The Wit and Humor of America, Volume VI. (of X.)

  I went away with his "no, no, no!" still ringing in my ears.

  At the club I found a note from Freddy. She pressed me to lose no time.Mrs. Matthewman was talking of going to Europe, and of course she andEleanor would have to accompany her. Eleanor, she said, had ordered twonew gowns and had brightened up wonderfully. "Only yesterday she told meshe wished that silly doctor would hurry up and come--and that, youknow, from Eleanor is almost a declaration!"

  Some of my best friends happened to be in the club. It occurred to methat poor Nevill was diabetic, and that Charley Crossman had been boringeverybody about his gout. I buttonholed them both, and laid myunfortunate predicament before them. I said I'd pay all the expenses. Infact, the more they could make it cost the better I'd be pleased.

  "What," roared Nevill, "put myself in the hands of a young fool so thathe may fill his empty pockets with your money! Where do _I_ come in?Good heavens, Westoby, you're crazy! Think what would happen to me if itcame to Doctor Saltworthy's ears? He'd never have anything more to dowith me!"

  Charley Crossman was equally rebellious and unreasonable.

  "I guess you've never had the gout," he said grimly.

  "But Charley, old man," I pleaded, "all that you'd have to do would beto let him _talk_ to you. I don't ask you to suffer for it. Justpay--that's all--pay my money!"

  "I'm awfully easily talked into things," said Charley. (There was neversuch a mule on the Produce Exchange.) "He'd be saying, 'Take this'--andI'm the kind of blankety-blank fool that would take it!"

  Then I did a mean thing. I reminded Crossman of having backed some billsof his--big bills, too--at a time when it was touch and go whether he'dmanage to keep his head above water.

  "Westoby," he replied, "don't think that time has lessened my sense ofthat obligation. I'd cut off my right hand to do you a good turn. Butfor heaven's sake, don't ask me to monkey with my gout!"

  The best I could get out of him was the promise of an anemicservant-girl. Nevill generously threw in a groom with varicose veins.Small contributions, but thankfully received.

  "Now, what you do," said Nevill, "is to go round right off and interviewBishop Jordan. He has sick people to burn!"

  But I said Jones would get on to it if I deluged him with the misery ofthe slums.

  "That's just where the bishop comes in," said Nevill. "There isn't a manmore in touch with the saddest kind of poverty in New York--the decent,clean, shrinking poverty that hides away from all the dead-head coffeeand doughnuts. If I was in your fix I'd fall over myself to reachJordan!"

  "Yes, you try Jordan," said Charley, who, I'm sure, had never heard ofhim before.

  "Then it's me for Jordan," said I.

  I went down stairs and told one of the bell-boys to look up the addressin the telephone-book. It seemed to me he looked pale, that boy.

  "Aren't you well, Dan?" I said.

  "I don't know what's the matter with me, sir. I guess it must be thenight work."

  I gave him a five-dollar bill and made him write down 1892 Eighth Avenueon a piece of paper.

  "You go and see Doctor Jones first thing," I said. "And don't mention myname, nor spend the money on _Her Mad Marriage_."

  I jumped into a hansom with a pleasant sense that I was beginning tomake the fur fly.

  "That's a horrible cold of yours, Cabby," I said as we stopped at thebishop's door and I handed him up a dollar bill. "That's just the kindof a cold that makes graveyards hum!"

  "I can't shake it off, sir," he said despondently. "Try what I can, andit's never no use!"

  "There's one doctor in the world who can cure anything," I said; "DoctorHenry Jones, 1892 Eighth Avenue. I was worse than you two weeks ago, andnow look at me! Take this five dollars, and for heaven's sake, man, putyourself in his hands quick."

  Bishop Jordan was a fine type of modern clergyman. He wasbroad-shouldered mentally as well as physically, and he brought tophilanthropic work the thoroughness, care, enthusiasm and capacity thatwould have earned him a fortune in business.

  "Bishop," I said, "I've come to see if I can't make a trade with you!"

  He raised his grizzled eyebrows and gave me a very searching look.

  "A trade," he repeated in a holding-back kind of tone, as thoughwondering what the trap was.

