TOMMY AND THOMAS
IT was while Harry Lossing was at the High School that Mrs. Carriswoodfirst saw Tommy Fitzmaurice. He was not much to see, a long lad ofsixteen who had outgrown his jackets and was not yet grown to his ears.
At this period Mrs. Fitzmaurice was his barber, and she, having been toorash with the shears in one place, had snipped off the rest of his curlyblack locks "to match;" until he showed a perfect convict's poll, givinghis ears all the better chance, and bringing out the rather squarecontour of his jaws to advantage. He had the true Irish-Norman face; askin of fine texture, fair and freckled, high cheekbones, straight nose,and wide blue eyes that looked to be drawn with ink, because of theirsharply pencilled brows and long, thick, black lashes. But thefeature that Mrs. Carriswood noticed was Tommy's mouth, a flexible anddelicately cut mouth, of which the lips moved lightly in speaking andseldom were quite in repose.
"The genuine Irish orator's mouth," thought Mrs. Carriswood.
Tommy, however, was not a finished orator, and Mrs. Carriswood herselfdeigned to help him with his graduating oration; Tommy delivering theaforesaid oration from memory, on the stage of the Grand Opera House,to a warm-hearted and perspiring audience of his towns-people, amidtremendous applause and not the slightest prod-dings of conscience.
Really the speech deserved the applause; Mrs. Carriswood, who had heardhalf the eloquence of the world, spent three evenings on it; and she hasa good memory.
Her part in the affair always amused her; though, in fact, it came topass easily. She had the great fortune of the family. Being a widow withno children, and the time not being come when philanthropy beckons onthe right hand and on the left to free-handed women, Mrs. Carriswoodtravelled. As she expressed it, she was searching the globe for aperfect climate. "Not that I in the least expect to find it," said she,cheerfully, "but I like to vary my disappointments; when I get worn outbeing frozen, winters, I go somewhere to be soaked." She was on her wayto California this time, with her English maid, who gave the Lossingdomestics many a jolly moment by her inextinguishable panic about redIndians. Mrs. Derry supposed these savages to be lurking on the prairieoutside every Western town; and almost fainted when she did chanceto turn the corner upon three Kickapoo Indians, splendid in paint andfeathers, and peacefully vending the "Famous Kickapoo Sagwa." She hadothers of the artless notions of the travelling English, and I fear thatthey were encouraged not only by the cook, the "second girl," and theman-of-all-work, but by Harry and his chum, Tommy; I know she used totell how she saw tame buffalo "roosting" on the streets, "w'ich they dolook that like common cows a body couldn't tell 'em hapart!"
She had a great opinion of Tommy, a mystery to her mistress for a longtime, until one day it leaked out that Tommy "and Master Harry, too,"had told her that Tommy's great-grandfather was a lord in the oldcountry.
"The family seem to have sunk in the world since, Derry," was Mrs.Carriswood's single remark, as she smiled to herself. After Derry wasdismissed she picked up a letter, written that day to a friend of hers,and read some passages about Harry and Tommy, smiling again.
"Harry"--one may look over her pretty shoulder without impertinence, ina story--"Harry," she wrote, "is a boy that I long to steal. Just thekind of boy we have both wanted, Sarah--frank, happy, affectionate. Imust tell you something about him. It came out by accident. He has theWestern business instincts, and what do you suppose he did? He actuallystarted a wee shop of his own in the corner of the yard (really it isa surprisingly pretty place, and they are quite civilized in the house,gas, hot water, steam heat, all most comfortable), and sold 'pop' andcandy and cakes to the boys. He made so much money that he proposed apartnership to the cook and the setting up a little booth in the 'countyfair,' which is like our rural cattle shows, you know. The cook (asuperior person who borrows books from Mrs. Lossing, but seems verydecent and respectful notwithstanding, and broils game to perfection.And SUCH game as we have here, Sarah!)--well, the cook made himcream-cakes, sandwiches, tarts, and candy, and Harry honorably boughtall the provisions with his profits from the first venture. You willopen your eyes at his father permitting such a thing, but Henry Lossingis a thorough Westerner in some ways, and he looks on it all as a joke.'Might show the boy how to do business,' he says.
