_ CHAPTER VIII
Their host advanced, hand extended, his frank, boyish face lit up with a cordial smile.
It was hard to realize that this youthful looking man with black hair not yet tinged by a suspicion of gray, and whose erect, athletic figure suggested the football field rather than the counting room, was one of the most influential railroad men in the country, the master of a large fortune amassed by his own painstaking efforts, his own energy, initiative and ability.
Attired himself in a plain business suit, a quick glance at his visitors' dress had already told him that he could dispense with the formality of changing for dinner. Shaking hands with Virginia, he said in his usual hearty fashion:
"Well, how are you? I'm so sorry I am late. Oku explained, didn't he?"
"Perfectly," smiled Virginia. "He took good care of us."
Turning to Fanny, he said:
"This, I presume, is your sister--"
Virginia hastened to make introductions:
"Fanny," she said, "let me introduce Mr. Stafford."
The host bowed and smiled pleasantly, while Fanny, embarrassed, not knowing whether to offer her hand, felt awkward and ill at ease, as do most people who, going seldom into society, are not in constant practice with its civilities.
"I'm very pleased, indeed, to meet you, Miss Blaine," said Stafford, bowing.
"And this," went on Virginia, turning to her brother-in-law elect, who stood gaping in the background, "is Mr. Gillie--just 'Jimmie' we call him, don't we, Fanny?"
"Yes--Jimmie--of course," stammered Fanny, blushing furiously.
Stafford held out his hand and gave the shipping clerk a grip that made him wince.
"How do you do, Mr. Gillie?"
"How are you?" returned Jimmie with an indifferent nod as he nursed his crushed fingers behind his back.
Stafford beamed good-naturedly on all three. He looked genuinely glad to see them, and this immediately set his guests at their ease. He may not have really felt the cordial welcome he gave them, but he looked as if they were just the people whose society he enjoyed most, a happy knack which some men possess of adapting themselves to their environments, and which had always been the secret of his popularity with men and women both. His manner was so natural, so free from restraint and pose, that even Fanny, timid and nervous as she was, felt reassured.
But while he was affable with all, he had eyes only for Virginia. The others he would willingly have dispensed with, especially the shipping clerk, whom he had sized up with one quick glance. He winced as he took note of the man's cheap, ready-made clothes and boorish manners. Decidedly he was quite impossible, but for the pleasure of a few moment's
tête-à-tête with Virginia, he was ready to make any sacrifice--even to meet on equal social terms a Mr. Gillie.
"Are you quite sure," he went on apologetically, "that I am forgiven for keeping you waiting? Believe me, it was absolutely unavoidable or it wouldn't have happened."
"Oh, yes," rejoined Virginia quickly, "we're quite sure of that."
The host turned to the Japanese butler, who was busy at the table, placing the empty cocktail glasses on the tray.
"Did you explain thoroughly, Oku?" he asked.
The man looked up.
"Yes, sir. I tell you have big meeting and say 'very much excuse, please.'"
"That was right," rejoined his master, with a laugh. "Now get me the menu."
Oku picked up the tray and made for the door.
"Yes--excuse, please. Excuse."
When his butler had disappeared, Stafford turned to his guests with a smile:
"Queer little chap, isn't he? He is very devoted, and I find him very useful. You see, being a bachelor, I don't keep house, but if I have a little party like this, I generally leave the selection of the dinner to Oku and have it served in there--" He pointed to the dining-room, the folding doors of which the butler had closed. With a good-natured laugh, he added: "He has shut the doors so we can't see the spread. I hope the little beggar has something good."
Jim, who, until now, had remained in the background, trying to summon up enough courage to take an aggressive part in the conversation, spoke up boldly:
"Nice little place you have here, Mr. Stafford."
There was an amused expression, which did not escape Virginia's notice, hovering around the corners of the millionaire's mouth, as he replied:
"Glad you like it. Have you seen the other rooms?"
"No," replied the clerk carelessly, as he flecked the ashes from his cigar on to the fine Turkish rug. "I'm judging by this one--"
At that moment Oku re-entered the room, bearing in his hand a menu, which he handed to his master. Stafford glanced over it and nodded approvingly, then, taking out a pencil, he made one correction. This done, he handed it back.
"I think that will do nicely. Have dinner served when ready."
"Yes--sir--excuse, please."
The butler was about to leave the room, when his master called him back.
"Oku--just a moment." Turning apologetically to the others, he said:
"Will you excuse me?" In an undertone to the butler, he said: "I shan't dress to-night--"
Oku salaamed.
"Anything else, sir?"
"No--you can go."
"Then excuse--please. Excuse--"
The butler disappeared and the host rejoined his guests. Addressing the shipping clerk amiably, he said:
"I'm glad you like this room, Mr. Gillie."
There was no sarcasm in his voice, nor did he intend any. The railroad promoter was in good humor that evening, and he wanted his guests to feel perfectly at home, but Jimmie, in his ignorant egotism thought that his host was really flattered by his praise. Patronizingly, he said:
"I do, for a fact. I think it's all right."
