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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of H. R., by Edwin Lefevre
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: H. R.
+
+Author: Edwin Lefevre
+
+Release Date: August 1, 2010 [EBook #33314]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK H. R. ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Annie McGuire. This book was produced from
+scanned images of public domain material from the Google
+Print archive.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+BOOKS BY
+EDWIN LEFEVRE
+
+
+  SAMPSON ROCK OF WALL STREET. Illustrated. Post 8vo.
+  H. R. Illustrated. Post 8vo.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: SHE PETRIFIED HERSELF WHEN SHE BEHELD THE MAN WHO HAD
+MADE HER FAMOUS]
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: H. R.]
+
+
+BY
+EDWIN LEFEVRE
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+HARPER & BROTHERS
+NEW YORK AND LONDON
+MCMXV
+
+
+
+
+Copyright, 1915, by Harper & Brothers
+
+
+
+
+TO ROBERT HOBART DAVIS
+
+_My dear Bob: In dedicating this book to you, I do more than follow the
+selfish impulse of pleasing myself. It was you who warned me that none
+of the usual fiction-labels would fit "H. R." To irritate the reader by
+compelling him to think in order to understand was, you told me, both
+unfair and unwise. But a writer occasionally may be permitted to please
+himself, and if his experiment fails there remains the satisfaction of
+having tried. I have not labelled my jokes explicitly nor have I written
+a single foot-note in the middle of a page. I have endeavored to
+reproduce a recognizable atmosphere by intentionally exaggerating
+certain phases of the attitude of New York toward the eternal verities.
+Not even for purposes of contrast have I felt bound to have a nice
+character in the book. But if the reader fails to get what you so
+clearly understood, and if the critics point out how completely I have
+failed to write a Satirical Romance of To-day, I can at least make
+certain of having one line in this volume with which none may find
+fault. And that, Great and Good Friend, is the line at the top of this
+page._
+
+  _E. L._
+  _Dorset, Vt., June, 1915._
+
+
+
+
+H. R.
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+
+The trouble was not in being a bank clerk, but in being a clerk in a
+bank that wanted him to be nothing but a bank clerk. That kind always
+enriches first the bank and later on a bit of soil.
+
+Hendrik Rutgers had no desire to enrich either bank or soil.
+
+He was blue-eyed, brown-haired, clear-skinned, rosy-cheeked, tall,
+well-built, and square-chinned. He always was in fine physical trim,
+which made people envy him so that they begrudged him advancement, but
+it also made them like him because they were so flattered when he
+reduced himself to their level by not bragging of his muscles. He had a
+quick-gaited mind and much fluency of speech. Also the peculiar sense of
+humor of a born leader that enabled him to laugh at what any witty devil
+said about others, even while it prevented him from seeing jokes aimed
+at his sacred self. He not only was congenitally stubborn--from his
+Dutch ancestors--but he had his Gascon grandmother's ability to believe
+whatever he wished to believe, and his Scandinavian great-grandfather's
+power to fill himself with Berserker rage in a twinkling. This made him
+begin all arguments by clenching his fists. Having in his veins so many
+kinds of un-American blood, he was one of the few real Americans in his
+own country, and he always said so.
+
+It was this blood that now began to boil for no reason, though the
+reason was really the spring.
+
+He had acquired the American habit of reading the newspapers instead of
+thinking, and his mind therefore always worked in head-lines. This time
+it worked like this: MORE MONEY AND MORE FUN!
+
+Being an American, he instantly looked about for the best rung of the
+ladder of success.
+
+He had always liked the cashier. A man climbs at first by his friends.
+Later by his enemies. That is why friends are superfluous later.
+
+Hendrik, so self-confident that he did not even have to frown,
+approached the kindly superior.
+
+"Mr. Coster," he said, pleasantly, "I've been on the job over two years.
+I've done my work satisfactorily. I need more money." You could see from
+his manner that it was much nicer to state facts than to argue.
+
+The cashier was looking out of the big plate-glass window at the
+wonderful blue sky--New York! April! He swung on his swivel-chair and,
+facing Hendrik Rutgers, stared at a white birch by a trout stream three
+hundred miles north of the bank.
+
+"Huh?" he grunted, absently. Then the words he had not heard indented
+the proper spot on his brain and he became a kindly bank cashier once
+more.
+
+"My boy," he said, sympathetically, "I know how it is. Everybody gets
+the fit about this time of year. What kind of a fly would you use for--
+I mean, you go back to your cage and confine your attention to the K-L
+ledger."
+
+A two hours walk in the Westchester hills would have made these two men
+brothers. Instead, Hendrik allowed himself to fill up with that anger
+which is apt to become indignation, and thus lead to freedom. Anger is
+wrath over injury; indignation is wrath over injustice: hence the
+freedom.
+
+"I am worth more to the bank than I'm getting. If the bank wants me to
+stay--"
+
+"Hendrik, I'll do you a favor. Go out and take a walk. Come back in ten
+minutes--cured!
+
+"Thanks, Mr. Coster. But suppose I still want a raise when I come back?
+
+"Then I'll accept your resignation."
+
+"But I don't want to resign. I want to be worth still more to the bank
+so that the bank will be only too glad to pay me more. I don't want to
+live and die a clerk. That would be stupid for me, and also for the
+bank."
+
+"Take the walk, Hen. Then come back and see me."
+
+"What good will that do me?"
+
+"As far as I can see, it will enable you to be fired by no less than the
+Big Chief himself. Tell Morson you are going to do something for me.
+Walk around and look at the people--thousands of them; they are working!
+Don't forget that, Hen; working; _making regular wages_! Good luck, my
+boy. I've never done this before, but you caught me fishing. I had just
+hooked a three-pounder," he finished, apologetically.
+
+Hendrik was suffocating as he returned to his cage. He did not think; he
+felt--felt that everything was wrong with a civilization that kept both
+wild beasts and bank clerks in cages. He put on his hat, told the head
+bookkeeper he was going on an errand for Mr. Coster, and left the bank.
+
+The sky was pure blue and the clouds pure white. There was in the air
+that which even when strained through the bank's window-screens had made
+Hendrik so restless. To breathe it, outdoors, made the step more
+elastic, the heartbeats more vigorous, the thoughts more vivid, the
+resolve stronger. The chimneys were waving white plumes in the bright
+air--waving toward heaven! He wished to hear the song of freedom of
+streams escaping from the mountains, of the snow-elves liberated by the
+sun; to hear birds with the spring in their throats admitting it, and
+the impatient breeze telling the awakening trees to hurry up with the
+sap. Instead, he heard the noises that civilized people make when they
+make money. Also, whenever he ceased to look upward, in the place of the
+free sunlight and the azure liberty of God's sky, he beheld the
+senseless scurrying of thousands of human ants bent on the same golden
+errand.
+
+When a man looks down he always sees dollar-chasing insects--his
+brothers!
+
+He clenched his fists and changed, by the magic of the season, into a
+fighting-man. He saw that the ant life of Wall Street was really a
+battle. Men here were not writing on ledgers, but fighting deserts, and
+swamps, and mountains, and heat, and cold, and hunger; fighting Nature;
+fighting her with gold for more gold. It followed that men were fighting
+men with gold for more gold! So, of course, men were killing men with
+gold for more gold!
+
+So greatly has civilization advanced since the Jews crucified Him for
+interfering with business, that to-day man not only is able to use
+dollars to kill with, but boasts of it.
+
+"Fools!" he thought, having in mind all other living men. After he
+definitely classified humanity he felt more kindly disposed toward the
+world.
+
+After all, why should men fight Nature or fight men? Nature was only too
+willing to let men live who kept her laws; and men were only too willing
+to love their fellow-men if only dollars were not sandwiched in between
+human hearts. He saw, in great happy flashes, the comfort of living
+intelligently, brothers all, employers and employed, rid of the curse of
+money, the curse of making it, the curse of coining it out of the sweat
+and sorrow of humanity.
+
+"Fools!" This time he spoke his thought aloud. A hurrying broker's clerk
+smiled superciliously, recognizing a stock-market loser talking of
+himself to himself, as they all do. But Hendrik really had in mind bank
+clerks who, instead of striking off their fetters, caressed them as
+though they were the flesh of sweethearts; or wept, as though tears
+could soften steel; or blasphemed, as though curses were cold-chisels!
+And every year the fetters were made thicker by the blacksmith Habit. To
+be a bank clerk, now and always; now and always nothing!
+
+He now saw all about him hordes of sheep-hearted Things with pens behind
+their ears and black-cloth sleeve-protectors, who said, with the
+spitefulness of eunuchs or magazine editors:
+
+"_You also are of us!_"
+
+He would _not_ be of them!
+
+He might not be able to change conditions in the world of finance, not
+knowing exactly how to go about it, but he certainly could change the
+financial condition of Hendrik Rutgers. He would become a free man. He
+would do it by getting more money, if not from the bank, from somebody
+else. In all imperfectly Christianized democracies a man must
+capitalize his freedom or cease to be free.
+
+He returned to the bank. He was worth thousands to it. This could be
+seen in his walk. And yet when the cashier saw Hendrik's face he
+instantly rose from his chair, held up a hand to check unnecessary
+speech, and said:
+
+"Come on, Rutgers. You are a damned fool, but I have no time to convince
+you of it. You understand, of course, that you'll never work for us
+again!"
+
+"I shall tell the president."
+
+"Yes, yes. He'll fire you."
+
+"Not if he is intelligent, he won't," said Rutgers, with assurance.
+
+The cashier looked at him pityingly and retorted: "A long catalogue of
+your virtues and manifold efficiency will weigh with him as much as two
+cubic inches of hydrogen. But I warned you."
+
+"I know you did," said Hendrik, pleasantly.
+
+Whereupon Coster frowned and said: "You are in class B--eight hundred
+dollars a year. In due time you will be promoted to class C--one
+thousand dollars. You knew our system and what the prospects were when
+you came to us. Other men are ahead of you; they have been here longer
+than you. We want to be fair to all. If you were going to be
+dissatisfied you should not have kept somebody else out of a job."
+
+Hendrik did not know how fair the bank was to clerks in class C. He knew
+they were not fair to one man in class B. Facts are facts. Arguments are
+sea-foam.
+
+"You say I kept somebody out of a job?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, you did!"
+
+The cashier's tone was so accusing that Hendrik said:
+
+"Don't call a policeman, Mr. Coster."
+
+"And don't you get fresh, Rutgers. Now see here; you go back and let the
+rise come in the usual course. I'll give you a friendly tip: once you
+are in class C you will be more directly under my own eye!"
+
+Instead of feeling grateful for the implied promise, Hendrik could think
+only that they classified men like cattle. All steers weighing one
+thousand pounds went into pen B, and so on. This saved time to the
+butchers, who, not having to stop in order to weigh and classify, were
+enabled to slit many more throats per day.
+
+He did not know it, but he thought all this because he wished to go
+fishing. Therefore he said: "I've got to have more money!" His fists
+clenched and his face flushed. He thought of cattle, of the ox-making
+bank, of being driven from pen A into pen B, and, in the end,
+fertilizer. "I've got to!" he repeated, thickly.
+
+"You won't get it, take it from me. To ask for it now simply means being
+instantly fired."
+
+"Being fired" sounded so much like being freed that Hendrik retorted,
+pleasantly:
+
+"Mr. Coster, you may yet live to take your orders from me, if I am
+fired. But if I stay here, you never will; that's sure."
+
+The cashier flushed angrily, opened his mouth, magnanimously closed it,
+and, with a shrug of his shoulders, preceded Hendrik Rutgers into the
+private office of the president.
+
+"Mr. Goodchild," said Coster, so deferentially that Hendrik looked at
+him in surprise for a full minute before the surprise changed into
+contempt.
+
+Mr. Goodchild, the president, did not even answer. He frowned,
+deliberately walked to a window and stared out of it sourly. A little
+deal of his own had gone wrong, owing to the stupidity of a subordinate.
+
+_He had lost MONEY!_
+
+He was a big man with jowls and little puffs under the eyes; also
+suspicions of purple in cheeks and nose and suspicions of everybody in
+his eyes. Presently he turned and spat upon the intruders. He did it
+with one mild little word:
+
+"Well?"
+
+He then confined his scowl to the cashier. The clerk was a species of
+the human dirt that unfortunately exists even in banks and has to be
+apologized for to customers at times, when said dirt, before arrogance,
+actually permits itself vocal chords.
+
+They spoil the joy of doing business, damn 'em!
+
+"This is the K-L ledger clerk," said Coster. "He wants a raise in
+salary. I told him 'No,' and he then insisted on seeing you." Years of
+brooding over the appalling possibility of having to look for another
+job had made the cashier a skilful shirker of responsibilities. He
+always spoke to the president as if he were giving testimony under oath.
+
+"When one of these chaps, Mr. Coster," said the president in the
+accusing voice bank presidents use toward those borrowers whose
+collateral is inadequate, "asks for a raise and doesn't get it he begins
+to brood over his wrongs. People who think they are underpaid
+necessarily think they are overworked. And that is what makes socialists
+of them!"
+
+He glared at the cashier, who acquiesced, awe-strickenly: "Yes, sir!"
+
+"As a matter of fact," pursued the president, still accusingly, "we
+should reduce the bookkeeping force. Dawson tells me that at the
+Metropolitan National they average one clerk to two hundred and
+forty-two accounts. The best we've ever done is one to one hundred and
+eighty-eight. Reduce! Good morning."
+
+"Mr. Goodchild," said Hendrik Rutgers, approaching the president, "won't
+you please listen to what I have to say?"
+
+Mr. Goodchild was one of those business men who in their desire to
+conduct their affairs efficiently become mind-readers in order to save
+precious time. He knew what Rutgers was going to say, and therefore
+anticipated it by answering:
+
+"I am very sorry for the sickness in your family. The best I can do is
+to let you remain with us for a little while, until whoever is sick is
+better." He nodded with great philanthropy and self-satisfaction.
+
+But Hendrik said, very earnestly: "If I were content with my job I
+wouldn't be worth a whoop to the bank. What makes me valuable is that I
+want to be more. Every soldier of Napoleon carried a marshal's baton in
+his knapsack. That gave ambition to Napoleon's soldiers, who always won.
+Let your clerks understand that a vice-presidency can be won by any of
+us and you will see a rise in efficiency that will surprise you. Mr.
+Goodchild, it is a matter of common sense to--"
+
+"Get out!" said the president.
+
+Ordinarily he would have listened. But he had lost money; that made him
+think only of one thing--that he had lost money!
+
+The general had suddenly discovered that his fortress was not
+impregnable! He did not wish to discuss feminism.
+
+Of course, Hendrik did not know that the president's request for
+solitude was a confession of weakness and, therefore, in the nature of a
+subtle compliment. And therefore, instead of feeling flattered, Hendrik
+saw red. It is a common mistake. But anger always stimulated his
+faculties. All men who are intelligent in their wrath have in them the
+makings of great leaders of men. The rabble, in anger, merely becomes
+the angry rabble--and stays rabble.
+
+Hendrik Rutgers aimed full at George G. Goodchild, Esq., a look of
+intense astonishment.
+
+"Get out!" repeated the president.
+
+Hendrik Rutgers turned like a flash to the cashier and said, sharply:
+"Didn't you hear? _Get out!_"
+
+"You!" shouted Mr. George G. Goodchild.
+
+"Who? _Me?_" Hendrik's incredulity was abysmal.
+
+"Yes! You!" And the president, dangerously flushed, advanced
+threateningly toward the insolent beast.
+
+"What?" exclaimed Hendrik Rutgers, skeptically. "Do you mean to tell me
+you really are the jackass your wife thinks you?"
+
+Fearing to intrude upon private affairs, the cashier discreetly left the
+room. The president fell back a step. Had Mrs. Goodchild ever spoken to
+this creature? Then he realized it was merely a fashion of speaking, and
+he approached, one pudgy fist uplifted. The uplift was more for
+rhetorical effect than for practical purposes, which has been a habit
+with most uplifts since money-making became an exact science. But
+Hendrik smiled pleasantly, as his forebears always did in battle, and
+said:
+
+"If I hit you once on the point of the jaw it'll be the death-chair for
+mine. I am young. Please control yourself."
+
+"You infernal scoundrel!"
+
+"What has Mrs. Goodchild ever done to me, that I should make her a
+widow?" You could see he was sincerely trying to be not only just, but
+judicial.
+
+The president of the bank gathered himself together. Then, as one flings
+a dynamite bomb, he utterly destroyed this creature. "You are
+_discharged_!"
+
+"Tut, tut! I discharged the bank ages ago; I'm only waiting for the bank
+to pack up. Now you listen to me."
+
+"Leave this room, sir!" He said it in that exact tone of voice.
+
+But Hendrik did not vanish into thin air. He commanded, "Take a good
+look at me!"
+
+The president of the bank could not take orders from a clerk in class B.
+Discipline must be maintained at any cost. He therefore promptly turned
+away his head. But Hendrik drew near and said:
+
+"Do you hear?"
+
+There was in the lunatic's voice something that made Mr. George G.
+Goodchild instantly bethink himself of all the hold-up stories he had
+ever heard. He stared at Hendrik with the fascination of fear.
+
+"What do you see?" asked Rutgers, tensely. "A human soul? No. You see
+K-L. You think machinery means progress, and therefore you don't want
+men, but machines, hey?"
+
+The president did not see K-L, as at the beginning of the interview.
+Instead of the two enslaving letters he saw two huge, emancipating
+fists. This man was far too robust to be a safe clerk. He had square
+shoulders. Yes, he had!
+
+The president was not the ass that Hendrik had called him. His
+limitations were the limitations of all irreligious people who regularly
+go to church. He thus attached too much importance to To-day, though
+perhaps his demand loans had something to do with it. His sense of humor
+was altogether phrasal, like that of most multimillionaires. But if he
+was too old a man to be consistently intelligent, he was also an
+experienced banker. He knew he had to listen or be licked. He decided to
+listen. He also decided, in order to save his face, to indulge in
+humorous speech.
+
+"Young man," he asked, with a show of solicitude, "do you expect to
+become Governor of New York?"
+
+But Hendrik was not in a smiling mood, because he was listening to a
+speech he was making to himself, and his own applause was distinctly
+enjoyable, besides preventing him from hearing what the other was
+saying. That is what makes all applause dangerous. He went on, with an
+effect of not having been interrupted.
+
+"Machines never mutiny. They, therefore, are desirable in your System.
+At the same time, the end of all machines is the scrap-heap. Do _you_
+expect to end in junk?"
+
+"I was not thinking of _my_ finish," the president said, with much
+politeness.
+
+"Yes, you are. Shall I prove it?"
+
+"Not now, please," pleaded the president, with a look of exaggerated
+anxiety at the clock. It brought a flush of anger to Hendrik's cheeks,
+seeing which the president instantly felt that glow of happiness which
+comes from gratified revenge. Ah, to be witty! But his smile vanished.
+Hendrik, his fists clenched, was advancing. The president was no true
+humorist, not being of the stuff of which martyrs are made. He was ready
+to recant when,
+
+"Good morning, daddy," came in a musical voice.
+
+Hendrik drew in his breath sharply at the narrowness of his escape. She
+who approached the purple-faced tyrant was the most beautiful girl in
+all the round world.
+
+It was spring. The girl had brought in the first blossoms of the season
+on her cheeks, and she had captured the sky and permanently imprisoned
+it in her eyes. She was more than beautiful; she was everything that
+Hendrik Rutgers had ever desired, and even more!
+
+"Er--good morning, Mr.--ah--" began the president in a pleasant voice.
+
+Hendrik waved his hand at him with the familiar amiability we use toward
+people whose political affiliations are the same as ours at
+election-time. Then he turned toward the girl, looked at her straight in
+the eyes for a full minute before he said, with impressive gravity:
+
+"Miss Goodchild, your father and I have failed to agree in a somewhat
+important business matter. I do not think he has used very good
+judgment, but I leave this office full of forgiveness toward him because
+I have lived to see his daughter at close range, in the broad light of
+day."
+
+The only woman before whom a man dares to show himself a physical coward
+is his wife, because no matter what he does she knows him.
+
+Mr. Goodchild was frightened, but he said, blusteringly, "That will do,
+you--er--_you_!"
+
+He pointed toward the door, theatrically. But Hendrik put his fingers to
+his lips and said "Hush, George!" and spoke to her again:
+
+"Miss Goodchild, I am going to tell you the truth, which is a luxury
+mighty rare in a bank president's private office, believe me."
+
+She stared at him with a curiosity that was not far from fascination.
+She saw a well-dressed, well-built, good-looking chap, with particularly
+bright, understanding eyes, who was on such familiar terms with her
+father that she wondered why he had never called.
+
+"Let me say," he pursued, fervently, "without any hope of reward,
+speaking very conservatively, that you are, without question, the most
+beautiful girl in all the world! I have been nearly certain of it for
+some time, but now I _know_. You are not only perfectly wonderful, but
+wonderfully perfect--all of you! And now take a good look at me--"
+
+"Yes; just before he is put away," interjected the president, trying to
+treat tragedy humorously before this female of the species. But for the
+fear of the newspapers, he would have rung for the private detective
+whose business was to keep out cranks, bomb-throwing anarchists, and
+those fellow-Christians who wished to pledge their word of honor as
+collateral on time-loans of less than five dollars. But she thought this
+friendly persiflage meant that the interesting young man was a social
+equal as well as a person of veracity and excellent taste. So she smiled
+non-committally. She was, alas, young!
+
+"They will not put me away for thinking what I say," asserted Hendrik,
+with such conviction that she blushed. Having done this, she smiled at
+him directly, that there might be no wasted effort. Wasn't it spring,
+and wasn't he young and fearless? And more than all that, wasn't he a
+_novelty_, and she a New York woman?
+
+"When you hear the name of Hendrik Rutgers, or see it in the newspapers,
+remember it belongs to the man who thought you were the only perfectly
+beautiful girl God ever made. And He has done pretty well at times, you
+must admit."
+
+With some people, both blasphemy and breakfast foods begin with a small
+"b". The Only Perfect One thought he was a picturesque talker!
+
+"Mr. Rutgers, I am sorry you must be going," said the president, with a
+pleasant smile, having made up his mind that this young man was not only
+crazy, but harmless--unless angered. "But you'll come back, won't you,
+when you are famous? We should like to have your account."
+
+Hendrik ignored him. He looked at her and said:
+
+"Do _you_ prefer wealth to fame? Anybody can be rich. But famous? Which
+would you rather hear: _There goes Miss $80,000-a-year Goodchild or That
+is that wonderful Goodchild girl everybody is talking about?_"
+
+She didn't know what to answer, the question being a direct one and she
+a woman. But this did not injure Hendrik in her eyes; for women actually
+love to be compelled to be silent in order to let a man speak--at
+certain times, about a certain subject. Her father, after the immemorial
+fashion of unintelligent parents, answered for her. He said, stupidly:
+"It never hurts to have a dollar or two, dear Mr. Rutgers."
+
+"Dollar or two! Why, there are poor men whose names on your list of
+directors would attract more depositors to this bank than the name of
+the richest man in the world. Even for your bank, between St. Vincent de
+Paul and John D. Rockefeller, whom would you choose? Dollars! When you
+can _dream_!" Hendrik's eyes were gazing steadily into hers. She did not
+think he was at all lunatical. But George G. Goodchild had reached the
+limit of his endurance and even of prudence. He rose to his feet, his
+face deep purple.
+
+However, Providence was in a kindly mood. At that very moment the door
+opened and a male stenographer appeared, note-book in hand. Civilization
+does its life-saving in entirely unexpected ways, even outside of
+hospitals.
+
+"_Au revoir_, Miss Goodchild. Don't forget the name, will you?"
+
+"I won't," she promised. There was a smile on her flower-lips and firm
+resolve in her beautiful eyes. It mounted to Hendrik's head and took
+away his senses, for he waved his hand at the purple president, said,
+with a solemnity that thrilled her, "_Pray for your future son-in-law!_"
+and walked out with the step of a conqueror. And the step visibly gained
+in majesty as he overheard the music of the spheres:
+
+"Daddy, who is he?"
+
+At the cashier's desk he stopped, held out his hand, and said with that
+valiant smile with which young men feel bound to announce their defeat,
+"I'm leaving, Mr. Coster."
+
+"Good morning," said Coster, coldly, studiously ignoring the
+outstretched hand. Rutgers was now a discharged employee, a potential
+hobo, a possible socialist, an enemy of society, one of the dangerous
+Have-Nots. But Hendrik felt so much superior to this creature with a
+regular income that he said, pityingly: "Mr. Coster, your punishment for
+assassinating your own soul is that your children are bound to have the
+hearts of clerks. You are now definitely nothing but a bank cashier.
+That's what!"
+
+"Get out!" shrieked the bank cashier, plagiarizing from a greater than
+he.
+
+The tone of voice made the private policeman draw near. When he saw it
+was Hendrik to whom Mr. Coster was speaking, he instantly smelled
+liquor. What other theory for an employee's loud talking in a bank? He
+hoped Hendrik would not swear audibly. The bank would blame it on the
+policeman's lack of tact.
