"Ow, I say, you're chawfin'," Willy argued incredulously. "I don't
believe that, y'know--hardly. I say, you remember the night you showed
me how to play faro bank?"
"I'll never forget it," Duncan told him gravely. "And I remember what a
plug we thought my room-mate was because he wouldn't come with us." He
nodded significantly toward the amused Kellogg.
"Not him!" cried Willy, expostulant. "Not really? Why it cawn't be!"
"Fact," Duncan assured him. "He was working his way through college,
you see, whereas I was working my way through my allowance--and then
some. That's why you never met him, Willy: he worked--and got the
habit. We loafed--with the same result. That's why he's useful and
you're ornamental, and I'm--" He broke off in surprise. "Hello!" he
said as Robbins offered a tray to the three on which were slim-stemmed
glasses filled with a pale yellow, effervescent liquid. "Why the blond
waters of excitement, please?" he inquired, accepting a glass.
From across the room Larry Miller's voice sounded. "Are you ready,
gentlemen? We'll drink to him first and then he can drink to his royal
little self. To the boy who's getting on in the world! To the junior
member of L.J. Bartlett and Company!"
Long applauded loudly: "Hear! Hear!" And even Willy Bartlett chimed in
with an unemotional: "Good work!" Mechanically Duncan downed the toast;
Kellogg was the only man not drinking it, and from that the meaning was
easily to be inferred. With a stride Duncan caught his hand and crushed
it in his own.
"Harry," he said a little huskily, "I can't tell you how glad I am!
It's the best news I've had in years!"
Kellogg's responsive pressure was answer enough. "It makes it doubly
worth while, to win out and have you all so glad!" he said.
"So you've taken him into the firm, eh?" Duncan inquired of Bartlett.
The blue eyes widened stonily. "The governor has. I'm not in the
business, y'know. Never had the slightest turn for it, what?" Willy set
aside his glass. "I say, I must be moving. No, I cawn't stop, Kellogg,
really. I was dressin' at the club and Larry told me about it, so I
just dropped round to tell you how jolly glad I am."
"Your father hadn't told you, then?"
"Who, the governor?" Willy looked unutterably bored. "Why, he gave up
tryin' to talk business with me long ago. I can't get interested in it,
'pon my word. Of course I knew he thought the deuce and all of you, but
I hadn't an idea they were goin' to take you into the firm. What?"
Long and Miller interrupted, proposing adieus which Kellogg vainly
contended.
"Why, you're only just here--" he expostulated.
"Cawn't help it, old chap," Willy assured him earnestly. "I must go,
anyway. I've a dinner engagement."
"You'll be late, won't you?"
"Doesn't matter in the least; I'm always late. 'Night, Kellogg.
Congratulations again."
"We just dropped round to take off our hats to you," Long continued,
pumping Kellogg's hand.
"And tell you what a good fellow we think you are," added Miller,
following suit.
"You don't know how good you make me feel," Kellogg told them.
Under cover of this diversion Duncan was making one last effort to slip
away; but before he could gather together his impedimenta and get to
the door Willy Bartlett intercepted him.
"I say, Duncan--"
"Oh, hell!" said Duncan beneath his breath. He paused ungraciously
enough.
"We've got to see a bit of one another, now we've met again, y'know.
Wish you'd look me up--Half Moon Club'll get me 'most any time. We'll
have to arrange to make a regular old-fashioned night of it, just for
memory's sake."
Duncan nodded, edging past him. "I've memories enough," he said.
"Right-oh! Any reason at all, y'know, just so we have the night."
"Good enough," assented Duncan vaguely. He suffered his hand to be
wrung with warmth. "I'll not forget--good-night." Then he pulled up and
groaned, for Willy's insistence had frustrated his design: Kellogg had
suddenly become alive to his attitude and hailed him over the heads of
Long and Miller.
"Nat, I say! Where the devil are you going?"
"Over to the hotel," said Duncan.
"The deuce you are! What hotel?"
"The one I'm stopping at."
"Not on your life. You're not going just yet--I haven't had half a
chance to talk to you. Robbins, take Mr. Duncan's things."
Duncan, set upon by Robbins, who had been hovering round for just that
purpose, lifted his shoulders in resignation, turning back into the
room as Miller and Long said good-night to him and left at Bartlett's
heels, and smiled awry in semi-humorous deprecation of the way in which
he let Kellogg out-manoeuvre him. When it came to that, it was hard to
refuse Kellogg anything; he had that way with him. Especially if one
liked him... And how could anyone help liking him?
Kellogg had him now, holding him fast by either shoulder, at arm's
length, and shaking a reproving head at his friend. "You big duffer!"
he said. "Did you think for a minute I'd let you throw me down like
that?"
Duncan stood passive, faintly amused and touched by the other's show of
affection. "No," he said, "I didn't really think so. But it was worth
trying on, of course."
"Look here, have you dined?"
'At this suggestion Duncan stiffened and fell back. "No, but--"
Kellogg swept the ground from under his feet. "Robbins," he told the
man, "order in dinner for two from the club, and tell 'em to hurry it
up."
