Miss Mix, Kidnapper
I"Well, he has done it now, confound his nerve!" said Anthony Fox,Sr., in a tone of almost triumphant fury. He spread the looselywritten sheets of a long letter on the breakfast table. "Here I am,just out of a sick-bed!" he pursued fretfully; "just home from amonth's idling abroad, and now I'll have to go away out toCalifornia to lick some sense into that young fool!""For Heaven's sake, Tony, don't get yourself all worked up!" saidhandsome, stately Mrs. Fox, much more concerned for father than forson. She sighed resignedly as she folded a flattering request fromher club for an address entitled, "Do We Forget Our Maids?" and gavehim her full attention. "Read me the letter, dear," said she,placidly."Of course I always knew some woman would get hold of him," saidAnthony, Sr., fumbling blindly for his mouth with a bit of toast,his eyes still on the letter; "but, by George, this sounds likeCharlie Ross!""Woman!" repeated Mrs. Fox, with a relieved laugh. "Buddy's in love,is he? Don't worry, Tony, it won't last! Of all boys in the worldhe's the least likely to be foolish that way!""Of all boys in the world he's the kind that is easiest taken in!"said his father, dryly, securing the toast at last with a savagesnap. "H-m--she's his landlady! Keeps fancy fowls and takesboarders--ha! Says they rather hope to be married in June. This hasquite a settled tone to it, for Buddy. I don't like the look of it!""Nonsense!" said Mrs. Fox, with dawning uneasiness. "You don't meanto say he considers himself seriously engaged? At twenty! And to hislandlady, too--I never heard such nonsense! Buddy's in no positionto marry. Who is the girl, anyway?""Girl is good!" said the reader, bitterly. "She's thirty-two!"Mrs. Fox, her hand hovering over a finger-bowl, grew rigid."Thirty-two!" she echoed blankly. Then sharply: "Anthony, do youthink you can stop it?""I'll do what I can, believe me!" he assured her grimly. "Yes, sir,she's thirty-two! By the way, Fanny, this letter's already a monthold. Why haven't I had it before?""You told them to hold only the office mail while you weretravelling, you know," Mrs. Fox reminded him. "That one evidentlyhas been following you. Anthony, can Tony marry without yourconsent?""No-o, but of course he's of age in five months, and if she's gother hooks deep enough into him, she--oh, confound such acomplication, anyway!""It looks to me as if she wanted his money," said Mrs. Fox."H-m!" said his father, again deep in the letter. "That's justoccurred to you, has it? Poor old Buddy--poor old Bud!""Oh, he'll surely get over it," said Mrs. Fox, uncertainly."He may, but you can bet she won't! Not before they're married,anyway. No, Bud's the sort that gets it hard, when he does get it!"his father said. "There's a final tone about the whole thing that Idon't like. Listen to this!" He quoted from the letter with a ruefulshake of the head. "'I don't know what the darling girl sees in me,dad, but she has turned down enough other fellows to know her ownmind. At last I realize what Mrs. Browning's wonderful sonnets--'""He doesn't say that?" ejaculated the listener, incredulously."'She doesn't know I am writing you,'" Mr. Fox read on grimly,"'because I don't want her to worry about your objecting. But youwon't object when you know her. She doesn't care anything aboutmoney, and says she will stick by me if we have to begin on aneighty-dollar-a-month job. You don't know how I love her, dad; ithas changed my whole life. It's not just because she's beautiful,and all that. You will say that I am pretty young, but I know I cancount on you for some sort of job to begin with, and things willwork out all right.'""H-m!" said Mrs. Fox. "Yes, you're right, Tony. This is serious!""All worked out, you see," said the man, gloomily, as he drummedabsently on the letter."Oh, Anthony, I can't help thinking of the Page boy, and that awfulwoman! Anthony, shall I go? Could I do any good if I went?""No," he said thoughtfully. "No, I'll go myself. Don't worry, Fanny,there's still time. Isn't it a curious thing that it's a quietlittle fellow like Bud that--well, we'll see what can be done. I'lltalk to this woman. She may think he has money of his own, you know.I'll buy her off if I can. Perhaps I can get him to go off somewherewith me for a trip. I'll see. Barker can look me up a train, andthings here will have to wait. You'll see about my things, will you,Fanny--have 'em packed? Oh, and here's the letter--pretty sickreading you'll find it!""Be gentle with him!" said Mrs. Fox, deep in the boy's letter."Thirty-two! Why, she might be his mother--in some countries shemight, anyway. Anthony!"--her voice stopped him at the door--"Is hername Sally Mix?""Apparently," he said. "Can you beat it? It sounds like a drink!""Well," said Mrs. Fox, firmly, as if the name clenched the matter,"it must be stopped, that's all! Sally Mix! I hope she's white!"
