MR. BARNES RETURNS
"Will you have another cup, Mrs. Mooney?"
"No, thank you; I will not, though better tea I never tasted. Well--if
you are that set on it, I suppose I might as well."
Maria poured out Mrs. Mooney's third cup, and leaving the tea-pot near
at hand, left her to sit and sing the praises of the two doctors to
Nellie, who from a lifelong experience had developed into a really
wonderful listener.
On her way down the hall Maria had to pass the open door of the
Doctor's bedroom, and as she glanced in she saw that he was sleeping
peacefully, and that Dr. Crossett still sat quietly beside the bed,
looking down earnestly into the pale, tired face of his old friend.
[Illustration: DOCTOR MORTIMER WARNS LOLA THAT TOO MUCH EXCITEMENT MAY
PROVE FATAL TO HER.]
"He's trying to find out what's the matter," she thought gratefully,
"and he'll do it, too, if anybody can; 'course it's natural that he's
awful unhappy about Miss Lola, but it looks to me like that ain't all;
somehow he seems to me more like he was afraid of something."
As she passed down the hall on her way to the front door, the bell
rang, and she, anxious that the sleeper should not be disturbed,
opened the door quickly. There in the hall stood a slender young
fellow in the dark-blue uniform of the navy. His face, what little of
it that was not hidden behind quite the widest smile that mortal
countenance ever wore, was tanned to about the shade of a fashionable
summer shoe, and above it his yellow hair made a symphony in color
very good to look upon. At least this seemed to be Maria's opinion,
for at the first sight of him a look of gladness came into her eyes,
the like of which many a man goes through his whole life without ever
once seeing.
"Mr. Barnes! Oh, Mr. Barnes!"
"Maria," he said or rather roared in greeting.
"Hush!" She put her finger quickly to her lips. "He's asleep;
whisper."
"Maria," he repeated obediently, in what passed with him as a whisper,
but the sound of which rushed whistling down the narrow hall like a
deep sea breeze.
"Don't whisper; talk natural," she suggested hurriedly. "Here, come
into the front room an' I'll close the door. I'm awful glad to hear
your voice, Mr. Barnes, but I do wish you could keep from lettin' all
the neighbors hear it."
Once in the room and the door shut, she lost her air of severity,
however; he was so tall and strong and had such a way with him that
when he opened his arms and smiled so invitingly, she surrendered
completely, and allowed him to embrace her with an ardor that
completely took her breath away.
"Ha, ha, ha!" he roared gleefully; "maybe this is bad."
"Mr. Barnes! However did you get here?"
"Five days' shore leave. The ship's anchored off Ninety-fifth Street.
Say, this ain't so bad, is it?"
"It's, it's mighty nice!" He was so delighted by her admission that he
roared again, but her alarmed look sobered him, and lowering his voice
as much as possible, he faced her with a look he meant to be one of
great severity and determination, a look that he had practiced
carefully for the occasion before a little mirror in the ward room of
the battleship.
"Ain't you well, Mr. Barnes?" she enquired anxiously.
"Well," he responded indignantly, "why shouldn't I be well? I'm here
to get to cases. You've been writing me fine letters lately, Maria,
easy to read, and the spelling getting more usual every day."
"Thank you, Mr. Barnes."
"But letters ain't no good when folks has really got anything to say.
So I'm here to ask when it is going to be?"
"What going to be?"
"You said you was going to marry me, didn't you?"
"Well--I--yes--I did."
"Then what's the use of jiggling?"
"I ain't jiggling," she spoke, with great indignation. "I don't know
what jiggling is, but I ain't doin' it."
"I get a month off ther first of May. Let's call it May the second;
will yer, Maria?"
"I--I'd love to do it, Mr. Barnes. I'd love to do it awful well,
but--but who's to take care of him?"
"I know, but, Maria, don't you think you'd rather take care of me?"
"But him!" Maria was very much in earnest and very anxious for this
hero of hers to fully understand. "You know all he's done for me. If
it hadn't been for him and his, I'd be just nothing at all, instead of
bein' what I am, an' goin' to marry a real high-class man like you.
