"I'll try anything on. It's a contemptible, low-lived piece of
business--but good may come of it; you can't tell. What've I got to
do?"
Slipping back, Kellogg knitted his fingers and stared at the ceiling,
smiling faintly to himself as he enumerated the conditions that first
appealed to his understanding as essentials toward success.
"First, pick out your town: one of two or three thousand
inhabitants--no larger. I'd suggest, at a hazard guess, some place in
the interior of Pennsylvania. Most of such towns have at least one rich
man with a marriageable daughter--but we'll make sure of that before we
settle on one. Of course any suburban town is barred."
"How so?"
"Oh, they don't count. The girls always know people in the city--can
get there easily. That spoils the game."
"How about the game laws?"
"I'm coming to them. Of course there isn't an open or close season, and
the hunting's always good, but there are a few precautionary measures
to be taken if you want to be sure of bagging an heiress. You won't
like most of 'em."
"Like 'em! I'll live by them!"
"Well, here come the things you mustn't do. You mustn't swear or use
slang; you mustn't smoke and you mustn't drink--"
"Heavens! are these people as inhuman as all that?"
"Worse than that. It might be fatal if you were ever seen in the hotel
bar. And to begin with, you must refuse all invitations, of any sort,
whether to dances, parties, church sociables, or even Sunday dinners."
"Why _Sunday_ dinners?"
"Because Sunday's the only day you'll be invited. Dinner on week-days
is from twelve to twelve-thirty, and it's strictly a business
matter--no time for guests. But you needn't fret; they won't ask you
till they've sized you up pretty carefully."
"Oh!..."
"Moreover, you must be very particular about your dress; it must be
absolutely faultless, but very quiet: clothing sober--dark greys and
blacks--and plain, but the very last word as to cut and fit. And
everything must be in keeping--the very best of shirts, collars, ties,
hats, socks, shoes, underwear--." Kellogg caught Duncan's look and
laughed. "Your laundress will report on everything, you know; so you
must be impeccable."
"I'll be even that--whatever it is."
"Be very particular about having your shoes polished, shave daily and
manicure yourself religiously--but don't let 'em catch you at it."
"Would they raid me if they did?"
"And then, my son, you must work."
Kellogg paused to let his lesson sink in. After a time Duncan observed
plaintively: "I knew there was a catch in it somewhere. What kind of
work?"
"It doesn't make any difference, so long as you get and hold some job
in the town."
"Well, that lets me out. You'll have to sic some other poor devil on
this glittering proposition of yours. I couldn't hold a job in--"
"Wait! I'll tell you how to do it in just a minute."
"I don't mind listening, but--"
"You'll cinch the whole business by going to church without a break.
Don't ever fail--morning and evening every Sunday. Don't forget that."
"Why?"
"It's the most important thing of all."
"Does going to church make such a hit with the young female
Jasper--the Jasperette, as it were?"
"It'll make you more solid than anything else with her popper and
mommer, and that's very necessary when you're a candidate for their
ducats as well as their daughter. You must work and you must go to
church."
"That can't be all. Surely you can think of something else?"
"Those are the cardinal rules--church and work until you've landed your
heiress. After that you can move back to civilisation.... Now as soon
as you strike your town you want to make arrangements for board and
lodging in some old woman's house--preferably an old maid. You'll be
sure to find at least half a dozen of 'em, willing to take boarders,
but you want to be equally sure to pick out the one that talks the
most, so that she'll tell the neighbours all about you. Don't worry
about that, though, they all talk. When you've moved In, stock up your
room with about twenty of the driest-looking books in the world--law
books look most imposing; fix up a table with lots of stationery--pens
and pencils, red and black ink and all that sort of thing; make the
room look as if you were the most sincere student ever. And by no means
neglect to have a well-worn Bible prominently in evidence: you can buy
one second-hand at some book-store before you start out."
"I'd have to, of course. I thank you for the flattery. Proceed with the
programme of the gay, mad life I must lead. I'm going to have a swell
time: that's perfectly plain."
"As soon as you're shaken down in your room, make the rounds of the
stores and ask for work. Try and get into the dry-goods emporium if you
can: the girls all shop there. But anything will do, except a grocery
or a hardware store and places like that. You mustn't consider any
employment that would soil your clothes or roughen your lily-white
hands."
