A Master's Degree [47]
of Satan should forever be bringing you whisky. Who does it, anyhow?"
"I'm not drunk and haven't been for six months. Come on, for God's sake, and help me to save a life, maybe two lives, from the very man that's done the boot-leggin' and robbin' in this town for months and months." Saxon's words were convincing enough.
"What can I do?" Burgess asked. "I'm not a policeman."
"Come on! Come on!" Saxon urged, tugging at the professor's arm. "It 's a life, I tell you."
Vincent yielded unwillingly, the night, the beating rain, the man who asked it of him, the purpose, his own unfitness--all holding him back. Before they had gone far, Bond Saxon suddenly exclaimed:
"Say, Professor, do you remember the night I asked you to take care of Dennie if anything should happen to me?"
"Do YOU remember it?" Burgess responded. "You didn't ask; you demanded."
"I was drunk then. I'm sober now. Burgess, if anything should happen to me now, would you still be willing?" Bond Saxon asked in tense anxiety.
"I've already taken oath," Burgess said. "I think your daughter may need somebody's care before anything happens if you keep up this gait."
They hurried on through the rain until they had left the board walk and the town lights, and were staggering along the cinder-made path, when Burgess halted.
"Saxon, who's the man, or two men, you want to save? I believe you are drunk."
Bond Saxon grasped his arm, and said hoarsely:
"Don't shriek here. We are in danger, now. It's not two men. It's a man and a woman, maybe. It's Dean Funnybone. Come on!"
CHAPTER X
THE THIEF IN THE MOUTH
_O, thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no, name to be known by, let us call thee, devil!_ --SHAKESPEARE
WHEN Lloyd Fenneben could think again, the waters had receded, the rock ledge had turned to a pillow under his head, the river bank was a straight white hospital wall, sunlight and sweet air for the darkness and the rain, and Norrie Wream was beside him instead of the brutal stranger. His heavy black hair was shorn away and his head was bound with much soft cotton stuffs. His left arm was full of prickles, as if the blood had just resumed circulation.
"And meantime?" he said, looking up at Elinor.
"Yes, meantime, it's June time," Elinor replied.
"Well, and what of Sunrise? Did we--"
"Oh, yes, we did. The college first. The ruling passion, strong in the hospital. When a Wream gets to kingdom-come, he always asks Saint Peter first for a mortar board and gown instead of a crown and wings." Norrie's eyes were shining. "And he's a little particular about the lining of the wings, too--Purple, for Law; White, for Letters; Blue, for Philosophy; Red, for Divinity. Take this quieting powder. College presidents should be seen and not heard." She smilingly silenced him.
Under her gentle ministrations, Dr. Fenneben could picture what comfort might be in store for Vincent Burgess in a day, doubtless only two years away. He resented Joshua Wream's estimate of Elinor. Surely Joshua had never seen her in the place of nurse.
"Now, meantime, Uncle Lloyd," Elinor was saying, "commencement passed off beautifully under Acting-Dean Burgess, considering how sad and heavy-hearted everybody was. The trustees want to raise Professor Burgess's salary next year-- he's so competent.
Lloyd Fenneben's eyes were not bandaged, and as he looked at Elinor he wondered at her utter lack of reserve and sentiment, when she spoke of Burgess in such a frank, matter-of-fact way. When he was in love years ago--but times must have changed.
"The arrangements for next year are all looked after. Everything will be done exactly as you would have it done. There's not one thing to put a worry into that cotton round your head."
"Good! Now, tell me of `beforehand.' " His smile was as charming as ever.
"In your fever you've been telling us about a one-armed man who had two arms to push people into the river, of his wanting you to save some child's life, and of your stumbling over the stone. That's
"I'm not drunk and haven't been for six months. Come on, for God's sake, and help me to save a life, maybe two lives, from the very man that's done the boot-leggin' and robbin' in this town for months and months." Saxon's words were convincing enough.
"What can I do?" Burgess asked. "I'm not a policeman."
"Come on! Come on!" Saxon urged, tugging at the professor's arm. "It 's a life, I tell you."
Vincent yielded unwillingly, the night, the beating rain, the man who asked it of him, the purpose, his own unfitness--all holding him back. Before they had gone far, Bond Saxon suddenly exclaimed:
"Say, Professor, do you remember the night I asked you to take care of Dennie if anything should happen to me?"
"Do YOU remember it?" Burgess responded. "You didn't ask; you demanded."
"I was drunk then. I'm sober now. Burgess, if anything should happen to me now, would you still be willing?" Bond Saxon asked in tense anxiety.
"I've already taken oath," Burgess said. "I think your daughter may need somebody's care before anything happens if you keep up this gait."
They hurried on through the rain until they had left the board walk and the town lights, and were staggering along the cinder-made path, when Burgess halted.
"Saxon, who's the man, or two men, you want to save? I believe you are drunk."
Bond Saxon grasped his arm, and said hoarsely:
"Don't shriek here. We are in danger, now. It's not two men. It's a man and a woman, maybe. It's Dean Funnybone. Come on!"
CHAPTER X
THE THIEF IN THE MOUTH
_O, thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no, name to be known by, let us call thee, devil!_ --SHAKESPEARE
WHEN Lloyd Fenneben could think again, the waters had receded, the rock ledge had turned to a pillow under his head, the river bank was a straight white hospital wall, sunlight and sweet air for the darkness and the rain, and Norrie Wream was beside him instead of the brutal stranger. His heavy black hair was shorn away and his head was bound with much soft cotton stuffs. His left arm was full of prickles, as if the blood had just resumed circulation.
"And meantime?" he said, looking up at Elinor.
"Yes, meantime, it's June time," Elinor replied.
"Well, and what of Sunrise? Did we--"
"Oh, yes, we did. The college first. The ruling passion, strong in the hospital. When a Wream gets to kingdom-come, he always asks Saint Peter first for a mortar board and gown instead of a crown and wings." Norrie's eyes were shining. "And he's a little particular about the lining of the wings, too--Purple, for Law; White, for Letters; Blue, for Philosophy; Red, for Divinity. Take this quieting powder. College presidents should be seen and not heard." She smilingly silenced him.
Under her gentle ministrations, Dr. Fenneben could picture what comfort might be in store for Vincent Burgess in a day, doubtless only two years away. He resented Joshua Wream's estimate of Elinor. Surely Joshua had never seen her in the place of nurse.
"Now, meantime, Uncle Lloyd," Elinor was saying, "commencement passed off beautifully under Acting-Dean Burgess, considering how sad and heavy-hearted everybody was. The trustees want to raise Professor Burgess's salary next year-- he's so competent.
Lloyd Fenneben's eyes were not bandaged, and as he looked at Elinor he wondered at her utter lack of reserve and sentiment, when she spoke of Burgess in such a frank, matter-of-fact way. When he was in love years ago--but times must have changed.
"The arrangements for next year are all looked after. Everything will be done exactly as you would have it done. There's not one thing to put a worry into that cotton round your head."
"Good! Now, tell me of `beforehand.' " His smile was as charming as ever.
"In your fever you've been telling us about a one-armed man who had two arms to push people into the river, of his wanting you to save some child's life, and of your stumbling over the stone. That's