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It had not been apparent at the Condor-Stillman musicale.... She arrived home dismayed to find the front room illuminated, but the rattle of the departing taxi brought Mrs. Finnegan to the top of the stairs with a laughing apology. "I just looked in to see how your mother was, Miss Claire, and I found a book on the front-room table" Mrs.
"Ah, thank you, sir thank you!" exclaimed Samuel, with tears of gratitude in his eyes. And he took his friend's hand and wrung it. Then, suddenly, a new thought came to him. "And meantime, doctor," said he, "what am I to tell Finnegan?" One who has all the cares of humanity upon his shoulders, as Samuel had, is apt to find that it claims a good deal of time.
"The old man walked last night, God save us!" said Kitty Fagan to Biddy Finnegan, the day after Myrtle's nightmare and her curious discovery. It seems probable enough that Myrtle's whole spiritual adventure was an unconscious dramatization of a few simple facts which her imagination tangled together into a kind of vital coherence.
The first thing is to find out the truth." And so Samuel took his departure. He went straight to his friend Finnegan. "Hello!" exclaimed Finnegan. Then, "What about that job of mine?" he asked with a broad grin. "Dr. Vince says he will look out for you," was the boy's reply. "But I'm not ready to talk about that yet. There's something else come up."
"I've got a job," said Samuel proudly. "I'm the assistant sexton at St. Matthew's Church." "You don't say! Gone up with the sky pilots, hey!" Samuel did not notice this irreverent remark. He looked around the place and saw that they were alone. Then he said, very earnestly, "Mr. Finnegan, may I have a few minutes' talk with you?" "Sure," said Finnegan perplexed. "What is it?"
"I'll go if I'm wanted to go," said Jimmy. The water boiled. Mrs. Finnegan was spreading butter on long slices cut from a home-baked loaf. It was Jimmy who took the kettle from the hook and filled the teapot. "Mrs. Finnegan," said Dr. Lovaway, "why do you want the boy put into an asylum?" "Is it me wanting him put away?" she said. "I want no such thing.
It was plain to Claire that nobody understood, and she felt a dreary futility as she answered both her mother and Mrs. Finnegan with: "It's a long story. Some other time, when ... when you're feeling better." A look of gray disappointment crossed Mrs. Robson's face. Mrs. Finnegan's upper lip seemed shaped suddenly with a suspicion that died almost as quickly as it began.
Finnegan had swung open the door to the Robson flat and she stood like a vision of disaster upon the threshold. "What has happened?" Claire's voice rose with a note of swift apprehension. "Your mother ... she's paralyzed! She was taken last night. The doctor says it would have happened, anyway. But I say it was worry, that's what it was. With you away all night and never a word!"
The roar of the crowd caused the men to look up with momentary apprehension, but at the over-seer's reassuring word they bent back to work. Finnegan was a Titan. With livid face and bursting veins he ran into the street facing the French Market, and uprooted a huge block of paving stone. Staggering under its weight, he rushed back to the ship, and with one mighty effort hurled it into the hold.
"Help yourself, Finnegan," said the captain, extending the bottle; "take a good drink a last one." Finnegan took the equivalent of three. "Now, up with you." The captain stood the bottle under the binnacle. "Upper top. Report to Mr. Bates." "Cappen, please send me down to the turret where I b'long, sir. I'm all right now. I don't want to go up there wi' the sogers. I'm not good at machine-guns."
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