CHAPTER X
"What!" exclaimed Shirley, changing colour, "you believe that JohnBurkett Ryder is at the bottom of this infamous accusation againstfather?"
It was the day following her arrival at Massapequa, and Shirley, thejudge and Stott were all three sitting on the porch. Until now, bycommon consent, any mention of the impeachment proceedings had beenavoided by everyone. The previous afternoon and evening had been spentlistening to an account of Shirley's experiences in Europe and a smilehad flitted across even the judge's careworn face as his daughter gavea humorous description of the picturesque Paris student with their longhair and peg-top trousers, while Stott simply roared with laughter. Ah,it was good to laugh again after so much trouble and anxiety! But whileShirley avoided the topic that lay nearest her heart, she was consumedwith a desire to tell her father of the hope she had of enlisting theaid of John Burkett Ryder. The great financier was certainly able to doanything he chose, and had not his son Jefferson promised to win himover to their cause? So, to-day, after Mrs. Rossmore and her sister hadgone down to the village to make some purchases Shirley timidlybroached the matter. She asked Stott and her father to tell hereverything, to hold back nothing. She wanted to hear the worst.
Stott, therefore, started to review the whole affair from thebeginning, explaining how her father in his capacity as Judge of theSupreme Court had to render decisions, several of which were adverse tothe corporate interests of a number of rich men, and how since thattime these powerful interests had used all their influence to get himput off the Bench. He told her about the Transcontinental case and howthe judge had got mysteriously tangled up in the Great Northern MiningCompany, and of the scandalous newspaper rumours, followed by the newsof the Congressional inquiry. Then he told her about the panic in WallStreet, the sale of the house on Madison Avenue and the removal to LongIsland.
"That is the situation," said Stott when he had finished. "We arewaiting now to see what the Senate will do. We hope for the best. Itseems impossible that the Senate will condemn a man whose whole life islike an open book, but unfortunately the Senate is strongly Republicanand the big interests are in complete control. Unless support comesfrom some unexpected quarter we must be prepared for anything."
Support from some unexpected quarter! Stott's closing words rang inShirley's head. Was that not just what she had to offer? Unable torestrain herself longer and her heart beating tumultuously fromsuppressed emotion, she cried:
"We'll have that support! We'll have it! I've got it already! I wantedto surprise you! Father, the most powerful man in the United Stateswill save you from being dishonoured!"
The two men leaned forward in eager interest. What could the girl mean?Was she serious or merely jesting?
But Shirley was never more serious in her life. She was jubilant at thethought that she had arrived home in time to invoke the aid of thispowerful ally. She repeated enthusiastically:
"We need not worry any more. He has but to say a word and theseproceedings will be instantly dropped. They would not dare act againsthis veto. Did you hear, father, your case is as good as won!"
"What do you mean, child? Who is this unknown friend?"
"Surely you can guess when I say the most powerful man in the UnitedStates? None other than John Burkett Ryder!"
She stopped short to watch the effect which this name would have on herhearers. But to her surprise neither her father nor Stott displayed theslightest emotion or even interest. Puzzled at this cold reception, sherepeated:
"Did you hear, father--John Burkett Ryder will come to your assistance.I came home on the same ship as his son and he promised to secure hisfather's aid."
The judge puffed heavily at his pipe and merely shook his head, makingno reply. Stott explained:
"We can't look for help from that quarter, Shirley. You don't expect aman to cut loose his own kite, do you?"
"What do you mean?" demanded Shirley, mystified.
"Simply this--that John Burkett Ryder is the very man who isresponsible for all your father's misfortunes."
The girl sank back in her seat pale and motionless, as if she hadreceived a blow. Was it possible? Could Jefferson's father have donethem such a wrong as this? She well knew that Ryder, Sr., was a man whowould stop at nothing to accomplish his purpose--this she haddemonstrated conclusively in her book--but she had never dreamed thathis hand would ever be directed against her own flesh and blood.Decidedly some fatality was causing Jefferson and herself to driftfurther and further apart. First, her father's trouble. That alonewould naturally have separated them. And now this discovery thatJefferson's father had done hers this wrong. All idea of marriage washenceforth out of the question. That was irrevocable. Of course, shecould not hold Jefferson to blame for methods which he himselfabhorred. She would always think as much of him as ever, but whetherher father emerged safely from the trial in the Senate or not--nomatter what the outcome of the impeachment proceedings might be,Jefferson could never be anything else than a Ryder and from now onthere would be an impassable gulf between the Rossmores and the Ryders.The dove does not mate with the hawk.
