Evening Republican, Volume 23, Number 72, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 March 1920 — THE NORTH POINT LAW [ARTICLE]

THE NORTH POINT LAW

By ARCHEY CAMERON NEW

I»2<. by McClure Newajxjxr SynOcalM

Constable Matthews stood at the door of hla little thatched cottage and sniffed inquisitively at the air, when a broad smile of contentment beamed on his wide, happy face and his keen gray eyes twinkled. “Cosh, bur thia weather’s fine," he exclaimed to himself, and then his glance strayed down the road toward the town store and a large group of men standing in front of IL “Plannin* some parade, I reckon." And then he sauntered forth toward the store, but not on police business. In fact. Sam Matthews seldom went anywhere on police business —because that business was exceedingly dull at North Point. “H’lo, Sam,” greeted some of the men in front of the store, as the officer hove into view. '‘Gonna pinch some snuff?" . ... ;

The joke was the oldest in North Point, but Sam hesitated, at the store steps and grinned amiably. "No, just pluggin’ alofig," he countered. humorously, as he pointed to an empty Jaw, usually filled with a quid. And then, as be turned his back on the crowd of men, and was about to enter the store, a name came to his ears that brought him up short. “Classon!” Always a name to be reckoned with, mused Sam. as he peered across the bridge toward Parksboro. A name either feared, hated or loved, according to circumstances. To be feared or hated, when the owner of the big mills at Parksboro wak mentioned. Nearly 30 per cent of the nfen at North Point drew Classon Woolen mills pay envelopes—and nearly 80 per cent of them hated the owner cordially For He was a hard taskmaster and thoroughly selfish. Sam gazed sympathetically toward his group of fellow-townsmen as he thought of Classon’s latest offense against his workers —a refusal to install a co-operative lunch room where they might get their lunches at cost And thinking of lunches, Sam smiled and reminiscently sighed as he thought of the bright captivating and ministering little angel—who also bore the name of Classon. , How many of those men, mused Sam tenderly, took slices of chicken, bits of luscious fruit and the like in their lunch boxes —borne to their women folks by Dorothy Classon. Dorothy was so unlike her father in every way as to make North Pointers forget' she was a Classon—generous to her finger-tips, lovable to her slip-per-tips, and democratic to a fault Sam listened to the wrangling for a few minutes listlessly—for it was all too well-known to him —and was about to enter the store when a dominant voice In the group arrested his attention, and he crouched in the dark of the porch to listen unseen. What he heard chilled every fiber of his body. They couldn’t do this thing, he gasped, as he crouched lower, listening intently. And use him, Sam Matthews. as a tool for their purposes—impossible! It was all very well to hate Classon, to denounce him, revile him, if they would —but this thing—-br-r-r, he shuddered. And then he sorrowfully realized that they were right—-they could use him—he was their constable. And then, after a few minutes, he heard footsteps at his back, crunching on* the gravel path. They were coming after him—after their constable—to makri him do his duty. He hung his head and slightly turned his face toward the house. Then he breathed easier, for the footsteps again receded up the street and he looked up. then was startled. He recognized the couple. It was Dorothy, and he noted regretfully her happy profile as she leaned on her escort’s arm and smiled into his face. Sam knew of the romance of this couple, and his warm old heart had rejoiced as, for months past, he had seen the girl stray past his home on the arm of George Fulton, the young assistant superintendent of the mills. A fine anal h. be agreed. Fulton had fought his way through the mills to the position he now held—perhaps the only one besides Dorothy who commanded a civil word from the elder Classon. Before this night he had gazed fondly at the picture of Fulton’s dark handsome bead against the golden head of Dorothy as they strolled through North Point. Sam shuddered now. and then he gazed apprehensively toward the store. No one was in sight. Perhaps it wasn’t too late —yet He might avert trouble after alt And no complaint had been made to him as an officer. He followed the pair stealthily, and then as Dorothy entered the gate of Vra Waters, the widow of anold mill employee- Sam noted that Fultpfi waited for her. He quickened his step and, passing Fulton with barely a nod, hurried up the walk and rang the bell. “G'd evenin’. Mrs. Waters.” he greeted the widow briefly as she admitted him. And then, noting Dorothy, he spoke quickly. “Please. Miss Doro|hy, the missus wants to see you right away. WfU you come owr "Why, sure* Dorothy agreed, laying a package* of tea on the table before Mrs. Waters’ grateful eyeo. And then bidding the widow a cheery good

