"Faix, I see," winking at two or three of his cronies who had gathered at the open door; "it's a disase I'm taken wid meself at odd spells, though I takes moighty good care to kape out o' the way of ould man Arnot when I'm so afflicted. He has a quare way o' thinkin' that ivery man about him can go as rigaler as if made in a mash-shine shop, bad luck till 'im."
Perhaps all in Mr. Arnot's employ would have echoed this sentiment, could the ill luck have blighted him without reaching them. In working his employes as he did his machinery, Mr. Arnot forgot that the latter was often oiled, but that he entirely neglected to lubricate the wills of the former with occasional expressions of kindness and interest in their welfare. Thus it came to pass that even down to poor Pat M'Cabe, man of all work around the office building, all felt that their employer was a hard, driving taskmaster, who ever looked beyond them and their interests to what they accomplished for him. The spirit of the master infused itself among the men, and the tendency of each one to look out for himself without regard to others was increased. If Pat had served a kinder and more considerate man, he might have been inclined to show greater consideration for the intoxicated youth; but Pat's favorite phrase, "Divil take the hindmost," was but a fair expression of the spirit which animated his master, and the majority in his employ. When, therefore, Haldane, in his thick, imperfect utterance, again said, "Take me 'ome," Pat concluded that it would be the best and safest course for himself. Helping the young man to his feet he said:
"Can ye walk? Mighty onstiddy on yer pins; but I'm athinkin' I can get ye to the big house afore mornin'. Should I kape ye out o' the way till ye get sober, and ould man Arnot find it out, I'd be in the street meself widout a job 'fore he ate his dinner. Stiddy now; lean aginst me, and don't wabble yer legs so."
With like exhortations the elder and more wary disciple of Bacchus disappeared with his charge in the gloom of the night.
It chanced that the light burned late, on this evening, in Mrs. Arnot's parlor. The lady's indisposition had confined her to her room and couch during the greater part of the day; but as the sun declined, the distress in her head had gradually ceased, and she had found her airy drawing-room a welcome change from the apartment heavy with the odor of anaesthetics. Two students from the university had aided in beguiling the early part of the evening, and then Laura had commenced reading aloud an interesting tale, which had suspended the consciousness of time. But as the marble clock on the mantel chimed out the hour of twelve, Mrs. Arnot rose hastily from the sofa, exclaiming:
"What am I thinking of, to keep you up so late! If your mother knew that you were out of your bed she would hesitate to trust you with me again."
"One more chapter, dear auntie, please?"
"Yes, dear, several more—to-morrow; but to bed now, instanter. Come, kiss your remorseful aunt good-night. I'll remain here a while longer, for either your foolish story or the after effects of my wretched headache make me a trifle morbid and wakeful to-night. Oh, how that bell startles me! what can it mean so late?"
The loud ring at the door remained unanswered a few moments, for the servants had all retired. But the applicant without did not wait long before repeating the summons still more emphatically.
Then they heard the library door open, and Mr. Arnot's heavy step in the hall, as he went himself to learn the nature of the untimely call. His wife's nervous timidity vanished at once, and she stepped forward to join her husband, while Laura stood looking out from the parlor entrance with a pale and frightened face. "Can it be bad news from home?" she thought.