Late in January Michael was taking his nightly walk homeward by way of
the Endicott home. He was convinced that Starr was still away from
home, for he had seen no lights now for several weeks in the room that
he knew was her own, but there was always the chance that she might
have returned.
He was nearing the house when he saw from the opposite direction a man
turn the corner and with halting gait come slowly toward the house and
pause before the steps uncertainly. Something familiar in the man’s
attitude caused Michael to hasten his steps, and coming closer he found
that it was Mr. Endicott himself, and that he stood looking up the
steps of his home as though they had been a difficult hill which he
must climb.
Michael stopped beside him, saying good evening, the thrill of his
voice conveying his own joy in the meeting in addition to a common
greeting.
“Is that you, Son?” asked the older man swaying slightly toward him.
“I’m glad you came. I feel strangely dizzy. I wish you’d help me in.”
Michael’s arm was about the other’s shoulders at once and his ready
strength almost lifted his benefactor up the steps. His steady hand
with the key made short work of the night latch, and without waiting to
call a servant he helped Mr. Endicott up to his room and to his bed.
The man sank back wearily with a sigh and closed his eyes, then
suddenly roused himself.
“Thank you, Son; and will you send a message to Starr that I am not
able to come on tonight as I promised? Tell her I’ll likely be all
right tomorrow and will try to come then. You’ll find the address at
the head of the telephone list in the hall there. I guess you’ll have
to ’phone for the doctor. I don’t seem to feel like myself. There must
be something the matter. I think I’ve taken a heavy cold.”
Michael hurried to the ’phone and called up the physician begging him
to come at once, for he could see that Mr. Endicott was very ill. His
voice trembled as he gave the message to the Western Union over the
’phone. It seemed almost like talking to Starr, though he sent the
telegram in her father’s name.
The message sent, he hurried back to the sick man, who seemed to have
fallen in a sort of stupor. His face was flushed and hot, the veins in
his temples and neck were throbbing rapidly. In all his healthy life
Michael had seen little of illness, but he recognized it now and knew
it must be a violent attack. If only he knew something to do until the
doctor should arrive!
Hot water used to be the universal remedy for all diseases at college.
The matron always had some one bring hot water when anyone was ill.
Michael went downstairs to find a servant, but they must all be asleep,
for he had been unusually late in leaving the alley that night.
However, he found that the bath-room would supply plenty of hot water,
so he set to work to undress his patient, wrap him in a blanket and
soak his feet in hot water. But the patient showed signs of faintness,
and was unable to sit up. A footbath under such conditions was
difficult to administer. The unaccustomed nurse got his patient into
bed again with arduous labor, and was just wondering what to do next
when the doctor arrived.
Michael watched the grave face of the old doctor as he examined the
sick man, and knew that his intuitions had been right. Mr. Endicott was
very seriously ill. The doctor examined his patient with deliberation,
his face growing more and more serious. At last he stepped out of the
room and motioned Michael to follow him.
“Are you a relative, young man?” he asked looking at Michael keenly.
“No, only one who is very much indebted to him.”
“Well, it’s lucky for him if you feel that indebtedness now. Do you
know what is the matter with him?”
“No,” said Michael. “He looks pretty sick to me. What is it?”
“Smallpox!” said the doctor laconically, “and a tough case at that.”
Then he looked keenly at the fine specimen of manhood before him,
noting with alert eye that there had been no blanching of panic in the
beautiful face, no slightest movement as if to get out of the room. The
young man was not a coward, anyway.
“How long have you been with him?” he asked abruptly.
“Since I telephoned you,” said Michael, “I happened to be passing the
house and saw him trying to get up the steps alone. He was dizzy, he
said, and seemed glad to have me come to his help.”
“Have you ever been vaccinated?”
“No,” said Michael indifferently.
“The wisest thing for you to do would be to get out of the room at once
and let me vaccinate you. I’ll try to send a nurse to look after him as
soon as possible. Where are the family? Not at home? And the servants
will probably scatter as soon as they learn what’s the matter. A pity
he hadn’t been taken to the hospital, but it’s hardly safe to move him
now. The fact is he is a very sick man, and there’s only one chance in
a hundred of saving him. You’ve run some big risks, taking care of him
this way—”
“Any bigger than you are running, doctor?” Michael smiled gravely.
