Chapter XXXIII: The House Divided Against Itself

Of the obsequies of Senator Mallard it is necessary to say little. They were conducted with imposing ceremonies and attended by many of his associates in the Senate.

After the funeral Mrs. Boyle returned to her home. The question of heirship was some time in being satisfactorily settled. Durgenson's wife, who, as has been stated, was Mallard's niece, would not recognize John's right to the property. She and her husband lived in one part of the house, and John and Mrs. Baldwin in another.

"I tell you," said Mrs. Baldwin to John one day, "we want to look out for Durgenson. He is anxious to get you out of his way and has been ever since you were born. That night when you were at Mrs. Boyle's, I believe, just as much as I believe anything, that he meant to kill you when you went to look at the horse."

"How could he harm us?" asked John.

"By putting poison in the water we drink, or in our food," replied Mrs. Baldwin. "I tell you, John, we had better not stay in the same house with them. You don't know anything about him. He is so treacherous. You remember how he tried to get you away from us. I haven't the least doubt that he meant to lure you to some out-of-the-way place and kill you. One house is not large enough for that family and us."

"What are we to do until the estate is settled?" asked John.

"Get them out of the house, or go ourselves," answered Mrs. Baldwin.

"How can we do that?" inquired John.

"If we cannot eject them by legal process, let us leave," said Mrs. Baldwin.

"Ma'am," said the servant-girl, appearing in some excitement, "Mrs. Durgenson told me not to dust the parlor, but to keep right out, because her girl would attend to that."

"Which parlor?" asked Mrs. Baldwin.

"The south one," answered the servant. "I ain't been in the north one."

"You see," said Mrs. Baldwin, "she is getting very bold. She commenced it the day of the funeral."

"I will go in with you," said John, "and we will dust that room."

While John was dusting the furniture, he heard the querulous voice of Mrs. Durgenson, saying, "I don't mean to have them much longer in my house. Durgenson, if you had the proper spirit, you'd tell them to go. You wonder they like to stay. You're as good as pie to them all the time."

"There isn't any use in being cranky," said Durgenson. "You'll never make anything by that. I can't get them out without the law and we'd better wait a little."

"Now, Durgenson, you do take things so easy," continued the whining voice. "It ain't pleasant to have folks you don't like in your own house. You could tell 'em to go, and, if they don't go, put 'em out. You could throw that Wrengell out, couldn't you?"

"Why, yes," replied Durgenson. "As to that, I could throw him out. I'd risk that, but there'd be an after-clap. He'd have be arrested for assault and battery right straight. I'll manage it by and by in a better way."

"How do you mean?"

"Never you mind, Maggie. I'll attend to that. It isn't policy to use violence."

John had been with Mrs Baldwin in the sitting-room but a short time when the servant reappeared.

"Ma'am, the clothes is gone from the north bedroom."

"Why, that is Mr. Durgenson's part of the house," said Mrs. Baldwin.

"No," said the servant, "your north bedroom where you sleep."

"Can you not find them?" asked Mrs. Baldwin.

"No," replied the servant, "they ain't nowhere as I can see."

"I will get some clothes of my own uptown," said John. "It is as you say. Aunt Martha. We cannot live long in the same house with the Durgenson family. They will be robbing us of our cook-stove and our flour. How did they happen to live here with you?"

"They came soon after your grandfather was hurt," said Mrs. Baldwin. "They said they wanted to help take care of him. I knew they were looking after the property they expected to get. George was not in his right mind, and I could not turn them out, for Mrs. Durgenson was more nearly related to him than I. So, you see, nothing could be done. George did not fancy them, but, if he expressed an opinion, who could prove that it was anything but the raving of an insane man? They were not offensive at first, and, indeed Mr. Durgenson has not been so any of the time. But, as soon as George died, Mrs. Durgenson began to show her disposition. None of George's nephews are living, and she, being his only niece, has always considered herself his heir. You can hardly imagine how much your appearance has disappointed her and pleased me. If my niece did die away from her kindred and in poverty, my grand-nephew is restored to me, and, I trust, will be to his rights."

"Ma'am," said the servant-girl as she again opened the door, "all the carpet upstairs is gone, and somebody's took every wash-bowl and pitcher and the looking-glasses and one of the mattresses and all the clothes on the beds.

"I will tell Durgenson to put a stop to that," said John. "I will stand it no longer."

When he inquired for Durgenson, the wife of that gentleman informed him that her husband had gone uptown.

"When will he be back?" asked John.

"I can't tell anything about it," replied Mrs. Durgenson, rolling her head to one side in a wearied manner. "I don't always ask him how long he's going to stay."

