THE STORYTELLER.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LII, Issue 233, 6 November 1909, Page 3

THE STORYTELLER.

MRS CLACKETT'S CONQUEST (By William Cole Jones). A woman darted from a ramshackle doorway one gusty morning in Alarcn and scurrying through the weeds, stationed herself by a rail fence that divi 1cd her lot from the adjoining one. She carried a shotgun and a United States flag. On the other side of the fence workmen, with axes, were coming furtively from behind a pile of bricks aid lumber, lne woman raised her gun and cried shrilly to them: "Hold on, there! I'll shoot the first scoundrel that dares bother my fence. I'll do it as sure as my name's Lizzie Clackett." The men scampered like rats, all 'but a shaggy-chinned fellow. Boisterously clearing his throat, he said: "Look here, woman, this rotten oil fence is got to come down. It's on Mr. Buckdales land." "You're a liar!" blazed Mrs. Clacket-. '"Taint his land. It's mine. My Aunt Nancy Kilcrease " "Oh, cut that old gag!" the foreman broke in. "I'm sick of hearin' it. This fence is comin 1 down, I tell you, and that house there is goin' up if it takes all the 'Dailiffs in the country to hold

you while it's bein' done." With a toss of her head, Mrs. Clackett sprang forward as though she were going to leap over the rails. The foreman drew aside, hesitated a moment, aud then strode away to a little groceryshop that squatted by the suburban highroad. "I'm goin' to telephone," he snarled to his men, Some paces off he turned and shouted back: "You needn't think you can bluff me with that there gun. You wait just thirty minutes. I'm going to fix you for good. Just thirty minutes, that's all."

•What this threatening half-hour would bring forth, Mrs. Clackett could never have guessed. She had her emphatic opinion of Benjamin Buckda'c, the rich landowner, though she had never seen him. But she understood

that quaint old gentleman as little as tie shaggy-shinned foreman did, or even as little as Toby Driggles did. Driggles had been his comrade nearly hall a cen toy and was now running his big real estate business.

When the foreman's whiskers disappeared through the shop doorway Mrt. Clackett laid her gun on the top rail of the straggling fence, and began un folding the flag. Her war with progress had reached a decisive battle. For months past spruce bungalows and fashionable bungalows and fashionable residences had been springing up a'oout the pine-cloaked farm, where she had dwelt so long unmolested with Mr. Clackett and their ever-increasing brood of little Clacketts.

The fresh, open fields were giving way to boulevards and narrow; lawns; strange faces peered upon her cottag', sitting lonesome and askew in its cornpatch. She hated the sight of them all. In the mountains where she was bred a stranger's face had boded danger. And now already an automobile had broken the hind leg of her Jersey heifer and killed outright a pair of her plunipeat geese. Things looked bewitched to Mrs. Clackett, and the evil magician was Benjamin Buckdale. Was it not he who had 6old away the fields and built the

houses! She had borne these encroaeh- * ments in smouldering resentment until one day Driggles, the magician's archdevil, as she *ounted him, had called and declared that, according to a surveyor and the county map, her fen«e was four feet across the Buckdale property line.

That fired off the war which was now hurrying to a crisis. As Mrs. Clackett unwound her flag a gaily of wind sent its folds fluttering about her red hair. She shivered and coughed—a nagging, dry cough. Her face looked wretchedly worn in spite of its boldness. She tied one end of the colors to the twig of a. pereimmon-tne,. and, stepping back, surveyed them trustfully. Then she took up her gun again and turned a glowering front to the workfiien.

They were lounging about the lumber pile, trying to appear careless and amused to attract passersby who were gathering. Presently their foreman came strolling back a* jauntily as his thick 'egs could carry him. "Well, we've fixed her this time, boys," he chortled, Joud enough for Mrs. Clackett to hear. Then, in a lower voice, h* added: "I've been telephoning Mr. Drijjgles. lie's the real head of the business, you know, and he said he'd have a bailiff on the way here in ten minutes with a forcible detainer." "A what?" asked the grOcer. a hal;deaf old man, who had followed the foreman from his shop.

"A forcible detainer," bawled the foreman. "Mr. Driggles called it that; and its a powerful instrument of the law let me tell you." He glared belligerently on all around him, as though he wished to goodness somebody would dispute what he had said. The men nodded knowingly to each other.

"Ah, noiv we'll sec the fur fly," they chuckled. "That forcible detainer's the < hing." And they all sat down to wait. Aside from scolding a ribald young

rooster that was harrying her onion-beii, Mrs. Clackett remained contemptuously silent. From the doorway of the sprawling cottage a meek-eyed little man quavered apologetically.

