I
Through the open window the spring sunshine fell on Calvert's broad
back. Tennant faced the window, smoking reflectively.
"I should like to ask a favor," he said; "may I?"
"Certainly you may," replied Calvert; "everybody else asks favors three
hundred and sixty-five times a year."
Tennant, smoking peacefully, gazed at an open window across the narrow
court-yard, where, in the sunshine, a young girl sat sewing.
"The favor," he said, "is this: there is a vacancy on the staff, and I
wish you'd give Marlitt another chance."
"Marlitt!" exclaimed Calvert. "Why Marlitt?"
"Because," said Tennant, "I understand that I am wearing Marlitt's
shoes--and the shoes pinch."
"Marlitt's shoes would certainly pinch you if you were wearing them,"
said Calvert, grimly. "But you are not. Suppose you were? Better wear
even Marlitt's shoes than hop about the world barefoot. You are a
singularly sensitive young man. I come up-town to offer you
Warrington's place, and your reply is a homily on Marlitt's shoes!"
Calvert's black eyes began to snap and his fat, pink face turned pinker.
"Mr. Tennant," he said, "I am useful to those who are useful to me. I am
a business man. I know of no man or syndicate of men wealthy enough to
conduct a business for the sake of giving employment to the
unsuccessful!"
Tennant smoked thoughtfully.
"Some incompetent," continued Calvert, "is trying to make you
uncomfortable. You asked us for a chance; we gave you the chance. You
proved valuable to us, and we gave you Marlitt's job. You need not
worry: Marlitt was useless, and had to go anyway. Warrington left us
to-day, and you've got to do his work."
Tennant regarded him in silence; Calvert laid one pudgy hand on the
door-knob. "You know what we think of your work. There is not a man in
New York who has your chance. All I say is, we gave you the chance and
you took it. Keep it; that's what we ask!"
"That is what _I_ ask," said Tennant, with a troubled laugh. "I am
sentimentalist enough to feel something like gratitude towards those who
gave me my first opportunity."
"Obligation's mutual," snapped Calvert. The hardness in his eyes,
however, had died out. "You'd better finish that double page," he added;
"they want to start the color-work by Monday. You'll hear from us if
there's any delay. Good-bye."
[Illustration: "'I WISH YOU'D GIVE MARLITT ANOTHER CHANCE'"]
Tennant opened the door for him; Calvert, buttoning his gloves, stepped
out into the hallway and rang for the elevator. Then he turned:
"Don't let envy make things unpleasant for you, Mr. Tennant."
"Nobody has shown me any envy," said Tennant.
"I thought you said something about your friend Marlitt--"
"I never saw Marlitt; I only know his work."
"Oh," said Calvert, with a peculiar smile, "you only know his work!"
"That is all. Who is Marlitt?"
"The last of an old New York family; reduced circumstances, proud,
incompetent, unsuccessful. Why does the artist who signs 'Marlitt'
interest you?"
"This is why," said Tennant, and drew a letter from his pocket. "Do you
mind listening?"
"Go on," said Calvert, with a wry face. And Tennant began:
"'DEAR MR. TENNANT,--Just a few words to express my keenest
interest and delight in the work you are doing--not only the
color work, but the pen-and-ink. You know that the public has
made you their idol, but I thought you might care to know what
the unsuccessful in your own profession think. You have already
taught us so much; you are, week by week, raising the standard
so high; and you are doing so much for me, that I venture to
thank you and wish you still greater happiness and
success. MARLITT.'"