"Aunt Lora told Mamie they do."
"Say, cull, you tell your Aunt Lora to make a noise like an ice-cream
in the sun and melt away. She's a prune, and what she says don't go. Do
you want to know what a germ or a microbe, it's the same thing, really
is? It's a fellow that has the best time you can think of. They've been
fooling you, kid. They saw you were easy, so they handed it to you on a
plate. I'm the guy that can put you wise about microbes."
"Tell me."
"Sure. Well, a microbe is a kid that just runs wild out in the country.
He don't have to hang around in a white-tiled nursery and eat
sterilized junk and go to bed when they tell him to. He has a swell
time out in the woods, fishing and playing around in the dirt and going
after birds' eggs and picking berries, and, oh, shucks, anything else
you can think of. Wouldn't you like to do that?"
William Bannister nodded.
"Well, say, as it happens, there's a fine chance for you to be a germ
right away. I know a little place down in the Connecticut woods which
would just hit you right. You could put on overalls......"
"What's overalls?"
"Sort of clothes. Not like the fussed-up scenery you have to wear now,
but the real sort of clothes which you can muss up and nobody cares a
darn. You can put 'em on and go out and tear up Jack like a regular kid
all you want. Say, don't you remember the fool stunts you and me used
to pull off in the studio?"
"What studio?"
"Gee! you're a bit shy on your English, ain't you? It makes it sort of
hard for a guy to keep up what you might call a flow of talk. Still,
you should worry. Why, don't you remember where you used to live before
you came to this joint? Big, dusty sort of place, where you and me used
to play around on the floor?"
The White Hope nodded.
"Well, wouldn't you like to do that again?"
"Yes."
"And be a regular microbe?"
"Yes."
Steve looked at his watch.
"Well, that's lucky," he said. "It happens to be exactly the right time
for starting out to be one. That's curious, ain't it?"
"Yes."
"I've got a pal, friend, you know......"
"Is he a germ?"
"Sure. He's waiting for me now in an automobile in the park......"
"Why?"
"Because I asked him to. He owns a garage. Place where automobiles
live, you know. I asked him to bring out a car and wait around near by,
because I might be taking a pal of mine, that's you, for a ride into
the country to-night. Of course, you don't have to come if you don't
want to. Only it's mighty nice out there. You can spend all to-morrow
rolling about in the grass and listening to the birds. I shouldn't
wonder if we couldn't borrow a farmer's kid for you to play with.
There's lots of them around. He should show you the best time you've
had in months."
William Bannister's eyes gleamed. The finer points of the scheme were
beginning to stand out before him with a growing clarity.
"Would I have to take my bib?" he asked excitedly.
Steve uttered a scornful laugh.
"No, sir! We don't wear bibs out there."
As far as William Bannister was concerned, this appeared to settle it.
Of all the trials of his young life he hated most his bib.
"Let's go!"
Steve breathed a sigh of relief.
"Right, squire; we will," he said. "But I guess we had best leave a
letter for Mamie, so's she won't be wondering where you've got to."
"Will Mamie be cross?"
"Not on your life. She'll be tickled to death."
He scribbled a few lines on a piece of paper and left them on the cot,
from which William Bannister had now scrambled.
"Can you dress yourself?" asked Steve.
"Oh, yes." It was an accomplishment of which the White Hope was
extremely proud.
"Well, go to it, then."
"Steve."
"Hello?"
"Won't it be a surprise for Mamie?"
"You bet it will. And she won't be the only one, at that."
"Will mother be surprised?"
"She sure will."
"And pop?"
"You bet!"
William Bannister chuckled delightedly.
"Ready?" said Steve.
"Yes."
"Now listen. We've got to get out of this joint as quiet as mice. It
would spoil the surprise if they was to hear us and come out and ask
what we were doing. Get that?"
"Yes."
"Well, see how quiet you can make it. You don't want even to breathe
more than you can help."
* * * * *
They left the room and crept down the dark stairs. In the hall Steve
lit a match and switched on the electric light. He unbolted the door
and peered out into the avenue. Close by, under the trees, stood an
automobile, its headlights staring into the night.
"Quick!" cried Steve.
He picked up the White Hope, closed the door, and ran.
Chapter X Accepting the Gifts of the Gods
It was fortunate, considering the magnitude of the shock which she was
to receive, that circumstances had given Steve's Mamie unusual powers
of resistance in the matter of shocks. For years before her
introduction into the home of the Winfield family her life had been one
long series of crises. She had never known what the morrow might bring
forth, though experience had convinced her that it was pretty certain
to bring forth something agitating which would call for all her
well-known ability to handle disaster.
The sole care of three small brothers and a weak-minded father gives a
girl exceptional opportunities of cultivating poise under difficult
conditions. It had become second nature with Mamie to keep her head
though the heavens fell.
Consequently, when she entered the nursery next morning and found it
empty, she did not go into hysterics. She did not even scream. She read
Steve's note twice very carefully, then sat down to think what was her
best plan of action.
Her ingrained habit of looking on the bright side of things, the result
of a life which, had pessimism been allowed to rule it, might have
ended prematurely with what the papers are fond of calling a "rash
act," led her to consider first those points in the situation which she
labelled in her meditations as "bits of luck."
It was a bit of luck that Mrs. Porter happened to be away for the
moment. It gave her time for reflection. It was another bit of luck
that, as she had learned from Keggs, whom she met on the stairs on her
way to the nursery, a mysterious telephone-call had caused Ruth to rise
from her bed some three hours before her usual time and depart
hurriedly in a cab. This also helped.
Keggs had no information to give as to Ruth's destination or the
probable hour of her return. She had vanished without a word, except
a request to Keggs to tell the driver of her taxi to go to the
Thirty-Third Street subway.
"Must 'a' 'ad bad noos," Keggs thought, "because she were look'n' white
as a sheet."
Mamie was sorry that Ruth had had bad news, but her departure certainly
helped to relieve the pressure of an appalling situation.
With the absence of Ruth and Mrs. Porter the bits of luck came to an
end. Try as she would, Mamie could discover no other silver linings in
the cloud-bank. And even these ameliorations of the disaster were only
temporary.
Ruth would return. Worse, Mrs. Porter would return. Like two Mother
Hubbards, they would go to the cupboard, and the cupboard would be
bare. And to her, Mamie, would fall the task of explanation.
The only explanation that occurred to her was that Steve had gone
suddenly mad. He had given no hint of his altruistic motives in the