+
+"_Au revoir._" And Hendrik smiled so very pleasantly that the policeman,
+whose brains were in his biceps, sighed with relief. At the same time
+the whisper ran among the caged clerks in the mysterious fashion of all
+bad news--the oldest of all wireless systems!
+
+_Hendrik Rutgers was fired!_
+
+Did life hold a darker tragedy than to be out of a job? A terrible
+world, this, to be hungry in.
+
+As Hendrik walked into the cage to get his few belongings, pale faces
+bent absorbingly over their ledgers. To be fed, to grow comfortably old,
+to die in bed, always at so much per week. Ideal! No wonder, therefore,
+that his erstwhile companions feared to look at what once had been a
+clerk. And then, too, the danger of contagion! A terrible disease,
+freedom, in a money-making republic, but, fortunately, rare, and the
+victims provided with food, lodging, and strait-jackets at the expense
+of the state. Or without strait-jackets: bars.
+
+Hendrik got his pay from the head of his department, who seemed of a
+sudden to recall that he had never been formally introduced to this Mr.
+H. Rutgers. This filled Hendrik at first with great anger, and then with
+a great joy that he was leaving the inclosure wherein men's thoughts
+withered and died, just like plants, for the same reason--lack of
+sunshine.
+
+On his way to the street he paused by his best friend--a little old
+fellow with unobtrusive side-whiskers who turned the ledger's pages over
+with an amazing deftness, and wore the hunted look that comes from
+thirty years of fear of dismissal. To some extent the old clerk's
+constant boasting about the days when he was a reckless devil had
+encouraged Hendrick.
+
+"Good-by, Billy," said Hendrik, holding out his hand. "I'm going."
+
+Little old Billy was seen by witnesses talking in public with a
+discharged employee! He hastily said, "Too bad!" and made a pretense of
+adding a column of figures.
+
+"Too bad nothing. See what it has done for you, to stay so long. I laid
+out old Goodchild, and the only reason why I stopped was I thought he'd
+get apoplexy. But say, the daughter-- She is some peach, believe me. I
+called him papa-in-law to his face. You should have seen him!"
+
+Billy shivered. It was even worse than any human being could have
+imagined.
+
+"Good-by, Rutgers," he whispered out of a corner of his mouth, never
+taking his eyes from the ledger.
+
+"You poor old-- No, Billy! Thank you a thousand times for showing me
+Hendrik Rutgers at sixty. Thanks!" And he walked out of the bank
+overflowing with gratitude toward Fate that had hung him into the middle
+of the street. From there he could look at the free sun all day; and of
+nights, at the unfettered stars. It was better than looking at the
+greedy hieroglyphics wherewith a stupid few enslaved the stupider many.
+
+He was free!
+
+He stood for a moment on the steps of the main entrance. For two years
+he had looked from the world into the bank. But now he looked from the
+bank out--on the world. And that was why that self-same world suddenly
+changed its aspect. The very street looked different; the sidewalk wore
+an air of strangeness; the crowd was not at all the same.
+
+He drew in a deep breath. The April air vitalized his blood.
+
+This new world was a world to conquer. He must fight!
+
+The nearest enemy was the latest. This is always true. Therefore Hendrik
+Rutgers, in thinking of fighting, thought of the bank and the people who
+made of banks temples to worship in.
+
+All he needed now was an excuse. There was no doubt that he would get
+it. Some people call this process the autohypnosis of the great.
+
+Two sandwich-men slouched by in opposite directions. One of them stopped
+and from the edge of the sidewalk stared at a man cleaning windows on
+the fourteenth story of a building across the way. The other wearily
+shuffled southward. Above his head swayed an enormous amputated foot.
+
+Rutgers himself walked briskly to the south. To avoid a collision with a
+hurrying stenographer-girl--if it had been a male he would have used a
+short jab--he unavoidably jostled the chiropodist's advertisement into
+the gutter. The sandwich-man looked meekly into Rutgers's pugnacious
+face and started to cross the street.
+
+Hendrik felt he should apologize, but before his sense of duty could
+crystallize into action the man was too far away. So Hendrik turned
+back. The other sandwich-man was still looking at the window-cleaner on
+the fourteenth story across the street. Happening to look down, he saw
+coming a man who looked angry. Therefore the sandwich-man meekly stepped
+into the gutter, out of the way.
+
+It was the second time within one minute! Hendrik stopped and spoke
+peevishly to the meek one in the gutter:
+
+"Why did you move out of my way?"
+
+The sandwich-man looked at him uneasily; then, without answering, walked
+away sullenly.
+
+"Here I am," thought Rutgers, "a man without a job; and there he is, a
+man with a job and afraid of me!"
+
+Something was wrong--or right. Something always is, to the born fighter.
+
+Who could be afraid of a man without a job but sandwich-men who always
+walked along the curb so they could be pushed off into the gutter among
+the other beasts? Nobody ever deliberately became a sandwich-man. When
+circumstances, the police, hopeless inefficiency, or shattered credit
+prevented a hobo from begging, stealing, murdering, or getting drunk, he
+became a sandwich-man in order to live until he could rise again.
+Whatever a sandwich-man changed himself into, it was always advancement.
+Once a sandwich-man, never again a sandwich-man. It was not boards they
+carried, but the printed certificates of hopelessness.
+
+Men who could not keep steady jobs became either corpses or
+sandwich-men. The sandwich illustrated the tyranny of the regular income
+just as the need of a regular income illustrated the need of
+Christianity.
+
+The sandwich thus had become the spirit of the times.
+
+The spring-filled system of Hendrik Rutgers began to react for a second
+time to a feeling of anger, and this for a second time turned his
+thoughts to fighting. To fight was to conquer. There were two ways of
+conquering--by fighting with gold and by fighting with brains. Who won
+by gold perished by gold. That was why a numismatical bourgeoisie never
+fought. Hendrik had no gold. So he would fight with brains. He therefore
+would win. Also, he would fight for his fellow-men, which would make his
+fight noble. That is called "hedging," for defeat in a noble cause is
+something to be proud of in the newspapers. The reason why all hedging
+is intelligent is that victory is always Victory when you talk about it.
+
+The sandwich-men were the scum of the earth.
+
+_Ah!_ It was a thrilling thought: To lead men who could no longer fight
+for themselves against the world that had marred their immortal souls;
+and then to compel that same world to place three square meals a day
+within their astonished bellies!
+
+The man who could make the world do that could do anything. Since he
+could do anything, he could marry a girl who not only was very
+beautiful, but had a very rich and dislikable father. The early
+Christians accomplished so much because they not only loved God, but
+hated the devil.
+
+Hendrik Rutgers found both the excuse and the motive power.
+
+One minute after a man of brains perceives the need of a ladder in order
+to climb, the rain of ladders begins.
+
+The chest-inflating egotism of the monopolistic tendency, rather than
+the few remaining vestiges of Christianity, keeps Protestants in America
+from becoming socialists. Hendrik filled his lungs full of self-oxygen
+and of the consciousness of power for good, and decided to draw up the
+constitution of his union. He would do it himself in order to produce a
+perfect document; perfect in everything. A square deal; no more, no
+less. That meant justice toward everybody, even toward the public.
+
+This union, being absolutely fair, would be more than good, more than
+intelligent; it would pay.
+
+Carried away by his desire to help the lowest of the low, he constituted
+himself into a natural law. He would grade his men, be the sole judge
+and arbiter of their qualifications, and even of their proper wages.
+
+Hendrik walked back toward the last sandwich-man and soon overtook him.
+"Hey, there, you!" he said, tapping the rear board with his hand.
+
+The sandwich-man did not turn about. Really, what human being could wish
+to speak to him?
+
+Hendrik Rutgers walked for a few feet beside the modest artist who was
+proclaiming to a purblind world the merits of an optician's wares, and
+spoke again, politely:
+
+"I want to see you, on business."
+
+The man's lips quivered, then curved downward, immobilizing themselves
+into a fixed grimace of fear. "I--I 'ain't done no-nothin'," he whined,
+and edged away.
+
+This was what society had done to an immortal soul!
+
+"Hell!" said Hendrik Rutgers between clenched teeth. "I'm not a fly-cop.
+I've just got a plain business proposition to make to you."
+
+"If you'll tell me where yer place is, I'll come aroun'--" began the
+man, so obviously lying that Rutgers's anger shifted from society and
+tyranny on to the thing between sandwich-boards--the thing that refused
+to be his brother.
+
+"You damned fool!" he hissed, fraternally. "You come with me--now."
+
+The inverted crescent of the man's lips trembled, and presently there
+issued from it, "Well, I 'ain't done--"
+
+Charity, which is not always astute, made H. Rutgers say with a kindly
+cleverness to his poor brother, "I'll tell you how you are going to make
+more money than you ever earned before."
+
+The prospect of making more money than he ever earned before brought no
+name of joy into the blear and furtive eyes. Instead, he sidled,
+crabwise, into the middle of the street.
+
+"No, you don't!" said Rutgers so menacingly that the sandwich-man
+shivered. It was clear that, to feed this starving man, force would be
+necessary. This never discourages the true philanthropist. Rutgers,
+however, feeling that Christian forbearance should be used before
+resorting to the ultimate diplomacy, said, with an earnest amiability:
+"Say, Bo, d'you want to fill your belly so that if you ate any more
+you'd bust?"
+
+At the hint of a promise of a sufficiency of food the man opened his
+mouth, stared at Rutgers, and did not speak. He couldn't because he did
+not close his mouth.
+
+"All the grub you can possibly eat, three times a day. Grub, Bo! All you
+want, any time you want it. Hey? What?"
+
+The sandwich-man's open mouth opened wider. In his eyes there was no
+fear, no hunger, no incredulity, nothing only an abyss deep as the human
+soul, that returned no answer whatever.
+
+"Do you want," pursued the now optimistic Hendrik Rutgers, "to drink all
+you can hold? The kind that don't hurt you if you drink a gallon! Booze,
+and grub, and a bed, and money in your pocket, and nobody to go through
+your duds while you sleep. Hey?"
+
+The sandwich-man spasmodically opened and closed his mouth in the
+unhuman fashion of a ventriloquist's puppet. Rutgers heard the click,
+but never a word. It filled him with pity. The desire to help such
+brothers as this grew intense. Next to feeding them there was nothing
+like talking to them about food and drink in a kindly way.
+
+"What do you say, Bo?" he queried, gently, almost tenderly.
+
+The man's teeth chattered a minute before he said, huskily, "Wh-what
+m-must I do?"
+
+"Let's go to the Battery," said Rutgers, "and I'll tell you all about
+it."
+
+The mission of history is to prove that Fate sends the right man for the
+right place at the right time. While Hendrik Rutgers talked, the
+sandwich-man listened with his stomach; and when Hendrik Rutgers
+promised, the sandwich-man believed with his soul. Rutgers told Fleming
+that all sandwich-men must join the union; that as soon as he and the
+other present sandwichers were enrolled on its books no more members
+would be admitted, except as a superabundance of jobs justified
+additional admissions; and at that it would require a nine-tenths vote
+to elect, thus preventing a surplus of labor and likewise a slump in
+wages. The union would compel advertisers in the future to pay twenty
+cents an hour and would guarantee both steady work and these wages to
+its members; there would be neither an initiation fee nor strike-fund
+assessments; the dues of one cent a day were collectible only when the
+member worked and received union wages for his day's work. Any member
+could lay off any time he felt like it, unmulcted and unfired. There was
+only one thing that all sandwich-men had to do to be in good standing;
+obey the secretary and treasurer of the union--Mr. H. Rutgers--in all
+union matters.
+
+The sandwich business, once unionized, would become a lucrative
+profession and therefore highly moral, and therefore its members would
+automatically cease to be pariahs, notwithstanding congenital fitness
+for same. Anybody who cannot only defy Nature, but make her subservient
+to the wishes of an infinitely higher intelligence, is fit to be a
+labor-leader. And he generally is.
+
+Fleming agreed to round up those of his colleagues whose peregrinations
+extended south of Chambers Street. He would ask them to come to the
+Battery on the next day at noon.
+
+So thrilled was Hendrik by his rescue-work among the wreckages that it
+never occurred to him to doubt his own success. This made him know
+exactly what to say to Fleming.
+
+"Don't just ask them to come. Tell them that there will be free beers
+and free grub. Tell them anything you damn please, but bring them! _Do
+you hear me?_" He gripped the sandwich-man's arm so tightly that
+Fleming's lips began to quiver. "And if you don't bring a bunch, God
+help you!"
+
+"Ye-yes, sir; I will. Sure!" whimpered Fleming, staring fascinatedly at
+those eyes which both promised and menaced.
+
+And in Fleming's own eyes Hendrik saw the four "B's" which form the
+great equation of all democracies: _Bread + Bludgeon = Born Boss!_
+
+Such men always know how to _say_ everything. This is more important
+than _thinking_ anything.
+
+"Remember the beer!" Brother Hendrik spoke pleasantly, and Fleming
+nodded eagerly. "And get on the job," hissed Secretary Rutgers; and
+Fleming shivered and hurried away before the licking came.
+
+Hendrik himself walked briskly up-town. When a man is pleased with
+himself he can always continue in that condition by the simple expedient
+of continuing to see whatever he wishes to see. Hendrik opened his eyes
+very wide and continued to see the ladder of success that great men use
+to climb to their changing heaven. Hendrik's heaven just then happened
+to be one in which a man of brains could make the money-makers pay him
+for allowing them to make money for him. After finding the ladder, all
+that was necessary was for Hendrik to think of George G. Goodchild's
+money. That made him see red; and whenever he saw red he could see no
+obstacles whatever; and because of his self-inflicted blindness he was
+intelligently ready to tackle anything, even the job of helping his
+fellow-men. To be an efficient philanthropist a man must have not only
+love, but murder, in his heart. That is one of the two hundred and
+eighty-six reasons why scientific charities make absolutely no inroads
+on the world's store of poverty.
+
+Mr. Rutgers met the charter members of his union at the time and place
+indicated by Providence through the medium of Mr. Rutgers's lips.
+
+There were fourteen sandwich-men.
+
+Hendrik, not knowing what to say, gazed at the faces before him in
+impressive silence. So long as you keep a man guessing, he is at your
+mercy. Orators have already discovered this.
+
+"Holy smoke! What in the name of Maginnis do you call this?" shrieked a
+messenger-boy. "Free freak show?"
+
+A crowd gathered about them by magic. Opportunity held out its right
+hand and Hendrik Rutgers grasped it in both his own. If all New York
+could be made to talk about him, all New York could be made to pay him,
+as it always pays for the privilege of talking of the same thing at the
+same time. You cannot get anybody to talk about the Ten Commandments;
+therefore, there is nobody to listen; therefore nobody capitalizes them.
+
+It _is_ the first rung that really matters. All other rungs in the
+ladder of success are easier to find and to fit. Hendrik could now
+gather together his various impulses and thoughts and motives and
+arrange them in their proper sequence, as great men do, to make easier
+the work of the historian. It was a crusade that he had undertaken, for
+the liberation of the most abject of all modern slaves; he had changed
+the scum of the earth into respectable humanity.
+
+That was history.
+
+The facts, however, happened to be as follows: He threw up his job
+because he wished to go fishing, which of course made him angry because
+his fellow-clerks were slaves, and he therefore got himself discharged
+by the president, which made him hate the president so that the hatred
+showed in Hendrik's face and made two sandwich-men so afraid that he
+couldn't help organizing the sandwich-men's union because he could boss
+it, and that would make people talk about him, which would put money in
+his pocket; and once he was both rich and famous he would be the equal
+of the greatest and as such could pick and choose; and he would pick
+Grace Goodchild and choose her for his wife, which would make him rich.
+
+In Europe the ability promptly to recognize the kindness of chance is
+called opportunism. Here we boast of it as the American spirit. That is
+why American bankers so often find pleasure in proudly informing you
+that it pays to be honest!
+
+"Listen, you!" said Hendrik to the sandwich-men. These were the tools
+wherewith he would hammer the first rung into place.
+
+They looked at him, incredulous in advance. This attitude on the part of
+the majority has caused republics at all times to be ruled by the
+minority. The vice of making money also arose from the fact that
+suspicious people are so easy to fool that even philosophers succumb to
+the temptation.
+
+"Just now you are nothing but a bunch of dirty hoboes. Scum of the
+earth!" It would not do to have followers who had illusions about
+themselves. This is fundamental.
+
+"Say, I didn't come here to listen to--"
+
+"You--!" said Hendrik Rutgers, and did not smile. "You came here just
+exactly for that. See?" And he walked up to within six inches of the
+speaker, not knowing that his anger gave him the fighting face. "You
+came to listen to me just as long as I am talking--unless you are pining
+to spend your last three hours in the hospital. Do you get me? Which for
+yours?"
+
+"Listen!" replied the sandwich-man. He had been poor so long that from
+force of habit he economized even in words.
+
+"By cripes! here I am spending valuable time so as to make you bums into
+prosperous men--"
+
+"Where do you come in, Bill?" asked a voice from the rear.
+
+"I don't have to come in. I am in. You fellows have got to join the
+union. Then you'll get good wages, easy hours, decent--"
+
+"Yeh; but--"
+
+Hendrik turned to the man who had interrupted--a short chap advertising
+a chain of hat-stores and asked, "But what?"
+
+"Nutt'n!" The hatter had once helped about a prize-fighter's
+training-quarters, hence the quick duck.
+
+"Also, you'll have easy--"
+
+"Easy!" The hatter had spoken prematurely again.
+
+"What?" scowled Hendrik.
+
+"Hours," hastily explained the man.
+
+"We ask only for fair play," pursued the leader.
+
+"Yeh; sure!" murmured Fleming, with the cold enthusiasm of all paid
+lieutenants of causes.
+
+"And we must make up our minds to play fair with employers, so that
+employers will play fair with us."
+
+"Like hell they will!" This was from a tall, thin, toothless chap.
+Reason: Tapeworm and booze. Name: Mulligan. Recreation: Chiropodist's
+favorite.
+
+"I'll prove it to you," said Hendrik, very earnestly.
+
+"Perhaps _to_ but not _by_ me," muttered Mulligan.
+
+"Union wages will be twenty cents an hour."
+
+"Never get it!" mumbled an old fellow with what they call waiter's
+foot--flattened arch. "Never!"
+
+"Never," came in chorus from all the others, their voices ringing with
+conviction.
+
+"I'll have the jobs to give out. I guess I know how much you'll get."
+The flame of hope lit fourteen pairs of blear eyes. Maybe this boob had
+the cash and desired to separate himself from it. All primitive people
+think the fool is touched of God. Hunger makes men primitive.
+
+"I'll fix the wages!" declared Hendrik again. He saw himself feeding
+these men; therefore he felt he owned them absolutely. It isn't, of
+course, necessary actually to feed people, or even to promise to feed
+them, to own them. Nevertheless, his look of possession imposed on these
+victims of a democracy. They mutely acknowledged a boss.
+
+Instantly perceiving this, a sense of kindly responsibility came upon
+Hendrik. These were his children. He said, paternally, "We'll now have a
+beer--on me!"
+
+Fleming, to show his divine right to the place of vice-regent, led the
+way to a joint on Washington Street.
+
+Hendrik saw, with carefully concealed delight, the sensation caused even
+in the Syrian-infested streets of the quarter by the sight of a handful
+of sandwich-men in full regalia. He heard the exclamations that fell
+from polyglot lips. It was a foretaste of success, the preface of a
+famous man's biography!
+
+The union drank fifteen beers, slowly--and quickly wiped the day's free
+lunch from the face of the earth. The huskiest of the three bartenders
+began to work with one hand, the other being glued to a bung-starter. He
+felt it had to come.
+
+"I'm boss!" said Hendrik to his children as a preliminary to discussing
+the by-laws.
+
+"I'm willin'!"
+
+"Same here!"
+
+"Let 'er go, cap!"
+
+"Suits _me_!"
+
+They were all eager to please him--too eager. It made him ask,
+disgustedly:
+
+"Don't you fellows care who is boss?"
+
+"Naw! Don't we have to have one, anyhow?"
+
+"Yes. But to have one crammed down your throats--"
+
+"The beer helps the swallowing, boss," said the hatter with
+conviction--and a fresh hope!
+
+"There doesn't seem to be a man among the whole lot of you," said
+Hendrik.
+
+A young fellow of about twenty-eight, very pale, wearing steel-rimmed
+spectacles, spoke back, "If you'd starved for three weeks and two days,
+and on top of it been kicked and cheated and held up, there wouldn't be
+a hell of a lot of fight in you, my wise gazabo."
+
+"That's exactly what would make me fight," retorted Hendrik, angrily.
+"Each of you has a vote; each of you, therefore, has as much to say as
+to how this country should be run as any millionaire. Don't you know
+what to do with your vote?"
+
+"You're lucky to get a quarter and two nights' lodging nowadays," said
+the old man with waiter's foot. "The time we elected Gilroy I made
+fifteen bones and was soused for a mont'. Shorty McFadden made
+thirty-five dollars--"
+
+"Any of you Republicans?"
+
+"No!" came in a great and indignant chorus.
+
+"I used to be!" defiantly asserted the young man with the spectacles and
+the pale face and the beaten look.
+
+"And now?"
+
+"Just a lame duck, I guess."
+
+"Too much rumatism," suggested a husky voice, and all the others
+laughed. The depths of degradation are reached when you can laugh at
+your own degradation.
+
+"Are any of you socialists?" asked Hendrik.
+
+They looked at him doubtfully. They wished to please him and would have
+answered accordingly if they had known what he wished to get from them.
+What they wished to get from him, in the way of speech, was another
+invitation to tank up. But when in doubt, all men deny. It is good
+police-court practice. Three veterans, therefore, tentatively said:
+
+"No!"
+
+Hendrik was disappointed, but did not show it. He asked, "Are any of you
+Christians?"
+
+The crowd fell back.
+
+"Is there one man among you who believes in God?"
+
+They stared at one another in the consternation of utter hopelessness.
+Mulligan was the first to break the painful silence. He said, with a sad
+triumph:
+
+"I knew it. Stung again! They'll do anything to get you to listen. We
+fell for it like boobs."
+
+"What is that?" said Hendrik, sharply.
+
+"I was sayin'," replied Mulligan, grateful that he was one schooner
+ahead, anyhow, "that I can listen to a good brother like you by the hour
+when I ain't thirsty. The dryness in my throat affects my hearin'. If
+you blow again I'll believe in miracles. How could I help it?"
+
+Fourteen pairs of eyes turned hopefully toward the wonder-worker. But he
+said in the habitual tone of all born leaders:
+
+"You--bums, get around! I'm going to lick hell out of Mulligan. And
+after that, to show I'm boss, I'll blow again. But first the licking."
+
+Hendrik gave his hat to Fleming to hold and began to turn up his
+sleeves. But Mulligan hastily said, "I'm converted, boss!" and actually
+looked pious. How he did it, nobody could tell, for he was not a
+Methodist by birth or education.
+
+"Mulligan, the union wages will be forty schooners a day." Hendrik
+said, sternly. Again it was genius--that is, to talk so that men will
+understand you.
+
+"Kill the scabs!" shrieked Mulligan, and there was murder in his eyes.
+
+Hendrik Rutgers put his right foot firmly on the second rung of the
+ladder. He did it by spending seventy-five cents for the second time.
+Fifteen beers.
+
+"Everybody," he said, threateningly, "wait until the schooners are on
+the bar!" thereby disappointing those who had hoped to ring in an extra
+glass during the excitement. But all that Hendrik desired was to
+inculcate salutary notions of discipline and obedience under
+circumstances that try men's souls. He yelled:
+
+"Damn you, step back! All of you! _Back!_"
+
+They fell back.
+
+The quivering line, now two feet from the beer, did not look at the
+glasses full of cheer, but at the eyes full of lickings. They gazed at
+him, open-mouthed; they gazed and kept on gazing, two feet from the
+bar--the length of the arm from the beer!
+
+Not obey? After that? There is no doubt of it; they are born!
+
+"To the union! All together! _Drink!_" They did not observe that this
+man was regulating even their thirst. The reason they did not notice it
+was that they were so busy assuaging it.
+
+They drank. Then they looked at Hendrik. He was a law of nature. He
+shook his head. They understood his "No." It was like death. To save
+their faces they began to clamor for free lunch.
+
+"Get to hell out of here!" said the proprietor.
+
+"Do you want your joint smashed?" asked Rutgers. He approached the man
+and looked at him from across a gulf of six inches that made escape
+impossible. Whatever the proprietor saw in Rutgers's eyes made him turn
+away.
+
+"Come across with the free lunch," Hendrik bade the proprietor. To his
+men he said, "Boys, get ready!"
+
+These men-that-were--miserable worms, scum of the earth, walking
+cuspidors--began to take off their armor. The bartenders were husky, but
+hadn't the boss commanded, _Get ready!_ and didn't all men know he
+meant, _Get ready_ TO EAT? Moreover, each sandwich felt he might dodge
+the bung-starters, but not the boss's right flipper!
+
+The union was making ready to fight with the desperation of men whose
+retreat is cut on by a foe who never heard of The Hague Convention.
