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McMurtagh looked dubious; and the little maid, divining that the discussion of her was unfavorable, fell to tears, and then ran up and dried them on McMurtagh's business waistcoat. "You take the gold," said he dryly; "I'll carry the child myself." "Where?" inquired young Bowdoin, astonished. "Home," said McMurtagh sharply.
The naked gold made a shining roll in its blackness, just reaching across the lower end; and poor Jamie felt the first thrill of not happiness, but something that was not sorrow nor shame. And then he pulled down the old ledger, and made the first entry on the Dr. side: "Restored by James McMurtagh, June 9, 1849, $1640." The other ten dollars had gone for his journey to New York.
Why, you said you would not proceed while Mr. McMurtagh was ill." "McMurtagh will never come back to the bank," said old Mr. Bowdoin gravely. "Dear me, I hope he is not dead?" "No, but he will retire; on a pension, of course. Then his granddaughter has quite a little fortune." "His granddaughter a fortune?" "Certainly Miss Sarah McMurtagh," gasped Mr. Bowdoin. He could not say "St.
Would you like a written statement?" and Mr. Bowdoin puffed himself up and glared at his old friend. "Here is the chest, sir," said Mr. Stanchion suavely. "Have you the key?" "No, sir; Mr. McMurtagh has the key," and Mr. Bowdoin stalked from the office. Then old Mr. Bowdoin, with the box under his arm, hurried down to Salem Street. Jamie still lay there, unconscious of earthly things.
She went, with other boys and girls, to a small dame-school on the other side of Bowdoin Square; for Jamie would not hear of a public school. Here she learned quickly to read, write, and do a little embroidering, and gained much knowledge of human nature. One thing that they would not allow the child was her outlandish name: Mercy she was called, Mercy McMurtagh.
Yet little could be said against the plan, as a temporary arrangement, if they were willing to assume the burden. At all events, before Mr. James could find speech for objection, McMurtagh was off with the child in his arms, seeking to soothe her with uncouth words of endearment as he bore her carefully down the narrow stairs. James Bowdoin laughed a little, and then grew silent.
Therefore he groaned at the sight, and, throwing open a window, fingered his watch-chain nervously, as one who is about to flee. "What do you want, sir?" said he. "Is this the office of James Bowdoin's Sons?" "What if it were, sir?" The officer brandished his document. "Is there a clerk here, one James McMurtagh?" "No, sir." Mr. Bowdoin spoke decidedly. "Has he a son-in-law, David St. Clair?"
Life had not brought much to poor Jamie to make him so fond of it; but both the Bowdoins noticed it, and remarked to one another, it was curious, after all, how men clung to life as they grew older. In 1859 a rumor had reached them all that St. Clair had gone on some filibustering expedition to Cuba. Old Mr. Bowdoin mentioned it to McMurtagh; but he said nothing of sending for the wife.
McMurtagh mopped his reddened face, and tried to enjoy his victory; but the ill-natured thrust about the accuracy of the accounts embittered many a sleepless night of his in after-years.
There is a fine directness about courtship in Hughson's class, it puts the dots upon the i's; but Sadie must have preferred them dotless, for she said, "My name is not Sadie." "Mercy." "Nor Mercy." "Mer Mercedes, then." "Nor Mercedes alone." "Well, Miss McMurtagh, though I've known you from a child."
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