True and Other Stories Part 29

He glanced down at his arm, which still bore marks of sailor's tattooing, and at his hard hands all day in service at the loom; and then he sighed, as if despairing of rest.

"I know, dear father," said his daughter. "Mr. Hounsh.e.l.l would be very generous to you, so I wish I could do it. But oh, I can't, I can't!"

She put one hand on his arm and looked piteously into his face.

"I see how it is," said Scofield. "You have fixed your fancy on Jonah."

Addie softly moved away. All her color had returned, but she said nothing. They had barely seated themselves at the table when a knock was heard.

"Come in!" cried Addie, and on the entrance of the new-comer, "Oh--Jonah!"

"Did you think it was--well, never mind who."

Jonah, in whose spruce attire, as he now presented himself, it was not easy to recognize the brakeman of the afternoon train, made this enigmatical remark rather uneasily, and subsided into regretful silence.

"Sit down, Jonah, and have some supper," said old Scofield, with a slight lingering gruffness.

The young man, however, accepted without compunction; and in a twinkling Addie had spirited on to the table an extra cup, plate, knife and fork, which were suspiciously ready to her hand.

"We had a queer thing happen on the train this afternoon," said Jonah, as the hot tea roused him into talkativeness again. And he proceeded to relate the occurrence with which our narrative of these events began.

"Man's name is Piper," he continued--"Simeon Piper. No one knows anything about him, and he can't tell why he was there or where he was going. The shock put a screw loose in his brain somewhere, the doctor says. May get over it, and may not. But they won't keep him at the hospital long, because there's nothing the matter with him much, except that."

"Poor fellow!" Addie murmured. "What will he do when they send him away, if he doesn't know where he wants to go?"

"Can't make it out," was Jonah's answer. "Some one ought to take hold and help him till he gets well."

Addie made a prompt resolution.

"We'll take hold; won't we, father? Couldn't you bring him out here, Jonah?"

The brakeman reflected a moment. Piper was not young; so there was no objection on that score.

"Yes," he said, "I'll bring him out when I get back from my run to-morrow. They say he seems pretty well-to-do, too. He'll pay board."

"Never mind if he does," said Miss Scofield, artlessly. "We can be kind to him just the same."

It was settled accordingly.

After supper the two men went out into the garden. They had a serious subject to talk over, and Jonah began it by saying:

"The men are pretty near all agreed, Mr. Scofield, and we've got to do something soon. How is it in your mill?"

"Hounsh.e.l.l's, you mean," corrected the ex-sailor and weaver, cutting a piece of tobacco. "Well, I suppose a good many of our hands will go with you, if it comes to a strike. But I can control a number, I guess; and I'm bound to tell you that we shall stick to work and stand out ag'in you."

"That's bad--bad," mumbled the young railroader, with a troubled air. He plucked a spear of tall gra.s.s and began biting it. "I can't see, Scofield," he burst out (dropping the "Mr." this time), "why you stick to that man against all your own interests and the interests of your fellow-workmen. What's Hounsh.e.l.l compared with them?"

"He's my friend and benefactor; that's all. Didn't he take care o' my poor wife the day she died? And when I come back from sea, after a long cruise and a s.h.i.+pwreck, and my wife was dead, didn't I find that he had taken my little girl in tow, and was eddicating her? Look here,"

Scofield pushed up the sleeve of his coat and s.h.i.+rt and displayed the dim blue anchor on his fore-arm; "as long as that stays there I'm going to be true to the man as was true to me," he said.

"I know all that," said Jonah. "He's done a lot. The others are a little jealous of you, sometimes; and that's one reason I want you to be with us. If you ain't, they'll say: 'Oh, yes, it's very fine for Scofield to stay out! The boss helped him to a nice cottage, and give his daughter a pianna. But the rest of us have got to look out for ourselves.' That's what they'll say. And as for me, I say it's barter and trade; that's what! Hounsh.e.l.l give Addie an education and a pianna, and now he wants her to give herself in exchange."

