I SPEAK TO HER FATHER
"So glad to see you here, my boy," the judge was saying. And his little
round face beamed at me across the library table. I had encountered him
in the hall just as I had descended to rejoin the girls in the
living-room. Forthwith, he elbowed me into the library.
"Know from Jack how glad you always are to escape girls," he remarked
cheerily as he produced cigars. "Don't blame you at all--in fact, do you
know it refreshes me to find--"
Don't know what dashed thing it refreshed him to find, for I never
caught it. For just then through the doorway there floated, from across
the hall, a bar of music--the laugh of the dearest girl in the world!
I strained for another bar.
"Hah!" ejaculated the judge, pausing with questioning uplift of cigar.
"The silly cackle of those girls--it disturbs you. Yes, it does--I can
see it--you _look_ disturbed." And, dash it, he insisted upon closing
the door. "You mustn't let _them_ bother you while you are here," he
urged pleasantly; "you must just go ahead and do the thing you _want_ to
do."
By Jove, there seemed little opportunity for it!
"Thanks awfully," I murmured feebly.
The judge proceeded genially: "Of course we all understand that you just
came up to Wolhurst to please Jack." Then his face clouded. "H'm! Sorry
to learn that he came home with another--" his eyes rolled through a
circle--"er--is not feeling just fit. It's too bad, for I wanted some
one to take you over the neighborhood--interesting landmarks, you know,
reminiscent of Major Andre and Washington Irving."
"Charmed, I'm sure," I chirped up. Jolly lie, though, for I wasn't
impressed; didn't know _who_ the other fellow was, but I had _seen_
Irving in London--scores of times. Not a patch on John Drew to _my_
thinking!
The judge was murmuring something apologetic:
"So I can't go with you, myself, you see--but I know you will
understand. Just so infernally tied up with preparation of rebuttal in
suit the attorney-general is bringing against one of my
corporations--most unreasonable thing you ever heard of!" The judge
crossed his legs with a fling of impatience and pulled savagely at his
cigar. "By George, Lightnut, we are getting to a pass with politics
where party organization is going to the dogs--don't you think so, eh?"
"Oh, dash it, yes--rotten, you know!" I worked off indignantly--her
father, don't you see! Sat wondering when I would get to see her--by
Jove, they would _have_ to let me see her at luncheon! I just caught
back in time to get the end of a sentence:
"Utter defiance of personal obligations!" His hands spread eloquently.
"Tell me what is the use of electing men to office, when they
time-servingly yield before the clamor of the cursed populistic and
revolutionary spirit of the times?" He was leaning toward me now, his
jolly face swelling with indignation, his fist beating upon his knee.
"What has become, Mr. Lightnut," he pounded, "of the time-honored
sanctity of the 'gentleman's agreement'--eh? Where now the _pact
conventa_?"
"Where?" I shrugged, and I let it go at that, pretending to be busied
with a match; for dash me if _I_ knew! Never had seen it even--in fact,
didn't care a jolly hang if I never did, don't you know.
He went on hammering: "Here I've got to go and stultify myself, arguing
against my own decision when I was on the bench!" He snorted. "It's
perfectly abominable, sir--outrageous!"
And the judge hurled his little body back into the chair and furiously
pumped himself into a cloud of smoke. He glared at me expectantly, and I
knew I had to come up.
"Beastly bad form, you know!" I tried, sending a great funnel upward and
frowning after it. Fact was, I never took any interest in political
questions--dashed bore, you know. Wondered if he would spring them much
when Frances and I were--
"Um--well, I should say so!" he grunted; and my jerk sent ashes all
over me. But I saw that he was just mollified because I agreed with him.
Best system, Pugsley says, is always to agree with _everybody_ in
politics--"humor 'em gently, just like children," were his exact words;
"you know it really _don't_ matter!"
"And now, let's see," resumed the judge, brightening. "I wonder who we
_can_ get to take you!" His fingers drummed together thoughtfully. "Um,
of course, there is Francis--" my heart took a jolly leap--"but Francis
is impossible--_quite_ impossible!"
"By Jove, no!" I ejaculated eagerly, and I came up in my chair like a
galvanized what's-its-name. "Just the thing--be delighted, you know."
He smiled grimly. "Natural _you_ should say that, but--" He expectorated
with deliberation, glowering at me as he did it. "_No_, sir!" His head
shook with decision. "Wouldn't do--I wouldn't think of trusting you with
Francis," he finished shortly.
"O!" Just a gasp, you know; and my jolly cheeks stung as from a dash of
fiery what's-its-name sauce. So _he_ knew about the pajamas, too!
I half rose from my chair.
"I--I assure you, sir--" I began stiffly.
His fussy shrug checked me. "No, no, we'll just have to wait till Jack
gets up. The only thing _I'm_ anxious about is the scenery and the view
points; and I just know if Francis went with you, you would never see
any of it."