"Well, they had a ravishing display, so Alma, the cook, and William, theman, assured me--per Derry. All the sadder its fate; for alas! a gangof rowdy boys fell upon Harry, and while he was busy fighting half ofthem--he is as plucky as his uncle, the general--the other half lootedthe beautiful stock in trade! They would have despoiled our poor littlemerchant entirely but for the opportune arrival of a schoolmate whois mightily respected by the rowdies. He knocked one of them down andshouted after the others that he would give every one of them a goodthrashing if they did not bring the plunder back; and as he is known tobe a lad of his word for good or evil, actually the scamps did returnmost of the booty, which the two boys brushed off and sold, as far as itwent (!) The consequence of the fray has been that Harry is unboundedlygrateful to this Tommy Fitzmaurice, and is at present coaching him onhis graduating oration. Fitzmaurice has studied hard and won honors, andwants to make a show with his oration, to please his father. 'You see,'says Harry, 'Tommy's father has saved money and is spending it all onTommy, so's he can be educated. He needs Tommy in the business realbad, but he won't let him come in; he keeps him at school, and he thinkseverything of his getting the valedictory, and Tommy, he worked nightsstudying to get it.' When I asked what was the father's business, Harrygrew a bit confused. 'Well, he kept a saloon; but'--Harry hastened toexplain--'it was a very nice saloon, never any trouble with the policethere; why, Tommy knew every man on the force. And they keep goodliquors, too,' said Harry, earnestly; 'throw away all the beer left inthe glasses.' 'What else would they do with it?' asked innocent I. 'Why,keep it in a bucket,' said Harry, solemnly, 'and then slip the glassunder the counter and half fill out of the bucket, then hold it underthe keg LOW, so's the foam will come; that's a trick of the trade, youknow. Tommy says his father would SCORN that!' There is a vista opened,isn't there? I was rather shocked at such associates for Harry, and toldhis mother. Did she think it a good idea to have such a boy coming tothe house? a saloon-keeper's son? She did not laugh, as I half expected,but answered quite seriously that she had been looking up Tommy, thathe was very much attached to Harry, and that she did not think he wouldteach him anything bad. He has, I find myself, notions of honor, thoughthey are rather the code of the street. And he picks up things quickly.Once he came to tea. It was amusing to see how he glued his eyes onHarry and kept time with his motions. He used his fork quite properly,only as Harry is a left-handed little fellow, the right-handed Thomashad the more difficulty.
"He is taking such vast pains with his 'oration' that I felt moved tohelp him. The subject is 'The Triumph of Democracy,' and Tommy civillyexplained that 'democracy' did not mean the Democratic party, but 'justonly a government where all the poor folks can get their rights and canvote.'
"The oration was the kind of spread-eagle thing you might expect; Ican see that Tommy has formed himself on the orators of his father'srespectable saloon. What he said in comment interested me more. 'Sure, Iguess it is the best government, ma'am, though, of course, I got to makeit out that way, anyhow. But we come from Ireland, and there they gotthe other kind, and me granny, she starved in the famine time, she didthat--with the fever. Me father walked twenty mile to the Sackville'splace, where they gave him some meal, though he wasn't one of theirtenants; yes, and the lady told him how he would be cooking it. I neverwill forget that lady!'
"I saw a dramatic opportunity: would Tommy be willing to tell that storyin his speech? He looked at me with an odd look--or so I imagined it!'Why not?' says he; 'I'd as soon as not tell it to anyone of them, andwhy not to them all together?' Well, why not, when you come to thinkof it? So we have got it into the speech; and I, I myself, Sarah, amdrilling young Demos-thenes, and he is so apt a scholar that I findmyself rather pleasantly employed." Hav
ing read her letter, Mrs.Carriswood hesitated a second and then added Derry's information atthe bottom of the page. "I suppose the lordly ancestor was one of KingJames's creation--see Macaulay, somewhere in the second volume. I daresay there is a drop or two of good blood in the boy. He has the mannersof a gentleman--but I don't know that I ever saw an Irishman, no matterhow low in the social scale, who hadn't."
Thus it happened that Tommy's valedictory scored a success that is atradition of the High School, and came to be printed in both the citypapers; copies of which journals Tommy's mother has preserved sacredlyto this day; and I have no doubt, could one find them, they would befound wrapped around a yellow photograph of the "A Class" of 1870: eightpretty girls in white, smiling among five solemn boys in black, andTommy himself, as the valedictorian, occupying the centre of the picturein his new suit of broadcloth, with a rose in his buttonhole and hishair cut by a professional barber for the occasion.
It was the story of the famine that really captured the audience; andTommy told it well, with the true Irish fire, in a beautiful voice.
In the front seat of the parquette a little old man in a wrinkled blackbroadcloth, with a bald head and a fringe of whisker under his longchin, and a meek little woman, in a red Paisley shawl, wept and laughedby turns. They had taken the deepest interest in every essay and everyspeech. The old man clapped his large hands (which were encased inloose, black kid gloves) with unflagging vigor. He wore a pair of heavyboots, the soles of which made a noble thud on the floor.
"Ain't it wonderful the like of them young craters can talk like that!"he cried; "shure, Molly, that young lady who'd the essay--where isit?"--a huge black forefinger travelled down the page--"'_Music, TheTurkish Patrol_,' No--though that's grand, that piece; I'll be spakin'wid Professor Von Keinmitz to bring it when we've the opening. Here'tis, Molly: '_Tin, Essay. The Darkest Night Brings Out the Stars,Miss Mamie Odenheimer_.' Thrue for you, mavourneen! And the sintiments,wasn't they illigant? and the lan-gwidge was as foine as Pat Ronan'sspeeches or Father--whist! will ye look at the flowers that shlip of agyirl's gitting! Count 'em, will ye?"
