UNRAVELING THE SNARLS
How late the McGregors sat up talking that night it would have been
alarming to confess. It was so late that the streets became silent and
deserted and conversation had to be conducted in whispers lest it
arouse the O'Dowds, Sullivans, and Murphys.
And what tense, eager whispers they were!
Mrs. McGregor, her bonnet still in her lap, sat on the edge of a chair
too engrossed to so much as think of the shrimp pink tulle dress she
had planned to finish before she went to bed that night; nor did she,
in her usual methodical manner, take time to slip out of her best skirt
or put away her company shoes and gloves. She was far too excited for
that.
Happy, tumbled, and nodding the babies had been put to sleep and
afterward their elders, joined by Hal and Louise Harling, huddled in
the kitchen, closed the doors, and talked and talked. Every detail of
Carl's amazing story had to be told over and over again that his
listeners might enjoy to the full the marvel and humor of each
successive event. Everything was clear as crystal now--Corcoran's
transfer, Louise's reinstatement, Hal's increasing salary, the
Christmas dinners. Even the conundrum of the watch remained an enigma
no longer.
"It was, of course, Mr. Coulter who told Corcoran about your rescuing
his baby," Carl explained to his chum. "I remember that I happened to
mention the accident to him."
Hal nodded.
"But the thing I don't understand," he said with a puzzled air, "is how
you could go to that office looking for a job and never so much as
suspect who Mr. Coulter was. There must have been signs up with the
firm's name on them."
"I suppose there were," Carl answered. "I don't know about that. You
see, I was too rattled and wrought up to notice much of anything.
Besides, I was some scared. It was such a swell joint and that bell-boy
(or whatever you call him) was so lofty and elegant that it froze the
blood in my veins. More than that I was crazy to get a position and was
so darned afraid they wouldn't take me that I wasn't thinking of
anything else."
"You're a bully little pal, Carl," Hal remarked, placing an
affectionate hand on the younger boy's shoulder.
"Pooh! I did no more than you'd have done for me if I'd been in a
hole," replied Carl modestly. "You'd move heaven and earth to help us
if we needed you."
"You've said it, youngster!"
"Then what is there so remarkable in my trying to do the same for you
and Louise?"
"It was splendid of you, Carlie," whispered Louise.
"Oh, I didn't do much," was the gruff retort. "As it happened, I didn't
really do anything. But I wanted to--you can bank on that."
"Evidently you convinced Mr. Coulter of the sincerity of your good
intentions," grinned Hal.
"Mr. Coulter! Gee! Every time I think of him I have to laugh. Picture
my having the nerve to go reforming his mill for him and complaining of
his employees! And fancy me parading into his private office asking him
for work! Had I known what I was doing I should have been petrified
with fear." Smothered laughter convulsed the boys frame. "Well, as Ma
says, ignorance is bliss and fools rush in where angels fear to tread."
"I guess Mr. Coulter sized up the situation all right," mused Hal.
"Oh, he knew; he understood the whole thing. He told me so to-day,"
Carl responded quickly. "He's live wire enough not to let a joke slip
past him. He had his fun out of the affair and don't you think he
didn't. What's more, he didn't mean ever to let me find out what a boob
I'd been. He was just going to keep the secret to himself. Then this
wedding party came along and he happened to think we might like to
come. So he took a chance and sent the bid."
"And that explains why the invitation came to you," reflected Mrs.
McGregor.
"That's it, Ma. You have your little son Carlie to thank for your card
to the spree," the lad responded impishly. "I'll be getting you into
high society some day if you're good."
"If you don't get us all into jail or some other place before then
we'll be lucky," came brusquely from his mother.
"Now isn't that gratitude for you?" growled Carl with mock indignation.
"Here I take my mother and all her family to a perfectly good party and
this is all the thanks I get for it."
"Yes, this happened to be a perfectly good party," agreed Mrs. McGregor
mischievously. "But it might have ended in some scrape or other and
like as not it would another time. One never can be sure where your
adventures will bring up."
"Well, Ma, Mr. Coulter appreciates me if you don't."
"Apparently he does--up to date. Just you take care that you go on
deserving his good opinion."
"I mean to," Carl flashed. "Say, folks, sha'n't we have something to
write Uncle Frederick now? I'll bet it will take ten sheets of paper to
retail the whole thing; and then he won't really have any idea of what
happened. None of you ever can. You just ought to have been there and
seen the play."
"It's as good as a play--as good as any moving picture, in my opinion,"
Louise ventured.
"What wouldn't I have given to be under the seat of that car and
listened when you were laying out poor old Cork!" Hal ejaculated.
"I laid him fine and flat," acknowledged Carl with candor.
"Events have proved you did. Poor Cork! Still, Corks float, you know,
and he has. He isn't dead yet by any means," jested Hal. "In fact, he
told me only a day or two ago that he liked his new job much better
than he did the old one so I guess nobody need waste pity on him."
"I'm afraid he wasn't punished much, after all," sniffed Mrs. McGregor.
"Oh, he's had it borne in upon him that he was a brute, Ma; don't you
fret," declared Carl. "Mr. Coulter never does things by halves. When he
starts in he finishes up a job in bang-up style. Corcoran's learned his
lesson; and if he has that is all that is necessary."
A clock struck softly.
"Hal Harling! Do you realize it is twelve o'clock?" Louise exclaimed in
dismay. "We must go home this minute. The very idea of our staying here
and keeping the McGregors up until this hour! I'd no idea it was so
late. Why, you may be robbed of your precious Corcoran watch if you
don't hurry home out of the lonely streets. Good-night, everybody! And
blessings on you, Carlie! You've been a trump. I'm going to begin
to-morrow and work harder than ever for Mr. John Coulter."
"Here's to him!" Carl began. But a restraining hand was clapped over
his mouth.
"Carl! Carl! For mercy's sake, remember that it's twelve o'clock and
everybody's abed and asleep. Don't go cheering for Mr. Coulter now. You
can go out in the field and do it to-morrow."
"I'm afraid I'll be too busy to-morrow."
"And what'll you be doing to-morrow, pray, that's of so much
importance?"
"Why, I'll have to be deciding whether I want to go to college, or go
to sea with Uncle Frederick; or go into Mr. Coulter's mills," was the
teasing answer. "I seem to have three careers open to me. Maybe I'll
have to toss up a penny to find out which I'd better take. Will you
lend me the penny, Ma?"
"Indeed I won't," snapped his mother wrathfully. "Three careers! Humph!
Still I'm not saying that if you could go into the mills with Mr.
Coulter to stand behind you you might not make your fortune. But
there's time enough to decide that later. We needn't argue it at
twelve o'clock at night."