Now about this time the law firm with whom Michael worked became deeply
interested in their new “boy.” He studied hard, and seemed to know what
he was about all day. They saw signs of extraordinary talent in him.
Once or twice, thinking to make life pleasant for him, they had invited
him to their club, or to some evening’s entertainment, and always
Michael had courteously declined, saying that he had an engagement for
the evening. They casually questioned Will French, the other student,
who was a happy-go-lucky; in the office because his father wished him
to study something and not because he wanted to. Will said that Michael
went out every evening and came in late. Mrs. Semple had remarked that
she often didn’t know whether he came in at all until she saw him come
down to breakfast.
This report and a certain look of weariness about the eyes some
mornings led the senior member of the firm to look into Michael’s
affairs. The natural inference was that Michael was getting into social
life too deeply, perhaps wasting the hours in late revelry when he
should have been sleeping. Mr. Holt liked Michael, and dreaded to see
the signs of dissipation appear on that fine face. He asked Will French
to make friends with him and find out if he could where he spent his
evenings. Will readily agreed, and at once entered on his mission with
a zeal which was beyond all baffling.
“Hello, Endicott!” called Will as Michael reached the front door on his
way to his mission that same evening. “Where’re you going? Wait, can’t
you, and I’ll walk along with you? I was going to ask you if you
wouldn’t go to a show with me this evening. I haven’t anything on for
tonight and it’s slow.”
As he spoke he seized his coat and hat which he had purposely left in
the hall near at hand, and put them on.
“Thank you,” said Michael, as they went out together, “I’d be glad to
go with you but I have something that can’t be put off.”
“Well, go tomorrow night with me, will you? I like you and I think we
ought to be friends.”
Will’s idea was that they would get to talking at a “show” and he could
find out a good deal in that way. He thought it must be a girl. He had
told the senior Holt that it was a girl of course and he wouldn’t take
long to spot her. It must be either a girl or revelry to take the
fellow out every night in the week so late.
“Well, I’m sorry,” said Michael again, “but I’m afraid I have an
engagement every night. It’s rather a permanent job I’m engaged in.
What do you do with your evenings?”
Will launched into a gay description of parties and entertainments to
which he had been bidden, and nice girls he knew, hinting that he might
introduce Michael if he was so inclined, and Michael talked on leading
his unsuspecting companion further and further from the subject of his
own evenings. Finally they came to a corner and Michael halted.
“I turn here,” he said; “which way do you go?”
“Why, I turn too,” laughed French. “That is, if you don’t object. I’m
out for a walk and I don’t care much what I do. If I’m not welcome just
tell me and I’ll clear out.”
“Of course you’re quite welcome,” said Michael; “I’m glad to have
company, but the quarter I’m walking to is not a pleasant one for a
walk, and indeed you mightn’t like to return alone even so early in the
evening if you walk far. I had an unpleasant encounter myself once, but
I know the ways of the place now and it’s different.”
Will eyed him curiously.
“Is it allowable to ask where we’re going?” he asked in a comical tone.
Michael laughed.
“Certainly. If you’re bound to go I’ll have to tell you all about it,
but I strongly advise you to turn back now, for it isn’t a very savory
neighborhood, and I don’t believe you’ll care for it.”
“Where thou goest I will go,” mocked Will. “My curiosity is aroused. I
shall certainly go. If it’s safe for you, it is for me. My good looks
are not nearly so valuable as yours, nor so noticeable. As I have no
valuables in the world, I can’t be knocked down for booty.”
“You see they all know me,” explained Michael.
“Oh, they do! And can’t you introduce me? Or don’t you like to?”
“I suppose I can,” laughed Michael, “if you really want me to, but I’m
afraid you’ll turn and run when you see them. You see they’re not
very—handsome. They’re not what you’re used to. You wouldn’t want to
know them.”
“But you do.”
“I had to,” said Michael desperately. “They needed something and I had
to help them!”
Up to this point Will French had been sure that Michael had fallen into
the hands of a set of sharpers, but something in his companion’s tone
made him turn and look, and he saw Michael’s face uplifted in the light
of the street lamp, glowing with, a kind of intent earnestness that
surprised and awed him.
“Look here, man,” he said. “Tell me who they are, and what you are
doing, anyway.”
