Checkers breathed a sigh of relief. He had warned the doctor to make as light of the case to Pert as his conscience would permit, explaining that he himself would tell her gradually, as fitting occasion offered, what had been said to him, and would see that all instructions were carefully carried out. Violent exercise she was already warned against, and Checkers felt that he could guard her against unusual excitement. He carefully avoided the harrowing plays at the theater, but took her to operas and burlesques. But it never occurred to him as necessary to warn her specifically against stimulants and drugs.

A few days before their departure for home, they received a pleasant surprise in the shape of a telegram from Arthur and Sadie, announcing their marriage.

A letter from Sadie arrived the next day, in which she said that she and Arthur had hoped to join them in Chicago and surprise them, but that conditions were such at the store that Arthur's every available moment was demanded, and he could not possibly get away. But this was not the half of it. The panic of '93, of which premonitory notice had been given by numerous bank failures, was now a stern reality.

Collections were bad, business was dead, and the firm of Kendall & Co., which had unfortunately laid in a larger stock of goods than usual that season, found it all they could do to keep themselves from going to the wall.

Checkers and Pert returned and soon fell into their accustomed grooves.

They called upon Arthur and Sadie, and found them reasonably happy under new conditions, although Arthur was evidently carrying a load of care and responsibility; while Judge Martin sat up and cheerfully predicted "confusion and every evil work" as a result of the demonetization of silver and other kindred political "outrages."

One morning as Checkers was working about the dooryard, he espied his father-in-law coming up the road at a gait which presaged important news. The old man reached him, out of breath. Checkers waited expectantly.

"Well, what do ye think has happened now?" panted Mr. Barlow. "The First National Bank of Little Rock has gone up--busted; got yer money."

There was in his voice and manner something of the triumph that mean spirits feel at being the first to bring disastrous news, as well as a show of personal injury at the thought of Checkers allowing himself to lose what he himself had even the shadow of an interest in.

"My G.o.d!" exclaimed Checkers involuntarily, growing pale at the news.

Then for a moment he stood in silence, nervously biting his upper lip.

He had had long experience in controlling himself under trying circ.u.mstances. "If that's so," he finally answered in a quiet voice, "it 's tough."

This exasperated Mr. Barlow. "Tough," he repeated; "you nincomp.o.o.p, it's actual ruin; the bank has been robbed by its president--looted--ye 'll never see a cent of it ag'in," and he started toward the house.

"Hold on!" exclaimed Checkers, grabbing him by the arm. "Not a word of this to Pert; it will only excite her, and not do any good."

But the old man shook him off and continued his way. Checkers picked up a handy piece of scantling, and running up the steps, turned and faced his father-in-law.

"Now, see here, old man," he exclaimed, "I 've taken as much of your slack as I 'm going to--see? I tell you you can't come into this house; and I give you fair warning, if you put your foot on one of those steps I 'll smash you over the head;" and he swung his weapon threateningly to his shoulder. "What I 've made or lost is mine, not yours," he continued, "and it don't 'cut any pie' with you--you'll never get a cent of it. My wife is mine, not yours, and I 'll take care of her, what ever happens. But she is n't well, and the doctor said any sudden excitement might kill her. I 'll tell her gradually and quietly, and go down to Little Rock this noon and see if there 's anything can be done. If I 'd let you tell her you 'd break the news with an ax, and I tell you I ain't going to have it; so just 'jar loose,' and 'pull your freight.'"

There was something in Checkers' determined look which cowed the old man, but he would n't go without a last word. "Well, ye 'll both o' ye end a couple of paupers and die in the poorhouse if this keeps up," he said, "with your fancy furniture and trips to Chicago. How much did you have in that bank?"

Just here Pert appeared in the doorway. Checkers' threatening att.i.tude and her father's question, which she overheard, surprised and startled her. "What is it?" she cried, putting her arm around Checkers and disarming him gently.

"Nothing much," he began.

"Nothing much," interrupted her father, "except that the Little Rock bank is busted, and all yer money's gone."

