IN AGAIN--OUT AGAIN.
Jimmy Torrance was out of a job a week this time, and once more he was
indebted to the Lizard for a position, the latter knowing a politician
who was heavily interested in a dairy company, with the result that
Jimmy presently found himself driving a milk-wagon. Jimmy's route was on
the north side, which he regretted, as it was in the district where a
number of the friends of his former life resided. His delivery schedule,
however, and the fact that his point of contact with the homes of his
customers was at the back door relieved him of any considerable
apprehension of being discovered by an acquaintance.
His letters home were infrequent, for he found that his powers of
invention were being rapidly depleted. It was difficult to write glowing
accounts of the business success he was upon the point of achieving on
the strength of any of the positions he so far had held, and doubly so
during the far greater period that he had been jobless and hungry. But
he had not been able to bring himself to the point of admitting to his
family his long weeks of consistent and unrelieved failure.
Recently he had abandoned his futile attempts to obtain positions
through the medium of the Help Wanted columns.
"It is no use," he thought. "There must be something inherently wrong
with me that in a city full of jobs I am unable to land anything without
some sort of a pull and then only work that any unskilled laborer could
perform."
The truth of the matter was that Jimmy Torrance was slowly approaching
that mental condition that is aptly described by the phrase, "losing
your grip," one of the symptoms of which was the fact that he was almost
contented with his present job.
He had driven for about a week when, upon coming into the barn after
completing his morning delivery, he was instructed to take a special
order to a certain address on Lake Shore Drive. Although the address was
not that of one of his regular customers he felt that there was
something vaguely familiar about it, but when he finally arrived he
realized that it was a residence at which he had never before called.
Driving up the alley Jimmy stopped in the rear of a large and
pretentious home, and entering through a gateway in a high stone wall he
saw that the walk to the rear entrance bordered a very delightful
garden. He realized what a wonderfully pretty little spot it must be in
the summer time, with its pool and fountain and tree-shaded benches, its
vine-covered walls and artistically arranged shrubs, and it recalled to
Jimmy with an accompanying sigh the homes in which he had visited in
what seemed now a remote past, and also of his own home in the West.
On the alley in one corner of the property stood a garage and stable, in
which Jimmy could see men working upon the owner's cars and about the
box-stalls of his saddle horses. At the sight of the horses Jimmy heaved
another sigh as he continued his way to the rear entrance. As he stood
waiting for a reply to his summons he glanced back at the stable to see
that horses had just entered and that their riders were dismounting,
evidently two of the women of the household, and then a houseman opened
the door and Jimmy made his delivery and started to retrace his steps to
his wagon.
Approaching him along the walk from the stable were the riders--two
young women, laughing and talking as they approached the house, and
suddenly Jimmy, in his neat white suit, carrying his little tray of
milk-bottles, recognized them, and instantly there flashed into
recollection the address that Harriet Holden had given him that night at
Feinheimer's.
"What infernal luck," he groaned inwardly; "I suppose the next time I
see that girl I'll be collecting garbage from her back door." And then,
with his eyes straight to the front, he stepped aside to let the two
pass.
It was Harriet Holden who recognized him first, and stopped with a
little exclamation of surprise. Jimmy stopped, too. There was nothing
else that a gentleman might do, although he would have given his right
hand to have been out of the yard.
"You never came to the house as I asked you to," said Miss Holden
reproachfully. "We wanted so much to do something to repay you for your
protection that night."
"There was no use in my coming," said Jimmy, "for, you see, I couldn't
have accepted anything for what I did--I couldn't very well have done
anything else, could I, under the circumstances?"
"There were many other men in the place," replied Harriet, "but you were
the only one who came to our help."
"But the others were not---" Jimmy been upon the point of saying
gentlemen, but then he happened to think that in the eyes of these two
girls, and according to their standard, he might not be a gentleman,
either. "Well, you see," he continued lamely, "they probably didn't know
who you were."
"Did you?" asked Elizabeth.
"No," Jimmy admitted, "of course, I didn't know who you were, but I knew
what you were not, which was the thing that counted most then."
"I wish," said Harriet, "that you would let us do something for you."
"Yes," said Elizabeth, "if a hundred dollars would be of any use to
you--" Harriet laid a hand quickly on her friend's arm.
"I wasn't thinking of money," she said to Jimmy. "One can't pay for
things like that with money, but we know so many people here we might
help you in some way, if you are not entirely satisfied with your
present position."
Out of the corner of his eye Jimmy could not help but note that
Elizabeth was appraising him critically from head to foot and he felt
that he could almost read what was passing through her mind as she took
stock of his cheap cotton uniform and his cap, with the badge of his
employer above the vizor. Involuntarily Jimmy straightened his shoulders
and raised his chin a trifle.
"No, thank you," he said to Harriet, "it is kind of you, but really I am
perfectly satisfied with my present job. It is by far the best one I
have ever held," and touching his cap, he continued his interrupted way
to his wagon.
"What a strange young man," exclaimed Harriet. "He is like many of his
class," replied Elizabeth, "probably entirely without ambition and with
no desire to work any too hard or to assume additional
responsibilities."
"I don't believe it," retorted Harriet. "Unless I am greatly mistaken,
that man is a gentleman. Everything about him indicates it; his
inflection even is that of a well-bred man."
"How utterly silly," exclaimed Elizabeth. "You've heard him speak
scarcely a dozen words. I venture to say that in a fifteen-minute
conversation he would commit more horrible crimes against the king's
English than even that new stable-boy of yours. Really, Harriet, you
seem very much interested in this person."
"Why shouldn't I be?" asked Harriet. "He's becoming my little pet
mystery. I wonder under what circumstances we see him next?"
"Probably as a white-wings," laughed Elizabeth. "But if so I positively
refuse to permit you to stop in the middle of Michigan Boulevard and
converse with a street-sweeper while I'm with you."
Jimmy's new job lasted two weeks, and then the milk-wagon drivers went
on strike and Jimmy was thrown out of employment.
"Tough luck," sympathized the Lizard. "You sure are the Calamity Kid.
But don't worry, we'll land you something else. And remember that that
partnership proposition is still open."
There ensued another month of idleness, during which Jimmy again had
recourse to the Help Wanted column. The Lizard tried during the first
week to find something for him, and then occurred a certain very famous
safe-robbery, and the Lizard disappeared.