XXXIII
From the company hospital, The Laird went straight to his generalmanager's office. Entering, he strode to Daney's desk and transfixedthat harassed individual with an accusing finger.
"Andrew, this is your work, is it not?"
Mr. Daney's heart skipped a beat, but he remembered this was Fridaymorning. So he decided not to be foolish and spar for time by askingThe Laird what work he referred to. Also, having read somewhere that,in battle, the offensive frequently wins--the defensive never--heglared defiantly at The Laird and growled.
"Well, what are you going to do about it?" His demeanor appeared tosay: "This is my work, and I'm proud of it."
To Daney's profound amazement, The Laird smiled benignantly and thrustout his hand, which Mr. Daney shook gingerly, as one might a can ofnitroglycerin.
"I thank you more than you will ever realize, Andrew, for taking thismatter out of my hands. I left the decision up to the Almighty andevidently he inspired you to disobey me and save the day--withoutcompromising me."
"Pooh! That's the easiest thing I do." Mr. Daney's courage hadreturned with a rush. "For heaven's sake, don't talk about it, sir. Iplaced a call for the girl on the telephone--at your expense. Yes,sir; I talked with her clear across the continent, and before sheeven started from New York, it was understood that she is to jiltDonald the minute the doctors pronounce him strong enough to standjilting."
"She told me, practically, the same thing. Oh, Andrew, Andrew, my boy,this is bully work! Bully! Bully!"
Mr. Daney replied to this encomium with a deprecatory shrug and hopedThe Laird would never ask _him who had made the bargain_. Thus far, heflattered himself, he had not strayed from the straight and narrowpath of strict veracity, and he hoped he would not have to. To obviatethis, he decided to get rid of The Laird immediately; so he affectedembarrassment; fussed with the pile of mail on his desk, and growled:
"All right, boss. If you're satisfied, I am. I haven't been able tosleep very well since I started mixing in your family affairs, andwithout sleep a man cannot hold up his job. I've got a lot of work todo, and I cannot have any idle, interfering fellows stampeding roundmy office; so I suggest that you run up to The Dreamerie to break thegood news to your poor wife and the girls, and let me get somethingdone."
"All right, Andrew; I'll go in a minute. Er--ah--you're certain,Andrew, the girl understands quite thoroughly that I haven't had athing to do with bringing her back to Port Agnew?" The Laird smote thedesk resolutely; he desired to be absolutely certain of his ground.
Mr. Daney looked up with a slight frown.
"I'll answer your question with another. Have you seen and talked withNan Brent this morning?"
"Yes. I did--the minute she entered Donald's room."
"And you demanded a show-down then and there?"
Parenthetically it may be stated that Mr. Daney's intimate knowledgeof The Laird's character prompted this question. He was certain of anaffirmative reply.
"I did."
"And her answer was satisfactory?"
"Absolutely!"
"So I judged from the fact that you shook hands with me upon enteringmy office. I had expected nothing more nor less than instantdismissal.... Well, since you desire the girl's testimony confirmed, Irepeat that she came out here on the distinct understanding thatDonald's family had not receded from its original position. This is abusiness trip, pure and simple, in so far as the McKaye family isconcerned, although I grant you there is a heap of sentiment on Nan'spart--at least sufficient to persuade her to do anything for the boy'ssake. She places his welfare above her own."
The Laird nodded.
"The girl is capable of doing the most unexpected things, Andrew. Ireally think she'll play the game. When she told me what herintentions were, I believe she stated the absolute truth."
"Well, let us hope she doesn't change them, sir. Remember, she has nomore intention of marrying him this morning than she had when she fledfrom Port Agnew. I was certain of that when listening to her on thetelephone the other night. However, sir, I want to go on record, hereand now, as disclaiming responsibility for anything that may occurhereafter. I am not the seventh son of a seventh son, and neither wasI born with a caul. Hence, I do not pretend to foretell future eventswith any degree of exactitude. I simply guarantee you, sir, that thegirl realizes that you have had nothing whatsoever, directly orindirectly, to do with the request for her return. Also, I give you myword of honor that I have not made her a single promise--directly orindirectly."
"Well, I am relieved. I dreaded the thought that I might becompromised--indirectly, for, as you well know, Andrew, I have arepugnance to asking favors from anybody to whom I am not prepared togrant them. My son is my chief happiness. Now, if I were to ask her tosave my happiness, while at the same time reserving the right to denythe girl hers--well, thank God, I'm saved that embarrassment! Thanksto you, you fox!" he added.
"Bless my wicked heart! I'm glad you've gone and that I'm out of it soeasy," the general manager soliloquized, as the door closed behind TheLaird.
He reached for the telephone and called Mrs. McKaye at The Dreamerie.