"Do you really believe this, that John Ryder deliberately concocted thebribery charge with the sole purpose of ruining my father?" demandedShirley when she had somewhat recovered.
"There is no other solution of the mystery possible," answered Stott."The Trusts found they could not fight him in the open, in a fair,honest way, so they plotted in the dark. Ryder was the man who had mostto lose by your father's honesty on the bench. Ryder was the man he hitthe hardest when he enjoined his Transcontinental Railroad. Ryder, I amconvinced, is the chief conspirator."
"But can such things be in a civilized community?" cried Shirleyindignantly. "Cannot he be exposed, won't the press take the matter up,cannot we show conspiracy?"
"It sounds easy, but it isn't," replied Stott. "I have had a heap ofexperience with the law, my child, and I know what I'm talking about.They're too clever to be caught tripping. They've covered their trackswell, be sure of that. As to the newspapers--when did you ever hear ofthem championing a man when he's down?"
"And you, father--do you believe Ryder did this?"
"I have no longer any doubt of it," answered the judge. "I think JohnRyder would see me dead before he would raise a finger to help me. Hisanswer to my demand for my letters convinced me that he was the archplotter."
"What letters do you refer to?" demanded Shirley.
"The letters I wrote to him in regard to my making an investment. Headvised the purchase of certain stock. I wrote him two letters at thetime, which letters if I had them now would go a long way to clearingme of this charge of bribery, for they plainly showed that I regardedthe transaction as a bona fide investment. Since this trouble began Iwrote to Ryder asking him to return me these letters so I might usethem in my defence. The only reply I got was an insolent note from hissecretary saying that Mr. Ryder had forgotten all about thetransaction, and in any case had not the letters I referred to."
"Couldn't you compel him to return them?" asked Shirley.
"We could never get at him," interrupted Stott. "The man is guarded ascarefully as the Czar."
"Still," objected Shirley, "it is possible that he may have lost theletters or even never received them."
"Oh, he has them safe enough," replied Stott. "A man like Ryder keepsevery scrap of paper, with the idea that it may prove useful some day.The letters are lying somewhere in his desk. Besides, after theTranscontinental decision he was heard to say that he'd have JudgeRossmore off the Bench inside of a year."
"And it wasn't a vain boast--he's done it," muttered the judge.
Shirley relapsed into silence. Her brain was in a whirl. It was truethen. This merciless man of money, this ogre of monopolisticcorporations, this human juggernaut had crushed her father merelybecause by his honesty he interfered with his shady business deals! Ah,why had she spared him in her book? She felt now that she had been toolenient, not bitter enough, not sufficiently pitiless. Such a
man wasentitled to no mercy. Yes, it was all clear enough now. John BurkettRyder, the head of "the System," the plutocrat whose fabulous fortunegave him absolute control over the entire country, which invested himwith a personal power greater than that of any king, this was the manwho now dared attack the Judiciary, the corner stone of theConstitution, the one safeguard of the people's liberty. Where would itend? How long would the nation tolerate being thus ruthlessly troddenunder the unclean heels of an insolent oligarchy? The capitalists,banded together for the sole purpose of pillage and loot, had alreadysucceeded in enslaving the toiler. The appalling degradation of theworking classes, the sordidness and demoralizing squalor in which theypassed their lives, the curse of drink, the provocation to crime, theshame of the sweat shops--all which evils in our social system she hadseen as a Settlement worker, were directly traceable to CentralizedWealth. The labor unions regulated wages and hours, but they werepowerless to control the prices of the necessaries of life. The Trustscould at pleasure create famine or plenty. They usually willed to makeit famine so they themselves might acquire more millions with which topay for marble palaces, fast motor cars, ocean-going yachts andexpensive establishments at Newport. Food was ever dearer and of poorerquality, clothes cost more, rents and taxes were higher. She thought ofthe horrors in the packing houses at Chicago recently made the subjectof a sensational government report--putrid, pestiferous meats put upfor human food amid conditions of unspeakable foulness, freely exposedto deadly germs from the expectorations of work people suffering fromtuberculosis, in unsanitary rotten buildings soaked through with bloodand every conceivable form of filth and decay, the beef barons carelessand indifferent to the dictates of common decency so long as they couldmake more money. And while our public gasped in disgust at thesickening revelations of the Beef scandal and foreign countries quicklycancelled their contracts for American prepared meats, the millionairepacker, insolent in the possession of wealth stolen from a poisonedpublic, impudently appeared in public in his fashionable touring car,with head erect and self-satisfied, wholly indifferent to his shame.