+
+"Hey, no rough-house!" yelled the proprietor.
+
+"Free lunch!" retorted Hendrik. Then he added, "_Quick!_"
+
+The sandwich-men's nostrils began to dilate with the contagion of the
+battle spirit. One after another, these beasts of the gutter took off
+the boards and leaned them against the wall, out of the way, and eyed
+the boss expectantly, waiting for the word--_men once more!_ Hendrik,
+with the eye of a strategist and the look of a prize-fighter, planned
+the attack. Like a very wise man who lived to be the most popular of all
+our Presidents, he did his thinking aloud.
+
+On occasions like this Hendrik's mind also worked in battle-cries and
+best expressed itself in action.
+
+"Free lunch," said Hendrik, "is free. It is everybody's. It is therefore
+_ours_!"
+
+"Give us our grub!" hoarsely cried the union.
+
+"Three to each bartender," said Hendrik. "When I yell 'Now!' jump in,
+from both ends of the bar at once--six of you here; you six over there.
+Fleming, you smash the mirrors back of the bar with those empty
+schooners. Mulligan, you cop some bottles of booze, and wait outside--do
+you hear? _Wait outside!_--for us. I'll attend to the cash-register
+myself. Now, you," he said peremptorily to the proprietor, "do we get
+the free lunch? _Say no; won't you, please?_"
+
+Hendrik radiated battle. The derelicts took on human traits as their
+eyes lit up with visions of pillage. Fleming grasped a heavy schooner in
+each hand. Mulligan had his eye on three bottles of whisky and, for the
+first time in years, was using his mind--planning the get-away.
+
+The proprietor saw all this and also perceived that he could not afford
+a victory. It was much cheaper to give them seven cents worth of spoiled
+rations. Therefore he decided in favor of humanity.
+
+"Do what I told you, Jake," he said, with the smile of a man who has
+inveigled friends into accepting over-expensive Christmas presents. "Let
+'em have the rest of the lunch--_all they want_." He smiled again, much
+pleased with his kindly astuteness. He was a constructive statesman and
+would be famous for longevity.
+
+But the sandwich-men swaggered about, realizing that under the
+leadership of the boss they had won; they had obtained something to
+which they had no right; by threats of force they had secured food; the
+boss had made men of them. They therefore crowned Hendrik king. The
+instinctive and immemorial craving of all men for a father manifests
+itself--in republics that have forgotten God--in the election of the
+great promisers and the great confiscators to the supreme power. History
+records that no dynasty was ever founded except by a man who fought both
+for and with his followers. The men that merely fought for their
+fellows have uniformly died by the most noble and inspiring death of
+all--starvation. Names and posthumous addresses not known.
+
+When not a scrap remained on any of the platters, Hendrik called his men
+to him and told them:
+
+"Meet me at the sign-painter's, corner Twenty-ninth Street and Ninth
+Avenue next Friday night after seven. We'll be open till midnight. Be
+sure and bring your boards with you."
+
+"We gotter give 'em up before we can get paid," remonstrated Mulligan.
+"If we don't we don't eat."
+
+"That's right!" assented a half-dozen.
+
+"_Bring them!_" said Hendrik. The time to check a mutiny is before it
+begins.
+
+"A' right!" came in a chorus of fourteen heroic voices.
+
+"Beginning next Monday, you'll get twenty cents an hour. I guarantee
+that to you out of my own pocket. You must each of you bring all the
+other sandwiches you run across. If necessary, drag them. We must have
+about one hundred to start, if you want forty beers a day."
+
+"We do! We do!"
+
+"Then bring the others, because we've got to begin with enough men in
+the union to knock the stuffing out of those who try to scab on us. Get
+that?"
+
+"Sure thing!" they shouted, with the surprised enthusiasm of men who
+suddenly understand.
+
+They were deep in misery and accustomed to a poverty so abject that they
+no longer were capable of even envying the rich. They, therefore, could
+hate only those who were poorer than themselves--the men who dared to
+have thirsts that could be assuaged with less than forty beers per day.
+Not obey the boss, when they already felt an endless stream trickling
+down their unionized gullets? And not kill the scab whose own non-union
+thirst would prolong theirs?
+
+No! A man owes some things to his fellows, but he owes everything to
+himself. That is why, for teaching brotherhood, there is nothing like
+one book: the city Directory, from a fourth-floor window.
+
+When the boss left them he was certain that they would not fail him.
+Just let them dare try to stay away, after he had so kindly destined
+them to be the rungs of the ladder on which he expected to climb to his
+lady's window--and her father's pocket! As he walked away, his
+confidence in himself showed in his stride so clearly that those who saw
+him shared that confidence. It is not what they were when they were not
+leaders, but what they can be when they become leaders, that makes them
+remarkable men.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+The next morning Hendrik went to his tailor. As he walked into the shop
+he had the air of a man in whom two new suits a day would not be
+extravagance. The tailor, unconscious of cause and effect, called him
+"Mister," against the habit of years. Hendrik nodded coldly and said:
+
+"As secretary and treasurer of the National Street Advertising Men's
+Association, I've got to have a new frock-coat. Measure me for one."
+
+Hendrik had the air of a man who sees an unpleasant duty ahead, but does
+not mean to shirk it. This attitude always commands respect from
+tailors, clergymen, and users of false weights and measures.
+
+"Left the bank?" asked the tailor, uncertainly.
+
+"I should say I had," answered Hendrik, emphatically.
+
+"What is the new job, anyhow?" asked the tailor, professionally. His
+customers usually told him their business, their history, and their
+hopes. By listening he had been able to invest in real estate.
+
+"As I was about to say when you _interrupted_ me"--Hendrik spoke
+rebukingly.
+
+"I beg your pardon, Mr. Rutgers," said the tailor, and blushed. He knew
+now he should have said "position" instead of "job." The civilization of
+to-day--including sanitary plumbing--is possible because price-tags were
+invented. This is not an epigram.
+
+"--the clothes must be finished by Thursday. If you can't do it, I'll go
+somewhere else."
+
+"Oh, we can do it, all right, Mr. Rutgers."
+
+"Good morning," and Hendrik strode haughtily from the shop.
+
+To the tailor Hendrik had always been a clerk at a bank. But now it was
+plain to see that Mr. Rutgers thought well of himself, as a man with
+money always does in all Christian countries. Hendrik's credit at once
+jumped into the A1 class. Some people and all tailors judge men by their
+backs.
+
+Being sure of the guests, Hendrik Rutgers went forth in search of their
+dinner. To feed fivescore starving fellow-men was a noble deed; to feed
+them at the expense of some one else was even higher. So, dressed in his
+frock-coat, wearing his high hat as though it was a crown, he sought
+Caspar Weinpusslacher. The owner of the "Colossal Restaurant," just off
+the Bowery, gave a square meal for a quarter of a dollar, twenty-five
+cents; for thirty cents he gave the same meal with a paper napkin and
+the privilege of repeating the potato or the pie. His kitchen
+organization was perfect. His cooks and scullions had served in the
+German army in similar capacities, and he ruled them like one born and
+brought up in the General Staff. His waiters also were recruited from
+the greatest training-school for waiters in the world. He operated on a
+system approved by an efficiency expert. By giving low wages to people
+who were glad to get them, paying cash for his supplies and judiciously
+selecting the latter just on the eve of their spoiling, he was able to
+give an astonishingly good meal for the money. His profits, however,
+depended upon his selling his entire output. This did not always
+happen. Some days Herr Weinpusslacher almost lost three dollars.
+
+No system is perfect. Otherwise hotel men would wish to live for ever.
+
+Hendrik stalked into the Colossal dining-room and snarled at one of the
+waiters:
+
+"Where's your boss?"
+
+The waiter knew it couldn't be the Kaiser, or a millionaire. It must
+therefore be a walking delegate. He deferentially pointed to a short,
+fat man by the bar.
+
+"Tell him to come here," said Rutgers, and sat down at a table. It isn't
+so much in knowing whom to order about, but in acquiring the habit of
+ordering everybody about, that wins.
+
+Caspar Weinpusslacher received the message, walked toward the table and
+signaled to a Herculean waiter, who unobtrusively drew near--and in the
+rear--of H. Rutgers.
+
+Hendrik pointed commandingly to a chair across the table. C.
+Weinpusslacher obeyed. The Herculean waiter, to account for his
+proximity, flicked non-existent crumbs on the napeless surface of the
+table.
+
+"Recklar tinner?" he queried, in his best Delmonico.
+
+"_Geht-weg!_" snarled Mr. Rutgers. The waiter, a nostalgic look in his
+big blue eyes, went away. _Ach_, to be treated like a dog! Ach, the
+Fatherland! And the officers! _Ach!_
+
+"Weinpusslacher," said Rutgers, irascibly, "who is your lawyer and
+what's his address?"
+
+C. Weinpusslacher's little pig-eyes gleamed apprehensively.
+
+"For why you wish to know?" he said.
+
+"Don't ask _me_ questions. Isn't he your friend?"
+
+"Sure."
+
+"Is he smart?"
+
+"Smart?" C. Weinpusslacher laughed now, fatly. "He's too smart for
+_you_, all right. He's Max Ondemacher, 397 Bowery. I guess if you--"
+
+"All right. I'm going to bring him to lunch here."
+
+"He wouldn't lunch here. He's got money," said C. Weinpusslacher,
+proudly.
+
+"He will come." Rutgers looked, in a frozen way, at Caspar
+Weinpusslacher, and continued, icily: "I am the secretary and treasurer
+of the _National_ Street Advertising Men's Association. If I told you I
+wanted _you_ to give _me_ money you'd believe me. But if I told you _I_
+wanted to give _you_ money, you wouldn't. So I am going to let your own
+lawyer tell you to do as I say. I'll make you rich--for nothing!"
+
+And Hendrik Rutgers walked calmly out of the Colossal Restaurant,
+leaving in the eyes of C. Weinpusslacher astonishment, in the mind
+respect, and in the heart vague hope.
+
+This is the now historic document which Hendrik Rutgers dictated in Max
+Onthemaker's office:
+
+     Hendrik Rutgers, secretary and treasurer of the National
+     Street Advertising Men's Association, agrees to make Caspar
+     Weinpusslacher's Colossal Restaurant famous by means of
+     articles in the leading newspapers in New York City. For
+     these services Hendrik Rutgers shall receive from said
+     Caspar Weinpusslacher, proprietor of said Colossal
+     Restaurant, one-tenth (1/10) of the advertising value of
+     such newspaper notices--said value to be left to a jury
+     composed of the advertising managers of the _Ladies Home
+     Journal_, the Jewish _Daily Forward_, and the New York
+     _Evening Post_, and of Max Onthemaker and Hendrik Rutgers.
+     It is further stipulated that such compensation is to be
+     paid to Hendrik Rutgers, not in cash, but in tickets for
+     meals in said Colossal Restaurant, at thirty cents per
+     meal, said meal-tickets to be used by said Hendrik Rutgers
+     to secure still more desirable publicity by feeding
+     law-abiding, respectable poor people.
+
+_Panem et circenses!_ He had made sure of the first! The public could
+always be depended upon to furnish the second by being perfectly
+natural.
+
+M. Onthemaker accompanied H. Rutgers to the Colossal. He had some
+difficulty in persuading C. Weinpusslacher to sign. But as soon as it
+was done Hendrik said:
+
+"First gun: The National Street Advertising Men will hold their annual
+dinner here next Saturday, about one hundred of us, thirty cents each;
+regular dinner. _That_ is legitimate news and will be printed as such.
+It will advertise the Colossal and the Colossal thirty-cent dinner. You
+won't be out a cent. We pay cash for our dinner. I'll supply a few
+decorations; all you'll have to do is to hang them from that corner to
+this. You might also arrange to have a little extra illumination in
+front of the place. Have a couple of men in evening clothes and high
+hats on the corner, pointing to the Colossal, and saying:
+'_Weinpusslacher's Colossal Restaurant! Three doors down. Just follow
+the crowd!_' Arrange for all these things so that when you see that I am
+delivering the goods you won't be paralyzed. Another thing: There will
+be reporters from every daily paper in the city here Saturday night.
+Provide a table for them and pay especial attention to both dinner and
+drinks. _They_ will make you famous and rich, because you will tell them
+that they are getting the regular thirty-cent dinner. It will be up to
+you to be intelligently generous now so that you may with impunity be
+intelligently stingy later, when you are rich. I advise you to have Max
+here, because you seem to be of the distrustful nature of most damned
+fools and therefore must make your money in spite of yourself. Next
+Saturday at six P.M.! You'll make at least two hundred thousand dollars
+in the next five years. Now I am going to eat. Come on, Onthemaker."
+
+H. Rutgers sat down, summoned the Herculean waiter, and ordered two
+thirty-cent dinners.
+
+C. Weinpusslacher, a dazed look in his eyes, approached Max and
+whispered, "Hey, dot's a smart feller. What?"
+
+"Well," answered M. Onthemaker, lawyer-like, "you haven't anything to
+lose."
+
+"You said I should sign the paper," Caspar reminded him, accusingly.
+
+"You're all right so long as you don't give him a cent unless I say so."
+
+"I won't; not even if you say so."
+
+With thirty cents of food and thirty millions of confidence under his
+waistcoat, Hendrik Rutgers walked from the Colossal Restaurant down the
+Bowery and Center Street to the City Hall. At the door of the Mayor's
+room he fixed the doorkeeper with his stern eye and requested his Honor
+to be informed that the secretary of the National Street Advertising
+Men's Association would like to see his Honor about the annual dinner of
+the association, of which his Honor had been duly informed.
+
+One of the Mayor's secretaries came out, a tall young man who, as a
+reporter on a sensational newspaper, had acquired a habit of dodging
+curses and kicks. Now, as Mayor's secretary, he didn't quite know how to
+dodge soft soap and glad hands.
+
+"Good afternoon," said Hendrik, with what might be called a
+business-like amiability. "Will the Mayor accept?"
+
+"The Mayor," said the secretary with an amazing mixture of condescension
+and uneasiness, as of a man calling on a poor friend in whose parlor
+there is shabby furniture but in whose cellar there is a ton of
+dynamite--"the Mayor knows nothing about your asso--of the _dinner_ of
+your association." The secretary looked pleased at having caught himself
+in time.
+
+"Why, I wrote," began H. Rutgers, with annoyance, "over a week--" He
+silenced himself while he opened his frock-coat, tilted back his high
+hat from a corrugated brow, and felt in his pocket. It is the delivery,
+not the speech, that distinguishes the great artist. Otherwise writers
+would be considered intelligent people.
+
+"Hell!" exclaimed Hendrik, looking at the secretary so fixedly and
+angrily that the ex-reporter flinched. "It's in the other coat. I mean
+the copy of the letter I sent the Mayor exactly a week ago to-day. I
+wondered why he hadn't answered."
+
+"He never got it," the secretary hastened to say.
+
+Hendrik laughed. "You must excuse my language; but you know what it is
+to arrange all the details of an annual meeting and banquet--menu,
+decorations, music, _and_ speeches. Well, here is the situation: the
+annual dinner of the National Street Advertising Men's Association will
+be held at Weinpusslacher's. Reception at six; dinner at eight; speeches
+begin about ten.
+
+"What day?" asked the secretary.
+
+"My head is in a whirl, and I don't-- Let me see-- Oh yes. Next
+Saturday, April twenty-ninth. I'll send you tickets. Do you think the
+Mayor will come?"
+
+"I don't know. Saturdays he goes to his farm in Hartsdale."
+
+"Yes, I know; but couldn't _you_ induce him to come? By George! there is
+nothing our association wouldn't do for you in return."
+
+"I'll see," promised the secretary, with a far-away look in his eyes as
+if he were devising ways and means. Oh, he earned his salary, even if he
+was a Celt.
+
+"Thank you. And-- Oh yes, by the way, some of our members will arrive at
+the Grand Central Station Saturday afternoon. Any objections to our
+marching with a band of music down the avenue to the Colossal? We'll
+wear our association badges; they are hummers." He felt in his
+coat-tails. "I wish I had some with me. Is it necessary to have a permit
+to parade?"
+
+"Yes; but there will be no trouble about that."
+
+"Oh, thanks. Will you fix that for us? I've got to go to Wall Street
+after one of the bankers on the list of speakers, and I'll be back in
+about an hour. Could I have the Mayor's acceptance and the permit to
+parade then? You see, it's only a couple of days and I hate to trust the
+mail. Thank you. It's very kind of you, and we appreciate it."
+
+The secretary pulled out a letter and a pencil from his pocket as if to
+make a note on the back of the envelope, and so Hendrik Rutgers
+dictated:
+
+"_The National Street Advertising Men's Association._ Altogether about
+one hundred and fifty members and one band of music. So long, and thank
+you very much, Mr.--er--"
+
+"McDevitt.
+
+"Mr. McDevitt. I'll return in about an hour from now, if I may. Thank
+you." And he bowed himself out.
+
+Hendrik Rutgers had spoken as a man speaks who has a train to catch
+that he mustn't miss. That will command respect where an appeal in the
+name of the Deity will insure a swift kick. Republics!
+
+In an hour he was back, knowing that the Mayor had gone. He sent in for
+Mr. McDevitt. The secretary appeared.
+
+"Did he say he'd come?" asked H. Rutgers, impetuously.
+
+"I am sorry to say the Mayor has a previous engagement that makes it
+absolutely impossible for him to be present at your dinner. I've got a
+letter of regret."
+
+"They'll be awfully disappointed, too. I'll get the blame, of course.
+_Of_ course!" Mr. Rutgers spoke with a sort of bitter gloom, spiced with
+vindictiveness.
+
+"Here it is. I had him sign it. I wrote it. It's one of those letters,"
+went on the secretary, inflated with the pride of authorship, "that can
+be read at any meeting. It contains a dissertation on the beneficent
+influence of advertising, strengthened by citations from Epictetus,
+Buddha, George Francis Train, and other great moral teachers of this
+administration."
+
+"Thank you very much. I appreciate it. But, say, what's the matter with
+you coming in his place? I don't mean to be disrespectful, but I have a
+hunch that when it comes to slinging after-dinner oratory you'd do a
+great deal better."
+
+"Oh," said McDevitt, with a loyal shake of negation and a smile of
+assent. "No, I couldn't."
+
+"I'm sure--"
+
+"And then I'm going to Philadelphia on Saturday morning to stay over
+Sunday. I wish you'd asked me earlier."
+
+"So do I," murmured H. Rutgers, with conviction and despair judiciously
+admixed.
+
+The secretary had meant to quiz H. Rutgers about the association, but H.
+Rutgers's manner and words disarmed suspicion. It was not that H.
+Rutgers always bluffed, but that he always bluffed as he did, that makes
+his subsequent career one of the most interesting chapters of our
+political history.
+
+"And here's the permit," said the secretary.
+
+H. Rutgers, without looking at it, put it in his pocket as if it were
+all a matter of course. It strengthened the secretary's belief that
+non-suspiciousness was justified.
+
+"Thanks, very much," said H. Rutgers. "I am, I still repeat, very sorry
+that neither you nor the Mayor can come." He paid to the Mayor's
+eloquent secretary the tribute of a military salute and left the room.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+The union of the sandwich-men was an assured success. Victory had come
+to H. Rutgers by the intelligent use of brains. The possession of brains
+is one of the facts that can always be confirmed at the source.
+
+Next he arranged for the band. He told the band-master what he wished
+the band to do. The band-master thereupon told him the price.
+
+"Friend," said H. Rutgers, pleasantly, "I do not deal in dreams either
+as buyer or seller. That's the asking price. Now, how much will you
+take?" Not having any money, Hendrik added, impressively, "Cash!"
+
+The band-master, being a native-born, repeated the price--unchanged. But
+he was no match for H. Rutgers, who took a card from his pocket, looked
+at what the band-master imagined was a list of addresses of other bands,
+and then said, "Let me see; from here to--" He pulled out his watch and
+muttered to himself, but audible by the band-master, "It will take me
+half an hour or more."
+
+H. Rutgers closed his watch with a sharp and angry snap and then
+determinedly named a sum exactly two-thirds of what the band-master had
+fixed as the irreducible minimum. It was more than Hendrik could
+possibly pay.
+
+The band-master shook his head, so H. Rutgers said, irascibly:
+
+"For Heaven's sake, quit talking. I'm nearly crazy with the
+arrangements. Do you think you're the only band in New York or that I
+never hired one before? Here's the Mayor's permit." He showed it to the
+musical director, who was thereby enabled to see _National Street
+Advertising Men's Association_, and went on: "Now be at Grand Central
+Station, Lexington Avenue entrance, at 3.45 Saturday afternoon. The
+train gets in at 4. I'll be there before you are. We'll go from the
+depot to Weinpusslacher's for dinner."
+
+"Of course, we get our dinners," said the band-master in the tone of
+voice of a man who has surrendered, but denies it to the reporters.
+
+"Yes. You'll be there sure?"
+
+"Yes. But, say, we ought to get--"
+
+"Not a damned cent more," said H. Rutgers, pugnaciously, in order to
+forestall requests for part payment in advance.
+
+"I wasn't going to ask you for more money, but for a few--"
+
+"Then why waste my time? Don't fail me!"
+
+Then Hendrik Rutgers put the finishing touches on the work of
+organization. He rented offices in the Allied Arts Building, sent a
+sign-painter to decorate the ground-glass doors, and ordered some
+official stationery in a rush. He promised the agent to return with the
+president and sign the lease.
+
+Where everybody distrusts everybody else there is nothing like promising
+to sign documents!
+
+He bought some office furniture on exactly the same plan.
+
+On Friday night the unionized sandwich-men took their signs and boards
+to the trysting-place, Twenty-ninth Street and Ninth Avenue, to have new
+advertisements of Hendrik's composition painted thereon. The boards did
+not belong to the members, but in a good cause all property is the
+cause's. Each of the original fourteen brought recruits. The street was
+almost blocked. The two sign-painters worked like nine beavers, and
+Hendrik and the young man in steel-rimmed spectacles helped. When the
+clamor became threatening Hendrik counted his men twice, aloud. There
+were eighty-four of them. They knew it was eighty-four, having heard him
+say it, as he intended they should. He then took them to the corner
+boozery.
+
+He had only two dollars. There were eighty-four thirsty. Therefore,
+"Eighty beers!" he yelled, majestically.
+
+"_Eighty-four!_" shouted eighty-four voices.
+
+"That's twenty cents more," said Hendrik to himself in the plain hearing
+of the hitherto distrustful bartender. He had a small green roll in his
+left hand consisting of two dollars and two clippings. With his right he
+loudly planked down two large dimes on the counter and shoved them
+toward the bartender, who took them while Hendrik began to count his
+greenbacks.
+
+The bartender saw the exact change and began to draw beer. He even
+yelled for assistance.
+
+Hendrik knew better than to enforce discipline now, but he could not
+officially countenance disorder.
+
+"Give the other fellows a chance," he said, paternally, to those near
+by. Then he saw the rear entrance. It inspired him.
+
+He waited until there were about sixty glasses on the bar. Then he
+yelled in the direction of the front door: "Come in, boys! Everybody
+gets one!"
+
+The tidal-wave carried him and twenty others to the end of the room. But
+while the twenty others fought to get back to the schooners, he
+intelligently went out by the back door.
+
+The police reserves were called. They responded. Then six ambulances.
+
+Those who survived sought Hendrik to complain, but he beat them to it by
+scolding them angrily. He all but licked them on the spot, so that they
+forgot their grievance in their haste to defend themselves. He then
+divided them into squads of five and took them to another saloon--one
+squad and a quarter of a dollar at a time. He only used one dollar and
+fifty cents cash that way.
+
+He then promised all of them forty beers a day beginning on Monday. He
+told them to get recruits, who would not be admitted to the union, but
+could have the privilege of parading. They must be thirsty men and look
+it. They would receive two beers apiece.
+
+On Saturday morning there was not a sandwich-man to be seen at work in
+Greater New York.
+
+At noon the city editors of all the metropolitan dailies received neatly
+typewritten notices that the sandwich-men had formed a union and would
+"peacefully strive for higher wages, shorter hours, and reduced
+peregrinations. The sandwich-men had no desire to precipitate another
+internecine strife between Labor and Capital." They were "willing to
+submit their differences to a board of arbitration consisting of John D.
+Rockefeller, Charles F. Murphy, Theodore Roosevelt, Woodrow Wilson, and
+Hendrik Rutgers."
+
+These notices were one and all thrown into waste-paper baskets as cheap
+humor--to be dug up later and used.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+On Saturday afternoon at 3.35 the Harlem contingent, carrying their
+armor under one arm, their tickets given into the conductor's own hand
+by the lieutenant, Fleming, entrained at the One Hundred and
+Twenty-fifth Street station of the New York Central and Hudson River
+Railroad.
+
+Ten minutes later they arrived at the Grand Central Station. And as the
+first pair of sandwiches descended, the waiting band burst into a joyous
+welcome.
+
+The exits were crowded. Martial music and parading men always draw
+crowds. So long as there is no charge, gaping audiences automatically
+supply themselves in New York.
