Children of the Whirlwind

by Leroy Scott

  CHAPTER VIII

  That night Larry slept on a cot set up in Hunt's studio. Hunt had madethe proposition that Larry consider the studio his headquarters forthe present, and Larry had accepted. Of course the cot and therough-and-ready furnishings of the studio were grotesquely short of theluxury of those sunny days when Larry had had plenty of easy money andhad been free to gratify his taste for the best of everything; but thequarters were infinitely more luxurious and comfortable than his morerecent three-by-seven room at Sing Sing with its damp and chilly stonewalls.

  There were many reasons why Larry was appealed to by the idea of makinghis home for the present in this old house in this dingy, unexciting,unromantic street. He was drawn toward this bluff, outspoken, autocraticpainter, and was curious about him. And then the way his grandmother hadspoken, the gleam in her old eyes, had stirred an affection for herthat he had never before felt. And then there was Maggie, with herstartlingly new dusky beauty, her admiration of him that had so swiftlyaltered to defiance, her challenge to a duel of purposes.

  Yes, for the present, this dingy old house in this dingy old street wasjust the place he preferred to be.

  It was not the part of wisdom to start forth on the beginning of his newcareer in his shapeless prison shoddy; so the next day Larry potteredabout the studio, acting as maid-of-all-work, while the clothes in histrunk which had been stored with the Duchess were being sponged andpressed by the little tailor down the street, and while a laundress,driven by the Duchess, was preparing the rest of his outfit for hisdebut. In his capacity of maid, with a basket on his arm, he went outinto the little street, where in his shabby clothes he was recognized bynone and leaned for a time against the mongrel, underfed tree that washesitatingly greeting the spring with a few half-hearted leaves. Hebathed himself in the warm sun which seemed over-glorious for so meana street; he filled his lungs with the tangy May air; yes, it waswonderful to be free again!

  Then he strolled about the street on his business of marketing. Itamused him to be buying three pounds of potatoes and a pound ofchopped meat and a package of macaroni, and to be counting Hunt'spennies--remembering those days when he had been a personage to headwaiters, and had had his table reserved, and with a careless Midas'sgesture had left a dollar, or five, or twenty, for the waiter's tip.

  When he climbed back into the studio he watched Hunt slashing about withhis paint. Hunt growled and roared at him, and kidded him; and Larrycame back at him with the same kind of verbal horseplay, after thefashion of men. Presently a relaxation, if not actual friendship, beganto develop in their attitude toward each other.

  "Tell you what," Larry remarked, standing with legs wide apart gazing atthe picture of the Italian mother throned on the curb nursing her child,"if I were dolled up all proper, I bet I could take some of this stuffout and sell it for real dough."

  "Huh, nobody wants that stuff!" snorted Hunt. "It's too good. Sell it!You're off your bean, young fellow!"

  "I can sell anything, my bucko," Larry returned evenly. "All I need isa man who has plenty of money and a moderate willingness to listen.I've sold pictures of an oil derrick on a stock certificate, exact valuenothing at all, for a masterpiece's price--so I guess I could sell areal picture."

  "Aw, you shut up!"

  "The real trouble with you," commented Larry, "is that, though you canpaint, as a business man, as a promoter of your own stock, the sucklinginfant in that picture is a J. Pierpont Morgan of multiplied capacitycompared to--"

  "Stop making that noise like a damned fool!"

  This amiable pastime of throwing stones at each other was just theninterrupted by the entrance of Maggie for an appointed sitting, beforegoing to her business of carrying a tray of cigarettes about theRitzmore. She gave Hunt a pleasant "good-morning," the pleasantnesspurposely stressed in order to make more emphatic her curt nod to Larryand the cold hostility of her eye. During the hour she posed, Larry,moving leisurely about his kitchen duties, addressed her several times,but no remark got a word from her in response. He took his rebuffssmilingly, which irritated her all the more.

  "Maggie, I'll get my real clothes late this afternoon; how about mydropping in at the Ritzmore for a cup of tea, and letting me buy somecigarettes and talk to you when you're not busy?" he inquired when Hunthad finished with her.

