Mary Louise and the Liberty Girls

by L. Frank Baum

directed. The office was raised a step above the main floorand was railed in, with a small swinging gate to allow entrance. Thiswas not the main business office but the proprietor's special den andhis desk was placed so he could overlook the entire establishment, withone glance. Just at present Kasker was engaged in writing, or figuring,for his bushy head was bent low.

  Josie opened the gate, walked in and took a chair that stood beside thedesk.

  "Good morning, Mr. Kasker," she said sweetly.

  He looked up, swept her with a glance and replied:

  "What's the matter? Can't one of the clerks attend to you? I'm busy."

  "I'll wait," was Josie's quiet reply. "I'd rather deal with you than aclerk."

  He hesitated, laid down his pen and turned his chair toward her. Sheknew the man, by sight, but if he had ever seen the girl he did notrecall the fact. His tone was now direct and businesslike.

  "Very well, miss; tell me what I can do for you."

  It had only taken her an instant to formulate her speech.

  "I'm interested in the poor children of Dorfield," she began, "havingbeen sent here as the agent of an organization devoted to clothing ourneedy little ones. I find, since I have been soliciting subscriptionsin Dorfield and investigating the requirements of the poor, that thereare a lot of boys, especially, in this city who are in rags, and I wantto purchase for them as many outfits as my money will allow. But onaccount of the war, and its demands on people formerly charitablyinclined, I realize my subscription money is altogether too little todo what I wish. That's too bad, but it's true. Everywhere they talkwar--war---war and its hardships. The war demands money for taxes,bonds, mess funds, the Red Cross and all sorts of things, and inconsequence our poor are being sadly neglected."

  He nodded, somewhat absently, but said nothing. Josie felt her cleverbait had not been taken, as she had expected, so she resolved to bemore audacious in her remarks.

  "It seems a shame," she said with assumed indignation, "that the poorof the country must starve and be in want, while the money is alldevoted to raising an army for the Germans to shoot and mangle."

  He saw the point and answered with a broad smile:

  "Is that the alternative, young lady? Must one or the other happen?Well--yes; the soldiers must be killed, God help 'em! But _himmel!_ Wedon't let our kiddies freeze for lack of clothes, do we? See here;they're taking everything away from us merchants--our profits, ourgoods, everything!--but the little we got left the kiddies can have.The war is a robber; it destroys; it puts its hand in an honest man'spocket without asking his consent; all wars do that. The men who makewars have no souls--no mercy. But they make wars. Wars are desperatethings and require desperate methods. There is always the price to pay,and the people always pay it. The autocrats of war do not say 'Please!'to us; they say 'Hold up your hands!' and so--what is there to do buthold up our hands?"

  Josie was delighted; she was exultant; Jake Kasker was falling into hertrap very swiftly.

  "But the little ones," he continued, suddenly checking himself in histirade, "must not be made to suffer like the grown-up folks. They, atleast, are innocent of it all. Young lady, I'd do more for the kidsthan I'd do for the war--and I'll do it willingly, of my own accord.Tell me, then, how much money you got and I'll give you the boys' suitsat cost price. I'll do more; for every five suits you buy from me atcost, I'll throw an extra one in, free--Jake Kasker's owncontribution."

  This offer startled and somewhat dismayed Josie. She had not expectedthe interview to take such a turn, and Kasker's generosity seriouslyinvolved her, while, at the same time, it proved to her without a doubtthat the man was a man. He was loud mouthed and foolish; that was all.

  While she gathered her wits to escape from an unpleasant situation, aquick step sounded on the aisle and a man brusquely entered the officeand exclaimed:

  "Hello, Jake; I'm here again. How's the suspender stock?"

  Kasker gave him a surly look.

  "You come pretty often, Abe Kauffman," he muttered. "Suspenders? Bah! Ionly buy 'em once a year, and you come around ev'ry month or so. Idon't think it pays you to keep pesterin' merchants."

  Abe Kauffman laughed--a big laugh--and sat down in a chair.