+
+And so, along Forty-second Street, following the musicians, himself
+followed by his starving sandwiches, Hendrik Rutgers walked into Fifth
+Avenue and into history at one and the same time.
+
+The procession turned southward. The band played Chopin's "Funeral
+March." Hendrik Rutgers at the head of his pauperized cohorts, anger in
+his heart, light in his soul, defiance in his eyes, marched down Fifth
+Avenue with an effect as of a man in armor treading on prostrate
+millionaires as over so many railroad-ties. Men who had money in their
+pockets for a minute felt the wind squeezed out of them by his foot. And
+as they saw the led sandwiches they looked thoughtful.
+
+The first of Rutgers's infantry was an old man. His long, gray beard was
+dirty and ragged, like his clothes and the rest of him. In his eyes you
+saw the unutterable weariness of a man who has lived fifty suffering
+years too long. Underneath his eyes were dark rings; from the sidewalk
+his sockets looked finger-deep. On his cheeks was the pallor of death.
+
+H. Rutgers, fighting for fairness and justice, had justly picked out the
+old fellow to be his Exhibit "A." Society must see what it did to human
+beings! Therefore the old man slid one foot along the asphalt and let
+the other follow it, with a spent, mechanical movement, as an engine,
+after the power is turned off, keeps on going from the momentum of
+years. The legs seemed to move from force of habit--a corpse on foot,
+with a concealed galvanic battery somewhere.
+
+And on the breastplate and backplate of this armored corpse, printed in
+funereal black, beautiful women and intellectual men on Fifth Avenue,
+where the unforgivable crime is to be poor and show it, read:
+
+  Yesterday I walked 19 miles.
+
+  They paid me 35 cents cash
+
+  And 2 meal tickets.
+
+He had been well coached as to his gait and, thrilled by the success he
+was making, the old chap became an artist and limped worse.
+
+Behind him was our friend Mulligan, pale, thin to emaciation. He looked
+famished. It came from the possession of a tapeworm, as before stated.
+To him Hendrik Rutgers had given this standard to bear:
+
+  They call us Sandwich-men because:
+
+  We don't know what a Square Meal is!
+
+He was followed by the raggedest human being that Anthony Comstock ever
+allowed to exhibit himself in public. On his boards the Fifth Avenue
+crowd on this fair spring day saw this:
+
+  Do you thank God you are alive?
+
+  So do we!
+
+  And notice the DIFFERENCE!
+
+The shabby-genteel man, ex-Republican, with steel-rimmed spectacles, who
+now looked for all the world like a bookkeeper out of a job, had this:
+
+  I am the Result.
+
+  The Cause was not Drink.
+
+  It was HUNGER.
+
+A young fellow who looked so much as if he had just left a hospital that
+thousands of spectators imagined they smelled iodoform carried this:
+
+  All men must die.
+
+  Knowing this, WE HOPE!
+
+An octogenarian, not over four and one-half feet tall, very
+frail-looking, was next. To him H. Rutgers had assigned this banner:
+
+  If Society won't feed us
+
+  We'll feed the Society of Worms--
+
+  POTTER'S FIELD
+
+Under a big foot--property of a popular chiropodist on lower Broadway;
+terms twenty-five cents per, five for a dollar--was this:
+
+  We are the World's Unfortunates:
+
+  BORN TO BE KICKED!
+
+Then followed a haggard-faced man who looked like an exaggerated picture
+of poverty. He carried:
+
+  There are poorer than we.
+
+  HELP THEM!
+
+A man with the stride of a conqueror bore a banner:
+
+  AND STILL WE BELIEVE IN GOD!
+
+The crowd looked puzzled. What the dickens did believing in God have to
+do with anything? To end the bother of thinking they looked at the next
+one.
+
+  Look at Fifth Avenue!
+
+  WHY?
+
+  See what we are!
+
+  WHY?
+
+They obeyed. They saw Fifth Avenue. Why? They did not know why. And then
+they saw what the sandwich-men were. And they wondered why the
+sandwich-men asked why. Why not? Pshaw! The placard that followed was:
+
+  If you wish to see
+
+  One hundred starving men
+
+  Follow us.
+
+  YOU WILL REMEMBER IT!
+
+Say, that was something that nobody had seen and therefore everybody
+could joke about. Every woman had the same remark and the same grin:
+"Haven't I seen my husband?"
+
+Before the parade had gone half a square Fifth Avenue was blocked. Apart
+from the interference of the band and the sandwiches with vehicular
+traffic, there was the paralysis of the pedestrians. The Peacock Parade
+halted. Slim figures, half-naked, flat-bosomed, stalked swayingly to the
+curb and stared with eyes in which was the insolent sex challenge that
+New York males answer with furs and jewels. And as they looked the
+challenge of sex died in the eyes of the women: the marchers had no sex;
+anybody could see they had no money!
+
+And the men, too, ceased to look stallion-eyed at the women and gazed on
+the parade of sandwich-men, who, in the middle of the street, with the
+machines and the horses, slouched on--almost rubbing valuable varnish on
+automobiles and carriages, careless beasts!
+
+Presently the hurrying crowds slowed their gait and kept step to
+Chopin's dirge--_slowly! slowly!_--until all Fifth Avenue was a vast
+funeral procession; only the marchers could not have told you what it
+was that long since had died of gold on Fifth Avenue! Slowly! Slowly!
+And with the funereal gait other changes came--in the grimace of the
+over-red lips and the look of the over-bold eyes. But never the
+slightest change in the color of the cheeks, which was there to stay, in
+rain, shine, or snow.
+
+"What is it? What is it?" whispered ten thousand people.
+
+From the middle of the street it sounded like the whimper of ten
+thousand little foamy waves dying on a flat beach. It made the filthy
+bipeds who marched look at the thronged sidewalks.
+
+They saw the usual Fifth Avenue crowd. They saw the full-fed,
+clock-hating faces of professional idlers; the drawn features of the
+busy money-maker with his perennial anxieties; the suddenly immobilized
+grimaces of millionaires intended to conceal the fear of God knew what;
+the contemptuous countenances of waiters from fashionable restaurants,
+who, like ordained priests, knew America at its worst, but, unlike
+priests, could not pity; healthy American boys with clean faces and the
+eyes of animals.
+
+And the sexless marchers saw also healthy American girls with delicate
+features and dreadful, price-quoting eyes, and faces not clean and
+healthy, but dead-white and dead-crimson; they saw not women's faces,
+but marble tombstones on which the epitaphs were scarlet letters that
+told what the price was, so that the professional prostitutes no longer
+wasted time advertising with the same ink, but used downcast eyes as
+bait.
+
+There was a gap of about thirty feet between the first detachment of
+Rutgers's marching advertisements and the next. The spectators, seeking
+explanations, saw a cadaverous-looking man, hollow-cheeked, sunken-eyed,
+white-lipped, who stepped as though the avenue were full of puddles of
+nitroglycerine--uncertainly, fearfully! And this death-on-foot carried a
+white-cloth board black-bordered like a funeral-card. And thereon
+money-makers and money-spenders, clubmen and waiters, shop-girls and
+millionairesses--all Fifth Avenue!--saw this:
+
+  HAIL, NEW YORK!
+
+  WE WHO ARE ABOUT TO DIE
+
+  SALUTE YOU!
+
+There followed another gap of thirty feet, so that the valedictorian of
+the doomed might be seen of all. Then came eighty-odd sandwich-bearers,
+appositely legended. From time to time the valedictorian would stagger
+as you have seen horses do on their last trip to the glue-factory.
+Whereupon a couple of the non-descripts behind him would shuffle up and
+endeavor to uphold him. And the others slouched on, deep-eyed, gaunt,
+famine-stricken, rum-ravaged, disease-smitten--ex-bookkeepers, and
+superannuated mechanics, and disgraced yeggmen, and former
+merchants--and former men, too!
+
+At Thirty-ninth Street a young woman dressed richly but in perfect taste
+stood on the very corner. Her hair had glints of sunshine and her eyes
+were like twin heavens, clean, and clear, and blue, and infinitely deep.
+And the Madonna face saw the Death face, looked at the thing that had
+been a man, and read his salutation. And in one of the pauses of the
+"Funeral March" a thousand people heard her laugh, and heard her exclaim
+with a contagious relish, spiced with undisguised admiration:
+
+"_If that ain't the limit!_"
+
+New York had spoken!
+
+And the chauffeurs near her laughed in sympathy. And gray heads stuck
+out of limousine windows, and millionaires and their female stood up in
+their snail-moving touring-cars, and top-hatted coachmen turned
+impassive heads on neck-hinges long since rusted with the arrogance of
+menials. And upon their faces and along the ranks that lined both sides
+of the great avenue a slow grin spread--uncertain, hesitating, dubious!
+The great American sense of humor was trying to assert itself. Hendrik's
+joke was not labeled "Joke" plainly enough. Otherwise the spectators
+would have shown much earlier their ability to laugh at death, hunger,
+disease, misery, drunkenness, honesty, despair--anything, so long as it
+was the death, hunger, disease, misery, drunkenness, honesty, and
+despair of others.
+
+But at Tiffany's corner the traffic policeman stopped the leader of the
+band; and he stopped the band; and the band stopped Rutgers; and Rutgers
+stopped his army; and that stopped all traffic on the Avenue up to
+Forty-second Street.
+
+Hendrik Rutgers hurried forward and explained, calmly: "Here, officer. I
+am the secretary of the National Street Advertising Men's Association.
+We have a permit from the Mayor. Here it is."
+
+"Oh, advertising! I see!" said the policeman, and smiled appreciatively.
+He had feared they might be starving men.
+
+"Yes," said H. Rutgers, quite loudly, "advertising the fact that a man
+out of a job in New York, who is too proud to beg and too honest to
+steal, has to become a sandwich-man and make from twenty-five to
+forty-five cents for ten hours work--not in China or Mexico, but in New
+York, to-day; men who are willing to work, but are old or sickly or have
+no regular trade. You know how the Mayor feels about the rights of
+citizens who are not rich and the duty of paid officials of this city.
+He and I are opposed to too much law in the way of clubs. So kindly pass
+the word down the line, officer."
+
+The big traffic policeman, far more impressed by the delivery than by
+the speech itself, touched his hand to his cap so very respectfully that
+the grinning crowd at once became serious. Each woman turned on her
+neighbor and frowned furiously the unuttered scolding for the other's
+unseemly levity.
+
+"What does it mean?" asked hundreds. All looked toward Hendrik Rutgers
+for explanation, for official permission to laugh at a spectacle that
+was not without humorous suggestions. But he kept them guessing. This is
+called knowledge of stage effects; also psychological insight; also
+cheap politics. Historians even refer to it as statesmanship.
+
+Something that makes one hundred thousand New-Yorkers gasp and stare is
+not necessarily news; an ingenius street-sign or a five-dollar-a-day
+Steeple Jack could do it. But that not one of one hundred thousand
+omniscient New-Yorkers knew whether to laugh, to curse, or to weep at
+what they saw made that sight very decidedly "news." An interrogation
+marker in one hundred thousand otherwise empty heads loomed gigantic
+before the hair-trigger minds of the city editors. They sent their star
+men to get answers to the multitudinous question; and, if possible, also
+the facts.
+
+Just south of Thirty-fourth Street the _Herald_, _Times_, _Sun_, and
+_Evening Journal_ reporters overtook H. Rutgers. He made the procession
+halt. That again made all Fifth Avenue halt. He waited until all the
+reporters were near him, and then he spoke very slowly, for he guessed
+that shorthand and literature do not necessarily coexist.
+
+"The sandwich-men have formed a union. It includes sandwich-men from the
+five boroughs. We are going to have an annual dinner at six o clock--we
+are not fashionable folk, you know. There will be speeches. Did you ask
+why we should have a union? I'll tell you why: because we didn't have
+one; because employers have not thought of us as human beings, but as
+human derelicts. A starving man who doesn't want to steal and is ashamed
+to beg will sandwich for thirty cents a day ten hours; and he can't
+always collect his wages. And who is going to fight for him? When you
+think of the importance of all advertising, do you consider the peculiar
+picturesqueness of advertising through sandwiches? In the Middle Ages
+they had their heralds and their pursuivants--the sandwich-men of
+feudalism; and later the town criers; and later still, _us_. Do you know
+in what esteem sandwich-men are held in the south of France and in the
+Orient? Did you know that sandwich-men take the place of bells on Good
+Friday in Moldavia? Do you know why there are no commercial sandwich-men
+in Russia or in Spain? Did you ever read what Confucius wrote about
+'Those men who with letters on their garments dispel the ignorance of
+buyers,' and a lot more? Did you? Did any clergyman ever tell you that
+sandwich-men are, beyond the shadow of a doubt, alluded to twice in the
+Old and five times in the New Testament? Don't you think that as
+intelligent investigators of industrial conditions and of the submerged
+tenth it would be worth your time to come to our annual dinner and hear
+our version of it? And also see how starving men eat the first square
+meal of the year?"
+
+Of course it was pure inspiration and, as such, impressive.
+
+"Yes, sir," respectfully replied the _Evening Journal_ man--a tall, dark
+chap with gold-rimmed spectacles and a friendly smile. "What's the name
+of the restaurant?"
+
+"Caspar Weinpusslacher's Colossal Restaurant," said H. Rutgers.
+
+"Spell it!" chorused the reporters; and H. Rutgers did, slowly and
+patiently. At once the _Evening Journalist_ rushed on to telephone the
+caption of a story to his paper. That would enable the office to get out
+an extra; after which would come another edition with the story itself.
+He was the best head-line reporter in all New York.
+
+Long before the National Street Advertising Men's Association reached
+the Colossal Restaurant, Caspar Weinpusslacher converted himself into a
+Teutonic hurricane and changed thirty short tables into three, long
+ones. On his lips was a smile, and in his heart a hope that glowed like
+an incandescent twenty-dollar gold piece, for Max Onthemaker had rushed
+in breathlessly and gasped:
+
+"He _is_ a smart feller, all right. What?" And he gave an _Evening
+Journal_ to Caspar Weinpusslacher, wherein he read this:
+
+  SANDWICH PARADE
+
+  PATHETIC PROTEST AGAINST INDUSTRIAL SLAVERY
+
+  PAUPERS WHO WILL NEITHER STEAL NOR BEG FORCED BY SOCIETY TO STARVE
+
+  SANDWICH WAGES, TWO CENTS AN HOUR
+
+  MEN ABOUT TO DIE SALUTE NEW YORK
+
+    The Sandwich-men's Union will hold their annual meeting at
+    Weinpusslacher's Colossal Restaurant.
+
+    They have been saving up for this, their one square meal this
+    year.
+
+    They are paid from twenty to forty cents a day and walk from
+    fifteen to thirty miles in the ten hours.
+
+    Did you know that twice in the Old and five times in the New
+    Testament mention is made of the sandwich-men?
+
+    Do you know why Catholic Spain and anti-Semitic Russia alike
+    permit no sandwich-men to ply their time-honored occupation
+    within their confines?
+
+
+There the article abruptly ended.
+
+"Weinie," said Max, exultingly, "this makes you. Be very nice to Mr.
+Rutgers. You'll have to pay him thousands of dollars--"
+
+"Then, you vas in league mit him?"
+
+"No. But he's a genius!"
+
+"I thought he was German," said C. Weinpusslacher, controversially.
+
+"Get busy, Weinie. The crowd will be here in a minute. And don't ask Mr.
+Rutgers to pay for his dinner."
+
+"Why not?" growled Weinie. He was on his way to a sure million. That
+made the growl natural.
+
+"What is thirty dollars for their dinner to thirty thousand dollars
+worth of free advertising?"
+
+"Thirty dollars," observed C. Weinpusslacher, thriftily, "is _thirty
+dollars_!"
+
+"Bah!"
+
+"I tell you, it is, mister." C. Weinpusslacher frowned pugnaciously.
+
+But Onthemaker knew his man. So he said: "I'll get Meyer Rabinowitz to
+give us an option on the property to-night before he reads the
+newspapers. As Rutgers said, once your place is a success, you'll have
+to pay any price the landlord wants. Meyer's got you! I can hear your
+squeals of agony already!"
+
+Max shook his head so gloomily that C. Weinpusslacher actually began to
+tremble with joy. The thought of making money did not move him. The
+thought of losing the money he had not made, did. Oh yes; born
+money-makers!
+
+By the time H. Rutgers arrived at the Colossal Restaurant Caspar
+Weinpusslacher, Esq., and the Hon. Maximilian Onthemaker had constituted
+themselves into a highly enthusiastic reception committee, for the crowd
+that came with H. Rutgers filled the street so that all you heard was
+the squealing and cursing of persons that were pressed against iron
+newel-posts of the old-fashioned stoops or precipitated into basements
+and cellars. Sixty policemen, impartially cursing the Mayor, Epictetus,
+and H. Rutgers, and yearning for the days of Aleck Williams, when clubs
+were made to be used and not to be fined for, endeavored to keep the
+crowd moving.
+
+"You'll find everything ready, Mr. Rutgers," said M. Onthemaker. "Here
+is one of my cards. The name, you will see," he almost shouted, "is
+spelled with a _k_ not _h_--O-n-t-h-e-m-a-k-e-r. Everything is ready,
+Mr. Secretary." He looked at the reporters out of a corner of his eye.
+
+"And it won't cost you nothing, not one cent," interjected C.
+Weinpusslacher, eagerly and distinctly. "Any feller wot's smart like
+you, Mr. Rutchers--"
+
+"And the poor starving men," quickly interjected M. Onthemaker, not
+wishing for character-analyses yet, "who are the victims of a ruthless
+industrial system--"
+
+"Yah, sandwiches!" put in C. Weinpusslacher.
+
+M. Onthemaker grimaced horribly, and C. Weinpusslacher was silent for a
+minute. Presently he told Rutgers, "They get enough to eat here,
+anyways, I bet you."
+
+He glared with a sort of malevolent triumph at M. Onthemaker, until he
+heard the boss say in stern accents:
+
+"That, of course, Weinpusslacher, includes a couple of beers apiece."
+
+"Of course! Of course!" put in M. Onthemaker, hastily. "The
+representatives of the press will sit at their own table, at which I am
+to have the honor of presiding, Max Onthemaker--O-n-t-h-e-m--"
+
+"We got it down," the _Evening Journal_ man assured him, amiably.
+
+C. Weinpusslacher was so angry that anybody should help him to make
+money, when half the pleasure is in making it yourself out of your
+fellow-men, that he said, spitefully, "There will be free beer!"
+
+Hendrik Rutgers took an innkeeper's notion and made of it the most
+remarkable platform in the history of party government. He said,
+sternly, "Everything free for free men!"
+
+A grunting murmur ran down the line of derelicts--the inarticulate
+tribute of great thirst to great leadership. In a hundred pairs of eyes
+a human hope kindled its fire for the first time in two hundred years!
+
+Great indeed was Hendrik Rutgers!
+
+His faithful sandwiches would go through fire for him! A man who can get
+free beer for Sahara throats could put out the fire--with more beer.
+
+The boards were hung around the great hall in plain sight of the
+reporters, who copied the legends, that all America might read. While
+they were writing, Caspar was hiring thirty extra waiters and turning
+people away. Hendrik went from man to man, sternly warning that no one
+must begin to eat until he gave the order. A violation of his order
+would entail the loss of the dinner and most of the scalp. He also said
+they must not linger over their victuals, and told them that two extra
+beers apiece would be awarded to the ten men who finished first.
+
+He had made up his mind that the cold and callous world should be told
+how starving men eat.
+
+What do people who get enough to eat know about starving men?
+
+Nothing!
+
+They impede the world's progress by being content. Human pigs!
+
+In a surprisingly short time one hundred complete dinners were in front
+of one hundred starving men. Six bartenders were busy filling
+schooners--in plain sight of the starving men. But the boss's awful
+frown held them in check. Each man began to tremble in advance--fearing
+he might not be one of the ten to win the extra schooners.
+
+The reporters looked at the hundred faces and began to write like mad.
+
+Hendrik rose. There was an awed silence. The reporters stopped writing.
+One hundred inferior maxillaries began to castanet away like mad. The
+boss held up a hand. Then he said in measured tones:
+
+"May God be good to us sandwich-men again this year! _Eat!_"
+
+When he said eat, men ate. Don't forget the moral effect of commanding
+and being obeyed!
+
+They flung themselves on the food like wild beasts, and made animal
+noises in their throats. They disdained forks, knives, and spoons. They
+used claws and jaws on meat, coffee, bread, potatoes, soup, or pie
+whichever was nearest.
+
+No man wanted to be the last to finish.
+
+"My God!" exclaimed the _Evening Post_ man. "This is absolutely
+horrible!"
+
+"Pippin!" said the creative artist from the Sun.
+
+All of them would treat it as a Belasco production. That is, they would
+impart to it all the dignity and importance of a political convention.
+
+At 8 P.M. Hendrik Rutgers, man of destiny, rose to speak. He never even
+glanced at the reporters. He said, very earnestly, to his tattered
+cohorts:
+
+"Comrades! Ours is beyond question the only labor union in the United
+States, and, for all I know, in the entire world, that is not
+monopolistic in its tendencies. We are individualists because
+advertising is not a science nor a trade, but an art, and we are
+artists. When the advertisers' greed saw the artists' hunger, the result
+was _that_!" He pointed to five score dehumanized faces before him.
+
+"Great!" murmured the _Sun_ man.
+
+"Hereafter watch the sandwich-man, and in one corner of the sign look
+for the union label--a skeleton carrying a coffin, to remind us that no
+matter what a man is when he is born, he goes to his Maker between
+boards. In death all men are equal, and in his coffin a man is the
+Ultimate Sandwich!"
+
+"That's literature!" muttered the serious young man from the _Journal_.
+
+"We refuse to be thieves. Therefore we decline to do any sandwiching for
+patent medicines, banks, quack cures, fraudulent stores, immoral books,
+coal-dealers, fake doctors, suburban real estate, bum chiropodists, or
+disreputable people of any kind, class, or nature whatsoever. We start
+with professional ethics, which is where most professions end. We who
+have been the lowest of the low class that work for their daily bread
+are now the S. A. S. A.--the Society of American Sandwich Artists. All
+we ask is permission to live! Our headquarters will be in the Allied
+Arts Building on Fifth Avenue."
+
+His speech had quotable phrases. A country that once cast the biggest
+vote in its history for the square deal, that makes minions of dollars
+out of asking you if you see that hump, and from promising to do the
+rest if you push the button, and boasts of the thorn that made a rose
+famous, is bound to be governed by phrases. The only exceptions are the
+Ten Commandments. They are quotable, but not memorable.
+
+All the newspapers spread themselves on that story. In their clubs the
+managing editors heard their fellow-members talk about the parade, and
+this made each M. E. telephone to the city editor to play it up. It was
+too picturesque not to be good reading, and since good reading is always
+easy writing, both reporters and editorial writers enjoyed themselves.
+That made them artists instead of wage-earners.
+
+Hendrik Rutgers possessed the same quality of political instinct that
+nearly made the luckiest man in the world President of the United
+States. By blindly following it, young Mr. Rutgers jumped into the very
+heart of a profound truth. And once he landed, the same sublimated
+sagacity impelled him to stamp with both feet hard. Then, unemotionally
+perceiving exactly what he had done, he proceeded very carefully to pick
+out his own philosophical steps, in order to be able later on to prove
+that he had been coldly logical. Impulsive humanity always distrusts
+impulsiveness in others. Leaders, therefore, always call them carefully
+considered plans.
+
+In all irreligious countries, as Hendrik Rutgers, astutely arguing
+backward, told himself, the people who buy, sell, and vote are alive
+only to To-day and therefore dare not take heed of the Hereafter. This
+has exalted _news_ to the dignity of a sacred commandment.
+
+In such communities success is necessarily a matter of skilful
+publicity.
+
+Who is the greatest of all press agents, working while you sleep and
+even when you blunder?
+
+The People!
+
+The front page of the newspaper is therefore the arena of to-day!
+
+To live in that page, all you have to do is to become News.
+
+Once you become News all the king-making reporters of all the
+nation-making newspapers become your press agents. The public does the
+rest and pays all salaries.
+
+Thrilled by his discovery, Hendrik called Max Onthemaker to one side
+and, with the air of a man risking one hundred and two millions of cash,
+said to him: "I have decided to make you chief counsel of my society.
+Your services will entitle you to represent me."
+
+Never had man been so lavishly overpaid for breathing since the dawn of
+historical time. Hendrik went on, still imperial in bounty:
+
+"I have in mind some great things. Every one of them will be worth as
+much space as the newspapers will give to this dinner. Do you see your
+chance?"
+
+"I can't live on newspaper articles," began Max, elated but dissembling.
+
+"You can die without them. Chronic obscurity; acute starvation," said
+Hendrik Rutgers in his clinical voice. "I not only do not propose to pay
+you a cent, but I expect you to pay all necessary expenses out of your
+privy purse without a murmur--unless said murmur is intended to express
+your legal opinion and your gratitude. I shall give you an opportunity
+to represent my society"--you would have sworn he was saying _my
+regiment_--"in actions involving the most famous names in America."
