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But the captain pointed to the lock-ed door and bade
them break it down. In a few moments they demolished

it with the axes they carried. Into the other room sprang
Claude Turpin, with the captain at his heels.

The scene was one that lingered long in Turpin's
mind. Nearly a score of women -- women expensively

and fashionably clothed, many beautiful and of refined
appearance -- had been seated at little marble-topped

tables. When the police burst open the door they
shrieked and ran here and there like gayly plumed birds

that had been disturbed in a tropical grove. Some
became hysterical; one or two fainted; several knelt at

the feet of the officers and besought them for mercy on
account of their families and social position.

A man who had been seated behind a desk had seized
a roll of currency as large as the ankle of a Paradise

Roof Gardens chorus girl and jumped out of the window.
Half a dozen attendants huddled at one end of the room,

breathless from fear.
Upon the tables remained the damning and incon-

trovertible evidences of the guilt of the habitu锟絜s of that
sinister room -- dish after dish heaped high with ice

cream, and surrounded by stacks of empty ones, scraped
to the last spoonful.

"Ladies," said the captain to his weepingcircle of
prisoner "I'll not hold any of yez. Some of yez I recog-

nize as having fine houses and good standing in the
community, with hard-working husbands and childer

at home. But I'll read ye a bit of a lecture before ye go.
In the next room there's a 20-to-1 shot just dropped in

under the wire three lengths ahead of the field. Is this
the way ye waste your husbands' money instead of help-

ing earn it? Home wid yez! The lid's on the ice-cream
freezer in this precinct."

Claude Turpin's wife was among the patrons of the
raided room. He led her to their apartment in stem

silence. There she wept so remorsefully and besought
his forgiveness" target="_blank" title="n.原谅,饶恕;宽仁">forgiveness so pleadingly that he forgot his just anger,

and soon he gathered his penitent golden-haired Vivien
in his arms and forgave her.

"Darling," she murmured, half sobbingly, as the moon-
light drifted through the open window, glorifying her

sweet, upturned face, "I know I done wrong. I will
never touch ice cream again. I forgot you were not

a millionaire. I used to go there every day. But to-day
I felt some strange, sad presentiment of evil, and I was

not myself. I ate only eleven saucers."
"Say no more," said Claude, gently as he fondly

caressed her waving curls.
"And you are sure that you fully forgive me?" asked

Vivien, gazing at him entreatingly with dewy eyes of
heavenly blue.

"Almost sure, little one," answered Claude, stooping
and lightlytouching her snowy forehead with his lips.

"I'll let you know later on. I've got a month's salary
down on Vanilla to win the three-year-old steeplechase

to-morrow; and if the ice-cream hunch is to the good
you are It again -- see?"

THE WHIRLIGIG OF LIFE
JUSTICE-OF-THE-PEACE Benaja Widdup sat in

the door of his office smoking his elder-stem pipe. Half-
way to the zenith the Cumberland range rose blue-gray

in the afternoon haze. A speckled hen swaggered down
the main street of the "settlement," cackling foolishly.

Up the road came a sound of creaking axles, and then
a slow cloud of dust, and then a bull-cart bearing Ransie

Bilbro and his wife. The cart stopped at the Justice's
door, and the two climbed down. Ransie was a narrow

six feet of sallow brown skin and yellow hair. The
imperturbability of the mountains hung upon him like

a suit of armour. The woman was calicoed, angled,
snuff-brushed, and weary with unknown desires. Through

it all gleamed a faint protest of cheated youth unconscious
of its loss.

The Justice of the Peace slipped his feet into his shoes,
for the sake of dignity, and moved to let them enter.

"We-all," said the woman, in a voice like the wind
blowing through pine boughs, "wants a divo'ce." She

looked at Ransie to see if he noted any flaw or ambiguity
or evasion or partiality or self-partisanship in her state-

ment of their business.
"A divo'ce," repeated Ransie, with a solemn Dod.

"We-all can't git along together nohow. It's lonesome
enough fur to live in the mount'ins when a man and a

woman keers fur one another. But when she's a-spittin'
like a wildcat or a-sullenin' like a hoot-owl in the cabin,

a man ain't got no call to live with her."
"When he's a no-'count varmint," said the woman,

"without any especialwarmth, a-traipsin' along of
scalawags and moonshiners and a-layin' on his back

pizen 'ith co'n whiskey, and a-pesterin' folks with a pack
o' hungry, triflin' houn's to feed!"

"When she keeps a-throwin' skillet lids," came Ransie's
antiphony, "and slings b'ilin' water on the best coon-dog

in the Cumberlands, and sets herself agin' cookin' a man's
victuals, and keeps him awake o' nights accusin' him

of a sight of doin's!"
"When he's al'ays a-fightin' the revenues, and gits a

hard name in the mount'ins fur a mean man, who's
gwine to be able fur to sleep o' nights?"

