Aunt Jane's Nieces at Work

"Now we are quite alone, and can talk at our ease. Take that low chair, dear, and I'll sit here."

Eliza obeyed, looking wistfully into the fair face of her new friend.

"You are very pretty, Eliza; and I'm sure you are as good as you're pretty," announced Louise. "So you must tell me about yourself, and whether you are happy here or not. From this time on I'm going to be your friend, you know, and keep all your secrets; and I'll help you all I can."

This rambling speech seemed to impress Eliza favorably. She relaxed somewhat from the tense alertness that was habitual with her, and looked at the other girl with a softened expression.

"I'm afraid you won't be much interested in me," she replied, "but I need a friend – indeed I need a friend, Miss Louise!"

"I'm sure you do."

"At first I thought I could do without one. I felt I must stand alone, and let no one suspect. But – I'm getting puzzled and bewildered, and I don't know what to do next."

"Of course not. Tell me about it, dear."

"I can't; for I don't know, myself." She leaned forward in her chair and added, in a whisper: "I don't even know who I am! But that man," with a shudder, "tried to trap me. He said he knew Eliza Parsons, and there is no Eliza Parsons. It's a name I – I invented."

"I think I understand," said Louise, with a little nod. "You had to have a name, so you took that one."

"Yes. I don't know why I am telling you this. I've tried to hide it all so carefully. And perhaps I'm wrong in letting this thing worry me. In the main, I've been very happy and content, lately; and – I have a feeling I was not happy before – before – "

"Before what, dear?"

The girl looked at her steadily and her face grew red.

"Before I lost my memory."

For a few moments they sat silently regarding one another, the expressive features of Louise showing a silent sympathy.

"Have you really lost your memory?" she asked.

"Absolutely. Think of it! I wakened one morning lying by the roadside, and shivering with cold. I had on a simple gray dress, with no hat. The sun was just rising, and no one was near. I examined myself with wonder, for I had no idea who I was, or how I came there. There was no money in my pocket, and I had no jewels. To keep warm I began walking along the road. The scenery was all new to me; so far as I knew I had never been in the place before.

"The birds were singing and the cows mooed in the meadow. I tried to sing, too, for my heart was light and gay and I was happy. By and bye I came to a town; but no one seemed to be awakened because it was yet so early. As I walked down the street I saw smoke coming from one of the chimneys, and it suddenly occurred to me that I was hungry. I entered the yard and went around to the back door. A woman was working in the kitchen and I laughed joyfully and wished her a good morning. She was not very pleasant, but it did me good to talk with her; I liked to hear my own voice and it pleased me to be able to talk easily and well. She grudgingly gave me something to eat and then bade me begone, calling me by some strange name and saying I was a thief. It was then that I invented the name of Eliza Parsons. I don't know why, but it popped into my head and I claimed it for my name and have clung to it ever since."

"Have you no idea what your real name is?" asked Louise, greatly interested in this terse relation.

"I have no idea of anything that dates beyond that morning," replied Eliza. "The first time I looked in the mirror I saw a strange face reflected there. I had to make my own acquaintance," she added, with one of her bright laughs. "I suppose I am between seventeen and twenty years of age, but what my life was during past years is to me a sealed book. I cannot remember a person I knew or associated with, yet things outside of my personal life seem to have clung to me. I remembered books I must have read; I can write, sing and sew – I sew remarkably well, and must have once been trained to it. I know all about my country's history, yet I cannot recollect where I lived, and this part of the country is unknown to me. When I came to Elmhurst I knew all about it and about Mr. Forbes, but could not connect them with my former life."

"How did you happen to come here?" asked Louise.

"I forgot to tell you that. While I was arguing with the woman, who was a Mrs. Hopkins, her husband heard us and came out into the kitchen. He began to question me about myself and I gave any answer that came into my head, for I could not tell him the truth. It pleased me to hear my voice, I seemed to have a keen sense of the humorous, and if I said anything at all clever, I laughed as heartily as anyone. My heart was light and free from all care. I had no worries or responsibilities at all. I was like the birds who see the sunshine and feel the breeze and are content to sing and be happy.

"Mr. Hopkins saw I was wholly irresponsible and reckless, and he decided to use me to spy upon the people here at Elmhurst and report to him what they said and did. I agreed to this readily, prompted by a spirit of mischief, for I cared nothing for Hopkins and had nothing against Mr. Forbes. Also Hopkins paid me money, which I had sufficient knowledge to realize was necessary to me.

