by Sewell Ford
CHAPTER XVI
THROWING THE LINE TO SKID
Say, this is twice I've been let in wrong on Skid Mallory. Remember him,don't you? Well, he's our young college hick that I helped steer upagainst Baron Kazedky when he landed that big armor plate order. Didthey make Skid a junior partner for that, or paint his name on a privateoffice door? Not so you'd notice it. Maybe they was afraid a suddenboost like that would make him dizzy. But they promotes him to the salesdepartment and adds ten to his pay envelope. I was most as tickled overit as Mallory was, too.
"Didn't I tell you?" says I. "You're a comer, you are! Why, I expect inten or a dozen years more you'll be sharin' in the semi-annuals andridin' down to the office in a taxi."
"Perhaps I may, Torchy--in ten or a dozen years," says he, kind of slowand sober.
I could guess what he was thinking of then. It was the girl, that sweetyoung thing that Brother Dick towed in here along last winter, someSenator's daughter that Skid had got chummy with when he was doin' hisgreat quarterback act and havin' his picture printed in the sportin'extras.
"How's that affair comin' on?" says I; for I ain't heard him mention herin quite some time.
"It's all off," says he, shruggin' them wide shoulders of his. "That is,there never was anything in it, you know, to begin with."
"Oh, there wa'n't, eh?" says I. "Forgot all about that picture you usedto carry around in the little leather case, have you?"
Skid, he flushes up a bit at that, and one hand goes up to his leftinside pocket. Then he laughs foolish. "It isn't I who have forgotten,"says he.
"Oh-ho!" says I. "Well, I wouldn't have thought her the kind to shiftsudden, when she seemed so----"
But Mallory gives me the choke off sign, and as we walks up Broadway hegradually opens up more and more on the subject until I've got a fairmap of the situation. Seems that Sis ain't exactly set him adriftwithout warnin'. He'd sort of helped cut the cable himself. She'd begunby writin' to him every week, tellin' him all about the lively seasonshe was havin' in Washington, and how much fun she was gettin' out oflife. She even put in descriptions of her new dresses, and some of herdance orders, and now and then a bridge score, or a hand painted placecard from some dinner she'd been to.
And Skid, thinkin' it all over in the luxury of his nine by ten boudoir,got to wonderin' what attractions along that line he could hold out to ayoung lady that was used to blowin' in more for one new spring lid thanhe could earn in a couple of weeks.
"And orchids are her favorite flowers!" says he. "Ever buy any orchids,Torchy?"
"Not guilty," says I; "but they ain't so high, are they, that youcouldn't splurge on a bunch now and then? What's the tariff on 'em,anyway?"
"At times you can get real nice ones for a dollar apiece," says he.
"Phe-e-e-ew!" says I. "She has got swell tastes."
"It isn't her fault," says he. "She's never known anything different."
So what does Skid do but slow up on the correspondence, skippin' ananswer here and there, and coverin' only two pages when he did write.For one thing, he didn't have so much to tell as she did. I knew that;for I'd seen more or less of Mallory durin' the last few months, and Iknew he was playin' his cards close to his vest.
Not that he was givin' any real lifelike miser imitation; but he didn'tindulge in high priced cafe luncheons on Saturdays, like most of thebunch; he'd scratched his entry at the college club; and he was soakin'away his little surplus as fast as he got his fingers on it.
Course, that programme meant sendin' regrets to most of the invites hegot, and spendin' his evenin's where it didn't cost much to get in orout. One frivolous way he had of killin' time was by teachin' 'rithmeticto a class of new landed Zinskis at a settlement house over on the EastSide.
"Ah, what's the use?" I used to tell him. "They'd learn to do compoundinterest on their fingers in a month, anyway, and the first thing youknow you'll be payin' rent to some of 'em."
But he was pretty level headed about most things, I will say that forMallory, specially the way he sized up this girl business. Seems at lastshe got the idea he was grouchy at her about something; and when hedidn't deny, or come to the front with any reason--why, she just quitsendin' the billy ducks.
"So you're never going to see her any more, eh?" says I.
"Well," says he, "I supposed until within an hour or so ago that I nevershould. And then----Well, she's here, Torchy; came yesterday, and Ipresume she expects to see me to-night."
"That's encouragin', anyway," says I.
But Mallory don't seem so much cheered up. It turns out that Sis isspendin' a few days with friends here, waitin' for the rest of thefam'ly to come on and sail for Europe. They're givin' a farewell dinnerdance for her, and Skid is on the list.
