MR. MERRICK BREAKS A PLATE
That was perhaps the quickest trip a Rutter's Point car ever made, and
almost before Gordon realized that town had been reached, and certainly
before he had fully recovered from his experiences, the big yellow-sided
car was coming to a stop at the foot of B Street, from where it was but
two short blocks to Brentwood. The prolonged and frantic whistling had
summoned a knot of curious persons to the corner as the car trundled
around the curve and there were plenty of willing hands to bear the
still unconscious form the remaining distance.
Gordon, not a little faint and weak, followed slowly. Someone had sped
ahead and when the little throng reached the house anxious faces were
already at the doorway. Gordon remained without and soon the men who had
carried Morris inside returned to linger about the door and await the
doctor's verdict. The latter reached the gate a minute later, and,
leaping from his buggy, hurried up the walk, his black bag swinging
briskly.
There was a long wait after that. The accident was discussed in low
voices by the small gathering outside and Gordon was forced to go
through his story again. Presently he left the front steps and wandered
around to the side of the house. From an upper window came the low
mutter of voices. Near at hand was a rustic seat, placed against the
wall of the screened porch, and on this Gordon subsided with a big sigh
of relief. Inside the house a telephone bell rang shrilly. Footsteps
hurried. The voices in the room upstairs still came indistinctly through
the open window. It was pretty late, Gordon reflected, and he ought to
be at home. His father would be angry with him if he was late for
supper. But he didn't want to go until he had heard whether Morris was
going to get well. Meanwhile, it was fine and comfortable in the corner
of the rustic seat and he would just close his eyes a minute----
Someone was shaking him gently and calling "Gordon! Wake up!" He
stretched and opened his eyes. "Yes'm," he muttered sleepily. But it
couldn't be morning, for it was almost dark and--and where was he? He
sat up quickly then and gazed about him in blank surprise until his
roaming glance encountered the smilingly concerned face of Louise Brent
bending above him. "Oh!" he said, recollection coming to him.
"Have you been here all the time?" asked Louise. "You poor boy!"
"I--I must have fallen asleep," admitted Gordon sheepishly. "How--how is
he, Louise?"
The girl's face went suddenly serious in the twilight. "He's pretty
badly hurt," she said. "One leg is broken and he hurt his head horribly,
Gordon."
"Is that all?" he asked anxiously.
"They think so. Seems to me it's quite enough, though."
"Of course, only----" Gordon heaved a sigh of relief--"I was afraid he
was dying. He--he looked so awfully!"
"Yes, didn't he?" Louise shuddered. "He is still unconscious, but Doctor
Mayrick says he will get his senses back in a little while. He must have
had an awful blow on his head. Would you mind telling me just how it
happened, Gordon, or are you too tired?"
He recounted the incidents of the unfortunate ride rather uncertainly.
Somehow, they had got pretty much mixed up by now.
"But I think you were splendid," said the girl warmly. "To think of
stopping the trolley car was fine, Gordon. You must have been dreadfully
scared and--and everything. And wasn't it a wonder you weren't hurt
too?"
"Yes, I suppose so. I guess it would have been better if Morris had been
thrown out of the car too. It was the steering wheel that kept him in, I
think."
"I don't see how you ever thought of lifting the car up with the--that
thing you spoke of," she said admiringly. "Goodness, I'd have been so
frightened I'd have just cried!"
"I guess I'd better be going home," said Gordon.
"Yes, it must be quite late. And you haven't had any supper, have you? I
wish I'd found you here before."
"I don't believe I want any," he murmured. "I--I'm mighty glad he isn't
hurt any worse. I'll come around to-morrow if you don't mind and see how
he is."
"Please do. Mama will want to see you, Gordon."
"I suppose your father is pretty angry, isn't he?" asked Gordon.
"He's too upset and anxious now to be angry," replied Louise. "But I
suppose he will have something to say to Morris later. I felt all the
time that he shouldn't run that car. It was horrid of him to get it
without letting anyone know."
"I guess he's got his punishment," replied Gordon grimly. "A broken leg
will keep him laid up a long time. I'm awfully sorry for him.
Good-night, Louise."
It seemed a terribly long distance to his home, although it was in
reality but two blocks. His father was on the porch, reading under the
electric light, when Gordon reached the steps. Down went the paper and
Mr. Merrick viewed his son with cold severity.
"Well, Gordon, where have you been?" he asked.
"Over to the Point, sir. I--we----"
"I think I have told you fairly often that I do not like you to be late
for your meals?"
"Yes, sir," assented Gordon wearily.
"Exactly. It is now--hm--nearly eight o'clock. I think you had better go
up to your room. You don't deserve supper at this hour. And--hm--after
this kindly give a little consideration to my wishes."