"Fourteen bouquets and wan basket," says the little woman, "and MamieOdenheimer, she got seventeen bouquets and two baskets and a sign.Well," she looked anxious, but smiled, "I know of siven bouquets Tommywill git for sure. And that's not countin' what Harry Lossing will dofor him. Hiven bless the good heart of him!"
"Well, I kin count four for him on wan seat," says the man, with a nodof his head toward the gay heap in the woman's lap, "barrin' I ain'ton-vaygled into flinging some of thim to the young ladies!"
Harry Lossing, in the seat behind with his mother and Mrs. Carriswood,giggled at this and whispered in the latter lady's ear, "That's Tommy'sfather and mother. My, aren't they excited, though! And Tommy's white'sa sheet--for fear he'll disappoint them, you know. He has said his pieceover twice to me, to-day, he's so scared lest he'll forget. I've got itin my pocket, and I'm going behind when it's his turn, to prompt him.Did you see me winking at him? it sort of cheers him up."
He was almost as keen over the floral procession as the Fitzmauricesthemselves. The Lossing garden had been stripped to the last bud, andlevies made on the asparagus-bed, into the bargain, and Mrs. Lossing andAlma and Mrs. Carriswood and Derry and Susy Lossing had made bouquetsand baskets and wreaths, and Harry had distributed them among friendsin different parts of the house. I say Harry, but, complimented by Mrs.Carriswood, he admitted ingenuously that it was Tommy's idea.
"Tommy thought they would make more show that way," says Harry, "andthey are all on the middle aisle, so his father and mother can see them;Tim O'Halloran has got one for him, too, and Mrs. Macillarney, and she'sgot some splendid pinies. Picked every last one. They'll make a show!"
But Harry knew nothing of the most magnificent of his friend's trophiesuntil it undulated gloriously down the aisle, above the heads of twomen, white satin ribbons flying, tinfoil shining--an enormous horseshoeof roses and mignonette!
The parents were both on their feet to crane their necks after it, as itpassed them amid the plaudits.
"Oh, it was YOU, Cousin Margaret; I know it was you," cried Harry.
He took the ladies over to the Fitzmaurices the minute that the diplomaswere given; and, directly, Tommy joined them, attended by two admiringfollowers laden with the trophies. Mrs. O'Halloran and Mrs. Macillarneyand divers of the friends, both male and female, joined the circle.Tommy held quite a little court. He shook hands with all the ladies,beginning with Mrs. Carriswood (who certainly never had found herselfbefore in such a company, jammed between Alderman McGinnis's resplendentnew tweeds and Mrs. Macillarney's calico); he affectionately embracedhis mother, and he allowed himself to be embraced by Mrs. Macillarneyand Mrs. O'Halloran, while Patrick Fitzmaurice shook hands with thealderman.
"Here's the lady that helped me on me piece, father; she's the ladythat sent me the horseshoe, mother. Like to make you acquainted with mefather and me mother. Mr. and Mrs. Fitzmaurice, Mrs. Carriswood."
In these words, Tommy, blushing and happy, presented his happy parents.
"Sure, I'm proud to meet you, ma'am," said Fitzmaurice, bowing, whilehis wife courtesied and wiped her eyes.
They were very grateful, but they were more grateful for the flowersthan for the oratorical drilling. No doubt they thought that their Tommycould have done as well in any case; but the splendid horseshoe wasanother matter!
Ten years passed before Mrs. Carriswood saw her pupil again. Duringthose years the town had increased and prospered; so had the Lossing ArtFurniture Works. It was after Harry Lossing had disappointed his father.This is not saying that he had done anything out of the way; he hadsimply declined to be the fourth Harry Lossing on the rolls of HarvardCollege. Instead, he proposed to enter the business and to begin bylearning his own trade. He was so industrious, he kept at it with suchenergy that his first convert was his father--no, I am wrong, Mrs.Carriswood was the first; Mrs. Lossing was not a convert, SHE hadbelieved in Harry from the beginning. But all this was years before Mrs.Carriswood's visit.
Another of Master Harry's notions was his belief in the necessity of his"meddling"--so his father put it--in the affairs of the town, the state,and the nation, as well as those of the Lossing furniture company. But,though he was pleased to make rather cynical fun of his son'spolitical enthusiasm, esteeming it in a sense a diverting and thereforereprehensible pursuit for a business man, the elder Lossing had asneaking pride in it, all the same. He liked to bring out Harry'spolitical shrewdness.
"Fancy, Margaret," says he, "whom do you think Harry has brought overto our side now? The shrewdest ward politician in the town--why, you sawhim when he was a boy--Tommy Fitzmaurice."
Then Mrs. Carriswood remembered; she asked, amused, how was Tommy andwhere was he?
"Tommy? Oh, he went to the State university; the old man was bound tosend him, and he was more dutiful than some sons. He was graduated withhonors, and came back to a large, ready-made justice court's practice.Of course he drifted into criminal practice; but he has made a fineincome out of that, and is the shrewdest, some folks say the leastscrupulous, political manager in the county. And so, Harry, you havepersuaded him to cast in his lot with the party of principle, have you?and he is packing the primaries?"