By Jove, I thought that quite likely enough, but of course it was
devilish personal of him to say so. And dash seeing the scenery and view
points, anyway--who wanted to see _them_, if they could see _her_? I was
just going to suggest this, when he went on:
"The fact is--" He hesitated, then flicked his ashes with a sigh. "Oh,
well, since I've said as much as I have, I should go further, I suppose.
It's only fair not to leave you in the dark, especially as my daughter
was enthusiastically telling me just now"--puff--"that she already looks
on you as one of the family."
"By Jove, did she though?" I hitched to the front of the chair. "How
dev--I mean how--"
He nodded. "And so I feel justified in talking to you frankly--not that
I want to prejudice you against Francis, you understand, but just
because"--his head wagged soberly--"_Francis won't do!_" And he looked
at me steadily.
Something like a sharp pain struck through me. Again--and this time from
her own father! I just sat there kind of frozen, you know, except that I
could feel the smile slowly loosening in my face. He moved to a seat
nearer.
"I don't like to seem to be disparaging my own flesh and blood, Mr.
Lightnut," he proceeded gravely, "but the truth is Francis is the only
one of my children that gives me any anxiety."
"Oh!" I felt myself shrink together, my knees slanting away from him.
My dashed monocle hung limp.
He angled closer. "Jack's drinking is bad--that I admit, but
perhaps--h'm--he comes by it naturally; still Jack has never forgotten
that he is a gentleman--the son of a gentleman--and has never been what
you would call fast, but--" His chest lifted under a deep breath--"but
Francis--_whew_!"
"Fast--Frances?" It faltered tremulously from my lips; my cigar dropped
with a soft thud.
His eyes widened. "_Oh_, yes--frightfully!" And he tendered me another
cigar, and I had to light it--he made me! "Of course, the mistake was in
ever sending Francis away to school--not always a wise thing, Mr.
Lightnut, especially when the home life has been too cloistered. I think
the reaction was too much for one so green and inexperienced as Francis.
And extravagance--my!" He lifted his hands. "I thought Jack was bad
enough at Cambridge with a thousand-dollar apartment on the 'Gold
Coast,' as you call it--and, by George, you Harvard men have got the
right name for it!--but Francis beat that in one term's drain on me for
poker losses and--"
"Poker?" I moistened my lips. Then I brightened, for perhaps he meant
bridge--and _that_ was good form, for there was my Aunt Julia, who lived
by it--fact! But his head shook impatiently when I suggested that he
meant this.
"Bridge!" he exploded. "Why, Francis doesn't know bridge from casino!
_Poker_, I tell you, and faro--and all the rest. The plucking was done
nightly at a certain--er--club, the establishment of a gentleman by the
name of McGinty--'Spot' McGinty--oh, you _know_ the place, then?"
For I had gasped audibly. "Only--only by reputation," I responded
hastily.
"Um, dare say it has got 'reputation,' all right. I guess, too, there
are more crooked things than streets within a couple of miles of Harvard
Square, eh? Why, do you know, Francis and a couple of classmates were
caught in a raid there one night and lugged off to the station in a
patrol--I had to bail 'em out by wire. That's how _I_ know about the
place." And, discriminatingly, he selected a fresh cigar and lighted it.
"You--you don't mean they were really arrested?" I faltered.
He nodded grimly through a funnel of smoke. "How could they help being?
Why, dammit, they were too drunk to get away!" He settled in his seat
with a scowl. "I can tell you it was all I could do to stave off
expulsion!"
My jolly head spun. By Jove, Radcliffe girls must have moved on some
since my day! Then they were coldly intellectual--went in strong for the
earnest life, you know--the serious purpose existence--all that sort of
thing. All of us looked on them with more or less awe--that is, except
Smithers; he tried some intimate flirtations, one morning with a bunch
in the Botanic Gardens and got stung. _He_ said they were "prunes."
But _Frances_--and "Spot" McGinty's! Surely I had not heard aright.
I faced him earnestly. "I--er--Judge Billings, do I understand you--that
is, it can't be that you are speaking of--er--Frances?" I stammered
incredulously. "I mean _your_ Frances--surely you are not!"
"I just am!" His jaw set with a snap. "Just who I'm talking about and
nobody else, young man! I mean, _my_ Francis--Francis Leslie
Billings--who else could I mean?" He almost groaned. "Oh, you don't
_know_ Francis!"
Dash it, what they all chorused at me! They seemed pretty positive about
it, too, and I was jolly miserable; but looking back now, I somehow
think of that moment as being the point where I reached the parting of
the what-you-call-'ems. Didn't know what to think, but knew I had to
make up my mind right then and there--and for _always_, don't you know.
Knew, of course, that it was just pure _luck_ that Frances cared for
me--realized jolly well I wasn't particularly clever and all that, you
know; but _she_ didn't seem to mind. It was then that it came to me all
of a sudden that the only dashed thing in all the world that I could
give _her_, that she didn't seem to have already from somebody,
was--well just _trust_.
