TOM FLANNERY'S SICKNESS.
Bob Hunter was too much surprised by the fact that Herbert was going to
Mr. Goldwin's house to tell him of his own anxiety about Tom Flannery.
The latter had not, as Bob learned, been seen for two days at his
accustomed place. That he should be away one day was not particularly
strange, for he not infrequently got odd jobs to do that took him to
another part of the city, or possibly to some of the near by suburbs.
Two days' absence, however, was so unusual for him that Bob Hunter
became anxious, fearing that possibly the vengeance of old Gunwagner and
his companion in crime had fallen upon poor, unsuspecting Tom. This
thought having suggested itself to him, his previous anxiety speedily
turned to a feeling of alarm.
He therefore left his place of business as early as possible, and after
a hurried supper went quickly to Tom Flannery's home, which was in a
large office building on Broadway, very near Bowling Green. The latter's
mother was janitress of the building. Her duties were to keep it clean,
and to look after the interests of the owner. For these services she
received a trifling money reward, and was allowed to occupy two small
rooms at the top of the building. Here Mrs. Flannery and Tom made their
home, which, though humble, was very neat.
Bob knocked softly at the door, out of breath from climbing so many
flights of stairs, and with sore misgivings for the safety of his young
companion. The door was opened presently by a woman of middle age, who,
as Bob saw at a glance from her extraordinary resemblance to Tom, was
the newsboy's mother. He had never seen her before, but the honest,
trustful look so characteristic of his young friend shone prominently
in Mrs. Flannery's face.
"They have got him, poor Tom," said Bob to himself with beating heart,
as he saw Mrs. Flannery's grief.
"Are you not Master Bob Hunter?" said the woman, speaking first--after
an awkward pause; for the visitor, who had been so bold a detective, was
now so distressed that he knew not what to say.
"Yes, I am Bob Hunter," was the soft reply.
"And you are come to see my boy--my poor Tom?" said the woman, pressing
Bob's hand warmly, and struggling vainly to keep back the tears.
"Is he here?" asked Bob, dumfounded by the contradictory state of
things; for it was apparent from the woman's question that Tom was at
home, and, he being at home, why such grief?
"I'm so glad you came to see him, for he thought so much of you, Master
Bob," said Mrs. Flannery, now giving way entirely to her feelings.
"I would have come before if I had known----"
"I know you would, I know you would," interrupted the woman between
sobs, "and he asked so many times for you, and now to think that you are
here and he won't know you. Oh, my poor Tom!"
"I don't blame you for being proud, Bob. I wish I had such a case too,
but then I couldn't handle it not the way you could, Bob. None of the
fellers could, not one of 'em, Bob, for you do everything in such a
grand way, you know."
These words, so familiar yet so ominously strange, fell upon Bob Hunter
like a messenger of death.
"Oh, what is it, Mrs. Flannery? What has happened to Tom?" cried he,
pale with fright.
"It's his head, Master Bob--gone since morning--rambling on just like
this--detectives, and I don't know what all."
"Have you had a doctor to see him?" asked Bob, his mind turning quickly
to practical measures.
"Yes, and he says it's pneumonia, and a very bad case," answered the
mother, with almost a hopeless expression.
Bob learned that Tom came home two days before thoroughly wet from a
cold northeast rain; that he had a chill soon after going to bed; that
he grew rapidly worse throughout the night, and that in the morning he
had a high fever. Mrs. Flannery called in a doctor, who, after a careful
examination, pronounced the case pneumonia. He left medicine which
seemed to afford temporary relief. In the night, however, Tom grew
worse, and during the following forenoon became delirious.
"Don't you know me, Tom?" said Bob feelingly, as he stood by the
bedside, and held the sufferer's hand in his own.
"All the evening papers--_Sun_, _Mail and Express_, _Telegram_--big
accident--tremendous loss of life! Which will you have, sir?"
And this was Tom's wild reply, poor boy. Now that his companion, whom he
wanted to see so much, and for whom he had such admiration, had at last
come to him, the sick boy did not know him; but supposing he had a
customer for his papers, he rattled on in true newsboy fashion. Bob
tried again and again to rouse his mind by referring to Herbert
Randolph, and to scenes familiar and interesting, but his efforts were
unsuccessful. At length his stout young heart gave way, and with an
expression of the keenest grief he dropped into a chair beside the bed,
burying his face in the pure white spread that covered his young
companion, and wept tears of sincere sorrow.
[Illustration: TOM FLANNERY IN DELIRIUM.]
Presently he withdrew from the sick room, and after a brief discussion
with Mrs. Flannery hurried away to the doctor whom she had previously
called in to see Tom. The physician promised to visit the sick boy again
within an hour. Having this assurance from the doctor, Bob then turned
his steps towards his own room to acquaint Herbert Randolph with Tom's
illness. But to Bob's surprise he found on arriving there that the young
Vermonter had not yet reached home.
"'Twas nine o'clock when I passed the _Tribune_ building," said Bob to
himself rather anxiously, "and he hain't come yet. I hope nothing's
gone bad with him, though, for we've got trouble enough on our hands
already, with Tom sick, and goin' to die, I'm afraid. I wish I could do
something for him; he would do anything in the world for me, Tom would."
But Bob's fears regarding Herbert proved groundless, for in a little
time the latter joined him with a light heart, made happy by the very
kind reception given him at Mr. Goldwin's.
On his way home his mind was filled with the vision of a sweet young
face, which to him was an inspiration. And as he hurried along the
avenue, thinking faster and faster, what charming pictures his
imagination brought before him--pictures that for him possessed a
strange and peculiar attraction. But these beautiful creations of his
mind were quickly lost to him when he saw the troubled look on young Bob
Hunter's face.
"Why, Bob," said he, "what makes you look so wretched? What has
happened?"
The latter quickly related the story of Tom's sickness, and stated his
own fears.
"I cannot realize it, Bob," said Herbert, deeply touched. "Poor Tom! let
us go at once and do whatever we can for him."
"That's right, Herbert; that's what I think we ought to do, and I
shouldn't come home at all only I knew you would not know what had
become of me," replied Bob, as they put on their overcoats and started
for Mrs. Flannery's humble home.