WHEN IRA SHOWED SOME PEP
It was good domework of Mr. Robert's to tip me off about this Higgins
party, or there's no knowin' how hard a time he might have had gettin'
through the brass gate. As it is, the minute I spots the watch chain
and the round cuffs and the neck freckles, I sizes him up as the
expected delegate from the fresh mackerel and blueberry pie district.
One of these long, lanky specimens, he is, with a little stoop to his
shoulders, ginger-colored hair and mustache, and a pair of calm,
sea-blue eyes that look deep and serious.
I finds him pacin' deliberate up and down the waitin' room at
eight-fifty-three A.M., which is two minutes ahead of my schedule for
openin' the Corrugated for gen'ral business. His overcoat and a
crumpled mornin' paper are on the bench; so I figures he's been there
quite some time. Course, it might have been a stray Rube of most any
name; but I thinks I'll take a chance.
"Mornin', Ira," says I.
"Howdy," says he, as natural as if this was a reg'lar habit of ours.
Which puts it up to me to find out if I'm right, after all.
"Mr. Higgins, ain't it?" says I.
He nods.
"When did you get in?" says I.
"About six," says he.
"Come down by train or boat?" says I.
"Train," says he.
"You've had breakfast, I suppose?" I goes on.
Another nod. Oh, yes, for an economical converser, he was about the
most consistent breath saver I ever tackled. You could easy go hoarse
havin' a little chat with him. You'd need lots of time too; for after
every one of my bright little sallies Ira looks me over in that quiet,
thoughtful way of his, then counts fifty to himself, and fin'lly
decides whether it'll be a grunt or just a nod. Gettin' information
out of him was like liftin' a trunk upstairs one step at a time. I
manages to drag out, though, that he'd been hangin' around ever since
the buildin' was opened by the day watchman at seven o'clock.
"Well," says I, "Mr. Robert was lookin' for you to blow in today; but
not quite so early. It'll be near ten before he shows up. Better come
inside and have a comf'table chair."
He takes that proposition up with himself, fin'lly passin' on it
favorable; and from then on he sits there, with never a move or a
blink, watchin' solemn all the maneuvers that a battery of lady typists
has to go through before settlin' down for a forenoon's work. I'll bet
he could tell you too, a month from now, just how many started with
gum, and which ones renewed their facial scenery with dabs from the
chamois.
So you can see why I was some relieved when Mr. Robert arrives and
takes him off my hands. I knew from what he'd said the day before that
he'd planned to have about a half-hour interview with Mr. Higgins; but
when the noon hour struck: Ira was still there. At one-fifteen they
goes out to lunch together, and at two-thirty they comes back. It's
after four when Mr. Robert fin'lly comes out to the gate with his brow
wrinkled up.
"Torchy," says he, "how is your bump of diplomacy today?"
"It's a dimple, I expect," says I.
"You're entirely too modest," says he. "Now, I remember several
occasions when you have----"
"Oh, I gen'rally have my nerve with me, if that's what you mean," says
I.
"But I don't mean that," says he. "Perhaps finesse is the better word."
"It's all the same to me," says I. "If I've got it in stock, it's
yours. What do I work it on?"
"Mr. Higgins," says he.
"Then score up a goose egg in advance," says I. "It would take a
strong-arm hypnotizer to put the spell on Ira."
Mr. Robert grins. "Then you have already tested Mr. Higgins'
conversational powers?" says he.
"Almost lost my voice gettin' him to say good mornin'," says I. "Say,
you'd think he'd done all his talkin' by cable, at a dollar a word.
Where'd he drift in from, anyway?"
"Boothbay Harbor," says Mr. Robert.
"Is that a foreign country," says I, "or a nickname for some flag
station?"
"It's quite a lively little seaport, I believe," says Mr. Robert, "up
on the coast of Maine."
"Oh, Maine!" says I. "Up there they're willin' to call a town anything
that'll get a laugh. But what's the rest of the scandal?"
