Sally sat by her window in the office of John Hazen, Inc., looking
absently out of it. Doctor Beatty was talking to her earnestly, in low
tones, and she was serious and sober, listening intently.
"Mrs. Upjohn," he was saying,--"thrifty soul!--came out to Sanderson's
this morning with the grocer's boy"--Sally chuckled suddenly, in spite
of her seriousness, but stopped as suddenly--"and went up to see
Patty. I'd like," he interrupted himself to say emphatically, "to see
every visitor of suspicious character required to show cause for
seeing the patients. Yes," he nodded in reply to a questioning look of
Sally's, "Patty is a patient. There's no doubt about that, I'm afraid.
And Mrs. Upjohn is a suspicious character. There is no doubt about
that either. Oh, yes, well-meaning, perhaps; even probably. But she
should not have been allowed to see Patty. I consider Patty's
condition--er--ticklish. Distinctly ticklish."
Sally was surprised. "What do you mean? How is her condition
ticklish?"
"Mentally," he replied.
Sally turned to Doctor Beatty with a start and looked him straight in
the eyes. She wanted to see just what he meant. Then she shuddered.
"I hope not," she said.
"Well, we won't think of it. We are doing our best. But Mrs. Upjohn
succeeded in upsetting her completely in a very few minutes. I was
afraid, at first, that the mischief was done. Oh, it wasn't. She came
back all right. I couldn't make her tell me what Mrs. Upjohn had said,
but, picking up a thread here and there, I judged that Charlie had
been misbehaving himself somehow. I couldn't find out just how. I am
sorry to add another log to your load, Sally, but I thought that you
would be glad to be told of what seems to be common report. I know
that I would."
"I am," she said. "I'm glad and sorry, too. But I'm greatly obliged to
you." She was silent for some little time, looking out and thinking
hard. "Do you know what kind of misbehavior it is?" she asked. "I'm
pretty familiar with several kinds," she added, with a hard little
laugh. "Don't be afraid to tell me the truth if you know it."
Doctor Beatty shook his head. "I don't know it. It seems to be
connected with Patty's money."
"I have been afraid of it, but it has been impossible to get hold of
anything definite," replied Sally gravely. "Even you aren't telling me
anything definite, although I believe you would if you knew it."
He nodded. "You may be sure I would, Sally."
"It is really curious how hard it is for people to find out what
concerns them most nearly," she continued. "Everybody is most
considerate of one's feelings." She gave another hard little laugh.
"I've not much doubt that almost everybody in town, excepting
Charlie's relatives and near friends,--if he has any,--has known of
this for a long time. It would have been the part of kindness to tell
me."
"If it had been more than mere rumor," Doctor Beatty agreed, "it would
have been. I understand," he went on with a quiet smile, "that that
was Mrs. Upjohn's idea in telling Patty. She considered the rumor
verified. Her motive seems to have been good, but the method adopted
was bad; very bad. It's difficult, at best."
Sally was silent again for some time. "Poor Patty!" she murmured.
"It's hard on her. If she has lost money in that way I must pay her
back."
Doctor Beatty made no reply. Sally had not said it to him.
"I believe," she said, turning to him, "that I know how I can find out
all about it--from a trustworthy source," she added, smiling gravely,
"as Miss Lambkin would put it."
The doctor muttered impatiently under his breath. Letty Lambkin! But
he had done his errand, for which service Sally thanked him again.
Doctor Beatty had been gone but a few minutes when Horry Carling came
in. He nodded pleasantly to Sally and was taking off his overcoat.
"Horry," said Sally suddenly, "what has Charlie been doing?"
Horry stopped, his coat hanging by the arms and his mouth open, and
looked at her. He was very much startled.
"Wh--wh--what?" he asked at last.
"I asked you what Charlie has been doing. What mischief has he been up
to? I am pretty sure he has been misbehaving himself since he has been
in college. How? Has he been in bad company?"
"W--w--well, y--y--yes," Horry stammered, getting rather red, "I
th--th--think h--he h--h--has."
"Do you mean women, Horry?"
Horry's face went furiously red at that question. "N--n--n--no,"--he
was in such a hurry to say it that he was longer than usual about
it,--"n--n--n--noth--th--thing of th--th--that k--k--kind,
th--th--that I kn--n--now of. G--g--g--gam--m--"
"Gambling, Horry?" Sally asked the question calmly, as if she merely
wanted to know. She did want to know, very much, but not merely.
Knowing was the first step.
"Y--y--yes," Horry answered. He seemed very much relieved. "H--h--he
has g--g--gam--m--mbled almost ev--v--ver s--s--since h--he's
b--b--been th--th--there," he added. And he went on in as much haste
as he could manage, which was not so very much. Neither he nor Harry
had been in Charlie's confidence. Most of the fellows didn't care a
rap, of course, and didn't pay attention; but--but Harry and he had
cared and--and--they had--and Horry got very red again and stopped in
confusion.
