The Little Brown Jug at Kildare Read online

  CHAPTER III

  THE JUG AND MR. ARDMORE

  Mr. Thomas Ardmore, of New York and Ardsley, having seen his friendGriswold depart, sought a book-shop where, as in many other book-shopsthroughout the United States, he kept a standing order for any workstouching piracy, a subject, which, as already hinted, had long affordedhim infinite diversion. He had several hours to wait for his train toNew Orleans, and he was delighted to find that the bookseller, whom hehad known only by correspondence, had just procured for him, through thedispersion of a Georgia planter's valuable library, that exceedinglyrare narrative, _The Golden Galleons of the Caribbean_, by Dominguez yPascual--a beautifully bound copy of the original Madrid edition.

  With this volume under his arm Ardmore returned to the hotel where hewas lodged and completed his arrangements for leaving. It should beknown that Mr. Thomas Ardmore was a person of democratic tastes andhabits. In his New York house were two servants whose sole business itwas to keep himself and his wardrobe presentable; yet he preferred totravel unattended. He was, by nature, somewhat secretive, and hisadventurous spirit rebelled at the thought of being followed about by ahired retainer. His very wealth was, in a way, a nuisance, for whereverhe went the newspapers chronicled his movements, with speculations as tothe object of his visit, and dark hints at large public gifts which thecity honored by his presence at once imagined would be bestowed upon itforthwith. The American press constantly execrated his family, and as hewas sensitive to criticism he kept very much to himself.

  It was a matter of deep regret to Ardmore that his great-grandfather,whose name he bore, should have trifled with the morals of the red men,but he philosophized that it was not his fault, and if he had known howto squeeze the whisky from the Ardmore millions he would have been gladto do so. His own affairs were managed by the Bronx Loan and TrustCompany, and Ardmore took little personal interest in any of hisbelongings except his estate in North Carolina, where he dreamed hisdreams, and had, on the whole, a pretty good time.

  When he had finished packing his trunk he went down to the dinner hehad ordered to be in readiness at a certain hour, at a certain table,carefully chosen beforehand; for Ardmore was very exacting in suchmatters and had an eye to the comforts of life, as he understood them.

  As he crossed the hotel lobby on his way to the restaurant he wasaccosted by a reporter for the Atlanta _Palladium_, who began toquestion him touching various Ardmores who were just then filling rathermore than their usual amount of space in the newspapers. Ardmore'sfamily, with the single exception of his sister, Mrs. Atchison, boredhim immensely. His two brothers and another sister, the Duchess ofBallywinkle, kept the family name in display type a great deal of thetime, and their performances had practically driven Thomas Ardmore fromNew York. He felt keenly his shame in being brother-in-law to adissolute duke, and the threatened marriage of one of his brothers to achorus girl had added, he felt, all too great a burden to a family treewhose roots, he could not forget it, were soaked in contraband rum. Thereporter was a well-mannered youth and Ardmore shook his handencouragingly. He was rather curious to see what new incident in thefamily history was to be the subject of inquisition, and the reporterimmediately set his mind at rest.

  "Pardon me, Mr. Ardmore, but is it true that your sister, the Duchess ofBallywinkle, has separated from the duke?"

  "You may quote me as saying that while I am not quite sure, yet Isincerely hope the reports are true. To be frank with you, I do not likethe duke; in fact, strictly between ourselves, I disliked him from thefirst," and Ardmore shook his head gravely, and meditatively jingled thelittle gold pieces that he always carried in his trousers pockets.

  "Well, of course, I had heard that there was some trouble between youand your brother-in-law, but can't the _Palladium_ have your own exactstatement, Mr. Ardmore, of what caused the breach between you?"

  Ardmore hesitated and turned his head cautiously.

  "You understand, of course, that this discussion is painful to me,extremely painful. And yet, so much has been published about my sister'sdomestic affairs--"

  "Exactly, Mr. Ardmore. What we want is to print _your_ side of thestory."

  "Very decent of you, I'm sure. But the fact is--" and Ardmore glancedover his shoulder again to be sure he was not overheard--"the factis--" and he paused, batting his eyes as though hesitating at the pointof an important disclosure.

  "Yes, Mr. Ardmore," encouraged the reporter.

  "Well, I don't mind telling _you_, but don't print this. Let it be justbetween ourselves."

  "Oh, of course, if you say not--"

  "That's all right; I have every confidence in your discretion; but, ifthis will go no further, I don't mind telling you--"

  "You may rely on me absolutely, Mr. Ardmore."

  "Then, with the distinct understanding that this is _sub rosa_--now we_do_ understand each other, don't we?" pleaded Ardmore.

