THE DEMON OF JEALOUSY
THE Easter vacation was ended and four hundred overfed, underslept boys
had returned to spread the germs of measles, mumps and tonsilitis among
their fellows. Skippy and Snorky, having fallen hilariously into each
other's arms, were proceeding with the important ceremony of the
unpacking, while surveying each other with a critical eye.
"Seems to me you look quite spruced up," said Snorky when, to be more at
his ease, Skippy had shed his coat and stood revealed in all the
splendor of a flaming-yellow buckskin vest, with gleaming brass buttons;
then noting the display of jewelry in the red and yellow tie, he added:
"Where did you get the fancy stuff?"
Skippy removed his scarf-pin and gazed languidly at the delicate garland
of forget-me-nots. Then he yawned and said:
"I'll tell you about her some day."
Snorky sat down on his best derby. "My aunt's cat's pants! Have I lived
to see it?"
"See what?" said Skippy loftily.
"You a fusser! Skippy Bedelle wearing a girl's pin! Fan me quick!"
"Just because I haven't boasted about my conquests--" said Skippy, and
he brought forth a little bundle carefully wrapped in a green bandana
handkerchief.
"What's that?" said Snorky faintly.
From beneath the protecting folds of the handkerchief appeared a white
satin frame with hand-painted violets rampant. Out of the violets gazed
an adoring pair of eyes.
"Is that her?" said Snorky.
"Lord, no! This is only Margot," said Skippy, who inhaled the fragrance
and offered the same opportunity to his chum. "Rather delicate, eh,
what?"
"Smells like patchouli," said Snorky, beginning to recover.
"Patchouli? Margot? Say, what kind of females do you play around with?
My girls drive their own four-in-hands and wear pearls for breakfast."
"Oh, ex-cuse me!" said Snorky with a mocking courtesy.
Skippy brought forth a second photograph and placed it on the bureau,
and then a third. Snorky, who had begun to sulk, feigned indifference
and proceeded to range _his_ trophies on the bureau.
"This'll cheer up the window seat a bit," said Skippy in the same casual
tone.
Snorky's head appeared above the trunk long enough to watch Skippy with
his arms full of pillows, lace and sweet-scented, scatter them with a
nonchalant gesture. But when, continuing his manoeuvres, Skippy in the
new revelation produced three banners emblazoned with the insignia of
feminine schools, Snorky capitulated to his curiosity and, advancing to
the bureau, stood in open-mouthed wonder.
"I'll be jiggswiggered! Holy cats and Aunt Jemima! I never would have
believed it!"
Skippy brought out a fan, spread it, and pinned it affectionately above
the photograph gallery.
"I guess that'll hold him," he said to himself. "Poor old Snorky! I hope
his heart is strong enough."
"Been doing quite a bit of fussing yourself," said Snorky with a new
respect. "Why didn't you ever tell a fellow?"
"I never discuss women," said Skippy, dusting off the fourth photograph.
"You must have gone the pace," said Snorky in wonder.
"Oh, I looked them over quite a bit."
"But, my lord, Skippy! You can't have loved all of them!"
"Just collecting souvenirs."
* * * * *
As a crowning touch, a climax long imagined, plotted and hilariously
enjoyed in prospect, he next produced, before the bewildered eyes of
Snorky Green, what in school-day parlance is known as a Trophy of
Trophies; an incredible, amazing, inexplicable thing, a tasseled,
beribboned, pink and white bed cap! Snorky made a feeble gesture or two
and then lay down to signify that the shock had killed him.
"Skippy! What does that mean?"
"This also is a thing I cannot discuss," said Skippy, whose fondest
imaginings were outdone by reality.
"Any more?" said Snorky, struggling weakly upward.
"That's all," said Skippy, who was gazing contentedly at the imposing
collection. But all at once he reflected: "Hello, where in the deuce did
I put her?"
He pretended to search through his trunk and valise in great concern
until, Snorky's curiosity having been properly awakened, he suddenly
struck his forehead.
