"Come what, come may,
Time and the hour runs through the roughest day."
--MACBETH.
Never be it said that fate itself could awe the soul of Fogg. Next day,
when Handy called on him, he found his irrepressible friend preparing to
saunter forth. That he failed to appreciate the humiliation of the
previous evening there was not the slightest reason to believe. His
restless spirit, however, was too strong to compel him willingly to
remain indoors. He was nothing, if not active. In fact, he was miserable
unless when employed in some optimistic scheme. No matter how
impracticable it might appear to others, he invariably perceived a means
to circumvent its difficulties. He believed in taking the biggest kind
of chance on the smallest possibility of success. He was a remarkably
unique proposition.
"Hello, hello!" exclaimed Handy. "What's all this about? Up and dressed.
Say, don't you know you're a sick man?" Fogg gazed at his friend more in
surprise than anger, and turned his head aside. "Did you hear what I
said? You don't mean to tell me that you are going out in the streets
to-day?"
"Why not?" replied Fogg.
"After what took place last night?"
"I must, you know!"
"With a busted blood-vessel in your innards and a--a--a----"
"Oh, come now, Handy, this thing has gone far enough. I appreciate all
you did for me in an emergency, but there's no necessity for keeping up
the deception any longer. I tell you I have an important engagement----"
"Hold! Avast heaving and take a hitch," interrupted the veteran. "Give
me no more of that important engagement business in mine. I have some
say in this matter, I have."
"You have--and how, pray?"
"Well, I'll give it you, and straight, too."
"Go on, then."
"Well, you were to have taken a benefit last night, weren't you?"
"I'm listening."
"An' you didn't, did you?"
"Well, no--not exactly a--benefit," replied Fogg slowly, with a sickly
smile.
"And why didn't you?"
"Well, you are aware of the reason as well as I," Fogg answered,
slightly irritated; "because I didn't have the necessary funds to carry
out my plans, therefore----"
"Rubbish and stuff!" retorted Handy contemptuously. "You always get
things mixed."
"What do you mean?" inquired the mystified Fogg, looking more perplexed
than ever. "I do not quite understand you!"
"No, I didn't expect you would. Not be able to give a show without
funds! Fiddlesticks! You make me tired. Darn it! Any one could do the
turn with funds, and if you had the funds you wouldn't need a
benefit--unless, indeed, you needed them to take a pleasure trip to
Europe or to buy an automobile. But the man who can pull off a venture
of that kind I regard as a financier; a man to be respected; a man of
mettle--I mean the kind of mettle that's next door to genius, so to
speak. By the way, old man, how do you spell that mettle--mettle or
metal?"
"I would spell it B-R-A-S-S."
For a moment, Handy was completely put out, then extending his hand, he
said: "Fogg, you may not know it, but you're a humorist. That wasn't
half bad, as we say in England. I was never there, but it goes, all the
same."
Fogg smiled, but Handy looked serious. He was in a troubled state of
mind on account of Fogg's expressed determination to leave the house. He
remembered all too vividly that he had been chief engineer of Fogg's
escapade of the preceding night. He had to economize on truth; originate
a fit, burst a blood-vessel, and carry out several minor details to make
the undertaking thoroughly convincing. These, of course, he was willing
to father, and, for that matter, felt a certain pride in their
performance, when he remembered they resulted in relieving the troubles
of a friend. But he was hurt when he came to reflect that the friend for
whom he had undertaken so much had so little regard for the fitness of
things and embarrassments of the situation as to venture forth the
following day. It was too much for his sensibilities.
"The idea, Fogg, of showing yourself in public to-day, or to-morrow, or
even the next day, is simply preposterous. It is out of the question. I
may almost pronounce it like flying in the face of Providence. Remember,
you are still a sick man, and I am sponsor for your illness. Bear in
mind, you were taken out of the theatre as good as a dead one, in the
garb of _Claude Melnotte_."
"Yes; and thanks to that infernal Smith," interrupted Fogg, "the suit is
as good as ruined, with the stuff he spilt over it."
"There you go again. Why, you unthinking ingrate, only for that marked
feature of the episode, you might at this moment be laid up in the
hospital, if the stage hands, fiddlers, costumer, and bill-posters got
in their work. Instead of that, here you are where sympathizing friends
can visit you and hearken to your tale of woe. Don't you see," continued
Handy, "if you are met on the street people will be likely to draw their
own conclusions and regard last night's emergency illness as a fraud?
You know how uncharitable even the best of friends are at odd times.
