The Duplicity of Hargraves

by O. Henry

　　When Major Pendleton Talbot, of Mobile, sir, and his daughter, Miss LydiaTalbot, came to Washington to reside, they selected for a boarding place ahouse that stood fifty yards back from one of the quietest avenues. Itwas an old-fashioned brick building, with a portico upheld by tall whitepillars. The yard was shaded by stately locusts and elms, and a catalpatree in season rained its pink and white blossoms upon the grass. Rows ofhigh box bushes lined the fence and walks. It was the Southern style andaspect of the place that pleased the eyes of the Talbots.In this pleasant, private boarding house they engaged rooms, including astudy for Major Talbot, who was adding the finishing chapters to his book,"Anecdotes and Reminiscences of the Alabama Army, Bench, and Bar."Major Talbot was of the old, old South. The present day had littleinterest or excellence in his eyes. His mind lived in that period beforethe Civil War, when the Talbots owned thousands of acres of fine cottonland and the slaves to till them; when the family mansion was the scene ofprincely hospitality, and drew its guests from the aristocracy of theSouth. Out of that period he had brought all its old pride and scruplesof honour, an antiquated and punctilious politeness, and (you would think)its wardrobe.Such clothes were surely never made within fifty years. The major wastall, but whenever he made that wonderful, archaic genuflexion he called abow, the corners of his frock coat swept the floor. That garment was asurprise even to Washington, which has long ago ceased to shy at thefrocks and broadbrimmed hats of Southern congressmen. One of the boarderschristened it a "Father Hubbard," and it certainly was high in the waistand full in the skirt.But the major, with all his queer clothes, his immense area of plaited,ravelling shirt bosom, and the little black string tie with the bow alwaysslipping on one side, both was smiled at and liked in Mrs. Vardeman' sselect boarding house. Some of the young department clerks would often"string him," as they called it, getting him started upon the subjectdearest to him -- the traditions and history of his beloved Southland.During his talks he would quote freely from the "Anecdotes andReminiscences." But they were very careful not to let him see theirdesigns, for in spite of his sixty-eight years, he could make the boldestof them uncomfortable under the steady regard of his piercing gray eyes.Miss Lydia was a plump, little old maid of thirty-five, with smoothlydrawn, tightly twisted hair that made her look still older. Oldfashioned, too, she was; but ante-bellum glory did not radiate from her asit did from the major. She possessed a thrifty common sense; and it wasshe who handled the finances of the family, and met all comers when therewere bills to pay. The major regarded board bills and wash bills ascontemptible nuisances. They kept coming in so persistently and sooften. Why, the major wanted to know, could they not be filed and paid ina lump sum at some convenient period -- say when the "Anecdotes andReminiscences" had been published and paid for? Miss Lydia would calmlygo on with her sewing and say, "We'll pay as we go as long as the moneylasts, and then perhaps they'll have to lump it."Most of Mrs. Vardeman's boarders were away during the day, being nearlyall department clerks and business men; but there was one of them who wasabout the house a great deal from morning to night. This was a young mannamed Henry Hopkins Hargraves -- every one in the house addressed him byhis full name -- who was engaged at one of the popular vaudevilletheatres. Vaudeville has risen to such a respectable plane in the lastfew years, and Mr. Hargraves was such a modest and well-mannered person,that Mrs. Vardeman could find no objection to enrolling him upon her listof boarders.At the theatre Hargraves was known as an all-round dialect comedian,having a large repertoire of German, Irish, Swede, and black-facespecialties. But Mr. Hargraves was ambitious, and often spoke of hisgreat desire to succeed in legitimate comedy.This young man appeared to conceive a strong fancy for Major Talbot.Whenever that gentleman would begin his Southern reminiscences, or repeatsome of the liveliest of the anecdotes, Hargraves could always be found,the most attentive among his listeners.For a time the major showed an inclination to discourage the advances ofthe "play