Michael went early to his lunch party. He was divided between wondering
if his strange guest would put in an appearance at all; if he did, what
he should talk about; and how he would pilot him through the
embarrassing experience of the meal. One thing he was determined upon.
He meant to find out if possible whether Sam knew anything about his,
Michael’s, origin. It was scarcely likely; and yet, Sam might have
heard some talk by older people in the neighborhood. His one great
longing was to find out and clear his name of shame if possible.
There was another thing that troubled Michael. He was not sure that he
would know Sam even supposing that he came. The glimpse he had caught
the night before when the matches were struck was not particularly
illuminating. He had a dim idea that Sam was below the medium height;
with thin, sallow face; small, narrow eyes; a slouching gait; and a
head that was not wide enough from front to back. He had a feeling that
Sam had not room enough in his brain for seeing all that ought to be
seen. Sam did not understand about education. Would he ever be able to
make him understand?
Sam came shuffling along ten minutes after twelve. His sense of dignity
would not have allowed him to be on time. Besides, he wanted to see if
Michael would wait as he had said. It was a part of the testing of
Michael; not to prove if he were really Mikky, but to see what stuff he
was made of, and how much he really had meant of what he said.
Michael was there, standing anxiously outside the eating house. He did
not enjoy the surroundings nor the attention he was attracting. He was
too well dressed for that locality, but these were the oldest clothes
he had. He would have considered them quite shabby at college. He was
getting worried lest after all his plan had failed. Then Sam slouched
along, his hat drawn down, his hands in his pockets, and wearing an air
of indifference that almost amounted to effrontery. He greeted Michael
as if there had been no previous arrangement and this were a chance
meeting. There was nothing about his manner to show that he had
purposely come late to put him to the test, but Michael knew
intuitively it was so.
“Shall we go in now?” said Michael smiling happily. He found he was
really glad that Sam had come, repulsive in appearance though he was,
hard of countenance and unfriendly in manner. He felt that he was
getting on just a little in his great object of finding out and helping
his old friends, and perhaps learning something more of his own
history.
“Aw, I donno’s I care ’bout it!” drawled Sam, just as if he had not
intended going in all the time, nor had been thinking of the “feed” all
the morning in anticipation.
“Yes, you better,” said Michael putting a friendly hand on the others’
shoulder. If he felt a repugnance to touching the tattered, greasy coat
of his one-time friend, he controlled it, remembering how he had once
worn garments far more tattered and filthy. The greatness of his desire
to uplift made him forget everything else. It was the absorption of a
supreme task that had come upon the boy to the exclusion of his own
personal tastes.
It was not that Michael was so filled with love for this miserable
creature who used to be his friend, nor so desired to renew old
associations after these long years of separation; it was the terrible
need, the conditions of which had been called vividly to his
experience, that appealed to his spirit like a call of authority to
which he answered proudly because of what had once been done for him.
It had come upon him without his knowledge, suddenly, with the revival
of old scenes and memories, but as with all workers for humanity it had
gone so deeply into his soul as to make him forget even that there was
such a thing as sacrifice.
They passed into the restaurant. Michael in his well-made clothing and
with his strikingly handsome face and gold hair attracting at once
every eye in the place: Sam with an insolent air of assurance to cover
a sudden embarrassment of pride at the company he was in.
Michael gave a generous order, and talked pleasantly as they waited.
Sam sat in low-browed silence watching him furtively, almost
disconcertingly.
It was when they had reached the course of three kinds of pie and a dab
of dirty looking, pink ice cream professing to be fresh strawberry,
that Michael suddenly looked keenly at his guest and asked:
“What are you doing now, Sam? In business for yourself?”
Sam’s eyes narrowed until they were almost eclipsed, though a keen
steel glitter could be seen beneath the colorless lashes. A kind of
mask, impenetrable as lead, seemed to have settled over his face, which
had been gradually relaxing during the meal into a half indulgent grin
of interest in his queer host.
“Yas, I’m in business fer myself,” he drawled at last after carefully
scrutinizing the other’s face to be sure there was no underlying motive
for the question.
“News-stand?” asked Michael.
“Not eggs-act-ly!”
“What line?”
Sam finished his mince pie and began on the pumpkin before he answered.
“Wal, ther’s sev’ral!”
“Is that so? Got more than one string to your bow? That’s a good thing.
You’re better off than I am. I haven’t looked around for a job yet. I
thought I’d get at it tomorrow. You see I wanted to look you fellows up
first before I got tied down to anything where I couldn’t get off when
I wanted to. Perhaps you can put me onto something. How about it?”
