Lo, Michael! Part 40

The clamor showed signs of breaking forth again:

"This man has spoken well because he has spoken from his heart. And he has told us that he knows whereof he speaks, for he has lived in those tenement rooms himself, one of the little children like those for whom he pleads. I am told that he has given almost every evening for four years out of a busy life which is just opening into great promise, to help these people of his.

I am reminded as I have been listening to him of Lanier's wonderful poem, 'The Marshes of Glynn.' Do you recall it?

"'Ye spread and span like the catholic man who hath mightily won G.o.d out of knowledge, and good out of infinite pain, And sight out of blindness, and purity out of a stain.'

"Let us get to work at once and do our duty. I see you do not need urging.

My friends, if such a man as this, a prince among men, can come out of the slums, then the slums are surely worth redeeming."

The audience thundered and clamored and thundered again; women sobbed openly, while the ushers hurried about collecting the eager offerings of the people, for Michael had won the day and everybody was ready to give.

It sort of helped to get the burden of such a state of things off their consciences.

Starr had sat through the whole speech with glowing cheeks and lashes wet.

Her heart throbbed with wonder and a kind of personal pride in Michael.

Somehow all the years that had pa.s.sed between seemed to have dropped away and she saw before her the boy who had told her of the Florida sunset, and filled her with childish admiration over his beautiful thoughts. His story appealed to her. The lives of the little ones about whom he had been telling were like his poor neglected existence before her father took him up; the little lonely life that had been freely offered to save her own.

She forgot now all that had pa.s.sed between, her anger at his not coming to ride; and after her return from abroad, not coming to call; nor accepting her invitations; her rage at his interference in her affairs. Her persistence in her own folly seemed now unspeakable. She was ashamed of herself. The tears were streaming down her cheeks, but of this she was quite unaware.

When the speeches were over and the uproar of applause had somewhat subsided, Starr turned to her father her face aglow, her lashes still dewy with tears. Her father had been silent and absorbed. His face was inscrutable now. He had a way of masking his emotions even to those who knew him best.

"Daddy, dear," whispered Starr, "couldn't we buy that tenement and build it over? I should so love to give those little children happy homes."

Endicott turned and looked at his treasured child, her lovely face all eagerness now. She had infinite faith in her father's ability to purchase anything she wanted. The father himself had been deeply stirred. He looked at her searchingly at first; then yearningly, tenderly, but his voice was almost gruff as he said:

"H'm! I'll see about it!"

"Couldn't you let Michael know now, daddy? I think it would be such a help to him to know that his speech has done some good." The voice was very sweet and appealing. "Couldn't you send him word by one of the ushers?"

"H'm! I suppose I could." Endicott took out his fountain pen and a business card, and began to write.

"You don't suppose, daddy, that the owner will object to selling? There won't be any trouble about it that way, will there?"

"No, I don't think there'll be any trouble."

Endicott slipped the card into an envelope he found in his pocket and calling an usher asked him to take it to the platform to Michael. What he had written was this:

"I suppose you have been talking about my property. Pull the tenement down if you like and build a model one. I'll foot the bills. D.E."

When Michael, surprised at receiving a communication on the platform, tore the envelope open and read, his face fairly blazed with glory. Starr was watching him, and her heart gave a queer little throb of pleasure at the light in his eyes. The next instant he was on his feet, and with a whispered word to the chairman, came to the front of the platform. His raised hand brought instant silence.

"I have good news. May I share it with you? The owner of that tenement is in this house, and has sent me word that he will tear it down and build a model one in its place!"

The ring in Michael's voice, and the light on his face was equivalent to a dozen votes of thanks. The audience rose to its feet and cheered:

"Daddy! Oh, daddy! Are you the owner?" There was astonishment, reproof, excuse, and forgiveness all mingled in Starr's voice.

"Come Starr," said her father abruptly, "we'd better go home. This is a hot noisy place and I'm tired."

"Daddy dear! Of course you didn't know how things were!" said Starr sweetly. "You didn't, did you, daddy?"

"No, I didn't know," said Endicott evasively, "that Michael has a great gift of gab! Would you like to stop and have an ice somewhere, daughter?"

"No, daddy, I'd rather go home and plan how to make over that tenement. I don't believe I'd enjoy an ice after what I've heard to-night. Why is it some people have so much more than others to start with?"

