The latter looked very much worried. He was a steady, quiet, red-haired man, with pale blue eyes and a wandering expression of countenance at most times. But he was a good and careful worker and kept the athletic field in good shape and the gym. well swept and dusted.
Jackway had never been married; but his sister had married a man named Doyle and was now a widow with two children. When Jackway got an hour or two off from the gym. he went to see his sister, and played with the baby, Johnny. Johnny, who was a sturdy little fellow of three, had been brought to-day to see his uncle by his gangling big brother, Rufe Doyle. Rufe was a second edition of his uncle, Bill Jackway, without Bill’s modicum of sense. A glance at Rufe told the pitiful story. As his Irish father had said, Rufe was “an innocent.” But he loved Baby Johnny and took great care of him.
“Johnny’s growing like a weed, Rufie,” said Hester, kindly enough, as she pinched the little fellow’s cheek softly. “You take such good care of him.”
Rufe threw back his head, opened his mouth wide, and roared his delight at this compliment.
“Yes, ma’am!” he chuckled, when his paroxysm was over. “Johnny ain’t much out of my sight when he’s awake. Is he, Uncle Bill?”
“No, Rufus,” replied Jackway, sadly.
“I’m pretty smart to take care of Johnny so well—ain’t I, Uncle Bill?” demanded the weak-minded boy again.
“You are smart enough when you want to be, Rufus,” muttered Jackway, evidently in no very social mood.
“You’re worried about what happened last night, aren’t you?” demanded Hester, sharply.
“Yes, ma’am; I be,” admitted the watchman.