Uncle Ramsey was large and imposing, with an effulgent complexion and a
prosperous presence. He wore a double-jeweled ring on his apoplectic
finger, and a scarab scarf-pin. His eyes were keen and shifty; his teeth
had acquired the habit of clutching his fat black cigar viciously while
he snarled his rather loose lips about them in conversation. Uncle
Ramsay never looked one in the face when he was talking. He looked off
into space, where he appeared to have the topic under discussion in
visible form before him. He never took up with the conversation his host
offered. He furnished the topics himself and pinned one down to them. It
really was of no use whatever to start any subject unless it had been
previously announced, because it never got further than the initiative.
Uncle Ramsey always went on with whatever he had in mind. Tennelly knew
this tendency, realized that in writing the letter he had taken the only
possible way of bringing Courtland to his uncle's notice.
After an exceedingly good dinner at the frat. house, where Tennelly did
not usually dine, and being further reinforced by one of the aforesaid
fat black cigars, Uncle Ramsey leaned back in Tennelly's leather chair,
and began:
"Now, Thomas!"
Tennelly stirred uneasily. He despised that "Thomas." His full name was
Llewellyn Thomas Tennelly. At home they called him "Lew." Nobody but
Uncle Ramsey ever dared the hateful Thomas. He liked to air the fact
that his nephew was named after himself, the great Ramsey Thomas.
"Suppose you tell me about this man you have for me? What kind of a
looking man is he?"
Uncle Ramsey screwed up his eyes, looked to the middle distance where
the subject ought to be, and examined him critically.
"Has--ah--he--ah--_personality_? Personality is a great factor in
success you know."
Tennelly, in the brief space allowed him, declared that his friend would
pass this test.
"Well--ah! And can he--ah!--can he _lead men_? Because that is a very
important point. The man I want must be a leader."
"I think he is."
"Um--ah! And does he--?" on down through a long list of questions.
At last, after once more relighting his cigar, which had gone out
frequently during the conversation, he turned to his nephew and fixed
him sharply with a fat pale-blue eye.
"Tell me the worst you know about him, Thomas! What are his faults?" he
snapped, and settled back to squint at his imaginary stage again.
"Why--I--Why, I don't think he has any," declared Tennelly, shifting
uneasily in his chair. He had a feeling that Uncle Ramsey would get it
out of him yet. And he did.
"Yes, I perceive that he has! Out with it!" snapped the keen old bird,
flinging his loose lips about restively.
"It's only that he's got a religious twist lately, uncle. I don't think
it'll last. I really think he is getting over it!"
"Religion! Um! Ah! Well, now that might not be so bad--not for my
purpose, you know. Religion really gives a confidence sometimes.
Religion! Um! Ah! Not a bad trait. Let me see him, Thomas! Let me see
him _at once_!"
Tennelly had said nothing to Courtland about the approaching uncle, and
therefore it was wholly a surprise to Courtland when Tennelly knocked on
his door and dragged him from his books to meet a Chicago uncle.
"He's come East looking for the right man to fill a very important
position. It is something along your line, I guess, so I spoke to him
about you," whispered Tennelly, hastily, as they crossed the hall
together.
Face to face they stood, the financier and the young senior, and studied
each other keenly for the fraction of a second, Courtland no less cool
and impressive in his way than the older man. For Courtland was not
afraid of any man, and his natural attitude toward all men was challenge
till he knew them. He stood straight and tall and looked Uncle Ramsey in
the eye critically, questioningly, courteously, but with no attempt to
propitiate; and not the slightest apparent conception of the awesomeness
of the occasion or the condescension of the august personage whom he was
thus permitted to meet.
And Uncle Ramsey liked it!
True, he tried to fix the young man much as a cook fixes a roast with a
skewer, to be put over the fire; but Courtland didn't skew. He just sat
down indifferently and looked the man over; smiled pleasantly now and
then, and listened; but he didn't give an inch. Even when the marvelous
proposition was made to him which might change the whole course of his
future life and cover his name with glory (?) Courtland never flickered
an eyelash.
