I
Mills, too, though lately mistrustful of his own emotions, was well
satisfied with the result of the long evening. He had spoken of Marian
Storrs to Marian’s son and the effect had been to strengthen his belief
that the young man knew nothing that could in any way prove annoying.
He was a little sorry that he had suggested finding a business opening
for Storrs; but decided that on the whole he had managed the matter in
a manner to conceal his real purpose. Bruce had said that he was not
wholly dependent upon his earnings for a livelihood, and this in itself
was reassuring and weighed strongly against the possibility of his ever
asserting any claim even if he knew or suspected their relationship.
In his careful study of Bruce at their various meetings Mills had
been impressed increasingly by the young man’s high-mindedness, his
self-confidence and fine reticences, the variety and range of his
interests. Ah, if only Shepherd were like that! It was a cruel fate
that had given him a son he could never own, who had drifted across the
smooth-flowing current of his life to suggest a thousand contrasts with
Shepherd Mills--Shep with his pathetically small figure, his absurd
notions of social equality and his inability to grasp and deal with
large affairs!
Ugly as the fact was, Bruce Storrs was a Mills; it wasn’t merely in
the resemblance to the portrait of Franklin Mills III that this was
evident. Young Storrs’s mental processes were much like those of the
man who was, to face it frankly, his grandfather. Bruce Storrs, who had
no right to the Mills name, was likely to develop those traits that had
endeared Franklin Mills III to the community--traits that nature, with
strange perversity, had failed utterly to transmit to his lawful son.
Mills, in his new security, pondered these things with a degree of awe.
The God in whom he had much less faith than in a protective tariff or
a sound currency system might really be a more potent agent in mundane
affairs than he, Franklin Mills, who believed in nothing very strongly
that couldn’t be reduced to figures, had ever thought possible.
As winter gripped the town Mills was uneasy in the thought that he
wasn’t getting enough out of life. Even with eight million dollars
and the tastes of a cultivated gentleman, life was paying inadequate
dividends. And there across the hedge lived Millicent. He would marry
Millicent; but there were matters to be arranged first....
Millicent was the most beautiful young woman he knew, and she had
brains and talents that added enormously to her desirability. Against
this was the fact that the Hardens had risen out of nowhere, and
Millicent’s possession of a father and mother could not be ignored.
Their very simplicity and the possession of the homely parochial
virtues so highly valued in the community by Mills and his generation
made it possible to do something toward giving them a social status.
Discreet inquiry revealed the consoling fact that Nathaniel Harden was
taxed on approximately a million dollars’ worth of property. Not for
nothing had he applied himself diligently for twenty-five years to
the manufacture of the asthma cure! He was also the creator of a hair
tonic, a liver accelerator and a liniment that were almost as well
established in the proprietary drug market as the asthma remedy. Mills
was amazed to find that there was so much money in the business.
Harden had not brought his laboratory with him when he moved to the
city, but it was still under his own direction. Fortunately, as Mills
viewed the matter, the business was conducted under a corporate
title, that of the International Medical Company, which was much less
objectionable than if it bore Harden’s name, though the doctor’s
picture did, regrettably, adorn the bottles in which the world-famous
asthma cure was offered and exposed for sale.
In his investigations Mills found that Harden had invested his money
in some of the soundest of local securities. It spoke well for the
Doctor’s business acumen that he owned stock in the First National
Bank, which Mills controlled. A vacancy occurring in the directorate,
Mills caused Harden to be elected to the board. Harden was pleased but
not overcome by the honor. Mrs. Harden manifested a greater pleasure
and expressed herself to Mills with characteristic heartiness.
Mills, after much careful consideration, gave a dinner for Doctor and
Mrs. Harden--made it appear to be a neighborly affair, though he was
careful to ask only persons whose recognition of the Hardens was likely
to add to their prestige. Mills had rather dreaded seeing Harden in a
dress suit, but the Doctor clad in social vestments was nothing to be
ashamed of. He revealed a sense of humor and related several stories
of a former congressman from his old district that were really funny.
Mrs. Harden looked as well and conducted herself with quite as much
ease as the other women present. No one would have guessed that she
made salt-rising bread once a week for her husband’s delectation and
otherwise continued, in spite of her prosperous state, to keep in close
touch with her kitchen.
After giving the dinner Mills waited a little before venturing further
in his attempt to lift the social sky line for the Hardens. Much as he
disliked Constance, he was just the least bit afraid of her. Constance
was not stupid, and he was not blind to the fact that she wielded a
certain influence. His daughter-in-law could easily further his plans
for imparting dignity to the Hardens. And he foresaw that if he married
again it would be Connie, not Shepherd or Leila, who would resent the
marriage as a complicating circumstance when the dread hour arrived for
the parceling of his estate. Leila would probably see little more than
a joke in a marriage that would make her best friend her stepmother.
“Why isn’t Millie in the Dramatic Club?” he asked Leila one day when
they were dining alone together.
“Not so easy, Dada. I talked to some of the membership committee about
it last spring and I have a sneaking idea that they don’t want her.
Not just that, of course; it’s not Millie but the patent medicine they
can’t swallow. I think the club’s a bore myself. There’s a bunch of
girls in it--Connie’s one of them--who think they’re Ethel Barrymores
and Jane Cowlses, and Millie, you know, might be a dangerous rival.
Which she would be, all right! So they kid themselves with the idea
that the club really stands for the real old graveyard society of our
little village and that they’ve got to be careful who gets by.”
“How ridiculous!” Mills murmured.
“Silly! I do hate snobs! Millie isn’t asked to a lot of the nicest
parties just because she’s new in town. Doctor Harden’s guyed a
good deal about his fake medicines. I don’t see anything wrong with
Doc myself.” Leila bent her head in a quick way she had when mirth
seized her. “Bud Henderson says the Harden hair tonic’s the smoothest
furniture polish on the market.”
Mills laughed, but not heartily. The thought of Henderson’s ridicule
chilled him. Henderson entertained a wide audience with his humor; he
must be cautious....