He couldn't sleep with them unless, every night,
"He put on his spectacles--all he possessed,--
Three pairs--with his goggles on top of the rest.
"And my grandfather always, retiring at night,
Blew down the lamp-chimney to put out the light;
"Then he'd curl up on edge like a shaving, in bed,
And puff and smoke pipes in his sleep, it is said:
"And would snore oftentimes, as the legends relate,
Till his folks were wrought up to a terrible state,--
"Then he'd snort, and rear up, and roll over; and there
In the subsequent hush they could hear him chew air.
"And so glaringly bald was the top of his head
That many's the time he has musingly said,
"As his eyes journeyed o'er its reflex in the glass,--
'I must set out a few signs of _Keep Off the Grass!_'
"So remarkably deaf was my grandfather Squeers
That he had to wear lightning-rods over his ears
"To even hear thunder--and oftentimes then
He was forced to request it to thunder again."
THE GENTLE ART OF BOOSTING
BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS
The Idiot was very late at breakfast, so extremely late in fact that
some apprehension was expressed by his fellow boarders as to the state
of his health.
"I hope he isn't ill," said Mr. Whitechoker. "He is usually so prompt at
his meals that I fear something is the matter with him."
"He's all right," said the Doctor, whose room adjoins that of the Idiot
in Mrs. Smithers-Pedagog's Select Home for Gentlemen. "He'll be down in
a minute. He's suffering from an overdose of vacation--rested too hard."
Just then the subject of the conversation appeared in the doorway, pale
and haggard, but with an eye that boded ill for the larder.
"Quick!" he cried, as he entered. "Lead me to a square meal. Mary,
please give me four bowls of mush, ten medium soft-boiled eggs, a barrel
of sautée potatoes and eighteen dollars' worth of corned beef hash. I'll
have two pots of coffee, Mrs. Pedagog, please, four pounds of sugar and
a can of condensed milk. If there is any extra charge you may put it on
the bill, and some day when Hot Air Common goes up thirty or forty
points I'll pay."
"What's the matter with you, Mr. Idiot?" asked Mr. Brief. "Been fasting
for a week?"
"No," replied the Idiot. "I've just taken my first week's vacation, and
between you and me I've come back to business so as to get rested up for
the second."
"Doesn't look as though vacation agreed with you," said the
Bibliomaniac.
"It doesn't," said the Idiot. "Hereafter I am an advocate of the Russell
Sage system. Never take a day off if you can help it. There's nothing so
restful as paying attention to business, and no greater promoter of
weariness of spirit and vexation of your digestion than the modern style
of vacating. No more for mine, if you please."
"Humph!" sneered the Bibliomaniac. "I suppose you went to Coney Island
to get rested up Bumping the Bump and Looping the Loop and doing a lot
of other crazy things."
"Not I," quoth the Idiot. "I didn't have sense enough to go to some
quiet place like Coney Island, where you can get seven square meals a
day, and then climb into a Ferris Wheel and be twirled around in the air
until they have been properly shaken down. I took one of the 400
Vacations. Know what that is?"
"No," said Mr. Brief. "I didn't know there were 400 Vacations with only
365 days in the year. What do you mean?"
"I mean the kind of Vacation the people in the 400 take," explained the
Idiot. "I've been to a house-party up in Newport with some friends of
mine who're in the swim, and I tell you it's hard swimming. You'll never
hear me talking about a leisure class in this country again. Those
people don't know what leisure is. I don't wonder they're always such a
tired-looking lot."
"I was not aware that you were in with the smart set," said the
Bibliomaniac.
"Oh yes," said the Idiot. "I'm in with several of 'em--way in. So far in
that I'm sometimes afraid I'll never get out. We're carrying a whole lot
of wild-cats on margin for Billie Van Gelder, the cotillion leader;
Tommy de Cahoots, the famous yachtsman, owes us about $8,000 more than
he can spare from his living expenses on one of his plunges into Copper,
and altogether we are pretty long on swells in our office."
"And do you mean to say those people invite you out?" asked the
Bibliomaniac.
"All the time," said the Idiot. "Just as soon as one of our swell
customers finds he can't pay his margins he comes down to the office and
gets very chummy with all of us. The deeper he is in it the more affable
he becomes. The result is there are house-parties and yacht cruises and
all that sort of thing galore on tap for us every summer."
"And you accept them, eh?" said the Bibliomaniac scornfully.