+
+"For instance?" asked M. Onthemaker, trying to speak skeptically, that
+his eagerness might not show too plainly.
+
+Hendrik Rutgers named six of the mightiest.
+
+"You're on, Mr. Rutgers," said Max, enthusiastically. "Now, I think--"
+
+"Wait!" interrupted Hendrik, coldly. "Never forget that I am not your
+press agent. You are mine."
+
+"There will be glory enough to go around," said Max Onthemaker in his
+police-court voice. "When do we begin?"
+
+"To-morrow."
+
+"Yes, sir. And now--"
+
+"My _now_ is your _when_! Your job is to find the legal way of helping
+the Cause."
+
+"I will!" promised Onthemaker, heartfully. The Cause would be his Cause.
+He'd fix it so they couldn't leave out his name.
+
+But Hendrik saw the gleam in the lawyer's eye.
+
+That's the worst of all thoughts of self. They invariably are
+undisguisable.
+
+"The Cause, Onthemaker," said Hendrik, sternly, "is the cause of the
+Society of American Sandwich Artists. We are not associated to make
+money for ourselves, but for our employers. This is revolutionary.
+Moreover, we are not working-men, but artists. Therefore our men not
+only love their work, but are law-abiding. This will make the employers
+helpless to retaliate. We shall never do anything without invoking the
+aid of the law, for I believe that the law will help the poor not less
+than the rich if properly--"
+
+"Advertised," prompted Max. "I get you. In the forum of the people's
+liberties--the daily papers--is the place to try--"
+
+Hendrik held up a hand. He had chosen the right lawyer. The
+interpretation of the law depends exclusively upon the tone of voice.
+All reporters are trained to be judges of elocution. They have to be, in
+republics.
+
+"To-morrow--" Here Hendrik paused.
+
+Max's face paled slightly as he waited. What was coming?
+
+Hendrik finished: "_I shall telephone to you!_"
+
+Max drew in his breath sharply.
+
+Hendrik then nodded. It meant, "You have my permission to retire!"
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Rutgers," said Max, respectfully, and withdrew from the
+presence on tiptoe.
+
+Hendrik then beckoned to his sandwich lieutenant. "Fleming!" he said,
+sternly.
+
+Fleming threw up an arm defensively from force of habit--the slave's
+immemorial salute. Then he grinned sheepishly. Then he said, eagerly,
+"Yes, boss!"
+
+"I'm going to make you chief of the Meal Ticket Department, and I expect
+you to maintain discipline. But if I ever hear of any graft, such as
+accepting bonuses--" He closed his jaws and his fists. When you close
+both at the same time you inevitably win the debate. It is, however,
+difficult.
+
+"Honest, b-boss," stammered Fleming, his eyes on Hendrik's right fist.
+"Honest, I--"
+
+The boss's right unclenched itself. Fleming drew in a deep breath.
+
+"Get the names and addresses of all the men here--in their own writing.
+Ask Onthemaker for a blank-book, and when the men have signed give the
+book back to him. They've got to sign!"
+
+Fleming's face was pale but resigned. Signatures are lethal weapons in
+all industrial democracies. Ask the note-teller in any bank. But the
+boss had said, "_Sign!_"
+
+Kismet!
+
+"And you keep a book of your own so that when I want ten or twenty men
+of a certain type and appearance you will know where to find them. I
+hold you responsible!"
+
+Poor Fleming almost collapsed. Responsibility in a republic really means
+accountability. Our entire system of law, as a great psychologist has
+pointed out, is based upon the same confusion of definitions.
+
+Hendrik saw the fear of statutory punishment seep into his lieutenant's
+soul. He stopped it at exactly the right point.
+
+"Fleming," he said, kindly, "I trust you!"
+
+Fleming felt himself decorated with the Grand Cross of the Order of
+Unearned Food. It made him into an active citizen.
+
+"I'll get the men when you shout, boss!" he promised, proudly, realizing
+the meaning of the duty of a voter.
+
+However, it would never do to have your creatures think they also have
+the power to create. Therefore Hendrik said, "If you don't--"
+
+"I'll get 'em for you, b-boss. Honest, I will!" meekly promised Fleming,
+taking his place in the ranks. He was an ideal cabinet officer.
+
+Hendrik Rutgers did not _know_ men. He _guessed_ them. He thus saved
+himself the fatigue of thinking.
+
+Weinpusslacher swaggered by, counting his millions. He had begun to feel
+haughty. Hendrik stopped him by lifting his right forefinger and then
+smartly moving it Hendrikward.
+
+"Weinie, I guess you're famous. You give the free meal tickets to
+Onthemaker. And don't try to cheat!"
+
+"I never do such--" began Caspar, angrily.
+
+"You never will to me," interrupted Hendrik, making Weinie's unuttered
+words his own. It took away from Weinie all sense of proprietorship in
+his own property.
+
+This also is called genius. Such men should be tax-collectors instead of
+railroad bankers.
+
+Hendrik glanced toward the reporters and saw that Mr. Onthemaker was
+talking to them and looking at him--looking at him both ingratiatingly
+and proudly. He therefore knew that Max was being quoted by the
+newspaper men, and the only subject on which they would quote him was
+Hendrik Rutgers. He also knew that the desire for reflected glory, in
+all newspaper-reading countries, is so strong that Max would be a great
+political historian. The best way to blow your own horn is to lend it to
+an obscure friend.
+
+Hendrik Rutgers left the Colossal Restaurant certain that he was News,
+and that his job consisted of continuing to be News.
+
+To become News and then to continue to be News a man must be plausible,
+persistent, and picturesque.
+
+There was no altitude of success to which he might not climb, provided
+he lost six-sevenths of his name and mutilated his surname in like
+degree.
+
+He must become two letters: _H. R._
+
+He thus would become an immortal during his own lifetime, which was
+immortality enough for any man who merely wished to acquire fame,
+wealth, and one wife in his own country.
+
+So brightly lighted was his road that he knew exactly where to plant
+each foot--in the front page!
+
+He must do it all. Therefore he must make others do the work. But this
+man who now was a million miles beyond all bank clerks knew exactly
+_what_ he needed, which made it easy for him to know exactly _whom_ he
+needed. This knowledge would establish the basis on which the workers
+must work.
+
+He sought a newspaper-advertising agency; ordered the manager to insert
+in all the morning papers the same advertisement, in large type, with
+triple spacing, to show that money was no object.
+
+This always impresses people who wish to make money.
+
+The advertisement read:
+
+     WANTED--FIRST-CLASS ADVERTISING CANVASSERS. I AM ANXIOUS TO
+     PAY 50 PER CENT. MORE THAN IS CUSTOMARY TO SUCH MEN. THIS
+     DOES NOT MEAN YOU, MY HUNGRY AND HOPEFUL FRIEND! Apply
+     between 9 and 10 A.M. to
+
+  H. R.
+
+  ALLIED ARTS BLDG.
+
+     _P. S. The better the men the fewer I need. The fewer I use
+     the greater the profit to the lucky ones. Keep away unless
+     you are a Wonder._
+
+It was the first time that an advertisement for "Help Wanted" had
+contained a postscriptum. H. R. did it because he knew that the
+unusualness of it would make professional people talk. Every experienced
+advertising man must realize that H. R. had not written an
+advertisement, but had dictated a brief letter to him. The signer was
+too busy and too much in earnest to compose a regular advertisement.
+
+Genius neglects no opportunity, however slight. Consider the small but
+efficient yellow-fever microbe.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+Monday morning, at 8.30 A.M., H. R. was in his office. At 8.35 he had
+engaged a stenographer by telephone and told the starter and the
+elevator-men who H. R. was. Later on the dozen men who answered the
+advertisement made it impossible for either starter or elevator-men ever
+to forget who H. R. was without the use of gratuities, profanity, or
+promises.
+
+H. R.'s first task was to compose memoranda for the use and guidance of
+Max Onthemaker and Lieutenant Fleming. At 8.45 the first-class
+advertising canvassers began to appear in numbers. Really efficient men
+are never modest. Neither are really inefficient men. Efficiency is
+always a matter of personal judgment. Even efficiency experts will tell
+you that nobody is really efficient until efficiency experts have said
+so.
+
+H. R. allowed the applicants to accumulate in the anteroom. The new
+stenographer had been told to write, "Now is the time for all good men
+to come to the aid of their party" two thousand times and to time
+herself. The spectators thereby realized that this was a busy office.
+
+He was confronting his first crisis--the selection of a man who must not
+only be highly competent, but must be made to realize that H. R. was a
+pioneer, a man to whom tradition, precedents, and custom were less than
+nothing. H. R. studied the situation and then went out to the anteroom
+and looked at the waiting dozen slowly.
+
+There are a few men in the world who can look a crowd from head to foot
+and manage to make each man in it feel guilty. After H. R. had so looked
+at them, he asked, skeptically, "Are _all_ of you first-class men?"
+
+To their honor be it said, not one of them answered No. Men collectively
+may be cruel or blind, but seldom petty or egotistical. Observe mobs.
+
+H. R. turned his back on the crowd and returned to his private office.
+He did it on purpose. Men usually follow those who act as if they do not
+care whether they have a following or not. It is wiser to be wrong and
+not hesitate than to vacillate and be right. Besides, much quicker.
+
+At the threshold he half turned and, without looking at any one in
+particular, said: "I need only four first-class men. The others might as
+well go away."
+
+Twelve men heard him. Twelve men followed him.
+
+He sat down at his new desk, put the unpaid bill for same in a drawer,
+and confronted them.
+
+"Eight of you can go," he observed, and waited.
+
+Each man cast a glance of pity at his neighbor.
+
+"Don't be so modest," H. R. told them, kindly.
+
+"You said first-class men?" politely inquired a young man,
+smooth-shaven, blond, blue-eyed, and very clean-looking.
+
+"Yes," answered H. R.
+
+"That's what I understood," said the young man, extending his hand.
+"Barrett's my name."
+
+H. R. ignored the outstretched hand and stared at the clean-looking
+young man.
+
+On the faces of eleven Christian gentlemen came a fraternal look of
+self-conscious modesty. But young Mr. Barrett, unabashed, said,
+cheerily:
+
+"Keep on looking. _I_ know you want me. When _you_ discover it, we'll do
+business."
+
+"Go to the foot of the class," said H. R., impassively. You could tell
+nothing from his voice. It is a valuable gift.
+
+The young man eyed H. R. shrewdly, then walked to a corner of the room,
+sat down, pulled a memorandum-book from his pocket, and began to count
+his contracts in advance.
+
+"Your _last_ name, please," said H. R., looking as if what he had asked
+for was the _right_ name. The assumption of guilt has the effect of
+putting even the innocent on the defensive. The strategic inferiority of
+the defensive is always acknowledged by the defeated--even before the
+defeat.
+
+He jotted down the replies, one after another. Within one and
+three-quarter minutes these men felt themselves deprived of their
+individual entities. They had been turned into a list of surnames, a
+fragment of the rabble.
+
+The leader stood alone--he alone had a _first_ name! Smith merely votes;
+John Smith has his own opinion. H. R. had acted instinctively. He never
+would have had the conscious wisdom of an editorial writer. There are
+many editorial writers in all republics. Hence, practical politics.
+
+"Where did you see my advertisement?" asked H. R. "One at a time,
+please. Also, state why you looked in that particular newspaper?"
+
+They told him, one at a time, in the hearing of the others, thereby
+intensifying their own feeling of having been lumped into an
+electorate. He made notes as they answered. Some had seen it in the
+_Herald_. Others blamed the _World_ or the _Times_ or the _Sun_, or the
+_Tribune_. Three gave two papers; one had seen three. They expressed
+their professional opinion of that particular advertising medium,
+feeling that said opinion was a qualification of fitness.
+
+Young Mr. Barrett from his chair answered: "In all the papers. I also
+looked in the German, Yiddish, and Italian papers; in the _Courier des
+Etats-Unis_, and in the first morning edition of every afternoon paper.
+I did it to get a line on _you_."
+
+H. R. did not look as if he had heard Barrett. He said to the others: "I
+thank you all for coming. I shall not need Wilson, Streeter, Manley,
+Hill, Roberts, Smith, Jenks, or MacDuffy."
+
+One of the rejected came forward, scowling. He was naturally a
+robust-looking person. He said, "Say, this is--"
+
+H. R. did not allow the full expression of individual opinion--a form of
+salutary discipline which explains why people are governed. He snarled
+in a tone of voice that made his shoulders look a yard wide: "Mr. Book
+Agent, I've picked the men I want. What I don't want is to hear any
+remarks. Talk them into a dictagraph and send the cylinders by parcels
+post to my secretary."
+
+He had risen. But when he finished speaking, as though the unarmed
+proletariat were in full retreat, he sat down again. It was the way he
+did it.
+
+Men always do what they are expected to do. The eight non-successfuls
+went out. It was only when they were outside, where the female was
+typewriting away, that they began to talk loudly.
+
+H. R. had judged rightly. They were not first-class men. He turned to
+the others and asked:
+
+"Can you _sell_ advertising?"
+
+Young Mr. Barrett came forward. The four answered, "Yes!"
+
+"Then you can sell anything!"
+
+He stood up suddenly, when they were not expecting such a thing. This is
+always subtly disconcerting. Business men and beautiful women invariably
+resent it.
+
+He asked, sharply, "What is the one thing none of you can sell to me?"
+
+He looked challengingly at the first. The man stared back at H. R. and,
+with the canvasser's professional look of congratulation, replied, "A
+gold brick!"
+
+"Good answer! Not _the_ answer. And you?" he asked the second man.
+
+"Newspaper space--not to you."
+
+"Still better answer. But not the answer."
+
+He looked at the third man, who promptly said: "Opinions!"
+
+"Excellent. But not the answer. And you, young man?"
+
+The accusation of youth is never successfully repulsed. Young Mr.
+Barrett, ingeniously admitting his youth to remove the sting from his
+humor, replied triumphantly, "Smallpox!"
+
+"The tendency of American youth is toward the clown. It keeps us in an
+attitude of perennial apology toward the perennial juvenility of our
+nation. What none of you can sell me is--"
+
+He paused. They were looking at him with the intentness with which all
+men look at an armed lunatic--or at their master.
+
+After the second minute of suspense they exclaimed in chorus:
+
+"What?"
+
+They couldn't help it!
+
+"Cold feet!" said H. R. calmly.
+
+They looked relieved. Then they looked anxious. The reason the ruled
+masses never win is because they inflict upon themselves their own
+doubts.
+
+"How many times your own salary do you wish to earn for me?" asked H. R.
+in the tone of voice in which a philanthropist asks strangers for
+subscriptions to his pet charity. This always makes people feel that
+extravagance is a sin.
+
+"I'd expect to earn for you--" began one of the victims.
+
+"Not what you would _expect_, but what you would _like_," corrected
+H. R. He spoke so kindly that they at once knew it was a trap. A look of
+brotherhood always is, to all clever men of an editorial type of mind.
+
+"Four or five times," answered No. 1.
+
+"And you?"
+
+"I don't want to work for you at all," answered No. 2, feeling that his
+answer was sure not to be right.
+
+"Good morning," said H. R. in such a voice and with such a look that No.
+2 instantly ceased to exist. When he walked out he didn't hear his own
+footsteps.
+
+"And you?"
+
+"It depends," answered No. 3 in the earnest voice of a man trying to be
+fair at all costs, "upon what the work will be."
+
+"I sha'n't need you. Please don't ask me questions. Good day, sir."
+
+"I have a right--"
+
+"None whatever. It would be cruelty if I told you."
+
+Mr. Barrett laughed. No. 3 said, angrily, "You can't come that on me and
+get away with it, you damned--"
+
+"Go while the going is good, friend." H. R. spoke with the cold kindness
+of a man warning an objectionable inebriate. Then, when the loss of
+patience of a prize-fighter who, however, has not quite lost sight of
+the electric chair: "Get out! D'ye _hear_?"
+
+The man left. H. R. stared out of the window. They could see it was to
+cool off. It gave the remaining pair a great respect for him and also a
+resolve not to stimulate the heat verbally. At length H. R. turned to
+No. 1 and said, "Wolverton is your name?"
+
+"Yes," answered Wolverton. Then he added, "Sir."
+
+"Do you always get what you want?"
+
+"I get my share."
+
+"Barrett, do you get what you want?"
+
+"Always!" promptly answered Barrett. "But I've got to be sure I want
+it."
+
+"The more money you two wish to make the better you please me. It will
+give you something to brag of. In working for me you will receive your
+share of prosperity and the pleasure of becoming somebody."
+
+He looked as if the three of them stood in the plain sight of two and
+one-half millions of spectators. He went on, even more impressively,
+"You will now go on Fifth Avenue and graciously permit the swellest
+shops to employ our union sandwich-men to advertise their wares."
+
+Wolverton rose to his feet. His color also rose.
+
+"You didn't want me to waste your time, did you?"
+
+"No, but you have. Good day. Now, Barrett, listen to me. I never
+repeat."
+
+Mr. Wolverton opened his mouth, perceived that H. R. was not looking at
+him, closed his mouth and went out. He was a well-dressed man with a
+determined chin. If it had not been for that chin he would have been a
+bookkeeper. Determination minus imagination equals stubbornness.
+
+Mr. Wolverton therefore walked out unbleeding.
+
+"Barrett, do you see the possibilities?"
+
+"Do I? Didn't I see the parade? Say, I can only think when I talk. Trust
+_me_! Speaking of terms--" He looked at H. R., nodded amiably, and said,
+"After you, kind friend."
+
+"You will ask our clients five dollars per day per man, they to pay for
+the boards, which must be artistic and approved by me. The union label
+will be on them. Forty per cent. goes to the artist, forty per cent. to
+you, and ten per cent. to the society. Don't try Valiquet's. Tackle
+everybody else first. I'll be here all the afternoon. Barrett, I expect
+you to do your damnedest!"
+
+He rose, shook hands with young Mr. Andrew Barrett, escorted him to the
+door, and returned to his desk.
+
+He sat there, thinking. He intended Barrett should fail in order that
+when H. R. made him succeed, later, Barrett should know to whom the
+credit should go, though the commissions would fall into Barrett's
+pocket. That would make the young man really useful.
+
+The telephone people had not yet installed the apparatus in his office,
+so he went downstairs and called up Mr. Maximilian Onthemaker.
+
+"Onthemaker?... This is H. R. speaking.... Of course I saw the
+papers.... Yes, all of them. Come up to my office. At once!... I can't
+help it; I need you--this means the front page again. If you don't want
+the job.... I thought you would! Remember, I'm waiting. Do you hear me?
+_Waiting!_"
+
+The greatest stroke of political genius on the part of Louis XIV. was
+his rebuke: "I almost have been made to wait!"
+
+What, wait?--H. R.?
+
+If it had not been that taxicabs cost actual money, M. Onthemaker would
+have taken one. But he knew he soon would have one of his own--if the
+newspapers did their share.
+
+Before Max could decide whether he ought to say good morning to H. R. in
+a sulky tone of voice at being called from an important conference, or
+smile pleasantly, H. R. said:
+
+"Onthemaker, I am going to advertise a shop without permission and
+without pay."
+
+"Another restaurant, like--"
+
+"Like nothing. Don't interrupt again, not even to approve. I am going to
+have Valiquet's, the jewelers, brought to the notice of Fifth Avenue
+through the medium of our sandwich-men. I anticipate objections. The
+statute clearly says we must not use a person's name for purposes of
+trade without his consent. But I'm not going to use the name of a
+person, but of a corporation, _for its own trade and profit_. There is
+no law that can prevent me from putting money into a corporation's
+treasury--"
+
+"A commission of lunacy--"
+
+"Be quiet. They can't stop me legally, if you are our counsel." Max
+bowed, opened his mouth, and promptly closed it when he saw H. R.'s
+face. "They might try to get out an injunction, but you must beat them
+to it. They will probably try to get the police to stop us by alleging
+breach of the peace, disorderly conduct, or some violation of a city
+ordinance. I want you to prepare in advance restraining orders or
+applications for injunctions or whatever is needed to prevent
+interference with us. You are the counsel of the Society of American
+Sandwich Artists. Prepare papers also in the names of individual
+members. The poor sandwich artist, working for a mere pittance, without
+money to pay his able but charitable and indignant counsel, will fight
+the richest jewelry-shop in the world. The pearl showcase alone would
+feed one hundred and eighty-six thousand, four hundred and fifty-one men
+one week. Do you get that?"
+
+"Do I?" Max Onthemaker, able and indignant, was rushing to embrace
+H. R., on whose face he saw ten thousand front-page head-lines, when
+H. R. said, coldly:
+
+"Sit down. This is only the beginning."
+
+Max sat down. He felt very much more like kneeling in adoration before
+this god of success.
+
+"Yes, sir," he murmured, prayerfully, and looked with his very soul.
+
+"Be ready with the papers for the papers."
+
+Perceiving a puzzled look on the lawyer's face, H. R. explained: "Draw
+the legal papers up so they will be news. And remember that _I_ am the
+society. You are merely a lawyer lucky enough to be _its_ lawyer. If you
+don't know what the reporters like to print, bring the injunctions and
+typewritten argument to me this afternoon. Go away now. I'm going to
+Valiquet's."
+
+"Not to--"
+
+"Not to anything you may think."
+
+Max Onthemaker walked away, and even as he walked he began to fear that
+the newspapers would not let him have more than twenty-eight columns. It
+behooved him to be brief. What with the immemorial wrongs of the poor,
+and the inalienable rights of American citizens, and the abuse of
+wealth, and the arrogance of unconvicted millionaires, and the supine
+subservience of the police and the politicians to Big Business, how
+could he use less than three pages? How?
+
+But he must do it. He asked himself what steps he would take to prevent
+the sandwich-men, or anybody, from advertising him, and he could find no
+objection. But he had imagination. He indignantly put himself in the
+place of Valiquet's and hired M. Onthemaker, Esq., to stop the beasts.
+And then he proceeded to make the able counsel of the S. A. S. A. punch
+the great jewelers' case full of holes--such holes as would let out the
+law in the way the reporters would like. This would make said holes the
+kind that no judge, thinking of re-election and the recall, would dare
+to plug up. When your client is poor and doesn't use dynamite, sympathy
+is the best law with juries. And when it came to picking out jurors, Max
+had inherited a vision for dollars which enabled him to tell the
+contents of a juror's inside pocket to the penny, and therefore the
+exact hatred of riches of each of the twelve peers.
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+H. R. sent word to Fleming, _via_ Caspar Weinpusslacher, that he desired
+to meet about fifty members of the society at the Colossal Restaurant
+that evening at seven sharp. He then went to Valiquet's. The firm's name
+was not visible on the façade; only a beautiful bronze clock. Everybody
+was expected to know that this was Valiquet's, and everybody did,
+particularly those who could not afford to buy jewels. It had engendered
+throughout the entire country that familiar form of American snobbery
+which consists not only of having the best that money can buy, but of
+telling everybody that the watch or the necklace or the solitaire or the
+stick-pin came from Valiquet's.
+
+He entered the most beautiful store in the world as though his feet had
+carried him thither automatically, from force of habit. He looked
+approvingly, as for the millionth time, at the wide teak boards of the
+floor and the ornate but beautiful solid-silver ceiling and the cool
+variegated purple-gray marble columns. He paused by the pearl-counter
+and stared at the one-hundred-thousand-dollar strings with what you
+might call an amiable tolerance; it wasn't their fault, poor things!
+
+He moved on, reluctantly, six feet farther and examined, with a little
+more insistence, the emeralds, the fashionable gems of the season.
+
+"Very fair! Very fair, indeed!" he seemed to be saying encouragingly to
+the dazzling green things.
+
+The well-trained clerks looked at him, took a respectfully eager step
+toward him as if to place themselves unreservedly at his orders, and
+then abruptly immobilized themselves in their tracks--their tribute to
+expert knowledge!
+
+He did not look up, but, as if he were aware that the world was looking
+on, ready to obey, he rested his finger-tip on the showcase immediately
+above an eighteen-carat cabochon emerald surrounded by very white
+diamonds set in platinum. By instinct he had picked out the best.
+
+A clerk opened the case, took out the emerald, and respectfully laid it
+before the connoisseur. H. R. fumbled in his waistcoat pockets, then in
+his coat, allowed himself to look annoyed at having forgotten his pocket
+magnifying-glass, picked up the jewel, looked at it closely for flaws,
+then at arm's-length for general effect.
+
+He laid it on the velvet mat, raised his eyes and met the clerk's.
+
+The clerk smiled uncertainly. H. R. unsmilingly raised his
+eyebrows--very slightly.
+
+"Sixty-eight thousand five hundred, Mr.--eh--"
+
+H. R. hesitated. Then he shook his head resolutely. Having mastered the
+temptation, he nodded to the clerk, and said, kindly, "Thank you."
+
+"Not at all, sir," gratefully said the clerk.
+
+H. R. walked on, a marked man, high in the estimation of the clerks
+because he had _not_ bought a sixty-eight-thousand-dollar emerald.
+
+Don't you wonder how they do it? What is it? Intuition? Genius?