"Go on back and mind them children." commanded Mrs. Clackett, without shifting her gaze from the crowd across the fence. "If a one of 'em gets hurt in Una scrimmage, you'll have it to answer for."

"Jest as you say, Betsy," sighed the iittle man. A moment later his mild bespectacled countenance appeared at a window-pane, encircled with nine amall faces, each a stamp of his own.

n. Acros£-town, in the office of the Buckdale Realty and Improvement Company, a sharp discussion was going on. Buckdale bad dropped in, ruddy from a morning gallop. He never did more than "drop in" at his business headquarters, Had he ever remained, Le would lave only been in Driggles' way, for lie knew little more of contracts, speu.:.-''cr. . front-feet, and the like than Don Quixote, his idol among

heroes. It was through no sin of his own that

Benjamin Ruckdale was classed among " the rich. Kven after his hair had grown frosty lie had kept a dim little shop oi books and antiques that had brought him a square living and ample leisure to read Cervantes and pirate tales. But when Im was fifty-five, lie had fallen heir through an uncle to the broad fields and iillsides around Mrs. Clackett's farm—a thousand acres or more. Then had come a flash of lnck. Tin pine-wooded suburb had waxed popular and whimsical fashion went rustliug away towards Mrs. Clackett's fence. For oner Piiu-kdale had shown business sense. Ho had turned over the development of the entire property to Toby Driggles. an old -'-h'"dmatc, who had always beaten him at marbles when tbev were boys. Ami henceforth Drigglc*' policies had directed his business. On this particular morning, however, Buckdalc had fastened on an opinion of his own; and, like men who bother with opinions only now and then, he was proving stubborn over It. "Of course, Driggs," lie was sayin?. . "she's probably mistaken, but hasn't this corporation plenty of land to build on without tearing the old woman up by the roots?" "Bah!" -lieered Dri'.'gles. "She's lust a snag rf Satan. She's insulted nv>,'' poundin; himself on the chest; "shell insult shaking his finger uni!"r Bird.' i ie's nose. "She's there now, with lii.it sliotgnn levelled on all five of our men. threatening to blow their brains out.''

Buckdale fell "hack and roared until his nose-glasses fell off. "Why, man. she's a wonder. She'B as good as a pirate. Start at the beginning and toll me about it all over again." Driggles whirled on bis hen!, and. walking to a window, stood tugging the ends of his stubbv moustache. At length he muttered, as though to himself:

"If you were a married man you'd see this thing as it is." "And T might say that if you we r e not a marred man you'd be less biass -d against Mrs. Clnckett." rejoined Buckdale. who sit rocking baek and forth, beating his heels together like cymbal*.

'•'lt's a good thing there's somebody to take this business seriously. TTenven knows, you're no business man." Dri?-' gicrf remarked drily. j "Yes. you've always said so. Bui. Buekdale, TOu're chock full of whims. This is your latest. It'* like the time you started that lovely charity hospital farm for broken-down hordes and mules. You remember what happened then. T reckon? That one-eyed devil of n ©are kicked your knee-cap 'most off the

first morning you went out." "You're right, you're right, Driggs. But she'd never have kicked me if she'd been handled sensibly in her girlhood. You see, she thqught I was her driver come back. That's why she let her heels liv, and I admired her spirit." Driggles stared down upon the corporation president. Ho seemed to be thinking: "Well, you are a fool, sure enough.' 1 Then, cocking liis shrewd, bald head, he asked: "Have you ever stopped to figure just why this old serai) /» raving »uou a hullabaloo?" "Partly, I suppose, because she believes the land is hers; mostly because she hates to give in." "Pooh! m tell you why. She's hoping that ffnaTly -we'll hand her a "wad of money to keep peace. She's trying to hold us up. It's as plain as the iiosu on her raw-boned face, and I'll be darned, sir, if I'm going to be bulldozed by a woman like that." Buckdale's face fell, as though some one had pointed out a cheap flaw in on™ •f his rarest curios. "A hold-up, a hold-up!" he pondered ruefully. "But doesn't ehe seem too hot in it all for anything like that?" "Humph!" grunted Driggles. "You dont understand human nature. I do. I haven't been eyeing this world forty years for nothing." "Exactly, old sleuth; and that's why yon know so little about this humsm nature. But if that is her game, why th-n—ah, I have it, Driggs. I'll go out myself and see what she's like. You may depend on me to find her motive." 'And you may depend on her to wal« jop the wind out of tou. Now, come-, ' what's the use in you sticking your thumb in this muddle? Besides, it's i too late to do anything now," ' Driggles turned to his desk with au air of finality. j 'Too late. Why?" "Because a baililT's on the way there 5 to take her to gaol, if she gives an- * othe r speck of trouble." * , "To gaol? Then he must be ( , stopped." < "What?" gasped Driggles. i His question remained unanswered. 1 for in a blink Buckdale had vanished ( through the door; and as Driggles sat 1 gazing on its jostled hinges, his mouth 1 hanging drolly open, he heard au anxious voice call in the passage: 1 "Goin' down?" - He plunged into a batch of contracts, 3 but his eye wandered continually to a narrow slice of horizon visible through * the office window. 1 "There's no telling what he may do to him," he kept muttering. Then, bustling across the room, he c snapped: 1 "Boy, bring me my overcoat." * 111. a 1

