The Complete Works. O. Henry

of the old miser and renegade of the town. As we reached the door a sudden noise within made me pause, and I pushed open the rickety door. From a corner of the hut came a voice:

      “So you have come at last! I have just been waiting until you reached me, for I am going home. Going home to just a little place like this, but it has flowers in its yard and there are children who need me.”

      There came a sudden terrific whirl of wind and dust — the door slammed to and my knees shook, — for I was alone — no soul in sight, no habitation — only scurrying clouds and trees bending under the blast, while above me floated down a voice:

      “I am going home! Are you ready? Make ready! for soon you, too, will be GOING HOME

      MY HEARTH

      Grandfather sits in an old armchair. The back of it boasts an anti-macassar in many colors, while the seat has a patchwork cushion.

      Grandmother occupies a low rocker, which moves slowly to and fro, as she softly hums the hymn of the Sunday service.

      Keeping silence is grandfather’s “long suit” — while making, in reality, my life.

      He is a sturdy old chap, with a will and determination which has carried him beyond anti-macassars and patchwork cushions, and centered itself upon me No fly was ever more helpless!

      I make the announcement:

      “Life is going to give me something more than this country town.”

      Silence reigns on the left of the hearth, and creak! creak! and a gentle hum answers me from the right.

      Minutes, which seem hours, pass — but emboldened by the pictures seen in the coals, once more a voice is heard:

      “When I am grown up I am going to the city! and I am going to travel! and I am going around the world! and I am going to make a heap of money and be famous!”

      Silence!

      Creak — creak!!

      Half of eternity passes — when once more, emboldened spirit takes hold of courage and dares to speak.

      “I have made up my mind and I am going to do what I said, and nothing shall keep me from it!”

      Silence!

      Creak — creak!!

      Years pass in review. The coals burn to ash, and from a far-off sphere issues a voice:

      “I’ll have none of that nonsense. You’ll do what you are told to do!”

      Silence!

      Creak — creak!!

      The pictures fade. A clock strikes. The chair groans and grandfather goes in search of his lantern.

      Creak — creak! and then the touch of a gentle hand and a voice made sweet from singing many hymns:

      “Make your pictures, my boy, for they will come true. Make them, hold them, and most of all believe in them. Good night.”

      Silence!

      Creak — creak!!

The Three H’s

       Table of Contents

      FOREWORD

      Without Health, Life seems Hell.

      With Harmony it becomes Heaven.

      And when combined, Happiness,

      here, is the result.

      PART I.

      In a tavern, which was on the waterfront and visited mostly by sailors on shore leave, lay a semblance of a man. He was tattered and in rags. Crouching at his feet was a dog as forlorn as he was and in a starved condition.

      Standing around the pair was a circle of men — the regular habitues of the place.

      “Where”d you find him, Pete?” inquired a sour-visaged standee.

      “On the wharf. I heard the dog, and as my boy wants a cur, I followed the sound. But love ye! I couldn’t touch the dog, for he was that crazy at seeing me. Seemed like he would never stop running around me — but always out of reach — first to me and then to the bundle.

      Finally I got Steve there, and together we set to work to pick him up, and do you know, that cur jest settled down as quiet and followed at our heels. Seemed as if that was what he wanted.”

      Here the men looked sheepishly at each other, as if each was ashamed at the emotion which stirred within him and was afraid lest it be observed.

      Finally the first speaker took courage and said:

      “Well, come on, let’s see what’s wrong. Get some brandy — and, oh! hell! give the dog something to drink and eat, too.”

      In a moment there was action, where before there was inertia. One bringing a basin of warm water and a towel, another brandy, while the rest undertook to look after the dog, who refused to move away from the man’s side, however, and refused even the food and drink offered until he saw that aid was being given to his companion. Then, with a growl of satisfaction, which contained as well a despairing moan — as if the relief of nourishment was almost too great to bear — he commenced to devour ravenously what was placed before him, and gave thanks, in all directions, with a waving and vigorous tail message.

      Just as he made his final thump of gratitude, the figure of his companion stirred and moaned, and instantly the dog was over the heads of the men, bending over his master and wildly lapping his face and hands, from which the dirt and blood had been removed.

      It was a face of refinement, delicate in its outline, and with an expression which held the crowd silent Whether the brandy, which had been forced down his throat, or the caressing of the dog aroused him, it is difficult to say — for it was to the dog he turned his eyes, not to the men standing about him, and as his hand touched the animal it gave a wild yelp of gladness.

      At this, a glimmer of a smile passed over the face — a smile tender as a mother’s and filled with the love and adoration of a child.

      “Dakta, dear old Dakta,” he murmured feebly.

      At the sound of his voice the dog laid down and moaned from very joy.

      The man caressed the animal with the gentleness of a woman until it subsided and rested in peace against his body.

      Then his eyes wandered over the group, which had stood silent and awe-struck at the emotion of the dog. With a smile which radiated over them all. he said:

      “So you are Dakta’s good friends. 1 welcome you. comrades.”

      A shuffling of feet answered him, and glances shot from right to left, but before any one had summoned the courage to reply, he continued:

      “It seems strange to you, I perceive, for me to welcome you as Dakta’s friends. Men live all their lives with the most precious of jewels at their door and are unaware of it. Often it is wrapped in poor covering and often, too, in gorgeous raiment. I was one of those men.”

      Here he stopped and stroked the dog, who now lay quiet and content, glancing up. now and then, into his friend’s face.

      After a moment of silence, the man raised himself and looked intently into each face.

      A furtive smile answered his query, on some faces, while others looked away, and yet, without their volition, their eyes came back and rested on his face.

      “Come nearer, comrades. Sit at ease while I tell you of this jewel, which you all have within your reach and which Dakta, too, possesses.”

      The men seated themselves quietly — one might almost say, reverently — so different was their attitude