The Apple of Discord. Earle Ashley Walcott
of people you should have to do with," he began, when she stopped him.
"Were you going to say that you knew of somebody who can do it better than I? Because if you weren't, the sooner you and Mr. Hampden start on your expedition the sooner you'll be coming back."
I was not so sure that I cared for the company of Mr. Baldwin in my visit to Big Sam, but I could see no way to decline it.
"I think," said Mr. Baldwin with sudden brightening, "that we want Mercy Fillmore. She isn't so old a person as you might like, Miss Kendrick, but she has taken to charity work and is used to dealing with this sort of people. Except for her liking for that kind of work, she's a reasonable creature and doesn't make conversion to a church the sole object of her life. I don't see why she has gone in for it, but as she has decided to waste her life in that way she might as well waste it on this young person as on any other."
"I remember her," said Miss Kendrick, nodding her shapely head. "She was one of the 'big girls' when I started to school. She was very good to us youngsters and I believe the other big girls used to call her 'a little queer.' I used to think her quite grown up, for she was fifteen when I was ten. But I dare say she wouldn't seem so venerable now. I'm sure she would be just the one–if she'll do it."
"I can answer for her, I think," said Mr. Baldwin.
"Well, you can't see her to-night," said Miss Kendrick, "so you had better go with Mr. Hampden and bring the girl here. Then you can arrange with Miss Fillmore to-morrow."
Mr. Baldwin looked appealingly at me.
"Why wouldn't it be better," I said, "to leave the girl where she is till to-morrow? I shall tell Big Sam what we have decided and he can keep her safe."
Mr. Baldwin nodded approval.
"I see," said Miss Kendrick, "that you have oceans of confidence in Big Sam and those murderous highbinders. But I'm not a man, and I haven't. I don't know what will happen before morning. Now, if you'll put on your hats and coats and go, you'll relieve my mind."
I rose reluctantly.
"If you don't like to go alone," said Miss Kendrick, with a saucy shake of the head and a very determined look about the mouth, "I'll ask you to be my escort."
"But, I was about to ask–what will your uncle say?"
"Say?" cried the hearty voice of Wharton Kendrick, as his big frame filled the doorway and his ruddy face shone in the light. "Why, shovels and scissors, gentlemen, he would say just what she told him to. What's it about?"
Miss Kendrick had risen, and with an emphatic nod of the head at this indorsement of a blank check in her favor, looked at us steadily.
"In that case, we'd best be going," said Mr. Baldwin. "Miss Kendrick can explain the case better than we."
"I shall expect you back in an hour," she said.
CHAPTER VI
BIG SAM'S DIPLOMACY
We walked down the street in silence, and I could feel Mr. Baldwin's chilling disapproval of our errand radiating from him at every step.
"We had better take the Clay Street car down to the City Hall, and get a hack at the Plaza," I said at last.
"I suppose that will be the best way," he assented coldly. "Since we are in for this unfortunate business, the less notice we attract, the better."
His tone roused a flash of temper in me, and I replied tartly:
"If the business is so distasteful to you, there are plenty of streets that lead in the other direction."
"Very true," he said with a shrug. But his steady footstep told me that he had no thought of turning back. We fell into silence, and so continued until we reached the Plaza.
"What's this?" I exclaimed, for at the corner of Clay and Kearny Streets a crowd was gathered, and a cheer, or rather a confusion of vocal applause, broke out as we approached.
A man mounted on a cart was shouting fiercely to several hundred men who had gathered about him, and I could hear such words as "leprous heathen," "cursed Mongols," and other phrases of denunciation roll from his lips.
I looked at him more closely. He was tall and broad-shouldered, and his coarse, florid features brought in a flash of memory the scene in the House of Blazes when the bleeding policeman had been rescued from his hoodlum assailants.
"Why, that's Kearney!" I cried.
"A friend of yours?" asked Mr. Baldwin sarcastically.
"I met him once."
"Perhaps you'd like to renew your acquaintance," said Mr. Baldwin, as we paused in curiosity on the edge of the crowd. "He seems to have an education in classical history."
We caught some reference to the labor troubles of Rome, and the fate of the freeman under the slave system that destroyed the ancient republic.
"I hadn't suspected it from a moment's speech with him," I said. "He has a good voice for this sort of work."
The crowd again broke out into tumultuous shouts at some bit of pleasing denunciation.
"Where are the police?" said Mr. Baldwin. "They ought to stop this."
I pointed to three or four members of the force who were standing near the speaker, apparently indifferent to his language.
"That's a scandalous neglect of duty," said Mr. Baldwin. "But we had better go about our unfortunate errand."
We had gone but two steps, however, before a hand grasped me by the shoulder.
"Glad to see you, Hampden. Glad to see you interested in the cause of the people. Welcome to our reception!"
It was the voice of Parks, giving boisterous greeting as he shook me by the hand.
"Isn't he great?" he continued rapidly. "What do you think of his speech?"
There was pride of authorship in his inquiry, and every movement testified to the excitement and pleasure that thrilled him.
"Is this your first performance?" I asked.
"No," he said. "We've been trying it on the street corners at odd times. Now we are ready to begin in earnest. What do you think of it?"
"I think you are rash to begin your agitation so near the police station. Your man will probably find himself in jail before he gets through his speech."
"The very thing!" said Parks explosively. "The best advertisement we could have. Here's our motto: 'The Chinese must go.' You can see it stirs 'em. Listen to that cheer. What could rouse the men of the city faster than to have Kearney thrown into jail for expressing their sentiments? Sir, if you think otherwise, you do not understand the people."
Parks gave an emphatic shake to his head and another to his warning forefinger that was held before me, and the wild look of the enthusiast glowed in his face.
"Doubtless you are right," I admitted. "But I must keep an engagement that will deprive me of the privilege of listening to your orator."
"You will have to listen to him some day," said Parks, shaking his finger at us once more. "The day of the people is coming."
Mr. Baldwin had been watching us with some interest.
"Your friend appears to be very much in earnest," he said as we went our way.
"There's a man who's very likely to be hanged because he thinks he has an idea," I replied.
"I should say he was more likely to end his days in the violent ward at Stockton," returned Mr. Baldwin.
"Perhaps you are the better guesser," I admitted. "It will depend on his opportunities."
We had come among the hackmen at the other end of Portsmouth Square, and I picked out one with courage in his face and a good span of horses to his hack.
"This will do, I think," I said.
"Very good," replied Mr. Baldwin, stepping into the hack. "Have you arranged any plan of proceeding? I suppose you know the condition of affairs better than I." This last an evident apology for deferring