Half a Rogue by Harold MacGrath (bts book recommendations TXT) 📕

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The evening papers devoted a good deal of space to the strike at the Bennington shops. They frankly upheld Bennington. They admitted that employers had some individual rights. They berated the men for quarreling over a matter so trivial as the employment of a single non-union man, who was, to say the most, merely an experimenter. However, they treated lightly Bennington's threat to demolish the shops. No man in his right mind would commit so childish an act. It would be revenge of a reactive order, fool matching fools, whereas Bennington ought to be more magnanimous. The labor unions called special meetings, and with one or two exceptions voted to stand by the action of the men.

There was positively no politics behind this strike; everybody understood that; at least, everybody thought he understood. But there were some who smiled mysteriously and wagged their heads. One thing was certain; Bennington's friend, Warrington would lose many hundred votes in November. For everybody knew which way the Republican convention would go; there was nobody in sight but Warrington.

Bennington and Mrs. Jack dined at the old home that evening. There was plenty of gloom and forced gaiety around the board. John pretended that he was well out of a bad job; he was not a dreamer nor a socialist, not he; Utopia was not for the iron age. He told stories, joked and laughed, and smoked frequently. No one but the mother had the courage to ask if he really meant to tear down the mills. She came around the table, smoothed his hair as she had done since he was a boy, and leaned over his chair.

"John?"

"Well, mother mine?"

"Shall you really do it?"

"Do what?"

"Tear it down."

He did not answer at once, and she waited, trembling.

"You would not have me take back my words to the men, would you, mother?" quietly.

"Your father loved the place."

"And do I not?" a note of strong passion in his voice. "I shall tear it down, if I live. Do not ask me anything more about it. Has Dick been over to-day?"

"He telephoned that he would be over after dinner. He wants you to go to the speech-making to-night." Patty rose from her seat at the table.

"Patty," said John, rather surprised at his discovery, "you are almost a woman!"

"You men never see anything quickly," said Mrs. Jack. "Patty has been a beautiful woman for several months."

Patty started, restrained the impulse to speak, and searched Mrs. Jack's face. But Mrs. Jack had eyes for no one but John. Her thought was far removed from her words. That telephone message rang in her ears every hour of the day. One moment she was on the verge of telling John, the next she dared not. What had that wretch found out? What could he have found out? A lie; it could be nothing more nor less than a lie; but the suspense and the waiting were killing her. Every beat of her heart, every drop of her blood belonged to this man at her side, and she would rather die than that doubt should mingle with his love. She was miserable, miserable; she dared not confide in any one; Patty was too young, for all her womanhood, to understand fully. Night after night she forced her recollection through the dim past, but she could find nothing but harmless, innocent follies. Alas, the kaleidoscope of life has so many variant angles that no two eyes see alike. What to her appeared perfectly innocent might appear evil in the neighbors' eyes; what to her was sunshine, to another might be shadow.

"Think of it!" said John. "Patty will be marrying before long."

Mrs. Bennington looked at Patty and sighed. To rear up children and to lose them, that was the mother's lot. To accept these aches with resignation, to pass the days in reconciling what might be with what shall be, that was the mother's portion. Yes, Patty must some day marry.

"When Patty marries, mother," said John, "you shall come and live with Kate and me."

"You are moving me around like a piece of useless furniture," replied Patty, with some resentment. "I doubt if I shall ever marry."

"Bosh!" laughed John. "There'll come some bold Lochinvar for you, one of these days; and then off you'll go. There's the bell. That must be Dick."

Patty and Mrs. Jack crossed glances quickly. John went to the door himself and brought Warrington back with him.

"Won't you have a cup of tea, Mr. Warrington?" asked the mother.

"Thank you, I will." Warrington stirred the tea, gazing pleasantly from face to face.

The lines in his face seemed deeper than usual; the under lids of the eyes were dark, and the squareness of the jaw was more prominent. John saw no change, but the three women did. Warrington looked careworn.

"Well, John, I see that you have done it."

"Yes."

"I'm terribly sorry, but you couldn't back down now and live in town."

"You see, mother?" John smiled sadly.

"Yes, my son. You will do what you think best and manliest."

"How's the cat?" asked Warrington.

"It still wanders about, inconsolable," answered Patty. How careworn he looked!

"Poor beast! It is lucky to have fallen in such good hands."

"When you are mayor," said Patty, "you must give me a permit to rescue stray cats from the pound."

"I'll do more than that; I'll build a house of shelter for them."

"What time does your speaker begin?" inquired John, lighting a fresh cigar.

"John, you are smoking too much," remonstrated Mrs. Jack.

