CHAPTER IV
DUTY AND THE JUG
Mr. Thomas Ardmore, one trunk, two bags, and a little brown jug reachedthe Guilford House, Raleigh, at eight o'clock in the morning. Ardmorehad never felt better in his life, he assured himself, as he chose aroom with care and intimated to the landlord his intention of remaininga week. But for the ill luck of having his baggage marked he should haveregistered himself falsely on the books of the inn; but feeling thatthis was not quite respectable he assured the landlord, in response tothe usual question, that he was not Ardmore of New York and Ardsley butan entirely different person.
"Well, I don't blame you for not wanting to be taken for any of thatset," remarked the landlord sympathetically.
"I should think not!" returned Ardmore in a tone of deep disgust.
The Guilford House coffee was not just what he was used to, but he wasin an amiable humor and enjoyed hugely the conversation of thecommercial travelers with whom he took his breakfast. He did not oftenescape from himself or the burden of his family reputation, and thesestrangers were profoundly entertaining. It had never occurred to Ardmorethat man could be so amiable so early in the day and his own spiritsrallied as he passed the sugar, abused the hot bread and nodded hisapproval of bitter flings at the inns of other southern towns of whoseexistence he only vaguely knew. They spoke of the president of theUnited States and of various old world monarchs in a familiar tone thatwas decidedly novel and refreshing; and he felt that it was a greatprivilege to sit at meat with these blithe spirits. Commercialtravelers, he now realized, were more like the strolling players, thewandering knights, the cloaked riders approaching lonely inns at night,than any other beings he had met out of books. It was with the severestself-denial that he resisted an impulse to invite them all to visit himat Ardsley or to use his house in Fifth Avenue whenever they pleased.When the man nearest him, who was having a second plate of corn cakesand syrup, casually inquired his "line," Ardmore experienced a momentof real shame, but remembering the jug he had acquired in the night hereplied:
"Crockery."
"Mine's drugs. Do you know Billy Gallop?--he's in your line."
"Should say I did," replied Ardmore unhesitatingly. "I took supper withhim in Philadelphia Sunday night."
"How's trade?"
"Bully," replied Ardmore, reaching for the syrup, "I broke my recordyesterday."
The drug man turned to listen to a discussion of the row betweenGovernors Osborne and Dangerfield precipitated by one of the company whohad fortified himself with a newspaper, and Ardmore also gave ear.
"Whatever did happen at New Orleans," declared a Maiden Lane jewelryrepresentative, "you can be quite sure that Dangerfield won't get thehot end of the poker. I've seen him, right here at Raleigh, and he hasall the marks of a fighting man. He'd strip at two hundred, and he's sixin his socks."
"Pshaw! Those big fellows are all meat and no muscle," retorted the drugman. "I doubt if there's any fight in him. Now Osborne's a differentproduct--a tall lean cuss, but active as a cat. A man to be governor ofSouth Carolina has got to have the real stuff in him. If it comes to ashow-down you'll see Dangerfield duck and run."
This discussion was continued at length, greatly to Ardmore's delight,for he felt that in this way he was being brought at once into touchwith Miss Dangerfield, now domiciled somewhere in this town, and to whomhe expected to be properly introduced just as soon as he could devisesome means to that end. As he had not read the newspapers he did notknow what the row was all about, but he instinctively aligned himself onthe Dangerfield side. The Osbornes were, he felt, an inferior race, andhe inwardly resented the imputations upon Governor Dangerfield'scourage.
"I wonder if the governor's back yet?" asked one man.
"The morning paper says not, but he's expected to-day," replied the manwith the newspaper.
"About the first thing he'll have to do will be to face the question ofarresting Appleweight. I was in Columbia the other day and everybody wastalking of the case. They say"--and the speaker waited for the fullestattention of his hearers--"they say Osborne ain't none too anxious tohave Appleweight arrested on his side of the line."
"Why not?" demanded Ardmore.