It was characteristic of Michael that he had not once thought of going
to Endicott for the position and help offered him, since the setting
down he had received from Mrs. Endicott. The time appointed for his
going to Endicott’s office was long since passed. He had not even
turned the matter over in his mind once since that awful night of agony
and renunciation. Mrs. Endicott had told him that her husband “had done
enough for him” and he realized that this was true. He would trouble
him no more. Sometime perhaps the world would turn around so that he
would have opportunity to repay Endicott’s kindness that he might not
repay in money, but until then Michael would keep out of his way. It
was the one poor little rag of pride he allowed himself from the
shattering of all his hopes.
Sam narrowed his eyes and looked Michael through, then slowly widened
them again, an expression of real interest coming into them.
“Say! Do you mean it?” he asked doubtfully. “Be you straight goods?
Would you come back into de gang an not snitch on us ner nothin’?”
“I’m straight goods, Sam, and I won’t snitch!” said Michael quickly. He
knew that he could hope for no fellow’s confidence if he “snitched.”
“Wal, say, I’ve a notion to tell yeh!”
Sam attacked his ice cream contemplatively.
“How would a bluff game strike you?” he asked suddenly as the last
delectable mouthful of cream disappeared and he pulled the fresh cup of
coffee toward him that the waiter had just set down.
“What sort?” said Michael wondering what he was coming on in the way of
revelation, but resolving not to be horrified at anything. Sam must not
suspect until he could understand what a difference education had made
in the way of looking at things.
“Wal, there’s diffrunt ways. Cripple’s purty good. Foot all tied up in
bloody rags, arm an’ hand tied up, a couple o’ old crutches. I could
lend the clo’es. They’d be short fer yeh, but that’d be all the better
gag. We cud swap an’ I’d do the gen’lman act a while.” He looked
covetously at Michael’s handsome brown tweeds—“Den you goes fom house
to house, er you stands on de corner—”
“Begging!” said Michael aghast. His eyes were on his plate and he was
trying to control his voice, but something of his horror crept into his
tones. Sam felt it and hastened on apologetically—
“Er ef you want to go it one better, keep on yer good cloes an’ have
the asthma bad. I know a feller what’ll teach you how, an’ sell you the
whistles to put in yer mouth. You’ve no notion how it works. You just
go around in the subbubs tellin’ thet you’ve only been out of the
’orspittal two days an’ you walked all this way to get work an’
couldn’t get it, an’ you want five cents to get back—see? Why, I know a
feller—course he’s been at it fer years an’ he has his regular
beats—folks don’t seem to remember—and be can work the ground over
’bout once in six months er so, and he’s made’s high’s thirty-eight
dollars in a day at asthma work.”
Sam paused triumphant to see what effect the statement had on his
friend, but Michael’s face was toward his coffee cup.
“Seems sort of small business for a man!” he said at last, his voice
steady with control. “Don’t believe I’d be good at that? Haven’t you
got something that’s real _work_?”
Sam’s eyes narrowed.
“Ef I thought you was up to it,” he murmured. “You’d be great with that
angel face o’ yourn. Nobody’d ever suspect you. You could wear them
clo’es too. But it’s work all right, an’ mighty resky. Ef I thought you
was up to it—” He continued to look keenly at Michael, and Michael,
with innate instinct felt his heart beat in discouraged thumps. What
new deviltry was Sam about to propose?
“You used to be game all right!” murmured Sam interrogatively. “You
never used to scare easy—”
“Wal, I’ll tell you,” in answer to Michael’s questioning eyes which
searched his little sharp wizened face—Michael was wondering if there
was anything in that face to redeem it from utter repulsiveness.
“You see it’s a reg’ler business, an’ you hev to learn, but I’d give
you pinters, all you’d need to know, I’m pretty slick myself. There’s
tools to open things, an’ you hev to be ready to ’xplain how you come
thur an’ jolly up a parlor maid per’aps. It’s easy to hev made a
mistake in the house, er be a gas man er a plumber wot the boss sent up
to look at the pipes. But night work’s best pay after you get onto
things. Thur’s houses where you ken lay your han’s on things goin’ into
the thousands an’ lots ov um easy to get rid of without anybody findin’
out. There’s Buck he used to be great at it. He taught all the gang.
The day he lit out he bagged a bit o’ glass wuth tree tousand dollars,
’sides a whole handful of fivers an’ tens wot he found lyin’ on a
dressin’ table pretty as you please. Buck he were a slick one at it.
He’d be pleased to know you’d took up the work—”
Sam paused and eyed Michael with the first friendly gleam he had shown
in his eyes, and Michael, with his heart in a tumult of varied
emotions, and the quick color flooding brow and cheek, tried to hold
himself in check. He must not speak too hastily. Perhaps he had not
understood Sam’s meaning.