  "Here's a check for one thousand dollars drawn to your order," I wenton. "And here's the address of Doctor Henry Jones, 1892 Eighth Avenue. Iwant this money to reach him via your sick people, and that without myname being known or at all suspected."

  "May I not ask the meaning of so peculiar a request?"

  "He's hard up," I said, "and I want to help him. It occurred to me thatI might make you--er--a confederate in my little game, you know."

  His eyes twinkled as he slowly folded up my check and put it in hispocket.

  "I don't want any economy about it, Bishop," I went on. "I don't want tomake the best use of it, or anything of that kind. I want to slap itinto Doctor Jones' till, and slap it in quick."

  "Would you consider two weeks--?"

  "Oh, one, please!"

  "It is understood, of course, that this young man is a duly qualifiedand capable physician, and that in the event of my finding it otherwiseI shall be at liberty to direct your check to other uses?"

  "Oh, I can answer for his being all right, Bishop. He's thoroughlyup-to-date, you know; does the X-ray act; and keeps the pace of modernscience."

  "You say you can answer for him," said the bishop genially. "Might Iinquire who _you_ are?"

  "I'm named Westoby--Ezra Westoby--managing partner of Hodge & Westoby,boxers."

  "I like boxers," said the bishop in the tone of a benediction, rising todismiss me. "I like one thousand dollar checks, too. When you have anymore to spare just give them a fair wind in this direction!"

  I went out feeling that the Episcopal Church had risen fifty per cent.in my esteem. Bishops like that would make a success of anydenomination. I like to see a fellow who's on to his job.

  I gave Jones a week to grapple with the new developments, and thenhappened along. The anteroom was full, and there was a queue down thestreet like a line of music-loving citizens waiting to hear Patti.Nice, decent-looking people, with money in their hands. (I always liketo see a cash business, don't you?) I guess it took me an hour to crowdmy way up stairs, and even then I had to buy a man out of the line.

  Jones was carrying off the boom more quietly than I cared about. He worea curt, snappy air. I don't know why, but I felt misgivings as I shookhands with him.

  Of course I commented on the rush.

  "The Lord only knows what's happened to my practice," he said. "Theblamed thing has gone up like a rocket. It seems to me there must be agreat wave of sickness passing over New York just now."

  "Everybody's complaining," I said.

  This reminded him of my insomnia till I cut him short.

  "What's the matter with our going down to the Van Coorts' from Saturdayto Tuesday," I said. "They haven't given up the hope of seeing youthere, Doctor, and the thing's still open."

  Then I waited for him to jump with joy.

  He didn't jump a bit. He shook his head. He distinctly said "No."

  "I told you it was the money side of it that bothered me," he explained."So it was at the time, for, of course, I couldn't foresee that mypractice was going to fill the street and call for policemen to keeporder. But, my dear Westoby, after giving the subject a great deal ofconsideration I have come to the conclusion that it would be too painfulfor me to revive those--those--unhappy emotions I was just beginning torecover from!"

  "I thought you loved her!" I exclaimed.

  "That's why I've determined not to go," he said. "I have outlived onerefusal. How do I know I have the strength, the determination, thehardihood to undergo the agonies of another?"

  It seemed a feeble remark to say that faint heart never won fair lady. Igrowled it out more like a swear than anything else. I was disgustedwith the chump.

  "She's the star above me," he said; "and
I am crushed by my ownpresumption. Is there any such fool as the man that breaks his hearttwice for the impossible?"

  "But it isn't impossible," I cried. "Hasn't she--as far as a womancan--hasn't she called you back to her? What more do you expect her todo? A woman's delicacy forbids her screaming for a man! I think Eleanorhas already gone a tremendous way in just hinting--"

  "You may be right," he said pathetically; "but then you may also bewrong. The risk is too terrible for me to run. It will comfort me all mylife to think that perhaps she does love me in secret!"

  "Do you mean to say you're going to give it all up?" I roared.

  "You needn't get so warm about it," he returned. "After all, I have somejustification in thinking she doesn't care."

  "What on earth do you suppose she invited you for, then?"

