“Then it’s all off? You won’t vote the mill hands?”
“Not a man shall vote who is not properly registered.”
“I’m glad to hear it, Mr. Hopkins. Perhaps you can get that twenty-five hundred back. I don’t think Squiers has cashed the check yet.”
The Honorable Erastus gave a roar like a wild bull, but Uncle John had walked quietly out and climbed into his buggy. He looked back, and seeing Mr. Hopkins’s scowling face at the window returned a pleasant smile as he drove away.
Mr. Watson had just finished his interview with the dentist when Uncle John picked him up at the corner. The lawyer had accomplished more than the other two, for he had secured a paper exonerating Lucy Rogers and another incriminating the Honorable Erastus Hopkins, as well as the sixty dollars paid by Tom Gates. The dentist was thoroughly frightened, but determined, now that the conspiracy was defeated, that the man who had led him to the crime should not escape in case he was himself arrested. So he made a plain statement of the whole matter and signed it, and Mr. Watson assured Squiers immunity from arrest, pending good behavior. The man had already cashed Hopkins’s check, and he knew the Representative could not get the money away from him, so after all the dentist lost nothing by the exposure.
It was a jolly party that assembled at the dinner-table in Elmhurst that evening.
“You see,” explained Uncle John, “the thing looked as big as a balloon to us at first; but it was only a bubble, after all, and as soon as we pricked it — it disappeared.”
CHAPTER XXI
THE “RETURNS” FROM FAIRVIEW
Election day dawned sunny and bright; but there was a chill in the air that betokened the approach of winter.
Uncle John had suggested serving coffee to the voters at the different polling places, and Kenneth had therefore arranged for a booth at each place, where excellent coffee was served free all day long. These booths were decorated with Forbes banners and attracted a great deal of comment, as the idea was a distinct innovation in this district.
“You wouldn’t catch Hopkins giving anything away,” remarked one farmer to another. “‘Rast is too close-fisted.”
“Why, as fer that,” was the reply, “the thing is done to catch votes. You know that as well as I do.”
“S’pose it is,” said the first speaker. “I’d ruther my vote was caught by a cup of hot coffee on a cold day, than by nothin’ at all. If we’ve got to bite anyhow, why not take a hook that’s baited?”
Patsy and Beth made the rounds of the polling places in an automobile covered with flags and bunting, and wherever they appeared they were greeted with cordial cheers.
Mr. Hopkins was noticeable by his absence, and this was due not so much to his cowardice as to an unfortunate accident.
Neither Squiers nor Hopkins knew just how their secret had leaked out, for Patsy’s presence in the dentist’s office had not been disclosed; so each one suspected the other of culpable foolishness if not downright rascality. After Uncle John’s visit Erastus stormed over to Squiers’s office and found his accomplice boiling with indignation at having been trapped in a criminal undertaking.
As the two men angrily faced each other they could not think of any gentle words to say, and Dr. Squiers became so excited by the other’s reproaches that he indulged in careless gestures. One of these gestures bumped against the Honorable Erastus’s right eye with such force that the eye was badly injured.
The candidate for re-election, therefore, wakened on election morning with the damaged optic swollen shut and sadly discolored. Realizing that this unfortunate condition would not win votes, Mr. Hopkins remained at home all day and nagged his long-suffering spouse, whose tongue was her only defence.
The Representative had promptly telephoned to Marshall at Fairview telling him not to vote the men as arranged. He was not especially charmed with the manager’s brief reply:
“Don’t be alarmed. We’re not all fools!”
“I guess, ‘Rast,” remarked Mary Hopkins, looking at her damaged and irritable husband with a blending of curiosity and contempt, “that you’re ‘bout at the end of your rope.”
“You wait,” said Erastus, grimly. “This thing ain’t over yet.”
The day passed very quietly and without any especial incident. A full vote was polled, and by sundown the fate of the candidates had been decided. But the counting seemed to progress slowly and the group assembled around the telephone in Kenneth’s library thought the returns would never arrive.
The Republican Committee had given Mr. Forbes a table showing what the vote of each precinct should be, according to their canvass.