The red-headed servant-girl, who was sweeping, rolled a cloud of dust into John's face and looked cunningly at her mistress, whose countenance expressed approval of the act. John shifted his position and said, "I would like to see him as soon as he comes. In the mean time you will please leave the household articles in their present places until the settlement of the estate."

Mrs. Durgenson again tipped her head to one side, this time in defiance. The servant once more turned her broom toward John, and, suppressing a giggle, sent the dirt flying about him in profusion.

"Oh," thought John, "we have met before."

"Oblige me by telling Mr. Durgenson of my visit," he said, "and inform him that I would like to see him at the earliest opportunity."

"I ain't used to being a servant," said Mrs. Durgenson. "You'll have to see him yourself. Jule, there's some dirt in that corner."

"Yes," said Julia Wallace, filling the air with floating particles, which she energetically directed for John's inhalation.

"Good-morning," said John, passing through the door.

Mrs. Durgenson and her servant exchanged glances and tittered, and, when John had gone a few steps, burst into loud laughter.

"The idea," said Mrs. Durgenson, purposely elevating her tone so that it could be heard by her late visitor, "of a man of his birth telling me what to do with my property that my uncle left me."

The ill-feeling between the two households was shared by the servant-girls, and by them less repressed than by their employers. Usually servants have the human aversion to doing unnecessary work, but in this case the general rule was inapplicable. Both Julia and Mrs. Baldwin's Ellen were anxious to have the care of as large a share of the house as possible. The south parlor, the hall and the library were the most frequent occasions of rivalry. At the beginning of the war the girl who entered the room first was allowed undisputed possession until the renovation was completed. This tacit agreement stimulated each hurriedly to wash the morning dishes in order first to reach the contested field. Gradually they rose earlier. By Mrs. Durgenson's permission Julia, leaving her breakfast dishes unwashed, "stole a march" on the hated Ellen. Next morning the enterprising Ellen, resolved not to be beaten, swept the room before another individual in the house was astir. Slurs, innuendoes and directly personal remarks began to be used frequently by both parties.

Although Ellen had a considerable amount of fighting Irish blood, she was not as aggressive as Julia, who seemed bent on precipitating a quarrel. The encroachments on the rights of John and Mrs. Baldwin by Wallace's promising daughter, who, in truth, had more spirit than her father or her brother, were annoying in the extreme. She came to Ellen's kitchen and helped herself to a panful of flour, saying that the Durgenson supply was exhausted and she had as much right to this as Ellen, because Mrs. Durgenson's uncle had bought it. She carried away the entire stock of pear preserves, for Mrs. Durgenson liked pear preserves, and not a single can had been provided her. She took Ellen's good broom and left an old one in its place. The kitchen where she worked had bad cracks in the floor, and no old stub could dig them out. The chamber in the wing which Mrs. Baldwin had reserved for the use of herself and John was steadily stripped of its belongings. Fruit cans, dishes, bedding and pictures disappeared, some secretly, some openly, into the rooms allotted to the Durgensons. The crisis came when Julia called after a kettle which Ellen had used since the beginning of her service. "I can't spare that," said Ellen. "It's all the one I've got like it." "You can if you have to, I guess," remarked Julia. "I've got to have it, because the big kettle I use don't fit on the stove good." "You're a-getting everything," said Ellen. "Don't you want the stove and my table?" "Yes," replied Julia, "I'm a-going to have 'em before long, too, but I shan't use the stove, because mine is better. You'll have to be getting out of here before long. Mrs. Durgenson says so." "I guess I shan't," screamed Ellen, grasping the kettle and putting it behind her. "I'm a-going to stay right here. When you get Mr. Lehmann out of this house, you'll know it."

"I'll know it about next week," retorted Julia, bobbing her head furiously and approaching Ellen, who backed away with the kettle. "There ain't any Mr. Lehmann here. That's John Wrengell, and he's a nobody. He stole a horse and got chased out of Break o'Day. He come to see me once. I told him to keep right away, for I wouldn't have anything to do with him,--the scurf o' the earth. I'd like to claw him." "I don't believe it," returned Ellen. "He wouldn't look at you, nor the likes of you, you great freckled thing. You've stole everything you could get your hands on, and I know you'd lie, too."

"You miserable Irish amount-to-nothing," cried Julia, advancing toward her, "you want to shut right up. Hand me that kettle in a hurry."

"What is all this about?" asked Mrs. Baldwin, coming to the relief of the frightened Ellen.

"She won't let me have that kettle," said Julia, "and I'm a-going to have it. I ain't got a big kettle that fits my cook-stove."

"We cannot spare that kettle," said Mrs. Baldwin. "You must get along the best way you can."

