by Sewell Ford
IX
A LINE ON PEACOCK ALLEY
What's the use of travelin', when there's more fun stayin' home?Scenery? Say, the scenery that suits me best is the kind they keep litup all night. There's a lot of it between 14th-st. and the park.Folks? Why, you stand on the corner of 42d and Broadway long enoughand you won't miss seein' many of 'em. They most all get here sooneror later.
Now, look at what happens last evenin'. I was just leanin' up againstthe street door, real comfortable and satisfied after a good dinner,when Swifty Joe comes down from the Studio and says there's a party bythe name of Merrity been callin' me up on the 'phone.
"Merrity?" says I. "That sounds kind of joyous and familiar. Didn'the give any letters for the front of it?"
"Nothin' but Hank," says Swifty.
"Oh, yes," says I, gettin' the clue. "What did Hank have to say?"
"Said he was a friend of yours, and if you didn't have nothin' betteron the hook he'd like to see you around the Wisteria," says Swifty.
With that I lets loose a snicker. Honest, I couldn't help it.
"Ah, chee!" says Swifty. "Is it a string, or not? I might get a laughout of this myself."
"Yes, and then again you mightn't," says I. "Maybe it'd bring onnothin' but a brain storm. You wait until I find out if it's safe totell you."
With that I starts down towards 34th-st to see if it was really soabout Hank Merrity; for the last glimpse I got of him he was out inColorado, wearin' spurs and fringed buckskin pants, and lookin' to beas much of a fixture there as Pike's Peak.
It was while I was trainin' for one of my big matches, that I met upwith Hank. We'd picked out Bedelia for a camp. You've heard ofBedelia? No? Then you ought to study the map. Anyway, if you'd beenfollowin' the sportin' news reg'lar a few years back, you'd remember.There was a few days about that time when more press despatches wasfiled from Bedelia than from Washington. And the pictures that wassent east; "Shorty Ropin' Steers"--"Mr. McCabe Swingin' a Bronco by theTail," and all such truck. You know the kind of stuff them newspaperartists strains their imaginations on.
Course, I was too busy to bother about what they did to me, and didn'tcare, anyway. But it was different with Hank. Oh, they got him too!You see, he had a ranch about four miles north of our camp, and one ofmy reg'lar forenoon stunts was to gallop up there, take a big swig ofmountain spring water--better'n anything you can buy in bottles--chin afew minutes with Hank and the boys, and then dog trot it back.
That was how the boss of Merrity's ranch came to get his picture in thesportin' page alongside of a diagram of the four different ways I hadof peelin' a boiled potato. Them was the times when I took my exercisewith a sportin' editor hangin' to each elbow, and fellows with drawin'pads squattin' all over the place. Just for a josh I lugged one of thepapers that had a picture of Hank up to the ranch, expectin' when hesaw it, he'd want to buckle on his guns and start down after the gentthat did it.
You couldn't have blamed him much if he had; for Hank's features wa'n'tcut on what you might call classic lines. He looked more like a copyof an old master that had been done by a sign painter on the side of abarn. Not that he was so mortal homely, but his colour scheme was kindof surprisin'. His complexion was a shade or two lighter than a newsaddle, except his neck, which was a flannel red, with lovely brownspeckles on it; and his eyes was sort of buttermilk blue, with eyebrowsthat you had to guess at. His chief decoration though, was a lipwhisker that was a marvel--one of these ginger coloured droopers thattook root way down below his mouth corners and looked like it was thereto stay.
But up on the ranch and down in Bedelia I never heard anyone passremarks on Hank Merrity's looks. He wa'n't no bad man either, but asmild and gentle a beef raiser as you'd want to see. He seemed to bequite a star among the cow punchers, and after I'd got used to hispeculiar style of beauty I kind of took to him, too.
The picture didn't r'ile him a bit. He sat there lookin' at it for agood five minutes without sayin' a word, them buttermilk eyes juststarin', kind of blank and dazed. Then he looks up, as pleased as akid, and says, "Wall, I'll be cussed! Mighty slick, ain't it?"
Next he hollers for Reney--that was Mrs. Merrity. She was a goodsized, able bodied wild rose, Reney was; not such a bad looker, but alittle shy on style. A calico wrapper with the sleeves rolled up, alot of crinkly brown hair wavin' down her back, and an old pair ofcarpet slippers on her feet, was Reney's mornin' costume. I shouldn'twonder but what it did for afternoon and evenin' as well.
Mrs. Merrity was more tickled with the picture than Hank. She staredfrom the paper to him and back again, actin' like she thought Hank haddone somethin' she ought to be proud of, but couldn't exactly place.