actor," as he privately termed him; but soon the young man'sagreeable manner and indubitable appreciation of the old gentleman'sstories completely won him over.It was not long before the two were like old chums. The major set aparteach afternoon to read to him the manuscript of his book. During theanecdotes Hargraves never failed to laugh at exactly the right point. Themajor was moved to declare to Miss Lydia one day that young Hargravespossessed remarkable perception and a gratifying respect for the oldregime. And when it came to talking of those old days -- if Major Talbotliked to talk, Mr. Hargraves was entranced to listen.Like almost all old people who talk of the past, the major loved to lingerover details. In describing the splendid, almost royal, days of the oldplanters, he would hesitate until he had recalled the name of the Negrowho held his horse, or the exact date of certain minor happenings, or thenumber of bales of cotton raised in such a year; but Hargraves never grewimpatient or lost interest. On the contrary, he would advance questionson a variety of subjects connected with the life of that time, and he never failed to extract ready replies.The fox hunts, the 'possum suppers, the hoe downs and jubilees in theNegro quarters, the banquets in the plantation-house hall, wheninvitations went for fifty miles around; the occasional feuds with theneighbouring gentry; the major's duel with Rathbone Culbertson about KittyChalmers, who afterward married a Thwaite of South Carolina; and privateyacht races for fabulous sums on Mobile Bay; the quaint beliefs,improvident habits, and loyal virtues of the old slaves -- all these weresubjects that held both the major and Hargraves absorbed for hours at atime.Sometimes, at night, when the young man would be coming upstairs to hisroom after his turn at the theatre was over, the major would appear at thedoor of his study and beckon archly to him. Going in, Hargraves wouldfind a little table set with a decanter, sugar bowl, fruit, and a bigbunch of fresh green mint."It occurred to me," the major would begin -- he was always ceremonious --"that perhaps you might have found your duties at the -- at your place ofoccupation -- sufficiently arduous to enable you, Mr. Hargraves, toappreciate what the poet might well have had in his mind when he wrote,'tired Nature's sweet restorer,' -- one of our Southern juleps."It was a fascination to Hargraves to watch him make it. He took rankamong artists when he began, and he never varied the process. With whatdelicacy he bruised the mint; with what exquisite nicety he estimated theingredients; with what solicitous care he capped the compound with thescarlet fruit glowing against the dark green fringe! And then thehospitality and grace with which he offered it, after the selected oatstraws had been plunged into its tinkling depths!After about four months in Washington, Miss Lydia discovered one morningthat they were almost without money. The "Anecdotes and Reminiscences"was completed, but publishers had not jumped at the collected gems ofAlabama sense and wit. The rental of a small house which they still ownedin Mobile was two months in arrears. Their board money for the monthwould be due in three days. Miss Lydia called her father to aconsultation."No money?" said he with a surprised look. "It is quite annoying to becalled on so frequently for these petty sums. Really, I --"The major searched his pockets. He found only a two-dollar bill, which hereturned to his vest pocket."I must attend to this at once, Lydia," he said. "Kindly get me myumbrella and I will go down town immediately. The congressman from ourdistrict, General Fulghum, assured me some days ago that he would use hisinfluence to get my book published at an early date. I will go to hishotel at once and see what arrangement has been made."With a sad little smile Miss Lydia watched him button his "Father Hubbard"and depart, pausing at the door, as he always did, to bow profoundly.That evening, at dark, he returned. It seemed that Congressman Fulghumhad seen the publisher who had the major's manuscript for reading. Thatperson had said that if the anecdotes, etc., were carefully pruned downabout one half, in order to eliminate the sectional and class prejudicewith which the book was dyed from end to end, he might consider itspublication.The major was in a white heat of anger, but regained his equanimity,according to his code of