i

after all, charles halsey still was young enough to be happy. there are really very few delights for the man nearing middle age. the period of joy in living is confined to what time, passing upon the crowded street, the young man notes the sidelong, half-concealed glance of the unknown young woman, unconsciously taking in his goodliness, his god-like-ness, such as that may be; or to what time the young woman, in turn, after some such incident, turning by merest chance to look at some passing cloud, or to note the brightness of the sky, finds that some young man whom she but now passed also has turned about, by mere chance, to examine the colors of the sky, and so by accident has fastened gaze upon her instead! as the grasshopper cometh on to be a burden, the time arrives when this or that gray-browed man may gaze at passing damsel and elicit no reward in turn. sitting in crowded vehicle he glances above the rim of his paper, and suddenly smiles to himself that his mature charms have riveted the attention of the young girl across the aisle. happy moment—were it not that closer scrutiny would prove the young girl's eye to be fixed, not upon middle age, but upon ruddy-faced youth in the seat beyond!

no hope for graybeard after middle age, when the grasshopper is a burden; save such hope as may be his through the power of money. thenceforth perhaps remain for him only such self-deceits as that money may purchase fidelity, joy, love, happiness of any sort; which deceits end later on, in that hour of severe self-searching which remains for each of us just before we depart for other spheres. as for this particular obloid sphere and its tenantry, there are two seasons—a season of growth and flower, a season of seeding and decaying. as for delights, life passes at that indefinite period, from twenty-five to fifty-five years of age, let us say, when the opposite sex, passing us unknown upon the street, turns no longer the inadvertent sidelong gaze!

ii

when john rawn walked toward his home after the events of the meeting last foregoing described, he cast few sidelong glances, and received few. if that were faithfulness to a worthy wife, make the most of it. upon the other hand note that, as mr. halsey trod the air on his way to kelly row, his newspaper bundle under his arm, there did not lack abundance of young women who saw him from the corner of the eye as he passed on. forsooth, he was a young man of very adequate physical appearance, clean, hard, high of cheek, square of shoulder, his hair dark and long, his eye gray, direct, kindly. his life hitherto had been so narrow that he had lived well and wisely. his powers were well preserved, he remained physically clean and fit. rather a decent chap, you would have called him, as he passed now, his strong chin well forward, his eye shaft-like and strong in its glances. not an extraordinary young man, perhaps, but certainly serving well enough to show that youth speaks to youth; and that, when youth is past, all is past. excepting—as john rawn would have noted—the making of money; which means not much to youth itself, but which means all to middle age.

of all this very wise and useful philosophy, be sure, mr. halsey was ignorant, or regarding it, was indifferent. he had forgotten that almost his last silver coin had furnished mr. rawn his last meal, in which halsey himself had not joined. grace! that was in his mind. he was young. success was now at hand; because presently he should have five thousand dollars a year in salary, and be married to the dearest girl in all the world. it is, always the dearest girl in all the world, for men when they are less than thirty-five, say twenty-five years of age. but halsey did not philosophize. he was guided only by some unconscious cerebration when he descended from the street-car and bent his way toward kelly row. he pulled up at the stoop of the third house in that homely procession of brick abodes which rented for twenty dollars a month—with no repairs by the landlord.

iii

he found grace at home, mrs. rawn also at home. they came to meet him, laid hold of him before he was well into the narrow little hall. there was that in his face, in his eyes, in his soul which told them that success at last had come to kelly row.

he put his hand in mrs. rawn's, his arm about grace's waist. they two were young, they were very happy. their hands were interclasped when presently they all passed from the hall into the little parlor. the eyes of grace rawn became soft, luminous, tender. the young man had come into her life. she was very happy. she was young. ambition was as yet unknown to her. her coin-current was not yet money; which of all things has the very least of purchasing power. she was almost beautiful now.

mrs. rawn, grave, thin, careworn, bent by many trials, her hair gray above her temples, her eyes dark-rimmed and, sunken somewhat under her dark-arched brows, had seated herself upon the opposite side of the room, waiting, her own joy visible in the silent illumination of her face. she, too, was very happy in her way; or rather, mildly contented. while almost every woman, at one or other period of her life admires what is known as a wicked young man; the average mother having a daughter about to be married admires rather what is known as a good young man. and charles halsey was what may be called comprised within that loose and indefinite description, not always covering admirable or manly qualities, but in this case serving very well.

