"I'm not changed," said Blizzard; "according to Dr. Ferris I'm just
acting natural. I was a good boy. I had a fracture of the skull. The
bone pressed on my gray matter and made me a bad man. I'll tell you a
funny thing: _I can't beat the box any more!_ I had a go at it the other
day, the missus all ready to work the pedals, and Lord help me there was
no more music in my head or my fingers than there is in the liver of a
frog. It was the same when I was a two-legged little kid--no music."
"Are you going to close the old diggings?"
Blizzard shook his head. "Yes and no. I'm going to pull down the old
rookery; and I'm going to put up in its place a model factory."
"Hats?"
"Hats and maybe other things. I'm going to show New York how to run a
sweatshop--you wait and see--the most wages and the least sweat--and the
girls happier and safer than in their own homes. The missus and I were
planning to bolt to a new place and begin life all over. That was
foolish. I'd always feel like a coward. Don't forget that old friends
meditating new crimes will be welcome at the office--advice always given
away, money sometimes and sometimes help. Pass the word around--and when
you and Miss Half-past Girl send out your cards don't forget me and Mrs.
Blizzard in Marrow Lane."
He leaned forward, his eyes very bright and mischievous.
"Kid," he said, "artistically and dramatically, it's a pity."
"What's a pity?"
"That we didn't loot Maiden Lane before we got religion. If there was
any hitch in the plan, I don't know what it was. And, Lord, I _was_ so
set on the whole thing--not because I wanted the loot, but to see if it
could be done. Some of you always said it couldn't--said there was a
joker in the pack. Well, we'll never know now. And here's Mrs. O'Farrall
come to pass the time of day--Good-by, Kid, so-long, pass the word
around. Good luck--love and best wishes to Half-past! Mrs. O'Farrall,
your kitchen extends under the sidewalk; the more negotiable of your
delicatessen are cooked on city property."
"And 'twill be me ruin to have it found out. What I came for--"
"Was to find out what I'm going to do about it. Well, the law that
you're breaking isn't hurting the city a bit, Mrs. O'Farrall--I wish I
could say the same for your biscuits. If you're reported, come to me and
I'll see you through. How's Morgan the day?"
"The same as to-morrow, thank ye kindly--dhrunk and philanderin'."
"I'll send him a pledge to sign with my compliments, Mrs. O'Farrall, and
a good job at the same time."
"He'll never sign the pledge."
"Not if I ask him to, Mrs. O'Farrall, ask him on bended knee?"
Mrs. O'Farrall looked frightened, apoplectic, and confused. Blizzard
lifted his heavy eyebrows, then a smile began to brighten his face.
"Mrs. O'Farrall," said he, "blessings on your old red face! For just
this minute for the first time since I lost them, the fact that I have
no knees to bend escaped me. Your religion teaches you that the Lord is
good to the repentant sinner. Madam, he is!" And then he began to call
in a loud voice:
"Rose--Rose, run down a minute. I clean forgot that I hadn't any legs."
She came, fresh, young, and lovely. What if she had played the
traitor--thrown her cap over the wind-mills? These things are not
serious matters to her sex--when the men they love are kind. And then
Lichtenstein had forgiven her, and pretended to box her ears--and then
she had had enough tragedy and jealousy crowded into a few months to
atone for greater crimes and lapses than hers.