The Man Who Came Back
There are two ways of doing battle against Disgrace. You may liveit down; or you may run away from it and hide. The first method isheart-breaking, but sure. The second cannot be relied upon becauseof the uncomfortable way Disgrace has of turning up at your heelsjust when you think you have eluded her in the last town but one.Ted Terrill did not choose the first method. He had it thrustupon him. After Ted had served his term he came back home to visithis mother's grave, intending to take the next train out. He worenone of the prison pallor that you read about in books, because hehad been shortstop on the penitentiary all-star baseball team, andfamed for the dexterity with which he could grab up red-hotgrounders. The storied lock step and the clipped hair effect alsowere missing. The superintendent of Ted's prison had been one ofthe reform kind.You never would have picked Ted for a criminal. He had noneof those interesting phrenological bumps and depressions thatusually are shown to such frank advantage in the Bertillonphotographs. Ted had been assistant cashier in the Citizens'National Bank. In a mad moment he had attempted a littlesleight-of-hand act in which certain Citizens' National funds wereto be transformed into certain glittering shares and back again soquickly that the examiners couldn't follow it with their eyes. ButTed was unaccustomed to these now-you-see-it-and-now-you-don'tfeats and his hand slipped. The trick dropped to the floor with anawful clatter.Ted had been a lovable young kid, six feet high, and blonde,with a great reputation as a dresser. He had the first yellowplush hat in our town. It sat on his golden head like a halo. Thewomen all liked Ted. Mrs. Dankworth, the dashing widow (why willwidows persist in being dashing?), said that he was the only man inour town who knew how to wear a dress suit. The men were foreverslapping him on the back and asking him to have a little something.Ted's good looks and his clever tongue and a certain charming Irishway he had with him caused him to be taken up by the smart set.Now, if you've never lived in a small town you will be much amusedat the idea of its boasting a smart set. Which proves yourignorance. The small town smart set is deadly serious about itssmartness. It likes to take six-hour runs down to the city to fita pair of shoes and hear Caruso. Its clothes are as well made, andits scandals as crisp, and its pace as hasty, and its golf club asdull as the clothes, and scandals, and pace, and golf club of itscity cousins.The hasty pace killed Ted. He tried to keep step in a set ofyoung folks whose fathers had made our town. And all the time hispocketbook was yelling, "Whoa!" The young people ran largely toscarlet-upholstered touring cars, and country-club doings, andhouse parties, as small town younger generations are apt to. WhenTed went to high school half the boys in his little clique spenttheir after-school hours dashing up and down Main street in theirbig, glittering cars, sitting slumped down on the middle of theirspines in front of the steering wheel, their sleeves rolled up,their hair combed a militant pompadour. One or the other of themalways took Ted along. It is fearfully easy to develop a taste forthat kind of thing. As he grew older, the taste took root andbecame a habit.Ted came out after serving his term, still handsome, spite ofall that story-writers may have taught to the contrary. But we'llmake this concession to the old tradition. There was a difference.His radiant blondeur was dimmed in some intangible, elusive way.Birdie Callahan, who had worked in Ted's mother's kitchen foryears, and who had gone back to her old job at the Haley Houseafter her mistress's death, put it sadly, thus:"He was always th' han'some divil. I used to look forward toironin' day just for the pleasure of pressin' his fancy shirts forhim. I'm that partial to them swell blondes. But I dinnaw, he'schanged. Doin' time has taken the edge off his hair an'complexion. Not changed his color, do yuh mind, but dulled it,like a gold ring, or the like, that has tarnished."Ted was seated in the smoker, with a chip on his shoulder, anda sick horror of encountering some one he knew in his heart, whenJo Haley, of the Haley House, got on at Westport, homeward bound.Jo Haley is the most eligible bachelor in our town, and theslipperiest. He has made the Haley House a gem, so that travelingmen