“No, not at all. I think we shall win.”
“You think!—for God's sake, Halloran, speak out and have it over with. What's the matter—what has happened?”
Halloran came over and sat on the edge of the bed where he could talk in a quiet voice; “We have not lost, Mr. Higginson, and what's more, we aren't going to lose. Bigelow's people have got to keep on selling below cost until something happens. We certainly couldn't go on running full- handed without a cent of income. By shutting down we can hold out longer than they can. It's hard on the men, but it is hard on the rest of us, too. It's the only way we can meet them.”
Even a sick man could see the soundness of this. And somehow the presence of his manager, with his air of health and confidence, went a long ways toward restoring, for the moment, the balance of Mr. Higginson's mind. He fell back on the pillows, unstrung after his excitement, but somewhat relieved.
Halloran said good-night and went downstairs. Mamie heard his step and, leaving Crosman in the sitting-room, she met him in the hall.
“I meant to tell you not to come down yet,” she said with lowered eyes. “Ma said that she wanted to see you when you came in. I'll go ahead if you don't mind.”
He followed her to another upstairs room, where he found Mrs. Higginson on a couch, dressed in the daintiest of lace-trimmed dressing-sacks. She looked up when he entered and motioned wearily to a chair.
“It is kind of you to come,” she said. “Mamie, dear, won't you get me my heavy shawl?”
Mamie, understanding, left the room and did not hurry back.
“I want to talk with you about our dear girl,” began Mrs. Higginson. “Of course, if the worst should happen—you understand———-” Here her emotion overcame her for a moment. “You can understand what a shock it has been to me. Mr. H. had not told me of the trouble, and the news that he had failed came like a thunderbolt. I don't mind for myself—but if anything should happen—if the worst—I could go so much—so much easier—if I knew that Mamie was provided for. You will be good to her, John? You will forgive me for calling you John? It is the way Mr. H. always spoke of you at home———” She was obliged to pause again. “I am afraid he will never c—call you John again.”