"As a matter of business, of course," replied the Idiot. "We've got to
get something out of it. If one of our customers can't pay cash, why we
get what we can. In this particular case Mr. Reginald Squandercash had
me down at Newport for five full days, and I know now why he can't pay
up his little shortage of $800. He's got the money, but he needs it for
other things, and now that I know it I shall recommend the firm to give
him an extension of thirty days. By that time he will have collected
from the De Boodles, whom he is launching in society--C. O. D.--and will
be able to square matters with us."
"Your conversation is Greek to me," said the Bibliomaniac. "Who are the
De Boodles, and for what do they owe your friend Reginald Squandercash
money?"
"The De Boodles," explained the Idiot, "are what is known as Climbers,
and Reginald Squandercash is a Booster."
"A what?" cried the Bibliomaniac.
"A Booster," said the Idiot. "There are several Boosters in the 400. For
a consideration they will boost wealthy Climbers into Society. The
Climbers are people like the De Boodles, who have suddenly come into
great wealth, and who wish to be in it with others of great wealth who
are also of high social position. They don't know how to do the trick,
so they seek out some Booster like Reggie, strike a bargain with him,
and he steers 'em up against the 'Among Those Present' Game until
finally you find the De Boodles have a social cinch."
"Do you mean to say that Society tolerates such a business as that?"
demanded the Bibliomaniac.
"Tolerates?" laughed the Idiot. "What a word to use! Tolerates? Why,
Society encourages, because Society shares the benefits. Take this
especial vacation of mine. Society had two five-o'clock teas, four of
the swellest dinners you ever sat down to, a cotillion where the favors
were of solid silver and real ostrich feathers, a whole day's clam-bake
on Reggie's steam yacht, with automobile runs and coaching trips galore.
Nobody ever declines one of Reggie's invitations, because what he has
from a Society point of view is the best the market affords. Why, the
floral decorations alone at the _Fête Champêtre_ he gave in honor of the
De Boodles at his villa last Thursday night must have cost $5,000, and
everything was on the same scale. I don't believe a cent less than
$7,500 was burned up in the fire-works, and every lady present received
a souvenir of the occasion that cost at least $100."
"Your story doesn't quite hold together," said Mr. Brief. "If your
friend Reggie has a villa and a steam yacht, and automobiles and
coaches, and gives _fêtes champêtres_ that cost fifteen or twenty
thousand dollars, I don't see why he has to make himself a Booster of
inferior people who want to get into Society. What does he gain by it?
It surely isn't sport to do a thing like that, and I should think he'd
find it a dreadful bore."
"The man must live," said the Idiot. "He boosts for a living."
"When he has the wealth of Monte Cristo at his command?" demanded Mr.
Brief.
"Reggie hasn't a cent to his name," said the Idiot. "I've already told
you he owes us $800 he can't pay."
"Then who in thunder pays for the villa and the lot and all those
hundred-dollar souvenirs?" asked the Doctor.
"Why--this year, the De Boodles," said the Idiot. "Last year it was
Colonel and Mrs. Moneybags, whose daughter, Miss Fayette Moneybags, is
now clinching the position Reggie sold her at Newport over in London,
whither Reggie has consigned her to his sister, an impecunious American
Duchess--the Duchess of Nocash--who is also in the boosting business.
The chances are Miss Moneybags will land one of England's most deeply
indebted peers, and if she does, Reggie will receive a handsome cheque
for steering the family up against so attractive a proposition."
"And you mean to tell us that a plain man like old John De Boodle, of
Nevada, is putting out his hard-earned wealth in that way?" demanded Mr.
Brief.
"I didn't mean to mention any names," said the Idiot. "But you've
spotted the victim. Old John De Boodle, who made his $60,000,000 in six
months after having kept a saloon on the frontier for forty years, is
the man. His family wants to get in the swim, and Reggie is turning the
trick for them--and after all, what better way is there for De Boodle to
get in? He might take sixty villas at Newport and not get a peep at the
Divorce Colony there, much less a glimpse of the monogamous set acting
independently. Not a monkey in the Zoo would dine with the De Boodles,
and in his most eccentric moment I doubt if Tommy Dare would take them
up unless there was somebody to stand sponsor for them. A cool million
might easily be expended without results, by the De Boodles themselves,
but hand that money over to Reggie Squandercash, whose blood is as blue
as his creditors sometimes get, and you can look for results. What the
Frohmans are to the stage, Reggie Squandercash is to Society. He's right
in it; popular as all spenders are; lavish as all people spending other
people's money are apt to be. Old De Boodle, egged on by Mrs. De Boodle
and Miss Mary Ann De Boodle, now known as Miss Marianne De Boodle, goes
to Reggie and says, 'The old lady and my girl are nutty on Society. Can
you land 'em?' 'Certainly,' says Reggie, 'if your pocket is long
enough.' 'How long is that?' asks De Boodle, wincing a bit. 'A hundred
thousand a month, and no extras, until you're in,' says Reggie. 'No
reduction for families?' asks De Boodle, anxiously. 'No,' says Reggie.