The crowd, that waited near Mrs. Clackett's fence, was growing restless of the law's delay. She had offered some diversion by throwing stones at a cluster of small boys—her long-time enemies—who were perched in a tree shouting: "Eat 'cm alive, Clack; eat 'em alive!" But ten o'clock had come without a glimpse of the bailiff and his forcible detainer. One of the workmen suggested: "Alaybe he's goin' to slip up behind her through the woods and rush it in on her while she ain't lookin'." The old grocer, who had held aloof, clicking a few dimes in his trouserspocket, drawleil back: "Lenime tell you, my friend; anybody that tries to outdo Lizzie Clackett had better go slow and keep his eye skint."

That moment two men came up the road. One of them was a bleared, dismal person, -with raw ears jutting above his celluloid collar. The other wore a jonquil in his coat, a. twinkle in his eye, and carried a riding-crop. They were the bailiff, and Buckdale, who had overtaken him. The two men conferred as they walked briskly along. "If you're willing t'o pay costs, that will be all right," the bailiff was saying.. "But the court must have its fee. That's the law"

"Good," whispered Buckdale. "As 1 6aid, I may need you, but I may not. Xow, not a word as to who I am. Nonody here knows but the foreman. Call him aside and tell him I say to ke«?p quiet. 11

Then lie turned into the wcedv path that wriggled up to the cottage. On spying him. Mrs. Clackett jerked her gun to a. straight line with his head. 'I he wind was whipping her faded, home-spun skirt about her ankles. Her eyes flitted here and there like hawU ready to pounce. Buckdale paused. IJ3 was face to face with a woman who iiated him, yet who did not know him from a house cat. "How like tfaroun A 1 Raschid ' thought Benjamin in a flash. Then he set out t<> play the role to a finish. Plucking a big white handkerchief from his pocket, he waved it solemnly back and forth, at the same lime lifting his hat to the Hag. "What do vou want in mv vard?" called Mrs. Clackett.

"I want to help you, madam," hj; said patly.

Ordinarily she would have resented tile oiler. She always drove awav charity workers. What was it ahont lod Mrs. CUckctt to lower her weapon? Maybe it was the straightforwardness of Lis gesture as he stretched his ope.i palm towards the fence. Maybe it was the honest look of his boots; somehow BcnjaminV, liroad-toed boots looked truthful, just as his hat looked waggish. "What's the matter?" he asked. "Matter?" she blurted. "Why, that fellow Buckdale's tryin' to steal my land—nasty old thing!" "Indeed!" exclaimed Benjamin, unprepared for quite so frank an outburst. The earnestness of his tone inspired Mrs. Clackett with confidence, and she bubbled forth.into a recital of her story with all the zest of one who finds a fresh, responsive listener. 'Til jest go back to the start and tell you about this fence," she began. "Oh, gee!" groaned the foreman. "She's off again on that same old tab." "My Aunt Nancy Kilercasa,* pho continued, "bought this here land thir r v years ago. She built that fence right where you see it now. When she dieu she give it all to me, and she says, 'Liz'beth, don't you never part with this ground.' She died of a cancer in her eye, goin* on seventy-five."

Feeling that the presence of so many strangers entitled them to liberties, Mr. Clackett and the brood of nine had stolen from their window, and now stood ranged about the head, of the family. He nodded assent to each of his wife's statements, but ventured to differ with her mildly on the year oi her aunt's death.

"Goin' on seventy-five, that's what 1 said," she reiterated, with a significant glance at Mr. C. "Oh, I'm not after disputin' what you say, Betsy," he hastened to explain; and that ended all question of family dates. .Mrs. Clackett resumed:

"I've been here ever since, washin' clothes: milkin' cows, takin' care of my chillun and husband like a honest woman. You see that duck standin' over yonder elost to the end of the fence? Lindy's buried there. She wa.s the fourth baby, and the prettiest one I ever had. I don't know who yon are mister, but I'll leave it to you ii it don't take a mean man to come and try to oust me from what liLtle I've got. Why, this is everythng I've got on earth)"

"Yes." said Benjamin. "Have yon ever told this to. er—what's his name— Buekdale ?"

