David Lockwin--The People's Idol Part 10

"Bravo! professor, bravo!"

Now comes the sweetest of cradle-songs, the professor with damper on his strings, the professor's wife scarcely touching the piano.

The strain ends. The man is in tears--not the tears of an orator. He glances at the child and the great eyes are likewise dim. "Kiss me, Davy!"

But it is as if Davy were too hard at work with an article. He must break from the room, the man suddenly wis.h.i.+ng that the child could find its chief relief in him.

"Yet I made him take the medicine," thinks the man, in terror of that night.

The professor will take some little thing to eat--a gla.s.s of beer, perhaps--but he must not stay.

They go below, where Davy has told the cook of the extraordinary professor who can scarcely speak English. Davy has asked him if he could spell Josephus. "After all," says Davy, "I'd be ashamed to play so loud if I couldn't spell Josephus. It hurt my head."

"Yes, you darlint," says the cook; "here's some ice cream. I don't want you to wait. Eat it now."

"I can't eat anything but medicine," says Davy, "and I have to eat that or papa wouldn't love me. Do you think he loves me?"

"Ah, yes, darlint. Don't ye's be afraid of that. Thim as don't love the likes of ye's is scarcer than hen's teeth."

"T-double-e-t-h," observes the scholarly Davy.

"My! my!" cries the cook.

At the table, the professor will not care for any beer. Well, let it be a little. Well, another gla.s.s. Yes, the gla.s.ses are not large.

Another? Yes.

"Ah! Meester Lockwin," he says at last, "I like to play for you. You look very tired, I hear you will go to the--to the--"

The professor must be aided by his good wife.

"To the Congress--ah, yes, to the Congress."

"If I shall be elected to-morrow," smiles the candidate.

The friends go to their homes. It is not late. Esther has explained the need her husband has of both diversion and rest. "He is naturally an unhappy man," she says, "but Davy and I are making him happier."

"Of all the men I have ever known," says one of the guests to his wife, as they walk the few steps they must take, "I think David Lockwin is the most blessed. All that money could do was dedicated to his education. He is a brilliant man naturally. He has married Esther Wandrell. He is sure to be elected to-morrow, and I heard a very prominent man say the other day that he wouldn't be surprised if Lockwin should some day be President of the United States. They call him the people's idol. I don't know but he is."

"I don't believe he appreciates his good fortune," says the wife.

"Perhaps he has had too much."

CHAPTER X

ELECTED

Yes, this is distinctly happy--this night at home, in the chamber after the music, with Davy to sleep over here, too.

"There, Davy," urges Esther, "you have romped and romped. You have not slept a wink to-day. It is far too late for children to be up, David.

I only took down the stove to-day, for fear we might need it."

But it is difficult to moderate the spirits of the boy. He is playing all sorts of pranks with his father. The little lungs come near the man's ear. There is a whistling sound.

The north wind has blown for two weeks. It is howling now outside the windows.

"Pshaw!" the man laughs, "it is that cut-throat wind!"

For orators dislike the north wind.

"Pshaw! Esther!" he repeats, "I mistook the moaning of the wind in the chimney." But he is pale at the thought.

"I hardly think you did, David. I can hear him wheeze over here."

"You can! Come here, Davy." But the child must be caught. His eyes flash. He is all spirit. His laugh grows hoa.r.s.e.

"How stupid I am," thinks the man. He seizes the arch boy and clasps him in his arms.

Then Lockwin takes that white and tiny wrist. He pulls his watch. In five seconds he has fifteen beats. Impossible! Wait a few minutes.

"Sit still for papa. Please, Davy."

The indefinable message is transmitted from the man's heart to the child's. The child is still. The animation is gone.

Now, again. The watch goes so slowly. Is it going at all? Let us see about that.

The watch is put to ear. Yes, it is going fast enough now. Of course it is going. Is it not a Jurgensen of the costliest brand? Well, then, we will count a full minute.

"Hold still, Davy, pet."

What is Congress and President now, as the wheeze settles on this child, and the north wind batters at the windows?

The man looks for help to Esther. "Esther," he says, "I have counted 140 pulsations."

"Is that bad for a child, David? I guess not."

"I am probably mistaken. I will try again."

The child lays the curly head against Lockwin's breast. The full vibration of the struggling lungs resounds through the man's frame.

"The pulse is even above 140. Oh! Esther, will he have to go through that again?"

"No, David, no. See, he's asleep. Put him here. You look like a ghost. Go right to bed. To-morrow will be a trying day. Davy is tired out. To be sure, he must be worse when he is tired."

"Does the doctor come at all in the night?"

"Why, no, of course not. It is a chronic case now, he says. It requires the same treatment."