The Justice of the Peace stirred deliberately to his
duties. He placed his one chair and a wooden stool

for his petitioners. He opened his book of statutes on
the table and scanned the index. Presently he wiped his

spectacles and shifted his inkstand.
"The law and the statutes," said he, "air silent on the

subjeck of divo'ce as fur as the jurisdiction of this co't
air concerned. But, accordin' to equity and the Con-

stitution and the golden rule, it's a bad barg'in that can't
run both ways. If a justice of the peace can marry a

couple, it's plain that he is bound to be able to divo'ce
'em. This here office will issue a decree of divo'ce

and abide by the decision of the Supreme Co't to hold it
good."

Ransie Bilbro drew a small tobacco-bag from his
trousers pocket. Out of this he shook upon the table

a five-dollar note. "Sold a b'arskin and two foxes fur
that," he remarked. "It's all the money we got."

"The regular price of a divo'ce in this co't," said the
Justice, "air five dollars." He stuffed the bill into the

pocket of his homespun vest with a deceptive air of indiffer-
ence. With much bodily toil and mental travail he wrote

the decree upon half a sheet of foolscap, and then copied
it upon the other. Ransie Bilbro and his wife listened to his

reading of the document that was to give them freedom:
"Know all men by these presents that Ransie Bilbro

and his wife, Ariela Bilbro, this day personally appeared
before me and promises that hereinafter they will neither

love, honour, nor obey each other, neither for better nor
worse, being of sound mind and body, and accept summons

for divorce according to the peace and dignity of the State.
Herein fail not, so help you God. Benaja Widdup,

justice of the peace in and for the county of Piedmont,
State of Tennessee."

The Justice was about to hand one of the documents
to Ransie. The voice of Ariela delayed the transfer.

Both men looked at her. Their dull masculinity was
confronted by something sudden and unexpected in the

woman.
"Judge, don't you give him that air paper yit. 'Tain't

all settled, nohow. I got to have my rights first. I
got to have my ali-money. 'Tain't no kind of a way to do

fur a man to divo'ce his wife 'thout her havin' a cent fur
to do with. I'm a-layin' off to be a-goin' up to brother

Ed's up on Hogback Mount'in. I'm bound fur to hev
a pa'r of shoes and some snuff and things besides. Ef

Rance kin affo'd a divo'ce, let him pay me ali-money."
Ransie Bilbro was stricken to dumb perplexity. There

had been no previous hint of alimony. Women were
always bringing up startling and unlooked-for issues.

Justice Benaja Widdup felt that the point demanded
judicial decision. The authorities were also silent on the

subject of alimony. But the woman's feet were bare.
The trail to Hogback Mountain was steep and flinty.

"Ariela Bilbro," he asked, in official tones, "how
much did you 'low would be good and sufficient ali-money

in the case befo' the co't."
"I 'lowed," she answered, "fur the shoes and all, to

say five dollars. That ain't much fur ali-money, but
I reckon that'll git me to up brother Ed's."

"The amount," said the Justice, "air not onreasonable.
Ransie Bilbro, you air ordered by the co't to pay the plain-

tiff the sum of five dollars befo' the decree of divo'ce air
issued."

"I hain't no mo' money," breathed Ransie, heavily.
"I done paid you all I had."

"Otherwise," said the Justice, looking severely over
his spectacles, "you air in contempt of co't."

"I reckon if you gimme till to-morrow," pleaded the
husband, "I mout be able to rake or scrape it up

somewhars. I never looked for to be a-payin' no ali-
money."

"The case air adjourned," said Benaja Widdup, "till
to-morrow, when you-all will present yo'selves and obey

the order of the co't. Followin' of which the decrees
of divo'ce will be delivered." He sat down in the door

and began to loosen a shoestring.
"We mout as well go down to Uncle Ziah's," decided

Ransie, "and spend the night." He climbed into the
cart on one side, and Ariela climbed in on the other.

Obeying the flap of his rope, the little red bull slowly
came around on a tack, and the cart crawled away in the

nimbus arising from its wheels.
Justice-of-the-peace Benaja Widdup smoked his elder-

stem pipe. Late in the afternoon he got his weekly paper,
and read it until the twilight dimmed its lines. Then

he lit the tallow candle on his table, and read until the
moon rose, marking the time for supper. He lived in

the double log cabin on the slope near the girdled poplar.
Going home to supper he crossed a little branch darkened

by a laurelthicket. The dark figure of a man stepped
from the laurels and pointed a rifle at his breast. His

hat was pulled down low, and something covered most of
his face.

"I want yo' money," said the figure, "'thout any talk.
I'm gettin' nervous, and my finger's a-wabblin' on this

here trigger."
"I've only got f-f-five dollars," said the Justice, pro-

ducing it from his vest pocket.
"Roll it up," came the order, "and stick it in the end

of this here gun-bar'l."


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