It wasn't any thrillin' tale, though. Seems Mr. Robert had gone into
the yachtin' regattas as usual this last summer; but, instead of
liftin' the mugs, as he'd been in the habit of doin', he'd been beat
out by a new entry,--beat bad too. But he wouldn't be an Ellins if he
let it go at that. Not much! His first move is to find out who built
the Stingaree, and his next is to wire in an order to the same firm to
turn out a sixty-footer that'll go her just one better. Not gettin'
any straight answer to that, he sends word for the head of the yacht
works to come on at his expense. Mr. Higgins is the result.
"But the deuce of it is," says Mr. Robert, "that, while I'm convinced
he is the cleverest designer of racing yawls that we have in the whole
country, and while he admits quite cheerfully that he can improve on
this year's model, I can't get him to say positively that he will build
such a boat for me."
"Yes, I should expect that would be more'n he'd let go of all in one
day," says I.
"But, confound it all!" says Mr. Robert, "I want to know now. All I
can get out of him, though, is that he can't decide for a while. Seems
to have something or other on his mind. Now, if I knew what was
bothering him, you see, I might--well, you get the point, Torchy. I'm
going to leave it to you to find out."
"Me!" says I. "Gee! I ain't any thought extractor, Mr. Robert."
"But you have rather a knack of getting to the bottom of things," he
insists, "and if I should explain to Mr. Higgins my regret at being
unable to take him out to dinner, and should present you as my
substitute for the evening--why, you might get some hint, you see. At
least, I wish you'd try it."
"Bring him on, then," says I; "but it's like playin' a 30 to 1 shot.
Oh, sure, a couple of tens'll be more'n enough for all the expense
account we can cook up."
And you should have seen me towin' this Down East sphinx around town,
showin' him the sights, and tryin' to locate his chummy streak. It was
most like makin' a long distance call over a fuzzy wire; me strainin'
my vocal chords bein' chatty, and gettin' back only now and then a
distant murmur. It was Ira's first trip to a real Guntown, where we
have salaried crooks and light up our Main-st. with whisky signs; but
he ain't got any questions to ask or any comments to pass. He just
allows them calm eyes of his to wander placid here and there over the
passersby, almost like he was expectin' to see someone he knew, and
takin' mighty little notice of anything in partic'lar.
"That's the Metropolitan tower over there, Mr. Higgins," says I. "See
the big clock?"
Ira takes one glance and nods his head.
"And here comes one of them new double-decker Broadway cars they're
tryin' out," I goes on. "How's that?"
But no enthus'm from Ira. Must be a hot town, that Boothbay joint!
Along about six-thirty I suggests that it's time for the big eats, and
tries to sound him on his partic'lar fancy in the food line.
"Plate of fish chowder would suit me," says Ira after due contemplation.
"Fish what?" says I. "'Fraid we don't grow anything like that on
Broadway. Nix on the shore dinner! You trust it to me, Mr. Higgins,
and I'll steer you up against some appetite teasers that'll make you
forget all the home cookin' you ever met."
With that I leads him to the flossiest French cafe I knew of, got him
planted comf'table under an illuminated grape arbor, signals
François-with-the-gold-chain-around-his-neck to stand by, and remarks
casual, "Wine list for this gentleman. Cut loose, Mr. Higgins. This
is on the boss, you know."
"What say?" says he, runnin' his eye over the book that the waiter
holds out. "Rum? No, Sir!"
"Flit then, François," says I. "We're two dry ones."
And my hope of gettin' a tongue loosener into Ira goes glimmerin'.
When it comes to tacklin' strange dishes, though, he was no quitter,
followin' me from bouillabaisse to café parfait without battin' an
eyelash, and me orderin' reckless from the card just to see what the
things looked like.
I don't know whether it was the fancy rations, or the sporty crowd
around us, or the jiggly music, or a combination of all three; but by
the time I've induced Mr. Higgins to tackle a demitasse and light up a
seven-inch Havana he mellows enough so that he's almost on the point of
makin' a remark all by himself.
"Well," says I encouragin', "why not let it come?"
