TIMOTHY MARGRAVE MAKES A CHOICE
There was a tradition that no one had ever been black-balled in the
Knights of Midas, so when Timothy Margrave got Wheaton's signature to an
application for membership the cashier was beset by no fear of
rejection. The citizens of Clarkson were indebted to Margrave for many
schemes for booming their town. He lectured his fellow business men
constantly about their lack of enterprise.
"Look at Kansas City," he would say at the club, bending forward
ponderously on his fat knees, "they ain't got half the terminal
facilities that we have, and there ain't any better country around 'em,
but they're bigger than we are and ahead of us because they've got more
hustle than we have; and hustle's what makes a town,--look at Chicago!
But we've got a lot of salt mackerel business men here, so pickled in
their brine of conservatism that they won't do anything. There's Billy
Porter; when we want to raise money to help boom the town, I'm always
dead sure that Billy will cough up, but you've got to show 'im;--tell
'im all about it, and he likes to play with you and guy you and rub it
in before he puts his name down. Now he may be a safe banker and all
that, but I say that there's such a thing as pushing conservatism too
damned far. We're going to be a long time getting over the panic and
we've got to give a strong pull and all pull together if we get in the
procession." His voice rose as he proceeded. "Look at little Sioux City!
busted wide open and knocked over the ropes, but here they come waltzing
up again, as full of sass as a fox terrier with a flea on his tail. Talk
about grit, the time a man wants to show that article's when he's
busted. Any fool can be cheerful on a bull market."
Then he would settle himself back with an air of complacency, as if he
had done all that he could do to arrest decay in the town; if his fellow
citizens failed to rouse themselves it was not his fault. Margrave held
no office in the Knights of Midas, but this was because he had learned
by political experience that it was much simpler to lurk in the
background and manipulate the men he placed in power. It was on this
high principle that he built up the order of the Knights of Midas and
directed its course from the office of the general manager of the
Transcontinental. There was nothing incongruous to him in the annual
ball, which was the only public social manifestation of the
organization. It was he who directed that twenty members be chosen from
the membership list each year, to conduct the purely social functions of
the ball, and that these be taken in alphabetical order. Thus the
Adamses and the Bakers and the Cummingses, who belonged in different
constellations, found themselves in the same orbit. If they were
unacquainted or were enemies of long standing, this did not trouble
Margrave when the fact was brought to his notice. It was time, he said,
that the people of Clarkson got together.
"We may as well get some work out of Jim Wheaton," he remarked to the
grand chief of the Knights of Midas. "He's pretty solemn, but Jim was
solemn when he was a kid and worked for me. Porter and Thompson have
always been too slow for this earth and if we pull Wheaton in, it may
wake up the old chaps so they'll do something besides sit on the fence
and watch the rest of us hustle."
"See here," said Norton, the grand chief, "what's the matter with
shoving him in for the king of the carnival? We've got to make a strong
push this year to give tone to the show socially; that's the only way we
can keep up the town interest. Having these jays come in from the
country won't do any good unless we can hold these eminently respectable
people who think they're Clarkson society."
"You're dead right on that point," said Margrave; "that's a big card
with the jays,--they think they come to town and get right in the push
and are tickled to pay ten dollars a ticket for a taste of high life. I
tell you what we'll do, we'll get Porter to let his daughter appear as
queen of the carnival, and if that ain't a big enough jolly, we can make
Wheaton king. That's what I'd call giving the Clarkson National a run
for its money. If Porter don't double his subscription on the strength
of that--"
He looked at Norton and they both laughed.
A few days later Margrave called on Wheaton at the bank. He was a little
proud of having discovered Wheaton. Since his quondam messenger had
become a bank cashier he had begun to take notice of him.
"I guess we're going to need you to take a star part in the carnival
this year," he said, leading him into the empty directors' room and
looking carefully about to make sure that they were alone. "Yon see,
we've been casting about to find a good representative from among the
younger business men to take the part of king in the carnival. The board
of control are unanimous that you're the man."
"But I've just gone into the Knights,--there are plenty of older
members."
"That's the point! we want new men and you're just the fellow we're
after."
He had been holding his hat in his hand and wiping his brow with his
handkerchief, and he now backed toward the door, saying, without leaving
Wheaton time for further quibble:
"Keep it mum. You understand about that; we always want to jar the
public. We'll put you on to the curves all right."
"I'm sure I'm very much surprised," said Wheaton, "but--"
"Oh, it's all fixed," said Margrave, moving off. "You're the only one
and we never let anybody decline. It would knock all the compliment out
of it, if we let two or three fellows refuse before we caught one that
would accept."
Wheaton went back to his desk, surprised and flattered. Margrave's good
will was worth having. Wheaton had never outgrown the impression he
formed of Margrave when, as a boy, he had indexed letter books and
received callers in the general manager's outer office. He knew that Mr.
Porter was more respectable and stood higher in the community, but there
was something that took hold of even Wheaton's dull imagination in the
bolder achievements of Timothy Margrave, who rolled over the country in
a private car, dictating, when need arose, to the legislatures of a
chain of states, and looming large in the press's discussions of those
combinations and contests of transportation companies which marked the
last years of the nineteenth century. Wheaton had acquired a banker's
habitual distrust of men who offer favors; but as this came on the
personal invitation of one who had no dealings with his bank he could
see no harm in accepting.
Margrave winked at him a few days later when they met at the club.
"The boys are all glad you're going to lead the show, Jim," said the
general manager; and Wheaton experienced a feeling of having fallen into
the larger currents of Clarkson life. Margrave was the man who, more
than any other, made things happen in Clarkson.