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About Geyser Judith Basin Times (Geyser, Mont.) 1911-1920 | View This Issue
Geyser Judith Basin Times (Geyser, Mont.), 07 July 1916, located at <http://montananewspapers.org/lccn/sn85053135/1916-07-07/ed-1/seq-3/>, image provided by MONTANA NEWSPAPERS, Montana Historical Society, Helena, Montana.
GEYSER JUDITH BASIN TIMES KCCCJ 0 X***CAXCC*oXC****WDQX4DDDDDDDDNXAX,DDMMXW. 4 X 4 XX4X4DDX614X4DXPDWC A 110 A 54 X 4:ANNWOMMXXXOCAWKWWMXWACOIEWACCCCOOCCCOCCCCCC 0 TAMMODMWDDDZOXITATAWE' The Turmoil MY 4 BOOTH TARKINGTON tSYNOPEllEk Sheridan's attempt to make a business loan of hl s son Bibbs by starting him in the machine shop ends in Bibbs going to a sanitarium, a nervous wreck. On his re• turn Bibbs finds himself an Inconsider- able and unconsidered figure in the ”New house\ of the Sheridans. The Vertreeees, old town family next door and impover- kited, call on the Sheridans, newly -rich, and Mary afterward puts Into words her parents' unspoken wish that she marry tale of the Sheridan boys. At the Sheri- dan housewarming banquet Sheridan spreads himself. Mary frankly encourages Jim Sheridan's attentions. Mary shocks her mother by talking of Jim as a matri- monial possibility. Jim tells Mary Bibbs is not a lunatIc—\just queer.\ lie pro- poses to Mary, who half accepts him. Sheridan tells )3Ibbs he must go back to the machine shop as soon as he Is strong enough. In spite of Ilibbs' plea to be al- lowed to write. Edith. Hibbs' sister, and Sit•vl, Roscoe Sheridan's wife, quarrel ov.ir Bobby Laynhorn: Sibyl goes to Mary Inr help to keep Lamhorn from marrying Edith, and Mary leaves her im the room alone. 1 44400 0 . 0000 4 :><>0000 CHAPTER X—Continued. For all his resistless energy and confidence, Sheridan Is about to receive a great blow. Bibbs shows to better advan- tage In the crisis than you'd believe he could. It Is a ques- tion, now, whether the old man will recognize his \weak\ son's power and give him something better to do than working In the factory. He expanded this theme once more; and thus he continued to entertain the stranger throughout the long drive. Darkness had fallen before they reached the city on their return, and It was after five when Sheridan al- lowed Herr Fevre to descend at the door of hts hotel, where boys were shrieking extra editions of the evening paper. \Now good night, Mr. Ferrer,\ said Sheridan, leaning from the car to shake hands with his guest. \Don't forget I'm goin' to come around and take you up to— Go on away, boy!\ A newsboy had thrust himself al- most between them, yelling, \Extry! Secon' Extry. Extry, all about the borrabie accident. Extry!\ \Get out!\ laughed Sheridan. \Who wants to read about accidents? Get out!\ The boy moved away philosophically. \Extry! Extry!\ he shrilled. \Three men killed! Extry! Millionaire killed! Two other men killed! Extry! Extry!\ \Don't forget, Mr. Player.\ Sheri- dan completed his interrupted fare- wells. \I'll come by to take you up to our house for dinner. I'll be here for you about half -past five tomorrow afternoon, hope you 'njoyed the drive as much as I have. Good night—good night!\ Ile leaned back, speaking to the chauffeur. \Now you can take me around to the Central City barber shop, boy. I want to get a shave 'fore I go up home.\ \Extry! Extry!\ screamed the news- boys, .zigzaggieg among the crowds like bats in the dusk. \Extry! All ehout the tuneable accident! Extry!\ It struck Sheridan that the papers sent out too many \extras:\ they printed - extras\ for all sorts of petty crimes and casualties. It was a mistake, he decided, critically. Crying \Wolf!' too often wouldn't sell the goods; it was bad business. The papers would \make more in the long run.\ be was sure, if they published an \extra\ \Now Good Night, Mr. Farver.e only when something of real impor- tance heppened. \Exley! All about the horble ax'nt! Extry!\ a boy squawked under his nese, :IF. he descended from the car. 'Go oil away!\ said Sheridan gruffly, though be smiled He liked to see :WP:W , X.W*C***CfMkX*XXOW41 4 4 The Story of a Bid Man in a fig Town • 4 4 (Copyright IN& by Harper &Brothers) the youngsters working so noisily to get on in the world. But as he crossed the pavement to .the brilliant glass doors of the barber shop, a second newsboy grasped the arm of the one who had thee cried his wares. \Say Yallern,\ said this second, hoarse with awe, \'n't chew know who that is?\ \Who?