"You expect me to believe I'd have any chance of winning a
millionaire's daughter if I were a ribbon-clerk in a dry-goods store?"
"The best in the world. The ribbon-clerk is her social equal; he calls
her Mary and she calls him Joe."
"Done with you: me for the ribbon counter. Anything else?"
"The storekeepers aren't apt to employ you at first; they'll be
suspicious of you."
"They will be afterwards, all right. However--?"
"So you must simply call on them--walk in, locate the boss and tell
him: 'I'm looking for employment.' Don't press it; just say it and get
out."
"No trouble whatever about that; it's always that way when I ask for
work."
"They'll send for you before long, when they make up their minds that
you're a decent, moral young man; for they know you'll draw trade. And
every Sunday--"
"I know: church!"
"Absolutely.... Pick out the one the rich folks go to. Go in quietly
and do just as they do: stand up and kneel, look up the hymns and sing,
just when they do. Be careful not to sing too loud, or anything like
that: just do it all modestly, as if you were used to it. Better go to
church here two or three times and get the hang of it...."
"Here, now--"
"Nearly all the wealthy codgers in such towns are deacons, you see, and
though they may not speak to you for months on the street, it's their
business to waylay you after the service is over and shake hands with
you and tell you they hope you enjoyed the sermon and ask you to come
again. And you can bank on it, they'll all take notice from the first."
"It's no wonder Bartlett made you a partner, Harry."
"Now behave. I want you to get in right. ... If you follow the rules
I've outlined, not only will all the girls in town be falling over
themselves to get to you first, but their fond parents will be egging
them on. Then all you've got to do is to pick out the one with the
biggest bundle and--"
"Make a play for her?"
"Not on your life. That would be fatal. Your part is to put yourself in
her way. She'll do all the courting, and when she scents the
psychological moment she'll do the proposing."
"It doesn't sound natural, but you certainly seem to know what you're
drooling about."
"You can anchor to that, Nat."
"And are you finished?"
"I am. Of course I'll probably think of more things to wise you to,
before you go."
Duncan laughed shortly and tilted back in his chair, selecting another
cigarette. "And you're the chap who wanted me to go to some bromidic
old show to-night! Harry, you're immense. Why didn't you ever let me
suspect you had all this romantic imagination in your system?"
"Imagination be blowed, son. This is business." Kellogg removed the
stopper from the decanter and filled both glasses again. "Well, what do
you say?"
"I've just said my say, Harry. It's amazing; I'm proud of you."
"But will you do it?"
"Everything else aside, how can I? I've got to live, you know."
"But I propose to stake you."
Duncan came down to earth. "No, you won't; not a cent. I'm in earnest
about this thing: no more sponging on you, Harry. Besides--"
"No, seriously, Nat: I mean this, every word of it. I want you to do
it--to please me, if you like; I've a notion something will come of it.
And I believe from the bottom of my heart there's not the slightest
risk if you'll play the cards as they fall, according to Hoyle."
"Harry, I believe you do."
"I do, firmly. And I'll put the proposition on a business basis, if you
like."
"Go on; there's no holding you."
"You start out to-morrow and order your war kit. Get everything you
need, and plenty of it, and have the bills sent to me. You can be ready
inside a fortnight. The day you start I'll advance you five hundred
dollars. When you're married you can repay me the amount of the
advances with interest at ten per cent, and I'll consider it a mighty
good deal for myself. Now, will you?"
"You mean it?"
"Every word of it. Well?"
For a moment longer Duncan hesitated; then the vision of what he must
return to, otherwise, decided him. In desperation he accepted. "It's a
drowning man's straw," he said, a little breathlessly. "I'm sure I
shouldn't. But I will."
Kellogg flung a hand across the table, palm uppermost.
"Word of honour, Nat?"
Duncan let his hand fall into it. "Word of honour! I'll see it
through."
"Good! It's a bargain." Kellogg lifted his glass high in air. "To the
fortune hunter!" he cried, half laughing.
Duncan nervously fingered the stem of his glass. "God help the future
Mrs. Duncan!" he said, and drank.