' Charge It ': Keeping Up With Harry Part 7

"'That will do,' said Betsey, suddenly, as I tried to conceal my emotions.

"She took the book from the hands of her secretary and read on in silence for a minute or so.

"'My land!' she exclaimed, with a look of horror. 'That book would corrupt the morals of John Bunyan.'

"'Never mind; John never lived in Pointview,' I argued. 'He didn't have a chance to get hardened.'

"Betsey had a determined look in her face, and rang for the coachman.

"'I'll have them stored in the stable,' said she, firmly.

"'If you don't keep it locked, all the women in the neighborhood'll be in there,' I warned her, knowing that she couldn't help telling her friends of what had happened.

"'That's no reason why the men should be unduly exposed,' said Betsey.

'Poor things! It's my duty to protect _you_ as long as I can, Socrates.'

"I promised to get rid of the books somehow, and persuaded her to let them stay where they were until I had had time to think about it. Then she said:

"'Socrates, forgive me. I didn't mean it, and I wanted to be so nice to you. I guess it's a just punishment for my extravagance. I thought the modern novels were bad enough. What can I do for you now?'

"'Always, when you're in doubt, do nothing,' I suggested.

"'Oh, I know what I'll do!' she exclaimed, joyfully. 'I'll knit you a pair of socks with my own hands.'

"'Eureka!' I shouted. 'Those socks shall make footprints on the sands of time.'"

VII

IN WHICH SOCRATES ATTACKS THE WORST DOERS AND BEST SELLERS

"One evening, soon after that, Betsey and I went to a party at Deacon Benson's. The Deacon is Marie's grandfather--a strict, old-line Congregationalist. The old gentleman owned some two hundred acres in the very heart of Pointview and about a mile of sh.o.r.e-front. In all the buying and selling, he had refused to part with an acre of his land, now worth at least a million dollars. He had willed it all to Marie.

"Deacon Joe was a relic of Puritan days, with shrewd eyes under heavy gray tufts, and a mouth bent like a sickle, and whiskers under a strong chin, and lines in his face that suggested the heart of a lion.

In his walks he was always accompanied by a hickory cane and a bulldog whose countenance and philosophy were like unto those of the Deacon.

"He was a perfectly honest man who had joined the church with mental reservations. He had reserved the right to employ certain adjectives and nouns which had been useful in Pointview since the days of the pioneer, and which had grown more and more indispensable to the opinions of an honest man. The verb 'to d.a.m.n' in all its parts and relations had been one of them. The word 'h.e.l.l' was another. It represented a thing of great conversational value, and he recommended it with perfect frankness to certain people. He loved h.e.l.l and hard cider, and hated Episcopalians. He loved to tell how one Episcopalian had cheated him in a horse trade, and how another had never paid for a bushel of onions. That was enough for him. He had always thought them a loose, unprincipled lot with no adequate respect for fire and brimstone. But Deacon Joe was honest, and his word was worth a hundred cents on the dollar.

"Now the Delances were Episcopalians from away back--High-Church Episcopalians, at that. The old man had sniffed a good deal when Harry began to pay attention to Marie, and had come to see me about it.

"I eased his fears and appealed to his avarice. Harry had too much money and some follies, I confessed, but he was sound at heart, and I had hope of making a strong man of him, and of course his money might be a great lever in his hands.

"'Very well--we'll keep an eye on him,' he snapped, and left me without another word.

"After that Marie was allowed to go out with the young man in his drag and tandem.

"Harry and his sister came to the party at Deacon Joe's, and brought with them a late volume of D'Annunzio for Marie to read. Harry wished to know if I had read it, and gave us a talk on the realism of this modern Italian author.

"Again I drew on the memoirs of Dr. G.o.dfrey Vogeldam Guph, and this time I explained that the learned doctor had all the talents but one.

He never told a lie--never but once, and that was on his death-bed.

Yes, it was a little late, but still it was in time to save his reputation, and, possibly, even his soul. To a man of his parts the truth had always been good enough, and lying unnecessary. If he had told a lie it wouldn't have amounted to anything--everybody would have believed it. He wouldn't have got any credit--poor man! He had no more use for a lie than a fish has for a mackintosh--until he came to his last touching words, which were delivered to a minister and his sister Sophia, who had been reading to him from a book of D'Annunzio.

"'My chance has arrived at last,' he said to Sophia, 'and in order that I may make the most of it, you will please send for a minister.'

"The latter came, and, seeing the book, asked the good man if he had read it.

"'Alas! my friend, that it should be necessary for me to tell a lie on my death-bed,' said the Doctor. 'But now, at last, I tell it proudly and promptly. I have not read that book.'

"'And therein I do clearly see the truth,' said the wise old minister.

"'Which is this,' the learned Doctor confessed. 'I have come to an hour when a lie, and nothing but a lie, can show my sense of shame. I solemnly swear that I have not read it!'

"'Well, at least you're a n.o.ble liar,' said the man of G.o.d. 'I absolve you.'

"'I claim no credit--I am only doing my duty,' said the good Doctor, with a sign of ineffable peace.

"As soon as I could get his attention, I called Harry aside and whispered: 'In Heaven's name, boy, get hold of that book and hang on to it.'

"'Why?' he asked.

"'You don't know the old man as I do--that's why,' I said. 'If he should happen to read it, he'd go after you with his grandfather's sword the next time you showed up here.'

"Marie stood near us, and I beckoned to her, and she came to my side.

"'The book,' said Harry--'would you let me take it?'

"'I took it to my grandfather, and he is reading it in his room,' she answered. 'Shall I go and get it?'

"Harry hesitated.

"'He won't mind,' said Marie; 'I'll go and get it.'

"And away she went.

"She came back to us soon, a bit embarra.s.sed.

"'He seems to be very much interested and--and a little cross,' said she. 'I think he will bring it out to you soon.'

"Harry turned pale.

"'You look sick, old man,' I said.

"'I'm not feeling very well,' said he, 'and I think I shall excuse myself and go home.'

"There was danger of a scene, but he got away unharmed. By and by the lionhearted deacon came out of his room, asked severely for 'young Delance,' wandered through the crowd, answered indignantly a few inquiries about his health, and returned to his lair.