For the second time that day Doctor Vardaman gazed silently at "El Paso & Rio Grande," "$172,000,000.00 in dividends," until the characters swam before his eyes.
"At least you'll want your dollar and a half in the meantime, Mrs. Maginnis," he said finally with an effort, and counted the money into her hand. She had on a pair of black worsted gloves, the fingers too long for her own, crooked, hardened and disfigured with work. She took the coins clumsily, and some of them dropped and rolled about the floor.
"Troth, what'll I do whin I'm a la-ady, settin' in me kerridge, wid kid gloves on, I wondher," she said with a laugh. "I'm that awkward wid these, I'd betther be learnin', I think. I'm goin' to have Maggie ta-ake pianny lessons, Docthor, an' I'm goin' to git a pair of va-ases for th' parlour mantelpiece, an' a wheel chair for Tim. That's what I'm goin' to do whin th' firrst o' th' money comes in. I made up me moind to that as I was walkin' along wid yer wash th' marrnin', an' thin all to oncet, I says to meself. 'An' what'll th' docthor be doin' for somewan to clear-starch his shirrts th' way he loikes? An' to do up thim white lawn cravats that's all cut on th' bias, an' sthretches somethin' awful—thim stocks yez call 'em, Docthor. Faith, there's stocks an' stocks, think o' that, now?" She laughed a little, hysterically, gulping at her own joke. "Yez wouldn't belave ut, Docthor, for all I was so happy, I cud ha' set right down an' cried to think that somewan might git hould o' thim, some naygur, mebbe, that 'ud ruin 'em!" The tears came into her faded blue eyes. "It's th' good man yez arre, Docthor Varrdaman, an' it's koind yez have been to me all these harrd years, an' I'll niver forgit ut. Whin I'm settin' in me parlour, wid th' pitchers an' th' Rogers Group like I mane to have ut, rockin' in me chair, an' listenin' to Maggie play, I'll be thinkin' of yez often an' often, Docthor, an' of th' ould days, whin I was sthrugglin' along at th' tub an' yez helped me."
Doctor Vardaman mechanically twisted his features into a smile. "I wish you luck with all my heart, Mrs. Maginnis," was all he could say; but the Irishwoman was too emotionally wrought up to heed the strangeness of his manner. Her sky was radiant with dreams.
"Sure, I kin have thim masses said for me mother—rest her sowl!" she said, crossing herself fervently; and the next moment, in gleeful anticipation: "An' buy me a black silk, Docthor, a black silk dhress, me that hasn't had a new rag to me back for eight years!"
She went; and Doctor Vardaman sat down before his table. He took out the colonel's fifty-dollar bill—the colonel's! It was Mrs. Maginnis', like all the rest of the bills in that handsome Russia-leather case! The doctor was as sure of it as if it had been sworn to in his presence. He stared at it miserably. Of course, he told himself, he had known all along that Pallinder was a humbug, had known in a sort of way that he was a scamp. But the truth is, you and I, even the most experienced, even the wisest and worldliest and most wary of us, knows very little about scamps. The doctor had lived his seventy years with such vicissitudes as fall to the lot of the ruck of mankind, and had encountered no greater rascality than that of some patient who ignored a bill or refused to pay it—an offence which he himself was the first to excuse or condone. By nature a humane and sympathetic man, he had learned in his profession a large charity, a habit of making allowances which he now denounced savagely for a contemptible shirking of responsibilities. Laissez faire, indeed! And one-half the world, not knowing how the other half lives, need not care! Yes, Pallinder was a scamp; but Doctor Vardaman found, with a wretched surprise, that he had had no real comprehension of what the word meant—the thing it denoted. This was its meaning, this shabby trickery, this cheap deceit; the discovery came upon him like a blow. There is an extraordinary bitterness to any generous mind in beholding the uncovered shame of a friend; we hate to see the feet of clay; the pain is two-edged and strikes us either way with the sense of his unworthiness, of our own folly. The doctor had liked Pallinder; liked him still—liked him and despised him. He sat wondering at his own weakness. "If it had been me," thought the old gentleman, "if it had been me that he had cheated, fleeced, bamboozled in this way, or anyone of my class, I could almost say the game was fair and have my laugh at the dupe; it's our business to know better. But that poor old woman, that poor, ignorant, faithful, trusting creature, that honest, simple drudge!" He thought of her tired, work-worn hands in those pitiful gloves with a throb of pain and unreasoning self-reproach. Colonel Pallinder's hands were large, white, and very well-kept; a seal ring in pretty taste, simplex munditiis, adorned his little finger, the only piece of jewelry he wore. It was paid for, if at all, the doctor reflected grimly, out of the pocket of some other Mrs. Maginnis. The flavour of the colonel's cigar was yet on his lips; what washerwoman, what widow, what patient, laborious wage-earner's little savings had paid for that? He got up and walked the floor restlessly. There was a kind of irony in the thought that he, John Vardaman, must suffer this travail of spirit, while the guilty one himself pursued his way unmoved, tranquil, eating and sleeping in triumphant ease. "After all," said the doctor inwardly, "am I my brother's keeper? No. But I have sat at Pallinder's table, smoked with him, drunk with him, laughed with him, sanctioned and encouraged him. All the while I knew he was a rogue; I did it open-eyed; I shared the spoil—it's late, late in the day, Jack Vardaman, for you to cry Fie on the thief! Dozens of others are daily doing the same thing; why not? The Pallinders amuse them. Of what stuff are we all made?" His glance fell on the bill again; he picked it up and smoothed it out mechanically, wondering what had prompted Pallinder to pay him out of all the people he owed. It was certainly not from any warm friendship, for Colonel Pallinder liked everybody equally well; his cordiality, his generosity emulated the very sunshine in their wide diffusion. If he stole meanly, he gave away magnificently—after his own desires were indulged. He was quite capable of picking Mrs. Maginnis' pocket one day, and relieving her distress with coal and warm blankets the next; and it is more than likely that he would have paid the first comer, whether Doctor Vardaman or somebody else, if the matter had occurred to him, and if the sum were not inconveniently large.
Huddesley, coming in with the tray of luncheon, was astonished at the doctor's haggard look; he moved about noiselessly, disposing the dishes to the old gentleman's liking, and once or twice sending a sharp glance into his face unobserved.
"Shall you be going up to Mrs. Pallinder's to dinner this evening, sir?" he asked at length respectfully. "Miss Pallinder said something about you——"
"No," said Doctor Vardaman sternly. "No. I shan't be going there again."