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WORE A ROSE ON HIS COAT.
Henry was absent nearly a week, and upon returning he did not refer to the business that had so peremptorily called him away. Mrs.
Witherspoon still had a fear that it might be a love affair, and Ellen had a fear that it might not be. To keep the young woman's interest alive a mystery was necessary, and to free the mother's love from anxiety unrestrained frankness was essential. And so there was not enough of mystery to thrill the girl nor enough of frankness to satisfy the mother. In this way a week was pa.s.sed.
"I don't see why you make so much of it," Witherspoon said to his wife. "Is there anything so strange in a young man's leaving town? Do you expect him to remain forever within calling distance? He told you that you should know in due time. What more can you ask? You are foolishly worried over him, and what is there to worry about?"
"I suppose I am," she answered, "but I'm so much afraid that he'll marry some girl that I shall not like."
"It's not only that, Caroline. You are simply afraid that he will marry some girl. The fear of not liking her is a secondary anxiety."
"But, father, you know"--
"Oh, yes, I know. But he is a man--presumably," he added to himself--"and your love cannot make him a child. It is true that we were robbed of the pleasure his infancy would have afforded us, but it's not true that there now exists any way by which that lost pleasure can be supplied. As for myself, I regret the necessity that compels me to say that he is far from being a comfort to me. What has he brought me? Nothing but an additional cause for worry."
"Father, don't say that!"
"But I am compelled to say it. I have pointed out a career to him and he simply bats his eyes at it. He is the most peculiar creature I ever saw. Oh, I know he has gone through enough to make him peculiar; I know all about that, but I don't see the sense of keeping up that peculiarity. He is aimless, and he doesn't want an aim urged upon him."
"But, father, he has made his newspaper a success."
"Ah, but what does it amount to? Within ten years he might make a hundred thousand dollars out of it, but"--
"Oh, surely more than that," she insisted.
"Well, suppose he does make more than that; say that he may make two hundred thousand. And even then what does it amount to in comparison with what I offer?"
"But you know he wants to be independent."
"Independent!" he repeated. "I'll swear I don't understand that sort of independence."
"Well," she said, with a consoling sigh, "it will come out all right after a while."
They were sitting in Mrs. Witherspoon's room. The footman announced that Mr. Brooks was waiting in the library. Witherspoon frowned.
"You needn't see him, dear," said his wife.
"Yes, I will. But I am tired and don't care to discuss business affairs. Of late he brings nothing but bad news."
The manager was exquisitely dressed and wore a rose on the lapel of his coat. "I am on my way to an entertainment at the Yacht Club," said he, when the merchant entered the library, "and I thought I'd drop in for a few moments."
"I'm glad you did," Witherspoon replied. "Sit down."
"I haven't long to stay," said Brooks, seating himself. "I am on one of the committees and must be getting over. Is your son going?"
"I don't know. He hasn't come home yet."
"He was invited," said Brooks.
"That doesn't make any difference," Witherspoon replied. "He appears to pay but little attention to invitations, or to anything else, for that matter. Spends the most of his time at the Press Club, I think."
"That's singular."
"Very," said Witherspoon.
"I was there the evening they gave a reception to Patti, some time ago," Brooke remarked, "but I didn't see anything so very attractive about the place."
"I suppose not," Witherspoon replied, and then he added: "That's Henry now, I think."
Henry came in and was apparently surprised to see Brooks. "I have been detained on account of business," he remarked as he sat down. Brooks smiled. Evidently he knew what was pa.s.sing in Witherspoon's mind.
"My affairs may be light to some people," Henry said, "but they are heavy enough to me."
By looking serious Brooks sought to mollify the effect of his smile.
He had not taken the time to think that in his sly currying of Witherspoon's favor he might be discovered, but now that he was caught he fell back upon the recourse of a bungling compliment. "Oh, I'm sure," said he, "that your business is most important. Your paper shows the care and ability with which you preside over it. I think it's the best paper in town, and advertisers tell me that they get excellent returns from it." Here he caught Witherspoon's eye and hastened to add: "Still, I believe that your place is with us in the store. You could soon make yourself master of every detail."
"But we will not talk about that now," Witherspoon spoke up.
"Of course not; but I merely mentioned it to show my belief in your son's abilities."
The footman appeared at the door. "Two gentlemen wish to see Mr.
Brooks."
"Who are they?" Witherspoon asked.
"Wouldn't give me their names, sir."
"Some of the boys from the club," said Brooks. "Well, I must bid you good evening."
"There was something I wanted to say to you," the merchant remarked, walking down the hall with him.
Henry did not get up, but he listened eagerly. Presently he heard Witherspoon exclaim: "Great G.o.d!" And a moment later the merchant came rushing back.
"Where is my hat?" he cried. "Henry, Brooks is arrested on a charge of murdering Colton! Where is my hat?"
Henry got up, placed his hand on Witherspoon's shoulder, and said: "Sit down here, father."
"Sit down the devil!" he raved. "I tell you that Brooks has been arrested. I am going down-town."
"Not to-night. Sit down here."
"What do you mean, sir!"
"I mean that you must not go down-town. You can do no good by going, Brooks is guilty. There is no doubt about it."
The old man dropped in his chair. Mrs. Witherspoon came running into the room. "What on earth is the matter?" she cried. Witherspoon struggled to his feet. Henry caught him by the arm. "Mother, don't be alarmed. Brooks has simply been arrested."
"For the murder of Colton!" Witherspoon hoa.r.s.ely whispered. His voice had failed him.