And it does. "By gorry!!" says he. "It's most eight o'clock. What
time do the shows begin?"
"I was just go in' to mention that," says I. "Plenty of time, though.
Anything special you'd like to see?"
"Why, yes," says he. And then, glancin' around cautious, he leans
across the table and asks mysterious, "Say, where's Maizie Latour
actin'?"
Honest, it comes out so unexpected he had me gaspin'. "Oh, you
Boothbay ringer!" says I. "Maizie, eh? Now, who would have thought
it? And you only landed this mornin'! Maizie--er--what was that
again?"
"Latour," says he, flushin' up some and tryin' not to notice my josh.
"It's by me," says I. "Sounds like musical comedy, though. Is she a
showgirl, or one of the chicken ballet?"
Ira shakes his head puzzled. "All I know," says he, "is that she's
actin' somewhere in New York, and--and I'd like to find out where.
I--I got to!" he adds emphatic.
"Then you ought to have said that before," says I, "and Mr. Robert
would have put one of his chappy friends on the job. Sorry, but when
it comes to chorus girls, I ain't----"
"Hold on!" he breaks in. "You're sort of jumpin' at things, Son. The
fact is I--well, I guess I might's well tell you as anyone. I--I got
to tell someone."
"Help!" thinks I. "The dam's goin' to give way."
"You see," he goes on, "it's like this: Nellie's an old friend of mine,
and----"
"Nellie!" says I. "You just said Maizie."
"That's what I hear she goes by on the stage," says he. "She was
Nellie Mason up to the Harbor."
"You don't mean it?" says I. "What was she doin' there?"
"She was table girl at the Mansion House," says he.
"Which?" says I. "Oh, dish juggler, eh? And now she's on the stage?
Some jump for Nellie! But, honest now, Higgins, you don't mean to
spring one of them mossy 'Way Down East drammers on me as the true
dope? Come now, don't tell me you and she used to go to school
together, and all that!"
No, it wa'n't quite on that line. She was only one of Boothbay's
fairest daughters by adoption, havin' drifted in from some mill
town--Biddeford, I think it was--where a weaver's strike had thrown her
out of a job. She was half Irish and half French-Canadian, and,
accordin' to Ira's description, she was some ornamental.
Anyway, she had the boys all goin' in no time at all. Ira was mealin'
at the Mansion House just then, though; so he was in on the ground
floor from the start. Even at that, how he managed to keep the rail
with so much competition is more'n I can say; but there's something
sort of clean and wholesome lookin' about him, and I expect them calm,
sea-blue eyes helped along. Anyway, him and Nellie kept comp'ny there,
I take it, for three or four months quite steady, and Ira admits that
he was plumb gone on her.
"Well, what was the hitch?" says I. "Wouldn't she be Mrs. Higgins?"
"Guess she would if I had asked her," says he; "but I didn't get around
to it quick enough. Fact is, I'd just bought out the boat shop, and I
had fifteen or twenty men to work for me, with four new keels laid down
at once, and--well, I was mighty rushed with work just then and----"
"I get you," says I. "While you was makin' up your mind what to say,
some wholesale drug drummer with a black mustache won her away."
It's more complicated than that, though. One of the chambermaids had a
cousin who was assistant property man with a Klaw & Erlanger comp'ny,
and he'd sent on the tip how some enterprisin' manager was lookin' for
fifty new faces for a Broadway production; and so, if Cousin Maggie
wanted to shake the hotel business, here was her chance. Maggie wanted
to, all right; but she lacked the nerve to try it alone. Now, if
Nellie would only go along too--why----
And it happens this was one night when Ira had overlooked a date he had
with Nellie, and that while he was doin' overtime at the boatworks
Nellie was waitin' lonesome on the corner all dressed to go over to
South Bristol to a dance. So this bulletin from the great city finds
her in a state of mind.
"Course," says Maggie, "you got a feller, and all that."
"Humph!" says Nellie.
"And there's no tellin'," Maggie goes on, glancin' at her critical, "if
your figure would suit."
