Part 11 (1/2)

”A moment, ma'am,” he replied.

Next instant he was by her side, and very gallantly led her to the outer hall and over to the elevator man. That Mecca of information scratched his head before venturing to a.s.sist them, then he hazarded, briskly, ”Fifth floor, No. 682.”

”If that's wrong, come back,” the young man said, kindly, as he left her.

The elevator drew her up almost before she could catch her breath, and landed her on the fifth floor. The man pointed along a hallway, and she followed this until a name in big gilt letters arrested her attention and caused her heart to flutter spasmodically. ”Cornelius McVeigh--Investments,” it read. And this was really her son's Eldorado! A mist crept over her eyes as she turned the bra.s.s k.n.o.b and entered. A score of young men and women were before her, busily engaged at desks, writing and sorting over papers. Beyond them, other doors led to inner offices, and from some invisible quarter a peculiar clicking cast a disturbing influence. Whilst she was taking it in, in great sweeping glances, a small boy stepped saucily up and demanded her wishes.

”I'm Mistress McVeigh, o' the Monk Road, an' I've come to see Cornelius,” she told him.

The boy looked at her, whistled over his shoulder and grimaced.

”What yer givin' us, missus?” he asked.

”I'll have ye understand I'll take no impudence,” she retorted, wrathfully, shaking her parasol handle at him.

”If yer wants the boss, he's out,” he informed her, with more civility.

”Is there anything I can do?” a young lady asked, coming over to her from her desk.

”It's just Mister McVeigh that I want to see. I'm his mother,” Nancy replied, simply.

”You are his mother!” the girl exclaimed, doubtfully.

”That I am,” Nancy declared, emphatically.

”Mr. McVeigh is out of the city, but Mr. Keene is here. Will he do?”

she again questioned.

At this juncture someone stepped briskly from an inner room, and then a man dashed impetuously across the general office, scattering books and clerks in his eagerness, and crying, ”Why, it's Mrs. McVeigh!” as he caught her gaunt body in his arms.

”Johnny, me lad, is it yerself?” she gasped, after he had desisted from his attempts to smother her.

Young John Keene held Nancy's hand within his own whilst he showed her everything of interest in the office, for the mother loved it all because it was her son's. The clerks were courteous and attentive, and the girls fell in love with the quaint old lady on the spot.

”It's fer all the world like a school,” she murmured in young John's ear.

”And I'm the big boy,” he answered, laughing.

A telegram searched the far corners of Mexico that afternoon, and at an unheard-of place, with an unp.r.o.nounceable name, it found Cornelius McVeigh, the centre of a group of gentlemen. The party had just emerged from the yawning mouth of a mine, and were resting in the suns.h.i.+ne and expelling the foul air from their lungs, whilst the young promoter of the western metropolis was explaining, from a sheet of paper covered with figures, the cost of base metal to the producer.

The mine foreman suddenly interrupted his remarks with a yellow envelope, which he thrust respectfully forward. ”A telegram, sir,” he said, and withdrew. The array of men sighed gratefully at the respite, and Cornelius McVeigh hastily scanned the message.

”Your mother in Chicago, much disappointed at your absence. When may we expect you?” so it read.

The young man folded it carefully, put it into his pocket and continued his discourse, but his words were losing their pointedness, and he was occasionally absent-minded.

”It's dinner-time. I move an adjournment to the hotel,” one of the grey-haired capitalists suggested, and, with scant dignity for men of such giant interests, they hurried to take advantage of the break in the negotiations. Cornelius McVeigh did not go in to lunch, but strolled the length of the verandah for a full hour, absorbed in thought, then with characteristic energy he hastened to the little telegraph room and wrote a reply to his home office:

”Will close a great deal if I stay. Cannot leave for a week at least.

Persuade mother to wait.”