Part 63 (1/2)

”Mum's the word,” he whispered. ”That's not my name down here.”

”Yes, I know,” I smiled. ”I've seen it in the papers.”

”Oh! You saw that? And guessed?” he grinned. Then gave some word to the Scoutmaster and led me to his office--a small room beside the entrance at the front of the building--and closed the door. In this better light I had the opportunity to examine him at my leisure while he talked. He was a little thinner in face and body, but not spare or lean. There were no shadows in his eyes, which were finely lighted by his new enthusiasm. The new fire had burned out the old. He was splendid with happiness.

”Oh! You've no idea of the fun I'm getting out of the thing, Roger.

It's simply great! These boys are fine to work with. They only need a chance. I've got several hundred of 'em lined up already, all nationalities ready for the melting-pot--Jews, Italians, Irish, all religions. I've got the families lined up, too, been to see 'em all personally. Rough lot, some of 'em--and dirty! Why, Roger, I never knew there was so much filth in all the world. I'm starting to clean up the boys, inside and out, getting them jobs and keeping the idle ones off the streets. Oh! It's going to take time, but we're going to get there in the end. You've seen the new building? Isn't it a corker?

I haven't been idle, have I?”

”But how on earth,” I asked, ”have you managed to preserve your anonymity?”

”Oh, I keep pretty dark. I don't go uptown at all. I made a visit one night to Ballard Senior and made a clean breast of things and at last he gave in. You see he had given me up as an office possibility. In three years, you know, I'll come in--to all the money. In the meanwhile we've fixed things up to provide for our immediate needs down here.”

”_Ours?_” I queried with a smile. He colored ever so slightly but went on unperturbed.

”Yes, you know Una's helping me. I couldn't have done a thing without Una. Her experience in dealing with these people has been simply invaluable. I thought--” he stopped to laugh--”I thought that all I had to do was just to spend the money and everything would work out all right. I made a lot of mistakes with these families at first, did a lot of harm in a way, offending the proud ones, spoiling the weak ones and all that, but I've learned a lot since I've been down here.

We've devised a plan--a scientific one. It's really beautiful how it works. We're going to make these boys all self-supporting and give 'em an education at the same time: manual training, industrial art and science and all the rest of it. Here! you must go over the building with me. I've got just half an hour.”

He s.n.a.t.c.hed up his cap and we went around the corner, going over the building from cellar to roof, Jerry explaining breathlessly and I listening, wondering whether to be most astonished at the extraordinary change in his mode of thought or at the initiative which could have planned and executed so great a project. He spoke of Una constantly, ”Una wanted this,” or ”Una suggested that,” or ”We had an awful row over the location of this thing, but Una was right.” And then as an afterthought, ”But then, she almost always is.”

He wanted to give her all the credit, you see, and I think she must have deserved a great deal, but I saw in the newborn Jerry enough to convince me of his strength, intelligence and force. All his personality--and I had long known that he had one--had been poured into this fine practical work which at every turn bore the impress of a man's force, plus a woman's intelligence.

To the G.o.d from the machine (for as such, in spite of many unG.o.dlike illusions, I still continued to regard myself) it seemed to me that all was going beautifully toward the consummation of my heart's fondest desire. And it was not until the following evening, when Jerry at last managed to find a chance to have a long talk with me, that I learned the truth.

It was a hot night in June. We had climbed to the roof of the new building for a breath of air, forsaking Jerry's small bedroom in the temporary quarters of the club where we had both been perspiring profusely. We sat upon the parapet smoking and talking of Jerry's plans and, since Una and the plans seemed to be a part of each other, of Una.

”I see her constantly, Roger,” he said joyously. ”We have regular meetings three times a week, sometimes at the Mission--and sometimes at the club, and when there isn't enough daytime--up in Was.h.i.+ngton Square. She has a wonderful mind for detail--carries everything in her head--figures, everything.”

”And you're happy?” I asked.

”Need you ask?” he laughed. ”I've never known what life was before.

It's great just to live and see things, good, useful things grow under your very eyes, so personal when you've planned 'em yourself.”

”And Una?”

”Oh, she's happy too. But then she's always happy, always was. It's her nature. I sometimes think she works a little too hard for her strength, but she never complains.” He paused and looked down the side street to where the East River gleamed palely in the dusk night. ”You know, Roger, I sometimes wish that she _would_ complain. She just goes along, quietly planning--doing, without any fuss, accomplis.h.i.+ng things where I fume and fret and get angry. She puts me to shame. She's a wonder--an angel, Roger.” He smiled. ”And yet she's human enough, always poking fun at a fellow, you know. I'm no match for her; I never was or will be.” He grew quiet and neither of us spoke for a long while. We felt the life of the City stirring under us, but overhead were the stars, the same stars that hung above the peace of Horsham Manor, where in the old days we had dreamed our dreams.

”You care for her?” I ventured softly at last.

He did not speak at once. His gaze was afar.

”Care for her?” he murmured after awhile, ”G.o.d help me! I love her with all the best of me, Roger. I always have loved her. It's so strange to me now that I never knew it before--so strange and pitiful--now when it is too late.”

”Too late, boy?” I said with a smile. ”Life for you, for you both, is just beginning.”