Again Miss Husted looked around the room very mysteriously and motioned
to the men to come closer. They obeyed, somewhat apprehensively this
time.
"What did it all mean?" they thought. "Why this mystery?"
"I've something to tell you in confidence," she said finally. She
tried to open her reticule and finding Skippy in the way, she handed
the little animal to Fico, saying:
"Will one of you gentlemen please hold Skippy while I find those
tickets? He just had a bath and if he rolls over he'll get soiled."
Fico took the dog, which promptly yelped, so he hurriedly handed it to
Pinac. Pinac, who was afraid of dogs, transferred the animal to Poons.
Poons, anxious to be of some service to Miss Husted, tried to pet the
dog, but looking at Miss Husted for approval instead of watching the
beast, he held it so awkwardly that its head hung down and its tail
stuck up in the air. Miss Husted, in the act of pulling pawn tickets
out of her reticule, caught sight of the unfortunate animal suspended
in mid air, and jumped up quickly.
"Look at him! Look how the stupid, stupid fellow is holding Skippy!
All the blood will rush into his poor little head. The dog, the dog;
you foolish fellow; the d-o-g, dog! I can't make him understand.
Please tell him, Mr. Pinac."
"Hund--hund!" shouted Fico to Poons.
"Le chien--Le chien! Idiot, stupid!" said Pinac.
Poons was so startled by hearing them all shout at him at once that he
dropped the dog into Von Barwig's coal scuttle, whence it finally
issued covered with coal dust and ran yelping into Miss Husted's arms.
That lady petted the frightened animal while Pinac pushed the
unfortunate Poons out of the room.
When Miss Husted had completely recovered herself, she held up the pawn
tickets.
"I found them," she said dolefully, "under that pile of music."
"Gritt Scott!" said Pinac. He knew at a glance what they were;
experience had taught him.
"Are they of Von Barwig?" he inquired.
Fico took three or four of the tickets. "From Anton; yes," and then he
sighed and shook his head.
The men knew Von Barwig was poor, but they had no idea to what extent
his poverty had reached.
"His cuckoo clock: nine dollars!" read Fico.
"That was the first thing I missed--that cuckoo, evenings," sighed Miss
Husted.
"Mozart, gone!" almost shouted Pinac, pointing to the spot on the wall
where that musician's portrait had once reposed. "And Beethoven! And
where is Gluck?" Then looking around: "Nom de Dieu! even his metronome
have gone--his metronome! Dieu, Dieu!"
"I should say it was dear, dear!" said Miss Husted, who slightly
misunderstood Pinac.
And so the truth dawned upon them. For months, for years he had
deceived them with his smile, his optimism, his gay manner and cheery
word, and above all by the open-hearted manner in which he gave away to
all who came to him.
"All these years has Professor Von Barwig been in my house and he has
paid me like a gentleman. He pays me now, how does he do it? Oh,
dear!" Miss Husted tried hard not to cry, but the tears would come.
The men looked on sadly; they had always accepted his bounty, and now
they were reproaching themselves.
Miss Husted's feelings made her reminiscent, and when she was
reminiscent she invariably exaggerated--in retrospect she saw
everything as she would have liked it to have been. "When he first
came here what a man he was! And this, what a neighbourhood then, an
elegant residential district. I had a position then, I could recommend
him; everybody knew Miss Houston of Houston Street." In spite of her
sorrow she felt proud of the past.
The men looked at each other. They had heard this for the past fifteen
years. It meant a long session and they wanted to practise their
music; so Pinac merely nodded, and Fico shook his head gravely.
"Why, I was pointed out by everybody as Miss Houston of Houston Street.
I was a landmark; a sight."
"Yes," said Pinac unconsciously. "You were; and you are still."
Miss Husted looked at him sharply. "Was he venturing to laugh at her?"
she thought. But his sad face belied any such intention.
"How things have changed?" went on Miss Husted tremulously. "There's
not a child in this neighbourhood that can afford to pay for his
lesson! And when they can't afford it, he won't take the money! He
gives away the very bread out of his mouth."
Pinac and Fico shifted uncomfortably.
"Everything he had of value has gone long ago. Do you remember that
beautiful violin?"
"Ah, yes! his Amati. Yes, yes! He bought instead a cheap one. I
wondered why, but did not ask him."