manners, as soon as he was in Miss Lydia'spresence."We must have money," said Miss Lydia, with a little wrinkle above hernose. "Give me the two dollars, and I will telegraph to Uncle Ralph forsome to-night."The major drew a small envelope from his upper vest pocket and tossed iton the table."Perhaps it was injudicious," he said mildly, "but the sum was so merelynominal that I bought tickets to the theatre to-night. It's a new wardrama, Lydia. I thought you would be pleased to witness its firstproduction in Washington. I am told that the South has very fairtreatment in the play. I confess I should like to see the performancemyself."Miss Lydia threw up her hands in silent despair.Still, as the tickets were bought, they might as well be used. So thatevening, as they sat in the theatre listening to the lively overture, evenMiss Lydia was minded to relegate their troubles, for the hour, to secondplace. The major, in spotless linen, with his extraordinary coat showingonly where it was closely buttoned, and his white hair smoothly roached,looked really fine and distinguished. The curtain went up on the firstact of "A Magnolia Flower," revealing a typical Southern plantation scene. Major Talbot betrayed some interest."Oh, see!" exclaimed Miss Lydia, nudging his arm, and pointing to herprogramme.The major put on his glasses and read the line in the cast of charactersthat her finger indicated.Col. Webster Calhoun...H. Hopkins Hargraves."It's our Mr. Hargraves," said Miss Lydia. "It must be his firstappearance in what he calls 'the legitimate.' I'm so glad for him."Not until the second act did Col. Webster Calhoun appear upon the stage.When he made his entry Major Talbot gave an audible sniff, glared at him,and seemed to freeze solid. Miss Lydia uttered a little, ambiguous squeakand crumpled her programme in her hand. For Colonel Calhoun was made upas nearly resembling Major Talbot as one pea does another. The long, thinwhite hair, curly at the ends, the aristocratic beak of a nose, thecrumpled, wide, ravelling shirt front, the string tie, with the bow nearlyunder one ear, were almost exactly duplicated. And then, to clinch theimitation, he wore the twin to the major's supposed to be unparalleledcoat. High-collared, baggy, empire-waisted, ample-skirted, hanging a footlower in front than behind, the garment could have been designed from noother pattern. From then on, the major and Miss Lydia sat bewitched, andsaw the counterfeit presentment of a haughty Talbot "dragged," as themajor afterward expressed it, "through the slanderous mire of a corrupt stage."Mr. Hargraves had used his opportunities well. He had caught the major'slittle idiosyncrasies of speech, accent, and intonation and his pompouscourtliness to perfection -- exaggerating all to the purposes of thestage. When he performed that marvellous bow that the major fondlyimagined to be the pink of all salutations, the audience sent forth asudden round of hearty applause.Miss Lydia sat immovable, not daring to glance toward her father.Sometimes her hand next to him would be laid against her cheek, as if toconceal the smile which, in spite of her disapproval, she could notentirely suppress.The culmination of Hargraves's audacious imitation took place in the thirdact. The scene is where Colonel Calhoun entertains a few of theneighbouring planters in his "den."Standing at a table in the centre of the stage, with his friends groupedabout him, he delivers that inimitable, rambling, character monologue sofamous in "A Magnolia Flower," at the same time that he deftly makesjuleps for the party.Major Talbot, sitting quietly, but white with indignation, heard his beststories retold, his pet theories and hobbies advanced and expanded, andthe dream of the "Anecdotes and Reminiscences" served, exaggerated andgarbled. His favourite narrative -- that of his duel with RathboneCulbertson -- was not omitted, and it was delivered with more fire,egotism, and gusto than the major himself put into it.The monologue concluded with a quaint, delicious, witty little lecture onthe art of concocting a julep, illustrated by the act. Here MajorTalbot's delicate but showy science was reproduced to a hair's breadth --from his dainty handling of the fragrant weed -- "the one-thousandth partof a grain too much pressure, gentlemen, and you extract the bitterness,instead of the aroma, of this heaven-bestowed plant" -- to his solicitousselection of the oaten