The first report was from Elmwood, and showed a gain of seventeen over the estimate. Patsy was delighted, for she had worked hard in Elmwood, and this proved that her efforts had been successful. Then came a report from Longville, in Jefferson County. It showed a gain of forty-three votes for Hopkins, and a consequent loss for Forbes. This was a startling surprise, and the next advice from a country precinct in Washington County showed another gain of twelve for Hopkins.
The little group of workers looked at one another with inquiring eyes, and Patsy could hardly refrain from crying.
The butler announced dinner, but only Louise and Mr. Watson could eat anything. The others were too intent on learning their fate and could not leave the telephone.
It seemed queer that the precincts furthest away should be first to respond, but so it was. Jefferson County returns began to come in rapidly, and were received in dismal silence. Hopkins gained four here, seven there, and twenty-two in another precinct.
“It looks,” said Kenneth, quietly, “like a landslide for Hopkins, and I wonder how our Committee was so badly informed.”
“You see,” said Uncle John, “voters won’t usually tell the truth about how they’ve decided to vote. Lots of them tell both sides they’re going to vote their way. And people change their minds at the last minute, too. You can’t do much more than average the thing by means of a canvass.”
By nine o’clock, complete returns from the part of Jefferson County included in the Eighth District showed a net gain of one hundred and eight for Hopkins — a lead that it seemed impossible to overcome. Washington County was not so bad. Incomplete returns indicated a slight gain for Hopkins, but not more than a dozen votes altogether.
“Everything now depends upon Dupree and Fairview,” announced Kenneth, “but I can’t get any connection with them yet. We won in Elmwood, anyhow, and Hopkins isn’t ahead more than a hundred and sixty as the thing stands now. Cheer up, girls. A defeat won’t hurt us much, for we’ve all made a good fight. Better get to bed and sleep, for you’re tired out. We’ll know all about everything in the morning.”
But they would not move. Disappointment unnerved them more than victory would have done. They resolved to wait until the last returns were in.
“Telephone, sir,” said Tom Gates.
Kenneth picked up the receiver.
“Here’s Dupree,” he said. “Our majority over Hopkins is two hundred and eleven. Let’s see, that’s a gain of seventy-four votes, my dears.”
“Hooray!” cried Patsy, delightedly. “I don’t care a rap now, what happens. Old Hopkins won’t have much to crow over if — ”
“Wait a minute,” said Kenneth. “Here’s Fairview, at last!”
They held their breaths and watched his face. Kenneth flushed red as he held the receiver to his ear, and then grew white. He turned around to the expectant group and Beth knew from the sparkle in his eyes what had happened.
“Fairview’s six precincts give us six hundred and forty-one majority,” announced the boy, in an awed tone. “That’s a gain of nearly four hundred!”
They gazed at him in silent wonder. Then Uncle John rose slowly and took the boy’s hand.
“That means we’ve won — and won in a walk,” said the little man. “Kenneth, we congratulate you.”
Patsy’s face was buried in her handkerchief, and Beth’s great ey
es were bright with unshed tears. But Louise laughed her soft, musical laugh and remarked:
“Why, I knew all the time we would win. We had the better candidate, you see.”
“And the best campaign managers,” added Uncle John, with a proud smile.
“That may be true,” admitted Beth. “But the thing that really won the fight was Patsy’s sore tooth.”
CHAPTER XXII
THE AWAKENING
James and Mr. Burke met the great specialist in brain diseases at the noon train on Wednesday and drove him to Elmhurst.
Dr. Hoyt was a handsome, gray-haired man, with kindly eyes and a distinguished manner. When he was ushered into the library the young ladies were attracted by the physician at once, and from the first glance were inspired by confidence in his powers. Yet Dr. Hoyt spoke rather doubtfully of the case in hand.
“These cases are not so rare as you might suppose,” he said; “yet no two of them are exactly alike. Usually the recovery is slow and tedious; but recovery is not always assured. In some instances, however, the memory is absolutely restored, and from what Mr. Burke has explained to me of Lucy Rogers’s history this is what we may expect now. Or else, we must trust to time or an accident to awaken her dormant mental faculties. The case is so interesting that I should like, with your permission, to make an experiment which can result in no harm if it does not succeed.”
