At the club I found a note from Freddy. She pressed me to lose
no time. Mrs. Matthewman was talking of going to Europe, and of
course she and Eleanor would have to accompany her. Eleanor, she
said, had ordered two new gowns and had brightened up
wonderfully. "Only yesterday she told me she wished that silly
doctor would hurry up and come--and that, you know, from Eleanor
is almost a declaration!"
Some of my best friends happened to be in the club. It occurred
to me that poor Nevill was diabetic, and that Charley Crossman
had been boring everybody about his gout. I buttonholed them
both, and laid my unfortunate predicament before them. I said
I'd pay all the expenses. In fact, the more they could make it
cost the better I'd be pleased.
"What," roared Nevill, "put myself in the hands of a young fool
so that he may fill his empty pockets with your money! Where do
I come in? Good heavens, Westoby, you're crazy! Think what
would happen to me if it came to Doctor Saltworthy's ears? He'd
never have anything more to do with me!"
Charley Crossman was equally rebellious and unreasonable.
"I guess you've never had the gout," he said grimly.
"But Charley, old man," I pleaded, "all that you'd have to do
would be to let him talk to you. I don't ask you to suffer for
it. Just pay--that's all--pay my money!"
"I'm awfully easily talked into things," said Charley. (There
was never such a mule on the Produce Exchange.) "He'd be saying,
'Take this'--and I'm the kind of blankety-blank fool that would
take it!"
Then I did a mean thing. I reminded Crossman of having backed
some bills of his--big bills, too--at a time when it was touch
and go whether he'd manage to keep his head above water.
"Westoby," he replied, "don't think that time has lessened my
sense of that obligation. I'd cut off my right hand to do you a
good turn. But for heaven's sake, don't ask me to monkey with my
gout!"
The best I could get out of him was the promise of an anemic
servant-girl. Nevill generously threw in a groom with varicose
veins. Small contributions, but thankfully received.
"Now, what you do," said Nevill, "is to go round right off and
interview Bishop Jordan. He has sick people to burn!"
But I said Jones would get on to it if I deluged him with the
misery of the slums.
"That's just where the bishop comes in," said Nevill. "There
isn't a man more in touch with the saddest kind of poverty in New
York--the decent, clean, shrinking poverty that hides away from
all the deadhead coffee and doughnuts. If I was in your fix I'd
fall over myself to reach Jordan!"
"Yes, you try Jordan," said Charley, who, I'm sure, had never
heard of him before.
"Then it's me for Jordan," said I.
I went down stairs and told one of the bell-boys to look up the
address in the telephone-book. It seemed to me he looked pale,
that boy.
"Aren't you well, Dan?" I said.
"I don't know what's the matter with me, sir. I guess it must be
the night work."
I gave him a five-dollar bill and made him write down 1892 Eighth
Avenue on a piece of paper.
"You go and see Doctor Jones first thing," I said. "And don't
mention my name, nor spend the money on Her Mad Marriage."
I jumped into a hansom with a pleasant sense that I was beginning
to make the fur fly.
"That's a horrible cold of yours, Cabby," I said as we stopped at
the bishop's door and I handed him up a dollar bill. "That's
just the kind of a cold that makes graveyards hum!"
"I can't shake it off, sir," he said despondently. "Try what I
can, and it's never no use!"
"There's one doctor in the world who can cure anything," I said;
"Doctor Henry Jones, 1892 Eighth Avenue. I was worse than you
two weeks ago, and now look at me! Take this five dollars, and
for heaven's sake, man, put yourself in his hands quick."
Bishop Jordan was a fine type of modern clergyman. He was
broad-shouldered mentally as well as physically, and he brought
to philanthropic work the thoroughness, care, enthusiasm and
capacity that would have earned him a fortune in business.
"Bishop," I said, "I've come to see if I can't make a trade with
you!"
He raised his grizzled eyebrows and gave me a very searching
look.
"A trade," he repeated in a holding-back kind of tone, as though
wondering what the trap was.
