As the millionaire advanced into the room it was easy to see that he
was not himself. His face was flushed, his eyes brilliant, his gait
awkward and uncertain. The bosom of his full dress shirt was rumpled
and his white tie awry. He had every appearance of having just come
from some midnight orgy, and, like most roysterers who take their wine
joyously, he was in the highest spirits. Making with his right arm a
wide sweeping gesture meant to include all present in a general
salutation, he hiccoughed:
"Ev'ning, everybody!"
He stood still in the centre of the room, maintaining with difficulty
the centre of gravitation and grinning upon each in turn.
"Isn't he jolly to-night?" laughed Fanny.
"Got 'em again," chuckled Jim in an undertone.
Virginia alone was not amused. Her face turned deathly pale. He had
broken his word again. She looked at him, and shuddered. She saw his
eyes seek her out and she read there the same expression which had
always frightened her and which when he was in that condition meant
only one thing. She could not go on living like this. It was
unbearable, more than she could endure. It was too humiliating, too
degrading. As she stood watching him he advanced clumsily towards her.
Involuntarily she recoiled, but, in a stride, he was beside her and
placed one arm round her waist. Kissing her, he hiccoughed:
"Hello, honey!" With maudlin admiration he exclaimed: "My, but you
look sweet to-night!"
Disgusted, nauseated, Virginia turned her head away from his tainted
breath, and tried to disengage herself. But he held her as in a vice.
Turning to Jimmie, he said jocularly:
"Do you--wonder that--I'm in love with her?"
"I should say not," grinned the clerk.
"She's the prettiest and sweetest girl that ever lived," went on
Stafford. He still had one arm round his wife's waist and, struggling
to place his mouth on hers, he insisted: "Kiss me, honey!"
In vain Virginia strove to free herself. She was but a child in his
strong arms.
"Robert--Robert--please!" she protested angrily.
He laughed boisterously.
"Oh--go on--you know you love me! Kiss me!"
Reluctantly, realizing it was her only way of escape, she touched his
cheek with her cold lips.
"That's the girl!" he exclaimed, releasing her.
Deathly white and with a set, determined expression on her face,
Virginia broke from his embrace and hurried away to join her sister
who, dreading a scene, had discreetly withdrawn into the bedroom.
Stafford stood looking after her, a stupid expression on his face as
if of mild surprise at her resistance. When she had disappeared, he
turned to his employee. For a few moments he did not speak and the
younger man was beginning to feel uncomfortable under his close
scrutiny when Stafford suddenly blurted out:
"Jimmie!"
"Yes."
"What salary are you getting?"
"A hundred--"
Stafford shook his head. Smiling, he said:
"No, you're not--you're getting a hundred and fifty!"
The clerk stared at his employer, not comprehending. What did he mean?
Was this the long expected and hoped for raise in his salary, or was
he the victim of a drunken jest?"
"I'm only getting a hundred," he stammered.
Stafford nodded encouragingly. Amiably he said:
"Now you're getting a hundred and fifty--"
The clerk's face broadened into a grin. At last his ability was
receiving tardy acknowledgment. Hadn't he told Fanny months ago that
he was worth the money? Well, better late than never! He was about to
express his thanks when the millionaire interrupted him with a
careless gesture.
"When you're really worth twenty, I'll make it two hundred--"
The young man's expression fell. Had he heard aright? What could the
boss mean?
"Twenty?" he echoed, puzzled.
Stafford laughed loudly. Mockingly he said:
"Yes, I have a system about you. I pay you ten times what I think
you're worth."
The listener's jaw dropped a few inches more. This did not sound as if
his employer appreciated his merit any too much. Instinctively, he
glanced around to see if anyone had overheard. It was just as well
Fanny was not present. "Oh, you do?" he exclaimed with a crestfallen
air.
Stafford seemed to enjoy the young man's discomfiture. Promptly he
went on to explain:
"When you first came I figured you were worth five dollars, so I gave
you fifty. When I thought you were worth seven dollars and a half, I
gave you seventy-five, and when I thought you were really earning ten,
I raised it to a hundred!"
Utterly unnerved by this unexpected blow to his pride, completely
cowed, the young man stood staring foolishly at the railroad promoter,
not daring to raise his voice in protest, completely intimidated by
his employer's manner.
"And now," he asked timidly, "you think I'm worth fifteen?"
Stafford broke out into boisterous laughter.