“We put the matter entirely in your hands, sir,” said Uncle John. “Act as you think best.”
“I thank you,” replied Dr. Hoyt, bowing. Then he turned to the girls. “Which of you young ladies has won the friendship of Lucy Rogers?” he asked.
Louise answered that she and Eliza Parsons had become good friends.
“Will you assist me?” asked the physician.
“Willingly, sir.”
“I wish to send the girl into a deep sleep, to render her unconscious without her suspecting my intention, or realizing the fact. Can you suggest a way to do this?”
Louise tried to think.
“What means will you employ, sir?” she asked.
“There are many ways to accomplish this. I prefer to administer a powerful sleeping potion. Have you any confectionery or bon-bons at hand?”
“Yes, indeed. I have just received a fresh box of bon-bons from New York. But I’m not sure I can induce Eliza to eat candy.”
“Then let us prepare the potion in various ways. But you must be careful, Miss Merrick, not to make a mistake and take the dose yourself.”
Louise laughed.
“I’ll be careful, sir,” she promised.
The two then retired to perfect their plan, and in an hour every arrangement was complete.
Louise went to her room, donned a wrapper, and bandaged her head. Then she summoned Martha and asked the housekeeper to send Eliza Parsons to sit with her in the darkened room, as she was suffering from a headache.
The maid came at once, to all appearances, as happy and careless as ever. After expressing her sympathy she asked what she could do.
“Just sit down and keep me company, dear,” replied Louise. “I’m not very bad, but I’m restless and can’t sleep, and I want you to talk to me and amuse me.”
Eliza laughed.
“That is easy, as far as talking is concerned,” she said. “But to amuse you, Miss Louise, may be more difficult.”
But the girls found a topic of conversation in the election, in which Eliza was much interested, and they chatted together for an hour or so before Louise made any move to consummate her plot.
“I hope my foolish reports to Mr. Hopkins did no harm to Mr. Forbes,” Eliza was saying. “I really had little to tell him of your conversation or movements.”
“You did no harm at all, for Mr. Forbes was elected,” replied Louise. Then she said, carelessly:
“Martha has sent me this pitcher of lemonade, and I don’t care for it. Won’t you drink a glass, Eliza?”
“No, thank you,” she replied, shaking her head. “I never drink lemonade.”
“Then have one of these sandwiches?”
“I’m not hungry, Miss Louise.”
Louise sighed. Both the lemonade and the sandwiches had been “dosed” by Dr. Hoyt. Then she picked up the box of bon-bons that was beside her.
“But you will eat some candy, dear. Every girl likes candy.”
“I don’t seem to care for it,” said Eliza carelessly.
“Just one piece, to please me,” coaxed Louise, and selected a piece from the box with dainty care. “Here, my dear; you’ll find this sort very nice.”
Eliza hesitated, but finally reached out her hand and took the bon-bon. Louise lay back in her chair and closed her eyes, fearing their eagerness might betray her. When after a time she opened them again Eliza was slowly rocking back and forth and chewing the confection.
Dr. Hoyt’s first suggestion had been best. The potion had been prepared in several ways to tempt Eliza, but the candy had been the effectual bait.
Louise felt a glow of triumph, but managed to continue the conversation, relating in an amusing way the anxiety of the Elmhurst folks when the first returns seemed to indicate the election of Hopkins.
Eliza laughed once or twice, her head resting upon the back of her chair. Then the words of Louise began to sound dreamy and indistinct in her ears. The chair rocked with less regularity; soon it came to a stop, and Eliza was peacefully sleeping in its ample depths.
Louise now rose softly and rang her bell. Footsteps approached, and a knock came upon the door. She admitted Dr. Hoyt, Mr. Burke, and two servants.
The physician approached the sleeping girl and gently lifted the lids of her eyes. Then he nodded with satisfaction.
“There was no suspicion on her part? She made no struggle — no attempt to evade unconsciousness?” he asked.