  "You may buy cigarettes, but you'll get no talk!" she snapped, and headhigh and dark eyes flashing contempt, she swept past him.

  Hunt watched her out. As the door slammed behind her, he remarked dryly,his eyes searching Larry keenly:

  "Our young queen doesn't seem wildly enthusiastic about you or yourprogramme."

  "She certainly is not."

  "Don't let that worry you, young fellow. That's a common trait of herwhole tribe; women simply cannot believe in a man!"

  There was an emphasis and a cynicism in this last remark which causedLarry to regard the painter searchingly. "You seem to know what it is.Don't mean to butt in, Hunt, if there are any trespassing signs up--butthere's a woman in your case?"

  "Of course there is--there's always a woman; that's another reason I'mhere," Hunt answered. "She didn't believe in me--didn't believe I couldpaint--didn't believe in the things I wanted to do--so I just picked upmy playthings and walked out of her existence."

  "Wife?" queried Larry.

  "Thank God, no!" exclaimed Hunt emphatically. "No--'I thankwhatever gods there be, I am the captain of my soul!' Oh, she's allright--altogether too good for me," he added. "Here, try this tobacco."

  Larry picked up the pouch flung him and accepted without remark thisbeing abruptly shunted off the track. But he surmised that this womanin the background of Hunt's life meant a great deal more to the painterthan Hunt tried to indicate by his attempt to dismiss her casually--andLarry wondered what kind of woman she was, and what the story had been.

  The following day, clean-shaven and in his freshened clothes--they weresmart and well-tailored, though sober indeed compared with Barney's,and two years behind the style of which Barney's were the extremeexpression--Larry passed Maggie on the stairway with a smile, whogave him no smile in return, and started forth upon his quest. He waswell-dressed, he had money in his pockets, he had a plan, and the airof freedom of a new life was sweet in his nostrils. He was going tosucceed!

  It was easy enough, with his mind alert for what he wanted, and with theDuchess's liberal allowance to pay for what he wanted, for Larry to findin this city of ten thousand institutes teaching business methods,the particular article which suited his especial needs. He found thisarticle in an institute whose black-faced headline in its advertisementswas, "We Make You a $50,000 Executive"; and the article which he found,by payment of a special fee, was an old man who had been the manager ofa big brokerage concern until his growing addiction to drink and laterto drugs had rendered him undependable. But old Bronson certainly didknow the fundamentals and intricacies of the kind of big business whichis straight, and it was a delight to him to pour out his knowledge to akeen intelligence.

  Larry, in his own words, simply "mopped it up." His experience had beenso wide and varied that he now had only to be shown a bone of factand almost instantly he visioned in their completeness unextinctichthyosauri of business. By day he fairly consumed old Bronson; he readdry books far into the night. Thus he rapidly filled the holes in thewalls of his knowledge, and strengthened its rather sketchy foundation.Of course he realized that what he was learning was in a sense academic;it had to be tested and developed and made flexible by experience; butthen much of it became instantly a living enlargement of the things ofwhich he was already a master.

  Old Bronson was delighted; he had never had so apt a pupil. "In lessthan no time you'll be the real head of that house you're with!" heproudly declared. Larry had not seen it as needful to tell the truthabout himself; his casual story was that he was there putting to use amonth's holiday granted him by a mythical firm in Chicago.

  The Duchess's statement that it would be best for him not to seek workat once was
founded on wisdom. Larry was busy and interested, but hedid not yet have to face the constant suspicion and hostility which areusually the disheartening lot of the ex-convict who asks for a position.In this period his confidence and his purpose expanded with newvitality.

  As the busy days passed down in the little street, the banteringfellowship between Larry and Hunt took deeper root. The Duchess didnot again show any of the emotion which had gleamed in her briefly whenLarry had announced his new plan; but bent and silent went like an oddlyrevivified mummy about her affairs. And during these days he did notagain see Barney or Old Jimmie; he had learned that on the day followinghis conference with them they had gone to Chicago on a very privatematter of business.