The trouble is he can't make up his mind whether to go or stay away. Oneminute he's dead sure he won't, and the next minute he admits he don'tsee what harm there would be in takin' one last look.
"But, then," says Mallory, "what good would that do?"
"I know," says I. "There's a young lady friend of mine on the other sidetoo. Say, Mallory, I guess we belong in the lobster class."
And when we splits up on the corner Skid has decided against the partyproposition, and goes off towards his boardin' house with his chin downon his collar and his heels draggin'.
So I wa'n't prepared for the joyous smile and the frock coat regaliathat Mallory wears when he blows into the office about ten-forty-fivenext forenoon. He's sportin' a spray of lilies of the valley in hislapel, and swingin' his silver topped stick, and by the look on hisface you'd think he was hearin' the birdies sing in the treetops.
"Tra-la-la, tra-la-lee!" says I, throwin' open the brass gate for him."Is it a special holiday, or what?"
"It's a very special one," says he, thumpin' me on the back andwhisperin' husky in my ear. "Torchy, I'm married!"
"Wha-a-at!" I splutters. "Who to? When?"
"To Sis," says he, "half an hour ago."
"Eh?" says I. "Mean to say you've been and eloped with the Senator'sdaughter?"
"Eloped!" says he, as though he'd never heard the word before. "Why,no--er--that is, we just went out and--and----"
Oh, no, they hadn't eloped! They'd merely slid out of the ballroom aboutthree A.M., after dancin' seventeen waltzes together, snuggled into ahansom cab, and rode around the park until daylight talkin' it over.Then she'd slipped back into the house, got into her travelin' dresswhile he was off changin' his clothes, met again at eight o'clock,chased down to City Hall after a license, and then dragged a youngrector away from his boiled eggs and toast to splice 'em.
But Skid didn't call that elopin'. Why, Sis had left word with thebutler to tell her friends all about it, and the first thing they didafter it was over was to send a forty-word collect telegram to papa.And Mallory, he'd just dropped around to arrange with Old Hickory for alittle vacation before they beat it for Atlantic City.
"So that ain't elopin', eh?" says I. "I expect you'd call that asixty-yard run on a forward pass, or something like that? Well, the oldman's inside. Luck to you."
Mallory wa'n't on the carpet long, and when he comes out I asks how hemade back.
"Oh, bully!" says he. "I'm to have ten days."
"With or without?" says I.
"Oh, I forgot to ask," says he.
Little things like bein' on the payroll or not wa'n't botherin' himthen. He gives me a bone crushin' grip and swings out to the elevator ina rush; for he's been away from Sis nearly half an hour now.
Exceptin' a picture postcard or two, showin' the iron pier and a bathin'scene, I didn't hear from Mr. and Mrs. Mallory for more'n a week. Andthen one afternoon I gets a 'phone message from Skid, saying thatthey're all settled in a little flat up on Washington Heights andthey'll be pleased to have me come up to dinner.
"It's our very first dinner, you know," says he, "and Sis is going toget it all by herself. I suggested that we try the first one on you."
"That don't scare me any," says I. "I've l
ived on sinkers and pie toolong to duck amateur cookin'. I'll be there."
I was on the grin all the afternoon too, thinkin' of the joshes I wasgoin' to hand him. At three minutes of closing time I was all ready tosneak out, with one eye on the clock and the other on Piddie, when inblows a ruby faced, thick waisted gent with partly gray hair, aheavyweight jaw, and a keen pair of twinklin' gray eyes. He looksprosperous and important, and he proceeds to act right to home.
"Boy," says he, pushin' through the gate, "is this the general office ofthe Corrugated Trust Company?"
"Yep," says I. "That's what it says on the door."
"There is employed here, I understand," he goes on, "a young man by thename of Mallory."
Say, I was wide awake at that. "Mallory?" says I. "I can find out. Didyou want to see him on business?"
"It is a personal matter," says he. "Is he here?"
"Now, let's not rush this," says I. "My orders is to find out----"
"Very well," says the gent, "there is my card. And perhaps I shouldmention that I have the honor--er--I suppose, to be his father in law."
Say, and here I was, up against the Senator himself. Course it was mycue to shrivel up and do the low salaam; but all I can think of at theminute is to look him over and grin.
"Gee!" says I. "Then you're on his trail, eh?"