Michael told him in a few words, saying little about himself, or his
reason for being interested in the alley in the first place. There were
a few neglected newsboys, mere kids. He was trying to teach them a few
things, reading and figures and a little manual training. Something to
make life more than a round of suffering and sin.
“Is it settlement work?” asked French. He was puzzled and interested.
“No,” explained Michael, “there’s a settlement, but it’s too far away
and got too big a district to reach this alley. It’s just my own little
work.”
“Who pays you for it?”
“Who pays me?”
“Yes, who’s behind the enterprise? Who forks over the funds and pays
you for your job?”
Michael laughed long and loud.
“Well, now, I hadn’t thought about pay, but I guess the kiddies
themselves do. You can’t think how they enjoy it all.”
“H’m!” said French, “I think I’ll go along and see how you do it. I
won’t scare ’em out, will I?”
“Well, now I hadn’t thought of that,” said Michael. “In fact, I didn’t
suppose you’d care to go all the way, but if you think you do, I guess
it will be all right.”
“Not a very warm welcome, I must say,” laughed Will, “but I’m going
just the same. You get me in and I’ll guarantee not to scare the crowd.
Have any time left over from your studies for amusement? If you do I
might come in on that. I can do tricks.”
“Can you?” said Michael looking at his unbidden guest doubtfully.
“Well, we’ll see. I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. It’s very
informal. Sometimes we don’t get beyond the first step in a lesson.
Sometimes I have to stop and tell stories.”
“Good!” said Will. “I’d like to hear you.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t enjoy it, but there are a few books there. You might
read if you get tired looking around the room.”
And so Michael and his guest entered the yellow and white room
together. Michael lit the gas, and Will looked about blinking in
amazement.
Coming through the alley to the room had taken away Will’s exclamatory
powers and exhausted his vocabulary. The room in its white simplicity,
immaculately kept, and constantly in touch with fresh paint to hide any
stray finger marks, stood out in startling contrast with the regions
round about it. Will took it all in, paint, paper, and pictures. The
tiny stove glowing warmly, the improvised seats, the blackboard in the
corner, and the bits of life as manifested in geranium, butterfly
cocoons and bird’s nests; then he looked at Michael, tall and fine and
embarrassed, in the centre of it all.
“Great Scott!” he exclaimed. “Is this an enchanted island, or am I in
my right mind?”
But before he could be answered there came the sound of mattering young
feet and a tumult outside the door. Then eager, panting, but decorous,
they entered, some with clean faces, most of them with clean hands, or
moderately so, all with their caps off in homage to their Prince; and
Michael welcomed them as if he stood in a luxurious drawing room on
Fifth Avenue and these were his guests.
He introduced them, and Will entered into the spirit of the affair and
greeted them chummily. They stood shyly off from him at first with
great eyes of suspicion, huddled together in a group near Michael, but
later when the lesson on the blackboard was over and Michael was
showing a set of pictures, Will sat down in a corner with a string from
his pocket and began showing two of the boldest of the group some
tricks. This took at once, and when he added a little sleight-of-hand
pulling pennies from the hair and pockets and hands of the astonished
youngsters and allowing them to keep them after the game was over, they
were ready to take him into their inner circle at once.
When, however, Sam, who was most unaccountably late that night, sidled
in alone, he looked at the stranger with eyes of belligerence; and when
Michael introduced him as his friend, Sam’s eyes glinted with a jealous
light. Sam did not like Michael to have any friends of that sort. This
new man had shiny boots, fine new clothes, wore his hair nicely
brushed, and manipulated a smooth handkerchief with fingers as white as
any gentleman. To be sure Michael was like that, but then Michael was
Michael. He belonged to them, and his clothes made him no worse. But
who was this intruder? A gentleman? All gentlemen were natural enemies
to Sam.
“Come outside,” said Sam to Michael gruffly, ignoring the white hand
Will held out cordially. Michael saw there was something on his mind.
“Will, can you amuse these kids a minute or two while I step out? I’ll
not be long.”
“Sure!” said Will heartily. He hadn’t had such a good time in months
and what a story he would have to tell the senior partner in the
morning.