"Your husband is on his way home, Mrs. McKaye," he advised her. "Thegirl is here, The Laird has met her and talked with her and is quitehappy over the situation. However, I want to warn you that you willavoid unpleasantness by keeping from him the fact that you asked theBrent girl to come back to Port Agnew. He thinks I did that, and Ihave not seen fit, for reasons of my own, to deny it."
"Why, I asked you not to tell him, Andrew," she replied, surprisedthat he should forget it.
"I know. But you had planned to tell him yourself if, after the girlhad arrived, you discovered he was secretly pleased that she hadcome."
"Yes; that is true. However, since you say Hector is quite pleasedwith the situation, why should I not tell him, Andrew?"
"I have a suspicion the news will trouble him. He is quite willing toaccept of the girl's services, as it were, but not at the behest ofany member of his family. Better hear what he has to say on thesubject before you commit yourself, Mrs. McKaye."
"Oh, I think I can be depended upon to manage Hector," she repliedconfidently, and hung up, for already through the window she could seeThe Laird's car taking the grade up Tyee Head. He arrived a fewminutes later and entered smilingly, rubbing his hands as indicativeof his entire satisfaction with the universe as constituted thatmorning.
"My dears, I have wonderful news for you!" he announced.
Elizabeth, warned by her mother of the impending announcement, andalready in the latter's confidence regarding the long-distanceconversation with Nan Brent, interrupted him. She was a born actress.
"Oh, do tell us quickly, daddy dear," she gushed, and flew to throwher arms round his neck. Over his shoulder she winked at Jane and hermother and grimaced knowingly.
"Donald's going to pull through. The doctors feel certain he'll takein the slack on his life-line, now that the Brent girl has suddenlyturned up. In fact, the lad has been holding his own since he receiveda telegram from her some days back. I didn't tell you about that, mydears, not being desirous of worrying you; and since it was no doingsof mine, I saw it could not be helped, and we'd have to make the bestof it."
"Oh, daddy! How could you? That's perfectly dreadful news!" theartful Elizabeth cried, while her mother raised her eyes resignedlyupward and clasped her hands so tightly that they trembled. The Lairdthought his wife sought comfort from above; had he known that she hadjust delivered a sincere vote of thanks, he would not have hugged herto his heart, as he forthwith proceeded to do.
"Now, now, Nellie, my dear," he soothed her, "it's all for the best.Don't cross your bridges before you come to them. Wait till I tell youeverything. That fox, Daney, had the common sense to call the girl onthe telephone and explain the situation; he induced her to come outhere and tease that soft-hearted moonstruck son of ours back to life.And when Donald's strong enough to stand alone--by Jupiter, that'sexactly how he's going to
stand!--We're not the slightest bitcompromised, my dears. The McKaye family is absolutely in the clear.The girl has done this solely for Donald's sake."
"Hector McKaye," Jane declared, "you've really got to do somethingvery handsome for Andrew Daney."
"Yes, indeed," Elizabeth cooed.
"Dear, capable, faithful Andrew!" Mrs. McKaye sighed.
"Ah, he's a canny lad, is Andrew," old Hector declared happily. "Hetook smart care not to compromise me, for well he knows my code. WhenI rejected his suggestion that I send for the lass, Andrew knew whywithout asking foolish questions. Well, he realized that if I shouldask her to come and save my son, I would not be unfair enough to tellher later that she was not a fit wife for that son. As a matter o'manly principle, I would have had to withdraw my opposition, andDonald could wed her if he liked and with my blessing, for all thebitter cost. I did not build The Dreamerie with the thought thatDonald would bring a wife like this Brent lass home to live in it,but--God be thanked!--the puir bairn loves him too well to ruin him--"
He broke off, wiping his eyes, moist now with the pressure of hisemotions, and while he was wiping them, Mrs. McKaye and her daughtersexchanged frightened glances. Elizabeth's penchant for ill-timed humordisappeared; she stood, alert and awed, biting her lip. Jane'seyebrows went up in quick warning to her mother, who paled and flushedalternately. The latter understood now why Andrew Daney had taken theprecaution to warn her against the danger of conjugal confidences inthe matter of Nan Brent; devoutly she wished she had had the commonsense to have left those delicate negotiations entirely in the handsof dear, capable, faithful Andrew, for, delicate as they had been, sherealized now, when it was too late, that in all probability Mr. Daney,although a mere man, would have concluded them without compromisingthe McKaye family. Surely he would have had the good taste to assureNan that he was acting entirely upon his own initiative.