IIJust a week later, in Palo Alto, California, Anthony Fox slammed thegate of Miss Mix's garden loudly behind him, and eyed the Mixhomestead with disapproval. The house was square and white, withdoors and windows open to spring sunlight and air, and wassurrounded by a garden space of flowers and trees and trim brickwalks. The click of the gate brought a maid to the doorway."Mr. Fox won't be here until noon," said the maid, in answer to hisquestion."Does Miss--could I see Miss Mix?" substituted Anthony, after amoment's thought.He took a porch chair while she departed to find out."If you please," said the maid, suddenly reappearing, "Miss Mix issetting a Plymouth, and will you step right down?""Setting a--" scowled Anthony."Plymouth," supplied the maid, mildly.Anthony eyed her suspiciously, but there was evidently nothingconcealed behind her innocence of manner. Finally he followed thepath she indicated as leading to Miss Mix. He followed it past thehouse, past clothes drying on lines, past scattered apple trees withwhitewashed trunks, and down a board walk to the chicken yard.No one was in sight. Anthony rattled the gate tentatively. A slim,neat, black Minorca fowl made an insulting remark about him toanother hen. Both chuckled."Come in--come in and shut it!" called a clear voice from theinterior of the chicken house.Anthony's jaw stiffened."May I speak to you?" he called, with as much dignity as a personshouting at an utter stranger across an unfamiliar chicken yard maycommand."Certainly! Come right in!" called the voice, briskly.Seeing nothing else to do, Anthony unwillingly crossed the yard, andstepped into the pleasant, whitewashed gloom of the chicken house.Loose chaff was scattered on the floor, and whitewashed boxes linedthe walls. An adjoining shed held the roosts, which a few murmuringfowls were looping with heavy flights.As he entered, a young woman in blue linen shut a gray hen into abox, and turned a pleasantly inquiring glance upon him."Good morning!" she said, smiling. "I knew you would want to see thething sooner or later, so I asked Statia to show you right downhere. Now, there's the trap"--she indicated a mass of loose chainsand metal teeth on the floor--"and here's the key; but it simplywon't work!"Anthony was not following. He was staring at her. She was extremelypretty; that he had expected. But he had not expected that she--she--well, he was not prepared for this sort of a woman at all! He mustgo slow here. He--she--Bud--"I beg your pardon," he interrupted himself to stammerapologetically, "I didn't catch--you were saying--""The trap!" she said, smiling."Ah, the trap!" repeated Anthony, inanely."Certainly!" she said, with a hint of impatience. Then, as he stillstared, she added quickly: "You're the man from Peterson's? From SanMateo? You came to fix it, didn't you?""Not at all," said Anthony, smiling. "I came from New York."Light dawned in the girl's eyes. She gave a horrified laugh."Well, how stupid of me!" she ejaculated. "Of course, I thought youwere. I'm expecting a man to fix the trap, any day, and you sent noname. I bought this affair a week ago; there's a coon, or a fox, orsomething, that's been coming down from the hills after my pullets;but it won't work.""I don't know anything about traps," said Anthony.He was wondering how he had best introduce himself. The vaguecampaign that he had outlined on those restless nights in the trainwould be useless here, he had decided. As he spoke, he absentlytouched the tangled chains and bolts with his foot."Don't do that!" screamed Miss Mix.At the same second there was a victorious convulsion of metal teeth,and Anthony found himself frantically jerking at his foot, which wasfast in the trap."Oh, you're caught! You are caught!" cried the girl, distressedly."Oh, please don't hurt yourself tugging that way--you can't do it!"Her eyes, full of concern and sympathy, met his for a second; then,suddenly, she broke into laughter."Why, confound the thing!" said Anthony, in pained surprise, as hestruggled and twisted. "How does it open?""It doesn't!" choked Miss Mix, her mirth quite beyond control, asshe gave various futile little tugs and twitches at the trap."That's the trouble! The