RED PEPPER BURNS By Grace S. Richmond CONTENTS CHAPTER I. IN WHICH HE VOWS A VOW II. IN WHICH HE CREATES A CIRCUS III. IN WHICH HE ASSUMES A RESPONSIBILITY IV. IN WHICH HE MAKES A CONCESSION V. IN WHICH HE IS ROUGH ON A FRIEND VI. IN WHICH HE PRESCRIBES FOR HIMSELF VII. IN WHICH HE CONTINUES TO SAW WOOD VIII. IN WHICH HE IS UNREASONABLY PREOCCUPIED IX. IN WHICH HE SUFFERS A DEFEAT X. IN WHICH HE PROVES HIMSELF A HOST XI. IN WHICH HE GETS EVEN WITH HIMSELF XII. IN WHICH HE HAS HIS OWN WAY XIII. IN WHICH HE MAKES NO EVENING CALL XIV. IN WHICH HE DEFIES SUPERSTITION CHAPTER I. IN WHICH HE VOWS A VOW “There comes the Green Imp.” “How can you tell?” “Don't you hear? Red's coming in on five cylinders for all he can get out of 'em. Anybody else would stop and fix up. He's in too much of a hurry--as usual.” The Green Imp tore past the porch where Burns's neighbours waved arms of greeting which he failed to see, for he did not turn his head. The car went round the curve of the driveway at perilous speed, and only the fact that from road to old red barn was a good twenty rods made it seem possible that the Green Imp could come to a standstill in time to prevent its banging into the rear wall of the barn. Two minutes later Burns ran by the Chesters' porch on his way to his own. Chester hailed him. “What's your everlasting hurry, Red? Come up and sit down and cool off.” “Not now,” called back a voice curtly, out of the June twilight. The big figure ran on and disappeared into the small house, the door slamming shut behind it. “Red's in a temper. Tell by the sound of his voice. “Is he ever in anything except a temper?” inquired a guest of the Chesters. Arthur Chester turned on her. “Show's you don't know him much, Pauline. He's the owner of the fiercest good disposition ever heard of. He's the pepperest proposition of an angel this earth has ever seen. He's a red-headed, sharp-tongued brute of a saint--” “Why, Arthur Chester!” “He's a pot of mustard that's clear balm--if you don't mind getting stung when it's applied.” “Well, of all the--” “I'm going over to get something for this abominable headache--and, incidentally, to find out what's the row. He's probably lost a patient--it always goes to his brain like that. When he abuses his beloved engine that way it's because some other machinery has stopped somewhere.” “If he's lost a patient you'd better let him alone, dear,” advised his wife, Winifred. “No--he needs to get his mind off it, on me. I can fix up a few symptoms for him.” “He'll see through you,” called Mrs. Chester softly, after him. “No doubt of that. But it may divert him, just the same.”