Jap Herron Part 24

"I can just make the 5:20," said j.a.p, as he caught up his hat and overcoat from the foot of the bed where he had flung them. Then he hurried to the station, with Rosy's foolish letter in his pocket.

Without looking to right or left he boarded the train that would have carried Bill to his love tryst. Already the evening shadows were beginning to settle, and it was almost dark when the local train ran into the siding to permit the east-bound special to pa.s.s. He stood on the steps of the rear coach as the wheels crunched with the stopping of the train. Then he dropped quietly to the ground. The special, that was wont to throw dust in the eyes of both Bloomtown and Barton, came thundering by, and the friendly local took up its westward journey.

j.a.p hurried over to the cloaked figure that crouched in the shadow of the little section house. Rosy crept out quickly, but retreated with a cry of alarm when she saw that j.a.p, and not Bill, was coming to meet her. He caught her by the arm and drew her into the light of an electric bulb that glowed above the section boss's door. Scanning her silly face for a moment, he said sharply:

"So you lied to Bill! There is no mark of a blow on your face."

"He--he did push me," she sobbed. "And I don't love him, anyway. It was your fault that I ran away with Wilfred."

"My fault?" echoed j.a.p.

"Yes," she said, and her tone rasped with cruel spite. "What girl wants to have her sweetheart only half hers? j.a.p Herron only had to twist his thumb, and Bill would run like a foolish girl. I wanted a whole man or none."

"Seems that you got one," commented j.a.p, "and don't appreciate him.

Now, Rosy, if you think you are going to ruin three lives by starting this kind of a play, I am going to undeceive you. I am going to take you home and look into this affair."

"I won't go!" she screamed. "He would kill me."

"What did you do?" demanded j.a.p, holding her tightly.

"I wrote him a note that I had run away with Bill," she confessed sullenly.

For the first time j.a.p became conscious of the suitcase at her feet.

His grip on her arm tightened until she cried with pain.

"You idiotic little fool," he ground between his teeth. "Where is your husband?"

"He went to the city this morning. He said he'd come home on the local if he got through his business in time. Otherwise he wouldn't come till the midnight train. I thought Bill could get a rig and drive to Faber. I thought he could take me away somehow before Wilfred got the news."

"News? Great G.o.d!" cried j.a.p. "And such as you could win the golden heart of Bill Bowers! Come with me. If your husband takes the late train, there is still time to destroy that note. If he is already at home----"

"He'd go to the office first, anyway," Rosy cried. "But I don't want to go home."

"You're going home, no matter what the consequences," j.a.p told her.

"And if you ever attempt to communicate with Bill again, I will have you put in an asylum. You are not capable of going through life sensibly."

He walked her rapidly up the railroad track and through the streets that lay between the business part of Barton and her own pretty home.

On the corner opposite the house he stopped, while she ran across the street in terror and rushed up the steps. She had told him that if all was yet well, she would appear at the window. As he stood there, his eyes glued on the great square of gla.s.s, some one touched him on the arm. He turned. It was Wilfred Jones.

"Well, Daddy-long-legs," he said brusquely. "You think you turned a pretty trick. Well, it was a fair fight, and I'm all over it."

j.a.p shook his hand mechanically, his eyes seeking the window from which Rosy was peering.

"Tell Bill that bygones must be bygones," Jones continued, "for we want to get the two papers together on the main issue. The old man will come in on the senators.h.i.+p on the strength of his race for governor.

And I want to tell you a secret that makes me very happy--and will make Bill feel different. The doctor has just told me that these queer spells and moods that Rosalie has been having lately mean--j.a.p, do you understand? I will be a father before summer!"

j.a.p wrung Jones's hand, a whirl of fancies going through his head. As he sought for suitable words of congratulation, a boy ran up.

"I been chasin' all over town ahuntin' for you, Mr. Herron," he said breathlessly. "I got a telegram for you."

Trembling with dread, j.a.p tore it open and read:

"_Come home at once. Your sister Agnosia is here._--BILL."