key never has had the slightest effect. Oh,I will not laugh this way!" she upbraided herself sternly. "Bu--bu--but you did look so--" She abruptly turned her back upon him for amoment, facing him again with perfect calm, although with lashesstill wet, and suspicious little dimples about her mouth. "Now, I'llget you out of it immediately, "she assured him gravely; "andmeanwhile I can't tell you how sorry I am that--just sit on thisbox, you'll be more comfortable. I'll run and telephone a plumber,or some one." She paused in the doorway. "But I don't know yourname?""Appropriately enough, it's Fox," said he, briefly; "Anthony Fox."Miss Mix gasped, opened her mouth, shut it without speaking, andgasped again. Then she sat down heavily on a box."Of New York--I see!" said she, but more as if speaking to herselfthan to him. "Tony's father; he's written to you, and you've comeall the way from New York to break it off. I see!" Desperationseemed to seize her. "Oh, my heavenly day!" she ejaculated. "Whydidn't I think of this? This serves me right, you know," she saidseriously, bringing her attention to bear fully upon Anthony; "butlet me tell you, Mr. Fox, that this is about the worst thing youcould have done!""The worst!" said Anthony, dully.He felt utterly stupefied."Absolutely," said she, calmly. "You know you only hasten a thinglike this by making an out-and-out fight of it. That's no way tostop it!""Are you Miss Mix?" said Anthony, feebly."I am." She nodded impatiently. "Sarah Mix.""Then you and my son--" Anthony pursued patiently. "Didn't he write?Aren't you--""Engaged? Certainly we are," admitted the lady, with dignity. "Andit would no more than serve you right if we got married, after all!"she added, with a sudden smile.Anthony liked the smile. He smiled broadly in return."If you got married! Do you mean you don't intend to?""I see I'll have to tell you," said Miss Mix, suddenly castinghesitation to the winds. "Then we can talk. Yes, we're engaged, Mr.Fox. What else could I do? Anthony's twenty; one can't treat himquite as if he were six. He's absolutely unable to take care ofhimself; and I've always liked him--always! How could I see a girllike Mollie Temple--but of course you don't know her. She's with the'Giddy Middy' company, playing in San Francisco now.""No, I don't know her," said Mr. Fox, stiffly."Well," continued Miss Mix, "her mother lives here in Palo Alto, andMollie came home for September. Tony was just what she was lookingfor. A secret marriage, a sensational divorce, and alimony--Mollieasks nothing more of Fate! She made him her slave.""Lord!" said Anthony."Every one was talking about it," continued Miss Mix; "but I neverdreamed of interfering until Thanksgiving, when the Temples planneda week's house-party in Santa Cruz, and asked Tony to go. Thatwould have settled it; so I managed to see Tony, and from that dayon I may say I never let go of him. I took him about, I accompaniedhim when he sang--just big-sistered him generally! I'm thirty-two,you know, and I never dreamed he would--but he did. New Year'snight, Mr. Fox. Well, then I either had to say no, and let him goagain, or say yes, and hold him. So I said yes. I couldn't stop himfrom planning, and I never dreamed he'd write you! Now, do you beginto see?""I see," said Anthony, huskily.He cleared his throat."Meanwhile," pursued Miss Mix, glowing delightedly in the sympathyof her listener, "I introduced him to the Rogerses and the Peppers,and lots of jolly people, who are doing him a world of good. He goesabout--he's developing. And now, just as I began to hope that thetime had come when we could quietly break off our engagement, hereyou are, to make him feel in honor bound to stick to it!""Well, I am--" Anthony left it unfinished. "What can I do?" he askedmeekly."We'll find a plan somehow," said Miss Mix, approvingly. "But youmust be got out first!""And meanwhile," said Anthony, awkwardly, "I don't really know howto thank you--""Oh, nonsense!" she said lightly. "You forget how fond I am of him!Now, I'll go up to the house, and--" Her confident voice faltered,and Anthony was astonished to see a look of dismay cross her face."Oh, my goodness gracious heavenly day!" she ejaculated