"Reverses," echoed the clerical visitor, with difficulty keeping his seat. This was the very thing he had come to find out and here it was actually thrown at him. He congratulated himself on his cleverness in having inspired so much confidence and thought with glee of his triumph when he returned with the full story to the Lady Trustees. Simulating, therefore, the deepest sympathy he tried to draw his hostess out:
"Dear me, how sad! You met with reverses."
Turning to his sister, who was sitting in her corner like a petrified mummy, he added:
"Jane, do you hear? How inexpressibly sad! They have met with reverses!"
He paused, hoping that Mrs. Rossmore would go on to explain just what their reverses had been, but she was silent. As a gentle hint he said softly:
"Did I interrupt you, Madam?"
"Not at all, I did not speak," she answered.
Thus baffled, he turned the whites of his eyes up to the ceiling and said:
"When reverses come we naturally look for spiritual consolation.
My dear Mrs. Rossmore, in the name of the Unified All Souls Baptismal Presbytery I offer you that consolation."
Mrs. Rossmore looked helplessly from one to the other embarra.s.sed as to what to say. Who were these strangers that intruded on her privacy offering a consolation she did not want? Miss Deetle, as if glad of the opportunity to joke at her brother's expense, said explosively:
"My dear Pontifex, you have already offered a strawberry festival which Mrs. Rossmore has been unable to accept."
"Well, what of it?" demanded Mr. Deetle, glaring at his sister for the irrelevant interruption.
"You are both most kind," murmured Mrs. Rossmore; "but we could not accept in any case. My daughter is returning home from Paris next week."
"Ah, your daughter--you have a daughter?" exclaimed Mr. Deetle, grasping at the slightest straw to add to his stock of information.
"Coming from Paris, too! Such a wicked city!"
He had never been to Paris, he went on to explain, but he had read enough about it and he was grateful that the Lord had chosen Ma.s.sapequa as the field of his labours. Here at least, life was sweet and wholesome and one's hopes of future salvation fairly reasonable. He was not a brilliant talker when the conversation extended beyond Ma.s.sapequa but he rambled on airing his views on the viciousness of the foreigner in general, until Mrs. Rossmore, utterly wearied, began to wonder when they would go. Finally he fell back upon the weather.
"We are very fortunate in having such pleasant weather, don't you think so, Madam? Oh, Ma.s.sapequa is a lovely spot, isn't it? We think it's the one place to live in. We are all one happy family.
That's why my sister and I called to make your acquaintance."
"You are very good, I'm sure. I shall tell my husband you came and he'll be very pleased."
Having exhausted his conversational powers and seeing that further efforts to pump Mrs. Rossmore were useless, the clerical visitor rose to depart:
"It looks like rain. Come, Jane, we had better go. Good-bye, Madam, I am delighted to have made this little visit and I trust you will a.s.sure Mr. Rossmore that All Souls Unified Baptismal Presbytery always has a warm welcome for him."
They bowed and Mrs. Rossmore bowed. The agony was over and as the door closed on them Mrs. Rossmore gave a sigh of relief.
That evening Stott and the judge came home earlier than usual and from their dejected appearance Mrs. Rossmore divined bad news. The judge was painfully silent throughout the meal and Stott was unusually grave. Finally the latter took her aside and broke it to her gently. In spite of their efforts and the efforts of their friends the Congressional inquiry had resulted in a finding against the judge and a demand had already been made upon the Senate for his impeachment. They could do nothing now but fight it in the Senate with all the influence they could muster. It was going to be hard but Stott was confident that right would prevail.
After dinner as they were sitting in silence on the porch, each measuring the force of this blow which they had expected yet had always hoped to ward off, the crunching sound of a bicycle was heard on the quiet country road. The rider stopped at their gate and came up the porch holding out an envelope to the judge, who, guessing the contents, had started forward. He tore it open. It was a cablegram from Paris and read as follows:
_Am sailing on the Kaiser Wilhelm to-day._
_Shirley._
CHAPTER VII
The pier of the North German Lloyd Steamship Company, at Hoboken, fairly sizzled with bustle and excitement. The Kaiser Wilhelm had arrived at Sandy Hook the previous evening and was now lying out in midstream. She would tie up at her dock within half an hour.
Employes of the line, baggage masters, newspaper reporters, Custom House officers, policemen, detectives, truck drivers, expressmen, longsh.o.r.emen, telegraph messengers and anxious friends of incoming pa.s.sengers surged back and forth in seemingly hopeless confusion.
The shouting of orders, the rattling of cab wheels, the shrieking of whistles was deafening. From out in the river came the deep toned blasts of the steamer's siren, in grotesque contrast with the strident tooting of a dozen diminutive tugs which, puffing and snorting, were slowly but surely coaxing the leviathan into her berth alongside the dock. The great vessel, spick and span after a coat of fresh paint hurriedly put on during the last day of the voyage, bore no traces of gale, fog and stormy seas through which she had pa.s.sed on her 3,000 mile run across the ocean. Conspicuous on the bridge, directing the docking operations, stood Capt.