"I ain't afraid of you both," said Julia. "Hand that kettle here."

"Get out of this kitchen, or I will have you arrested," said John, suddenly appearing. "You have taken things enough. I warn you not to molest this part of the house."

"Oh, you low-lived galoot," said Julia, as she took her departure, "I guess I'm as respectable as the Wrengells. There never was a decent one amongst you. I've heard all about your tribe, you son of a thief. Mrs. Durgenson'll have you out of here in a week." "Durgenson has avoided me for several days," said John to Mrs. Baldwin. "I must see him and put a stop to these annoyances. I would rather talk to him than to the women. They always get the advantage of me." As he was passing the library in pursuance of his intention, he heard steps inside. Peering in, he saw Mrs. Durgenson standing on a chair in the act of tearing off the scraps which Mallard had pasted on the walls. These clippings, which were very valuable to political and biographical students, he prized especially because they had been arranged by his grandfather's hand. Such a desecration of his venerated ancestors memory filled John with indignation, and he was quick to show his displeasure.

"Mrs. Durgenson," he said, "I cannot allow that paper to be torn off. It was pasted there by my grandfather, and there it must stay, at least until the court decides against my claim."

"Why, this is my house," said Mrs. Durgenson, beginning to cry. "It's a pity if I can't do what I want to in my own house." As she spoke she tore from the wall a strip of paper, which fell to the floor.

"You must leave this room immediately," said John.

"You'll get yourself into trouble," said the angry woman, sobbing violently. "There'll be somebody after you. I'll tell Durgenson of this, and he'll fight you. He can do it."

"Tell him to come now," said John. "I will wait here in the library for him."

"Oh, Durgenson," wailed the wife, as she came into the presence of her husband, "I've been insulted in my own house."

"Who's been insulting you?" asked Durgenson.

"It's that low-bred Wrengell," replied Mrs. Durgenson between her sobs. "The library looks awful with those dirty papers on. I wanted to tear 'em off and fix it decent. He--he wouldn't let me. Oh, Durgenson will you let the wife of your bosom be insulted in her own house?"

"Now, wife of my bosom," said Durgenson, with a smile, "you get insulted very easy. In the first place, you hadn't ought to have been in there tearing off the paper, and in the next place, when he told you to go, you ought to have gone without a word."

"I never thought that of you, Durgenson," whimpered the wife. "You take up sides with him."

"Pshaw, now," said Durgenson, "if he had really insulted you, I would whip that paper off the wall with him. But, if I should pound him without any cause, it would hurt our claim to the estate. Just let me tell you, Maggie. Let him work and have it his own way for a while. What do we care if the paper stays on a week or two? And I wouldn't have the girl snake away any more quilts or truck from their part of the house."

"I can't be so spiritless," said Mrs. Durgenson. "It ain't natural for me. I can't bear to have that jail-bird around. Only think of it, what a low descent! We know the pedigree of the Wrengells."

"I'll admit all that," said Durgenson, lowering his voice, "but come here, Maggie. This is confidential, you know. It mustn't be lisped, even to the girl. We can get the start of him better to have him think we're friendly. Between you and me, he's got strong testimony to back his claim. No matter if it's false, it will count all the same in law. There isn't any doubt in my mind but what he'll get it."

"And we can't have Uncle George's property?" asked Mrs. Durgenson, again beginning to cry.

"Not unless we're lucky or mighty sharp," said Durgenson. "Don't cry your eyes out, Maggie. Something may turn up for us yet. He may go out in a rain-storm and catch his death of cold, or the cars may run over him, or he may eat too many vegetables and get downed by the colic."

"I don't just want him to die," said Mrs. Durgenson.

"No, nor I," said Durgenson, "but, if he does, we can't help it. We didn't want your Uncle George to die. He did, though, and we wouldn't have any objection to taking the property. Our chances are a good deal better if we can stay right here. So, you see, we better not quarrel with him, not stir him up to push his claim very fast."

"He said he wanted to see you in the library," said Mrs. Durgenson.

"I'd better go, too," said Durgenson. "I'll smooth matters over. And, Maggie, tell Jule not to quarrel any more with that girl in the south part. She'll be scratching her eyes out the next thing we hear."

"Durgenson, I have been wishing to see you for a week," was John's greeting, "For some reason you have avoided me."

"Oh, no, not a bit of it," said the cattle-buyer, stroking his well-trimmed beard with what seemed the essence of good-nature, "What can I do for you?"

"Keep your wife and your servant in your own part of the house," said John, "They come to this part and take everything they can find. I have endured it for a long time, because I disliked to speak to them about the matter and you have kept out of my way. I have stood it as long as I will."