"Oh, how happy and gay I was in those first few days! There was not a thought of the past, not an ambition or desire of any sort to bother me. Just to live seemed pleasure enough. I enjoyed eating and sleeping; I loved to talk and laugh; I was glad to have work to occupy me – and that was all! Then things began to happen that puzzled me. The man Hopkins declared he could not trust me because I had once been a thief, and I wondered if he could speak truly. I resented the thought that I may once have been a thief, although I wouldn't mind stealing, even now, if I wanted anything and could take it."

"Oh, Eliza!" gasped Louise.

"It sounds wicked, doesn't it? But it is true. Nothing seems to influence me so strongly as my own whims. I know what is good and what is bad. I must have been taught these things once. But I am as likely to do evil as good, and this recklessness has begun, in the last few days, to worry me.

"Then I met a young man here – he says his name is Tom Gates – who called me his dear Lucy, and said I used to love him. I laughed at him at first, for it seemed very absurd and I do not want him to love me. But then he proved to me there was some truth in his statement. He said his Lucy had a scar on her left arm, and that made me afraid, because I had discovered a scar on my own arm. I don't know how it got there. I don't know anything about this old Lucy. And I'm afraid to find out. I'm afraid of Lucy."

"Why, dear?"

"I cannot tell. I only know I have a horror of her, a sudden shrinking whenever her name is mentioned. Who was she, do you suppose?"

"Shall I tell you?" asked Louise.

"No – no! Don't, I beg of you!" cried Eliza, starting up. "I – I can't bear it! I don't want to know her."

The protest was passionate and sincere, and Louise marvelled at the workings of this evidently unbalanced intellect.

"What would you like to do, dear?" she inquired.

"I'd like to remain Eliza Parsons – always. I'd like to get away from her– far away from anyone who ever heard of that dreadful Lucy who frightens me so. Will you help me to get away, to escape to some place where no one will ever be able to trace me?"

"Do you think you would be happy then?"

"I am sure of it. The only thing that makes me unhappy now is the horror that this past life will be thrust upon me. I must have had a past, of course, or I shouldn't be a grown woman now. But I'm afraid of it; I don't want to know anything about it! Will you help me to escape?"

She looked eagerly at Louise as she asked this pitiful question, and the other girl replied, softly: "I will be your friend, Eliza. I'll think all this over, and we will see what can be done. Be patient a little while and as soon as I find a way to free you from all this trouble I'll send for you, and we'll talk it over together."

"Will you keep my secret?" demanded Eliza, uneasily.

Louise glanced at the door that communicated with Beth's room. It stood open, but Eliza had not noticed that, as it was behind her. Just now a shadow cast from the other room wavered an instant over the rug, and Louise's quick eyes caught it.

"I promise to keep your secret, dear," she said earnestly.

The two girls rose and stood facing each other. Louise kissed the beautiful Eliza and whispered:

"Here is one thing for you to remember – that we are always to be true friends, from this time forward. If anyone annoys you, come to me, and I will protect you."

"Thank you, Miss Louise," said Eliza, and then she went away to her own room in a quieter and more thoughtful mood than usual.

When she had gone Louise ran to the door communicating with Beth's room, and to her satisfaction found both her cousins, with Kenneth, Uncle John and Mr. Burke, seated in a group where they must have overheard all that had been said.

"Well!" she cried, eagerly, "did you hear? And what do you think of it all?"

"It's Lucy Rogers, sure enough," said Kenneth.

Louise looked at Mr. Burke.

"It is the most singular case that has ever come under my observation," stated that gentleman. "The girl is perfectly sane, but she has suffered a strange lapse of memory. I have two alternatives to advise. One is to telegraph at once for a specialist. The other is to permit the girl to go away, as she suggests. She will be happier to do so, I am sure."

"Oh, no!" cried the girls.

"She owes a duty to her parents and friends, as well as to herself," said Kenneth, "and I see no reason why she should be unhappy in the future as Lucy Rogers."

Mr. Burke merely shrugged his shoulders.

"Please wire for the specialist at once," said Uncle John.