"I see nothing dishonest in our trying to get our friends out to vote atthe primaries, sir."
"Of course not, but he may not stop there. However, I want Baileyelected, and I am glad he will work for us; what's his price?"
Harry blushed a little. "I believe he would like to be city attorney,sir," said he; and Mr. Lossing laughed.
"Would he make a bad one?" asked Mrs. Carriswood.
"He would make the best kind of a one," replied Harry, with youthfulfervor; "he's a ward politician and all that, I know; but he has it inhim to be an uncommon deal more! And I say, sir, do you know that heand the old man will take twenty-five thousand of the stock at par if weturn ourselves into a corporation?"
"How about this n
ew license measure? won't that bear a little bit hardon the old man?" This from Mr. Lossing, who was biting his cigar in deepthought.
"That will not prevent his doing his duty; why, the old man for verypride will be the first to obey the law. You'll SEE!"
Six months later they did see, since it was mostly due to Fitzmaurice'sefforts that the reform candidate was elected; as a consequence, Tommybecame prosecuting attorney; and, to the amazement of the critics, madethe best prosecuting attorney that the city had ever known.
It was during the campaign that Mrs. Carriswood met him. Hergoddaughter, daughter of the friend to whom years ago she describedTommy, was with her. This time Mrs. Carriswood had recently addedFlorida to her disappointments in climates, and was back, as she toldMrs. Lossing, "with a real sense of relief in a climate that was too badto make any pretensions."
She had brought Miss Van Harlem to see the shops. It may be that shewould not have been averse to Harry Lossing's growing interested inyoung Margaret. She had seen a great deal of Harry while he was East atschool, and he remained her first favorite, while Margaret was as goodas she was pretty, and had half a million of dollars in her own right.They had seen Harry, and he was showing them through the differentbuildings or "shops," when a man entered who greeted him cordially, andwhom he presented to Mrs. Carriswood. It was Tommy Fitzmaurice, growninto a handsome young man. He brought his heels together and made theladies a solemn bow. "Pleased to meet you, ladies; how do you like theWest?" said Tommy.
His black locks curled about his ears, which seemed rather small now;he had a good nose and a mobile, clean-shaven face. His hands were verywhite and soft, and the rim of linen above them was dazzling. His blackfrock-coat was buttoned snugly about his slim waist. He brushed his facewith a fine silk handkerchief, and thereby diffused the fragrance of thebest imported cologne among the odors of wood and turpentine. A diamondpin sparkled from his neckscarf. The truth is, he knew that the visitorswere coming and had made a state toilet. "He looks half like an actorand half like a clergyman, and he IS all a politician," thought Mrs.Carriswood; "I don't think I shall like him any more." While shethought, she was inclining her slender neck toward him, and the gentlestinterest and pleasure beamed out of her beautiful, dark eyes.
"We like the West, but _I_ have liked it for ten years; this is not myfirst visit," said Mrs. Carriswood.
"I have reason to be glad for that, madam. I never made another speechso good."
He had remembered her; she laughed. "I had thought that you wouldforget."
"How could I, when you have not changed at all?"
"But you have," says Mrs. Carriswood, hardly knowing whether to show theyoung man his place or not.
"Yes, ma'am, naturally. But I have not learned how to make a speechyet."
"Ah, but you make very good ones, Harry tells me."
"Much obliged, Harry. No, ma'am, Harry is a nice boy; but he doesn'tknow. I know there is a lot to learn, and I guess a lot to unlearn; andI feel all outside; I don't even know how to get at it. I have wished athousand times that I could talk with the lady who taught me to speak inthe first place." He walked on by her side, talking eagerly. "You don'tknow how many times I have felt I would give most anything for theopportunity of just seeing you and talking with you; those things yousaid to me I always remembered." He had a hundred questions evidentlystinging his tongue. And some of them seemed to Mrs. Carriswood veryapposite.
"I'm on the outside of such a lot of things," says he. "When I firstbegan to suspect that I was on the outside was when I went to theHigh School, and sometimes I was invited to Harry's; that was my firstacquaintance with cultivated society. You can't learn manners frombooks, ma'am. I learned them at Harry's. That is,"--he colored andlaughed,--"I learned SOME. There's plenty left, I know. Then, I went tothe University. Some of the boys came from homes like Harry's, andsome of the professors there used to ask us to their houses; and I sawengravings and oil paintings, and heard the conversation of persons ofculture. All this only makes me know enough to KNOW I am outside. I cansee the same thing with the lawyers, too. There is a set of them thatare after another kind of things; that think themselves above me and mysort of fellows. You know all the talk about this being a free and equalcountry. That's the tallest kind of humbug, madam! It is that. There aresets, one above another, everywhere; big bugs and little bugs, if youwill excuse the expression. And you can't influence the big ones withoutknowing how they feel. A fellow can't be poking in the dark in a speechor anywhere else. Now, these fellows here, they go into politics,sometimes; and there, I tell you, we come the nearest to a fairfield and no favor! It is the best fellow gets the prize there--thesharpest-witted, the nerviest, and stanchest. Oh, talk of machinepolitics! all the soft chaps who ain't willing to get up early in themorning, or to go out in the wet, THEY howl about the primaries andcorruption; let them get up and clean the primaries instead of holdingtheir noses! Those fellows, I'm not nice enough for them, but I can beatthem every time. They make a monstrous racket in the newspapers, butwhen election comes on they can't touch side, edge, or bottom!"
