Trespassers Not Allowed

TRESPASSERS NOT ALLOWED By D. C. Retsloff The coffee bubbled in an electric percolator, Elizabeth Straub reached under the edge of the table and pushed the buzzer. "Send Henry here," she said, as Mary hurried into the room. "He's gone down to the store, ma'am." Mary eyed her mis- tress through big, round, steel-rimmed glasses, smoothed her generous expanse of stiffly starched apron and asked, "Is there anything that I can do?" A pucker was visible on Mrs. Straub's brow. "You may pull those curtains," she said, pointing to the heavy hangings on either side of the French plate window, at the end of the room. "The valley and the old mission make a beautiful picture this fine morning, the view is wonderful," Mary said as her wrinkled hands drew the curtains and shut out the warm light reflected from the California hills showing green from the early winter rains. Mrs. Straub snapped a piece of toast. "I know it," she said. "But for the last three days I've been annoyed by two unkempt creatures sitting on the bench at the point. They were there yester- day morning and again in the evening. I want Henry to threaten them with arrest if they come today." "What do they do?" questioned Mary with the freedom of an old servant. "They don't do anything, but I'm not going to have to look at two dirty persons sitting on my clean white marble bench every time I eat. "The valley is like a glimpse of the other world, ma'am." "It is not a public park," replied Mrs. Straub quickly. "No ma'am," Mary agreed. "But I can't blame any one for wanting to sit on the point. I'm plumb crazy about it myself. I warrant lots of folks went there before you bought it and put up 'Trespassers not allowed.' "Well they are not going to do it now," Mrs. Straub spoke in a positive tone. "I want you to tell Henry just what I've said." "Yes, ma'am," Mary nodded her gray head and left the dark- ened room. The grandfather's clock in the hall was striking seven when Henry Harlow walked into the living room where Mrs. Straub sat turning the leaves of a magazine. "I've scurxied every nook and corner of the grounds this eve- ning, ma'am, and not a sign of a tramp can I find."

TRESPASSERS NOT ALLOWED 767 "Tramp? What tramp?" Mrs. Straub inquired raising her brows. "Mary said that two dirty tramps were annoying you by sitting on the bench at the point. All I saw out there was two kids — one about six and the other not much more than three." "Mary is getting stupid," said Mrs. Straub a little sharply. "I did not say tramps, I meant two dirty little boys — undoubtedly the ones you saw. Did you order them away?" "They were such little duffers, ma'am, and the biggest one looks — looks so much like — " Henry glanced across the room at a large painting hanging on the wall and finished slowly, "Well, ma'am, the biggest one talked kind of unearthly." "Indeed!" The woman's voice hardened. "Your feelings should never interfere with your duty. I thought I made that plain to you seven years ago." "I've not forgotten, ma'am," Henry said fixing his eyes on the portrait. "But when I asked them what they were doing on' the point the biggest boy said, 'Watching the valley of the shadows.' It gave me a queer feeling. I couldn't threaten them 'specially after the biggest one looked at me with his big brown eyes. They made me think of Mr. " "That will do," she interrupted. "Your wife has more cour- age than you have. Tell her to watch the point tomorrow morning and if those boys are there, I want her to scare the wits out of them. You know how I dislike boys anyhow." Henry went back to the kitchen and Elizabeth Straub sank farther down in the deep leather chair. The glow from the rose col- ored shade on the floor lamp fell softly over her face with its graying hair. The diamonds on her slender hands sparkled with all the tints of the rainbow as they caught and reflected the light. The night wind blowing through the half open west window gently swayed the lamp shade and its long fringe fluttering in the draft threw danc- ing shadows on the face of the brown-eyed boy in the heavy gilt frame. From her place in the easy chair Elizabeth looked at the pic- ture. Tears welled in her eyes but with an effort she winked them back and forced her lips into a thin, hard line. She would not think of the past she told herself and she turned to the pages of the magazine. It was to a wonderful world, bathed in the gold of November's sunshine, that Elizabeth Straub opened her eyes the next morning. Mocking birds sang in the eucalyptus, on the terrace of the canyon; humming birds darted in and out among the budding branches of the climbing rose, on the sun porch; long shoots of poinsettia flaunted vermillion bracts below their yellowish flowers; pepper trees with foliage dainty as a bridal veil stretched aromatic branches on either