"If they can stand for yours," says Nellie, "I guess I'll take a chance
too. Come on. We'll take the early morning boat."
And they did. Ira didn't get the details until about a month later,
when who should drift back to the Mansion House but Maggie. Along with
two or three hundred other brunettes and imitation blondes, she'd been
shuffled into the discard. But Nellie had been signed up first rattle
out of the box, and accordin' to the one postcard that had come back
from her since she was now flaggin' as Maizie Latour. But no word at
all had come to Ira.
"If I'd only bought that ring sooner!" he sighs. "I've got it now,
though. Bought it in Portland on my way down. See?" and he snaps open
a white satin box, disclosin' a cute little pearl set in a circle of
chip diamonds.
"That's real dainty and classy," says I.
"Ought to be," says Ira. "It cost me seventeen-fifty. But there's so
blamed much to this place that I don't see just how I'm goin' to find
her, after all."
"Ah, cheer up, Ira!" says I. "You've got me int'rested, you have, and,
while I ain't any theatrical directory, I expect I could think up some
way to---- Why, sure! There's a Tyson stand up here a few blocks,
where they have all the casts and programmes. Let's go have a look."
It wa'n't a long hunt, either. The third one we looked at was "Whoops,
Angelina!" and halfway down the list of characters we finds this item:
"Sunflower Girls--Tessie Trelawney, Mae Collins, Maizie Latour----"
"Here we are!" says I. "And there's just time to get in for the first
curtain."
Say, I expect you've seen this "Whoops, Angelina!" thing. Just punk
enough to run a year on Broadway, ain't if? And do you remember there
along towards the end of the first spasm where they ring in that "Field
Flowers Fair" song, with a deep stage and a diff'rent chorus for each
verse? Well, as the Sunflowers come on, did you notice special the
second one from the right end? That's Maizie.
And, believe me, she's some queen! Course, it's a bunch of swell
lookers all around, or they wouldn't be havin' the S.R.O. sign out so
often; but got up the way she was, with all them yellow petals makin' a
sort of frame for her, and them big dark eyes rollin' bold and sassy,
this ex-table girl from the Mansion House stands out some prominent.
"By gorry!" explodes Ira, as he gets his first glimpse. And from then
on he sits with his eyes glued on her as long as she's on the stage.
[Illustration: "By gorry!" explodes Ira, as he gets his first glimpse.]
He had a good view too; for comin' late all I could get was upper box
seats at three a throw, and I shoves Ira close up to the rail. That
one remark is all he has to unload durin' the whole performance, and
somehow I didn't have the heart to break in with any comments. You
see, I wa'n't sure how he might be takin' it; so I waits until the
final curtain, and then nudges him out of his dream.
"Well, how about it?" says I. "Ready to scratch your entry now, are
you?"
"Eh?" says he, rousin' up. "Pull out? No, Sir! I--I'm going to give
her a chance to take that ring."
"You are?" says I. "Well, well! Right there with the pep, ain't you?
But how you goin' to manage it?"
"Why, I--I don't know," says he, lookin' blank. "Say, Son, can't you
fix it for me some way? I--I want Nellie to go back with me. If I
could only see her for a minute, and explain how it was I couldn't----"
"You win, Ira!" says I. "Hanged if there ain't Tucky Moller down there
in an usher's uniform. He's an old friend of mine. We'll see what he
can do."
Tucky was willin' enough too; but the best he can promise is to smuggle
a note into the dressin' rooms. We waits in the lobby for the answer,
and inside of five minutes we has it.
"Ain't they the limit, these spotlight chasers?" says Tucky. "She
tells me to chuck it in the basket with the others, and says she'll
read it to-morrow. Huh! And only a quarter tip after the second act
when I lugs her in a bid to a cabaret supper!"
"Tonight?" says I. "Where at, Tucky?"
"Looey's," says he, "with a broker guy that's been buyin' B-10 every
night for a week."
