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Then Joseph Atkins burst out suddenly in a rattling volley of coughs. "You hadn't ought to come out such a night as this, I'm afraid, Mr. Atkins," said Fanny. "He's been out jest as bad weather as this all winter," said the young man, Nahum Beals, in an unexpectedly deep voice. "The workers of this world can't afford to take no account of weather.
Beals is talking about the labor question, and he gets quite excited," Ellen remarked, somewhat apologetically, as she ushered young Lloyd into the parlor. Lloyd laughed. "It sounds as if he were leading an army," he said. "He is very much in earnest," said the girl. She placed painstakingly for her guest the best chair, which was a spring rocker upholstered with crush-plush.
The sick man sighed audibly. It seemed as if he had heard. The other watchmen stood looking on helplessly. "Why in thunder don't you two scatter, and see if you can't catch him," cried Dixon to them. "He can't be far off." But the words had no sooner left his mouth than up came a great Swede who was one of the workmen in Lloyd's, and he had Nahum Beals in a grasp as imperturbable as fate.
Fanny said again, anxiously. "Danger no; who's afraid of Amos Lee and a few like him?" cried Abby, contemptuously; "and Nahum Beals is safe. He's going to be tried next month, they say, but they'll make it imprisonment for life, because they think he wasn't in his right mind. If he was here we might be afraid, but there's nobody now that will do anything but talk. I ain't afraid.
The Colonel, in his usual gregarious manner, had strayed among the guests, forgetful of his duties, listening with bent head to congratulatory remarks. She had to send her younger son, Vickers, after him where he lingered with Farrington Beals, the President of the great Atlantic and Pacific Railroad, in which his new son-in-law held a position.
The feast moved as smoothly as need be. Isabelle, glancing over the table as the game came on, had her moment of elation, too. This was a real dinner-party, as elaborate and sumptuous as any that her friends in St. Louis might give. The Farrington Beals, she remembered, had men servants, most New York families kept them, but that could hardly be expected in Torso.
"No wonder they call it the Farm," sneered Nan Lawton to the Senator. "It's like the dear old Colonel, the new and the old," the Senator sententiously interpreted. Beals, overhearing this, added, "It's poor policy to do things that way. Better to pull the old thing down and go at it afresh, you save time and money, and have it right in the end."
It was that awful hot summer, and the room had only that one row of windows facing the east, and the wind never that way." "Not till I came out of the shop that night I took the chill," said Joe. Suddenly the young man, Nahum Beals, hit his knees a sounding slap, which made Ellen, furtively and timidly attentive at her window, jump.
"If you hadn't worked that summer in the annex under that tin roof, you'd be as well as you ever was now," said Nahum Beals. "I worked there 'longside of you that summer," said Andrew to Joe, with bitter reminiscence. "We used to strip like a gang of convicts, and we stood in pools of sweat.
Lee stared at them a second, bewildered by the effect of his own words, although they had for him such a tragic import. Andrew caught hold of him in a grasp like the clamp of a machine. "What?" he demanded again. "The boss has been shot," cried Lee, getting his breath. Andrew dropped his arm, and they all stared at him. Lee went on fluently, as if he were a fakir at a fair. "Nahum Beals did it.
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