CHAPTER XXII

The streets were deserted as j.a.p came from the station. In his state of mind, he did not reflect on the oddity of this circ.u.mstance. But had he reflected, the condition of traffic congestion at the corner near Blanke's drug store and the further congestion in front of the bank would have enlightened him. All the business men of Bloomtown, who had rushed to the _Herald_ office with important advertis.e.m.e.nts or news items, were reluctantly giving place to those who had discovered a sudden want of letter-heads.

The telegraph office at Bloomtown was no secret repository, and in less than ten minutes after Bill had telegraphed j.a.p to hurry home the whole street knew that the beautiful vision that arrived on the 6:20 was j.a.p Herron's sister, Agnesia. And forthwith traffic filed that way.

The vision arose as j.a.p entered the front door, and waited until he came into the private office. It was apparent that Bill had played host, to the limit of his meager resources. Agnesia's hat and fur-trimmed coat lay on the table of exchanges.

"Well, j.a.ppie," she laughed in silvery tones, "how long you are!"

He took her little ringed hands in his and looked at her silently.

Agnesia was the beauty of the family. Her golden curls fluffed bewitchingly about her face and her wide blue eyes smiled affectionately.

"You are grown, too, Aggie. I have been thinking of you as a very little----"

"Mercy!" she broke in. "Please, j.a.ppie, don't drag that awful name to light. When I went to the new home, they mercifully killed Agnesia. I have been Mabelle Hastings so long that I had almost forgotten Aggie Herron. I gave that hideous name to your friend," she flung a gold-flashed smile at Bill, "because you had no sister Mabelle in the old days. Our folks made a bad selection of names for their progeny.

And why Jasper? Why didn't they put the James first? It sounds so much more human."

"Not a bit of it!" declared Bill. "What is there about James? This town had to have its j.a.p Herron. No subst.i.tute would have made good."

She slipped a glance through her long lashes at Bill.

"I called him 'j.a.ppie,'" she confided. "I was a lisping baby and couldn't say 'Jasper.' Dear old j.a.ppie, how he slaved for me! And I was a tyrant, demanding service every minute of the day."

j.a.p's face clouded. "Aggie is a bigbug now," came surging into his memory, as a wizened face obtruded itself between the laughing eyes of his sister and his own. The girl noted the swift change. She took his handy her voice quivering with appeal.

"I know what you are thinking about," she said. "But I could not help it, j.a.ppie. We don't have to keep up the pretense before Mr. Bowers.

He knows the worst, I take it. j.a.ppie, you may not remember, but when Mrs. Hastings adopted me, my mother had reported that she would either turn me out or give me to the county. Afterward my foster-mother took me away from Happy Hollow when she saw that our mother was bringing disgrace on all of us. She sacrificed her home and moved far enough away so that no smirch could come to me. You don't know, brother, and I would never want you to know the dreadful things she did. I had not heard from her since she married that drunken brute, until she came to the house one hot day. When she found no one at home, she laid down on the porch and went to sleep, drunk and unspeakably filthy. She was there when we returned with a party of friends. Can you imagine it, j.a.ppie?"

j.a.p nodded his head slowly.

"Mrs. Hastings had her taken out of town, and told her if she came there again she would have her put in an asylum for drunkards. After that she threatened to descend upon f.a.n.n.y Maud. f.a.n.n.y could not afford to have her career spoiled. Perhaps we were cruel. I read the scorching letter you wrote to f.a.n.n.y after her--after mother's death.

But f.a.n.n.y was not angry with you, and--and she was willing to have me come to you now. Next spring she will graduate in vocal music from the highest university in the country, and then she goes to Paris to study under the artists there. j.a.ppie, she has made a large part of it, herself, teaching and singing in the church choir, and studying whenever she had enough money ahead. At last Uncle Francis died and left her a snug little sum, and she went to New York, where they say her voice is a wonder. We should be proud of her. She wants you to come with me in June to hear her sing when she graduates."

j.a.p stared at the floor. She laid her hand coaxingly on his shoulder.

"Of course j.a.p will go!" Bill's brown eyes were glowing. j.a.p looked across at him in astonishment and wonder. His brain reeled. The day had been too full.

"And you?" the girl queried, smiling into those dancing brown eyes.

"We can't both go at once," he blurted. "The paper has to come out on time."