"Sho, Hank!" says she. "I wisht they'd waited until you'd put on yourSunday shirt and slicked up a little."
He was a real torrid proposition when he did slick up. I saw him do itonce, a couple of nights before I broke trainin', when they was goin'to have a dance up to the ranch. His idea of makin' a swell toilet wasto take a hunk of sheep tallow and grease his boots clear to the tops.Then he ducks his head into the horse trough and polishes the back ofhis neck with a bar of yellow soap. Next he dries himself off on ameal sack, uses half a bottle of scented hair oil on his Buffalo Billthatch, pulls on a striped gingham shirt, ties a red silk handkerchiefaround his throat, and he's ready to receive comp'ny. I didn't seeMrs. Merrity after she got herself fixed for the ball; but Hank told meshe was goin' to wear a shirt waist that she'd sent clear to KansasCity for.
Oh, we got real chummy before I left. He came down to see me off theday I started for Denver, and while we was waitin' for the train hetold me the story of his life: How he'd been rustlin' for himself eversince he'd graduated from an orphan asylum in Illinois; the differentthings he'd worked at before he learned the cow business; and how, whenhe'd first met Reney slingin' crockery in a railroad restaurant, andmarried her on sight, they'd started out with a cash capital of onefive-dollar bill and thirty-eight cents in change, to make theirfortune. Then he told me how many steers and yearlings he owned, andhow much grazin' land he'd got inside of wire.
"That's doin' middlin' well, ain't it?" says he.
Come to figure up, it was, and I told him I didn't see why he wa'n't ina fair way to find himself cuttin' into the grape some day.
"It all depends on the Jayhawker," says he. "I've got a third int'restin that. Course, I ain't hollerin' a lot about it yet, for it ain'tmuch more'n a hole in the ground; but if they ever strike the yellowthere maybe we'll come on and take a look at New York."
"It's worth it," says I. "Hunt me up when you do."
"I shore will," says Hank. "Good luck!"
And the last I see of him he was standin' there in his buckskin pants,gawpin' at the steam cars.
Now, I ain't been spendin' my time ever since wonderin' what washappenin' to Hank. You know how it is. Maybe I've had him in mind twoor three times. But when I gets that 'phone message I didn't have anytrouble about callin' up my last view of him. So, when it come tobuttin' into a swell Fifth-ave. hotel and askin' for Hank Merrity, Ihas a sudden spasm of bashfulness. It didn't last long.
"If Hank was good enough for me to chum with in Bedelia," says I, "heought to have some standin' with me here. There wa'n't anything Icould have asked that he wouldn't have done for me out there, and Iguess if he needs some one to show him where Broadway is, and tell himto take his pants out of his boot tops, it's up to me to do it."
Just the same, when I gets up to the desk, I whispers it confidentialto the clerk. If he'd come back with a hee-haw I wouldn't have said aword. I was expectin' somethin' of the kind. But never a chuckle. Hedon't even grin.
"Hank Merrity?" says he, shakin' his head. "We have a guest here,though, by the name of Henry Merrity--Mr. Henry Merrity."
"That's him," says I. "All the Henrys are Hanks when you get west ofOmaha. Where'll I find him?"
I was hopin' he'd be up in his room, practisin' with' the
electriclight buttons, or bracin' himself for a ride down in the elevator; butthere was no answer to the call on the house 'phone; so I has to waitwhile a boy goes out with my card on a silver tray, squeakin', "MisterMerrity! Mis-ter Merrity!" Five minutes later I was towed through thepalms into the Turkish smokin' room, and the next thing I knew I waslined up in front of a perfect gent.
Say, if it hadn't been for them buttermilk eyes, you never could havemade me believe it was him. Honest, them eyes was all there was leftof the Hank Merrity I'd known in Bedelia. It wa'n't just the clothes,either, though he had 'em all on,--op'ra lid, four-button white vest,shiny shoes, and the rest,--it was what had happened to his face thatwas stunnin' me.
The lip drooper had been wiped out--not just shaved off, mind you, butscrubbed clean. The russet colour was gone, too. He was as pink andwhite and smooth as a roastin' pig that's been scraped and sandpaperedfor a window display in a meat shop. You've noticed that electriclight complexion some of our Broadway rounders gets on? Well, Hank hadit. Even the neck freckles had got the magic touch.
Course, he hadn't been turned into any he Venus, at that; but as hestood, costume and all, he looked as much a part of New York as theFlatiron Buildin'. And while I'm buggin' my eyes out and holdin' mymouth open, he grabs me by the hand and slaps me on the back.
"Why, hello, Shorty! I'm mighty glad to see you. Put 'er there!" sayshe.
