The Triumph of Virginia Dale Part 25

The lawyer was surprised. "Did he admit negligence?"

Virginia deemed this question to imply danger to Joe and she remembered her promise. "I am not at liberty to say, Mr. Wilkins," she answered stoutly. "I can't discuss Mr. Curtis's part in the accident."

For a moment Hezekiah eyed the girl thoughtfully. He arose and took a turn up and down the room while his eyes danced with mischief. He reached a decision which changed his line of questioning when he reseated himself. "Virginia, do you think that you were to blame for that accident?" he asked the girl.

"I know that I was."

"If you were a witness in court, would you testify that the accident was your fault?"

"I would admit my blame anywhere and any place, Mr. Wilkins."

"Did Mr. Curtis say anything to you about bringing a suit for damages against your father?"

"No, he wouldn't do that, I'm sure."

"Why are you sure?"

"I told him that I believed my father should pay him damages."

"What did he say to that?" asked Hezekiah with interest.

"He said that he wouldn't take money from my father."

"Was he angry, Virginia?"

"Oh, no indeed." She hesitated for a moment. "He seemed tired and worn out and so I left him."

"Well, Virginia, what would you say if I told you that I tried to reach an agreement with Mr. Curtis the other day and he refused to accept anything in settlement?"

"I say that my father is just the dearest and n.o.blest man that ever lived. He sent you to do that, didn't he, Mr. Wilkins, and never said a word about it to me? Isn't that just like Daddy?"

Hezekiah smiled but said no word. Possibly he remembered the amount of the check. Professional confidences make lawyers cynical. He drummed a spirited march upon his desk with his fingers and took no other part in the acclaim of Obadiah.

"Mr. Wilkins," worried Virginia, "do you suppose that you could have hurt Mr. Curtis's feelings?"

"I did not intend to. Men are never as gentle as women, though."

Hezekiah was playing a foxy game. "A man is rougher. It is easy for him to hurt the feelings of a sensitive person without having the slightest intention of doing so."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THIS REQUEST APPEARED TO REQUIRE DEEP THOUGHT"]

Virginia gave serious regard to memories of a pair of black eyes. "I think Joe Curtis is very sensitive," she said softly.

"Probably," agreed the crafty Hezekiah.

"Would you mind, Mr. Wilkins--" she gave the lawyer an appealing glance after some moments of consideration--"if I talked with Mr. Curtis about it?"

This request appeared to require deep thought, judging from the seriousness of Hezekiah's face for a few moments. Then it lightened as he decided, "I can see no objection to your talking to Mr. Curtis."

The attorney's manner became cheery and hopeful. "Now, if you two could arrive at a friendly settlement, it might be a most satisfactory arrangement." Hezekiah slapped his palms together and squeezed his own fingers as if shaking hands with himself at the successful outcome of his benevolent moves. Then he chuckled softly and went on, "Let's see what kind of an adjustment you two youngsters can make. If I can approve it, I will be glad to submit it to your father."

"I will see him as soon as I can, Mr. Wilkins. I can't go to the hospital this afternoon." Virginia's manner became very dignified, as she continued, "I am giving a concert, at the Lucinda Home."

"Delightful." Hezekiah bowed low at the news.

"I can see Mr. Curtis in the morning."

"That will be quite time enough. Don't inconvenience yourself, Virginia." Hezekiah smiled as they arose.

"Mr. Wilkins, won't you come to my concert?" asked Virginia, shyly.

"It would be a pleasure, indeed, but, business first, you know." He waved his hands, palms upward, as if protesting the lowness of his profit.

"My father said that I might tell you that he would be glad if you could arrange to come. He is out of town."

"Oh, in that case--" Hezekiah's manner was courtly--"I deem myself highly privileged in accepting your invitation."

As Virginia left Hezekiah's office, she found herself facing the open door of her father's suite. Through it Mr. Jones was visible at his desk, improving his mind in Obadiah's absence by reading a refined story by a polished author concerning genteel people. Mr. Jones needed physical rest and mental recreation. Upon the previous evening, Mike Kelly had seized his person and regardless of vigorous protests had put him through such a series of calisthenics, runnings, jumpings and rubbings that the particular soreness of each bone and muscle had merged into one great and common ache.

At the opening of Hezekiah's door, Mr. Jones raised his eyes and, consequently, his head. A wave of pain swept his muscles. He grimaced frightfully. It was upon this distorted countenance that Virginia gazed. The terrifying effect of the face held the girl for a second, but believing it occasioned by grievous illness she hastened to the aid of the stricken one.

Mr. Jones instantly recognized her and the course of destiny was made manifest. Regardless of untoward events, his social merit was appreciated and now one approached seeking counsel or bearing invitations to social festivities. She should not seek in vain. Percy Jones, private secretary and social adviser, was at her service. He sprang from his chair to meet the maid of blood with knightly bow and courtly grace.

Alack and aday, that snare of the devil, his waste basket, was misplaced.

He tripped against it. To avoid the thing, he raised his foot only to step into the throat-like neck of the monster which instantly clove to his shoe. Simultaneously, a flood of pain protested against his violent movements. In his agony, Mr. Jones lost his balance and fell over his desk. His outstretched hands sought safe anchorage amidst ink stands and mucilage bottles to rest finally in an ever spreading lake of ink.

Virginia halted. Mr. Jones's face, rent by emotion and struggle, convinced her that he must be in parlous case.

Kelly hurried in at the crash. He observed Mr. Jones's predicament with great calmness. Nodding to Virginia, he held the basket until the stenographer could extract his foot. Then he turned to the girl and said very soberly, in spite of the glint of amus.e.m.e.nt in his eye, "Mr.

Jones is the victim of an accident and requests permission to retire and cleanse himself."

As the crestfallen private secretary departed, Kelly and Virginia moved over to a window. The summer day in all of its beauty fought back the ugliness of the tin roofs and chimneys. The bookkeeper viewed the prospect. "By gum," he asked, "how'd you like to go snowshoeing?"

This marvelous witticism was greeted by a burst of laughing applause from its author and the girl, far in excess of its merit.

"Jones doesn't feel very well today," Kelly explained to her. "He is the victim of unusual exercise."

"He doesn't look like a man who would over-exercise. He does not strike me as a man who is in the best of health," she responded.

"He isn't. That's why he's so stiff and sore after a few little stunts. He doesn't get enough fresh air." Kelly cast a longing glance out of the window and turned to inspect the room. "There isn't enough fresh air in this place, anyway. Jones has sat in here day after day, sucking on cigarettes and beating on that typewriter, until good health no longer knows him. But," announced the bookkeeper with great confidence, "I am old Doctor Fix'em. I'm giving him a course in physical training which will fix him. I'm going to make that lad forget his present pains by giving him worse ones."

"I think it is perfectly fine of you, Mr. Kelly, to help Mr. Jones,"

exclaimed Virginia, highly interested in the bookkeeper's plans for the benefit of the stenographer. "It must make you very happy to be able to do it."

"Sure," he agreed. "I laugh myself sick every time I give him a new stunt to do. That fellow has good points. One of these days he's going to have the smile on some one else. You can't keep a good man down."

"Couldn't I help Mr. Jones, too?" asked the girl eagerly.

Kelly stared at her in amazement. "No, it can't be done," he cried, emphatically. "Whoever heard of a woman trainer? You've had no experience anyway."

Virginia blushed. "I didn't mean to help train him." She waxed indignant at the thought. "I only offered to do those things which I could do."

"Oh--" Kelly was relieved--"go as far as you like. There is plenty of chance for all on that fellow. It would be dandy if you could work it to get him out of doors once in awhile."