\ \It's Sheridan\ \Jeestr cried the fleet, staring in- sanely. At about the same hour, four times a week—Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday—Sheridan stopped at this shop to be shaved by the head bar- ber. The barbers were negroes, he was their great teen, and it was their habit to give him a \reception his entrance being always the signal for a flurry of jocular hospitality, followed by general excesses of briskness and gayety. But it was not so this eve- ning. The shop was crowded. Copies of the \extra\ were being read by men waiting and by men in the latter stages of treatment. \Extras\ lay upon va- cant seats and showed from the pock- ets of hanging coats. There was a loud chatter between the practitioners and their recumbent patients, a vocal chatrivari which stopped abruptly as Sheridan opened the door. Ilia name seemed to fizz in the air like the last sputtering of a firework; the barbers stopped shaving and clipping; lathered meh turned their prostrate heads to stare, and there Was a moment of amazing silence In the shop. The head barber, nearest the door, stood like a barber In a tableau. His left hand held stretched between thumb and forefinger an elastic sec- tion of his helpless customer's cheek, Willie his right hand hung poised above R. the razor motionless. And, then, roused from trance by the door's closing, he accepted the fact of Sheri- dan's presence. The barber remem- bered that there are no circumstances in life—or just after it—under which a man does not need to be shaved. Ile stepped forward, profoundly grave. \I be through with this man in the chair one minute, Mist' Sheri- dan,\ lie said, in a hushed voice. \Yes - And of a solemn negro youth who stood by, gazing stupidly, \You goin' resign?\ he demanded in a fierce undertone. \You goin' take Mist' Sheridan's coat?\ lie sent an angry look round the shop, and the barbers. taking his meaning. averted their eyes and fell to work, the murmur of sub- dued conversation buzzing from chair to chair. \You sit down one minute, Mist' Sheridan,\ said the head barber gen- tly. \I fix nice chair fo' you to wait In,\ \Never mind,\ said Sheridan. \Go on get through with your man.\ \Yessult.\ And he went quickly hack to his chair on tiptoe, followed by' Sheridan's puzzled gaze. Something had gone wrong In the shop, evidently. Sheridan did not know what to make of it. Ordinarily he would have shouted a hilarious de- mand for the meaning of the mystery. but an inexplicable silence bad been imposed upon him by the hush that fell upon his entrance and by the odd look every man in the shop had bent upon him. Vaguely disquieted, lie walked to one of the seats in the rear of the shop and looked down the two lines of bar- bers, catching quickly shifted, furtive glances here and there. Ile made this brief survey after wondering if one of the barbers had died suddenly, that day, or the night before; but there was no 'vacancy in either line. The seat next to his was unoccupied, but someone had left a copy of the \extra\ there, and, frow»i»g, he picked it up and glanced at it. The first of the swollen display lines bad little meaning to him: Fatally faulty. New process roof col- lapses hurting capitalist to death with in- ventor. Seven escape when crash comes. Death claims— Thus far had he read when a thin hand fell upon the paper, covering the print from his eyes, and, looking up. he saw Bibbs standing before him, pale and gentle, immeasurably com- passionate. \I've come for you. father.\ said Bibbs. \Here's the boy with your coat and hat. Put them on and come home.\ And even then Sheridan did not un- derstand. So secure was he in Ille strength and bigness of everything that was his, he did not know what ca- lamity had befallen him. But he was frightened. Without a word, he followed Bibb , : heavily out through the still shop, but as they reached the pavement he stopped short and, grasping Ills son's sleeve with shaking fingers, swung him round so that they stood face to face. \What—what—\ His month could not do him the service he asked of its he was um frightened. \Extry!\ screamed a newsboy straight In his face. \Young North side millionaire insuntly killed! Ex - try!\ \Not—Jim!\ said Sheridan. Bibbs caught his father's band in his own. \And you come to tell me that?\ Sheridan did not know what he said. But in those first words and in the first anguish of the big, stricken face Bible; understood the unuttered cry of accusation: \Why wasn't It your CHAPTER XI. Standing in the black group under gaunt trees at the cemetery, three days later, Bibbs unwillingly let an old, old thought become definite In his mind: the sickly brother hail buried the strong brother. and Hibbs wondered how many million times that had hap- pened since men first made a word to name the sons of one mother. Al- tnost literally he had burled his strong brother, for Sheridan had gone to pieces when he saw his dead son. He had nothing to help him meet the shock, neither definite religion nor \philosophy\ definite or Indefinite. He could only beat his forehead and beg, over and over, to be killed with an ax, while his wife was helpless except to entreat him not to \take on,\ her- self adding a continuous lamentation. Edith, weeping, made truce with \Not Jim!