“H’m! Well, it’s my business, and I don’t suppose it is yours. There
are people who are paid for those things. Come get out of this room or
I won’t answer for the consequences.”
“The consequences will have to answer for themselves, doctor. I’m going
to stay here till somebody better comes to nurse him.”
Michael’s eyes did not flinch as he said this.
“Suppose you take the disease?”
Michael smiled, one of his brilliant smiles that you could almost hear
it was so bright.
“Why, then I will,” said Michael, “but I’ll stay well long enough to
take care of him until the nurse comes anyway.”
“You might die!”
“Of course.” In a tone with not a ruffle in the calm purpose.
“Well, it’s my duty to tell you that you’d probably be throwing your
life away, for there’s only a chance that he won’t die.”
“Not throwing it away if I made him suffer a little less. And you said
there was a chance. If I didn’t stay he might miss that chance,
mightn’t he?”
“Probably.”
“Can I do anything to help or ease him?”
“Yes.”
“Then I stay. I should stay anyway until some one came. I couldn’t
leave him so.”
“Very well, then. I’m proud to know a man like you. There’s plenty to
be done. Let’s get to work.”
The hour that followed was filled with instructions and labor. Michael
had no time to think what would become of his work, or anything. He
only knew that this was the present duty and he went forward in it step
by step. Before the doctor left he vaccinated Michael, and gave him
careful directions how to take all necessary precautions for his own
safety; but he knew from the lofty look in the young man’s face, that
these were mere secondary considerations with him. If the need came for
the sake of the patient, all precautions would be flung aside as not
mattering one whit.
The doctor roused the servants and told them what had happened, and
tried to persuade them to stay quietly in their places, and he would
see that they ran no risks if they obeyed his directions. But to a man
and a woman they were panic stricken; gathering their effects, they,
like the Arabs of old, folded their tents and silently stole away in
the night. Before morning dawned Michael and his patient were in sole
possession of the house.
Early in the morning there came a call from the doctor. He had not been
able to secure the nurse he hoped to get. Could Michael hold the fort a
few hours longer? He would relieve him sooner if possible, but
experienced nurses for contagious cases were hard to get just now.
There was a great deal of sickness. He might be able to get one this
morning but it was doubtful. He had telephoned everywhere.
Of course Michael would hold the fort.
The doctor gave explicit directions, asked a number of questions, and
promised to call as soon as possible.
Michael, alone in the great silence that the occasional babble of a
delirious person emphasizes in an otherwise empty house, began to think
of things that must be done. Fortunately there was a telephone in the
room. He would not have to leave his patient alone. He called up Will
French and told him in a few words what had happened; laughed
pleasantly at Will’s fears for him; asked him to look after the alley
work and to attend to one or two little matters connected with his
office work which could not be put off. Then he called up Sam at the
farm, for Michael had long ago found it necessary to have a telephone
put in at Old Orchard.
The sound of Sam’s voice cheered his heart, when, after Michael’s brief
simple explanation of his present position as trained nurse for the
head of the house of Endicott who lay sick of smallpox, Sam responded
with a dismayed “Fer de lub o’ Mike!”
When Michael had finished all his directions to Sam, and received his
partner’s promise to do everything just as Michael would have done it,
Sam broke out with:
“Say, does dat ike know what he’s takin’ off’n you?”
“Who? Mr. Endicott? No, Sam, he doesn’t know anything. He’s delirious.”
“Ummm!” grunted Sam deeply troubled. “Well, he better fin’ out wen he
gets hisself agin er there’ll be sompin’ comin’ to him.”
“He’s done a great deal for me, Sam.”
“Ummm! Well, you’re gettin’ it back on him sure thing now, all right.
Say, you t’ care o’ yer’se’f, Mikky! We-all can’t do nothin’ w’th’ut
yer. You lemme know every day how you be.”
“Sure Sam!” responded Michael deeply touched by the choking sound of
Sam’s voice. “Don’t you worry. I’m sound as a nut. Nothing’ll happen to
me. The doctor vaccinated me, and I’ll not catch it. You look after
things for me and I’ll be on deck again some day all the better for the
rest.”
