CHAPTER X
THURSDAY SMITH
In a day or so Mr. Merrick received a letter from Mr. Skeelty, themanager of the paper mill. He said: "I understand you have employed oneof my discharged workmen, who is named Thursday Smith. My men don't wanthim in this neighborhood, and have made a strong protest. I thereforedesire you to discharge the fellow at once, and in case you refuse toaccede to this reasonable demand I shall shut off your power."
Mr. Merrick replied: "Shut off the power and I'll sue you for damages.My contract with you fully protects me. Permit me a request in turn:that you mind your own business. The _Millville Tribune_ will employwhomsoever it chooses."
Uncle John said nothing to the girls concerning this correspondence,nor did he mention it to the new pressman.
On Wednesday Larry and Fitz sent in their "resignations," to take effectSaturday night. They told Patsy, who promptly interviewed them, that thetown was altogether too slow for men accustomed to the city, but toSmith they admitted they feared trouble from the men at the mill.
"I talked with one of the mill hands last night," said Larry, "andthey're up to mischief. If you stay here, my boy, you'd better watchout, for it's you they're after, in the first place, and Skeelty hastold 'em he wouldn't be annoyed if they wiped out the whole newspaperplant at the same time."
Thursday nodded but said nothing. He began watching the work of the twomen with comprehensive care. When Mr. Merrick came down to the officeduring the forenoon to consult with his nieces about replacing the twomen who had resigned, Smith asked him for a private interview.
"Come into the office," said Uncle John.
When the man found the three girl journalists present he hesitated, butMr. Merrick declared they were the ones most interested in anything anemployee of the paper might have to say to his principals.
"I am told, sir," Thursday began, "that the people at the mill haveboycotted this paper."
"They've cancelled all their subscriptions," replied Beth; "but as theyhad not paid for them it won't hurt us any."
"It seems the trouble started through your employing me," resumed theyoung man; "so it will be best for you to let me go."
"Never!" cried Mr. Merrick, firmly. "Do you suppose I'll allow thatrascal Skeelty to dictate to us for a single minute? Not by a jug full!And the reason the men dislike you is because you pounded some of themunmercifully when they annoyed my girls. Where did you learn to use yourfists so cleverly, Smith?"
"I don't know, sir."
"Well, you have earned our gratitude, and we're going to stand by you. Idon't mind a bit of a row, when I'm on the right side of an argument. Doyou?"
"Not at all, sir; but the young ladies--"
"They're pretty good fighters, too; so don't worry."
Thursday was silent a moment. Then he said:
"Fitzgerald and Doane tell me they're going to quit, Saturday."
"It is true," replied Patsy. "I'm sorry, for they seem good men and wemay have trouble replacing them."
"They are not needed here, Miss Doyle," said Smith. "There isn't a greatdeal of electrotyping to do, or much job printing. More than half thetime the two men are idle. It's the same way with my own job. Threehours a day will take care of the press and make the regular run. If youwill permit me, I am sure I can attend to all the work, unaided."
They looked at one another in amazement.
"How about the make-up?" asked Uncle John.
"I can manage that easily, sir. I've been watching the operation andunderstand it perfectly."
"And you believe you can do the work of three men?"
"Three men were unnecessary in a small plant like this, sir. Whoeversent them to you did not understand very well your requirements. I'vebeen watching the compositors, too, and your three girls are one toomany. Two are sisters, and can set all the type very easily. I recommendthat you send the other back to New York."
They considered this advice seriously.
"I think Mr. Smith is right," observed Patsy. "The girls have not seemedbusy, at all, and spend most of their time laughing and talkingtogether."
"It will cut down expenses a lot," said Beth, "and I'm sure we ought tobe able to run this paper more economically than we have been doing."
Uncle John looked at the man thoughtfully.
"Where did you learn the printing business?" he asked.
"I--I don't know, sir."
"What offices have you worked in?"
"I cannot tell you that, sir."
"You seem to answer all my questions with the statement that you 'don'tknow,'" asserted Mr. Merrick, with an annoyed frown. "Is there anyreason you should refuse to tell us of your former life?"
