THE OLD BOOKKEEPER

New Zealand Tablet, 30 October 1913, Page 11

THE OLD BOOKKEEPER

■4 With a frown on his, face, Mr. Sheldon paced restlessly back and forth before the closed door of Mr. vvuiLmore s private omce. a man 01 Dounaiess wealth and world-wide interests, he was unaccustomed .'to waiting in anyone's anteroom, and grew more and more impatient .as the minutes passed. When at last the door was opened, and he turned quickly toward it, he saw that it was an old man who had been closeted with Mr. Whitmore, and now stood with his hand on the knob,-a tall, thin man, with drooping shoulders, a grave, kindly face, and of princely bearing that accorded ill with the general shabbiness of his carefully brushed clothes. Instantly Mr. Sheldon realised that he had seen him somewhere, but before he had time to wonder where he overheard Mr Whitmore say crisply, by way of dismissal: ',

' I am very sorry, Mr. O'Keefe; but business is business. As I explained, it is "young men we need these days,—men who are quick and active and up-to-date.' Without a word, the old gentleman softly closed the door. He passed through the anteroom and into the main office. His head was bowed; perhaps there were tears in his eyes: at any rate, he did not see Mr. Sheldon, who, after a moment's hesitation, followed him. With hands that trembled, Mr. O'Keefe sorted the papers that lay in a neat stack on his desk before he 'gave them to the man nearest him. At first this bookkeeper did not seem to understand; but when he did grasp the meaning of Mr. O'Keefe's incoherent explanation, he slid down from his stool, and, seizing the two thin, wrinkled hands, shook them with a merciless fervor that made, them ache. Mr. O'Keefe broke away from him and hurried into the adjoining room, where a number of hats and overcoats were hanging. He stayed there longer than seemed necessary, and came out, more tremulous than he went in, wearing a threadbare spring ulster and carrying a hat of a style forgotten.

By this time a clerk had recognised Mr. Sheldon, and came forward, smiling and obsequious, to ask what he could do for him; but Mr. Sheldon answered brusquely that he would return later in the day, and then he passed out to the street after Mr. O'Keefe. For a quarter of an hour the old man wandered about slowly and aimlessly, Mr. Sheldon at his heels. He went into St. Patrick's Church, and Mr. Sheldon followed him; and followed him still when he left it, walked a square further, and entered a public garden. Though it was early in April and still chilly, the old man sank down on the first bench he found, buttoning his coat about his throat as a protection against the wind. A minute afterwardquite inadvertently, of course— Sheldon took the seat beside his, and began to glance through a number of letters which, ha drew from an inner pocket. But all the while it was of Mr. O'Keefe he was thinking— O'Keefe whom he saw rather than his mail.

The old man unfolded-the newspaper which he had crammed into .his^pocket; and stared >. vacantly at it. ... He felt no interest in the news, and could not have read it if he had; but the big sheet served as a screen for the tears that,, -try, as he would, he could not control. They filled his eyes, and flowed ; down over his thin cheeks; and: when 'he had brushed them away—unseen, he thought,—morefcame, and more and more. After a time, however, he let; the paper fall to his knee and gazed thoughtfully at the gravel path at his feet. He had not been sitting so very long before Mr. Sheldon spoke to , him in a crisp,, businesslike way: 'A nice morning, isn't it?—though a little too chilly for us to be quite comfortable silting here out of doors/ A beautiful morning/ the old man agreed courteously. The fact had not occurred to him before. Mr. Sheldon was shrewd enough to see that Mr. O'Keefe shrank from further conversation, but he was pitiless. ' ' 'A quiet spot- like this is a good .place to come to think,—just the place for the solving of difficulties,' he said next; and, not seeming to see that Mr. O'Keefe winced, he went on: ' Now, . I have ,ah office full of feather-brained young fellows. They are quick and eager but unreliable, and for some months I have been wondering how I could improve the. state' of affairs. 1 could not imagine an hour ago,' but in the restful silence of this garden a plan i has, suggested itself to me. I am going to try 'to' get an elderly man, quiet and gentlemanly, and accustomed to office work, who will oversee those boys. Such a. one may not be easy to find; but I should be glad to pay him well, and his work would not be exacting. It is his influence 1 want most. Do you happen to know any one fitted for such a position and free to take it?' . Mr. O'Keefe was an unsophisticated and as unsuspicious as a child. It did not for an instant occur to him that there was anything strange or flimsy about Mr. Sheldon's story. He looked up at the keen face beside him, his own brightening with great joy. 'Would—would I do?' he asked timidly, r 'Are you, then, without a position?' ; . r ' Yes,' Mr. O'Keefe faltered. : 'And accustomed to office work?' reply; and for some minutes the two men discussed qualifications and terms and reference: Mr. Sheldon making it sound as if an elderly man in his office were his greatest need, and Mr. O'Keefe's smile broadening every second as his tired old heart grew light and lighter. But after every detail had been satisfactorily arranged, a troubled expression suddenly came over his gentle, worn face, and settled there. He said nothing for a few moments; and when he did speak his voice was tremulous once more, though he looked at Mr. Sheldon with eyes that did not flinch. I feel that it's, only fair to tell you that—that I was discharged from Whitmore and Cole's this morning. I had been employed there for twenty years and

