Suddenly there was a mighty check to the preparations. Two days before the date set for the ball everything came to a standstill and the managers sank back in perplexity and consternation. Monty Brewster was critically ill.
Appendicitis, the doctors called it, and an operation was imperative.
“Thank heaven it’s fashionable,” laughed Monty, who showed no fear of the prospect. “How ridiculous if it had been the mumps, or if the newspapers had said, ‘On account of the whooping-cough, Mr. Brewster did not attend his ball.’ ”
“You don’t mean to say—the ball is off, of course,” and Harrison was really alarmed.
“Not a bit of it, Nopper,” said Monty. “It’s what I’ve been wanting all along. You chaps do the handshaking and I stay at home.”
There was an immediate council of war when this piece of news was announced, and the “Little Sons” were unanimous in favor of recalling the invitations and declaring the party off. At first Monty was obdurate, but when someone suggested that he could give the ball later on, after he was well, he relented. The opportunity to double the cost by giving two parties was not to be ignored.
“Call it off, then, but say it is only postponed.”
A great rushing to and fro resulted in the cancelling of contracts, the recalling of invitations, the settling of accounts, with the most loyal effort to save as much as possible from the wreckage. Harrison and his associates, almost frantic with fear for Brewster’s life, managed to perform wonders in the few hours of grace. Gardner, with rare foresight, saw that the Viennese orchestra would prove a dead loss. He suggested the possibility of a concert tour through the country, covering several weeks, and Monty, too ill to care one way or the other, authorized him to carry out the plan if it seemed feasible.
To Monty, fearless and less disturbed than any other member of his circle, appendicitis seemed as inevitable as vaccination.
“The appendix is becoming an important feature in the Book of Life,” he once told Peggy Gray.
He refused to go to a hospital, but pathetically begged to be taken to his old rooms at Mrs. Gray’s.
With all the unhappy loneliness of a sick boy, he craved the care and companionship of those who seemed a part of his own. Dr. Lotless had them transform a small bedchamber into a model operating room and Monty took no small satisfaction in the thought that if he was to be denied the privilege of spending money for several weeks, he would at least make his illness as expensive as possible. A consultation of eminent surgeons was called, but true to his colors, Brewster installed Dr. Lotless, a “Little Son,” as his house surgeon. Monty grimly bore the pain and suffering and submitted to the operation which alone could save his life. Then came the struggle, then the promise of victory and then the quiet days of convalescence. In the little room where he had dreamed his boyish dreams and suffered his boyish sorrows, he struggled against death and gradually emerged from the mists of lassitude. He found it harder than he had thought to come back to life. The burden of it all seemed heavy. The trained nurses found that some more powerful stimulant than the medicine was needed to awaken his ambition, and they discovered it at last in Peggy.
“Child,” he said to her the first time she was permitted to see him, and his eyes had lights in them: “do you know, this isn’t such a bad old world after all. Sometimes as I’ve lain here, it has looked twisted and queer. But there are things that straighten it out. Today I feel as though I had a place in it—as though I could fight things and win out. What do you think, Peggy? Do you suppose there is something that I could do? You know what I mean—something that someone else would not do a thousand times better.”
But Peggy, to whom this chastened mood in Monty was infinitely pathetic, would not let him talk. She soothed him and cheered him and touched his hair with her cool hands. And then she left him to think and brood and dream.
It was many days before his turbulent mind drifted to the subject of money, but suddenly he found himself hoping that the surgeons would be generous with their charges. He almost suffered a relapse when Lotless, visibly distressed, informed him that the total amount would reach three thousand dollars.
“And what is the additional charge for the operation?” asked Monty, unwilling to accept such unwarranted favors.
“It’s included in the three thousand,” said Lotless. “They knew you were my friend and it was professional etiquette to help keep down expenses.”
For days Brewster remained at Mrs. Gray’s, happy in its restfulness, serene under the charm of Peggy’s presence, and satisfied to be hopelessly behind in his daily expense account. The interest shown by the inquiries at the house and the anxiety of his friends were soothing to the profligate. It gave him back a little of his lost self-respect. The doctors finally decided that he would best recuperate in Florida, and advised a month at least in the warmth. He leaped at the proposition, but took the law into his own hands by ordering General Manager Harrison to rent a place, and insisting that he needed the companionship of Peggy and Mrs. Gray.
“How soon can I get back to work, Doctor?” demanded Monty, the day before the special train was to carry him south. He was beginning to see the dark side of this enforced idleness. His blood again was tingling with the desire to be back in the harness of a spendthrift.
“To work?” laughed the physician. “And what is your occupation, pray?”
“Making other people rich,” responded Brewster, soberly.
“Well, aren’t you satisfied with what you have done for me? If you are as charitable as that you must be still pretty
