Talbot's Angles

"Oh, never that, but I may be able to write something worth while. I long to."

"And give up teaching? You don't like teaching."

"I don't believe I do very much."

"Yet I hear good accounts of you."

"Really, Berk?"

"Certainly I do. Mr. Willis told me you were very satisfactory, and had broken in your class so they trotted along without a break."

"I think we do get along better," Linda acknowledged a little dubiously, "and I believe the small boys do begin to like me more than they did, at least some of them do."

"All of them will in time, I am sure."

"You're a nice encouraging friend, Berk. Is this where we part?"

"Yes, I have an appointment with Judge Morris this morning. Good-by. Tell Miss Ri I'll be around soon."

He gave the budget into her hands, raised his hat and entered the little one-storied building at the side of whose door were signs denoting the calling of those whose offices were within, lawyers all, two judges among them.

The trees over-arching the long street had lost most of their leaves, but the river was as blue as ever, and the gardens still held late blooms. A tall cosmos peeped over the fence of one, chrysanthemums made a brave showing in another. A few courageous nasturtiums started brilliantly from amid their yellowing leaves, scarlet salvia shot out myriads of little tongues of flame before almost every house. The streets were quite full of people this Saturday morning. Country vehicles, mud-stained, and in many cases rickety and drawn by shabby mules, jostled more pretentious teams. Lolling darkies singing some monotonous camp-meeting hymn, drove their brick carts to a new building which was going up near by. Dogs were seen everywhere, some at the heels of the young men who, in hunting attire, were making ready to start out for a day's shooting, some lying on the porches ready to bark at any passer-by, some sportively chasing one another up and down the street, playfully catching at the long silky ear of a companion, or rolling him over and over, then off again in hot chase. One or two thrust their cold noses into Linda's hand as she passed them, and with wagging tail received her caress and "Nice doggie" as something not only expected but deserved. The air was soft, sweet and languorous, for Indian summer was here and the days still held suggestions of the earlier season.

Linda turned in at the gate leading to Miss Ri's house, and pushing her feet through the drift of crisp leaves which covered the gravelled walk, enjoyed the exhilaration of the hour. She was buoyant, hopeful, really happy. Life was opening up wonderful possibilities. The music of the spheres was hers. She read the spirit of the universe in each dancing leaf, in each scarlet flower-flame.

Seeing Phebe at the back of the house she ran around to her. The old woman raised herself ponderously from where she was spreading her dish-towels on the grass. "Do you like it here? Are you happy, Mammy?" asked Linda.

"Jes listen to de chile," exclaimed Mammy. "Is I happy? I done got 'ligion long ago, honey, and I ain't back-slid fo' many a ye'r. Co'se I is happy. I ain't shoutin' but I ain't mo'nin', an' I hopes I ain't lak dese young things dat hollers hallelujah at nights and steals from de madam in de mawnin'. Co'se I is happy long as mah baby ain't down in de mouf. Yuh sutt'nly looks peart, honey, an' bless mah Lord an' Marster dat I kin say it. Whar all yo' beaux, honey chile?"

Linda laughed. "Oh, they'll be around after a while."

Mammy chuckled and Linda entering by the back door, after some searching, at last found Miss Ri upstairs looking over the house linen.

"Well, Verlinda, you have a fine color," said the lady looking up. "It does you good to get out into the fresh air. Any news up town?"

"I met Berk."

"You did? What did he say about the trunk?"

Linda stopped in the act of tearing the wrapper from a newspaper she held. "Aunt Ri, I declare I never said a word to him about it. Never once did it enter my mind."

"Verlinda Talbot! I can scarce believe that. What were you talking about to make you forget it?"

Linda finished freeing the paper from its wrapper. Her eyes were downcast, and the flush lingered in her cheeks; a smile played around her lips. "This," she answered holding out the paper on which her verses were printed.

Miss Ri adjusted her spectacles, read the lines, laid the paper aside and took the girl's hands in hers. "You dear, sentimental child," she said, "I am proud of you."

"That is what Berk said," returned Linda with a little pleased smile.

"Did he? Well, he may be. Why, my dear, we shall all be proud of you, the whole town. We must have you in the club; you will be an ornament to it."

