THE DEMON RUM
I _didn't_ feel frisky when I awoke!
No, dash it, I had a devilish headache and my mouth had that gummy,
warm-varnish taste--_you_ know! The sunlight lay across the floor, and
outside I could hear the jolly birds twittering among their
what's-its-names. Jenkins stood by the foot of the bed and somehow had a
gloomy look. He cleared his throat, and I had a feeling that he had
already done it several times. I raised to my elbow, mouthing at him
heavily.
"Morning, sir!" He said it very gently--I thought solicitously. "_How_
do you feel, sir?" This last in the kind of tone you use when the chap's
going to die to-morrow, don't you know, and doesn't know it yet himself.
I mumbled reply, gulping down the glass of ice-water he tendered.
He rubbed his hands one over the other and stooped above me anxiously.
"I _hope_, sir, you're not in much pain--from last night, sir, I mean?"
"Pain?" I ejaculated crossly. "Why should I be in pain? Don't be a silly
ass!"
"Yes, sir!"--very softly, and with a deep sigh as he dropped back. By
Jove, he looked as cheerful as a jolly tombstone!
"What the deuce--" I began.
"Noth--nothing, sir!"--hastily--"I was just a-thinking of the--h'm--may
I say scrimmage, sir?"
I waited till I had taken from his hand the second glass of ice-water
and swallowed it, thinking maybe I would get hold of it--the dashed
idea, I mean.
I batted at him perplexedly.
"What was that? _Scrimmage?_ I don't remember hearing anything--_what's_
that?"
And I reached for another glass.
"Pardon, sir--" Jenkins' eye shifted unhappily; "but may I ask, sir,
what _is_ the last thing you do remember?"
"Eh?"
I sat up a bit straighter, rubbing my head and devilish annoyed at being
made to try to think at all. Then I remembered: We were in a jolly blue
aeroplane drawn by golden humming-birds and she was just telling
me--_no_, dash it, that was a dream--just a dashed dream! I groaned,
dropping my head upon my knees. "Why, the last thing I remember was the
punch--punch--"
"Punch--yes, sir!" And Jenkins sighed.
"_Your_ punch to put out the light," I finished. Then I looked at him,
startled. "Oh, I say, now, it wasn't burglars, was it?"
You see, I thought at once of Foxy Grandpa and my darling's pajamas.
"_Not_ precisely, sir." Jenkins hesitated; then moved a little nearer.
"I--I hope you'll pardon me, Mr. Lightnut, sir; but I can't help a
feeling that you ought to know everything before--h'm--I was going to
say, sir, before you see the family. I _hope_ you'll pardon me,
sir!"--he heaved desperately--"I mean about all that happened last
night."
I stared. "Oh, I say, Jenkins," I said, with an anxious thought, "_you_
didn't--er--_you_ know--I mean you and Wilkes didn't drink the rest of
the punch--after he took it away, you know--eh?"
"_Me?_" Jenkins' hand clutched the heavy brass curve at the foot of the
bed. "No, _sir_!"--and he added sadly: "Besides, sir, there _wasn't_ any
rest of it! Mr. Wil--I mean Wilkes, was a-commenting on it. That was how
I come to find I didn't have any more of the blank pledges. So I just
walked across the park to get some extra ones I had given the gardener,
and he said I could have 'em _all_, if I'd just let him get a little
sleep; and he chucked 'em all out of his window. Seemed irritated like
because I woke him up. And then, sir, I don't know whether it was
because of the splashing of the fountains, but I had an idea."
"_That's_ nothing," I said contemptuously, "I often do at night when I
hear water splashing. I _often_ get up and get something."
Jenkins' face sobered. "I _know_ it, sir--pardon, sir, I mean I
frequently know you have--h'm--know by the glasses--_you_ understand,
sir!" Then he went on: "The idea that came to me was a great liberty--I
know that, sir, and I'm sorry--but I guess I was thinking that about the
end justifies--_you_ know it, sir?"
I didn't know, but I did wish _he_ would make an end!
"The library windows was open on the loggia, sir, and when I looked in,
I didn't see anybody and I thought--" Jenkins coughed and looked
devilish rattled--"thought I would just slip in and lay a few of the
temperance pledges between the papers the judge had been working on."
Jenkins reddened, looking at me in an appealing way.
"Jove!" I ejaculated, staring. "Oh, I say, now!"
"Yes, sir,"--faintly--"I knew how you would feel--I ain't excusing
myself, sir; and when I heard your voice I tried to get out, but there
wasn't time, so I--" Jenkins touched his hands in front, then behind
him, and shifted distressfully, "I--I hid behind the alcove
curtains--h'm--and just then--"
"Here!" I broke in, "_Wait_, dash it! _Whose_ voice did you hear?"