  "Well, it would be different," he said, "if I had a note from her--aflower--some little tender reminder of those dear old dead days in thePullman!"

  "She's saving up all that for Morristown," I said.

  For the first time in our acquaintance Doctor Jones looked at me withsuspicion. His blue eyes clouded. He was growing a little restive undermy handling.

  "You seem to make the matter a very personal one," he observed.

  "Well, I love Freddy," I explained. "It naturally brings your own casevery close to me. And then I am so positive that you love Eleanor andthat Eleanor loves you. Put yourself in my place, Doctor! Do you meanthat you'd do nothing to bring two such noble hearts together?"

  He seized my hand and wrung it effusively. He really _did_ love Eleanor,you know. The only fault with him was his being so darned humble aboutit. He was eaten up with a sense of his own inferiority. And yet I couldsee he was just tingling to go to Morristown. Of course, I crowded himall I could, but the best I could accomplish was his promise to "thinkit over." I hated to leave him wabbling, but patients were scuffling atthe door and fighting on the stairs.

  The next thing I did was to get Freddy on the long-distance 'phone.

  "Freddy," I said, after explaining the situation, "you must get Eleanorto telegraph to him direct!"

  "What's the good of asking what she won't do?" bubbled the sweet littlevoice.

  "Can't you persuade her?"

  "I know she won't do it!"

  "Then you must forge it," I said desperately. "It needn't be anythingred-hot, you know. But something tender and sincere: 'Shall be awfullydisappointed if you don't come,' or, 'There was a time when you wouldnot have failed me!'"

  "It's impossible."

  "Then he won't budge a single inch!" I replied.

  "Ezra?"

  "Darling!"

  "Suppose I just signed the telegram Van Coort?"

  "The very thing!"

  "If he misunderstood it--I mean if he thought it really came fromEleanor--there couldn't be any fuss about it afterward, could there?"

  "And, of course, you'll send the official invitation from Mrs.Matthewman besides?"

  "For Saturday?"

  "Yes, Saturday!"

  "And _you'll_ come?"

  "Just watch me!"

  "Ezra, are you happy?"

  "That depends on Jones."

  "Oh, isn't it exciting?"

  "I have the ring in my pocket--"

  "But touch wood, won't you?"

  "Freddy?"

  "Yes--"

  "What's the matter with getting some forget-me-nots and mailing them toJones in an envelope?"

  "All right, I'll attend to it. Eighteen ninety-two Eighth Avenue, isn'tit?"

  "Be sure it _is_ forget-me-nots, you know. Don't mix up the language offlowers, and send him one that says: 'I'm off with a handsomer man,' or,'You needn't come round any more!'"

  "Oh, Ezra, Eleanor is really getting quite worked up!"

  "So am I!"

  "Wouldn't it be perfectly splendid if--Switch off quick, here's auntcoming!"

  "Mayn't I even say I love you?"

  "I daren't say it back, Ezra--she's calling."

  "But _do_ you?"

  "Yes, unfortunately--"

  "Why unfortun--?"

  Buzz-buzz-swizzleum-bux-bux!--Aunt had cut us off. However, short as mytalk with Freddy had been, it brightened my whole day.

  Late the same afternoon I went back to Doctor Jones. I was prepared tofind him uplifted, but I hadn't counted on his being maudlin. The fellowwas drunk, positively drunk--with happiness. His tongue ran on like amill-stream. I had to sit down and have the whole Pullman-car episodeinflicted on me a second time. I was shown the receipt-slip. I was shownthe telegram from Eleanor. I was shown with a whoop the forget-me-nots!Then he was going on Saturday? I asked. He said he guessed it would takean earthquake to keep him away, and a pretty big earthquake, too!... Oh,it was a great moment, and all the greater because I was tremendouslyworked up, too. I saw Freddy floating before me, my sweet, girlish,darling Freddy, holding out her arms ... while Jones gassed and gassedand gassed....

  I left him taking phenacetin for his headache.