CHAPTER XIX

PATSY INDULGES IN EAVESDROPPING

Miss Patricia Doyle awakened at daybreak next morning with a throbbing toothache. She wasn't accustomed to such pains and found it hard to bear. She tried the application of a hot-water bag, and the tooth ached harder; she tried a cold compress, and it jumped with renewed activity. So she dressed herself and walked the floor, with the persistent ache as an intimate companion.

She tried to find a cavity in the tooth, but it seemed perfectly sound. Evidently she had caught cold and the wicked molar was signaling the fact.

To be patient under the torture of a toothache was a virtue Patsy did not possess. Louise and Beth, to whom she appealed, were sorry for her, but could not relieve the pain. After breakfast Uncle John ordered her to drive to town and see a dentist.

"Have it pulled, or filled, or something," he said. "The dentist will know what to do."

So James drove Patsy to town, where they arrived about nine o'clock this Monday morning. The only dentist at Elmwood was Dr. Squiers, so the girl ran up the flight of stairs to his office, which was located over the hardware store.

The pain had eased on the journey, and now the thought of having the offending tooth pulled was weighing heavily upon Patsy's mind. The door of Dr. Squiers's office stood ajar, and she hesitated whether to enter or not.

The dentist's reception room was divided from his operating room by a thin wooden partition, and as Patsy was deciding whether to employ Dr. Squiers's services or not she heard high words coming from behind the partition, and the voice was that of the Honorable Erastus Hopkins.

Softly she slid into the outer room and sank into a chair.

"But you're the clerk of the election, Squiers; you can't deny that," Hopkins was saying in a blustering, imperious voice.

"That's true enough," answered the dentist, more calmly.

"Then you've got the registration books in your possession."

"I admit that," was the reply. "But you're asking me to incriminate myself, 'Rast. If the thing was discovered it would mean prison for both of us."

"Fiddlesticks!" cried the irascible Hopkins. "These things are done every day, and no one's the wiser for it. It's merely a part of the political game."

"I'm afraid, 'Rast," said Dr. Squiers. "Honest Injun, I'm afraid."

"What are you 'fraid of? I've got the other clerks all fixed, and they'll stand by us. All you need do is to add these sixty-six names to the registration list, and then we'll vote 'em without opposition and win out."

Patsy gave a gasp, which she tried to stifle. The toothache was all forgotten.

"Where are these men?" inquired Dr. Squiers, thoughtfully.

"They're over at the mill. Marshall got 'em from all over the country, and they'll be set to work today, so everything will seem reg'lar."

"Where do they sleep and eat?" inquired the doctor.

"Forty sleep in Hayes's barn, and the other twenty-six in the stock loft over the planing mill. Marshall's got a commissary department and feeds 'em regular rations, like so many soldiers. Of course I'm paying for all this expense," acknowledged Mr. Hopkins, somewhat regretfully.

"And do you suppose these sixty-six votes will turn the scale?" asked Dr. Squiers.

"They're sure to. We finished the last canvass yesterday, and according to our figures Forbes has about eighteen votes the best of us. That's getting it down pretty close, but we may as well make up our minds we're beaten if we don't vote the men over at the mill. Marshall could have got me a hundred if necessary, but sixty-six is more than enough. Say Forbes has twice eighteen for his plurality, instead of eighteen; these sixty-six for me would wipe that out and let us win in a walk."

When Hopkins ceased there was a brief silence. Perhaps Dr. Squiers was thinking.

"I simply must have those votes, Doc," resumed the Representative. "It's the only way I can win."

"You've made a bungle of the whole campaign," said Squiers, bitterly.

"That's a lie. I've done a lot of clever work. But these infernal city girls came down here and stirred up all the trouble."

"You made a mistake pushing that sign issue. The girls beat you on that."

"If it hadn't been signs it might have been something worse. But I ain't beaten yet, Doc. Squiers. This deal is going to win. It's a trick the boarding-school misses won't understand until after they've cut their eye-teeth in politics."

"There's a pretty heavy penalty against false registration," observed the dentist, gloomily.

"There's no penalty unless we're found out, and there ain't the ghost of a chance of that. The books are in your hands; I got all the clerks fixed. Not a question will even be raised. I know it. Do you suppose I'd risk state's prison myself, if I wasn't sure?"

