The San Francisco call. [volume], December 06, 1903, Image 5

About The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913

Image provided by: University of California, Riverside; Riverside, CA

                
¦v— -/ ¦ ' ¦> A HEN Happy waa
RGr?5£KC?j!jpf ushered Into this
f&ra\0@wfl? world 0f lleht and
" shadow, John Mollett
$iMil!wlfei consulted old Sextus
fl*Sffllw1&y-\ Sears regarding a
suitable title for the
• UawJ—^""^Bwafl little stranger. ,
Now she waa 20, round and rosy, and
laughed nearly air the* time, barring
church services, slumber and funerals.
At all of which she was composed, be
ing broken to the first and last, named
to an unnatural degree.
Damocles, whose common ; sobriquet
among jocular youths of his acquaint
ance may be better imagined than writ
ten, had suffered for two years In a
state of bashful suspense, longing yet
not daring to chance the severance of
cordial friendship by a declaration of
his consuming passion.
He' knew Happy would laugh.' -That
could' not be borne. " No. it were best
to* wait, pine and grow thin. •
Miss Mollett observed this, smiled
broadly, and mentally dubbed the un
fortunate a fool. Possibly a passing
thought of his nickname" broadened the
nmile. She. herself, always addressad
this bashful lover as Mr. Sears. Th's
was proper and dignified, but had she
'once . departed '. from grace, " Damocles
would have erected It as a step in the
direction of deliverance. .
He had had many chances, being high
in the -mirthful ' affections .of . Happy,
who i enjoyed . his -quiet ways and rare
bursts' of levity, deeming herself silly '
with- her well-nigh uncontrollable - mer- ¦
rlment. • ". ¦:"..-.-. :...,.¦* ¦,..;
After all. she guessed Damocles Sears
was the one. If only he would brace up.
If cot, well, she should not wait too
That didn't complete his work, how
ever. He entered the house , and said
to the women:
"A pretty pack of wolves > you ¦ are!
You- are gossiping about v a< woman
whose shoes you: are not til to tie. It's
gossip, slander and lies, and every one
of you know it, and-I tell: you I'll: not
stand any more of It. I can't roll you
In the snowdrifts, because, you are
women, but I can and .will hold your
They followed him out, wondering
what was up, but they were not long
left In doubt. He turned upon them
and gave the whole three a. beautiful
drubbing before they hardly knew that
a fight was on. Then i he called out
Uncle John Steadman. widower, and
Henry Danfortn, old bachelor, both of
whom had been turned down, and
shaking his flst under their noses he
said: .
"Mind you, this talk about Miss Lee
has got to stop. The next man who
even sneers at her. has got to settle for
It with roe."
"I see that Miss Lee Is not present
here this evening. Does any one know
why?" ; ¦ .
"She's probably hunting for a man."
replied one of the girls with a giggle,
while Joe Allbright led the haw-haw-
Ing among the young men. , ,¦
"Yes, she may be," said Abner, as
he looked around with a dangerous
gleam in his eyes, "but wljl Joe All
bright. Tom Smart and- William Hall
step outdoors with me for a moment?".
and old men who wanted to "get even,"
and so, after an hour or two, when
Miss Lee's name came up Innuendo
was busy In a moment. It was noticed
that Abner Joy turned red and white
and hitched about uneasily, but it was
quite ten minutes before he stood i up
a»d said:
Damocles gave a tiny grunt of apol
ogy, his heart beating rapidly as his
arm touched her plump one. "Haven't
been/feelln' much like talkin' to any
one," he muttered. "I'm sort of cross
* "Nearer," said the girl, "right up here
In the shade. I don't want every one to
see us. Father and mother will be
peekin* out.- listenin'. If they don't call
me in we can sit here ever so long, and
I never «ret a chance to talk with you
lately. Seems to me you have mighty
little to tell me about what Is going on
with your folks, "and what you hear
down at the village, nowadays."
long. There were plenty of others.
