ACNUTT was able to boss the job on the following day; but Kent was less fortunate. Pains in side and head attacked him, what of the pounding he had received. After waiting a couple of days for them to disappear, with a healthy man's confidence in his own recuperative powers, he was driven back to Maguire's, where he took train for Falls City. There his injured side was strapped and he was ordered complete rest and quiet.
Early in the winter, because he was alone in the world, he had leased his house and moved to an apartment building. This now seemed to him about as cheerful as a prison. He longed for human companionship of some sort, and he would have disobeyed his doctor's orders and gone out in search of it, but for the fact that his face, covered with bruises, would have attracted attention. But in the afternoon of his first day's confinement came William Crooks and Miss Jack.
That young lady took charge of the situation with calm capacity.
“Now, Joe,” she said, “you're coming up to the house until you're well. Doctor's orders. So tell me what things you want and I'll pack them for you.”
“I couldn't think of troubling you,” he protested. “I'm not sick, you know. Just a cracked rib and a jolt on the head. I feel all right, really.”
“You do as you're told,” she replied. She began to pull out the drawers of his chiffonier. “What a mess your things are in! Nothing where it ought to be. Where do you keep your pajamas? Dad, look in that closet for his suit case.”
“This is kidnapping,” said Joe.
“Call it what you like,” chuckled Crooks. “Do as Jack tells you and quit kicking. I have to.” He brought out a suit case and a deep club bag. “Fire in what you think he needs, Jack.”
Joe watched uneasily her selection of articles supposedly indispensable to his comfort, and gave in.
“Hold on, Jack, or else get a trunk. Let me show you, if I have to go.”
“That's better,” said Crooks. He paused and regarded Joe critically. “Well, you did get a pounding. Did the whole crew jump on your face?”
“It felt that way at the time,” said Joe, “but you ought to see Finn Clancy's.” He told the story of the fight briefly, making little mention of his own part in it. “So you see I was out of the fun at the wind-up,” he concluded.
“Too bad,” said Crooks with a sympathy born of personal experience. “There will be trouble over that, though. They'll call it contempt of court, and malicious destruction, and the Lord and Locke only know what else.”
This prophecy proved to be correct. As soon as he could be located writs, summonses, and orders to appear and show cause showered on Joe. These passed on to Locke, who secured delay by physicians' certificates, affidavits, motions—all the methods by which the experienced attorney can clog the slowly moving wheels of the law.
Meanwhile Joe nursed his knitting ribs and rested completely. Jack established an invisible wall about him through which no business affairs penetrated.
“Dad and Mr. Wright can look after things for a week or two,” she explained. “Mr. Locke says you needn't worry about law matters. Everything at the camps is going well. So, young man, you just make yourself comfortable and be lazy. That's your job for the present.”
When a few days had accustomed him to inaction it proved to be a very pleasant job. He developed an unsuspected capacity for sleep. This meant the restorage of his nerve cells. The pains in his head lessened and ceased, and the bruised flesh gradually assumed a normal hue.
His favourite place was Jack's den. There was a bow window with a south exposure, and in the recess stood a huge easy-chair. Joe lay in it and absorbed sunshine, for the days were warming and lengthening, and stared up into the blue sky dotted with little white-wool clouds, or watched Jack, who had made the den her workroom. He found the latter pursuit the more entertaining.