Part 8 (1/2)

So many trifles that day roused the undercurrent of old thoughts and old hopes that taunted him,--trifles, too, that he would not have heeded at another time. Pike came in on business, a bunch of bills in his hand. A wily, keen eye he had, looking over them,--a lean face, emphasized only by cunning. No wonder Dr. Knowles cursed him for a ”slippery customer,” and was cheated by him the next hour. While he and Holmes were counting out the bills, a little white-headed girl crept shyly in at the door, and came up to the table,--oddly dressed, in a frock fastened with great horn b.u.t.tons, and with an old-fas.h.i.+oned anxious pair of eyes, the color of blue Delft. Holmes smoothed her hair, as she stood beside them; for he never could help caressing children or dogs. Pike looked up sharply,--then half smiled, as he went on counting.

”Ninety, ninety-five, AND one hundred, all right,”--tying a bit of tape about the papers. ”My Sophy, Mr. Holmes. Good girl, Sophy is. Bring her up to the mill sometimes,” he said, apologetically, ”on 'count of not leaving her alone. She gets lonesome at th' house.”

Holmes glanced at Pike's felt hat lying on the table: there was a rusty strip of c.r.a.pe on it.

”Yes,” said Pike, in a lower tone, ”I'm father and mother, both, to Sophy now.”

”I had not heard,” said Holmes, kindly. ”How about the boys, now?”

”Pete and John 's both gone West,” the man said, his eyes kindling eagerly. ”'S fine boys as ever turned out of Indiana. Good eddications I give 'em both. I've felt the want of that all my life.. Good eddications. Says I, 'Now, boys, you've got your fortunes, nothing to hinder your bein' President. Let's see what stuff 's in ye,' says I.

So they're doin' well. Wrote fur me to come out in the fall. But I'd rather scratch on, and gather up a little for Sophy here, before I stop work.”

He patted Sophy's tanned little hand on the table, as if beating some soft tune. Holmes folded up the bills. Even this man could spare time out of his hard, stingy life to love, and be loved, and to be generous!

But then he had no higher aim, knew nothing better.

”Well,” said Pike, rising, ”in case you take th' mill, Mr. Holmes, I hope we'll be agreeable. I'll strive to do my best,”--in the old fawning manner, to which Holmes nodded a curt reply.

The man stopped for Sophy to gather up her bits of broken ”chayney”

with which she was making a tea-party on the table, and went down-stairs.

Towards evening Holmes went out,--not going through the narrow pa.s.sage that led to the offices, but avoiding it by a circuitous route. If it cost him any pain to think why he did it, he showed none in his calm, observant face. b.u.t.toning up his coat as he went: the October sunset looked as if it ought to be warm, but he was deathly cold. On the street the young doctor beset him again with bows and news: c.o.x was his name, I believe; the one, you remember, who had such a Talleyrand nose for ferreting out successful men. He had to bear with him but for a few moments, however. They met a crowd of workmen at the corner, one of whom, an old man freshly washed, with honest eyes looking out of horn spectacles, waited for them by a fire-plug. It was Polston, the coal-digger,--an acquaintance, a far-off kinsman of Holmes, in fact.

”Curious person making signs to you, yonder,” said c.o.x; ”hand, I presume.”

”My cousin Polston. If you do not know him, you'll excuse me?”

c.o.x sniffed the air down the street, and twirled his rattan, as he went. The coal-digger was abrupt and distant in his greeting, going straight to business.

”I will keep yoh only a minute, Mr. Holmes”----

”Stephen,” corrected Holmes.

The old man's face warmed.

”Stephen, then,” holding out his hand, ”sence old times dawn't shame yoh, Stephen. That's hearty, now. It's only a wured I want, but it's immediate. Concernin' Joe Yare,--Lois's father, yoh know? He's back.”

”Back? I saw him to-day, following me in the mill. His hair is gray?

I think it was he.”

”No doubt. Yes, he's aged fast, down in the lock-up; goin' fast to the end. Feeble, pore-like. It's a bad life, Joe Yare's; I wish 'n' 't would be better to the end”----

He stopped with a wistful look at Holmes, who stood outwardly attentive, but with little thought to waste on Joe Yare. The old coal-digger drummed on the fire-plug uneasily.

”Myself, 't was for Lois's sake I thowt on it. To speak plain,--yoh'll mind that Stokes affair, th' note Yare forged? Yes? Ther' 's none knows o' that but yoh an' me. He's safe, Yare is, only fur yoh an' me.

Yoh speak the wured an' back he goes to the lock-up. Fur life. D' yoh see?”

”I see.”

”He's tryin' to do right, Yare is.”