CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Do not believe all that you hear, For hot air men are hawking; And even keep a cautious ear When you, yourself, are talking.

BROWNSVILLE, PA.

MY DEAR SON:

I take my pen in hand to write you a few lines hoping that they may find you as well as we all are here. Mother reads your letters to us at dinner time. I hope you are living better. I never knew a genius that cared much about his eating, therefore, I do not suppose Palmer ever gave it a thought that you were suffering. He is a good fellow and I know he will make out well, except in the eating line.

You need not worry about your shotgun; I have it and will look after it until such time as I feel you should be permitted to handle dangerous weepuns. Turner Simpson says your Cousin Charley got that hound pup weeks ago; he claims Charley said you sent him after the pup.

All your friends inquire about you. Bill Johnston told me he was sorry he had to have you arrested for overturning his hay stack; that he did not believe you was to blame, the boys with you led you into oversetting the haystack to catch the rabbit.

Your Uncle Joe was in town Saturday, got tite and carried on high. He is getting worse as he gets older. Betsy is mortified to death. They were just at communion afore it happened.

How is Palmer doing? Is he making money? Did he get my letter? Hoping to hear from you very often and that you will remember that your father and mother and all the children think of you daily and all look forward to the time when we shall see you again,

Your affectionate father, J. C. H.

Alfred was living in a little world all his own. Jake, Bedford Tom, Mrs. Palmer, Gideon, Tom White, were its inhabitants. Palmer was not of it. He was not of the agreeable circle. Alfred often read letters from home to Mrs. Palmer. She was greatly interested in the correspondence. Alfred knew she desired him to read the father's letter to her. In a serious manner he advised the letter was a business one. This seemed to make the good woman even more anxious. She actually quizzed Alfred as to whether the letter was not one demanding payment of money borrowed by her husband. Alfred asked her if she knew the amount due his father. She did not, but said she would ascertain; further, she would exert herself to earn money to repay it. Alfred appreciated this and regretted he had ever mentioned the flitch in his letters to the folks at home. He felt that he had reflected upon Mrs. Palmer.

He re-read his father's letter that he might expunge the reference to the scant living. He read to where Bill Johnston had apologized for having him arrested; he did not care to have Mrs. Palmer know of this.

[Illustration: Palmer and the Wise Virgin]

Palmer, with his panorama and side issues, was making money, and there was not a day, not an hour, that something coarse, selfish or mean, did not show itself in word or deed of the man. The half dozen young women, who took part in the final scene, were robed in long, pale blue gowns, worn over their street apparel. It was necessary to fit the costumes on the young ladies previous to the opening or first exhibition. In arranging with the fathers or mothers of the girls, Palmer always emphasized the statement that: "My wife, Mrs. Palmer will take charge of the young ladies, show them their costumes." Mrs. Palmer was always ready to do so but Palmer was always there. He insisted, he forced his services in fitting the costumes. He would take an unusually long time to smooth out the wrinkles on the waist and bust lines. All this was done so unconcerned that none would ever suspect he was playing a part. His wife would flush up, walk away and occupy herself with other duties.

If there was a foolish virgin among the damsels--and there were some foolish ones in those days, though not so many as now--Palmer would begin a flirtation, kept up until he departed. This was only one of the many mean traits of the man that lessened Alfred's respect for him.

Palmer could not understand Alfred. Always full of fun and mischief, always ready to laugh, yet at times the boy was positively rude to the man nor would he permit any familiarity from Palmer.

One day in setting up the frame of the panorama, several members of the church in which it was to be exhibited, entered the auditorium unnoticed. Palmer, while driving a nail, miscalculated, the hammer came down on one of his fingers. Flinging the hammer on the floor with all the force he could command, he poured forth a torrent of profanity. Gideon, by signs, gave Palmer to understand that others were near. With a change as quick as a flash, Palmer grabbed Alfred by the coat collar, nearly lifting the boy off his feet. With a voice that sounded as if it were choking with indignation, he began: "You young scamp, I never heard you swear like this before, and I never want to hear you again. How dare you use such language in this house?" The onslaught was so sudden and unexpected that Alfred was taken off his feet. He had been in high good humor, laughing heartily at Palmer's mishap. Palmer led the intruders out in the auditorium ere the boy gathered his scattered senses.