Discoursing in this fashion, with digressions to Harry in regard to themachines, the furniture, and the sales, that showed Mrs. Carriswood thathe meant to keep an eye on his twenty odd thousand dollars, he strolledat her side. To Miss Van Harlem he scarcely said three words. In fact,he said exactly three words, uttered as Miss Margaret's silken skirtsswung too near a pot of varnish. They were "Look out, miss!" and at thesame second, Tommy (who was in advance, with really no call to know ofthe danger), turned on his heel and whisked the skirts away, turningback to pick up the sentence he had dropped.
Tommy told Harry that Miss Van Harlem was a very handsome lady, buthaughty-looking. Then he talked for half an hour about the cleverness ofMrs. Carriswood.
"I am inclined to think Tommy will rise." (Mrs. Carriswood wasdescribing the interview to her cousin, the next day.) "What doyou think he said to me last of all? 'How,' said he, 'does a man, agentleman'--it had a touch of the pathetic, don't you know, the littlehesitation he made on the word--'how does he show his gratitude to alady who has done him a great service?' 'Young or old?' I said. 'Oh, amarried lady,' he said, 'very much admired, who has been everywhere.'Wasn't that clever of him? I told him that a man usually sent a fewflowers. You saw the basket to-day--evidently regardless of expense. Andfancy, there was a card, a card with a gilt edge and his name written onit."
"The card was his mother's. She has visiting cards, now, and pays visitsonce a year in a livery carriage. Poor Mrs. Fitzmaurice, she is alwaysso scared; and she is such a good soul! Tommy is very good to her."
"How about the father? Does he still keep that 'nice' saloon?"
"Yes; but he talks of retiring. They are not poor at all, and Tommy istheir only child; the others died. It is hard on the old man to retire,for he isn't so very old in fact, but if he once is convinced thathis calling stands in the way of Tommy's career, he won't hesitate asecond."
"Poor people," said Mrs. Carriswood; "do you know, Grace, I can seeTommy's future; he will grow to be a boss, a political boss. He willbecome rich by keeping your streets always being cleaned--which meansnever clean--and giving you the worst fire department and police to beobtained for money; and, by and by, a grateful machine will make himmayor, or send him to the Legislature, very likely to Congress, where hewill misrepresent the honest State of Iowa. Then he will bloom out in asocial way, and marry a gentlewoman, and they will snub the old peoplewho are so proud of him."
"Well, we shall see," said Mrs. Lossing; "I think better things ofTommy. So does Harry."
Part of the prophecy was to be speedily fulfilled. Two years later, theHonorable Thomas Fitzmaurice was elected mayor of his city, elected bythe reform party, on account of his eminent services--and because he wasthe only man in sight who had the ghost of a chance of winning. Harry'sversion was: "Tommy jests at his new principles, but that is simplybecause he doesn't comprehend what they are. He laughs at reform in theabstract; but every
concrete, practical reform he is as anxious as I oranybody to bring about. And he will get them here, too."
He was as good as his word; he gave the city an admirableadministration, with neither fear nor favor. Some of the "boys" stillclung to him; these, according to Harry, were the better "boys," whohad the seeds of good in them and only needed opportunity and a leader.Tommy did not flag in zeal; rather, as the time went on and he soaredout of the criminal courts into big civil cases involving property,he grew up to the level of his admirers' praises. "Tommy," wrote Mr.Lossing, presently, "is beginning to take himself seriously. He has beentold so often that he is a young lion of reform, that he begins to studythe role in dead earnest. I don't talk this way to Harry, who believesin him and is training him for the representative for our district. Whatharm? Verily, his is the faith that will move mountains. Besides, Tommyis now rich; he must be worth a hundred thousand dollars, which makes aman of wealth in these parts. It is time for him to be respectable."
Notwithstanding this preparation, Mrs. Carriswood (then givingWashington the benefit of her doubts of climate) was surprised one dayto receive a perfectly correct visiting card whereon was engraved, "Mr.Thomas Sackville Fitzmaurice, M.C."
The young lady who was with her lifted her brilliant hazel eyes and halfsmiled. "Is it the droll young man we met once at Mrs. Lossing's? Praysee him, Aunt Margaret," said Miss Van Harlem.
Mrs. Carriswood shrugged her shoulders and ordered the man to show himup.