Jenkins' eyes ducked.
"Yours, sir," he said faintly. "And then you came in."
I stared, trying to take it in. Couldn't chirp a word, don't you know,
for to _think_ I had taken to sleep-walking--and _here_!
Jenkins proceeded rapidly: "You was cording a dressing-robe about you as
you came in and I see a glimpse of one of your dark suits underneath.
And following right behind you was that young Mr. Bi--h'm--pardon, sir,
I remember you said I wasn't to mention any one connected with that
ni--h'm! _You_ know who I mean, sir?"--he paused anxiously--"Young man,
sir--freckled face--and the big lot of"--his spreading fingers curved
above his head--"_awfully_ yellow hair--um, _you_ know, sir?"
"Oh, _that_!" I said with contempt, for I knew he meant that mucker,
Scoggins. Then incredulously: "Oh, I say, you don't mean I was talking
to _him_? And asleep?"
Jenkins eyed me reproachfully. "Not asleep, sir," he remonstrated
gently.
"But I tell you--"
"Mr. Lightnut, sir, it was the _punch_!" He shook his head. "If you'll
excuse me for mentioning--"
"Oh!" I remarked weakly, falling back upon my pillow. "Jove, Jenkins!"
And I just looked at him stupidly--fact!
Jenkins stroked his chin, his eyes fixed somberly above my head. "The
demon rum, sir," he said slowly, and using the deep, heavy chest tones
like the high-up politicians and expensive lecturers, "is rampant in our
fair land--that's what I heard Doctor Splasher remark--and the insid'jus
monster is slowly--"
And he went on, but I didn't hear. I was trying to think. So I hadn't
been sleep-walking, but had been just plain drunk--and _in her
home_!--so jolly well corked, in fact, I hadn't even a dashed glimmer of
memory of it. Had been making a spectacle of myself, going all about the
house in the wee what-you-call-'em hours of the night and probably--oh,
good heavens, probably _singing_!
I dropped my head back upon the pillow.
"Go on," I said. "Tell me _all_!"
"Yes, sir," resumed Jenkins, "as I was saying, you came in with--_you_
know--er--the young fellow. He kinder slouched in, looking a bit sulky.
"'I've been watching for you to get back from the dog-fight,' you says
to him; 'sit down, I want to talk to you.' But the young fellow just
stood square in the middle of the floor and just kinder scowled black.
"Then you says, pleasant-like: 'I've been talking with a friend of
yours, my son, who thinks I haven't treated you quite fair.'
"'O!' says this young fellow, and seems kinder surprised. Then he got
red.
"'And so, my boy,' you went on, tightening your glass as you looked at
him, 'if I've been harsh I'm sorry--suppose we start all over
again--what do you say? I don't want to cross you in anything if I can
help it--I want to _help_ you.'"
My abrupt ejaculation halted Jenkins an instant, then he proceeded:
"'I say, do you mean that?' asks young Mr. Bi--I _mean_, this young
fellow"--Jenkins stirred nervously--"and you says, kinder laughing:
'there's my hand on it!' and then you both shook.
"'One minute,' says the boy, still looking kinder puzzled and uncertain,
'I want to know what about Frances. How do we stand about _that_?'
"You just laughed sorter and went up and clapped him right on the
shoulder and you says: 'Why, if you can, my son, just go in and win her.
_I_ don't care!'--and you said it hearty-like. You went on: 'I haven't a
word to say--in fact, I'd be only too _glad_ to see you succeed.'"
Here I straightened with almost a screech:
"_What?_ I said that? Oh, now, Jenkins, you--oh, you're mistaken!"
Jenkins eyed me sorrowfully.
"Your words, sir, exactly, and then you went on, kinder persuadingly:
'Why, I haven't meant to stand in your way at all!'"
I groaned.
"Go on!" I breathed through my teeth. Then I straightened forward.
"_What_ did the judge call that punch--what kind?"
"Heidelberg punch, sir,"--a sympathetic pause as I swept my hand through
my hair. "Yes, sir, it certainly must be something high--oh, _awful_,
sir!"
He went on as I dipped my head at him. "Then this young chap catches you
by the hand and he says, 'Why, you're a brick, after all!' And you says:
'Yes, we'll get along better now, my boy, and _you_ want to be mighty
grateful to Dicky Lightnut for it.' And this young fellow says, kinder
smiling: 'Indeed, I am!' And then him and you just shook hands again all
over."
