The Definite Object Part 45

"To talk!" she repeated, "you mean about--me?"

"Yes!" nodded Spike, avoiding her eyes, "about you and--him!"

"Well--let them!" she answered gently, "you and Ann are all I care about, so let them talk."

"But I--I don't like folks t' talk about my sister, an' it's got t'

stop. You got t' tell him so, or else I will. What's he got t' go buying ye flowers for, anyway?"

Hermione's black brows knit in a sudden frown. "Arthur, don't be silly!"

"Oh, I know you think I'm only a kid--but I ain't--I'm not. If you can't take care of--of yourself, I must and--"

"Arthur--stop!"

"Well, but what's he always crawlin' around here for?"

"He doesn't crawl--he couldn't," she cried in sudden anger; then in gentler tones, "I don't think you'd better say any more, or maybe I shall grow angry. If you have grown to think so--so badly of him, remember I'm your sister."

"But you're a girl, an' he's a man an'--"

"Stop it!" Hermione stamped her foot, and meeting her flas.h.i.+ng glance, Spike wilted and--stopped it. So, while he glowered at the paper again, Hermione put away the dinner things, making more clatter about it than was usual, and turning now and then to glance at him from under her long lashes.

"Where did you meet M'Ginnis as you came home, Arthur?"

"At the corner of--say, who told you I met him?"

"You did."

"I never said a word about meetin' him."

"No, but you've been telling me what he told you. Only M'Ginnis could be vile enough to dare say such things about me. Oh, Arthur, for shame--how can you listen to that brute beast--for shame!"

Now, meeting the virginal purity of those eyes, Spike felt his cheeks burn, and he wriggled in his chair.

"Bud only told me Geoff had been--been here," he stammered, "and I guess it was the truth--I--I mean--"

"Oh, boy, for shame!" and turning about, she swept from the room, her head carried very high, leaving him crouched in his chair, his nervous fingers twisting and turning a small box in his pocket--the box that held the forgotten hair-comb. He was still sitting miserably thus when he heard a knock on the outer door and a moment later a woman's voice, querulous and high-pitched.

"Oh, Miss Hermy, my Martin's very bad t'night, an' I got t' go out, an'

I can't leave him alone; would ye mind comin' down an' sittin' with him for a bit?"

"Why, of course I will."

"Y' see, since he had th' stroke, he's sorrered for our little Maggie--he was hard on her, y' see, an' since she--she died--he's been grievin' for her. Had himself laid in her little room--seemed to comfort him somehow. But to-day, when he heard we had to leave because th' rent was rose, it nigh broke his poor heart. An' I got to go out, an' I can't leave him alone, so--if y' wouldn't mind, Miss Hermy--"

"Just a moment--I'll come right now." As she spoke, Hermione reentered the kitchen, untying her ap.r.o.n as she came. Spike sat watching, waiting, yearning for a word, but without even a glance Hermione turned and left him. When he was alone, he started to his feet and tearing the box from his pocket dashed it fiercely to the floor; then as suddenly picked it up, and approaching the open window, drew back his hand to hurl it out and so stood, staring into the face that had risen to view beyond the window ledge, a round face with two very round eyes, a round b.u.t.ton of a nose, and a wide mouth just now up-curving in a grin.

"Hey, you, Larry, what you hangin' around here for?" demanded Spike, slipping the box into his pocket again. "What you doin' on our fire escape, hey?"

"Brought back yer roof!" replied the lad.

"Well, where is it?"

"Here it is." And climbing astride the window sill, Larry handed in the jaunty straw.

"Where'd you find it?"

"Bud give it me, 'n' say--"

"All right," nodded Spike, dusting the straw tenderly with a handkerchief. "Now git, I wanter be alone."

"But, say, Kid, Bud says I was ter say as he's sorry for what he said, 'n' say, he says you'd better be gettin' over t' O'Rourke's, 'n' say--"

"I ain't comin'!"

"But say, you're t' fight Young Alf, 'n' say--"

"I ain't comin'!"

"But say, dere's a lot of our money on ye--I got two plunks meself, 'n'

say, you just gotter fight anyway. Bud says so--"

"I can't help what Bud says; I ain't comin'."

"Not comin'!" exclaimed Larry, his eyes rounder than ever.

"No!"

Larry's wide mouth curved in a slow grin, and he nodded his close-cropped head; said he:

"Say, Kiddo, you know Young Alf's a punis.h.i.+n' fighter, I guess; you know as n.o.body's never stopped him yet, don't yer; you know as you're givin'

him six pounds--say, you ain't--scared, are ye?"

"Scared?" repeated Spike, frowning. "Do I look like I was scared? You know there ain't any guy I'm scared of--but I promised Hermy--"

"Pip-pip!" grinned Larry. "Say, if you don't turn up t'night, d'ye know what d' bunch'll say? Dey'll say you're a--quitter!"

"Well, don't you say it, that's all!" said Spike, laying aside his hat and clenching his fists.

"Not me!" grinned Larry. "There'll be plenty to do that, I guess--dey'd call it after ye in d' streets--dey'll give ye th' ha! ha! Dey'll say Hermy Chesterton's brother's a quitter--a quitter!"

For a long moment Spike stood with bent head and hands tightly clenched, then crossing to the sideboard, he picked up his shabby cap.

"Who's in my corner?"

"Now you're talkin', Kiddo; I know as you--"

"Who's in my corner?"