such exalted desires.”

“But I know her so well. Yet with it all my one prayer is to be able to give her what she desires.”

Mrs. Gary quickly dropped her work in her lap.

“Then you mean you love her, Walter?”

“Yes, I love her, her face is always before me--a vision that refuses to vanish!”

“I shall try to become better acquainted with her, dear, I had no idea she played such an important part in your life.”

“She is a hard little trick to know.”

“And feeling as you do, you say you have not spoken to her of your venture.”

“No, because if I win I shall ask her to marry me. If I lose she shall never know that I love her.”

Walter stooped, kissed his mother and walked slowly from the room, closing the door gently behind him.

* * * * *

“What has become of you anyway!” asked Jack Evans as he appeared in Walter’s office at lunch time. His entrance had not the slightest effect, however, upon the attention his friend and the stenographer were giving to a cable which apparently had just arrived. They did not raise their eyes from the sheet or give any sign of recognition until the last word had been read; then Walter waved the paper and said, “Three cheers!”

“What the dickens is the matter with you?”

“Read it,” returned Walter, thrusting the paper into Jack’s hand for him to read. “‘Last of shipment disposed of. Good price. Order on hand for five hundred thousand feet.’ It’s the deal I was telling you of yesterday.”

“Good work! have you another consignment going out soon?”

“Yes, and every dollar I own and a lot besides is tied up in a yard full of lumber waiting to be shipped.”

“Lucky dog.”

“I thought I was anything but lucky yesterday, after I had waited a week without a word from Proctor. Heavens, I thought I would go crazy. Last night I felt like swimming to England. I cabled him three times before he answered.”

“Maybe you will play some golf with a fellow now.”

“I am ready for anything. Want to play this afternoon?”

“Sure, at four. Meet me at the club. Oh, say, Betty was asking about you yesterday; she says she hasn’t seen you for more than a week.”

“What did she say and how did she look when she said it?” laughingly inquired Walter as they left the office.

“I told you what she said, you chump, and she looked as though she meant it. Why don’t you quit working on that Bolshevism rot and join us occasionally at the club.”

“I’ve been anxious about my business and besides Betty seems to be having a pretty good time without me.”

“Nonsense, why don’t you assert yourself? Women like to be bossed, you know.” This was said in the tone of a person confident of his own powers along this line.

“Is that the way you manage Sarah? You surely have no kick coming where she is concerned.”

“No, she’s a brick, only she works too hard to suit me. Poor kid, she doesn’t get in from Washington until five; then if she has an engagement at night, she is all in the next day.”

“The satisfaction of knowing she is doing her bit compensates for that.”

“Yes, and now that the war is over, I’m hoping we’ll all be able to relax soon. I for one am sick of it all. The sight of a new man to train simply deadens me.”

“Pshaw, Jack, what are you talking about? Aren’t you proud the Hopkins students made such a good showing for themselves?”

“Yes, but I’m tired.”

“How many of them got over anyway?”

“About three hundred and eighty in France, and approximately two hundred in the camps ready for service.”

“Good, they have shown what they are made of, haven’t they!”

“Yes, because many of them are only children.”

“I envy them!” reflectively added Walter.

The two men parted. Jack was tall--at least six feet. He was slender and straight. He wore a Canadian uniform which showed off his figure to advantage. He also wore the D. S. C. ribbon, which was the envy of his men friends who had not seen service, and the glory and pride of all the girls upon whom he condescended to lavish attentions.

He had been assigned to Baltimore a year before to train college students for service. He found our clubs open to him, as were also the homes of our socially prominent families, because he was descended from a fine old Canadian family whose unimpeachable manners and traditions marked them unmistakably as of good English stock. These traits were prominent in Jack, and revealed themselves in his accent and cultured intonations.

Walter watched him out of sight, wondering why Jack had shown such a fondness for him, who was so entirely different. He compared Jack’s graceful figure with his own, which was handicapped by a droop in one shoulder, and a limp. Often had Walter thought of his imperfections and promised himself to make up in knowledge what he lacked in form.

“Miss Franklin,” said he, when he returned from lunch, “a little golf and tennis for me in the afternoons, but no other holiday this summer. I want you to run off and get rested up, because there will be lots of work for all of us soon.”

“But you have already worked so hard, Mr. Gary, you ought to take a rest too.”

“All of my wants are satisfied with this deal going through. It will not be long now before Gary & Co. will mean more than just a name to Baltimore.”

* * * * *

These days Walter’s whistle sounded through the house like music to his mother’s ears. He worked late into the night, but when morning came he was punctual and smiling.

“Love and business must be moving hand in hand with my boy,” remarked Mrs. Gary at breakfast one morning.

“No, mother, I have seen very little of Betty in the last two months, but I have had a good many notes from her, and writing was something she never had time to do before--it indicates she’s thinking of me, anyway.”

“Possibly she is not working so hard now.”

“Yes, she said she had only been to the club once in the last month, and you know how she loves to dance. She is sick of filing cards, poor kid. She is weary of her position. She is much too beautiful to be kept indoors. She would be able to live in the sunshine. It must be hard when one’s friends are all able to take life so easily. Of course, the girls are all working now for the Government, but there’s a difference between working for patriotism and for a living.”

“Working for a living has its virtues; it’s broadening, and she will learn things that are not taught at home.”

“But she has that unconquerable yearning for life and its activities.”

“That’s all the better. She will learn to appreciate the advantages when they come to her, and she probably will never make the mistake of allowing her life to narrow down to one of domesticity, as so many young people do. If they could only learn that just as a landscape without a perspective is flat, so is a young life which has no outside interests to bring into relief the monotony of its daily tasks! Without a background of knowledge for comparison the unusual in life is flat and meaningless.”

* * * * *

Betty sat on the edge of her little white bed. It stood in a room simply furnished, and its whitish cast made a fitting background for her slight figure clothed in black with a plain white frill at the neck. Her eyes were slowly following the lines of a letter, which ran:

“DEAR BETTY:

“I send you roses to remind you that there is still much that is beautiful in the world--flowers and hills and sky, and nearer than these, home and family and friends. And there is much work to be done, work full worthy of your best, which just now you feel like giving to memory only; and there are so many lives to which your life may contribute something of what your mother gave to you.