“None at all, sir,” replied Louise. “She ate the bon-bon, and was asleep before she realized it.”
“Excellent!” said the doctor. “We will now place her in her own room, upon her bed, while Mr. Burke and I drive over to her former home to complete our arrangements.”
“Won’t she waken?” asked Louise.
“Not until tomorrow morning, and when she does I hope for a complete restoration of her memory.”
Beth went with Dr. Hoyt to the Rogers farm, because she knew Mrs. Rogers. It was necessary to break the news to the poor, blind woman gently, but Beth’s natural tact stood her in good stead. She related the story of the search for Lucy, the discovery that one of the maids at Elmhurst resembled the missing girl, and the detective’s conclusion that Eliza Parsons was none other than Lucy Rogers, who was suffering from a peculiar mental aberration and had forgotten every detail of her former life.
Mrs. Rogers followed the tale with intelligent understanding, and her joy at the discovery of her wandering child was only tempered by the fear that Lucy would never know her mother again or be content to remain in her humble home.
Then Dr. Hoyt took up the conversation and related the many instances of complete recovery that had come under his observation.
“I am adopting heroic methods in this case,” said he, “but I have reasonable hopes of their success. Your child doubtless became mentally confused while under this roof. How many hours she wandered, we do not know, but it could not have been long before she lay down by the roadside and fell asleep. When she awakened her mind was a blank as regards her identity and former history. Now, in order to effect a recovery, I have reversed these experiences with her. She is at present plunged into a deep sleep, under the influence of narcotics that have rendered her brain absolutely inactive. It is really a state of coma, and I wish her to waken in this house, amid the scenes with which she was formerly familiar. By this means I hope to induce her mental faculties to resume their normal functions.”
Mrs. Rogers accepted this proposal with calmness and a confidence in the physician that was admirable. Old Will trembled with nervous excitement, and was so “flustered” by the importance of
the experiment that Dr. Hoyt decided to give him a quieting potion.
Lucy’s room was prepared in the exact manner in which she had left it, and presently the visitors drove back to Elmhurst.
In the evening the doctor made the journey a second time, accompanying the unconscious form of Lucy, which was attended by a maid Louise had sent with her.
The girl was undressed and put to bed in her own room, and then everyone except Dr. Hoyt returned to Elmhurst.
The physician sat late in conversation with the blind woman and old Will, and when they retired for the night he lay down upon a lounge in the little living-room. The question of fees or of comfort was wholly ignored by the specialist at the moment. His sole interest was in his remarkable case.
Mrs. Rogers rose at daylight and with old Will’s assistance prepared the breakfast. The little table was set in the humble living-room, and the fragrant odor of coffee pervaded the house. Dr. Hoyt drank a cup and then stepped out upon the little porch, taking a position of observation by the window.
“All right, Nell,” muttered old Will, his knees knocking together, in spite of himself.
Mrs. Rogers rose quietly and walked to the foot of the stairs.
“Lucy! Lucy!” she called.
“Yes!” came a faint reply.
“Breakfast is ready!”
Then the two old people sat in suppressed excitement for what seemed to them an age. But the physician, calmly stationed at the window, knew it was not very long.
Presently a light step sounded upon the stairs and Lucy came into the room.
“Good morning, mother dear!” she said, a new, sweet tenderness in her voice. And then she knelt and kissed the woman upon her brow.
The doctor looked at his watch.
“I must be going,” he muttered, turning away. “There’s time for me to catch the early train.”
THE END
AUNT JANE’S NIECES IN SOCIETY
Aunt Jane’s Nieces in Society, published in 1910 by Reilly & Britton, was Baum’s fifth in the series under the name, Edith Van Dyne, and illustrated once again by Emile A. Nelson. Persuaded that his nieces need to experience more of society, Uncle John arranges for their debut. Once accepted, they will manage the flower booth at the year’s most important charity ball. Complications ensue with star-crossed love, jealousy, and abduction. This novel marks the first appearance of the detective, Quintus Fogerty, who appears in later books in the series.
Complete Works of L. Frank Baum Page 447