will cut half a dozen towns to Sunday there. If he should say"Jump through this!" to any girl in our town she'd jump.Jo Haley strolled leisurely up the car aisle toward Ted. Tedsaw him coming and sat very still, waiting."Hello, Ted! How's Ted?" said Jo Haley, casually. Anddropped into the adjoining seat without any more fuss.Ted wet his lips slightly and tried to say something. He hadbeen a breezy talker. But the words would not come. Jo Haley madeno effort to cover the situation with a rush of conversation. Hedid not seem to realize that there was any situation to cover. Hechamped the end of his cigar and handed one to Ted."Well, you've taken your lickin', kid. What you going to donow?"The rawness of it made Ted wince. "Oh, I don't know," hestammered. "I've a job half promised in Chicago.""What doing?"Ted laughed a short and ugly laugh. "Driving a brewery autotruck."Jo Haley tossed his cigar dexterously to the opposite cornerof his mouth and squinted thoughtfully along its bulging sides."Remember that Wenzel girl that's kept books for me for thelast six years? She's leaving in a couple of months to marry a NewYork guy that travels for ladies' cloaks and suits. After she goesit's nix with the lady bookkeepers for me. Not that Minnie isn'ta good, straight girl, and honest, but no girl can keep books withone eye on a column of figures and the other on a traveling man ina brown suit and a red necktie, unless she's cross-eyed, and youbet Minnie ain't. The job's yours if you want it. Eighty a monthto start on, and board.""I--can't, Jo. Thanks just the same. I'm going to try tobegin all over again, somewhere else, where nobody knows me.""Oh yes," said Jo. "I knew a fellow that did that. After hecame out he grew a beard, and wore eyeglasses, and changed hisname. Had a quick, crisp way of talkin', and he cultivated a drawland went west and started in business. Real estate, I think.Anyway, the second month he was there in walks a fool he used toknow and bellows: `Why if it ain't Bill! Hello, Bill! I thoughtyou was doing time yet.' That was enough. Ted, you can black yourface, and dye your hair, and squint, and some fine day, sooner orlater, somebody'll come along and blab the whole thing. And say,the older it gets the worse it sounds, when it does come out.Stick around here where you grew up, Ted."Ted clasped and unclasped his hands uncomfortably. "I can'tfigure out why you should care how I finish.""No reason," answered Jo. "Not a darned one. I wasn't everin love with your ma, like the guy on the stage; and I never owedyour pa a cent. So it ain't a guilty conscience. I guess it'sjust pure cussedness, and a hankerin' for a new investment. I'mcurious to know how'll you turn out. You've got the makin's ofwhat the newspapers call a Leading Citizen, even if you did falldown once. If I'd ever had time to get married, which I never willhave, a first-class hotel bein' more worry and expense than aPittsburg steel magnate's whole harem, I'd have wanted somebody todo the same for my kid. That sounds slushy, but it's straight.""I don't seem to know how to thank you," began Ted, a littlehusky as to voice."Call around to-morrow morning," interrupted Jo Haley.,briskly, "and Minnie Wenzel will show you the ropes. You and hercan work together for a couple of months. After then she's leavingto make her underwear, and that. I should think she'd have a baleof it by this time. Been embroidering them shimmy things and lunchcloths back of the desk when she thought I wasn't lookin' for thelast six months."Ted came down next morning at 8 A.M. with his nerve betweenhis teeth and the chip still balanced lightly on his shoulder.Five minutes later Minnie Wenzel knocked it off. When Jo Haleyintroduced the two jocularly, knowing that they had originally metin the First Reader room, Miss Wenzel acknowledged the introductionicily by lifting her left eyebrow slightly and drawing down thecorners of her mouth. Her air of hauteur was a triumph,considering that she was handicapped by black sateensleevelets.I wonder how one could best describe Miss Wenzel? There isone of her in every small town. Let me think (business of hand onbrow). Well, she always paid eight dollars for her corsets whenmost girls in a similar position got theirs for fifty-nine cents inthe basement. Nature had been kind to her. The hair that had beena muddy brown in Minnie's schoolgirl days it had touched with amagic red-gold