Jake exclaimed: "Huh! Balmur knocks his fingers und makes oudt Alfred does der tammen." Shaking his head, he continued: "Balmur beats der bugs."

Alfred was savage with anger. He started after Palmer but Gideon restrained him, standing in his pathway, holding him back, appealing to Jake to assist him in controlling the boy. Gideon persuaded Alfred to drop the matter for the time. Jake desired that the boy call Palmer to account. He answered Gideon's appeals in a sort of careless, I-don't-care way: "Vell, it's yust like Alfredt feels, if he vants to yump Balmur, I tink he kann handle him, I von't interfere. It iss none uf my biziness, yett."

[Illustration: Palmer Grabbed Alfred by the Collar]

It was late in the afternoon when Palmer again appeared in the church. He entered, as was his custom, all hurry and bustle. "Hello, Alfred! I thought you'd have the panorama all set. Waiting for the boss, hey?"

"Yes, I'm waiting for the boss and I want to tell the boss the next time he tries to make a scapegoat out of me before a lot of church people he'll hear something he won't like. I'm no clod-hopper to have you make me appear a rowdy. You daddy your own cussing."

Palmer seemed greatly surprised at this and, as usual, in an argument with his people, became greatly excited. He endeavored to win with a bluff. "Here, my young man, you're always playing your jokes on Jake and all the others; I was only having a little fun with you, I didn't intend to hurt your feeling."

"Feelings! Feelings! What about my good name? What'll those men think of me? I'm ashamed to face them again while I'm here."

"Oh, you're too soft to travel; you ought to be at home with your gilt edge ideas."

"Well, I can go home," hotly retorted Alfred.

"I've got a written agreement with your father and I'll hold you to it," threatened Palmer.

"You'll hold me to nothing. You've got no writings that'll permit your making me out a rowdy."

"Now see here, Mr. Minstrel," and Palmer assumed mock politeness, "I've heard enough of your slack; dry up or I'll make you."

Alfred jumped to the middle of the platform and dared Palmer to lay his hand on him. Palmer got so excited he could not talk. Gideon, as usual, in his quiet, argumentative way, endeavored to smooth the matter over: "Come on, let's get ready for tonight. We're going to have the best business since we opened."

"I've quit," announced Alfred, "I'm going home."

Jake's smile fled; his under jaw hung down, giving his face an expression Alfred had never previously seen it wear. Gideon turned even more yellowish looking. Bedford Tom ejected a mouthful of tobacco juice as he blurted out: "I pity Pilgrim's Progress."

Gideon continued his plea: "Well, if this company isn't demoralized I don't know what I'm talking about. Now see here, boys, listen to me; we're together, let's reason like honest people should: To have you," and he looked at Alfred, "quit thus abruptly would cause innocent ones to suffer. See what an embarrassment it would be to Mrs. Palmer. Why, it would kill her. She has sacrificed everything she holds dear in the world; she has two children." (Gideon had won his point, it was not necessary for him to say more). "She has not seen those children in two years; she hopes to have them with her soon. See what a disappointment it would be to her and the children. Alfred, as at present arranged, we could not spare you. I will get Palmer and we will fix this matter up satisfactorily to you."

Alfred was just a boy, not unlike any other boy. He did not desire to quit; and he knew he was indispensable to the successful production of the panorama. He also felt that he had won thus far. He did not yield, outwardly at least, but agreed that he would await Gideon's interview with Palmer. He had no preconceived ideas as to what to do or say further, but, like all who are disgruntled, he could not bring himself to say that he would.

While Gideon was seeking Palmer, Jake endeavored to console Alfred: "Ef you do go out of der paneramy it vill be too tam bad; I will not acdt out annudder time. I toldt Balmur delas' time. I'm no handt at paneramy buziness und it's no more fur Jake to do it."

Bedford Tom put another blotch on the white pine floor as he patted Jake on the back: "You're all yerself agin, ole man, your sensibilness is kerrect; don't try to act in a panerammer or enythin' else. Ef ye hed seen yerself with thet tume-stun, er whatever it wus, on yer back, an' wallerin' in thet painted pond, ye'd never went back to Bedford. Ye certainly made a muss of hit."

