"Does she live all alone in that house up there? I mean, has she no—er—chaperon?"
"Nancy Strong is keeping house for her,—her husband used to run the blacksmith shop here and did all of David Windom's work for him. He's been dead a good many years. Nancy is one of the finest women you ever saw. Her father was an Episcopal minister up in the city up to the time he died. Nancy had to earn her own living, so she got a job as school teacher down here. Let's see, that was over thirty years ago. Been here ever since. Tom Strong wasn't good enough for her. Too religious. He was the feller that led the mob that wiped out Tony Zimmerman's saloon soon after I came here. I'll never forget that night. I happened to be in the saloon,—just out of curiosity, because it was new and everybody was dropping in to see the bar and fixtures he'd got from Chicago,—but I got out of a back window in plenty of time. But as I was saying, Nancy Strong keeps house for Alix. She's got a cook and a second girl besides, and a chauffeur."
"An ideal arrangement," said Courtney, looking at his wrist-watch.
"I wonder if you ever came across Nancy Strong's son over in France. He was in the Medical Corps in our Army. He's a doctor. Went to Rush Medical College in Chicago and afterwards to some place in the East,—John Hopkins or some such name as that. Feller about your age, I should say. David Strong. Mr. Windom sent him through college. They say he's paying the money back to Alix Crown as fast as he makes it. Alix hates him worse'n poison, according to Jim Bagley, her foreman. Of course, she don't let on to David's mother on account of her being housekeeper and all. Seems that Alix is as sore as can be because he insists on paying the money to her, when she claims her grandpa gave it to him and it's none of her business. Davy says he promised to pay Mr. Windom back as soon as he was able, and can't see any reason why the old man's death should cancel the obligation. Jim was telling me some time ago about the letter Alix showed him from Davy. She was so mad she actually cried. He said in so many words he didn't choose to be beholden to her, and that he was in the habit of paying his debts, and she needn't be so high and mighty about refusin' to accept the money. He said he didn't accept anything from Mr. Windom as charity,—claiming it was a loan,—and he'd be damned if he'd accept charity from her. I don't believe he swore like that, but then Jim can't say good morning to you without getting in a cuss word or two. Alix is as stubborn as all get out. Jim says that every time she gets a cheque from Davy she cashes it and hands the money over to Mrs. Strong for a present, never letting on to Nancy that it came from Davy. Did I say that Davy is practisin' in Philadelphia? He was back here for a week to see his mother after he got out of the Army, but when Alix heard he was coming she beat it up to Chicago. I thought maybe you might have run across him over in France."
"I was not with the American Army,—and besides there were several million men in France, Charlie," said Courtney, arising and stretching himself. "Well, good night. Thanks for the uplift. I'll skip along now and write a letter or two."
"Snappy dreams," said Charlie Webster.
Just as Courtney was closing a long letter to his mother, the automobile drew up in front of the Tavern and Alix Crown's guests got out. There were "good-nights" and "sleep-tights" and then the car went purring down the dimly lighted road. He had no trouble in distinguishing Alix's clear, young voice, and thereupon added the following words of comfort to his faraway mother: "You will love her voice, mater dear. It's like music. So put away your prejudice and wish me luck. I've made a good start. The fact that she refused to look at me on the porch tonight is the best sign in the world. Just because she deliberately failed to notice me is no sign that she didn't expect me to notice her. It is an ancient and time-honoured trick of your adorable sex."
III — The next morning his walk took him up the lane past the charming, red-brick house of Alix the Third. His leg was troubling him. He walked with quite a pronounced limp, and there were times when his face winced with pain.
"It's that confounded poison you gave me last night," he announced to Charlie Webster as they stood chatting in front of the warehouse office.
"First time I ever heard of booze going to the knee," was Charlie's laconic rejoinder. "It's generally aimed at the head."