In these new, stout shoes that did not belong to him Crombie trod with
a buoyancy and assurance strongly in contrast with the limp and
half-hearted pace to which his old, shabby gaiters had formerly
inclined him. He rattled down the stairs of the elevated station with
an alacrity almost bumptious; and the sharp, confident step that
announced his entrance into the company's office made the other clerks
quite ashamed of their own want of spirit.
He worked at his desk until noon; but when the bells of Trinity rang
twelve in solemn music over the busy streets, he dropped his pen,
walked with a decisive air the length of the room, and, opening a door
at the other end, presented himself before Mr. Blatchford, the
treasurer, who was also an influential director. "Crombie, eh? Well,
what is it?"
"I want to speak with you a moment, sir."
"Anything important? I'm busy."
"Yes, sir; quite important--to me. Possibly it may be to you."
"Fire away, then; but cut it short." Mr. Blatchford's dense,
well-combed gray side-whiskers were directed toward the young man in an
aggressive way, as if they had been some sort of weapon.
Crombie nonchalantly settled himself in a chair, at ease.
"I am tired of being a clerk," he said. "I'm going to be a director in
this company."
"I guess you're going to be an inmate of a lunatic asylum," Mr.
Blatchford remarked with astonished cheerfulness.
"That seems as unlikely to me as the other thing does to you," said
Crombie.
Hereupon Mr. Blatchford became sarcastically deferential. "And just
about when do you propose to become a director?" he asked.
"In the course of a month. The election, I believe, takes place in
December."
"Quite right," said his senior, whose urbanity was meant to be
crushing. "Meanwhile, you will need leisure to attend to this little
matter. Suppose I oblige you by saying that the company has no further
need of your services?"
"Suppose you do. What then?"
Mr. Blatchford gave way to his anger. "What then? Why, then you would
have to go; that's all. You would be thrown out of employment. You
would have to live on your principal, as long as there was any; and
afterward you would be obliged to find some other work, or beg, or
borrow, or--"
"That's enough," said Crombie, rising with dignity.
"No, it isn't," the treasurer declared, "for you don't seem to
understand even now. I discharge you, Mr. Crombie, on the company's
behalf, and you may leave this office at once."
Crombie bowed and went out. "I'm going to be a director, all the same,"
he told Mr. Blatchford before he closed the door. Then he collected the
few articles that belonged to him from his desk, and departed, a free
man. He had his future to himself; or else he had no future worth
speaking of; he wasn't sure which. Nevertheless, he felt quite happy.
Such a result as this had seemed to him, in the prospect, hardly
possible; but now that it had arrived he was not discomfited. Unbounded
courage seemed to rise from the stout soles of the alien boots,
percolating through his whole system. He was surprised at himself. He
had intended to use more diplomacy with Mr. Blatchford, and it was no
joke to him to lose his place. But instead of feeling despondent, or
going at once in search of new employment, he cheerfully went about
making calls on several gentlemen who, he thought, might be induced to
aid in his ambitious project. His manner was that of a person sure of
his powers and enjoying a well-earned leisure. It had its effect. Two
or three stockholders of the company joined in agreeing with him that
improved methods could be introduced into its management, and that it
would be a good thing to have in the board, say, two young, fresh,
active men--of whom Crombie, by reason of his experience and training,
should be one.
"I own a little stock," said the deposed clerk, who had taken the
precaution to obtain a couple of shares by great effort in saving.
"Besides, not having any other engrossing interests at present, I could
give my whole attention to the company's affairs."
"Quite so," said the merchant whom he was addressing, comfortably. "We
must see if we can get together a majority; no time to be lost, you
know."
"No, sir. I shall go right to work; and perhaps you will speak to some
of your friends, and give me some names."
"Certainly. Come in again pretty soon; will you?"
Crombie saw that he had a good foundation to build upon already.
Blatchford was not popular, even among the other directors; and sundry
stockholders, as well as people having business with the company, had
conceived a strong dislike of him on account of his overbearing
manners. Therefore it would not be hard to enlist sympathy for a
movement obnoxious to him. But it was imperative that the
self-nominated candidate should acquire more of the stock; and to do
this capital must be had. Crombie did not see quite how it was to be
got; he had no sufficient influence with the bankers.
The afternoon was nearly spent, and he trudged uptown, thinking of the
ways and means. But though the problem was far from solved, he still
continued in a state of extraordinary buoyancy. Those shoes, those
shoes! He was so much impressed by their comfort and the service they
had done him in making a good appearance that he resolved to get a new
pair of his own. He stopped and bought them; then kept on toward The
Lorne, carrying his purchase under his arm without embarrassment. The
cold drizzle had ceased, and the sunset came out clear and golden,
dipping its bright darts into the shallow pools of wet on the pavement,
and somehow mingling with his financial dreams a dream of that fair
hair that gave a glory to Miss Blanche's face.
On regaining his modest apartment he sent for the boot-boy, and
inquired the whereabouts of his missing shoes.
"Couldn't tell you, sir," said the servant. "Pretty near all the men's
boots in the house has gone out, you see, and they'll only be coming
back just about now. I'll look out for 'em, sir, and nab 'em as soon as
they show up."
"All right. Whose are these that I've been wearing?"
The boy took them, turned them over, and examined them with the eye of
a connoisseur in every part. "Them? I should say, sir, them was Mr.
Littimer's."
Crombie blushed with mortification. Of all the dwellers in The Lorne,
this was the very one with whom it was the most embarrassing to have
such a complication occur; and yet, strange inconsistency! he had been
longing for any accident, no matter how absurd or fantastic, that could
bring him some chance of an acquaintance with Blanche.
"Take these boots, dry them right away, and give 'em a shine. Then
carry them up to Mr. Littimer's rooms." He gave the boy a quarter: he
was becoming reckless.
Now that he had embarked upon a new career, he perceived the
impropriety of a future director in the Engraving Company going to dine
at "The Fried Cat," and so resolved to take his dinner in the gorgeous
cafe of The Lorne. While he was waiting for the proper moment to
descend thither, he could not get the shoe question out of his mind.
Surely, the boot-boy could not have been so idiotic as to have left
that ancient, broken-down pair at Littimer's threshold! And yet it was
possible. Crombie felt another flush of humility upon his cheeks. Then
he wandered off into reverie upon the multifarious errands of all the
pairs of boots and shoes that had gone forth from the great apartment
house that day. Patter, patter, patter! tramp, tramp!--he imagined he
heard them all walking, stamping, shuffling along toward different
parts of the city, with many different objects, and sending back
significant echoes. Whither had his own ruinous Congress gaiters
gone?--to what destination which they would never have reached had he
been in them? Had they carried their temporary possessor into any such
worriment and trouble as he himself had often traveled through on their
worn but faithful soles?
Breaking off from these idle fancies at length, he went down to the
cafe; and there he had the pleasure of dining at a table not far from
Blanche Littimer. But, to his surprise, she was alone. Her father did
not appear during the meal.