Vandover had decided at lunch that day that he would not go back to work
at his studio in the afternoon, but would stay at home instead and read
a very interesting story about two men who had bought a wrecked opium
ship for fifty thousand dollars, and had afterward discovered that she
contained only a few tins of the drug. He was curious to see how it
turned out; the studio was a long way downtown, the day was a little
cold, and he felt that he would enjoy a little relaxation. Anyhow, he
meant to stay at home and put in the whole afternoon on a good novel.
But even when he had made up his mind to do this he did not immediately
get out his book and settle down to it. After lunch he loitered about
the house while his meal digested, feeling very comfortable and
contented. He strummed his banjo a little and played over upon the piano
the three pieces he had picked up: two were polkas, and the third, the
air of a topical song; he always played the three together and in the
same sequence. Then he strolled up to his room, and brushed his hair for
a while, trying to make it lie very flat and smooth. After this he went
out to look at Mr. Corkle, the terrier, and let him run a bit in the
garden; then he felt as though he must have a smoke, and so went back to
his room and filled his pipe. When it was going well, he took down his
book and threw himself into a deep leather chair, only to jump up again
to put on his smoking-jacket. All at once he became convinced that he
must have something to eat while he read, and so went to the kitchen and
got himself some apples and a huge slice of fresh bread. Ever since
Vandover was a little boy he had loved fresh bread and apples. Through
the windows of the dining-room he saw Mr. Corkle digging up great holes
in the geranium beds. He went out and abused him and finally let him
come back into the house and took him upstairs with him.
Then at last he settled down to his novel, in the very comfortable
leather chair, before a little fire, for the last half of August is cold
in San Francisco. The room was warm and snug, the fresh bread and apples
were delicious, the good tobacco in his pipe purred like a sleeping
kitten, and his novel was interesting and well written. He felt calm and
soothed and perfectly content, and took in the pleasure of the occasion
with the lazy complacency of a drowsing cat.
Vandover was self-indulgent--he loved these sensuous pleasures, he loved
to eat good things, he loved to be warm, he loved to sleep. He hated to
be bored and worried--he liked to have a good time.
At about half-past four o'clock he came to a good stopping-place in his
book; the two men had got to quarrelling, and his interest flagged a
little. He pushed Mr. Corkle off his lap and got up yawning and went to
the window.
Vandover's home was on California Street not far from Franklin. It was a
large frame house of two stories; all the windows in the front were bay.
The front door was directly in the middle between the windows of the
parlour and those of the library, while over the vestibule was a sort of
balcony that no one ever thought of using. The house was set in a large
well-kept yard. The lawn was pretty; an enormous eucalyptus tree grew at
one corner. Nearer to the house were magnolia and banana trees growing
side by side with pines and firs. Humming-birds built in these, and one
could hear their curious little warbling mingling with the hoarse chirp
of the English sparrows which nested under the eaves. The back yard was
separated from the lawn by a high fence of green lattice-work. The hens
and chickens were kept here and two roosters, one of which crowed every
time a cable-car passed the house. On the door cut through the
lattice-fence was a sign, "Look Out for the Dog." Close to the unused
barn stood an immense windmill with enormous arms; when the wind blew in
the afternoon the sails whirled about at a surprising speed, pumping up
water from the artesian well sunk beneath. There was a small
conservatory where the orchids were kept. Altogether, it was a charming
place. However, adjoining it was a huge vacant lot with cows in it. It
was full of dry weeds and heaps of ashes, while around it was an
enormous fence painted with signs of cigars, patent bitters, and soap.
Vandover stood at a front window and looked out on a rather dreary
prospect. The inevitable afternoon trades had been blowing hard since
three, strong and brisk from the ocean, driving hard through the Golden
Gate and filling the city with a taint of salt. Now the fog was coming
in; Vandover could see great patches of it sweeping along between him
and the opposite houses. All the eucalyptus trees were dripping, and
occasionally there came the faint moan of the fog-horn out at the heads.
He could see up the street for nearly two miles as it climbed over Nob
Hill. It was almost deserted; a cable-car now and then crawled up and
down its length, and at times a delivery wagon rattled across it; but
that was about all. On the opposite sidewalk two boys and a girl were
coasting downhill on their roller-skates and their brake-wagons. The
cable in its slot kept up an incessant burr and clack. The whole view
was rather forlorn, and Vandover turned his back on it, taking up his
book again.
About five o'clock his father came home from his office. "Hello!" said
he, looking into the room; "aren't you home a little early to-day? Ah, I
thought you weren't going to bring that dog into the house any more. I
wish you wouldn't, son; he gets hair and fleas about everywhere."
"All right, governor," answered Vandover. "I'll take him out. Come
along, Cork."
"But aren't you home earlier than usual to-day?" persisted his father as
Vandover got up.
"Yes," said Vandover, "I guess I am, a little."
After supper the same evening when Vandover came downstairs, drawing on
his gloves, his father looked over his paper, saying pleasantly:
"Well, where are you going to-night?"