Checkers reached for his stick, but Pert restrained him. "Never mind, dearest," she said, "it may not be as bad as you think--things never are; and we 've got the house and the farm, and the bonds; and, whatever happens, we 've got each other."

"Yes; you 've got each other," said the old man cynically, "and that's all ye will have, if things goes this way. If yer goin' to Little Rock, boy," he said sharply, consulting his old silver watch, "ye must hurry; ye ain't more 'n time to make it now."

Checkers saw that this was so, and going to his room, made a hasty toilet. "Good-bye, Pert, darling," he said, as he emerged, catching her up and embracing her lovingly. "I 'll be back soon; don't mind what he says;" and with a warning glance at Mr. Barlow, he hurried off down the road toward the station.

As he stood upon the platform awaiting the train he felt a sudden presentiment of evil, and with a superst.i.tion born of his early experience in gambling, he half decided to turn back. "I 've got a feeling I ought n't to go," he muttered; "but I guess it's because I 'm afraid the old man will worry Pert. Still, she seemed to take it calm enough, and I ought to get there and look after my stuff." He boarded the train and went steaming off, but he could not get rid of his bugaboo.

The situation with Checkers at this time was about as follows: Of the legacy left him, $20,000 had gone for the farm, or fruit ranch, which he had given Pert. A thousand more had been spent in refitting and furnishing the house. Most of the wedding expenses, which Checkers had a.s.sumed, Part's presents, an elaborate wardrobe for himself, the household expenses, and the trip to Chicago, had consumed about another thousand. The balance, except ten government bonds and a few hundred dollars in the bank at Clarksville, was on deposit at interest in this bank which failed--$4,800, for which he held a certificate of deposit.

It was very unfortunate, and the sense of his loss kept growing upon him as time went on.

Meanwhile Mr. Barlow had taken occasion to lecture Pert on her sinful extravagance. With pencil and paper he sat before her, and showed her how within six short months she and Checkers had spent one-tenth of their fortune, and how with this loss at the bank they were poorer by a third of all they had ever possessed.

"Figures won't lie, but liars will figure." He knew, but he did not tell her, that of what was actual expense there would be little cause for its repet.i.tion, and that most of the money expended was visible in a.s.sets of one sort or another. He only made her feel perfectly miserable, and wrought her up beyond the point of thinking or answering intelligently.

When he had gone she tried for a while to busy herself about the house, but she felt a growing lonesomeness--a desire for sympathy and companionship--and she decided to put on her hat and go down to her cousin Sadie's.

It was now high noon, and a stifling hot day; but she braved the heat of the blistering sun, and trudged along the dusty way to her destination. When she reached the Martins' house she was dizzy and faint from the heat and the blinding glare.

Judge Martin and Arthur came home to dinner, and both expressed the greatest sympathy for her and Checkers in their sudden misfortune. At the table Pert tried to eat for appearance's sake, but her efforts ended in mere pretense. Sadie noticed it, and insisted that after dinner she go to a room on the cool side of the house and "take a nap."

To this Pert objected. "I can never sleep during the day," she said; "the longer I lie, the wider awake I get. I am really all right," she added, smiling bravely, "only my head aches--a very little."

"We'll soon fix that," exclaimed Arthur. "I 've been troubled with headache and sleeplessness lately, myself, and I 've struck a remedy that beats anything you ever saw; knocks a headache, and makes you sleep like an infant. It's perfectly harmless, too--guaranteed.

Excuse me a minute; I'll get the box."

Pert felt too miserably weak and apathetic to further object to Sadie's suggestion or Arthur's remedy; so, under her cousin's ministering guidance, she retired to an upper room and prepared herself with what comfort she could to rest, while Sadie opened the windows and drew the shades.

"Now, Pert," said Sadie, "take one of these powders with a little water, and I think you 'll feel better right away. I 'll leave the box here on the table, near the bed, and if the first one does n 't cure your headache and put you to sleep, take another. Now is there anything more you want, dear? If there is, just call; I 'll leave the door the least bit open." A sudden impulse prompted her, as she was going out, to return and kiss Pert fondly, and though not an uncommon thing between them, still both wondered for a moment afterward at the unusual tenderness and feeling that each had unconsciously put into the embrace.