wand. Birdie Callahan always said that Minnie wasworking only to wear out her old clothes.After the introduction Miss Wenzel followed Jo Haley into thelobby. She took no pains to lower her voice."Well I must say, Mr. Haley, you've got a fine nerve! If mygentleman friend was to hear of my working with an ex-con Iwouldn't be surprised if he'd break off the engagement. I shouldthink you'd have some respect for the feelings of a lady with aname to keep up, and engaged to a swell fellow like Mr. Schwartz.""Say, listen, m' girl," replied Jo Haley. "The law don'tcover all the tricks. But if stuffing an order was a criminaloffense I'll bet your swell traveling man would be doing a lifeterm."Ted worked that day with his teeth set so that his jaws achednext morning. Minnie Wenzel spoke to him only when necessary andthen in terms of dollars and cents. When dinner time came shedivested herself of the black sateen sleevelets, wriggled from theshoulders down a la Patricia O'Brien, produced a chamois skin, anddisappeared in the direction of the washroom. Ted waited until thedining-room was almost deserted. Then he went in to dinner alone.Some one in white wearing an absurd little pocket handkerchief ofan apron led him to a seat in a far corner of the big room. Teddid not lift his eyes higher than the snowy square of the apron.The Apron drew out a chair, shoved it under Ted's knees in the wayAprons have, and thrust a printed menu at him."Roast beef, medium," said Ted, without looking up."Bless your heart, yuh ain't changed a bit. I remember howyuh used to jaw when it was too well done," said the Apron, fondly.Ted's head came up with a jerk."So yuh will cut yer old friends, is it?" grinned BirdieCallahan. "If this wasn't a public dining-room maybe yuh'd shakehands with a poor but proud workin' girrul. Yer as good lookin' adivil as ever, Mister Ted."Ted's hand shot out and grasped hers. "Birdie! I could weepon your apron! I never was so glad to see any one in my life.Just to look at you makes me homesick. What in Sam Hill are youdoing here?""Waitin'. After yer ma died, seemed like I didn't care t'work fer no other privit fam'ly, so I came back here on my old job.I'll bet I'm the homeliest head waitress in captivity."Ted's nervous fingers were pleating the tablecloth. His voicesank to a whisper. "Birdie, tell me the God's truth. Did thosethree years cause her death?""Niver!" lied Birdie. "I was with her to the end. It startedwith a cold on th' chest. Have some French fried with yer beef,Mr. Teddy. They're illigent to-day."Birdie glided off to the kitchen. Authors are fond of theword "glide." But you can take it literally this time. Birdie hada face that looked like a huge mistake, but she walked like apanther, and they're said to be the last cry as gliders. Shewalked with her chin up and her hips firm. That comes fromjuggling trays. You have to walk like that to keep your nose outof the soup. After a while the walk becomes a habit. Any seasoneddining-room girl could give lessons in walking to the Delsarteteacher of an Eastern finishing school.From the day that Birdie Callahan served Ted with the roastbeef medium and the elegant French fried, she appointed herselfmonitor over his food and clothes and morals. I wish I could findwords to describe his bitter loneliness. He did not seekcompanionship. The men, although not directly avoiding him, seemedsomehow to have pressing business whenever they happened in hisvicinity. The women ignored him. Mrs. Dankworth, still dashingand still widowed, passed Ted one day and looked fixedly at a pointone inch above his head. In a town like ours the Haley House islike a big, hospitable clubhouse. The men drop in there the firstthing in the morning, and the last thing at night, to hear thegossip and buy a cigar and jolly the girl at the cigar counter.Ted spoke to them when they spoke to him. He began to develop acertain grim line about the mouth. Jo Haley watched him from afar,and the longer he watched the kinder and more speculative grew thelook in his eyes. And slowly and surely there grew in the heartsof our townspeople a certain new respect and admiration for thisboy who was fighting his fight.Ted got into the habit of taking his meals late, so thatBirdie Callahan could take the time to talk to him."Birdie," he said one day, when she brought his soup, "do youknow that you're the only decent woman who'll talk to me? Do youknow what I mean