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West slammed a big fist on the table so that the inkwell and the pens jumped. "All I got to say is that this new Sunday-school outfit you aim to run won't have no use for a he-man. I'm quittin' you right now." The foreman made the threat as a bluff. He was the most surprised man in Montana when his employer called it quietly, speaking still in the slow, nasal voice of perfect good-nature.
Half ashamed of our own dullness an old lesson came back with new significance, be blind, deaf, and dumb towards evil. One curiously wrought specimen of art was an inkwell encircled by nine monkeys. In the center, on the lid, was the finest monkey of all; the diversity of bodily attitudes, the variety of facial expressions, and the perfection of all was wonderful.
A bird-like peck at the inkwell, and the pen began to scratch-scratch-scratch. He was twenty-four; by the time he was thirty he ought to . . . "Beg pardon, sir!" Lord Monckton's valet stood before the desk. Thomas did not like this man, with his soundless approaches, his thin nervous fingers, his brilliant roving eyes. Where had he been picked up?
Thomas dipped his pen into the inkwell and went to work. Were all American fathers mad? To condone an affront like this! He could not understand these Americans. He had approached Killigrew with far more courage than the latter suspected. Thomas had read that here men still shot each other on slight provocation.
It is written in ink with the pawnbroker's own pen. The inkwell is open," he lifted up the pen, "the nib is still wet," he said. McNorton took the paper from his hands. It was a bill from a corn-chandler's at Horsham, the type of bill that was sent in days of war economy which folded over and constituted its own envelope. It was addressed to "J. B. Harden, Esq."
Then, as if thinking, Presby stared at the inkwell before him, and frowned. "How am I to know that?" he asked. "The Cross has had enough men wanting to look it over to make an army. Maybe you're one of them. Got any letters telling me that I'm to turn it over to you?" For an instant Dick was staggered by this obstacle. "No," he said reluctantly, "I have not; that is, nothing directed to you.
What's the use of crying about it now?" "Oh, but but I can't help it!" sobbed the girl. "You don't know how I have suffered! I couldn't sleep nights, or anything! Oh, Tom! it was grand the way you got that gardener to confess;" and she clung to him tighter than ever. "And to think he put the ring in the inkwell!" cried Grace. "What a ridiculous thing to do!"
Weeks rocked toward the desk, adjusted a chair behind him, spread his legs apart, and sat down sidewise so that he could reach the inkwell. He overhung his chair so generously that from the front he appeared to be perched precariously upon its edge or to be holding some one in his lap. "Where are those cable blanks!" he cried, irritably, stirring up the confusion in front of him. "Here they are."
Down into the inkwell on Sunny Boy's desk went that beautiful soldier, down out of sight in the messy ink! Jessie looked startled, but she did not say anything. She walked on with her box of pens. Perhaps she thought it was her fault for unscrewing the lead soldier general, but Jessie did not like to blame herself for anything.
He moved an inkwell to and fro, and did not look up; but his voice was steady and determined as he replied: "I'm not gunning for you, Cal, and I wish to heaven you weren't mixed up in this mess." He looked up. "But I am gunning for crooked work in this Cora case!" Bennett took his arms from the table, and sat erect.
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