One morning Jemingham, who had seemed preoccupied, said to Frank:
“I wonder if I can ask you--” He paused and looked doubtfully at Frank.
“What?”
“A favor.”
“Of course. Why, you can even touch me if you want to.”
“I wonder if your--if Mrs. Burt would invite Mrs. Ashton Welles to
dinner?”
“I guess so. I'll ask her.”
“That way you could meet Mrs. Welles, and--”
“You mean,” said Frank, trying to look like Sherlock Holmes, “I could
ask her about your--about her sister?”
Jerningham jumped to his feet in consternation.
“Great Scott, no! No!” he shouted.
“Why, I thought--”
“You can't ask her that until you know her so well that you can take a
friend's liberty. Promise me you won't ask her until I myself tell you
that you may! Promise!”
There was in his eyes a look of such intensity that young Wolfe was
startled.
“Of course I'll promise.”
“You must make friends with her first. She must learn to like you--”
Francis Wolfe smiled a trifle fatuously. It was merely boyish. A little
more, however, would have made the smile ungentlemanly. Jerningham
continued, very earnestly:
“Listen, lad. She will have to do more than merely like you--she will
have to trust you. And the only way to make a young and pretty woman
trust a _young_ and not unattractive man is by having that man never,
never, never fail in respect of her. He may be in love with her, or
he may only pretend to be in love with her; but he must act as if he
regarded her with such awe that he dare not make direct love to her. Do
you get it?”
“Yes. But--”
“There is no but. She must first like you, which is not difficult; and
then she must trust you as a true friend, which is, to say the least, a
slower matter. Be a brother to her. Do you think you like me well enough
to do this for me now?”
Jerningham looked at young Wolfe steadily--a man's look.
Frank said: “I'll do it gladly. And my sisters--”
“They must never know about--about Naida!” interrupted Jerningham,
hastily.
“Of course not. But they will do anything for me--and for you, too!”
That is the true story of how it came about that Mrs. Ashton Welles was
taken up by the Jack Burts; and how she met Francis Wolfe; and how Mrs.
Stimson invited Mr. and Mrs. Ashton Welles to one of her old-fashioned
and tiresome but famous and very formal dinners; and how Frank again
took in Mrs. Welles. Thereafter they met often. At some of these dinners
they met Jerningham.
The Klondiker paid his court to Mr. Welles. Indeed, he seemed to have
for the president of the VanTwiller Trust Company an admiration that
closely resembled the worship of a matinée girl for an actress like
Maude Adams. It was an innocent sort of worship, but, nevertheless, not
displeasing. In men it sometimes makes the worshiped feel paternally
toward the worshiper.
Jerningham developed a habit of going every day to the trust company;
and he made it a point always to see Ashton Welles, if only to shake
hands. One morning he told Mr. Welles he desired advice about an
investment. Jerningham, it must be remembered, had on deposit with
the trust company over a million dollars, and there were six or seven
millions in gold-dust in the company's vault.
“Mr. Welles, I--I,” said the Klondiker, so earnestly that he
stammered--“I should like to buy some VanTwiller Trust Company stock, to
have and to hold as long as you are president.”
There was in Jemingham's eyes a look of that admiration that best
expresses itself in absolute confidence in the infallibility of a very
great man. Welles was a very cold man; but flattery has rays that will
thaw icebergs.
Welles nearly blushed and smiled one of his politely deprecating
smiles--as if he were apologizing for smiling--and said:
“Why, Mr. Jemingham, I'll confess to you that I myself think well of
that stock. I guess we'll keep on paying dividends.”
Jemingham smiled delightedly--the king had jested! Then he said:
“I'll buy as much as I can, but I don't want to put up the price on
myself. Who can give me pointers on how to pick up the stock quietly? Do
you think I should see Mr. Barrows or Mr. Stewardson?”
He looked so anxiously at Mr. Welles that Mr. Welles said, kindly:
“Oh, see Stewardson. I'll speak to him, if you wish.”
“Thank you! Thank you, Mr. Welles,” said Jer-ningham, so gratefully
that Welles felt like a philanthropist as he rang the bell to summon the
second vice-president.
“Mr. Stewardson, Mr. Jemingham, wants to buy some of our stock. I want
you to help him in any way possible.”
“Delighted, I'm sure!” said the vice-president, very cordially. He was
paid to be cordial to customers.
“If I had my way I'd be the largest individual stockholder,” said
Jerningham, looking at Welles almost adoringly.
“I hope you will,” said Welles, pleasantly. “Mr. Stewardson will help
you.”
Jerningham and Welles shook hands. Then Jerningham and Stewardson left
to go to the vice-president's private office.