when I say that I'd give the rest of my life if Icould just put my head in my mother's lap and have her muss up myhair and call me foolish names?"Birdie Callahan cleared her throat and said abruptly: "I wasnoticin' yesterday your gray pants needs pressin' bad. Bring 'emdown tomorrow mornin' and I'll give 'em th' elegant crease in thelaundry."So the first weeks went by, and the two months of MissWenzel's stay came to an end. Ted thanked his God and tried hardnot to wish that she was a man so that he could punch her head.The day before the time appointed for her departure she wascloseted with Jo Haley for a long, long time. When finally sheemerged a bellboy lounged up to Ted with a message."Wenzel says th' Old Man wants t' see you. 'S in his office.Say, Mr. Terrill, do yuh think they can play to-day? It's prettywet."Jo Haley was sunk in the depths of his big leather chair. Hedid not look up as Ted entered. "Sit down," he said. Ted sat downand waited, puzzled."As a wizard at figures," mused Jo Haley at last, softly asthough to himself, "I'm a frost. A column of figures on papermakes my head swim. But I can carry a whole regiment of 'em in myhead. I know every time the barkeeper draws one in the dark. I'vebeen watchin' this thing for the last two weeks hopin' you'd quitand come and tell me." He turned suddenly and faced Ted. "Ted,old kid," he said sadly, "what'n'ell made you do it again?""What's the joke?" asked Ted."Now, Ted," remonstrated Jo Haley, "that way of talkin' won'thelp matters none. As I said, I'm rotten at figures. But you'rethe first investment that ever turned out bad, and let me tell youI've handled some mighty bad smelling ones. Why, kid, if you hadjust come to me on the quiet and asked for the loan of a hundred orso why----""What's the joke, Jo?" said Ted again, slowly."This ain't my notion of a joke," came the terse answer."We're three hundred short."The last vestige of Ted Terrill's old-time radiance seemed toflicker and die, leaving him ashen and old."Short?" he repeated. Then, "My God!" in a strangelycolorless voice--"My God!" He looked down at his fingersimpersonally, as though they belonged to some one else. Then hishand clutched Jo Haley's arm with the grip of fear. "Jo! Jo!That's the thing that has haunted me day and night, till my nervesare raw. The fear of doing it again. Don't laugh at me, will you?I used to lie awake nights going over that cursed business of thebank--over and over--till the cold sweat would break out all overme. I used to figure it all out again, step by step, until--Jo,could a man steal and not know it? Could thinking of a thing likethat drive a man crazy? Because if it could--if itcould--then----""I don't know," said Jo Haley, "but it sounds darned fishy."He had a hand on Ted's shaking shoulder, and was looking into thewhite, drawn face. "I had great plans for you, Ted. But MinnieWenzel's got it all down on slips of paper. I might as well callher, in again, and we'll have the whole blamed thing out."Minnie Wenzel came. In her hand were slips of paper, andbooks with figures in them, and Ted looked and saw things writtenin his own hand that should not have been there. And he coveredhis shamed face with his two hands and gave thanks that his motherwas dead.There came three sharp raps at the office door. The tensefigures within jumped nervously."Keep out!" called Jo Haley, "whoever you are." Whereupon thedoor opened and Birdie Callahan breezed in."Get out, Birdie Callahan," roared Jo. "You're in the wrongpew."Birdie closed the door behind her composedly and came fartherinto the room. "Pete th' pasthry cook just tells me that MinnieWenzel told th' day clerk, who told the barkeep, who told th'janitor, who told th' chef, who told Pete, that Minnie had caughtTed stealin' some three hundred dollars."Ted took a quick step forward. "Birdie, for Heaven's sakekeep out of this. You can't make things any better. You maybelieve in me, but----""Where's the money?" asked Birdie.Ted stared at her a moment, his mouth open ludicrously."Why--I--don't--know," he articulated, painfully. "I neverthought of that."Birdie snorted defiantly. "I thought so. D'ye know,"sociably, "I was visitin' with my aunt Mis' Mulcahy last evenin'."There was a quick rustle of silks from Minnie Wenzel'sdirection."Say, look here----" began Jo Haley, impatiently."Shut up, Jo Haley!" snapped Birdie. "As I was sayin', I wasvisitin' with my aunt Mis' Mulcahy. She