"I know it, honey."

"Rudolph begins at nine; if we go then that will be soon enough. You'll be amused. Have you been riding lately?" Warrington directed this question to Patty.

"Yes, regularly every morning." Patty dallied with the crumbs at the side of her plate.

"I don't know what's the matter with me, but I find it wearies me to climb on to a horse's back. I haven't got back to normal conditions yet."

"I was wondering where you were."

"And how is Jove?" asked Mrs. Jack.

"He's snoozing out on the veranda. I take him everywhere now."

Presently they moved into the living-room. Warrington longed to sit beside Patty, but of a sudden he had grown diffident. It amused him to come into the knowledge that all his address and worldliness would not stand him in good stead in the presence of Patty. Words were no longer at his command; he was no longer at his ease. He was afraid of Patty; and he was very, very lonely. That empty house over the way was no longer home. There were moments when he regretted his plunge into politics. He was not free to pack his luggage and speed away to lands that urged his fancy. He had given his word, and he was too much of a man to withdraw it. He must remain here and fight two battles.

Mrs. Jack had taken the seat next to him, and was asking him about the progress of the play. It was going on so indifferently that he was of half a mind to destroy it, which he did later. His glance always came back to Patty. She was bent over her basket-work. She was calling him Mr. Warrington again. Had he offended her in any manner? The light from the lamp sparkled in her hair. She was as fresh and beautiful as a July rose. But Mrs. Jack was an artist. She knew how to draw him out; and shortly he was talking animatedly. It was now that Patty's eyes began to rove.

John, his fingers meeting in an arch, one leg thrown restlessly across the other, thoughtfully eyed his wife and his friend. ... It was a lie; there was nothing in all the world so honest as Warrington's hand, so truthful as his wife's eyes. Cursed be the doubt that had wedged between these two he loved!

Time passes quickly or slowly, according to the state of mind. To John the time was long; to Patty and Warrington it was too short; to Mrs. Jack it was neither long nor short, but suspended.

"Time for us to go, John. You are not particular about a chair, are you?" Warrington asked.

"Not I. I prefer to stand up in the rear of the hall. If I am bored I can easily escape."

"Oh, the night will not be without some amusement."

"Take good care of John," whispered Mrs. Jack in Warrington's ear; as the two men were about to depart.

"Trust me!" Warrington smiled.

Patty and John observed this brief intercourse. The eyes of love are sharp. Patty was not jealous, neither was John; but something had entered into their lives that gave to all trivial things a ponderous outline.

"Don't let any reporters talk to John, Mr. Warrington," requested the mother.

"I'll surround him."

"Shall we walk?" asked John.

"We can see better on foot."

"We'll walk, then."

So the two men went down town on foot, and Jove galloped back and forth joyously. At any and all times he was happy with his master. The one bane of his existence was gone, the cat. He was monarch of the house; he could sleep on sofa-pillows and roll on the rugs, and nobody stole his bones.

"Good dog," observed John.

"Money couldn't buy him. I saw that fellow Bolles to-day," tentatively.

"Bolles?" John did not recollect the name.

"The fellow you nearly throttled the other night," explained Warrington. "He looked pretty well battered up. I never saw you lose your temper so quickly before."

"He struck me without provocation, at the wrong moment. Who is going to speak to-night?"

"Donnelly and Rudolph."

"What do you think? Donnelly called me up by 'phone this afternoon. Wants to know if I really intend to tear down the shops. I told him I had nothing to say on the subject."

"Tear them down. I should. You're a rich man."

"Money isn't the question. The thing is, what shall I do? I'm not fitted for anything else."

"Tear down the shops and then build them up again, after a few years. It will be a good lesson to these union leaders. And you could have the fun of fighting to build up the trade your father left. You were talking once of rebuilding entirely."

"Not a bad idea, Dick. Only, I feel sorry for the men."

"Why? Are they free men or are they not? It rested with them just as much as it did with you. I am far removed from the principles of unionism, as they stand to-day. I have no patience or sympathy with men who can not, or will not, appreciate a liberal, honest employer."

"Let's change the subject, Dick."

For a block or so they proceeded in silence.

"John, you're the head of the family. I love Patty better than anything else on God's earth. Do you mind?" Warrington uttered these words swiftly, before his courage, which he had suddenly urged to its highest, dropped back.

John swung round abruptly and brought his hands down heavily on Warrington's shoulders.

"Is that true, Dick?"

"As I stand here. Oh, I know; I'm not good enough for Patty. I haven't lived as decently as I might. I haven't gone through life as circumspectly as you have. I drank; success made me dizzy. But I love Patty-God bless