  He saw Maggie daily, but she maintained the same attitude toward him. Hewas now conscious that he was in love. He saw splendid qualities in her,most of them latent. Maggie had determination, high spirits, cleverness,courage, and capacity for sympathy and affection; she had head, heart,and beauty, the makings of an unusual woman, if only she could be swunginto a different attitude of mind. But he realized that there was smallchance indeed of his working any alteration in her, much less winningher admitted regard, until he was definitely a success, until he haddefinitely proven himself right. So he took her rebuffs with a smile,and waited his time.

  He understood her point of view, and sympathized with her; for her pointof view had once been his own. With a growing understanding he saw heras the natural product of such a fathership as Old Jimmie's, and of thecynical environment which Old Jimmie had given her in which crime wasa matter of course. In this connection one matter that had previouslyinterested him began to engage his speculation more and more. Allher life, until recently, Old Jimmie had apparently shown little moreconcern over Maggie than one shows over a piece of baggage which isstored in this and that warehouse--and so valueless a piece of baggagein Old Jimmie's case that it had always been stored in the worstwarehouses. What was behind Old Jimmie's new interest in his daughter?

  Old Jimmie had in late months awakened to the value to him of Maggie asa business proposition--that was Larry's answer to his own question.

  As for Maggie, during these days, the mere fact that Larry smiled at herand refused to get angry angered her all the more. Her anger at him,the manner in which he had refused her offered and long-dreamed-ofpartnership, would not permit her pride and self-confidence to considerany justification for him to enter her mind and argue in his behalf. Thegreat dream she had nourished had been destroyed. And, moreover, he hadproclaimed himself a fool.

  Yes, despite him and all he could do, she was going to go the brilliant,exciting way she had planned!

  In fairness to Maggie it must be remembered that despite her assumedmaturity and self-confident wisdom, she really was only eighteen, andperhaps did not yet fully know herself, and had all the world yet tolearn. And it must be remembered that she believed herself entirelyin the right. This was a world where strength and cunning were thequalities that counted, and every one was trying to outwit his neighbor;and all who acted otherwise were either weak-witted fools or elsepretenders who saw in their hypocrisy the keenest game of all. Livingunder the influence of Old Jimmie, and later of Barney, and of theenvironment in which she had been bred, these beliefs had come to beher religion. She was thoroughly orthodox, and had the defensive andaggressive fervor which is the temper of militant orthodoxy.

  And so more keenly than ever, because she was more determined than ever,Maggie studied the groups of well-dressed men and women who ate anddanced at the Ritzmore, among whom she circulated in her short, smartskirt with her cigarette tray swung from her neck by a broad purpleribbon. Particularly she liked the after-theater crowd, for then onlyevening wear was permitted in the supper-room and the people were attheir liveliest. She liked to watch the famous professional coupledo their specialties on the glistening central space with the agilespot-lights always bathing them; and then watch the smartly dressedguests take the floor with the less practiced and more humble steps.Sometime soon she was going to have clothes as smart as any of these.Soon she would be one of these brilliant people, and have a life moreexciting than any. Very soon--for her apprenticeship was almost over!

  Barney Palmer had these last few months, since he had discovered inMaggie a star who only needed coaching and then an opportunity, made ita practice to come for Maggie occasionally when one o'clock, New York'scurfew hour, dispersed the pleasure-seekers and ended Maggie's day ofwork, or rather her day of intensive schooling for her greater life. Onthe night of his return from Chicago, which was a week after his breakwith Larry, Barney reported to take Maggie home. He was in swaggerevening clothes and he asked the starter for a taxi; with an almostlordly air and for the service of a white-gloved gesture to a chauffeur,he carelessly handed the starter (who, by the way, was a richer manthan Barney) a crisp dollar bill. Barney was trying to make his bestimpression.

  "Seen much of that stiff, Larry Brainard?" he asked when the cab washeaded southward.

  His tone, which he tried to make merely contemptuous, conveyed the deepwrath which he still felt whenever his mind reverted to Larry. Maggiereserved to herself the privilege of thinking of Larry just as shepleased; but being the kind of girl she was, she could not help beingalso a bit of a coquette.