768 IMPROVEMENT ERA side of the driveway leading from the street to the vine covered garage. But Elizabeth Straub was not thinking of the beauty of the southern land as she crossed to the window of the dining room. She was thinking of a brown-eyed child who grew into a tall young man and — but her chain of thought was broken suddenly at seeing Mary, her faithful housekeeper, walking along the path with a small boy on either side of her. She noted an unusual springiness in the old woman's step, and as they came nearer she heard, through the open window, a crackled laugh mingling with the shrill treble of childish voices. For a minute she closed her eyes and covered her ears with her hands; laughter, especially the laughter of boys had annoyed her for years. Her face was pale and her lips bore the imprints of her teeth as she turned to the table and pushed the electric bell. "Yes, ma'am," Mary panted as she hurried in. "Everything is ready. Such a glorious morning — every heart ought to be full of love." "Did you tell those boys to stay away from here?" Mrs. Straub asked without paying any attention to Mary's remarks. "They didn't come this morning, ma'am, I — " "Mary! How can you stand there and tell me an untruth?" "Sure as I'm born, ma'am, I nearly chased my legs off watching for two dirty boys, 'big, dirty boys' is what Henry said I was to look out for, and never the hide nor the hair of such a pair did I see." "You were talking to the boys, I meant." "For the love of Mike, ma'am, you can't mean them two brown- eyed babies. They're that interesting you'd love them, 'specially the biggest one he looks like — like — a serpent — I mean he's wise as a serpent and as old fashioned as — as a spinning wheel." "Indeed, Mary, and what was the wisdom that so impressed you?" Mary regarded her mistress with disapproving eyes as she an- swered, "Well, when I went out to the point those babies were sit- ting there as still as a Quaker meeting house. They never looked around until I asked them what they were doing there. Then the biggest chap, bless his heart, pointed toward the old Mission and said, 'We're watching the valley of shadows.' I asked him what he meant and in the feelingest way he said — " Mrs. Straub lifted her hand, "Really Mary you are getting to be a foolish old woman. You need not repeat any more of what he said. I'll attend to those boys myself if they come around again this evening. I won't have them coming to my point." Later that afternoon Mrs. Straub, wearing a lavender colored dress, with fine lace at neck and wrists and a long string of jet beads, walked quickly along the bluff to the bench at the point.

TRESPASSERS NOT ALLOWED 769 Pala Mission Chapel and Entrance to Indian Burial Grounds, San Diego county, Calif. She spread a steamer rug on the white marble and sat down. The sun hung low in the west. Fantastic shadows from jutting points and from tall palms added depths of purple to the soft coloring of the valley. Far down the road a band of sheep were moving toward an adobe walled fold. Green fields in the open lay flat and smooth, like Oriental rugs on a hard-wood floor. A breeze winging through the gap in the hills brought a tang of salt air from the sea. She turned from the quiet beauty of the scene below with a nervous start. Two blue-coveralled boys, wearing frayed straw hats, sprang up from nowhere and stood at the end of the bench. "What are you doing on my point?" she demanded bluntly. The larger of the two children met her gray eyes with unflinch- ing brown ones. "It was our point for a long time. Mother used to bring us here when there was no bench." "Where is your mother?" "Down there," he pointed to the valley. "Where, what do you mean?" Again his brown eyes, so like a pair of brown ones that she had been trying to forget, met her gray ones, "Why, don't you know about the valley?" Then leaning forward and looking at her intently for an instant, he asked in a half whisper, "Are you a mother-in-law?" "Mercy!" she exclaimed. "What a question, and what has that to do with the valley?" "Nothing," he began slowly, "only mother said, 'No use to

