THE FAMILY BLACK SHEEP
Presently I got in a word:
"Then, Judge, I have your permission to speak to Frances?"
"Permission?" He lifted his hands and eyes. "You certainly have, my
boy--don't I make it clear? Why, I'm simply delighted--and grateful--oh,
so _grateful_ to you!"
And, by Jove, he meant it--there was no mistaking his fervency! But it
made me feel like a silly ass, you know. Custom or no custom, it just
made me a bit nifty to think _her_ father would speak this way. Might be
good form, but it appeared rotten taste--lots of things seem that way,
dash it! Suggested this to Pugsley once, but he was so devilish shocked
couldn't eat his luncheon--wasn't able to fetch a dashed word for four
hours!
"Why, Lightnut," he dropped to a chair, leaning forward, with shining
eyes, "you can't possibly know what this means just at this time! Why,
if you hadn't offered to speak to Francis, it's not likely that any one
else _ever_ would!"
"Judge!" I ejaculated, shocked.
"Who would want to?" And he grimaced horribly.
"Oh, I say now!" I protested warmly.
"My boy, I tell you I know--you _don't_!" He lifted his hand eloquently,
deflecting the corners of his mouth--oh, such a way! "No, siree, I tell
you there's not another living man would dare chance it!" He threw
himself backward, puffing his cheeks at me and walling his eyes
frightfully. "In fact, hereabouts--where Francis is known, there have
been two men--only just two--who ever had the temerity to do it."
"Oh!" I commented. Wondered if one of these was the other chap she was
engaged to.
He proceeded impressively: "One of these, my dear sir, was our rector--a
most charming and venerable old man, now nearly eighty-three and
partially paralyzed and deaf; lives a sweet, patient life all alone, you
know, with no one in the world to care for him. _Well_, sir," he
stiffened dramatically, leveling one finger at me, "do you think that
Francis would even listen to him?"
Did I? Well, dash it, _did_ I?
But I tried to mumble something polite.
"And then--" he puffed as he relighted his cigar, "there's Jack's
chauffeur, you know."
"Eh, Jack's--_what's_ that?" I gripped the arms of my chair.
"Yes," he nodded, "Jack's chauffeur. Oh, I was _so_ disappointed at the
result of his effort!" The old gentleman slipped back in his chair with
a sigh. "Francis just swore at him, you know!"
"By Jove!" I managed to get out--and yet, somehow, I was devilish
pleased about it.
"You see?" And he spread out his hands. "Absolutely no sense of
appreciation, you observe; and it had seemed such a splendid chance! You
see they had been so intimate--oh, are still, for that matter."
I caught my breath. "In--intimate!" I stammered. "You don't mean Frances
and this chauffeur?"
"_Oh_, yes," carelessly, "Scoggins is all right; very superior young man
for his position--fond of Francis, you know, and I really think has
great influence." He puffed complacently an instant. "Fact is, they are
always together when Francis is home"--puff--"motoring, boating, or else
off somewhere camping together."
"Wha-at--what's that--not _camping_?" I looked at him aghast. "Oh, come
now, Judge--really you don't mean _that_, do you--not camping together?"
I spoke excitedly, but he just stared at me with an expression of blank
surprise.
"Eh? Why, certainly, my dear boy--for weeks at a time--and why not?" His
shift manifested some impatience. "Pshaw, Lightnut," he growled,
flicking his ash, "what's the odds--why be so particular? _I_ don't
mind!" He jammed his hands into his trousers pockets till it seemed he
would go through them. "I tell you, I'm glad I'm democratic!"
"Oh!" I uttered, seeing a light.
So _that_ was it! Well, in any case, I knew now that I was a republican,
by Jove! Never did know before what I was and it was a devilish relief
to find out. Half made up my mind, then and there, I would vote next
election--never had, you know; few of our set ever did. Pugsley, for
one, held it to be doubtful form.
"Bright, self-made young man," I caught as I came back. By Jove, he was
still talking about that beastly chauffeur! "Such fine morals, you
know."
"Oh, dash it, _yes_!" And I think this must have been when I broke the
corner out of a filling.
"That was why I was so sorry he failed with Francis," he continued
regretfully, "but _you_ may succeed better--oh, I don't know but what it
will do just as well!"
"Thanks--er--awfully!" I murmured weakly.
