Kindred of the Dust

by Peter B. Kyne

  XXXIX

  After leaving the Sawdust Pile, Mr. Daney walked twice around theBight of Tyee before arriving at a definite decision as to his futureconduct in this intrigue, participation in which had been thrust uponhim by his own loyalty to his employer and the idiocy of threehare-brained women. Time and again as lie paced the lonely strand, Mr.Daney made audible reference to the bells of the nether regions andthe presence of panther tracks! This was his most terrible oath andwas never employed except under exceptional circumstances.

  At length Mr. Daney arrived at a decision. He would have nothingfurther to do with this horrible love affair. In the role of DanCupid's murderer he was apparently a Tumble Tom; for three months hehad felt as if he trod thin ice--and now he had fallen through! "I'llcarry no more of their messages," he declared aloud. "I'll tell themso and wash my hands of the entire matter. If there is to be anyasking of favors from that girl the McKaye women can do it."

  It was after midnight when he returned to his home and his wife wassitting up to receive an explanation of his nocturnal prowlings.However, the look of desperation with which he met her accusing glancefrightened her into silence, albeit she had a quiet little cryingspell next morning when she discovered on the floor of Mr. Daney'sroom quite a quantity of sand which had worked into his shoes duringhis agitated spring around Tyee Beach. She was quite certain he hadindulged in a moonlight stroll on the seashore with a younger andprettier woman, so she resolved to follow him when next he fared forthand catch the traitor red-handed.

  To her surprise, Mr. Daney went out no more o' nights. He had kept hisword given to himself, and on the morning succeeding his extraordinaryinterview with Nan he had again summoned the ladies of the McKayefamily to his office for a conference. However, the capable Elizabethwas the only one of the trio to present herself, for this youngwoman--and not without reason--regarded herself as Mr. Daney's mentalsuperior; she was confident of her ability to retain his loyaltyshould he display a tendency to betray them.

  "Well, dear Mr. Daney," she murmured in her melted-butter voice, "whatnew bugaboo have you developed for us?"

  "You do not have to bother calling upon the Brent girl, MissElizabeth. She says now that if Donald asks her to marry him she'llaccept. She has an idea she'll be mistress of The Dreamerie."

  Elizabeth arched her eyebrows. "What else?" she queried amiably.

  "That's all--from Nan Brent. I have a small defi to make on my ownaccount, however, Miss Elizabeth. From this minute on I wash my handsof the private affairs of the McKaye family. My job is managing yourfather's financial affairs. Believe me, the next move in thiscomedy-drama is a wedding--if Donald asks her in all seriousness tomarry him--that is, if he insists on it. He may insist and then againhe may not, but if he should, I shall not attempt to stop him. He'sfree, white and twenty-one; he's my boss and I hope I know my place.Personally, I'm willing to wager considerable that he'll marry her,but whether he does or not--I'm through."

  Elizabeth McKaye sighed. "That means we must work fast, Mr. Daney.Donald will be feeling strong: enough within two weeks to call on her;he may even motor down to the Sawdust Pile within ten days. Mother hasalready broached the subject of taking him away to southern Californiaor Florida for a long rest; Dad has seconded the motion with greatenthusiasm--and that stubborn Donald has told them frankly that heisn't going away for a rest."

  "Gosh!" Mr. Daney gasped. "That makes it a little binding, eh?"

  She met his clear glance thoughtfully and said: "If her house shouldburn down--accidentally--to-day or to-night, when she and her babyaren't in it, she'll have to leave Port Agnew. There isn't a house intown where she could find shelter, and you could see to it that allthe rooms in the hotel are taken."

  "You forget, my dear," he replied with a small smile. "I have nofurther interest in this affair and moreover, I'm not turningfirebug--not this year."

  "You refuse to help us?"

  "Absolutely. What is to be will be, and I, for one, have decided notto poke my finger into the cogs of destiny."

  "Well--thanks awfully for what you've already done, Mr. Daney." Againshe smiled her bright, impish smile. "Good-morning."

  "Good-morning, Miss Elizabeth."