While if you keep within doors and recover slowly, no such uncharitable
fancy can be conjured into existence. Besides, the time spent in
convalescence may be employed by that fertile brain of yours in devising
some scheme for the future. I never willingly was party to a fraud, but
when a friend gets into a bad box it becomes a human duty on the part of
another friend to help him out. The end in view justifies the means.
Friends don't go to that trouble, as a rule, but they ought to. Then you
must have some consideration for dramatic consistency. Even actors can
not burst blood-vessels with impunity over night and then go
gallivanting about town next day. And again, is all this fine
advertising you are going to get out of last night's realism to be
thrown away and go for nothing? Oh, no! I guess not! My dear Fogg, you
have got to be repaired before you are again seen in public."
Handy's eloquent and forcible argument convinced Fogg that a week
indoors was the proper course for him to pursue, and also be guided
solely by the veteran during his convalescence.
"Now, then, get to bed at once. You cannot tell who may get it into his
head to call upon you. It is more than likely that Draper will be here
after the _Melnotte_ outfit."
"Goodness gracious, I forgot all about that!" exclaimed Fogg.
"I thought so. Never overlook details. If you had traveled over this
broad land of the free and the home of the brave as extensively as I
have, you would recognize their importance. They are, my dear boy, most
important factors of success in the show line, as in every other
business. You can start a show without money if you are careful in the
arrangement of your details beforehand. I might be able to give you some
useful advice on that subject, which would prove serviceable if you ever
contemplate going on the road."
"I did have an idea of that kind," replied Fogg. "I think there's money
in it. Don't you?"
"Well, that depends."
"On what?"
"That I can't precisely explain. I have seen some of the worst so-called
actors that ever trod the boards catch on with the fickle public, while
counting railroad ties was the reward for some of the most talented in
the business. It isn't talent, ability, or merit that always tells in
this world. Don't you know that? To be sure, if you have money to back
any one or all of them up, together with grit enough to hold on until
the tide turns, you may stand a chance. But sometimes, even then one
gets left."
"Pshaw! I've known fellows without any one of these qualifications you
have enumerated succeed--fellows who had neither friends nor capital to
aid them," responded Fogg, as he removed his coat. "How do you account
for that, old man?"
"Easily enough," answered Handy, seemingly not a bit put out. "They must
have had those magnificent endowments which may be tersely summed up in
the simple words 'cheek' and 'push,' qualities sufficiently potent to
transform a mouse-trap into a fortune or a tobacco patent of some kind
into a grand opera house. These are, my boy, the magician's wand. Hurry
up and peel off your vest. Cheek is the capital with which the
impecunious push ahead while modest merit remains in the background
waiting for a chance. There, now, don't stand and stare. Pull off your
shoes. You're too slow. As I was saying, cheek in business generally is
the _avant courier_ of success. Catch on to my French? Say, what's the
matter now--burst a button off your pants? Never mind. You'll have
plenty of time to make repairs during the week. Remember what I tell
you. Cheek backed up by energy will win every time, and don't make any
mistake about it. There, now, lie down and give me a chance to mend you
and help to get your business affairs in some kind of shape that will be
intelligible. By the way, have you such things as a pipe and tobacco on
the premises?"
"Yes, you will find them on the shelf yonder. But see here, Handy. I
don't half like this quarantine business--lying down and playing sick
when I am as well as you are!"
"Then why in the name of Christopher Columbus' cat didn't you think of
that before you went off in that fit last night! What did you do that
for, eh? A joke? The punishment fits the crime, my friend, and you might
as well make up your alleged mind to that fact, and that you'll have to
take such medicine as I prescribe for at least a week to come."
Just then was heard the ring of the hall bell, and shortly after a
servant-like knock at the door of the apartment followed. Handy motioned
his patient to lie down and keep still, and then called, "Come in!" The
door opened and a servant popped in her head and informed the two
friends that down-stairs was a man named Draper, who wanted to see Mr.
Fogg.
"Draper! Draper!" repeated Handy, as if endeavoring to recall the name
to his recollection. "Fogg, dear boy, do you know any one named Draper?"
Then turning to the servant: "Are you certain you got the gentleman's
name correct?"
"He towld me his name was Draper, and sure that's all I know about him."
"Will you be kind enough, like a good girl, to skip down-stairs and ask
the gentleman to send up his card?" said Handy in his most persuasive
manner.