"None whatever, sir."
"Who are you, Smith?"
"I--I don't know, sir."
Mr. Merrick was getting provoked.
"This obstinacy is not likely to win our confidence," he said. "Underthe circumstances I think we ought to know something more about you,before we allow you to undertake so much responsibility. You seem abright, able young man, and I've no doubt you understand the work you'reabout to undertake, but if we have no knowledge of your antecedents youmay cause us considerable future trouble."
Smith bowed his head and his cheeks flamed red.
"I have no knowledge of my antecedents to confide to you, sir," he saidin a low voice.
Uncle John sighed regretfully and turned away, but Patsy looked at theman with new interest.
"Won't you please explain that a little more fully?" she gentlyinquired.
"I am quite willing to tell all I know," said he; "but that is verylittle, I assure you. Two years ago last May, on the morning ofThursday, the twenty-second, I awoke to find myself lying in a ditchbeside a road. Of my life previous to that time I have no knowledgewhatever."
The three girls regarded him with startled eyes. Uncle John turned fromthe window to examine the young man with new interest.
"Were you injured?" he asked.
"My right ankle was sprained and I had a cut under my left eye--you cansee the scar still."
"You have no idea how you came there?"
"Not the slightest. I did not recognize the surrounding country; I hadno clear impression as to who I was. There was a farmhouse a quarter ofa mile away; I limped to it and they gave me some breakfast. I found Iwas fifty-six miles from New York. The farmer had heard of no accident;there was no railway nearer than six miles; the highway was littleused. I told the good people my story and they suspected me of beingdrunk or crazy, but did not credit a single word I said."
"That was but natural," said Uncle John.
"After breakfast I took stock of myself. In my pockets I found atwenty-dollar bill and some silver. I wore a watch and chain and a ringset with a good-sized diamond. My clothing seemed good, but the ditchhad soiled it. I had no hat, nor could the farmer find one when I senthim back to look for it. My mind was not wholly a blank; I seemed tohave a fair knowledge of life, and when the farmer mentioned New Yorkthe city seemed familiar to me. But in regard to myself, my pasthistory--even my name--I was totally ignorant. All personalconsciousness dated from the moment I woke up in the ditch."
"How wonderful!" exclaimed Louise.
"And you haven't solved the mystery yet, after two years?" asked Patsy.
"No, Miss Doyle. I hired the farmer to drive me to the railway station,where I took the train to New York. I seemed to know the city, but norecollection guided me to home or friends. I went to a small hotel,took a room, and began to read all the newspapers, seeking to discoverif anyone was reported missing. The sight of automobiles led me toconceive the theory that I had been riding in one of those machinesalong a country road when something threw me out. My head might havestruck a stump or stone and the blow rendered me insensible. Somethingin the nature of the thing, or in my physical condition, deprived me ofall knowledge of the past. Since then I have read of several similarcases. The curious thing about my own experience was that I could findno reference to my disa
ppearance, in any way, nor could I learn of anyautomobile accident that might account for it. I walked the streets dayafter day, hoping some acquaintance would accost me. I waited patientlyfor some impulse to direct me to my former haunts. I searched thenewspapers persistently for a clue; but nothing rewarded me.
"After spending all my money and the proceeds of my watch and diamond, Ibegan to seek employment; but no one would employ a man withoutrecommendations or antecedents. I did not know what work I was capableof doing. So finally I left the city and for more than two years I havebeen wandering from one part of the country to another, hoping that someday I would recognize a familiar spot. I have done odd jobs, at times,but my fortunes went from bad to worse until of late I have become nobetter than the typical tramp."
"How did you secure employment as a book-keeper for Skeelty?" askedUncle John.
"I heard a new mill had started at Royal and walked up there to inquirefor work. The manager asked if I could keep books, and I said yes."
"Have you ever kept books before?"