But when I leads Ira outside and tries to explain how the case stands,
and breaks it to him gentle that his stock has taken a sudden slump, it
develops that he's one of these gents who don't know when they're
crossed off.
"I've got to see her tonight, that's all," says he. "What's the matter
with our going to the same place?"
"For one thing," says I, "they wouldn't let us in without our
open-faced clothes on. Got yours with you?"
"Full evenin' dress?" says Ira, with his eyes bugged. "Why, I never
had any."
"Then it's by-by, Maizie," says I.
"Dog-goned if it is!" says he. "Guess I can wait around outside, can't
I?"
"Well, you have got sportin' blood, Ira," says I. "Sure, there's
nothin' to stop your waitin' if you don't block the traffic. But maybe
it'll be an hour or more."
"I don't care," says he. "And--and let's go and have a glass of soda
first."
Course, I couldn't go away and leave things all up in the air like
that; so after Ira'd blown himself we wanders up to the cabaret joint
and I helps him stick around.
It's some lively scene in front of Looey's at that time of night too;
with all the taxis comin' and goin' and the kalsomined complexions
driftin' in and out, and the head waiters coppin' out the five-spots
dexterous. And every little while there's something extra doin'; like
a couple of college hicks bein' led out by the strong-arm squad for
disputin' a bill, or a perfect gent all ablaze havin' a debate with his
lady-love, or a bunch of out-of-town buyers discoverin' the evenin'
dress rule for the first time and gettin' peeved over it.
But nothin' can drag Ira's gaze from that revolvin' exit door for
more'n half a minute. There he stands, watchin' eager every couple
that comes out; not excited or fidgety, you understand, but calm and in
dead earnest. It got to be midnight, then half past, then quarter to
one; and then all of a sudden there comes a ripplin', high-pitched
laugh, and out trips a giddy-dressed fairy in a gilt and rhinestone
turban effect with a tall plume stickin' straight up from the front of
it. She's one of these big, full-curved, golden brunettes, with long
jet danglers in her ears and all the haughty airs of a grand opera
star. I didn't dream it was the one we was lookin' for until I sees
Ira straighten up and step out to meet her.
"Nellie," says he, sort of choky and pleadin'.
It's a misfire, though; for just then she's turned to finish some
remark to a fat old sport with flat ears and bags under his eyes that's
followin' close behind. So it ain't until she's within a few feet of
Higgins that she sees him at all. Then she stares at him sort of
doubtful, like she could hardly believe her eyes.
"Nellie," he begins again, "I've been wanting to tell you how it was
that----"
"You!" she breaks in. And with that she throws her head back and
laughs. It wa'n't what you might call a pleasant laugh, either. It
sounds cold and hard and bitter.
That's the extent of the reunion too. She's still laughin' as she
brushes by him and lets the old sport help her into the taxi; and a
second later we're left standin' there at the edge of the curb with
another taxi rollin' up in front of us. I notices that Ira's holdin'
something in his hand that he's starin' at foolish. It's the satin box
with the seventeen-fifty ring in it.
"Well," says I, as we steps back, "returns all in, ain't they?"
"Not by a long shot!" says Ira. "Dinged if I don't know someone
that'll be glad to take a ring from me, and that's Maggie!"
"Whew!" says I. "Well, that's some quick shift. Then you ain't goin'
to linger round with a busted heart?"
"Not much!" says Ira. "Guess I've played fool about long enough. I'm
goin' home."
"That's gen'rally a safe bet too," says I. "But how about buildin'
that boat for Mr. Robert?"
"I'll build it," says he; "that is, soon as I can fix it up with
Maggie."
"Then it's a cinch," says I; "for you look to me, Ira, like one of the
kind that can come back strong."
So, you see, I had somethin' definite to report next mornin'.
"He will, eh? Bully!" says Mr. Robert. "But why couldn't he have said
as much to me yesterday? What was the trouble?"
"Case of moth chasin'," says I, "from the kerosene circuit to the white
lights. But, say, I didn't know before that Broadway had so many
recruitin' stations. They ought to put Boothbay Harbor on the map for
this."