"Well, you hear all kinds of things. It was only whispered down there,but they say Osborne was a little too thick with the Appleweight crowdbefore he was elected governor. He was their attorney, and they were abad lot for any man to be attorney for. But they haven't caughtAppleweight yet."
"Where's he hiding; don't the authorities know?"
"Oh, he's up there in the hills on the state line. His home is as muchon one side as the other. He spends a good deal of time in Kildare."
"Kildare?" asked Ardmore, startled at the word.
"Yes, it's the county seat, what there is of it. I hope you never makethat town!" and the inquirer bent a commiserating glance upon Ardmore.
"Well, they use jugs there, I know that!" declared Ardmore; whereat thetable roared. The unanimity of their applause warmed his heart, thoughhe did not know why they laughed.
"You handle crockery?" asked a man from the end of the table. "Well, Iguess Dilwell County consumes a few gross of jugs all right. But you'dbetter be careful not to whisper jugs too loud here. There's usually acouple of revenue men around town."
They all went together to the office, where they picked up their samplecases and sallied forth for a descent upon the Raleigh merchants; andArdmore, thus reminded that he was in the crockery business, and that hehad a sample in his room, sat down under a tree on the sidewalk at theinn door to consider what he should do with his little brown jug. It hadundoubtedly been intended for Governor Dangerfield, who was supposed tobe on the train he had himself taken from Atlanta to Raleigh. There hadbeen, in fact, two jugs, but one of them he had tossed back into thehands of the man who had pursued the train at Kildare. Ardmore smokedhis pipe and meditated, trying to determine which jug he had tossedback; and after long deliberation, he slapped his knee, and said aloud:
"I gave him the wrong one, by jing!"
The boy had said that his offering contained buttermilk, a beveragewhich Ardmore knew was affected by eccentric people for their stomach'ssake. He had sniffed the other jug and it contained, undeniably, analcoholic liquid of some sort.
Jugs had not figured prominently in Ardmore's domestic experiences; butas he sat under the tree on the curb before the Guilford House hewondered, as many other philosophers have wondered, why a jug is soincapable of innocency! A bottle, while suggestive, is not inherentlywicked; but a jug is the symbol of joyous sin. Even the soberest souls,who frown at the mention of a bottle, smile tolerantly when a jug issuggested. Jugs of many centuries are assembled in museums, and roundthem the ethnologist reconstructs extinct races of men; and yet, evenscience and history, strive they never so sadly, can not wholly relievethe jug of its cheery insouciance. A bottle of inferior liquor may bedressed forth enticingly, and alluringly named; but there's nodisguising the jug; its genial shame can not be hidden. There arepleasant places in America where, if one deposit a half-dollar and alittle brown jug behind a certain stone, or on the shady side of ablackberry bush, jug and coin will together disappear between sunset andsunrise; but lo! the jug, filled and plugged with a corn-cob, willreturn alone mysteriously, in contravention of the statutes in suchcases made and provided. Too rare for glass, this fluid, which bubblesout of the southern hills with as little guilt in its soul as the brooksbeside which it comes into being! But, lest he be accused of aiding andabetting crime against the majesty of the law, this chronicler hastensto say that on a hot day in the harvest field, honest water, hiddenaway in a little brown jug in the fence corner, acquires a quality andimparts a delight that no mug of crystal or of gold can yield.
As Mr. Ardmore pondered duty and the jug a tall man in shabby corduroyhalted near by and inspected him carefully. Mr. Ardmore, hard upon hispipe, had not noticed him, somewhat, it seemed, to the stranger'svexation. He patrolled the sidewalk before the inn, hoping to attractArdmore's att
ention, but finding that the young man's absorptioncontinued he presently dropped into a neighboring chair under the mapletree.
"Good morning," said Ardmore pleasantly.
The man nodded, but did not speak. He was examining Ardmore with a pairof small, shrewd, gray eyes. In his hands he held a crumpled bit ofbrown paper that looked like a telegram.
"Well, I reckon you jest got to town this mornin', young fella."
