Part 6 (1/2)

”Oh! no, I haven't.”

”Go 'way f'om here--you is an' you know you is--dthat's the reason you carry yo' head so high.” (He little knew the true reason.) ”An' if you hadn't, all you got to do is to walk in yonder--up yonder (with a toss of his head in the direction of Miss Poole's home), an' hang up your hat, and den you ain got nuthin' to do but jus' write yo' checks.”

I laughed at Jeams's idea of the situation, and of old Poole's son-in-law's position. But it was rather a bitterer laugh than he suspected. To soothe my conscience and also to draw him out, I said, though I did not then really think it possible:

”Why, she's going to marry Peck.”

Jeams turned around and actually spat out his disgust.

”What, dthat man!” Then, as he looked at me to a.s.sure himself that I was jesting, and finding a shade less amus.e.m.e.nt in my countenance than he had expected, he uttered a wise speech.

”Well, I tell you, Cap'n--if dthat man gits her he ought to have her, 'cause he done win her an' you ain't know how to play de game. You done discard de wrong card.”

I acknowledged in my heart that he had hit the mark, and I laughed a little less bitterly, which he felt--as did Dix, lying against my foot which he suddenly licked twice.

”An' I'll tell you another thing--you's well rid of her. Ef she likes dthat man bes', let him have her, and you git another one. Der's plenty mo,' jes' as good and better, too, and you'll meck her sorry some day.

Dthat's de way I does. If dey wants somebody else, I let's 'em have 'em.

It's better to let 'em have 'em befo' than after.”

When Jeams walked out of my room, he had on a suit which I had not had three months, and a better suit than I was able to buy again in as many years. But he had paid me well for it. I had in mind his wise saying when I faced Lilian Poole without a cent on earth, with all gone except my new-born resolution and offered her only myself, and as I walked out of her gate I consoled myself with Jeams's wisdom.

When I left Miss Poole I walked straight home, and having let n.o.body know, I spent the evening packing up and destroying old letters and papers and odds and ends; among them, all of Lilian Poole's letters and other trash. At first, I found myself tending to reading over and keeping a few letters and knickknacks; but as I glanced over the letters and found how stiff, measured, and vacant her letters were as compared with my burning epistles, in which I had poured out my heart, my wrath rose, and I consigned them all to the flames, whose heat was the only warmth they had ever known.

I was in the midst of this sombre occupation, with no companion but my angry reflections and no witness but Dix, who was plainly aware that something unusual was going on and showed his intense anxiety, in the only method that dull humanity has yet learned to catalogue as Dog-talk: by moving around, wagging his stump of a twist-tail and making odd, uneasy sounds and movements. His evident anxiety about me presently attracted my attention, and I began to think what I should do with him.

I knew old Mrs. Upshur would take and care for him as she would for anything of mine; but Dix, though the best tempered of canines, had his standards, which he lived up to like a gentleman, and he brooked no insolence from his inferiors or equals and admitted no superiors.

Moreover, he needed out-door exercise as all sound creatures do, and this poor, old decrepit Mrs. Upshur could not give him. I discarded for one reason or another my many acquaintances, and gradually Jeams took precedence in my mind and held it against all reasoning. He was drunken and worthless--he would possibly, at times, neglect Dix, and at others, would certainly testify his pride in him and prove his confidence by making him fight; but he adored the dog and he feared me somewhat. As I wavered there was a knock and Jeams walked in. He was dressed in my long frock coat and his large, gray hat was on the back of his head--a sure sign that he was tight, even had not his dishevelled collar and necktie and his perspiring countenance given evidence of his condition. As he stood in the door, his hand went up to his hat; but at sight of the room, he dropped it before he could reach the hat and simply stared at me in blank amazement.

”Hi! What you doin'?” he stammered.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”Hi! What you doin'?” he stammered.]

”Packing up.”

”Where you goin'?”

”Going away.”

”When you comin' back?”

”Never.”

”What! Well, d.a.m.ned if I ain' gwine wid you, then.”

The tone was so sincere and he was evidently so much in earnest that a lump sprang into my throat. I turned away to keep him from seeing that I was moved, and it was to keep him still from finding it out, that I turned on him with well feigned savageness as he entered the room.

”You look like going with me, don't you! You drunken scoundrel! Take your hat off, sir”--for in his confusion he had wholly forgotten his manners. They now came back to him.

”Ixcuse me--Cap'n” (with a low bow). ”Ixcuse me, suh. I al'ays removes my hat in the presence of the ladies and sech distinguished gent'mens as yourself, suh; but, Cap'n----”