Michael sat back in the chair after hanging up the receiver, his eyes
glistening with moisture. To think the day had come when Sam should
care like that! It was a miracle.
Michael went back again to the bed to look after his patient, and after
he had done everything that the doctor had said, he decided to
reconnoitre for some breakfast. There must be something in the house to
eat even if the servants had all departed, and he ought to eat so that
his strength should be equal to his task.
It was late in the morning, nearly half-past ten. The young man hurried
downstairs and began to ransack the pantry. He did not want to be long
away from the upper room. Once, as he was stooping to search the
refrigerator for butter and milk he paused in his work and thought he
heard a sound at the front door, but then all seemed still, and he
hurriedly put a few things on a tray and carried them upstairs. He
might not be able to come down again for several hours. But when he
reached the top of the stairs he heard a voice, not his patient’s, but
a woman’s voice, sweet and clear and troubled:
“Daddy! Oh, daddy dear! Why don’t you speak to your little girl? What
is the matter? Can’t you understand me? Your face and your poor hands
are so hot, they burn me. Daddy, daddy dear!”
It was Starr’s voice and Michael’s heart stood still with the thrill of
it, and the instant horror of it. Starr was in there in the room of
death with her father. She was exposed to the terrible contagion; she,
the beautiful, frail treasure of his heart!
He set the tray down quickly on the hall table and went swiftly to the
door.
She sat on the side of the bed, her arms about her father’s unconscious
form and her head buried in his neck, sobbing.
For an instant Michael was frozen to the spot with horror at her
dangerous situation. If she had wanted to take the disease she could
not have found a more sure way of exposing herself.
The next instant Michael’s senses came back and without stopping to
think he sprang forward and caught her up in his arms, bearing her from
the room and setting her down at the bath-room door.
“Oh, Starr! what have you done!” he said, a catch in his voice like a
sob, for he did not know what he was saying.
Starr, frightened, struggling, sobbing, turned and looked at him.
“Michael! How did you come to be here? Oh, what is the matter with my
father?”
“Go wash your hands and face quickly with this antiseptic soap,” he
commanded, all on the alert now, and dealing out the things the doctor
had given him for his own safety, “and here! rinse your mouth with this
quickly, and gargle your throat! Then go and change your things as
quick as you can. Your father has the smallpox and you have been in
there close to him.”
“The smallpox!”
“Hurry!” commanded Michael, handing her the soap and turning on the hot
water.
Starr obeyed him because when Michael spoke in that tone people always
did obey, but her frightened eyes kept seeking his face for some
reassurance.
“The smallpox! Oh, Michael! How dreadful! But how do you know? Has the
doctor been here? And how did you happen to be here?”
“I was passing last night when your father came home and he asked me to
help him in. Yes, the doctor was here, and will soon come again and
bring a nurse. Now hurry! You must get away from the vicinity of this
room!”
“But I’m not going away!” said Starr stubbornly. “I’m going to stay by
my father. He’ll want me.”
“Your father would be distressed beyond measure if he knew that you
were exposed to such terrible danger. I know that he would far rather
have you go away at once. Besides, he is delirious, and your presence
cannot do him any good now. You must take care of yourself, so that
when he gets well you will be well too, and able to help him get back
into health again.”
“But you are staying.”
“It does not matter about me,” said Michael, “there is no one to care.
Besides, I am a man, and perfectly strong. I do not think I will take
the disease. Now please take off those things you wore in there and get
something clean that has not been in the room and go away from here as
quickly as you can.”
Michael had barely persuaded her to take precautions when the doctor
arrived with a nurse and the promise of another before night.
He scolded Starr thoroughly for her foolhardiness in going into her
father’s room. He had been the family physician ever since she was
born, knew her well; and took the privilege of scolding when he liked.
Starr meekly succumbed. There was just one thing she would not do, and
that was to go away out of the house while her father remained in so
critical a condition. The doctor frowned and scolded, but finally
agreed to let her stay. And indeed it seemed as if perhaps it was the
only thing that could be done; for she had undoubtedly been exposed to
the disease, and was subject to quarantine. There seemed to be no place
to which she could safely go, where she could be comfortable, and the
house was amply large enough for two or three parties to remain in
quarantine in several detachments.
