CHAPTER VII
THE INVALID
The girls intercepted Maud Stanton when she returned to the hotel thatevening, and told her all about A. Jones. The tale was finished longbefore that dyspeptic youth had wakened from his slumbers. Then they alldressed for dinner and afterward met in the lobby, where Uncle John toldthem he had arranged to have a big round table prepared for the entireparty, including a seat for A. Jones, who might like to join them.
However, the young man did not make his appearance, and as they troopedinto the dining room Patsy said resentfully:
"I believe A. Jones is in a trance and needs rolling on a barrel again."
"He probably found himself too weak to appear in public," replied FloStanton. "I'm sure if I had been all but drowned a few hours ago, I wouldprefer bed to society."
"I'm astonished that he summoned energy to visit us at all," declaredMrs. Montrose. "He may be weak and ill, but at least he is grateful."
"Jones seems a vary gentlemanly young fellow," said Mr. Merrick. "He is abit shy and retiring, which is perhaps due to his lonely life on hisisland; but I think he has been well brought up."
As they came out from dinner they observed the porters wheeling severalbig trunks up the east corridor. The end of each trunk was lettered:"A. Jones."
"Well," said Beth, with an amused smile, "he intends to stay a while,anyhow. You'll have a chance to meet him yet, Maud."
"I'm glad of that," answered Maud, "for I am anxious to calculate theworth of the life I helped to save. Your reports are ambiguous, and I amundecided whether you are taking the boy seriously or as a joke. Fromyour description of his personal appearance, I incline to the belief thatunder ordinary circumstances I would not look twice at Mr. Jones, buthaving been partly instrumental in preserving him to the world, Inaturally feel a proprietary interest in him."
"Of course," said Flo. "He's worth one look, out of pure curiosity; butit would be dreadful to have him tagging you around, expressing hiseverlasting gratitude."
"I don't imagine he'll do that," observed Patsy Doyle. "A. Jones strikesme as having a fair intellect in a shipwrecked body, and I'll wager ahatpin against a glove-buttoner that he won't bore you. At the same timehe may not interest you--or any of us--for long, unless he developstalents we have not discovered. I wonder why he doesn't use his wholename. That mystic 'A' puzzles me."
"It's an English notion, I suppose," said Mrs. Montrose.
"But he isn't English; he's American."
"Sangoese," corrected Beth.
"Perhaps he doesn't like his name, or is ashamed of it," suggestedUncle John.
"It may be 'Absalom,'" said Flo. "We once knew an actor named Absalom,and he always called himself 'A. Judson Keith.' He was a dignified chap,and when we girls one day called him 'Ab,' he nearly had hysterics."
"Mr. Werner had hysterics to-day," asserted Maud, gravely; "but I didn'tblame him. He sent out a party to ride down a steep hill on horseback, aspart of a film story, and a bad accident resulted. One of the horsesstepped in a gopher hole and fell, and a dozen others piled up on him,including their riders."
"How dreadful!" was the general exclamation.
"Several of the horses broke their legs and had to be shot," continuedMaud; "but none of the riders was seriously injured except littleSadie Martin, who was riding a bronco. The poor thing was caught underone of the animals and the doctor says she won't be able to work againfor months."
"Goodness me! And all for the sake of a picture?" cried Patsyindignantly. "I hope you don't take such risks, Maud."
"No; Flo and I have graduated from what is called 'the bronco bunch,' andnow do platform work entirely. To be sure we assume some minor risks inthat, but nothing to compare with the other lines of business."
"I hope the little girl you mentioned will get well, and has enough moneyto tide her over this trouble," said Uncle John anxiously.
"The manager will look after her," returned Mrs. Montrose. "Our peopleare very good about that and probably Sadie Martin's salary will continueregularly until she is able to work again."
"Well," said Beth, drawing a long breath, "I suppose we shall read allabout it in the morning papers."
"Oh, no!" exclaimed Maud and added: "These accidents never get into thepapers. They happen quite often, around Los Angeles, where ten thousandor more people make their living from motion pictures; but the public isprotected from all knowledge of such disasters, which would detract fromtheir pleasure in pictures and perhaps render all films unpopular."
"I thought the dear public loved the dare-devil acts," remarkedArthur Weldon.
"Oh, it does," agreed Mrs. Montrose; "yet those who attend the picturetheatres seem not to consider the action taking place before their eyesto be real. Here are pictures only--a sort of amplified story book--andthe spectators like them exciting; but if they stopped to reflect thatmen and women in the flesh were required to do these dangerous feats fortheir entertainment, many would be too horrified to enjoy the scenes. Ofcourse the makers of the pictures guard their actors in all possibleways; yet, even so, casualties are bound to occur."
They had retired to a cosy corner of the public drawing room and wereconversing on this interesting topic when they espied A. Jones walkingtoward them. The youth was attired in immaculate evening dress, but hisstep was slow and dragging and his face pallid.
Arthur and Uncle John drew up an easy chair for him while Patsy performedthe introductions to Mrs. Montrose and her nieces. Very earnestly the boygrasped the hand of the young girl who had been chiefly responsible forhis rescue, thanking her more by his manner than in his few carefullychosen words.
As for Maud, she smilingly belittled her effort, saying lightly: "Iknow I must not claim that it didn't amount to anything, for your life isvaluable, Mr. Jones, I'm sure. But I had almost nothing to do beyondcalling Patsy Doyle's attention to you and then swimming out to keep youafloat until help came. I'm a good swimmer, so it was not at alldifficult."
"Moreover," he added, "you would have done the same thing for anyone indistress."