\ Said Sheridan. Sibyl and saw to it that the mourn- ing garments were beyond criticism Roscoe was dazed, anti he shirked, jus- tifying himself curiously by saying he \never haul any experience in such matters.\ So It was Ileitis, the shy outsider, who became, during that dreadful little time, the master of the house; for as strange a thing as that, sometimes, may be the result of a death. \Dust to duet,\ said the minister. under the gaunt trees; and at that Sheridan shook convulsively from head to foot. All of the black gemp shiv- ered except Hibbs. Ile had been close upon dust himself for a long, long time, and the machine shop. If he had to go back to it, would 'probably bring him closer atilt. To ilibbs' knowledge, nit one and nothing had ever prevented his father from carrying through his plans. Ile had the gift of terrible persimenee, and with unfleeked confi- dence that his way was the only way. he would hold to that way of \making a man\ of 'Milts, who understood very well, in his passive and impersonal fashion. that it was a way which might make. not a man, but dust of him. But he had no shudder for the thought. The truth about Hibbs was in the poem which Edith had adopted. But he had not hidden his feelings about his father where they coeld not be found. He was strange to his father. but his father was not strange to him. He knew that Sheridan's plans were conceived in the stubborn belief tits( they would bring about a good thing for Bibbs himself; and whatever the result was to be, the eon had no bit- terness. Far otherwise, for as he looked at the big, woeful figure, shak- ing and tortured. an almost unbearable pity laid hands upon throat. Roscoe stood blinking. his lip quiver - hug: Edith wept runniest; Mrs. Sheri- dan leaned in beg collapse against her htedlaTel; bet Itibbs knew that his father was time one who eared. It was over. Men ln overaik stepped forward with their shovels, and Itibbs nodded quiekly to Le s see. reeking a slight gesture toward the line of waiting carriages. Bibles gAz. , 1 efeadtastly at the workmen; he knew that his father kept looking hark as he went toward the carriage, and that was a thing he did not want to see. After a little while, \It's too bad!\ he half whispered, his lips forming the words—and his meaning was that it was too bad that the strong brother had been the one to go. For this was his last thought before he walked to the coupe and saw Mary Vertrees Stan:ling all alone on the other side of the drive. She had just emerged from a grove of leafless trees MeV - grew on a slope weere the tombs were many. Against such a background Hibbs was not in- congruous, with his figure, In black. So long and slender, and his face so long and thin and white; nor was the uudertaker's coupe out of keeping, with the shabby driver dozing on the box Anti the shaggy horses standing pit -- newly in attitudes without hope and without regret. But for Mary Vertrees, here was a grotesque setting—she was a vivid, living creature of a beautiful World. And a graveyard is not the place for people to look charming. She also looked startled and con- fused, but not more startled and con- fused than Bibb& All his life Bibbs had kept himself to himself—he was but a shy onlooker in the world. Nev- ertheless, the startled gaze he bent upon the unexpected holy before him had causes other than his shyness and her unexpectedness. For Mary Ver- trees haul been a shining figure in the little world of late given to the view of this humble and elusive outsider, and spectators sometimes find their hearts beating faster than those of the actors In the spectacle. Thus with Bibbs now. He started and stared; he lifted his hat with incredible awkward- ness. his lingers fumbling at his fore- head before they found the brim. \Mr. Sheridan.\ said Mary, \I'm afraid you'll have to take nie home with you. I—\ She stopped, not lacking a momentary awkwardness of her own. \Why —why — yes,\ 131bbe stam- mered. be de— Won't you get in?\ In that manner and In that place they exchanged their first words. Then see\ He Started and Stared. Mary, without more 'ado, got into the coupe, and 'ebbs followed, closing the door. \You're very kind.\ vile said, some- what breathlessly. \I should have had to walk, and it's beginning to get dark. It's three miles. I think.\ \Yes.\ said Ill films. \It—it is liezin- ning to get dark. I—I netieed that.\ \I ought to tell you — l — \ MlirY be - gan. confueisily! She bit her lip, sat silent a moment. then spoke with com- posure. \it must seem odd, my—\ \No no!\ !Weis protested, earnestly. \Not in the—in the feast.