"Not that I know of; but I did it very well. I seemed to comprehend thework at once, and needed no instruction. Often during these two years Ihave encountered similar curious conditions. I sold goods in a store andseemed to know the stocks; I worked two weeks in a telegraph office anddiscovered I knew the code perfectly; I've shod horses for a countryblacksmith, wired a house for electric lights and compoundedprescriptions in a drug store. Whatever I have undertaken to do I seemable to accomplish, and so it is hard for me to guess what profession Ifollowed before my memory deserted me."
"You did not retain any position for long, it seems," remarked UncleJohn.
"No; I was always impatient to move on, always hoping to arrive at someplace so familiar that my lost memory would return to me. The work Ihave mentioned was nearly all secured during the first year. After Ibecame seedy and disreputable in appearance people were more apt tosuspect me and work was harder to obtain."
"Why did you come to Millville?" asked Louise.
"You brought me here," he answered, with a smile. "I caught a ride onyour private car, when it left New York, not caring much where it mighttake me. When I woke up the next morning the car was sidetracked atChazy Junction, and as this is a section I have never before explored Idecided to stay here for a time. That is all of my story, I believe."
"Quite remarkable!" declared Mr. Merrick, emphatically. The girls, too,had been intensely interested in the strange recital.
"You seem educated," said Patsy thoughtfully; "therefore you must havecome from a good family."
"That does not seem conclusive," replied Thursday Smith, deprecatingly,"although I naturally hope my family was respectable. I have beeninclined to resent the fact that none of my friends or relatives hasever inquired what became of me."
"Are you sure they have not?"
"I have watched the papers carefully. In two years I have followedseveral clues. A bricklayer disappeared, but his drowned body wasfinally found; a college professor was missing, but he was sixty yearsof age; a young man in New York embezzled a large sum and hid himself. Ifollowed that trail, although regretfully, but the real embezzler wascaught the day I presented myself in his place. Perhaps the most curiousexperience was in the case of a young husband who deserted his wife andinfant child. She advertised for him; he had disappeared about the timeI had found myself; so I went to see her."
"What was the result?" asked Beth.
"She said I was not her husband, but if he failed to come back I mighttake his place, provided I would guarantee to support her."
During the laugh that followed, Thursday Smith went back to his work andan animated discussion concerning his strange story followed.
"He seems honest," said Louise, "but I blame a man of his ability forbecoming a mere tramp. He ought to have asserted himself and maintainedthe position in which he first found himself."
"How?" inquired Patsy.
"At that time he was well dressed and had a watch and diamond ring. Ifhe had gone to some one and frankly told his story he could surely haveobtained a position to correspond with his personality. But instead ofthis he wasted his time and the little capital he possessed in doingnothing that was sensible."
"It is easy for us to criticise the man," remarked Beth, "and he may besorry, now, that he did not act differently. But I think, in his place,I should have made the same attempt he did to unravel the mystery of hislost identity. So much depended upon that."
"It's all very odd and incomprehensible," said Uncle John. "I wonder whohe can be."
"I suppose he calls himself Thursday because that was the day he firstfound himself," observed Patsy.
"Yes; and Smith was the commonest name he could think of to go with it.The most surprising thing," added their uncle, "is the fact that a manof his standing was not missed or sought for."
"Perhaps," suggested Louise, "he had been insane and escaped from someasylum."
"Then how did he come to be lying in a ditch?" questioned Patsy; "andwouldn't an escaped maniac be promptly hunted down and captured?"
"I think so," agreed Mr. Merrick. "For my part, I'm inclined to acceptthe man's theory that it was an automobile accident."
"Then what became of the car, or of the others in it?"
"It's no use," said Beth, shaking her head gravely. "If Thursday Smith,who is an intelligent young man, couldn't solve the mystery himself, itisn't likely we can do so."
"We know as much as he does, as far as that is concerned," said Patsy,"and our combined intelligence ought at least to equal his. I'm sorryfor the poor man, and wish we might help him to come to his own again."
They all agreed to this sentiment and while the girls attended to theireditorial duties they had the amazing story of Thursday Smith uppermostin their minds. When the last copy had been placed in the hands of MissBriggs and they were driving to the farm--at a little after sixo'clock--they renewed the interesting discussion.
