Thus Peter was done with the Goober case, and mighty glad of it he
was. He was tired of the strain, he needed a rest and a little
pleasure. He had his pockets stuffed with money, and a good fat bank
account, and proposed to take things easy for the first time in his
hard and lonely life.
The opportunity was at hand: for he had taken McGivney’s advise and
got himself another girl. It was a little romance, very worldly and
delightful. To understand it, you must know that in the judicial
procedure of American City they used both men and women jurors; and
because busy men of affairs did not want to waste their time in the
jury-box, nor to have the time of their clerks and workingmen
wasted, there had gradually grown up a class of men and women who
made their living by working as jurors. They hung around the
courthouse and were summoned on panel after panel, being paid six
dollars a day, with numerous opportunities to make money on the side
if they were clever.
Among this group of professional jurors, there was the keenest
competition to get into the jury-box of the Goober case. It was to
be a long and hard-fought case, there would be a good deal of
prestige attached to it, and also there were numerous sums of money
floating round. Anybody who got in, and who voted right, might be
sure of an income for life, to say nothing of a life-job as a juror
if he wanted it.
Peter happened to be in court while the talesmen were being
questioned. A very charming and petite brunette--what Peter
described as a “swell dresser”--was on the stand, and was cleverly
trying to satisfy both sides. She knew nothing about the case, she
had never read anything about it, she knew nothing and cared nothing
about social problems; so she was accepted by the prosecution. But
then the defense took her in hand, and it appeared that once upon a
time she had been so indiscreet as to declare to somebody her
conviction that all labor leaders ought to be stood up against the
wall and filled with lead; so she was challenged by the defense, and
very much chagrined she came down from the stand, and took a seat in
the courtroom next to Peter. He saw a trace of tears in her eyes,
and realizing her disappointment, ventured a word of sympathy. The
acquaintance grew, and they went out to lunch together.
Mrs. James was her name, and she was a widow, a grass widow as she
archly mentioned. She was quick and lively, with brilliant white
teeth, and cheeks with the glow of health in them; this glow came
out of a little bottle, but Peter never guessed it. Peter had got
himself a good suit of clothes now, and made bold to spend some
money on the lunch. As it happened, both he and Mrs. James were thru
with the Goober case; both were tired and wanted a change, and
Peter, blushing shyly, suggested that a sojourn at the beach might
be fun. Mrs. James agreed immediately, and the matter was arranged.
Peter had seen enough of the detective business by this time to know
what you can safely do, and what you had better not do. He didn’t
travel with his grass widow, he didn’t pay her car-fare, nor do
anything else to constitute her a “white slave.” He simply went to
the beach and engaged himself a comfortable apartment; and next day,
strolling on the board walk, he happened to meet the widow.
So for a couple of months Peter and Mrs. James set up housekeeping
together. It was a wonderful experience for the former, because Mrs.
James was what is called a “lady,” she had rich relatives, and took
pains to let Peter know that she had lived in luxury before her
husband had run away to Paris with a tight-rope walker. She taught
Peter all those worldly arts which one misses when one is brought up
in an orphan asylum, and on the road with a patent medicine vender.
Tactfully, and without hurting his feelings, she taught him how to
hold a knife and fork, and what color tie to select. At the same
time she managed to conduct a propaganda which caused him to regard
himself as the most favored of mankind; he was overwhelmed with
gratitude for every single kiss from the lips of his grass widow. Of
course he could not expect such extraordinary favors of fortune
without paying for them; he had learned by now that there was no
such thing as “free love.” So he paid, hand over fist; he not only
paid all the expenses of the unregistered honeymoon, he bought
numerous expensive presents at the lady’s tactful suggestion. She
was always so vivacious and affectionate when Peter had given her a
present! Peter lived in a kind of dream, his money seemed to go out
of his pockets without his having to touch it.
Meantime great events were rolling by, unheeded by Peter and his
grass widow who never read the newspapers. For one thing Jim Goober
was convicted and sentenced to die on the gallows, and Jim Goober’s
associate, Biddle, was found guilty, and sentenced to prison for
life. Also, America entered the war, and a wave of patriotic
excitement swept like a prairie fire over the country. Peter could
not help hearing about this; his attention was attracted to one
aspect of the matter--Congress was about to pass a conscription act.
And Peter was within the age limit; Peter would almost certainly be
drafted into the army!
No terror that he had ever felt in his life was equal to this
terror. He had tried to forget the horrible pictures of battle and
slaughter, of machine-guns and hand-grenades and torpedoes and
poison gas, with which little Jennie had filled his imagination; but
now these imaginings came crowding back upon him, now for the first
time they concerned him. From that time on his honeymoon was
spoiled. Peter and his grass widow were like a party of picnickers
who are far away in the wilderness, and see a black thunder-storm
come rolling up the sky!
Also, Peter’s bank account was running low. Peter had had no
conception how much money you could spend on a grass widow who is a
“swell dresser” and understands what is “proper.” He was overwhelmed
with embarrassment; he put off telling Mrs. James until the last
moment--in fact, until he wasn’t quite sure whether he had enough
money in bank to meet the last check he had given to the landlady.
Then, realizing that the game was up, he told.
He was surprised to see how charmingly a grass widow of “good
breeding” could take bad tidings. Evidently it wasn’t the first time
that Mrs. James had been to the beach. She smiled cheerfully, and
said that it was the jury-box for her once more. She gave Peter her
card, and told him she would be glad to have him call upon her
again--when he had restored his fortunes. She packed up her
suit-case and her new trunk full of Peter’s presents, and departed
with the most perfect sweetness and good taste.