Part 4 (1/2)
”That jewel story sounds like an Arabian Nights tale,” said Bessie.
”I don't believe that it is more than half true, and that half is exaggerated.”
”Well, it IS true,” said Thaddeus. ”And, what is more, the girl helps in the was.h.i.+ng, plays with the children, and on her days out she stays at home and does sewing.”
Bessie laughed. ”She must be a regular Koh-i-noor,” she said. ”I suppose Mr. Bradley pays her a thousand dollars a month.”
”No, he doesn't; he pays her twelve,” said Thaddeus.
”Then he is just what I said he was,” snapped Bessie--”a mean thing.
The idea--twelve dollars a month for all that! Why, if she could prove she was all that you say she is, she could make ten times that amount by exhibiting herself. She is a curiosity. But if I were Mrs. Bradley I wouldn't have her in the house. So many virtues piled one on the other are sure to make an unsafe structure, and I believe some poor, miserable little vice will crop out somewhere and upset the whole thing.”
”You are jealous,” said Thaddeus; and then he went out.
The next day, meeting his friend Bradley on the street, Thaddeus greeted him with a smile, and said, ”Mrs. Perkins thinks you ought to take up literature.”
”Why so?” asked Bradley.
”She thinks De Foe and Scott and Dumas and Stevenson would be thrown into the depths of oblivion if you were to write up that jewel of yours,” said Thaddeus. ”She thinks your Mary is one of the finest, most imaginative creations of modern days.”
”She doubts her existence, eh?” smiled Bradley.
”Well, she thinks she's more likely to be a myth than a Smith,” said Thaddeus. ”She told me to ask you if Mary has a twin-sister, and to say that if you hear of her having any relatives at all--and no domestic ever lived who hadn't--to send her their addresses. She'd like to employ a few.”
”I am sorry Mrs. Perkins is so blinded by jealousy,” said Bradley, with a smile. ”And I regret to say that Mary hasn't a cousin on the whole police force, or, in fact, any kind of a relative whatsoever, unless she prevaricates.”
”Too bad,” said Thaddeus. ”I had a vague hope we could stock up on jewels of her kind. Where did you get her, anyhow--Tiffany's?”
”No. At an unintelligence office,” said Bradley. ”She was a last resort. We had to have some one, and she was the only girl there.
We took her for a week on trial without references, and, by Jove!
she turned out a wonder.”
Thaddeus grinned, and said: ”Give her time, Bradley. By-the-way, at what hours is she on exhibition? I'd like to see her.”
”Come up to-night and test the truth of what I say,” said Bradley.
”I won't let anybody know you are coming, and you'll see her just as we see her. What do you say?”
The temptation was too strong for Thaddeus to resist, and so it was that Bessie received a telegram that afternoon from her beloved, stating that he would dine with Bradley, and return home on a late train. The telegram concluded with the line, ”I'M GOING TO APPRAISE THE ESCAPED CROWN-JEWEL.”
Bessie chuckled at this, and stayed up until long after the arrival of the last train, so interested was she to hear from Thaddeus all about the Bradley jewel, who, as she said, ”seemed too good to be true”; but she was finally forced to retire disappointed and somewhat anxious, for Thaddeus did not return home that night.
Somewhere in the neighborhood of eight o'clock the next morning Bessie received a second telegram, which read as follows:
”DO NOT WORRY. I AM ALL RIGHT. WILL BE HOME ABOUT NINE, HAVE BREAKFAST.”
”Now I wonder what on earth can have kept him?” Bessie said.
”Something has happened, I am sure. Perhaps an accident on the elevated, or maybe--”