THREE TETE-A-TETES
"It's a rum start!" said Mr. John Aymer.
"It certainly is queer!" said Mrs. John Aymer. "I don't like it one bit,
John. I do wish Lawrence was back."
"Sent for him over there, did they? One of his pet lambs in trouble?
Well, he'll be back on the night train, for to-morrow is the final
cakewalk of his old Conference. But as far as immediate plans are
concerned, I'm afraid, my dear, you will have to put up with yours
truly. Now, this--what's his name? Lippitt? Pippit?"
"Something like that! I didn't quite make it out."
"Say Pippit! Certainly _seems_ to be a decent chap. Tells a straight
story, too. Knows this fellow Brown for a crook. We didn't ask him _how_
he knew--"
"It wasn't necessary, John. I have _never_ liked the man's looks. I
spoke to Babbitt about him, and he said he had taken him on trial for
three months, and he seemed a smart fellow, and that was all he knew. Of
course I couldn't ask Babbitt to discharge him because I didn't like his
looks, now could I?"
"--but we can find out about that later!" Mr. Aymer went on calmly. "Has
seen Brown chinning with a pal--"
"John! I do wish you were not so slangy!"
"Has seen Brown holding sweet converse with a comrade tried and true, of
specially obnoxious character. Look here, Lucy!" Mr. Aymer blew a smoke
ring and looked inquiringly at his wife, knitting briskly in her corner
by the rose-shaded lamp. "How _does_ your friend Nippitt know all this?
I want to go a little bit slow here."
"Oh, John! you _are_ so tiresome! I am sure, and so is Mary, that Pippit
is perfectly truthful. Why, you have only to look at him! When he
smiles--John, you needn't laugh! I would believe anything that boy said.
And here he offers of his own free will to watch the house at night for
a week, or as long as is necessary, if we will just give him a shakedown
in the shed. I am sure the least we can do is to accept such an offer as
that. The old night watchman would never offer to do such a thing."
"The night watchman is not paid to sleep in people's sheds, my dear!"
"Well, he might as well. He never comes through this street at all, that
I know of. _Well_, John, did you tell Lippitt--Pippit--he was to come? I
shall feel _so_ safe if he is there!"
"Yes!" said Mr. Aymer slowly. "I told him he might come, and now the
question is whether I am only a plain fool, or a--"
"And now we need not lose our sleep!" Mrs. Aymer laid down her knitting,
and came forward to rumple her John's hair affectionately, and deposit a
kiss on his forehead. "You ought not to lose one wink of sleep just now,
John, with stock-taking just coming on, and if I lie awake I am such a
_fright_ next day, and you don't like me to be a fright, do you, dear?"
"Neither to be nor to have!" said John. "Sooner shall Pippit occupy the
shed for life."
"The loft could be made into a perfectly good bedroom if ever--" Mrs.
Aymer cast a guilty glance at her husband, and went to fetch the
cribbage board.
While this conversation was going on in the parlor with its rose chintz
hangings, another dialogue was being held in the kitchen. Mary admired
the parlor, dusted reverentially its _bibelots_, plumped its cushions to
perfection; but for coziness, she must say, give her her kitchen!
It certainly was cozy this evening, with the red half-curtains drawn,
and the lamplight shining on white enamel and blue crockery; shining on
Mary, too, sitting in her low rocking-chair, knitting as swiftly and
steadily as was the lady in the parlor. They were fast friends, mistress
and maid, and it was a race between them which should produce the more
socks and mufflers in this year when all the world was knitting.
Pippin, sitting as near as he thought manners would allow, watched the
flying fingers and glittering needles, and wished that he might be a
sock, just for a minute, to feel how soft her hands would be. Now Mary's
hands were not soft; she would have been ashamed if they had been: firm,
strong little hands, used to work ever since she could remember.
The two had just been preparing Pippin's shakedown in the shed, she
deprecating, fearing he would sleep but poorly on a straw mattress, he
glowing with praise of as dandy an outfit as anyone would want to see.
"Straw mattress!" he repeated. "Straw'll do for me, Miss Flower. Why,
come to think of it, I don't know as I hardly ever slep' on anything
_but_ straw except while I was to Mis' Baxter's, over to Kingdom. She
had wool tops to her beds, and they were surely elegant. I have heard
of folks havin' curled hair, horses' hair, in their beds; did ever you
hear of that?"
Yes, Mary had heard of that. She forbore to say that her own neat white
bed upstairs boasted a hair mattress. As Mrs. Aymer said, it was real
economy, but still--and in her heart she was wondering how and where
this young man had grown up. Of course they had wool top mattresses at
the Home--and mother had had nothing but straw--poor mother! Mary
shivered a little. She too saw visions sometimes; one came upon her now,
of the straw mattress being taken away, with its scanty coverings, and
sold by Him for drink. 'Twas summer, he said; no need of beds and
bedclothes in summer. "Sleep floor, nice 'n' cool!" It was after that
that mother left him, and took her to the Home. Poor mother!
Mary became aware that a silence had fallen. Looking up, she met
Pippin's bright eyes fixed on her with a look half eager, half
appealing.
