“I don’t know. I think he’s gone away somewhere.”
Joe shook his head weakly on the pillow.
“I guess I ought to be up and lookin’ out for him. I could always handle him when he was bad. You better get Walsh on the job.”
“Mr. Walsh and Mr. Wingfield both understand. You needn’t trouble about Mr. Craighill.”
“I guess Whiskers—that’s Wingfield—is all right,” remarked Joe reflectively. “Wingfield and Walsh are good friends of the boss and I guess they’ll look out for him. But he’s pretty fierce to handle when he gets goin’.”
“You may be mistaken,” said Jean. “I don’t believe it’s that.”
“Well, he’s due all right. If Whiskers and Walsh are both lookin’ for him he must be pretty bad. I say, Jean.”
“Yes, Joe.”
“You know what I did out there at Rosedale—followin’ you that way. I guess I was sick then, and my head wasn’t right. It seemed kind o’ funny to be takin’ you a ride in his machine with him. And the widder, too. It was kind o’ funny, him and the widder bein’ out there. I ain’t onto the widder but she’s a good looker all right. But the Colonel—say, he’s frosted fruit. He ain’t got much use for me. I can see it in his eye. But Sister Fanny—that’s Mrs. Blair—I’m strong for her. She’s the human featherduster, all right, but she means good. You know I never lived round rich folks till Mr. Wayne set me up as chauffeur and moved me into the garage. Guess I might ’a’ been rich myself if I hadn’t fell off the bus at Harrisburg and cracked my right pipe. But say, Jean, I never tell the boss, but I can pitch with my left arm just as good as the right. I got a new southpaw ball that would worry the boys some if I went into the game again. But I told Father Jim I would cut it out and hang on to chaufferin’, which ain’t what you might think with the speed limit what it is, if he thought Mr. Wayne needed me. You see I’m onto his curves and know how to handle him.”
“Yes, Joe; I’m sure you have repaid him for his kindnesses to you.”