CHAPTER IX
MR. MERRICK BREAKS A PLATE
That was perhaps the quickest trip a Rutter's Point car ever made, andalmost before Gordon realized that town had been reached, and certainlybefore he had fully recovered from his experiences, the big yellow-sidedcar was coming to a stop at the foot of B Street, from where it was buttwo short blocks to Brentwood. The prolonged and frantic whistling hadsummoned a knot of curious persons to the corner as the car trundledaround the curve and there were plenty of willing hands to bear thestill unconscious form the remaining distance.
Gordon, not a little faint and weak, followed slowly. Someone had spedahead and when the little throng reached the house anxious faces werealready at the doorway. Gordon remained without and soon the men who hadcarried Morris inside returned to linger about the door and await thedoctor's verdict. The latter reached the gate a minute later, and,leaping from his buggy, hurried up the walk, his black bag swingingbriskly.
There was a long wait after that. The accident was discussed in lowvoices by the small gathering outside and Gordon was forced to gothrough his story again. Presently he left the front steps and wanderedaround to the side of the house. From an upper window came the lowmutter of voices. Near at hand was a rustic seat, placed against thewall of the screened porch, and on this Gordon subsided with a big sighof relief. Inside the house a telephone bell rang shrilly. Footstepshurried. The voices in the room upstairs still came indistinctly throughthe open window. It was pretty late, Gordon reflected, and he ought tobe at home. His father would be angry with him if he was late forsupper. But he didn't want to go until he had heard whether Morris wasgoing to get well. Meanwhile, it was fine and comfortable in the cornerof the rustic seat and he would just close his eyes a minute----
Someone was shaking him gently and calling "Gordon! Wake up!" Hestretched and opened his eyes. "Yes'm," he muttered sleepily. But itcouldn't be morning, for it was almost dark and--and where was he? Hesat up quickly then and gazed about him in blank surprise until hisroaming glance encountered the smilingly concerned face of Louise Brentbending above him. "Oh!" he said, recollection coming to him.
"Have you been here all the time?" asked Louise. "You poor boy!"
"I--I must have fallen asleep," admitted Gordon sheepishly. "How--how ishe, Louise?"
The girl's face went suddenly serious in the twilight. "He's prettybadly hurt," she said. "One leg is broken and he hurt his head horribly,Gordon."
"Is that all?" he asked anxiously.
"They think so. Seems to me it's quite enough, though."
"Of course, only----" Gordon heaved a sigh of relief--"I was afraid hewas dying. He--he looked so awfully!"
"Yes, didn't he?" Louise shuddered. "He is still unconscious, but DoctorMayrick says he will get his senses back in a little while. He must havehad an awful blow on his head. Would you mind telling me just how ithappened, Gordon, or are you too tired?"
He recounted the incidents of the unfortunate ride rather uncertainly.Somehow, they had got pretty much mixed up by now.
"But I think you were splendid," said the girl warmly. "To think ofstopping the trolley car was fine, Gordon. You must have been dreadfullyscared and--and everything. And wasn't it a wonder you weren't hurttoo?"
"Yes, I suppose so. I guess it would have been better if Morris had beenthrown out of the car too. It was the steering wheel that kept him in, Ithink."
"I don't see how you ever thought of lifting the car up with the--thatthing you spoke of," she said admiringly. "Goodness, I'd have been sofrightened I'd have just cried!"
"I guess I'd better be going home," said Gordon.
"Yes, it must be quite late. And you haven't had any supper, have you? Iwish I'd found you here before."
"I don't believe I want any," he murmured. "I--I'm mighty glad he isn'thurt any worse. I'll come around to-morrow if you don't mind and see howhe is."
"Please do. Mama will want to see you, Gordon."
"I suppose your father is pretty angry, isn't he?" asked Gordon.
"He's too upset and anxious now to be angry," replied Louise. "But Isuppose he will have something to say to Morris later. I felt all thetime that he shouldn't run that car. It was horrid of him to get itwithout letting anyone know."
"I guess he's got his punishment," replied Gordon grimly. "A broken legwill keep him laid up a long time. I'm awfully sorry for him.Good-night, Louise."
It seemed a terribly long distance to his home, although it was inreality but two blocks. His father was on the porch, reading under theelectric light, when Gordon reached the steps. Down went the paper andMr. Merrick viewed his son with cold severity.
"Well, Gordon, where have you been?" he asked.
"Over to the Point, sir. I--we----"
"I think I have told you fairly often that I do not like you to be latefor your meals?"
"Yes, sir," assented Gordon wearily.
"Exactly. It is now--hm--nearly eight o'clock. I think you had better goup to your room. You don't deserve supper at this hour. And--hm--afterthis kindly give a little consideration to my wishes."