Hegermann, self satisfied and smiling, relieved that the responsibilities of another trip were over, and at his side, sharing the honours, was the grizzled pilot who had brought the ship safely through the dangers of Gedney's Channel, his shabby pea jacket, old slouch hat, top boots and unkempt beard standing out in sharp contrast with the immaculate white duck trousers, the white and gold caps and smart full dress uniforms of the ship's officers. The rails on the upper decks were seen to be lined with pa.s.sengers, all dressed in their sh.o.r.e going clothes, some waving handkerchiefs at friends they already recognized, all impatiently awaiting the shipping of the gangplank.
Stott had come early. They had received word at Ma.s.sapequa the day before that the steamer had been sighted off Fire Island and that she would be at her pier the next morning at 10 o'clock. Stott arrived at 9.30 and so found no difficulty in securing a front position among the small army of people, who, like himself, had come down to meet friends.
As the huge vessel swung round and drew closer, Stott easily picked out Shirley. She was scanning eagerly through a binocular the rows of upturned faces on the dock, and he noted that a look of disappointment crossed her face at not finding the object of her search. She turned and said something to a lady in black and to a man who stood at her side. Who they might be Stott had no idea. Fellow pa.s.sengers, no doubt. One becomes so intimate on shipboard; it seems a friendship that must surely last a lifetime, whereas--the custom officers have not finished rummaging through your trunks when these easily-made steamer friends are already forgotten. Presently Shirley took another look and her gla.s.s soon lighted on him. Instantly she recognized her father's old friend.
She waved a handkerchief and Stott raised his hat. Then she turned quickly and spoke again to her friends, whereupon they all moved in the direction of the gangplank, which was already being lowered.
Shirley was one of the first to come ash.o.r.e. Stott was waiting for her at the foot of the gangplank and she threw her arms round his neck and kissed him. He had known her ever since she was a little tot in arms, and bystanders who noticed them meet had no doubt that they were father and daughter. Shirley was deeply moved; a great lump in her throat seemed to choke her utterance. So far she had been able to bear up, but now that home was so near her heart failed her. She had hoped to find her father on the dock. Why had he not come? Were things so bad then? She questioned Judge Stott anxiously, fearfully.
He rea.s.sured her. Both her mother and father were well. It was too long a trip for them to make, so he had volunteered.
"Too long a trip," echoed Shirley puzzled. "This is not far from our house. Madison Avenue is no distance. That could not have kept father away."
"You don't live on Madison Avenue any longer. The house and its contents have been sold," replied Stott gravely, and in a few words he outlined the situation as it was.
Shirley listened quietly to the end and only the increasing pallor of her face and an occasional nervous twitching at the corner of her mouth betrayed the shock that this recital of her father's misfortunes was to her. Ah, this she had little dreamed of! Yet why not? It was but logic. When wrecked in reputation, one might as well be wrecked in fortune, too. What would their future be, how could that proud, sensitive man her father bear this humiliation, this disgrace? To be condemned to a life of obscurity, social ostracism, and genteel poverty! Oh, the thought was unendurable! She herself could earn money, of course. If her literary work did not bring in enough, she could teach and what she earned would help out. Certainly her parents should never want for anything so long as she could supply it. She thought bitterly how futile now were plans of marriage, even if she had ever entertained such an idea seriously. Henceforward, she did not belong to herself. Her life must be devoted to clearing her father's name. These reflections were suddenly interrupted by the voice of Mrs. Blake calling out:
"Shirley, where have you been? We lost sight of you as we left the ship, and we have been hunting for you ever since."
Her aunt, escorted by Jefferson Ryder, had gone direct to the Customs desk and in the crush they had lost trace of her. Shirley introduced Stott.
"Aunt Milly, this is Judge Stott, a very old friend of father's.
Mrs. Blake, my mother's sister. Mother will be surprised to see her. They haven't met for ten years."
"This visit is going to be only a brief one," said Mrs. Blake. "I really came over to chaperone Shirley more than anything else."
"As if I needed chaperoning with Mr. Ryder for an escort!"
retorted Shirley. Then presenting Jefferson to Stott she said:
"This is Mr. Jefferson Ryder--Judge Stott. Mr. Ryder has been very kind to me abroad."
The two men bowed and shook hands.
"Any relation to J.B.?" asked Stott good humouredly.
"His son--that's all," answered Jefferson laconically.
Stott now looked at the young man with more interest. Yes, there was a resemblance, the same blue eyes, the righting jaw. But how on earth did Judge Rossmore's daughter come to be travelling in the company of John Burkett Ryder's son? The more he thought of it the more it puzzled him, and while he cogitated Shirley and her companions wrestled with the United States Customs, and were undergoing all the tortures invented by Uncle Sam to punish Americans for going abroad.
Shirley and Mrs. Blake were fortunate in securing an inspector who was fairly reasonable. Of course, he did not for a moment believe their solemn statement, already made on the ship, that they had nothing dutiable, and he rummaged among the most intimate garments of their wardrobe in a wholly indecent and unjustifiable manner, but he was polite and they fared no worse than all the other women victims of this, the most brutal custom house inspection system in the world.
Jefferson had the misfortune to be allotted an inspector who was half seas over with liquor and the man was so insolent and threatening in manner that it was only by great self-restraint that Jefferson controlled himself. He had no wish to create a scandal on the dock, nor to furnish good "copy" for the keen-eyed, long-eared newspaper reporters who would be only too glad of such an opportunity for a "scare head," But when the fellow compelled him to open every trunk and valise and then put his grimy hands to the bottom and by a quick upward movement jerked the entire contents out on the dock he interfered: