Shorty McCabe on the Job

  CHAPTER XIX

  A LITTLE WHILE WITH ALVIN

  I can't say just how I got roped in; whether it was me that discoveredAlvin, or him who took to me. Must have been some my fault; for here wasa whole subway car full of people, and I'm the one he seems to pick. Imight lay it to an odd break, only things of that kind has happened tome so often.

  Anyway, here I am, doin' the strap-swingin' act patient, without makin'any mad dash for a seat at stations, but hangin' on and watchin' thecrowds shift sort of curious. You might as well, you know; for if you doget a chance to camp down durin' the rush hours, along comes some fatlady and stands puffin' in front of you, or a thin, tired lookin' onewho glares at you over the top of your paper. But if you're a standeeyourself you feel free to look any of 'em in the eye.

  And, say, ain't we a glum, peevish, sour lookin' lot, here in New York?You'd most think that showin' any signs of good nature was violatin' acity ordinance, and that all our dispositions had been treated withacetic acid. Why, by the suspicious looks we give the stranger who rubselbows with us, you might suppose our population was ninety per cent.escaped criminals.

  As the idea struck me I may have loosened my mouth corners a little, ormay not. Anyway, as we pulls into 72d-st., and the wild scramble tocatch a packed express begins, I finds myself gazin' absentminded atthis slim, stoop-shouldered gent in the corner. Next thing I know he'ssmilin' friendly and pointin' to a vacant seat alongside.

  First off, of course, I thinks he must be someone I've met casual andforgot; but as I slides in beside him and gets a closer view I know thathe's one of the ninety-odd millions of unfortunates who, up to date,ain't had the benefit of my acquaintance. In other words, he's one ofthe common suspects, an utter stranger.

  Course, as far as his looks go, he might be a perfect gent. He's dressedneat and plain, except for the brown spats; but as you run across a spatwearer only now and then, you're bound to guess they ain't just rightsomewhere. The sallow-complected face with the prominent cheekbonesdon't count so much against him. Them points are common. What caught me,though, was the lively brown eyes with just the hint of a twinkle in'em. Always does. I know some like the wide-set, stary kind that go withan open-faced smile and a loud haw-haw; but for me the quiet chuckle andthe twinklin' eye! Still, he hadn't proved yet that he wa'n't apickpocket or a wife beater; so I just nods non-committal over myshoulder and resumes my usual aristocratic reserve.

  "How does it happen," says he, "that you aren't on your way to thefuneral too?"

  "Eh?" says I, a little jarred at this odd openin'.

  "Or is it that they have all been indulgin' in family rows? Look atthem!" he goes on, wavin' his hand at the carful.

  "Oh, I get you," says I. "Not so cheerful as they might be, are they?"

  "But is it necessary for us all to be so selfishly sad," says he, "sogloomily stern? True, we have each our troubles, some little, some big;but why wear them always on our faces? Why inflict them on others? Whynot, when we can, the brave, kindly smile?"

  "Just the way it struck me a minute ago," says I.

  "Did it?" says he, beamin'. "Then I claim you for our clan."

  "Your which?" says I.

  "Our brotherhood," says he.

  "Can't be very exclusive," says I, "if I've qualified so easy. Anypartic'lar passwords or grip to it?"

  "We rehearsed the whole ritual before you sat down," says he. "Thefriendly glance, that's all. And now--well, I prefer to be calledAlvin."

  "So-o-o?" says I sort of distant. But I'd no more'n got it out than Ifelt mean. What if he was a con man, or worse? I ought to be able totake care of myself. So I goes on, "McCabe's my name; but among friendsI'm gen'rally known as Shorty."

  "The best of credentials!" says he. "Then hail, Shorty, and welcome tothe Free Brotherhood of Ego Tamers!"

  I shakes my head puzzled. "Now I've lost you," says I. "If it's a comedyline, shoot it."

  "Ah, but it's only tragedy," says Alvin, "the original tragedy of man.See how its blight rests on these around us! Simply over-stimulation ofthe ego; our souls in the strait-jacket of self; no freedom of thoughtor word or deed to our fellows. Ego, the tyrant, rules us. Only we ofthe Free Brotherhood are seeking to tame ours. Do I put it clumsily?"

  "If you was readin' it off a laundry ticket, it couldn't be clearer,"says I. "Something about tappin' the upper-case I too frequent, ain'tit?"

  "An excellent paraphrase," says he. "You have it!"

  "Gee!" says I. "Didn't know I was so close behind you. But whisper, Iain't got my Ego on the mat with his tongue out, not yet."

  "And who of us has?" says he. "But at least we give him a tussle now andthen. We've broken a fetter here and there. We have worked loose thegag."

  Say, he had, all right, or else he'd swallowed it; for as an easy andfluent converser Alvin headed the bill. Course, it's an odd line hehands out, the kind that keeps you guessin'. In spots it listens likehighbrow book stuff, and then again it don't. But somehow I finds itsort of entertainin'. Besides, he seems like such a good-natured, wellmeanin' gink that I lets him run on, clear to 42d-st.

  "Well, so long," says I. "I get out here."

  "To leave me among the Ishmaelites!" says he. "And I've two uselesshours to dispose of. Let me go a way with you?"

  I hadn't counted on annexin' Alvin for the rest of the day, and I expectI could have shook him if I'd tried; but by that time he'd got me kindof curious to know who and what he was, and why. So I tows him over asfar as the Physical Culture Studio.

  "Here's where I make some of 'em forget their egos, at so much per,"says I, pointin' to the sign.

  "Ah, the red corpuscle method!" says he. "Primitive; but effective, I'veno doubt. I must see it in operation."

  And an hour later he's still there, reposin' comf'table in an officechair with his feet on the windowsill, smokin' cigarettes, and throwin'off chunks of classy dialogue that had Swifty Joe gawpin' at him likehe was listenin' to a foreign language.

  "My assistant, Mr. Gallagher," says I, by way of apologizin'.

  Alvin jumps up and shakes him hearty by the mitt. "Allow me to offer youa cigarette, Sir," says he.

  "Much obliged," says Swifty, eyin' the thin silver case with the goldlinin'. "Gee! what a swell box!"

  "Do you fancy it?" says Alvin. "Then it is yours, with my bestcompliments."

  "Ah-r-r-r chee, no!" protests Swifty.

  "Please, as a favor to me," insists Alvin, pushin' the case into hishand. "One finds so few ways of giving pleasure. In return I shallremember gratefully the direct sincerity of your manner. Charming!"

  And, say, I expect it's the first time in his whole career that anybodyever discovered any good points about Swifty Joe Gallagher on firstsight. He backs out with his mouth open and his face tinted up like anold maid's that's been kissed in the dark.

  But that little play only makes it all the harder for me to shoo himout. The fact is, though, it's gettin' almost time for a directors'meetin' that's to be pulled off in my front office. Sounds imposin',don't it? Didn't know I was on a board, eh? Well, I am, and up to dateit's been one of the richest luxuries I ever blew myself to. I'd beenroped, that's all.

  Young Blair Woodbury, one of my downtown reg'lars, had opened the cellardoor for me. Thinks he's a great promoter, Blair does. And somewherehe'd dug up this nutty inventor with his milk container scheme. Oh, itlistens good, the way he put it. Just a two-ounce, woodpulp, mailin'cartridge lined with oiled paper, that could be turned out for a dollara thousand, pint and quart sizes, indestructible, absolutely sanitary,air tight, germ proof, and so on.

  Simple little thing; but it was goin' to put the Milk Trust out ofbusiness inside of six months, set back the high cost of livin' a fullnotch, give every dairy farmer an automobile, and land the UniversalContainer Company's stockholders at No. 1 Easy-st. For, instead ofpayin' two prices for an imitation blend doctored up with formaldehyde,you got the real, creamy stuff straight from the farm at five a quart,and passed in at the front door with your morning
mail. Didn't theparcel post bring your drygoods? Why not your milk? And when it got tobe common the P.O. Department would put on carts for a six A.M.delivery. There you are!

  So I'd subscribed for a thousand shares, payin' fifty per cent. down fordevelopment expenses, the rest on call. Yes, I know. But you should haveheard Blair Woodbury pull the prospectus stuff, and describe how thedividends would come rollin' in!

  That was six or eight months ago, and we'd stood for two assessments.Then it turned out there was something wrong with the pulp compressordingus that was to have shot out containers at the rate of two hundred aminute. Some of us went over to Jersey to see it work; but all itproduced while we was there was a groanin' sound and a smell of sourdough. I could have bought out the holdin's of the entire bunch for myreturn ticket. But the ticket looked above par to me.

  After that our board meetin's wa'n't such gay affairs. A grouchy lot oftinhorn investors we was, believe me; for the parties young Mr. Woodburyhad decoyed into this fool scheme wa'n't Standard Oil plutes or any ofthe Morgan crowd: mostly salaried men, with a couple of dentists, aretail grocer, and a real estate agent! None of us was stuck on droppin'a thousand or so into a smelly machine that wouldn't behave. Maybe itwould next time; but we had our doubts. What we wanted most was to getfrom under, and this meetin' to-day was called to chew over aproposition for dumpin' the stock on the Curb on the chance that theremight be enough suckers to go around. It wouldn't be a cheerful seance,either, and bystanders might not be exactly welcome. Misery may likecomp'ny; but it don't yearn for a gallery.

  So I has to hint to Alvin that as I had a little business meetin'comin' on maybe he wouldn't find it so entertainin'.

  "Nothing bores me," says he. "Humanity, in all its phases, all itsefforts, is interesting."

  "Huh!" says I. "Humanity beefin' over a dollar it's dropped through acrack wouldn't furnish any Easter card scheme. Talk about grouchypeople! You ought to see this bunch, with their egos clutchin' theircheckbooks."

  "Ah!" says Alvin. "A financial deal, is it?"

  "It was," says I. "These are the obsequies we're about to hold."

  And he's so prompt with the sympathy dope that I has to sketch thedisaster out for him, includin' a description of the container scheme.

  "Why," says he, "that seems quite practical. Rather a brilliant idea,and far too good to be abandoned without a thorough trial. It appealsstrongly to me, Friend McCabe. Besides, I've had some experience in suchaffairs. Perhaps I could help. Let me try."

  "I'll put it up to the board," says I. "If they say---- Ah, here comesDoc Fosdick and Meyers the grocer now."

  They don't appear arm in arm. In fact, at the last session they'd had ahot run-in; so now they takes chairs on opposite sides of the room andglares at each other hostile. A thin, nervous little dyspeptic, DocFosdick is; while Meyers is bull necked and red faced. They'd mix aboutas well as a cruet of vinegar and a pail of lard. Course I has tointroduce Alvin, and he insists on shakin' hands cordial.

  "You professional chaps," says he to the Doc, "are such fine fellows toknow. Ah, a bit crusty on the surface perhaps; but underneath--what bighearts! Delighted, Mr. Meyers! One can readily see how you translategood health into good nature. And I congratulate you both on beingassociated in such a splendid enterprise as this milk container scheme.Bound to be a big thing; for it is founded on the public good. Altruismalways wins in the long run, you know, always."

  Doc he tries to sniff disagreeable, and Meyers grunts disapprovin'; butAlvin had 'em goin' for all that. You could tell by the satisfied waythe grocer lights up a cigar, and the soothed actions of Fosdick. As theothers drops in one by one, Alvin kept on spreadin' seeds of sunshine,and before the meetin' was called to order he was on chummy terms withnearly everyone in the room. The point of whether he was to stay or notwa'n't even raised.

  It was Manning, the real estate man, who sprung the new proposition."That fool inventor Nevins," says he, "insists that if we can give himtwo weeks more and raise twenty-five thousand, he can perfect hismachine and start manufacturing. Now if we could only find buyers forhalf those unsubscribed shares----"

  "Bah!" snorts Fosdick. "Hasn't Woodbury hawked 'em all over town? Whyisn't he here now? Tell me that, will you? Because he's done with us!We're squeezed lemons, we are, and he can't find any more to squeeze!"

  "Pardon me," says Alvin, "but I wish to state that I believe fully inthis enterprise. It's sound, it's scientific, it's progressive. Andwhile as a rule I don't go in for speculative investments, I shall bevery glad, in this instance, providing you all agree to stand by and seeit through with me, to take--say ten thousand shares at par. In fact, Istand ready to write a check for the full amount this minute. What doyou say?"

  Well, we gasps and gawps at Alvin like so many orphan asylum kids whenSanta Claus bounces in at the Christmas exercises.

  Manning gets his breath back first. "Gentlemen," says he, "isn't thisoffer worth considering? Let's see, did I get your name right,Mr.--er----"

  "Alvin Pratt Barton," says our Santa Claus.

  "Pratt Barton?" repeats Manning. "Any connection with the brokerage firmof that name?"

  Alvin shrugs his shoulders and smiles. "The late Mr. Barton was myfather," says he. "Mr. Pratt is my uncle by marriage. But I am doingthis on my own initiative, you know. I should like an expression ofopinion."

  Say, he got it! Inside of three minutes we'd voted unanimous to hold onfor two months longer, made Alvin vice president of the comp'ny, and hischeck has been handed over to the treasurer, which is me. Then he'dshaken hands hearty with each one, patted 'em on the back, and even gotDoc Fosdick smilin' amiable as he leaves.

  "Alvin," says I after they'd all gone, "take it from me, you're somepacifier! Why, if it hadn't been for you jumpin' in, I expect we'd jawedaway here for hours until we broke up in a free-for-all. Honest, you gotthe white dove of peace lookin' like a mad fish hawk."

  "Tut, tut!" says Alvin. "No spoofing, you know. Really, it takes verylittle to bring men together; for, after all, we are brothers. Only attimes we forget."

  "You mean most of us never remember," says I. "But you're a true sport,anyway, and the least I can do is to blow you to the best lunch onFifth-ave. Come on."

  He consents ready enough, providin' I'll stroll over to the GrandCentral with him first, while he sees about some baggage. We was makin'a dash through the traffic across Sixth-ave. when I misses Alvin, andturns around to find him apologizin' to a young female he's managed tobump into and spill in the slush just as he fetched the curb. He has hishat off and is beggin' her pardon in his best society way too; althoughhe must have seen at a glance what she was,--one of these brassy-eyedparties with a hand-decorated complexion and a hangover breath.

  "Ah, chop the soft stuff!" says she, brushin' the mud off her slit skirtvigorous. "And next time lamp who you're buttin' into, you pie-faced,turkey-shanked----"

  Well, maybe that's enough of the lady's repartee to quote exact; for therest wa'n't strictly ladylike. And the more Alvin tries to convince herhow sorry he is, the livelier she cuts loose with her tongue, until acrowd collects to enjoy the performance.

  "Beat it!" says I, tuggin' Alvin by the arm.

  "Please wait here a moment, Madam," says he, and then starts off,leavin' her starin' after him and still statin' her opinion of himreckless. He only goes as far as the florist's, next to the corner, andI follows.

  "A dozen of those American beauties quickly, please," says Alvin,fishin' hasty through his pockets. "Oh, I say, McCabe, can you lend mefifteen for a few moments? Thank you."

  And in a jiffy he's back at the curb, presentin' that armful of roses toTessie of the tabasco tongue, and doin' it as graceful and dignified asif he was handin' 'em to a Pittsburgh Duchess. He don't wait for anythanks, either; but takes me by the arm and hurries off. I had to haveone more look, though, and as I glances back she's still standin' therestarin' at the flowers sort of stupid, with the brine leakin' from botheyes.

  "Alvin," says I, "it's some educat
ion to travel with you."

