CHAPTER XXXV
MR. AND MRS. LITTLE JIMMIE
Mrs. Sammy Whitcomb had longed for the sweet privilege of squaringmatters with Mrs. Jimmie Wellington. Sneers and back-biting, shrugsand shudders of contempt were poor compensation for the ever-vividfact that Mrs. Wellington had proved attractive to her Sammy whileMrs. Wellington's Jimmie never looked at Mrs. Whitcomb. Or if he did,his eyes had been so blurred that he had seen two of her--and avoidedboth.
Yesterday she had overheard Jimmie vow sobriety. To-day his shiningmorning face showed that he had kept his word. She could hardly waitto begin the flirtation which, she trusted, would render Mrs.Wellington helplessly furious for six long Reno months.
The Divorce Drummer interposed and held Jimmie prisoner for a time,but as soon as Mr. Baumann released him, Mrs. Whitcomb apprehendedhim. With a smile that beckoned and with eyes that went out likefar-cast fishhooks, she drew Leviathan into her net.
She reeled him in and he plounced in the seat opposite. What she tookfor bashfulness was reluctance. To add the last charm to her success,Mrs. Wellington arrived to see it. Mrs. Whitcomb saw the lonely Ashtonrise and offer her the seat facing him. Mrs. Wellington took it andsat down with the back of her head so close to the back of Mr.Wellington's head that the feather in her hat tickled his neck.
Jimmie Wellington had seen his wife pass by. To his sober eyes she wasa fine sight as she moved up the aisle. In his alcohol-emancipatedmind the keen sense of wrong endured that had driven him forth to Renobegan to lose its edge. His own soul appealed from Jimmie drunk toJimmie sober. The appellate judge began to reverse the lower court'sdecision, point by point.
He felt a sudden recrudescence of jealousy as he heard Ashton's voiceunctuously, flirtatiously offering his wife hospitality. He wanted totrounce Ashton. But what right had he to defend from gallantry thewoman he was about to forswear before the world? Jimmie's soul was inturmoil, and Mrs. Whitcomb's pretty face and alluring smile onlyannoyed him.
She had made several gracious speeches before he quite comprehendedany of them. Then he realized that she was saying: "I'm so glad you'regoing to stop at Reno, Mr. Wellington."
"Thank you. So am I," he mumbled, trying to look interested andwishing that his wife's plume would not tickle his neck.
Mrs. Whitcomb went on, leaning closer: "We two poor mistreatedwretches must try to console one another, musn't we?"
"Yes,--yes,--we must," Wellington nodded, with a sickly cheer.
Mrs. Whitcomb leaned a little closer. "Do you know that I feel almostrelated to you, Mr. Wellington?"
"Related?" he echoed, "you?--to me? How?"
"My husband knew your wife so well."
Somehow a wave of jealous rage surged over him, and he growled: "Yourhusband is a scoundrel."
Mrs. Whitcomb's smile turned to vinegar: "Oh, I can't permit you toslander the poor boy behind his back. It was all your wife's fault."
Wellington amazed himself by his own bravery when he heard himselfvolleying back: "And I can't permit you to slander my wife behind herback. It was all your husband's fault."
Mrs. Jimmie overheard this behind her back, and it strangely thrilledher. She ignored Ashton's existence and listened for Mrs. Whitcomb'snext retort. It consisted of a simple, icy drawl: "I think I'll go tobreakfast."
She seemed to pick up Ashton with her eyes as she glided by, for,finding himself unnoticed, he rose with a careless: "I think I'll goto breakfast," and followed Mrs. Whitcomb. The Wellingtons sat_dos-a-dos_ for some exciting seconds, and then on a sudden impulse,Mrs. Jimmie rose, knelt in the seat and spoke across the back of it:
"It was very nice of you to defend me, Jimmie--er--James."
Wellington almost dislocated several joints in rising quickly andwhirling round at the cordiality of her tone. But his smile vanishedat her last word. He protested, feebly: "James sounds so like a--abutler. Can't you call me Little Jimmie again?"
Mrs. Wellington smiled indulgently: "Well, since it's the last time.Good-bye, Little Jimmie." And she put out her hand. He seized ithungrily and clung to it: "Good-bye?--aren't you getting off at Reno?"
"Yes, but----"
"So am I--Lucretia."
"But we can't afford to be seen together."
Still holding her hand, he temporized: "We've got to stay married forsix months at least--while we establish a residence. Couldn'twe--er--couldn't we establish a residence--er--together?"
Mrs. Wellington's eyes grew a little sad, as she answered: "It wouldbe too lonesome waiting for you to roll home."
Jimmie stared at her. He felt the regret in her voice and took strangecourage from it. He hauled from his pocket his huge flask, and saidquickly: "Well, if you're jealous of this, I'll promise to cork it upforever."
She shook her head skeptically: "You couldn't."
"Just to prove it," he said, "I'll chuck it out of the window." Heflung up the sash and made ready to hurl his enemy into the flyinglandscape.
"Bravo!" cried Mrs. Wellington.
But even as his hand was about to let go, he tightened his clutchagain, and pondered: "It seems a shame to waste it."
"I thought so," said Mrs. Jimmie, drooping perceptibly. Her husbandbegan to feel that, after all, she cared what became of him.
"I'll tell you," he said, "I'll give it to old Doc Temple. He takeshis straight."
"Fine!"
He turned towards the seat where the clergyman and his wife weresitting, oblivious of the drama of reconciliation playing so close athand. Little Jimmie paused, caressed the flask, and kissed it."Good-bye, old playmate!" Then, tossing his head with bravado, hereached out and touched the clergyman's shoulder. Dr. Temple turnedand rose with a questioning look. Wellington put the flask in his handand chuckled: "Merry Christmas!"
"But, my good man----" the preacher objected, finding in his hand adonation about as welcome and as wieldy as a strange baby. Wellingtonwinked: "It may come in handy for--your patients."
And now, struck with a sudden idea, Mrs. Wellington spoke: "Oh, Mrs.Temple."
"Yes, my dear," said the little old lady, rising. Mrs. Wellingtonplaced in her hand a small portfolio and laughed: "Happy New Year!"
Mrs. Temple stared at her gift and gasped: "Great heavens! Yourcigars!"
"They'll be such a consolation," Mrs. Wellington explained, "while theDoctor is out with his patients."
Dr. Temple and Mrs. Temple looked at each other in dismay, then at theflask and the cigars, then at the Wellingtons, then they stammered:"Thank you so much," and sank back, stupefied.
Wellington stared at his wife: "Lucretia, are you sincere?"
"Jimmie, I promise you I'll never smoke another cigar."
"My love!" he cried, and seized her hand. "You know I always said youwere a queen among women, Lucretia."
She beamed back at him: "And you always were the prince of goodfellows, Jimmie." Then she almost blushed as she murmured, almostshyly: "May I pour your coffee for you again this morning?"
"For life," he whispered, and they moved up the aisle, arm in arm,bumping from seat to seat and not knowing it.
When Mrs. Whitcomb, seated in the dining-car, saw Mrs. Little Jimmiepour Mr. Little Jimmie's coffee, she choked on hers. She vowed thatshe would not permit those odious Wellingtons to make fools of her andher Sammy. She resolved to telegraph Sammy that she had changed hermind about divorcing him, and order him to take the first train Westand meet her half-way on her journey home.