"Gee!" says I. "Then it's true! Now I guess the thing for me to do isto own up to Maude Adams that I believe in fairies. Hank, who did it?"
"Did what?" says he.
"Why, made your face over and put on the Fifth-ave. gloss?" says I.
"Do I look it?" says he, grinnin'. "Would I pass?"
"Pass!" says I. "Hank, they could use you for a sign. Lookin' as youdo now, you could go to any one night stand in the country and behanded the New York papers without sayin' a word. What I want to know,though, is how it happened?"
"Happen?" says he. "Shorty, such things don't come by accident. Youbuy 'em. You go through torture for 'em."
"Say, Hank," says I, "you don't mean to say you've been up against theskinologists?"
Well, he had. They'd kept his face in a steam box by the hour,scrubbed him with pumice stone, electrocuted his lip fringe, made himwear a sleepin' mask, and done everything but peel him alive.
"Look at that for a paw!" says he. "Ain't it lady-like?"
It was. Every fingernail showed the half moon, and the palm was assoft as a baby's.
"You must have been makin' a business of it," says I. "How long hasthis thing been goin' on?"
"Nearly four months," says Hank, heavin' a groan. "Part of that time Iput in five hours a day; but I've got 'em scaled down to two now. It'sbeen awful, Shorty, but it had to be done."
"How was that?" says I.
"On Reney's account," says he. "She's powerful peart at savvyin'things, Reney is. Why, when we struck town I was wearin' a leathertrimmed hat and eatin' with my knife, just as polite as I knew how. Wehadn't been here a day before she saw that something was wrong.'Hank,' says she, 'this ain't where we belong. Let's go back.'--'Whatfor?' says I.--'Shucks!' says she. 'Can't you see? These folks aredifferent from us. Look at 'em!' Well, I did, and it made me mad.'Reney,' says I,' I'll allow there is something wrong with us, but Ireckon it ain't bone deep. There's such a thing as burnin' one brandover another, ain't there? Suppose we give it a whirl?' That's whatwe done too, and I'm beginnin' to suspicion we've made good."
"I guess you have, Hank," says I; "but ain't it expensive? You haven'tgone broke to do it, have you?"
"Broke!" says he, smilin'. "Guess you ain't heard what they're takin'out of the Jayhawker these days. Why, I couldn't spend it all if I hadfour hands. But come on. Let's find Reney and go to a show,somewheres."
Course, seein' Hank had kind of prepared me for a change in Mrs.Merrity; so I braces myself for the shock and tries to forget thewrapper and carpet slippers. But you know the kind of birds that roostalong Peacock Alley? There was a double row of 'em holdin' down thearm chairs on either side of the corridor, and lookin' like a livin'exhibit of spring millinery. I tried hard to imagine Reney in thatbunch; but it was no go. The best I could do was throw up a picture ofa squatty female in a Kansas City shirt waist. And then, all of asudden, we fetches up alongside a fairy in radium silk and lace, withher hair waved to the minute, and carryin' enough sparks to light upthe subway. She was the star of the collection, and I nearly loses mybreath when Hank says:
"Reney, you remember Shorty McCabe, don't you?"
"Ah, rully!" says she liftin' up a pair of gold handled eye glasses andtakin' a peek. "Chawmed to meet you again, Mr. McCabe."
"M-m-me too," says I. It was all the conversation I had ready to passout.
Maybe I acted some foolish; but for the next few minutes I didn't doanything but stand there, sizin' her up and inspectin' theimprovements. There hadn't been any half way business about her. IfHank was a good imitation, Mrs. Merrity was the real thing. She wasit. I've often wondered where they all came from, them birds ofParadise that we see floatin' around such places; but now I've got aline on 'em. They ain't all raised in New York. It's pin spots on themap like Bedelia that keeps up the supply.
Reney hadn't stopped with takin' courses at the beauty doctors andgoin' the limit on fancy clothes. She'd been plungin' on conversationlessons, voice culture, and all kind of parlour tricks. She'd beenkeepin' her eyes and ears open too, takin' her models from real life;and the finished product was somethin' you'd say had never been west ofBroadway or east of Fourth-ave. As for her ever doin' such a thing asjuggle crockery, it was almost a libel to think of it.
"Like it here in town, do you?" says I, firin' it at both of 'em.
"Like it!" says Hank. "See what it's costin' us. We got to like it."
She gives him a look that must have felt like an icicle slipped downhis neck. "Certainly we enjoy New York," says she. "It's our home,don'cha know."
"Gosh!" says I. I didn't mean to let it slip out, but it got past mebefore I knew.
