Mr. James Gillie looked to-day an entirely different person to what he
had appeared when he first came courting his wife. He had never lacked
a bold front, at any time, but in those early days his salary of $14
per did not permit any great latitude in the important matter of
furnishing his wardrobe. Compelled to be satisfied with the cheapest
ready-made garments, the knowledge of his sartorial shortcomings had
always exercised a certain sobering effect on him, especially when in
presence of his superiors. But now conditions had changed. Thanks to
his present employer's liberality, he was able to stamp himself with
the hall mark of success. As Robert Stafford's right-hand man, drawing
$5,000 a year, self-denial was no longer necessary; he could indulge
his taste to the limit. Dressed in a fashionably cut evening dress
coat, with white tie and waistcoat, patent-leather pumps and silk
socks with embroidered trees, anyone might have easily taken him for a
gentleman--until they heard him talk. His speech, crude and slangy as
ever, seemed to have lagged behind in his climb toward business and
social recognition.
Nor could it be said that the young man, so fertile in ideas, had
lived up to all the brilliant promises which he had made. After two
years rich with opportunities of a kind which fall to the lot of few
men, he had accomplished nothing that was at all likely to prove of
lasting or even temporary benefit to his fellow man. Much to his
astonishment and mortification, his most cherished inventions had been
openly derided as little better than the ravings of a lunatic, and he
soon discovered that no one in the railroad office--not even the
office boy--took him seriously. He was tolerated by the office staff
because he happened to be the husband of the boss' sister-in-law, but
no one dreamed for an instant of entrusting him with any work
involving responsibility. He was given an occupation in which he would
do the least harm, and for his services his millionaire employer,
anxious to help his sister-in-law in every way possible, humorously
invented quite a novel rate of remuneration. He decided to pay Jimmie
exactly ten times what he was actually worth. Thus at first when the
clerk was actually worth $5 he was given $50; later when he was worth
$10 he was raised to $100. Being quite unaware of this carefully
graduated scale of wages, made specially in his honor, Jimmy went to
the Stafford office every day wearing the same jaunty self-confident
air, convinced that his employer was underpaying him and that he was a
very valuable person, indeed.
* * * * *
As he entered Fanny ran up to him and kissed him impulsively. Jimmie
looked at her in surprise. Comically he remarked:
"What's that for? A touch?"
She laughed heartily.
"Not this time." Looking admiringly at her husband, she added:
"Well, I guess this was some night for the Gillie family, eh?"
"Yes--wasn't it!" exclaimed Virginia, still occupied in preparing for
the night.
Jimmie grinned. Good-humoredly he said:
"You were queens--both of you! The others were only deuces!"
"I'd be sure to think that, anyway!" laughed Fanny.
"So would anybody with good eyes," he went on. "Honest--I never saw so
much paint on a bunch of women in my life! When it comes to
complexion, they make the crowd at the French Maids' Ball look like a
lot of schoolgirls just out of the convent."
"It was pretty bad," assented his wife.
"The funny thing," he continued, "was that the old ones were the
worst. There was one old party in particular--the one that wore that
long fur coat--what a fur coat!--I'm not sure what kind of fur it was,
but it looked to me like unborn plush!"
"James!" exclaimed his wife, scandalized.
"Well," he proceeded, "that dame was so outrageously made up that you
could have used her face for a danger signal--on the level you
could--and yet I'll bet she was so old it would break a fellow just to
buy candles for her birthday cake."
"I know the one you mean," laughed Fanny.
"Why do they do it?" he demanded with an air of superiority. "Do they
think folks are blind? Or does each woman imagine that while she can
spot it on every other woman a mile off, nobody can see it on her?"
"I think you have guessed it!"
"We were all right, weren't we?" interrupted Virginia with a smile.
"That's what you were!" he exclaimed enthusiastically. Then, surveying
his own clothes in the mirror with great satisfaction, he went on:
"While we are on the subject, what is the matter with 'yours truly'?"
"Splendid!" cried Virginia, looking him over.
Fanny beamed with pride. Laughingly she exclaimed:
"James got a Tuxedo a year ago, but this is the first time he has worn
full evening dress."
"Yes," said her husband ruefully, "I felt all right in it except my
hands and feet. My hands are no bigger than any other fellow's; but
while I had on the white kids I felt there was nothing to me but the
lunch hooks!"
"James!" cried Fanny, shocked at his vulgarity.
"Honest!" he grinned, "they felt so big that every time I put my foot
down I thought I was going to step on one of 'em!"
Virginia looked admiringly at his silk hose.
"What beautiful socks!" she exclaimed.
Drawing up his trousers, Jimmie showed more of the hose above the
pump. Grumbling, he said:
"Yes, they're all right. But what I object to is the draught that
comes through the open windows! I wouldn't be a bit surprised if I had
caught a severe cold in the instep! Pretty good looking suit, though,
isn't it?"
"Yes, indeed!" exclaimed Fanny, examining the material more closely.
Her husband pointed with pride to his imitation pearl studs.
"And say--what do you think of my near-pearls?"
"I'll get you some genuine ones," laughed his sister-in-law.
"Don't you do it!" he retorted. "I looked the other fellows over and
you couldn't tell 'em from mine! If you have any money to invest on
me, put it into something that'll show."
"I will," said Virginia, much amused. "And now tell me, what did you
really think of the opera, Jimmie?"
First he looked at his sister-in-law to see if she was seriously
consulting his opinion; then solemnly he said:
"I hoped I wouldn't have to mention it."