There was another question to be considered. The nurses would have
their hands full with their patient. Some one must stay in the house
and look after things, see that they needed nothing, and get some kind
of meals. Starr, of course, knew absolutely nothing about cooking, and
Michael’s experience was limited to roasting sweet potatoes around a
bonfire at college, and cooking eggs and coffee at the fireplace on the
farm. But a good cook to stay in a plague-stricken dwelling would be a
thing of time, if procurable at all; so the doctor decided to accept
the willing services of these two. Starr was established in her own
room upstairs, which could be shut away from the front part of the
house by a short passage-way and two doors, with access to the lower
floor by means of the back stairs; and Michael made a bed of the soft
couch in the tiny reception room where he had twice passed through
trying experiences. Great curtains kept constantly wet with antiseptics
shut away the sick room and adjoining apartments from the rest of the
house.
It was arranged that Michael should place such supplies as were needed
at the head of the stairs, just outside the guarding curtains, and the
nurses should pass all dishes through an antiseptic bath before sending
them downstairs again. The electric bells and telephones with which the
house was well supplied made it possible for them to communicate with
one another without danger of infection.
Starr was at once vaccinated and the two young people received many
precautions, and injunctions, with medicine and a strict régime; and
even then the old doctor shook his head dubiously. If those two
beautiful faces should have to pass through the ordeal of that dread
disease his old heart would be quite broken. All that skill and science
could do to prevent it should be done.
So the house settled down to the quiet of a daily routine; the busy
city humming and thundering outside, but no more a part of them than if
they had been living in a tomb. The card of warning on the door sent
all the neighbors in the block scurrying off in a panic to Palm Beach
or Europe; and even the strangers passed by on the other side. The
grocery boy and the milkman left their orders hurriedly on the front
steps and Michael and Starr might almost have used the street for an
exercise ground if they had chosen, so deserted had it become.
But there was no need for them to go farther than the door in front,
for there was a lovely side and back yard, screened from the street by
a high wall, where they might walk at will when they were not too busy
with their work; which for their unskilled hands was hard and
laborious. Nevertheless, their orders were strict, and every day they
were out for a couple of hours at least. To keep from getting chilled,
Michael invented all sorts of games when they grew tired of just
walking; and twice after a new fall of snow they went out and had a
game of snowballing, coming in with glowing faces and shining eyes, to
change wet garments and hurry back to their kitchen work. But this was
after the first few serious days were passed, and the doctor had given
them hope that if all went well there was a good chance of the patient
pulling through.
They settled into their new life like two children who had known each
other a long time. All the years between were as if they had not been.
They made their blunders; were merry over their work; and grew into
each other’s companionship charmingly. Their ideas of cooking were most
primitive and had it not been possible to order things sent in from
caterers they and the nurses might have been in danger of starving to
death. But as it was, what with telephoning to the nurses for
directions, and what with studying the recipes on the outside of boxes
of cornstarch and farina and oatmeal and the like that they found in
the pantry, they were learning day by day to do a little more.
And then, one blessed day, the dear nurse Morton walked in and took off
her things and stayed. Morton had been on a long-delayed visit to her
old father in Scotland that winter; but when she saw in the papers the
notice of the calamity that had befallen the house of her old employer,
she packed her trunk and took the first steamer back to America. Her
baby, and her baby’s father needed her, and nothing could keep Morton
away after that.
Her coming relieved the situation very materially, for though she had
never been a fancy cook, she knew all about good old-fashioned Scotch
dishes, and from the first hour took up her station in the kitchen.
Immediately comfort and orderliness began to reign, and Starr and
Michael had time on their hands that was not spent in either eating,
sleeping, working or exercise.
It was then that they began to read together, for the library was
filled with all the treasures of literature, to many of which Michael
had never had access save through the public libraries, which of course
was not as satisfactory as having books at hand when one had a bit of
leisure in a busy life. Starr had been reading more than ever before
this winter while with her aunt, and entered into the pleasant
companionship of a book together with zest.