"H'm! Deep question, child, better not trouble your brains with it," and Starr saw that her father, though deeply moved, did not wish to discuss the matter.

The next day Michael called at Endicott's office but did not find him in, and wrote a letter out of the overwhelming joy of his heart, asking permission to call and thank his benefactor and talk over plans. The following day he received the curt reply:

"Son:--Make your plans to suit yourself. Don't spare expense within reason.

No thanks needed. I did it for Starr. You made a good speech."

Michael choked down his disappointment over this rebuff, and tried to take all the joy of it. He was not forgiven yet. He might not enter the sacred precincts of intercourse again; but he was beloved. He could not help feeling that, because of that "Son" with which the communication began. And the grudging praise his speech received was more to Michael than all the adulation that people had been showering upon him since the night of the ma.s.s meeting. But Starr! Starr knew about it. He did it for Starr! She had wanted it! She had perhaps been there! She must have been there, or how else would she have known? The thought thrilled him, and thrilled him anew! Oh, if he might have seen her before him! But then perhaps he would not have been able to tell his story, and so it was just as well. But Starr was interested in his work, his plans! What a wonderful thing to have her work with him even in this indirect way. Oh, if some day! If--!

But right here Michael shut down his thoughts and went to work.

CHAPTER XXVI

Late in January Michael was taking his nightly walk homeward by way of the Endicott home. He was convinced that Starr was still away from home, for he had seen no lights now for several weeks in the room that he knew was her own, but there was always the chance that she might have returned.

He was nearing the house when he saw from the opposite direction a man turn the corner and with halting gait come slowly toward the house and pause before the steps uncertainly. Something familiar in the man's att.i.tude caused Michael to hasten his steps, and coming closer he found that it was Mr. Endicott himself, and that he stood looking up the steps of his home as though they had been a difficult hill which he must climb.

Michael stopped beside him, saying good evening, the thrill of his voice conveying his own joy in the meeting in addition to a common greeting.

"Is that you, Son?" asked the older man swaying slightly toward him. "I'm glad you came. I feel strangely dizzy. I wish you'd help me in."

Michael's arm was about the other's shoulders at once and his ready strength almost lifted his benefactor up the steps. His steady hand with the key made short work of the night latch, and without waiting to call a servant he helped Mr. Endicott up to his room and to his bed.

The man sank back wearily with a sigh and closed his eyes, then suddenly roused himself.

"Thank you, Son; and will you send a message to Starr that I am not able to come on to-night as I promised? Tell her I'll likely be all right to-morrow and will try to come then. You'll find the address at the head of the telephone list in the hall there. I guess you'll have to 'phone for the doctor. I don't seem to feel like myself. There must be something the matter. I think I've taken a heavy cold."

Michael hurried to the 'phone and called up the physician begging him to come at once, for he could see that Mr. Endicott was very ill. His voice trembled as he gave the message to the Western Union over the 'phone. It seemed almost like talking to Starr, though he sent the telegram in her father's name.

The message sent, he hurried back to the sick man, who seemed to have fallen in a sort of stupor. His face was flushed and hot, the veins in his temples and neck were throbbing rapidly. In all his healthy life Michael had seen little of illness, but he recognized it now and knew it must be a violent attack. If only he knew something to do until the doctor should arrive!

Hot water used to be the universal remedy for all diseases at college. The matron always had some one bring hot water when anyone was ill. Michael went downstairs to find a servant, but they must all be asleep, for he had been unusually late in leaving the alley that night.

However, he found that the bath-room would supply plenty of hot water, so he set to work to undress his patient, wrap him in a blanket and soak his feet in hot water. But the patient showed signs of faintness, and was unable to sit up. A footbath under such conditions was difficult to administer. The unaccustomed nurse got his patient into bed again with arduous labor, and was just wondering what to do next when the doctor arrived.

Michael watched the grave face of the old doctor as he examined the sick man, and knew that his intuitions had been right. Mr. Endicott was very seriously ill. The doctor examined his patient with deliberation, his face growing more and more serious. At last he stepped out of the room and motioned Michael to follow him.

"Are you a relative, young man?" he asked looking at Michael keenly.

"No, only one who is very much indebted to him."