_ CHAPTER XX
The Gillies' new home was nothing to boast of. In fact they were ashamed of its shabbiness and lived in constant dread of some of their former acquaintances discovering their whereabouts and coming to see them. Yet it was the best they could expect to find for the little rent they were able to pay. Situated in one of the cheapest parts of Harlem, the flat was in a row of tenement-like buildings, facing a street always filled with noisy, unkempt children. The corridors and staircases were gaudily decorated and the narrow halls and small rooms, shut off from proper light and air, gave one a sense of suffocation. The furnishings were of the scantiest. Jimmie having incurred certain heavy debts, reckoning that the palmy days would always last, had been forced to sell his household effects to satisfy pressing creditors, so now they had to be satisfied with as few odd cheap pieces as they could manage with--a plain deal dining-table and a few ricketty chairs. Times were indeed hard. The shipping firm had also made a cut in Jimmie's salary, reducing him from $14 to $13 a week, so even with the $5 which Virginia contributed to the expenses, strict economy had to be exercised in order to make both ends meet.
Fanny did her best to look cheerful under these depressing conditions, but there were days when her patience was sorely tried and when she found herself regretting that Virginia had "taken it so particular" with Mr. Stafford. Of course, they all suffered by the sacrifice, but most of the burden fell upon her. She certainly had the worst of it. Virginia, away all day, at least escaped the household drudgery. It was a terrible existence--scrubbing floors and washing dishes from morning till night, seeing nobody, beginning to lose hope that she would ever see a change for the better.
To-day she was feeling particularly tired and discouraged. She had been kept busy all morning looking after the baby's wants and cleaning the kitchen stove, and the exertion required by both duties had completely exhausted her. Wiping her grimy hands on her apron, she sank listlessly down on a chair in the kitchen to rest a while. It could not be for long. The afternoon was well advanced. Jim and Virginia would soon be home. She must think presently of getting dinner.
The baby slept soundly in her little crib undisturbed by the noise of the wintry gale outdoors. Fanny sighed as she fondly gazed on the chubby little face. How unfair to bring such an innocent into the world, only to inherit trouble and want! What had become of the brilliant prospects for her daughter once held out when Virginia was a rich man's wife? Instead of improving, their situation grew steadily worse. Jim was making no progress. Instead of his salary being increased, it was always being reduced. He was the kind of man who made progress backwards, like a crab. He was not practical--that was the trouble. If only he had fewer ideas, perhaps he would make more money. It was very discouraging. But what good did grumbling ever do? The work had to be done and the quicker she finished the stove, the better.
Wearily she rose from her seat and with a last look at the baby, was going towards the kitchen, when suddenly the doorbell rang violently. The baby started in its sleep. Indignant at the noise Fanny went and opened.
"Is that you, Jim?" she asked crossly.
"Yes," he called out.
"Well, I like your nerve!" she ejaculated. "Couldn't you make less noise? You woke the baby!"
Her husband entered, attired in a heavy overcoat, the collar of which was turned up. His nose was blue, his eyes red and he was shivering with cold.
"Gee! but it's tough weather, all right!"
Taking off his overcoat and muffler, and placing them on a chair together with his lunch box, he crossed the room to the radiator to warm his hands. Fanny, still fuming, went to the baby carriage, folded the blanket and arranged the cushions. Angrily she exclaimed:
"Is that why you must ring the bell and wake the baby when you have the key? Don't you think I've got enough to do running this flat and cooking for three people and looking after the baby without having to go and open the door for you? Why didn't you open it yourself?"
Her husband looked at her in a stupid kind of way. With a grin he said:
"Well, if you must know, I've lost my key."
"Lost your key?"
"Yes."
"Don't you know that keys cost twenty-five cents apiece?"
"Sure I do."
"Well," she went on indignantly, "you want to remember that every quarter--yes, and every nickel--counts these days. You're not working for Mr. Stafford at a hundred a week now; you're a shipping clerk getting thirteen per! Not even fourteen--thirteen!"