"No, I don't, Jimmie! Oh, no, I don't! I raise you the other fifty
because--well--there's a reason!" Coaxingly, he went on: "Jimmie, as a
favor--as a favor--promise me you'll never get to be worth
twenty-five! The manager of your department gets only two hundred and
fifty and I couldn't pay you as much as I pay him, could I?"
"I hoped to be manager of the department some day," spoke up the
clerk, regaining some of his self-assurance.
"What's that?"
"I say I hoped to be manager of the department some day--"
Stafford shook his head. With mock solemnity he said:
"Jimmie, for all our sakes, let's hope that your hope doesn't come
out."
The young man was about to make a retort in kind, but at that instant
his employer's attention was diverted to something more important.
Virginia and Fanny had re-entered the boudoir from the bed chamber,
and were standing conversing at the far end of the room.
On seeing his wife, the railroad man seemed to forget aught else. His
eyes appeared to be fascinated by her; he closely watched her every
movement. Never, it seemed to him, had Virginia looked so attractive.
Was it her pale face, with the large appealing black eyes and small
curved lips that thrilled him, or was it her negligée gown, the
clinging folds of which imparted suggestive voluptuous lines to her
slender figure, which set his sensualism aflame?
Virginia was painfully conscious of his steady stare and she trembled.
Well she knew what it meant. If only she could keep her sister with
her! But it was late; the Gillies would soon retire. Embarrassed by
his persistent gaze, she went to the opposite side of the room on
pretext of getting a photograph from a desk. Before she could reach
it, her husband had intercepted her. Hoarsely he exclaimed:
"My, but you do look sweet to-night!"
He attempted to lay a hand on her arm and seemed about to bend over
and kiss her, but she quickly evaded him. In a vexed tone, she
exclaimed in a low voice:
"Please, Robert, behave yourself. Don't you see that there are others
present?"
Thus unceremoniously repulsed, Stafford appealed to his sister-in-law,
who had retreated to a corner on the other side of the room. In a
maudlin, jocular way he asked:
"You wouldn't mind, would you? You wouldn't mind if a husband kissed
his own wife."
"No, of course not," she smiled, at a loss what answer to make. She
was anxious to defend her sister, but at the same time unwilling to
displease her husband's employer.
The millionaire smiled, and leaving his wife, sauntered over to where
Fanny was sitting.
"How's the kid?" he inquired affably.
"Very well, thank you."
Stafford shook his head. Dubiously he said:
"When I saw her this morning I thought she looked a little pale. It
isn't good for kids to look pale. It shows that they don't get enough
fresh air and sunshine. Do you know what I'm going to do?"
"No," replied the mother, looking up at her brother-in-law in
surprise.
"In the morning I'm going to send you one of my cars as a present for
her."
"Oh, Robert!" she exclaimed breathlessly.
He winked significantly as he went on:
"That's the reason I've just raised Jimmie fifty--to pay for the
chauffeur and things. So the kid can have plenty of fresh air. See?"
Fanny clasped her hands in delight.
"Oh, you're too good!" she exclaimed gratefully.
"Hush!" he said in an undertone. "It's for the kid! I'm very fond of
her!" After a pause he added: "Besides, she's named for Virgie!"
Turning to Jimmie, he asked: "How does the idea strike you?"
"What idea?" demanded the father, who had not been listening.
"I've just made your little daughter--a present of an auto--"
"What make is it?"
The question came so spontaneously and was so characteristic of the
man that Stafford burst into a roar of merriment. As soon as he had
regained his composure he said:
"It's a--"
He was about to tell him the make when, realizing the colossal
impudence of the question, he stopped short and burst into laughter.
"You're always there, aren't you? Honest, Jimmie, you give me many a
laugh! Don't change your disposition or I'll never forgive you!"
"I didn't know I was so funny!" said the clerk resentfully, quite at a
loss to see humor in the situation.
"That's the beauty of the whole business!" laughed his employer.
"An auto--all for ourselves!" exclaimed Fanny, enthusiastically.
"Isn't that lovely?"
Her husband looked dubious. Doggedly he said:
"I don't know that we ought to accept presents from anybody now, not
even from--Robert."
The Christian name dropped as gingerly out of his mouth as if it had
been a hot potato. At last he had summoned up courage enough to do
what it had long been his ambition to do--call his employer by his
first name. He felt it would be a victory for him--a triumph over the
other men at the office to be on such terms of intimacy. Besides it
was his right. Wasn't he in the family?
Stafford turned quickly. There was a limit of endurance even to this
clown's impudence.
"What's that?" he demanded curtly.
