It was intensely warm in the Marlborough Steel Works. Outdoors the sun
beat fiercely upon the heads of toiling men and horses while the heat
waves danced with a dazzling shimmer along the brick pavements. Indoors
there was the steady thud of the engine, and the great hammers clanked
and the belts swept through the air with a deafening whirr, while the
workmen drew blackened hands across their grimy foreheads and John
Randolph gave a sigh of longing for the cool forest chambers of
Hollywood, as he leaned over to exchange a cheery word with Richard
Trueman, beside whom he had been working for over a year and for whom he
had come to entertain a strong feeling of affection.
Varied experiences had come to him since he had said good-by to his kind
Quaker friends and started on his search for work. Monotonous days of
wood piling in a lumber yard, long weeks of isolation among the giant
trees of the forest, where no sound was to be heard except the whistle
of the axes, as they cleaved the air, and the coarse jokes of the
workmen,--then had come days when even odd jobs had been hailed with
delight, and he had sat at the feet of the grim schoolmistress Necessity
and learned how little man really needs to have to live. And then the
Steel Works had opened again and he had forged his way up through the
different departments to the responsible position he now held. His
promotion had been rapid. The foreman had been quick to note the keen,
intelligent interest and deft-handedness of this strangely alert new
employé. He finished his work in the very best way that it was possible
to do it, even though it took a little longer in the doing. Such workmen
were not common at the Marlborough Steel Works. He put his heart into
whatever he did. That was John Randolph's way. There was something about
the work which pleased him. It gave him a feeling of triumph to watch
the evolution of the crude chaos into the finished perfection, and see
how through baptism of fire and flood the diverse particles emerged at
length a beautifully tempered whole. He read as in an allegory the
discipline which a soul needs to fit it for the kingdom, and so
throughout the meshes of his daily toil John Randolph wove his parable.
When evening came he would stride cheerily along the dingy street to
the house where he and his fellow-workman lodged, refresh himself with a
hot bath, don what he called his dress suit, and after their simple meal
and a frolic with little Dick, the motherless boy who was the joy of
Richard Trueman's heart, he would settle down for a long evening of
study among his cherished books. John Randolph never lost sight of the
fact that he was to be a physician by and by.
* * * * *
Somewhere in one of the great centers of the world's industry a workman
had blundered. His conscience urged him to confess his mistake, while
Satan whispered with a sneer,--"Yes, and get turned adrift for your
pains, with a rating into the bargain!"
"Never mind if you do lose a week's wages," conscience had pleaded,
"your hands will be clean," and the workman shrugged his shoulders with
a muttered, "Pshaw! What do I care for that, so long as I don't git
found out. I'll fix it so as no one kin tell it was me."
The work was passed upon by the foreman and the Company's certificate
attached. The man chuckled, "Hooray! Now that it's out from under old
Daggett's eyes nobody'll ever be able to lay the blame on me!" and he
had gone home whistling. He forgot God!
* * * * *
The long, stifling day was drawing near its close. Half an hour more and
the workmen would be free to rest. Only half an hour! Suddenly there was
a sharp clicking sound, then a cry, and in an instant all was bustle and
confusion at the Marlborough Steel Works. The great hammers hung
suspended in mid-air, the whirling wheels were still, while the workmen,
with faces showing pale beneath the grime, gathered hastily around a
fallen comrade. Summoned by telephone the Company's surgeon was driving
rapidly towards the Works, but his services would not be required.
An accident. No one knew just how it happened. There must have been a
flaw, a defect in some part of the machinery. These things do happen.
Somewhere there had been carelessness, dishonesty, and the price of it
was--a life!
The dying man opened his eyes suddenly and looked full at John Randolph,
who knelt beside him supporting his head on his arm.
"Little Dick," he murmured.
"All right, Trueman, I will take care of him."
"God bless you, John!" and with the fervid benediction, the breath
ceased and the spirit flew away.
The body was prepared for the inquest, and through the gathering dusk
John, strangely white and silent, entered the house he called home,
gathered the fatherless boy into his arms and let him sob out his grief
upon his shoulder.
* * * * *
Some days after the funeral the Manager sent for John to come to his
private office. He was a pleasant man and had taken a kindly interest in
the capable young workman from the start.
"Well, Randolph, this is a terrible business of poor Trueman," he said,
as he pointed him to a chair. "Terrible! I can't get over it. A fine man
and one of our best finishers too. Well, we can't do anything for him
now, poor fellow, but he left a boy I think?"
"Yes, sir," said John simply; "I have taken him to live with me."
"Shake hands, Randolph! We _talk_ about what ought to be done and you
_do_ it. Is that your usual mode of procedure?"
John laughed. "There was nothing else to do," he said.
"H'm. Most fellows in your position would have thought it was the last
thing possible. Have you any idea what it means to saddle yourself with
a child like this? Whatever put such an idea into your head?"
"Jesus Christ," answered John quietly.
"Well, well, you're a queer fellow, Randolph. But how are you going to
make the wages spin out? A boy is 'a growing giant of wants whom the
coat of Have is never large enough to cover.'"
"His father managed, so can I." John's voice shook a little.
"His father! But he _was_ his father, you see. That makes a mighty
difference. Well, Randolph, I give you up. You are beyond me."
John rose. "Was that all you wished to say to me, Mr. Branford?"
"Sit down, man! What the mischief are you in such a hurry for? It stands
to reason the Company can't let you bear the brunt of this most
deplorable occurrence, though I don't believe we could have found a
better guardian for the poor little lad. But guardians expect to be paid
for their trouble. What price do you set, Randolph?"
"I don't want any pay for obeying my Master, Mr. Branford."
"Your Master, Randolph?" said the Manager with a puzzled stare.
"Yes, sir, Jesus Christ."
"Upon my word, Randolph, you're a queer fellow! Well, if you don't want
pay, I want some one with a head on his shoulders in this office. Any of
the fellows in the outside office would be glad of the chance to get in
here, but I want a man who understands what he is doing as well as I do
myself. You have practical knowledge, Randolph, you're the man I want. I
shall expect you to start in here tomorrow morning. The salary will be
double your present wages. And, since you have constituted yourself
guardian of the boy, I may as well tell you that the Company has decided
to set aside a yearly sum for his maintenance and education.
"Now you can go, if you are in such a tremendous hurry, Randolph: only
don't try any more of such toploftiness with me. It won't go down, you
see;" and the Manager chuckled softly, as John, with broken thanks, left
the room. "I rather think I got the better of him that time!" he said to
himself.