Maybe it was the grin fetched him; for them square mouth cornersflickers a little and he don't throw any fit. "Evidently you aresomewhat familiar with the circumstances," says he. "May I ask if youare sufficiently favored with the confidence of my new son in law toknow where he and my--er--his wife happen, to be just now?"
"I admit it," says I; "but if you're thinkin' of springin' any hammermusic on Skid, you can look for another party, for you won't get it outof me in a thousand years!"
"Ah!" says he. "I see Young Lochinvar has at least one champion. Allowme to state that my intentions are pacific. My wife and I merely wish,before sailing, to pay a formal call on our daughter and her newhusband. Now if you could give me their address----"
"Why, say, Senator," says I, "if you ain't lookin' to start anything, Ican do better. I'm going right up there myself this minute, and ifMrs.----"
"She is waiting downstairs in the cab," says he. "Nothing would suit usbetter."
And, say, maybe it wa'n't just what I should have done, but blamed if Icould see how to dodge it when it's up to me that way. So it's meclimbin' up on the front seat with the driver of a fancy hotel taxi,papa and mamma behind, and off rolls the surprise party.
Well, you know them cut rate apartment houses, with a flossy receptionroom, all marble slabs and burlap panels and no elevator. The WestIndian at the telephone exchange says we'll find the Mallorys on the topfloor back to the left. That meant four flights to climb, which mightaccount for the lack of conversation on the way up. Mallory, with hiscoat off, his cuffs rolled back, and his face steamed up, answers thering himself.
"Ah, that you, Torchy?" says he. "We were just wondering if youwould----Why--er--ah----" and as he gets sight of the old couple out inthe dark hall he breaks off sudden.
"It's all right," says I. "He's promised to give the peace sign. Youknow the Senator, don't you, Skid?"
"The Senator!" he gasps out.
"I believe I once had the pleasure of seeing Mr. Mallory," says the oldboy, comin' to the front graceful. "Hope you will pardon the intrusion;but----"
Just then, though, Sis appears from the kitchen, her face all pink andwhite, and her sleeves pushed up past the dimples in her elbows. Under athirty-nine-cent blue and white checked apron she's wearin' a lace partydress that was a dream. It's an odd combination; but most anything wouldlook well on a little queen like her. She takes one look at Skid,another at the Senator, and then behind the old man she spies Mother.
Well, it's just a squeal from one, and a sigh from the other, and thenthey've made a rush to the center that wedges us all into that littlethree-foot hall like it was the platform of a subway car, and beforeanything more can be said they've gone to a fond clinch, each pattin'the other on the back and passin' appropriate remarks.
Somehow, I guess the Senator hadn't quite figured on this part of theprogramme. I expect his plan was to be real polite and formal, stay onlylong enough to let the young people know he could stand it if theycould, and then back out dignified.
Whatever Mother might have meant to do when she started, it was all offfrom the minute Sis let out that squeal. And no sooner had we gotourselves untangled and edged sideways into the cute little parlor, thanMother announces how she means to stay right here until it's time tostart for the steamer. Did some one say dinner! Good! She'll stay todinner, then.
At that Sis looks at Skid and Skid he looks at Sis. There was some realworry exchanged in them looks too; but young Mrs. Mallory ain't one tobe stumped as easy as that.
"Oh, goody!" says she, clappin' her hands. "But, Mother, what is it youdo to make dumplings puff out after you've dropped them in the lambstew?"
"Dumplings! Lamb stew!" says Mother. "Gracious! Don't ask me, child. Ihaven't made any for years. Doesn't your cook know?"
"She doesn't," says Sis. "I am the cook, Mother."
Well, that was only the beginning of the revelations; for while Sis andMother was strugglin' with the receipt book, the Senator was makin' atour of inspection around the apartment. It didn't take him so long,either.
"Ahem!" says he to Mallory. "Very cozy, indeed; but--er--not exactlyspacious."
"Four rooms and bath," says Mallory.
"Was--er--that the bathtub in there?" says the Senator, jerkin' histhumb at the bathroot door. "I fancied it might be--er--a pudding dish.Might I inquire what rent you pay for--er--all this?"
"Forty a month, sir," says Mallory.
"Ah! Economy, I see. Good way to begin," says he. "And if it is not toopersonal a question, your present salary is----"
"I'm getting twenty-five a week," says Skid, lookin' him straightbetween the eyes.
"Then you have a private income, I presume?" says the Senator.
