(PART II.)
When Bill Wiley again presented himself before his friends he was very
much changed as to personal appearance. His face was clean and smooth,
his hair carefully brushed, he wore a shining pair of shoes and a new
white duck suit.
“You’ll make a hit,” said John Hogan, looking him over critically.
“If she’s as good looking as you say she is, I’ll marry her right away,
if she’ll have me,” said Bill, with a faraway look in his eyes.
“She’ll have you,” said several men in chorus.
“Well, I think we’d better be goin’,” said Bill. “I’d like to get the
meeting over.”
One of the sleuths was detailed to conduct Bill to the house of the fair
lady, and there was much speculation as to whether the lady would take
to Bill, or whether Bill would take to the lady. About midnight the
sleuth and Bill returned. They were both overjoyed at the reception
which they received from Higgins’ lady.
“She certainly is a sweet lady,” said Bill, with fervor, “so round and
plump and rosy. It must be an awful thing for a man to have to die and
leave a woman as sweet as that alone in the world.”
The listeners coughed in a meaning way, but said nothing.
“Well, I guess I’ll be goin’. I sure do thank ye for puttin’ me next to
the lady.”
“Don’t mention it,” said John Hogan. “We feel sorry for people that are
lonely. I know. I meself believe that every one should have a mate in
this world. I want some one to love me, meself, but I haven’t ten
thousand dollars, like you, Bill.”
“Well, I guess I’ll be goin’ home to go to bed,” said Bill. “I’ll take a
little run over to-morrow night, and I’ll have to get some rest
to-night. Good-night, boys.”
“Good-night, Bill,” said the boys in chorus.
Bill ran down the steps, whistling, and until his footsteps died away in
the distance no one spoke. Finally the sleuth said:
“Poor Bill; the poor devil.”
“He fell,” said the story-teller.
“Fell worse than Adam did,” answered the sleuth. “I first got her ear
and told her about Bill’s job, and the ten thousand dollars, an’, say,
you’d ought to see the way she fawned upon him. Bill swallowed it all,
and gave away that he was stuck on her, the blamed fool. Say, a man is a
funny animal. He can be as sensible as the colonel himself in
everything; as hard as nails when dealin’ with men, but be as mushy as a
tallow candle with some darned woman that ain’t got more character than
a mosquito. That woman’ll have Bill inside of a month, an’ when she
bleeds him good an’ proper she’ll light out with some other guy that
she’ll love, an’ leave poor Bill in the lurch.”
“Now, boys,” said the story-teller, “I want to give ye a tip. Ye all
know Higgins’ fine, high feelings about honor, an’ if he hears that Bill
Wiley is goin’ around to see his lady he’ll come to Bill an’ tell him
the truth about her, an’ it’ll be all off. Bill ain’t goin’ to marry a
woman that lived with a man that she wasn’t married to. I know Bill.”
“Yes, you know Bill, but you don’t know human nature,” said John Hogan.
“If Higgins goes to Bill an’ tells him about that woman’s past, Bill’ll
think that Higgins wants the woman himself, an’ it’ll make him, more
keen to marry her. He knows that he isn’t a circumstance to Higgins on
looks, an’ he knows that Higgins is a real lady’s man; so, anyway, you
take it, poor Bill is doomed.”
Bill was doomed. In less than a week he had showered presents of silk
garments, necklaces, diamond rings, bracelets and other articles of
adornment to the value of a thousand dollars upon Higgins’ lady. He
refurnished her rooms in fine style and gave her five hundred dollars
for pocket money. It was at this juncture that Higgins called upon Bill
Wiley and asked him all about it.
“I love the lady; I adore her,” said Bill, in ecstacy.
It was then that Higgins told him of the woman’s past. They sat together
on the veranda of the bachelor house, while John Hogan, the sleuths, the
story-teller and some other bachelors sat huddled together awaiting the
outcome. All believed that Bill would give the woman up, except John
Hogan. He knew men, and, as he predicted, Higgins’ revelation made Bill
more determined than ever to become attached to the lady by the bonds of
holy wedlock. So, when the boys heard Bill say to Higgins, “Man, you’re
only sore,” they coughed in unison.
“It’s none of your business. You’re a liar. You’re jealous,” etc.
“Poor Higgins is gettin’ it in the neck,” said the story-teller, “and it
serves him darn well right.”
“Yes, here are us fellers, trying to get her took off his hands, an’,
because of his fine notion of honor, he can’t keep his mouth shut. ’Tis
goin’ to hurry things up, an’ in a week the lady will be tied up to
Bill. Bill’ll be as happy as a big sunflower, an’ we’ll have young
Higgins back with his fiddle and banjo to make things a bit lively for
us.”