Pointing to the library beyond, the millionaire said carelessly:
"My best things are in that room. But there are some here that are rather good, I think. Did you notice this?" He picked up from a table a piece of carved ivory and held it so that all might see. "It was carved by a Japanese master nearly eight hundred years ago."
"Did he get much for it?" asked Jimmie, opening wide his eyes.
"Who," smiled Stafford, "the carver?"
"Yes."
"Probably a few cents a day."
"A few cents a day?" gaped the clerk.
"Yes."
Jimmie whistled and walked away. Contemptuously he said:
"He ought to have joined the Carvers' Union."
Stafford laughed.
"There was none in those days," he said. "Even if there had been he wouldn't have joined. He was an artist; he worked for the joy of working."
Jimmie snickered. Sneeringly he said:
"He knew his own business best, I suppose, but I've never seen a man who could raise a family on that."
Replacing the ivory back in the cabinet where it belonged, Stafford turned to the mantel and pointed to the Peach Blow vase, which only a few moments before had met with disaster. But the damage was not visible from a distance, and with the natural pride of a collector showing one of his most valued possessions, the railroad man said:
"I have one or two Peach Blows that I think are rather good. There is one up there which I am particularly fond of."
Jimmie more and more nervous gave his fiancée a nudge. In a frightened undertone he whispered to her:
"It's coming! It's coming!"
To hide her confusion, Fanny pretended to be very busy with her handkerchief. Stafford, meantime, had gone up to the bookcase. Reaching up his hand so he could take hold of the vase by its neck, the millionaire went on:
"This vase is said to be--"
His hand touched the vase, but, instead of lifting it, he simply lifted up the piece which had been broken off. For a moment he stared at the fragment in amazement, while the others looked on in silent consternation. There was an ominous pause. Jimmie, turning pale, could feel his heart thumping violently against his ribs.
"Why, it's broken!" exclaimed their host.
"Yes--" said Jimmie quickly.
"Why--so it is!" gasped Fanny, on the theory that an expression of bewilderment on her part would exonerate her from suspicion.
Stafford stood still, trying to fix the two pieces together. He was quite cool and to all appearances the least concerned of the four. There was not even a note of impatience in his voice as he said:
"Oku must be more careful. I never knew him to do a thing like this before."
Virginia approached her future brother-in-law. In a quick undertone she said:
"Tell him."
"Not on your life," he answered in the same tragic whisper. "He doesn't suspect us. We can get away with it."
Utterly disgusted, Virginia moved toward her host.
"Mr. Stafford!" she said loudly and firmly.
He looked up, surprised at her manner and tone.
"Yes?" he smiled.
"Oku didn't break it."
Stafford stared at her in amazement.
"Didn't he?"
"No."
"Really?"
"No--it wasn't Oku." She hesitated a moment; as if still unwilling to disclose the real culprit, Finally she said: "We--we did--it."
An expression of amused surprise came over his face, as he echoed:
"Did we?"
He looked from one to the other, his glance finally failing on Fanny. Alarmed at his scrutiny, she hurriedly pointed to her sister and her fiancé:
"Not me! Them!" she exclaimed.
Stafford smiled. Although it meant a serious loss, to say nothing of the blow to his pride as a collector he was too much the man of the world to betray annoyance or to permit a little accident of that kind to spoil the evening's enjoyment. Courteously he said:
"It doesn't matter in the least."
Ashamed to hide behind a woman's skirts any longer, Jimmie now came forward. In a halfhearted fashion, he said:
"I was looking at it when Virginia suddenly addressed me and I dropped it." With airy self-assurance, he added: "Of course I'll pay for it."
Stafford shrugged his shoulders. Carelessly he said:
"Please don't give it another thought, any of you."
Leaving her companions, Virginia approached her host. Looking up at him earnestly, she said in an undertone:
"I can't tell you how sorry I am."
He was so tall that, standing close by she had to look up at him. As he stood there, so big and strong, smiling down at her, taking good-naturedly what might well have irritated any man, she thought to herself how handsome and nice he was. Looking into her eyes with the same ardent expression she had so often noticed in his glance, he said softly:
"The only thing that I could possibly regret is the fact that the incident might throw a little cloud over what I hope will be a very pleasant evening. If you want to be really good to me, you will promise me you won't even think of it again. Is it a promise?"
"I'll do my best," she murmured.
"Thank you." Turning to Fanny, he said: "And you?"
"Of course," she replied confusedly; "it wasn't any of my affair--but--"
"Then it can't bother you," he laughed.
"No," she smiled.
The host turned to the shipping clerk.
"Mr. Gillie?"
Jimmie assumed a ludicrous expression. Hesitatingly he said:
"I feel as though I ought to pay for it."
"Oh, no, no!" laughed Stafford.
"Yes," exclaimed the clerk, as if fully prepared to pay out $3,000 at a moment's notice, "that's the way I feel, but if you insist--"
"And I certainly do," said his host decidedly.
"Then," rejoined the clerk reluctantly, "I suppose I shall have to let the matter drop."
