Now, I fear, that to properly do my part, I should here create a dream for Checkers to have had that night, in which Pert, Remorse, a waiter, and a comedian should all take more or less senseless parts. But being somewhat skeptical myself, I was careful to question Checkers on this point, especially when I afterward learned what great things the morrow had in store for him. And, in spite of all precedent, he confessed to the oblivion of "the insensate clod," devoid of dream or premonition, until nine the next morning, when he awoke with a start. With the awakening came a realizing sense of his situation in all its most disheartening phases. His course of the night before now seemed to him the height of idiocy. He reproached himself in no measured terms for having neglected to write to Pert as promised in his telegram. "I ought to have a guardian appointed to look after me," he grumbled to himself. "Think of my blowing myself for wine and the show, with starvation staring me in the face; and then to think of that poor little girl expecting a letter, and not getting it."

He was interrupted by a knock at the door. "A letter for you, Mr.

Campbell," said the servant. Taking it from her he recognized the well-known writing of his beloved. He put the letter in his pocket, and, grabbing his hat, started down the stairs. "I 'm too late for breakfast here," he exclaimed; "I 'll go next door to the 'beanery' and get a roll and a cup of coffee. I 've got to play 'em close to my vest now," he sighed. "A dime is nothing when you 've got it, but it 's bigger than a mountain when you have n't; and it won 't be long before I have n't at this rate."

Seated on a little round stool at the corner in the "beanery," he gave his order, and then opened and commenced to read his letter. A newspaper clipping dropped to the floor; he picked it up mechanically, continuing his reading as he did so. Suddenly he began to glance from one to the other rapidly. An instant later he jumped to his feet, and rushed to the window for a better light. It could n't be true--it simply could n't! Yes, yes, it must be; for here was a notice from the public administrator in Baltimore, advertising for him as an heir of Giles Edward Campbell, deceased, who died intestate, etc., etc., and Judge Martin, so Pert said in the letter, had had an inquiry regarding him, with the statement that the only knowledge the authorities had of such a person was based upon a letter found among the effects of the deceased, headed "Eastman Hotel, Hot Springs," beginning "My dear Uncle," and signed "Your affectionate nephew, Edward Campbell." The clerk at the Eastman, when applied to, had reported a memorandum left by Checkers, that any mail which might come for him be forwarded to Clarksville, Ark.; hence this letter to Judge Martin, and hence Pert's knowledge of the matter, as her uncle immediately applied to her for the necessary information.

"Uncle has written to Baltimore to-day," continued the letter, "and he says you will hear from the authorities there without delay. The inclosed clipping is from a Little Rock paper. Oh! Checkers, darling, is n't it lovely?"

The slovenly waiter shuffled to the counter with his cup of muddy coffee and a soggy roll. Checkers tossed him half a dollar, and stalked majestically out. "I think the joint where I ate last night is just about my size this morning," he chuckled. "Gee, but I 'd like to yell just once. The judges can't call all bets off this time." All during breakfast his mind was busy with a thousand different speculations, and he finally decided that in so momentous a matter he ought to consult a lawyer. "I 'll find one in some big office building," he mentally resolved, "and get his advice."

+---------------------+

MURRAY JAMESON,

Attorney-at-Law.

+---------------------+

This, in modest gold letters upon an office window, was the first thing he saw upon reaching the street.

"Everything 's coming my way to-day," he thought. "Well, I 'll go in and see the old joker."

He was much taken aback upon entering, however, to find the "old joker"

a man of about thirty.

"Is Mr. Jameson in?" he asked.

"I am Mr. Jameson," was the reply.

"Well, I wanted to get a little advice, but--"

"Certainly; come into my private office."

Checkers was trapped. "I do n't believe," he began desperately, "that you 'll be able to help me. It's a very important case, and--well, I--I want some one with a lot of experience."

"As you like," said Mr. Jameson, who, by the way, was none other than my old friend Murray, "but I 've been practicing law for more than five years."

"Well, that's enough practice to learn any game;" and, seating himself, Checkers told him the facts as succinctly as possible from the beginning.

Of his uncle's circ.u.mstances he really knew nothing; but he remembered hearing his mother speak of him, just before her death, as being "well off," and "Uncle Giles was n't the kind, once he had a dollar, ever to let it get away."

If Checkers' chronology was correct, it was clear that he was the only heir, and "whether his Uncle left much or little, it was that much better than nothing at all." But Murray somewhat damped his enthusiasm by the statement that there might be bills and claims of various sorts against the estate, which, in the end, would show it to be insolvent.

However, he agreed to take the matter up at once, and be content to receive his fee when the final settlement was made.

Checkers spent the rest of the day in writing the long-delayed letter to Pert, telegraphing her in the mean time that he had received her letter, and expressing his thanks.

