Well, let her think she will, if 'twill please her. But when it comes to the settlement, call on me. Give her any reason you want to; say a--er--wealthy friend of the family come to life all at once and couldn't sleep nights unless he paid the costs.""But there isn't any such friend, is there, Captain Warren? Other than yourself, I mean?"Captain Elisha grinned in appreciation of a private joke. "There is somebody else," he admitted, "who'll pay a share, anyhow. Idon't know's he's what you call a bosom friend, and, as for his sleepin' nights--well, I never heard he couldn't do that, after he went to bed. But, anyhow, you saw wood, or bones, or whatever you have to do, and leave the rest to me. And don't tell Caroline or anybody else a word."The Moriartys lived in a four-room flat on the East Side, uptown, and his visits there gave the captain a glimpse of another sort of New York life, as different from that of Central Park West as could well be imagined. The old man, Patrick, his wife, Margaret, the unmarried son, Dennis, who worked in the gas house, and five other children of various ages were hived somehow in those four small rooms and Captain Elisha marveled greatly thereat.
"For the land sakes, ma'am," he asked of the nurse, "how do they do it? Where do they put 'em nights? That--that closet in there's the pantry and woodshed and kitchen and dinin' room; and that one's the settin' room and parlor; and them two dry-goods boxes with doors to 'em are bedrooms. There's eight livin' critters to stow away when it's time to turn in, and one whole bed's took up by the patient. WHERE do they put the rest? Hang 'em up on nails?"The nurse laughed. "Goodness knows!" she said. "He should have been taken to the hospital. In fact, the doctor and I at first insisted upon his removal there. He would have been much better off. But neither he nor his wife would hear of it. She said he would die sure without his home comforts.""Humph! I should think more likely he'd die with 'em, or under 'em. I watch that fleshy wife of his with fear and tremblin'.
Every time she goes nigh the bed I expect her to trip over a young one and fall. And if she fell on that poor rack-o'-bones," with a wave of the hand toward the invalid, "'twould be the final smash--like a brick chimney fallin' on a lath hencoop."At that moment the "brick chimney" herself entered the rooms and the nurse accosted her.
"Captain Warren here," she said, "was asking where you all found sleeping quarters."Mrs. Moriarty smiled broadly. "Sure, 'tis aisy," she explained.
"When the ould man is laid up we're all happy to be a bit uncomfortable. Not that we are, neither. You see, sor, me and Nora and Rosy sleep in the other bed; and Dinnie has a bit of a shakedown in the parlor; and Honora is in the kitchen; and--""There! there!" Captain Elisha interrupted hastily, "don't tell me any more. I'd rather GUESS that the baby bunks in the cookstove oven than know it for sartin. How did the grapes I sent you go?"turning to the sick man.
"Aw, sor! they were foine. God bless you, sor! Mary be kind to you, sor! Sure the angels'll watch over you every day you live and breathe!"Captain Elisha bolted for the parlor, the sufferer firing a gatling fusillade of blessings after him. Mrs. Moriarty continued the bombardment, as she escorted him to the door of the flat.
"There! there!" protested the captain. "Just belay! cut it short, there's a good woman! I'll admit I'm a saint and would wear a halo instead of a hat if 'twa'n't so unfashionable. Good day. If you need anything you ain't got, tell the nurse."The grateful Irish woman did not intend to let him escape so easily.
"Aw, sor," she went on, "it's all right for you to make fun. I'm the jokin' kind, sor, meself. Whin the flats where we used to be got afire and Pat had to lug me down the fire escape in his arms, they tell me I was laughin' fit to kill; that is, when I wasn't screechin' for fear he'd drop me. And him, poor soul, never seein'
the joke, but puffin' and groanin' that his back was in two pieces.
Ha, ha! Oh, dear! And him in two pieces now for sure and all!
Aw, sor, it's all right for you to laugh it off, but what would we do without you? You and Miss Caroline, God bless her!""Caroline? She doesn't come here, does she?""Indade she does. Sure, she's the perfect little lady! Hardly a day passes--or a week, anyhow--that she doesn't drop in to see how the ould man's gettin' on.""Humph! Well, see that you don't tell her about me."Mrs. Moriarty held up both hands in righteous protestation. SHEtell? Might the tongue of her wither between her teeth before it let slip a word, and so on. Captain Elisha waved her to silence.
"All right! all right!" he exclaimed. "So long! Take good care of your husband, and, and--for Heaven's sake, walk careful and don't step on any of the children."Mrs. Moriarty's tongue did not wither; at all events, it was lively enough when he next met her. The captain's secret was not divulged, and he continued his visits to the flat, taking care, however, to ascertain his niece's whereabouts beforehand. It was not altogether a desire to avoid making his charitable deeds public which influenced him. He had a habit of not letting his right hand know what his left was about in such cases, and he detested a Pharisaical philanthropist. But there was another reason why Caroline must not learn of his interest in the Moriartys. If she did learn it, she would believe him to be helping them on his own responsibility; or, if not, that he was using money belonging to the estate. Of course he would, and honestly must, deny the latter charge, and, therefore, the first would, to her mind, be proven.
He intended that Malcolm Dunn should pay the larger share of the bills, as was right and proper. But he could not tell Caroline that, because she must not know of the young man's responsibility for the accident. He could not give Malcolm the credit, and he felt that he ought not to take it himself. It was a delicate situation.
