CHAPTER XVII. BROTHER BILL'S ROMANCE
"Her eyes," said Bill Brewster, "are like--like--what's the word Iwant?"
He looked across at Lucille and Archie. Lucille was leaning forwardwith an eager and interested face; Archie was leaning back with hisfinger-tips together and his eyes closed. This was not the first timesince their meeting in Beale's Auction Rooms that his brother-in-law hadtouched on the subject of the girl he had become engaged to marry duringhis trip to England. Indeed, Brother Bill had touched on very littleelse: and Archie, though of a sympathetic nature and fond of his youngrelative, was beginning to feel that he had heard all he wished to hearabout Mabel Winchester. Lucille, on the other hand, was absorbed. Herbrother's recital had thrilled her.
"Like--" said Bill. "Like--"
"Stars?" suggested Lucille.
"Stars," said Bill gratefully. "Exactly the word. Twin stars shining ina clear sky on a summer night. Her teeth are like--what shall I say?"
"Pearls?"
"Pearls. And her hair is a lovely brown, like leaves in autumn. Infact," concluded Bill, slipping down from the heights with something ofa jerk, "she's a corker. Isn't she, Archie?"
Archie opened his eyes.
"Quite right, old top!" he said. "It was the only thing to do."
"What the devil are you talking about?" demanded Bill coldly. He hadbeen suspicious all along of Archie's statement that he could listenbetter with his eyes shut.
"Eh? Oh, sorry! Thinking of something else."
"You were asleep."
"No, no, positively and distinctly not. Frightfully interested and raptand all that, only I didn't quite get what you said."
"I said that Mabel was a corker."
"Oh, absolutely in every respect."
"There!" Bill turned to Lucille triumphantly. "You hear that? And Archiehas only seen her photograph. Wait till he sees her in the flesh."
"My dear old chap!" said Archie, shocked. "Ladies present! I mean tosay, what!"
"I'm afraid that father will be the one you'll find it hard toconvince."
"Yes," admitted her brother gloomily.
"Your Mabel sounds perfectly charming, but--well, you know what fatheris. It IS a pity she sings in the chorus."
"She-hasn't much of a voice,"-argued Bill-in extenuation.
"All the same--"
Archie, the conversation having reached a topic on which he consideredhimself one of the greatest living authorities--to wit, the unlovabledisposition of his father-in-law--addressed the meeting as one who has aright to be heard.
"Lucille's absolutely right, old thing.--Absolutely correct-o! Youresteemed progenitor is a pretty tough nut, and it's no good trying toget away from it.-And I'm sorry to have to say it, old bird, but, if youcome bounding in with part of the personnel of the ensemble on your armand try to dig a father's blessing out of him, he's extremely apt tostab you in the gizzard."
"I wish," said Bill, annoyed, "you wouldn't talk as though Mabel werethe ordinary kind of chorus-girl. She's only on the stage because hermother's hard-up and she wants to educate her little brother."
"I say," said Archie, concerned. "Take my tip, old top. In chatting thematter over with the pater, don't dwell too much on that aspect ofthe affair.--I've been watching him closely, and it's about all hecan stick, having to support ME. If you ring in a mother and a littlebrother on him, he'll crack under the strain."
"Well, I've got to do something about it. Mabel will be over here in aweek."
"Great Scot! You never told us that."
"Yes. She's going to be in the new Billington show. And, naturally, shewill expect to meet my family. I've told her all about you."
"Did you explain father to her?" asked Lucille.
"Well, I just said she mustn't mind him, as his bark was worse than hisbite."
"Well," said Archie, thoughtfully, "he hasn't bitten me yet, so you maybe right. But you've got to admit that he's a bit of a barker."
Lucille considered.
"Really, Bill, I think your best plan would be to go straight to fatherand tell him the whole thing.--You don't want him to hear about it in aroundabout way."
"The trouble is that, whenever I'm with father, I can't think ofanything to say."
Archie found himself envying his father-in-law this mercifuldispensation of Providence; for, where he himself was concerned, therehad been no lack of eloquence on Bill's part. In the brief period inwhich he had known him, Bill had talked all the time and always onthe one topic. As unpromising a subject as the tariff laws was easilydiverted by him into a discussion of the absent Mabel.