"Vell, I toldt heem I vus ashamed mit myself, end he sedt: 'Oh, hell yu kann standt und look myzerbul, kan't yu?'"

Bedford Tom laughed in the honest Dutchman's face as he assured him he looked "myzerbul enuff but his actin' was more myzerbul then his looks."

"Vhy don'dt yu try it ef yu tink it ees so tam easy?" was Jake's answer.

Gideon walked in, beckoned to Alfred: "Come down to Palmer's room, he wants to talk this whole thing over."

Alfred did not care to meet Mrs. Palmer. "Tell Palmer to come up here," was the message Gideon carried back. Alfred was feeling just a little ashamed of the part he had played in the dispute; he felt that he had gone a bit further than he should. But his instinctive dislike to Palmer had grown day by day. The man's face, that index to character, had repulsed him when they first met. There are lines in the face chiseled by a sculptor who never makes a wrong stroke. The face is a truthful record of our vices and virtues. It is a map of life that outlines character so clearly that there is no getting away from the story it tells. The face is a signboard showing which way the man or woman is traveling, which of life's crossroads they are on. The face cannot betray the years one has traveled until the mind gives its consent. The mind is the master. If the mind holds youthful, innocent thoughts, the face will retain a youthful appearance. And the more permanent are the marks made by petulancy, hatred and selfishness thereon. The best letter of recommendation ever written is an open fearless face.

Palmer put in an appearance, his face showing plainly that he was not at ease. His manner was as flambuoyant as ever: "Where is this mainstay of the only panorama on earth? Come here, boy, I want to talk to you like a father:

"I was a boy not long ago, unthinking, idle, wild and young, I laughed, and danced and talked and sung."

The antics Palmer cut while delivering this couplet were truly amusing. Palmer was an actor. Placing his hand on Alfred's shoulder, gazing into his face, he continued:

"Just at the age twixt boy and youth, When thought is speech and speech is truth."

Then quoting Christian in the Pilgrim's Progress: "I have given him my faith and sworn my allegiance to him. How then can I go back from this and not be hanged as a traitor?" Palmer pointed his long, bony finger at Alfred and awaited a reply. It came:

"I was indeed engaged in your dominions but your services were hard and your wages such as a man could not live on. For the wages of sin is death."

Palmer, a little discomforted, led the boy to one side, saying: "Now see here, young fellow, I'm as old as your father; I don't look it, but I am. Now you want to quit, eh? You wouldn't be at home four days before you would wish yourself back here. You are not rich, your father is not rich. You have to make a living. I'll give you an opportunity to make money. You are learning this business, you have good ideas. You remain with me, I'll make a man of you; I'll put you in a way to make more money than you've ever seen."

Alfred intimated that he could not see himself making a great deal of money at twenty dollars a month.

"Why, don't you count your board, as anything?"

"Well, I'm not satisfied. I'm worth more than twenty dollars a month to you," stubbornly contended Alfred.

"But you and your father are both bound up to me in a written agreement. Do you want to break it? Would that be right?"

"Well, you broke your written contract with the members of Rock Hill Church. You said Gideon made the contract without consulting you. Grandpap made this contract without consulting me."

Palmer laughed long and loud: "Egad, that's good! This kid finds me skinning a couple of old duffers and forthwith he sets about to skin me. The harvest truly is plenteous but the laborers are few; ask and it shall be given to you; seek and you shall find; knock and it shall be opened to you." Pointing at Alfred, he continued: "But remember, the love of money is the root of all evil. Say, what are you going to do with all this money?"

"Buy a farm, some day," answered Alfred.

"How great a matter a little fire kindleth," quoted Palmer as he pleadingly asked: "Say, kid, how much are you going to hang me up for?"

"Well, if you give me fifty dollars a month, I'll stick to you."

"Holy mother of all that's evil; the devil and Tom Walker! Say, who do you take after? Not your daddy. He's easy. Fifty dollars a month? Say, I worked two years and had a wife and two children to take care of and I never cleared forty dollars a month. I've been a lifetime working myself up to what I am and you jump into the game, inexperienced, green as a cucumber, and want to hog the persimmons at the start. 'Taint fair, 'taint right; I'm an honest man; I w