These and other evidences of the plutocracy's cruel grip upon thenation had ended by exasperating the people. There must be a limitsomewhere to the turpitudes of a degenerate class of nouveaux riches.The day of reckoning was fast approaching for the grafters and amongthe first to taste the vengeance of the people would be the Colossus.But while waiting for the people to rise in their righteous wrath,Ryder was all powerful, and if it were true that he had institutedthese impeachment proceedings her father had little chance. What couldbe done? They could not sit and wait, as Stott had said, for the actionof the Senate. If it were true that Ryder controlled the Senate as hecontrolled everything else her father was doomed. No, they must findsome other way.
And long after the judge and Stott had left for the city Shirley satalone on the porch engrossed in thought, taxing her brain to find someway out of the darkness. And when presently her mother and auntreturned they found her still sitting there, silent and preoccupied. Ifthey only had those two letters, she thought. They alone might save herfather. But how could they be got at? Mr. Ryder had put them safelyaway, no doubt. He would not give them up. She wondered how it would beto go boldly to him and appeal to whatever sense of honour and fairnessthat might be lying latent within him. No, such a man would not knowwhat the terms "honour," "fairness" meant. She pondered upon it all dayand at night when she went tired to bed it was her last thought as shedropped off to sleep.
The following morning broke clear and fine. It was one of thoseglorious, ideal days of which we get perhaps half a dozen during thewhole summer, days when the air is cool and bracing, champagne-like inits exhilarating effect, and when Nature dons her brightest dress, whenthe atmosphere is purer, the grass greener, the sky bluer, the flowerssweeter and the birds sing in more joyous chorus, when all creationseems in tune. Days that make living worth while, when one can forgetthe ugliness, the selfishness, the empty glitter of the man-made cityand walk erect and buoyant in the open country as in the garden of God.
Shirley went out for a long walk. She preferred to go alone so shewould not have to talk. Hers was one of those lonely, introspectivenatures that resent the intrusion of aimless chatter when preoccupiedwith serious thoughts. Long Island was unknown territory to her and itall looked very flat and uninteresting, but she loved the country, andfound keen delight in the fresh, pure air and the sweet scent of newmown hay waited from the surrounding fields. In her soft, loosefittinglinen dress, her white canvas shoes, garden hat trimmed with red roses,and lace parasol, she made an attractive picture and everypasser-by--with the exception of one old farmer and he was halfblind--turned to look at this good-looking girl, a stranger in thoseparts and whose stylish appearance suggested Fifth Avenue rather thanthe commonplace purlieus of Massapequa.
Every now and then Shirley espied in the distance the figure of a manwhich she thought she recognized as that of Jefferson. Had he come,after all? The blood went coursing tumultuously through her veins onlya moment later to leave her face a shade paler as the man came nearerand she saw he was a stranger. She wondered what he was doing, if hegave her a thought, if he had spoken to his father and what the latterhad said. She could realize now what Mr. Ryder's reply had been. Thenshe wondered what her future life would be. She could do nothing, ofcourse, until the Senate had passed upon her father's case, but it wasimperative that she get to work. In a day or two, she would call on herpublishers and learn how her book was selling. She might get othercommissions. If she could not make enough money in literary work shewould have to teach. It was a dreary outlook at best, and she sighed asshe thought of the ambitions that had once stirred her breast. All thebrightness seemed to have gone out of her life, her father disgraced,Jefferson now practically lost to her--only her work remained.
As she neared the cottage on her return home she caught sight of theletter carrier approaching the gate. Instantly she thought ofJefferson, and she hurried to intercept the man. Perhaps he had writteninstead of coming.
"Miss Shirley Rossmore?" said the man eyeing her interrogatively.
"That's I," said Shirley.
The postman handed her a letter and passed on. Shirley glanced quicklyat the superscription. No, it was not from Jefferson; she knew hishandwriting too well. The envelope, moreover, bore the firm name of herpublishers. She tore it open and found that it merely contained anotherletter which the publishers had forwarded. This was addressed to MissShirley Green and ran as follows:
DEAR MADAM.--If convenient, I should like to see you at my office, No.36 Broadway, in relation to your book "The American Octopus." Kindlyinform me as to the day and hour at which I may expect you.