"When I'm with father," said Bill, "I sort of lose my nerve, andyammer."
"Dashed awkward," said Archie, politely. He sat up suddenly. "I say! ByJove! I know what you want, old friend! Just thought of it!"
"That busy brain is never still," explained Lucille.
"Saw it in the paper this morning. An advertisement of a book, don't youknow."
"I've no time for reading."
"You've time for reading this one, laddie, for you can't afford to missit. It's a what-d'you-call-it book. What I mean to say is, if you readit and take its tips to heart, it guarantees to make you a convincingtalker. The advertisement says so. The advertisement's all about achappie whose name I forget, whom everybody loved because he talked sowell. And, mark you, before he got hold of this book--The PersonalityThat Wins was the name of it, if I remember rightly--he was known toall the lads in the office as Silent Samuel or something. Or it may havebeen Tongue-Tied Thomas. Well, one day he happened by good luck to blowin the necessary for the good old P. that W.'s, and now, whenever theywant someone to go and talk Rockefeller or someone into lending them amillion or so, they send for Samuel. Only now they call him Sammy theSpell-Binder and fawn upon him pretty copiously and all that. How aboutit, old son? How do we go?"
"What perfect nonsense," said Lucille.
"I don't know," said Bill, plainly impressed. "There might be somethingin it."
"Absolutely!" said Archie. "I remember it said, 'Talk convincingly, andno man will ever treat you with cold, unresponsive indifference.' Well,cold, unresponsive indifference is just what you don't want the pater totreat you with, isn't it, or is it, or isn't it, what? I mean, what?"
"It sounds all right," said Bill.
"It IS all right," said Archie. "It's a scheme! I'll go farther. It's anegg!"
"The idea I had," said Bill, "was to see if I couldn't get Mabel a jobin some straight comedy. That would take the curse off the thing a bit.Then I wouldn't have to dwell on the chorus end of the business, yousee."
"Much more sensible," said Lucille.
"But what a-deuce of a sweat"--argued Archie. "I mean to say, having topop round and nose about and all that."
"Aren't you willing to take a little trouble for your strickenbrother-in-law, worm?" said Lucille severely.
"Oh, absolutely! My idea was to get this book and coach the dear oldchap. Rehearse him, don't you know. He could bone up the early chaptersa bit and then drift round and try his convincing talk on me."
"It might be a good idea," said Bill reflectively.
"Well, I'll tell you what _I'm_ going to do," said Lucille. "I'm goingto get Bill to introduce me to his Mabel, and, if she's as nice as hesays she is, _I'll_ go to father and talk convincingly to him."
"You're an ace!" said Bill.
"Absolutely!" agreed Archie cordially. "MY partner, what! All the same,we ought to keep the book as a second string, you know. I mean to say,you are a young and delicately nurtured girl--full of sensibility andshrinking what's-its-name and all that--and you know what the jolly oldpater is. He might bark at you and put you out of action in the firstround. Well, then, if anything like that happened, don't you see, wecould unleash old Bill, the trained silver-tongued expert, and let himhave a shot. Personally, I'm all for the P. that W.'s."-"Me, too," saidBill.
Lucille looked at her watch.
"Good gracious! It's nearly one o'clock!"
r /> "No!" Archie heaved himself up from his chair. "Well, it's a shame tobreak up this feast of reason and flow of soul and all that, but, if wedon't leg it with some speed, we shall be late."
"We're lunching at the Nicholson's!" explained Lucille to her brother."I wish you were coming too."
"Lunch!" Bill shook his head with a kind of tolerant scorn. "Lunch meansnothing to me these days. I've other things to think of besides food."He looked as spiritual as his rugged features would permit. "I haven'twritten to Her yet to-day."
"But, dash it, old scream, if she's going to be over here in a week,what's the good of writing? The letter would cross her."
"I'm not mailing my letters to England." said Bill. "I'm keeping themfor her to read when she arrives."
"My sainted aunt!" said Archie.
Devotion like this was something beyond his outlook.