  "Perfectly, Mr. Ardmore," and the perspiration began to bead thereporter's forehead in his excitement over the impending revelation.

  "Then you shall know why I feel so bitter about the duke. I assure youthat nothing but the deepest chagrin over the matter causes me to tellyou what I have never revealed before--not even to members of myfamily--not to my most intimate friend."

  "I appreciate all that--"

  "Well, the fact is--but please never mention it--the fact is that hisGrace owes me four dollars. I gave it to him in two bills--I rememberthe incident perfectly--two crisp new bills I had just got at the bank.His Grace borrowed the money to pay a cabman--it was the very day beforehe married my sister. Now let me ask you this: Can an American citizenallow a duke to owe him four dollars? The villain never referred to thematter again, and from that day to this I have made it a rule never tolend money to a duke."

  The reporter stared a moment, then laughed. He abandoned the idea ofgetting material for a sensational article and scented the possibilitiesof a character sketch of the whimsical young millionaire.

  "How about that story that your brother, Samuel Ardmore, is going tomarry the chorus girl he ran over in his automobile?"

  "I hope it's true; I devoutly do. I'm very fond of music myself, and,strange to say, nobody in our family is musical. I think a chorus girlwould be a real addition to our family. It would bring up the familydignity--you can see that."

  "The wires brought a story this afternoon that your cousin, WingateSiddall--he _is_ your cousin, isn't he--?"

  "I'm afraid so. What's Siddy's latest?"

  "Why, it's reported that he's going to cross the Atlantic in a balloon.Can you tell us anything about that, from the inside?"

  "Well, the ocean is only four miles deep; I'd take more interest inCousin Siddy's ballooning if you could make it a couple of miles more tothe dead men's chests. And now, much as I'd like to prolong thisconversation, I've got to eat or I'll miss my train."

  "If you don't mind saying where you are going, Mr. Ardmore?"

  "I'd tell you in a minute, only I haven't fully decided yet; but I shallprobably take the Sambo Flyer at 9:13, if you don't make me lose it."

  "You have large interests in Arkansas, I believe, Mr. Ardmore?"

  "Yes; important interests. I'm searching for the original fiddle of theArkansaw Traveler. When I find it I'm going to give it to the BritishMuseum. And now you really must excuse me."

  Ardmore looked the reporter over carefully as they shook hands. He wasan attractive young fellow, alert and good humored, and Ardmore likedhim, as, in his shy way, he really liked almost every one who seemed tobe a human being.

  "I'll tell you what I'll do with you. If you'll forget this rot we'vebeen talking and come up to Ardsley as soon as I get home, I'll see if Ican't keep you amused for a couple of weeks. I don't offer that as abribe; my family affairs are of interest to nobody but hostlers andkitchen maids. Wire me at Ardsley when you're ready, throw away yourlead-pencil, then come on and I'll show you the finest collection ofbooks on Captain Kidd in the known world. What did you say your name is?Collins
, Frank Collins? I never forget anything, so don't disappointme."

  "That's mighty nice of you, but I don't have much time for vacations,"replied the reporter, who was, however, clearly pleased.

  "If the office won't give you a couple of weeks, wire me and I'll buythe paper."

  The young man laughed outright.

  "I'll remember; I really believe you mean for me to come."

  "Of course I do. It's all settled; make it next week. Good-by!"

  Ardmore ate his dinner oblivious of the fact that people at theneighboring tables turned to look at him. He overheard his namementioned, and a woman just behind him let it be known to hercompanions and any one else who cared to hear that he was thebrother-in-law of the Duke of Ballywinkle. Another voice in theneighborhood kindly remarked that Ardmore was the only decent member ofthe family, and that he was not the one whose wife had just left him,nor yet the one who was going to marry the chorus girl whose father kepta delicatessen shop in Hoboken. It is very sad to be unable to dinewithout having family skeletons joggle one's elbow, and Ardmore wasannoyed. The head waiter hung officiously near; the man who served himwas distressingly eager; and then the voice behind him rose insistently:

  "--worth millions and yet he can't find anybody to eat with him."

  This was almost true and a shadow passed across Ardmore's face and hiseyes grew grave as he humbly reflected that he was indeed a pitiableobject. He waved away his plate and called for coffee, and at thatmoment a middle-aged man appeared at the door, scanned the room for amoment and then threaded his way among the tables to Ardmore.

  "I heard you were here and thought I'd look you up. How are you, Ardy?"

  "Very well, thank you, Mr. Billings. Have you dined? Sorry; which wayare you heading?"