"Look here, 'Rast," said Squiers, doggedly, "you're making a tool of me in this campaign. Why should I be used and abused just to elect Erastus Hopkins, I'd like to know. You sacrificed me when I might have been Sheriff."

"You're well paid for that, Doc."

"And now you want me to put my neck in a noose for your advantage. I won't do it, 'Rast, and that's a fact."

Mr. Hopkins coughed.

"How much, Doc?" he inquired.

The dentist was silent.

"State the figure. But for mercy's sake don't bleed me any more than you can help. This fight has cost me a pretty penny already."

"I don't want your money," growled Squiers.

"Yes you do, Doc. I know you better than you know yourself. The trouble with you is, you'll want too much."

Squiers laughed bitterly.

"Is Marshall to be trusted?" he asked.

"Of course. If he said a word he'd lose his job as manager. Marshall's all right. There's nothing to worry about, Doc."

Patsy's tooth wasn't aching a bit. But her heart was throbbing as madly as the tooth ever did, and fortunately there was no pain connected with the throbbing – only joy.

"It ought to be worth two thousand dollars, 'Rast," said the dentist.

"What! In addition to all other expenses?"

"Why, man; it means the election. It means your whole future. If you're defeated now, you're a back number in this district, and you know it."

"It's too much, Doc. On my word it is."

"It's too little, come to think of it. I'll make it three thousand."

"Doc!"

"If you don't close with me, 'Rast, by the jumping Jupiter, I'll make it four thousand," cried the dentist, with exasperation.

"Say twenty-five hundred, Doc."

"Right on the nail. Give me your check here – this minute."

"And you'll enter the names in the books?"

"Before you leave the office. Have you got the list?"

"Yes; in my pocket," said Mr. Hopkins.

"Then make out your check and I'll get the books."

There was a stir behind the partition and a sound of chairs scraping the floor. Patsy slid out the door and flew down the stairs at the imminent danger of breaking her neck. James was seated in the buggy outside, engaged in rumination.

Patsy bounded in beside him and startled him.

"Drive for your life!" she cried. "Drive for home!"

He whipped up the spirited horse and they dashed away. Presently the man asked, with a grin:

"Did it hurt much, Miss Patsy?"

"Did what hurt, James?"

"The tooth pullin', Miss Patsy."

"The tooth wasn't pulled," answered the girl, sweetly. "It didn't need it, James. The only thing that was pulled was the Honorable Erastus's leg."

CHAPTER XX

PRICKING A BUBBLE

When Patsy arrived home she called a council of war and related the conversation she had overheard in the dentist's office.

"It isn't a very nice thing to do – listening to a private conversation," said the girl, "but when I discovered they were going to play such a trick on Kenneth I couldn't help eavesdropping."

"I think you were justified," declared Mr. Watson, with a grave face; "for this matter is very serious indeed. Tomorrow is election day, and if a toothache hadn't carried you to the dentist's office Kenneth would surely have been defeated."

"And we'd never have known how it happened," declared Uncle John.

"But can the plot be foiled at this late date?" inquired Louise, anxiously.

"I think so," said Mr. Watson. "Dr. Squiers was correct in saying that such a crime was a state's prison offense. Our discovery of it will send both Erastus Hopkins and Dr. Squiers to prison. Probably Mr. Marshall, the manager of the mill, will go with them."

"Oh, I don't like that!" exclaimed Patsy.

"Nor do I," added Kenneth. "It would be a sad beginning to my political career to send three such men to prison. I'd like to avoid it, if I can."

"Perhaps it may be quietly arranged," said the lawyer. "If they knew you had discovered the false registration of these men, they would never dare vote them."

"How would it be to send Mr. Burke, the detective, over to the mill to talk with Mr. Marshall?" suggested Beth.

"That is an excellent plan, and would be very effective in determining the manager to abandon the plot."

"I'll go and see Hopkins myself," announced Uncle John. "I know how to manage men of his sort."

"Very good," approved the lawyer, "and I'll see Squiers."

"If you do," said Patsy, "just ask him to sign a paper saying that Lucy Rogers was falsely accused of stealing the ring, and that his mother found it in a vase, where she had forgotten she put it."

"I'll do that," replied Mr. Watson. "And I'll get the sixty dollars back that Tom Gates paid him. I'll make it a condition of our agreeing not to prosecute the man."