"Yes, certainly;" Ardmore replied promptly. He had never been addressedin quite this fashion before, but it was all in keeping with his newdestiny and he was immediately interested in the stranger, who was wellon in middle age, with a rough grizzled beard, and a soft hat, onceblack, that now struggled for a compromise tint between yellow andgreen.
"Ever been hyeh befo'?"
"Never; but I'm crazy about the place and I'll be seen here a good dealhereafter."
Ardmore produced his cigar-case and extended it to the stranger. Theman, awed by the splendor of the case, accepted a cigar a littlegingerly.
"Drummer, I reckon?"
"Commercial traveler, we prefer to be designated," replied Ardmore withdignity.
"I guess drummer's good enough down hyeh. What y'u carry?"
"Jugs. I'm in the jug business. Never had any business but jugs."
The man paused in lighting his cigar, stared at Ardmore over the flamingmatch, drew the fire into the cigar several times, then settled backwith his hands in his pockets.
"Full 'r empty?"
"The jugs? Oh, empty jugs; but it's no affair of mine what becomes ofthe jugs afterwards."
"Y'u likely got samples with y'u?"
"Well, not many. You see my line is so well known I don't have to carrysamples any more. The trade knows our goods."
"Stop at Kildare on the way up?" and the stranger looked aboutguardedly.
"Certainly, my friend, I always 'make' Kildare," replied Ardmore, usinga phrase he had acquired at breakfast.
"Train runs through the' pretty late at night?"
"Beastly. But I hardly ever sleep, anyhow. A man in my splendid healthdoesn't need sleep. It's a rotten waste of time."
Silence for several minutes; then the stranger leaned forward in hischair, resting his elbows on his knees, and said in a low tone:
"I got a telegram hyeh says y'u got a jug thet y'u ain't no right t'last night at Kildare. I want thet jug, young fella."
"Now that's very unfortunate. Ordinarily I should be delighted, but Ireally couldn't give away my Kildare jug. Now if it was one of my otherjugs--even my Omaha jug, or my dear old Louisville jug--I shouldn'thesitate a minute, but that old Kildare jug! My dear man, you don't knowwhat you ask!"
"Y'll give me thet jug or it'll be the worse for y'u. Y'u ain't in thetgame, young fella."
"Not in it! You don't know whom you are addressing. I'm not only in thegame, but I'm in to the finish," declared Ardmore, sitting upright inhis chair. "You've got the wrong idea, my friend, if you think you canintimidate me. That jug was given me by a friend, a very old and dearfriend--"
"A friend of yourn!"
The keen little gray eyes were blinking rapidly.
"One of the best friends I ever had in this world," and Ardmore's faceshowed feeling. "He and I charged side by side through the bloodiestbattles of our Civil War. I will cheerfully give you my watch, or moneyin any sum, but the jug--I will part with my life first! And now,"concluded Ardmore, "while I should be glad to continue thisconversation, my duties call me elsewhere."
As he rose, the man stood quickly at his side, menacingly.
"Give me thet jug or I'll shoot y'u right hyeh in the street."
"No, you wouldn't do that, Old Corduroy. I can see that you are kindand good and you wouldn't shoot down an unarmed man. Besides it wouldmuss up the street."
"Y'u took thet jug from my brother by lyin' to 'im. He's telegraphed meto git it, and I'm a-goin' to do it."
"Your brother sent you? It was nice of him to ask you to call on me.Why, I've known your brother intimately for years."
"Knowed my brother?" and for the first time the man really seemed todoubt himself. "Wheh did y'u know Bill?"
"We roomed together at Harvard, that's how I know him, if you force meto it! We're both Hasty Pudding men. Now if you try to bulldoze mefurther, I'll slap your wrists. So there!"