Sally smiled upon him. "Thank you for caring, Horry," she said
gently. "Was that what you seemed to have on your mind all last
summer? I thought you wanted to tell me something."
He nodded.
"I wonder why you didn't. I should have been grateful."
"C--c--couldn't b--bear to. We d--d--did t--tell D--D--Dick.
C--c--came d--d--down on p--p--purpose. J--j--just b--bef--f--fore he
g--g--got m--married. I s--s--s'pose he f--f--forg--got a--ab--b--bout
it."
"He must have," sighed Sally. "It isn't like Dick. Now, if you will
tell me all you know, I will promise not to forget about it."
Accordingly, Horry unburdened his soul of the whole story, so far as
he knew it, and Sally listened in silence, only nodding now and then.
What was there to be said? Horry was grateful for her listening and
for her silence and he stuttered less as he went on.
"There!" he concluded. "N--now you kn--n--now all I d--do. I'm
p--p--pumped dry, Sally, and I'm g--glad to g--g--get it off my
m--mind."
"Thank you," said she; and she relapsed into silence and fell to
looking out again.
Horry sat still, waiting for her to say something more; but she did
not and he got up, at last.
"If y--you h--have n--noth--th--thing more t--to ask me, S--Sally--"
Sally turned toward him quickly. "Horry," she said, interrupting him,
"do you know where Charlie goes--to gamble?" It was an effort for her
to say it.
"Y--yes," he replied, blushing furiously again, but not avoiding her
eyes. "I've b--b--been th--there."
"Oh, Horry! And aren't you ashamed?"
"N--n--not es--s--specially. O--only w--w--went once, t--to l--l--look
on, you know. Th--thought I'd l--like to s--see the p--p--place once.
I didn't p--play." Horry shook his head. "I h--haven't g--g--got the
b--bug. Kn--n--new I w--was safe."
Sally seemed to be puzzled. "The bug? Do you mean--"
"The f--f--fever, Sally," he answered, laughing at her bewilderment;
"the sickness--disease of ga--ga--gambling. It's j--j--just as much a
dis--s--ease as the small-pox. Or c--con--sumption. Th--that's
b--b--better, bec--c--cause it lasts l--l--onger and it g--gets
w--w--worse and w--worse."
Sally sighed. "I suppose it is like that. It must be." She looked at
him thoughtfully for so long a time that Horry began to get red once
more and to fidget on his chair. "There must be a cure for it if we
could only find it," she murmured. "Horry," she said suddenly, "do you
suppose Harry would be willing to keep track of Charlie's
movements--without Charlie's knowing, I mean? For a while?"
"Kn--n--now he w--would."
"And would he telegraph me when Charlie goes into that place
again--and just as soon as he can find out? I ought to know as early
in the evening as possible--by six or seven o'clock."
"H--he w--will if he c--c--can f--f--find out in t--t--time.
W--w--wouldn't always b--be s--so easy. I'll t--take c--care of that,
Sally."
"Thank you. I shall be very grateful to you both."
Sally went out to Doctor Sanderson's the next afternoon. Fox saw her
coming and went to meet her.
"How is Patty, Fox?" she asked. She jumped lightly out of the carriage
and stood beside him.
He seemed distinctly disappointed at the question. "So that is what
you came for," he replied. "I hoped it might have had something to do
with me." He sighed. "Patty's all right, I think. Are you going up to
see her?"
Sally shook her head. "I came to see you, Fox. I want to ask your
advice."
"That changes the face of nature," he returned cheerfully. "Will you
come into the office--or anywhere else that you like."
They went into Fox's office and he got her settled in a chair.
"That's the most generally comfortable chair. It's my consultation
chair. I want my patients to be as comfortable as possible before they
begin."
Sally laughed a little. "Now, you sit down and put on your
professional expression."
"It is not difficult to look sympathetic with you, in advance, Sally."
"It is really a serious matter." She was silent for a moment. "Fox,"
she said then abruptly, "Charlie has been gambling."
"Yes."
"You aren't surprised?"
"No."
"And he has used Patty's money, I don't doubt."
"Yes."
"_Fox!_" she cried impatiently. "Did you know all this before? If you
did, I think you might have told me."
"No," he replied gently, "I did not know it. I only suspected it. You
had as much reason to suspect it as I had."
Sally shook her head. "I didn't know all the circumstances--about
Patty's money, for instance. I'm afraid she gave it to him. I don't
know how much."
"Neither do I."
"I must find out and pay her." She was silent again, leaning her chin
on her hand and gazing at Fox. "How can I find out, Fox?"
"I hardly know, Sally." He was silent, in his turn. "It's no use to
ask her, I suppose. You might ask Dick how much was--er--unaccounted
for."
"I might." She nodded with satisfaction. "I will. I shall pay it back.
And I must stop Charlie's gambling. I've got to. I've thought and
thought--for a whole day." She laughed shortly. "I'm no nearer than I
was in half an hour. Oh, Fox, tell me how."