"you've won, charley," said laura rawn at last. "it is true! thank god!"

for these blessings about to be received, mr. rawn thanked himself; grace thanked charles; charles thanked grace; only laura rawn had nothing left to thank excepting an impersonal and remote deity.

iv

they sat for a time thus in the little parlor, amid an abomination of desolation in black walnut horrors, tables done after a french king who must have revolved in his grave at contemplation thereof, chairs requiring nice feats in balancing upon their slippery haircloth floors, a sofa of like sort, too large for one, yet not large enough for two. there gazed down upon their love—as though in admiration as to love's consequences—rows of bisque shepherdesses and china dogs. the dying gaul also bent on them a saddened gaze. none the less, in spite of all, young halsey shamelessly maintained his position on the perilous sofa, an arm around young miss rawn's waist.

v

laura rawn sat across the room, something still dangling from her grasp which had been there when she met halsey in the hall. halsey at length caught sight of this object. glancing from the mother's hands toward those of the daughter, halsey caught up the latter, looking with close scrutiny at what was now to be his own. he found the ends of grace's fingers blackened and rough. he glanced back again to her mother's hands, worn with toil. the ends of her fingers, also, grasping this loose something, were blackened and rough.

"no more work for grace," said he, lovingly tightening his clasp on the fingers in his own.

"but i say—" this to grace—"what makes your fingers so rough, dear? i never did notice that before."

"you've not noticed anything for two months!" said grace chidingly. "why, it's sewing, of course, that does it. a needle roughens up one's finger in spite of a thimble, don't you know?"

"you were sewing—for us?" he ventured daringly, yet blushing as he spoke. "a girl has a lot of sewing to do, i suppose—when she's—getting ready. but, grace—i'm to have five thousand dollars a year! five thousand! no more sewing then for grace, i'm thinking."

"yes?" said grace, smiling in her slow way. "i think ma and i would be glad to believe we'd never have to see a needle again. she kept me at it. you see, charley, we've been keeping the wolf from the front door and the kitchen door, while you and father were guarding the woodshed."

"what do you mean?" then suddenly, "you don't tell me—you don't mean that—? was that what made your hands so rough, yours and mrs. rawn's yonder? what have you got there, mrs. rawn—something in silk? oh, a pair of braces, eh? for me? how nice of you."

grace smiled again. "i'll be jealous of ma. shall i go and get my own work to show you?"

"you mean for your father, of course—"

"indeed, no. neither pa nor you can afford silk embroidered braces, charles! i've done six pairs this week, and ma—well ma must have done a dozen. she's wonderful."

"but what do you mean?" asked the young man, still puzzled. grace said nothing further, but held up her blackened finger-tips and looked him in the eye. a blush of comprehension came to his face.

"you women!" he exclaimed. "you've worked as hard as we did; and we didn't know!"

"we had to do something," said mrs. rawn quietly. "i tried a number of things. we could earn practically nothing in the sweatshop work. grace addressed envelopes here at home at night, for a while—but that's what every other girl in all the city's doing, i think. i saw some of these embroidered things in the window of a men's furnishing shop. i went in and told the man i could do them as well as that for twenty-five cents a pair. we've had as much as thirty cents for some of our best ones. why, dear me! i hadn't done any work in silk for years and years; but it all came back. we earned quite a bit here. it kept the table."

"my god!" said halsey. "and i've been eating here!"

vi

"it was our part," said laura rawn. "it was all we could do. a woman just has to do the best she can, you know. well, we helped."

"a woman has to do the best she can," repeated laura rawn gently, seeing that this left halsey awkward. "if she's a true woman, she tries to help. i want that grace should always think of it in just that way."

that, it seemed, was the foolish philosophy of laura rawn; a philosophy not often written on the docket of divorce courts, to be sure. perhaps it is—or once was—inscribed on dockets elsewhere.

end of book one