Three People Part 29

As he entered the carriage the driver volunteered some information.

"That man sells rum himself, in his grocery over there across the street, and he fought against the 'no license' pet.i.tion like a wild tiger last fall."

"Drive me home now, please," said Theodore aloud, in answer to this; and to himself he said, as he sank wearily among the cus.h.i.+ons: "Then I pray G.o.d to have mercy on him, and not make his judgment heavier than he can bear."

CHAPTER XX.

MRS. JENKINS' TOMMY.

There came a low tapping on the green baize door of Mr. Stephens'

private office. "Come," said Mr. Stephens from within, and a clerk entered.

"Is Mr. Mallery in, sir? There is a queer looking personage in the store who insists upon seeing him."

"Mallery," said Mr. Stephens, turning his head slightly, and addressing an individual farther back behind a high desk, "are you engaged?"

"Nine seventy-two--one moment, Mr. Stephens--nine eighty-one, nine ninety, one thousand. Now, sir, what is it?" and in a moment thereafter Mr. Mallery emerged. The clerk repeated his statement.

"Very well," said Theodore, "I'll be out in one moment." He still held the package of one thousand dollars which he had just counted in his hand. "There is your money, Mr. Stephens," he said, laying it down as the outer door closed on them.

"All right, is it?"

"All right."

"What have you done with the rest?"

"Locked it up."

"And the key?"

"In my pocket. Do you wish it, sir?"

"No," said Mr. Stephens, smiling. "Did you ever forget anything in your life, Theodore? I did not think you had time to turn a key before you came out."

"I turned it nevertheless," answered Theodore, significantly. "You know I don't trust that young man, sir."

"Not yet?"

"No, sir."

"Well, I hope and trust that time will prove you wrong and me right."

"I hope so, certainly," answered Theodore, dryly.

"But you don't believe it." And Mr. Stephens laughed a little as he added: "Now, Mallery, if you _should_ happen to be mistaken this time!"

Theodore answered him only by a grave smile as he went out of the room.

It was a busy spot outside--clerks and cash boys were flying hither and thither, and customers were many and impatient. Making his way through the crowd, bowing here and there to familiar faces, Theodore sought for the person who awaited him.

"A queer looking personage," the clerk had said, and over by one of the windows stood a meek-faced old woman, attired in a faded dress and shawl, and a rather startling bonnet as regarded shape. She looked as if she might be waiting or watching for somebody--at least she was not looking around with the air of a purchaser, and she was being rudely jostled every moment by thoughtless people or hurried clerks. Theodore resolved to discover for himself if this were the one in waiting, and advanced to her side.

"Can I do anything for you, madam?" he asked, with as respectful a tone as he would have used to Miss Hastings herself.

The woman turned a pair of startled eyes upon him; then seeming to be rea.s.sured, asked suddenly:

"Be you Mr. Mallery?"

"That is my name. What can I do for you?"

The old lady dropped him a very low, very odd little courtesy ere she answered:

"And I'm the widow Jenkins, and I've come--well, could I possibly see you alone for a bit of a moment? My head is kind of confused like with all this noise and running about; them little boys act as if they was most crazy anyhow, hopping about all over. I didn't know they allowed no playing in these big stores; but then you see I'm from the country, and things is queer all around; but if I only could see you all alone I wouldn't take a mite hardly of your time."

"You may come with me," answered Theodore, not stopping to explain the mystery of the cash boys, and show how very little like play their hopping about was after all. He led the way to a room opening off the private office, and giving the old lady one of the leathern arm-chairs, stood before her, and again inquired kindly:

"Now what can I do for you?"

"Well," began Mrs. Jenkins, her voice trembling with eagerness, "it's about my Tommy. He's the only boy I've got, and I'm a widow, and he lives at the Euclid House--works there, you know, and sleeps there, and all; and he's a good-natured, coaxy boy; he kind of wants to do just as everybody says; and he's promised me time and again that he wouldn't drink a mite of their stuff that they live on there, and he doesn't mean to, but they offer it to him, and the other boys they laugh at him, and kind of lead him along--and the long and short of it is, the habit is coming on him, Mr. Mallery, coming on fast. I've coaxed Tommy, and he means all right, only he don't do it; and I've been down there to Mr.

Roberts, and talked to him, and he's just as smooth as gla.s.s, and the difference between him an' Tommy is that he don't mean it at all, not a word of it, any of the time. I see it in his eyes, and I've tried to coax Tommy away from there, but he thinks he can't find anything else to do, and they are good to him there, and he's kind of bent on staying, and I've done every blessed thing I could think of, and now I am at my wits' ends."

And the voluble little woman paused long enough to wipe two glistening tears from her withered cheeks, while her listener, roused and sympathetic, asked in earnest tones:

"And what is it you would like to have me do? Tommy is in danger, that is evident. I do not wonder that you are alarmed, and I am ready to help you in any possible way. Have you any plan in view in which you would like my a.s.sistance?"

Before Mrs. Jenkins answered she bestowed a look of undisguised admiration on the earnest face before her, as she said:

"They told me you'd do it. Jim said--says he, 'if that man can't help you no man can, and if he _can_ he will. He told my Katie that last night, and I made up my mind to come right straight to you." And then she dashed eagerly into the important part of her subject. "I've laid awake nights, and I've thought and thought, and planned. Now that Mr.

Roberts, he's a slippery man, and when you talk to him he says he's under orders, and he does just as he is directed. Now, according to my way of thinking, it ain't no ways likely that Mr. Hastings goes and orders him to feed them boys on rum. But then it flashed on me last night about that Mr. Hastings--why he must be a good kind of a man, he give five hundred dollars to the Orphans' Home only last week."

"He ought to," interrupted Mallery. "He helps to manufacture the orphans."

"Well, that's true, too; but then like enough he don't stop and think what he is about--that's the way with half the folks in this world, anyhow; he may be willing to kind of help to keep them boys from ruin, and save his rum at the same time, and I was just thinking if somebody would just go and have a good kind plain talk with him, like enough he would promise to send Mr. Roberts word not to let them boys have any more drink, and that would help along the other boys as well as mine."

Theodore could scarcely restrain a smile at the poor woman's simple faith in human nature; he almost dreaded to explain to her how utterly improbable he felt it to be that Mr. Hastings would listen to any such plea as the one proposed.

"Why don't you go to him?" he questioned suddenly, as the eager eyes were raised to his awaiting his answer.

"Oh _dear me_!" she answered in consternation, "I should be fl.u.s.tered all out of my head entirely. I never spoke to such a man in my life. I shouldn't know what to say at all, and it wouldn't do any good if I did.

Jim, he said if you couldn't do it n.o.body need try."

"Jim overestimates my powers in this direction as in all others,"

Theodore said, smiling. "I have perhaps less influence with Mr. Hastings than with any other person, and I haven't the slightest hopes that--"

And here he stopped and listened to his thoughts. "After all," they said to him, "perhaps you misjudge the man--perhaps he really does not think what an injury he is doing to those boys simply by his good-natured carelessness. Suppose you should go to him and state the case plainly?

You really have some curiosity to see how he will meet the question; besides, it will at least be giving him a chance to do what is right if the trouble arises from carelessness; and, moreover, how can you be justified in disappointing this poor old mother? At least it would do no harm to gratify her, if it did no good."