"Oh, I think so--_oh_, yes!" He bobbed his head as though he were quite
resigned to it--then went on thoughtfully:
"And anyhow, if Francis finds _you_ are in deadly earnest, why it--" His
voice dropped off musingly: "Well, I believe _that_ would make it
easier--oh, lots easier for Scoggins."
I blinked a little with my free eye.
Wasn't sure, you know, but somehow it seemed to me a rum thing to
say--almost offensive, dash it! But then, for that matter, everything
was rum of late--so _that_ counted for nothing. Fact was, it just seemed
to me like there was something in the air--everybody seemed so
queer--well, jolly muddled, I should call it! Idea had been gradually
coming to me that I was the only one who appeared to have any clear
understanding of things; and somehow the realization just made me
devilish nervous--the responsibility, don't you know!
And just then the judge looked suddenly at his watch, muttered
something, and hitched up to the table strewn with papers. He bent over
these with a frown, coughed oddly, glanced at me--and bent again with a
mutter. Of course, I saw he was annoyed over sudden consciousness of the
break he had made, and was striving to cover his embarrassment.
And, by Jove, it seemed to me he _ought_ to _feel_ embarrassed, for the
very rummest thing yet was this crazy infatuation for this infernal
chauffeur. It was pitiful--oh, disgusting, if you ask _me_--and the more
so because it was something she did not share. I _knew_ she didn't, you
know! No, it was plain enough, dash it, that between her father and this
mucker of a chauffeur, my poor darling was being crowded to the
what's-its-name. _This_ was what she had meant--had hinted at--and, by
Jove, I was ready to wager anything on it; eager to put up all I was
worth, you know!
Didn't know, dash it, how much I _was_ worth Went down in Wall Street
one day and asked old Morley, my man of affairs, but forgot what he
said. Never could remember afterward whether it was one million or ten
and always hated to ask again.
Truth was he had stared at me so and seemed so oddly surprised, I just
worked off some jolly apologetic rubbish and got out. Pugsley thought I
must have violated some rotten, silly law of commercial ethics--that
sort of thing, you know; declared that his attorney had had the dashed
impertinence once to ask him about some investments, so he got another
man and gave him a power of what's-its-name. Never was bothered now, he
said, by checks or reports or any boring distractions of that sort;
_this_ man just kept him supplied with money, and once in a while he
scrawled his name on something--all he had to do. Devilish simple, you
see, but then Pugsley is so ingenious, so--oh, _clever_, you know.
"H'm!" coughed the judge, "Er--h'm!" And I stopped snapping the cover of
my cigarette case, thinking he was about to say something, but he did
not look up. By Jove, how I wished that he were _really_ busy, so I
might slip out without danger of offending him! But I was afraid to
chance it--did so want to rub him right, don't you know, on account of
Frances. Knew he was still feeling a bit plucked over his slip of the
tongue--showed plainly he was bothered, you know; you could tell by his
puckered brows and the way he kept clearing his throat. So meantime,
knowing that the best thing was to appear unconscious--just give him
time, you know--I fell carelessly to jingling some coins in my pocket
and tapping my foot upon the hardwood, as I hummed a devilish neat
little air from _La Juive_ that I almost knew by heart:
"_Qu'il, l'apprenne de vous?
Helas, je vous implore, benissez mon epoux_--"
By Jove, I had just got that far, when he shook his head with a kind of
snort, threw down his pen, and got to his feet, facing me with a sickly
smile.
"I am going to ask you to excuse me, my dear Lightnut"--came right out
frankly like that, you know! "But the fact is--" he opened and shut his
watch--nervously, you know--"I have just realized how--"
But I stopped him--couldn't let him go on, of course: "Oh, I say, you
know! Not another word, my _dear_ Judge--I don't care a jolly hang, dash
it!" And to show him, I smiled, got out a cigarette, and perched kind of
sidewise on the edge of the table. "I'm not a bit sensitive, don't you
know!"
He stared. "Indeed, no--I see you are not!" he said warmly.
I drew a light a bit airily. "Of course," I puffed, "what _you_ are
thinking of is your servant, but I"--I shot him a light wink--"I've got
to think a little about my own affair, don't you--"
"_Lightnut!_" He caught me by the arms, his face reddened almost black.
"My _dear_ boy, ten thousand pardons! I assure you--"
"That's just all right, Judge," I reassured him soothingly. "All I am
holding out for is just to be sure we understand each other about
Frances--that I may be sure I have your authority--"
"So _that's_ it!" He relaxed with a deep breath. Then quietly: "My dear
boy, you make me ashamed of myself--I _was_ rude!" And he shook my hand.