  The new-comer had the bearing of a gentleman used to consideration. Hewas, indeed, the secretary of the Bronx Loan and Trust Company, whosebusiness was chiefly the administration of the Ardmore estate, andArdmore knew him very well. He was afraid that Billings had traced himto Atlanta for one of those business discussions which always vexed andperplexed him so grievously, and the thought of this further depressedhis spirits. But the secretary at once eased his mind.

  "I'm looking for a man, and I'm not good at the business. I've lost himand I don't understand it, I don't understand it," and the secretaryseemed to be half-musing to himself as he sat down and rested his armson the table.

  "You might give me the job. I'm following a slight clue myself just atpresent."

  The secretary, who had no great opinion of Ardmore's mental capacity,stared at the young man vacantly. Then it occurred to him that possiblyArdmore might be of service.

  "Have you been at Ardsley recently?" he asked.

  "Left there only a few days ago."

  "You haven't seen your governor lately, have you?"

  "My governor?" Ardmore stared blankly. "Why, Mr. Billings, don't youremember that father's dead?"

  "I don't mean your father, Ardy," replied Billings with the exaggeratedcare of one who deals with extreme stupidity. "I mean the governor ofNorth Carolina--one of the American states. Ardsley is still in NorthCarolina, isn't it?"

  "Oh, yes; of course. But bless your soul, I don't know the governor. Whyshould one?"

  "I don't know why, Ardy; but people sometimes do know governors and findit useful."

  "I'm not in politics any more, Mr. Billings. What's this person's name?"

  "Dangerfield. Don't you ever read the newspapers?" demanded thesecretary, striving to control his inner rage. He was in trouble andArdmore's opaqueness taxed his patience. And yet Tommy Ardmore had givenhim less trouble than any other member of the Ardmore family. The othersgalloped gaily through their incomes; Tommy was rapidly augmenting hisinheritance from sheer neglect or inability to scatter his dividends.

  "No; I quit reading newspapers after the noble Duke of Ballywinkledidn't break the bank at Monte Carlo that last time. I often wish, Mr.Billings, that the Mohawks had scalped my great-grandfather before theybought his whisky. That would have saved me the personal humiliation ofbeing brother-in-law to a duke."

  "You mustn't be so thin-skinned. You pay the penalty of belonging to oneof the wealthiest families in America," and Billings' tone was paternal.

  "So I've heard, but I'm not so terribly proud of it. What about thisgovernor?"

  "That's what troubles me--what of the governor?" Billings dropped hisvoice so that no one but Ardmore could hear. "He'smissing--disappeared."

  "That's the first interesting thing I ever heard of a governor doing,"said Ardmore. "Tell me more."

  "He's had a row with the governor of South Carolina at New Orleans. Iwas to have met him here on an important matter of business thisafternoon, but he's cleared out and nobody knows what's become of him.His daughter, even, who was in New Orleans with him, doesn't know wherehe is."

  "When was she in New Orleans with him?" asked Ardmore, looking at hiswatch.

  "She--who?" asked Billings, annoyed.

  "Why, the daughter!"

  "I don't know anything about the daughter, but if I could find herfather I'd give him a piece of my mind," and the secretary's faceflushed angrily.

  "Well, I suppose she isn't the one I'm looking for, anyhow," saidArdmore resignedly.

  "I should hope not," blurted Billings, who had not really taken in whatArdmore said, but who assumed that it must necessarily be somethingidiotic.

  "She had fluffy hair," persisted Ardmore to this serious-mindedgentleman whose life was devoted to the multiplication of the Ardmoremillions. Ardmore's tone was that of a child who persists in babblinginanities to a distracted parent.

  "Better let girls alone, Tommy. Mrs. Atchison told me you were going tomarry Daisy Waters, and I should heartily approve the match."

  "Did Nellie tell you that? I wonder if she's told Daisy yet? You'll haveto excuse me now, for I'm taking the Sambo Flyer. I'd like to find yourgovernor for you; and if you'll tell me when he was seen last--"

  "Right here, just before noon to-day, and a couple of hours before Ireached town. His daughter either doesn't know where he went or shewon't tell."

  "Ah! the daughter! She remains behind to guard his retreat."

  "The daughter is still here. She's a peppery little piece," and Billingslooked guardedly around the room. "That's she, alone over there in thecorner--the girl with the white feather in her hat who's just signingher check. There--she's getting up!"

  Ardmore gazed across the room intently, then suddenly a slight smileplayed about his lips. To gain the door the girl must pass by his table,and he scrutinized her closely as she drew near and passed. She was alittle girl, and her light fluffy hair swept out from under a small bluehat in a shell-like curve, and the short skirt of her tailor-made gownrobbed her, it seemed, of years to which the calendar might entitle her.

