ENTER A DETECTIVE
While Harvey Spencer was climbing down from his wagon Mr. Michael Grogan,
who was not exactly the guileless soul Millville took him to be,
permitted himself rather a close inspection of the Welcome premises.
There was nothing imposing about them. The cottage was old and obviously
in need of repair. The fence which surrounded it had been repaired in
places, apparently by someone who had small interest in the job. The
little patch of ground in front, however, was decorated with a neatly
kept vegetable garden bordered with flowers. The stone step at the
cottage entrance was immaculate. Mr. Grogan was shrewd enough to indulge
himself in the speculation that whatever Tom Welcome might be his wife
was a careful housekeeper.
Mrs. Welcome was standing in her open door and Grogan studied her with a
curiosity not entirely disinterested. Her figure was frail and slightly
bowed. Her hair, as it showed in the deepening dusk was almost white. Her
features had delicacy like those of the daughter Grogan had just met. She
was wiping her hands on a gingham apron. They were hands of a hard
working woman.
"Hello, Mrs. Welcome, nice day, ain't it?" called Harvey as he came
through the gate.
"Yes, it is nice, isn't it, Harvey?" replied Martha Welcome. "I hadn't
noticed it before, I've been so busy with the washing."
The woman's voice, Mr. Grogan noted, held a note of sadness.
"Seems to me," said Harvey, dropping his voice and speaking with the
assurance of an old family friend, "that if I had two girls like your
Elsie and Patience, I'd see that they helped out with the washing."
"How can they help me?" replied Mrs. Welcome. "Patience is up early every
morning and off to Mr. Price's store and Elsie is at the mill all day."
"That's so," said Harvey, "I didn't think, but surely they might--"
"Oh, they help a lot," broke in Mrs. Welcome, hurriedly. "They do all
their ironing at night. And that's all anyone could ask of them after
they come home tired from their work."
"Well, I'm glad to hear it. Your two girls always do look nice."
"Thank you, Harvey."
"But Mrs. Welcome--"
"Yes, Harvey?"
"Don't you think--" Harvey stopped and looked about hesitatingly,--"Ah,
don't you think it would be just as well if Elsie didn't see quite as
much of this Chicago fellow?"
"Do you mean Mr. Druce?" inquired Mrs. Welcome.
"I do. Of course, he's all right--" Harvey again hesitated and puckered
his lips thoughtfully. "He wears fine clothing, patent leather shoes,
sports a diamond ring, but it seems to me Elsie's different somehow since
that Martin Druce began to hang around."
Mrs. Welcome laughed softly. There was a glint of humor in her eyes. "I
guess you're jealous, aren't you, Harvey?"
"Well, say I am," agreed Harvey. "Never mind that. Is it a good thing for
Elsie?"
"Elsie's a good girl," replied Mrs. Welcome.
"She sure is, Mrs. Welcome. That's why I want her to be Mrs. Harvey
Spencer."
Mrs. Welcome opened her eyes wide at this statement and looked kindly at
the stout young man before her.
"You mean it, Harvey?" she demanded.
"I'm so much in earnest," he replied, fumbling in his pocket, "that I've
got the ring right here."
He produced a plain gold wedding ring nestling in a white velvet case.
Mrs. Welcome uttered a little cry of gladness. She believed in Harvey,
who, incidentally, was all he pretended to be.
"O, I know I ain't much," went on Harvey, "just a clerk in a small town
store, but I've got ambitions. Look at all the great men! Where did they
begin? At the bottom."
Harvey paused. Then he looked all about him carefully and, satisfied with
this survey, leaned confidentially toward Mrs. Welcome and whispered:
"Say, can you keep a secret, Mrs. Welcome?"
"I guess so," replied Mrs. Welcome smiling. "Try me, Harvey."
"All right, I'm going to be a detective," Harvey announced proudly.
"You are, Harvey?" was the astonished reply.
"Just watch me," Harvey went on. "I'm taking a correspondence school
course. Here are some of my lessons." He took some closely typewritten
sheets of paper from his pocket. "Ever notice how broad I am between the
eyes?" he demanded.
"I can't say that I have," said Mrs. Welcome.
"Well, I am, and it's one of the signs, so they say, of the born
detective. Listen here a moment."
He unfolded the bulky pages and read grandly:
"'Always be observant of even the smallest trifles. A speck of dust may
be an important clew to a murder.'"
"Harvey!" cried Mrs. Welcome.
"Don't be frightened, Mrs. Welcome, just wanted to show you that I mean
business." Harvey paused for a moment and regarded her steadily. Then he
pointed his finger at her accusingly as he said: "I knew you were washing
before you told me!"
"You did, Harvey?"
"Sure, because you had suds on your apron where you dried your hands." He
drew a deep sigh and threw out his chest. "There," he said. "Oh, I guess
I'm bad at these lessons, eh?"
"You're a good boy, Harvey," replied Mrs. Welcome, indulgently.
"Thank you." He bowed. "Oh, perhaps my future mother-in-law and I aren't
going to get along fine," he announced to the world in general,
exultingly.