Left alone, Pert tried to compose her mind and go to sleep; but in spite of herself her brain dwelt anxiously upon Checkers in Little Rock, and upon what her father had said to her. Half an hour pa.s.sed and still her fancy teemed, as she restlessly tossed from side to side.

She felt herself growing nervous, and her ear upon the pillow told her that her heart was beating rapidly.

"At least my head feels a great deal better," she murmured, raising herself upon her elbow; "now if I could only get to sleep I believe I should wake up quite myself again. Perhaps another powder will do it; I 'm afraid of them, though. Still, Arthur says they 're perfectly harmless--I 'll take just one more. Checkers would n 't like it; he told me never to take any medicine." She lifted her box from the table. "Dear old Checkers," she said to herself, with a sigh, preparing the powder; "how he loves me! His first thought was to keep the news from me for fear I would worry." She took the draught and sank back upon the pillow--"to be loved as he loves me--Oh, Checkers!

mother!!"

The afternoon wore on towards dusk. Sadie went about her household duties, humming softly. Once she thought she heard Pert call, but as the sound was not repeated, she fancied herself mistaken, and sat down to read, happy in the thought that Pert must have fallen asleep. It seemed to be blowing up cooler; the wind had shifted, and a few dark clouds were rolling up from the west, with distant rumbling.

About five o'clock Mr. and Mrs. Barlow drove up in a buggy. Mrs.

Barlow got out, and Mr. Barlow drove on toward the store. Sadie saw them and opened the door.

"Is Pert here, Sadie?" was the question which greeted her. "We 've been up to her house, and 'Mandy' said she had come down here."

"Yes; she 's here, Auntie Barlow."

"The poor little thing! My husband only told me the news this afternoon; he 's been down street all morning, and I wanted to see her and comfort her."

"She wasn't feeling well," explained Sadie, "and after dinner I sent her up stairs to sleep. You 'll find her in the bedroom over the parlor. She must be awake by this time."

"Very well; I 'll go up." Mrs. Barlow ascended the stairs.

Sadie went to the window and looked out upon the gathering storm, now vividly foretold by constant flashes of jagged lightning. Suddenly she started, and stood transfixed, as though turned to ice with a chilling horror. There had come to her ears from above an awful cry of bitter anguish, quickly followed by a jarring, m.u.f.fled sound, as of a falling body.

"Auntie Barlow!" she gasped, regaining her faculties with a superhuman effort, and rushing blindly toward the stairs. Staggering up with the aid of the banister, she reached the landing and entered the room beyond. There, prostrate upon the floor, lay Mrs. Barlow in a deathlike swoon. Upon the bed lay the lifeless body of poor little Pert--her pure, white soul had flown.

There are some who faint at the thought of a thing, but are brave when they meet it face to face. Such a one was Sadie. She realized the situation at a glance; and though the awfulness of it benumbed her, she did, dry-eyed and mechanically, what she knew must be done. Mrs.

Barlow she could not lift, but, she sprinkled her face with water, and put a pillow under her head. Then with the ghost of a hope that Pert was but in a stupor, she rushed down the stairs, and out into the street, toward the doctor's, a few doors away. She met him just coming out of his gate. "Come, quick," she said; and as they hurried back she told him in a few words what had happened.

Mrs. Barlow still lay in a state of semi-consciousness, moaning pitifully at intervals. With all her soul in her eyes, Sadie watched the doctor while he felt Pert's wrist and held a gla.s.s before her lips for an indication of breathing. But his face gave never a sign of hope, and his eyes, as he looked up, told her all. "She is dead," he said softly. Sadie burst into a fit of uncontrollable weeping. The doctor lifted Mrs. Barlow carefully and deposited her upon a bed in another room.

The sound of voices was heard outside--those of Arthur and Judge Martin talking to Mr. Barlow, who had just driven up and met them as they were coming in. Sadie went slowly down the stairs and opened the door. The sight of her tear-stained face startled them all. "What is it?" they exclaimed simultaneously.

"Oh, Pert--" she began; but burst again into weeping and was unable to continue.