"Here's a check for one thousand dollars drawn to your order," I
went on. "And here's the address of Doctor Henry Jones, 1892
Eighth Avenue. I want this money to reach him via your sick
people, and that without my name being known or at all
suspected."
"May I not ask the meaning of so peculiar a request?"
"He's hard up," I said, "and I want to help him. It occurred to
me that I might make you--er--a confederate in my little game,
you know."
His eyes twinkled as he slowly folded up my check and put it in
his pocket.
"I don't want any economy about it, Bishop," I went on. "I don't
want you to make the best use of it, or anything of that kind. I
want to slap it into Doctor Jones' till, and slap it in quick"
"Would you consider two weeks--?"
"Oh, one, please!"
"It is understood, of course, that this young man is a duly
qualified and capable physician, and that in the event of my
finding it otherwise I shall be at liberty to direct your check
to other uses?"
"Oh, I can answer for his being all right, Bishop. He's
thoroughly up-to-date, you know; does the X-ray act; and keeps
the pace of modern science."
"You say you can answer for him," said the bishop genially.
"Might I inquire who you are."
"I'm named Westoby--Ezra Westoby--managing partner of Hodge &
Westoby, boxers."
"I like boxers," said the bishop in the tone of a benediction,
rising to dismiss me. "I like one thousand dollar checks, too.
When you have any more to spare just give them a fair wind in
this direction!"
I went out feeling that the Episcopal Church had risen fifty per
cent in my esteem. Bishops like that would make a success of any
denomination. I like to see a fellow who's on to his job.
I gave Jones a week to grapple with the new developments, and
then happened along. The anteroom was full, and there was a
queue down the street like a line of music-loving citizens
waiting to hear Patti. Nice, decent-looking people, with money
in their hands. (I always like to see a cash business, don't
you?) I guess it took me an hour to crowd my way up stairs, and
even then I had to buy a man out of the line.
Jones was carrying off the boom more quietly than I cared about.
He wore a curt, snappy air. I don't know why, but I felt
misgivings as I shook hands with him.
Of course I commented on the rush.
"The Lord only knows what's happened to my practice," he said.
"The blamed thing has gone up like a rocket. It seems to me
there must be a great wave of sickness passing over New York just
now."
"Everybody's complaining," I said.
This reminded him of my insomnia till I cut him short.
"What's the matter with our going down to the Van Coorts' from
Saturday to Tuesday," I said. "They haven't given up the hope of
seeing you there, Doctor, and the thing's still open."
Then I waited for him to jump with joy.
He didn't jump a bit. He shook his head. He distinctly said
"No."
"I told you it was the money side of it that bothered me," he
explained. "So it was at the time, for, of course, I couldn't
foresee that my practice was going to fill the street and call
for policemen to keep order. But, my dear Westoby, after giving
the subject a great deal of consideration I have come to the
conclusion that it would be too painful for me to revive those
--those--unhappy emotions I was just beginning to recover from!"
"I thought you loved her!" I exclaimed.
"That's why I've determined not to go," he said. "I have outlived
one refusal. How do I know I have the strength, the
determination, the hardihood to undergo the agonies of another?"
It seemed a feeble remark to say that faint heart never won fair
lady. I growled it out more like a swear than anything else. I
was disgusted with the chump.
"She's the star above me," he said; "and I am crushed by my own
presumption. Is there any such fool as the man that breaks his
heart twice for the impossible?"
"But it isn't impossible," I cried.
"Hasn't she--as far as a woman can--hasn't she called you back to
her? What more do you expect her to do? A woman's delicacy
forbids her screaming for a man! I think Eleanor has already
gone a tremendous way in just hinting--"
"You may be right," he said pathetically; "but then you may also
be wrong. The risk is too terrible for me to run. It will
comfort me all my life to think that perhaps; she does love me in
secret!"
"Do you mean to say you're going to give it all up?" I roared.
