The Triumph of Virginia Dale Part 14

"Yes," he concurred, "I wouldn't have been hurt worse if I had been running twice as fast. The point is, that we could both be arrested and fined for speeding."

"They always arrest Ike," she explained with complacency. "He doesn't care a bit. He's used to it." Anxiety arose in her eyes. "Surely, they wouldn't arrest one as badly hurt as you?"

"You don't know that judge." Joe spoke with experience. "If they brought a dying man into his court who had only fifty dollars to leave to his widow and children, that judge would take it from him for speeding. That is, if he rode a motorcycle."

"Oh, the injustice of it. Doesn't he care for motorcyclists?"

"No," a.s.serted Joe with great forcefulness. "n.o.body likes a motorcyclist."

"I do," proclaimed Virginia, and then, after taking a moment to recover from the embarra.s.sment of her own outspokenness, she continued, "It's not right. They are ent.i.tled to equal justice," as if enunciating a newly discovered truth.

"Sure, they are ent.i.tled to it, but they don't get it. That's why I must keep quiet. My accident insurance will take care of my hospital bills and my job will keep."

"Why don't you collect damages?" urged Virginia with great gravity.

"From whom?"

After a moment's consideration, she solved the legal problem. "From me--that is, from my father, for me."

At the reference to her father a change came in the injured man. His good humor faded. "No," he said decidedly. "In the first place I wouldn't accept money from your father and in the second place he would not give any."

"You don't know my father," she said with pride. "He is a very just man. Sometimes he's gruff and a little cross but he doesn't mean anything by that. He always wants to do the right and generous thing." Her face was alight with loyalty and admiration.

"Does he?" There was a note of sarcasm in his voice which disappeared, and he said no more after he had read her eyes.

She misinterpreted the change in him. "I have stayed too long," she worried. "You are tired." She remembered the chicken. "I brought you something." She put the plate of fowl beside him.

He viewed it in joyous antic.i.p.ation. "Fine," he shouted. "If there is one thing I love, it is fried chicken. How did you guess it?"

She smiled at Miss Knight who had joined them. "A bird told me," she answered him.

The nurse put her hands on her hips and viewed the visitor with marked suspicion at this remark, but, as if satisfied that her distrust was unfounded, she retired to the diet kitchen from which hearty laughter immediately thereafter resounded.

"Good bye," she told him almost shyly.

His good spirits had returned. "You and I are friends, and remember, we are always going to be friends."

She nodded and said again, "Good bye, Mr. Curtis."

"My friends call me Joe," he reminded her.

Virginia hesitated, and then, "Good bye--Joe," she whispered and left the ward with a sweet little smile.

In the hall Miss Knight rejoined her. "Before you go I want to show you something which is our pride and joy at the present moment," she explained to the girl. She opened a door and displayed a beautifully furnished room which glistened in its cleanliness.

"It is very attractive, but why is the room different?" asked Virginia.

The nurse pointed to a bronze tablet. It bore the name of the donor, one well known in South Ridgefield.

"What a beautiful idea," the girl exclaimed.

"Isn't it?" responded the nurse. "The gift includes not only the furniture but the endowment of the bed for five years." She laughed.

"The man who gave it is ahead of the game. He was hurt in a railroad accident and was here for a couple of months. He sued the railroad company and collected more than enough from them to do this."

Afterwards, by Virginia's express wish, she was taken to the nursery and permitted to hold a recently arrived guest in her arms, who happened at the moment to be awake. She was allowed to peek into the maternity ward with its beds filled with women, and her tour ended in the dispensary where she met Dr. Jackson and a nurse who were busily engaged in caring for the ailments of the sick babies the mothers brought in from outside. At last she left for home, and on the way she thought of this strange new world she had been shown in this big brick building, but princ.i.p.ally she thought of a pair of black eyes that laughed and of the gross injustices to which down trodden motorcyclists were the victims.

Later that afternoon, Miss Knight was very busy among the shining utensils in the diet kitchen when she was disturbed by another visitor.

"I beg your pardon," said a voice, "but could you direct me to a patient? My name," he continued suavely, "is Wilkins--Hezekiah Wilkins." He wiped his bald head, and went on. "It's very warm today--extremely so."

"Sure, it's warm," agreed Miss Knight, "and this electric heater makes it a darn sight warmer."

Hezekiah intended to give the nurse a look of sympathetic understanding, but ended by giving her a friendly grin. "I comprehend your point of view," he added. "A trip to a pleasant resort would be more agreeable, don't you think?"

Miss Knight viewed his words in the sense of a tentative invitation and considered the merriment in his eyes suspicious in one of his age. She froze and demanded with the utmost frigidity, "Whom do you wish to see?"

Utterly innocent that he had all but persuaded this sophisticated nurse that he was one of those aged profligates of whom young women had best beware, Hezekiah drew forth an envelope upon which he had entered certain notes which he now found difficult to decipher, and told her.

She led the way and the lawyer followed through the ranks of curious eyes. He vigorously mopped at his shining cranium and held his inverted panama before him as if taking a collection of errant drops of moisture that they might not mar the polished floor. This detracted from the dignity of Hezekiah's progress.

Seating himself by Joe Curtis's bed, the attorney gazed at the youth for a few moments in polite curiosity.

The motorcyclist returned the look with one of undisguised distrust.

"My name is Hezekiah Wilkins," announced the lawyer when the mutual scrutiny had continued so long that it threatened to become embarra.s.sing.

"I have reasons to believe that I am speaking to Mr. Joseph Tolliver Curtis."

"You've got me, Steve," responded Joe.

"I've what?" inquired Hezekiah, much perplexed. Light dawned upon him. "Oh, yes--quite so--a.s.suredly," he indulged in a soft chuckle.

"I am dense at times. Slow might be better, eh?" Again he chuckled.

"Slow for the rising generations, particularly--" he smiled genially at Joe--"when they ride motorcycles."

Joe abated none of his vigilance. His policy was that of watchful waiting.

"The day is very warm," continued Hezekiah, looking about the ward with interest. "This is a delightfully cool and pleasant place. You are to be congratulated upon having such comfortable quarters in which to recuperate."

"Say!" Joe's voice was distinctly hostile. "Are you the advertising agent for this hospital?"

Hezekiah's trained ear sensed unfriendliness abroad. He changed his manner of approach with the quickness of a skilled strategist. "Mr.

Curtis," he went on briskly, "I represent Mr. Obadiah Dale. You have no doubt heard of him?"

Joe nodded.

"Your motorcycle ran into Mr. Dale's automobile yesterday," the lawyer resumed. "I do not come to seek compensation for the injury to his car. I am delighted, finding you as I do upon a bed of pain, to be upon a much pleasanter mission." Hezekiah smiled benignantly.

"There was a witness to the accident. With some difficulty, I have located him and procured his statement. While it may be conceded that this person has no special skill or training in estimating the speed of moving vehicles, he is" (the attorney's manner expressed a.s.surance) "prepared to testify that you were operating your machine at a speed in excess of that permitted by law." He paused as if awaiting an incriminating admission.

"Go on," snapped Joe.