"I want money, Burke, as every sane man does. But this pet of mine means more than money. I want to contribute my share to justice just as you do yours. Who knows, some day it may reward me in a way which no money could ever repay. You never can tell about such things. Who knows?"
CHAPTER V
ROSES AND THORNS
Mary"s sister was as winsome and fair as she, but to Burke"s keen eyes she was a weaker girl. There was a suggestion of too much attention to dress, a self-consciousness tinged with self-appreciation.
When she was introduced to Bobbie he could feel instinctively an under-current of condescension, ever so slight, yet perceptible to the sensitive young fellow.
"You"re the first policeman I"ve ever met," began Lorna, with a smile, "and I really don"t half believe you are one. I always think of them as swinging clubs and taking a handful of peanuts off a stand, as they walk past a corner cart. Really, I do."
Burke reddened, but retorted, amiably enough.
"I don"t like peanuts, for they always remind me of the Zoo, and I never liked Zoos! But I plead guilty to swinging a club when occasion demands. You know even millionaires have their clubs, and so you can"t deny us the privilege, can you?"
Lorna laughed, and gracefully pushed back a stray curl with her pretty hand. Mary frowned a bit, but trusted that Bobbie had not noticed the lack of tact.
"I"ve seen policemen tugging at a horse"s head and getting nearly trampled to death to save some children in a runaway carriage. That was on Fifth Avenue yesterday, just when we quit work, Lorna." She emphasized the word "work," and Bobbie liked her the more for it.
"And, last winter, I saw two of them taking people out on a fire-escape, wet, and covered with icicles, in a big fire over there on Manhattan Avenue. They didn"t look a bit romantic, Lorna, and they even had red faces and pug noses. But I think that"s a pleasanter memory than shoplifting from peanut stands."
Lorna smiled winningly, however, and sat down, not without a decorative adjustment of her pretty silk dress. Bobbie forgave her, princ.i.p.ally because she looked so much like Mary.
They chatted as young people will, while old Barton mumbled and studied over his drawings, occasionally adding a detail, and calculating on a pad as though he were working out some problem in algebra.
Lorna"s chief topic was the theater and dancing.
Mary endeavored to bring the conversation around to other things.
"I have to admit that I"m very green on theaters, Miss Barton," said Bobbie to the younger sister. "I love serious plays, and these old-fashioned kind of comedies, which teach a fellow that there"s some happiness in life----but, I don"t get the time to attend them. My station is down on the East Side, and I see so much tragedy and unhappiness that it has given me about all the real-life plays I could want, since I came to the police work."
Lorna scoffed, and tossed her curls.
"Oh, I don"t like that stupid old stuff myself. I like the musical comedies that have dancing, and French dresses, and cleverness. I think all the serious plays nowadays are nothing but scandal--a girl can"t go to see them without blushing and wishing she were at home."
"I don"t agree with you, Lorna. There are some things in life that a girl should learn. An unpleasant play is likely to leave a bad taste in one"s mouth, but that bad taste may save her from thinking that evil can be honey-coated and harmless. Why, the show we saw the other night--those costumes, those dances, and the songs! There was nothing left to imagine. They stop serious plays, and ministers preach sermons about them, while the musical comedies that some of the managers produce are a thousand times worse, for they teach only a bad lesson."
As Lorna started to reply the bell rang and Mary went to the door.
Two young men were outside and, at Mary"s stiff invitation, they entered. Burke rose, politely.
"Why, how do you do, Mr. Baxter?" exclaimed Lorna, enthusiastically, as she extended one hand and arranged that disobedient lock of hair with the other. "Come right in, this is such a pleasant surprise."
Baxter advanced, and introduced his companion.
"This is my friend, Reggie Craig, Miss Barton. We"re just on our way down to Dawley"s for a little supper and a dance afterward. You know they have some great tangoing there, and I know you like it."
Lorna introduced Craig and Baxter to the others. As she came to Bobbie she said, "This is Mr. Burke. You wouldn"t believe it, but he is a----"
"Friend of father"s," interrupted Mary, with a look which did not escape either Bobbie or Lorna. "Won"t you sit down, gentlemen?"
Burke was studying the two men with his usual rapidity of observation.
Baxter was tall, with dark, curly hair, carefully plastered straight back from a low, narrow forehead. His grooming was immaculate: his "extreme" cutaway coat showed a good physique, but the pallor of the face above it bespoke dissipation of the strength of that natural endowment. His shoes, embellished with pearl b.u.t.tons set with rhinestones, were of the latest vogue, described in the man-who-saw column of the theater programmes. He looked, for all the world, like an advertis.e.m.e.nt for ready-tailored suitings.
His companion was slighter in build but equally fastidious in appearance. When he drew a handkerchief from his cuff Bobbie completed the survey and walked over toward old Barton, to look at the more interesting drawings.
"You girls must come along to Dawley"s, you simply must, you know,"
began Baxter, still standing. "Of course, we"d be glad to have your father"s friend, if he likes dancing."
"That"s very kind of you, but you know I"ve a lot to talk about with Mr. Barton," answered Bobbie, quietly.
"May we go, father?" asked Lorna, impetuously.
"Well, I thought," said the old gentleman, "I thought that you"d----"
"Father, I haven"t been to a dance or a supper since you were injured.
You know that," pouted Lorna.
"What do you want to do, Mary dear?" asked the old man, helplessly.
"It"s very kind of Mr. Baxter, but you know we have a guest."
Mary quietly sat down, while Lorna"s temper flared.
"Well, I"m going anyway. I"m tired of working and worrying. I want to have pleasure and music and entertainment like thousands of other girls in New York. I owe it to myself. I don"t intend to sit around here and talk about tenement fires and silly old patents."
Burke was embarra.s.sed, but not so the visiting fashion plates. Baxter and Craig merely smiled at each other with studied nonchalance; they seemed used to such scenes, thought Bobbie.
Lorna flounced angrily from the room, while her father wiped his forehead with a trembling hand.
"Why, Lorna," he expostulated weakly. But Lorna reappeared with a pretty evening wrap and her hat in her hand. She donned the hat, twisting it to a coquettish angle, and Baxter unctuously a.s.sisted her to place the wrap about her shoulders.
"Lorna, I forbid your going out at this time of the evening with two gentlemen we have never met before," cried Mary.
But Lorna opened the door and wilfully left the room, followed by Craig. Baxter turned as he left, and smiled sarcastically.
"Good-_night_!" he remarked, with a significant accent on the last word.
Mary"s face was white, as she looked appealingly at Burke. He tried to comfort her in his quiet way.
"I wouldn"t worry, Miss Mary. I think they are nice young fellows, and you know young girls are the same the world over. I am sure they are all right, and will look after her--you know, some people do think a whole lot of dancing and jolly company, and it is punishment for them to have to talk all the time on serious things. I don"t blame her, for I"m poor company--and only a policeman, after all."
John Barton looked disconsolately at the door which had slammed after the trio.
"You do think it"s all right, don"t you, Burke?"