  "I'm a clumsy ass!" says he. "Poor wretch! I could think of nothingsensible to do for her. Let's say no more about it. I must get thatsuitcase from the baggage room."

  He greets the grumpy checkroom tyrant like a friend and brother, and hasjust slipped him a cigar when a husky-built square-jawed gent steps upbehind and taps Alvin familiar on the shoulder.

  Alvin's jaw sags disappointed for a second as he turns; but he recoversquick and gives the cheerful hail. "Oh, it's you, is it, Scully?" sayshe. "I thought I'd given you the slip completely this time. Hope Ihaven't made you a lot of trouble."

  "Not a bit, Mr. Barton," says Scully. "You know it's a change for us,Sir, getting out this way, with all expenses paid. They sent Talcottwith me, Sir."

  "Fine!" says Alvin. "Of course I like them all; but I'm glad it happenedto be you and Talcott this trip."

  "Hope you're ready to go back, Sir," says Scully.

  "Oh, quite," says Alvin. "I've had a bully good time; but I'm getting alittle tired. And, by the way, please remember to have the doctor sendfifteen dollars to my friend McCabe here. You explain, will you,Scully?"

  Scully does. "From Dr. Slade's Restorium," says he, noddin' at Alvin andtappin' his forehead. "Quite a harmless gentleman, Sir."

  "Eh?" says I, turnin' to Alvin. "You from a nut factory? Good night!"

  "It's a whim of Uncle's," says Alvin, chucklin'. "He's gone a littlecracked over making and saving money. Poor old chap! Ego developed mostabnormally. But the Judge he took me before was that kind too; so I amcompelled to live with Dr. Slade. Jolly crowd up there, though. Comealong, Scully; we mustn't be late for dinner."

  And off he goes, smilin' contented and friendly at anyone who happens tolook his way. Wouldn't that crimp you?

  Course, my first move after gettin' back to the studio was to dig thatcheck of his out of the safe and query the bank. "No account here," theclerk 'phones back prompt, and I could see the Universal LiquidContainer Company takin' a final plunge down the coal chute.

  For days, though, I put off callin' the bunch together and announcin'the sad fact. More'n a week went by, and I was still dreadin' to do it.Then here this mornin' in romps young Blair Woodbury, his eyes sparklin'and a broad grin on his face. He's flourishin' a bundle about the sizeof a two weeks' fam'ly wash, and as he sees me he lets out a joy yelp.

  "Well, why the riot?" says I. "What you got there?"

  "Containers!" says he. "Old Nevins has got the compressor working. Sixtyseconds to make these, my boy--two hundred in one minute! Count 'em!"

  "I'll take your word for it," says I. "That's fine, too. But I'mcarryin' all the comp'ny stock I can stand. Go out and convince someother come-ons."

  "I don't have to," says he. "Why, during the last four days the issuehas been oversubscribed. It was getting that Mr. Barton, of Pratt &Barton, on our list that turned the trick."

  "Alvin!" I gasps. "Why--why, he's only a batty nephew, that they keepunder guard. Bughouse, you know. His check's no good."

  "Doesn't matter in the least," says Blair. "He made good bait. We'reestablished, I tell you! Get the board together, and we'll let thecontracts for the factory. And then--well, McCabe, if our stock doesn'thit one hundred and fifty inside of six months, I--I'll eat every one ofthese!"

  And, say, allowin' for all his extra enthusiasm, it looks like we stoodto win. I expect the other directors'll be some jarred, though, whenthey hear about Alvin. I started in to break it to Swifty Joe.

  "By the way, Swifty," says I, "you remember that Barton party who was inhere one day?"

  "_Mister_ Barton," says he reprovin'. "Say, he was a reg'lar guy, hewas!"

  "Think so?" says I.

  "Think!" explodes Swifty indignant. "Ahr-r-r chee! Why, say, anybonehead could see he was a real' gent to the last tap of the gong."

  And, say, I didn't have the heart to break the spell. For, after all,admittin' the state of his belfry, I don't know that many of us has somuch on Alvin, at that.

  THE END

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