softly."Whatever shall we do now? Now we never can get you out!""Then I'll stay in," laughed Anthony, philosophically.Miss Mix echoed his laugh nervously. She glanced across the yard."It's that disgusting newspaper contest!" she said."That what?""Please don't shout!" she begged, sitting down on her box again,"I'll explain. You see, the San Francisco call, one of the big citydailies, has offered the job of being its local press representativeto the college man who brings in the best newspaper story betweennow and the first of May--that's less than ten days. Of course, allthe boys have gone crazy over it. It's a job that a boy could easilyhold down with his regular class work, and it might lead to apermanent position on the paper's staff after graduation. About tenboys are working furiously for it, and all their friends are workingfor them. Tony's helping Jerry Billings, and Jerry has already takenin a couple of good stories, and has a good chance. This, of course,would land it!""What would?""Why, this!" She was laughing again. "Can't you see? Think of thehead-lines! Even your New York papers would play it up. Think of thechance to get funny! 'Old Fox in a Trap!' 'Goes to Bed with theChickens!' 'Iron King Plays Chanticleer!'""Thunder!" said Anthony, uncomfortably."There'd be no end of it, for you or me," said Miss Mix. "I knowthis town.""Yes, you're right!" agreed Anthony. "The idea is for me to sit hereuntil after the first of May, eh?" he continued uncertainly.Her eyes danced."Oh, we may think of some other way!""Tony's not to be trusted, you think?""No-o! I wouldn't dare. He's simply mad to have Jerry win. He'd letit out involuntarily.""The maid can go for a plumber?""Statia? She's working for Joe Bates. And both the boys in theplumber's shop are in college, anyway.""You might telephone for a plumber from San Francisco?" suggestedAnthony, afterthought."Yes, I could do that." Miss Mix brightened. "No, I can't, either,"she lamented. "Elsie White, the long-distance operator, is workingfor Joe Bates, too." She meditated again for a space, then raisedher head, listening. "They're calling me!" she whispered.With a gesture for silence, she sprang to the door. Outside, someone shouted:"O Sally!""Hello, Tony!" she called hardily, in answer. "Lunch, is it? No,don't come down! I'm just coming up!"With a warning glance over her shoulder for Anthony, she closed thedoor and was gone.
IIIA long hour followed, the silence broken only by occasional lowcomments from the chickens, and by voices and footsteps coming andgoing on the side of the chicken house where the street lay.Anthony, his back against the rough wall, his hands in his pockets,had fallen into a smiling revery when Miss Mix suddenly returned.She carried a plate of luncheon, and two files."We are safe!" she reassured him. "The boys think I am playingbridge, and I've locked the gate on the inside. Now, files onparade!"She tucked the filmy skirts of her white frock about her, sat downon a box, and began to grate away his bonds without an instant'sdelay. Her warm, smooth hands he found very charming to watch. Loosestrands of hair fell across her flushed, smooth cheek. Anthonyattacked his lunch with sudden gayety."How much we have to talk about!" he said, observing contentedlythat five minutes' filing made almost no impression upon his chains.She colored suddenly, but met his eyes with charming gravity."Haven't we?" she assented simply."Why, no, it won't break his heart, Mr. Fox. I think he'll even be alittle relieved to be able to go on serenely with the Peppers andthe Rogerses. He's having lovely times there!""Oh, if his mother had lived, of course I should have written toher; but I knew you were a very busy man, Mr. Fox. Tony hardly everspeaks of his Aunt Fanny. She's a great club woman, I know. So I hadto do the best I could.""Why, I didn't think much about it, I suppose. But I certainlyshould have said that Tony's father was more than forty-five!""Ye-es, I suppose it might. But--but what a very funny subject forus to get on! I suppose--look at that white hen coming in, Mr. Fox!She's my prize winner. Isn't she a beauty?""Yes, indeed, he's all of that, dear old Tony! And then, as I say,he