Then there were hours when Starr played softly, and sang, for the piano
was far from the sick room and could not be heard upstairs. Indeed, if
it had not been for the anxious struggle going on upstairs, these two
would have been having a beautiful time.
For all unknowing to themselves they were growing daily into a dear
delight in the mere presence of one another. Even Michael, who had long
ago laid down the lines between which he must walk through life, and
never expected to be more to Starr than a friend and protector, did not
realize whither this intimate companionship was tending. When he
thought of it at all he thought that it was a precious solace for his
years of loneliness; a time that must be enjoyed to the full, and
treasured in memory for the days of barrenness that must surely follow.
Upstairs the fight went on day after day, until at last one morning the
doctor told them that it had been won, that the patient, though very
much enfeebled, would live and slowly get back his strength.
That was a happy morning. The two caught each, other’s hands and
whirled joyously round the dining-room when they heard it; and Morton
came in with her sleeves rolled up, and her eyes like two blue lakes
all blurred with raindrops in the sunlight. Her face seemed like a
rainbow.
The next morning the doctor looked the two over before he went upstairs
and set a limit to their quarantine. If they kept on doing well they
would be reasonably safe from taking the disease. It would be a
miracle, almost, if neither of them took it; but it began to look as if
they were going to be all right.
Now these two had been so absorbed in one another that they had thought
very little about the danger of their taking the disease themselves. If
either had been alone in the house with nothing to do but brood it
would have probably been the sole topic of thought, but their healthy
busy hours had helped the good work on, and so they were coming safely
out from under the danger.
It was one bright morning when they were waiting for the doctor to come
that Michael was glancing over the morning paper, and Starr trying a
new song she had sent for that had just come in the mail the evening
before. She wanted to be able to play it for Michael to sing.
Suddenly Michael gave a little exclamation of dismay, and Starr,
turning on the piano stool, saw that his face was white and he was
staring out of the window with a drawn, sad look about his mouth and
eyes.
“What is it?” she asked in quick, eager tones of sympathy, and Michael
turning to look at her vivid beauty, his heart thrilling with the sound
of her voice, suddenly felt the wide gulf that had always been between
them, for what he had read in the paper had shaken him from his happy
dream and brought him back to a sudden realization of what he was.
The item in the paper that had brought about this rude awakening was an
account of how Buck had broken jail and escaped. Michael’s great heart
was filled with trouble about Buck; and instantly he remembered that he
belonged to the same class with Buck; and not at all in the charmed
circle where Starr moved.
He looked at the girl with grave, tender eyes, that yet seemed to be
less intimate than they had been all these weeks. Her sensitive nature
felt the difference at once.
He let her read the little item.
Starr’s face softened with ready sympathy, and a mingling of
indignation. “He was one of those people in your tenements you have
been trying to help?” she questioned, trying to understand his look.
“He ought to have been ashamed to get into jail after you had been
helping him. Wasn’t he a sort of a worthless fellow?”
“No,” said Michael in quick defense, “he never had a chance. And he was
not just one of those people, he was _the_ one. He was the boy who took
care of me when I was a little fellow, and who shared everything he
had, hard crust or warm cellar door, with me. I think he loved me—”
There was something in Michael’s face and voice that warned Starr these
were sacred precincts, where she must tread lightly if she did not wish
to desecrate.
“Tell me about him,” she breathed softly.
So Michael, his eyes tender, his voice gentle, because she had cared to
know, told her eloquently of Buck, till when he had finished her eyes
were wet with tears; and she looked so sweet that he had to turn his
own eyes away to keep from taking the lovely vision into his arms and
kissing her. It was a strange wild impulse he had to do this, and it
frightened him. Suppose some day he should forget himself, and let her
see how he had dared to love her? That must never be. He must put a
watch upon himself. This sweet friendship she had vouchsafed him must
never be broken by word, look or action of his.
And from that morning there came upon his manner a change, subtle,
intangible,—but a change.
They read and talked together, and Michael opened his heart to her as
he had not yet done, about his work in the alley, his farm colony, and
his hopes for his people; Starr listened and entered eagerly into his
plans, yet felt the change that had come upon him, and her troubled
spirit knew not what it was.