"Certainly."
"I realize that. I am quite a stranger to you. Nevertheless, my gratitudeis your due and I hope you will accept it as the least tribute I can payyou. Of all that throng of bathers, only you noticed my peril and came tomy assistance."
"Fate!" whispered Flo impressively.
"Nonsense," retorted her sister. "I happened to be the only one lookingout to sea. I think, Mr. Jones, you owe us apologies more than gratitude,for your folly was responsible for the incident. You were altogether tooventuresome. Such action on this coast, where the surf rolls high andcreates an undertow, is nothing less than foolhardy."
"I'm sure you are right," he admitted. "I did not know this coast, andfoolishly imagined the old Pacific, in which I have sported and playedsince babyhood, was my friend wherever I found it."
"I hope you are feeling better and stronger this evening," said Mr.Merrick. "We expected you to join us at dinner."
"I--I seldom dine in public," he explained, flushing slightly. "Mybill-of-fare is very limited, you know, owing to my--my condition; and soI carry my food-tablets around with me, wherever I go, and eat them in myown room."
"Food-tablets!" cried Patsy, horrified.
"Yes. They are really wafers--very harmless--and I am permitted to eatnothing else."
"No wonder your stomach is bad and you're a living skeleton!" assertedthe girl, with scorn.
"My dear," said Uncle John, gently chiding her, "we must give Mr. Jonesthe credit for knowing what is best for him."
"Not me, sir!" protested the boy, in haste. "I'm very ignorantabout--about health, and medicine and the like. But in New York Iconsulted a famous doctor, and he told me what to do."
"That's right," nodded the old gentleman, who had never been ill in hislife. "Always take the advice of a doctor, listen to the advice of alawyer, and refuse the advise of a banker. That's worldly wisdom."
"Were you ill when you left your home?" inquir
ed Mrs. Montrose, lookingat the young man with motherly sympathy.
"Not when I left the island," he said. "I was pretty well up to thattime. But during the long ocean voyage I was terribly sick, and by thetime we got to San Francisco my stomach was a wreck. Then I tried to eatthe rich food at your restaurants and hotels--we live very plainly inSangoa, you know--and by the time I got to New York I was a confirmeddyspeptic and suffering tortures. Everything I ate disagreed with me. SoI went to a great specialist, who has invented these food tablets forcases just like mine, and he ordered me to eat nothing else."
"And are you better?" asked Maud.
He hesitated.
"Sometimes I imagine I am. I do not suffer so much pain, but I--I seemto grow weaker all the time."
"No wonder!" cried Patsy. "If you starve yourself you can't grow strong."
He looked at her with an expression of surprise. Then he asked abruptly:
"What would you advise me to do, Miss Doyle?"
A chorus of laughter greeted this question. Patsy flushed a trifle butcovered her confusion by demanding: "Would you follow my advice?"
He made a little grimace. There was humor in the boy, despite hisdyspepsia.
"I understand there is a law forbidding suicide," he replied. "But Iasked your advice in an attempt to discover what you thought of my absurdcondition. Now that you call my attention to it, I believe I _am_starving myself. I need stronger and more nourishing food; and yet thebest specialist in your progressive country has regulated my diet."
"I don't believe much in specialists," asserted Patsy. "If _you_ do, goahead and kill yourself, in defiance of the law. According to commonsense you ought to eat plenty of good, wholesome food, but you may be sodisordered--in your interior--that even that would prove fatal. So Iwon't recommend it."
"I'm doomed, either way," he said quietly. "I know that."
"_How_ do you know it?" demanded Maud in a tone of resentment.
He was silent a moment. Then he replied:
"I cannot remember how we drifted into this very personal argument. Itseems wrong for me to be talking about myself to those who arepractically strangers, and you will realize how unused I am to thesociety of ladies by considering my rudeness in this interview."
"Pshaw!" exclaimed Uncle John; "we are merely considering you as afriend. You must believe that we are really interested in you," hecontinued, laying a kindly hand on the young fellow's shoulder. "You seemin a bad way, it's true, but your condition is far from desperate.Patsy's frankness--it's her one fault and her chief virtue--led you totalk about yourself, and I'm surprised to find you so despondentand--and--what do you call it, Beth?"
"Pessimistic?"
"That's it--pessimistic."
"But you're wrong, sir!" said the boy with a smile; "I may not be elatedover my fatal disease, but neither am I despondent. I force myself tokeep going when I wonder how the miserable machine responds to my urging,and I shall keep it going, after a fashion, until the final breakdown.Fate weaves the thread of our lives, I truly believe, and she didn't usevery good material when she started mine. But that doesn't matter," headded quickly. "I'm trying to do a little good as I go along and notwaste my opportunities. I'm obeying my doctor's orders and facing thefuture with all the philosophy I can summon. So now, if you--who havegiven me a new lease of life--think I can use it to any better advantage,I am willing to follow your counsel."
His tone was more pathetic than his words. Maud, as she looked at the boyand tried to realize that his days were numbered, felt her eyes fillwith tears. Patsy sniffed scornfully, but said nothing. It was Beth whoremarked with an air of unconcern that surprised those who knew herunsympathetic nature:
"It would be presumptuous for us to interfere, either with Fate or withNature. You're probably dead wrong about your condition, for a sickperson has no judgment whatever, but I've noticed the mind has a gooddeal to do with one's health. If you firmly believe you're going to die,why, what can you expect?"
No one cared to contradict this and a pause followed that was growingawkward when they were all aroused by the sound of hasty footstepsapproaching their corner.