"Yes, sir," said Robbins, and flew to obey before Duncan could get a
chance to countermand his part in the order.
"And now," continued Kellogg, "we've got the whole evening before us in
which to chin. Sit down." He led Duncan to an arm-chair and gently but
firmly plumped him into its capacious depths. "We'll have a snug little
dinner here and--what do you say to taking in a show afterwards?"
"I say no."
"You dassent, my boy. This is the night we celebrate. I'm feeling
pretty good to-night."
"You ought to, Harry." Duncan struggled to rouse himself to share in
the spirit of gratulation with which Kellogg was bubbling. "I'm mighty
glad, old man. It's a great step up for you."
"It's all of that. You could have knocked me over with a feather when
Bartlett sprang it on me this morning. Of course, I was expecting
something--a boost in salary, or something like that. Bartlett knew
that other houses in the Street had made me offers--I've been pretty
lucky of late and pulled off one or two rather big deals--but a
partnership with L.J. Bartlett--! Think of it, Nat!"
"I'm thinking of it--and it's great."
"It'll keep me mighty busy," Kellogg blundered blindly on; "it means a
lot of extra work--but you know I like to work...."
"That's right, you do," agreed Duncan drearily. "It's queer to me--it
must be a great thing to like to work."
"You bet it's a great thing; why, I couldn't exist if I couldn't work.
You remember that time I laid off for a month in the country--for my
health's sake? I'll never forget it: hanging round all the time with my
hands empty--everyone else with something to do. I wouldn't go through
with it again for a fortune. Never felt so useless and in the way--"
"But," interrupted Duncan, knitting his brows as he grappled with this
problem, "you were independent, weren't you? You had money--could pay
your board?"
"Of course; nevertheless, I felt in the way."
"That's funny...."
"It's straight."
"I know it is; it wouldn't be you if you didn't love work. It wouldn't
be me if I did.... Look here, Harry; suppose you didn't have any money
and couldn't pay your board--and had nothing to do. How'd you feel in
that case?"
"I don't know. Anyhow, that's rot--"
"No, it isn't rot. I'm trying to make you understand how I feel
when--when it's that way with me.... As it generally is." He raised one
hand and let it fall with a gesture of despondency so eloquent that it
roused Kellogg out of his own preoccupation.
"Why, Nat!" he cried, genuinely sympathetic. "I've been so taken up
with myself that I forgot.... I hadn't looked for you till to-morrow."
"You knew, then?"
"I met Atwater at lunch to-day. He told me; said he was sorry, but--"
"Yes. Everybody is always sorry, _but_--"
Kellogg let his hand fall on Duncan's shoulder. "I'm sorry, too, old
man. But don't lose heart. I know it's pretty tough on a fellow--"
"The toughest part of it is that you got the job for me--and I
_had_ to fall down."
"Don't think of that. It's not your fault--"
"You're the only man who believes that, Harry."
"Buck up. I'll stumble across some better opening for you before long,
and--"
"Stop right there. I'm through--"
"Don't talk that way, Nat. I'll get you in right somewhere."
"You're the best-hearted man alive, Harry--but I'll see you damned
first."
"Wait." Kellogg demanded his attention. "Here's this man Burnham--you
don't know him, but he's as keen as they make 'em. He's on the track of
some wonderful scheme for making illuminating gas from crude oil; if it
goes through--if the invention's really practicable--it's bound to work
a revolution. He's down in Washington now--left this afternoon to look
up the patents. Now he needs me, to get the ear of the Standard Oil
people, and I'll get you in there."
"What right've you got to do that?" demanded Duncan. "What the dickens
do I know about illuminating gas or crude oil? Burnham'd never thank
you for the likes o' me."
"But--thunder!--you can learn. All you need--."
"Now see here, Harry!" Duncan gave him pause with a manner not to be
denied. "Once and for all time understand I'm through having you
recommend an incompetent--just because we're friends."
"But, Harry--"
"And I'm through living on you while I'm out of a job. That's final."
"But, man--listen to me!--when we were at college--"
"That was another matter."
"How many times did you pay the room-rent when I was strapped? How many
times did your money pull me through when I'd have had to quit and
forfeit my degree because I couldn't earn enough to keep on?"
"That's different. You earned enough finally to square up. You don't
owe me anything."
"I owe you the gratitude for the friendly hand that put me in the way
of earning--that kept me going when the going was rank. Besides, the
conditions are just reversed now; you'll do just as I did--make good in
the world and, when it's convenient, to me. As for living here, you're
perfectly welcome."
"I know it--and more," Duncan assented a little wearily. "Don't think I
don't appreciate all you've done for me. But I know and you must
understand that I can't keep on living on you,--and I won't."
For once baffled, Kellogg stared at him in consternation. Duncan met
his gaze steadily, strong in the sincerity of his attitude. At length
Kellogg surrendered, accepting defeat. "Well...." He shrugged
uncomfortably. "If you insist ..."
"I do."
"Then that's settled."
"Yes, that's settled."
"Dinner," said Robbins from the doorway, "is
served."