Yours truly,
JOHN BURKETT RYDER, per B.
Shirley almost shouted from sheer excitement. At first she wasalarmed--the name John Burkett Ryder was such a bogey to frighten badchildren with, she thought he might want to punish her for writingabout him as she had. She hurried to the porch and sat there readingthe letter over and over and her brain began to evolve ideas. She hadbeen wondering how she could get at Mr. Ryder and here he was actuallyasking her to call on him. Evidently he had not the slightest idea ofher identity, for he had been able to reach her only through herpublishers and no doubt he had exhausted every other means ofdiscovering her address. The more she pondered over it the more shebegan to see in this invitation a way of helping her father. Yes, shewould go and beard the lion in his den, but she would not go to hisoffice. She would accept the invitation only on condition that theinterview took place in the Ryder mansion where undoubtedly the letterswould be found. She decided to act immediately. No time was to be lost,so she procured a sheet of paper and an envelope and wrote as follows:
MR. JOHN BURKETT RYDER,
Dear Sir.--I do not call upon gentlemen at their business office.
Yours, etc.,
SHIRLEY GREEN.
Her letter was abrupt and at first glance seemed hardly calculated tobring about
what she wanted--an invitation to call at the Ryder home,but she was shrewd enough to see that if Ryder wrote to her at all itwas because he was most anxious to see her and her abruptness would notdeter him from trying again. On the contrary, the very unusualness ofanyone thus dictating to him would make him more than ever desirous ofmaking her acquaintance. So Shirley mailed the letter and awaited withconfidence for Ryder's reply. So certain was she that one would comethat she at once began to form her plan of action. She would leaveMassapequa at once, and her whereabouts must remain a secret even fromher own family. As she intended to go to the Ryder house in the assumedcharacter of Shirley Green, it would never do to run the risk of beingfollowed home by a Ryder detective to the Rossmore cottage. She wouldconfide in one person only--Judge Stott. He would know where she wasand would be in constant communication with her. But, otherwise, shemust be alone to conduct the campaign as she judged fit. She would goat once to New York and take rooms in a boarding house where she wouldbe known as Shirley Green. As for funds to meet her expenses, she hadher diamonds, and would they not be filling a more useful purpose ifsold to defray the cost of saving her father than in mere personaladornment? So that evening, while her mother was talking with thejudge, she beckoned Stott over to the corner where she was sitting:
"Judge Stott," she began, "I have a plan."
He smiled indulgently at her.
"Another friend like that of yesterday?" he asked.
"No," replied the girl, "listen. I am in earnest now and I want you tohelp me. You said that no one on earth could resist John Burkett Ryder,that no one could fight against the Money Power. Well, do you know whatI am going to do?"
There was a quiver in her voice and her nostrils were dilated likethose of a thoroughbred eager to run the race. She had risen from herseat and stood facing him, her fists clenched, her face set anddetermined. Stott had never seen her in this mood and he gazed at herhalf admiringly, half curiously.
"What will you do?" he asked with a slightly ironical inflection in hisvoice.
"I am going to fight John Burkett Ryder!" she cried.
Stott looked at her open-mouthed.
"You?" he said.
"Yes, I," said Shirley. "I'm going to him and I intend to get thoseletters if he has them."
Stott shook his head.
"My dear child," he said, "what are you talking about? How can youexpect to reach Ryder? We couldn't."
"I don't know just how yet," replied Shirley, "but I'm going to try. Ilove my father and I'm going to leave nothing untried to save him."
"But what can you do?" persisted Stott. "The matter has been siftedover and over by some of the greatest minds in the country."
"Has any woman sifted it over?" demanded Shirley.
"No, but--" stammered Stott.
"Then it's about time one did," said the girl decisively. "Thoseletters my father speaks of--they would be useful, would they not?"
"They would be invaluable."
"Then I'll get them. If not--"
"But I don't understand how you're going to get at Ryder," interruptedStott.
"This is how," replied Shirley, passing over to him the letter she hadreceived that afternoon.
As Stott recognized the well-known signature and read the contents, theexpression of his face changed. He gasped for breath and sank into achair from sheer astonishment.
"Ah, that's different!" he cried, "that's different!"
Briefly Shirley outlined her plan, explaining that she would go to livein the city immediately and conduct her campaign from there. If she wassuccessful, it might save her father and if not, no harm could come ofit.