Linda fairly laughed at this. "One meagre little set of verses will not give more than a rushlight's beam," she answered, "even in Sandbridge, Aunt Ri. But maybe I shall be a real shining light some day. Anyhow it is great fun."

"Of course it is to those who can do it. I couldn't to save me."

"And, you see, in the excitement of the discovery, the reason of my forgetting the trunk. Please don't tell Mr. Jeffreys that I have seen Berk; he will think me a very indifferent cousin if he knows."

"What did Berk have to say besides mentioning that he was proud of you?"

"He said he had no luck shooting and that he was going out again. I imagine he has been pretty busy, but he said I was to tell you he'd be around soon."

"Ducks or no ducks?"

"The ducks weren't mentioned."

"Well, he'd better come if he knows what is good for him. Here is your other swain heading this way. Go down and see him and keep the trunk out of the conversation when I am around or I might forget myself and tell on you. I think you'd better take him off somewhere if you want to be quite safe. It's a fine day to be out of doors."

"We can sit on the porch or go out on the river," responded Linda as she left the room.

She felt a little diffident about showing her newspaper to her visitor, but, reflecting that Miss Ri would be sure to speak of it, she decided to have the matter over with, and at once displayed her verses. If Mr. Jeffreys did not openly express the same appreciation that Berkley had done he was at least as effusive as Linda expected, being at no time a person who showed ardent enthusiasm. His call was not a long one, for Linda felt a little ill at ease, condemning herself for having forgotten a thing so important to him, and in consequence she was not able to talk of his affairs with the same show of interest, a fact which he, however, attributed to her excitement over the printing of her verses.

As the two walked to the gate together they saw Berkley drive by with a friend. Both men were equipped for hunting, and from between Berkley's knees looked out the intelligent face of a fine brown setter who was all a-quiver with the prospect in view.

Mr. Jeffreys gave a sudden call after the buggy, but checked himself directly, turning to Linda with an air of apology. "I should not have done that, but I was carried away by my interest in seeing Mr. Matthews. I didn't know he was in town."

"He is going off with Elmer Dawson, evidently," rejoined Linda, looking after the buggy.

"And there is no telling when he will return. The fates are against me, Miss Linda."

"You certainly are having a lesson in patience," Linda admitted. "Never mind, Mr. Jeffreys, the case won't suffer by reason of delay. Why don't you write a note to Mr. Matthews?" she asked suddenly catching at the idea. "Tell him you think he has happened upon your trunk, describe it, and ask him to let you see it. You must remember his attention has not been called to it yet, and he hasn't a notion that you are in a state of suspense."

"Unless he has examined the contents."

"Which he may or may not have done. At all events, you will have the satisfaction of knowing that you have brought the subject to his notice. He seems such a difficult person to get at these days that it might be as well to write."

"Thank you for the suggestion; it might not be a bad idea. I will go home and think it over." He lifted his hat and Linda watched him thoughtfully walking down the street. "If Berk does know it is pretty mean of him," she said to herself, and she voiced the opinion to Miss Ri when she went indoors.

"It is mighty mean if he really knows it, and it almost seems as if he must," agreed Miss Ri. "One might almost think he was doing it on purpose, if it were not really a serious matter. Berk is something of a tease, you know. I'll call him up to-night and tell him to come and get his socks. He doesn't deserve to have me mend them, the rascal."

But Mr. Matthews was not at the hotel, came the news over the 'phone that evening. Neither did he appear on Sunday. On Monday it was learned that he had returned but was at Court when Mr. Jeffreys tried to see him. The day went by and there was no response to the note Mr. Jeffreys mentioned having written.

"It begins to look very queer," said Miss Ri soberly when Monday had passed and no Berkley appeared. "I'm beginning to lose faith, Linda, and that is something I have never done before where Berk was concerned. He can't want to steal such a paltry thing as a trunk."

"Perhaps to his legal mind it is his own property since he bought it," remarked Linda in excuse.

"But there are the papers."

"True, there are the papers. He has no right to them. Dear me, my head fairly buzzes with trying to account for it. I wish we had never heard of Wyatt Jeffreys and his old trunk. Why did he come here to disturb our peace?"