  "One time you buy, Jake, and other times I come to Dorfield somebodyelse buys. How do I know you don't get a run on suspenders some time?And if I don't visit all my customers, whether they buy or not, theythink I neglect 'em. Who's this, Jake? Your daughter?"

  He turned his bland smile on Josie. He was a short, thickset man with aGerman cast of countenance. He spoke with a stronger German accent thandid Kasker. Though his face persistently smiled, his eyes were halfclosed and shrewd. When he looked at her, Josie gave a little shudderand slightly drew back.

  "Ah, that's a wrong guess," said Mr. Kauffman quickly. "I must beg yourpardon, my girl. But I meant a compliment to you both. Accept my card,please," and he drew it from his pocket and handed it to her with abow.

  Josie glanced at it:

  "KAUFFMAN SUSPENDER COMPANY,Chicago.Abe Kauffman, President."

  "My business does not interest ladies," he went on in a light tonemeant to be jovial. "But with the men--ah!--with the men it's a hold-upgame. Ha, ha, hee! One of our trade jokes. It's an elastic business;Kauffman's suspenders keep their wearers in suspense. Ha, ha; prettygood, eh?"

  "Do you ever sell any?" asked Josie curiously.

  "Do I? Do I, Jake? Ha, ha! But not so many now; the war has ruined thesuspender business, like everything else. Kasker can tell you that,miss."

  "Kasker won't, though," asserted Jake in a surly tone. The girl,however, was now on another scent.

  "Don't you like the war, then?" Josie asked the salesman.

  "Like it?" the eyes half opened with a flash. "Who likes war, then?Does humanity, which bears the burden? For me--myself--I'll say war isa good thing, but I won't tell you why or how I profit by it; I'll onlysay war is a curse to humanity and if I had the power I'd stop ittomorrow--to-day--this very hour! And, at that, I'd lose by it."

  His voice shook with a passion almost uncontrollable. He half rose fromhis chair, with clinched fists. But, suddenly remembering himself, orreading the expression on the girl's face, he sank back again, passedhis hand over his face and forced another bland, unmirthful smile.

  "I'd hate to be the man who commits his country to war," he said inmild, regretful tones.

  But here, Kasker, who had been frowning darkly on the suspender man,broke in.

  "See here, Abe; I don't allow that kind of talk in my store," hegrowled.

  "You? You're like me; you hate the war, Jake."

  "I did once, Abe, but I don't now. I ain't got time to hate it. It'shere, and I can't help it. We're in the war and we're going ahead towin it, 'cause there ain't no hope in backing down. Stop it? Why, man,we _can't_ stop it. It's like a man who is pushed off a high bank intoa river; he's got to swim to a landing on the other side, orelse--sink. We Americans ain't goin' to sink, Abe Kauffman; we'll swimover, and land safe. It's got to be; so it will be."

  "All right. I said, didn't I, that it won't hurt my pocket? But ithurts my heart." (Josie was amazed that he claimed a heart.) "But it'sfunny to hear _you_ talk for the war, Jake, when you always hated it."

  "Well, I've quit kickin' till we're out of the woods. I'm an American,Abe, and the American flag is flying in France. If our boys can't holdit in the face of the enemy, Jake Kasker will go do it himself!"

  Kauffman stood up, casting a glance of scorn on his customer.

  "You talk like a fool, Jake; you talk like you was talking for thepapers--not honest, but as if someone had scared you."

  "Yes; it's the fellows like you that scare me," retorted the clothingmerchant. "Ev'ry time you curse the war you're keeping us from winningthe war as quick as we ought to; you're tripping the soldiers, thegovernment, the President--the whole machine. I'll admit I don't _like_the war, but I'm _for_ it, just the same. Can you figure that out, AbeKauffman? Once I had more sense than you have, but now I got a
betterway of thinking. It ain't for me to say whether the war's right or not;my country's honor is at stake, so I'll back my country to the lastditch."

  Kauffman turned away.

  "I guess you don't need any suspenders," he said, and walked out of thestore.

