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."
[Illustration: "I'VE GOT ANOTHER IDEA," SAID JIMMIE. PAGE 305]
"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!"