"That ain't the way to look at it," retorted Scofield. "It ain't fair.

And if you mean to insult my daughter by your talk about barter and trade, why, you'd better--"

"You're the first to say 'insult,'" Jonah answered, in an angry, constrained tone. "I love Addie; and I don't believe she'd marry in any such way. And what's more, I--I kind of hope she'll marry me. There again, there's another reason why I wanted you to be on our side--now that we've got everything together, and the railroad hands and mill hands are ready to move at the same time. But I see it's no use; I've done my best."

"No; it's no use," a.s.sented the weaver. "I'm doing my best, too."

Thus it happened that the young man took his departure in some heat; but it was of her own accord that Addie followed this lover to the gate; and she did not let him go without a few sweet words to comfort him.

III.

LISTENING.

Martin Hounsh.e.l.l had three good causes for wis.h.i.+ng to marry Addie Scofield. First, so far as in him lay, he loved her. Secondly, knowing that opposition was afoot among the men, he feared the influence that Jonah Brown might obtain over Scofield, should he succeed in his courts.h.i.+p of the daughter; for he relied much on the sailor-weaver's loyalty to fight off the trouble. Thirdly, he had some time since been guilty of a secret misdeed, which he hoped to repair by bestowing further benefits on the Scofields.

This evening, after going from the cottage and leaving his horse at home, he went down to the deserted mill, entered the office, locked himself in, and then spread out on his desk the discovered memorandum.

The words with which it began were these: "Martin E. Hounsh.e.l.l. Property delivered, April 13th, 1877. Adelaide Scofield died same day. Husband returned--."

The date here was omitted. Below followed the names of certain persons in California, and two or three other brief notes.

To the mill-owner, sitting there in the dim candlelight, with a hand pressed nervously over his lips, this told the whole story. To any one it would at least suggest suspicion. Should he destroy the paper? He held it up toward the candle; then hesitated. It might be desirable first to find out who had written it, and to do this he would keep it as evidence. No place so unapproachable by others as his own pocket; so he put it away again.

The injury he had done to the unsuspecting Scofield had been crowned with success to himself, but it had tormented him, too. In spite of having given the man employment and having a.s.sisted the daughter, he could not escape his remorse. But when he should have wedded Addie, and lifted the weaver into a subordinate partners.h.i.+p, he felt sure that his mind would be at rest. "As it is," he muttered, "I have done more than most would have done, to make amends. I can't give up all--the whole thing. It ain't reasonable. And if I get to be his son-in-law, why, we're all together, and that squares it."

But who and where was this other man, this unknown Piper, who carried dangerous information which might at any moment, if disclosed, give a sudden check to the comforting plan thus formed? That must be learned without delay.

It was not until the next afternoon that, looking over the s.h.a.gford _Minute-Hand_ more carefully than he had had time to do in the morning, he saw an account of the accident at the railroad bridge, which accounted for the floating hat. Simeon Piper, then, was in the very town, at the hospital--perhaps at this instant telling some one the tale which had come to his knowledge! Preposterous unkindness of fate, to deal such a blow at this late day! Hounsh.e.l.l only half believed it could be dealt him; yet when he rose from his chair he felt very weak, and the solid walls of the mill as he pa.s.sed outside seemed decidedly rickety.

He very nearly expected them to fall over upon him. As directly as he could he made his way to the hospital, and by the time he reached it was aware that his interest in the stranger might appear somewhat singular.

To prevent this he began carelessly, to the attendant:

"Queer sort of case, that one you had yesterday from the railroad."

"Yes, a very narrow escape."

"I read about it in the _Minute-Hand_. How's he getting along?"

"Very well indeed. He's left us."

"Left a'ready!" Hounsh.e.l.l wondered if his face looked as white as it felt. "There's no chance, then--"

"No chance to see him now," said the attendant, far from suspecting the anxiety under that word "chance," as used by Hounsh.e.l.l.

"He's lucky to get off so soon," remarked the latter, a cold perspiration on his back. "Gone from town, I s'pose."