\ \It does. thlgh,\ said Mary. had not Intended to come to the ceme- tery. Mr. Sheriain, but one of the men in charge at the hou SI* came and whis- pered to me that fanely wished me to'—I think your sister sent him. So I came. But when we readied here I—oh. I felt that perhaps I—\ Lithbs nodded gravely. \Yes yes,\ hi murmured. \I got out on the opposite side of the carriage,\ she cohlihth.o1, \I mean opposite from—from wiiitre all of you were. Anil I wandered off over in the other . direction; and I didn't realize liosv little time—it erkes. From where I was I couldn't see the carriatzes leav- ing—at least I Illdn ' t potter them. So when I got back. just new, you were the only one here. I flisliet know the ether Ilettide in the ri*Ni IV' I ('a inc and of course they didn't think to wait for me. Times wily—\ \Yes.\ said Miele, \I—\ And that seemed all lie hail to say just then. Mary looked reit throtieli the dusty window. \I think we'd better be go- ing home, if you ple:use.\ she said. She gave him fl quick little jeltesers \I think you must be very tired, Mr Sherinea, este I snow you have reason to be,\ she said gently. \If you'll let ine, And without explaining her purpose she opened the door on the side of the coupe and leaned out. Bible; stared in blank perplexity, not knowing what she meant to do. \I Wiver!\ she called. In her clear voice, loudly. \Driver! We'd like to start, please. Driver! Stop at the house just north of Mr. Sheridan's. please.\ The wheels began to move, 1111(1 She leaned back beside Bibbs once more. \I noticed that lie was asleep when we got in,\ she said. \I suppose they have it great deal of night work.\ Itilibus drew a long breath and wait- ed till he could command his voice. \I've never been able to apologize quickly,\ he said, with his accustomed Muteness, \because if I try to I stain- 111i2r. My brother Roscoe whipped we once, when we were boys, for stepping on his slate pencil. It took me so long to tell him it was all accident, he fin- ished before I did.\ Mary Vertrees had never heard any- thing quite like the drawling, gentle voice or the odd implication that his not noticing the motionless state of their vehicle was an \accident.\ At once she discovered that he was unlike any of her cursory and vitgue imagin- ings of him. And suddenly she had a glimpse of Hibbs' life and into Ills life. She had a queer feeling, new to her experience, of knowing 11141 instantly. It startled her a little; she did not realize, however, that she had made no response to his apology, and they passed out of the cemetery gates, nei- ther having spoken again. Bibbs was so content with the si- lence lie did not know that it was si- lence. The dusk, gathering in their small inclosure, was filled with a rich presence for him; and presently it was so dark that neither of the two could see the other, nor did even their gar- ments touch. But neither bad any sense of being alone. The wheels creaked steadily, rumbling presently on paved streets; there were the sounds, as from a distance, of the plod -plod of the horses. Oblongs of light came lancing into the coupe, anti passed, leaving greater darkness. And yet neither of these two last attend- ants at Jim Sheridan's funeral broke the silence. It was Mary who perceived the strangeness of it—too late. Abruptly she realized that for an Indefinite in- terval she had been thinking of her companion and not talking to him. \Mr. Sheridan,\ she began, not know- ing what she was going to say, but im- pelled to say anything, as she realized the queerness of this drive—\Mr. Sher- idan. I—\ The coupe stopped. \You Joe!\ said the driver, reproachfully, and climbed down and opened the door. \What's the trouble?\ Bibbs in- quired. \Lady said stop at first house north of Mr. Sheridan's, sir.\ Mary was incredulous: she felt that it cotedn't be trtie and that it mustn't be trite that they had driven all the way without epeaking. Bibbs descended to the curb. \Why yes,\ he said. \You seem to be right.\ And while hit stood staring at the dim- ly illuminated front windows of Mr. S'ertrees' house Mary got out, was- sisted. \Let me help you,\ said Ileitis. step- ping toward her mechanically; and she was several feet from the coupe when he spoke. \Oh no.\ she murmured. \I think I can—\ She meant that she could get out of the coupe without help. but. per- el1Ving that site ball already aeon's - Wished this feat. she decided net to eolnplete the sentence. \ices Joe I\ cried the driver. anerily, climbing to his box. And he rumbled aWity tit his team's best paee—a \Thank you for bringing me home, Mr. Sheridan,\ said Mary. stiffly. She did not offer her hand. \Good night.\ \Good night.\ Bilibe said in response, and. turning with her, walked beside her to the dime M:try made that a short walk; she almost ran. Realiza- tion of the queerness of their drive was growing mein hies beginning to shock her; slue stepped aside from the light I hat fell through the glass panels of the door and Withheld her hand as it touched the oliefashinneil bell handle. \I'm quite safe, thank you.