|a day or two later battery g left octavius for the seat of war.
it was not nearly so imposing an event as a good many others which had stirred the community during the previous twelve months. there were already two regiments in the field recruited from our end of dearborn county, and in these at least six or seven companies were made up wholly of octavius men. there had been big crowds, with speeches and music by the band, to see them off at the old depot.
when they returned, their short term of service having expired, there were still more fervent demonstrations, to which zest was added by the knowledge that they were all to enlist again, and then we shortly celebrated their second departure. some there were who returned in mute and cold finality—term of enlistment and life alike cut short—and these were borne through our streets with sombre martial pageantry, the long wail of the funeral march reaching out to include the whole valley side in its note of lamentation. besides all this, hardly a week passed that those of us who hung about the station could not see a train full of troops on their way to or from the south. a year of these experiences had left us seasoned veterans in sightseeing, by no means to be fluttered by trifles.
as a matter of fact, the village did not take battery g very seriously. to begin with, it mustered only some dozen men, at least so far as our local contribution went, and there was a feeling that we couldn’t be expected to go much out of our way for such a paltry number. then, again, an artillery force was somehow out of joint with our notion of what octavius should do to help suppress the rebellion. infantrymen with muskets we could all understand—could all be, if necessary. many of the farmer boys round about, too, made good cavalrymen, because they knew both how to ride and how to groom a horse. but in the name of all that was mysterious, why artillerymen? there had never been a cannon within fifty miles of octavius; that is, since the revolution. certainly none of our citizens had the least idea how to fire one off. these enlisted men of battery g were no better posted than the rest; it would take them a three days’ journey to reach the point where, for the first time, they were to see their strange weapon of warfare. this seemed to us rather foolish.
moreover, there was a government proclamation just out, it was said, discontinuing further enlistments and disbanding the recruiting offices scattered over the north. this appeared to imply that the war was about over, or at least that they had more soldiers already than they knew what to do with. there were some who questioned whether, under these circumstances, it was worth while for battery g to go at all.
but go it did, and at the last moment quite a throng of people found themselves gathered at the station to say good-by. a good many of these were the relations and friends of the dozen ordinary recruits, who would not even get their uniforms and swords till they reached tecumseh. but the larger portion, i should think, had come on account of lieutenant ransom.
dwight was hail-fellow-well-met with more people within a radius of twenty miles or so, probably, than any other man in the district. he was a goodlooking young man, rather stocky in build and deeply sunburned. through the decent months of the year he was always out of doors, either tramping over the country with a level over his shoulder, or improving the days with a shotgun or fishpole. at these seasons he was generally to be found of an evening at the barber’s shop, where he told more new stories than any one else. when winter came his chief work was in his office, drawing maps and plans. he let his beard grow then, and spent his leisure for the most part playing checkers at the excelsior hotel.
his habitual free-and-easy dress and amiable laxity of manners tended to obscure in the village mind the facts that he came from one of the best families of the section, that he had been through college, and that he had some means of his own. his mother and sisters were very respectable people indeed, and had one of the most expensive pews in the episcopal church. it was not observed, however, that dwight ever accompanied them thither or that he devoted much of his time to their society at home. it began to be remarked, here and there, that it was getting to be about time for dwight ransom to steady down, if he was ever going to. although everybody liked him and was glad to see him about, an impression was gradually shaping itself that he never would amount to much.
all at once dwight staggered the public consciousness by putting on his best clothes one sunday and going with his folks to church. those who saw him on the way there could not make it out at all, except on the hypothesis that there had been a death in the family. those who encountered him upon his return from the sacred edifice, however, found a clue to the mystery ready made. he was walking home with julia parmalee.
there were others whose passionate desire it was to walk home with julia. they had been enlivening octavius with public displays of their rivalry for something like two months when dwight appeared on the scene as a competitor. easy-going as he was in ordinary matters, he revealed himself now to be a hustler in the courts of love. it took him but a single day to drive the teller of the bank from the field. the principal of the seminary, a rising young lawyer, and the head bookkeeper at the freight-house, severally went by the board within a fortnight.
there remained old dr. conger’s son emory, who was of a tougher fibre and gave dwight several added weeks of combat. he enjoyed the advantage of having nothing whatever to do. he possessed, moreover, a remarkably varied wardrobe and white hands, and loomed unique among the males of our town in his ability to play on the piano. with such aids a young man may go far in a quiet neighborhood, and for a time emory conger certainly seemed to be holding his own, if not more. his discomfiture, when it came, was dramatic in its swift completeness. one forenoon we saw dwight on the street in a new and resplendent officer’s uniform, and learned that he had been commissioned to raise a battery. that very evening the doctor’s son left town, and the news went round that lieutenant ransom was engaged to miss parmalee.