"I'm going to see my girl," said Vandover, smiling; then foreseeing the
usual question, he added, "I'll be home about eleven, I guess."
"Got your latch-key?" asked the Old Gentleman, as he always did when
Vandover went out.
"Yep," called back Vandover as he opened the door. "I'll not forget it
again. Good-night, governor."
Vandover used to call on Turner Ravis about twice a week; people said
they were engaged. This was not so.
Vandover had met Miss Ravis some two years before. For a time the two
had been sincerely in love with each other, and though there was never
any talk of marriage between them, they seemed to have some sort of
tacit understanding. But by this time Vandover had somehow outgrown the
idea of marrying Turner. He still kept up the fiction, persuaded that
Turner must understand the way things had come to be. However, he was
still very fond of her; she was a frank, sweet-tempered girl and very
pretty, and it was delightful to have her care for him.
Vandover could not shut his eyes to the fact that young Haight was very
seriously in love with Turner. But he was sure that Turner preferred him
to his chum. She was too sincere, too frank, too conscientious to
practise any deception on him.
There was quite a party at the Ravises' house that evening when Vandover
arrived. Young Haight was there, of course, and Charlie Geary. Besides
Turner herself there was Henrietta Vance, a stout, pretty girl, with pop
eyes and a little nose, who laughed all the time and who was very
popular. These were all part of Vandover's set; they called each other
by their first names and went everywhere together. Almost every Saturday
evening they got together at Turner's house and played whist, or euchre,
or sometimes even poker. "Just for love," as Turner said.
When Vandover came in they were all talking at the same time, disputing
about a little earthquake that had occurred the night before. Henrietta
Vance declared that it had happened early in the morning.
"_Wasn't_ it just about midnight, Van?" cried Turner.
"I don't know," answered Vandover. "It didn't wake me up. I didn't even
know there was one."
"Well, I know I heard our clock strike two just about half an hour
afterward," protested young Haight.
"Oh, it was almost five o'clock when it came," cried Henrietta Vance.
"Well, now, you're _all_ off," said Charlie Geary. "I know just when she
quaked to the fraction of a minute, because it stopped our hall clock at
just a little after three."
They were silent. It was an argument which was hard to contradict. By
and by, young Haight declared, "There must have been two of them then,
because--"
"How about whist or euchre or whatever it is to be?" said Charlie
Geary, addressing Turner and interrupting in an annoying way that was
peculiar to him. "Can't we start in now that Van has come?" They played
euchre for a while, but Geary did not like the game, and by and by
suggested poker.
"Well--if it's only just for love," said Turner, "because, you know,
mamma doesn't like it any other way."
At ten o'clock Geary said, "Let's quit after this hand round--what do
you say?" The rest were willing and so they all took account of their
chips after the next deal. Geary was protesting against his poor luck.
Honestly he hadn't held better than three tens more than twice during
the evening. It was Henrietta Vance who took in everything; did one ever
_see_ anything to beat her luck? "the funniest thing!"
They began to do tricks with the cards. Young Haight showed them a very
good trick by which he could make the pack break every time at the ace
of clubs. Vandover exclaimed: "Lend me a silk hat and ninety dollars and
I'll show you the queerest trick you ever saw," which sent Henrietta
Vance off into shrieks of laughter. Then Geary took the cards out of
young Haight's hands, asking them if they knew _this_ trick.
Turner said yes, she knew it, but the others did not, and Geary showed
it to them. It was interminable. Henrietta Vance chose a card and put it
back into the deck. Then the deck was shuffled and divided into three
piles. After this Geary made a mental calculation, selected one of these
piles, shuffled it, and gave it back to her, asking her if she saw her
card in it; then more shuffling and dividing until their interest and
patience were quite exhausted. When Geary finally produced a jack of
hearts and demanded triumphantly if that was her card, Henrietta began
to laugh and declared she had forgotten _what_ card she chose. Geary
said he would do the trick all over for her. At this, however, they all
cried out, and he had to give it up, very irritated at Henrietta's
stupidity.
Vexed at the ill success of this first trick, he retired a little from
their conversation, puzzling over the cards, thinking out new tricks.
Every now and then he came back among them, going about from one to
another, holding out the deck and exclaiming, "Choose any card--choose
any card."
After a while they all adjourned to the dining-room and Turner and
Vandover went out into the kitchen, foraging among the drawers and
shelves. They came back bringing with them a box of sardines, a tin of
_paté_, three quart bottles of blue-ribbon beer, and what Vandover
called "devilish-ham" sandwiches.
"Now do we want _tamales_ to go with these?" said Turner, as she spread
the lunch on the table. Henrietta Vance cried out joyfully at this, and
young Haight volunteered to go out to get them. "Get six," Turner cried
out after him. "Henrietta can always eat two. Hurry up, and we won't eat
till you get back."
While he was gone Turner got out some half-dozen glasses for their beer.