\ she mild, with a little emphasis. \Good night.\ \Good night.\ said Tiibbs, and went obediently. When ne reached the street he looked back, but she hail vanished within the house. Moving slowly away, he caromed against two people who were turning Out from the pavement to cross the street. They were Roscoe mid his wife. \Where are your eyes, Bibbs?\ de- manded Rosette. \Sleep -walking, as usual?\ But Sibyl took the wanderer by the arm. \Come over to our house for a little while, Bibbs,\ she urged. \I want to—\ \No I'd better—\ \Yes. I want you to. Your father's gone to bed, and they're all quiet over tbere—all worn out. Just come for a minute.\ Ile yielded, and when they were in the house she repeated herself with real feeling: \'All worn out!' Well, if anybody is, you are. Hibbs! And I don't wonder; you've done every bit of the work of R. You mustn't get down sick again. I'm going to make you take a little brandy.\ Ile let her have her own way, fol- lowing her into the dining mini', and was grateful when she brought iii in a tiny glass tilled (non one of the de - ea Were on the sideboard. Roscoe gloomily poured for Weisel mu much heavier libation in a larger glass; and the two men sat. while Sibyl leaned agninat the sideboard, reviewing the episodes of the day and recalling the names of the donors of flowers and' wreaths. Shit , pressed Hibbs to remain longer when he rose to go, end then, as he persisted, she went with him to the front door. He opened it, and she said: \Hibbs you were coming out of the Vertrees' house when we met you. How did you happen to be there?\ \I had only been to the door,\ he said. \Good night, Sibyl.\ \Wait she insisted. \We saw you coming out.\ \I wasn't,\ he explained. \I'd just brought Miss Vertrees home.\ \What. she cried. \Yes he said, and stepped out upon the porch, \that was It. Good night, Sibyl.\ \Wait!\ she said, following him across the threshold. \How did the, happen? I thought you were going to \My God!\ He Cried, \What's That7'' wait while those men filled the—the---\ She paused, but moved nearer him in- sistently. \I did wait. Mies Vertrees was there,\ he said, reluctantly. \She had walked away for a while and didn't notice that the carriages were leaving. When she came back the coupe wait- ing for me WaS the only one left.\ Sibyl regarded him with dilating eyes. She spoke with a slow breathlessness. \And she drove home from Jim's fu- neral—with you!\ Without warning she burst into laughter, clapped her hand ineffectu- ally over her mouth, and ran back up- roariously into the house, hurling the door shut behind her. CHAPTER XII. Blbbs went home pondering. He did not understand why Sibyl had laughed. At home, uncles, aunts and cousins from out of town were wandering about the house, several mournfully admiring the \Bay of Naples.\ and others occupied with the Moor arid the plumbing, while they waited for trains. Edith and her mother had retired to some upper fastness, but Bibbs inter- viewed Jackson hind had the various groups of retatives munitioned to the dining room for food. One great-uncle. old Gideon Sheridan from Boonville. could not be found. and Bilibs went in seareh of him. He ransacked the house,- discovering the nesetng - antique at last by accident. Passing his fa- ther's closed door on tiptoe, Bibbs heard a murmurous sound. and paused to listen. The ftelltitt proved to be a quavering and rickety voice, monoto- nously bleating: \The Issoril given) and the T.o-ord Mime) away! We got to remember that; we got to rtenember that! I'm legitthe along. James; I'm a-gittin' along, and I've seen a -many of 'ern go—two iinueliters and a son the Lord gave me, anti lie has taken all away. For the Is -rd ghee!) and the Lo-ord takuth away! Remember the words of Itildad the Slit/bite, JarlieS. Bethel the Sliehite slips 'Ile shall have neither son nor nephew among his people, nor any remaining in his dwellings.' liii- dm1 the Slitillite—\ Hibbs 'ripened the dimr softly. Ills father was lying upon the beil, in his tinder - viol lies, fare downward. and Uncle sat near by, swinging backward end forward in a rocking chair, stroking his lone, white beard and gazing :it the f•eilitig as he talked. Bilibs beckoned him urgently, but Leiele Glileen paid no attention. \Itildail the Sliehite spake and he says, 'If thy children have sinned agelnst him and lie have cast them away—\ There was A nitellisl explosion be- neath the floor, and the windoe rattled. Th.. figure lyine face down- ward on the hist did lee 1/),We, hut 1 . 11CIP Gideon leaped feint his cheir. \My God!\ he cried. \What's that 000000 - 00< Did Mary Ver the cemetery un: ready to go just wanted to make ance? Jim is de and the aristocrs money. 0000.0.000 - Ce ero ists coN Anything Bc After reading tho of the fighting in t the war, we belies' we ever read—and Killer.\ - merits MS of y tale Gleat