Her husband squirmed. Shifting his feet uneasily he muttered
"You needn't rub it in."
Fanny held out her hand.
"Hand it over," she commanded.
"What?"
"The thirteen," she said determinedly. "This is pay day. Come on!--come on!--come on!" she ordered, going up to him threateningly.
With a grimace, he thrust his hand in his trousers' pocket and bringing out a small roll of bills, handed it to his wife. She counted the money carefully, and then stuffed it inside her dress. He watched her, a comic expression of resignation on his face.
"Don't I get any?" he grumbled.
"Yes," she answered quickly, "you get carfare and cigar money--twenty cents a day and you get it each day--"
Saying this, she turned her back and fastening on her apron, made a move towards the kitchen. Jimmie, with a gesture of disgust, threw his lunch box on the table and dropped into a chair.
"Can't I even have lunch money" he growled.
Fanny turned on him like a tigress. For some time he had been getting on her nerves and to-day she was in just the humor to let out what she felt. Angrily she exclaimed:
"Won't you ever get it into your head that I'm running this flat on eighteen dollars a week--thirteen from you and five from Virginia? Lunch money! You're lucky even to get lunch!"
He made no reply, but lapsed into a sulky silence. Presently, with a wry face, he growled:
"I'm getting tired of nothing but dry sandwiches and dill pickles."
"What do you expect for thirteen per?" she retorted, "terrapin or paté de fois gras? Getting tired of--"
She stopped short. Her eyes had just lighted on the lunch box on the table. Swooping down on it like an angry vulture she exclaimed angrily: "What's that?"
Even in his bluest moments, Jimmie never lost his sense of humor. Picking up the box and pretending to examine it, he said:
"I think it's a bunch of lilies of the valley."
He grinned, but got no response. Fanny was not in a mood to jest.
"Oh, don't get funny," she said crossly. "I know it's your lunch box all right, but what's it doing on the table? Put it in the drawer where it belongs." He hesitated, still grinning, and she went on sternly: "Go on, now! I've got enough to do without putting things away after you."
Rising, he took the offending box and placed it in a drawer of the sideboard. When this was done Fanny pointed to his hat and coat:
"Now hang them up in the hall," she ordered.
Without another word he picked up the things and left the room. Directly he was gone, Fanny took a key from under a vase, opened another drawer in the sideboard and put the money in it. Then she hastily locked the drawer and replaced the key. No sooner was this done than Jimmie reappeared. He was puffing a cheap cigar and judging by his expression the flavor was not all that it might be. After a few moments, and while Fanny was laying the cloth, he threw it away with an exclamation of disgust:
"It's no good! I can't get used to these damned cheap things. I suppose I'd be satisfied with 'em if I'd never smoked
real cigars! But to be educated up to Villa de Villas and then drop to them--punkerinos--"
Fanny looked round, saw the cigar on the floor and then looked at him:
"Jimmie," she said, "pick that up and let it die outside."
He obeyed her without a word. Opening the window he picked up the offending weed and threw it out.
"Ha! ha!" he laughed bitterly. "In three months to parachute from first-class cafés to carrying home-made lunches; to go from threes for a half to twos for a nickel; instead of having plenty of money in pocket to be without even a cent! I tell you, Fanny, the way we're living now is--hell!"
Flopping down on a chair near the table, he presented an abject picture of utter despondency. If Fanny had been in better humor she would have laughed at him, but in her present mood his complaints only irritated her the more. Stopping in her work, she turned on him. Her face was flushed; her eyes flashed fire. At last the moment had come to give it to him:
"Don't you think I know it better than you do?" she cried. "I used to be able to pay twenty-five or thirty dollars for a hat, now when I want one I'll have to trim it myself; I could have a taxi once in a while, now I'm lucky if I can take a car; a seat in the orchestra at the matinées was none too good for me, now I think it is great to go to the moving pictures; I used to have a nine-room apartment at a Hundred and Fortieth street, now I've got a five-room flat at a Hundred and Seventy-sixth! My 'friends' don't come to see me because it's too far uptown. I used to have a servant to do my work and a woman come in to do my washing, now I have to do the work and the cooking and the washing into the bargain. Don't talk to me about your cigars, and your lunches, and your pocket money! Only a woman can know what it means to come down in the world!"
