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Mr。 Bowers pulled up。 Bob dropped into the road； and； after a
backward glance over his shoulder； said：
〃Drive 'longside the fence in the shadder。〃 As Mr。 Bowers obeyed；
Bob approached the wheels of the buggy in a manner half shy； half
mysterious。 〃You wanter buy them Summit woods； mister？〃
〃Well； per'aps； sonny。 Why？〃 smiled Mr。 Bowers。
〃Coz I'll tell ye suthin'。 Don't you be fooled into allowin' that
Cynthia wrote that po'try。 She didn'tno more'n Eunice nor me。
Mar kinder let ye think it； 'cos she don't want folks to think SHE
did it。 But mar wrote that po'try herself； wrote it out o' them
thar woodsall by herself。 Thar's a heap more po'try thar； you
bet； and jist as good。 And she's the one that kin write ityou
hear me？ That's my mar； every time！ You buy that thar wood； and
get mar to run it for po'try； and you'll make your pile； sure！ I
ain't lyin'。 You'd better look spry： thar's another feller
snoopin' 'round yereonly he barked up the wrong tree； and thought
it was Cynthia； jist as you did。〃
〃Another feller？〃 repeated the astonished Bowers。
〃Yes； a rig'lar sport。 He was orful keen on that po'try； too； you
bet。 So you'd better hump yourself afore somebody else cuts in。
Mar got a hundred dollars for that pome； from that editor feller
and his pardner。 I reckon that's the rig'lar price； eh？〃 he added；
with a sudden suspicious caution。
〃I reckon so；〃 replied Mr。 Bowers； blankly。 〃Butlook here； Bob！
Do you mean to say it was your motheryour MOTHER； Bob； who wrote
that poem？ Are you sure？〃
〃D'ye think I'm lyin'？〃 said Bob； scornfully。 〃Don't I know？
Don't I copy 'em out plain for her； so as folks won't know her
handwrite？ Go 'way！ you're loony！〃 Then； possibly doubting if
this latter expression were strictly diplomatic with the business
in hand； he added； in half…reproach； half…apology； 〃Don't ye see I
don't want ye to be fooled into losin' yer chance o' buying up that
Summit wood？ It's the cold truth I'm tellin' ye。〃
Mr。 Bowers no longer doubted it。 Disappointed as he undoubtedly
was at first；and even self…deceived；he recognized in a flash
the grim fact that the boy had stated。 He recalled the apparition
of the sad…faced woman in the woodher distressed manner； that to
his inexperienced mind now took upon itself the agitated trembling
of disturbed mystic inspiration。 A sense of sadness and remorse
succeeded his first shock of disappointment。
〃Well； are ye going to buy the woods？〃 said Bob； eying him grimly。
〃Ye'd better say。〃
Mr。 Bowers started。 〃I shouldn't wonder； Bob；〃 he said； with a
smile； gathering up his reins。 〃Anyhow； I'm comin' back to see
your mother this afternoon。 And meantime； Bob； you keep the first
chance for me。〃
He drove away； leaving the youthful diplomatist standing with his
bare feet in the dust。 For a minute or two the young gentleman
amused himself by a few light saltatory steps in the road。 Then a
smile of scornful superiority； mingled perhaps with a sense of
previous slights and unappreciation； drew back his little upper
lip； and brightened his mottled cheek。
〃I'd like ter know；〃 he said； darkly； 〃what this yer God…forsaken
famerly would do without ME！〃
CHAPTER V
It is to be presumed that the editor and Mr。 Hamlin mutually kept
to their tacit agreement to respect the impersonality of the
poetess； for during the next three months the subject was seldom
alluded to by either。 Yet in that period White Violet had sent two
other contributions； and on each occasion Mr。 Hamlin had insisted
upon increasing the honorarium to the amount of his former gift。
In vain the editor pointed out the danger of this form of
munificence； Mr。 Hamlin retorted by saying that if he refused he
would appeal to the proprietor； who certainly would not object to
taking the credit of this liberality。 〃As to the risks；〃 concluded
Jack； sententiously； 〃I'll take them； and as far as you're
concerned； you certainly get the worth of your money。〃
Indeed； if popularity was an indiction； this had become suddenly
true。 For the poetess's third contribution； without changing its
strong local color and individuality； had been an unexpected
outburst of human passiona love…song； that touched those to whom
the subtler meditative graces of the poetess had been unknown。
Many people had listened to this impassioned but despairing cry
from some remote and charmed solitude； who had never read poetry
before； who translated it into their own limited vocabulary and
more limited experience； and were inexpressibly affected to find
that they； too； understood it； it was caught up and echoed by the
feverish； adventurous； and unsatisfied life that filled that day
and time。 Even the editor was surprised and frightened。 Like most
cultivated men； he distrusted popularity： like all men who believe
in their own individual judgment； he doubted collective wisdom。
Yet now that his protegee had been accepted by others； he
questioned that judgment and became her critic。 It struck him that
her sudden outburst was strained； it seemed to him that in this
mere contortion of passion the sibyl's robe had become rudely
disarranged。 He spoke to Hamlin； and even approached the tabooed
subject。
〃Did you see anything that suggested this sort of business inin
that womanI mean inyour pilgrimage； Jack？〃
〃No；〃 responded Jack； gravely。 〃But it's easy to see she's got
hold of some hay…footed fellow up there in the mountains with
straws in his hair； and is playing him for all he's worth。 You
won't get much more poetry out of her； I reckon。〃
Is was not long after this conversation that one afternoon； when
the editor was alone； Mr。 James Bowers entered the editorial room
with much of the hesitation and irresolution of his previous visit。
As the editor had not only forgotten him； but even； dissociated him
with the poetess； Mr。 Bowers was fain to meet his unresponsive eye
and manner with some explanation。
〃Ye disremember my comin' here； Mr。 Editor； to ask you the name o'
the lady who called herself 'White Violet；' and how you allowed you
couldn't give it； but would write and ask for it？〃
Mr。 Editor； leaning back in his chair； now remembered the
occurrence； but was distressed to add that the situation remained
unchanged； and that he had received no such permission。
〃Never mind THAT； my lad；〃 said Mr。 Bowers； gravely； waving his
hand。 〃I understand all that； but； ez I've known the lady ever
since； and am now visiting her at her house on the Summit； I reckon
it don't make much matter。〃
It was quite characteristic of Mr。 Bowers's smileless earnestness
that he made no ostentation of this dramatic retort； nor of the
undisguised stupefaction of the editor。
〃Do you mean to say that you have met White Violet； the author of
these poems？〃 repeated the editor。
〃Which her name is Delatour；the widder Delatour；ez she has
herself gi