straws.At the close of the scene the audience raised a tumultuous roar ofappreciation. The portrayal of the type was so exact, so sure andthorough, that the leading characters in the play were forgotten. Afterrepeated calls, Hargraves came before the curtain and bowed, his ratherboyish face bright and flushed with the knowledge of success.At last Miss Lydia turned and looked at the major. His thin nostrils wereworking like the gills of a fish. He laid both shaking hands upon thearms of his chair to rise."We will go, Lydia," he said chokingly. "This is an abominable --desecration."Before he could rise, she pulled him back into his seat. "We will stay itout," she declared. "Do you want to advertise the copy by exhibiting theoriginal coat?" So they remained to the end.Hargraves's success must have kept him up late that night, for neither atthe breakfast nor at the dinner table did he appear.About three in the afternoon he tapped at the door of Major Talbot'sstudy. The major opened it, and Hargraves walked in with his hands fullof the morning papers -- too full of his triumph to notice anythingunusual in the major's demeanour."I put it all over 'em last night, major," he began exultantly. "I had myinning, and, I think, scored. Here's what the _Post_ says:His conception and portrayal of the old-time Southern colonel, with hisabsurd grandiloquence, his eccentric garb, his quaint idioms and phrases,his moth-eaten pride of family, and his really kind heart, fastidioussense of honour, and lovable simplicity, is the best delineation of acharacter role on the boards to-day. The coat worn by Colonel Calhoun isitself nothing less than an evolution of genius. Mr. Hargraves hascaptured his public."How does that sound, major, for a first nighter?""I had the honour" -- the major's voice sounded ominously frigid -- "ofwitnessing your very remarkable performance, sir, last night."Hargraves looked disconcerted."You were there? I didn't know you ever -- I didn't know you cared forthe theatre. Oh, I say, Major Talbot," he exclaimed frankly, "don't yoube offended. I admit I did get a lot of pointers from you that helped meout wonderfully in the part. But it's a type, you know -- notindividual. The way the audience caught on shows that. Half the patronsof that theatre are Southerners. They recognized it.""Mr. Hargraves," said the major, who had remained standing, "you have putupon me an unpardonable insult. You have burlesqued my person, grosslybetrayed my confidence, and misused my hospitality. If I thought youpossessed the faintest conception of what is the sign manual of agentleman, or what is due one, I would call you out, sir, old as I am. Iwill ask you to leave the room, sir."The actor appeared to be slightly bewildered, and seemed hardly to take inthe full meaning of the old gentleman's words."I am truly sorry you took offence," he said regretfully. "Up here wedon't look at things just as you people do. I know men who would buy outhalf the house to have their personality put on the stage so the publicwould recognize it.""They are not from Alabama, sir," said the major haughtily."Perhaps not. I have a pretty good memory, major; let me quote a fewlines from your book. In response to a toast at a banquet given in --Milledgeville, I believe -- you uttered, and intend to have printed, thesewords:The Northern man is utterly without sentiment or warmth except in so faras the feelings may be turned to his own commercial profit. He willsuffer without resentment any imputation cast upon the honour of himselfor his loved ones that does not bear with it the consequence of pecuniaryloss. In his charity, he gives with a liberal hand; but it must beheralded with the trumpet and chronicled in brass."Do you think that picture is fairer than the one you saw of ColonelCalhoun last night?""The description," said the major frowning, "is -- not without grounds.Some exag -- latitude must be allowed in public speaking.""And in public acting," replied Hargraves."That is not the point," persisted the major, unrelenting. "It was apersonal caricature. I positively decline to overlook it, sir.""Major Talbot," said Hargraves, with a winning smile, "I wish you wouldunderstand me. I want you to know that I never dreamed of insulting you.In my profession, all life belongs to me. I take what I want, and what Ican, and return it over the footlights. Now, if you will, let's let it goat that. I came in to see you about