"Why?" she demanded, laughing.
Making a gesture of protest, he exclaimed:
"Won't you please drop the 'Jimmie' and call me 'James'?"
"Why?"
"I'm going to be a millionaire some day," he explained, "and when I
am, 'James Gillie' will be bad enough, but 'Jimmie Gillie'--Jimmy
Gillie wouldn't sound as though I had a cent."
Virginia nodded. Smilingly she replied: "I see! Well, from this time
on it shall be 'James'."
"Thanks."
"And now, having settled that point, I ask you again--what did you
really think of the opera?"
"On the level, or to tell to the neighbors?"
"Is there any difference?"
"You bet there is. To the neighbors I'll say it was 'so delightful'
and 'extremely artistic,' but if it's on the level I'll say it was
punk."
"What?" cried Virginia.
"Punk?" echoed his wife, puzzled.
"Yes! Fancy paying five a throw to hear a sawed-off Italian let go a
few top notes, when you can have the same seat in a vaudeville theatre
and get Eva Tanguay and a whole bunch of good acts for a dollar! Five
a throw to hear a dago yodel something I don't even understand--not
for my money!"
"James!" cried Fanny in despair.
But, once started, Jimmie was not to be curbed. With a grin he went
on:
"And the leading lady--a human joke if ever there was one. There they
were all telling about this beautiful maiden of eighteen summers, and
when she came on--a beautiful maiden? A milk wagon, believe me, a milk
wagon!"
Fanny turned to her sister. Apologetically she said:
"You see, dear, James only cares for violin music."
"I don't even care for that," he growled.
"Then why did you take me last week to see that famous violinist?" she
demanded.
"A mistake, my dear. I didn't know he was a violinist. You see, he was
flourishing his bow and I thought he was a juggler!"
"You're incorrigible!" laughed Virginia.
"Musical comedy and vaudeville for mine," he exclaimed. "I've joined
the ranks of the 'tired business men,' like your husband."
Virginia shook her head. "You're wrong there," she said. "Robert is
very fond of opera."
"Which accounts for his not going to hear it, I suppose."
"No, that was not it," she replied quickly. "He had to see some of his
associates on a very important business matter."
"That's what I'll be saying soon!" grinned her brother-in-law. "I'm
already getting a hundred a week. I guess that's not bad for a fellow
who two years ago was only getting fourteen!"
"It's just splendid!" exclaimed Fanny.
"And the best thing about it is that I did it all myself!" said
Jimmie.
"All?" echoed Virginia.
"Yes, every bit," he answered impudently.
"Didn't Robert help any?"
"Oh, of course, he gave me the chance, but how long do you think I'd
have lasted if I hadn't made good?"
His sister-in-law smiled good-naturedly. Quickly she asked:
"What salary were you getting when Robert gave you your chance?"
"That's got nothing to do with it," he retorted.
"You were getting fourteen dollars a week and he started you at fifty.
That was some help, wasn't it?"
"Oh, well! what of it?"
"Nothing," she replied. "I mention this only to make you remember that
Robert is entitled to at least a part of the credit for your
advancement."
Jimmie nodded. Ungraciously he said:
"He gave me my start, I'll admit that. But did he raise me to
seventy-five and then to a hundred out of charity? Not much! He did it
because I was worth it."
"Of course," she smiled.
"Yes," he went on, "and I'm worth more than a hundred now. I'm going
to strike for a raise pretty soon, and if I don't get it--if I don't
get it, I'll put on my coat, walk right out and leave him flat."
"James!" exclaimed Fanny, making frantic signs to him to desist.
"And then? What will you do?" asked Virginia quickly.
"Go to work somewhere else!" he snapped.
"As a shipping clerk?"
"I should say not."
"Then what will you do?"
"I'll find something."
"At a salary of over five thousand dollars a year?"
"Yes."
Virginia shrugged her shoulders. Curtly she said:
"Don't be foolish."
Fanny nodded approval.
"I think myself you'd better stick to Robert," she said.
Folding his arms, the young man faced the two women. Indignantly he
cried:
"You two talk as though I was getting my salary out of charity--as
though Mr. Stafford was handing me something! Well, I tell you he
isn't. There's no friendship in business, and if I wasn't worth a
hundred I wouldn't get it! I'm a valuable man to your husband. I've
put him onto four or five good things in Wall Street already. Did he
tell you about 'em?"
"No," said Virginia, shaking her head.
"I did, just the same," he went on exultantly, "and if he followed my
advice and played it strong he must have made half a million or so
just out of my tips! I'm not conceited--not a bit--but I know what I
can do! I know--"
Before he had completed the sentence the telephone rang. Virginia
quickly took the receiver. After listening a moment, she said:
"Thank you!" Replacing the instrument, she turned to the others and
said quietly:
"Robert has just come in."
Jimmie had still grievances to ventilate. Peevishly he exclaimed:
"There's another thing. Why shouldn't I call him Robert the same as
you and Fanny do?"
"Has he objected?" asked Virginia, a slight smile hovering around her
mouth.
"No," he answered; "I never tried it! I feel like a fool, though, at
the office. Everybody knows he's my brother-in-law, and yet I have to
call him 'Mr. Stafford,' just as though he was no relation at all. Do
you think he'd mind if I called him Robert?"
"You must be the judge of that," she replied evasively.
Just then there was a rap on the door.
"Come," called out Virginia.
The door opened and Stafford entered.