  As she left the office, Mr. Daney noted her debutante slouch andgritted his teeth. "Wonder if they'll call on Nan now, or make acombined attack on the boy and try bluff and threats and tears," hesoliloquized.

  As a matter of fact they tried the latter. The storm broke afterluncheon one day when Donald declared he felt strong enough to go downto Port Agnew, and, in the presence of the entire family, ordered thebutler to tell his father's chauffeur to bring the closed car aroundto the door. Immediately, the astute Elizabeth precipitated matters byasking her brother sharply if his projected visit to Port Agnewpredicated also a visit to the Sawdust Pile.

  "Why, yes, Elizabeth," he answered calmly.

  The Laird scowled at her, but she ignored the scowl; so old Hectorflashed a warning glance to Jane and her mother--a glance that saidquite plainly: "Let there be no upbraiding of my son."

  "Do you think it is quite--ah, delicate of you, Donald, to call uponany young lady at her apartments in the absence of a proper chaperon,even if the lady herself appears to have singularly free and easyviews on the propriety of receiving you thus?"

  He saw that she was bound to force the issue and was rather relievedthan otherwise. With a mental promise to himself to keep his temper atall hazards he replied: "Well, Elizabeth, I'll admit the situation isa trifle awkward, but what cannot be cured must be endured. You see, Iwant to have a talk with Nan Brent and I cannot do so unless I callupon her at the Sawdust Pile. It is impossible for us to meet onneutral ground, I fear. However, if you will write her a nicefriendly little note and invite her up here to visit me, the questionof a chaperon will be solved and I will postpone my visit until shegets here."

  "Don't be a fool," she retorted bitterly.

  "As for Nan's free and easy views on the subjects, who in Port Agnew,may I ask, expects her to act differently? Why, therefore, since sheis fully convinced that I possess a few of the outward appearances ofa gentleman, should she fear to receive me in her home? To conform tothe social standards of those who decry her virtue? Elizabeth, youexpect too much, I fear."

  "Hear, hear," cried The Laird. He realized that Elizabeth was not tobe denied, so he thought best to assume a jocular attitude during thediscussion.

  "Father," his eldest daughter reminded him. "It is your duty to forbidDonald doing anything which is certain to bring his family intodisrepute and make it the target for the tongue of scandal."

  "Oh, leave him alone, you pestiferous woman," old Hector criedsharply. "Had it not been for the girl he would not be living thisminute, so the least he can do is to express his compliments to her.Also, since this disagreeable topic has again been aired, let meremind you that the lass isn't going to marry Donald. She came outhere, Donald," he continued, turning to his son, "with the distinctunderstanding that her job was to humor you back to health, and forthat you owe her your thanks and I'm willing you should call on herand express them. Don't flattter yourself that she'll marry you, myboy. I've had a talk with her--since you must know it, sooner orlater--and she promised me she wouldn't."

  The young Laird's face paled a little but he maintained hiscomposure. "I greatly fear you misunderstood her, father," he repliedgently. "She promised me she'd marry me. You see," he added lookingthe old man resolutely in the face, "I think she's virtuous, so I'mgoing to marry her."

  His father smiled sadly. "Poor lad. God knows I'm sorry for you,but--well, go see her and let's have the issue settled once for all.For God's sake, lad, grant me peace of mind. End it to-day, one way orthe other."

  "Ah, yes, you're brave," Elizabeth flung at her father. "You're socertain that girl will keep her promise, aren't you? Well, I happen tohave been informed, on very good authority, that she intends to betrayyou. She had made the statement that she'll marry Donald if he asksher--again."

  "
The girl doesn't impress me as one who would lie, Elizabeth. Who toldyou this?"

  "Andrew Daney."

  "Bear with me a moment, son, till I call Andrew on the telephone," theLaird requested, and went into the telephone booth under the stairs inthe reception hall. When he emerged a few minutes later his face waspale and haggard.

  "Well? What did I tell you?" Elizabeth's voice was triumphant.