Ardmore entered the hotel deliberately, climbed to his room and lockedthe door. Then he seized the little brown jug, drew the stopper andpoured out a tumblerful of clear white fluid. He took a swallow andshuddered as the fiery liquid seemed instantly to cause every part ofhis being to tingle. He wiped the tears from his eyes and sat down. Thecorn-cob stopper had fallen to the floor, and he picked it up andexamined it carefully. It had been fitted tightly into the mouth of thejug by the addition of a bit of calico, and he fingered it for a momentwith a grin on his face. He was, considering his tranquil past, makinghistory rapidly, and he wished that Griswold, whom he imagined safelyaway on his law business at Richmond, could see him now, embarked upon aserious adventure, that had already brought him into collision with aseemingly sane man who had threatened him with death. Griswold had beenquite right about their woeful incapacity for rising to emergencies, butthe episode of the jugs at Kildare was exactly the sort of thing theyhad discussed time and time again, and it promised well. His throat wasraw, as though burned with acid, and it occurred to him for an anxiousmoment that perhaps he had imbibed a poison intended for the governor.
He was about to replace the cob stopper when, to his astonishment, itbroke in his fingers, and out fell a carefully folded slip of paper. Hecarried it to the window and opened it, finding that it was an ordinarytelegraph blank on which was written in clear round characters thesewords:
The Appleweight crowd never done you harm. If you have any of them arrested you will be shot down on your own doorstep.
When Mr. Thomas Ardmore had read this message half a dozen times withincreasing satisfaction he folded it carefully and put it away in hispocket-book.
Taking half a sheet of note paper he wrote as follows:
Appleweight and his gang are cowards. Within ten days those that have not been hanged will be in jail at Kildare.
He studied the phraseology critically and then placed the paper in thecob stopper whose halves he tied together with a bit of twine. As thejug stood on the table it was, to all appearances, exactly as it hadbeen when delivered to Ardmore on the rear of the train at Kildare, andhe was thoroughly well pleased with himself. He changed the blue scarfwith which he had begun the day for one of purple with gold bars, andwalked up the street toward the state house.
This venerable edifice, meekly reposing amid noble trees, struckagreeably upon Ardmore's fancy. Here was government enthroned in quietdignity, as becomes a venerable commonwealth, wearing its years like aveteran who has known war and tumult, but finds at last tranquillity andpeace. He experienced a feeling of awe, without quite knowing it, as hestrolled up the walk, climbed the steps to the portico and turned tolook back from the shadow of the pillars. He had never but once beforevisited an American public building--the New York city hall--and he feltthat now, indeed, he had turned a corner and entered upon a new andstrange world. He had watched army maneuvers abroad with about the sameattention that he gave to a ballet, and with a like feeling of beholdinga show contrived for the amusement of spectators; but there was not evena policeman here to represent arsenals and bayonets. The only minion ofgovernment in sight was the languid operator of a lawn-mower, whichrattled and hummed cheerily in the shadow of the soldiers' monument.There was something fine about a people, who, as he learned from thecustodian, would not shake down these historic walls obedient to thedemands of prosperity and growth, but sent increased business to findlodgment elsewhere. He ascended to the toy-like legislative chambers,where flags of nation and state hung side by side, and where the veryseats and desks of the law-makers spoke of other times and manners.
Mr. Ardmore, feeling that he should now be about his b
usiness, soughtthe governor's office, where a secretary, who seemed harassed by thecares of his position, confirmed Ardmore's knowledge of the governor'sabsence.
"I didn't wish to see the governor on business," explained Ardmorepleasantly, leaning upon his stick with an air of leisure. "He and myfather were old friends, and I always promised my father that I wouldnever pass through Raleigh without calling on Governor Dangerfield."
"That is too bad," remarked the young man sympathetically, though with apreoccupation that was eloquent of larger affairs.
"Could you tell me whether any members of the governor's family are athome?"
"Oh, yes; Mrs. Dangerfield and Miss Jerry are at the mansion."
"Miss Jerry?"
"Miss Geraldine. We all call her Miss Jerry in North Carolina."
"Oh, yes; to be sure. Let me see; it's over this way to the mansion,isn't it?" inquired Ardmore.
"No; out the other end of the building--and turn to your right. Youcan't miss it."
The room was quiet, the secretary a young man of address andintelligence. Here, without question, was the place for Ardmore todischarge his business and be quit of it; but having at last snatched acommission from fleeting opportunity it was not for him to throw it toanother man. As he opened the door to leave, the secretary arrested him.
