The Nest Builder Part 48

How think of children's play-time stories when those little bodies were being brought into Queenstown harbor? Farraday himself, the efficient, the concentrated, sat absent-mindedly reading the papers, or drumming a slow, ceaseless tap with his fingers upon the desk. The general gloom was enhanced by their knowledge that Mac, their dear absurd Mac, was going. But they were all proud of him.

By two o'clock Farraday had read all the news twice over, and Adolph's letter three times.

Telephoning for his car to meet him, he left the office and caught an early afternoon train home. He drove straight to the Byrdsnest and found Mary alone in the sitting room.

She rose swiftly and pressed his hand:

"Oh, my dear friend," she murmured, "isn't it terrible?"

He nodded. "Sit down, Mary, my dear girl." He spoke very quietly, unconsciously calling her by name for the first time. "I have something to tell you."

She turned white.

"No," he said quickly, "he isn't dead."

She sat down, trembling.

"I have a letter from Adolph Jensen. They are both wounded, and in the American Hospital in Paris. The Foreign Legion has suffered heavily.

Jensen is convalescent, and returns to the front. He was beside your husband in the trench. It was a sh.e.l.l. Byrd was. .h.i.t in the back. My dear child--" he stopped for a moment. "Mary--"

"Go on," she whispered through stiff lips.

"He is paralyzed, my dear, from the hips down."

She stared at him.

"Oh, no, James--oh, no, James--oh, no!" she whispered, over and over.

"Yes, my poor child. He is quite convalescent, and going about the wards in a wheeled chair. But he will never be able to walk again."

"Why," said Mary, wonderingly, "he never used to be still--he always ran, and skipped, like a child." Her breast heaved. "He always ran, James--" she began to cry--the tears rolled down her cheeks--she ran quickly out of the room, sobbing.

James waited in silence, smoking a pipe, his face set in lines of inexpressible sadness. In half an hour she returned. Her eyes were swollen, but she was calm again.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting so long," she said, with a pitiful attempt at a smile. "Please read me the letter, will you?"

James read the French text. Stefan had been so brave in the trenches, always kept up a good heart. He used to sing to the others. A sh.e.l.l had struck the trench; they were nearly all killed or wounded. Stefan knew he would walk no more, but he was still so brave, with a smile for every one. He was drawing, too, wonderful pencil drawings of the front. Adolph thought they were much more wonderful than anything he had ever done.

All the nurses and wounded asked for them. Adolph would be going back in a month. He ventured to ask Mr. Farraday to lay the affair before Mrs.

Byrd. Stefan had no money, and no one to take care of him when he left the hospital. He, Adolph, would do all that was possible, but he was sure that his friend should go home. Stefan often, very often, spoke of his wife to Adolph. He wore a ring of hers. Would Mr. Farraday use his good offices?

James folded the letter and looked at Mary.

"I must go and fetch him," she said simply.

"Mrs. Byrd--Mary--I want you to let me go. Mac has offered to do it before enlisting, but I don't think your husband cared for Mac, and he always liked me. It wouldn't be fair to the baby for you to go, and it would be very painful for you. But it will give me real happiness--the first thing I've been able to do in this awful business."

"Oh, no, James, I couldn't let you. Your work--it is too much altogether."

"The office can manage without me for three weeks. I want you to let me do this for you both--it's such a small thing."

"I feel I ought to go, James," she reiterated, "I ought to be there."

"You can't take the baby--and she mustn't suffer," he urged. "There will be any amount of red tape. You really must let me go."

They discussed it for some time, and at last she agreed, for the sake of the small Rosamond. She began to see, too, that there would be much for her to do at this end. With her racial habit of being coolest in an emergency, Mary found herself mentally reorganizing the regime of the Byrdsnest, and rapidly reviewing one possible means after another of ensuring Stefan's comfort. She talked over her plans with James, and before he left that afternoon their arrangements were made. On one point he was obliged to give way. Stefan's money, which he had returned to Mary before enlisting, was still intact, and she insisted it should be used for the expenses of the double journey. Enough would be left to carry out her plans at this end, and Stefan would know that he was in no sense an object of charity.

James, anxious as he was to help his friends in all ways, had to admit that she was right. He was infinitely relieved that the necessity for practical action had so completely steadied her. He knew now that she would be almost too busy in the intervening weeks for distress.

The next day James engaged his pa.s.sage, sent a long cable to Adolph, and performed prodigies of work at the office. By means of some wire-pulling he and Mac succeeded in securing a cabin together on the next American liner out.

Meanwhile, Mary began her campaign. At breakfast she expounded her plans to Miss Mason, who had received the news overnight.

"You see, Sparrow," she said, "we don't know how much quiet he will need, but we couldn't give him _any_ in this little cottage, with the babies. So I shall fit up the studio--a big room for him, a small one for the nurse, and a bath. The nurse will be the hardest part, for I'm sure he would rather have a man. The terrible helplessness"--her voice faltered for a second--"would humiliate him before a woman. But it must be the right man, Sparrow, some one he can like--who won't jar him--and some one we can afford to keep permanently. I've been thinking about it all night and, do you know, I have an idea. Do you remember my telling you about Adolph Jensen's brother?"

"The old one, who failed over here?"

"Yes. Stefan helped him, you know, and I'm sure he was awfully grateful.

When the Berber shop changed hands in January, I wondered what would become of him; I believe Miss Berber was only using him out of kindness.

It seems to me he might be just the person, if we could find him."

"You're a smart girl, Mary, and as plucky as they make 'em," nodded the spinster.

"Oh, Sparrow, when I think of his helplessness! He, who always wanted wings!" Mary half choked.

"Now," said Miss Mason, rising briskly, "we've got to act, not think.

Come along, child, and let's go over to the barn." Gratefully Mary followed her.

Enquiries at the now cheapened and popularized Berber studio elicited Jensen's old address, and Mary drove there in a taxi, only to find that he had moved to an even poorer quarter of the city. She discovered his lodgings at last, in a slum on the lower east side. He was out, looking for a job, the landlady thought, but Mary left a note for him, with a bill inside it, asking him to come out to Crab's Bay the next morning.

She hurried back to Rosamond, and found that the excellent Sparrow had already held lively conferences with the village builders and plumbers.

"I told 'em they'd get a bonus for finis.h.i.+ng the job in three weeks, and I guess I got the whole outfit on the jump," said she with satisfaction.

"Though the dear Lord knows," she added, "if the plumbers get through on schedule it'll be the first time in history."

When Henrik Jensen arrived next day Mary took an instant liking to him.

He was shabbier and more hopeless than ever, but his eyes were kind, his mouth gentle, and when she spoke of Stefan his face lighted up.

She told him the story of the two friends, of his brother's wound and Stefan's crippling, and saw that his eyes filled with tears.

"He was wonderful to me, Mrs. Byrd, he gave me a chance. I was making good, too, till Miss Berber left and the whole scheme fell to pieces.

I'm glad Adolph is with him; it was very gracious of you to let me hear about it."

"Are you very busy now, Mr. Jensen?"

He smiled hopelessly.

"Yes, very busy--looking for work. I'm down and out, Mrs. Byrd."

She unfolded her scheme to him. Stefan would need some one near him night and day. He would be miserable with a servant; he would--she knew--feel his helplessness more keenly in the presence of a woman. She herself could help, but she had her work, and the children. Mr. Jensen would be one of the family. She could offer him a home, and a salary which she hoped would be sufficient for his needs--