He listened in silence to her tirade, carelessly rocking back and forth on the two rear legs of his tilted chair. When finally she stopped for sheer want of breath he said:
"I guess you're right, Fanny, I'm sorry I spoke. The woman gets the worst of it every time."
"Yes--every time, Jimmie," she said emphatically as she proceeded to lay the table. "Whether she's right or wrong."
"If Virginia hadn't quit Stafford," he grumbled, "it would have been different."
"There's no use talking of that--she did leave him--"
Jimmie looked up, an injured expression on his face.
"Yes, and what day did she pick out?" he cried indignantly. "The very day Stafford raised me to a hundred and fifty!" Jumping up from his chair he began to pace the floor nervously. "Great Scott!" he exclaimed, "just think of it! I used to get a hundred and fifty! Of course I only got it for a day and a quarter--but I got it!"
His wife stopped in her work. Sharply she demanded:
"And whose fault was it that you only got it for a day and a quarter?"
"Mine, I suppose," he replied gloomily.
"You had no right to try to interfere between Mr. Stafford and Virginia--that was their business."
"So he told me! And when I said that anything that concerned my wife's sister was
my business and I wouldn't be associated with a man who didn't treat her right, and walked out, I thought he'd send a messenger after me before I reached the corner. In fact, I waited at the corner."
"But the messenger didn't come," she said sarcastically.
"No. But even that didn't bother me much--then! I thought I'd soon get another job just as good."
Fanny shrugged her shoulders. With a sigh she said:
"I wonder if you'll ever have one 'just as good.'"
"Of course, I will," he said confidently.
"When?"
"I'm likely to get a good job most any time."
"Well, till you do," she retorted, "hang on to the one you have. When rent day comes, thirteen dollars in real money is a heap sight better than a hundred and fifty in hopes."
Jim shifted about uneasily on his feet. Stupidly he said:
"Yes, I suppose so."
"I know so," she exclaimed.
"Besides," he said with some hesitation, "one of my ideas might turn out big."
His wife laughed scornfully.
"Might--yes," she exclaimed.
"Oh, I know you don't believe in 'em any more," he went on. "But let me tell you this--I've got one idea right now that would make me five hundred dollars just as easy as that--" He snapped his fingers at her as he continued: "Do you hear? As easy as that!" His wife, still skeptical, seemed to pay no heed, so petulantly he inquired: "Why don't you ask me about it?"
Fanny again stopped in her work and looked up.
"What is it?" she demanded in a resigned tone.
Jimmie frowned. He did not like his wife's incredulous attitude.
"That's a fine way to ask!" he exclaimed. Imitating her tone he went on: "What is it? You'd show more interest than that if I told you Mrs. Brown's canary had died of the croup!"
In spite of herself Fanny smiled. She was too good-natured to remain cross very long. After all, it was only natural that her husband should confide in her. In a more conciliatory tone, she said:
"I didn't mean anything, Jimmie. What
is the idea?"
But he was offended now.
"Oh, what's the use?" he exclaimed.
"Go on, tell me," she coaxed.
"What's the use? You wouldn't think it was any good."
"All right, then, don't!" she exclaimed, turning away. "I know there'd be nothing in it, anyway."
He followed her across the room. Airily he said:
"Is that so? Well, just to prove that there is something in it, I
will tell you. Of course I shouldn't really expect to do it--but the idea's there just the same."
"Well--what is it?" she asked, stopping in her work to listen.