'Harder job.' 'All right,' says De Boodle, 'here's my cheque for the
first month.' That's how Reggie gets his Newport villa, his servants,
his horses, yacht, automobiles and coaches. Then he invites the De
Boodles up to visit him. They accept, and the fun begins. First it's a
little dinner to meet my friends Mr. and Mrs. De Boodle, of Nevada.
Everybody there, hungry, dinner from Sherrys, best wines in the market.
De Boodles covered with diamonds, a great success, especially old John
De Boodle, who tells racy stories over the _demi-tasse_ when the ladies
have gone into the drawing-room. De Boodle voted a character. Next
thing, Bridge Whist party. Everybody there. Society a good winner. The
De Boodles magnificent losers. Popularity cinched. Next, yachting
party. Everybody on board. De Boodle on deck in fine shape. Champagne
flows like Niagara. Poker game in main cabin. Food everywhere. De
Boodles much easier. Stiffness wearing off, and so on and so on until
finally Miss De Boodle's portrait is printed in nineteen Sunday
newspapers all over the country. They're launched, and Reggie comes into
his own with a profit for the season in a cash balance of $50,000. He's
had a bully time all summer, entertained like a Prince, and comes to the
rainy season with a tidy little umbrella to keep him out of the wet."
"And can he count on that as a permanent business?" asked Mr.
Whitechoker.
"My dear sir, the Rock of Gibraltar is no solider and no more
permanent," said the Idiot. "For as long as there is a 400 in existence
human nature is such that there will also be a million who will want to
get into it."
"At such a cost?" demanded the Bibliomaniac.
"At any cost," replied the Idiot. "Even people who know they can not
swim want to get in it."
COLUMBIA AND THE COWBOY
BY ALICE MACGOWAN
"When the circus come to town,
Mighty me! Mighty me!
Jest one wink from that ol' clown,
When he's struttin' up an' down
To the music Bim--bam--bee!
Oh, sich sights, sich sights to see,
When the circus come to town!"
Blowout was on a boom.
The railroad from above was coming through, and Blowout was to be a city
with that mysterious and rather disconcerting abruptness with which tiny
Western villages do become cities in these circumstances.
It had been hoped that the railroad would be through by the Fourth of
July, when the less important celebration of the nation's birthday might
be combined with the proper marking of that event. But though tales came
down to Blowout of how the contractors were working night and day
shifts, and shipping men from the East in order to have the road through
in time, though the Wagon-Tire House had entertained many squads of
engineers and even occasional parties of the contractors' men, the
railroad was not through on the Fourth.
Something much more important was arranged by Providence, however--at
least, more important in the eyes of the children of the Wagon-Tire
House. Frosty La Rue's grand aggregation of talent was to be in Blowout
for a week, and the human performers were stopping at Huldah Sarvice's
hotel.
If one can go far enough back to remember the awe and mystery
surrounding a circus, and then imagine a circus coming bodily to lodge
in one's own dwelling, to eat with the knives and forks at one's
table--a circus which could swallow fire and swords, and things of that
sort, just eating off plates in the ordinary manner, with Sissy waiting
on the table behind its chairs--if one can get back to this happy time,
it will be possible to comprehend some of the rapture the twins, Gess
and Tell, experienced while Frosty La Rue's show abode at the Wagon-Tire
House.
They lorded it over every other child in Blowout, shining with reflected
splendor. They were the most sought after of any of the boys in school,
for Romey was too young to afford information. La Rue himself looked
upon them and said that they were "likely little fellers," and that he
"wouldn't mind having them to train." Think of that! To train!
Aunt Huldah, with bat-like blindness to their best advantages, had
stated to Mr. La Rue that their father was in--well--in Kansas, and had
only left them with her, as it were, "on demand."
