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A GOOD SAMARITAN
The little District Telegraph boy, with a dirty face, stood at the edge
of the desk, and, rubbing his sleeve across his cheek, made it
"No--yes--wait a minute." Reed tore the yellow envelope and spread the
telegram. It read:
"Do I meet you at your office or at Martin's and what time?"
"The devil!" Reed commented, and the boy blinked indifferently. He was
used to stronger. "The casual Rex all over! Yes, boy, there's an
answer." He scribbled rapidly, and the two lines of writing said this:
"Waiting for you at office now. Hurry up. C. Reed."
He fumbled in his pocket and gave the youngster a coin. "See that it's
sent instantly--like lightning. Run!" and the sharp little son of New
York was off before the last word was well out.
Half an hour later, to Reed waiting at his office in Broadway
impatiently, there strolled in a good-looking and leisurely young man
with black clothes on his back and peace and good-will on his face.
"Hope I haven't kept you waiting, Carty," he remarked in friendly tones.
"Plenty of time, isn't there?"
"No, there isn't," his cousin answered, and there was a touch of snap in
the accent. "Really, Rex, you ought to grow up and be responsible. It
was distinctly arranged that you should call here for me at six, and now
it's a quarter before seven."
"Couldn't remember the hour or the place to save my life," the younger
man asserted earnestly. "I'm just as sorry as I can be, Carty. You see I
did remember we were to dine at Martin's. So much I got all right--and
that was something, wasn't it, Carty?" he inquired with an air of
wistful pride, and the frown on the face of the other dissolved in
"Rex, there's no making you over--worse luck. Come along. I've got to go
home to dress after dinner you see, before we make our call. You'll do,
on the strength of being a theological student."
The situation was this: Reginald Fairfax, in his last year at the
Theological Seminary, in this month of May, and lately ordained, had
been seriously spoken of as assistant to the Rector of the great church
of St. Eric's. It was a remarkable position to come the way of an
undergraduate, and his brilliant record at the seminary was one of the
two things which made it possible. The other was the friendship and
interest of his cousin, Carter Reed, head clerk in the law firm of Rush,
Walden, Lee and Lee, whose leading member, Judge Rush, was also senior
warden at St. Eric's. Reed had called Judge Rush's attention to his
young cousin's career, and, after some inquiry, the vestryman had asked
that the young man should be brought to see him, to discuss certain
questions bearing on the work. It was almost equivalent to a call coming
from such a man, and Reed was delighted; but here his troubles began. In
vain did he hopefully fix date after date with the slippery
Rex--something always interfered. Twice, to his knowledge, it had been
the chance of seeing a girl from Orange which had thrown over the chance
of seeing the man of influence and power. Once the evening had been
definitely arranged with Judge Rush himself, and Reed was obliged to go
alone and report that the candidate had disappeared into a tenement
district and no one knew where to find him. The effect of that was
fortunately good--Judge Rush was rather pleased than otherwise that a
young clergyman should be so taken up with his work as to forget his
interests. But Reed was most anxious that this evening's appointment
should go off successfully, while Rex was as light-hearted as a bird.
Any one would have thought it was Reed's own future he was laboring
over instead of that of the youngster who had a gift of making men care
for him and work for him without effort on his own part.
The two walked down Broadway toward the elevated road, Rex's dark eyes
gathering amusement here and there in the crowded way as they went.
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