A few days brought to light these facts concerning Giles Edward Campbell, deceased: He had drawn a large pension undeservedly for years, and by pinching and saving had ama.s.sed a fortune. Under Cleveland in '84 his pension was annulled, and about the same time he was nearly bankrupted in a greedy and foolish speculation. Then fear of absolute want must have seized him, for, converting the little that was left into gold, he h.o.a.rded it in miserly fashion; loaning it at usurious rates, and hiding it when not in use in chests and crannies in his den. At the time of his death, which was due more to lack of nourishment than to anything else, there was found upon his person and in nooks and corners of his room, thirty thousand dollars in gold and government bonds, all of which in due time became the property of Checkers.

VIII

On a certain bright December day not many weeks after the occurrence of the last related events, the town of Clarksville seemed to have a.s.sumed a most unwonted bustle and confusion. People were actually hurrying in and out of the little white Methodist church, carrying evergreen boughs, chrysanthemums and sprays of holly and mistletoe. Wagons were driving back and forth between town and the Barlow place, and the Barlow house was in the hands of a Little Rock caterer and his a.s.sistants. It was Checkers' wedding day. He and Pert were to be married that night at six o'clock. Nothing they could think of had been left undone to make the occasion a happy one.

Though the old man fumed and fretted at the expense, Checkers insisted upon having things "right." "This is my first and last wedding," he said, "and there 's going to be nothing Sioux City about it." So, though the old man groaned in spirit, caterer, orchestra, flowers, etc., were ordered, regardless of expense, from Little Rock, and all the town took a surpa.s.sing interest in the event.

Checkers' return to Clarksville had been the triumphant return of Caesar to Rome. As is usual in such cases, current report had magnified his fortune twenty-fold. Mr. Barlow was now all smiles and acquiescence; but his first meeting with Checkers was painfully strained. Checkers treated him on the principle of "least said, soonest mended;" but Mrs. Barlow he kissed and called "mother."

He had found Pert looking a little pale, and her bright eyes seemed somewhat larger and brighter. But the happiness which accompanied his return soon brought the color back to her cheeks.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PERT]

Of course Checkers urged an immediate marriage, and of course there was the usual demur; but, in the end, a date was fixed upon as near as would conveniently allow for such preparations as Pert and her mother felt it necessary to make. And in the mean time Checkers and Pert were ideally happy. They took long drives and walks through the woods, and spent long evenings in talking over their plans for the future, with a never-flagging interest.

It was practically decided that Checkers was to buy the Tyler place.

This was a fruit farm in perfect condition, with a neat little house upon it, and not far from town. It could be purchased for cash at a very low figure, and as the trees were all bearing, it seemed to promise a large and sure return for the money, even cutting in half, for possibilities of frost or drought, a conservative estimate of what the trees should yield to the acre.

Mr. Barlow and Checkers figured upon it carefully from every standpoint, and the more they figured, the more it seemed a providential opportunity, Checkers knew nothing of any other business, and his money was practically lying idle in the bank. No other safe investment could promise so large an income and at the same time furnish him with employment and a pleasant home.

And so at last the matter was decided. The earnest money was paid, and the order given for the execution of the necessary papers. The house was vacated and thoroughly renovated, and Pert found a new delight in selecting paper, carpets and furniture to her liking--Checkers had given her _carte blanche_.

As soon as the t.i.tle to the property was found to be clear, Checkers gave a certified check to Mr. Tyler for twenty thousand dollars, and a warranty deed was signed, conveying the property, in fee, to Persis Barlow. This was in accordance with Checkers' desire, and was a great surprise to Pert and her parents. "What's mine is yours, dear," he said with a smile, "and what's yours is your own." And that ended the matter--unfortunately for Checkers.

There was just one question upon which the two had a serious difference--the case of Arthur Kendall.

"Now, Edward," said Pert one evening (when she called him 'Edward' he knew that something important was coming), "I want to talk to you about something that has been worrying me dreadfully."

"What is it, sweetheart?"

"And I want you to promise to do as I ask you."

Checkers felt suspicious, and refused to "go it blind."

"Well, it's about the Kendalls. I want you to make up with Arthur, somehow--"

"Not on your--"

"Yes, Edward; you must. Remember the Thanksgiving sermon about forgiveness and loving your neighbors."

"Oh, it's all well enough to love your neighbor, but there 's no necessity for taking down the fence. Arthur treated me like a step-child, and--"

"But, Checkers dear, we want Aunt Deb. and Mr. Kendall at the wedding.

They won't come unless Arthur does, and Arthur won't come unless you make up with him. Consider, Checkers, you 've been unusually blest, and you ought to be humble and thankful, and do something to show it; and here's your opportunity. Another thing"--this came hesitatingly--"he 's the only fellow about here who could make a decent appearance as your best man."

Checkers went off into peals of laughter. "Oh," he exclaimed, "I begin to tumble. Forgive your neighbor, if you happen to need him--afterwards you can shake him again."

Pert joined in the laugh. "It is no such thing," she responded. "If you half appreciated me, you would n't blame Arthur for being angry at you for doing what you did to him. He loved me a great deal more than you do; he never refused me a favor in his life."

"That's just why he lost you. Push Miller used to say--"

"Never mind Push Miller; Arthur is to be at Sadie's to-morrow evening.

You and I are going there to call. You are to shake hands with Arthur and tell him you 're glad to see him, and be natural and friendly.