“Where is Buck?” Michael looked Sam straight in the eye. The small
pupils seemed to contract and shut out even his gaze.
“They ain’t never got a trace of Buck,” he said evasively.
“But don’t you know?” There was something in Michael’s look that
demanded an answer.
“I might an’ I might not,” responded Sam sullenly.
Michael was still for several seconds watching Sam; each trying to
understand the other.
“Do you think he will come back where I can see him?” he asked at
length.
“He might, an’ he might not. ’t depends. Ef you was in th’ bizness he
might. It’s hard to say. ’t depends.”
Michael watched Sam again thoughtfully.
“Tell me more about the business,” he said at last, his lips
compressed, his brows drawn down into a frown of intensity.
“Thur ain’t much, more t’tell,” said Sam, still sullen. “I ain’t sure
you’re up to it?”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Ain’t sure you got de sand. You might turn faint and snitch.” Sam
leaned forward and spoke in low rapid sentences. “Wen we’d got a big
haul, ’sposen you’d got into de house an’ done de pinchin’, and we got
the stuff safe hid, an’ you got tuk up? Would you snitch? Er would you
take your pill like a man? That’s what I’d want to be sure. Mikky would
a’ stood by the gang, but you—you’ve had a edicashun! They might go
soft at college. I ain’t much use fer edicated persons myself. But I’ll
give you a show ef you promise stiff not to snitch. We’ve got a big
game on tonight up on Madison Avenue, an’ we’re a man short. Dere’s
dough in it if we make it go all right. Rich man. Girl goin’ out to a
party tonight. She’s goin’ to wear some dimons wurth a penny. Hed it in
de paper. Brung ’em home from de bank this mornin’. One o’ de gang
watched de feller come out o’ de bank. It’s all straight so fur. It’s a
pretty big haul to let you in de first try, an’ you’ll hev to run all
de risks; but ef you show you’re game we’ll make it a bargain.”
Michael held himself tensely and fought the desire to choke the fellow
before him; tried to remember that he was the same Sam who had once
divided a crust with him, and whom he had come to help; reflected that
he might have been as bad himself if he had never been taken from the
terrible environment of the slums and shown a better way; knew that if
he for one fraction of a second showed his horror at the evil plot, or
made any attempt to stop it all hope of reaching Sam, or Buck, or any
of the others was at an end; and with it all hope of finding any stray
links of his own past history. Besides, though honor was strong in him
and he would never “snitch” on his companions, it would certainly be
better to find out as much as possible about the scheme. There might be
other ways besides “snitching” of stopping such things. Then suddenly
his heart almost stopped beating, Madison Avenue! Sam had said Madison
Avenue, and a girl! What if it were Starr’s jewels they were planning
to take. He knew very little about such matters save what he had read.
It did not occur to him that Starr was not yet “out” in society; that
she would be too young to wear costly jewels and have her costume put
in the paper. He only knew that his heart was throbbing again
painfully, and that the fellow before him seemed too vile to live
longer on the same earth with Starr, little, beautiful, exquisite
Starr.
He was quite still when Sam had finished; his face was white with
emotion and his eyes were blazing blue flames when he raised them to
look at Sam. Then he became aware that his answer was awaited.
“Sam, do you mean _burglary_?” He tried to keep his voice low and
steady as he spoke but he felt as if he had shouted the last word. The
restaurant was almost empty now, and the waiters had retired behind the
scenes amid a clatter of dishes.
“That’s about as pretty a word as you can call it, I guess,” said Sam,
drawing back with a snarl as he saw the light in Michael’s eyes.
Michael looked him through for an instant, and if a glance can burn
then surely Sam’s little soul shrank scorching into itself, but it was
so brief that the brain which was only keen to things of the earth had
not analyzed it. Michael dropped his glance to the table again, and
began playing with his spoon and trying to get calm with a deep breath
as he used to when he knew a hard spot in a ball game was coming.
“Well, why don’t you speak? You ’fraid?” It was said with a sneer that
a devil from the pit might have given.
Then Michael sat up calmly. His heart was beating steadily now and he
was facing his adversary.
“No! I’m not afraid, Sam, if there were any good reason for going, but
you know I never could feel comfortable in getting my living off
somebody else. It doesn’t seem fair to the other fellow. You see
they’ve got a right to the things they own and I haven’t; and because I
might be smart enough to catch them napping and sneak away with what
they prize doesn’t make it right either. Now that girl probably thinks
a lot of her diamonds, you see, and it doesn’t seem quite the manly
thing for a big strong fellow like me to get them away from her, does
it? Of course you may think differently, but I believe I’d rather do
some good hard work that would keep my muscles in trim, than to live
off some one else. There’s a kind of pretty gray moss that grows where
I went to college. It floats along a little seed blown in the air first
and lodges on the limb of a tree and begins to fasten itself into the
bark, and grow and grow and suck life from the big tree. It doesn’t
seem much at first, and it seems as if the big tree might spare enough
juice to the little moss. But wait a few years and see what happens.
