Part 9 (1/2)

”You let me have the list, Dexter, and I'll coach you up on it,”

laughed Burke.

”To-day is your relief, Burke,” said the Captain. ”You can go up to the library and wallow in literature if you want to.”

Burke smiled, as he retorted:

”I'm going to a better place to do my reading--and not out of books either, Cap.”

He changed his clothes, and soon emerged in civilian garb. He had never paid his call on John Barton, although he had been out of the hospital for several days. The old man's frequent visits to him in his private room at the hospital, after that first memorable meeting, had ripened their friends.h.i.+p. Barton had told him of a number of new ideas in electrical appliances, and Burke was anxious to see what progress had been made since the old fellow returned to his home.

Officer 4434 was also anxious to see another member of his family, and so it was with a curious little thrill of excitement, well concealed, however, with which he entered the modest apartment of the Bartons'

that evening.

”Well, well, well!” exclaimed the old man, as the young officer took his hand. ”We thought you had forgotten us completely. Mary has asked me several times if you had been up to see me. I suppose you have been busy with those gangsters, and keep pretty close since you returned to active service.”

Bobbie nodded.

”Yes, sir. They are always with us, you know. And a policeman does not have very much time to himself, particularly if he lolls around in bed with a throb in the back of the head, during his off hours, as I've been foolish enough to do.”

”Oh, how are you feeling, Mr. Burke?” exclaimed Mary, as she entered from the rear room.

She held out her hand, and Bobbie trembled a trifle as he took her soft, warm fingers in his own.

”I'm improving, and don't believe I was ever laid up--it was just imagination on my part,” answered Burke. ”But I have a faded rose to make me remember that some of it was a pleasant imagination, at any rate.”

Mary laughed softly, and dropped her eyes ever so slightly. But the action betrayed that she had not forgotten either.

Old Barton busied himself with some papers on a table by the side of his wheel-chair, for he was a diplomat.

”Well, now, Mr. Burke--what are your adventures? I read every day of some policeman jumping off a dock in the East River to rescue a suicide, or dragging twenty people out of a burning tenement, and am afraid that it's you. It's all right to be a hero, you know, but there's a great deal of truth in that old saying about it being better to have people remark, 'There he goes,' than 'Doesn't he look natural.'”

Bobbie took the comfortable armchair which Mary drew up.

”I haven't had anything really worth while telling about,” said Burke.

”I see a lot of sad things, and it makes a man feel as though he were a poor thing not to be able to improve conditions.”

”That's true of every walk in life. But most people don't look at the sad any longer than they can help. I've not been having a very jolly time of it myself, but I hope for a lot of good news before long. Why don't you bring Lorna in to meet Mr. Burke, Mary?”

The girl excused herself, and retired.

”How are your patents?” asked Bobbie, with interest. ”I hope you can show tricks to the Gresham people.”

The old man sighed. He took up some drawings and opened a little drawer in the table.

”No, Mr. Burke, I am afraid my tricks will be slow. I have received no letter from young Gresham in reply to one I wrote him, asking to be given a salary for mechanical work here in my home. Every bit of my savings has been exhausted. You know I educated my daughters to the limit of my earnings, since my dear wife died. They have hard sledding in front of them for a while, I fear.”

He hesitated, and then continued:

”Do you remember the day you met Mary? She started to say that she and Lorna could not see me on visiting day. Well, the dear girls had secured a position as clerks in Monnarde's big candy store up on Fifth Avenue. They talked it over between them, and decided that it was better for them to get to work, to relieve my mind of worry. It's the first time they ever worked, and they are sticking to it gamely. But it makes me feel terribly. Their mother never had to work, and I feel as though I have been a failure in life--to have done as much as I have, and yet not have enough in my old age to protect them from the world.”

”There, there, Mr. Barton. I don't agree with you. There is no disgrace in womanly work; it proves what a girl is worth. She learns the value of money, which before that had merely come to her without a question from her parents. And you have been a splendid father ...