  III

  The house-party had grown a little larger than was originally intended.On Saturday night we sat down twelve to dinner. Doctor Jones and Ishared a room together, and I must say whatever misgivings I might havehad about him wore away very quickly on closer acquaintance. In thefirst place he looked well in evening dress, carrying himself with asort of shy, kind air that became him immensely. At table he developedthe greatest of conversational gifts--that of the appreciative andintelligent listener. I heard one of the guests asking Eleanor who wasthat charming young man. Freddy and I hugged each other (I meanmetaphorically, of course) and gloried in his success. In the presenceof an admirer (such is the mystery of women) Eleanor instantly gotfifteen points better looking, and you wouldn't have known her for thesame girl. Freddy thought it was the two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar gownshe wore, but I could see it was deeper than that. She was thawing inthe sunshine of love, and I'll do Doctor Jones the justice to say thathe didn't hide his affection under a bushel. It was generous enough foreverybody to bask in, and in his pell-mell ardor he took us all to hisbosom. The women loved him for it, and entered into a tacit conspiracyto gain him the right-of-way to wherever Eleanor was to be found. Infact, he followed her about like a dog, and she could scarcely movewithout stepping on him.

  Sunday was even better. One of the housemaids drank some wood-alcohol bymistake for vichy water, and the resulting uproar redounded to Jones'coolness, skill and despatch. He dominated the situation and--well, Iwon't describe it, this not being a medical work, and the readerprobably being a good guesser. Mrs. Matthewman remarked significantlythat it must be nice to be the wife of a medical man--one would alwayshave the safe feeling of a doctor at hand in case anything happened atnight! Eleanor said it was a beautiful profession that had for itsobject the alleviation of human pain. Freddy jealously tried to get in agood word for boxers, but nobody would listen to her except me. It wasall Jones, Jones, Jones, and the triumphs of modern medicine. Altogetherhe sailed through that whole day with flying colors, first with thehousemaid, and then afterward at church, where he was the only one thatknew what Sunday after Epiphany it was. He made it plainer than everthat he was a model young man and a pattern. Mrs. Matthewman comparedhim to her departed husband, and talked about old-fashioned courtesy andthe splendid men of her youth. Everybody fell over everybody else topraise him. It was a regular Jones boom. People began to write down hisaddress, and ask him if he'd be free Thursday, or what about Friday, andstarted to book seats in advance.

  That evening, as I was washing my hands before dinner and cheerfullywhistling _Hiawatha_, I became conscious that Jones was lolling back ona sofa at the dark end of the room. What particularly arrested myattention was a groan--preceded by a pack of heartrending sighs. Itworried me--when everything seemed to be going so well. He had everyright to be whistling _Hiawatha_, too.

  "What's the matter, Jones?" said I.

  He keeled over on the sofa, and groaned louder than ever.

  "It isn't possibl
e--that she's refused you?" I exclaimed. He mutteredsomething about his mother.

  "Well, what about your mother?" I said.

  "Westoby," he returned, "I guess I was the worst kind of fool ever toput my foot into this house."

  That was nice news, wasn't it? Just as I was settling in my head to buythat Seventy-second Street place, and alter the basement into a garage!

  "You see, old man, my mother would never consent to my marrying Eleanor.I'm in the position of having to choose between her and the woman Ilove. And I owe so much to my mother, Westoby. She stinted herself foryears to get me through college; she hardly had enough to eat; she...."Then he groaned a lot more.

  "I can't think that your mother--a mother like yours, Jones--wouldconsent to stand between you and your lifelong happiness. It'smorbid--that's what I call it--morbid, just to dream of such a thing."

  "There's Bertha," he quavered.

  "Great Scott, and who's Bertha?"

  "The girl my mother chose for me two years ago--Bertha McNutt, you know.She'd really prefer me not to marry at all, but if I must--it's Bertha,Westoby--Bertha or nothing!"

  "It's too late to say that now, old fellow."

  "It's not too late for me to go home this very night."

  "Well, Jones," I broke out, "I can't think you'd do such a caddish thingas that. Think it over for a minute. You come down here; you sweep thatunfortunate girl off her feet; you make love to her with the fury of astage villain; you force her to betray her very evident partiality foryou--and then you have the effrontery to say: 'Good-by. I'm off.'"