Not abashed and encouraged by the railroad promoter's previous good
nature, Jimmie stood his ground and spoke up boldly:
"I said, I wasn't sure that we ought to accept presents even from you,
Robert."
Quickly Stafford raised his hand. Coldly and distantly he said:
"Just a minute. To my wife I am--Robert. To my wife's sister I
am--Robert. But to you I am--Mr. Stafford--even when I'm drunk."
Somewhat taken aback at this unexpected rebuff, the young man tried to
bluff it out. Raising his voice, he protested:
"You call me Jimmie--you don't even call me James!"
"So I do," laughed the millionaire, who never remained in a bad humor
long. It was beneath him to bandy words with his employee. The fellow
was impertinent, but what of it? He simply did not know any better.
Fanny, who had been an anxious observer of the little passage at arms,
spoke up. Turning to her husband, she said quickly:
"That's very different--"
"How?" demanded Jimmie, with an air of offended dignity.
"In every way," replied his wife, making dumb signs to him to desist.
But the clerk was not to be silenced so easily.
"I don't see it," he said doggedly.
The master of half a dozen railroad systems made a low bow to his
employee. With mock courtesy he said:
"You're right! You're quite right! I have been entirely too familiar
and I beg your pardon. From now on I shall be most careful to address
you always as--Mr. Gillie."
Jimmie looked considerably crestfallen.
"You needn't rub it in," he said, shifting uneasily on his feet.
"No idea of such a thing," went on the millionaire in the same tone.
"Just one gentleman to another--'Mr. Stafford' and 'Mr. Gillie.'
That's perfectly fair." Turning towards his wife, who had apparently
paid no attention to the discussion, he said: "Don't you think so,
Virginia?"
"Yes," she answered shortly, without looking around.
Leaving the others, Stafford walked unsteadily over to where his wife
was sitting. Bending over her, he exclaimed admiringly:
"My! You do look sweet to-night." Appealing to his clerk, he said:
"Doesn't she? Doesn't she, Jimmie--James--I mean Mr. Gillie?"
"I think we had better say good-night," said the young man coldly.
"Yes, indeed," chimed in Fanny, rising and making preparations to
retire for the night.
"Must you really go?" said the millionaire in a regretful tone as if
they would really confer a favor by disturbing still longer the
privacy of himself and his wife.
The clerk looked hesitatingly at his employer, as if there was still
something on his mind that was troubling him. Peevishly he said:
"Yes, it's late. I want to get to bed. It's nearly one o'clock and
I've got to be at the office by nine It's different with you. You
haven't got to be there unless you want to. That makes a difference."
"So it does," said the millionaire carelessly. Abruptly, as if he did
not wish the conversation prolonged, he said: "Well, good night!"
"Good night," rejoined the other in a surly, dissatisfied tone.
Virginia rose and went towards her sister.
"Good night, dear," she said affectionately.
"Good night."
As she was going out Fanny suddenly turned back. Running to her
brother-in-law, she said:
"Thank you so much for the auto."
"That's all right!" he said with a good natured laugh, as if the
giving away of automobiles was an incident of every day. "It's for the
kid. Kiss her good-night for me, will you?"
"Indeed, I will!" exclaimed Fanny gratefully. "Good night."
She followed Virginia out of the room and the two men stood looking at
each other--Jimmie somewhat intimidated, Stafford with an amused
expression on his face as if wondering what demand this extraordinary
employee of his would make upon him next. There was an awkward pause.
Finally the clerk said:
"If I don't get a good eight hours' sleep my brain don't work right.
Would you mind if I was late an hour or so in the morning?"
"I wouldn't," replied Stafford dryly. "But McLaughlin might. He's the
superintendent of your department and I never interfere with the
superintendent."
"He'd be sure to call me down," snapped Jimmie sourly. "He's got it in
for me and don't mind showing it. Some time I'll tell him what I think
about him."
Stafford shook his head. Warningly he said:
"Don't you do it. If you do he might tell you what he really thinks
about you. So take my advice and don't go out of your class."
"But if I told him that you--"
"Don't!" said the millionaire curtly. "I never interfere with the
superintendent."
"Then I suppose I'll have to be there," said Jimmie sulkily: "But
remember this--if I don't get a good eight hours' sleep, my brain
don't work right. So if I'm not up to my usual standard, don't blame
me."
He turned on his heel and was leaving the room when he bumped into his
sister-in-law, who was just coming in.
"Good night, Virginia," he mumbled.
"Good night, Jimmie," she replied cordially.
He went out, closing the door behind him.