reminded me of--of that other, you know, years ago. I was onlynineteen, hardly more than a child, but the memory is very sweet,and it made me want to be a good friend to Tony!""There's the six o'clock bell, and you're all but free! Now, I'lllet you out by this door, on the street side, and you can find yourhotel? Then, when you call this evening, we needn't say anything ofthis. It hasn't been such a long afternoon, has it?"Just after dinner, as Miss Mix and her youthful fiance were sittingon the porch in the spring twilight, a visitor entered the gardenfrom the street. At sight of him, the boy sprang to his feet with acry of "Dad!"Miss Mix was introduced, and to young Tony's delight, she and hisfather chatted as comfortably as old friends. Presently, when JerryBillings appeared with an invitation for the lady to accompany himto the post office for possible mail, father and son were left alonetogether.Young Anthony beamed at his father's praise of his choice, but hiscomments seemed to come more easily on other matters. He told hisfather of the Rogers boys, of the Pepper girls, and of tennis andtheatricals, and spoke hopefully of a possible camping trip withthese friends."When did you think of announcing your engagement, Bud?"The boy shifted in his chair, and laughed uneasily."Sally doesn't want to," he temporized, adding shyly, after aminute's silence, "and I didn't think you'd be in any hurry, dad!""But look here, son, you wrote that you planned being married inJune!"There was a pause. Then the boy said:"I did think so; but now I don't see how we can. Sally sees that,too. I can't get married until I have a good job, and I've gotanother year here. We don't want to tell every one and then have towait two or three years, do we, sir?""H-m!" said his father. "And yet you don't want to ask me to supportyou and your wife for indefinite years, Bud?"Bud squeezed his father's hand."I'll never ask you to do that!" he promised promptly.
IVA week drifted pleasantly over the college town, and still nodefinite step had been taken in the matter that had carried AnthonyFox over so many weary miles of country. If business matters in theEastern city gave him any concern, he gave no sign of it to youngAnthony or Sally, seeming entirely content with the passing moment.The three were constantly together, except when the boy was in theclass-room. During these intervals Miss Mix piloted her friend'sfather over lovely Palo Alto; they visited museum and librarytogether, took drives and walks. One long evening was spent at thePeppers', where young Anthony was the centre of a buzzing andhilarious group, and where Sally, with her black evening gown andher violin, presented an entirely new phase.On the evening of a certain glorious day, to young Anthony, sittingin silence on the porch steps, came Sally, who seated herself besidehim."Tony," said she, firmly, "what have we decided about ourengagement?"Young Anthony eyed her expectantly, almost nervously, but he did notspeak."We must either announce it or not announce it, Tony!""Why, you see, Sally," said Anthony, after a pause, "I wanted to, awhile back, but--" "I know you did," she said heartily, to hisgreat relief."But now, he pursued slowly," it would look pretty funny to theRogerses, and the Peppers, and all, you know. Just now, I mean. I'vebeen up there all the time, right in things, and I've never said aword--""Well, well!" said a voice behind them; and to the unspeakableconfusion of both, Jerry Billings rose from a porch chair and camedown to them."I couldn't help hearing," explained that gentleman, joyously. "Iwas there first. I wish you joy, children. Miss Sally, here's mybest wishes! I never dreamed you two--and yet I knew something hadbrought father all the way from New York. But I never dreamed ofthis! This ought to land me the Call job, all right! Hasn't thatoccurred to either of you? Why, nobody has turned in anything totouch it!" He looked at his watch. "I had better be getting downthere, too," he said excitedly. "Tomorrow's the first of May, byGeorge! and I've got to get any stuff in by ten. And there I've beensitting, cursing my luck for an hour! Here goes!""Look here, Jerry," began Sally and Anthony