Part 3 (1/2)

”Mr. Bush? No. What about him?” Hazel resented Mr. Bush, his name, and his affairs being brought to her attention at every turn. She desired nothing so much since that scene in the office as to ignore his existence.

”'E was 'urt shockin' bad this awft'noon,” Mrs. Stout related. ”Out 'orseback ridin', and 'is 'orse ran away with 'im, and fell on 'im.

Fell all of a 'eap, they say. Terrible--terrible! The pore man isn't expected to live. 'Is back's broke, they say. W'at a pity! Shockin'

accident, indeed.”

Miss Weir voiced perfunctory sympathy, as was expected of her, seeing that she was an employee of the firm--or had been lately. But close upon that she escaped to her own room. She did not relish sitting there discussing Mr. Andrew Bush. Hazel lacked nothing of womanly sympathy, but he had forfeited that from her.

Nevertheless she kept thinking of him long after she went to bed. She was not at all vindictive, and his misfortune, the fact--if the report were true--that he was facing his end, stirred her pity. She could guess that he would suffer more than some men; he would rebel bitterly against anything savoring of extinction. And she reflected that his love for her was very likely gone by the board now that he was elected to go the way of all flesh.

The report of his injury was verified in the morning papers. By evening it had pretty well pa.s.sed out of Hazel's mind. She had more pleasant concerns. Jack Barrow dropped in about six-thirty to ask if she wanted to go with him to a concert during the week. They were sitting in the parlor, by a front window, chattering to each other, but not so engrossed that they failed to notice a carriage drawn by two splendid grays pull up at the front gate. The footman, in brown livery, got down and came to the door. Hazel knew the carriage. She had seen Mr. Andrew Bush abroad in it many a time. She wondered if there was some further annoyance in store for her, and frowned at the prospect.

She heard Mrs. Stout answer the bell in person. There was a low mumble of voices. Then the landlady appeared in the parlor doorway, the footman behind her.

”This is the lady.” Mrs. Stout indicated Hazel. ”A message for you, Miss Weir.”

The liveried person bowed and extended an envelope. ”I was instructed to deliver this to you personally,” he said, and lingered as if he looked for further instructions.

Hazel looked at the envelope. She could not understand why, under the circ.u.mstances, any message should come to her through such a medium.

But there was her name inscribed. She glanced up. Mrs. Stout gazed past the footman with an air of frank antic.i.p.ation. Jack also was looking. But the landlady caught Hazel's glance and backed out the door, and Hazel opened the letter.

The note was brief and to the point:

MISS WEIR: Mr. Bush, being seriously injured and unable to write, bids me say that he is very anxious to see you. He sends his carriage to convey you here. His physicians fear that he will not survive the night, hence he begs of you to come. Very truly,

ETHEL B. WATSON, Nurse in Waiting.

”The idea! Of course I won't! I wouldn't think of such a thing!”

Hazel exclaimed.

”Just a second,” she said to the footman.

Over on the parlor mantel lay some sheets of paper and envelopes. She borrowed a pencil from Barrow and scribbled a brief refusal. The footman departed with her answer. Hazel turned to find Jack staring his puzzlement.

”What did he want?” Barrow asked bluntly. ”That was the Bush turnout, wasn't it?”

”You heard about Mr. Bush getting hurt, didn't you?” she inquired.

”Saw it in the paper. Why?”

”Nothing, except that he is supposed to be dying--and he wanted to see me. At least--well, read the note,” Hazel answered.

Barrow glanced over the missive and frowned.

”What do you suppose he wanted to see you for?” he asked.

”How should I know?” Hazel evaded.

She felt a reluctance to enter into any explanations. That would necessitate telling the whole story, and she felt some delicacy about relating it when the man involved lay near to death. Furthermore, Jack might misunderstand, might blame her. He was inclined to jealousy on slight grounds, she had discovered before now. Perhaps that, the natural desire to avoid anything disagreeable coming up between them, helped constrain her to silence.