"Do you know," she said as she set the glasses on the table, "the
funniest thing happened this morning to mamma. It was at breakfast; she
had just drunk a glass of water and was holding the glass in her hand
like this"--Turner took one of the thin beer glasses in her hand to show
them how--"and was talking to pa, when all at once the glass broke right
straight around a ring, just below the brim, you know, and fell all--"
On a sudden Turner uttered a shrill exclamation; the others started up;
the very glass she held in her hand at the moment cracked and broke in
precisely the manner she was describing. A narrow ring snapped from the
top, dropping on the floor, breaking into a hundred bits.
Turner drew in a long breath, open-mouthed, her hand in the air still
holding the body of the glass that remained in her fingers. They all
began to exclaim over the wonder.
"Well, did you ever in all your _life_?" shouted Miss Vance, breaking
into a peal of laughter. Geary cried out, "Cæsar's ghost!" and Vandover
swore under his breath.
"If that isn't the strangest thing I ever saw!" cried Turner. "_Isn't_
that funny--why--oh! I'm going _to try it with another glass_!" But the
second glass remained intact. Geary recovered from his surprise and
tried to explain how it could happen.
"It was the heat from your fingers and the glass was cold, you know," he
said again and again.
But the strangeness of the thing still held them. Turner set down the
glass with the others and dropped into a chair, letting her hands fall
in her lap, looking into their faces, nodding her head and shutting her
lips:
"Ah, _no_," she said after a while. "That _is_ funny. It kind of scares
one." She was actually pale.
"Oh, there's Dolly Haight!" cried Henrietta Vance as the door bell rang.
They all rushed to the door, running and scrambling, eager to tell the
news. Young Haight stood bewildered on the door mat in the vestibule,
his arms full of brown-paper packages, while they recounted the marvel.
They all spoke at once, holding imaginary beer glasses toward him in
their outstretched hands. Geary, however, refused to be carried away by
their excitement, and one heard him from time to time repeating, between
their ejaculations, "It was the heat from her fingers, you know, and the
glass was cold."
Young Haight was confused, incredulous; he could not at first make out
what _had_ happened.
"Well, just come and _look_ at the broken _glass_ on the _floor_,"
shouted Turner decisively, dragging him into the dining-room. They
waited, breathless, to hear what he would say. He looked at the broken
glass and then into their faces. Then he suddenly exclaimed:
"Ah, you're joking me."
"No, honestly," protested Vandover, "that was just the way it happened."
It was some little time before they could get over their impression of
queerness, but by and by Geary cried out that the _tamales_ were getting
cold. They settled down to their lunch, and the first thing young Haight
did was to cut his lip on the edge of the broken glass. Turner had set
it down with the others and he had inadvertently filled it for himself.
It was a trifling cut. Turner fetched some court-plaster, and his lip
was patched up. For all that, it bled quite a little. He was very
embarrassed; he kept his handkerchief to his mouth and told them
repeatedly to go on with their lunch and not to mind him.
As soon as they were eating and drinking they began to be very jolly,
and Vandover was especially good-humoured and entertaining. He made
Henrietta Vance shout with laughter by pretending that the olive in his
_tamale_ was a green hen's egg.
About half-past ten young Haight rose from the table saying he thought
it was about time to say good-night. "Don't be in a hurry," said
Turner. "It's early yet." After that, however, they broke up very
quickly.
Before he left Vandover saw Turner in the dining-room alone for a
minute.
"Will I see you at church to-morrow?" he asked, as she held his overcoat
for him.
"I don't know, Van," she answered. "You know Henrietta is going to stay
all night with me, and I think she will want me to go home with her
to-morrow morning and then stay to dinner with her. But I'm going to
early communion to-morrow morning; why can't you meet me there?"
"Why, I can," answered Vandover, settling his collar. "I should like to
very much."
"Well, then," she replied, "you can meet me in front of the church at
half-past seven o'clock."
"Hey, break away there!" cried Geary from the front door. "Come along,
Van, if you are going with us."
Turner let Vandover kiss her before they joined the others. "I'll see
you at seven-thirty to-morrow morning," he said as he went away.
The three young men went off down the street, arm in arm, smoking their
cigars and cigarettes. As soon as they were alone, Charlie Geary began
to tell the other two of everything he had been doing since he had last
seen them.
"Well, sir," he said as he took an arm of each, "well, sir, I had a fine
sleep last night; went to bed at ten and never woke up till half-past
eight this morning. Ah, you bet I needed it, though. I've been working
like a slave this week. You know I take my law-examinations in about ten
days. I'll pass all right. I'm right up to the handle in everything. I
don't believe the judge could stick me anywhere in the subject of
torts."
"Say, boys," said Vandover, pausing and looking at his watch, "it isn't
very late; let's go downtown and have some oysters."
"That's a good idea," answered young Haight. "How about you, Charlie?"
Geary said he was willing. "Ah," he added, "you ought to have seen the
beefsteak I had this evening at the Grillroom." And as they rode
downtown he told them of the steak in question. "I had a little mug of
ale with it, too, and a dish of salad. Ah, it went great."
They decided after some discussion that they would go to the Imperial.