"He took it as calmly as if I'd been offering him toast with his tea
when he already had bread and jam, the young whelp!" marveled Uncle
Ramsey, delightedly, after Courtland had thanked him, promised to think
it over, and gone back to his room. "He's got the personality, all
right! He'll do! But what's his idea in being so reluctant? Didn't the
offer strike him as big enough, or what's the matter? I must say I don't
like to wait. When I find a man I like to nail him. What's the idea,
Thomas? Has he got something else up his sleeve?"
"Not that I know of," said Tennelly, looking troubled. "I guess he's
just got to think it over. That's Court. He never steps into a position
until he knows exactly what he thinks about it."
"M-m-m! Another good trait! You're sure it isn't anything else?"
"I don't know of anything unless some of his religious notions are
standing in his way. I'm sure I can't quite make him out lately. He had
a shock a few months ago--one of the fellows killed in a fire--and he
can't seem to get over it quite."
"Oh, well, we'll fix him up all right!" said Uncle Ramsey, contentedly.
"We'll just send him down to our model factory here in the city and let
him see how things are run. Convince him he's doing good, and that'll
settle him! All white marble, with vines over the place, and a big
rest-room and reading-room for the hands, gymnasium on the roof, model
restaurant, all up to date. Cost a lot of money, too, but it pays! When
some whining idiot of a woman, that hasn't enough business of her own to
attend to, goes blabbing down there at Washington about the 'conditions'
in the factories, and all that rot, we just run a few senators up here
for the day and show 'em that model factory. Oh, it pays in the long
run. You take your man there and you'll land him all right! By the way,
there's a little rat of a preacher down around that factory that I'd
like to throttle! He's making us all sorts of trouble, stirring up the
folks to ask for all sorts of things! He's putting it in their heads to
demand an eight-hour day, and no telling how much more! He's undertaken
to tell us how we ought to run our business! Tell us which doors we
shall lock and which leave unlocked, how often we shall let our hands
sit down, and what kind of machines we shall get! He's a regular little
rat! Know him? His name's Burns. Insignificant little puppy! And he's
got a pull down there in Washington, somehow, that's making us a lot of
trouble, too! That's one thing I want this new man for. I want to train
him to spy on that sort of interference and by and by do some lobbying.
We must stop such business as that. What time is it? I guess perhaps I
better run down and hunt out that little rat and give him a good scare."
Uncle Ramsey departed "rat-hunting," and Tennelly repaired to
Courtland's room. He sat down and began to tell what a wonderful
opportunity this was, and how unprecedented in Uncle Ramsey to have
offered such a thing to a young man still in college. It showed how
wonderfully he had been taken with Courtland. It was most flattering.
Courtland admitted that it was and that he was grateful to his friend
for mentioning his name. He said it looked like a very good thing--like
the kind of thing he had been hoping would turn up when he got through
college, but he couldn't decide it immediately.
Tennelly urged that Uncle Ramsey was insistent; that his business was
urgent, and he must know one way or the other immediately. He tried to
give Courtland an adequate idea of the greatness of Uncle Ramsey, and
the audacity of anybody, especially a little college upstart, attempting
to keep him waiting; but Courtland only shook his head and said it
wouldn't be possible for him to give his answer at once. If that was the
condition of the offer he would have to let it pass.
Tennelly talked and talked, but finally went back to his room baffled.
He just couldn't understand what was the matter with Courtland!
When Uncle Ramsey returned from a fruitless search for the "rat" he was
enraged to find that Courtland was not awaiting his coming in trembling
eagerness to accept his munificent offer.
Another personal interview that evening brought nothing more
satisfactory than a promise to look into the matter carefully, and to
have another talk the next evening. Uncle Ramsey raged and swore. He
blamed the little rat of a preacher, and declared he must leave for
Boston that evening; but he finally sent a telegram instead and decided
to remain until the next night. There were matters in the city he was
intending to look after on his return, and of course he could do it now
instead. He felt it was important that that young man should be landed
before he had a chance to do too much thinking. Moreover, he was piqued
that a youngster like that should presume to consider turning down a job
like the one he was offering him.
