Class EZJ Book H 1 5-1 Copyright^ COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. /3y Half Portions. Half Portions LIFE PUBLISHING COMPANY 19 West Thirty-First Street NEW YORK CITY MID'.CCCC 40303 ^\ Librar y of Con«re« ^W0 COPKS ftECEWEO AUG 29 1900 S£fO¥P cofy. OtiOtti DIVISION, SEP 8 1900 Copyright, igoo LIFE PUBLISHING COMPANY ENTERED AT STATIONERS' HALL, LONDON PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES Contents. PAGE Our James . n Robert Alston Stevenson. Illustrations by T. K. Hanna, Jr. My Lady of the Veil 25 Clay Arthur Pierce. Illustrations by C. Allan Gilbert. These Lords of Creation 37 Harriet Caryl Cox. Illustrations by W. L. Jacobs. A Recapitulation 45 William James Coffin. Illustrations by W. H. Hyde. Bribing a Patriot 55 Roberta F. Watterson. Illustrations by Irving T. Wiles. Her First Dinner . . . . 66 E. R. Illustrations by T. K. Hanna, Jr. A Romance of Two Legs 77 Lucy Foster Madison. Illustrations by F. T, Richards. How She Took It ..... 91 Tom Masson. Illustration by C. Allan Gilbert. A Devotee to the Higher Culture ... 97 Harriet Caryl Cox. Illustrations by W. H. Hyde. Contents. PAGE A Fire-Light Mirage 105 May D. Hatch. Illustrations by T. K. Hanna, Jr. The Scar on the Flank 115 D. H. Talmadge. Illustrations by F. T. Richards. A Distressing Situation 127 Tom Masson. Illustrations by T. K. Hanna, Jr. The Princess's Stepmother . . . 135 Tudor Jenks and Duffield Osborne. Illustrations by C. Allan Gilbert. A Sparrow Tragedy 147 Albert William Noll. Illustrations by Oliver Herford. Old George 161 W. R. Rose. Illustrations by T. K. Hanna, Jr. Our James. Ottr y antes. NTIL I managed to persuade Kitty to investigate my social plane, she had never displayed any interest in any- thing solvent that lived west of Third Avenue. When she graduated from college she went in for scientific slum- ming, and developed theories about the masses. Her residence in one of the settlements on the east side resulted in a thesis on the "Social Value of Bath- tubs in Tenements," which they say is a valuable contribution to science, in that it proves conclusively that bathing facilities in tenements will not be effec- tive until the masses are educated to the point where they will not welcome the tubs merely as convenient receptacles for coal. I haven't read the thesis, but I went to see Kitty get her Ph.D. at the University. She was stunning in her mortar-board and black gown, but she has since told me that the gown she wore a few months later, when old Dr. Brown and I gave her a Mrs., was much more becoming and worthy of preservation. After the wedding, Kitty gave up fourteen of her downtown socials and clubs. She devoted, however, a great deal of energy to my instruction regarding the prac- tical benefits of applied Slumology, but my first real 12 Half Portions. lesson — one in intelligent philanthropy — was given one afternoon in Sixth Avenue. I had given a nickel to one of my bachelor day clients, an old blind man with blue spectacles and a trayful of pencils, on which rested a placard advertising the awful results to the bearer of a too close intimacy with dyna- mite. "Don't you know better than to give money to beg- gars?" sighed Kitty, with a pained expression. "Why not?" I asked. "That old boy isn't a beggar. He's blind. He's trying to make an honest living. I didn't take the pencils ; they're always crumbly, but that makes no difference. He's one of your deserving poor." "Deserving fiddlesticks!" lectured Kitty. "That man has two good eyes and a bank account. I believe he owns a flat in Harlem besides. YVe investigated him when I was in the settlement. He used to follow a woolly dog on lower Broadway, but it didn't pay after we notified the police. Then the old rascal took out a license to sell lead pencils, and came uptown with civilization, and stupids like yourself, who don't know the deserving poor when you see them. It's too bad they didn't have chairs in Sociology when you went to college." Of course I felt like a fool, and accepted Kitty's advice to contribute yearly to the society that makes a business of running down men who make a profession of avoiding work. I have since learned to be very sus- picious of appealing hard luck. I avoid the totally blind and men with shoestrings and no extremities worth mentioning. At dinner one evening Kitty announced that she had found a deserving tramp. "Where is he?" I asked. Our James. *3 '"Kitty had found the tramp at the area-gate.'''' ''Down in the basement eating his supper," she an- swered, with an I'm-all-right inflection. "He's a jewel." "You'd