The Eye of Wilbur Mook Part 6

Wilbur shuddered and at the same instant became aware of a peculiar phenomenon. He seemed to be seeing the boy through only one eye. The other was strangely blurred. Wilbur pulled out his handkershief and wiped his right eye. His vision improved but as he moved toward the head of the stairs he swayed slightly.

"You get hurt or something?" the boy asked as Wilbur came toward him.

Wilbur rubbed his head.

"I'm all right," Wilbur told him. He said it partly to rea.s.sure himself.

He looked at his wrist watch and found he had only twenty minutes to get back to work. That was puzzling. There was a lapse of time. Being a man of imagination, Wilbur reflected that if he had actually been in the past he would not have used up any time in the present.

On the other hand, it was more probable that he had been hit on the head by falling plaster and had incurred a slight lapse of consciousness, memory, or both. He was inclined to accept that explanation.

At any rate he was going to be late if he didn't hurry, and Pete Bellows would be mad as a hornet. Wilbur speeded up his pace. Then he slowed down again. If anyone should be angry it was himself. He had missed his lunch.

Riding up in the elevator Wilbur checked his watch again and found he was only five minutes late. In his working life that represented two lines of doggerel. It didn't seem like much to get excited about. But Pete Bellows didn't see it that way.

"Mook!" he roared, as Wilbur came through the door. "You're late!"

If he had expected Wilbur to fall into his usual fit of trembling he was disappointed. Wilbur was staring at him.

"Your eye!" Wilbur gasped. Pete's left eye was swollen half shut and had a blue ring around it.

"He walked into the door," Miss Burnett said. "Honest."

Wilbur smiled at her. She was a very pretty girl. Too pretty to be working for a wolf like Pete Bellows. Wilbur had a notion to tell her so.

"I said you're late, Mook," Pete told him ominously.

"So what?" Wilbur asked quietly. "If you don't like it you can fire me.

In fact, considering that you find so much fault with my work I'm surprised you haven't discharged me long ago. But I'll save you the trouble. I quit."

Pete was staring at him as though Wilbur had gone mad. Maybe he had, Wilbur thought. Maybe Pete was going to get sore and punch him in the nose. It didn't seem to matter.

"Not only that," Wilbur added. "I'm going into business for myself. How would you like to work for me, Miss Burnett?"

"I think I'd like that just fine," she said. She took her purse out of a drawer in her desk and got her coat and put it on.

Pete Bellows was a stricken man. For once he had nothing to say. His mouth dropped open and he leaned against his desk. "W-wait a minute, Wilbur, old pal," he managed to gasp finally.

"Goodbye," was all Wilbur had to say. He held the door open carefully for Miss Burnett, then shut it behind them as carefully.

Wilbur knew that he was outwardly calm. Inside, he was filled with amazement at himself. Never had he thought to see the day when he would stand up to Pete Bellows. Now he had not only done it, he had got away with it! He took Miss Burnett's elbow. She was looking at him rather queerly, he thought.

"What's the matter?"

"I just noticed the strangest thing about you," she said. "You're the first person I've ever seen who had different colored eyes!"

Wilbur gasped. His knees felt weak, and out of the past he heard a creaky voice say, "... I can't tell them apart." Now he understood that _Arthur's_ right eye had been the last ingredient in the _Elixir of Fort.i.tude_!

Wilbur smiled. There was nothing to be angry about. He certainly hadn't got the worst of the bargain! His shoulders were squared as he helped Miss Burnett into the elevator car.

"Let's go, Jean," Wilbur said.