And, by Jove, as soon as I got hold of this perfectly corking idea, I
knew I had it for life, and--well, nothing else mattered in all the
world, you know!
Meantime, her father was studying me a little oddly and smiling.
"I see you don't quite like what I say about Francis," he remarked,
puffing complacently.
I looked him straight in the eye. "Frankly, I don't, if you must know,"
I blurted. Then I screwed my monocle tight and straightened forward. "By
Jove, I think you ought to be ashamed of yourself, you know!"
"Wh--what's that?--_Lightnut!_" He turned a beet color and grasped the
arms of his chair.
"Oh, I do." I stood up and he followed. "I think if that poor child had
had a little--er--forbearance and kindness--that sort of thing--oh, dash
it, I just think you've been infernally harsh always--yes, I do!"
"Well, I'll be--" He swallowed it, neck forward, and stood panting a
bit. "_Harsh_, eh?" he jerked at me. "Um!" He stood there, his feet
braced apart, his white brows beetling at the floor. "Harsh!" He cocked
his head on one side, thrusting out his heavy under-lip. Then came a
sniff and a grunt, and oh, he looked black!
I was feeling devilish pale--you can, you know--and a little trembly
from excitement. Wasn't quite sure what I had said, but knew jolly well
I must have meant it, whatever it was. Knew, of course, that in another
minute it would be his come-back and he would simply slay me. He would
look at me coldly through his glasses, bow with dignity, and leave the
room.
And then--
I wondered if Jenkins had a time-table!
And just then came a quick breath, and I caught a murmur: "I wonder now
if, after all, that is true! By George, they say children and--" The
mutter trailed off. "Here, here, my boy--sit down," he exclaimed
suddenly; and he made me.
"I want to thank you, Lightnut," he said impressively. "It may be that
you are right. Perhaps the better course would be gently to reason with
Francis."
"Oh, Judge, I am sure of it," I urged feelingly.
"Well, well, my boy--we'll see." He patted me on the knee. "I'm going to
try your way--by George, I'll do it to-night!" His eyes seemed to hold
me with a more kindly and personal interest. "Do you know I can't tell
you how glad I am that you find so much in Francis to like; indeed, I am
_delighted_." Still studying me attentively, he musingly reached for a
fresh light. "In point of fact, Lightnut, I am free to say I hope the
intimacy begun between you two will grow closer. It would be a
thundering good thing for Francis and a great comfort to me."
And, by Jove, he smiled at me--a devilish pleasant smile!
I sat up straight, uncrossed my legs and tried it over the other way.
Awfully helpful dodge, you know, when you are under some mental
agitation.
He was looking at me through his lashes as he drew the flame to his
cigar, and I knew that now was the time for me to speak. He _expected_
it--had deliberately given me an opening, and a prime one, and now--was
waiting! Of course he couldn't know that I was so dashed
inexperienced--unpractised, you know--in speaking to a girl's father
and that I didn't even know the correct forms and usages. An out-and-out
man of the world like Judge Billings just _couldn't_ understand this,
don't you know, and to have him suspect the truth--oh, it would have
been too mortifying--too _humiliating_, dash it!
So I just leaned forward and made a go:
"Thanks awfully; and--er--by the way--" Then I stuck, boggled wildly an
instant and went on: "That is to say, this intimacy, you know--has it
been too short to justify--" I gulped. "Er--would you be willing to
trust--" And I lost the dashed idea again, floundered a bit and took
another shy: "Oh, I say, you know, have I your permission to speak to
Frances--er--_you_ know?"
"You speak to Francis?"--he just leaped toward me--"Why, my _boy_!" And
he was wringing my arm with one hand while the other clasped my
shoulder. "My _de-e-ear_ boy--why, Lightnut!" By Jove, he almost gushed!
"You're not joking now, are you?" He peered anxiously into my face. "No,
by George, I believe you really mean it!" And he went to pumping like
mad. "How awfully good of you--_self-sacrificing_ is the word! Are you
quite sure you don't mind?"
"_Mind?_" By Jove, I think I looked what I felt at such a dashed silly
question.
"Well! well! _well!_ My dear young friend!" And oh, he went on in the
most disgusting way--why, dash it, you would have thought I was doing
him some favor! I guessed, though, that it was the usual custom, but it
seemed rum--for _I_ should have thought that in giving your daughter
away, you put the thanks up to the other fellow. But Pugsley says the
rule varies--quite often varies! Anyhow, I felt so gratified that I had
taken the honorable course and spoken to her father--understand so many
do not at all, you know. As it was, it gave me quite a comfortable glow
of pride, and I reflected how much better it always is to follow the
wise dictates of your what's-its-name!
"By Jove!" I thought, as I nodded and smiled back, "I wonder what he
would say if he knew that Frances and I are _already_ engaged!"