Tom Grogan Part 15

"Gentlemen, are you ready for the question?" asked the president.

At this instant there was a slight commotion at the end of the hall.

Half a dozen men nearest the door left their seats and crowded to the top of the staircase. Then came a voice outside: "Fall back; don't block up the door! Get back there!" The excitement was so great that the proceedings of the board were stopped.

The throng parted, The men near the table stood still. An ominous silence suddenly prevailed. Daniel McGaw twisted his head, turned ghastly white, and would have fallen from his chair but for Dempsey.

Advancing through the door with slow, measured tread, her long cloak reaching to her feet; erect, calm, fearless; her face like chalk; her lips compressed, stifling the agony of every step; her eyes deep sunken, black-rimmed, burning like coals; her brow bound with a blood-stained handkerchief that barely hid the bandages beneath, came Tom.

The deathly hush was unbroken. The men fell back with white, scared faces to let her pa.s.s. McGaw cowered in his chair. Dempsey's eyes glistened, a half-sigh of relief escaping him. Crimmins had not moved; the apparition stunned him.

On she came, her eyes fixed on the president, till she reached the table. Then she steadied herself for a moment, took a roll of papers from her dress, and sank into a chair.

No one spoke. The crowd pressed closer. Those outside the rail noiselessly mounted the benches and chairs, craning their necks. Every eye was fixed upon her.

Slowly and carefully she unrolled the contract, spreading it out before her, picked up a pen from the table, and without a word wrote her name.

Then she rose firmly, and walked steadily to the door.

Just then a man entered within the rail and took her seat. It was her bondsman, Mr. Crane.

XVI. A FRIEND IN NEED

Two days after Tom had signed the highway contract, Babc.o.c.k sat in his private office in New York, opening his mail. In the outside room were half a dozen employees--engineers and others--awaiting their instructions.

The fine spring weather had come and work had been started in every direction, including the second section of the sea-wall at the depot, where the divers were preparing the bottom for the layers of concrete.

Tom's carts had hauled the stone.

Tucked into the pile of letters heaped before him, Babc.o.c.k's quick eye caught the corner of a telegram. It read as follows:--

Mother hurt. Wants you immediately. Please come.

JENNIE GROGAN.

For an instant he sat motionless, gazing at the yellow slip. Then he sprang to his feet. Thrusting his unopened correspondence into his pocket, he gave a few hurried instructions to his men and started for the ferry. Once on the boat, he began pacing the deck. "Tom hurt!" he repeated to himself. "Tom hurt? How--when--what could have hurt her?"

He had seen her at the sea-wall, only three days before, rosy-cheeked, magnificent in health and strength. What had happened? At the St. George landing he jumped into a hack, hurrying the cabman.

Jennie was watching for him at the garden gate. She said her mother was in the sitting-room, and Gran'pop was with her. As they walked up the path she recounted rapidly the events of the past two days.

Tom was on the lounge by the window, under the flowering plants, when Babc.o.c.k entered. She was apparently asleep. Across her forehead, covering the temples, two narrow bandages bound up her wound. At Babc.o.c.k's step she opened her eyes, her bruised, discolored face breaking into a smile. Then, noting his evident anxiety, she threw the shawl from her shoulders and sat up.

"No, don't look so. It's nothin'; I'll be all right in a day or two.

I've been hurted before, but not so bad as this. I wouldn't have troubled ye, but Mr. Crane has gone West. It was kind and friendly o' ye to come; I knew ye would."

Babc.o.c.k nodded to Pop, and sank into a chair. The shock of her appearance had completely unnerved him.

"Jennie has told me about it," he said in a tender, sympathetic tone.

"Who was mean enough to serve you in this way, Tom?" He called her Tom now, as the others did.

"Well, I won't say now. It may have been the horse, but I hardly think it, for I saw a face. All I remember clear is a-layin' me hand on the mare's back. When I come to I was flat on the lounge. They had fixed me up, and Dr. Mason had gone off. Only the thick hood saved me. Carl and Cully searched the place, but nothin' could be found. Cully says he heard somebody a-runnin' on the other side of the fence, but ye can't tell. n.o.body keeps their heads in times like that."

"Have you been in bed ever since?" Babc.o.c.k asked.

"In bed! G.o.d rest ye! I was down to the board meetin' two hours after, wid Mr. Crane, and signed the contract. Jennie and all of 'em wouldn't have it, and cried and went on, but I braved 'em all. I knew I had to go if I died for it. Mr. Crane had his buggy, so I didn't have to walk. The stairs was the worst. Once inside, I was all right. I only had to sign, an' come out again; it didn't take a minute. Mr. Crane stayed and fixed the bonds wid the trustees, an' I come home wid Carl and Jennie." Then, turning to her father, she said, "Gran'pop, will ye and Jennie go into the kitchen for a while? I've some private business wid Mr. Babc.o.c.k."

When they were gone her whole manner changed. She buried her face for a moment in the pillow, covering her cheek with her hands; then, turning to Babc.o.c.k, she said:--

"Now, me friend, will ye lock the door?"

For some minutes she looked out of the window, through the curtains and nasturtiums, then, in a low, broken voice, she said:

"I'm in great trouble. Will ye help me?"

"Help you, Tom? You know I will, and with anything I've got. What is it!" he said earnestly, regaining his chair and drawing it closer.

"Has no one iver told ye about me Tom?" she asked, looking at him from under her eyebrows.

"No; except that he was hurt or--or--out of his mind, maybe, and you couldn't bring him home."

"An' ye have heared nothin' more?"

"No," said Babc.o.c.k, wondering at her anxious manner.

"Ye know that since he went away I've done the work meself, standin' out as he would have done in the cold an' wet an' workin' for the children wid n.o.body to help me but these two hands."

Babc.o.c.k nodded. He knew how true it was.

"Ye've wondered many a time, maybe, that I niver brought him home an'

had him round wid me other poor cripple, Patsy--them two togither." Her voice fell almost to a whisper.

"Or ye thought, maybe, it was mean and cruel in me that I kep' him a burden on the State, when I was able to care for him meself. Well, ye'll think so no more."

Babc.o.c.k began to see now why he had been sent for. His heart went out to her all the more.

"Tom, is your husband dead?" he asked, with a quiver in his voice.

She never took her eyes from his face. Few people were ever tender with her; they never seemed to think she needed it. She read this man's sincerity and sympathy in his eyes; then she answered slowly:--

"He is, Mr. Babc.o.c.k."

"When did he die! Was it last night, Tom?"

"Listen to me fust, an' then I'll tell ye. Ye must know that when me Tom was hurted, seven years ago, we had a small place, an' only three horses, and them warn't paid for; an' we had the haulin' at the brewery, an' that was about all we did have. When Tom had been sick a month--it was the time the bucket fell an' broke his rib--the new contract at the brewery was let for the year, an' Schwartz give it to us, a-thinkin'

that Tom'd be round ag'in, an' niver carin', so's his work was done, an'

I doin' it, me bein' big an' strong, as I always was. Me Tom got worse an' worse, an' I saw him a-failin', an' one day Dr. Mason stopped an'

said if I brought him to Bellevue Hospital, where he had just been appointed, he'd fix up his rib so he could breathe easier, and maybe he'd get well. Well, I hung on an' on, thinkin' he'd get better,--poor fellow, he didn't want to go,--but one night, about dark, I took the Big Gray an' put him to the cart, an' bedded it down wid straw; an' I wrapped me Tom up in two blankits an' carried him downstairs in me own arms, an' driv slow to the ferry."

She hesitated for a moment, leaned her bruised head on her hand, and then went on:--