CHAPTER XX. BLACKIE'S VACATION COMES
The shabby blue office coat hangs on the hook in the little sportingroom where Blackie placed it. No one dreams of moving it. There itdangles, out at elbows, disreputable, its pockets burned from many a hotpipe thrust carelessly into them, its cuffs frayed, its lapels bearingthe marks of cigarette, paste-pot and pen.
It is that faded old garment, more than anything else, which makesus fail to realize that its owner will never again slip into itscomfortable folds. We cannot believe that a lifeless rag like that cantriumph over the man of flesh and blood and nerves and sympathies. Withwhat contempt do we look upon those garments during our lifetime! Andhow they live on, defying time, long, long after we have been gatheredto our last rest.
In some miraculous manner Blackie had lived on for two days after thatghastly ride. Peter had been killed instantly, the doctors said. Theygave no hope for Blackie. My escape with but a few ridiculous bruisesand scratches was due, they said, to the fact that I had sat in thetonneau. I heard them all, in a stupor of horror and grief, and wonderedwhat plan Fate had in store for me, that I alone should have beenspared. Norah and Max came, and took things in charge, and I saw VonGerhard, but all three appeared dim and shadowy, like figures in a mist.When I closed my eyes I could see Peter's tense figure bending overBlackie at the wheel, and heard his labored breathing as he struggled inhis mad fury, and felt again the helpless horror that had come to me aswe swerved off the road and into the ditch below, with Blackie, rigidand desperate, still clinging to the wheel. I lived it all over andover in my mind. In the midst of the blackness I heard a sentence thatcleared the fog from my mind, and caused me to raise myself from mypillows.
Some one--Norah, I think--had said that Blackie was conscious, and thathe was asking for some of the men at the office, and for me. For me! Irose and dressed, in spite of Norah's protests. I was quite well, I toldthem. I must see him. I shook them off with trembling fingers and whenthey saw that I was quite determined they gave in, and Von Gerhardtelephoned to the hospital to learn the hour at which I might meet theothers who were to see Blackie for a brief moment.
I met them in the stiff little waiting room of he hospital--Norberg,Deming, Schmidt, Holt--men who had known him from the time when theyhad yelled, "Heh, boy!" at him when they wanted their pencils sharpened.Awkwardly we followed the fleet-footed nurse who glided ahead of usdown the wide hospital corridors, past doorways through which we caughtglimpses of white beds that were no whiter than the faces that lay onthe pillows. We came at last into a very still and bright little roomwhere Blackie lay.
Had years passed over his head since I saw him last? The face that triedto smile at us from the pillow was strangely wizened and old. It was asthough a withering blight had touched it. Only the eyes were the same.They glowed in the sunken face, beneath the shock of black hair, with astartling luster and brilliancy.
I do not know what pain he suffered. I do not know what magic medicinegave him the strength to smile at us, dying as he was even then.
"Well, what do you know about little Paul Dombey?" he piped in a high,thin voice. The shock of relief was too much. We giggled hysterically,then stopped short and looked at each other, like scared and naughtychildren.
"Sa-a-ay, boys and girls, cut out the heavy thinking parts. Don't makeme do all the social stunts. What's the news? What kind of a rottencotton sportin' sheet is that dub Callahan gettin' out? Who wonto-day--Cubs or Pirates? Norberg, you goat, who pinned that purple tieon you?"
He was so like the Blackie we had always known that we were at our easeimmediately. The sun shone in at the window, and some one laughed alittle laugh somewhere down the corridor, and Deming, who is Irish,plunged into a droll description of a brand-new office boy who hadarrived that day.
"S'elp me, Black, the kid wears spectacles and a Norfolk suit, andlow-cut shoes with bows on 'em. On the square he does. Looks like one ofthose Boston infants you see in the comic papers. I don't believe he'sreal. We're saving him until you get back, if the kids in the alleydon't chew him up before that time."
An almost imperceptible shade passed over Blackie's face. He closed hiseyes for a moment. Without their light his countenance was ashen, andawful.
A nurse in stripes and cap appeared in the doorway. She looked keenly atthe little figure in the bed. Then she turned to us.
"You must go now," she said. "You were just to see him for a minute ortwo, you know."
Blackie summoned the wan ghost of a smile to his lips. "Guess you guysain't got th' stimulatin' effect that a bunch of live wires ought tohave. Say, Norberg, tell that fathead, Callahan, if he don't keep thethird drawer t' the right in my desk locked, th' office kids'll swipeall the roller rink passes surest thing you know."
"I'll--tell him, Black," stammered Norberg, and turned away.
They said good-by, awkwardly enough. Not one of them that did not owehim an unpayable debt of gratitude. Not one that had not the memory ofsome secret kindness stored away in his heart. It was Blackie who hadfurnished the money that had sent Deming's sick wife west. It hadbeen Blackie who had rescued Schmidt time and again when drink got astrangle-hold. Blackie had always said: "Fire Schmidt! Not much! Why,Schmidt writes better stuff drunk than all the rest of the bunch sober."And Schmidt would be granted another reprieve by the Powers that Were.
Suddenly Blackie beckoned the nurse in the doorway. She came swiftly andbent over him.
"Gimme two minutes more, that's a good nursie. There's something I wantto say t' this dame. It's de rigger t' hand out last messages, ain'tit?"
The nurse looked at me, doubtfully. "But you're not to excite yourself."
"Sa-a-ay, girl, this ain't goin' t' be no scene from East Lynne. Be agood kid. The rest of the bunch can go."
And so, when the others had gone, I found myself seated at the side ofhis bed, trying to smile down at him. I knew that there must be nothingto excite him. But the words on my lips would come.
"Blackie," I said, and I struggled to keep my voice calm andemotionless, "Blackie, forgive me. It is all my fault--my wretchedfault."
"Now, cut that," interrupted Blackie. "I thought that was your game.That's why I said I wanted t' talk t' you. Now, listen. Remember mytellin' you, a few weeks ago, 'bout that vacation I was plannin'? Thisis it, only it's come sooner than I expected, that's all. I seen twothree doctor guys about it. Your friend Von Gerhard was one of 'em.They didn't tell me t' take no ocean trip this time. Between 'em, theydecided my vacation would come along about November, maybe. Well, I beat'em to it, that's all. Sa-a-ay, girl, I ain't kickin'. You can't live onyour nerves and expect t' keep goin'. Sooner or later you'll be suein'those same nerves for non-support. But, kid, ain't it a shame that Igot to go out in a auto smashup, in these days when even a airship exitdon't make a splash on the front page!"
The nervous brown hand was moving restlessly over the covers. Finally itmet my hand, and held it in a tense little grip.
"We've been good pals, you and me, ain't we, kid?"
"Yes, Blackie."
"Ain't regretted it none?"
"Regretted it! I am a finer, truer, better woman for having known you,Blackie."
He gave a little contented sigh at that, and his eyes closed. When heopened them the old, whimsical smile wrinkled his face.
"This is where I get off at. It ain't been no long trip, but sa-a-ay,girl, I've enjoyed every mile of the road. All kinds of scenery--allkinds of lan'scape--plain--fancy--uphill--downhill--"
I leaned forward, fearfully.
"Not--yet," whispered Blackie. "Say Dawn--in the storybooks--they--always--are strong on the--good-by kiss, what?"
And as the nurse appeared in the doorway again, disapproval on her face,I stooped and gently pressed my lips to the pain-lined cheek.