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Anonymous letters continued to come in almost by every mail, making charges and imputations upon Agnes, and frequently connecting Podge Byerly with her. Terrible epithets such as "Murderess!" "A second Mrs. Chapman!" "Jezebel," etc. were employed in these letters. Many of them were written by female hands or in very delicate male chirography, as if men who wrote like women had their natures.
As the deaf man reopened the parlor-door he saw the school director making a motion as if to embrace Podge, who was full of blushes and appearing to shrink away. "There's no imagination about that," thought Duff Salter. "If I could only hear well enough my ears might counsel me." He felt dejected, and his suspicions colored everything a most deplorable state of mind for a gentleman.
The voice of Calvin Van de Lear sounded high and meaningful as Podge caught these sentences: "Lord, smite the wicked and unjust as thou smotest Sapphira by the side of Ananias. We find her now in the mask of beauty, again of humility, even, O Lord, of religion, leading the souls of men down to death and hell. Thou knowest who stand before Thee to do lip service. All hearts are open to Thee.
"Oh! we are both bad enough to try to improve," exclaimed Agnes absently. "Jericho! Jericho! Jericho!" sneezed Duff Salter. He came down every evening, and began respectfully to bow to Agnes and to smile on Podge, and then stretched his feet out to the ottoman, drew his tablets up to the small table and proceeded to write.
Every day they made a new excursion, now into the country of the Neshaminy, and beyond it to the vales of the Tohicken and Perkiomen. They descended the lanes along the Pennypack and Poqessing, and followed the Wissahickon to its sources. Podge rapidly grew in form and spirits, and Agnes and Andrew Zane came out to spend a Saturday with them.
Duff Salter seemed to have heard this, for, with his grave eyes bent on Agnes, he echoed, dubiously: "Cut-throat!" With an impatient motion Podge Byerly snatched at the cards, and they fell to the floor. Agnes burst into tears and left the room. "Upon my word," thought Podge Byerly, "I believe this old gray rat is a detective officer!" There was a shadow over the best residence on Queen Street.
They will chew anything from a piece of India rubber shoe to slippery elm and liquorice root. One piece of liquorice will demoralize a whole class. They pass it around." Duff Salter replied, "The boys must have something in their mouths; the girls in their heads!" "But not liquorice root," added Podge. "No; they put the boys in their heads!" "Pshaw!" wrote Podge, "girls don't like boys.
And whether they liked it or not, in January, 1907, the marriage took place at the Registrar's and Beryl came to live for a short time at Ware, bringing ducksome Margery and adorable Podge.
As Duff Salter relapsed into silence, gazing on the fire, the voice of Calvin Van de Lear was heard by Podge, pitched in a low and confident key, from the parlor side: "I called, Agnes, when I thought sufficient time had elapsed since the troubles here, to express my deep interest in you, and to find you, I hoped, with a disposition to turn to the sunny side of life's affairs."
The Shattered Health of Mr. Podge "How are you, Podge?" I said, as I sat down in a leather armchair beside him. Last week I was feeling pretty good part of the time, but yesterday about four o'clock the air turned humid, and I don't feel so well." "Have a cigarette?" I said. "No, thanks; I find they affect the bronchial toobes." "Whose?" I asked. "Mine," he answered.
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