Jenkins stopped for breath, but I didn't say a word. By Jove, it all
made me a bit sick, don't you know. Oh, I must have been maudlin, that's
what--_maudlin_. I managed to wag my head to start him off again;
couldn't speak, you know!
"Yes, sir. Then you says: 'That's all right, now, my boy; so you run
along, because I'm awfully busy. To-morrow we'll talk some more.'
"'Bully!' says the chap. 'Good night, old man!' Then he turns back,
kinder smiling sidewise. 'It's sure on the level, is it, that you're
going to let me have a clear road with Frances?'
"'Oh, bother Frances!' you says laughing. 'Yes, yes, and when you win
her, she'll be to me as my _own_ girl. And I know I'll have her love,
too.'
"'What's that?' says the young fellow, kinder frowning. And you says,
easy-like, 'Why, we'll just be one happy family.' Then you chuckled like
you was mighty pleased and says: 'And I think she is learning to like me
pretty well already. Why, do you know what she did to-night? She came
right up to me and in the sweetest way kissed me good night.'"
"Oh!" I said, digging my fingers into the bedclothes, "Oh!"
"Yes, sir!" said Jenkins chokily. He went on: "This young fellow just
marches right close up to you and says, speaking kinder quiet and his
eyes shining, 'You say Frances kissed you?' And you sorter gave a laugh
and dug him in the side and you says, 'I do believe the boy is jealous!
Why, yes, you rascal, she certainly did--she kissed me!'
"'Well, it's a lie!' he says back, pointing at you with his finger.
'Because it ain't like her.' And he got closer.
"'See here,' he says, 'have you just been trying to get gay with me
to-night? Huh!--well, I'm just going to box your jaws for luck!'
"'What?' you gasps--'what's that?'--and you storms up to him--'Why, you
young puppy, do you know who you're talking to?' you says.
"'Bah!' he says, and he just goes up and snaps his fingers in your face.
You chokes kinder, and then you yells at him: 'Why, you young ruffian,
I've spanked you before, and I can do it again--'
"'Yah!' he says, making faces at you. '_You_ spanked! You hit me when I
wasn't looking. My foot slipped.'
"'Foot slipped, you blanked fool!' you shouts at him, and then--"
Jenkins wiped his forehead--"Then the next thing I see, you mixed."
"Ah!" I breathed with relief. "That's _better_!"
I chuckled. Then suddenly I felt remorseful.
"Where did I hit him this time, Jenkins--did you notice? Was he hurt
much?"
Jenkins looked down, avoiding my eyes. "Um, _not_ exactly, sir," he
said; "in fact, it was--er--kinder the other way."
I stared, aghast.
"You don't mean, Jenkins--"
Jenkins evidently did! His eyes expressed both pity and embarrassment.
"What he did to you,"--he rolled his glance upward, trying to shape the
idea--"I believe, sir, it's what you might call"--his voice dropped--"I
believe it's what they _do_ call wiping up the floor with."
I closed my eyes an instant.
"Finish!" I whispered, feebly flipping my hand at him.
"He left then, sir, but the noise brought Wilkes and we helped you
up-stairs. You wouldn't go any farther than the door of the judge's
bedroom--wanted to tell him, we supposed. When we got that far, I
noticed Mr. Jack Billings' door--it's right opposite, you remember,
sir--was standing just a little open. He called out very anxious and
shrill: 'Oh, _do_ be very careful of the pajamas! My! my! I hope the
pajamas are not hurt!'
"And at that, you just bangs inside the judge's room and in about two
minutes, _he_ stuck his head out, looking kinder towsled and mad like
he'd been waked from a sound sleep, and he fires a wrapped-up parcel at
the door opposite and yells:
"'There are your pajamas, you unnatural, heartless prodigal! Pajamas,
indeed, at such a time!' And then I see Mr. Jack's arm come out and
fish the package inside.
"Then the judge turns on me and Wilkes and ordered us to clear out and
to go to bed. And Wilkes said we'd best do it because the judge would
take care of you and get you to your room quietly. And the last thing I
heard before he slammed inside his room was:
"'There's one thing; I've got a daughter!'"
I looked at Jenkins miserably. He was _right_; he did have a daughter,
and I wanted her. But just now, I wished with all heart that she was
somebody's--anybody else's daughter--than that of the man who had
witnessed my humiliation.
And afterwards--
_How_ had he managed to get me to my room? And had she seen or heard me?
Oh, she must have!
Well, nothing mattered now--nothing could ever matter any more. It was
some miserable comfort to feel, and _know_, that nothing worse could
ever happen!
Why, there was nothing _worse_ left in all the world. By Jove, I was
sure of _that_ much!
And just then a knock sounded.