Just before reaching the farm Hetty Hewitt came out of the wood just infront of them. She was clothed in her short skirt and leggings and borea fishing rod and a creel.
"What luck?" asked Patsy, stopping the horse.
"Seven trout," answered the artist. "I might have caught more, but thepoor little creatures squirmed and struggled so desperately that Ihadn't the heart to destroy any more of them. Won't you take them homefor Mr. Merrick's breakfast?"
Patsy looked at the girl musingly.
"Jump in, Hetty," she said; "I'm going to take you with us for thenight. The day's fishing has tired you; there are deep circles underyour eyes; and that stuffy old hotel isn't home-like. Jump in."
Hetty flushed with pleasure, but hesitated to accept the invitation.
"I--I'm not dressed for--"
"You're all right," said Beth, supporting her cousin's proposition."We'll lend you anything you need."
"Do come, Miss Hewitt," added Louise.
Hetty sighed, then smiled and finally climbed into the surrey.
"In New York," she said, as they started on, "I've sometimes hobnobbedwith editors; but this is somewhat different."
"In what way?" asked Patsy casually.
"You're not real journalists, you know, and--"
"Why aren't we journalists?" asked Louise.
For a moment Hetty was puzzled how to reply.
"You are doing very good editorial work," she said mendaciously, "but,after all, you are only playing at journalism. The real journalist--as Iknow him--is a Bohemian; a font of cleverness running to waste; areckless, tender-hearted, jolly, careless ne'er-do-well who works like aTrojan and plays like a child. He is very sophisticated at his desk andvery artless when he dives into the underworld for rest and recreation.He lives at high tension, scintillates, burns his red fire withoutdiscrimination and is shortly extinguished. You are not like that. Youcan't even sympathize with that sort of person. But I can, for I'm cutfrom a remnant of the same cloth."
"Scintillate all you want to, Hetty," cried Patsy
with a laugh; "butyou're not going to be extinguished. For we, the imitation journalists,have taken you under our wings. There's no underworld at Millville, andthe only excitement we can furnish just now is a night with us at theold farm."
"That," replied Hetty, "is indeed a real excitement. You can't quiteunderstand it, perhaps; but it's so--so very different from what I'maccustomed to."
Uncle John welcomed the girl artist cordially and under his hospitableroof the waif soon felt at ease. At dinner the conversation turned uponThursday Smith and his peculiar experience. Beth asked Hetty if she knewthe man.
"Yes," replied the girl; "I've seen him at the office and we'veexchanged a word or two. But he boards with Thorne, the liveryman, andnot at the hotel."
"You have never seen him before you met him here?"
"Never."
"I wonder," said Louise musingly, "if he is quite right in his mind. Allthis story may be an hallucination, you know."
"He's a very clever fellow," asserted Hetty, "and such a loss of memoryis by no means so uncommon as you think. Our brains are queerthings--mine is, I know--and it doesn't take much to throw theirmachinery out of gear. Once I knew a reporter who was worried andover-worked. He came to the office one morning and said he was GeorgeWashington, the Commander of the Continental Army. In all other ways hewas sane enough, and we humored him and called him 'General.' At the endof three months the idea quit him as suddenly as it had come on, and hewas not only normal but greatly restored in strength of intellectthrough the experience. Perhaps some of the overworked brain cells hadtaken a rest and renewed their energy. It would not surprise me if someday Thursday Smith suddenly remembered who he was."
[Footnote: This anecdote is true.--_Author._]
"In the meantime," said Uncle John, "I'm going to make an effort todiscover his identity."
"In what way, Uncle?" asked Patsy.
"I'll set Fogerty, who is a clever detective, at work. No man candisappear from his customary haunts without leaving some sort of arecord behind him, and Fogerty may be able to uncover the mystery in ashort time."
"Then we'll lose our pressman," declared Beth; "for I'm positive thatThursday Smith was a person of some importance in his past life."