"Oh, Mr.--pardon me, but did you come in from the south this morning?"
"Yes; I came up on the Tar Heel Express from Atlanta."
"To be sure. Of course you didn't sit up all night? There's some troublebrewing around Kildare. I thought you might have heard something, but ofcourse you couldn't have been awake at two o'clock in the morning?"
The secretary was so anxious to acquit him of any knowledge of thesituation at Kildare that it seemed kindest to tell him nothing. Thesecretary's face lost its anxiety for a moment, and he smiled.
"The governor has an old friend and admirer up there who always puts ajug of fresh buttermilk on board when he passes through. The governorwas expected home this morning, and I thought maybe--"
"You're positive it's always buttermilk, are you?" asked Ardmore with agrin.
"Certainly," replied the secretary with dignity. "Governor Dangerfield'ssentiments as to the liquor traffic are well known."
"Of course, all the world knows that. But I'm afraid all jugs lookalike to me; but then, the fact is I'm in the jug business myself. Goodmorning."
The governor's mansion was easily found, and having walked about theneighborhood until his watch marked eleven Ardmore entered the groundsand rang the bell at the front door.
Once within, the air of domestic peace, the pictures on the walls, awhip and a felt hat with a blue band, on the hall table, and a book on achair in the drawing-room, turned down to mark the absent reader'splace, rebuked him for his impudence. If he had known just how to escapehe would have done so; but the maid who admitted him had said that MissDangerfield was at home, and had gone in search of her with Ardmore'scard. He deserved to be sent to jail for entering a gentleman's house inthis way. He realized now, when it was too late, that he ought to havebrought letters to one of the banks and been introduced to theDangerfields by some gentleman of standing, if he wished to know them.The very portraits on the walls, the photographs on the mantel and tablefrowned coldly upon him. The foundations of his character were set insand; he knew that, because he had found it so easy to lie, and he hadbeen told in his youth that one sin paved the way for another. He wouldtake the earliest train for Ardsley and bury himself there for theremainder of his days. He had hardly formed this resolution when a lightstep sounded in the hall, and Miss Geraldine Dangerfield stood at thethreshold. His good resolutions went down like a house of cards.
"Miss Dangerfield," he began, "I had the pleasure of meeting your fatherin New Orleans the other day, and as I was passing through townunexpectedly, I thought I should give myself the pleasure of calling onhim. He said that in case I found him absent I might call upon you. Infact, he wrote a line on a card for me to present, but I stupidly leftit at my hotel."
They faced each other in the dim, cool room for what seemed to himendless centuries. She was much younger than he had imagined; but hereyes were blue, just as he remembered them, and her abundant light haircurled away from her forehead in pretty waves, and was tied to-day witha large bow of blue ribbon. For an instant she seemed puzzled ormystified, but her blue eyes regarded him steadily. The veryhelplessness of her youth, the simplicity of her blue linen gown, thegirlish ribbon in her hair, proclaimed him blackguard.
"Won't you please sit down, Mr. Ardmore?"
And when they were seated there was another pause, during which the blueeyes continued to take account of him, and he fingered his tie, feelingsure that there was something wrong with it.
"It's warm, isn't it?"
"I suppose it is. It's a way summer has, of being mostly warm."
He was quite sure that she was laughing at him; there was a tinge ofirony in the very way in which she pronounced "wa'm," lingeringly, asthough to prolong her contempt for his stupidity in not finding anythingbetter to say.
She had taken the largest chair in the room, and it seemed to hide heraway in its shadows, so that she could examine him at her leisure as hesat under a window in the full glare of its light.
"I enjoyed meeting your father so much, Miss Dangerfield. I think we arealways likely to be afraid of great men, but your father made me feel athome at once. And he tells such capital stories--I've been laughing overthem ever since I left New Orleans."
"Father has quite a reputation for his stories. When did you leave NewOrleans, Mr. Ardmore?"