I--I'm afraid you'll have to wait, Mr. Barnes," she added very
regretfully. "I'm awfully sorry, but I couldn't leave him all alone!"
He looked at her for a moment with as close an approach to a frown as
was possible for his face to assume, and something very like a threat
of jealousy in his voice.
"Sometimes, Maria, I believe you love that old Doctor of yours more
than you do me!"
"I don't know. Maybe I do, but it ain't the same. You see, he needs
me, because he's old and sick, and all alone, and you--just look at
yourself--red-faced, an' strong, an' jolly, an' handsome. You may want
me, Mr. Barnes, but you don't need nobody."
Mr. Barnes tried to assume an injured look at this, but only succeeded
in grinning cheerfully, so he gave it up, and decided to make the best
of things. His life in the Navy had taught him the virtue of loyalty,
and in his heart he loved all the better for her devotion.
"Well, Maria, you're the boss. I ain't kicking, but it's tough. Never
mind; you get off to-night, and we'll have a good time, anyhow. I'll
take you to the Hippodrome."
"Oh! Won't that be fine? I can get away all right, because Dr.
Crossett is here, and they wouldn't want me around anyway. We'll have
the best time in the world!"
Whatever disappointment the sailor might have felt was overshadowed by
her happiness, and he started to describe in advance some of the
wonders they were to see that night, when a ring at the bell
interrupted them.
"Darn the door," exclaimed Maria rather emphatically. "You wait here
till I see who it is." As she started toward the hall Barnes tried to
kiss her, but she avoided him laughingly, and turned at the door,
looking back at him and shaking her head reproachfully.
"You ought to be ashamed, Mr. Barnes. You sailors are awful!"
She left the room, Barnes looking after her, very much flattered. Like
other bashful men, the idea that he was looked upon as a dangerous
ladies' man was enough to make him completely happy; had he been
called a brave fellow he would have taken it quite as a matter of
course.
At the door Maria found John Dorris, and as she admitted him he
stopped to ask anxiously,
"How is he to-day?"
Since John's return from his unsuccessful journey he had done his best
to keep in touch with the Doctor, although he had the feeling that his
presence was not always quite welcome, or at least that the sight of
him did more to remind the Doctor of Lola and to disturb him than it
did to bring him any comfort.
"He's going to be better," Maria answered. "Dr. Crossett is here!"
"Good!" John was greatly relieved. He knew that to no one in the world
would Dr. Barnhelm be so willing to turn for help as to this old
friend, and he felt that with all his skill, and with his great love,
Dr. Crossett might be able to see a way to ease the old man's mind and
persuade him to give up his growing habit of moody solitude.
"This is--is a friend of mine, sir, Mr. Barnes," said Maria bashfully,
as they entered the front room and saw Barnes standing there.
"No! Not _the_ Mr. Barnes," cried John, greatly pleased.
"Yes."
"I am glad to know you, Mr. Barnes. Very glad!" John shook hands with
him heartily, noting with approval his frank, open countenance and his
honest, homely manner. "I have heard a lot about you, and I like all
that I have heard."
"Thank you, sir."
"We are all of us very fond of Maria," continued John. "I wonder if
you realize what a lucky fellow you are. There are not many girls like
Maria."
"Thank you, sir," responded Mr. Barnes heartily. "One of 'em is enough
for me."
Dr. Crossett, followed by Nellie and Mrs. Mooney, whom he had found
patiently waiting in the kitchen, came into the room, the Doctor
holding Nellie by the hand and looking at her with pride.
"John!" He cried out in surprise and joy, and took his hand as he
listened to John's warm greeting. "I am so glad to see you, my boy,
and look, look at little Nellie here. Her arm is well. I have never
seen a cure more complete." His eyes fell upon Barnes, who was
shuffling from one foot to another in an agony of embarrassment. "Ah!"
The Doctor knew him at once. "Maria! A sailor! Not the famous Mr.
Barnes?"
"Yes, sir," answered Maria proudly.
