"'Wm.M.'!" he repeated, looking confusedly at her, and then at the paper."Oh,--it's nothing." He tore the paper into small pieces, and went and dropped them into the fire.When Mrs.Lapham came into the room in the morning, before he was down, she found a scrap of the paper, which must have fluttered to the hearth;and glancing at it she saw that the words were "Mrs.M."She wondered what dealings with a woman her husband could have, and she remembered the confusion he had shown about the paper, and which she had thought was because she had surprised one of his business secrets.
She was still thinking of it when he came down to breakfast, heavy-eyed, tremulous, with deep seams and wrinkles in his face.
After a silence which he did not seem inclined to break, "Silas," she asked, "who is 'Mrs.M.'?"He stared at her."I don't know what you're talking about.""Don't you?" she returned mockingly."When you do, you tell me.Do you want any more coffee?""No."
"Well, then, you can ring for Alice when you've finished.
I've got some things to attend to." She rose abruptly, and left the room.Lapham looked after her in a dull way, and then went on with his breakfast.While he still sat at his coffee, she flung into the room again, and dashed some papers down beside his plate."Here are some more things of yours, and I'll thank you to lock them up in your desk and not litter my room with them, if you please." Now he saw that she was angry, and it must be with him.It enraged him that in such a time of trouble she should fly out at him in that way.
He left the house without trying to speak to her.
That day Corey came just before closing, and, knocking at Lapham's door, asked if he could speak with him a few moments.
"Yes," said Lapham, wheeling round in his swivel-chair and kicking another towards Corey."Sit down.I want to talk to you.I'd ought to tell you you're wasting your time here.
I spoke the other day about your placin' yourself better, and I can help you to do it, yet.There ain't going to be the out-come for the paint in the foreign markets that we expected, and I guess you better give it up.""I don't wish to give it up," said the young fellow, setting his lips."I've as much faith in it as ever; and Iwant to propose now what I hinted at in the first place.
I want to put some money into the business.""Some money!" Lapham leaned towards him, and frowned as if he had not quite understood, while he clutched the arms of his chair.
"I've got about thirty thousand dollars that I could put in, and if you don't want to consider me a partner--I remember that you objected to a partner--you can let me regard it as an investment.But I think I see the way to doing something at once in Mexico, and I should like to feel that I had something more than a drummer's interest in the venture."The men sat looking into each other's eyes.Then Lapham leaned back in his chair, and rubbed his hand hard and slowly over his face.His features were still twisted with some strong emotion when he took it away.
"Your family know about this?"
"My Uncle James knows."
"He thinks it would be a good plan for you?""He thought that by this time I ought to be able to trust my own judgment.""Do you suppose I could see your uncle at his office?""I imagine he's there."
"Well, I want to have a talk with him, one of these days."He sat pondering a while, and then rose, and went with Corey to his door."I guess I shan't change my mind about taking you into the business in that way," he said coldly.
"If there was any reason why I shouldn't at first, there's more now.""Very well, sir," answered the young man, and went to close his desk.The outer office was empty; but while Corey was putting his papers in order it was suddenly invaded by two women, who pushed by the protesting porter on the stairs and made their way towards Lapham's room.
One of them was Miss Dewey, the type-writer girl, and the other was a woman whom she would resemble in face and figure twenty years hence, if she led a life of hard work varied by paroxysms of hard drinking.
"That his room, Z'rilla?" asked this woman, pointing towards Lapham's door with a hand that had not freed itself from the fringe of dirty shawl under which it had hung.
She went forward without waiting for the answer, but before she could reach it the door opened, and Lapham stood filling its space.
"Look here, Colonel Lapham!" began the woman, in a high key of challenge."I want to know if this is the way you're goin' back on me and Z'rilla?""What do you want?" asked Lapham.
"What do I want? What do you s'pose I want? I want the money to pay my month's rent; there ain't a bite to eat in the house; and I want some money to market."Lapham bent a frown on the woman, under which she shrank back a step."You've taken the wrong way to get it.
Clear out!"
"I WON'T clear out!" said the woman, beginning to whimper.
"Corey!" said Lapham, in the peremptory voice of a master,--he had seemed so indifferent to Corey's presence that the young man thought he must have forgotten he was there,--"Is Dennis anywhere round?""Yissor," said Dennis, answering for himself from the head of the stairs, and appearing in the ware-room.
Lapham spoke to the woman again."Do you want I should call a hack, or do you want I should call an officer?"The woman began to cry into an end of her shawl.
" I don't know what we're goin' to do."
"You're going to clear out," said Lapham."Call a hack, Dennis.
If you ever come here again, I'll have you arrested.
Mind that! Zerrilla, I shall want you early to-morrow morning.""Yes, sir," said the girl meekly; she and her mother shrank out after the porter.
Lapham shut his door without a word.
At lunch the next day Walker made himself amends for Corey's reticence by talking a great deal.
He talked about Lapham, who seemed to have, more than ever since his apparent difficulties began, the fascination of an enigma for his book-keeper, and he ended by asking, "Did you see that little circus last night?""What little circus?" asked Corey in his turn.
"Those two women and the old man.Dennis told me about it.
