The Breaking Point

"You old humbug!" he said. "Off on a jaunt after all! And the contempt

of you when I was shipped here!"

Harrison Miller was constrained and uncomfortable. He had meant to see

Lucy first. She was a sensible woman, and she would know just what David

could stand, or could not. But David did not notice his constraint; took

him to his room, made him admire the ocean view, gave him a cigar, and

then sat down across from him, beaming and hospitable.

"Suffering Crimus, Miller," he said. "I didn't know I was homesick until

I saw you. Well, how's everything? Dick's letters haven't been much, and

we haven't had any for several days."

Harrison Miller cleared his throat. He knew that David had not been

told of Jim Wheeler's death, but that Lucy knew. He knew too from Walter

Wheeler that David did not know that Dick had gone west. Did Lucy know

that, or not? Probably yes. But he considered the entire benevolent

conspiracy an absurdity and a mistake. It was making him uncomfortable,

and most of his life had been devoted to being comfortable.

He decided to temporize.

"Things are about the same," he said. "They're going to pave Chisholm

Street. And your Mike knocked down the night watchman last week. I got

him off with a fine."

"I hope he hasn't been in my cellar. He's got a weakness, but

then--How's Dick? Not overworking?"

"No. He's all right."

But David was no man's fool. He began to see something strange in

Harrison's manner, and he bent forward in his chair.

"Look here, Harrison," he said, "there's something the matter with you.

You've got something on your mind."

"Well, I have and I haven't. I'd like to see Lucy, David, if she's

about."

"Lucy's gadding. You can tell me if you can her. What is it? Is it about

Dick?"

"In a way, yes."

"He's not sick?"

"No. He's all right, as far as I know. I guess I'd better tell you,

David. Walter Wheeler has got some sort of bee in his bonnet, and he

got me to come on. Dick was pretty tired and--well, one or two things

happened to worry him. One was that Jim Wheeler--you'll get this sooner

or later--was in an automobile accident, and it did for him."

David had lost some of his ruddy color. It was a moment before he spoke.

"Poor Jim," he said hoarsely. "He was a good boy, only full of life. It

will be hard on the family."