Part 2 (1/2)
CHAPTER III
THE FINAL KICK
It was Sat.u.r.day, and Ethel Manton was lunching early that she might accompany her fifteen-year-old brother on a ride through the park.
A certain story in the morning paper arrested her attention, and she reread it with flushed face and tightening lips. It was well done, as newspaper stories go, this account of a lurid night on Broadway which wound up in a crescendo of brilliance with the flooring of a policeman.
No names were mentioned, but the initiated who read between the lines knew that only one man could have pulled off the stunt and gotten by with it.
”For goodness' sake, Eth, aren't you ever going to finish? You'll waste the whole afternoon over that old paper!”
Young Charlie had bolted his luncheon and waited impatiently in a deep window-seat overlooking the park. His sister laid down the paper with a sigh.
”Are the horses ready?” She asked the question in a dull, listless tone, so unlike her usual self that even Charlie noticed.
”Gee! You don't seem very keen about it. And look what a day! You look like you were going to a funeral.”
Before the girl could reply he turned again to the window: ”Look, a taxi is stopping and somebody is getting out. Oh, it's Bill Carmody!
Ain't he a crackerjack, though? Say, Eth, why don't you marry Bill?
He's just crazy about you--everybody says so, and----”
”Charlie!” The word was jerked out hysterically, and the boy was puzzled at the crimson of her face.
”Well, I don't care, it's so! And then I'd be a brother-in-law to Bill Carmody! Why, he can lick everybody down to the gym. He put on the gloves with _me_ once,” he boasted, swelling visibly, ”just sparring, you know; but he promised to teach me the game. And football! There never was a half-back like Bill Carmody! Why he----”
”Do hus.h.!.+ He might hear you. Run along, now. You ride on and I will overtake you. I--I must see Mr. Carmody alone.”
”_Mr._ Carmody! So you two have had a sc.r.a.p! Well, if I was a girl, and Bill Carmody wanted to marry _me_, you bet, I'd marry him before he got a chance to change his mind. You bet, when I grow up I'm going to be just like him--so there!”
The boy flounced defiantly out of the room, leaving the girl alone with a new fear.
Since the death of her parents she had bravely and capably undertaken the management of the household, and her chief care was this impulsive boy who was so dear to her heart.
”Look after Charlie as long as he shall need you.” The words of her dying mother came to her vividly. ”He is really a n.o.ble little fellow--but hard to manage.”
And now, added to the sorrow that already seemed crus.h.i.+ng her, was this new anxiety.
Charlie had set up an idol--and the fact that his idol was also her idol--although she never admitted it--struck fear to her heart. For the undiscerning eyes of the boy were blind to the feet of clay.
In the library across the hall, William Carmody paced nervously up and down, pausing at each turn to gaze abstractedly out of the window.
After what seemed an interminable wait, the portieres parted and the girl stepped into the room. In her hand she carried a carefully folded newspaper. She crossed to the table and, regarding the man with a cold, disconcerting stare, waited for him to speak.
”h.e.l.lo, Ethel! No, thank you, I have had luncheon. I----” His gaze encountered the unwavering blue eyes, and he suddenly dropped the air of flippant a.s.surance. ”Er, I came to see you,” he added lamely.
”Yes?” There was little of encouragement in the word with its accompanying inflection.
”You see, I am leaving New York.”