Brewster's Millions

  CHAPTER VIII

  THE FORELOCK OF TIME

  One morning not long after the incidents just related, Brewster lay inbed, staring at the ceiling, deep in thought. There was a worriedpucker on his forehead, half-hidden by the rumpled hair, and his eyeswere wide and sleepless. He had dined at the Drews' the evening beforeand had had an awakening. As he thought of the matter he could recallno special occurrence that he could really use as evidence. Colonel andMrs. Drew had been as kind as ever and Barbara could not have been morecharming. But something had gone wrong and he had endured a wretchedevening.

  "That little English Johnnie was to blame," he argued. "Of course,Barbara had a right to put any one she liked next to her, but why sheshould have chosen that silly ass is more than I know. By Jove, if Ihad been on the other side I'll warrant his grace would have been lostin the dust."

  His brain was whirling, and for the first time he was beginning to feelthe unpleasant pangs of jealousy. The Duke of Beauchamp he especiallydisliked, although the poor man had hardly spoken during the dinner.But Monty could not be reconciled. He knew, of course, that Barbara hadsuitors by the dozen, but it had never occurred to him that they wereeven seriously considered. Notwithstanding the fact that his encounterwith "The Censor" had brought her into undesirable notice, she forgavehim everything after a moment's consideration. The first few wrenchesof resentment were overbalanced by her American appreciation ofchivalry, however inspired. "The Censor" had gone for years unpunished;his coarse wit being aimed at every one who had come into socialprominence. So pungent and vindictive was his pen that other men fearedhim, and there were many who lived in glass houses in terror of afusilade. Brewster's prompt and sufficient action had checked thepernicious attacks, and he became a hero among men and women. Afterthat night there was no point to "The Censor's" pen. Monty's firstqualms of apprehension were swept away when Colonel Drew himself hailedhim the morning after the encounter and, in no unmeasured terms,congratulated him upon his achievement, assuring him that Barbara andMrs. Drew approved, although they might lecture him as a matter of form.

  But on this morning, as he lay in his bed, Monty was thinking deeplyand painfully. He was confronted by a most embarrassing condition andhe was discussing it soberly with himself. "I've never told her," hesaid to himself, "but if she doesn't know my feeling she is not asclever as I think. Besides, I haven't time to make love to her now. Ifit were any other girl I suppose I'd have to, but Babs, why, she mustunderstand. And yet--damn that Duke!"

  In order to woo her properly he would be compelled to neglect financialduties that needed every particle of brain-energy at his command. Hefound himself opposed at the outset by a startling embarrassment, madeabsolutely clear by the computations of the night before. The last fourdays of indifference to finance on one side, and pampering the heart onthe other, had proved very costly. To use his own expression, he hadbeen "set back" almost eight thousand dollars. An average like thatwould be ruinous.

  "Why, think of it," he continued. "For each day sacrificed to Barbara Imust deduct something like twenty-five hundred dollars. A long campaignwould put me irretrievably in the hole; I'd get so far behind that aholocaust couldn't put me even. She can't expect that of me, yet girlsare such idiots about devotion, and of course she doesn't know what aheavy task I'm facing. And there are the others--what will they dowhile I am out of the running? I cannot go to her and say, 'Please, mayI have a year's vacation? I'll come back next September.' On the otherhand, I shall surely neglect my business if she expects me to compete.What pleasure shall I get out of the seven millions if I lose her? Ican't afford to take chances. That Duke won't have seven millions nextSeptember, it's true, but he'll have a prodigious argument against me,about the twenty-first or second."

  Then a brilliant thought occurred to him which caused him to ring for amessenger-boy with such a show of impatience that Rawles stood aghast.The telegram which Monty wrote was as follows:

  SWEARENGEN JONES,

  Butte, Montana

  May I marry and turn all property over to wife, providing she will haveme?

  MONTGOMERY BREWSTER.

  "Why isn't that reasonable?" he asked himself after the boy had gone."Making property over to one's wife is neither a loan nor is itcharity. Old Jones might call it needless extravagance, since he's abachelor, but it's generally done because it's good business." Montywas hopeful.

  Following his habit in trouble, he sought Margaret Gray, to whom hecould always appeal for advice and consolation. She was to come to hisnext dinner-party, and it was easy to lead up to the subject in hand bymentioning the other guests.

  "And Barbara Drew," he concluded, after naming all the others. Theywere alone in the library, and she was drinking in the details of thedinner as he related them.

  "Wasn't she at your first dinner?" she asked, quickly.

  He successfully affected mild embarrassment.

  "Yes."

  "She must be very attractive." There was no venom in Peggy's heart.

  "She is attractive. In fact, she's one of the best, Peggy," he said,paving the way.

  "It's too bad she seems to care for that little Duke."

  "He's a bounder," he argued.

  "Well, don't take it to heart. You don't have to marry him," and Peggylaughed.

  "But I do take it to heart, Peggy," said Monty, seriously. "I'm prettyhard hit, and I want your help. A sister's advice is always the best ina matter of this sort."

  She looked into his eyes dully for an instant, not realizing the fullimportance of his confession.

  "You, Monty?" she said, incredulously.

  "I've got it bad, Peggy," he replied, staring hard at the floor. Shecould not understand the cold, gray tone that suddenly enveloped theroom. The strange sense of loneliness that came over her wasinexplicable. The little something that rose in her throat would not bedislodged, nor could she throw off the weight that seemed pressing downupon her. He saw the odd look in her eyes and the drawn, uncertainsmile on her lips, but he attributed them to wonder and incredulity.Somehow, after all these years, he was transformed before her veryeyes; she was looking upon a new personality. He was no longerMontgomery, the brother, but she could not explain how and when thechange crept over her. What did it all mean? "I am very glad if it willmake you happy, Monty," she said slowly, the gray in her lips givingway to red once more. "Does she know?"

  "I haven't told her in so many words, Peggy, but--but I'm going to thisevening," he announced, lamely.

  "This evening?"

  "I can't wait," Monty said as he rose to go. "I'm glad you're pleased,Peggy; I need your good wishes. And, Peggy," he continued, with a touchof boyish wistfulness, "do you think there's a chance for a fellow?I've had the very deuce of a time over that Englishman."

  It was not quite easy for her to say, "Monty, you are the best in theworld. Go in and win."

  From the window she watched him swing off down the street, wondering ifhe would turn to wave his hand to her, his custom for years. But thebroad back was straight and uncompromising. His long strides carriedhim swiftly out of sight, but it was many minutes before she turned hereyes, which were smarting a little, from the point where he was lost inthe crowd. The room looked ashen to her as she brought her mind back toit, and somehow things had grown difficult.

  When Montgomery reached home he found this telegram from Mr. Jones:

  MONTGOMERY BREWSTER,

  New York City.

  Stick to your knitting, you damned fool.

  S. JONES.