"I'm sorry about that," said Durgenson. "It must be the girl. The women, you know, have got to sputter around and quarrel anyway. We hadn't ought to mind them. You and I can't afford to have a falling out just because the women don't agree."

"That talk sounds very well," replied John, "It does not, however, make up for the loss of household articles which are necessities."

"What have you missed?" inquired Durgenson.

"Too many things for enumeration," replied John. "Never mind what has been taken. If the evil is stopped now, I shall be satisfied."

"But I shan't be satisfied," said Durgenson. "Make out a list of what is missing, and I will bring them back, or pay you for them."

"I will take no pay for them," said John, ashamed that he had spoken harshly to a man who was so willing to rectify a wrong which he did not perpetrate.

"Yes," said Durgenson, "that is no more than square. Now, Wrengell, or Lehmann (excuse me, I didn't think), why don't you lock up these rooms? You know what women folks are. It may bother me to keep them within bounds."

"The keys are missing," replied John. "We have not seen them since last Tuesday."

"I wonder if that Jule has got them," remarked Durgenson. "I saw some keys hanging up in the sitting-room. Stay here a minute till I look." He very shortly returned with a bunch of keys.

"Those are the ones," said John. "Keep those which belong to your part of the house."

"I don't care anything about them," said Durgenson.

"I was thinking about your claim to-day. It looks plausible enough, so that it may make us a good deal of trouble. That Dabney would swear to a lie as quick as he'd yarn it about his salves and dopes. What will you take for your interest here, Lehmann?"

"I do not care to dispose of it," replied John. "I had rather have my honorable lineage acknowledged than to possess all the real estate in Lansing without the respectable lineage. If I sell out, it will look like a confession that I am an impostor."

"What will you give us for our interest?" asked Durgenson. "A lawsuit would be apt to eat a hole in what Uncle George earned."

"I will not give very much," answered John, "not more than five thousand dollars."

"That is pretty small," said Durgenson, "considering the amount of the property. Give me a little time to think it over, Lehmann."

Durgenson, seemingly in the best of humor, went to his sitting-room. Half an hour after their conversation John was passing through the hall when he heard a strange voice saying in the adjacent parlor, "There's no use of being worried about this matter, Mrs. Durgenson. It's my duty to take him with me and I shall have to. If I could help it, I would."

"Oh, Durgenson," wailed the wife, "you're going to leave your Maggie! Oh, Durgenson, dear, when will you be back?"

"Before a great while," responded Durgenson cheeringly. "I haven't hired anybody to steal horses. Some thieves killed a man in Illinois when he tried to stop them from taking his horse. I'm not responsible for it, and I can prove it. Can I speak a minute with my wife?"

"Talk away," said the officer, for the man was, indeed, a minion of the law. "Go to that side of the room if you want to, but I can't let you go out of my sight."

The reader, if he chooses, may peruse the whispered consultation, which was unintelligible to the officer and to John.

"Maggie," said Durgenson, "Lehmann has got us foul. He'll have this estate as sure as we're standing here. He has offered us five thousand to give up our claim. It isn't much, but you had better take it."

"We ought to see if we can't get something more," said Mrs. Durgenson.

"No," said Durgenson; "if we do, some disagreeable things will be brought up in court. We will lose the five thousand dollars and pay out besides. I did play sharp with him when he was a kid, Maggie, and we don't want it talked about much. Sign off your interest for what he offers."

"I'll have to interrupt you," said the officer. "Come on."

"Hadn't you better stay to dinner?" asked Durgenson. "We'll have it ready in a little while."

"No," said the officer, "I can't wait at all. It's nearly time for the train. Get on your hat now."

"Oh, don't take him! Don't take my Hiram!" pleaded Mrs. Durgenson, throwing her arms about her husband. "I can't live without him."

"Oh, yes, you can," said the officer, motioning Durgenson to go with him. "You'll flourish all right."

With many tears and apostrophic declarations of love Mrs. Durgenson bade farewell to her husband, who, in apparently good spirits, set out for Chicago to face the charge which had been brought against him.

Mrs. Baldwin was rejoiced at the removal of the great danger which, she said, had threatened them. She was not afraid of poison when Durgenson was in jail. Mrs. Durgenson, accepting her husband's advice, signed away her interest in the property for the five thousand dollars which was offered her. At her departure she took away large quantities of household goods as souvenirs of her Uncle George.

In a short time John was in undisputed possession of the Mallard estate. He longed to hear specific news from the Ratke neighborhood. The several letters which he addressed to Manie were signed John and brought him no answer. He did not reflect that his correspondent might be ignorant or forgetful of the recent change in his name.