"Well," says Mallory, "my aunt in Boston sends me fifty dollars everyChristmas and advises me to invest my savings in Government bonds."
At that the Senator drops into a chair and whistles. "But--but how doyou expect," he goes on, "to--to----Pardon me, but I am gettinginterested. I should like to know what was your exact financial standingwhen you had the imp--er--when you married my daughter?"
He gets it, down to the last nickel. Skid begins with what he had in thebank when they starts for Atlantic City, shows the hole that trip madein his funds, produces the receipts for furniture, and announces that,after punglin' up a month's rent, there's something over seven dollarsleft in the treasury.
"Huh!" grunts the Senator. "Hence the lamb stew, eh? I don't wonder! Soyou and Sis have undertaken to live in a forty-dollar apartment on atwenty-five-dollar salary, have you?"
"That's what it looks like, sir," says Mallory.
"And who is the financial genius that is to manage this enterprise?"says he.
"Why," says Skid, "Mrs. Mallory, I suppose. We have agreed that sheshould."
"Sis, eh?" says the Senator, smilin' kind of grim. "Well, you have mybest wishes for your success."
Skid he flushes some behind the ears; but he only bows and says he'smuch obliged. You couldn't blame him for feelin' cut up, either; forit's all clear how the Senator has doped out an appeal for help withinthirty days, and is willin' to wait for the call. I'm no shark on thecost of livin' myself; but even I could figure out a deficit. There's acall to dinner just then, though, and we all gathers round the stew.
Anyway, it was meant for a lamb stew. The potatoes was some hard, thegravy was so thin you'd thought it had been put in from the tea kettleas an afterthought, and the dumplin's hadn't the puffin' out charmworked on 'em for a cent. But the sliced carrots was kind of tasty andwent all right with the baker's bread if you left off the bargainbutter. Sis she tried to laugh at it all; but her eyes got kind of dewyat the corners.<
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"Never mind, dear," says Mother. "I'll telegraph for our old Martha tocome on and cook for you."
"Why, certainly," says the Senator. "She could sleep on the fire escape,you know."
And say, that last comic jab of his, and the effect it had on Mr. andMrs. Mallory, kind of got under my skin. I got to thinkin' hard andfast, and inside of five minutes I stumbles onto an idea.
"Excuse me," says I to Skid; "but I guess I'll be on my way. I justthought of a date I ought to keep."
And where do you expect I brings up? At the Ellins' mansion, down on theavenue. First time I'd ever been there out of office hours; but the maidsays Mr. Ellins is takin' his coffee in the lib'ry and she'd see if he'dlet me in. Ah, sure he did, and we gets right down to cases.
"Remember how that assistant general manager stiff of yours fell down onthat public lands deal when you sent him to Washington last month?" saysI.
Old Hickory chokes some on a swallow of black coffee he's just hoistedin; but he recovers enough to nod.
"Does he get the run?" says I.
"I neglected consulting you about it, Torchy," says he; "but hisresignation has been called for."
"Filled the job yet?" says I.
"Fortunately, no," says he, and I knew by the way he squints that hethought he was bein' mighty humorous. "Possibly you could recommend hissuccessor?"
"Yep, I could," says I. "Would it help any to have some one who was sonin law to a Senator?"
"That," says Old Hickory, "would depend somewhat on which Senator washis father in law."
"Well," says I, "there's his card."
"Eh?" says he, readin' the name. "Why--who----"
"Mallory," says I. "You know--hitched last week. He's got the old boy upthere to dinner now. Maybe he'll be taken on as the Senator's secretaryif you don't jump in quick. He's a hustler, Mallory is. Remember how heskinned that big order out of Kazedky? And as an A. G. M. he'd be awinner. Well, does he get it?"
"Young man," says Old Hickory, catchin' his breath, "if my mentalmachinery worked at the high pressure speed yours does, I could----But Iam not noted for being slow. I've done things in a hurry before. I canyet. Torchy, he does get it."
"When?" says I.
"To-morrow morning," says he. "I'll start him at five thousand."
"Whoop!" says I. "Say, you're a sport! I'll go up and deliver the gladnews. Guess he needs it now as much as he ever will."
And, say, you should have seen the change of heart that comes over theSenator when he heard the bulletin. "Mallory, my boy," says he,"congratulations. And by the way, just remove that--er--imitation lambstew. Then we'll all go down to some good hotel and have a realdinner."