Talbot's Angles

"It certainly is queer for Berk to act so," continued Miss Ri, "and the queerest part of the whole business to me is that he has not been near us for two weeks."

"He did come, you remember, that day you went to the country with Mrs. Becky."

"Yes, I had forgotten that."

"And he was as nice and friendly as could be the day I met him at the postoffice."

"But he hasn't sent us those ducks," contended Miss Ri.

CHAPTER XII

A BRACE OF DUCKS

The very next morning after this talk Wyatt Jeffreys met Berkley Matthews on the street just outside the Jackson House. "Hallo," cried the latter. "Just have your note. I've been staying with John Emory, and we've been off ducking so I didn't get my mail till this morning. It certainly would be a good joke if I had captured your trunk. Suppose you come and have a look at it, and if you identify it, of course you shall have it without delay. Come up to my room."

As Mr. Jeffreys followed the springing step all suspicion fled. Once in the room the trunk was easily recognized. "There were some papers," said Mr. Jeffreys.

"Oh, yes, they are over at my office. I had to get a locksmith to open the trunk for me, and he had to put on a new lock, as you see. I took out the clothing over here, sent the trunk across the way, dumped out the papers in a valise without looking at them, and there they are. You can get them any time."

"I'd like you to go over them with me when you have time, Matthews."

"Very well. Just now I am a little rushed, but we can take it up later when I get this case through I am now at work upon. In the meantime I will see that you get the trunk and the rest of the things. I'll try to get them off this afternoon. I am certainly glad I happened to take a fancy to your trunk, but what a queer coincidence it is. I never associated it with you at all. Those initials, J. S. D. would have misled me in any event. I told Miss Ri they stood for Judge Some Day, and I think they are about the only part of the trunk I feel loth to give up."

Mr. Jeffreys smiled. It was like a sentimental Southerner, he thought. Then, after some discussion about cost of transportation and all that, the matter was settled to the satisfaction of both.

With the delivery of the trunk came the ducks, not inside the trunk, of course, for that contained everything which was in it at the time of Berkley's first possession, everything except the papers. The trunk was brought to Miss Parthy's by an old colored man picturesquely antique both as regarded his costume and himself. Uncle Moke everyone called him, his real name of Moses having fallen into disuse so long before that no one remembered it. He was general factotum around town and a trusty messenger. He had delivered his first charge at Miss Parthy's door, and then was ready for Miss Ri. Nothing pleased him more than such an errand. "Evenin' Miss Ri," said the old fellow with many a bow and scrape, his ragged hat in his hand. "Mr. Berk Matthews' compliments, Miss Ri, an' dese yer ducks, Miss. He say he hopes yuh-alls have 'em fo' suppah, an' he be 'long 'bout seben fo' to he'p yuh-alls eat 'em," the last with a little chuckle of pleasure at delivering such a message.

"Very well, Uncle Moke," returned Miss Ri, taking the ducks. "Whether I have them for supper or not is my look out, you tell Mr. Berk."

"Dey nice fat ducks," remarked Uncle Moke with the privilege of an old acquaintance.

"I see they are."

"Yuh got some cu'ant jelly, is yuh, Miss Ri? Ef yuh ain't mah ole woman got a little she kin spare yuh."

"I know Aunt Welcome's jelly is good, Uncle Moke, but I reckon I have enough for some time to come. How is your wife?"

"She thes tollable, Miss Ri."

"And you?"

"I thes tollable. I has mis'ry in mah j'ints f'om de rheumatiz dese col' days. I kin skeerce tote de rale heavy trunks. Dat one I thes now taken to Miss Parthy's fo' de strange young man wa'n't de heavy kin'."

"Did you take a trunk to Miss Parthy's for Mr. Jeffreys?"

"Yas'm. Mr. Berk he done sont it f'om de hotel. Little weenchy trunk, kinder old-fashion."

"Um-hm," said Miss Ri, nodding her head. "So that's done. Have you good warm flannels, Uncle Moke?" Miss Ri looked him over, perceiving the shabbiness of his attire, ragged shirt, threadbare trousers.

"I ain't had time to buy no winter flannins yet, Miss Ri," responded the old man with a pride that forbade giving the real reason.

"Well, you stop by to-morrow," said Miss Ri. "I shouldn't in the least wonder if there were some things in the house that you could wear, and there is no use to buy anything when I'd be glad to get rid of some underwear that I have on hand."

