the vision spendid(美景)-第14节
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was often made to wince when good men drew away from him as from a
moral pervert。 Twice he was hissed from the stage when he attempted to
talk； or would have been； if he had not quietly waited until the indignant
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protesters were exhausted。 It amused him to see that his old college
acquaintance 〃Sissie〃 Thomas and Billy Gray； the ballot box stuffer of the
Second Ward； were among the most vehement of those who thus scorned
him。 So do the extremes of virtue and vice find common ground when the
blasphemer raises his voice against intrenched capital。
The personal calumny of the enemy showed how hard hit the big
bosses were； how beneath their feet they felt the ground of public opinion
shift。 It had been only a year since Big Tim O'Brien； boss of the city by
permission of the public utility corporations； had read Jeff's first editorial
against ballot box stuffing。 In it the editor of the _World_ had pledged that
paper never to give up the fight for the people until such crookedness was
stamped out。 Big Tim had laughed until his paunch shook at the
confidence of this young upstart and in impudent defiance had sent him a
check for fifty dollars for the Honest Election League。
Neither Big Tim nor the respectable buccaneers back of him were
laughing now。 They were fighting with every ounce in them to sweep back
the wave of civic indignation the _World_ had gathered into a compact
aggressive organization。
Young Ned Merrill； who represented the interests of the allied
corporations； had Big Tim on the carpet。 The young man had not been out
of Harvard more than three years； but he did not let any nonsense about
fair play stand in his way。 In spite of the clean… cut look of himhe was
broadshouldered and tall； with an effect of decision in the square cleft chin
that would some day degenerate into fatnessNed Merrill played the game
of business without any compunctions。
〃You're making a bad fight of it； O'Brien。 Old style methods won't win
for us。 These crank reformers have got the people stirred up。 Keep your
ward workers busy； but don't expect them to win。〃 He leaned forward and
brought his fist down heavily on the desk。 〃We've got to smash Farnum
discredit him with the bunch of sheep who are following him。〃
〃What more do youse want？ We're callin' him ivery black name under
Hiven。〃
Merrill shook his head decisively。 〃Not enough。 Prove something。
Catch him with the goods。〃
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〃If youse'll show me how？〃
〃I don't care how； You've got detectives； haven't you？ Find out all
about him； where he comes from； who his people were。 Rake his life with
a fine tooth comb from the day he was born。 He's a bad egg。 We all know
that。 Dig up facts to prove it。〃
Within the hour detectives were set to work。 One of them left next day
for Shelby。 Another covered the neighborhoods where Jeff had lived in
Verden。 Henceforth wherever he went he was shadowed。
It was about this time that Samuel Miller lost his place in the city
library on account of his political opinions。 For more than a year he and
Jeff had roomed together at a private boarding house kept by a Mrs。
Anderson。 Within twentyfour hours of his dismissal Miller was on the road；
sent out by the campaign committee of his party to make speeches
throughout the state。
Jeff himself was speaking nearly every night now that the day of
election was drawing near。 This； together with the work of editing the
paper and the strain of the battle； told heavily on a vitality never too much
above par。 He would come back to his rooms fagged out； often dejected
because some friend had deserted to the enemy。
One cold rainy evening he met Nellie Anderson in the hall。 She had
been saying good…bye to some friends who had been in to call on her。
〃You're wet； Mr。 Farnum；〃 the young woman said。
〃A little。〃
She stood hesitating in the doorway leading to the apartment of herself
and her mother； then yielded shyly to a kindly impulse。
〃We've been making chocolate。 Won't you come in and have some？
You look cold。〃
Jeff glimpsed beyond her the warm grate fire in the room。 He； too；
yielded to an impulse。 〃Since you're so good as to ask me； Miss Nellie。〃
She took charge of his hat and overcoat； making him sit down in a big
armchair before the fire。 He watched her curiously as she moved lightly
about waiting on him。 Nellie was a soft round little person with constant
intimations of a childhood not long outgrown。 Jeff judged she must be
nineteen or twenty； but she had moments of being charmingly unsure of
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herself。 The warm color came and went in her clear cheeks at the least
provocation。
〃Mother's gone to bed。 She always goes early。 You don't mind；〃 she
asked naively。
Jeff smiled。 She was； he thought； about as worldly wise as a fluffy
kitten。 〃No； I don't mind at all；〃 he assured her。
Nor did he in the least。 His weariness was of the spirit rather than the
body； and he found her grace； her shy sweetness； grateful to the jaded
senses。 It counted in her favor that she was not clever or ultra…modern。 The
dimpling smiles； the quick sympathy of this innocent； sensuous young
creature； drew him out of his depression。 When he left the pleasant
warmth of the room half an hour later it was with a little glow at the heart。
He had found comfort and refreshment。
How it came to pass Jeff never quite understood； but it soon was
almost a custom for him to drop into the living room to get a cup of
chocolate when he came home。 He found himself looking forward to that
half hour alone with Nellie Anderson。 Whoever else criticized him； she did
not。 The manner in which she made herself necessary to his material
comfort was masterly。 She would be waiting； eager to help him off with
his overcoat； hot chocolate and sandwiches ready for him in the cozy
living…room。 To him； who for years had lived a hand…to…mouth boarding
house existence； her shy wholesome laughter made that room sing of
home； one which her personality fitted to a dot。 She was always in good
humor； always trim and neat； always alluring to the eye。 And she had the
pretty little domestic ways that go to the head of a bachelor when he eats
alone with an attractive girl。
Their intimacy was not exactly a secret。 Mrs。 Anderson； who was
rather deaf and admitted to being a heavy sleeper； knew that Jeff dropped
in occasionally。 He suspected she did not know how regularly； but she was
one of that large class of American mothers who let their daughters
arrange their own love affairs and would not have interfered had she
known。
Once or twice it flashed upon Jeff that this ought not to go on。 Since he
had no intention of marrying Nell he must not let their relationship reach
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the emotional climax toward which he guessed it was racing。 But his
experience in such matters was limited。 He did not know how to break off
their friendship without hurting her； and he was eager to minimize the
possibility of danger。 His modesty made this last easy。 Out of her kindness
she was good to him； but it was not to be expected that so pretty a girl
would fall in love with a man like him。
The most potent argument for letting things drift was his own craving
for her。 She was becoming necessary to him。 Whenever he thought of her
it was with a tender glow。 Her soft long…lashed eyes would come between
him and the editorial he was writing。 A dozen times a day he could see a
picture of the tilted little coaxing mouth。 The gurgle of her laughter called
to him for hours before he left the office。