"I am glad to see you." The Doctor took his hand as cordially as he
would that of an old friend. "You know, Mr. Barnes, I had my doubts
about there really being any such person. I feared you were a Mrs.
Harris."
"No, sir; Barnes is my right name."
Maria had been made very happy by the doctors and John's kindness to
her lover, but she had no idea of allowing him to bore them, and she
knew that these two would have many things to say to one another.
"Now, Mr. Barnes, you go along with Nellie and Mrs. Mooney. They are
friends of mine. You can come back here for me about half past seven."
"I'll be here," he answered. "Good day, good day, gentlemen."
"Good day, Doctor. Go on, Nellie!" Mrs. Mooney took her two charges to
the door, then turned for a final look at Dr. Crossett. "You see,
Doctor," she nodded proudly toward Nellie, "you had it right. Just as
good as any of 'em!"
"Excuse me, Doctor." Maria followed them to the door. "He shouldn't
have come here at all, but you know what men are."
When the door closed, and John found himself alone with Dr. Crossett,
he turned to him inquiringly.
"Well, Doctor, what do you think?"
"Of him?"
"Yes."
"Sit down, my boy. I must talk with you."
After they were seated, the Doctor went on gravely. "He is in a bad
state. I do not understand. I came here expecting to find grief. I
find instead fear--horror."
"I have felt that from the first," responded John. "I have tried to be
of help to him, but when I am here he seems to be more nervous than in
my absence. He never mentions her name, never asks for her."
"Tell me of her, John."
"She went away with that man, Dick Fenway," John began. "He took her
first to Atlantic City with a party of his friends. I followed them;
you know that. What I would have done if I had found them I don't
know--killed him perhaps, but I am not sure. Later there was a scandal
about them at Narragansett Pier, and she left him."
"Left him?"
"For another man--a man old enough to be her father and rich enough to
grant every wish of her heart. Oh, it's a hellish thing to talk about,
Doctor. I met this Dick Fenway about that time, and upon my word I was
almost sorry for the little beast. He loved her in his way; God knows
how much of the fault was his; I can't pretend to say. The whole
miserable business sickens me, but every detail, every word of
scandal, every report of her growing extravagance and moral
degradation stays in my mind!"
"I know." The Doctor put his hand gently on John's arm, and after a
moment John continued:
"Wherever she goes the papers are full of her exploits. She has been
through scandal after scandal, and has come out more daring, more
reckless than before. A month ago I saw her. She was crossing Broadway
in a great touring car. She saw me and"--John's voice broke--"and--she
laughed."
"You love her, John?"
"Yes. I am ashamed to say so, but I do."
"My boy, I loved her mother like that long after my love was hopeless.
I knew her well; how this evil ever fell upon a child of hers I cannot
understand."
They were silent a moment, John thinking of Lola, Dr. Crossett of the
mother, who, thank God, was not here to feel the shame of this. Her
death had been a hard blow to him, harder even than the marriage that
had taken her away from him forever, but to-day he was glad that she
was dead. John began again, his sorrow finding the only relief it had
known in the sympathy of this good friend.
"If I had ever seen a trace of it in her I could bear it better, but
she was so good, so pure, that she used to frighten me. I never saw a
look in her face that you would not see on the face of a happy,
innocent child, until----"
"Well?"
John hesitated; in his mind there was a thought that he dared not put
into words. Even to himself he had not dared to express it, but this
man was wise; if there could be any truth in the wild idea that had
forced itself into his brain here was a man who would know.
"She was always the same, Doctor, always, until that night, the first
time I saw her after--after she was--hurt, the change began then; from
that hour----"
"Oh!" He looked up, startled by a moan of terror, of horror, and saw
that Maria had entered the room with a tea-tray in her hands. She was
standing now, white as a dead woman, her eyes fixed upon the door. He
turned to follow her frightened gaze, and as he did so a nameless
dread came over him. He saw the door open slowly, very slowly, and a
woman's figure standing quietly on the threshold; he did not need to
raise his eyes; he did not need the frightened cry from Maria nor the
Doctor's sharp exclamation; he knew, and knowing he slowly raised his
head and looked into her face.