But Pupkin felt that what ordinary people dare not do, heroes are allowed to attempt.He would propose to Zena, and more than that, he would tell her in a straight, manly way that he was rich and take the consequences.
And he did it.
That night on the piazza, where the hammock hangs in the shadow of the Virginia creeper, he did it.By sheer good luck the judge had gone indoors to the library, and by a piece of rare good fortune Mrs.
Pepperleigh had gone indoors to the sewing room, and by a happy trick of coincidence the servant was out and the dog was tied up--in fact, no such chain of circumstances was ever offered in favour of mortal man before.
What Zena said--beyond saying yes--I do not know.I am sure that when Pupkin told her of the money, she bore up as bravely as so fine a girl as Zena would, and when he spoke of diamonds she said she would wear them for his sake.
They were saying these things and other things--ever so many other things--when there was such a roar and a clatter up Oneida Street as you never heard, and there came bounding up to the house one of the most marvellous Limousine touring cars that ever drew up at the home of a judge on a modest salary of three thousand dollars.When it stopped there sprang from it an excited man in a long sealskin coat--worn not for the luxury of it at all but from the sheer chilliness of the autumn evening.And it was, as of course you know, Pupkin's father.He had seen the news of his son's death in the evening paper in the city.They drove the car through, so the chauffeur said, in two hours and a quarter, and behind them there was to follow a special trainload of detectives and emergency men, but Pupkin senior had cancelled all that by telegram half way up when he heard that Peter was still living.
For a moment as his eye rested on young Pupkin you would almost have imagined, had you not known that he came from the Maritime Provinces, that there were tears in them and that he was about to hug his son to his heart.But if he didn't hug Peter to his heart, he certainly did within a few moments clasp Zena to it, in that fine fatherly way in which they clasp pretty girls in the Maritime Provinces.The strangest thing is that Pupkin senior seemed to understand the whole situation without any explanations at all.
Judge Pepperleigh, I think, would have shaken both of Pupkin senior's arms off when he saw him; and when you heard them call one another "Ned" and "Phillip" it made you feel that they were boys again attending classes together at the old law school in the city.
If Pupkin thought that his father wouldn't make a hit in Mariposa, it only showed his ignorance.Pupkin senior sat there on the judge's verandah smoking a corn cob pipe as if he had never heard of Havana cigars in his life.In the three days that he spent in Mariposa that autumn, he went in and out of Jeff Thorpe's barber shop and Eliot's drug store, shot black ducks in the marsh and played poker every evening at a hundred matches for a cent as if he had never lived any other life in all his days.They had to send him telegrams enough to fill a satchel to make him come away.
So Pupkin and Zena in due course of time were married, and went to live in one of the enchanted houses on the hillside in the newer part of the town, where you may find them to this day.
You may see Pupkin there at any time cutting enchanted grass on a little lawn in as gaudy a blazer as ever.
But if you step up to speak to him or walk with him into the enchanted house, pray modulate your voice a little musical though it is--for there is said to be an enchanted baby on the premises whose sleep must not lightly be disturbed.