“Ever try to lift a fellow’s hand off the top of his head? Here, you
kid, sit in that chair and put your right hand flat on the top of your
head. Now, sonnie, you lift it off. Pull with all your might. That’s
it—”
Michael’s eyes shone, and even Sam grinned surreptitiously.
“He’ll do,” he said to Sam as they went out. “He was lonesome this
evening and wanted to come along with me.”
Lonesome! A fellow like that! It gave Sam a new idea to think about.
Did people who had money and education and were used to living in
clothes like that get lonesome? Sam cast a kindlier eye back at Will as
he closed the door.
Alone in the dark cold entry where the wind whistled up from the river
and every crack seemed a conductor of a blast, Sam and Michael talked
in low tones:
“Say, he’s lit out!” Sam’s tone conveyed dismay as well as apology.
It was a sign of Michael’s real eagerness that he knew at once who was
meant.
“Buck?”
Sam grunted assent.
“When?”
“Day er so ago, I tuk yer word to ’im but he’d gone. Lef’ word he had a
big deal on, an’ ef it came troo all right ’e’d send fer us. You see it
wan’t safe round here no more. The police was onto his game. Thur wan’t
no more hidin’ fer him. He was powerful sorry not to see you. He’d
always thought a heap o’ Mikky!”
“How long had he known I was here?” Michael’s face was grave in the
darkness. Why had Buck not sent him some word? Made some appointment?
“Since you first cum back.”
“Why—oh, Sam, why didn’t he let me come and see him?”
“It warn’t safe,” said Sam earnestly. “Sure thing, it warn’t! ’Sides—”
“Besides what, Sam?” The question was eager.
“’Sides, he knowed you’d had edicashun, an’ he knowed how you looked on
his way o’ livin’. He didn’t know but—”
“You mean he didn’t trust me, Sam?” Sam felt the keen eyes upon him
even hi the darkness.
“Naw, he didn’t tink you’d snitch on him ner nothin’, but he didn’t
know but you might tink you had to do some tings what might kick it all
up wid him. You’d b’en out o’ tings fer years, an’ you didn’t know de
ways o’ de city. ’Sides, he ain’t seed you like I done—”
“I see,” said Michael, “I understand. It’s a long time and of course he
only knows what you have told him, and if there was danger,—but oh,
Sam, I wish he could go down to Old Orchard. Did you ever tell him
about it, and about my plans?”
“Sure ting I did. Tole ’im all you tole me. He said ’twar all right. Ef
he comes out on dis deal he’ll be back in a while, an’ he’ll go down
dere ef you want him. He said he’d bring a little wad back to make
things go ef dis deal went troo.”
“Do you know what the deal is, Sam?”
“Sure!”
“Is it dis—is it”—he paused for a word that would convey his meaning
and yet not offend—“is it—dangerous, Sam?”
“Sure!” admitted Sam solemnly as though it hurt him to pain his friend.
“Do you mean it will make more hiding for him?”
“Sure!” emphatically grave.
“I wish he hadn’t gone!” There was sharp pain in Michael’s voice.
“I wisht so too!’” said Sam with a queer little choke to his voice,
“Mebbe ’twon’t come off after all. Mebbe it’ll git blocked. Mebbe he’ll
come back.”
The anxiety in Sam’s tone touched Michael, but another thought had
struck him hard.
“Sam,” said he plucking at the others sleeve in the darkness, “Sam,
tell me, what was Buck doing—before he went away. Was it all straight?
Was he in the same business with you?”
Sam breathed heavily but did not answer. At last with difficulty he
answered a gruff, “Nope!”
“What was it, Sam? Won’t you tell me?”
“It would be snitchin’.”
“Not to me, Sam. You know I belong to you all.”
“But you’ve got new notions.”
“Yes,” admitted Michael, “I can’t help that, but I don’t go back on
you, do I?”
“No, you don’t go back on we’uns, that’s so. But you don’t like we’s
doin’s.”
“Never mind. Tell me, Sam. I think I must know.”
“He kep a gamein’ den—”
“Oh, Sam!” Michael’s voice was stricken, and his great athletic hand
gripped Sam’s hard skinny one, and Sam in the darkness gripped back.
“I knowed you’d feel thet way,” he mourned as if the fault were all in
his telling. “I wisht I hadn’t ’a tole yer.”