Stafford smiled.
"Then it is settled. Good!" Turning to Virginia, he said: "I think you told me that your sister and Mr. Gillie are engaged."
"Yes."
Going up to Fanny and her betrothed, he extended a hand to both:
"Congratulations! I hope you'll both be very, very happy."
"Thank you," said Fanny, with a little courtesy.
"Oh, I guess we'll be all right," said Jimmie airily.
Dropping into the easy chair near the table, the clerk helped himself uninvited to another cigar. Stafford took another seat near him, while Virginia and her sister continued to find pleasure in examining some of the art treasures scattered all about them.
"May I ask when the wedding takes place?" inquired the host after a pause.
Withdrawing the perfecto from his lips. Jimmie threw back his head and blew a ring of smoke up to the ceiling.
"That depends," he replied carelessly, "on how--a--a--business venture of mine turns out."
Now at close range, Stafford scrutinized his guest more narrowly. Quickly he took note of his ill-fitting clothes, cheap tie, frayed linen and shabby shoes. He hardly looked the kind of man likely to be burdened with heavy business responsibilities. Nodding sympathetically, so as to encourage confidence, he said:
"I see. What business are you in, Mr. Gillie?"
"I'm a shipping clerk."
"Then you are not in business for yourself?"
"No--that is, not now--though I hope to be some day. You see, I have ambitions."
The millionaire nodded approvingly.
"That's right. Every young man should be ambitious."
"I want to do something big," went on his
vis-à-vis confidently. "I have the ability. All I need is the chance to prove it."
"H'm," said Stafford, with a slight tinge of scepticism in his voice. "In what direction do you think your talents lie, Mr. Gillie?"
"Finance! Organization!" exclaimed the clerk enthusiastically. "I've got ideas, too! For instance, Mr. Stafford, did you ever stop to think of the money there would be in a Chewing Gum Trust?"
"No, I must confess I never did," laughed his host.
"Well--there's big money in it," said Jimmie confidently. "I've figured it all out. I'd like to tell you about another scheme of mine, which is going to revolutionize railroading in this country--cut down train time one-half. I told the girls about it; they think it's great!"
Stafford nodded.
"Yes--Miss Virginia mentioned it to me. You must tell me what it is some day."
Inflating his chest, Jimmie sat back in his chair and puffed more vigorously at his cigar. Decidedly he was getting on. Here he was discussing business opportunities with one of the biggest men in New York. Carelessly he added: "I've got lots of other good ideas, too, but I suppose I'll never be able to work 'em out. What chance has a shipping clerk got?"
Stafford looked at his interlocutor for a moment without speaking. Then suddenly and emphatically, he said:
"Mr. Gillie, the business world is actually hunting to-day for men big enough to hold big positions. I don't mean mere fifty-thousand-dollar men. I mean hundred-thousand-dollar men. There is a better chance now for the really big man than there ever was."
"But how is a fellow going to prove he is a big man?" inquired the clerk, removing the cigar from his mouth.
"By doing whatever work in which he is engaged in a big way. The man who says to himself 'I'm too good for this job,' but only says it, will probably have it for the rest of his life. But the man who says 'I'll show my boss that I'm too good for it,' and does his work in a way that proves it--the feet of such a man are on the road that leads to the City of Big Things!"
Virginia, who had come near enough to overhear the last few words, stood listening, fascinated.
"The City of Big Things!" she echoed.
Stafford laughed. Rising and turning to Virginia, He said courteously:
"But we didn't come here to talk business and such subjects as that." Changing the topic, he asked: "Have you read any of the new books, Miss Blaine?"
"I'm afraid not," she smiled.
"Virgie hasn't had much time to read lately," interrupted Fanny.
"Busy?" demanded their host.
"Well, it's this way," explained the elder sister, "we've had a lot of sewing to do, and three times in the last two weeks she's taken me to the art galleries to look at the pictures."
"Really!" exclaimed Stafford.
"Yes," broke in Jimmie, with a grin, "one time they took me. Some of the pictures were great, but I couldn't stand for those milk chocolate Dutch women with the Mellen's Food babies. I like pictures with something doing in them for mine--such as battles and sea pictures."
The millionaire pointed towards the room beyond the salon. He said:
"If you are fond of paintings of battle scenes, I have two Meissoniers, which I think rather good. They are in the library there--"
"Can I see them?" demanded the clerk, anxious to pass for a connoisseur.
"Certainly," replied his host. Turning to Fanny, he added: "There's also a collection of fans. I think it would interest you, too."
"I am sure they will," she smiled. "Will you excuse us?"
"Certainly--"
She went towards the library and at the threshold turned and called to her fiancé, who was lingering behind.
"Coming, Jimmie?"
"Surest thing you know," he grinned, rising to go and join her. Stafford accompanied them as far as the library door. Pointing all around, he said:
"The books and the engravings will interest you. You needn't hurry. Oku will let you know when dinner is served."
"Very well," smiled Fanny. "You and Virginia please excuse us. Jimmie and I will just browse in here for a while." _