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Then she sent Nickey down to the hardware store for some light gray paint and some vivid scarlet paint, and a bit of dryer. It did not take very long to repaint her porch gray every trace of the blue and the magenta having been removed by the vigorous efforts of the three.
For one moment there was silence as they eyed each other; and then Maxwell burst into roars of uncontrollable laughter, which were not quite subdued as Nickey gave a rather incoherent account of the misfortune which had brought him to such a predicament. "So you were the Tattooed Man, were you!
Maxwell, is Jonathan Jackson, the Junior Warden; and this is my son Nicholas, generally known as Nickey, except when I am about to spank him. Say, Jonathan, you just h'ist that trunk into the back of the wagon, and Nickey, you take the parson's suit-case." The Junior Warden grinned good-naturedly as he shook hands with the new arrival.
Maxwell didn't look at him, and that was pretty bad. He began to get hot all over, and the matter was fast assuming a new aspect in his own mind which made him ashamed of himself. His spirits sank lower and lower. Finally his mother remarked quietly: "Nickey, I thought you were goin' to be a gentleman." "That's straight, all right, what I've told you," he murmured abashed.
But you will not hate me now? We could never be happy together again. Good-bye!" The summer had gone, the gorse had dried up, the herring-fishing had ended, and Pete had become poor. His Nickey had done nothing, his last hundred pounds had been spent, and his creditors in scores, quiet as mice until then, were baying about him like bloodhounds.
The place needs a lot of over-haulin'. Nickey says there's six feet of plaster off the parlor ceilin', and the cellar gets full of water when it rains; but I guess we can fix it up when the time comes. That's your cathedral, on the corner. You see, we have five churches, when we really need only one; and so we have to scrap for each other's converts, to keep up the interest.
Maxwell's eyes opened. "What book are you talking about, Nickey?" he asked. "The one you let me take, with the Indians in it." Maxwell had to laugh again. "So that's where the idea for this 'Carnival of Wild West Sports' originated, eh?" "Yes, sir," Nickey nodded.
For, about this time, in their efforts to amuse themselves, Nickey and some of his friends constructed a circus ring back of the barn: After organizing a stock company and conducting several rehearsals, the rest of the boys in the neighborhood were invited to form an audience, and take seats which had been reserved for them without extra charge on an adjoining lumber pile.
Now if you'll open the gate to Thunder Cliff, I'll be much obliged to you. If I don't get my mind on something less romantic than Virginia, we shall have to dine off airy fancies and that won't suit Nickey, for one." Betty, my love: I can imagine that just about this time you have finished your dinner, and are enjoying your after-dinner coffee in the library with your father.
And yet it happened at Durford, on occasion, that this awakening of new talents and individuality produced unlocked for complications. "Oh yes," Hepsey remarked one day to Mrs. Betty, when the subject of conversation had turned to Mrs. Burke's son and heir, "Nickey means to be a good boy, but he's as restless as a kitten on a hot Johnny-cake.
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