<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></SPAN>CHAPTER XXXVIII</h2>
<p class="center">SANCTIMONIOUS HYPOCRISY</p>
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<p class="cap_1">I WAS preparing to seed the biggest crop
I had ever sown. With Orlean helping
me, by bringing the dinner to the field
and doing some chores, during the fall
we had put the farm into winter wheat and I had
rented the other Megory county farm. I hired a
steam rig, to break two hundred acres of prairie
on the Tipp county homesteads, for which I was to
pay three dollars an acre and haul the coal from
Colone, a distance of thirty-five miles, the track
having been laid to that point on the extension west
from Calias.</p>
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<p>I intended to break one hundred acres with my
horses and put it into flax. I had figured, that with
a good crop, it would go a long way toward helping me
get out of debt. I worked away feverishly, for I
had gotten deeper into debt by helping my folks
get the land in Tipp county.</p>
<p>After putting in fifteen acres of spring wheat, I
hauled farm machinery to my sister's claim, and
then began hauling coal from Colone. It was on
Friday. I was driving two horses and two mules
abreast, hitched to a wagon loaded with fifty hundred
pounds of coal, and trailing another with thirty
hundred pounds, when one of the mules got unruly,
going down a hill, swerved to one side, and in less
time than it takes to tell it, both wagons had turned
turtle over a fifteen-foot embankment and I was
under eight thousand pounds of coal, with both
wagons<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</SPAN></span>
upside down and the hind wagonbox splintered
almost to kindling. That I was not hurt
was due to the fact that the grade had been built
but a few days previously, had not settled and the
loose dirt had prevented a crash. I attempted to
jump when I saw the oncoming disaster, but caught
my foot in the brake rope which pulled me under
the loads.</p>
<p>A day and a half was lost in getting the wreck
cleared so I could proceed to my sister's claim, from
where I had intended going home to my wife, fifteen
miles away. I had left the Reverend in charge
after he and Ethel had said about all the evil things
words could express, and he, finding that I was
inclined to be peaceful, had shown his hatred of me
in every conceivable manner, until Orlean, who
could never bear noise or quarreling, decided it
would be better that I go away and perhaps he
would quit. I did not get home that trip on account
of the delay caused by the wreck, but sent my sister
with a letter, stating that I would come home the
next trip, and describing the accident.</p>
<p>I went back to Colone, and while eating supper
someone told me three colored people were in Colone,
and one of them was a sick woman. I could hardly
believe what I heard. My appetite vanished and
I arose from the table, paid the cashier and left the
place, going to the hotel around the corner, and there
sat my wife. I went to her side and whispered:</p>
<p>"Orlean, what in heaven's name are you doing
here? And why did you come out in such weather."</p>
<p>She was still very sick and wheezed when she
answered, trembling at the same time:</p>
<p>"You<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</SPAN></span>
said I could go home until I got well."</p>
<p>"Yes, I know," I answered, controlling my
excitement. "But to leave home in such weather
is foolhardy."</p>
<p>It had been snowing all day and was slippery
and cold outside.</p>
<p>"And, besides," I argued, "you should never
have left home until I returned. Didn't you get
my letter?" I inquired, looking at her with a
puzzled expression.</p>
<p>"No," she replied, appearing bewildered. "But
I saw Ollie hand something to papa."</p>
<p>I then recalled that I had addressed the letter
to him.</p>
<p>"But," I went on, "I wrote you a letter last week
that you should have received not later than Saturday."</p>
<p>"I—I—I never received it," she answered, and
seemed frightened.</p>
<p>I could not understand what had taken place.
I had left my wife two weeks before, feeling that I
held her affections, and had thought only of the
time we'd be settled at last, with her well again.</p>
<p>The Reverend had said so much about her going
home that I had consented, but had stipulated that
I would wait until she was better and would then
see whether we could afford it or not.</p>
<p>Suddenly a horrible suspicion struck me with
such force as almost to stagger me, but calming
myself, I decided to talk to the elder. He came in
about that time and looked very peculiar when he
saw me.</p>
<p>The town was full of people that night and he had
some<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</SPAN></span>
difficulty in getting a room, but had finally
succeeded in getting one in a small rooming house,
and to it we now helped Orlean, who was anything
but well.</p>
<p>As we carried her, I could hardly suppress
the words that came to my lips, to say to him when
we got into the room, but thought it best not to say
anything. Ethel, who was sitting there when we
entered, never deigned to speak to me, but her eyes
conveyed the enmity within. The Reverend was
saying many kind words, but I was convinced they
were all pretense and that he was up to some dirty
trick. I was further convinced that he not only was
an arrant hypocrite, but an enemy of humanity as
well, and utterly heartless. When he and Ethel
had entered our home three weeks before, neither
shed a tear nor showed any emotion whatever, and
had not even referred to the death of the baby, but
set up a quarrel that never ceased after I went away.</p>
<p>"Reverend," I said. "Will you and Ethel kindly
leave the room for a few minutes? I would like
to speak with Orlean alone."</p>
<p>They never deigned to move an inch, but finally
the Reverend said:</p>
<p>"We'll not leave unless Orlean says so."</p>
<p>In that moment he appeared the most contemptible
person I ever knew. My wife began crying
and said she wanted to see her mother, that she
was sick, and wanted to go home until she got well.
