A Master's Degree [10]
their long black lashes lighting up his rugged face, gave to him an attractive personality.
Yet to Lloyd Fenneben, who saw below the surface, Victor Burleigh was only at the beginning of things. Something of the tiger light in the brown eyes, the pride in brute strength, the blunt justice lacking the finer sense of mercy, showed how wide yet was the distance between the man and the gentleman.
When Dr. Fenneben returned to his study after the hilarious demonstration he found Dennie Saxon busy with the little film of dust that comes in overnight. Old Bond Saxon, Dennie's father, had been one of the improvident of Lagonda Ledge who took a new lease on a livelihood with the advent of Sunrise. From being a dissipated old fellow drifting toward pauperism, he became the proprietor of a respectable boarding house for students, doing average well. At rare intervals, however, he lapsed into his old ways. During such occasions he kept to the river side of the town. Sober, he was good-natured and obliging; drunken, he was sullen, with a disposition to skulk out of sight and be alone. His daughter Dennie had her father's good-nature combined with a will power all her own.
As Dr. Fenneben watched her about her work this morning, he noted how comfortably she took hold of it. He noted, too, that her heavy yellow-brown hair was full of ripples just where ripples helped, that her arms were plump, that she was short and nothing willowy, and that she had a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
"Why don't you take a holiday, Miss Dennie?" he asked, presently.
"I wanted this done so I wouldn't be seeing dusty books in my daydreams," Dennie answered.
"Where do you do your dreaming today?"
"A crowd of us are going down the river to the Kickapoo Corral. I must make the cakes yet this morning," she answered.
"Good enough Can't I do something for you? Do you need a chaperon?" the Dean queried, smilingly.
"Professor Burgess is to be our chaperon. He is all we can look after." Dennie's gray eyes danced. but she was serious a moment later.
"Dr. Fenneben, you can do something, maybe, that's none of your business, nor mine." Dennie wondered afterward how she could have had the courage to speak these words.
"That's generally the easy thing. What is it?" the Dean smiled.
The girl hung her feather brush in its place and sat down opposite to him.
"Do you know anything about Pigeon Place?" she began.
"The little place up the river where a queer, half-crazy woman lives alone with a fierce dog?" he asked.
"Yes, you never heard anything more?" Dennie queried.
"Only that the house is hidden from the road and has many pigeons about it, and that the woman sees few callers. I've never located the place. Tell me about it," he replied.
"Bug Buler and I were up there after eggs this morning. Bug is Victor Burleigh's little boy. They board at our house," Dennie explained. "Pigeon Place is a little cottage all covered with vines and with flowers everywhere. It's hidden away from the road just outside of town. Mrs. Marian isn't crazy nor queer, only she seldom leaves home, never goes to church, nor visits anywhere. She doesn't care for anybody, nor take any interest in Lagonda Ledge, and she keeps a Great Dane dog, as big as a calf, that is friendly to women and children, but won't let a man come near, unless Mrs. Marian says so." Dennie paused.
"Very interesting, Miss Dennie, but what can I do?" Fenneben asked. "Shall I kill the dog and carry off the woman like the regulation grim ogre of the fairy tales?"
Dennie hesitated. Few girls would have come to a college president on such a mission as hers. But then few college presidents are like Lloyd Fenneben.
"Of course nobody likes Mrs. Marian, and my father--when he's not quite himself--says dreadful things if I mention her name." Dennie's checks were crimson as she thought of her father. "It's none of my business, but I've felt sorry for Mrs. Marian ever since she came here. She seems like an innocent outcast."
"That is very pitiful." Lloyd Fenneben's
Yet to Lloyd Fenneben, who saw below the surface, Victor Burleigh was only at the beginning of things. Something of the tiger light in the brown eyes, the pride in brute strength, the blunt justice lacking the finer sense of mercy, showed how wide yet was the distance between the man and the gentleman.
When Dr. Fenneben returned to his study after the hilarious demonstration he found Dennie Saxon busy with the little film of dust that comes in overnight. Old Bond Saxon, Dennie's father, had been one of the improvident of Lagonda Ledge who took a new lease on a livelihood with the advent of Sunrise. From being a dissipated old fellow drifting toward pauperism, he became the proprietor of a respectable boarding house for students, doing average well. At rare intervals, however, he lapsed into his old ways. During such occasions he kept to the river side of the town. Sober, he was good-natured and obliging; drunken, he was sullen, with a disposition to skulk out of sight and be alone. His daughter Dennie had her father's good-nature combined with a will power all her own.
As Dr. Fenneben watched her about her work this morning, he noted how comfortably she took hold of it. He noted, too, that her heavy yellow-brown hair was full of ripples just where ripples helped, that her arms were plump, that she was short and nothing willowy, and that she had a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.
"Why don't you take a holiday, Miss Dennie?" he asked, presently.
"I wanted this done so I wouldn't be seeing dusty books in my daydreams," Dennie answered.
"Where do you do your dreaming today?"
"A crowd of us are going down the river to the Kickapoo Corral. I must make the cakes yet this morning," she answered.
"Good enough Can't I do something for you? Do you need a chaperon?" the Dean queried, smilingly.
"Professor Burgess is to be our chaperon. He is all we can look after." Dennie's gray eyes danced. but she was serious a moment later.
"Dr. Fenneben, you can do something, maybe, that's none of your business, nor mine." Dennie wondered afterward how she could have had the courage to speak these words.
"That's generally the easy thing. What is it?" the Dean smiled.
The girl hung her feather brush in its place and sat down opposite to him.
"Do you know anything about Pigeon Place?" she began.
"The little place up the river where a queer, half-crazy woman lives alone with a fierce dog?" he asked.
"Yes, you never heard anything more?" Dennie queried.
"Only that the house is hidden from the road and has many pigeons about it, and that the woman sees few callers. I've never located the place. Tell me about it," he replied.
"Bug Buler and I were up there after eggs this morning. Bug is Victor Burleigh's little boy. They board at our house," Dennie explained. "Pigeon Place is a little cottage all covered with vines and with flowers everywhere. It's hidden away from the road just outside of town. Mrs. Marian isn't crazy nor queer, only she seldom leaves home, never goes to church, nor visits anywhere. She doesn't care for anybody, nor take any interest in Lagonda Ledge, and she keeps a Great Dane dog, as big as a calf, that is friendly to women and children, but won't let a man come near, unless Mrs. Marian says so." Dennie paused.
"Very interesting, Miss Dennie, but what can I do?" Fenneben asked. "Shall I kill the dog and carry off the woman like the regulation grim ogre of the fairy tales?"
Dennie hesitated. Few girls would have come to a college president on such a mission as hers. But then few college presidents are like Lloyd Fenneben.
"Of course nobody likes Mrs. Marian, and my father--when he's not quite himself--says dreadful things if I mention her name." Dennie's checks were crimson as she thought of her father. "It's none of my business, but I've felt sorry for Mrs. Marian ever since she came here. She seems like an innocent outcast."
"That is very pitiful." Lloyd Fenneben's