For one dreadful moment the twins envied Aunt Huldah's real orphans.
Then, realizing that Aunt Huldah would no more give up Sissy or Ally
than she would give up them, they reflected that the ambition of boys is
apt, in this cold, unsympathetic world, to be thwarted by their elders,
and settled down to the more active and thorough enjoyment of what they
might have.
The company consisted of old La Rue; his second wife, who figured upon
the bill as Signorina Ippolita di Castelli, an ex-circus rider of very
mature years; Frosty's factotum, a Mexican by the name of José Romero;
little Roy, the Aerial Wonder, son of Frosty and the Signorina; and last
and most important of all, Minnie La Rue.
The show was well known in the Texas cattle country, and well loved.
Frosty's daughter--she was only sixteen when he was last at Blowout,
more than a year ago--was a pretty little thing, and her father had
trained her to be a graceful tight-rope performer. He himself did some
shooting from horseback, which most of the cowboys who applauded it
could have beaten.
Frosty La Rue drank hard, and he was very surly when he was drinking.
Even Aunt Huldah's boundless charity found it difficult to speak well of
his treatment of Minnie. The Signorina could take care of herself--and
of the Aerial Wonder as well. But the heft of her father's temper, and
sometimes the weight of his hand also, fell on the young girl when
things went amiss.
And things had gone amiss, more particularly in regard to her, during
the last six months. Up to that time she had looked like a child, small
for her age, silent, with big, wistful eyes, deft, clever fingers, and a
voice and manner that charmed every audience--in short, the most
valuable piece of property in La Rue's outfit.
The girl had bloomed into sudden and lovely girlhood when Kid Barringer
saw her at Abilene, in April, patiently performing the tricks that had
been taught her, obediently risking her young life that there might be
plenty of money for her father to lose at the monte table, and that they
might all be clothed and fed.
Kid had known the La Rue family and the girl for years, and when he
promptly lost his heart to this surprising development of its daughter,
he went frankly to the head of the clan and asked for her like a man.
There was no fault to find with Kid Barringer. He was good-looking,
more intelligent than most of his mates, an honest, industrious and
kind-hearted fellow, of whom his employers spoke well. If the girl cared
for him--and Kid asserted that he had asked her and found out that she
did care--she could not hope to do better.
But, of course, for La Rue to give up this most valuable chattel was out
of the question. What he did, therefore, was to fly into a rage, refuse
the Kid's offer in language which would have precipitated a brawl had
the young man been less earnest in his wooing, and consign Minnie to the
watchful vigilance of her stepmother.
And the cowboy had been vainly following the show during the whole two
months that had passed since this episode, anxiously watching his poor
little hard-worked sweetheart, hoping to get a word from her, meaning in
any case to reassure her, and show her that he had not given up.
Matters were in this state when the "aggregation" settled down at the
Wagon-Tire House for the week during which the Fourth of July was to
occur. For this occasion La Rue promised a display of fireworks
"superior to anything ever shown in West Texas."
The fame of this spectacle had preceded the show. It had been given in
Emerald the year before, and all the cowboys who had seen it there
brought back word that it was "the finest ever." The particular feature
was in the closing act which La Rue had christened "Columbia
Enlightening the World."
For this performance a wire was stretched across the street from the top
of one building to another. La Rue intended this year to have it
stretched from the Roundup to the Wagon-Tire House. Across this wire
Minnie was to walk, dressed as Columbia, with a high-spiked diadem upon
her head, her whole form outlined with colored fires, and bearing
certain rockets which were set off when she reached the center of the
street.
Everybody in the Wagon-Tire House liked the girl; Frosty was offensively
polite or aggressively insulting; Mrs. La Rue was, as Troy Gilbert said,
"a pretty tough specimen"; or, if one would rather follow Aunt Huldah's
cheerful and charitable lead, "She looked a heap nicer, and appeared a
heap better, in the show than out of it"; the Aerial Wonder was
something of a terrestrial terror; but there was no question that Minnie
La Rue was one of the sweetest and best little girls ever brought up in
an inappropriate circus.
Therefore, when Kid Barringer appeared, a day after the La Rue family,
and told the boys freely what the situation of his affairs was, he
received unlimited sympathy and offers of assistance.
"I wish I could help you, Kid," Troy Gilbert said. "There isn't a soul
in town that doesn't feel as though that little girl ought to be taken
out of that man's keeping. But you see he's her own father, I
reckon--says he is--and the law can't go behind that."