more,; but they, say ' that I am too old and too slow to be of use any longer.' Throughout their talk Mr. Sheldon had been entirely impersonal. Apparently, Mr. O'Keefe was to him a machineno more. Now. however, his big heart got the better of him. He seized. Mr. O'Keefe's hand and shook it hard.

' You are a man of honor, which is far better than being young. Suppose you are slow —what's the hurry? Besides, most of us will be old some day, and the wiser for it.'

Mr. O'Keefe's face beamed again, though his eyes were dim with tears.

'Thank you! Thank you!' he exclaimed. 'You cannot imagine all it means to me to get this position, and at once. I have never earned a great deal—not much more than half what you are giving me; and I have been able to lay but little aside for the rainy day which I thought had come. My wife is old now, and she's frail, and she feels badly when anything worries me. For all these reasons 11-—when you spoke to me I was wondering how I could tell her about Whitmore and Cole's. It was because I had not courage enough to go directly home that I came here to the garden. After I left the office I stopped in the church and said a little prayer to our Lady, and then I came here. Heaven isn't often on the side of a coward, is it ? '

'Heaven is always on the right side,' Mr. Sheldon observed reverently.

For a few minutes no more was said. Mr. O'Keefe was thinking how delighted his wife would be when he told his great good news. It would have been hard to guess what was in Mr. Sheldon's mind. He was gazing absently at a near-by bush which flaunted the first green of spring on every twig, and he looked far less stern and less prosaic than usual. His face was almost tender. After a little while he turned again to Mr. O'Keefe.

'I; have a story to tell you,' he said; and, not noticing that the old man seemed surprised, he continued after a pause: ' Twenty-fiveno, nearly thirty years ago , a country boy, friendless and almost pehiless, went to Chicago in search of work. His father had been dead a long, long time; his mother, only three weeks. He could find nothing to do at first, and had known hunger and cold before he got a position in a railroad office. His pay there was niggardly. In the beginning he did not understand his work; he was homesick and .lonelydesperately lonely. No one ever noticed himexcept to make fun of his awkwardness or his old-fashioned clothessave one of the bookkeepers, a middle-aged man. He was always kind to the boy; and once, when he fell ill, went to his poor boarding-place, and, bundling him up, took him to his own home, where his wife gave him the first, mothering he had had for a year— last he was ever to have. A month after he got well Christmas came; and those two kind people gave the boy a scarfpin prettier than anything either of them owned, for they were far from rich. Andand ' Mr. Sheldon's heavy voice was becoming husky— and here it is. I've worn it ever since.' ,

Mr. O'Keefe did not even glance at the pin which Mr. Sheldon held out for him to see; instead, he peered into his employer's face for a moment, before he laid his trembling hands on his knee. 'ls it Tom?' he asked— our little Tom?' And, when Mr. Sheldon smiled, he cried, in a fever 'of loving excitement: ' Oh Tom, we've grieved so much, my wife and I, because we lost sight of you ! We always felt as if you were our own boy; and —Oh, Tom!, I am glad that it was you the good God and His dear Mother sent to me this morning ! You were the only son I ever had.' Ave Maria.