If Courtland had tried to explain to Tennelly and his uncle just why
this offer, which would have delighted him so much three months before,
was hanging in the balance of his mind, they would scarcely have
understood. He would have to tell them of the Presence which was by his
side, which had been very real to him as he stood in Tennelly's room
listening to Uncle Ramsey that afternoon, and which had hovered by him
since, so close, so strong, with that pervading, commanding nearness
that demanded his utmost attention. He would have had to tell them that
he was under orders now, being led, and that every step was new and
untried; he must look into the face of his Companion and Guide, and find
out if this was the way he was to go!
Something, somewhere was holding him back. He did not know why, he did
not see for how long. He simply could not make that decision to-night!
He must await permission before moving.
Possibly the trip to the factory the next day, which he had promised to
take, might give him some light in the matter. Possibly he would find
counsel somewhere. But where? He thought of Gila. He took out a lovely
photograph of her that she had given him before he left her Sunday
night--a charming, airy, idealistic thing of earth and fire that had
lain innocently open upon the library table where some one (?) had left
it earlier in the day. He stood it up on his desk and studied the
spirited will-o'-the-wisp face! Then he turned away sadly and shook his
head. She would not understand. Not yet! Some time, when he had told her
about the Presence--but not yet! She could not understand because she
had not seen for herself.
Tennelly and his uncle went down-town in the morning and took lunch
together. Courtland was to meet them at the factory at three o'clock,
but somehow he missed them. Perhaps it was intention. Courtland went
early. He wanted to see things for himself; went alone first. Afterward
he could go the rounds to satisfy Mr. Thomas, but first he would see it
alone.
Then, after all, it was the Rev. Robert Burns who met him at the door
and took him through the factory, bent on seeing some parishioner on an
errand of love. And there was that strange sense of the Presence having
been there before them, walking about among the machinery, looking at
the tired face of one, sorrowing over the wrinkles in another forehead,
pitying the weary hands that toiled, blessing the faithful! It reminded
him of the morgue in that. For a minute he began to think that if the
Presence was here in this peculiar sense, then, of course, it was an
indication that he was needed here to work for these people, as Uncle
Ramsey had tried with strange worldly wisdom to make him understand. But
then, suddenly, he caught a glimpse of the face of the little minister,
white under its freckles, with a righteous wrath as he fixed his gaze
sternly on the door at the end of the long room. He looked up quickly to
hear the click of a key in a lock as the foreman passed from one room to
another.
He glanced down at the minister and their eyes met.
"They lock them in here like sheep in a pen. If a fire should break out
they would all die!" said the minister under his breath. His lips were
trembling with the helplessness of himself against the power of a great
trust.
"You don't say!" said Courtland, startled. It was his first view of
conditions of this sort. He looked about with eyes alive to things he
had not seen before. "But I thought this was a model factory! Isn't it
absolutely fire-proof?"
"Somewhat so, on the _out_side!" shrugged Burns. "It's a whited
sepulcher, that's what it is. Beautiful marble and vines, beautiful
rest-room and library--for the _visitors_ to rest and read in--beautiful
restaurant where the girls must buy their meals at the company's prices
or go without; beautiful outside everywhere; but it's rotten,
_absolutely rotten_ all through! Look at the width of that staircase!
That's the one the employees use. The visitors only see the broad way by
which you came up. Look at those machines! All painted and gilded! They
are old models and twice as heavy to work as the new ones, but we can't
get them to make changes. Look at those seats, put there to impress the
visitors! The fact is not one of the hands dare use them, except a
minute now and then when the foreman happens to leave the room! They
know they will get docked in their pay if they are caught sitting down
at their work! And yet it is always flaunted before the visitors that
the workmen can sit down when they like. So they can, but they can go
home without a pay-envelope if they do, when Saturday night comes. Oh,
there is enough here to make one's blood boil! You're interested in
these things? I wish you'd let me tell you more some time. About the
long hours, the stifling air in some rooms, and the little children
working in spite of the law! I wish men like you would come down here
and help clean this section out and make conditions different! Why don't
you come and help me?"