"Thanky, ma'am, thanky." The bowing and scraping were continued to a degree. "I sholy is obleedged to yuh, Miss Ri. It save me a lot o' bother. I nuvver was no han' at buyin' flannins, and Welky she don' git about much."

Miss Ri watched him stiffly mount his creaking wagon drawn by a scrubby mule, then she went in with the ducks. "Well," she announced, "here they are at last. Don't let me forget, Verlinda, to hunt up some things for Uncle Moke, and if I haven't anything I must buy some. The poor old soul hasn't enough to keep him warm. I don't suppose he makes a great deal these days, for the younger and stronger men are employed where he used to be. He is not able to carry heavy burdens. By the way, the trunk seems to have been delivered, too. Aren't you curious to hear the report. Berk, the impudent boy, sent word he was coming over to help eat the ducks, and wouldn't we please to have them for supper to-night. Isn't that just like him? He does not deserve to be treated decently after the way he has neglected us, but I suppose we shall have to be nice to him as long as he has sent us the ducks." She went on to the kitchen to see Phebe about supper of which she was ready enough to make a true feast.

True to his promise, Berkley arrived promptly for supper. "You renegade," cried Miss Ri. "We were beginning to think all manner of evil about you."

"You were? I didn't expect that of you. What have I done?"

"You have neglected us abominably."

"It does look that way, but I really couldn't help it. I had a tough week of it off with Judge Baker, and then to limber up my brain I took a little outing with some of the boys. We all went down to John Emory's little shack. Didn't I send you the first fruits of my chase? I hope Unc' Moke understood he was to leave the ducks here, and that he didn't take them to Miss Parthy's."

"They came safely enough, and our thanks are ready. We accept your excuses since they seem moderately reasonable, don't we, Verlinda?"

She smiled her response and came forward to greet the young man.

"And how goes the school? Does the verse-making continue?" he asked looking down with interest showing in his eyes.

"The school hasn't finished me yet, and the verses," she blushed a little, "go spasmodically. I haven't sent out any more effusions."

"You must do it. Aren't we proud of her, Miss Ri? Oh, did you hear that the trunk had been found, and that mine was the great mind that happened to realize its value?"

"It was accident, pure accident," cried Miss Ri. "Your great mind had nothing to do with it. You have sent it back to the owner?"

"Yes, worse luck. I wanted to keep it on account of the letters upon it. Now I have nothing to cheer me in my despondent moments. It was quite a fillip to my ambitions to see those letters. I don't know where I shall get another mascot."

"What of the papers?" asked Linda.

"Oh, we haven't come to those yet; they are at my office, and there they will stay till Jeffreys and I can look them over. Ducks ready? Good! May I escort you, Miss Ri. Will you take my other arm, Linda?" They marched solemnly to the dining-room. For some reason Berkley was suddenly subdued and was so long in taking the initiative in the carving of the ducks that Miss Ri spoke up. "Where are your thoughts, Berk?" Then he picked up the wrong knife and fork in confusion and laughed a little nervously.

But though the ducks were done to a turn, and everything was as it should be, Berkley was distrait and ill at ease all the evening, though he stayed quite as late as usual and went off with a jest.

The door had no sooner closed behind him than Miss Ri turned to Linda to say. "I can't think what is the matter with Berk. Did it strike you that he was embarrassed and unlike himself."

"I did think so, but put away the thought as coming from my own vain imaginings. What do you suppose is the matter?"

"I should say it was one of two things; either he is in love or there is something in those papers that is bothering him. I wonder if, after all, it was his mother whom he was so eager to see in the city. I'm beginning to get suspicious."

"But about the papers; what could be in them?"

"That is just what I don't know, but I'm going to find out. I have a deal of thinking to do, Verlinda, my dear. Go to bed and let me puzzle out a few things. Berk said he had seen Grace Talbot, didn't he?" Linda paused, her foot on the stair. "Yes, he spoke of her, said she was looking unusually well." Then a little laugh rippled out. "You don't imagine he has fallen in love with Grace, do you?"

"Some men are fools enough to do anything," returned Miss Ri crossly.

"Then, of course, you don't get mad with such," vouchsafed Linda. Then she turned, a slim graceful figure in trailing black, and came swiftly up to Miss Ri. "You dear old thing," she said, "you mustn't get notions in your head like that; it doesn't make any difference; nothing makes very much difference. Suppose he should marry Grace, then I'd have Talbot's Angles."