Part 16 (1/2)
”That's right. Turn on the poetry spigot, Songbird;” and thus urged the would-be poet of Brill began:
”The world is black and I feel blue, I do not know what I'm to do, That fellow hit me in the head And left me in the road for dead.
I go around from hour to hour And I am feeling mighty sour.
I am consumed with helpless woe----”
”Because I lost that heard-earned dough,”
completed Tom, rather suddenly, and this abrupt ending caused a general laugh.
CHAPTER XI
TOM FREES HIS MIND
The party in Number 25 did not break up until some time after midnight, and all present declared that they had had the time of their lives. Only one interruption had come, made by a good-natured monitor who had begged them to make less noise, and this fellow, well known to Tom, had been bought off with several sandwiches and a bottle of ginger ale.
”And how do you fellows feel this morning?” asked Tom, who was the first to get up after a sound sleep.
”Oh, I'm first rate,” announced his younger brother. ”I thought I'd dream, with so much chicken salad and sandwiches and cake in me, but I slept like a log.”
”I didn't sleep extra well,” came slowly from Songbird. ”But I don't think it was the feast kept me awake.”
Tom walked over to where the would-be poet of Brill sat on the edge of a cot and dropped down beside him.
”Songbird, you take the loss of that money too much to heart,” he said kindly. ”Of course we all know it was a great loss. Yet it won't do to grieve over it too much. And besides, there is hope that some day the authorities will catch that Blackie Crowden and get at least part of the money back.”
”It isn't the money alone, Tom; it is the way Mr. Sanderson has treated me. And besides that, I'm worried over that mortgage. I'd like to know just what old Grisley and his lawyer are going to do.”
”I'll tell you what I'll do, Songbird. If you wish me to, I'll call on Mr. Sanderson and tell him what we are willing to do, so that he can rest easy about paying the mortgage off if he has to.”
”I wish you would go, Tom--and put in a good word for me, too,” cried Songbird, eagerly.
”Oh, I'll do that, never fear. I'll go this morning before I start back to New York;” and thus it was arranged.
”You said that you had something to tell me, Tom,” remarked Sam, as the three were going downstairs to breakfast. ”What was it?”
”Oh, it may not amount to much, Sam. I'll tell you about it as soon as we can get by ourselves,” answered Tom.
The morning meal was quickly disposed of, and then Tom and Sam returned to Number 25, the former to repack his dress-suit case before leaving for the Sandersons' place and for New York.
”I don't exactly know how to get at this, Sam,” began his brother, slowly, when the pair were in the bedroom and the door had been closed.
”It is about Grace and the Walthams.”
”About Grace?” and Sam showed his increased interest. ”What about her?”
”Well, as I mentioned last night, this Ada Waltham is very rich, and she has a brother, Chester, who is older than she is and much richer. In fact, I've heard it said that he is a young millionaire.”
”Well?” queried Sam, as his brother paused.