came. Indeed, he had been attracted to her from the first.
They were soon seated comfortably in two large p iazza chairs, watching the moonrise out of the little lake and frame itself in wreaths of long gray moss which reached out lace-like fingers and seemed to try to snare it; but always it slipped through until it sailed high above, serene. So great a moon, and so different from a Northern moon!
Victoria had done justice to the scene with a fine supply of adjectives, and then addressed herself to her self-set task.
"Mr. Mortimer, I wonder if you know a man by the name of Bailey down here, Christie Bailey. Tell me about him, please. Who is he, and how did he come by such a queer name? Is it a diminutive of Christopher?"
She settled her fluffy draperies about her in the moonlight, and fastened her fine eyes on Mortimer interestedly; and he felt he had a pleasant task before him to speak of his friend to this charming girl.
"Certainly, I know Chris well. He's one of the best fellows in the world. Yes, his name is an odd one, a family name, I believe, his mother's family name, I think he told me once. No, no Christopher about it, just plain Christie. But how in the world do you happen to know anything about him? He told me once he hadn't a friend left in the North."
Victoria was prepared for this.
"O, I heard someone talking about a Sunday school he had started, and I am interested in Sunday schools myself. Did he come down here as a sort of missionary, do you know?"
She asked the question innocently enough, and Mortimer waxed earnest in his story.
"No, indeed! No missionary about Christie. Why, Miss Landis, a year ago Christie was one of the toughest fellows in Florida. He could play a fine hand at cards, and could drink as much whiskey as the next one; and there wasn't one of us with a readier tongue when it was loosened up with plenty of drinks—"
"I hope you're not one of that kind?" said Victoria, earnestly, looking at the fine, restless eyes and handsome profile outlined in the moonlight.
A shade of sadness crossed his face. No one had spoken to him like that in many a long day. He turned and looked into her eyes earnestly.
"It's kind of you to care, Miss Landis. Perhaps if I had met someone like you a few years ago, I should have been a better fellow." Then he sighed and went on:
"A strange change came over Christie about a year ago. Someone sent him an organ and some fixings for his room, supposing he was a girl—from his name, I believe. They got hold of his name at the freight-station where his goods were shipped. They must have been an uncommon sort of people to send so much to a stranger. There was a fine picture, too, which he keeps on his wall, some religious work of a great artist, I think. He treasures it above his orange-grove, I believe.
"Well, those things made the most marvelous change in that man. You wouldn't have known him. Some of us fellows went to see him soon after it happened, and we thought it would be a joke to carry out the suggestion that had come with the organ that Christie start a Sunday school; so we went and invited neighbors from all round and went up there Sunday, and fixed seats all over his cabin.
"He was as mad as could be, but he couldn't help himself; so, instead of knocking us all out and sending the audience home, he just pitched in and had a Sunday school. He wouldn't allow any laughing, either. We fellows had taken lunch and a case of bottles over to make the day a success; and, when Armstrong—he's the second son of an Earl—came in with the case of liquor, Chris rose in his might. Perhaps you don't know Christie has red hair. Well, he has a temper just like it,—and he suddenly rose up and fairly blazed at us, eyes and hair and face. He looked like a strong avenging angel. I declare, he was magnificent. We never knew he had it in him before.
"Well, from that day forth he took hold of that Sunday school, and he changed all his ways. He didn't go to any more
They were soon seated comfortably in two large p iazza chairs, watching the moonrise out of the little lake and frame itself in wreaths of long gray moss which reached out lace-like fingers and seemed to try to snare it; but always it slipped through until it sailed high above, serene. So great a moon, and so different from a Northern moon!
Victoria had done justice to the scene with a fine supply of adjectives, and then addressed herself to her self-set task.
"Mr. Mortimer, I wonder if you know a man by the name of Bailey down here, Christie Bailey. Tell me about him, please. Who is he, and how did he come by such a queer name? Is it a diminutive of Christopher?"
She settled her fluffy draperies about her in the moonlight, and fastened her fine eyes on Mortimer interestedly; and he felt he had a pleasant task before him to speak of his friend to this charming girl.
"Certainly, I know Chris well. He's one of the best fellows in the world. Yes, his name is an odd one, a family name, I believe, his mother's family name, I think he told me once. No, no Christopher about it, just plain Christie. But how in the world do you happen to know anything about him? He told me once he hadn't a friend left in the North."
Victoria was prepared for this.
"O, I heard someone talking about a Sunday school he had started, and I am interested in Sunday schools myself. Did he come down here as a sort of missionary, do you know?"
She asked the question innocently enough, and Mortimer waxed earnest in his story.
"No, indeed! No missionary about Christie. Why, Miss Landis, a year ago Christie was one of the toughest fellows in Florida. He could play a fine hand at cards, and could drink as much whiskey as the next one; and there wasn't one of us with a readier tongue when it was loosened up with plenty of drinks—"
"I hope you're not one of that kind?" said Victoria, earnestly, looking at the fine, restless eyes and handsome profile outlined in the moonlight.
A shade of sadness crossed his face. No one had spoken to him like that in many a long day. He turned and looked into her eyes earnestly.
"It's kind of you to care, Miss Landis. Perhaps if I had met someone like you a few years ago, I should have been a better fellow." Then he sighed and went on:
"A strange change came over Christie about a year ago. Someone sent him an organ and some fixings for his room, supposing he was a girl—from his name, I believe. They got hold of his name at the freight-station where his goods were shipped. They must have been an uncommon sort of people to send so much to a stranger. There was a fine picture, too, which he keeps on his wall, some religious work of a great artist, I think. He treasures it above his orange-grove, I believe.
"Well, those things made the most marvelous change in that man. You wouldn't have known him. Some of us fellows went to see him soon after it happened, and we thought it would be a joke to carry out the suggestion that had come with the organ that Christie start a Sunday school; so we went and invited neighbors from all round and went up there Sunday, and fixed seats all over his cabin.
"He was as mad as could be, but he couldn't help himself; so, instead of knocking us all out and sending the audience home, he just pitched in and had a Sunday school. He wouldn't allow any laughing, either. We fellows had taken lunch and a case of bottles over to make the day a success; and, when Armstrong—he's the second son of an Earl—came in with the case of liquor, Chris rose in his might. Perhaps you don't know Christie has red hair. Well, he has a temper just like it,—and he suddenly rose up and fairly blazed at us, eyes and hair and face. He looked like a strong avenging angel. I declare, he was magnificent. We never knew he had it in him before.
"Well, from that day forth he took hold of that Sunday school, and he changed all his ways. He didn't go to any more
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