"Perhaps—" Happy giggled. "If— If she
could accidentally have something hap
pen, maybe he might see how she felt
about It. No need of his acting afraid
to sit un with her. Now, if he would
only come In to-night, with her parents
quite ready for bed. It was lovely on
the bench under the maple trees— a
moon, too. Was that his step — yes — and
going by."
"Mr. Sears." called Happy, 'is that
you?"
"Thought the folks were going to bed,"
mumbled Damocles, coming In halting
ly, "and of course — "
"And of course you wouldn't dare to
visit with me out here In the moon
light." chuckled Miss Mollett. "Oh.
come on In and sit with me. I was
just thinking about you."
"And laughing,- I'll bet." returned her
lover tremulously. But he sat down on
the end of the settee, with a faint
sidelong glance of admiration.
"Well. I was— a little bit. You're so
funny. Move up here by me. and I'll
tell you."
Mr. Sears drew a long breath and
hitched along slowly.
"I've got a hair caught in one of your
buttons. No. I can't get it off. O\v!
Can vou undo It? I'm he!J fast. Da
mocles. There. Ill put my head down
so—you won't mind, do you? See If It
will come loose/v
The man's fingers fumb'^d at the
golden thread. "It's off." h«s said
hoarsely. "You can lift your head now
—but— but I wish It cfculJ stay there
forever."
"I wish so too," murmured th« RlrL
"It's where I want it to real, dear."
this spring — and — and — wore out.
Laugh It you want to. What waa It?"
Happy drew close, her lips to his ear.
"I was only smiling about something."
she whispered.
"Well— what?"
"Just wonderln* what you would say
if some day I should unexpectedly call
out when you were going by, 'Hullo — *
Oh, I guess I won't say It— I wouldn't.
of course — your nickname, you know."
"I wish to gracious you woultV' said
Damocles, savagely. "Anything** bet
ter than Mr. Sears from you. Happy."
He sat stilled by his temerity, waiting
for an outburst of mirth, but none
came. Only a queer silence. Had he
offended her? "Time I went," he
groaned. "Always sayln* the wraps
thing."
"My! there's a bat!" cried Happy,
with a squeak of apparent frUht.
"Don't let him get J,n my hair! Has
he gone?"
Her curly head was wriggling against
the upper buttons of the vest of Da
mocles. He held it close for a second
with a long quivering gasp, then re
leased her.
"Yes, he's gone." he said klnily. "Too
bad to scare vou so. Why, what's the
matter?"
(Copyright. 1803. by T. C. McClure.)
wy-_-^rrj| T was a cold winter In
|f*^5J|pTT^j?jj Fchool district No. 4.
>9i~'i? townEh| P °* Ingham,
C^ i&akA fOunt >' ct Hillsdale.
fs&h > £~ VJ I but they were making
Nl&fmty&ii u pretty warm for
[i^SP^r^iB lhe scho °l ma'am just
\Msa^^^*Ke3 the came. Miss Lee
had come from a city
fifty nilltf away, bringing the very best
recommendations, and had taken hold
cf the school to the satisfaction of
everybody. The trouble was that she
was 20 years old and good looking. She
could r.ut help being good looking any
more than a dozen farmer girls In the
district could help their plain faces,
but scarcely a fortnight had passed
when mot hew and daughters were
sneering and backbiting.
No homely woman, be she married or
eingltt can help being jealous of a
handsome one. In the society of a city
the homely one has the sense to conceal
her feelings, but in the country she at
tends a quiltfng-bee on purpose to
speak her mind.
The thing may be said to have started
with L'nc!? Ben Driggs, chairman of the
school committee. He was a widower,
60 years old. and had been courting the
Widow Hastings, five years his junior,
but v. hat docs he do but t offer the
schoolma'am his calloused Hand and
aged heart before she had fairly got
the school organized.