better tie a string to him and exhibit him at one of your parlor conferences," I suggested. "By the 14 Half Portions. way, have you investigated him?" I wanted to show Kitty that I had learned something. "Not exactly," she answered. "He says he has just arrived in town, and he has no references. But I applied the work test. Jane says he beats rugs better than an Irishwoman at a dollar and a half a day." That morning, Kitty, on returning from one of her dabs at the east side, had found the tramp at the area gate. He offered to work for his dinner. She thought the offer was merely a blind, and, after consultation with Jane, they set him to work on the area-way with a bucket of water and a broom, Jane's experience and Kitty's science suggesting the outside test. The work was well done. At dinner the man appeared genuinely hungry, and asked for work in the afternoon. Kitty set him to work - on the rugs, and he raised such a dust in the back yard that she engaged him to return the next morning to try his hand on the carpets. We were in the midst of the spring upheaval. "That man will never come back," I warned Kitty, after she finished her story. "He's too good to be true." "Now, Tom, don't be a goose. He works. Real tramps never do. Besides, he is awfully polite, and he uses good English. I believe he is a superior sort of man in hard luck." "All right," I agreed, "but think of what Sally Mason and the rest of your scientific slummers will say when they hear that you have believed an uninvestigated tramp." "No man I've believed in has ever deceived me" — Kitty looked across at me with a smile — "except one." And then we talked about that for an hour, and forgot the tramp. Our James. 15 Kitty was right. The tramp returned the next morn- ing, and I liked his looks. He seemed to understand what Kitty wanted him to do, and when I came uptown in the evening she reported that he had worked like a trooper all day. That was the beginning of a period of domestic bliss. James proved himself so capable that Kitty engaged him indefinitely during house-cleaning, and later on per- manently, as man-of-all-work. He was dignified, re- spectful, and thoroughly capable. He knew how every- " There was no fault to be found with James." 16 Half Portions. thing ought to be done, and did so much that Kitty threatened to take to the slums again. She said house- keeping was no trick, with James in the basement to carry out her orders. I felt his presence in a variety of ways. My chafing-dish lost its indifferent gloomy appearance, and in less than a month the accumulations of years had been polished off my grandfather's candle- sticks. There was no fault to be found with James. Even the Street Cleaning Department was satisfied with the way he sorted our house refuse. This was especially gratifying to Kitty, for our Irish cook and the Italian ash-man seldom agreed as to what constituted ashes or garbage. Once she was obliged to get an expert opinion from the Commissioner regarding the disposal of seven dead mice we had caught in a trap. Jane insisted that they were not garbage, on the grounds that the regula- tions defined garbage as table scraps ; the Italian said any fool could see that they were not ashes. A scene ensued, and when the matter was referred to Kitty the mice had been changing barrels several days. James wrapped doubtful articles in the paper bundle. We never questioned James about his antecedents or past history. Once Kitty ventured an inquiry, and he became so embarrassed and looked so sad that she changed the subject, thinking she had unwittingly called up some sad experience in the past. Lack of personal information, however, did not worry us. James was his own guarantee. Our James. if II. One morning, after he had been with us nearly a year, he went out to order some groceries and didn't come back. At first we thought that some accident had detained him. A day or two passed before it occurred to me to call at the police station. Kitty had imagined James mangled beneath cable cars ; floating silently in the North River ; falling dead, alone and without friends, in the street ; and in several other equally gloomy situa- tions. The Captain could give me no information, and suggested a visit to the morgue. I objected, but Kitty insisted that it was my duty, so I tackled the creepiest job I have ever attempted. James wasn't there. I was beginning to think that possibly James wasn't sick or dead, and asked Kitty to count the silver. Noth- ing was missing; but I had the locks changed and burglar alarms put in downstairs. In about two weeks Kitty