I was angry all over and turned on the preacher,
exclaiming hotly:</p>
<p>"Rev. McCraline, I left you in charge of my wife
out of respect for you as her father, but," here I
thundered<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</SPAN></span>
in a terrible voice, "you have been up to
some low-lived trick and if I thought you were
trying to alienate my wife's affections, or had done
so, I would stop this thing right here and sue you, if
you were worth anything."</p>
<p>At this he flushed up and answered angrily:</p>
<p>"I'm worth as much as you."</p>
<p>He was a poor hand at anything but quarreling,
but knowing we'd make a scene, I said no more.
It was a long night, Orlean was restless, and wheezed
and coughed all through the night.</p>
<p>I have wondered since why I did not take the
bull by the horns and settle the matter then, but
guess it was for the sake of peace, that I've accepted
the situation and remained quiet. I decided it
would be best to let her go home without a big row,
and when she had recovered, she could come home,
and all would be well.</p>
<p>My wife had informed me that Claves kept up the
house, paid for the groceries and half of the installments,
while her father paid for the other half, but
never bought anything to eat, nor sent any money
home, only bringing eggs, butter, and chickens
when he came into the city three or four times a
year. But Claves' name was not on the contract
for the home, only her father's name appearing.
Her father was extremely vain and I had not pleased
him because I was independent, and he did not like
independent people. She also told me that her
father always kept up a row when he was at home,
but always charged it to everybody else.</p>
<p>The next morning, just before we started for the
depot, I said:</p>
<p>"I'll<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</SPAN></span>
step into the bank and get a check cashed
and give Orlean some money. I haven't much, but
I want her to have her own money."</p>
<p>"Never mind, my son, just never mind. I can
get along," said the Reverend, keeping his head
turned and appearing ill at ease, though I thought
nothing of that at the time.</p>
<p>"I wouldn't think of such a thing!" I answered,
protesting that he was not able to pay her way.
"I wouldn't think of allowing her to accept it."</p>
<p>"Now! Now! Why do you go on so? Haven't
I told you I have enough?" he answered in a tenor
voice, trying to appear winsome.</p>
<p>Feeling that I knew his disposition, I said no more,
but as we were passing the bank, I started to enter,
saying to my wife:</p>
<p>"I am going to get you some money."</p>
<p>She caught me by the sleeve and cried excitedly:
"No! No! No! Don't, because I have money."
Hesitating a moment and repeating, "I have
money."</p>
<p>"You have money?" I repeated, appearing to
misunderstand her statement. "How did you get
money?"</p>
<p>"Had a check cashed," she answered nervously.</p>
<p>"O, I see!" I said. "How much?"</p>
<p>"Fifty dollars," she answered, clinging to my
arm.</p>
<p>"Good gracious, Orlean!" I exclaimed, near to
fright. "We haven't got that much in the bank."</p>
<p>"Oh! Oh! I didn't want to," and then called to her
father, who was just coming with the baggage:
"Papa! Papa! You give Oscar back that money.
He<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</SPAN></span>
hasn't got it. Oh! Oh! I didn't want to do this,
but you said it would be all right, and that the
cashier at the bank, where you got it cashed, called
up the bank in Calias and said the check was all
right. Oh! Oh!" she went on, beside herself with
excitement, and holding her arms out tremblingly
and repeating: "I didn't want to do this."</p>
<p>I can see the look in his face to this day. All
the hypocrisy and pretense vanished, leaving him
a weak, shame-faced creature, and looking from one
side to the other stammered out:</p>
<p>"I didn't do it! I didn't do it! You—You—You
know, you told her she should write a check for
any money she needed and she did it, she did it."</p>
<p>Here again my desire for peace over-ruled my
good judgment. Instead of stopping the matter
then and there, I spoke up gravely, saying:</p>
<p>"I don't mind Orlean's going home. In fact, I
want her to go home and to have anything to help
her get well and please her, but I haven't the money
to spare. Her sickness, with a doctor coming into
the country twice daily, has been very expensive,
and we just have not the money, that is all."</p>
<p>When he saw I was not going to put a stop to it,
he took courage and spoke sneakingly:</p>
<p>"Well, the man in the bank at Carlin called up
the bank of Calias, and they said the money was
there."</p>
<p>"O," I said, "as far as that goes, I had five hundred
dollars there last week, it has all been checked
out, but some of the checks likely are still out."</p>
<p>I took twenty-five dollars of the money and gave
Orlean twenty-five dollars. Her ticket was eighteen
dollars.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</SPAN></span>
I went with them as far as Calias, to see
how my account stood. I kissed Orlean good-bye
before leaving the train at Calias, then I went directly
to the bank and deposited the twenty-five
dollars. The checks I had given had come in that
morning, and even after depositing the twenty-five,
I found my account was still overdrawn thirty
dollars.</p>
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<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</SPAN></span></p>
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