  "She gave me the steadiest eye I ever looked into when I asked her whereher father had gone," remarked Billings grimly as the girl passed. "Shesaid she thought he'd gone fishing for whales."

  "So she's Miss Dangerfield, is she?" asked Ardmore indifferently; and herose, leaving on the plate, by a sudden impulse of good feeling towardthe world, exactly double the generous tip he had intended giving.Billings was glad to be rid of Ardmore and they parted in the hotellobby without waste of words. The secretary of the Bronx Loan and TrustCompany announced his intention of remaining another day in Atlanta inthe hope of finding Governor Dangerfield, and he was so absorbed in hisown affairs that he did not heed, if indeed he heard, Ardmore's promiseto keep an eye out for the lost governor. Like most other people thesecretary of the Bronx Loan and Trust Company did not understandArdmore, but Thomas Ardmore, having long ago found himself ill-judged bythe careless world, lived by standards of his own, and these would havemeant nothing whatever to Billings.

  Ardmore's effects had been brought down and were already piled on acarriage at the door. In his pocket was his passage to New Orleans and astate-room ticket. At the cashier's desk Miss Dangerfield paid her
bill,just ahead of him.

  "If any telegrams come for my father please forward them to Raleigh,"said the girl. The manager came out personally to show her to hercarriage, and having shut the door upon her, he wished Ardmore, whostood discreetly by, a safe journey.

  "Off for New Orleans, are you, Mr. Ardmore?" asked the managercourteously.

  "No," said Ardmore, "I'm going to Raleigh to look at the tallbuildings," whereat the manager returned to his duties, gravely shakinghis head.

  At the station Ardmore caught sight of Miss Dangerfield, attended by twoporters, hurrying toward the Tar Heel Express. He bought a ticket toRaleigh, and secured the last available berth from the conductor on theplatform at the moment of departure.

  Ardmore did not like to be hurried, and this sudden change of plans hadbeen almost too much for him, but he was consoled by the reflection thatafter all these years of waiting for just such an adventure he hadproved himself equal to an emergency that required quick thought andswift action. He had not only found the girl with the playful eye, buthe had learned her identity without, as it were, turning over his hand.Not even Griswold, who was the greatest man he knew--Griswold with hisacute legal mind and ability to carry through contests of wit withlawyers of highest repute--not even Griswold, Ardmore flattered himself,could have managed better.

  The state-room door stood open, and from his seat at the farther end ofthe car Ardmore caught a fleeting glimpse of Miss Dangerfield as shethrew off her jacket and hat; then she summoned the porter, gave himher tickets, bade him a smiling good night and the door closed upon her.The broad grin on the porter's face--a grin of delight as though he hadspoken with some exalted deity--filled Ardmore with bitterest envy.

  He went back to smoke and plan his future movements. For the first timein his life he faced to-morrow with eager anticipations, resolved thatnothing should thwart his high resolves, though these, to be sure, weresomewhat hazy. Then, from a feeling of great satisfaction, his spiritreacted and he regretted that he had been deprived of the joy ofprolonged search. If he could only have followed her until, at the lastmoment, when about to give up forever and accept the frugal consolationsof memory, he met her somewhere face to face! These reflections led himto wonder whether he might not have been mistaken about the wink afterall. Griswold, with his wider knowledge of the world, had scouted theidea. Very likely if one of those blue eyes had actually winked at himit had been out of mere playfulness, and he would never in the worldrefer to it when they met. Billings had applied the term peppery to her,and he felt that he should always hate Billings for this; Billings wasonly a financial automaton anyhow, who bought at the lowest and sold atthe highest, and bored one very often with strangely-worded papers whichone was never expected to understand. He did not know why Billings wasso anxious to find Miss Dangerfield's father, but as between a man ofBillings' purely commercial instincts and the governor of a great statelike North Carolina Ardmore resolved to stand by the Dangerfields to theend of the chapter. He was proud to remember his estate at Ardsley,which was in Governor Dangerfield's jurisdiction, and had been visitedby the game warden, the state forester, and various other members of thegovernor's official household, though Ardmore could not remember theirnames. He had never in his life visited Raleigh, but far down some dimvista of memory he saw Sir Walter covering a mud-puddle with his cloakfor Queen Elizabeth. It was a picture of this moving incident in an oldhistory that rose before him, as he tried vainly to recall just how itwas that Sir Walter had lost his head. He wondered whether MissDangerfield's name was Elizabeth, though he hoped not, as the namesuggested a town in New Jersey where his motor had once broken down on arainy evening when he was carrying Griswold to Princeton to deliver alecture.