exhausted her imaginative powers on the accident theory, and tried murder and suicide for a day or two. Then the reaction set in. She surprised me one evening by saying: 'Tom, I always did think James was a scamp. I never told you, but he acted very queerly at times." "How do you make him out a rascal?" I asked. "He didn't take anything, and I owe him a month's wages. We got as much as we gave. He stood the work test." "Bother the work test!" said Kitty, impatiently. "I didn't mean that. Perhaps we did get all we gave. But we trusted him, and he didn't say — say good-by." That was all Kitty had against James. "Here's a dinner invitation from Sally Mason," ob- served Kitty one morning at breakfast, several months iS Half Portions. after James had disappeared. "She says she has invited some very interesting people, most of them students of social problems." I had had enough of social problems, and said so. '"But. Tom." she pleaded, "we ought to go. We haven't been there for ages. Besides., we ought to be grateful to Sally. If she hadn't asked me to that dinner when I met you — don't you remember?'' I remembered, and we went. III. We arrived just on the hour, and when we went down. Sally, between looks at the clock, told us that she was waiting for but one more guest. Kitty was in her element. I was doing my best to tell a girl, who had made a study of the slums of London, what Kitty had told me about the slums of Xew York, when the bell rang, and a moment later the portieres parted, and there, in evening dress, stood our James! Completely flabbergasted. I looked to Kitty for help. I was too late. Sally was presenting our man-of-all- work to her guests, and before I could catch Kitty's eye he was bowing to her. When my turn came I bowed stiffly, and expected Tames to show some signs of rec- ognition. He remarked, without the slightest trace of embarrassment, that he was very glad to meet me, and began discussing atmospheric conditions with Sally. T didn't catch the name she gave, and I could have choked the man for his impudence. "Now," chirped Sally, "well go out. Doctor, will you give your arm to Mrs. Jackson?" Our James. 19 Kitty looked a bit chilly, but she was equal to the occasion, and took the arm James offered with the quiet dignity that characterized him when he shoveled out our ashes. " Completely flabbergasted. Hooked to Kitty. for help." 20 Half Portions. "Come, Tom," said Sally, and in a dazed condition I went out to dinner, vaguely realizing that Kitty was preceding on the arm of our former hired man, and wondering how he had managed to work Jack Mason for a dinner. "For heaven's sake! who is that man with Kitty?" I managed to whisper to Sally, as we sat down. "Why, don't you know him?" she explained. "That's Doctor J. Mortimer Stubbs. He's awfully interesting. He has just completed a book called 'Personal Investi- gations in All Social Classes.' He spent several years getting the material, and they say it's one of the best things that has ever been done." "I think I have met him somewhere," I answered. The truth suddenly dawned on me. Kitty and I had been investigated according to the latest method. * 5fC * * * * * Kitty and Doctor J. Mortimer Stubbs sat at the other end of the table, too far away from me to hear their conversation. After a few chilly moments, I noticed that they bright- ened up and appeared very much interested in each other. After the ladies had gone I took the vacant chair beside the Doctor, and, offering him a match, asked : "Stubbs, don't you think you owe me an explanation? I don't object to furnishing material for science, but what in the world did you find in my house?" "I do," answered the Doctor, gracefully, "and an apology for leaving you so rudely. I have apologized to Mrs. Jackson. I assure you that I intended to call and explain myself. My application for work at your home was accidental. I had lived with tramps, beggars, thieves, and all the other discontented classes, when it occurred Our Jajnes. to nie that it would be an original idea to make a study of the fairly contented man — the man who didn't steal, beg or want society done over. Fortunately, I obtained a position with you, and I may say the chapter there writ- ten I consider my best." "Thank you," I replied ; "you found the right place. I am contented." "You have a very good reason to be," said the Doctor, which showed that he was a man of correct observation. My Lady of the Veil. My Lady of the Veil, "Kitty," said I, "I had a queer experience to-day." "Yes?" said Kitty. "You got home to dinner on time." Now, that was unkind. I