"Yes, sir." Gordon wanted to tell him what had happened, but he was
frightfully tired and the thought of getting upstairs and into his bed
was very alluring. Mr. Merrick showed that the conversation was at an
end by again hiding his face behind the newspaper and Gordon went
indoors and quietly climbed the stairs, rather hoping that his mother
would not hear him. But she did, and came out of her room with the
secrecy of a conspirator.
"Gordon, dear," she whispered, "your father was very angry and said you
were to have no supper, but I put a little something on a plate for you.
It's on your bureau. You shouldn't stay out like this, though, dear.
Your father doesn't like it and--and it makes me worried, too."
"Yes'm, I won't again," replied Gordon. "I--I'm not very hungry, though.
I'm going to bed."
"Aren't you--don't you feel well?" inquired Mrs. Merrick anxiously.
"Yes'm, I'm all right. I just feel sort of tired. Good-night." He kissed
her and went on up the second flight. Half-way up, though, he paused and
called down in a hoarse whisper: "Thanks for the eats, ma!"
In spite of his weariness, sleep didn't come readily. It was a hot,
still night and, although his bed was drawn close to the two windows
that looked out into the upper branches of the big elm, not much air
penetrated to his room. He lay for a while staring out at the motionless
leaves, intensely black in shadow and vividly green where the light from
the big arc on the corner illumined them, reviewing the incidents of the
day. He was awfully glad that Morris wasn't dangerously hurt, grateful
for his own escape from injury and sorry that Morris would have to lie
abed for many weeks while his broken leg knit together again. Finally he
dozed off only to awake in a terror, imagining that he was riding in an
automobile that was just about to plunge down a cliff so steep and deep
that the bottom was miles away! He awoke shaking and muttering and it
took him several seconds to reassure himself and throw off the effects
of the nightmare. After that he tossed and turned until he remembered
the plate on the bureau. He got up and brought it back to bed with him,
and leaned on one elbow and ate a little of the cold chicken and
bread-and-butter his mother had placed on it. But he wasn't really
hungry and his appetite was soon satisfied. He put the plate on the
floor beside him and settled down again. A clock downstairs struck nine
and a moment later the town hall clock sounded the hour sonorously. Then
the telephone in the first floor hall rang sharply and he heard his
father's chair scrape on the porch and his father's feet across the
hall.
"Hello? Yes.... No.... What say?..."
Gordon must have dozed then, for the next thing he knew someone was
pushing open his bedroom door cautiously and asking if he was awake.
"Yes, sir," answered Gordon.
Mr. Merrick closed the door and came over to the bed. "Time you were
asleep, son," he said concernedly. "Having trouble?"
"I--I've been asleep once, sir. Something wakened me."
"Hm. Er--I was just talking to Mr. Brent on the telephone, Gordon."
"Yes, sir?"
"Hm. He told me about the accident, son."
"Yes, sir. Did he say how Morris was?"
"Doing very well, he said. Why didn't you--hm--why didn't you tell me
about it?"
"I don't know, sir. I was sort of tired, and----"
"Brent says you carried Morris almost half a mile to the trolley,
Gordon."
"It wasn't nearly that far. And I didn't carry him. He was too heavy.
I--I pulled him."
"Well, the doctor says it's a lucky thing you got him home as quick as
you did. Mr. Brent is--hm--very grateful. He's going to stop in the
morning and see you."
"He needn't be," murmured Gordon. "It wasn't anything."
"Hm. You can tell me about it in the morning. I-hm--I'm sorry I was so
short with you, son. If you'd explained----"
"Yes, sir, I ought to have. It--it's all right, dad."
"Well, but--if you're hungry, Gordon----"
"I'm not, sir. I--no, sir, I'm not."
"If you are I guess you and I can forage around and find something. Sure
you wouldn't like a little bite?"
"No, sir, thank you."
"Well--hm----" Mr. Merrick laid a hand on Gordon's arm and pressed it.
"Sorry I scolded, son. I--we--we're proud of you, boy."
Gordon didn't answer. It was rather embarrassing and he was glad of the
darkness.
"Good-night, Gordon."
"Good-night, sir."
Mr. Merrick turned away, there was a sound of cracking and crunching
china and an exclamation.
"What's this?" asked Mr. Merrick in surprise, peering down at the floor.
"It--it's a plate, sir. Mother--that is----"
"Hm," said Mr. Merrick, and then again "Hm!" He pushed the broken
fragments under the bed. "I--hm--I can understand that you aren't very
hungry," he said dryly. "Evidently your mother--hm--well, good-night,
Gordie."
The door closed. Gordon smiled at the black and green foliage beyond the
window. It was all right about that lunch. If it wasn't his father would
never have called him Gordie.