She promptly refused him. but the
Widow Hastings was her enemy from
that time on, and Uncle Ben heard her
gossiped about without coming to her
defense. In the course of six weeks
"If she Isn't trying her best to cap
ture a man of some sort why don't
she come right out and say she
wouldn't marry the best one that ever
wore boots, same as I do? I tell you
she Is sly and deceitful, and she'll sep
arate more'n one lovin* couple before
she gets through with It"
Before New Year's came there was
only one marriagable man for four
miles around who hadn't offered him
self at least once. That was Abner Joy,
a man of 30, who had a farm of his
own and a sister for a housekeeper. He
had admired, but so secretly and mod
estly that Miss Lee had not suspected.
No one mistrusted his feelings until
one evening when there was a paring
bee at Uncle David Saunders". The
gathering included over forty people,
old and young, and as it was Miss
Lee's week to board with the Saunders'
Bhe *)ught to have been there. She was
not, however, and, though the night
had come , on with a storm, nobody
worried about the schoolma'am — not
even Abner. When he failed to find her
there he argued that she bad stopped
at a nearer place. In the gathering
were several girls and women with
spiteful tongues, and several young
Miss Lee had turned down another
widower and two young men, and thus
made more enemies. Several engage
ments were in danger of being broken
because Jim, Joe or John would insist
that the teacher was the daintiest
daisy that ever called up a class in
geography. The girl knew that she?
was making enemies and being slurred
and slandered, but as It was not her
fault and she had no remedy she main
tained silence. This subjected her to
criticism again. As Hannah Jones re
marked at Mrs. Doolittle's quilting
bee:
"I— I guess I will. If you— you want
me. to." she replied, as she drove away,
and three months later she did.
"Talk love ? ; Not ; a ¦ word. . I j know
you are ready, to throw up the school
a-nd go -back home, but don't give up.
I've got* my fists toughened up and
want? to use 'em often."
.And when the summer days came and
she closed v her : school 'with kind words
from ; all, she ¦ grasped the hand of 'AJj
ner Joy and said: ,'.- . •
V Abner, I have met a man down here
— just! onef^and I hate to say good-by
to him." 8ffliteMBww^BW8SS"
"Then s why. don't you come back -and
let him do some more fighting for you?"
he-asked. -
men. folks responsible."
Half an hour later he was inquiring
at Taylor's If Miss Lee was, there, and
again he stopped, at FUker's. But hs
did not. find her: until ha drove up to
the school house. . She sat there alone
with her things on, and the open stove
door was her candle. She had; felt too
weak and discouraged to face the
storm and didn't care much whether
any one came for her or not. . - -. *
."Miss Lee, I've come to take you
home for the, night,'.' said Abner, as he
entered the building.
"But why do you come?" she asked
In. surprise. ~* . ...
"Because I have constituted myself
your champion. 'There won't be; any
more gossip. * I'm ashamed of the peo
ple,, but you'll see a change, to-mor
row."-. ¦ ; ;, . .-¦¦-. , ..'..-.'
"Wh— what have you done?" she ask
ed between her sobs.
."Licked three or four men, promised
to lick three or four more, and told a
'dozen women what I thought of them,",
he laconically replied. %
"But you'll— you'll"— . ."
"Ask you to marry me? No/I won't
—I'll , be hanged If I do! Come along
with me and we'll pick up sister Sarah
at Saunders'.",
.-•' "And 'you won't— won't"— .
THE MAN AMONG THEM
—By Irvine Parcftee
CSg^rTTfa^aar] OW slow you are,
Kftl>l~j~fif iS' I tirel >' pood tempered.
I \% H"-"ia' l i i R £/ Therefore the other
iflsH'.rn^H^J, voice became crosser.
¦ffi^^rgM^j] "What's the use
fcr^— -— lb^-i-1 primping two hours
for that mere nobody of a Flliberto?"
"To be sure, what is the use?" Can
dida's good temper was maddening. Her
mother was at the remote end of the
house, but she could see mentally the
¦zniling, tantalizing face that she knew
bo we::
Candida's mirror smiled back at her.