together, "look here--""You mean you don't want it announced?" said Mr. Billings, blankly.A pained look clouded the radiance of his face. "Isn't it true?""We don't wish it announced yet," said Sally, feebly, as Anthony wassilent."I call that pretty mean!" ejaculated Mr. Billings, after a pause."It's true," he went on aggrievedly. "I landed it--every old womanin town will be on to it in a few weeks--it's a corking job for me--every one's wondering what Mr. Fox is doing here--and now you twohang back, just because you've not had time to tell your friends!Aw, be sports," he said ingratiatingly. "please, Miss Sally! I'd doas much for you two. You know I may not be able to make it at all,next year, if I haven't a job! I can have it, can't I? I get it,don't I, Tony? What do you two care--you've got what you want--""Oh, take your scoop!" half groaned young Anthony Fox.Sally began to laugh, but it was curiously shaken laughter. Mr.Billings wisely seized this moment for a rapid departure. Mr. Fox,coming to the door a moment later, found the others silent on thesteps."Now we are in for it!" said Sally, ruefully, as they made room forhim between them. "What shall we do? Jerry's got it for the Call--wecouldn't lie about it! And, oh, we can't have it in print to-morrow!Can you--can't you stop it?""Too late now!" said young Anthony, with a bad attempt at unconcern."Tell me what happened," said his father.The recent developments were rapidly reviewed, and then Sally,removing herself and her wide-spreading ruffles to young Anthony'sside of the steps, so that she might from time to time give his handan affectionate and enlightening squeeze, confessed the deception ofher engagement to him, and, with her blue eyes very close to his,asked him meekly to forgive her.Young Anthony's forgiveness was a compound of boyish hurt andundisguised relief. It is probable that at no moment of theirfriendship had she seemed more dear to him."But--there's Jerry!" said Sally, suddenly, smitten with unpleasantrecollection in the midst of this harmonious readjustment. "He--heheard, you know. And we can't deny that, and it means so much tohim! He'll have telephoned up to town by this time, and the Callwill run it anyway--newspaper editors are such beasts about thosethings!"And again she and young Anthony drooped, and clung to each other'shands."I have been thinking," said the other Anthony, slowly, "that I seea way out of this. I hope I see one! I'd like--I'd like to discussit with Miss Sally. If you'll just step down to the--the chickenyard, Bud, for five minutes, say. We'll call you. And it's justpossible that we can--can arrange matters."Half an hour later, Jerry Billings succeeded a second time ingetting the city editor of the Call on the long-distance wire."Hello, Mr. Watts! Say, about that engagement of young Fox, Mr.Watts," he began."Well, what's the matter with it?" came back the editor's voice,sharply."Nothing's the matter with it," said Jerry, "only it's better than Ithought! It's--it's old Fox that Miss Mix is going to marry! OldA.F. himself!""Who said so?" snapped the other."Fox did.""Fox?""Yes, sir. He just telephoned to me. Gave me the whole thing. Saidhe wanted it to be published straight."There was a pregnant silence for a few moments, then:"This is no jolly, Billings? It's big stuff if it's true, you know.""Oh, it's true enough," said Jerry, trying to control his voice."Well, we've got his picture--I'm sure!" said Mr. Watts, calmly.Then in obedience to Mr. Watts' curt "Hold the wire!" Jerry, withthe receiver pressed to his ear, heard the city editor's voice onanother telephone on his desk talking presumably to the make-up manon the next floor."Hello, Frank!" said Watts. "Tell Mike Williams to run thatsuffragette stuff on the third page. I've got a big story. I wantroom for a double cut and a column on the front!"Then: "Hello, Billings! You telephone me six hundred words on thisthing inside of an hour. No frills you understand. Just give me thestraight facts. We'll fix the yarn up here."
zpostcode
Recruit
weather
mreligion
Yellowpages
sport
constellation
shopping
name
game
directory
literature
Word
tour
furnish
Lottery
tftnews
lyrics
News
digital
car
dir
Edu
Finance