There entered, in the wake of the butler, a distinguished-lookingpersonage who held out his hand with a perfect copy of the bow thatshe saw forty times a day. "He is taking himself very seriously," shesighed; "he is precisely like anybody else!" And she felt her interestsnuffed out by Tommy's correctness. But, directly, she changed her mind;the unfailing charm of his race asserted itself in Tommy; she decidedthat he was a delightful, original young man, and in ten minutes theywere talking in the same odd confidence that had always marked theirrelation.
"How perfectly you are gotten up! Are you INSIDE, now?"
"Ah, do you remember that?" said he; "that's awfully good of you. Whichis so fortunate as to please you, my clothes or my deportment?"
"Both. They are very good. Where did you get them, Tommy? I shall takethe privilege of my age and call you Tommy."
"Thank you. The clothes? Oh, I asked Harry for the proper thing, and herecommended a tailor. I think Harry gave me the manners, too."
"And your new principles?" She could not resist this little fling.
"I owe a great deal in that way to Harry, also," answered he, withgravity.
Gone were the days of sarcastic ridicule, of visionary politics.Tommy talked of the civil service in the tone of Harry himself. He wasactually eloquent.
"Why, Aunt Margaret, he is a remarkable young man," exclaimed Miss VanHarlem; "his honesty and enthusiasm are refreshing in this pessimistplace. I hope he will come again. Did you notice what lovely eyes hehas?"
Before long it was not pure good-nature that caused Mrs. Carriswood toask Fitzmaurice to her house. He was known as a rising young man, Onemet him at the best houses; yet he was a prodigious worker, and had madehis mark in committees, before the celebrated speech that sent him intoall the newspaper columns, or that stubborn and infinitely versatilefight against odds which inspired the artist of PUCK.
Tommy bore the cartoon to Mrs. Carriswood, beaming. She had not seenthat light in his face since the memorable June afternoon in theOpera-house. He sent the paper to his mother, who vowed the picture "didnot favor Tommy at all, at all. Sure Tommy never had such a red nose!"The old man, however, went to his ex-saloon, and sat in state all themorning, showing Tommy's funny picture.
It was about this time that Mrs. Carriswood observed something that tookher breath away: Tommy Fitzmaurice had the presumption to be attentiveto my lady's goddaughter, Miss Van Harlem. Nor was this the worst; therewere indications that Miss Van Harlem, who had refused the noble namesand titles of two or three continental nobles, and the noble nameunaccompanied by a title of the younger son of an English earl, withoutmentioning the half-dozen "nice" American claimants--Miss Van Harlem wasnot angry.
The day this staggering blow fell on her, Mrs. Carriswood was in herdressing-room, peacefully watching Derry unpack a box from Paris, inanticipation of a state dinner. And Miss Van Harlem, in a bewitchingwrapper, sat on the lounge and admired. Upon this scene of femininepeace and happiness enter the Destroyer, in the shape of a note fromTommy Fitzmaurice! Were they going on Beatoun's little excursion toAlexandria? If they were, he would move heaven and earth to put off acommittee meeting, in order to join them. By the way, he was to get thefloor for his speech that afternoon. Wouldn't Mrs. Carriswood come toinspire him? Perhaps Miss Van Harlem would not be bored by a little ofit.
It was a well-worded note; as Mrs. Carriswood read it she realizedfor the first time how completely Tommy was acclimated in society. Sheremembered his plaint years ago, and his awe of "oil paintings" and"people of culture;" and she laughed half-sadly as she passed the noteover to Miss Van Harlem.
"I presume it is the Alexandria excursion that the Beatouns were talkingabout yesterday," she said, languidly. "He wants to show that youngIrishman that we have a mild flavor of antiquity, ourselves. We are tosee Alexandria and have a real old Virginian dinner, including oneof the famous Beatoun hams and some of the '69 Chateau Yquem and thesacred '47 port. I suppose he will have the four-in-hand buckboard.'A small party '--that will mean the Honorable Basil Sackville, Mrs.Beatoun, Lilly Denning, probably one of the Cabinet girls, ColonelTurner, and that young Russian Beatoun is so fond of, TommyFitzmaurice------"
"Why do you always call Mr. Fitzmaurice Tommy?"--this interruption comeswith a slight rise of color from young Margaret.
"Everybody calls him Tommy in his own town; a politician as popular ashe with the boys is naturally Tommy or Jerry or Billy. They slap him onthe back or sit with an arm around his neck and concoct the ways to ruleus."
"I don't think anyone slaps Mr. Fitzmaurice on the back and calls himTommy, NOW," says Margaret, with a little access of dignity.
"I dare say his poor old father and mother don't venture on thatliberty; I wish you had seen them----"
"He has told me about them," says Margaret.
And Mrs. Carriswood's dismay was such that for a second she simplygasped. Were things so far along that such confessions were made?Tommy must be very confident to venture; it was shrewd, very shrewd,to forestall Mrs. Carriswood's sure revelations--oh, Tommy was not apolitician for nothing!