"Yes, indeed--you just go right ahead; almost anything is preferable to
the vicious life Francis is leading--_anything_!" He sighed and his
voice dropped confidentially: "I'm afraid even you would be discouraged
if I told you of one or two disgraceful episodes at Cambridge--I _know_
Scoggins would be!"
Scoggins again--always Scoggins! _Dash_ Scoggins! Of course he would be
discouraged, but I should not. Devilish simple reason, you
know--wouldn't believe it, by Jove!
"Yes, I learned all about it from my daughter when she came home," he
proceeded gloomily; "she feels that in a measure it has marred Miss
Kirkland's visit with her."
Miss Kirkland! I recalled now that that was the name of the girl from
China. By Jove, _I_ preferred to think of her as the frump!
"For Miss Kirkland heard the gossip at Cambridge--seems she has friends
there among the residents; and they were kind enough to tell her of
these things of the year before as soon as they noticed how devoted
Francis was to her. At least this is what my daughter suspects--Miss
Kirkland is not the kind to talk, you know."
Oh, _wasn't_ she! By Jove, I wondered what he would think if he had
heard our conversation in the hall! But it wasn't for _me_ to tell him
he was warming a what's-its-name to his bosom, so I just mumbled a
reply.
"Nevertheless," he shrugged, "it is easy to see that she can't stand the
sight of Francis." He shook his head dismally. "Charming girl, Mr.
Lightnut--a rare and perfect type of the English beauty at her best."
Oh, _was_ she! Not if I knew anything about it, and I had seen three
seasons in London. By Jove, I was so terribly shocked I could just feel
it in my face!
He seemed surprised. "Don't you think so?" he insisted.
"Well, I rather _don't_, you know!" It just blurted out of itself. "Oh,
I say--now, you're not really in earnest?" And I screwed my glass so
hard in my embarrassment, I hurt my eye--"You know she's a freak! Why,
dash it--" I pulled up, for after all, she was a fellow guest.
He stared, jammed his hands deep in his pockets and bent toward me.
"Now, look here, my boy, _do_ you mean to say you don't think Miss
Kirkland a beautiful and winning girl?"--I guess he did see I meant it,
for he slowly emitted an expressive whistle--"Well, you _are_ hopeless
then--utterly hopeless!" and dash it, he just groaned!
"But now, my dear young friend," he went on, and with a glance at the
littered table, "I want you to go out and get some fresh air before the
bloom of the morning is past--if you go out this way, you will avoid
encountering those girls"--his hand gently but firmly urged me. "It has
been just abominably selfish of me to have kept you stuffed in here; I
know I have bored you to death with all this about the family black
sheep--I feel that now I must let you escape."
"Oh, no--not at all!" I protested hastily and pulling back. Never would
do to let him feel that way, you know! "Really, 'pon honor now, thing I
want to do is just stay here and talk to you about Frances."
"Oh, _damn_ Fran--h'm--I mean Francis will keep!" He caught himself
hastily before the stare of my glass, fumbling with the papers to cover
his confusion. Then he clapped me on the shoulder, pressing me again
toward the door. "You just go ahead and do whatever you can with
Francis, yourself--you are my only hope! Or wait, and I'll prepare the
way for you to-night--that's it; that's best!"--and he went to nodding.
Then he halted my progress and eyed me intently. "There's another
thing:"--his voice dropped--"I think it's just as well Jack shouldn't
know of your intentions about Francis; he would never approve--oh,
_never_!"
He pursed his lips to just a thin curve as he shook his head positively.
His eyes bored at me over his glasses. I moistened my lips.
"I know _he_ feels you have already concerned yourself enough about
Francis," he said deliberately. "The other night at your rooms--er,
_you_ know! Jack is so particular in those little things. Ah, there's a
model for you!"
He looked upward and wagged his head as he laid his hand upon the
door-knob. By Jove, how I wished he would open it, for the room was
getting devilish warm!
"And as for things I deplore in Francis--oh, no, never any of that with
Jack!"--he stiffened proudly--"he may, as I have said, imbibe a little
too much, now and then; but when it comes to _scandal_--well, I have yet
to hear the slightest breath--"
A sharp knock cut in abruptly.
"Come in!" And he swung the door open.