does fancy washin' an'ironin' for the swells. An' Minnie Wenzel, there bein' nonesweller, hires her to do up her weddin' linens. Such smears avhand embridery an' Irish crochet she never see th' likes, Mis'Mulcahy says, and she's seen a lot. And as a special treat to thepoor owld soul, why Minnie Wenzel lets her see some av her weddin'clo'es. There never yet was a woman who cud resist showin' herweddin' things to every other woman she cud lay hands on. Well,Mis' Mulcahy, she see that grand trewsow and she said she never sawth' beat. Dresses! Well, her going away suit alone comes toeighty dollars, for it's bein' made by Molkowsky, the little Polishtailor. An' her weddin' dress is satin, do yuh mind! Oh, it wasa real treat for my aunt Mis' Mulcahy."Birdie walked over to where Minnie Wenzel sat, very white andstill, and pointed a stubby red finger in her face. "'Tis thegrand manager ye are, Miss Wenzel, gettin' satins an' tailor-madeson yer salary. It takes a woman, Minnie Wenzel, to see through awoman's thricks.""Well I'll be dinged!" exploded Jo Haley."Yuh'd better be!" retorted Birdie Callahan.Minnie Wenzel stood up, her lip caught between her teeth."Am I to understand, Jo Haley, that you dare to accuse me oftaking your filthy money, instead of that miserable ex-con therewho has done time?""That'll do, Minnie," said Jo Haley, gently. "That'sa-plenty.""Prove it," went on Minnie, and then looked as though shewished she hadn't."A business college edjication is a grand foine thing,"observed Birdie. "Miss Wenzel is a graduate av wan. They teachyou everything from drawin' birds with tail feathers to plain andfancy penmanship. In fact, they teach everything in the writin'line except forgery, an' I ain't so sure they haven't got a coorsein that.""I don't care," whimpered Minnie Wenzel suddenly, sinking ina limp heap on the floor. "I had to do it. I'm marrying a swellfellow and a girl's got to have some clothes that don't look likea Bird Center dressmaker's work. He's got three sisters. I sawtheir pictures and they're coming to the wedding. They're the kindthat wear low-necked dresses in the evening, and have their hairand nails done downtown. I haven't got a thing but my looks.Could I go to New York dressed like a rube? On the square, Jo, Iworked here six years and never took a sou. But things got awayfrom me. The tailor wouldn't finish my suit unless I paid him fiftydollars down. I only took fifty at first, intending to pay itback. Honest to goodness, Jo, I did.""Cut it out," said Jo Haley, "and get up. I was going to giveyou a check for your wedding, though I hadn't counted on no threehundred. We'll call it square. And I hope you'll be happy, but Idon't gamble on it. You'll be goin' through your man's pantspockets before you're married a year. You can take your hat andfade. I'd like to know how I'm ever going to square this thingwith Ted and Birdie.""An' me standin' here gassin' while them fool girls in thedinin'-room can't set a table decent, and dinner in less than tenminutes," cried Birdie, rushing off. Ted mumbled somethingunintelligible and was after her."Birdie! I want to talk to you.""Say it quick then," said Birdie, over her shoulder. "Thedoors open in three minnits.""I can't tell you how grateful I am. This is no place to talkto you. Will you let me walk home with you to-night after yourwork's done?""Will I?" said Birdie, turning to face him. "I will not. Th'swell mob has shook you, an' a good thing it is. You was travelin'with a bunch of racers, when you was only built for medium speed.Now you're got your chance to a fresh start and don't you everthink I'm going to be the one to let you spoil it by beginnin' towalk out with a dinin'-room Lizzie like me.""Don't say that, Birdie," Ted put in."It's the truth," affirmed Birdie. "Not that I ain't aperfec'ly respectable girrul, and ye know it. I'm a good slob, butfolks would be tickled for the chance to say that you had nobody togo with but the likes av me. If I was to let you walk home with meto-night, yuh might be askin' to call next week. Inside half ayear, if yuh was lonesome enough, yuh'd ask me to marry yuh. Andb'gorra," she said softly, looking down at her unlovely red hands,"I'm dead scared I'd do it. Get back to work, Ted Terrill, andhold yer head up high, and when yuh say your prayers to-night,thank your lucky stars I ain't a hussy."
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