"It looks as if we were going to win the election," said Uncle John in a pleased voice. "If Hopkins was driven to such methods as stuffing ballot-boxes, he must know very well he's defeated."

"He acknowledged it to Dr. Squiers." said Patsy, gaily. "We have eighteen sure majority, and perhaps more."

"It's likely to be more," predicted Uncle John.

"I suppose congratulations are in order, Ken," said Louise.

"Not yet, cousin," he replied. "Wait until tomorrow night; and then don't congratulate me, but the campaign managers – three of the nicest and cleverest girls in existence!"

"You're right, my boy," declared Uncle John. "If you pull through and take your seat in the Legislature, you'll owe it all to these girls."

"That is true," smiled the lawyer. "Kenneth was badly beaten when you arrived."

Of course our girls were very happy at receiving this praise, but more pleased to realize they had actually been of service to their boy friend. They believed that Kenneth would prove a good Representative and carry out his promises to the voters; and if he did, that his political career was assured.

Mr. Burke appeared in the afternoon with a telegram from Dr. Hoyt, the specialist, saying that he would be at Elmwood on the noon train Wednesday. His engagements prevented him from coming any sooner, and in the meantime Mr. Burke advised keeping a close watch on Eliza Parsons, to see that she did not run away.

"I'll attend to that," said Louise, quickly. "Eliza and I are friends, and I'll take care of her."

"Aren't you going to the polls?" asked Patsy.

"No, dear; why should I go? Our work is done now, isn't it?"

"Well, I'm going to the polls and work for every vote," declared Patsy. "I shan't be happy unless Kenneth gets more than eighteen majority."

When the Hopkins plot was explained to Mr. Burke, the detective readily agreed to go to Fairview and see Mr. Marshall. As no time was to be lost he was sent over in an automobile, and arrived at the mill just before the hour for closing.

The next day being election day the mill was to be closed, and the manager was very busy in his office when Mr. Burke requested to see him.

"You will have to come around Wednesday," said Marshall, fussily. "I can't attend to you now."

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir," replied the detective, "but my business won't wait until Wednesday."

"What is it about, sir?"

"About the election."

"Then I won't be bothered. The election doesn't interest me," said Mr. Marshall, turning away.

"Very well, I'll call Wednesday, sir, at the jail."

Marshall gave him a quick look.

"Who are you, sir?" he asked.

"John Burke, a detective."

The manager hesitated a moment.

"Come in, Mr. Burke," he said.

"I represent the Forbes interests," said the detective, seating himself in the private office, "and it has come to our notice that Dr. Squiers has permitted sixty-six fraudulent registrations to be entered on the books. These sixty-six men are supposed to have been imported by you and are now working at this mill."

"This is all nonsense!" protested the manager, growing pale.

"Forty men are sleeping in a near-by barn, and twenty-six in the stock-room of the mill," added Mr. Burke.

"That isn't criminal, sir."

"No, indeed. The criminal act is their false registration, so far," said the detective, blandly.

"But mark you, sir; if an attempt is made to vote those men tomorrow, I shall arrest you, as well as Mr. Hopkins and Dr. Squiers."

"This is preposterous, sir!" blustered the manager. "There will be no attempt made to vote them."

"I am quite sure of it," was the reply. "You may thank Mr. Forbes for warning you in time. He wished to save you, and so sent me here."

"Oh, he did!" Mr. Marshall was evidently surprised. "May I ask how you discovered all this?" he added.

"I am not at liberty to give you the details. But I may say the exposure of the plot occurred through Mr. Hopkins's own carelessness. I've seen lots of crooked politicians, Mr. Marshall, but this man is too reckless and foolish ever to be a success. He deserves to be defeated and he will be."

The manager was thoughtful.

"This is all news to me," he declared. "I needed these extra men to help me fill a contract on time, and so employed them. I had no idea Hopkins and Squiers would try to vote them tomorrow."

This was a palpable falsehood, but Mr. Burke accepted the lame excuse without question.

"You are a valuable man in this community, Mr. Marshall, and Mr. Forbes seemed to think the Hopkins people were trying to get you into trouble. Of course it would have caused trouble had these men voted."

"Of course, Mr. Burke. I'm much obliged to Mr. Forbes for warning me."

"You'll find the next Representative a very agreeable man to get along with, Mr. Marshall. Good day, sir."