  Kasker gave a sigh of relief and sat down again.

  "Now, young lady," he began, "we'll talk about--"

  "Excuse me," said Josie hastily. "I'm going, now; but I'll be back. Iwant to see you again, Mr. Kasker."

  She ran down the aisle to the door, looked up and down the street andsaw the thick-set form of the suspender salesman just disappearingaround the corner to the south. Instantly she stepped out. Josie was anexpert in the art of shadowing.

  CHAPTER XVIMRS. CHARLEWORTH

  When Mary Louise reached home that evening she was surprised to find anote from Josie which said:

  "I've decided to change my boarding place for a week or so, although Ishall miss Aunt Sally's cooking and a lot of other comforts. But thisis business. If you meet me in the street, don't recognize me unlessI'm quite alone. We've quarrelled, if anyone asks you. Pretty soonwe'll make up again and be friends. Of course, you'll realize I'mworking on our case, which grows interesting. So keep mum and behave."

  "I wish I knew where she's gone," was Mary Louise's anxious comment, asshe showed the note to Gran'pa Jim.

  "Don't worry, my dear," advised the colonel. "Josie possesses the rarefaculty of being able to take care of herself under all circumstances.Had she not been so peculiarly trained by her detective father I wouldfeel it a duty to search for her, but she is not like other girls andwouldn't thank us for interfering, I'm sure."

  "I can't see the necessity of her being so mysterious about it,"declared the girl. "Josie ought to know I'm worthy of her confidence.And she said, just the other day, that we're partners."

  "You must be the silent partner, then," said her grandfather, smilingat her vexed expression. "Josie is also worthy of confidence. She mayblunder, but if so, she'll blunder cleverly. I advise you to be patientwith her."

  "Well, I'll try, Gran'pa. When we see her again she will probably knowsomething important," said Mary Louise resignedly.

  As for little, red-headed Josie O'Gorman, she walked into the office ofthe Mansion House that afternoon, lugging a battered suit-case borrowedfrom Aunt Sally, and asked the clerk at the desk for weekly rates forroom and board. The clerk spoke to Mr. Boyle, the proprietor, whoexamined the girl critically.

  "Where are you from?" he asked.

  "New York," answered Josie. "I'm a newspaper woman, but the war cost memy job, because the papers are all obliged to cut down their forces. SoI came here to get work."

  "The war affects Dorfield, too, and we've only two papers," said theman. "But your business isn't my business, in any event. I suppose youcan pay in advance?"

  "For a week, anyhow," she returned; "perhaps two weeks: If the paperscan't use me, I'll try for some other work."

  "Know anybody here?"

  "I know Colonel Hathaway, but I'm not on good terms with hisgranddaughter, Mary Louise. We had a fight over the war. Give me aquiet room, not too high up. This place looks like a fire-trap."

  As she spoke, she signed her name on the register and opened her purse.

  Boyle looked over his keyboard.

  "Give me 47, if you can," said Josie carelessly. She had swiftly runher eye over the hotel register. "Forty-seven is always my luckynumber."

  "It's taken," said the clerk.

  "Well, 43 is the next best," asserted Josie. "I made forty-threedollars the last week I was in New York. Is 43 taken, also?"

  "No," said Boyle, "but I can do better by you. Forty-three is a smallroom and has only one window."

  "Just the thing!" declared Josie. "I hate big rooms."

  He assigned her to room 43 and after she had paid a week in advance abellboy showed her to the tiny apartment and carried her suitcase.

  "Number 45'll be vacant in a day or two," remarked the boy, as heunlocked her door. "Kauffman has it now, but he won't stay long. He's asuspender drummer and comes about every month--sometimes oftener--andalways has 45. When he goes, I'll let you know, so you can speak forit. Forty-five is one of our best rooms."

  "Thank you," said Josie, and tipped him a quarter.

  As she opened her suitcase and settled herself in the room, shereflected on the meeting in Kasker's store which had led her to makethis queer move.