The lady who officiated as menial evidently did not relish another
journey up and down-stairs, but Handy's winning way and manner of
appealing to her had the desired effect. She condescended to oblige, but
with a look, however, that might readily be mistaken for one other than
pleasure over the job, with an accompanying murmur of words that sounded
very much like "people puttin' on airs."
"Why, Handy, you know very well who that is down at the door," said
Fogg, raising himself in bed.
"Know! Well, I should smile! Why, of course I know. But, my boy, I need
a little time to get things straightened out before we receive visitors.
Lie down and keep quiet. I'm running this show. These _Melnotte_ duds
will have to go to the wash. Ten to one that's what Draper has called
for. That fellow has an eye as sharp as a hawk."
"What has that to do with the case?"
"This, if you are anxious to know. Draper would get on to that red ink
stain quicker than a wink. You couldn't fool that gentleman on ink for
blood. Just cast your eagle eye over it." He held the blouse up for
inspection. "Why, it looks more like cranberry sauce on a jamboree than
human gore. I will stow this away in the closet, and now bear in mind it
has gone to the wash."
"Oh, all right!"
"Come in." This in answer to a knock at the door, and Bedelia, for such
was the lady attendant's name, reappeared.
"The man down at the door below sez as how he has no card wid him, but
that yez knows him very well already. He sez he's a customer."
"A what?" yelled Handy.
"A customer," shouted back Bedelia.
"A customer," echoed Handy, and then in his most agreeable manner
continued: "Now, my gentle friend, for I know you are gentle, and
therefore must be a friend, did not the man in the gap below tell you he
was a costumer, and not a customer? Think, for the difference between
the two is of some degree of importance."
"Well, sur, I may not be as well up in the new-fangled ways of spakin'
as some other people are. Begor! with yer cawn'ts an' shawn'ts, an'
chawnces, an' the divil only knows what in the way of pronunciayshon, a
dacint, hard-workin' gerl can't make out half what's said nowadays. You
call the man down-stairs wan thing an' I call him another, but both of
them are the same man. Arrah! what's the matther wid yez, at all, at
all?"
With this withering invective, Bedelia looked as if she could annihilate
Handy.
The veteran in an amusingly polite manner arose and bowed. "All right,
Bedelia, and if it's all the same to you, you may as well waltz the
customer up."
"Well, sur," she answered, with what she possibly considered satiric
dignity, "I'll sind him up, but I would like yez to understhand that
I've plinty to do widout climbing up and down two pair of stairs waitin'
on show-actors," and she then hurried out and bang! went the door.
"Fogg, my boy," said Handy, with a smile, "that handmaiden is a passion
flower. 'Twould be an injustice to the more modest posy to designate her
a daisy."
He was about to indulge in a laugh, when a masculine knock at the door
interrupted. Moving quietly across the room, he opened the door. A nod
of recognition and the costumer entered.
"Will you kindly take a seat, Mr. Draper?" he said in a subdued voice,
as he motioned the visitor to a chair beside the bed.
"It's awfully kind of you, Draper, to call," said Fogg in a feeble tone
of voice, at the same time extending his hand. "This is a bad blow. Who
would have thought this time yesterday that I would now be----"
"Hush!" interrupted Handy gently. "You must keep still and not grow
excited. You know what the doctor said." Then turning to the costumer,
Handy explained Fogg's condition, the possible effect excitement would
be likely to produce, and the evil consequences that might ensue. "He is
not yet quite out of danger, but I guess he'll pull through, provided he
will keep still and obey orders. The doctor says----Oh! by the way, Mr.
Draper, you didn't meet the doctor on your way up, did you?" inquired
Handy meekly, as he placed the invalid's hand back under the coverlet.
"No!" replied Mr. Draper, "I did not. What physician is attending him?"
"Oh! Doctor--ah--Doctor----Some German name. Hold on! That last
prescription will tell us." But somehow or other Handy could not lay his
hand on it.
"Never mind. Don't put yourself to any trouble. It doesn't matter."
"Oh, by the way, Mr. Draper," and Handy bent down toward him and in a
low tone of voice said, "That _Melnotte_ dress our poor friend had on at
the time of the occurrence was so soiled that we had to send it to the
laundry before returning it. It will be all right, though."
"Darn the thing!" replied Draper, somewhat indignantly. "You don't mean
to think that is what I called around for. No, sir." Then rising from
the chair, he turned toward Fogg. "Now, then, old chap, get all right
again. Your friend here will look after you. I merely dropped in to pay
a little friendly visit." He turned to leave the room, at the same time
beckoning to Handy to step outside the door.