"What is it?" she asked involuntarily. "Did you ask me something, Mr.
Pippin? I--I was just thinking--"
"I didn't!" Pippin spoke slowly, and his voice had not its usual joyous
ring. "But I'd like to ask you something, Miss Flower; or perhaps tell
you would be more what I mean. But maybe I'm keepin' you up?" He made as
if to rise.
Mary glanced at the clock.
"No indeed!" she said. "It's only nine, Mr. Pippin. I don't hardly ever
go up before half past. I'd be glad to hear anything you have to tell
me."
"I don't know as you will!" Pippin spoke rather ruefully. "Be glad, I
mean. I--I haven't been quite square with your Boss, Miss Flower. I
haven't, that's a fact. No!" as Mary looked up, startled. "I don't mean
I've told him anything that wasn't so. I believe it's all as I think and
more so; but what I would say is, there's a heap I haven't told him. You
see I--I dunno just how to put it--I felt to help him through this deal
that I knew them fellers was puttin' up; and--and--what I would say--if
I'd told him the whole of what there was to tell, mebbe he wouldn't have
let me help. I'm doin' the right thing, young lady, no fears of that;
the Lord showed me; but I'm scared, fear mebbe I ain't doin' it the
right way. So I thought if I might tell you the way I was fixed--what
say?"
"Certainly, Mr. Pippin! I'll be pleased to hear, as I said."
Mary laid down her work, and looked straight at Pippin with her honest
blue eyes. That made Pippin blush and feel as if a blue knife had gone
through him. To cover his confusion, he felt for his file, drew it out
and whistled softly on it; then, seeing Mary's look change to one of
open amazement, he fell into still deeper confusion.
"It's a file!" he explained. "I always carry it. It's handy--" He broke
off short, and made a desperate plunge. "I wondered if--if _you_
wondered--how I come to be so cocksure of that guy's bein' a crook. Did
you?"
"Well!" Mary hesitated a moment. "Yes! I didn't doubt but you did know,
but--yes, I did wonder some."
"That's what I've got to tell you. I've knowed that guy ever since we
was little shavers. We was--you may say--raised together, for a spell;
that is, we was learned together, anyway."
"You mean--you went to school together?"
Pippin leaned forward, his eyes very bright.
"Bashford's school!" he said. "Bashford's gang. Sneak-thievin',
pocket-pickin', breakin' and enterin'. Instruction warranted _com_plete.
That's the school we went to, young lady. I know Nosey Bashford because
I was a crook like him--only I will say I could do a better job--"
Pippin's chin lifted a little--"till the Lord took holt of me. Now you
know where I stand! And gorry to 'Liza!'" he added silently; "do you
s'pose I've got to git off this song and dance every time I meet any
person that I value their good opinion? I want you to understand the
Lord ain't lettin' me off any too easy, now I tell you!"
"But think," he assured himself, "how much easier you breathe when it's
off your chest! I expect the Lord knows full well just who ought to be
told things, and plans accordin'."
But Pippin had never heard of the _Ancient Mariner_.
Mary Flower had gone very pale, and her sweet face was grave; but her
eyes still met Pippin's frankly. "Go on!" she said. "You've said too
much, or you've said too little; either way you'll have to finish now.
But be careful, for I shall believe everything you say."
"Now wouldn't that--" murmured Pippin; then he was silent for a little,
fingering his file absently. Mary thought he must hear the beating of
her heart, but he did not, for his own was sounding trip hammers in his
ears. She would believe everything--she would _believe_! Lord make him
worthy--at least not leave him be more un-so than--Pippin drew a long,
sobbing breath. At last he lifted his head.
"I left that gang when I was eighteen years old. I'd broke Nosey's beak
for him long before that, fightin' when we was kids. He was a mean kid.
I see he has it in for me still, and though I'm sorry, in the way of a
Christian, that I broke it, still I'm kind o' glad too."
"So am I!" Mary spoke impulsively.
Pippin looked up in surprise, and a smile broke over his anxious face.
"Is that so?" he said. "Well, Nosey never was real attractive, any time
that I remember. Anyhow, come to grow to my stren'th, I quit. I didn't
like them nor their ways; low-down is what I call Bashford's. But yet I
didn't quit the trade: no, ma'am! Not then. The Lord didn't judge me
ready by then. I stayed in it, and I done well in it--"
"Excuse me!" Mary's voice faltered a little. "What trade? I don't quite
understand--"
Pippin stared at her.
"Like I said. Sneakin', breakin' and enterin'--burglary, to say the real
word. There! I wasn't ashamed to do it then, nor I won't be afraid to
say it now. I told you I was a crook, and I was--till goin' on four year
ago. Then--" a curious softness always came into Pippin's voice when he
reached this part of his story--"I found the Lord! Yes, young lady, I
found the Lord, for keeps. I--" he glanced at the clock. "'Twould take
too long to tell you all about it to-night; some day I will, if you'll
take time to listen. I was in prison, and He visited me. All along of a
good man who _cared_, and took holt of me and raised me up where I could
see and hear, and know it _was_ the Lord. If ever you hear of a man
named Elder Hadley--"
"_What!_" said Mary Flower.