splashed my soup upon the immaculate cloth for revenge. Kitty abhors spots on her table linen. "No," said I, "it wasn't that. In me, promptness approaches tragedy ; this was downright comedy." Kitty raised her eyebrows. She has very expressive eyebrows. No doubt near association with her eyes has taught them a thing or two. "Something funny happened to me, too," she said. "I spoke first," I objected, hurriedly. "Well, gracious goodness! Why don't you tell it then?" "Give me time." "You'd squander it," said Kitty. There are certain remarks of Kitty's which I ignore. "It was this way," I began. "You know the quaint French restaurant in which I take my luncheon? Yes, you do. Old Pierre's, opposite the Post Office. Well, I took my accustomed seat there to-day, fourth table back, facing the windows, and ordered my modest repast. Old Pierre has a son who has fierce moustaches, and waits upon me. Pie has done so for ages. Each day the son of Pierre says, 'Bon jour, monsieur,'' as he places my chair and pokes me in back of my knees with it till they unhinge and deposit me with a jerk in my seat. The son 26 Half Portions. of Pierre then remarks that 'To-day monsieur vill haf une cotelette au naturel et une salade y ees eet not ? ' And I say that it is. And then Pierre's son runs away with little chicken-steps until he has overcome half the distance to the kitchen, when suddenly he wheels like a wind- dodged kite and chicken-steps hurriedly back. Again before me, he strokes the napkin upon his arm depre- catingly, as if it were to blame for his oversight, and suggests that 'Monsieur vill haf petit pois avec, nest cc pas?' I nod, the son of Pierre gives his moustaches a ferocious yank, says, 'CertainmentP and skims away. And it's just as apt to be a softshell crab he returns with as a chop. The son of Pierre has a hideous memory. " To-day things were quite the same, and I was idly speculating upon what my chop would turn out to be, when the door opened and a woman entered, and took a seat facing me at the table in my row, nearest the window. She wore an exceedingly heavy veil, and that, and the light at her back, combined to render her features abso- lutely void to me. But she had a remarkably pretty figure, and was well gowned." "Thank you," said Kitty, making me a little bow. ''Why do you thank me?" "For so carefully noting the virtues of my sex. I had been led to believe you were sadly deficient in that line towards all other women but myself." Kitty used fine irony. I laughed a hollow, before-breakfast laugh. "Where - did you get that idea?" I demanded. "Not so very far away," replied Kitty, hurling a lump of sugar at me, and skillfully landing it in my coffee. That pleased me, because, while a good portion of the berry-brown nectar got in my hair and eyes, and on My Lady of the Veil. 27 my shirt front, considerably more spread itself over the tablecloth. you," said I, sweetly ; "I wanted another "Thank lump." stirred my coffee a moment, tasted it reflectively, and went on : " While I was regarding this woman, who looked Frenchy, and trying to recall where I had seen her before, a man, who was French, came in and seated himself at the table directly before me, thereby facing her. "I recognized him as a certain man-about-town of unsavory repute. He is what might be termed a low high-roller, and it made me sad to see him seat himself there and stare at that poor girl." "I suppose it did,'' remarked Kitty ; " he must have interfered with your view." "Dear, don't interrupt so." "I don't think this is a funny story, anyway." Kitty was begin- ning to light dangerous fires in those big brown eyes of hers. "Wait! I'm coming to that. This quaint restaurant of old Pierre's is crowded at noon, and these two late- comers had to wait their turns to give their orders. My Lady of the Veil studied the menu, and the low high* roller studied My Lady. I studied them both. That aged rascal.' 