770 IMPROVEMENT ERA waste breath on some mother-in-laws, cause they are hard-hearted and never understand things right." "Tell me about the valley," she said dryly. "Let Rob get up on the seat — at that end," he added as he saw her disapproving glance shift to the bare feet of his little brother. "I suppose you want to get up, too," she said drawing the steamer rug over her silk skirt. "No, I'm Daniel. You know 'bout Daniel Boone, don't you? He lived with the Indians and — " "Never mind about him," she interrupted. "I want to know why you come to my point, and why you say that your mother is down there?" Daniel turned his eyes to the north and with a quiver of his square chin began: "When I was little and Rob was littler, mother was sick. Once when we came here she talked to us about the valley. She told us that she had to go down into the valley to get well, she called it the valley of shadows. She said that we couldn't go with her, but that we must fear no evil, that God would change a hard heart and then some one would find us and love us." "Where is your father?" "Mother gave him to our country, and then God took him." "Where do you live?" "At the home for boys and girls. Look!" He stretched his thin hand and pointed east, 'The shadows are most all over the valley. Come Rob, Mr. Peck said if we were late again, we'd have to go with- out supper." "Who is Mr. Peck?" Mrs. Straub asked as she stood up. "He's the 'Boss' man at the 'Home.' He's awful tall and nar- row through here," Daniel measured Rob's chest. "Mother told me never to argue with a narrow person. Mother — " The child stopped speaking and leaned forward with his eyes focused on Mrs. Straub's waist. "What are you looking at?" she demanded. "Do you pray?" he asked. "Mercy, child, what do you mean?" "Mother had some beads most like yours, and when she had them on she always told us 'bout 'each bead a prayer.' " His voice trembled, and Mrs. Straub looked down at the ground as if searching for some- thing she had lost. Hand in hand the two bare-footed children trotted along the rim of the bluff. Mrs. Straub followed slowly. She stopped under a rustic pergola, gay with the blossoms of an immense bougainvillea and waited until Henry came up the terraced path from the gathering dusk of the canyon below. "I want you to go over to the 'Children's Home' the first thing in the morning," she said. Henry smiled, rubbed his hands together, and said, "I saw you

TRESPASSERS NOT ALLOWED 771 talking to the two codgers. Ain't the big one a wonder? Mary told me what he said to her this morning. It's the truth that out of the mouths of babes — ■" "Never mind your quotations, Henry," she interrupted. "I want you to go down there the very first thing after breakfast, and tell the person who has charge of the place that those boys mus\ not come out to the point again." The smile faded from the old man's wrinkled face, he dropped his hands and said slowly, "Very well, ma'am, but they are such little duffers, and the biggest one with his brown eyes is so like Mr. " "You are always imagining things, Henry," Mrs. Straub again interrupted before she turned and started back to the house. The hall clock was striking the hour of twelve the next day when Henry Harlow came up the canyon trail. He pushed a wheel- barrow and in it lay a small boy. Close behind him came another boy pulling a dilapidated express wagon. Mrs. Straub immediately recognized the two children as the ones she had seen several times on her premises. She hurried from the house and met them as they stopped beside the vine covered garage. "Henry Harlow," she began. "What do you mean by bringing these boys up here?" Henry scratched the thin hair under the brim of his hat, reached over and pulled an old blanket around the child in the barrow before he replied: "You see, it's this way, ma'am, Mr. Peck is in San Francisco." "Well, what business is that of yours?" "Maybe none, ma'am, but the Matron has her hands full; she showed me a letter and I thought we ought to take these two little duffers and keep them up here. Most of the young ones down there got the measles." "I'm not going to take care of any children from an orphanage, you know I can't stand the sight of boys." "No, ma'am, yes, ma'am, but Mary can. I 'low him in the barrow's getting something right now. He's hot as — " "That will do, Henry. It seems to me that you've forgotten that you and Mary work for me. I don't want these boys in my house, understand?" "Yes, ma'am, no, ma'am, I mean that — that I can take them in the store room off the garage. Mary will be tickled half to death to give them a little of the mothering God planned on them having when he sent them into this world." "Indeed, and since when have you had permission to turn my garage into an orphanage hospital?" Henry did not reply. Daniel's big brown eyes studied Mrs. Straub's face for a moment, then he pulled the little old wagon up

772 IMPROVEMENT ERA close to the wheel barrow and said: "Get in here, Rob, she don't like us." Henry Harlow did not look at his mistress. He straightened his drooping shoulders, deliberately lifted the child from the barrow and walked into the house. Mrs. Straub took a step forward, paused, turned and went down the path toward the bench on the point. She was angry. She sat down on the cold marble and let her gaze wander up the valley to the soft yellow walls of the old Mission. It was a beautiful picture and she never saw it without a strange thrill at her heart, she could not be angry while she watched the valley. She closed her eyes and reflected. For seven years Henry had been trying to make her feel as if she had done a wrong; had lost no opportunity of keeping before her the memory of the son she had disowned when he married against her wishes. Now he was trying to remind her of the past by foisting upon her notice a brown-eyed boy from an orphanage. She would not put up with his impertinence, she would not allow those children to remain under her roof; she would teach Henry a lesson. With a look of determination on her face, she hurried toward the house. At the door of the living room she paused as she heard Henry say; "Now, Daniel, turn your head toward the window and don't move until I bring Mary." Mrs. Straub gasped at what she saw as she looked through an opening between the velvet curtains. The child, Daniel, was standing beside the life sized portrait, and, except for his clothing he might have just stepped from the frame, so closely did his face resemble the one on the wall. She drew farther back as Henry and Mary entered. She caught the tremor in the old man's voice as he .said: "Look, Mary. I'm so glad I made her keep that painting. If I can't soften her this time I'll feel like giving up, although I've said that I'd never stop until I made her realize that she must get that bitterness out of her heart before she can have any happiness." "Sure as you are born, Henry," said Mary, "the boy and the picture might be the same. Why don't you go and bring her in here? I got to go back to that other blessed lamb, he's hot as cayenne." Mary padded away and Mrs. Straub parted the velvet hangings, "Why are you in here?" she demanded. "He — they — are so alike ma'am," Henry stammered pointing to the picture and then to the child. "I saw it the other day and this morning down at the 'Home' the Matron gave me a — " "Stop!" she commanded. "Leave the room and take that boy with you." As soon as Elizabeth Straub was alone she went from window