Stott demurred at first. He did not wish to bear alone theresponsibility of such an adventure. There was no knowing what mighthappen to her, visiting a strange house under an assumed name. But whenhe saw how thoroughly in earnest she was and that she was ready toproceed without him, he capitulated. He agreed that she might be ableto find the missing letters or if not, that she might make someimpression on Ryder himself. She could show interest in the judge'scase as a disinterested outsider and so might win his sympathies. Frombeing a skeptic, Stott now became enthusiastic. He promised tocooperate in every way and to keep Shirley's whereabouts an absolutesecret. The girl, therefore, began to make her preparations fordeparture from home by telling her parents that she had accepted aninvitation to spend a week or two with an old college chum in New York.
That same evening her mother, the judge, and Stott went for a strollafter dinner and left her to take care of the house. They had wantedShirley to go, too, but she pleaded fatigue. The truth was that shewanted to be alone so she could ponder undisturbed over her plans. Itwas a clear, starlit night, with no moon, and Shirley sat on the porchlistening to the chirping of the crickets and idly watching the flashesof the mysterious fireflies. She was in no mood for reading and sat fora long time rocking herself, engrossed in her thoughts. Suddenly sheheard someone unfasten the garden gate. It was too soon for the returnof the promenaders; it must be a visitor. Through the uncertainpenumbra of the garden she discerned approaching a form which lookedfamiliar. Yes, now there was no doubt possible. It was, indeed,Jefferson Ryder.
She hurried down the porch to greet him. No matter what the father haddone she could never think any the less of the son. He took her handand for several moments neither one spoke. There are times when silenceis more eloquent than speech and this was one of them. The gentle gripof his big strong hand expressed more tenderly than any words, thesympathy that lay in his heart for the woman he loved. Shirley saidquietly:
"You have come at last, Jefferson."
"I came as soon as I could," he replied gently. "I saw Father onlyyesterday."
"You need not tell me what he said," Shirley hastened to say.
Jefferson made no reply. He understood what she meant. He hung his headand hit viciously with his walking stick at the pebbles that lay at hisfeet. She went on:
"I know everything now. It was foolish of me to think that Mr. Ryderwould ever help us."
"I can't help it in any way," blurted out Jefferson. "I have not theslightest influence over him. His business methods I considerdisgraceful--you understand that, don't you, Shirley?"
The girl laid her hand on his arm and replied kindly:
"Of course, Jeff, we know that. Come up and sit down."
He followed her on the porch and drew up a rocker beside her.
"They are all out for a walk," she explained.
"I'm glad," he said frankly. "I wanted a quiet talk with you. I did notcare to meet anyone. My name must be odious to your people."
Both were silent, feeling a certain awkwardness. They seemed to havedrifted apart in some way since those delightful days in Paris and onthe ship. Then he said:
"I'm going away, but I couldn't go until I saw you."
"You are going away?" exclaimed Shirley, surprised.
"Yes," he said, "I cannot stand it any more at home. I had a hot talkwith my father yesterday about one thing and another. He and I don'tchin well together. Besides this matter of your father's impeachmenthas completely discouraged me. All the wealth in the world could neverreconcile me to such methods! I'm ashamed of the role my own flesh andblood has played in that miserable affair. I can't express what I feelabout it."
"Yes," sighed Shirley, "it is hard to believe that you are the son ofthat man!"
"How is your father?" inquired Jefferson. "How does he take it?"
"Oh, his heart beats and he can see and hear and speak," repliedShirley sadly, "but he is only a shadow of what he once was. If thetrial goes against him, I don't think he'll survive it."
"It is monstrous," cried Jefferson. "To think that my father should beresponsible for this thing!"
"We are still hoping for the best," added Shirley, "but the outlook isdark."
"But what are you going to do?" he asked. "These surroundings are notfor you--" He looked around at the cheap furnishings which he could seethrough the open window and his face s
howed real concern.
"I shall teach or write, or go out as governess," replied Shirley witha tinge of bitterness. Then smiling sadly she added: "Poverty is easy;it is unmerited disgrace which is hard."
The young man drew his chair closer and took hold of the hand that layin her lap. She made no resistance.
"Shirley," he said, "do you remember that talk we had on the ship? Iasked you to be my wife. You led me to believe that you were notindifferent to me. I ask you again to marry me. Give me the right totake care of you and yours. I am the son of the world's richest man,but I don't want his money. I have earned a competence of myown--enough to live on comfortably. We will go away where you and yourfather and mother will make their home with us. Do not let the sins ofthe fathers embitter the lives of the children."
