Georgina's Service Stars

by Annie F. Johnston

He had been using the company's money, holding back the premiums in some way. Of course he always expected to replace the amounts in a short time, but his speculations were unfortunate and he had not succeeded in doing so when he was taken ill. And now he was in an agony of fear, tortured by the thought of exposure and disgrace. His ravings were something pitiful. He kept starting up in bed, thinking the detectives were after him, and begging them not to arrest him—to give him one more chance.

He had a lucid interval next morning when the doctor questioned him and he made a full confession. There was no one he could apply to for help. His own people had nothing, and the thought of his wife finding out his dishonesty almost crazed him. Miss Crewes said it was one of the most harrowing experiences she ever lived through. There was no place for her to go but out on the tiny balcony. She stepped through the window and sat on the railing out of sight of the bed, but she couldn't help hearing. The way she told it made us feel that we were right there with her, watching the doctor's face, and reading in it as she did the struggle going on in his mind. He was turned so he could not see her, but she could see every expression that crossed his face.

This stranger had no claim on him whatsoever. He had gotten into trouble through extravagance and a fast life, while what the doctor had managed to save after putting himself through school had been earned by the hardest work and most frugal living. It would take all his savings to replace the stolen funds, and he had been piling it up, bit by bit, for a cherished purpose of his own. Why should he sacrifice it for this careless young fellow, who by his own confession had never denied himself anything? And yet, to stand back and see him go down that path abhorred of all men to exposure and public disgrace probably would take away his one chance of recovery.

For a long time the doctor sat there, looking past the restless form on the white bed to the sky-line of the little town that showed through the open window. It was a hard decision for him to make. Finally he said cheerfully:

"It's all right, old chap. Don't worry about it any more. I'll stand between you and trouble. I'll send my check to the company for you this very day."

Then the boy broke down again, and his relief and gratitude were almost as distressing as his fear had been. Well, he died after all, though they worked to the utmost to save him. There were some complications. And it was all so pitiful, the little wife's coming on with the baby to be with him those last few days, and her frantic imploring of them to save him, when they were already doing everything in human power. And the funeral and everything, and her going back home with his body. The one thing she clung to—the only thing that comforted her—was the thought of his goodness and nobility of character, and that she must live to bring up her little son to be worthy of his father's memory.

She went away never knowing what she had been spared. The doctor didn't have even her gratitude to reward him, because she didn't know what he had done. And nobody will ever know but Miss Crewes how much he gave to wipe out a stranger's dishonor and let him die with his reputation unstained. Not that he ever mentioned the matter to Miss Crewes. All she knew was what she couldn't help overhearing. But, being old friends, he had told her in the beginning of the summer why he was working so hard and living so frugally. He was engaged to the loveliest girl in Christendom, and expected to marry her as soon as his bank account reached the place where he could give her the things she was accustomed to having.

"And so you see," said Miss Crewes in ending the story, "there was no possible 'guerdon' for him. It was done solely, purely, for the deed's sake."

"I'd like to know that chap," said Richard thoughtfully. Then for a moment or two there was a deep silence. It was broken by the sound of a noisy little automobile rattling down the road. As it came nearer Miss Crewes recognized it and started to her feet in surprise. "Well, this is the most remarkable coincidence that ever was!" she exclaimed. "There he is this blessed minute!"