an impression prevailed that dwight would not have objected to let the matter rest there. he had gained his point, and might well regard the battery and the war itself as things which had served their purpose and could now be dispensed with. no one would have blamed him much for feeling that way about it.
but this was not julia’s view. she adopted the battery for her own while it was still little more than a name, and swept it forward with such a swirling rush of enthusiasm that the men were all enlisted, the organization settled, and the date of departure for the front sternly fastened, before anybody could lay a hand to the brakes. her st. mark’s ladies’ aid society presented dwight with a sword. her branch of the sanitary commission voted to entertain the battery with a hot meal in the depot yard before it took the train. we have seen how she went and had herself photographed standing proudly behind the belted and martial dwight. after these things it was impossible for battery g to back out.
the artillerymen had a bright blue sky and a warm sunlit noontide for their departure. even the most cynical of those who had come to see them off yielded toward the end to the genial influence of the weather and the impulse of good-fellowship, and joined in the handshaking at the car windows, and in the volley of cheers which were raised as the train drew slowly out of the yard.
at this moment the ladies of the sanitary commission had to bestir themselves to save the remnant of oranges and sandwiches on their tables from the swooping raid of the youth of octavius, and, what with administering cuffs and shakings, and keeping their garments out of the way of coffee-cups overturned in the scramble, had no time to watch julia parmalee.
the men gathered in the yard kept her steadily in view, however, as she stood prominently in front of the throng, on the top of a baggage truck, and waved her handkerchief until the train had dwindled into nothingness down the valley. these observers had an eye also on three young men who had got as near this truck as possible. interest in dwight and his battery was already giving place to curiosity as to which of these three—the bank-teller, the freight-house clerk, or the rising young lawyer—would win the chance of helping julia down off her perch.
no one was prepared for what really happened.
miss parmalee turned and looked thoughtfully, one might say abstractedly, about her. somehow she seemed not to see any of the hands which were eagerly uplifted toward her. instead, her musing gaze roved lightly over the predatory scuffle among the tables, over the ancient depot building, over the assembled throng of citizens in the background, then wandered nearer, with the pretty inconsequence of a butterfly’s flight. of course it was the farewell to dwight which had left that soft, rosy flush in her dark, round cheeks. the glance that she was sending idly fluttering here and there did not seem so obviously connected with the lieutenant. of a sudden it halted and went into a smile.
“oh, mr. pulford! may i trouble you?” she said in very distinct tones, bending forward over the edge of the truck, and holding forth two white and most shapely hands.
marsena was standing fully six feet away. like the others, he had been looking at miss parmalee, but with no hint of expectation in his eyes. this abrupt summons seemed to surprise him even more than it did the crowd. he started, changed color, fixed a wistful, almost pleading stare upon the sunlit vacancy just above the head of the enchantress, and confusedly fumbled with his glove tips, as if to make bare his hands for this great function. then, straightening himself, he slowly moved toward her like one in a trance.
the rivals edged out of marsena’s way in dum-founded silence, as if he had been walking in his sleep, and waking were dangerous. he came up, made a formal bow, and lifted his gloved hands in chivalrous pretence of guiding the graceful little jump which brought miss parmalee to the ground—all with a pale, motionless face upon which shone a solemn ecstasy.
it was marsena’s habit, when out of doors, to carry his right hand in the breast of his frock-coat. as he made an angle of his elbow now, from sheer force of custom, julia promptly took the movement as a proffer of physical support, and availed herself of it. marsena felt himself thrilling from top to toe at the touch of her hand upon his sleeve. if there rose in his mind an awkward consciousness that this sort of thing was unusual in octavius by daylight, the embarrassment was only momentary. he held himself proudly erect, and marched out of the depot yard with miss parmalee on his arm.
as homer sage remarked that evening on the stoop of the excelsior hotel, this event made the departure of battery g seem by comparison very small potatoes indeed.
it was impossible for the twain not to realize that everybody was looking at them, as they made their way up the shady side of the main street. but there is another language of the hands than that taught in deaf-mute schools, and julia’s hand seemed to tell marsena’s arm distinctly that she didn’t care a bit. as for him, after that first nervous minute or two, the experience was all joy—joy so profound and overwhelming that he could only ponder it in dazzled silence. it is true that julia was talking—rattling on with sprightly volubility about all sorts of things—but to marsena her remarks no more invited answers than does so much enthralling music. when she stopped for a breath he did not remember what she had been saying. he only knew how he felt.