"Besides," Margaret went on, with the same note of repressed feeling inher voice, "his is a good family, if they have decayed; his ancestor wasLord Fitzmaurice in King James's time."
"She takes HIM seriously too!" thought Mrs. Carriswood, withinexpressible consternation; "what SHALL I say to her mother?"
Strange to say, perhaps, considering that she was so frankly a woman ofthe world, her stub-bornest objection to Tommy was not an objection ofexpediency. She had insensibly grown to take his success for granted,like the rest of the Washington world; he would be a governor, asenator, he might be--anything! And he was perfectly presentable, now;no, it would be on the whole an investment in the future that would paywell enough; his parents would be awkward, but they were old people, notlikely to be too much _en evidence_.
Mrs. Carriswood, while not overjoyed, would not feel crushed by such amatch, but she did view what she regarded as Tommy's moral instability,with a dubious and fearful eye. He was earnest enough for his newprinciples now; but what warrant was there of his sincerity? Margaretand her mother were high-minded women. It was the gallant knight of herparty and her political faith that the girl admired, the valiant fight,not the triumph! No mere soldier of fortune, no matter how successfulor how brilliant, could win her; if Tommy were the mercenary, not theknight, no worldly glory could compensate his wife.
Wherefore, after a bad quarter of an hour reflecting on these things,Mrs. Carriswood went to the Capitol
, resolved to take her goddaughteraway. She would not withdraw her acceptance of the Beatouns' invitation,no; let the Iowa congressman have every opportunity to display hissocial shortcomings in contrast with the accomplished Russian, and JackTurner, the most elegant man in the army; the next day would be timeenough for a telegram and a sudden flitting. Yet in the midst of herplans for Tommy's discomfiture she was assailed by a queer regret andreluctance. Tommy's fascination had affected even a professional criticof life; he had been so amusing, so willing, so trusting, so useful,that her chill interest had warmed into liking. She felt a moving ofthe heart as the handsome black head arose, and the first notes of thatresonant, thrilling voice swelled above the din on the floor.
It was the day of his great speech, the speech that made him, it wassaid.
As Mrs. Carriswood sank back, turning a little in an instinctive effortto repulse her own sympathy, she was aware of the presence near herof an elderly man and woman. The old man wore a shining silk hat andshining new black clothes. His expansive shirt-bosom was very white, butnot glossy, and rumpled in places; and his collar was of the spiked andantique pattern known as a "dickey." His wrinkled, red face was edged bya white fringe of whisker. He wore large gold-bowed spectacles, and hisjaws worked incessantly.
The woman was a little, mild, wrinkled creature, with an anxious blueeye and snowy hair, smoothed down over her ears, under her fine bonnet.She was richly dressed, but her silks and velvets ill suited theseason. Had she seen them anywhere else, Mrs. Carriswood might nothave recognized them; but there, with Tommy before them, both of themfeverishly absorbed in Tommy, she recognized them at a glance. She hada twinge of pity, watching the old faces pale and kindle. With the firstrustle of applause, she saw the old father slip his hand into theold mother's. They sat well behind a pillar; and however excited theybecame, they never so lost themselves as to lean in front of theirshield. This, also, she noticed. The speech over, the woman wiped hereyes. The old man joined in the tumult of applause that swept over thegalleries, but the old woman pulled his arm, evidently feeling that itwas not decent for them to applaud. She sat rigid, with red cheeks andher eyes brimming; he was swaying and clapping and laughing in a roar ofdelight. But it was he that drew her away, finally, while she fain wouldhave lingered to look at Tommy receiving congratulations below.
"Poor things," said Mrs. Carriswood, "I do believe they haven't let himknow that they are here." And she remembered how she had pitied themfor this very possibility of humiliation years before. But she did notpursue the adventure, and some obscure motive prevented her speaking ofit to Miss Van Harlem.
Did Tommy's parents tell Tommy? If they did, Tommy made no sign. Themorning found him with the others, in a beautiful white flannel suit,with a silk shirt and a red silk sash, looking handsomer than any man ofthe party. He took the congratulations of the company modestly. Eitherhe was not much puffed up, or he had the art of concealment.
They saw Alexandria in a conscientious fashion, for the benefit of theguest of the day. He was a modest young fellow with a nose rather toolarge for his face, a long upper lip, and frank blue eyes. He madehimself agreeable to one of the Cabinet girls, on the front seat, whileTommy, just behind him, had Miss Van Harlem and bliss for his portion.
The old streets, the toppling roofs, the musty warehouses, the unevenpavement, all pleased the young creatures out in the sunshine. They mademerry over the ancient ball-room, where Washington had asked a far-awayancestress of Beatoun to dance; and they decorously walked through theold church.
IT happened in the church. Mrs. Carriswood was behind the others; so shesaw them come in, the same little old couple of the Capitol.
In the chancel, Beatoun was explaining; beside Beatoun shone a curlyblack head that they knew.