+
+A floor-walker who had taken in H. R.'s introduction of himself to
+Valiquet's bowed deferentially to H. R. and blamed his memory for not
+remembering the name. He was certain he knew the gentleman well.
+
+H. R. nodded and asked: "I wish to have a bronze statuette designed and
+cast for me. Which department, please?"
+
+"Up-stairs, Mr.--er-- Second floor, sir. Mr. Gwathmey is in charge,
+and--"
+
+"Oh, Gwathmey!" H. R. was obviously much relieved.
+
+"Yes, sir. He's still with us, sir. Elevator on the left."
+
+"Thank you," said H. R., and the man smiled gratefully.
+
+You don't have to buy to be treated politely in New York. The mere
+suspicion of the power of purchase is enough. It is thus that the
+principle "Politeness pays" has been established among stock-brokers and
+jewelers.
+
+H. R. was directed to the head of the department, to whom he said, with
+a sort of boyish eagerness, "Mr. Gwathmey, I'm very much interested in
+the Movement, as you probably know, and I wish my little society to have
+a _very_ artistic emblem."
+
+He looked expectantly at Mr. Gwathmey, who thereupon bowed at the
+implied compliment, but, not knowing what to say, said nothing.
+
+"You read in the papers about the parade my poor fellows had Saturday?"
+
+"Not the--er--sandwich-men's parade?"
+
+"Yes!" H. R. smiled so gratefully and congratulatory that Mr. Gwathmey
+felt himself enrolled among the honorary vice-presidents. "That's it.
+The society emblem is a skeleton and the sandwich-boards are a
+coffin--"
+
+"Yes, I read that," and Mr. Gwathmey smiled at the delightful humor of
+the conceit.
+
+H. R. instantly frowned at the levity--all very rich men frown at all
+smiles aimed at their pet hobbies.
+
+Mr. Gwathmey, knowing the ways of millionaires, hastened to explain,
+gravely, "There is a great deal to that idea!"
+
+"Nobody helped me!" H. R. spoke eagerly, as all youthful aristocrats
+speak when they speak of their own ideas. "The Ultimate Sandwich! What
+you and I shall be at least once. I am glad you agree with me. Now, I
+wish statuettes made in bronze in three sizes, two, four, and six inches
+high, so they can be used by my friends as desk ornaments. And can you
+put on a nice _patine_?"
+
+"Oh yes! And--er--Mr.--ah--" Gwathmey looked ashamed of himself.
+
+But H. R. smiled pleasantly and said: "It is easy to see you are
+not a Rutgers College man. I'm Mr. Rutgers. _My_ father--" He
+stopped--naturally.
+
+"I'm sorry to say I'm Harvard, Mr. Rutgers," said Mr. Gwathmey,
+contritely. "But don't you think it would be a little gruesome for a
+desk ornament?"
+
+"Not at all. The Egyptians used to bring in a skeleton at their feasts
+so that the timid guests should cease to fear dyspepsia. And the
+_Memento Mori_ of later centuries had its _raison d'être_. I have a
+Byzantine ivory carving of a skull that is a gem. Holbein's 'Dance of
+Death' is not inartistic. It is up to you people to keep my skull from
+being repulsive. I wish to get something that will drive home the fact
+to us careless Americans that the richest is no better than the
+poorest. For we are _not_!" H. R. said this decisively. When the
+aristocrat tells you that you and he are not a bit better than the
+proletariat, what you understand him to say is that you also are an
+aristocrat. A democratic aristocracy is invincible.
+
+"No," agreed Mr. Gwathmey, proudly, "we are not!"
+
+"Let me have a sketch as soon as possible. It is to raise funds for our
+superannuated sandwiches."
+
+Mr. Gwathmey saw no humor in either the intention or the phrase. As an
+alert business man who studied the psychology of customers, he knew that
+society leaders had advocated the cause of the shirtwaist workers and of
+certain educational movies--especially society leaders who had reached
+the age when their looks and their pearls no longer entitled them to the
+pictorial supplements. How else could they stay in the newspapers except
+by indignation over the wrongs of social inferiors? By espousing the
+cause of the lower classes, the latter also remained lower.
+
+Mr. Gwathmey smiled tolerantly and nodded. Then he looked dreamy and
+murmured: "I see! I see _exactly_ what you want: a skeleton carrying a
+coffin as sandwich-boards. The Ultimate Sandwich."
+
+He saw it in the air, two feet from the tip of his nose; he was a
+creative artist. Then he became a salesman.
+
+"We can submit designs to you, Mr. Rutgers--"
+
+"To-day?"
+
+"Oh, gracious, no! We couldn't--"
+
+"To-morrow, then. You have grasped the idea completely. No, Mr.
+Gwathmey; no!" And H. R. held up a hand--the hand of Fate. "To-morrow,
+at the latest! Must have it! I hate waiting. That's why I came to
+Valiquet's instead of Shoreham's. And now," he went on before Mr.
+Gwathmey could protest, "I wish also a series of designs for
+sandwich-boards--heraldic shields, scutcheons and bucklers,
+spade-shapes, rectangular boards of the right proportion, circles, and a
+keystone for use by the Pennsylvania Railroad. I propose to raise the
+sandwich to the highest form of art. I shall experiment with various
+materials--wood, metal, and composition, with raised as well as with
+sunken letters, in divers colors, vert antique and beautiful soft grays,
+and iridescent-glass mosaic. Can't you imagine a sandwich being made
+artistic, if I get competent experts to design them?" H. R. looked
+anxiously at the competent expert.
+
+"Indeed I can," replied Mr. Gwathmey, with conviction. "Indeed I can,
+Mr. Rutgers. It is an excellent idea!"
+
+"Thank you. Do you know, I thought so, too!"
+
+Mr. Gwathmey, being a kindly man, was so pleased at having suggested,
+evolved, and improved a great idea that he filled with enthusiasm.
+Enthusiasm always made him take out his pencil and reach for a pad. He
+did so now.
+
+"For instance--" he said, and he began to design.
+
+"Exactly! Exactly!" said H. R., with such eager admiration that Mr.
+Gwathmey was inspired by love of the young man. "I'd give everything I
+own, Mr. Gwathmey, to have your gift!"
+
+Mr. Gwathmey modestly felt his talents overcapitalized. Everything this
+eccentric but clever scion of the Knickerbockers owned? Mr. Gwathmey
+almost saw the old Rutgers farm! It must have had at least one hundred
+and fifty acres bounded by Broadway, Wall, Fulton, and the East River. A
+very nice young man, with agricultural ancestors in New Amsterdam.
+
+"Won't you give me these, Mr. Gwathmey?" pleaded H. R.
+
+"We never send out such rough--"
+
+"These are not the firm's, but Gwathmey's. Just sign your name and let
+me keep these as souvenirs. Please!" And H. R. smiled with boyish
+eagerness.
+
+Mr. Gwathmey signed his initials, and reluctantly gave the drawings to
+H. R., shaking his modest head deprecatingly.
+
+H. R. reverently put the precious sheets in his pocket and said: "Thank
+you very much. Now you get your best sculptor to model my Ultimate
+Sandwich by to-morrow, won't you?" Then he proceeded to contradict in
+advance--a purely feminine habit, sometimes used with great effect by
+masculine leaders--"Oh yes, he can. I'm sure _you_ can make him do it if
+you wish to be nice!"
+
+What reply could Mr. Gwathmey possibly make? He made it. "I'll do my
+best, Mr. Rutgers; but--"
+
+"Then it's done," said H. R., with such conviction that Mr. Gwathmey
+filled his own lungs with oxygen. "And the designs for the various kinds
+of sandwich-boards, in color, with the different materials indicated.
+Send them to me, Allied Arts Building, won't you?"
+
+H. R. forgot to say anything about costs. Only the nobility forget such
+things, for the nobility know that Valiquet's work is perfect. Mr.
+Gwathmey therefore forgot to be cautious. He said, "Very well, Mr.
+Rutgers."
+
+"Thank you so much!" That little phrase of gratitude in that same tone
+of voice has often made plebeians feel like dying to prove _their_
+gratitude. Then H. R. hesitated, looked at Mr. Gwathmey, and,
+recklessly vaulting over all caste-barriers, said, "I wish to shake
+hands with the man who designed my sandwiches!"
+
+Mr. Gwathmey actually blushed as he shook hands warmly. The moment H. R.
+left, Mr. Gwathmey rushed to his office to take steps to please young
+Mr. Rutgers.
+
+Rutgers College--culture; Hendrik--Knickerbocker; no question about
+price--inherited wealth; newspaper front page--somebody!
+
+A nice boy, bless him!
+
+Mr. Gwathmey at that moment was the only man who really knew H. R. Like
+a book!
+
+Thus are historic characters analyzed by intimate friends. Invaluable
+testimony! Interesting side-lights!
+
+H. R. went back to his office and began to copy Mr. Gwathmey's designs.
+He had barely finished when Andrew Barrett entered. He looked humorous.
+Young men always do when they are angry at having failed but do not wish
+to call it failure, and therefore must not look angry. Defeat is never a
+joke. Therefore a joke can never be an acknowledgment of defeat. Very
+easy! Origin: U. S. A. Reason: national juvenility.
+
+Before Barrett could speak H. R. asked, "Nobody would be first?"
+
+"No; nor second."
+
+"They will. Did you properly play up the wisdom and glory of being
+first?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"Go back and tell them that Valiquet's will advertise with our
+sandwiches as soon as they have prepared artistic boards. The other men
+have lost the chance to be first. They are asses. Tell them so and book
+them for second place. Dwell strongly on the fact that the commercial
+standing of each shop will be determined by the richness of the
+sandwich-boards. Tell them confidentially that Valiquet's will do some
+wonderful stunts with real bronze and iridescent-glass mosaics valued at
+ten thousand dollars. The firm are taking big chances with breakage in a
+crowded avenue, but that's why they are on top of the heap. The
+department stores might try real lace edging and gold-thread
+hand-embroidery on Genoese velvet."
+
+Valiquet's advertising campaigns were models of ultra-conservatism and
+costly refinement. And now, sandwiches!
+
+"Have you--" began young Mr. Barrett in awed tones.
+
+"I have. Get busy! Tell them to watch. On next Monday begins the
+greatest revolution in advertising this country ever experienced. We are
+making history! Pledge them to advertise through us, if we deliver the
+goods. It will be the only swell way. Get that?"
+
+"Betcherlife!" And Mr. Andrew Barrett rushed off.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+
+H. R. went out to have his boards made. He distributed orders among
+wood-carvers and plaster-casting ateliers, and devised a method by which
+boards could be made on the principle of stereotypers' matrices, only
+the letters were raised. He pledged the makers to deliver the boards
+within twenty-four hours, and as he did not haggle over the price by the
+simple expedient of not asking for it, they promised. When a man is
+permitted to fix his own profit he will do anything except go to church.
+
+At seven sharp, accompanied by Andrew Barrett, H. R. went to Caspar
+Weinpusslacher's. He could not get a seat. People stood in dozens,
+waiting for the early dinner to finish. And most of the waiting
+customers were fashionably dressed. The Colossal Restaurant had become a
+fad.
+
+Caspar greeted H. R. with respect. He did not yet feel strong enough to
+display ingratitude.
+
+"I'll fix a special table, Mr. Rutchers," he said.
+
+H. R. nodded assent and then sought Fleming. At the longest table sat
+twenty-seven unionized artists.
+
+"Are you getting the full thirty-cent dinner?" he asked, paternally.
+
+"Yes, sir," Fleming hastily assured him.
+
+H. R. looked at his men. They looked away uneasily. Was this to be their
+last free meal?
+
+H. R. turned to Andrew Barrett and said in a voice that did not reach
+the members and therefore increased their uneasiness:
+
+"Barrett, in unionizing these men, thereby making them free sandwiches,
+I had in mind several things; one of them was the absolute control of
+the New York papers."
+
+"How?" asked Barrett in utter non-comprehension.
+
+"By organizing my men into a Public Sentiment Corps. Their duty will be
+to write letters to the newspapers. I figure that one bona-fide letter
+to each thirteen thousand one hundred and eighty-six circulation creates
+an irresistible demand. The _Evening Post_, of course, needs about one
+to five hundred readers. I think eleven letters will be enough there.
+Our men already have names, and hereafter they will have permanent
+addresses."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"I furnish the paper, the stamps, and the literature. The men copy the
+letters. The newspapers will do the rest. Did you bring the pads and
+pencils I told you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Pass 'em around, one to each man."
+
+Barrett did so. The men edged away in ill-concealed terror.
+
+"Take up the pencils!" commanded H. R.
+
+The members acted as if the pencils were rattlesnakes.
+
+"Did you hear me?" asked H. R., calmly.
+
+They trembled. But they were not slaves. No man can be compelled to
+write in a free country.
+
+By feeding these men H. R. had given them the courage to refuse to obey
+him! Was the food an error, as charitable philosophers have declared?
+
+The pencils remained untouched before the men. Fleming was the only one
+who obeyed. But he was by now almost a capitalist--he was a distributor
+of meal-tickets.
+
+"Mutiny!" muttered Andrew Barrett, and looked anxiously at his chief.
+How would H. R. meet this crisis? The absolute control of the New York
+papers hung in the balance.
+
+But H. R. merely asked, pleasantly, "Ready?"
+
+Not a man stirred. They had forgotten that he could fight!
+
+"I will dictate and each of you must write down what I say. I want to
+know how well you can write."
+
+Two of the men began to shake their heads with growing independence.
+Others followed, for moral courage is contagious, even in industrial
+democracies.
+
+H. R. smiled confidently. That made them waver. Confidence is the most
+demoralizing of all social factors. "Now write what I say and sign your
+name after you finish."
+
+All of them shook their heads and frowned pugnaciously.
+
+H. R. dictated, "_Please pay us five dollars a day!_"
+
+They grabbed the pencils with one lightning-like movement, and wrote,
+very plainly. They signed their names even more plainly.
+
+"Give them to Fleming. On Monday we begin work. I shall consider the
+writing carefully."
+
+In this wise was organized the Public Sentiment Corps of the S. A. S. A.
+Literature, it had once more been demonstrated, is merely a matter of
+demand and supply.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+After dining in the company of Barrett and Caspar Weinpusslacher, H. R.
+went to the agency that had handled his newspaper advertising, opened a
+charge account, and told them to send to all the morning papers the
+following advertisement:
+
+     _WANTED._--An actor who can look like a gentleman in good
+     health before a critical audience of 250,000. Apply in
+     person, without press notices.
+
+  H. R.
+  Allied Arts Bldg.
+
+It was rather late in the evening when he sent for Max Onthemaker, but
+this only served to strengthen the learned counsel's high opinion of
+H. R. When H. R. told him what he proposed to do Max jumped in the air
+for joy. Then he sat down limply. It suddenly occurred to him that H. R.
+was far too intelligent. This is fatal to the right kind of newspaper
+publicity. But H. R. soothed him and dispelled Max's doubts by showing
+him exactly how to become an efficient and altogether legal _agent
+provocateur_. The legal mind always concerns itself over the particular
+paragraph. It comes from numbering the statutes. Max worked till dawn on
+his papers and arguments.
+
+On the next morning H. R. selected, out of several dozen applicants,
+four actors who looked really distinguished. The others walked away
+cursing the trust. They are never original, as a class, by reason of
+their habit of also reading the press notices of their colleagues.
+
+H. R. told the lucky four that he would give them the hardest part of
+their lives.
+
+They looked at him pityingly.
+
+He then guaranteed to get their pictures in all the papers.
+
+They looked blasé.
+
+He began to speak to them about fame and about money, and then about
+money and fame--the power to go into any restaurant and cause an instant
+cessation of all mastication, or walk into any manager's office and be
+entreated to sign, at any price, only sign--sign at once!
+
+They accepted on the spot, and asked when the engagement began. In their
+eagerness to be artists they forgot to ask the salary.
+
+H. R. then told them that they must introduce the art of sandwiching to
+New York. They must command the union sandwiches.
+
+_Never!_
+
+He explained to them very patiently, for he was dealing with
+temperaments, that to make sandwiching an art required the highest form
+of histrionic ability. Anybody could look like a gentleman on the stage
+or in any of the Fifth Avenue drawing-rooms to which they were obviously
+accustomed. But, unmistakably to look like a gentleman between
+sandwich-boards would require a combination of Richard Mansfield and
+ancient lineage. He asked them kindly to ponder on the lamented Edward
+VII. How would the Kaiser act? That is the way he wanted his artists to
+act--like royalty. It was the highest art ever discovered. They would be
+the cynosure of all eyes on Fifth Avenue, where most eyes belong to
+wealthy women who always look for, as well as at, handsome men of
+discretion and bona-fide divorce decrees. The artists themselves would
+represent Valiquet's, the world's greatest jewelers, and the newspapers
+would be told of the enormous salaries paid. Some of the boards would be
+of real gold, to be valued at two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in
+the most conservative of the newspapers. The men also would be paid in
+cash, two dollars a day.
+
+"The idea is not to sandwich in the ordinary commercial way, but to give
+our press agents the swellest opportunity of the century. Managers have
+used real diamonds on the stage. Money buys them. I am using real
+gentlemen. Money cannot make them. Valiquet's never does anything
+inexpensive, and this is merely the first and most dazzling chapter in
+the history of the New Art of Advertising. The newspapers will duly
+chronicle the fact that each artist received one thousand dollars a
+week--which the artists have turned over to charity, like gentlemen. To
+be the Theodore Roosevelts of street advertisements is more than a
+privilege, more than an honor, more than art--it is _cash_! There have
+been sandwich-men. There shall be _sandwich-artists_! Gentlemen, you
+will make history. If you feel you don't measure up to the job, you can
+get the hell out of here!"
+
+They not only signed, but begged to begin on that day, even though it
+was Friday. But H. R. was adamant.
+
+"Monday!" he said, "and no more remarks. Report at nine A.M., dressed
+like gentlemen."
+
+Andrew Barrett reported enthusiastically that nearly every shop on the
+Avenue was ready to sign contracts if Valiquet's began. There had been
+some skepticism, and expectations were keyed up to the snapping-pitch.
+
+Mr. Gwathmey sent a dozen designs for boards and the model of the
+Ultimate Sandwich. It was really a beautiful piece of work. H. R.'s luck
+was with him. The young Frenchman who did it came into his own years
+later.
+
+H. R. accepted them on official stationery of the society, ordered one
+hundred of each size, and also asked that the designs of the
+sandwich-boards be engraved in color. He told Barrett to get Valiquet's
+written acceptance of his order.
+
+On Sunday all the newspapers were impressively notified that there would
+be some novel and revolutionary advertising on the Avenue. To insure
+attention, the newspapers were simultaneously informed also that the
+Fifth Avenue Merchants' Guild had decided to advertise more extensively
+in the daily press. New York would give an object-lesson in optimism and
+confidence to the rest of the country. This would allay all fears as to
+the fundamental soundness of the general business situation. Wall Street
+might be in the dumps, but the legitimate merchants, up to the full-page
+size, were more truly representative of the metropolis.
+
+Fleming had been told to detail himself, Mulligan, and the four most
+typical sandwiches in the society to act as the advance-guard. He and
+the five were at the office early Monday morning, so were the four
+histrionic artists, so was Max Onthemaker with nineteen injunctions,
+writs, and legal documents neatly typewritten, three process-servers,
+and thirty copies of a statement for the newspapers.
+
+Each sandwich-man received his board and a copy of his own speech. It
+was a plea for equal rights and the cessation of hostilities against a
+poor man simply because he had no money, a prayer for the enforcement of
+the Constitution, and three quotations from that obsolete Book that
+taught sandwich-men how to turn the other cheek. Also a post-Scriptural
+assertion that each man went to church to pray and not to ask for
+unearned bread or jump on Standard Oil.
+
+Max himself made them memorize the speech. They were letter perfect
+before he stopped.
+
+"This will kill 'em dead," he said, enthusiastically. "Why, Mr. Rutgers,
+even the newspapers will think they are Christians and--"
+
+"Make them early Christians," wisely advised H. R. "Thats what the world
+needs to-day!"
+
+"You are right, as usual. Hey, you fellows, add, _If we must die, we die
+forgiving our fellow-men in the knowledge that after death we shall come
+into our own._"
+
+"Hey, I ain't going to be killed just to--" began Mulligan, edging
+toward the door.
+
+"In the newspapers, ass! In the front page, imbecile!" shrieked Max.
+
+Mulligan shook his head doggedly.
+
+"Mulligan!" said H. R., and clenched his right fist.
+
+"Ye-es, boss."
+
+"I'll be there to see that you get the forty beers and I'll guarantee
+that you'll have a chance to assuage your thirst _after_ business
+hours."
+
+"All right, boss," said Mulligan. "And I'll guarantee the thirst."
+
+"Say, can you beat it?" admiringly asked Max of Andrew Barrett. "Where
+does he get it?" And he tapped his own cranium sadly.
+
+"And, Mulligan, if you should be locked up," added H. R., "the first
+thing you do when you get to jail is to declare a hunger strike. This
+will stamp you as Crusaders! And Crusaders never frighten Business."
+
+"Great heavens!" whispered Max.
+
+"Do we get the--" began Mulligan, anxiously.
+
+"Nothing need be said about drinking. You'll get your forty."
+
+"They can do their damnedest," said Mulligan, looking like a
+hero-martyr.
+
+"Refer all reporters to your counsel," finally advised Max. "Forget
+everything else, but not that, not that!"
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+
+The four great actors, distinguished-looking, positively Beau
+Brummelesque, in shining top-hats of the latest fashion, went out of the
+Allied Arts Building to make history. They walked ahead abreast, their
+eyes fixed straight ahead. Pedestrians instinctively parted to let them
+by. Then they asked questions.
+
+Andrew Barrett's agents answered the questions.
+
+"They are the advance-guard. You ought to see what's coming!"
+
+The faint sense of waiting for something worth waiting for, that so far
+only the annual police parade has been able to arouse in New York was
+discernible on the faces of the spectators. They began to cluster on the
+edges of the sidewalks. The chauffeurs began to look anxious. Honestly,
+they did!
+
+Andrew Barrett had shown to the other shop-keepers the Valiquet designs
+and told them to watch for the great jewelers' astounding coup. He
+booked twenty-two orders for the next week.
+
+At two o'clock the artists sallied forth once more. The throngs opened
+for them to pass. Those spectators who had put off lunching to see the
+epoch-making stunt were rewarded. They saw four perfectly attired
+gentlemen in top-hats, carrying dazzling escutcheons worthy of the
+premier jewel-shop in the world.
+
+The six, walking professionally, carried the most beautiful boards ever
+seen, with these legends:
+
+[Illustration: THIS BOARD DESIGNED BY VALIQUET'S PREMIER JEWELERS OF
+AMERICA]
+
+[Illustration: WONDERS OF THE WORLD! THE OLD WORLD HAD SEVEN! THE NEW
+WORLD HAS ONLY ONE: VALIQUET'S]
+
+They were followed by the six picked sandwiches, in their
+working-clothes, but with wonderful boards.
+
+[Illustration: FOR SILVER AND GOLD, PEARLS, DIAMONDS, RUBIES, EMERALDS,
+EXCLUSIVE DESIGNS VALIQUET'S WHO DESIGNED THIS BOARD]
+
+[Illustration: VALIQUET'S OFFICIAL DESIGNERS OF THE AMERICAN SOCIETY OF
+SANDWICH ARTISTS]
+
+The sandwich was the thing!
+
+The sandwich-men were merely artists.
+
+The spectators recalled that ultimately all men and all women must
+become sandwiches.
+
+It made New-Yorkers realize that Death was still on the job. This gave
+them something to talk about that night at dinner, before dancing.
+
+Also three hundred and fifty thousand people saw the O. K. of "_H. R._"
+
+It is easy to remember two letters.
+
+It was an extraordinary sensation. The big shops emptied themselves. In
+McQuery's and Oldman's and Mann & Baker's the rush to the Avenue doors
+was so great that floor-walkers who tried to stem the tide were crushed,
+manlike, by the women and borne, half-clad, upon the sidewalk. The
+proprietors looked at the crowds, heard the same remark, "What is it?"
+by the tens of thousands, saw the sandwiches, saw the looks on the tens
+of thousands of faces, and said, "Damn!"
+
+They had not heard the knock of opportunity, and Valiquet's had. No
+wonder the jewel firm's regular two-hundred-per-cent. quarterly
+dividends were regular. It wasn't the big profit in gems; it was the
+cars!
+
+The proprietors blamed their advertising managers.
+
+The triumphal march of the sandwiches was more than a success, more than
+a sensation. It was an event. The four top-hatted histrions then and
+there forswore the stage. No artist had ever won such triumphs since
+Nero. They had started as Beau Brummels. They had become Kaisers--only
+infinitely more Cæsarean. And the union sandwiches following in Indian
+file, oblivious, like true artists, of the admiration of the rabble,
+thought of the end of the day, of the forty beers and the free food--of
+unearned wealth!--and actually swaggered so that their parasite-infested
+hirsuteness and their beast-faces took on an aspect of aristocratic
+eccentricity, of zeal for a noble cause. Their rags, in juxtaposition to
+the dazzling gorgeousness of their sandwich-boards, thus became
+ecclesiastical vestments--pilgrims wearing tatters in fulfillment of
+Lenten vows of renunciation.