It was a tiny mirror with a shabby
frame, but it held the loveliest and
most famous picture in all Alta Cali
fornia. The portrait was that of a
sixteen-year-old girl, strongly built and
exquisitely rounded as those Castilian
girls of old California were — the com
plexion a pure Castilian olive witheut
a tinge or rose: the eyes a sparkling.
\ivld black; the hair as black as th»
eyes, a splendid mass coiled high and
caught with a comb.
"Ah. but it is of use, even if Filiberto
is & mere nobody. What do you think,
lovely Senorita?" she said to the face
in the mirror. The face laughed back
at her.
Candles were fastened to the wall
on each side of the miror, so that a
strong light was thrown on the face
therein. Candida could watch it to
pood advantages as it grew lovelier un
der her skillful touch.
A lock of hair did not suit her. She
brush* d it. pulled it. unfastened it. re
fastened it. finally pulled down the
whole mass of hair in a heap and be
gan coiling it all over from the begin
ning.
"You're the rlowest of all my girls"
fretted her mother in the dining-room.
It mp.de r.o difference to her whether
Candida w»s slow or not on thip <
sion; but she was out cf sorts v.-' \
the world. She had expected th
Comandante would invite her da... .
ter to accompany him to the fandanpn
to-night. She had watched in vain for
the message. She saw her match-mak
ing blighted after being brought to a
critical point.
"Where's the girl?" growled a ter
rific voice. It was that of her husband.
"Phe"e dressing."
"What for. when she's going with no
body but Yorba? She had as well wear
her working gown."
"Ah DJos — after all cur hopes!" Se
ncra Barrajas wrung her fat hands..
"It's of no avail to whimper about
It. The girl's been a fool, you may
count on that, no matter what she
says. She's done something to annoy
the Comandante— it's like her. Stub
born as her mother. She will reao as
«he bows."
"My stubbornness made me marry
you." put in the Senora,
"And you pot better than you de
served." He strode out of the room
crumbling like a thunderstorm.
Candida, adjusting her comb, heard it
all and smiled.
"Ah, Madre mia, how blind you are In
«plt« of your lynx eyes." she said, and
took a note from her bosom.
"Contrary to custom, I send this to
Ton Instead of to your mother," she
r»-read with satisfaction. "For it is
your answer I desire. Will you accom
pany me to the fandango? If not. I
•hall go to Santa Barbara on business.
£°' the fandango without you would
cold no charms."
Below was what any girl in Califor
nia would have given her black eyes
for— the signature of the popular
Comandante.
No member of the family had seen
the messenger ride up and deliver this
not* to Candida. Nor had any one
poverty, out now pique played its
part, and as he realized that the Coni
andante was not Inviting Candida
after all ' his promising attentions he
resolved that she should not be left at
home. .
seen her send back her answer, which
read:
"I must beg to be excused from this
fandango, for my ankle is 6till weak
since Pero threw me, and I dare not
risk a dance."
Nor did any one know that ike sent
another message to a certain "no
• body."
"The coast Is clear. The Coman
dante Is going to Santa Barbara, so
ne will never know that I go to the
dance. Father will let me go with
you for the once, for he thinks I have
no other invitation."
Candida's conscience shook off fibs
as a duck shakes off water. There was
not a cloud on her brow as she made
Sniw; * •* iv ,V\f' umbl «nK "yes" to
Filibertos Invitation; he had refused
Slnv^S? ° V6r tO lct the * lrl accom
pany this young man. whose fault was
"I flon*t care— taka her to the danc«
If you want to," he said to Flliberto
Yorba. Then- he went off muttering
curses en the htad of the Coman
dante. They had gambled together
many a time from vespers to the morn-
Ing bell; they bid lain side by side In
their cups when the aguardiente was
plenty; they had corrupted California
politics band In hand for many a year.
•'Now the man Is Jilting my daughter.