28 Half Portions. "Presently, things began to develop. My nearest neighbor drew forth a silver card-case, and a gold pencil, selected a card, and wrote several words thereon. Then he caught the eye of old Pierre, at about the same time old Pierre's eye caught the glint of a half-dollar, and that aged rascal chicken-footed it over to him, received the card and the coin, put the latter in his pocket, and the former upon the table before My Lady of the Veil. Then he fled. "The girl glanced from the menu to the card, read it, looked up, and caught my eye! I knew that, because I was sitting to one side of the old sinner before me, and she turned her head squarely in my direction. "Then she looked down again — rather quickly, I thought. Kitty, look out! Don't throw that fork ; you'll break the clock !" Kitty hesitated a moment, and then abandoned the contemplated bombardment. "Go on, you brute!" she said. "Thanks ! For a wonder, My Lady of the Veil had a pencil in her purse, and she dug it forth, and then she also wrote something upon the card. Then the son of Pierre appearing, with the intention of making his cus- tomary announcement of the immediate arrival of my luncheon if I would only exercise a little patience, she beckoned him to her. "The son of Pierre arrived with a wonderful bow, and listened attentively to some low French-spoken direc- tions. Then he stealthily pounced upon the card and straightway brought it to me, sneaking it into my hand as if it were a bomb, and almost hissing, 'Pour vous, monsieur!' " 'Are you sure?' I asked, bewildered. My Lady of the Veil. 29 " 'Certainment, monsieur? exciaimed the son of Pierre, with an injured shrug. Then he also fled. "I glanced at the much-traveled card. "It was a visiting card, with the wicked low high- roller's name engraved upon it, and above the name was written in a man's hand, 'May I join you at luncheon, mademoiselle?' and beneath, in a woman's hand — which struck me as being disguised — 'Certainly, monsieur.' "I turned the card about, puzzled. Why had it been returned to me? "Glancing up, I received a nod, and I have no doubt a smile from My Lady of the Veil, who was staring directly at me. "Then I looked at the owner of the card. He was squirming about in his chair like an impatient schoolboy, trying violently, but vainly, to catch his fair neighbor's eye. "And then the key flashed upon me, and I almost choked with the laugh I had to smother in my throat. "Evidently My Lady of the Veil had not seen the Frenchman write the card, but, catching my eye when she looked up after reading it, had mistaken me for the sender. "Now, Kitty, don't forget that you are a lady. I knew you would applaud me for giving that old repro- bate a lesson and the girl a bit of good advice, so I promptly arose and stepped to the table by the window and sat down with my back to the Frenchman, facing My Lady of the Veil. I heard the Frenchman gasp." Pausing there to consider any remarks Kitty might have to make, I heard her gasp also, and so I hastened on. It is a treat to hear Kitty gasp, ordinarily, because her gasp is very delicious. But now there seemed to 3° Half Portions, be certain ominous forebodings intermingled with its music. "Pierre's son always brought me sufficient luncheon for two," I continued, hurriedly ; "and so, when he event- ually came, I divided with My Lady of the Veil. I had hoped that when she began to eat she would remove her spider-web mask and reveal whether or not her features were in keeping with her voice, which was very sweet, But she only raised the veil to the level of her upper lip. I saw that her mouth and chin were very lovely." I glanced at Kitty under my lashes. She was trying hard to frown, but, strange to say, a merry smile pre- dominated! "She was really a little beauty!" I exclaimed, with emphasis. Kitty jangled the ice in her water glass. "Did you flirt with her, Jack?" she asked. "Dearest!" I cried. "How could I, with you at home! I lunched with that girl because I saw that she was a lady, and I thought it my duty to do all in my power to shield her from both present and future dangers of the sort she so foolishly plunged herself into. Her con- versation, after her momentary embarrassment passed, was that of a lady, and we had a charming tete-a-tete luncheon. She knew no end of the people we know, but she defied my every effort to probe her identity, and when she left she made me promise to remain in my seat five minutes after she had gone. Before we had talked long, the low high-roller took his ungracious leave, fight- ing mad, and very evidently saying unparliamentary things under his breath. Then I read mademoiselle a little lecture upon indiscretion in innocent maidenhood, and told her the true history of the card." You're just as true as true 32 Half Portions. "I knew it all the time!" cried Kitty, clapping her hands. "You! Great Dewey! You — you! How did you know?" ' Kitty jumped up. "It's a confession!" she laughed, coming and cuddling upon my knee. "Jack — now, don't get angry, you big stupid! — the Lady of the Veil was //" It was my turn to gasp, and I did so with such success that the candles flickered. Kitty knew the danger of giving me time to get'in a word edgewise, and continued precipitately : "I