"Mine has not sinned," said Shirley bitterly.
"I wish I could say the same of mine," replied Jefferson. "It isbecause the clouds are dark about you that I want to come into yourlife to comfort you."
The girl shook her head.
"No, Jefferson, the circumstances make such a marriage impossible. Yourfamily and everybody else would say that I had inveigled you into it.It is even more impossible now than I thought it was when I spoke toyou on the ship. Then I was worried about my father's trouble and couldgive no thought to anything else. Now it is different. Your father'saction has made our union impossible for ever. I thank you for thehonour you have done me. I do like you. I like you well enough to beyour wife, but I will not accept this sacrifice on your part. Youroffer, coming at such a critical time, is dictated only by your noble,generous nature, by your sympathy for our misfortune. Afterwards, youmight regret it. If my father were convicted and driven from the benchand you found you had married the daughter of a disgraced man you wouldbe ashamed of us all, and if I saw that it would break my heart."
Emotion stopped her utterance and she buried her face in her handsweeping silently.
"Shirley," said Jefferson gently, "you are wrong. I love you foryourself, not because of your trouble. You know that. I shall neverlove any other woman but you. If you will not say 'yes' now, I shall goaway as I told my father I would and one day I shall come back and thenif you are still single I shall ask you again to be my wife."
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"I shall travel for a year and then, may be, I shall stay a couple ofyears in Paris, studying at the Beaux Arts. Then I may go to Rome. If Iam to do anything worth while in the career I have chosen I must havethat European training."
"Paris! Rome!" echoed Shirley. "How I envy you! Yes, you are right. Getaway from this country where the only topic, the only thought is money,where the only incentive to work is dollars. Go where there are stillsome ideals, where you can breathe the atmosphere of culture and art."
Forgetting momentarily her own troubles, Shirley chatted on about lifein the art centres of Europe, advised Jefferson where to go, with whomto study. She knew people in Paris, Rome and Munich and she would givehim letters to them. Only, if he wanted to perfect himself in thelanguages, he ought to avoid Americans and cultivate the natives. Then,who could tell? if he worked hard and was lucky, he might havesomething exhibited at the Salon and return to America a famous painter.
"If I do," smiled Jefferson, "you shall be the first to congratulateme. I shall come and ask you to be my wife. May I?" he added.
Shirley smiled gravely.
"Get famous first. You may not want me then."
"I shall always want you," he whispered hoarsely, bending over her. Inthe dim light of the porch he saw that her tear-stained face was drawnand pale. He rose and held out his hand.
"Good-bye," he said simply.
"Good-bye, Jefferson." She rose and put her hand in his. "We shallalways be friends. I, too, am going away."
"You going away--where to?" he asked surprised.
"I have work to do in connection with my father's case," she said.
"You?" said Jefferson puzzled. "You have work to do--what work?"
"I can't say what it is, Jefferson. There are good reasons why I can't.You must take my word for it that it is urgent and important work."Then she added: "You go your way, Jefferson; I will go mine. It was notour destiny to belong to each other. You will become famous as anartist. And I--"
"And you--" echoed Jefferson.
"I--I shall devote my life to my father. It's no use,Jefferson--really--I've thought it all out. You must not come back tome--you understand. We must be alone with our grief--father and I.Good-bye."
He raised her hand to his lips.
"Good-bye, Shirley. Don't forget me. I shall come back for you."
He went down the porch and she watched him go out of the gate and downthe road until she could see his figure no longer. Then she turned backand sank into her chair and burying her face in her handkerchief shegave way to a torrent of tears which afforded some relief to the weighton her heart. Presently the others returned from their walk and shetold them about the visitor.
"Mr. Ryder's son, Jefferson, was here. We crossed on the same ship. Iintroduced him to Judge Stott on the dock."
The judge looked surprised, but he merely said:
"I hope for his sake that he is a different man from his father."
"He is," replied Shirley simply, and nothing more was said.
Two days went by, during which Shirley went on completing thepreparations for her visit to New York. It was arranged that Stottshould escort her to the city. Shortly before they started for thetrain a letter arrived for Shirley. Like the first one it had beenforwarded by her publishers. It read as follows:
The Lion and the Mouse; a Story of an American Life Page 11