"And still he pays me. Where does he get it?" asked Miss Husted
tearfully. "What is he doing out every night, nearly all night?"
The men looked at each other; this was another revelation. They were
out at night themselves and so did not know of his absence.
"There's something done up to go to pawn now," said Miss Husted,
pointing to a box wrapped up in a paper on the piano. It was Von
Barwig's case of pistols. Pinac and Fico looked at each other in
astonishment.
"Pistols for duel!" said Pinac at once. He had seen them in the
theatre, long, thin, single barrel pistols.
"Sometimes I feel that he came to this country purposely to take
vengeance on some one," said Miss Husted mysteriously. The men were
much impressed, but neither of them spoke.
"I don't believe the poor man has his meals half the time," went on
Miss Husted, somewhat irrelevantly. "I am almost sure he doesn't."
"We ask him to dine the evening," said Fico, with a look of triumph,
feeling that he had not only discovered the problem but had also solved
it.
"Yes," assented Pinac, "we ask him."
At this moment Poons came back into the room, having forgotten his
music.
Miss Husted was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she had no time to
frown at him.
A door bang was heard, and her sharp ears detected the sound. "There
he is now," she said. "Please don't tell him that I spoke of his
affairs. You know how sensitive he is."
A key was heard in the door; Von Barwig evidently thought the room was
empty. As he came in, followed by Jenny, the sad expression on his
face changed.
"Ah," he said, with a sigh of satisfaction; "when I set foot here, I am
among friends. So glad, so glad! Welcome to you all."
Miss Husted, making a few lame excuses, hurried out. She felt that she
had been guilty of an indiscretion in betraying the professor's secret
to his friends.
Von Barwig greeted his friends warmly.
"Well, how is the little _hausfrau_?" he said as he handed Jenny a
flower that he had brought for her. "Beauty is a fairy, eh? Sometimes
it hides in a flower, sometimes in a fresh young face," and he pinched
her cheek tenderly. "Here blooms a rose; not picked, not picked,
August!" Poons smiled and shook his head.
"He doesn't understand me," said Von Barwig. "The son of my old friend
has been six months in this country, and not a word of English can he
speak."
"Never mind, Jenny! I find you a splendid fellow; one who can speak
his own mind in his own language. Not a selfish fellow like these
bachelors. Bah! a bachelor is not a citizen of his country; he is not
even civilised. He is--a nondescript--a--a----"
The men were looking at him sadly as if trying to read his innermost
thoughts. They seemed to have realised for the first time that his
gaiety was forced. His spirits this afternoon were unusually high; and
it made the reality stand out in greater contrast. Pinac felt that he
might resent any reference to his financial condition, so he did not
speak of it.
"It is a long time since we have had a nice little dinner together," he
said in his Gallic way.
"Yes," assented Von Barwig, "a long time!"
"A dinner during which we can exchange confidences," ventured Fico,
interspersing his English with Italian, and a word or two of slang.
Pinac gave Fico a look of warning.
"He means a 'art to 'art talk," explained Pinac.
"Excellent, excellent!" said Von Barwig, rubbing his hands, and going
over to the window he pulled up the blind.
"He falls into our trap very easily," whispered Pinac to Fico; "but be
careful!"
Poons looked on and smiled as usual.
"I should like nothing better," said Von Barwig. "You shall all dine
with me," and before his friends could remonstrate he had invited Poons
to the banquet.
"But I asked you!" said Pinac.
"He ask you," repeated Fico.
"I ask you; we all ask you," asserted Pinac.
"In my apartment!" demanded Von Barwig, with some slight show of
dignity. "Come, come! The matter is settled. It is good to have old
friends at the table. We won't go to the restaurant; it's too noisy
there; we shall dine here. Galazatti will send over a dinner without
extra charge, if we order enough."
"I am not hungry," began Fico, but Von Barwig silenced him with a look.
"Then please find your appetite at once," he said.
They saw it was useless to remonstrate with him and for a moment
remained silent, but Pinac determined to make another effort.
"You cannot afford such expense," he began. "It is too much."
"Pardon me," said Von Barwig, with quiet dignity, "I can always afford
to invite my friends to dinner. I have had lessons all day, ever since
early morning. Please, my dear Pinac, and you, Fico, old friend, do
not refer to the financial side of our little festivity. It robs it of
the zest of enjoyment, of comradeship. Let us eat and drink and be
merry! The question is, what shall we have for dinner, not who shall
pay for it?" And then without awaiting a reply, he opened the door and
called for Jenny.