He was looking at her with a great pity in his eyes. He should have
known better. Sally did not like to be pitied. "It's a problem,
Sally. I'm afraid you may not be able to stop it altogether--or
permanently."
"I thought it might do if--but, perhaps I'd better not tell anybody
about it until it's done."
"I commend that idea, in general," Fox replied, smiling, "although a
person should be perfectly frank with her lawyer and her physician. If
I can be of any assistance to you, please remember that nothing would
please me better. Those places are--wouldn't be easy for you to get
into. And, Sally, I should hate to think of your trying it. Can't I do
it?"
Sally smiled at him in a way that he liked very much. "I have no idea
of trying to get in. And, Fox, how much do you know of those places,
as you call them?"
"Not much, but I think I could probably get in."
"Thank you, Fox. There is one thing that you can do and that is to
explain to me why Charlie does it. Or, I suppose I know why he does,
but explain this if you can. Why haven't I the same desire? I am my
father's daughter. Why shouldn't I want to gamble, too, instead of the
very idea of it filling me with disgust?"
He sat for some time with a half smile on his lips, gazing at Sally
and saying nothing. Sally looked up and caught his eye and looked away
again.
"Please tell me, Fox," she said.
"A question of heredity, Sally! Heredity is a subject which I know
very little about. Nobody really knows much about it, for that matter.
A few experiments with peas and guinea-pigs, and, on the other hand, a
great deal of theorizing--which means a man's ideas of what ought to
happen, made to fit; or rather, the cases chosen to fit the ideas. And
neither helps us much when we come to apply them to such a case as
Charlie's. But do you really want me to tell you what I think? I'm no
authority and the whole thing is a matter of guesswork. You might
guess as well as I--or better."
She nodded. "I should like, very much, to know."
"Ah, so should I," he said. "If I only _knew_! I don't. But I will do
my best. Well, then, your father had rather a strong character--"
"Oh, Fox!" she protested.
"He did," he insisted. "Even you had to give in to him sometimes, and
you are the only one in your family who ever stood up against him--who
ever could have. He was lacking in the sense of right, and he had
depraved tastes, perhaps, but his tastes grew by indulgence. Your
mother--forgive me, Sally--has not as strong a character, in a way, but
her sense of right is strong. Perhaps her traditions are as strong."
There were some things which Fox did not know. If he had known all that
had passed in Mrs. Ladue's heart he might not have spoken so
confidently. "You have your mother's tastes,--irreproachable,--her
sense of right and your father's strength; a very excellent
combination." He laughed gently. "And both strengthened by your early
experience. A fiery furnace," he murmured, "to consume the dross."
Sally got red and did not seem pleased. "Go on," she said.
"Charlie got your father's tastes and your mother's lack of strength.
He seems to have no sense of right. He was most unfortunate. He didn't
get a square deal. But his very weakness gives me hope. He will have
to be watched, for he may break away at any time. There was no leading
your father, even in the way he wanted to go. He had to be under
strong compulsion--driven."
"Did you ever drive him, Fox?"
"Once," he answered briefly. "It was no fun."
"I remember the time." She sighed and rose slowly. "Well--"
Fox rose also. "Had enough of my preaching, Sally? I don't do it often
and I don't wonder you don't like it."
She smiled at him gravely and gave him her hand. "I'm greatly obliged
to you, Fox. If you can help me I will ask you to. I promise you
that."
He held her hand much longer than was at all necessary and he gazed
down at her with a longing which he could not hide. Not that he tried;
but she was not looking at him.
"Promise me something else, Sally."
Sally glanced up at him in surprise at his voice. "Anything that I can
do, of course," she said.
The look in his eyes was very tender--and pitying, Sally thought.
"Marry me, Sally. Promise me that."
It was sudden and unexpected, to be sure, but was there any reason why
the quick tears should have rushed to Sally's eyes and why she should
have looked so reproachfully at him? Ah, Doctor Sanderson, you have
made a mess of it now! Sally withdrew her hand quickly.
"Oh, Fox!" she cried low, her eyes brimming. "How could you? How could
you?"
He had hurt her somehow. God knew that he had not meant to. "Why,
Sally," he began, "I only wanted--"
"That's just it," she said quickly; and she could say no more and she
bit her lip and turned and hurried out, leaving Fox utterly bewildered
and gazing after her as if he were paralyzed.
Sally almost ran down the walk and, as she ran, she gave one sob. "He
was only sorry for me," she said to herself; "he only pitied me, and I
won't be pitied. He only wanted--to help me bear my burdens. Dear
Fox!" she thought, with a revulsion of feeling. "He is always
so--wanting to help me bear my burdens. Dear Fox! But he _shall_ be
true--to her," she added fiercely. "Does he think I will help him to
be untrue? Oh, Fox, dear!"
And, biting her lip again, cruelly, she got into the waiting
carriage.