Mrs. Merrity only raises her eyebrows and smiles, as much as to say,"Oh, what can one expect?"
That numbs me so much I didn't have life enough to back out of goin' tothe theatre with 'em, as Hank had planned. Course, we has a box, andit wasn't until she'd got herself placed well up in front and waslookin' the house over through the glasses that I gets a chance for afew remarks with Hank.
"Is she like that all the time now?" I whispers.
"You bet!" says he. "Don't she do it good?"
Say, there wa'n't any mistakin' how the act hit Hank. "You ought tosee her with her op'ra rig on, though--tiara, and all that," says he.
"Go reg'lar?" says I.
"Tuesdays and Fridays," says he. "We leases the box for them nights."
That gets me curious to know how they puts in their time, so I has himgive me an outline. It was something like this: Coffee and rolls atten-thirty A. M.; hair dressers, manicures, and massage artists tilltwelve-thirty; drivin' in the brougham till two; an hour off for lunch;more drivin' and shoppin' till five; nap till six; then the maids andvalets and so on to fix 'em up for dinner; theatre or op'ra tilleleven; supper at some swell cafe; and the pillows about two A. M.
Then the curtain goes up for the second act, and I see Hank had got hiseyes glued on the stage. As we'd come late, I hadn't got the hang ofthe piece before, but now I notices it's one of them gunless Wild Westplays that's hit Broadway so hard. It was a breezy kind of a scenethey showed up. To one side was an almost truly log cabin, with a tinwash basin hung on a nail just outside the front door and some realfirewood stacked up under the window. Off up the middle was mountainspiled up, one on top of the other, clear up into the flies.
The thing didn't strike me at first, until I hears Hank dig up a sighthat sounds as if it started from his shoes. Then I tumbles. Thisstage settin' was almost a dead ringer for his old ranch out north ofBedelia. In a mi
nute in comes a bunch of stage cowboys. They was alot cleaner lookin' than any I ever saw around Merrity's, and some of'em was wearin' misfit whiskers; but barrin' a few little points likethat they fitted into the picture well enough. Next we hears a whoop,and in bounces the leadin' lady, rigged out in beaded leggin's, kneelength skirt, leather coat, and Shy Ann hat, with her red hair flyin'loose.
Say, I'm a good deal of a come-on when it comes to the ranch business,but I've seen enough to know that if any woman had showed up atMerrity's place in that costume the cow punchers would have blushedinto their hats and took for the timber line. I looks at Hank,expectin' to see him wearin' a grin; but he wa'n't. He's 'most tarin'his eyes out, lookin' at them painted mountains and that four-piece logcabin. And would you believe it, Mrs. Merrity was doin' the same! Icouldn't see that either of 'em moved durin' the whole act, or tooktheir eyes off that scenery, and when the curtain goes down they justnaturally reaches out and grips each other by the hand. For quite sometime they didn't say a word. Then Reney breaks the spell.
"You noticed it, didn't you, Hank?" says she.
"Couldn't help it, Reney!" says he huskily.
"I expect the old place is looking awful nice, just about now," shegoes on.
Hank was swallowin' hard just then, so all he could do was nod, and abig drop of brine leaks out of one of them buttermilk blue eyes. Reneysaw it.
"Hank," says she, still grippin' his hand and talkin' throaty--"let'squit and go back!"
Say, maybe you never heard one of them flannel shirts call the cowshome from the next county. A lot of folks who'd paid good money tolisten to a weak imitation was treated to the genuine article.
"We-e-e-ough! Glory be!" yells Hank, jumpin' up and knockin' over achair.
"WE--E--E--OUGH! GLORY BE!" YELLS HANK, LETTIN' OUT ANEARSPLITTER]
It was an ear splitter, that was. Inside of a minute there was aspecial cop and four ushers makin' a rush for the back of our box.
"Here, here now!" says one. "You'll have to leave."
"Leave!" says Hank. "Why, gol durn you white faced tenderfeet, youcouldn't hold us here another minute with rawhide ropes! Come on,Reney; maybe there's a night train!"
They didn't go quite so sudden as all that. Reney got him to waituntil noon next day, so she could fire a few maids and send a bale orso of Paris gowns to the second hand shop; but they made me sit up till'most mornin' with 'em, while they planned out the kind of a ranch deluxe they was goin' to build when they got back to Bedelia. As near asI could come to it, there was goin' to be four Chinese cooks alwaysstandin' ready to fry griddle cakes for any neighbours that might dropin, a dance hall with a floor of polished mahogany, and not a bath tubon the place. What they wanted was to get back among their oldfriends, put on their old clothes, and enjoy themselves in their ownway for the rest of their lives.