The moss grows and drapes itself in great long festoons all over that
tree and by and by the first thing you know that tree has lost all its
green leaves and stands up here stark and dead with nothing on its bare
branches but that old gray moss which has to die too because it has
nothing to live on any longer. It never learned to gather any juice for
itself. They call the moss a parasite. I couldn’t be a human parasite,
Sam. You may feel differently about it, but I couldn’t. I really
couldn’t.”
Michael’s eyes had grown dreamy and lost their fire as he remembered
the dear South land, and dead sentinel pines with their waving gray
festoons against the ever blue sky. As he talked he saw the whole great
out-of-doors again where he had wandered now so many years free and
happy; free from burdens of humanity which were pressing him now so
sorely. A great longing to fly back to it all, to get away from the
sorrow and the degradation and the shame which seemed pressing so hard
upon him, filled his heart, leaped into his eyes, caught and fascinated
the attention of the listening Sam, who understood very little of the
peroration. He had never heard of a parasite. He did not know he had
always been a human parasite. He was merely astonished and a trifle
fascinated by the passion and appeal in Michael’s face as he spoke.
“Gosh!” he said in a tone almost of admiration. “Gosh! Is that wot
edicashun done fer you?”
“Perhaps,” said Michael pleasantly, “though I rather think, Sam, that I
always felt a bit that way, I just didn’t know how to say it.”
“Wal, you allus was queer!” muttered Sam half apologetically. “I
couldn’t see it that way myself, as you say, but o’ course it’s your
fun’ral! Ef you kin scratch up enough grub bein’ a tree, why that’s
your own lookout. Moss is good ’nough fer me fer de present.”
Michael beamed his wonderful smile on Sam and answered: “Perhaps you’ll
see it my way some day, Sam, and then we can get a job together!”
There was so much comraderie in the tone, and so much dazzling
brilliancy in the smile that Sam forgot to be sullen.
“Wal, mebbe,” he chuckled, “but I don’t see no edicashun comin’ my way
dis late day, so I guess I’ll git along de way I be.”
“It isn’t too late yet, Sam. There’s more than one way of getting an
education. It doesn’t always come through college.”
After a little more talk in which Sam promised to find out if there was
any way for Michael to visit Jim in his temporary retirement from the
law-abiding world, and Michael promised to visit Sam in the alley again
at an appointed time, the two separated.
Then Michael went forth to reconnoitre and to guard the house of
Endicott.
With no thought of any personal danger, Michael laid his plans. Before
sundown, he was on hand, having considered all visible and invisible
means of ingress to the house. He watched from a suitable distance all
who came and went. He saw Mr. Endicott come home. He waited till the
evening drew near when a luxurious limousine stopped before the door;
assured himself that only Mrs. Endicott had gone out. A little later
Mr. Endicott also left the house. Starr had not gone out. He felt that
he had double need to watch now as she was there alone with only the
servants.
Up and down he walked. No one passed the Endicott house unwatched by
him. None came forth or went in of whom he did not take careful notice.
The evening passed, and the master and mistress of the house returned.
One by one the lights went out. Even in the servants’ rooms all was
dark at last. The night deepened and the stars thickened overhead.
The policeman’s whistle sounded through the quiet streets and the city
seemed at last to be sinking into a brief repose. It was long past
midnight, and still Michael kept up his patrol. Up this side of the
street, down that, around the corner, through the alley at the back
where “de kids” had stood in silent respect uncovered toward his window
years ago; back to the avenue again, and on around. With his cheery
whistle and his steady ringing step he awakened no suspicion even when
he came near to a policeman; and besides, no lurkers of the dark would
steal out while he was so noisily in the neighborhood.
And so he watched the night through, till the morning broke and
sunshine flooded the window of the room where Starr, unconscious of his
vigil, lay a-sleeping.
Busy milk wagons were making their rounds, and sleepy workmen with
dinner pails slung over their arms were striding to their day’s work
through the cool of the morning, as Michael turned his steps toward his
lodging. Broad morning was upon them and deeds of darkness could be no
more. The night was passed. Nothing had happened. Starr was safe. He
went home and to sleep well pleased. He might not companion with her,
but it was his privilege to guard her from unsuspected evils. That was
one joy that could not be taken from him by the taint that was upon
him. Perhaps his being a child of the slums might yet prove to be a
help to guard her life from harm.