"Of course. How silly of me!"
And diving into his inner pocket he brought forth a last tribute,
encased in neat pink morocco, which he arranged in the unmistakable
position of honor.
Snorky approached on tenterhooks. The next moment he burst out: "Mimi!"
"What, you know her!" said Skippy, surprised in turn. "Rather cute
little thing."
"Look!"
On Snorky's bureau in the same place of honor was an identical
photograph, a little Japanese brunette, with a descending puff and an
ascending nose. They stood staring at each other, and the temperature of
the room seemed to recede towards the freezing point.
"When did you meet her? How long have you known her, and how the deuce
did you get her photo?" said Snorky, with blazing eyes.
Skippy was in a quandary. A false step might tumble about him the
glorious fabric of his new reputation. He went to his bureau and
thoughtfully considered the pink morocco case stolen from his sister's
collection. Revenge had been sweet, yet the impulse was still on him. He
decided that a quick conquest would be the more galling to a rival's
pride.
"Oh, we waltzed about a bit, but I gave her an awful rush."
Snorky went and sat down in a corner, elbows on his knees, his chin in
his hands. Seeing thus the wreck he had caused, Skippy began to be
troubled by his conscience. Suppose it really was a serious affair.
Wouldn't it be nobler to surrender the fictitious conquest to his
beloved friend, to adopt a sacrificial attitude and allow Snorky to go
in and win her?
"I say, old boy, I'm awfully sorry; do you really care?"
"For Mimi Lafontaine? For a girl that can't tell a man from a cabbage?
Ha, ha!"
All kindly feelings vanished.
"What's the good of calling yourself names?" said Skippy crushingly. He
picked up the photograph and smiled at it. "Mimi is a flirt, but she has
her good points."
"Look here!" said Snorky, rising in sudden fury. "There's one question
has got to be answered right now."
"And pray what is that?" said Skippy, resting one elbow on the top of
the bed and crossing his legs to show his perfect calm.
Snorky planted himself before the bureau and extended his hand in a
furious gesture towards the lace bed cap that now adorned the top.
"Does or does not _that_ belong to Miss Lafontaine?"
"Any one who would lower himself to ask such a question," said Skippy,
still in a stage attitude, "does not deserve my sympathy. I would have
given her up. Now I shall keep her."
"Oh, you think she cares for you, you chump?"
"I do not discuss women."
The gauntlet had been thrown down and the demon of jealousy took up his
abode with the _menage_ Bedelle and Green. For a week the comedy
continued, while conversation was reduced to a minimum and transmitted
in writing along the lines of Skippy's imagining. Each watched the
other's correspondence with a jealous eye. Whenever Skippy received a
letter from home, he ostensibly hugged it to his shirt-front and,
repairing to a corner, read it furtively with the pink morocco case
before him. Afterward he would execute a double shuffle across the room,
whistle a hilarious strain, and give every facial contortion which could
express a lover's joy, while Snorky squirmed and scowled and pretended
not to notice. Snorky in turn retaliated by writing long letters after
hours by the light of a single candle, ruffling up his hair and
breathing audibly. In the morning Skippy, passing towards the washstand,
would see on the table a swollen envelope, addressed:
Miss Mimi Lafontaine,
Farmington,
Conn.
These letters troubled him. When a fellow could write over four pages it
certainly must be serious, and these looked as though they held forty.
The trouble was that Skippy had begun to believe in his own passion. The
little Japanese brunette had become a reality to him. He had talked with
her, walked with her, received the avowal of her own uncontrollable
impulse towards him. In fact, at times he almost believed that he had
actually held her in his arms and whirled in the dizzy intoxication of
the waltzes he had announced. He even was able to feel a real pang of
jealousy, a fierce and contending antagonism against Snorky, who
actually knew her. Such a situation was of course fraught with too many
explosive possibilities to long endure. Fortunately Fate stepped in and
preserved the friendship.