The minister laid his hand on Courtland's arm, and instantly it seemed
as if the Presence came and stood beside him and said: "Here! This is
your work!"
With a great conviction in his heart Courtland turned and followed Burns
down the broad marble stairs out to the office, where he left word for
Tennelly and his uncle that he had been there and had to go, but would
see them again that evening, and then down the street to Burns's common
little boarding-house, where they sat down and talked the rest of the
afternoon. Burns opened Courtland's eyes to many things that he had not
known were in the world. It was as if he laid his hands upon him and
said, as of old: "Brother Saul, receive thy sight!"
When Courtland went back to the university his decision was made. He
felt that he was under orders, and the Presence would not go with him in
any such commission as Uncle Ramsey had proposed. His only regret was
that Tennelly would not understand. Dear old Tennelly, who had tried to
do his best for him!
The dénouement began in Tennelly's room after supper, when Courtland
courteously and firmly thanked Uncle Ramsey, but _declined_ the offer!
Uncle Ramsey grew apoplectic in the face and glared at the young man,
finally bringing out an explosive: "What! You _decline_?"
Uncle Ramsey spluttered and swore. He tore up and down the small
confines of the room like an angry bull, bellowing forth anathemas and
arguments in a confused jumble. He enlarged on the insult he had been
given, and the opportunity that was being lost never to be offered
again. He called Courtland a "trifling idiot," and a few other gentle
phrases, and demanded reasons for such an unprecedented decision.
Courtland's only answer was: "I am afraid it isn't going to fit in with
my views of life, Mr. Thomas. I have thought it over carefully and I
cannot accept your offer."
"Why not? Isn't it enough money?" roared the mad financier. "I'll double
your salary!"
"Money has nothing to do with it," said Courtland, quietly. "That would
make no difference." He was sorry for this scene for Tennelly's sake.
"Well, have you something else in view?"
"No, not definitely."
"Then you're a fool!" said Uncle Ramsey, and further stated what kind
of a fool he was, several times, _vigorously_. After which he mopped his
beaded brow with trembling, agitated hands, and sat down. The old bull
was baffled at last.
Uncle Ramsey blustered all the way to the train with his nephew. "I've
got to have that young man, Thomas. There's no two ways about it. A
fellow that can stand out the way he did against Ramsey Thomas is just
the man I want. He's got personality. Why, a man like that at work for
us would be worth millions! He would give confidence to every one! Why,
we could make him a Senator in a few years, and there's no telling where
he wouldn't stop! He's the kind of a man who could be put in the White
House if things shaped themselves right. I've _got_ to have him, Thomas,
and no mistake! Now, I'm going to put it up to you to find out the
secret of this thing. You just get his number and we'll meet him on any
reasonable proposition he wants to put up. Say, Thomas, isn't there a
girl anywhere that could influence him?"
"Yes, there's a girl!"
"The very thing! You put her wise about it, and when I come back next
week I'll stop off again and see what I can do with her? You can take me
to call on her, you know. Can you work it, Thomas?"
Tennelly said he'd try, and went around to see Gila on his way back to
the university.
Gila listened to the story of Uncle Ramsey's offer with bated breath and
averted gaze. She would not show Tennelly how much this meant to her.
But in her eyes there grew a determination that was not to be denied.
She planned a campaign with Tennelly, coolly, and with a light kind of
glee that fooled him completely. He saw that she was entering into the
spirit of the thing and had no idea she had any other interest than to
please her cousin, and achieve a kind of triumph herself in making
Courtland do the thing he had vowed not to do.
But long after Tennelly had gone home she stood before her mirror,
looking with dreamy eyes into the pictures her imagination drew there
for her. She saw herself the bride of Courtland after he had succeeded
in the big business enterprise to which Uncle Ramsey had opened the
door; she saw Washington with its domes and Capitol looming ahead of her
ambition; Senators and great men bowing before her; even the White House
came like a fantasy of possibility. All this and more were hers if she
played her cards aright. Never fear! She would play them! Courtland
_must_ be made to accept Uncle Ramsey's proposition!