"If you boys would fix up a scheme to get me a chance to speak to
Minnie--" Kid began. "At first I thought I could steal her just as easy
as anything. She'd be glad to go; I had a little note from her--Say,
Gib," he broke off suddenly, with a catch in his voice, "he's liable to
strike her--to hurt her--when he's drinking."
"Well, if it went as far as that, here in Blowout, I would arrest him,
you know," Gilbert suggested.
"It won't," Kid returned, dejectedly; "not at the Wagon-Tire House. Aunt
Huldy has a good effect on him--or rather, bad effect, for that purpose.
He's jest behavin' himself so straight, that Aunt Huldy won't hear a
word about him bein' the meanest that ever was."
Troy was thinking intently.
"Say, Kid, I've got an idea. Do you reckon Aunt Huldy thinks too well of
Frosty to help us out a little? If she doesn't, I believe the thing's as
good as done. I saw that there 'Columbia Enlightening the World' at
Emerald last year, and I know exactly how I could fix it so as to let
you--well, you wait a minute, and I'll give you all the details. It's
the only thing on the program that separates your girl from the
Signorina for five minutes."
It must have been that Aunt Huldah saw more harm in Frosty La Rue than
she was willing to mention; for an hour later Gilbert had made his
arrangements.
"Now, Kid," he counseled, "I want you to make yourself scarce around
here from now on. Don't let Frosty know you're in the diggin's at all.
We boys are going to give it out that you've gone to Fort Worth, so that
he and Mrs. La Rue won't watch Miss Minnie quite so close."
The Kid obediently withdrew from public life, spending most of his days
in the back room of the big store, where a few sympathizing friends were
always ready to bear him company; and the word went out that he had, in
despair, given up camping on Miss Minnie's trail and gone off to Fort
Worth.
This intelligence reaching old man La Rue--Gilbert wondered a little if
it were possible any of it came to him through Aunt Huldah--had the
desired effect of relaxing the watch upon the girl.
The first move in Gilbert's game was to waylay Frosty's Mexican, and
bribe him to feign sickness. To this José promptly consented; and he
counterfeited with such vigor, and so to the life, that the proprietor
of the show was beside himself; for it was too late to teach a new man
the management of the fireworks.
And now came Gilbert's second move. He approached the old man with the
inquiry, "Why, what's the racket, Frosty? Something the matter with some
of your outfit?"
La Rue sweepingly condemned the whole republic of Mexico in general, and
José Romero in particular, winding up with the statement that the
no-account greaser had gone and got sick, here at the last
minute--Frosty would seem to imply, out of sheer perversity--and when it
was too late to teach another his duties.
Upon this, Gilbert unfolded his scheme with a careful carelessness.
"Fireworks? Why, do you know, Frosty, I believe I could do your
fireworks for you all right. I know fireworks pretty well, and I saw
your 'Columbia' at Emerald last year."
"And would you do it, Gilbert?" asked La Rue. "It wouldn't _pay_," added
the tight-fisted old fellow. "It wouldn't pay _you_--a man like _you_;
but--"
"Oh, I just don't want to see the boys disappointed and the show
spoiled," rejoined Gilbert. "I don't want any money."
La Rue was almost ready to embrace the sheriff of Wild Horse County. His
burdens had not been light, even before the despised José's defection.
There was a multitude of things, big and little, which could not well be
carried with a show of the sort, but had always to be picked up locally,
at the last moment; and a crude little cow-town like Blowout not only
failed to supply many of these, but stood, as one might say, with
dropped jaw at the very suggestion of them--at the mere mention of their
unfamiliar names.
And so the company--otherwise the La Rue family--had to produce much of
the paraphernalia out of its inner consciousness, which meant that the
old man's temper was continually rasped, that the Signorina's nerves
and her ingenuity were on a strain, and that Minnie was hard at work
from dawn till dark, practising between whiles.
Troy Gilbert had put it most hopefully when he said that he knew
fireworks pretty well--or one might say that the statement was
susceptible of two different interpretations. As a matter of fact, Troy
knew fireworks only from the spectator's side of the question.
He now had José Romero moved over into the back room of his place, where
he might mitigate the rigors of that alien's confinement, and at the
same time receive from the Mexican very necessary instruction.
Mercifully, there was an ample supply of fireworks, for the show was to
be repeated at Antelope, over in Lone Jack County, and again at Cinche.