"Sunday night. I stopped in Atlanta a few hours and came on through.What a fine old town Atlanta is; don't you think so?"
"I certainly do not, Mr. Ardmore. It's so dreadfully northernized."
When she said "no'thenized" her intonation gave the word a fine cuttingedge.
"I suppose, Mr. Ardmore, that you saw papa at the luncheon at the PharosClub in New Orleans?"
"Why, yes, Miss Dangerfield. It was there I met the governor!"
"Are you sure it was there, Mr. Ardmore?"
"Why, I think that was the place. I don't know my New Orleans as Ishould, but--"
Ardmore was suddenly conscious that Miss Dangerfield had risen and thatshe stood before him, with her fair face the least bit flushed, her blueeyes alight with anger, and that the hands at her sides were clenchednervously.
"My father was not at luncheon at the Pharos Club, Mr. Ardmore. Younever saw my father in your life. I know why it is you came here, and ifyou are not out of that door in one second I shall call the servants andhave them throw you out."
She ceased abruptly and turned to look into the hall where stepssounded.
"Is that you, Jerry?"
"Yes, mama; I'll be up in just a minute. Please don't wait for me. It'sonly the man to see about the plumbing."
The lady who had appeared for an instant at the door went on slowly upthe stairs, and the girl held Ardmore silent with her steady eyes untilthe step died away above.
"I know what you want my father for. Mr. Billings and you are bothpursuing him--it's infamous, outrageous! And it isn't his fault. I wouldhave you know that my father is an honorable man!"
The bayonets were at his breast: he would ask for mercy.
"Miss Dangerfield, you are quite mistaken about me. I shall leaveRaleigh at once, but I don't want you to think I came here on any errandto injure or annoy your father."
"You are one of _those_ Ardmores, and Mr. Billings represents you. Youthought you could come here and trick me into telling where my fatheris. But I am not so easily caught. My mother is ill because of all thistrouble, and I must go to her. But first I want to see that you leavethis house!"
"Oh, I'm sorry you are in trouble. On my honor, Miss Dangerfield, I knownothing of Billings and his business with your father."
"I suppose you will deny that you saw Mr. Billings in Atlantayesterday?"
"Why, no. I can't
exactly--"
"You'd better not! I saw you there talking to him; and I suppose he sentyou here to see what you could find out."
The room whirled a moment as she dealt this staggering blow. Billings,of the Bronx Loan and Trust Company, had said that Miss Dangerfield waspeppery, but his employment of this trifling term only illustrated hisweak command of the English language. It is not pleasant to be pilloriedfor undreamed-of crimes, and Ardmore's ears tingled. He must plungedeeper and trust to the gods of chance to save him. He brought himselftogether with an effort, and spoke so earnestly that the words rangoddly in his own ears.
"Miss Dangerfield, you may call me anything you please, but I am notquite the scoundrel you think me. It's true that I was not in NewOrleans, and I never saw your father in my life. I came to Raleigh on amission that has absolutely nothing to do with Mr. Billings; he did notknow I was coming. On the way here a message intended for your fathercame into my hands. It was thrown on the train at Kildare last night. Ihad gone out on the platform because the sleeper was hot, and a warningto your father to keep his hands off of Appleweight was given to me.Here it is. It seems to me that there is immediate danger in this, and Iwant to help you. I want to do anything I can for you. I didn't comehere to pry into your family secrets, Miss Dangerfield, honestly Ididn't!"
She took the piece of paper into her slim little hands and read it,slowly nodding her head, as if the words only confirmed some earlierknowledge of the threat they contained. Then she lifted her head, andher eyes were bright with mirth as Ardmore's wondering gaze met them.
"Did _you_ get the jug?"
"I got two jugs, to tell the truth; but when they seemed dissatisfiedand howled for me to give one back, I threw off the buttermilk."
"You threw back father's buttermilk to the man who gave you theapplejack? Oh! oh!"
Miss Jerry Dangerfield sat down and laughed; and Ardmore, glad of anopportunity to escape, found his hat and rushed from the house.
The Little Brown Jug at Kildare Page 4