something else. We've been prettygood friends for some months, and I'm going to take the risk of offendingyou again. I know you are hard up for money -- never mind how I foundout; a boarding house is no place to keep such matters secret -- and Iwant you to let me help you out of the pinch. I've been there oftenenough myself. I've been getting a fair salary all the season, and I'vesaved some money. You're welcome to a couple hundred -- or even more --until you get --""Stop!" commanded the major, with his arm outstretched. "It seems that mybook didn't lie, after all. You think your money salve will heal all thehurts of honour. Under no circumstances would I accept a loan from acasual acquaintance; and as to you, sir, I would starve before I wouldconsider your insulting offer of a financial adjustment of thecircumstances we have discussed. I beg to repeat my request relative toyour quitting the apartment."Hargraves took his departure without another word. He also left the housethe same day, moving, as Mrs. Vardeman explained at the supper table,nearer the vicinity of the down-town theatre, where "A Magnolia Flower"was booked for a week's run.Critical was the situation with Major Talbot and Miss Lydia. There was noone in Washington to whom the major's scruples allowed him to apply for aloan. Miss Lydia wrote a letter to Uncle Ralph, but it was doubtfulwhether that relative's constricted affairs would permit him to furnishhelp. The major was forced to make an apologetic address to Mrs. Vardemanregarding the delayed payment for board, referring to "delinquent rentals"and "delayed remittances" in a rather confused strain.Deliverance came from an entirely unexpected source.Late one afternoon the door maid came up and announced an old coloured manwho wanted to see Major Talbot. The major asked that he be sent up to hisstudy. Soon an old darkey appeared in the doorway, with his hat in hand,bowing, and scraping with one clumsy foot. He was quite decently dressedin a baggy suit of black. His big, coarse shoes shone with a metalliclustre suggestive of stove polish. His bushy wool was gray -- almostwhite. After middle life, it is difficult to estimate the age of a Negro. This one might have seen as many years as had Major Talbot."I be bound you don't know me, Mars' Pendleton," were his first words.The major rose and came forward at the old, familiar style of address. Itwas one of the old plantation darkeys without a doubt; but they had beenwidely scattered, and he could not recall the voice or face."I don't believe I do," he said kindly -- "unless you will assist mymemory.""Don't you 'member Cindy's Mose, Mars' Pendleton, what 'migrated'mediately after de war?""Wait a moment," said the major, rubbing his forehead with the tips of hisfingers. He loved to recall everything connected with those beloveddays. "Cindy's Mose," he reflected. "You worked among the horses --breaking the colts. Yes, I remember now. After the surrender, you tookthe name of -- don't prompt me -- Mitchell, and went to the West -- toNebraska.""Yassir, yassir," -- the old man's face stretched with a delighted grin --"dat's him, dat's it. Newbraska. Dat's me -- Mose Mitchell. Old UncleMose Mitchell, dey calls me now. Old mars', your pa, gimme a pah of demmule colts when I lef' fur to staht me goin' with. You 'member dem colts,Mars' Pendleton?""I don't seem to recall the colts," said the major. "You know I wasmarried the first year of the war and living at the old Follinsbee place.But sit down, sit down, Uncle Mose. I'm glad to see you. I hope you haveprospered."Uncle Mose took a chair and laid his hat carefully on the floor beside it."Yassir; of late I done mouty famous. When I first got to Newbraska, deyfolks come all roun' me to see dem mule colts. Dey ain't see no muleslike dem in Newbraska. I sold dem mules for three hundred dollars.Yassir -- three hundred."Den I open a blacksmith shop, suh, and made some money and bought somelan'. Me and my old 'oman done raised up seb'm chillun, and all doin'well 'cept two of 'em what died. Fo' year ago a railroad come along andstaht a town slam ag'inst my lan', and, suh, Mars' Pendleton, Uncle Moseam worth leb'm thousand dollars in money, property, and lan'.""I'm glad to hear it," said the major heartily. "Glad to hear it.""And dat little baby of yo'n, Mars' Pendleton -- one what you name MissLyddy -- I be bound dat little tad done growed up tell nobody wouldn'tknow her."The