The two went out together, and though the time Handy remained away was
brief, Fogg's anxiety magnified it and it made him restless. At length
Handy returned, and with much more subdued demeanor than before he went
out. He appeared grave and thoughtful.
"What's up now?" inquired Fogg, half raising from the bed. "What did
Draper have to say? Is it that which disturbs you?"
Handy remained silent for a time. "Yes. It is not only what he said, but
what he did that knocks me."
"I am really sorry to hear you say so," sympathetically replied Fogg.
"You know when we went outside"--and Handy breathed a heavy sigh and
paused--"Draper placed his hand on my shoulder and said, 'Mr. Handy, you
are a friend of Fogg?' I nodded an assent. 'I don't suppose,' he says,
'he has any too much ready money for an emergency of this kind, so that
when affliction pays an unwelcome visit and sudden sickness crosses the
threshold a few dollars at such a time come not amiss.'"
"Good-hearted fellow, after all."
"'Now,' he continued, 'don't let anything worry the poor devil. Let him
consider the bill for costumes chalked off. Here, put this ten dollars
to the best advantage you can use it for any little necessaries that may
be wanting in the sick-room.'"
"You don't mean it!" cried Fogg excitedly.
"Oh, hang it, that was too much for me!" And Handy began to pace the
floor nervously.
"And what did you do when he offered the money?"
"Do!" replied Handy indignantly. "Do! Why, I declined to take it, of
course. I can do a good many things; but no--not that, not that."
"Right!"
"I told him you were not in need of anything. You had all you wanted.
That was a lie, of course, but then there are times and circumstances
when a lie may counterfeit truth. I insisted I could not accept it. What
do you think he said?"
"Can't imagine."
"'Well!' he replied, 'if he doesn't want for anything, what was the
benefit got up for? Here, take the stuff, and have no more silly
nonsense about it.' He then thrust the money into my vest pocket and
hurried down the stairs."
"Handy, you amaze me!"
"There it is," and he threw the bills on the bed to Fogg, and walked the
room with pain distinctly written over his usually happy face. "The
world is not so cold-hearted after all. Those we least suspect have
hearts to feel for sufferings of others, and what is more, they have a
practical way of expressing their sympathy." Then turning to Fogg, he
added with much feeling: "This incident saddens me!"
"You are right. This money must be returned. I cannot take it," and Fogg
too became thoughtful.
For the first time the evil of the fraud which had been perpetrated
became forcibly evident to both men. One genuine act of kindness had
stripped deceit of its covering more effectively than the logic of a
hundred sermons.
"Perhaps the next experience," said Handy, still in a reflective mood,
"will be the appearance of that tough stage carpenter who threatened to
compel you to describe the beauties of your palace by Lake Como with sky
borders and wings, with a supply of delicacies from his humble home, or
maybe a contribution in cash exceeding the sum you agreed to pay him for
his labor, in order that he might show his kindly disposition to assist
when misfortune overtook you."
Both were visibly affected. The deception they practiced, though it
brought a certain temporary relief from an embarrassing situation, also
carried with it its own punishment. For a time they remained silent.
"Handy," began Fogg, "if the thing had been real and resulted fatally, I
verily believe that old man Funkenstein would have volunteered to
furnish the music for my funeral, and not have charged my friends a red
cent."
"Sure! And what's more," replied Handy, the humorous side appealing to
his fancy, "let me tell you, as a dead one you would have drawn a darn'd
sight bigger house than you ever can as a live actor."
Notwithstanding his troubles, Fogg appreciated the humorous sally of his
associate. He threw himself back on his bed and enjoyed a hearty laugh.
Handy permitted him to enjoy his merriment and then reminded him that
although to the outer world he was on the blink, so far as prosperity
was concerned, the enforced inaction of the sick-room would never bridge
over the difficulties that encompassed him. He reminded Fogg that he was
financially dead broke. It is true he was in the great city, the mecca
toward which all strolling players turn their eyes as well as their toes
when they are in financial straits, but the fact of being in the
metropolis was not sufficient. It was necessary to set about doing
something.
"Let me tell you, Fogg, that thinking without action to back it up cuts
no ice. Never did--never will. You may think until doomsday and
accomplish nothing. I will point a moral without ornamenting a tale, by
relating an experience I once had when I was out West some time ago with
a company and got stranded, and if you will loan me your ear I will a
tale unfold. What say you?"
"Proceed."
"First let me dispose of a quiet pipeful of tobacco to collect my
scattered thoughts and I will unbosom myself."