The roan colt interrupted this rhapsody by pawing impatiently at the
ground. Harvey took his order book from his pocket and stuck his stub of
lead pencil in his mouth.
"Well," he inquired, "how about orders, Mrs. Welcome?"
"We--we--need some flour," was the hesitating reply.
"A barrel?" suggested Harvey, turning to a fresh page of his order book.
"No--no--no--I--I guess ten pounds, and--I guess that's about all,
Harvey."
"Now you'll excuse me if I doubt your word, Mrs. Welcome," said Harvey,
writing down fifty pounds of flour quickly. "Come now, tell me what you
do really want."
"O, what's the use. We need everything, we--" Mrs. Welcome broke down and
began to weep softly as she turned toward the house.
"Now hold on, Mrs. Welcome, don't break away from me like that!" Harvey
followed her and laid his hand gently on her arm. "I hope Mr. Welcome
isn't drinking again. Is he?"
"I'm afraid so, Harvey." Mrs. Welcome's frail shoulders quivered as she
attempted to restrain her sobs. "Why, Tom hasn't been home for two days
and--and our rent is due--and--"
Harvey Spencer interrupted with a prolonged whistle which seemed to be
the best way he could think of expressing sympathy. A light dawned on
him.
"That's why young Harry Boland is here from Chicago, to collect the rent,
eh?" he inquired.
Mrs. Welcome nodded assent, "Yes," she said, "Mr. Boland has been very
kind. He has waited two weeks and--and--we can't pay him."
"Why not let me--" suggested Harvey, putting his hand into his pocket.
Mrs. Welcome checked him with a quick movement. "No, Harvey, please. I
don't want you to do that," she said. "I wouldn't feel right about it
somehow."
"Just as you say, Mrs. Welcome." Harvey was rather diffident and
hesitated to press a loan on her. To change the subject he said: "Young
Mr. Boland seems taken up with Patience."
"I hadn't noticed it," said Mrs. Welcome, drying her eyes.
"O, we detectives have to keep our eyes open," acclaimed Harvey with
another burst of pride.
But here Michael Grogan interrupted. "Young man," he called out from the
roadway, "are you really taking orders or is this one of your visiting
days?" He tied the colt and came into the yard.
"Hello," said Harvey, "getting tired of waiting?"
"Well, I felt myself growing to that hitching post," said Grogan, "so I
tied that bunch of nerves you have out there and moved before I took
root."
Harvey laughed and turned to Mrs. Welcome. "This is Mr. Michael Grogan,
Mrs. Welcome," he said.
Mrs. Welcome backed away toward the porch, removing her apron. "Good
afternoon, sir," she greeted him. "I hope you are well?"
"Well," said Grogan, "I was before this young marauder cajoled me into
leaving me arm chair on the hotel veranda to go bumping over these
roads."
Mrs. Welcome smiled and extended her hand. "I'm very glad to know you,
Mr. Grogan. You mustn't mind Harvey's impetuous ways. He's all right
here." She placed her hand on her heart.
"I'll go bail he is that if you say so, Mrs. Welcome," replied Grogan
gallantly, "anyhow I'll take him on your word."
"Just ready to go, Mr. Grogan, when you called," put in Harvey. Then he
caught Mrs. Welcome by the arm and bustled her into the house, saying:
"And I'll see that you get all of those things, Mrs. Welcome, flour, corn
meal, tomatoes, beans, lard--" and in spite of her protestations he
closed the door on her with a parting: "Everything on the first delivery
tomorrow morning sure." Then he added to Grogan, who stood smiling with a
look of comprehension on his face, "All right. Ready to go."
"It's about time," commented Grogan as they went toward the wagon. "Don't
think I'm too inquisitive if I ask who are these Welcomes anyhow?"
"People who are having a tough time," replied Harvey, unhitching his
colt. "Tom Welcome used to be quite a man. He had that invention I was
telling you about, an electric lamp. He was done out of it and went to
the booze for consolation."
"So," murmured Grogan, half to himself, "Two girls in the family, eh?"
"Yes, that was one of them you met just before we came here."
"The pretty one?"
"Yes, and they're the best ever," added Harvey, antagonized by something
he sensed in his companion's manner.
Grogan turned to him smiling. "There," he said, "don't get hot about it.
Nobody doubts that, meself least of all. Ain't I Irish? It's the first
article of every Irishman's creed to believe that all women, old or
young, pretty or otherwise, all of them are just--good."
Harvey seized the older man's hand and shook it vigorously. Then looking
up the road he said:
"Here comes Elsie Welcome, I think. I want you to meet her."
"Ah," retorted Grogan. He turned and looked at Elsie closely. She ran
rapidly down the pathway toward the gate. She saw them, paused, walked
more slowly and came up to them apparently in confusion.
"Why, hello Harv! What are you doing here so late?" she asked. Without
waiting for a reply she started toward the gate flinging back a short
"Good night."
The girl's whole manner indicated a guilty conscience. It was evident
that she did not wish to talk to Harvey Spencer. She passed through the
gate toward the door of her home.