"Yes, sir." Gordon wanted to tell him what had happened, but he wasfrightfully tired and the thought of getting upstairs and into his bedwas very alluring. Mr. Merrick showed that the conversation was at anend by again hiding his face behind the newspaper and Gordon wentindoors and quietly climbed the stairs, rather hoping that his motherwould not hear him. But she did, and came out of her room with thesecrecy of a conspirator.
"Gordon, dear," she whispered, "your father was very angry and said youwere to have no supper, but I put a little something on a plate for you.It's on your bureau. You shouldn't stay out like this, though, dear.Your father doesn't like it and--and it makes me worried, too."
"Yes'm, I won't again," replied Gordon. "I--I'm not very hungry, though.I'm going to bed."
"Aren't you--don't you feel well?" inquired Mrs. Merrick anxiously.
"Yes'm, I'm all right. I just feel sort of tired. Good-night." He kissedher and went on up the second flight. Half-way up, though, he paused andcalled down in a hoarse whisper: "Thanks for the eats, ma!"
In spite of his weariness, sleep didn't come readily. It was a hot,still night and, although his bed was drawn close to the two windowsthat looked out into the upper branches of the big elm, not much airpenetrated to his room. He lay for a while staring out at the motionlessleaves, intensely black in shadow and vividly green where the light fromthe big arc on the corner illumined them, reviewing the incidents of theday. He was awfully glad that Morris wasn't dangerously hurt, gratefulfor his own escape from injury and sorry that Morris would have to lieabed for many weeks while his broken leg knit together again. Finally hedozed off only to awake in a terror, imagining that he was riding in anautomobile that was just about to plunge down a cliff so steep and deepthat the bottom was miles away! He awoke shaking and muttering and ittook him several seconds to reassure himself and throw off the effectsof the nightmare. After that he tossed and turned until he rememberedthe plate on the bureau. He got up and brought it back to bed with him,and leaned on one elbow and ate a little of the cold chicken andbread-and-butter his mother had placed on it. But he wasn't reallyhungry and his appetite was soon satisfied. He put the plate on thefloor beside him and settled down again. A clock downstairs struck nineand a moment later the town hall clock sounded the hour sonorously. Thenthe telephone in the first floor hall rang sharply and he heard hisfather's chair scrape on the porch and his father's feet across thehall.
"Hello? Yes.... No.... What say?..."
Gordon must have dozed then, for the next thing he knew someone waspushing open his bedroom door cautiously and asking if he was awake.
"Yes, sir," answered Gordon.
Mr. Merrick closed the door and came over to the bed. "Time you wereasleep, son," he said concernedly. "Having trouble?"
"I--I've been asleep once, sir. Something wakened me."
"Hm. Er--I was just talking to Mr. Brent on the telephone, Gordon
."
"Yes, sir?"
"Hm. He told me about the accident, son."
"Yes, sir. Did he say how Morris was?"
"Doing very well, he said. Why didn't you--hm--why didn't you tell meabout it?"
"I don't know, sir. I was sort of tired, and----"
"Brent says you carried Morris almost half a mile to the trolley,Gordon."
"It wasn't nearly that far. And I didn't carry him. He was too heavy.I--I pulled him."
"Well, the doctor says it's a lucky thing you got him home as quick asyou did. Mr. Brent is--hm--very grateful. He's going to stop in themorning and see you."
"He needn't be," murmured Gordon. "It wasn't anything."
"Hm. You can tell me about it in the morning. I-hm--I'm sorry I was soshort with you, son. If you'd explained----"
"Yes, sir, I ought to have. It--it's all right, dad."
"Well, but--if you're hungry, Gordon----"
"I'm not, sir. I--no, sir, I'm not."
"If you are I guess you and I can forage around and find something. Sureyou wouldn't like a little bite?"
"No, sir, thank you."
"Well--hm----" Mr. Merrick laid a hand on Gordon's arm and pressed it."Sorry I scolded, son. I--we--we're proud of you, boy."
Gordon didn't answer. It was rather embarrassing and he was glad of thedarkness.
"Good-night, Gordon."
"Good-night, sir."
Mr. Merrick turned away, there was a sound of cracking and crunchingchina and an exclamation.
"What's this?" asked Mr. Merrick in surprise, peering down at the floor.
"It--it's a plate, sir. Mother--that is----"
"Hm," said Mr. Merrick, and then again "Hm!" He pushed the brokenfragments under the bed. "I--hm--I can understand that you aren't veryhungry," he said dryly. "Evidently your mother--hm--well, good-night,Gordie."
The door closed. Gordon smiled at the black and green foliage beyond thewindow. It was all right about that lunch. If it wasn't his father wouldnever have called him Gordie.