Part 41 (2/2)

Kirk was far too grateful to resent the slightly unflattering note a more spirited man might have detected in the remark.

Only once during those days did Kirk allow himself to weaken and admit to himself how wretched he was. He was drawing a picture of Steve at the time, and Steve had the sympathy which encourages weakness in others.

It was a significant sign of his changed att.i.tude towards his profession that he was not drawing Steve as a figure in an allegorical picture or as ”Apollo” or ”The Toiler,” but simply as a well-developed young man who had had the good sense to support his nether garments with Middleton's Undeniable Suspenders. The picture, when completed, would show Steve smirking down at the region of his waist-line and announcing with pride and satisfaction: ”They're Middleton's!” Kirk was putting all he knew into the work, and his face, as he drew, was dark and gloomy.

Steve noted this with concern. He had perceived for some time that Kirk had changed. He had lost all his old boyish enjoyment of their sparring-bouts, and he threw the medicine-ball with an absent gloom almost equal to Bailey's.

It had not occurred to Steve to question Kirk about this. If Kirk had anything on his mind which he wished to impart he would say it.

Meanwhile, the friendly thing for him to do was to be quiet and pretend to notice nothing.

It seemed to Steve that nothing was going right these days. Here was he, chafing at his inability to open his heart to Mamie. Here was Kirk, obviously in trouble. And--a smaller thing, but of interest, as showing how universal the present depression was--there was Bailey Bannister, equally obviously much worried over something or other.

For Bailey had reinstated Steve in the place he had occupied before old John Bannister had dismissed him, and for some time past Steve had marked him down as a man with a secret trouble. He had never been of a riotously cheerful disposition, but it had been possible once to draw him into conversation at the close of the morning's exercises. Now he hardly spoke. And often, when Steve arrived in the morning, he was informed that Mr. Bannister had started for Wall Street early on important business.

These things troubled Steve. His simple soul abhorred a mystery.

But it was the case of Kirk that worried him most, for he half guessed that the latter's gloom had to do with Ruth; and he wors.h.i.+pped Ruth.

Kirk laid down his sketch and got up.

”I guess that'll do for the moment, Steve,” he said.

Steve relaxed the att.i.tude of proud satisfaction which he had a.s.sumed in order to do justice to the Undeniable Suspenders. He stretched himself and sat down.

”You certainly are working to beat the band just now, squire,” he remarked.

”It's a pretty good thing, work, Steve,” said Kirk. ”If it does nothing else, it keeps you from thinking.”

He knew it was feeble of him, but he was powerfully impelled to relieve himself by confiding his wretchedness to Steve. He need not say much, he told himself plausibly--only just enough to lighten the burden a little.

He would not be disloyal to Ruth--he had not sunk to that--but, after all Steve was Steve. It was not like blurting out his troubles to a stranger. It would harm n.o.body, and do him a great deal of good, if he talked to Steve.

He relit his pipe, which had gone out during a tense spell of work on the suspenders.

”Well, Steve,” he said, ”what do you think of life? How is this best of all possible worlds treating you?”

Steve deposed that life was pretty punk.

”You're a great describer, Steve. You've hit it first time. Punk is the word. It's funny, if you look at it properly. Take my own case. The superficial observer, who is apt to be a bonehead, would say that I ought to be singing psalms of joy. I am married to the woman I wanted to marry. I have a son who, not to be fulsome, is a perfectly good sort of son. I have no financial troubles. I eat well. I have ceased to tremble when I see a job of work. In fact, I have advanced in my art to such an extent that shrewd business men like Middleton put the pictorial side of their Undeniable Suspenders in my hands and go off to play golf with their minds easy, having perfect confidence in my skill and judgment. If I can't be merry and bright, who can? Do you find me merry and bright, Steve?”

”I've seen you in better shape,” said Steve cautiously.

”I've felt in better shape.”

Steve coughed. The conversation was about to become delicate.

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