+
+It was, of course, the masterly combination. Valiquet's was the last
+word in swellness, the label of utterly inutilitarian wealth.
+
+The sandwich business was therefore the postscript.
+
+"Only Valiquet's would think of doing such a thing!" said all Fifth
+Avenue, as usual giving credit to commercial genius instead of to the
+creative artist.
+
+The other mercantile geniuses, seeing that their shoppers had declared a
+legal holiday, frantically telephoned to Mr. Andrew Barrett to send out
+_their_ sandwiches at once. They would pay ten dollars per man; yes,
+twenty dollars. Only do it now! They did not wish to be put in the
+position of _following_. This is fatal on Fifth Avenue.
+
+Valiquet's was skimming the cream! Never mind submitting the legends!
+Get a hustle on! Never mind striking catch-phrases. That would come
+later. Get the sandwiches on the Avenue! The bare name and the
+sandwiches!
+
+The crowd, who had not had time to forget about the sandwich-men's
+parade of a few days before, cleverly saw that this was the second
+chapter. They therefore knew all about it and could and would say so to
+their less-clever fellow-beings. Completeness of knowledge is one of the
+nicest feelings in the world.
+
+Barrett excitedly reported the avalanche of orders to H. R. and was
+promptly and calmly despatched to the board-makers to order fifty boards
+each of the six Valiquet designs, three hundred in all. H. R. then
+dictated a statement for publication, as to the real meaning of
+sandwiching on Fifth Avenue. It was not merely advertising--it was
+philanthropy. Much more went to feeding starving artists at the
+Colossal Restaurant than to the militant brethren in the shape of wages.
+It was also the best way of advertising Fifth Avenue's wares.
+
+Mr. Wilberforce Josslyn, president of Valiquet's corporation, was told
+of the sandwich desecration of the holy name. His private secretary
+alone had the courage to impart the news.
+
+Mr. Wilberforce Josslyn, feeling that he had to be to his help what his
+firm was to the world, turned around in his Circassian-walnut
+swivel-chair, said, "_Stop 'em!_" and revolved again.
+
+The secretary carried the order to the first vice-president, Mr. Angus
+MacAckus; the first vice-president took it upon himself not only to stop
+'em, but to punish 'em. He hastily descended to the main floor. What he
+saw through the Fifth Avenue doors appalled him, and worse. Even within
+the sacred precincts of the shop the reckless jewel-buying public and
+the conservative charge-accounts alike were talking about it, actually
+congratulating the gentlemanly salesmen and the courtly
+department-managers and the obliging watch-repairers.
+
+Two men, whom he recognized as reporters by their intellectual faces,
+approached him, but he ran away from them toward the door.
+
+Mrs. Vandergilt, undisputed Tsarina of society, was in one of the
+compartments of the plate-glass and solid-silver stile, and he waited in
+order to welcome her. They did not make a hundred thousand a year out of
+her, for she was not from Detroit, but they had been official jewelers
+to the family for sixty years, as they were of all the Vans who were Van
+Somebody. The annual storage of the Vandergilt crown jewels was a
+regular yearly story, like the police parade and the first snow-storm.
+
+"MacAckus," said Mrs. Vandergilt in her sharp, imperious voice, "why did
+you do it? Not to advertise?"
+
+"Certainly not," answered Mr. MacAckus, forgetting himself and speaking
+with heat.
+
+"I thought not. Well, I am glad you are helping. I shall send my check
+to them. Poor men!" Then she had one of those moments of kindliness that
+made people worship her: "It was a very clever thing to do, MacAckus. I
+am glad you had not only the brains, but the courage."
+
+The reporters heard her. It was their business to get the news. Mr.
+MacAckus realized that Mrs. Vandergilt's approval had changed the
+complexion of the affair. At the same time, Valiquet's never talked for
+publication, and the remarks of their clients were sacred. He turned to
+the reporters and said in the peremptory tone that makes reporters so
+obedient:
+
+"Not a word of this! Do you understand?"
+
+"We understand perfectly," said the _American_. "We certainly do!" and
+wrote what Mrs. Vandergilt had said and what she was wearing. It would
+be a text for one of Arthur Migraine's editorial sermons, proving that
+millionaires, instead of being blown into ATOMS, should be freely
+permitted to give MONEY for starving men to convert into FOOD. In fact,
+NATURE wisely provided that millionaires should have MONEY to give away.
+The more the POOR received the LESS the millionaire would take to the
+USELESS GRAVE.
+
+Mr. MacAckus, greatly perturbed by this deviation from the norm, rushed
+to the president's office to tell him Mrs. Vandergilt's opinion.
+Before he could speak, Mr. Wilberforce Josslyn said:
+
+"Did you stop 'em?"
+
+"No, sir. Let me explain. Mrs. Vandergilt just came in and--"
+
+"I sent word to have 'em stopped!" said Mr. Josslyn, frowning.
+
+"Let me explain, Mr. Josslyn--"
+
+Disobedience cannot be explained away. Discipline must be enforced. It
+is better to blunder under orders than to prevent disorganization from
+interfering with dividends. The obvious advantage that a corporation
+president has over his subordinates is that he does not have to be
+hampered by petty details.
+
+"Stop 'em!" he said, coldly.
+
+"Mrs. Vandergilt said--"
+
+"And Mr. Josslyn said stop 'em!" He turned his back on MacAckus, who
+thereupon rushed downstairs, frowning angrily. He'd stop 'em.
+
+He walked out into the Avenue. It was blocked. He tried to elbow his way
+through the intelligent femininity and was nearly run in by a traffic
+policeman. The women refused to budge--the sandwiches were coming.
+
+And would you believe it? As the shining top-hats drew near, the crowd
+actually divided itself, Red-Sea-wise, to let H. R.'s chosen people pass
+safely.
+
+Mr. MacAckus did not faint, because he was too angry. He stepped in
+front of the four obvious gentlemen and held up a hand. He could not
+speak.
+
+But the four, who had been elevated to imperial dignity by New York,
+moved on so majestically that Mr. MacAckus began to retreat before them,
+waving his hand frantically. He stepped backward, keeping time to their
+steps, his hand moving up and down in his wrath. It looked for all the
+world like a band-master indicating to his artists just how to play it.
+
+Backward he stepped; onward they marched; until speech returned to him:
+
+"Stop! _Stop! STOP!_"
+
+They did not hear him.
+
+He called to a policeman, "Stop 'em!"
+
+H. R. had won!
+
+The officer ran up. He was a policeman. He therefore said, "What's the
+matter?"
+
+"These men have no right to use our name. We did not authorize them. We
+wish them stopped from using our firm's name for--er--advertising
+purposes. It's against the law. I'll make a complaint against them. Stop
+'em!"
+
+Max Onthemaker came forward, his face pale with determination. Four
+reporters trailed along.
+
+"Touch these gentlemen at your peril!" he said to the policeman. "Here
+is a sworn copy of the statute referred to by that person." He shoved a
+typewritten document under the officer's nose. There were two seals on
+it; one was in anarchistic red and the other in Wall Street gold.
+
+"Observe," pursued Mr. Onthemaker, impressively and very distinctly,
+that the reporters might not misquote, "that the statute says _the name
+of a living person_ must not be used. But Valiquet's is a corporation.
+Do you get that, officer? A _corporation_!"
+
+The officer read the newspapers. He knew what corporations were. They
+bought votes for the Republicans; and, besides, they only paid the men
+higher up. He therefore informed Mr. MacAckus:
+
+"I can't do not'n."
+
+"And even if you could, officer," said Mr. Onthemaker to the reporters,
+"the magistrate would let them go with a reprimand for you. We are ready
+for him." Then he said to MacAckus: "Get out of the way, or I'll have
+you arrested for blocking traffic, causing a crowd to collect, for
+assuming that you own the sidewalk, and for interfering with honest
+working-men who are trying to earn a peaceful living. Also for
+oppressing the poor. We have not asked you for money. We do not wish
+your charity." He paused, and, shaking a finger at Mr. MacAckus, said,
+loudly, "_We spurn your tainted money!_"
+
+H. R. had not made a mistake in picking out this man to represent the
+society. Indeed, one reporter, in a stage whisper, actually hissed:
+
+"_Bribery!_"
+
+The officer looked at Mr. MacAckus and said, "Please move on, sir."
+
+"That's polite enough," said one of the reporters, making a note of it.
+But Mr. MacAckus said:
+
+"Why, you infernal--"
+
+"_Move on!_" said the cop.
+
+"I am Mr. MacAckus, of Valiquet's--"
+
+"Tell him who you are, officer," said the diabolic Onthemaker, guessing
+the cop's nationality.
+
+"I am Mr. McGinnis, of the thirty-first precinct."
+
+People began to clap their hands--people who never went into Valiquet's.
+Mr. McGinnis thereupon laid a hand proudly on Mr. MacAckus's arm.
+
+Mr. MacAckus lost his head; that is, he shook off the white-gloved hand
+of the law.
+
+The law blew its whistle, as the law always does in civilized
+communities.
+
+Instantly, as though the whistle had been the cue, the stirring sound
+of galloping steeds smote the asphalt of Fifth Avenue.
+
+"Let him go, Officer McGinnis," said Max Onthemaker, magnanimously. "We
+do not care to appear against him."
+
+"Ain't he fine-looking?" a woman asked her companion, looking at the
+law. She even pointed at him.
+
+Mr. McGinnis therefore haughtily said, "Resisting an officer--"
+
+H. R. on horseback, in correct riding attire, following seven mounted
+traffic-squad men, appeared on the scene.
+
+"There he is!" said Mr. Onthemaker to the reporters, dutifully yielding
+the center of the stage to its rightful possessor. After all, there was
+only one H. R., and both H. R. and Max Onthemaker knew it.
+
+"That's the commissioner," said a clerk to the atmosphere.
+
+"It's young Vandergilt!" asserted the fickle one who had thought
+McGinnis was fine-looking.
+
+Before the traffic squad could dismount, H. R. jumped down from his
+horse, threw the reins to one of the mounted officers, said, "Look after
+him!" so decisively that no remonstrance was possible, approached the
+group, and said, "I'm Mr. Rutgers!"
+
+Fifth Avenue was impassable now.
+
+"_Who_ is it?" asked ten thousand who had been asking, "_What_ is it?"
+
+Those who had heard proudly repeated the name to those who had not.
+Within forty seconds, as far as Thirty-fourth Street, intelligent
+New-Yorkers were saying, "It's Mr. Rutgers!"
+
+Officer McGinnis touched his white-gloved hand to his cap.
+
+"That's Hendrik Rutgers!" explained Max Onthemaker to the reporters.
+
+H. R. looked Mr. MacAckus in the eye and said, with patrician frigidity:
+"If you think you have any ground for a civil action, go ahead. My
+office is in the Allied Arts Building. I'll accept service in person or
+through my counsel here."
+
+A murmur went up: these were law-abiding men. They therefore must be not
+only right, but mighty sure of it. All the lieutenant dared say, when he
+saw the representative of business and the representative of the leisure
+class was: "Gentlemen, I'm afraid you're blocking traffic. Perhaps, if
+you went inside--"
+
+"Follow me!" said H. R. to his men, and he led them into Thirty-seventh
+Street. He halted fifty feet from the corner.
+
+Mr. MacAckus had followed and unlimbered his heavy artillery.
+
+"This infernal outrage--"
+
+H. R. lost all patience. He said to the mounted lieutenant, "Take us to
+the magistrate!" To Max Onthemaker he whispered, "Got the papers with
+you?"
+
+"And the reporters, too," answered the able counsel with much pride, as
+though the reporters were his own private property loaned to the cause
+for the occasion without charge.
+
+Seeing that the police made no move, H. R. said, determinedly: "I insist
+upon going before the magistrate. You can report it at the station later
+and save us time."
+
+This made the police officer hesitate. It always does. It works on the
+principle of treating your opponent as if he were a taxicabby who has
+overcharged.
+
+"I guess that's the best way," said the lieutenant.
+
+"Thank you, Inspector. Will you kindly tell one of your men to bring my
+mount along? Thank you!" said H. R.
+
+Politeness pays. By saying "thank you" in advance of the service no
+gentleman can refuse.
+
+At the Magistrate's Court the session was short and sweet.
+
+Mr. Onthemaker looked eloquent. The clerk who had typewritten the
+restraining orders whispered, "It's No. 5!" and his chief picked it out
+of the seventeen without hesitation. Everybody was impressed by the
+obvious efficiency. Efficiency must never be hidden.
+
+The argument prepared by Mr. Onthemaker was one of the best his Honor
+had ever heard. He needed it for his own fall campaign. It certainly
+read well. He even read it in print--in advance.
+
+"Let me see your argument," said the magistrate, and when Mr. Onthemaker
+gave him the speech he put it in his inside pocket. He did not know what
+to say until he saw the reporters taking notes. Then he knew.
+
+"Discharged!" he said. It was the most popular decision in New York.
+
+Max Onthemaker looked at his watch. Morris Lazarus by this time had
+doubtless applied for an order restraining Valiquet's from interfering
+with the lawful business of Jean Gerard, Walter Townsend, J. J. Fleming,
+William Mulligan, William F. Farquhar, Marmaduke de Beanville, Wilton
+Lazear, Percival Willoughby, and Francis Drake.
+
+"We have secured an injunction against Valiquet's. Here it is," said Mr.
+Onthemaker. "You are the vice-president of your _corporation_. You might
+as well learn your own business from me." Then, with a fierce frown
+that there might be no back talk, he explained, with utter finality,
+"This is a _certified copy_!"
+
+He approached Mr. MacAckus and took advantage of the contiguity to
+whisper: "If you don't wish to make your concern the laughing-stock of
+America get busy and keep the newspapers from printing that you were
+fool enough to oppose us in our perfectly legal position. Bear in mind
+that if you fight us you make us."
+
+"No compromise!" said H. R., sternly.
+
+"No, sir," answered Onthemaker, meekly. Then he hissed at MacAckus, "Do
+as I tell you, you boob!"
+
+Mr. MacAckus clearly realized that this was a conspiracy. That always
+makes business men fear that they may lose money. The fear of that
+always sharpens their wits. It comes from a lifetime's training.
+
+It was all Mr. Josslyn's fault. This made Mr. MacAckus almost despair.
+But he said, very kindly, to the reporters, "Gentlemen, will you all be
+good enough to call at our office before you print anything?"
+
+The reporters, very kindly also, told him they would.
+
+The free sandwiches returned to Fifth Avenue.
+
+It was an ovation!
+
+Art again had triumphed!
+
+Proudly, up and down, from Thirty-fourth to Forty-second and back on the
+other side, they marched unhindered.
+
+The reporters did justice to the story. Like all really big stories, it
+was legitimate news. They had indeed suspected advertising until H. R.
+refused to speak about himself.
+
+"All you please about my poor sandwiches, but not one word about me. I
+have merely tried to rehabilitate the pariahs of the great mercantile
+world by reviving the lost art of perambulating publicity. If I have
+succeeded in making sandwiches free in New York, my work is done. Please
+do not mention my name!" Then he leaned over confidentially and said,
+very earnestly: "My family is conservative, and they hate to see the old
+name in print. Don't use it, boys. Please! That's why I never sign more
+than my initials!"
+
+Ah, it was not alone modesty, but high social position and inherited
+wealth that were responsible for "H. R." instead of the full name? And
+the reporters? News is what is novel; also what is rare. H. R. was
+therefore doubly news. The minds of the reporters did not work like
+H. R.'s, but they arrived at the same point at the same time. This is
+genius--on the part of the other man.
+
+Keeping your mouth shut after it happens is a still higher form of
+genius.
+
+The newspapers gave him from two to six columns. Since the reporters
+could not get anything about H. R. from H. R., they got everything from
+Max Onthemaker, from the sandwich-men, from Andrew Barrett, and also
+from their inner consciousness and psychological insight.
+
+Nine newspapers; nine different heroes; one name--and initials at that!
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+
+Andrew Barrett was made office-manager as well as business-getter. He
+was ordered to pay for the two additional clerks and the bookkeeper out
+of his own commissions or resign. He paid. This was real business
+because even then young Mr. Barrett was overpaid for his work. But his
+real acumen was in recognizing a great man.
+
+Since the pay-roll was a matter of Mr. Andrew Barrett's personally
+selected statistics, H. R. was certainly a wonder.
+
+On Tuesday morning H. R., feeling that his own greatness had already
+become merely a matter of greater greatness, turned, manlike, to
+thoughts of love: he would share his greatness!
+
+He would make Grace Goodchild marry him. He was sure he would succeed.
+He saw very clearly, indeed, how Mr. Goodchild, being a conservative
+banker, could be compelled to say yes.
+
+In addition he would make Grace love him.
+
+The strongest love is that love which is stronger than hatred or fear.
+Therefore the love that begins by hating or fearing is best. To overcome
+the inertia of non-loving is not so difficult as to stop the backward
+motion and turn it into forward.
+
+He sat down and wrote a note:
+
+     DEAR GRACE, I am sending you herewith a few clippings.
+     Remember what I told you. Don't let father prejudice you.
+     Hope to see you soon. Busy as the dickens.
+
+  Yours,
+  H. R.
+
+     _P.S._--I love you because you are _You!_ Certainly I am
+     crazy. But, dear, _I know it_!
+
+With the note he sent her eighty-three inches of clippings and fourteen
+pictures. If that wasn't fame, what was? He also sent flowers.
+
+That afternoon before the _thé dansant_ hour he called at the Goodchild
+residence.
+
+"Miss Goodchild!" he said to the man, instead of asking for her. He
+pulled out his watch, looked at it, and before the man could say he
+would see if she were at home to H. R., added, "Yes!"
+
+He was punctual, as the man could see. The man therefore held out a
+silver card-tray.
+
+"Say it's Mr. Rutgers," H. R. told him. "And straighten out that rug.
+You've walked over it a dozen times!"
+
+It was plain to see that it was H. R. who really owned this house. He
+must, since he wasn't afraid of the servants. And the worst of it was
+that the footman could not resent it: the gentleman was so obviously
+accustomed to regarding servants as domestic furniture. He dehumanized
+footmen, deprived them of souls, left them merely arms and legs to obey,
+machine-like. They call such "well-ordered households." Certainly not.
+It isn't a matter of the orders, but of the soul-excision.
+
+Grace Goodchild walked in--behind her mother. The footman stood by the
+door, evidently by request.
+
+Everything in civilized communities is by request.
+
+"How do you do?" said H. R., pleasantly. "Is this mother?" He bowed to
+Mrs. Goodchild--the bow of a social equal--his eyes full of a highly
+intelligent appreciation of physical charm. Then he asked Grace, "Did
+you read them?"
+
+Mrs. Goodchild had intended to be stern, but the young man's undisguised
+admiration softened her wrath to pleasant sarcasm.
+
+"I wished to see for myself," she said, not very hostilely, "if you were
+insane. I see you are--"
+
+"I am," agreed H. R., amicably, "and have been since I saw her. And the
+worst of it is, I am very proud of it."
+
+"Will you oblige me by leaving this house quietly?"
+
+"Certainly," H. R. assured her. "I didn't come to stay--this time. I'm
+glad to have seen you. Has Grace told you I'm to be your son-in-law?"
+
+He looked at her proudly, yet meekly. It was wonderful how well he
+managed to express the conflict. Then he apologized contritely. "I was
+too busy to call before. My grandmother has never met you, has she?" He
+looked at her anxiously, eager to clear Mrs. Goodchild's name before the
+court of his family.
+
+At one fell swoop H. R. had deleted the name of Goodchild from the
+society columns.
+
+Mrs. Goodchild said, huskily, "Frederick, ring for a policeman."
+
+"I'll break his damned neck if he does," said H. R., with patrician
+calmness. "Don't you ever again dare to listen while I am here,
+Frederick. You may go."
+
+H. R. looked so much as if he meant what he said that Grace was
+pleasantly thrilled by his masterfulness. But not for worlds would she
+show it facially. When a woman can't lie to the man who loves her she
+lies to herself by looking as she does not feel.
+
+"Do you wish me to go? For the sake of peace?" he asked Grace,
+anxiously.
+
+There was nothing he would not do, no torture too great to endure, for
+her sake--not even the exquisite agony of absence. That there might be
+no misunderstanding, he added, softly, "Do you?"
+
+"Don't you talk to my daughter!" said Mrs. Goodchild, furious at being
+excluded from the supreme command. Hearing no assent, she was compelled
+by the law of nature to repeat herself: "Don't you talk to my daughter!"
+
+H. R. looked at her in grieved perplexity. "Do you mean that you are
+deliberately going to be a comic-weekly mother-in-law and make me the
+laughing-stock of my set?"
+
+Feeling the inadequacy of mere words to express the thought she had not
+tried to express, Mrs. Goodchild called on her right hand for aid; she
+pointed. Being concerned with gesture rather than intent on direction,
+she, alas! pointed to a window.
+
+He shook his head at her and then at the window, and told her: "To jump
+out of that one would be as bad as having me arrested. Do you want the
+infernal reporters to make you ridiculous? Do you realize that I am the
+most-talked-about man in all New York? Don't you know what newspaper
+ridicule is? Don't you? Say no!"
+
+To make sure of her own grasp of the situation Mrs. Goodchild, who was
+dying to shriek at the top of her voice, compressed her lips. H. R.
+instantly perceived the state of affairs and double-turned the key by
+fiendishly placing his right forefinger to his own lips. This would
+give to his mother-in-law the two excellent habits of obedience and
+silence.
+
+He turned to the girl and said: "Grace, don't hide behind your mother.
+Let me look my fill. It's got to last me a whole week!"
+
+Grace saw in his face and knew from his voice that he was neither acting
+nor raving. His words were as the gospel, the oldest of all gospels,
+which, unlike all others, is particularly persuasive in the springtime.
+He was a fine-looking chap, and the newspapers were full of him, and he
+was in love with her. He interested her. But of course he was
+impossible. But also she was New York, and, to prove it, she must be
+epigrammatic. All her life she had listened to high-class vaudeville.
+She said, icily, yet with a subtle consciousness of her own humor, "If
+you wish to worship, why don't you try a church?"
+
+"Which?" he retorted so promptly and meaningly that she almost felt the
+wedding-ring on her finger. He pursued: "And when? I have the license
+all ready. See?"
+
+He pulled out of his pocket a long envelope containing a communication
+from Valiquet's lawyer. "Here it is!" and he held it toward her.
+
+Being young and healthy, she laughed approvingly.
+
+"Has it come to this, in my own house?" exclaimed Mrs. Goodchild in
+dismay. Being rich and living in New York, she did not know her
+daughter's affairs.
+
+"Why not?" asked H. R., with rebuking coldness. "In whose house should
+our marriage be discussed?" Then he spoke to Grace with a fervor that
+impressed both women: "I love you as men used to love when they were
+willing to murder for the sake of their love. Look at me!"
+
+He spoke so commandingly that Grace looked, wonder and doubt in her
+eyes.
+
+In some women incertitude expresses itself in silence. Her mother was of
+a different larynx. She wailed: "What shall I do? What shall I do?" And
+sank back in her arm-chair. After one second's hesitation Mrs. Goodchild
+decided to clasp her own hands with a gesture of helplessness such as
+Pilate would have used had he been Mrs. Pontius. She did so, turning the
+big emerald _en cabochon_, so that she could plaintively gaze at it.
+Eight thousand dollars. Then she turned the gem accusingly in the
+direction of this man who might, for all she knew, be penniless. He was
+good-looking. Hendrik was Dutch. So was Rutgers. Could he belong?
+
+"I beg your pardon, moth--Mrs. Goodchild," said H. R. so very
+courteously and contritely that he looked old-fashioned. "You must
+forgive me. But she _is_ beautiful! She will grow, God willing, to look
+more like you every day. By making me regard the future with pleasurable
+anticipation, you yourself give me one more reason why I must marry
+Grace."
+
+Grace looked at her mother and smiled--at the effect. Mrs. Goodchild
+confessed to forty-six.
+
+"I am making Grace Goodchild famous," H. R. pursued, briskly, and paused
+that they might listen attentively to what was to follow.
+
+Mother and daughter looked at him with irrepressible curiosity. Their
+own lives had so few red-blooded thrills for them that they enjoyed
+theatricals as being "real life." This man was an Experience!
+
+He shook his head and explained, mournfully: "It is very strange, this
+thing of not belonging to yourself but to the world. It is a sacrifice
+Grace must make!"
+
+His voice rang with a subtle regret. But suddenly he raised his head
+proudly and looked straight at her.
+
+"It is a sacrifice worth making--for the sake of the downtrodden whom
+you will uplift with your beauty. _Au revoir_, Grace. _I am needed!_"
+
+He approached her. She tried to draw back. He halted before her, took
+her hand, raised it to his lips and kissed it.
+
+"I am the dirt under your feet," he murmured, and left the room.
+
+His was the gait of the Invincibles. He had cast a bewitching spell of
+unreality over the entire drawing-room that made Grace feel like both
+actress and audience.