tn a whisper, “we can get through the Aedge. It’s quicker." v T“But Geor—-Mr. Fulton, what about hlmr “PU ’tend to him," answered Sam briefly. “Please, Miss Dorothy—hurquestion, Dorothy followed the bld constable into his sitting room. Mrs. Matthews rose andtevelcomed her impulsively. Sam left the room £urriqity. "Why, Miss Dorothy,” exclaimed Mrs. Matthews, happily, “this is indeed a surprise!" a “A surprise!" echoed Dorothy, nonplused. “Why, didn’t you send for me? Mr. Matthews said—" * She stopped abruptly as she heard angry voices on the porch. “Ye’d better git out —and g!t quick!" she heard Sam’s shrill voice, and then Fulton’s deeper rumble Came to her ears. •Til do no such thing," snapped Fulton. “Miss Classon is with me. and I'm going to see her home. Oh. Dor —" Dorothy heard him start to call her name and then followed a short scuffle, followed by a dull thud. Dorothy screamed and then the door opened and the old constable staggered in bearing Fulton’s limp form In his arms, and dropping him on the

sofa. “Mr. Matthews, what have you doner cried the girl, as she leaned over Fulton’s head, and then, as she drew her fingers away wet she stared Ivor-rifled at Sam. who answered her stare coolly. “How dare you? You’ve killed him. You brute, you fiend —” Like a young lioness she sprang at Sam. who withdrew a pace and held out his arms restralnlngly. “He's not dead." he replied, coolly, and then he turned to his wife with an air of*command. “Get some warm water, ma, and bathe his head. He’ll come to In- a minute.- -PH be -back soon.” Mrs. Matthews stared at her husband questioningly, and ethen knowingly. as from long association with a man whose worldly wisdom had long since gained her complete confidence, turned a ministering hand toward the young man. Dorothy bent over him, calling to him to come back to life, revealing in her mental stress an understanding long since divined by the older woman, wnd then Just as Fulton’s eyelids quivered and he struggled to his feet, the door flew open and Sam reappeared, followed clergyman. His reappearance acted as a red flag to Dorothy, but he waived her aside, as he went toward the table and took up a leather-bound volume. “Not so quick. Miss Dorothy,” he droned, whimsically. “And be a little more respectful to’rds th’ law an’ th’ clergy.” “Law!” she flared, scathingly. “Is it lawful to strike a man cowardly with a club when he—” “God moves in mysterious ways his wonders to perform,” replied the constable, and then he turned to the clergyman. “Ain’t I right, pardon?” And then, to cut off another outburst from Dorothy, he opened the book in his hand. “Hold on. Miss Dorothy, and let me explain. To begin with, your daddy is a mean old cuss, and the boys all hate ’lm. They’ve tried every way they know to get simple justice out of him, but he’s just plain ornery, I reckon."

“But, what — T “Jest a minute. He told one of the boys that it didn’t matter t* him a dum bit if their wimmen folks did havet' work their arms off. An* that he didn’t keer a fiddler’s cuss if th’ wimmen folks were ashamed o’ their shabby clothes —nobody but a dern fool keered what folks said about ’em, says he. So th’ boys wanted t’ teach him a lesson. They’s an old law down here in this town what makes it a crime fer a young couple t’ be together on th' streets a’ter dark. Nobody ever paid much ’tention to it, ’cause I reckon th’ jail wouldn’t h’ been large enough fer 'em if they did. Th’ boys kinda thought yer daddy’d be kinda changed a bit if they showed him what disgrace’d mean t’ him, and bein’s they’ve noticed you an’ young Fulton out here several evenin’s together—they aimed t’ have me pinch y* fer'violatin’ th’ old North Point law!” “But it’s ridiculous!” Dorothy started to protest vehemently. “Granted. But that ain’t sarin’ ye none, n’r me neither. I knowed they’d ketch y* on th’ way back t’ town, so I had f keep y* from goin’ back. An’ from violatin’ th’ law, too. Th’ young feller kinda made it hard fer me, but I’ve kept y* from bein’ pinched.” Sam stopped, peered wistfully from the girl to the young man, and then turned* big e/es to tiie book again. “Th’ law also sez,” he continued, glancing at the pair through halfclosed lids, “that a constable kin issue marriage licenses a’ter dark and they ain’t nothin’ t’ keep a married folk from' trampin’ all over North Point together. Now, th’ parson’s a kinda curious feller an’ when I met him outside a few minutes ago he was kinds wonderin’ as whether you and Fulton liked each other enough t%—” Sain’s voice trailed off into a kind of smothas the girl threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. And then she glanced shyly at Fulton. “ ' “Do we, George?” she asked. “Let’s show them,” answered Fuk, ton with alacrity, as he sprang to her side, and with his arm around her tightly, turned to face the clergyman. “I reckon they do," said Sam a few minutes later as the clergyman handed Fulton a parchment certificate, and imitating toe young man he gave Ma -Matthews a great big bag and a van noisy fctMi