Adventures of a Telegraph Boy or 'Number 91'

“I don’t trouble myself with such thoughts. I have good friends, and I am sure that I shall prosper if I keep my health.”

“No one deserves success better.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Barclay. I value your good opinion.”

This conversation took place in the entry. Just then the feeble voice of Jerry was heard, calling “Ellen.”

His daughter in law hastened to the bedside of the old man, and attended to his wants. Paul followed her into the room.

Five minutes later a heavy step was heard on the stairs, and the door was opened; all turned to see who was the visitor. The old man uttered a cry of alarm. His eyes were on the door, and he was the first to recognize the intruder.

“James!” he cried.

“You’re right, father,” said James Barclay, gruffly; “I’m glad you welcome me so warmly.”

CHAPTER XXXVI

JAMES BARCLAY REAPPEARS

“Go away! Go away!” ejaculated the old man in terrified accents.

“Couldn’t think of it, father,” said James, throwing himself on the sofa and lighting his pipe. “What, leave you and my wife – how on earth did you find the old man out, Ellen? Now all the family’s together, we’ll live together in peace and happiness. We’ll never desert the old man, will we, Ellen?”

“I wish you would not smoke here, James. It is bad for your father, who has a difficulty in breathing.”

“Oho! You take the old man’s part against me, do you?” said James Barclay, his brow darkening. “You haven’t seen me for weeks, and you begin to jaw already.”

“Ask him to go away, Ellen,” said Jerry, feebly.

“Oh, you’re anxious to get rid of me, are you?” sneered James Barclay. “You would drive me away from my family, would you? Are you still living in Jersey City, Ellen?”

“No, I have taken a room here.”

“That’s right. I’ve no objection. What does the doctor say about the old man? Is he going to die?”

“Hush, James,” said his wife. “How can you be so inconsiderate?”

“Who says I am going to die?” asked Jerry, terrified.

“I hope you will live a good while yet,” said Ellen Barclay, soothingly. “I will take every care of you.”

“I’m not such an old man,” interrupted Jerry. “I ought to live a – a long time.”

“Come, dad, you’re unreasonable,” said James, coarsely. “You’re seventy, if you’re a day. You don’t want to live forever, do you?”

“My own son wants me to die,” moaned Jerry.

“Well, you’ve had your share of life. Ain’t you goin’ to give me a chance?”

“Why will you talk in this way, James?” expostulated his wife, as the old man gave a cry and buried his face in the bed clothes.

“How have I been talking? It’s the truth, ain’t it?”

“You are only making your father worse.”

“Well, if you’re anxious to get rid of me, give me a few dollars, and I’ll stay away till tomorrow.”

“I have no money of my own, James.”

“Then whose money have you?”

“I have some money that Paul gave me to buy necessaries for your father.”

“Then give me some.”

“I have only a little of that left. I must ask Paul for more – ”

“Oh, the telegraph boy’s got the money, has he? Look here, you young rapscallion, I’ll take charge of the old man’s money. I am his son, and I am the proper party to do it. So hand over!”

“I have no money of your father’s. I have been advancing money of my own.”

“That’s too thin. You haven’t got any money of your own.”

“I don’t care whether you believe it or not. However, I’ll give you two dollars if you’ll go away now.”

“Hand it over, then. I won’t come back till tomorrow.”

The old man was in such a nervous condition, that Paul was glad to obtain even such a brief respite as this. He drew from his pocket a two dollar bill, and handed it to James Barclay, who immediately got up and walked towards the door.

“By, by!” he said, “I’ll be back to-morrow.”

“No, no,” said the old man, “I – I don’t want to see you.”

“Now, there’s an affectionate father for you!” said James Barclay, with a mocking smile. “He don’t want to see his only son.”

“You haven’t given him much reason to miss you, James,” said Ellen Barclay, mildly.

“So you turn against me, too, Mrs. Barclay,” said her husband, with a frown. “A nice wife you are, upon my word!”

“Shure you’re a jewel of a husband yourself!” interposed Mrs. Hogan, who had entered during the conversation.

“And you’re the woman who threw hot water upon me, you old jade!” retorted James, his face black with anger. “I’ve a great mind to wring your neck for you.”

He made a step forward, which alarmed Paul, lest he might proceed to carry out his threat.

“Oho!” laughed Barclay. “The kid is going to defend you.”

“And a fine boy he is!” said Mrs. Hogan. “But don’t you trouble yourself, Number 91. I’m a match for the ould brute any time.”