Steve, not being fully abreast of the new rules and regulations of the
sacred apartment, could not read Mamie's mind completely. He did not
know that, under Mrs. Porter's code, the admission of a visitor during
the hours of sleep was a felony in the first degree, punishable by
instant dismissal. But Mamie's face and her brief reference to trouble
were enough to tell him that the position was critical, and with the
instinct of the trapped he looked round him for cover.
But the White Hope's nursery was not constructed with a view to
providing cover for bulky gentlemen who should not have been there. It
was as bare as a billiard-table as far as practicable hiding-places
were concerned.
And then his eye caught the water-proof sheet of the shower-bath.
Behind that there was just room for concealment.
With a brief nod of encouragement to Mamie, he leaped at it. The door
opened as he disappeared.
Mrs. Porter's rules concerning visitors, though stringent as regarded
Mamie, were capable of being relaxed when she herself was the person to
relax them. She had a visitor with her now, a long, severe-looking lady
with a sharp nose surmounted by spectacles, who, taking in the white
tiles, the thermometer, the cot, and the brass knobs in a single
comprehensive glance, observed: "Admirable!"
Mrs, Porter was obviously pleased with this approval. Her companion was
a woman doctor of great repute among the advanced apostles of hygiene;
and praise from her was praise indeed. She advanced into the room with
an air of suppressed pride.
"These tiles are thoroughly cleaned twice each day with an antiseptic
solution."
"Just so," said the spectacled lady.
"You notice the thermometer."
"Exactly."
"Those knobs you see on the wall have various uses."
"Quite."
They examined the knobs with an air of profound seriousness, Mrs.
Porter erect and complacent, the other leaning forward and peering
through her spectacles. Mamie took advantage of their backs and turned
to cast a hurried glance at the water-proof curtain. It was certainly
an admirable screen; no sign of Steve was visible; but nevertheless she
did not cease to quake.
"This," said Mrs. Porter, "controls the heat. This, this, and this are
for the ventilation."
"Just so, just so, just so," said the doctor. "And this, of course, is
for the shower-bath? I understand!"
And, extending a firm finger, she gave the knob a forceful push.
Mrs. Porter nodded.
"That is the cold shower," she said. "This is the hot. It is a very
ingenious arrangement, one of Malcolmson's patents. There is a
regulator at the side of the bath which enables the nurse to get just
the correct temperature. I will turn on both, and then......"
It was as Mrs. Porter's hand was extended toward the knob that the
paralysis which terror had put upon Mamie relaxed its grip. She had
stood by without a movement while the cold water splashed down upon the
hidden Steve. Her heart had ached for him, but she had not stirred. But
now, with the prospect of allowing him to be boiled alive before her,
she acted.
It is generally only on the stage that a little child comes to the
rescue of adults at critical moments; but William Bannister was
accorded the opportunity of doing so off it. It happened that at the
moment of Mrs. Porter's entry Mamie had been standing near his cot, and
she had not moved since. The consequence was that she was within easy
reach of him; and, despair giving her what in the circumstances
amounted to a flash of inspiration, she leaned quickly forward, even as
Mrs. Porter's finger touched the knob, and gave the round head on the
pillow a rapid push.
William Bannister sat up with a grunt, rubbed his eyes, and, seeing
strangers, began to cry.
It was so obvious to Mrs. Porter and her companion, both from the
evidence of their guilty consciences and the look of respectful
reproach on Mamie's face, that the sound of their voices had disturbed
the child, that they were routed from the start.
"Oh, dear me! He is awake," said the lady doctor.
"I am afraid we did not lower our voices," added Mrs. Porter. "And yet
William is usually such a sound sleeper. Perhaps we had better......"
"Just so," said the doctor.
"......go downstairs while the nurse gets him off to sleep again."
"Quite."
The door closed behind them.
* * * * *
"Oh, Steve!" said Mamie.
The White Hope had gone to sleep again with the amazing speed of
childhood, and Mamie was looking pityingly at the bedraggled object
which had emerged cautiously from behind the waterproof.
"I got mine," muttered Steve ruefully. "You ain't got a towel anywhere,
have you, Mame?"
Mamie produced a towel and watched him apologetically as he attempted
to dry himself.
"I'm so sorry, Steve."
"Cut it out. It was my fault. I oughtn't to have been there. Say, it
was a bit of luck the kid waking just then."
"Yes," said Mamie.
Observe the tricks that conscience plays us. If Mamie had told Steve
what had caused William to wake he would certainly have been so charmed
by her presence of mind, exerted on his behalf to save him from the
warm fate which Mrs. Porter's unconscious hand had been about to bring
down upon him, that he would have forgotten his diffidence then and
there and, as the poet has it, have eased his bosom of much perilous
stuff.
But conscience would not allow Mamie to reveal the secret. Already she
was suffering the pangs of remorse for having, in however good a cause,
broken her idol's rest with a push that might have given the poor lamb
a headache. She could not confess the crime even to Steve.
And if Steve had had the pluck to tell Mamie that he loved her, as
he stood before her dripping with the water which he had suffered
in silence rather than betray her, she would have fallen into his
arms. For Steve at that moment had all the glamour for her of the
self-sacrificing hero of a moving-picture film. He had not actually
risked death for her, perhaps, but he had taken a sudden cold
shower-bath without a murmur, all for her.
Mamie was thrilled. She looked at him with the gleaming eyes of
devotion.
But Steve, just because he knew that he was wet and fancied that he
must look ridiculous, held his peace.
And presently, his secret still locked in his bosom, and his collar
sticking limply to his neck, he crept downstairs, avoiding the society
of his fellow man, and slunk out into the night where, if there was no
Mamie, there were, at any rate, dry clothes.
Chapter IV The Widening Gap
The new life hit Kirk as a wave hits a bather; and, like a wave, swept
him off his feet, choked him, and generally filled him with a feeling
of discomfort.
He should have been prepared for it, but he was not. He should have
divined from the first that the money was bound to produce changes
other than a mere shifting of headquarters from Sixty-First Street to
Fifth Avenue. But he had deluded himself at first with the idea that
Ruth was different from other women, that she was superior to the
artificial pleasures of the Society which is distinguished by the big
S.
In a moment of weakness, induced by hair-ruffling, he had given in on
the point of the hygienic upbringing of William Bannister; but there,