  Her father ignored her. Placing himself squarely before his son, hebent forward slightly and thrust his aggressive face close toDonald's. "I command you to respect the honor of my house," he criedfuriously. "For the last time, Donald McKaye, ha' done wie this woman,or--" and his great arm was outflung in a swooping gesture thatdenoted all too forcibly the terrible sentence he shrank fromspeaking.

  "Are you offering me an alternative?" Donald's voice was low and verycalm, but his brown eyes were blazing with suppressed rage. "TheDreamerie or--" and he swung and pointed to the Brent cottage farbelow them on the Sawdust Pile.

  "Aye," his father cried in a hard cracked voice. "Aye!"

  Donald looked over at his mother with the helplessness of a child whohas fallen and hurt himself. "And you, mother? What do you say tothis?"

  She thought she would faint. "You--you must obey your father," shequavered. Until her son should marry Nan Brent she could not forceherself to the belief that he could possibly commit such an incredibleoffense.

  "The opinions of you and Jane," Donald continued, turning to eachsister in turn, "do not interest me particularly, but while the pollsare open you might as well vote. If I marry Nan Brent are you eachprepared to forget that I am your brother?"

  Elizabeth nodded calmly. She had gone too far now to develop weaknesswhen an assumption of invincible strength might yet win the day.

  "I couldn't receive such a peculiar sister-in-law," Jane murmured,evidently close to tears. "Surely, you would not expect us to takesuch a woman to our hearts, Donald dear?"

  "I did not build The Dreamerie for yon lass," The Laird burst forthpassionately.

  His son stood with bowed head. "Have you, mother, or you, my sisters,been down to the Sawdust Pile to thank Nan for inspiring me--nomatter how--with a desire to live? I think you realize that until shecame I was too unhappy--too disgusted with life--to care whether I gotwell or not? Have you absolved yourselves of an obligation which mustbe perfectly evident to perfect ladies?"

  "We have not." Elizabeth's calm voice answered him. "What the girl didwas entirely of her own volition. She did it for your sake, and sinceit is apparent that she plans to collect the reward of herdisinterested effort we have considered that a formal expression ofthanks would be superfluous."

  "I see. I see. Well, perhaps you're right. I shall not quarrel withyour point of view. And you're all quite certain you will never recedefrom your attitude of hostility toward Nan--under no circumstances, torecognize her as my wife and extend to her the hospitality of TheDreamerie?"

  He challenged his father with a look and the old man slowly nodded anaffirmative. His mother thought Donald was about to yield to theiropposition and nodded likewise. "I have already answered thatquestion," Jane murmured tragically, and Elizabeth again reminded himthat it was not necessary for him to make a fool of himself.

  "Well, I'm glad this affair has been ironed out--at last," Donaldassured them. "I had cherished the hope that when you knew Nanbetter--" He choked up for a moment, then laid his hands on hisfather's shoulders. "Well, sir," he gulped, "I'm going down to theSawdust Pile and thank Nan for saving my life. Not," he addedbitterly, "that I anticipate enjoying that life to the fullest forsome years to come. If I did not believe that time will solve theproblem--"

  The Laird's heart leaped. "Tush, tush, boy. Run along and don't doanything foolish." He slapped Donald heartily across the back whilethe decisive sweep of that same hand an instant later informed thewomen of his household that it would be unnecessary to discuss thispainful matter further.

  "I understand just how you feel, dad. I hold no resentment," Donaldassured him, and dragged The Laird close to him in a filial embrace.He crossed the room and kissed his mother, who clung to him a moment,tearfully; seeing him so submissive, Jane and Elizabeth each came upand claimed the right to embrace him with sisterly affection.

  The butler entered to announce that the car was waiting at the frontdoor. Old Hector helped his son into a great coat and Mrs. McKayewound a reefer around his neck and tucked the ends inside the coat.Then The Laird helped him into the car; as it rolled slowly down thecliff road, Old Hector snorted with relief.

  "By Judas," he declared, "I never dreamed the boy would accept such anultimatum."

  "Well, the way to find out is to try," Elizabeth suggested. "Sorry tohave been forced to disregard that optical S.O.S. of yours, Dad, but Irealized that we had to strike now or never."

  "Whew-w-w!" The Laird whistled again.