"You needn't get so warm about it," he returned. "After all, I
have some justification in thinking she doesn't care."
"What on earth do you suppose she invited you for, then?"
"Well, it would be different," he said, "if I had a note from her
--a flower--some little tender reminder of those dear old dead
days in the Pullman!"
"She's saving up all that for Morristown," I said.
For the first time in our acquaintance Doctor Jones looked at me
with suspicion. His blue eyes clouded. He was growing a little
restive under my handling.
"You seem to make the matter a very personal one," he observed.
"Well, I love Freddy," I explained. "It naturally brings your
own case very close to me. And then I am so positive that you
love Eleanor and that Eleanor loves you. Put yourself in my
place, Doctor! Do you mean that you'd do nothing to bring two
such noble hearts together?"
He seized my hand and wrung it effusively. He really did love
Eleanor, you know. The only fault with him was his being so
darned humble about it. He was eaten up with a sense of his own
inferiority. And yet I could see he was just tingling to go to
Morristown. Of course, I crowded him all I could, but the best I
could accomplish was his promise to "think it over." I hated to
leave him wabbling, but patients were scuffling at the door and
fighting on the stairs.
The next thing I did was to get Freddy on the long-distance
'phone.
"Freddy," I said, after explaining the situation, "you must get
Eleanor to telegraph to him direct!"
"What's the good of asking what she won't do?" bubbled the sweet
little voice.
"Can't you persuade her?"
"I know she won't do it!"
"Then you must forge it," I said desperately. "It needn't be
anything red-hot, you know. But something tender and sincere:
'Shall be awfully disappointed if you don't come,' or, 'There was
a time when you would not have failed me!"'
"It's impossible."
"Then he won't budge a single inch!" I replied.
"Ezra?"
"Darling!"
"Suppose I just signed the telegram Van Coon?"
"The very thing!"
"If he misunderstood it--I mean if he thought it really came from
Eleanor--there couldn't be any fuss about it afterward, could
there?"
"And, of course, you'll send the official invitation from Mrs.
Matthewman besides?"
"For Saturday?"
"Yes, Saturday!"
"And you'll come?"
"Just watch me!"
"Ezra, are you happy?"
"That depends on Jones."
"Oh, isn't it exciting?"
"I have the ring in my pocket--"
"But touch wood, won't you?"
"Freddy?"
"Yes--"
"What's the matter with getting some for-get-me-nots and mailing
them to Jones in an envelope?"
"All right, I'll attend to it. Eighteen ninety-two Eighth
Avenue, isn't it?"
"Be sure it is forget-me-nots, you know. Don't mix up the
language of flowers, and send him one that says: 'I'm off with a
handsomer man,' or,' You needn't come round any more!'"
"Oh, Ezra, Eleanor is really getting quite worked up!"
"So am I!"
"Wouldn't it be perfectly splendid if--Switch off quick, here's
aunt coming!"
"Mayn't I even say I love you?"
"I daren't say it back, Ezra--she's calling."
"But do you?"
"Yes, unfortunately--"
"Why unfortun--?"
Buzz-buzz-swizzleum-bux-bux!--Aunt had cut us off. However,
short as my little talk with Freddy had been, it brightened my
whole day.
Late the same afternoon, I went back to Doctor Jones. I was
prepared to find him uplifted, but I hadn't counted on his being
maudlin. The fellow was drunk, positively drunk--with happiness.
His tongue ran on like a mill-stream. I had to sit down and have
the whole Pullman-car episode inflicted on me a second time. I
was shown the receipt-slip. I was shown the telegram from Eleanor.
I was shown with a whoop the forget-me-nots! Then he was going on
Saturday? I asked. He said he guessed it would take an earthquake
to keep him away, and a pretty big earthquake, too! . . . Oh, it
was a great moment, and all the greater because I was tremendously
worked up, too. I saw Freddy floating before me, my sweet, girlish,
darling Freddy, holding out her arms while Jones gassed and gassed
and gassed.