HARD HIT
Drew was not surprised to find that his employer was not alone. A man
whom he now recognized as the agent of the estate controlling the
building was seated at one end of the desk and was drumming upon it
with his fingers.
Tyke was hunched up in his big revolving chair with a look of agitation
on his face. His hands were clenching and unclenching rapidly. It was
evident that something much out of the ordinary had occurred to rob him
of his usual placidity.
He motioned Drew to a seat.
"Well, Allen," began Grimshaw, in a voice that he tried in vain to
render calm, "it's come at last. We've got to get out of the old
place."
"What?" cried the young man; yet this only confirmed the suspicion
which his recognition of the visitor had suggested.
"We're sorry, of course," purred the agent, who had tried to break the
unwelcome news to the old man as easily as possible. "But, of course,
you know that you held the place on the distinct understanding that we
should take possession at will."
"I ain't denying that, Mr. Blake," admitted Tyke. "There's isn't
anything underhand or wrong about what you're doing. I kept on here
with my eyes wide open and I'm ready to take my medicine. But all the
same, it comes as a shock. I'd hoped to hold on to the old craft as
long as I lived."
"I wish you could, both for your sake and ours," returned Blake. "We
haven't a tenant anywhere who pays his rent more promptly and bothers
us less about repairs. But the trustees of the estate have had an
offer from parties who want to put up a more modern building on this
site, and it was too good to decline."
"When are they going to start?" asked Drew.
"They're in something of a hurry," replied the agent. "You see this is
the right time of the year for construction work, and they want to have
the foundations laid by fall."
"It's only a matter of days then before we have to find another place?"
went on Drew.
"Oh, I should hardly say that," replied Blake, soothingly. "You know
how those things are. They'll have a lot to do in the way of plans and
contracts before they get down to the actual work of building. Still,"
he went on, more cautiously, "they may get busy on wrecking the old
building at almost any time, and I'd advise you as a friend not to let
the grass grow under your feet. You've got a lot of stuff here, and it
will take a good deal of time to move it. If I were you, I'd figure on
being out in a week or ten days."
"Ten days!" groaned Tyke. "An' I haven't even got a place to go to."
"It may take some hustling," admitted the agent. "But a good deal can
be done in a short time when you have to. I'll look around, and if I
learn of any place that would suit you I'll let you know."
There was little else to be said, and after another expression of
regret at the unpleasant duty he had had to perform, Blake took his
leave.
The two men left in the office, contrasting types of age and youth,
looked at each other for a moment without speaking. Allen Drew had a
real affection for his employer, who for some time past had treated him
more like a son than an employee, and he was genuinely shocked to see
how this blow had affected him.
"Don't mind, Mr. Grimshaw," he said cheerily. "It doesn't mean the end
of the world. We'll find another place that is just as good. And this
time we'll get a lease, so we won't have to worry about being routed
out in this way."
Tyke shook his head dismally.
"That's all very well for you youngsters," he replied. "You're at an
age when you'd as soon change as not. But I've kind o' stuck my kedge
deep into the old place, an' it's like plucking my heart out to have to
up anchor and make sail for another port."
The younger man thought it would be best to leave Grimshaw alone for a
while, and he rose briskly to his feet.
"If you say so, I'll go out and look around," he suggested. "I've had
this thing in the back of my mind for some time past, and I know of two
or three likely places that may fill the bill."
"All right," assented Tyke apathetically. "Jest tell Winters to look
after things in the shop while you're gone. I reckon I won't be much
good for the rest of the afternoon."
Drew went out, and after imparting the news, which shocked Winters and
Sam, put on his hat and left the office.
That morning he had been hoping for a change. This afternoon he was
getting it with a vengeance.
It was desirable from every standpoint that the new place should be as
near to the old one as possible. This consideration limited his choice
to two buildings which he knew were vacant, and toward these he bent
his steps.
The first place he visited had just been rented, but at the second he
had better luck. He returned about four o'clock and burst into the
store, flushed and jubilant.
"I've found it," he announced, going into the private office. "Just
what the doctor ordered. Plenty of room, a better pair of show windows
than we have here, and a long-time lease for a rent that's only a
trifle more than we're paying now."
Tyke looked up with the first sign of animation he had shown since
Blake's visit.
"Where is it?" he asked.
"Just on the next block," answered Drew. "Turner's old place."
"We'll go right over now an' look at it," said Tyke, rising and putting
on his hat.
After inspecting the three floors thoroughly, Grimshaw agreed with his
young manager that they were in luck to get the building. A visit to
the agent followed, and before they left his office Tyke had handed
over a check for the first month's rent and had a five-year lease in
his pocket.
"A good piece of work, Allen, my boy," he said, as they parted outside
the shop that night. "I don't know what I'd do without you. But I'm
mighty sorry to have to leave the old place. No other will ever seem
exactly like it."
"Poor old Tyke," mused Drew, as he looked after the retreating figure
that suddenly seemed older than he had ever seen it. "He's hard hit."
In all the stir and bustle of that crowded afternoon, Drew had been
conscious of a glow at his heart that was not due to mere business
excitement. One name had been upon his lips, one thought had sought to
monopolize him. And now that business was over for the day, he yielded
utterly to the obsession of that meeting on the wharf.
Instead of striding uptown as usual, he turned in the other direction
and went down to the Jones Lane pier, now for the most part deserted
and quiet in the waning light. Here and there a watchman sat on a bale
smoking his pipe, while occasionally a sailor lay a more or less
unsteady course for his ship.
Drew made his way to where the _Normandy_ was moored, and asked for
Captain Peters.
"Gone ashore, sir," said the man he addressed. "Some friends of his
came aboard this afternoon and he's gone off with them to celebrate."
There was a grin on the man's face as he spoke, and this, together with
his recollection of the decanter, left no illusions in Drew's mind as
to the character of the celebration.
"Any message to leave for the captain, sir?" the man inquired.
"Nothing important," returned Drew carelessly. "I may drop around and
see him to-morrow." And he blessed the belated windlass which would
give him a reasonable excuse for returning.
But even though the captain was absent, there were other things at hand
that spoke of the girl with the hazel eyes. There was the place where
she had dropped the letters. There was the post against which she had
leaned as she watched him recover them. And there, as he bent over the
edge of the pier, he saw the little boat that had played its part in
the day's happenings.
How musical her voice was! And she had smiled at him once--no, twice!
Smiled not only with her lips but with her eyes.
He thought of her as he went slowly uptown. He thought of her until he
went to sleep and then his thinking changed to dreaming.
Decidedly, Tyke was not the only one who was hard hit on that eventful
day.