Jimmie took a chair and sat down on it straddle-wise. Hesitatingly he said:
"You know the fuss the papers made about Stafford marrying Virginia and how the Sunday editions had page after page about it with illustrations--"
"Yes--what about it?" she demanded, impatient to get to the point.
"And you know," he went on, "how clever he's been in keeping this from them by sending out the news that she'd gone to Europe for the winter--"
"Yes."
"Well, if I was to go to one of 'em and tip off the story that instead of being in Europe, Virginia was workin' in a hotel for ten dollars a week, and I would agree not to tell any other paper about it, don't you think I could get five hundred for it? You just bet I could!"
Fanny had listened with growing indignation. When he had finished she exclaimed:
"Jimmie, if you did anything like that I'd never speak to you again--never!"
Weakening before her outburst, he said evasively:
"I told you I didn't expect to do it."
"Whether I think Virginia's a fool or not," went on his wife, "she's my sister. Right or wrong, she's my sister and nobody--not even you--is going to do anything to hurt her feelings and get away with it without a fight from me."
Jimmie rose and resumed his nervous pacing of the floor. Hastily he said:
"I ain't going to do anything to hurt her feelings! But I must say it's pretty tough on a fellow to have all his good ideas spoiled! Take the one I had about the auto. I could have sold it for fifteen hundred dollars, but Virginia wouldn't let me and made me send it back. There was a great idea gone wrong--" He was silent for a few moments and then suddenly he burst out: "I've got another one."
"What--another idea?" exclaimed his wife sarcastically.
"Yes," he replied eagerly, "and even you will think this one all right."
"What is it?"
He looked round as if to make sure no one was listening. Then, in a tragic whisper, he said:
"We must bring Virginia and Stafford together again."
"Jimmie!" exclaimed his wife, looking at him in amazement.
"You know she's still in love with him, don't you?" he went on calmly.
"Yes."
"And he's just crazy over her. He 'phoned me again to-day asking about her."
"Well--what of it?"
A crafty expression came into her husband's face. He looked wise for a moment; then he said solemnly:
"To make two people who are in love forget and forgive, all you have to do is to get them into each others' arms. That's the way it would be with them! Only stubbornness keeps them apart now--just stubbornness!"
"Yes--that's true," admitted Fanny.
"Well," he said significantly, "it's very simple--we must get them into each others' arms."
"How?" she demanded.
"Ah," he smiled, "that's where my idea comes in."
Fanny looked at him curiously. It was the first time she had ever heard her husband say anything sensible.
"Go on--tell me," she said eagerly.
"If she sent for him," he went on, "he'd break all speed laws getting up here, and if he came for her of his own accord--if she thought he did that she'd be in his arms so quick that she'd make a bounding antelope look like a plumber's assistant going back for his tools!"
Fanny looked puzzled. She did not quite understand his meaning.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
Her husband hesitated for a moment as if not daring to suggest what was on his mind; then suddenly he blurted out:
"Suppose I 'phoned him--right now--that she had sent for him?"
"'Phone him--that Virginia--"
"Sure! He'd think she'd given in and she'd think the same of him. It would be a case of a pair of open arms, the rustle of a skirt, a little head on a manly chest and then good-bye John, farewell everything, and the lid is off! I imagine that is some idea!"
Fanny clasped her hands nervously. Hesitatingly she exclaimed:
"Oh--I think it's splendid! But--what if they found out?"
"What would it matter if they'd already made up?" he grinned.
"But do you think it would be right?"
"Oh, no!" he cried mockingly. "Certainly not! It would be a terrible crime to unite a husband and wife and fix up a broken home! To say nothing of giving me back my regular job at a hundred and fifty. Shall I?"
Fanny wrung her hands with excitement. It certainly was a daring plan.
"I--I'm scared," she stammered, unwilling to commit herself.
"I'm not," he said boldly, "I'm never afraid of any game where I can't lose! And if it came through, you know what it would mean for us--good clothes, good food, money to spend and nothing to worry about except moving down to a Hundred and Twenty-fifth street! What do you say?"