Had Pippin seen her face at that moment, he might have stopped; but he
stooped to pick up the ball she dropped. Mary opened her lips,
hesitated, seemed to reflect, finally thanked him for the ball and went
on with her work.
"That's his name!" Pippin was looking at the table now, his chin propped
in his hands. "Best man the Lord ever made, bar none. I was in darkness,
and he brought me out. He brought me out. Amen!"
There was another pause, while the clock ticked and the kettle purred
gently on the stove. Presently Pippin pushed his chair back and rose to
his feet, his shoulders very square, his chin well up.
"I'll ask you to believe that I've kep' straight since then!" he said
gravely.
"I do believe it!" said Mary Flower. Again brown eyes and blue met in a
long earnest look; again Pippin drew a long breath.
"That sounds good to me!" he said simply. "I thank the Lord for that,
Miss Flower. I don't know what I'd have done if you--had felt otherways.
Now--" he glanced at the clock--"I mustn't stay another moment, keepin'
you up like this. It's nigh on ten o'clock. There's more to it, a heap
more. I'd like you to know why I come here to the city, and what I'm
tryin' to do, and all about it. You--you'll try to--I'd like to regard
you as a friend, if I might take the liberty. I've never had a lady
friend, except Mis' Baxter, and though she is a wonder, and more than
kind, yet she's--"
Married and stout, and middle-aged, and altogether aunt-like; speak out,
Pippin. But Pippin did not speak out; he stood and looked with bright,
asking eyes, at once brave and timid. Mary held out her hand frankly.
"Sure, we will be friends!" she said. "I haven't ever--that is--I'll be
glad of your friendship, I am sure, Mr. Pippin. And now I will say good
night, and hoping you will sleep well and no disturbance for anyone."
* * * * *
Having witnessed two _tête-à-têtes_, we may as well glance at a third,
which was held about the same time, though in a place wholly unlike
either rose-shaded parlor or shining kitchen.
A back room in a slum grog shop: dingy, dirty, reeking with stale
tobacco, steeped in fumes of vilest liquor. Some of the liquor is on the
table now, in two glasses; some of the tobacco is in the pipes, which
two men are smoking as they sit, one sprawling, the other hunched, in
their respective chairs. An elderly man, low-browed, heavy-jawed, the
brutal-criminal type that every prison knows; the other young, slight,
narrow-chested, with a crooked nose and small eyes set too near
together.
"All ready for to-night?" the elder was saying, in a hoarse, whispering
voice, that matched his face. "What's your hurry, Bill? I'm takin'
things easy these days. I'm gettin' on in years, and when I take on a
night job, I want to be sure it's all slick as grease. What's your
hurry?"
The other clenched his fist and brought it down on the table with an
oath.
"I want Pippin!" he said. "That's what I'm after. You can have the swag,
Dad; it's all straight, I tell you--silver locked up nights in the
sideboard, locks that a kid could pick. No money kep' in the house, but
good silver; you can have the whole bag, but let--me--get--my hands on
Pippin!"
The elder ruffian looked at him curiously. The little eyes were aflame
with something more than greed and cunning.
"Go slow, Bill!" said the affectionate father. "Go slow and easy! You
don't want to get twenty years for a job like this."
"I'd take hell," said the other, "to smash his face for him!"
"That's it, is it?" the older man whistled, and a grim smile broke over
his countenance. "He did maul you bad, Bill, no mistake. Not that you
ever were a beauty!" he added musingly. "Your mother's folks is all
homely. Well, if that's all you want, to get even with Pippin, why not
happen on him in that lane some night and--hey? Then we could take our
time about gettin' the swag, and he be out of the way, see?"
"That ain't all!" The young man's face flamed with passion as he bent
forward. "I want to get him _there_, Dad! I want to show her--to show
them folks--that he's a crook from way back. Didn't I tell you he'd got
old Nipper Crewe's wheel? Goin' about smilin' and singin'--damn
him!--workin' his way in smooth as oil, and all the time fitted out with
the best set of tools in the city. He's ben watchin' the house all the
week, an' I've a hunch he's there to-night. I want to show him up! I
want they should see his face when I do it--see it before I smash--" He
choked with passion; his upper lip curled back, and his breath hissed
through the bared teeth.
The older Bashford laughed outright. "Boys is boys!" he said. "You're
really mad, ain't you, Bill? Well, I shan't stand in your way. I owe
Pippin one myself, ---- ---- him! But--hell! he is a slick one, no two
ways about that. Joshin' on the pious, is he? And Nipper's kit handy by?
That's good, that is! We'll get in ahead of him, Bill, sure thing we
will. Now le's go home and get a mou'ful of sleep before we start in."
And all this time, while these three couples were spinning their
unconscious threads for the Shuttle, under the quiet starlit sky the
night train was drawing nearer and nearer, bringing among its
hundred-odd passengers a quiet, bright-eyed man in clerical dress.