TRESPASSERS NOT ALLOWED 773 to window in the long living room, pulling the shades and shutting out every ray of light. Then she flung herself down on the daven- port and gave up to reflection. "She would pay no attention to Henry. She would make him take the picture from the wall and destroy it. Why was he trying to foist this brown-eyed boy upon her? She would make him take the children back to the orphanage. Her own son had defied her, she would show no kindness to the boy of strangers. Daniel's question, 'Do you pray?' had both hurt and angered her; had awakened a strain of memory that she had vowed to forget. Yes, Henry must take them back immediately." The clock struck four as she sat up. Her hands shook as she smoothed her disordered hair; she took off the jet beads, started to Arches at San Luis Rey Mission, Built in 1769, San Diego, California fling them to the other end of the room but paused, something made her press them to her lips and she put them around her neck again as she went down into the kitchen and asked Mary where she could find Henry. ! I "He's out at the point just now," replied the old woman, "but he's going — " Mrs. Straub did not wait to hear any more, she passed through the kitchen and walked quickly along the path. Henry turned half guiltily as he saw his mistress approaching, "We're — going — going — " he began. Mrs. Straub looked down into the valley. The shadows were lengthening over the fields. They softened the uneven brown road along which a flock of sheep were moving toward the adobe fold. A small white object caught and held her attention. It was a lamb, struggling to free itself from a patch of cactus. Poor, helpless, wee lamb! Something gripped her heart, a lump came into her throat.

774 IMPROVEMENT ERA Poor little orphan boy! Almost without knowing it she said: "Why, Henry, Daniel's going to stay with us." "Glory be!" The old man dropped on his knees and half whis- pered, "My prayers are answered. After seven years you will be my own happy mistress again. I knew Mr. Ray's child almost at once." "Henry! What do you mean?" her face changed to the color of marble as she asked the question. "Why ma'am, when the Matron heard your name she gave me a letter to read. It was written last June by your son's wife when she was dying out here alone. Every day for seven years I've prayed that you might hear from Mr. Ray, and now you will have his sons for your own." Elizabeth Straub steadied her voice and said: "Hurry down there and ask the Matron for the letter, Henry." Then she took Daniel in her arms and sat down on the marble bench overlooking the valley where the wee lamb had pulled itself free from the cactus. San Diego, Calif. MORDAUNT, SON OF TROUBLE By Elizabeth Cannon Porter Governor Mordaunt had ordered out the state militia that morn- ing to quell the striking miners. Simultaneously he had sent for Oliver Hamer, the capitalist. How he would come out in the inter- view he did not know. Unless he won and brought the opposing factions together, it would mean bloodshed, but the long-drawn-out conflict was already bringing ruin to the state. The strike brought evils in its wake, hatred, suffering, poverty and death. Eastern capital that this young state — with its vast mineral wealth scarcely tapped — needed so badly, was being withdrawn because of the un- settled conditions. Steve Mordaunt decided that things could not be much worse, so he took a chance on improving them. Broad of shoulder, square of jaw, at middle life Governor Mor- daunt was very much of a man. The thin lips, drawn into a straight line by years of repression, were redeemed by the light of the eyes that bespoke the intelligence behind them. For the battle that he proposed to wage with the politician who controlled the destinies of the state he had been well prepared. He had been reared by his mother in a pioneer community where poverty was calamity. He had been jilted by the girl he loved. What was