went there, Jack, just because I wanted to see you when you didn't know that I was watching you; just because I love you, dear. And, oh! when that old beast sent his card to me I was almost frightened co death. Of course I saw him write it. I was just going to jump right up and run and get behind my great big husband, when — forgive me, Jack — the idea flashed into my head, like the devil into the belfry, to frustrate the old repro- bate and test you at the same time. So I returned the card to you. When you succumbed to temptation and came over I could have killed you — that was my momentary embarrassment. But then" — Kitty pushed herself away from me with both hands upon my chest and looked deep into my eyes — "then, Jack, you punished me so! For my great big darling acted so nobly, and didn't try to flirt one bit! And when you told My Lady of the Veil why you had lunched with her, and lectured her so tactfully ; and when you spoke so sweetly and lovingly of me, and held me up as a model to her — oh, Jack, I was just dying to eat you up right there before everybody! I was so delighted and proud, and I felt so ashamed of having dared to test you. Oh, you old sweetie!" My Lady of the Veil. 33 And Kitty made serious attempts to kiss me. "Dearest,"' said I, reproachfully, "did you go to old Pierre's because you doubted me?" "Jack!" cried Kitty. "Indeed, no! I went there because I wanted to watch you lunch alone, and because I wanted to be near you." And I know that was her only reason, no matter what you may think, reader. I guess I know Kitty better than you do, anyhow. : I gave a relieved sigh. "You're a perfect actress, dear," I said. "I knew you didn't know me." Kitty was radiant. She loves to have people think she can act. And she can, too. Then she cuddled up closer and whispered : "I'll never, never, never have a shadow of a doubt about you, Jack. You're just as true as true!" Now, that hurt me quite poignantly, because it hap- pens that I had recognized my wife the moment she entered the quaint little restaurant of wicked old Pierre. These Lords of Creation. These Lords of Creation. They had quarreled, and seriously. It had been entirely her fault — but he was in love. "I think I can manage it," she said, reflectively, as she passed rapidly about the room, giving deft, expressive touches. A fire was burning on the hearth, and the air was sweet with the fragrance of roses. She lowered a shade here, drew back a drapery there, till a soft half-light filled the room. Then she rolled the comfortable morris to a com- panionable nearness to her own low one by the tea-table, and smiled to herself a satisfied smile as she surveyed her work. There was a familiar step in the hall. With a quick movement she snatched a rose from a vase, flirted a few drops from its wet stem onto the open pages of a book, then, dropping the rose, vanished. He had come fully determined to be severe — but just, you know. He could well afford to be that. She had trifled with him long enough, he had reasoned to himself as he walked down the avenue. She had been in the wrong, wholly so, and he should not humble himself. She would be penitent, of course, and he would be kind and gentle, as it behooved him to be, yet he would reason with her and show her wherein she had erred. They would make up, for she was sweet and amiable, and he was so entirely right. So he passed into the room with a conscious air of victory. 33 Half Portions. She was a long time in coming. He began to be anxious. She couldn't possibly refuse to see him, could she? Aimlessly he wandered about the room. A dainty white-bound book he had given her lay face down, open, on the wide corner seat. There was a faint imprint on the soft cushion, and a rose lay on the floor. His stern face relaxed a little, and a tender light stole into his eyes. He picked up the book ; it was blotted with tears. She had been crying! Poor child, perhaps he had been harsh. His heart gave a remorseful pang as he put the book away and turned to greet her. "You are pale," anxiously, as his troubled eyes sought her face. "A trifle, perhaps." She smiled as her hand lay for a moment in his eager clasp. "My head has been troubling me a bit," and she smiled again, a sad, wan little smile. "It was my fault," he said, reproachfully, drawing the big chair closer, and trying to catch a glimpse of her face, hidden in the shadow. "Oh, no!" Her voice was low and he bent to hear it "Madelon, are you crying?" fiercely. "No, that is — well, I didn't sleep much, and — and — ." Her voice broke ; the fragile cup slipped from her hand