  "A fool for luck, they say," she muttered. "I wonder what intuitioninduced me to interview Jake Kasker. The clothing merchant isn't a badfellow," she continued to herself, looking over the notes she had madeon her tablets. "He didn't make a single disloyal speech. Hates thewar, and I can't blame him for that, but wants to fight it to a finish.Now, the other man--Kauffman--hates the war, too, but he did not makeany remark that was especially objectionable; but that man's facebetrayed more than his words, and some of his words puzzled me.Kauffman said, at two different times, that the war would make himmoney. There's only one way a man like him can make money out of thewar, and that is--by serving the Kaiser. I suppose he thought wewouldn't catch that idea, or he'd been more careful what he said. Allcriminals are reckless in little ways; that's how they betraythemselves and give us a chance to catch them. However, I haven'tcaught this fellow yet, and he's tricky enough to give me a long chaseunless I act boldly and get my evidence before he suspects I'm on histrail. That must be my programme--to act quickly and lose no time."

  Kauffman saw her when she entered the hotel dining room for dinner thatevening, and he walked straight over to her table and sat down oppositeher.

  "Met again!" he said with his broad smile. "You selling something?"

  "Brains," returned Josie composedly.

  "Good! Did Jake Kasker buy any of you?"

  "I've all my stock on hand, sir. I'm a newspaper woman--special writeror advertising expert. Quit New York last week and came on here."

  "Wasn't New York good enough for you?" he asked, after ordering hisdinner of the waitress.

  "I'm too independent to suit the metropolitan journals. I couldn'tendorse their gumshoe policies. For instance, they wanted me toeulogize President Wilson and his cabinet, rave over the beauties ofthe war and denounce any congressman or private individual who daresthink for himself," explained Josie, eating her soup the while."So--I'm looking for another job."

  Kauffman maintained silence, studying the bill-of-fare. When he wasserved he busied himself eating, but between the slits of hishalf-closed eyes he regarded the girl furtively from, time to time. Histalkative mood had curiously evaporated. He was thoughtful. Only whenJosie was preparing to leave the table did he resume the conversation.

  "What did you think of Jake Kasker's kind of patriotism?" he asked.

  "Oh; the clothing man? I didn't pay much attention. Never met Kaskerbefore, you know. Isn't he like most of the rabble, thinking what he'stold to think and saying what he's told to say?"

  She waited for a reply, but none was forthcoming. Even this clever leaddid not get a rise out of Abe Kauffman. Indeed, he seemed to suspect atrap, for when she rose and walked out of the dining room she noticedthat his smile had grown ironical.

  On reaching her room through the dimly lighted passage, Josie refrainedfrom turning on her own lights, but she threw open her one littlewindow and leaned out. The window faced a narrow, unlighted alley atthe rear of the hotel. One window of Room 45, next to her, opened on aniron fire-escape that reached to within a few feet of the ground. Josiesmiled, withdrew her head and sat in the dark of her room for hours,with a patience possible only through long training.

  At ten o'clock Kauffman entered his room. She could distinctly hear himmoving about. A little later he went away, walking boldly down thecorridor to the elevator.

  Josie rose and slipped on her hat and coat.

  Leaving the hotel, Kauffman made his way down the street to Broadway,Dorfield's main thoroughfare. He wore a soft hat and carried a cane.The few people he passed pai
d no attention to him. Steadily proceeding,he left the business district and after a while turned abruptly to theright.

  This was one of the principal residence sections of the city. Kauffmanturned the various corners with a confidence that denoted his perfectacquaintance with the route. But presently his pace slowed and he cameto a halt opposite an imposing mansion set far back in ample grounds,beautifully cared for and filled with rare shrubbery.

  Only for a moment, however, did the man hesitate--just long enough tocast a glance up and down the deserted street, which was fairly welllighted. No one being in sight, he stepped from the sidewalk to thelawn, and keeping the grass under his feet, noiselessly made his waythrough the shrubbery to the south side of the residence. Here aconservatory formed a wing which jutted into the grounds.

  The German softly approached, mounted the three steps leading to