“i wish you’d come straight to the gallery with me,” he said; “i’d like first-rate to make a real picture of you—by yourself.”
“well, i swow!” remarked mr. newton shull, along in the later afternoon; “i didn’t expect we’d make our salt to-day, with marsena away pretty near the whole forenoon, and all the folks down to the depot, and here it turns out way the best day we’ve had yet. actually had to send people away!”
“guess that didn’t worry him much,” commented the boy, from where he sat on the work-bench swinging his legs in idleness.
mr. shull nodded his head suggestively. “no, i dare say not,” he said. “i kind o’ begrudge not bein’ an operator myself, when such setters as that come in. she must have been up there a full two hours—them two all by themselves—and the countrymen loafin’ around out in the reception-room there, stompin’ their feet and grindin’ their teeth, jest tired to death o’ waitin’. it went agin my grain to tell them last two lots they’d have to come some other day; but—i dunno—perhaps it’s jest as well. they’ll go and tell it around that we’ve got more’n we can do—and that’s good for business. but, all the same, it seemed to me as if he took considerable more time than was really needful. he can turn out four farmers in fifteen minutes, if he puts on a spurt; and here he was a full two hours, and only five pictures of her to show for it.”
“six,” said the boy.
“yes, so it was—countin’ the one with her hair let down,” mr. shull admitted. “i dunno whether that one oughtn’t to be a little extry. i thought o’ tellin’ her that it would be, on account of so much hair consumin’ more chemicals; but—i dunno—somehow—she sort o’ looked as if she knew better. did you ever notice them eyes o’ hern, how they look as if they could see straight through you, and out on the other side?”
the boy shook his head. “i don’t bother my head about women,” he said. “got somethin’ better to do.”
“guess that’s a pretty good plan too,” mused mr. shull. “somehow you can’t seem to make ’em out at all. now, i’ve been around a good deal, and yet somehow i don’t feel as if i knew much about women. i’m bound to say, though,” he added upon reflection, “they know considerable about me.”
“i suppose the first thing we know now,” remarked the boy, impatiently changing the subject, “mcclellan ’ll be in richmond. they say it’s liable to happen now any day.”
newton shull was but a lukewarm patriot. “they needn’t hurry on my account,” he said. “it would be kind o’ mean to have the whole thing fizzle out now, jest when the picture business has begun to amount to something. why, we must have took in up’ards of $11 to-day—frames and all—and two years ago we’d ’a’ been lucky to get in $3. let’s see: there’s two fifties and five thirty-fives, that’s $2.75, and the dutch boy with the drum, that’s $3.40, counting the mat, and then there’s miss parmalee—four daguerreotypes, and two negatives, and small frames for each, and two large frames for crayons she’s going to do herself, and cord and nails—i suppose she’ll think them ought to be thrown in—”
“what! didn’t you make her pay in advance?” asked the boy. “i thought everybody had to.”
“you got to humor some folks,” explained mr. shull, with a note of regret in his voice. “these big bugs with plenty o’ money always have to be waited on. it ain’t right, but it has to be. besides, you can always slide on an extra quarter or so when you send in the bill. that sort o’ evens the thing up. now, in her case, for instance, where we’d charge ordinary folks a dollar for two daguerreotypes, we can send her in a bill for—”
neither mr. shull nor the boy had heard mar-sena’s descending steps on the staircase, yet at this moment he entered the little work-room and walked across it to the bay window, where the printing was done. there was an unusual degree of abstraction in his face and mien—unusual even for him—and he drummed absent-mindedly on the panes as he stood looking out at the street or the sky, or ‘whatever it was his listless gaze beheld.
“how much do you think it ’ud be safe to stick miss parmalee apiece for them daguerreotypes?” asked newton shull of his partner.
marsena turned and stared for a moment as if he doubted having heard aright. then he made curt answer: “she is not to be charged anything at all. they were made for her as presents.”
it was the other partner’s turn to stare.
“well, of course—if you say it’s all right,” he managed to get out, “but i suppose on the frames we can—”
“the frames are presents, too,” said marsena, with decision.
