V. V.s Eyes | Page 6

me ..."
O'Neill had not failed to perceive how the talk wandered from the
Labor Commission. Now, drawing on his gloves, he was struck by a
humorous thought.
"You're looking for work, for trouble, you say. Why don't you sign on
this John the Baptist job yourself?"
Oddly, the small gibe seemed to disconcert the orator. His cheek
acquired a pinkness; unexpectedly, too, he seemed to lose the thread of
his headlong thesis. However, he brandished his arms, gazing hard.
"That's as it may be! As it may be, my dear fellow! All I ... Ah," he said
hurriedly, turning. "One minute.... There's some one knocking...."
And he went striding off with his unequal step toward his visitors'

door--not his sick's--though it did seem that "Come in" would really
have answered just as well as usual....
The stoutish Commissioner glanced after him, dimly surprised.
Boyhood friends these two, their ways had long parted while the
younger followed away the descending fortunes of his father, the
inventor of a double-turbine which would never quite work. Their
reestablished intimacy now was of the thorough-going sort: witness
Sam's letting him trot along on factory inspection the other day,
something he'd have done for no other amateur, not on your life. Yet
old V.V. was kind of puzzling at times, as now; wild-talking, then kind
of reserved all of a sudden, like pulling down a shade on you. Talked
different at different times....
Business awaited the Commissioner at his office in the Capitol, as he
now recalled. However, V.V. was opening his dingy old door.
Without, in the corridor, there was seen standing a scraggly-bearded
individual in a ragged shirt, which offered glimpses of a hairy chest in
need of soap. A stranger this chanced to be, but the genus was by no
means unfamiliar in the environs of the Dabney House. The young
doctor's speaking countenance, confronting him, appeared to fall a little.
Doubtless he had learned by now the usual business of such as these.
"Good morning," he said, in rather a firm way. "What can I do for
you?"
The caller, having turned a china-blue gaze upon his host, wore a
confused air. He spoke in a furry, plaintive voice, professional in its
way.
"Jes lookin' fer the Doc a minute, sir, that's all. You ain't him, are yer?"
"Why not?..."
And then it came over Vivian who this man must be: surely no other
than the Dabney House prodigal, spouse of his own fellow-lodger,
landlady, and blanchisseuse. Upon that thought he stepped out into the
hall, closing the office door behind him upon Sam O'Neill.
"Yes, I'm the doctor--and you're Mr. Garland, aren't you? Your wife
and daughter are friends of mine...."
Mr. Garland accepted the introduction with signs of abashment, but
stated his business simply.
"Doc, could you he'p me out with a coat like?"
"Oh ... A coat, you say?"

"Rags to my skin, sir. I 'clare you can see my meat...."
The bearded one inspected himself downward with feeble cackles,
hollow parodies of gay derision. And he added, with the same mock
dash, that he didn't mind his situation for himself, being used to taking
them as they come; 'twas his missus seemed sort of shamed fer him ...
The pleasant-faced young man stood stroking his chin.
"Yes--yes--I can fit you out, I dare say," said he. "I--ah--have a coat in
here that I think'll do you. Very nicely.... S'pose you wait here a
moment, and we'll see--what we shall see ..."
He disappeared through a door down the hall, and returned presently,
carrying a black coat of the sort commonly known as a cutaway.
"There's the vest that goes with it, too," said he. "You might as well
have that--though of course Mrs. Garland may have to let it out a
little ..."
The man received the gifts in a somewhat awkward silence. Having
eyed the proffered coat,--which in this dim light appeared to be quite a
good one, newer-looking, indeed, than the one worn at present by the
doctor,--his gaze wandered up and then stealthily away. His air of
hesitancy was a little surprising.
"In the seams, you know," said V.V. "Make it bigger. She'll
understand ..."
Then thanks came from the furry voice, effusive yet somehow rather
sheepish: perhaps the man wasn't as experienced at this sort of thing as
he looked. However, he shambled away with speed, appearing at least
to know that when you had got what you wanted, that, and no other,
was the moment to go.
Far down the corridor of the old hotel, he turned once, looking back
furtively over his shoulder....
Vivian reappeared in his office, to be greeted with a grin by Sam
O'Neill, who, having just thrown his cigar-end into the ruined fireplace,
was ready to go.
"'Nother