  "I didn't think he was such a stiff, Barney," she said in anirritatingly pleasant voice. "His prison clothes were bad, but now thathe's dressed right I think he looks awfully nice. You and father havealways said he looked the perfect swell."

  "See here--has he been talking to you?" Barney demanded savagely.

  "A little. Yes, several times. In fact he said quite a lot that nightafter you'd gone."

  "What did he say?"

  "He said he was not only going to go straight, but"--in her provocative,teasing voice--"he was going to make me go straight."

  "What's that? Tell me just what he said!" demanded Barney, his wrathsuddenly flaring into furious jealousy.

  Maggie told him in detail; in fact told him the scene in greater detailand with a greater length than had been the actuality. Also she censoredthe scene by omitting her own opposition to Larry's determination. Sheenjoyed playing with Barney, the exercise of the power she had overBarney's passions.

  "And you stood for all that!" cried Barney. By this time they were fardown town. "You listen to me, Maggie: What I said to Larry's face thatnight at the Duchess's still stands. I think he's yellow and has turnedagainst his old pals. I tell you what, I'm going to watch that guy!"

  "You won't find it hard to watch him, Barney. Larry never hideshimself."

  "Oh, I'll watch him all right! And you, Maggie--why, you talk as thoughyou liked that line of talk he gave you!"

  "Larry talks well--and I did like it, rather."

  "See here! You're not falling for him? You're not going to let him makeyou go straight?"

  Maggie certainly had no intention of letting any such thing come topass; but she could not check her innocent-toned baiting.

  "How do I know what he'll make me do? He's clever and handsome, youknow."

  Barney gripped her shoulder fiercely. "Maggie--are you falling in lovewith him?"

  "How do I know, when--"

  "Maggie!" He gripped her more tightly, and his phrases tumbled outfiercely, rapidly. "You're not going to do anything of the sort! If hegoes straight--if you go straight--how can he ever help you? He can't!And it will be your finish--the finish of all the big things we'vetalked about. Listen: since Larry threw us down, I've taken hold ofthings and will soon be ready to spring something big. Just a few daysnow and you'll be out of that dirty street, and you'll be in swellclothes doing swell work--and it will mean the best restaurants,theaters, swell times!"

  The car had turned into the narrow, cobbled street and had paused beforethe Duchess's. Suddenly Barney caught her into his arms.

  "And, Maggie, you're going to be mine! We'll have a nifty little place,all right! You know I'm dippy about you....And, Maggie, I don't evenwant you to go bac
k in there where Larry Brainard is. Let's drive backuptown and start in together now! To-night!"

  It was not the fact that he had not suggested marriage which stirredMaggie: men and women in Barney's class lived together, and sometimesthey were married and sometimes they were not. It was something else,something of which she was not definitely conscious: but she felt nosuch momentary thrill, no momentary, dazing surrender, as she had feltthe night when Larry had similarly held her.

  "Stop that, Barney!" she gasped. "Let me go!" She struggled fiercely,and then tore herself free.

  "What's wrong with you?" panted Barney. "You're mine, ain't you?"

  "You leave me alone! I'm going to get out!"

  She had the door open, and was stepping out when he caught her sleeve.But she pulled so determinedly that to have held her would have meantnothing better than ripping the sleeve out of her coat. So he freed herand followed her across the sidewalk to the Duchess's door.

  "What's the idea?" he demanded, choking with fierce jealousy. "It's notLarry, after all? You're not going to let him make you go straight?"

  She had recovered her poise, and she replied banteringly:

  "As I said, how can I tell what he's going to make me do?"

  She heard him draw a deep, quivering breath between clenched teeth; butshe could not see how his figure tensed and how his face twisted into aglower.

  "Get this, Maggie: Larry Brainard is never going to be able to make youdo anything. You get that?"

  "Yes, I get it, Barney; good-night," she said lightly.

  And Maggie slipped through the door and left Barney trembling in thelittle street.