"Him? No. I lliank goodness I ain't never laid eyes on the varmint himself. That Dri'ggle? was enough for me. He poked them fool court-papers in my faeiand kep' talkin' about the law this and the law that, as if my Aunt Nancy Kilcrease didn't know more about her fence than a whole pack of lawyers.'

At this the foreman broke into a guffaw, his companins bellowing a chorus. Buekdale waved them to silence.

"You men had better be careful in the presence of a woman armed with a shotgun," lie said impressively. Then, turning to Mrs. Clackett as though lie had not heard the derisive

laughter. he asked: u Madam, what would you say to selling the strip of fand if Bnckdale should pay vou a good sum for it? The money would help a great deal, yon know, in sending these (hoys and girls io ?oHool. ; ' ''That's so," Mrs. Claeket admitted.

She gathered up a corner of her apron and wiped her nose calculatingly as hor eve wandered down the rickety fence. ' "No" she said slowly, "there ain't no use figurin 1 on that/ There's Lindy's grave in the comer. Besides, I don't want none of Buckdale's money. My two hands have kep' me goin' this long, and 1 reckon they'll hold out to the end."

She swelled with pride, the like of which Buekdale had never witnessed even in a heroine on the stage. Fe stood leaning against the persimmon tree pottering with the Coils of a dead vine that writhed in and out o! the

fence. He was pondering just what to say aud liow to say it. IV. The crowd had drawn nearer ITy Ue-1 grees, and now liuug over the top rail, waiting eagerly. Something in the stillness kindled Mrs. Clackett's suspicion. She clutched her gun more tightly. "Who might yon be, anyhow)" she asked, with a troubled glance at Buckdale.

"1 am Buckdnle Benjamin Buck dale!"

The crowd swayed buck. .Mrs. (,'laekelt swayed forward. For an instant her eyes llauied, Then she caught her bespattered apron over her face and shook with sobs. The foreman stuek his thunijis in the armlioles of his waistcoat and grinneu like a Cheshire cat. Jlr. Claekclt, snivelling; softly to himself, .plucked at his wife's skirt. The old grocer's eyes bulged from their sockets. Then, from the rim of the crowd came a hard, cutting voice: "What's all this nonsense?'' It was Driggles. At sight of him, ■Mrs. Clackctt looked up, dry-eyed again and almost deliant. He pushed his way to the edge of tile fence, and, leaning over, snorted to Buekdale: Benjamin could only smile in an embarrassed sort of way and keep pottering with the dead, yellow coils of tlu vine. Driggles looked such a compact man of business, with his forceful air and closely cropped moustache, while he—why, lie was only a saunterer in the world's a flairs, a sixty-year-old boy still at play. Driggles wlurli-u about in disgust and called impatiently: "Here, you men, bfhig your axes and get busy on this fence. We've got a house to build."

It was that crabbed command which proved Buckdale's inspiration and gave Mrs. Clackett's conquest its peculi.tr savor. He had determined, within himself simply to say: "The fence shall stand, madam. I give you the land because I know you are honest, though doubtless mistaken." But what he did say, as he stepped briskly forward and halted the workmen, was a more generous gift Hum acres of land would have been. A shadowy, impish smile hung about the corners of his mouth.

"Stop," lie cried. "Surely you don t realise what you're rushing into. You're rash, all of you; eo rash that you're blind." He pointed over his shoulder to Mrs. Clackett and continued, with an actuil huskinese in his voice: "That lady's dangerous. She mea.is business. She'll blow you r head off ae quick as a cat could wink its eye. We'll have to let her fence stay where it is."

His glance ranged solemnly over them all until it fell upon Driggles. Thou he gave the wickedest wink imaginable. That gentleman's visage, which had been wavering between amazement and horror, now dropped to unutterable disgust. Flinging a look of scorn towards the lumber pile, he stalked away without a word. The workmen gazed vacantly upon each other and followed.

Heaven bless you, sir; Heaven bless you," blubbered Mr. Clackett, overcome with emotion.

"Your wife did it, not I," said Burt dale.

And, bowing formally, he went blithely off through the sunshine.

Mrs. Clackett watched them all disappear down the red roadway, her arms crossed Napoleon-wise. Then she pu'led down the lie?, and, between fits of coughing, began folding it reverently. The old grocer iooEed on.

"Mrs. Clackett, yon done noble," he said. "You whipped 'em to a frazzle.''

"Yes," she answered, raising her <rn:i in exultation; "and it warn't loaded, neither."