  Ardmore smoked many pipes and did not turn in until after midnight. Thecar was hot and stuffy and he slept badly. At some hour of the morning,being again awake and restless, he fished his dressing-gown and slippersout of his bag and went out on the rear platform. His was the last car,and he found a camp-stool and crouched down upon it in a corner of thevestibule and stared out into the dark. The hum and click of the railssoothed him and he yielded himself to pleasant reveries. Griswold waswell on his way back to Virginia, he remembered--"dear old Grissy!" hemurmured; but he resolved to tell Griswold nothing of the prosperouscourse of his quest. Griswold would never, he knew, countenance so gravea performance as the following of a strange girl to her home; but thiswould be something for later justification.

  Ardmore was half-dozing when the train stopped so abruptly that he waspitched from the camp-stool into a corner of the entry. He got himselftogether and leaned out into the cool moist air.

  The porter came out and stared, for a gentleman in a blue silk wrapperwho sat up all night in a vestibule was new to his experience.

  "What place is this, porter?"

  "Kildare, sah. This place is wha' we go from South C'lina into N'othC'lina. Ain't yo' be'th comfor'ble, sah?"

  "Perfectly; thank you."

  Kildare was a familiar name, and the station, that lay at the outskirtsof the town, and a long grim barracks-like building that he identifiedas a cotton mill, recalled the fact that he was not far from his ownample acres which lay off somewhere to westward. He had occasionallytaken this route from the north in going to Ardsley, riding or drivingfrom Kildare about ten miles to his house. In this way he was enabled togo or come without appearing at all in the little village of Ardsley.

  The porter left him. He felt ready for sleep now, and resolved to goback to bed as soon as the train started. Just then a dark shadowappeared in the track and a man's voice asked cautiously:

  "Air y'u the conductor?"

  The questioner saw that he was not, before Ardmore could reply, andhesitated a moment.

  "The porter's in the car; you can get aboard up forward," Ardmoresuggested.

  "Be Gov'nor Dangerfield on this train?" asked the man, whom Ardmore nowsaw dimly outlined in the track below.

  "Certainly, my friend. The governor's asleep, but I'm his privatesecretary. What can I do for you?"

  "Well, hyeh's somethin' fer 'im--it's confidential. Sure, air ye, th'gov'nor's in they?"

  The man--a tall bearded countryman in a slouch hat, handed up to Ardmorea jug--a plain, brown, old-fashioned American gallon jug.

  "It's a present fer Gov'nor Dangerfield. He'll understand," and the manvanished as mysteriously as he had appeared, leaving Ardmore holding thejug by its handle, and feeling a little dazed by the transaction.

  The train lingered, and Ardmore was speculating as to which one of theCarolina commonwealths was beneath him, when another figure appearedbelow in the track--that of a bareheaded, tousled boy this time. Hestared up at Ardmore sleepily, having apparently been roused on thearrival of the train.

  "Air y'u the gov'nor?" he piped.

  "Yes, my lad; in what way can I serve you?" and Ardmore put down his jugand leaned over the guard rail. It was just as easy to be the governoras the governor's private secretary, and his vanity was touched by thereadiness with which the boy accepted him in his new role. His costume,vaguely discernible in the vestibule light, evidently struck the lad asbeing some amazing robe of state affected by governors. The youngsterwas lifting something, and he now held up to Ardmore a jug, as like theother as one pea resembles another.

  "Pa ain't home and ma says hyeh's yer jug o' buttermilk."

  "Thank you, my lad. While I regret missing your worthy father, yet I begto present my compliments to your kind and thoughtful mother."

  He had transferred his money to his dressing-gown pocket on leaving hisberth, and he now tossed a silver dollar to the boy, who caught it witha yell of delight and scampered off into the night.

  Ardmore had dropped the jugs carelessly into the vestibule, and he wassurveying them critically when the train started. The wheels werebeginning to grind reluctantly when a cry down the track arrested hisattention. A man was flying after the train, shouting at the top of hislungs. He ran, caught hold of the rail and howled:

>   "The gov'nor ain't on they! Gimme back my jug."

  "Indian-giver!" yelled Ardmore. He stooped down, picked up the firstjug that came to hand, and dropped it into the man's outstretched arms.

  The porter, having heard voices, rushed out upon Ardmore, who held theremaining jug to the light, scrutinizing it carefully.

  "Please put this away for me, porter. It's a little gift from an oldarmy friend."

  Then Mr. Ardmore returned to his berth, fully pleased with hisadventures, and slept until the porter gave warning of Raleigh.