Is he?"
Candida tucked the note in het bosom
again. It would be fun to show it to
Flliberto when they had a little time
alone.
"Tell Flliberto I'll be ready in a min
ate." she called as she heard the light
hoofs of Mia.
She moved the comb to fhe other side.
then back to its original position. Be
hind her ear she fastened a great crim
son rose.
"You are lovelier than ever." Flli
berto whispered as she pave him a
glimpse of the picture she was. Then
she threw a white mantilla ever her
head and shoulders, her facs and the
rose peeping out from the snowy lace.
"Good evening. Mia." she f-aid, pat
tins the little horse's nose. It save a
happy whinny, for It knew Candida.
Her father and mother came from the
house and said a surly pood evening to
the handsome young Spaniard. To them
he was entirely objectionable In that he
had no property, no Influential father,
nothing but his own cleverness and
courage to depend upon. Furthermore,
they strongly suspected their daughter
of preferring him to the shrewd old po
litical fox to whom they were trying to
marry her.
"Permit me to thank you both for in
trusting your daughter to my care to
night," he said bltthely. In spite of the
frowns that greeted him.
Candida patted the restless pony
again. "Are you in a hurry. Mia?" she
¦aid. "Come, Flliberto. we must start.
Mia says she will not wait."
The girl put her little red-slippered
foot Into the stirrup. Flliberto helped
her as she sprang, and she was perched
aloft in the gala day saddle, all carved
and be-stlvered. With a bow to the old
people he sprang up behind her, as was
the Callfomlan custom.
He reached forward to adjust th»
reins. Mia fumed to be off. But the
word had not been given when a clatter
cf hoofs sounded beyond the house.
All turned to see who the arrival was.
The hoofs clattered more sharply as the
rallop slowed. Up rode the Coman
dante. /
At the sight of Candida about to ride
away he turned white with anger, as
his way was.
"Ah, senoxita. may I Inquire who your
physician may be, that your ankle heals
so quickly?"
The father and mother stood silent.
looking from one to the other. Suspi
cion, fear.- rage -were creeping upon
them. It was no time to parry, the glr!
knew.
"There Is but one physician who can
heal every hurt." she replied. "He is
Love. I am In his charge. Off. Mia."
And the pony was away with them.
"You mean it?" said Flliberto.
Bhe only tossed him a teasing laugh
now. "How Mia flies!" she sa'd. dodg
ing his question. "There are the lights
of the fandango."
Far away glittered the brilliant lights
In a great ranch house. Suddenly the
road divided. At the end of one branch
were the lights of the gay ball; at the
end of the other, one lamp shone from
the Mission.
"Listen!" said Flliberto, and stopped
the horse. A strange blending of sounds
came to their ears; guitar and violin
sounded faintly from the left: from the
right came the faraway chime of the
Mission bell.
"To the left lies the dance," he said
slowly. "After It— home again, a storm
of wrath, you and I separate forever."
"Yes," she said, the merriment gone
out of her eyes.
"To the right." he went on, "Father
Juan, our old priest and friend. He
knows us and loves us. He will marry
us to-night."
"Oh!" she cried with a little shudder.
"Shall It not be the right road?"
"Oh— I'm afraid — I can't—"
"Say the right."
She hesitated, perplexed. Then she
cried, "I know, I'll let Mia decide. We
¦hall see which way she chooses."
She pushed his hands from the reins.
drew Mia to the middle of the fork and
¦topped her. "Now go, Mia," she said.
The horse flung up her head and sal
loped into the dark road on the rlzht.
"Mia, you shall feed on sugar lumps
for the rest of your life," Flliberto said.
It waa not for many years that Can
dida made a confession to her husband.
"I tweaked the right rein." she owned
then. "I was so afraid Mia might
make a mistake."
THE FUN DAY CAT, T,. /
HELD BY A HAIR
By Elliot Walker
THE ROAD MIA CHOSE
5