Pinac and Fico looked at each other. It was evident to them that Miss
Husted had exaggerated Von Barwig's poverty, so their spirits rose at
once.
"Jenny! We take dinner here. Get me the _menu_, Poons. Jenny, you
will ask your good aunt, Miss Husted, to dine with us _en famille_--one
of our old-time dinners. Now, what shall we have?" he said, scanning
the well-thumbed _menu_ that Poons had handed to him.
"It is an old one," suggested Fico.
"It is always the same. It is only the date they change," said Von
Barwig. Pinac looked over his shoulder at the _menu_.
"_Chicken à la Marengo_," said the Frenchman, "with a _soupçon_ of
garlic."
"No," said Von Barwig decidedly, "Miss Husted doesn't like garlic!"
"_À la Polenta_ is better," suggested the Italian.
"_Ein Bischen Limburger_," put in Poons, which was instantly frowned
upon by all.
Jenny was asked to take down the order, and the process of selecting
the dishes for the dinner was gone through; each ordering according to
his own taste. Jenny tried to write down everything they wanted, but
gave it up after she had filled three pages of suggestions and
scratched them out again. Finally Von Barwig ordered a nice little
dinner, including spaghetti and garlic. As Jenny was about to take the
order to Galazatti's, Miss Husted made her appearance. Jenny told her
that the professor had invited her to dinner, and she realised in a
moment what had happened. It was the old story; the professor was to
be the host. She suggested that she herself get up a little dinner for
the men, but Von Barwig wouldn't hear of putting her to the trouble and
so his ideas were carried out as usual. It was really a most enjoyable
dinner! To this day Miss Husted speaks of it as one of those gala
Bohemian affairs that must be seen and heard and eaten to be
appreciated. As she afterward told her friend, Mrs. Mangenborn, they
had a hip, hip hurray of a time. The dear professor was just as jolly
as he could be. Even Poons was tolerable, although she would not for
worlds sit next to him at the table. It was simply impossible for her
to describe the dinner in detail, but how Fico swallowed the spaghetti
without losing it down his shirt front was a mystery. How the man got
so much on his fork and swallowed it down by the yard nobody knew, it
was simply a sublime feat! But the toasts they drank (with the last of
the professor's claret), the songs they sang, the art they discussed!
Every word was a scream of laughter.
"Just listen to this," said Miss Husted, laughing at the very memory of
the joke. "Young Poons asked what was garlic, and the professor said:
'Garlic is a vegetable limburger!' The idea of such a thing!" Even
Mrs. Mangenborn consented to smile.
"And when Mr. Fico said, 'Wine is the enemy of mankind,' Mr. Pinac
jumped up and said, 'Is it? Then give me my enemy, that I may drink
him down.' Oh, it was a most enjoyable affair. I can't tell you all
that was said," went on Miss Husted. "But how the wit did flow! Wit
and wine; no, wit and water; there wasn't much wine. We didn't in the
least mind the noise that the Donizetti family made overhead; though
once when the chandelier nearly came down the professor did say they
ought to live in the cellar! I think I'll give them notice next week,"
she added thoughtfully, "though God knows I need the money."
"What about the pawn tickets?" asked Mrs. Mangenborn.
"Not a word was said about them," replied Miss Husted. "I don't know
what to think! The professor was just--oh, he was--well, we had a
great time. There's something about Bohemia that appeals to my
innermost nature. Give me a Bohemian dinner every time!" she said,
when she had spoken her final word on the subject.
"He must have money in the bank," commented Mrs. Mangenborn.
Miss Husted shook her head. "I don't think so," she said.
On the same evening the collection agent for the Blickner Piano Company
called on Professor Von Barwig, and presented him with a "final notice."
"I intended to pay you to-day," said Von Barwig. "I will pay you next
week. Won't you please wait? I have two lessons to-morrow."
"You'll pay, or we'll take the piano away; that's all! You're six
weeks behind."
"I had the money and I intended to give it to you to-day," Von Barwig
pleaded. "But--some friends came to dinner, and--" He paused, and
then smiled as it occurred to him how thoughtless he had been. The
collector left the notice in Von Barwig's possession, and walked away
without further comment.