"I don't know--" she answered hesitatingly.
"And then," he continued persuasively, "you must think of little Virgie. A baby makes a lot of difference--"
"Indeed it does," she replied warmly. "I bet Virginia would never have left Robert if they had had a baby."
"Shall I do it?" he asked tentatively.
"I'm scared. I am--honest I am!"
"Oh, go on! Be game!" he coaxed. "Besides, we have everything to win and nothing to lose and for a gamble you can't beat that!"
"But, Jimmie--" she exclaimed fearfully.
He paid no attention to her objections. All absorbed in his idea, he went on eagerly:
"There's no time to lose. Virginia's likely to be back any minute now and if we're going to put it through, we must do it quick. Shall I? Shall I?"
Fanny, flustered, was at a loss what to say.
"Why do you put the responsibility on to me?" she exclaimed. "You're the one to decide. You're the head of the house."
He grinned. The head of the house? Of course he was. Why hadn't he thought of it before? That being the case, he need consult no one but himself. Swelling up with self-importance, he exclaimed:
"Sure I am. I'll do it!"
Going into the hall, he quickly took the receiver off the telephone.
"Jimmie!" exclaimed his wife excitedly.
He stayed his hand and looked around.
"What?" he asked.
"I don't think you'd better," she gasped.
He eyed her sternly. If she had always awed him before, it was different now. As the originator of an idea that was going to save them all, he held the whip hand.
"See here," he exclaimed, "Who is head of this house?"
"I don't think you'd better," she pleaded.
Shaking his head, he paid no attention to her protests:
"I'm going to just the same," he said firmly. "You've got nothing to say about it. I'm the head of this house." Taking off the receiver he spoke into the telephone.
"Hello--hello! Give me River 2540. Is this River 2540? Is Mr. Stafford there? Please tell him that Mr. Gillie wishes to talk to him. Yes, his brother-in-law, Mr. Gillie! Is that you, Mr. Stafford? This is Jimmie! No, not James--just Jimmie! Virgie told me to 'phone and ask you to come for her. Yes--that's it--I guess she can't stand being separated from you any longer. All right--I'll tell her. Good-bye!"
Hanging up the receiver he closed the door and exclaimed triumphantly:
"It's done!"
"Oh--I'm scared to death!" gasped Fanny.
"I ain't," he grinned. Proudly he added: "After all, it takes a man to rise to the occasion."
"But if it should turn out wrong?" persisted his wife.
He shook his head incredulously as if such a thing were an utter impossibility. With a shrug of his shoulders he said:
"It's done now and that's all there is to it. I'll bet that by this time Stafford is in his machine and dashing up here like mad. Suppose he should get here before Virginia?"
"That would spoil everything!" exclaimed Fanny.
"Not necessarily," he replied loftily, as if no problem was so difficult that he could not grapple with it. "I'd probably get some kind of an idea in time to save the situation. Leave everything to me."
Fanny, lost in thought, said nothing, while her husband nervously paced the floor. Glancing at the clock, he exclaimed impatiently:
"I wish she'd come. She ought to be here by now--"
He stopped and listened, and then going out into the hall, opened the front door. No one was there and he came back into the room:
"I thought I heard her key in the door," he said.
"I'm so worried," exclaimed Fanny anxiously.
"What about?" he demanded airily. "I did the 'phoning. If there's any worrying to be done, let Jimmie do it!"
"I wish you hadn't," she said timidly.
"But I have," he cried. "Great Scott, ain't that just like a woman!" Reassuringly he went on: "Now look here, Fanny, you leave this to me. When Virginia comes you make yourself scarce, get busy in the kitchen or something and I'll talk to her. You'll see that I--"
As he spoke there was the metallic click of a key turning in the front door lock.
"Holy Jupiter!" he exclaimed. "Here she is! Be careful what you say." Greeting his sister-in-law amiably he called out: "Hallo, Virgie, we're in here!" _