“Never mind, Sam, you couldn’t help it, and I suppose I wouldn’t have
known the difference myself if I hadn’t gone away. We mustn’t judge
Buck harshly. He’ll see it the other way by and by.”
Sam straightened perceptibly. There was something in this speech that
put him in the same class with Michael. He had never before had any
qualms of conscience concerning gambling, but now he found himself
almost unawares arrayed against it.
“I guess mebbe!” he said comfortingly, and then seeking to change the
subject. “Say, is dat guy in dere goin’ along to de farm?”
“Who?”
“Why, dat ike you lef’ in de room. Is he goin’ down ’long when wees
go?”
“Oh, Will French! No, Sam. He doesn’t know anything about it yet. I may
tell him sometime, but he doesn’t need that. He is studying to be a
lawyer. Perhaps some day if he gets interested he’ll help do what I
want for the alley, and all the other alleys in the city; make better
laws and see that they’re enforced.”
“Laws!” said Sam in a startled voice. “What laws!”
Laws were his natural enemies he thought.
“Laws for better tenement houses, more room and more windows, better
air, cleaner streets, room for grass and flowers, pure milk and meat,
and less crowding and dirt. Understand?”
It was the first time Michael had gone so deep into his plans with Sam,
and he longed now to have his comradeship in this hope too.
“Oh, sure!” said Sam much relieved that Michael had not mentioned laws
about gambling dens and pickpockets. Sam might be willing to reform his
own course in the brilliant wake of Michael but as yet he had not
reached the point where he cared to see vice and dishonesty swept off
the globe.
They went slowly back to the white room to find Will French leading a
chorus of small urchins in the latest popular melody while they kept
time with an awkward shuffle of their ill-shod feet.
Sam growled: “Cut it out, kids, you scratch de floor,” and Will French
subsided with apologies.
“I never thought of the floor, Endicott. Say, you ought to have a
gymnasium and a swimming pool here.”
Michael laughed.
“I wish we had,” he declared, “but I’d begin on a bath-room. We need
that first of all.”
“Well, let’s get one,” said Will eagerly. “That wouldn’t cost so much.
We could get some people to contribute a little. I know a man that has
a big plumbing establishment. He’d do a little something. I mean to
tell him about it. Is there any place it could be put?”
Sam followed them wondering, listening, interested, as they went out
into the hall to see the little dark hole which might with ingenuity be
converted into a bath-room, and while he leaned back against the
door-jamb, hands in his pockets, he studied the face of the newcomer.
“Guess dat guy’s all right,” he reassured Michael as he helped him turn
the lights out a little later, while Will waited on the doorstep
whistling a new tune to his admiring following. Will had caught “de
kids.”
“I say, Endicott,” he said as they walked up the noisy midnight street
and turned into the avenue, “why don’t you get Hester to go down there
and sing sometime? Sunday afternoon. She’d go. Ask her.”
And that night was the beginning of outside help for Michael’s mission.
Hester fell into the habit of going down Sunday afternoons, and soon
she had an eager following of sad-eyed women, and eager little
children; and Will French spent his leisure hours in hunting up tricks
and games and puzzles, for “the kids.”
Meantime, the account he had given to Holt and Holt of the way Michael
spent his evenings, was not without fruit.
About a week after French’s first visit to the alley, the senior Mr.
Holt paused beside Michael’s desk one afternoon just before going out
of the office and laid a bit of paper in his hand.
“French tells me you’re interested in work in the slums,” he said in
the same tone he used to give Michael an order for his daily routine.
“I’d like to help a little if you can use that.” He passed on out of
the office before Michael had fully comprehended what had been said.
The young man looked down at the paper and saw it was a check made out
to himself for one hundred dollars!
With a quick exclamation of gratitude he was on his feet and out into
the hall after his employer.
“That’s all right, Endicott. I don’t get as much time as I’d like to
look after the charities, and when I see a good thing I like to give it
a boost. Call on me if you need money for any special scheme. And I’ll
mention it to some of my clients occasionally,” said the old lawyer,
well pleased with Michael’s gratitude.
He did, and right royally did the clients respond. Every little while a
ten-dollar bill or a five, and now and then a check for fifty would
find its way to Michael’s desk; for Will French, thoroughly interested,
kept Holt and Holt well supplied with information concerning what was
needed.