On the instant, Mrs. McKaye hated the unfortunate general manager. Shetold herself that, had he been possessed of the brains of a chipmunk,he would have pointed out to her the danger of her course; that he hadnot done so was proof that the craven had feared to compromisehimself. He had made a cat's-paw of her, that's what he had done! Hehad taken advantage of a momentary lack of caution--the result of herimpetuous mother love. Ah, what a blockhead the man was, not to havewarned her of the diplomatic dangers she was risking! At that moment,placid Nellie McKaye could have shrieked with fury; it would have beena relief to her if she could have stuck her hatpin in that monumentalchucklehead, Daney. Like so many of her sex, the good lady's code ofsportsmanship was a curious one, to say the least. It had not beenprudence but an instinctive desire to protect her son that had movedher to be careful when begging Nan to return to Port Agnew, toindicate that this request predicated no retirement from the resolutestand which the family had taken against the latter's alliance withDonald. In a hazy, indefinite way, she had realized the importance ofnullifying any tendency on her part to compromise herself or herfamily by the mere act of telephoning to Nan, and with theunintentional brutality of a not very intelligent, tactless woman shehad taken this means of protection.
Curiously enough, it had not occurred to her until this moment thatshe had done something shameful and cruel and stupid and unwomanly.She shriveled mentally in the contemplation of it. Not until herhusband had so unexpectedly revealed to her a hitherto hidden facet ofhis character--his masculine code of an eye for an eye and a tooth fora tooth--did she realize how dreadfully she had blundered. Sherealized now that, without having given the slightest thought to thecommission of an act unworthy of her womanhood, she had acted because,to her, the end appeared to justify the means; never given toself-analysis, she had merely followed the imperative call of hermother love to the point where nothing mattered save results.
She looked up tearfully at The Laird. For thirty-odd years she hadlived with this strange soul; yet she had not known until now howfierce was his desire for independence, how dear to him was hispassion for self-respect. Even now, she found it difficult tounderstand why, even if he had been able to subdue his pride to thepoint of asking Nan Brent to preserve life in that which was dearer tohim than his own life, his passion for always giving value receivedshould preclude bargaining with the girl. It was plain to her,therefore, that her husband could never love their son as his motherloved him, else, in a matter of life or death, he would not havepaused to consider the effect on himself of any action that mightsafeguard his son's existence. She knew what he had thought when Daneyfirst proposed the matter to him. That sort of thing wasn't "playingthe game." Poor, troubled soul! She did not know that he was capableof playing any game to the finish, even though every point scoredagainst him should burn like a branding-iron.
The Laird, noting her great distress, held her fondly in his arms andsoothed her; manlike, he assumed that she wept because her heart wasoverflowing with joy. For half an hour he chatted with her; then, witha light step and a cheerful "Good-by, Nellie, wife," he entered hisautomobile and drove back to town.
His departure was the signal for Jane and Elizabeth to rally to theirmother's side and inaugurate a plan of defense.
"Well, mother dear," Elizabeth opined calmly, "it appears that you'vespilled the beans."
"What a funny old popsy-wops it is, to be sure!" Jane chirped. "It'sfine to be such a grand old sport, but so dreadfully inconvenient!Beth, can you imagine what father McKaye would say if he only knew?"
"I wouldn't mind the things he'd say. The things he'd do would be aptto linger longest in our memories."
"Oh, my dears, what shall I do?" poor Mrs. McKaye quavered.
"Stand pat, should necessity ever arise, and put the buck up to Mr.Daney," the slangy Elizabeth suggested promptly. "He has warned younot to confess to father, hasn't he? Now, why did he do this? Answer.Because he realized that if dad should learn that you telephoned thisodious creature from the Sawdust Pile, the head of our clan wouldconsider himself compromised--bound by the action of a member of hisclan, as it were. Then we'll have a wedding and after the weddingwe'll all be thrown out of The Dreamerie to make room for Master Donand his consort. So, it appears to me, since Mr. Daney has warned younot to tell, mother dear, that he cannot afford to tell on youhimself--no, not even to save his own skin."
"You do not understand, Elizabeth," Mrs. McKaye sobbed. "It isn'tbecause that stupid Andrew cares a snap of his finger for us; it'sbecause he's devoted to Hector and doesn't want him worried or madeunhappy."
And in this observation, it is more than probable that the lady spokemore truly than she realized.
"Oh, well, if that's the case, it's all as clear as mud!" Jane criedtriumphantly. "If the worst should ever come to the worst, Mr. Daneywill lie like a gentleman and--why, he has already done so, silly! Ofcourse he has, and it's rather gallant of him to do it, I think."
"He's an imbecile, and why Hector has employed him all theseyears--why he trusts him so implicitly, I'm sure I am at a loss tocomprehend." Mrs. McKaye complained waspishly.
"Dear, capable, faithful Andrew!" Elizabeth mimicked her mother'sspeech earlier in the day. "Cheer up, ma! Cherries are ripe." Shesnapped her fingers, swayed her lithe body, and undulated gracefullyto the piano, where she brought both hands down on the keys with acrash, and played ragtime with feverish fury for five minutes. Then,her impish nature asserting itself, she literally smashed out theopening bars of the Wedding March from Lohengrin, and shouted withglee when her mother, a finger in each ear, fled from the room.
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