Mrs. Carriswood sat in one of the high old pews. Through a crack shecould look into the next pew; and there they stood. She heard the oldman: "Whist, Molly, let's be getting out of this! HE is here with allhis grand friends. Don't let us be interrupting him."
The old woman's voice was so like Tommy's that it made Mrs. Carriswoodstart. Very softly she spoke: "I only want to look at him a minute, Pat,jest a minute. I ain't seen him for so long."
"And is it any longer for you than for me?" retorted the husband. "Yeknow what ye promised if I'd be taking you here, unbeknownst. Don't lookhis way! Look like ye was a stranger to him. Don't let us be mortifyinghim wid our country ways. Like as not 'tis the prisidint, himself, heis colloguein' wid, this blessed minute. Shtep back and be a stranger tohim, woman!"
A stranger to him, his own mother! But she stepped back; she turned herpatient face. Then--Tommy saw her.
A wave of red flushed all over his face. He took two steps down theaisle, and caught the little figure in his arms.
"Why, mother?" he cried, "why, mother, where did you drop from?"
And before Mrs. Carriswood could speak she saw him step back and pushyoung Sackville forward, crying, "This is my father, this is the boythat knew your grandmother."
He did it so easily; he was so entirely unaffected, so perfectlyunconscious, that there was nothing at all embarrassing for anyone. Eventhe Cabinet girl, with a grandmother in very humble life, who must bekept in the background, could not feel disconcerted.
For this happy result Mrs. Carriswood owns a share of the credit. Sheadvanced on the first pause, and claimed acquaintanceship with theFitzmaurices. The story of their last meeting and Tommy's first triumphin oratory came, of course; the famous horseshoe received due mention;and Tommy described with much humor his terror of the stage. From thespeech to its most effective passage was a natural transition; equallynatural the transition to Tommy's grandmother, the Irish famine, and thebenevolence of Lady Sackville.
Everybody was interested, and it was Sackville himself, who brought theFitzmaurices' noble ancestors, the apocryphal Viscounts Fitzmaurice ofKing James's creation, on to the carpet.
He was entirely serious. "My grandmother told me of yourgreat-grandfather, Lord Fitzmaurice; she saw him ride to hounds once,when she was a little girl. They say he was the boldest rider inIreland, and a renowned duellist too. King James gave the title to hisgrandfather, didn't he? and the countryside kept it, if it was givenrather too late in the day to be useful. I am glad you have restored thefamily fortunes, Mr. Fitzmaurice."
The Cabinet girl looked on Tommy with respect, and Miss Van Harlemblushed like an angel.
"All is lost," said Mrs. Carriswood to herself; yet she smiled. Goinghome, she found a word for Tommy's ear. The old Virginian dinner hadbeen most successful. The Fitzmaurices (who had been almost forced intothe banquet by Beatoun's imperious hospitality) were not a wet blanketin the least. Patrick Fitzmaurice, brogue and all, was an Irishgentleman without a flaw. He blossomed out into a modest wag; and toldtwo or three comic stories as acceptably as he was used to tell them toa very different circle--only, carrying a fresher flavor of wit to thiscircle, perhaps, it enjoyed them more. Mrs. Fitzmaurice looked scaredand ate almost nothing, with the greatest propriety, and her fork in herleft hand. Yet even she thawed under Miss Van Harlem's attentions andgentle Mrs. Beatoun's tact, and the winning ways of the last Beatounbaby. She took this absent cherub to her heart with such undissembledwarmth that its mother ever since has called her "a sweet, funny littleold lady."
They were both (Patrick and his wife) quite unassuming and retiring,and no urging could dissuade them from parting with the company at thetavern door.
"My word, Tommy, your mother and I can git home by ourselves," whisperedhonest Patrick; "we've not exceeded--if the wines WERE good. I neverexceeded in my life, God take the glory!"
But he embraced Tommy so affectionately in parting that I confess Mrs.Carriswood had suspicions. Yet, surely, it is more likely that his brainwas--let us not say TURNED, but just a wee bit TILTED, by the joy andtriumph of the occasion rather than by Beatoun's port or champagne.
But Mrs. Carriswood's word had nothing to do with Tommy's parents,ostensibly, though, in truth, it had ev
erything to do. She said: "Willyou dine with us to-morrow, quite _en famille_, Thomas?"
"I ought to tell you, I suppose, that I find your house a prettydangerous paradise, Mrs. Carriswood," says Tommy.
"And I find you a most dangerous angel, Thomas; but--you see I ask you!"
"Thank you," answers Tommy, in a different tone; "you've always beenan angel to me. What I owe to you and Harry Lossing--well, I can'ttalk about it. But see here, Mrs. Carriswood, you always have called meTommy; now you say Thomas; why this state?"
"I think you have won your brevet, Thomas."
He looked puzzled, and she liked him the better that he should not makeenough of his conduct to understand her; but, though she has called himTommy often since, he keeps the brevet in her thoughts. In fact, Mrs.Carriswood is beginning to take the Honorable Thomas Fitzmaurice and hisplace in the world seriously, herself.