major stepped to the door and called: "Lydia, dear, will you come?"Miss Lydia, looking quite grown up and a little worried, came in from herroom."Dar, now! What'd I tell you? I knowed dat baby done be plum growed up.You don't 'member Uncle Mose, child?""This is Aunt Cindy's Mose, Lydia," explained the major. "He leftSunnymead for the West when you were two years old.""Well," said Miss Lydia, "I can hardly be expected to remember you, UncleMose, at that age. And, as you say, I'm 'plum growed up,' and was ablessed long time ago. But I'm glad to see you, even if I can't rememberyou."And she was. And so was the major. Something alive and tangible had cometo link them with the happy past. The three sat and talked over the oldentimes, the major and Uncle Mose correcting or prompting each other as theyreviewed the plantation scenes and days.The major inquired what the old man was doing so far from his home."Uncle Mose am a delicate," he explained, "to de grand Baptis' conventionin dis city. I never preached none, but bein' a residin' elder in dechurch, and able fur to pay my own expenses, dey sent me along.""And how did you know we were in Washington?" inquired Miss Lydia."Dey's a cullud man works in de hotel whar I stops, what comes fromMobile. He told me he seen Mars' Pendleton comin' outen dish here houseone mawnin'."What I come fur," continued Uncle Mose, reaching into his pocket --"besides de sight of home folks -- was to pay Mars' Pendleton what I oweshim.""Owe me?" said the major, in surprise."Yassir -- three hundred dollars." He handed the major a roll of bills."When I lef' old mars' says: 'Take dem mule colts, Mose, and, if it be soyou gits able, pay fur 'em'. Yassir -- dem was his words. De war haddone lef' old mars' po' hisself. Old mars' bein' 'long ago dead, de debtdescends to Mars' Pendleton. Three hundred dollars. Uncle Mose is plentyable to pay now. When dat railroad buy my lan' I laid off to pay fur demmules. Count de money, Mars' Pendleton. Dat's what I sold dem mules fur. Yassir."Tears were in Major Talbot's eyes. He took Uncle Mose's hand and laid hisother upon his shoulder."Dear, faithful, old servitor," he said in an unsteady voice, "I don'tmind saying to you that 'Mars' Pendleton' spent his last dollar in theworld a week ago. We will accept this money, Uncle Mose, since, in a way,it is a sort of payment, as well as a token of the loyalty and devotion ofthe old regime. Lydia, my dear, take the money. You are better fittedthan I to manage its expenditure.""Take it, honey," said Uncle Mose. "Hit belongs to you. Hit's Talbotmoney."After Uncle Mose had gone, Miss Lydia had a good cry -- for joy; and themajor turned his face to a corner, and smoked his clay pipe volcanically.The succeeding days saw the Talbots restored to peace and ease. MissLydia's face lost its worried look. The major appeared in a new frockcoat, in which he looked like a wax figure personifying the memory of hisgolden age. Another publisher who read the manuscript of the "Anecdotesand Reminiscences" thought that, with a little retouching and toning downof the high lights, he could make a really bright and salable volume ofit. Altogether, the situation was comfortable, and not without the touchof hope that is often sweeter than arrived blessings.One day, about a week after their piece of good luck, a maid brought aletter for Miss Lydia to her room. The postmark showed that it was fromNew York. Not knowing any one there, Miss Lydia, in a mild flutter ofwonder, sat down by her table and opened the letter with her scissors.This was what she read:Dear Miss Talbot:I thought you might be glad to learn of my good fortune. I have receivedand accepted an offer of two hundred dollars per week by a New York stockcompany to play Colonel Calhoun in "A Magnolia Flower."There is something else I wanted you to know. I guess you'd better nottell Major Talbot. I was anxious to make him some amends for the greathelp he was to me in studying the part, and for the bad humour he was inabout it. He refused to let me, so I did it anyhow. I could easily sparethe three hundred.Sincerely yours,H. Hopkins Hargraves,P.S. How did I play Uncle Mose?Major Talbot, passing through the hall, saw Miss Lydia's door open andstopped."Any mail for us this morning, Lydia, dear?" he asked.Miss Lydia slid the letter beneath a fold of her dress."The _Mobile Chronicle_ came," she said promptly. "It's on the table inyour study."