+
+She heard him in the hall calling, "Frederick!" And, after a brief
+pause, "My hat and cane!"
+
+There was another pause. Then she heard Frederick say, infinitely more
+respectfully than Frederick had ever spoken to Mr. Goodchild, "Thank
+_you_ very much, sir."
+
+Mrs. Goodchild paid Frederick by the month for working. H. R. had given
+Frederick twenty dollars for being an utterly useless menial. Hence
+Frederick's logical gratitude and respect.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+
+H. R. walked to his office, thinking of the engagement-ring. He
+therefore rang for Maximilian Onthemaker, Esquire.
+
+"Come up at once!"
+
+"Damnation, I will," said Max. "I'm busy as the dickens, but an order
+from you is--"
+
+"Another front page--with pictures!"
+
+"I'm half-way up, already!" said Max. Before the telephone receiver
+could descend on the holder, H. R. heard a voice impatiently shriek,
+"Down!" to an elevator-man two and one-half miles away.
+
+When Mr. Onthemaker, his face alight with eagerness to serve the cause
+of the poor sandwich-men free gratis, for nothing, could speak, H. R.
+told him, calmly:
+
+"Max, I am going to marry the only daughter of George G. Goodchild,
+president of the Ketcham National Bank. Get photographs of her. Try La
+Touche and the other fashionable photographers. They will require an
+order from Miss Goodchild."
+
+"Written?" asked Mr. Onthemaker, anxiously.
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"I'll call up my office, and Miss Hirschbaum will give the order."
+
+"Can she talk like--"
+
+"Oh, she goes to the swell Gentile theaters," Max reassured him.
+
+"Don't say I'm engaged, and tell 'em not to bother the parents." He
+meant the reporters.
+
+Max thought of nothing else. "Leave it to me. Say, Hendrik--"
+
+"Mr. Rutgers!" The voice and the look made Max tremble and grow pale.
+
+"I was only joking," he apologized, weakly. He never repeated the
+offense. "I'll attend to it, Mr. Hendrik-- I mean Mr. Rutgers."
+
+"When Barrett comes in I'll send him down to you. Good day."
+
+When Andrew Barrett returned he said, impetuously, "I'm afraid I'll have
+to have some help, H. R."
+
+"I was going to tell you, my boy, that from to-morrow on you will have
+to go on salary."
+
+Barrett's smiles vanished. He shook his head.
+
+H. R. went on, in a kindly voice: "You've done very well and I'm much
+pleased with your work. But you mustn't be a hog."
+
+Barrett had made bushels of money by taking advantage of the opportunity
+to do so. The victorious idea was another's, the machinery was the
+society's, the work was done by the sandwiches. But Mr. Andrew Barrett
+was the salesman, the transmuter into cash. He was entitled to all he
+desired to make so long as he didn't raise prices. Injustice stared him
+in the face with smiles! Reducing his gain and smiling! H. R. would as
+lief get another man! Barrett forgot that he could get no business until
+H. R.'s astounding Valiquet's coup made the agent's job one of merely
+writing down names. He forgot it, but he did not forget his own
+successor. All he could say, in a boyishly obstinate way, was, "Well, I
+think--"
+
+"You mustn't think, and especially you must not think I'm an ass. You
+know very well that this is only the beginning of a very remarkable
+revolution in the advertising business. I need your services in
+installing the machinery and organizing the office, details that I leave
+to you because you have brains. Your salary will be a hundred a week and
+five per cent. on all new business. After I pass on to a still higher
+field I will make you a present of this business for you to have and to
+hold till death do you part. The Barrett Advertising Agency will be all
+yours. It will do a bigger business every year. And if you don't like
+it, you may leave this minute. You are young yet. Is it settled?"
+
+Andrew Barrett nodded.
+
+H. R. said, seriously: "It's about time sandwiching spread. How many on
+the Avenue to-day?"
+
+"Nineteen firms; one hundred and eleven men. I think--"
+
+H. R. knew what Barrett was about to say. He therefore said it for
+Barrett. "Now that you have Fifth Avenue, move west and east to Sixth
+and Madison and Fourth and try Broadway and Twenty-third and
+Thirty-fourth and Forty-second--"
+
+"I was just going to propose it to you," said Barrett, aggrievedly.
+
+"I know you have brains. That's why you are here. I trust you
+implicitly. This is a man's job. There will be big money in it for you.
+For me--" He ceased speaking, and stared meditatively out of the window.
+
+Andrew Barrett wondered with all his soul what the chief was reading in
+big print in the future.
+
+Andrew Barrett waited. Presently H. R. frowned. Then he smiled slightly.
+
+Barrett stared fascinatedly. Ah, the lure of mystery! If more men
+appreciated it, polygamy would be inevitable--and liberal divorce laws.
+
+H. R. looked up.
+
+"Oh, are you here?" he smiled paternally, forgivingly.
+
+Barrett beamed.
+
+"My boy, I wish you'd run over to Max Onthemaker's or get him on the
+telephone. The newspapers are going to publish it."
+
+"Yes, sir, I will. Er--what are they--what are you going to spring on an
+enraptured metropolis?
+
+"My impending marriage to Grace Goodchild, only daughter of Goodchild,
+president of the Ketcham National Bank. See that it is well handled.
+And, Barrett?"
+
+"Yes, sir?"
+
+"The old people don't relish the idea. She is the most beautiful girl in
+New York."
+
+"I've seen her! Pippinissima!" exclaimed Andrew Barrett, heartfully.
+
+"Ten millions," said Hendrik Rutgers, calmly.
+
+"My God!" whispered young Mr. Barrett, New-Yorker.
+
+He meant what he said.
+
+Ten millions!
+
+Mr. Onthemaker, Andrew Barrett, and their faithful phalanx of star space
+men who always signed their stuff called in a body on La Touche, the
+photographer of the moment.
+
+He refused to give them Miss Goodchild's photograph. He wished his name
+used, of course, but he was too sensible to disregard professional
+ethics.
+
+"Mr. Rutgers said we could get it," said Andrew Barrett, sternly.
+
+"I must have her permission. Hang it, boys, I am just as anxious as
+you--as I can be to do what I can for you. But I don't dare. These swell
+people are _queer_!" the photographer explained, aggrievedly.
+
+"I'll call her up myself," said Max Onthemaker, resolutely. "What's the
+Goodchild number?"
+
+He went to the telephone and gave the number of his own office in low
+tones. Presently he said, loudly enough to be heard by all, "Is this 777
+Fifth Avenue?"
+
+He alone heard the answer. He would not lie. He was a lawyer. It was
+unnecessary.
+
+"Can I speak with Miss Goodchild? No; _Miss_ Goodchild."
+
+After a judiciously measured pause he spoke again: "Good afternoon. This
+is Mr. Onthemaker speaking. Quite well, thank you. I hope you are the
+same!... That's good!... Yes, miss, I saw him this morning. The papers
+wish to publish your photograph.... I'm sorry, but they say they simply
+must!... I am at La Touche's studio.... They doubtless do not do you
+justice, but they are the best ever taken of you--... No, I don't think
+they can wait for new ones.... One moment, please--"
+
+He held his hand in front of the transmitter so she couldn't hear him
+say to La Touche:
+
+"She wants some new ones."
+
+"To-morrow at two," said La Touche.
+
+"Give us the old ones now," chorused the reporters. "We'll publish the
+new ones for the wedding."
+
+"I am sorry"--Max again spoke into the telephone--"but they say they
+want some now. They'll use the others later.... Which one?... The one
+Mr. Rutgers likes?... Yes, ma'am. Thank you very much."
+
+Foreseeing unintelligent incredulity, Mr. Onthemaker did not hang up
+the receiver. It was just as well, for the cautious La Touche said, "I
+want to talk to her."
+
+"Certainly," said Max, and hastily rose.
+
+"Miss Goodchild," said the photographer, respectfully, "will it be all
+right if I let the reporters have--"
+
+"Give him the one Mr. Rutgers likes," came in a sweet voice, without the
+slightest trace of Yiddish or catarrh. They would be wonderful
+linguists, if they didn't always begin by, "Say, listen."
+
+"Which one is that?"
+
+"The one he likes. And please send the bill to me, not to papa," with
+the accent properly on the last syllable.
+
+"There will be no charge, Miss Goodchild. Thank you. I only wished to
+make sure you approved."
+
+La Touche rose and, turning to the friendly reporters, asked,
+wrathfully, "How in blazes do I know which is the one Mr. Rutgers
+liked?"
+
+"Let us pick it out," said one reporter. He wore his hair long.
+
+"Any one will do," said another, considerately.
+
+"I think I know which it is," said Barrett, taking pity on the
+photographer. To Mr. Onthemaker he whispered, "Max, you're a second
+H. R."
+
+"I try to be," modestly said Sam.
+
+And so the newspapers published the official preference of the lucky
+man. They published it because she was going to marry H. R.
+
+That same morning Mr. Goodchild called up the city editors. He was so
+stupid that he was angry. He threatened criminal action and also denied
+the engagement. Rutgers was only a discharged clerk who had worked in
+his bank. He had been annoying his daughter, but he, Mr. Goodchild,
+would take steps to put an end to further persecution. Rutgers would not
+be allowed to call. He had, Mr. Goodchild admitted, called--uninvited.
+Had a man no privacy in New York? What was the matter with the police?
+What was he paying taxes for--to be annoyed by insane adventurers and
+damned reporters? He didn't want any impertinence. If they didn't print
+the denial of the engagement and the facts he would put the matter in
+his lawyer's hands.
+
+The afternoon papers that day and the morning papers on the next printed
+another portrait of Miss Grace Goodchild because she was not engaged to
+H. R.
+
+It was so exactly what a Wall Street millionaire father would do that
+everybody in New York instantly recognized a romance in high life!
+
+Grace Goodchild never had known before how many people knew her and how
+many more wished to know her. The reporters camped on her front
+door-steps and the camera specialists could not be shooed away by Mr.
+Goodchild when he was going out on his way to the bank.
+
+He assaulted a photographer. The papers therefore printed a picture of
+the infuriated money power in the act of using a club on a defenseless
+citizen. They did it very cleverly: by manipulating the plates they made
+Mr. Goodchild look four times the size of the poor photographer.
+
+Max Onthemaker brought suit for fifty thousand dollars damages to the
+feelings, cranium, and camera of Jeremiah Legare, the _Tribune_'s
+society snapper.
+
+From 10 A.M. to 7 P.M. Grace held a continuous levee. Mrs. Goodchild was
+in handsomely gowned hysterics. Mr. Goodchild got drunk at his club.
+
+Yes, he did. The house committee ignored it. When they saw the afternoon
+papers they condoned it. And yet all that the newspapers said was that
+Grace Goodchild and Hendrik Rutgers were _not_ married.
+
+And they blame the papers for inaccuracy.
+
+H. R. knew that he must make his love for Grace plausible, and his
+determination to marry her persistent and picturesque.
+
+His concern was with the public. He therefore called up Grace on the
+telephone. At the other end they wished to know who was speaking. He
+replied, "Tell Frederick to come to the telephone at once!"
+
+Frederick responded.
+
+"Are you there?" asked H. R., after the fashion of Frederick's
+compatriots. "Frederick, go instantly to Miss Grace and tell her to come
+to the telephone on a matter of life and death. It's Mr. Rutgers. Don't
+mention my name."
+
+This wasn't one of Frederick's few duties when he deigned to accept
+employment in the Goodchild household. But H. R. expected to be obeyed.
+Therefore he was obeyed.
+
+"Yes, sir; very good, sir," said Frederick, proud to act as Mercury. He
+rushed off.
+
+"Telephone, Miss Grace. He said it was a matter of life and death."
+
+"Who is it? Another reporter?"
+
+"Oh no, ma'am. He's waiting, my lady."
+
+Once in a while Frederick proved that he was worth his weight in gold by
+forgetting that he was in America. When he did, he always called Grace
+my lady.
+
+She therefore went to the telephone. Of course H. R. was born lucky.
+But, as a matter of fact, by deliberately establishing Frederick on a
+plane of perennial inferiority he had made such a stroke of luck
+inevitable.
+
+Since it was a matter of life and death, Grace instantly asked, "_Who_
+is it?"
+
+"Listen, Grace. The entire country is going wild about you. Your
+portrait is being admired from Maine to California. But bear up with
+what's coming. We've got to bring father around to our way of thinking,
+and--"
+
+"Who is it? Who is it?"
+
+"Great Scott! Can't you recognize the voice? It's Hendrik."
+
+Her exasperated nerves made her say, angrily, "I think you are--"
+
+"Don't think I'm conceited, but I know it."
+
+"I feel like telling you--"
+
+"I'll say it for you. Close your ears till I'm done." After a pause:
+"I've insulted myself. I love you all the more for it! Grace, you must
+be brave! If you survive this next week--"
+
+"My God!" she said, invoking divine aid for the first time since they
+moved to Fifth Avenue, thinking of what the newspapers could say.
+
+"He's with us, sweetheart," Hendrik assured her. "Are you an
+Episcopalian?"
+
+"Yes!" she replied before she could think of not answering.
+
+"Good! I love you. Wait!"
+
+His voice as he entreated her to wait rang with such anguish that she
+irrepressibly asked, "What?"
+
+"_I love you!_"
+
+He left the telephone and gathered together sixty-eight clippings, which
+he put in an envelope. He went to a fashionable florist, opened an
+account, and ordered some exquisite flowers. They were going to ask for
+financial references, but the flowers he ordered were so expensive that
+they felt ashamed of their own distrust. He stopped at Valiquet's, where
+they hated him so much that they respected him, bought a wonderful gold
+vanity-box, inside of which he sent a card. On the card he wrote:
+
+  _More than ever!_
+
+  H. R.
+
+He sent clippings, flowers, and vanity-box to Miss Goodchild, 777 Fifth
+Avenue, by messenger. Charge account.
+
+He sent for Fleming and told him he wished the Public Sentiment Corps to
+tackle their first job. H. R. had prepared a dozen letters of protest
+which the artists must copy before receiving their day's wages--one copy
+for each paper. The letters expressed the writers' admiration, contempt,
+approval, abhorrence, indignation, and commendation of the journalistic
+treatment of the Goodchild-Rutgers affair. Real names and real addresses
+were given. It beat Pro Bono Publico, Old Subscriber, and Decent Citizen
+all to pieces. H. R. supplied various kinds of stationery--some with
+crests, others very humble. The chirography was different. That alone
+was art.
+
+The newspapers realized that H. R. had become news. The public wanted to
+read about him. The papers were the servants of the public. Circulation
+was invented for that very purpose.
+
+Not content with the services of the Public Sentiment Corps, H. R.
+commanded Andrew Barrett to tip off the friendly reporters--Andrew by
+this time was calling them by their first name--to watch the Goodchild
+residence on Fifth Avenue and also the Ketcham National Bank on Nassau
+Street.
+
+Thinking that this meant elopement up-town and shooting down-town, the
+reporters despatched the sob artists to Fifth Avenue and the veteran
+death-watch to the bank.
+
+They were rewarded.
+
+Parading up and down the Goodchild block on the Avenue were six
+sandwich-men. They carried the swellest sandwiches in Christendom. This
+was the first use of the famous iridescent glass mosaic sandwich in
+history. It was exquisitely beautiful. But the legends were even more
+beautiful:
+
+[Illustration: I SHALL MARRY GRACE GOODCHILD NO MATTER WHO SAYS NO!]
+
+This last he stationed in front of the Goodchild house.
+
+Across the street, leaning against the Central Park wall, was Morris
+Lazarus, Mr. Onthemaker's able associate counsel. His pockets were
+bulging with numbered legal documents in anticipation of hostilities
+from Christians, policemen, and other aliens. He had told the reporters
+that he was one of Mr. Rutgers's counsel and did not propose to allow
+the sandwich-men to be interfered with by anybody. He also distributed
+his card, that the name might not be misspelled. He had not yet changed
+Morris into Maurice.
+
+[Illustration: NO OPPOSITION CAN KEEP ME FROM MARRYING GRACE GOODCHILD]
+
+[Illustration: SEE THE NEWSPAPERS FOR ACCOUNTS OF THE MARRIAGE OF GRACE
+GOODCHILD TO HENDRIK RUTGERS]
+
+[Illustration: WEDDING OF GRACE GOODCHILD AND HENDRIK RUTGERS FOR DATE
+WATCH THIS SPACE]
+
+[Illustration: ALL THE WORLD LOVES A LOVER. LOVE GRACE GOODCHILD AND ME
+TOO]
+
+[Illustration: DO YOU BLAME ME FOR WISHING TO MARRY THE MOST BEAUTIFUL
+GIRL IN THE WHOLE WORLD? SHE LIVES HERE!]
+
+The sandwiches paraded up and down the Avenue sidewalk, never once going
+off the block. As two of the artists passed each other they saluted--the
+sandwich union's sign a rigid forefinger drawn quickly across the throat
+with a decapitating sweep: lambs expecting execution in the world's vast
+abattoir. The answering sign was a quick mouthward motion of the rigid
+thumb to represent the assuaging of thirst at the close of day. Thus did
+H. R. reward industry.
+
+Before the sandwich-men had made the beat a dozen times all upper Fifth
+Avenue heard about it. A stream of limousines, preciously freighted,
+halted before the Goodchild mansion and poured out into the sidewalk
+friends and acquaintances of the Goodchilds. On the dowagers' faces you
+could see the smug self-congratulations that their daughters, thank
+goodness, did not have to be wooed thus vulgarly to get into the
+newspapers. And on the daughters the watching reporters saw smiles and
+envious gleams of bright eyes. Why couldn't _they_ be thus desperately
+wooed in public? To let the world know you were desired, to have a man
+brave all the world in order to let the world know it! It was heroism!
+And even more: it was great fun!
+
+The dowagers went in to express both surprise and condolence to Mrs.
+Goodchild. The girls rushed to Grace's boudoir to ask questions.
+
+Mrs. Goodchild tried to brazen it out. Then she tried to treat it
+humorously. But the dowagers called both bluffs. Then she foolishly told
+them, "The poor young man is quite insane."
+
+They chorused, "He must be!" with conviction--the conviction that she
+was lying like a suburban boomer. Of course she paid him for the work.
+
+Grace was in an unphilosophical frame of mind. H. R. had made her the
+laughing-stock of New York. It would have been ridiculous if it were not
+so serious to her social plans. She hated him! Being absolutely helpless
+to help herself, her hatred embraced the world--the world that would
+laugh at her! All the world! Particularly the women. Especially those of
+her own age. They would laugh! This is the unforgivable sin in women
+because their sense of humor is _minus_. And when they laugh--
+
+Just then the avalanche of those she hated the most swooped down upon
+her. Her eyes were red from acute aqueous mortification. They saw it.
+They said in chorus, sorrowfully, "You poor thing!"
+
+Who said the rich had no hearts? The girls had given to her poverty
+without her asking for it. It always makes people charitable when they
+create poverty unasked.
+
+"I wouldn't stand it!" cried one.
+
+"Nor I!" chorused fourteen of Grace's best friends.
+
+Outside, the Avenue, for the first time in its dazzling history, was
+blocked by automobiles. You would have sworn it was the shopping
+district in the Christmas week. The reason was that the occupants of the
+autos had told the chauffeurs to stop until they could read the
+sandwiches.
+
+The reporters were ringing the front-door bell and the rapid-fire
+tintinnabulation was driving Frederick frantic. Mrs. Goodchild had told
+him not to send for the police. The reporters, feeling treated like rank
+outsiders, were in no pleasant frame of mind.
+
+Up-stairs Grace, hiding her wrath, overwhelmed by the accursed sympathy
+of her best friends, said, helplessly, "What can I do?" She didn't like
+to tell them she wished to bury them with her own hands.
+
+From fifteen youthful throats burst forth the same golden
+word--"_Elope!_"
+
+She gasped and stared blankly.
+
+"It's the greatest thing I ever heard. I don't know him, but if he is
+half-way presentable you can teach him table manners in a week. I'd make
+my father give him a job in the bank!" asserted Marion Beekman.
+
+"Me, too!" declared Ethel Vandergilt.
+
+"He's just splendid," volunteered a brunette, enthusiastically.
+
+"And did you see the papers!" shrieked Verona Mortimer. "I say, _did_
+you see the papers? _And_ the pictures! Girls, she's a regular devil,
+and we never knew it! Where did you hide your brains all these years,
+Gracie, dear?"
+
+"I never would have thought it possible," said the cold, philosophical
+Katherine Van Schaick. "I call it mighty well engineered. Did _you_ tell
+him to do it, Grace? If so you are a genius!"
+
+"What does he look like?"
+
+"Is he of the old New Jersey Rutgers?"
+
+"If he's good-looking and has money, what's wrong with him? Booze?"
+asked a practical one.
+
+"He isn't married, is he?" asked a doll-face with Reno in her heavenly
+eyes.
+
+At this a hush fell on the group. It was the big moment.
+
+"How exciting!" murmured one.
+
+"Is he married, Grace?"
+
+Fifteen pairs of eyes pasted themselves on Gracie's. She barely caught
+herself on the verge of confessing ignorance. She was dazed by the new
+aspect of her own love-affair.
+
+These girls envied her!
+
+"No!" she said, recklessly.
+
+"It's her father," prompted a slim young Sherlock Holmes.
+
+"No; Mrs. Goodchild!" corrected a greater genius.
+
+"Maybe it's Grace herself," suggested the envious Milly Walton.
+
+"How can I stop it?" asked Grace, angrily.
+
+"_What?_" shrieked all.
+
+"Why, girls," said Miss Van Schaick, "she isn't responsible for it,
+after all!"
+
+Before the disappointment could spoil their pleasure one of them said,
+impatiently, "Oh, let's look at 'em!"
+
+They rushed to the window.
+
+"Let's go downstairs. We can see 'em better!" And Grace's friends
+thereupon rushed away. One of them was considerate enough to say, "Come
+on, Grace!" and Grace followed, not quite grasping the change in the
+situation. Her fears were not so keen; her doubts keener.
+
+They nearly overturned their respective mammas in their rush to get to
+the windows.
+
+"Grace," said Miss Van Schaick, who had never before called her anything
+but "Miss--er--Goodchild," "send out and tell them to stop and face this
+way. I don't think I read all the sandwiches."
+
+"Yes! Yes!"
+
+"Oh, do!"
+
+"Please, Grace, tell 'em!" It sounded like election, when women shall
+vote. Much more melodious than to-day.
+
+The dowagers were made speechless. They had acquired that habit before
+their daughters.
+
+Grace capitulated to the incense.
+
+"Frederick, go out and tell them to stop and face this way," commanded
+Grace, with a benignant smile.
+
+"My de--" began Mrs. Goodchild, mildly.
+
+"I have lived," said Miss Van Schaick in her high-bred, level voice that
+people admiringly called insulting, "to see a New York society man do
+something really original. I must ask Beekman Rutgers why his branch of
+the family did not inherit brains with the real estate."
+
+Mrs. Goodchild gasped--and began to look resigned. From there to pride
+the jump would be slight. But hers was not a mind that readjusted itself
+very quickly.
+
+"Oh, look!" and the girls began to read the legends aloud.
+
+The dowagers rose, prompted by the same horrid fear. Chauffeurs were bad
+enough. But sandwich-men!
+
+The world moves rapidly these days. One week ago these mothers did not
+know sandwich-men even existed. A new peril springs up every day.
+
+They decided, being wise, not to scold their daughters.
+
+The girls shook hands with Grace with such warmth that she felt as if
+each had left a hateful wedding-gift in her palm. Mrs. Goodchild went
+up-stairs weeping or very close to it. She could not see whither it all
+would lead, and she was the kind that must plan everything in advance to
+be comfortable. By always using a memorandum calendar she cleverly
+managed to have something to look forward to in this life.
+
+Grace remained. She was thinking. When she thought she always tapped on
+the floor with her right foot, rhythmically. She realized that H. R.'s
+courtship of her had changed in aspect. She knew that girls in her set
+thought everything was a lark. But they themselves did not visit those
+who had larked beyond a certain point. An ecstatic "What fun!" soon
+changed to a frigid "How perfectly silly!" It was not so difficult to
+treat the sandwich episode humorously now, or even to take intelligent
+advantage of the publicity. She knew that, with the negligible exception
+of a few old fogies, the crass vulgarity of H. R.'s public performances
+would not harm her unless her father took it seriously enough to appeal
+to the law about it, when the same old fogies would say she should have
+ignored it. But she could not clearly see the end of it--that is, an
+ending that would redound to her glory. This man was a puzzle, a
+paradox, an exasperation. He was too unusual, too adventurous, too
+clever, too dangerous; he had too much to gain and nothing to lose. How
+should she treat him? He did not classify easily. He was masterful. He
+loved her. Masterful men in love have a habit of making themselves
+disagreeable.
+
+In how many ways would this masterful man, who was resourceful,
+original, undeterred by conventions, indifferent to the niceties of
+life, unafraid of public opinion as of social ostracism, make himself
+disagreeable? Was he serious in his determination to marry her? Or was
+it merely a scheme to obtain notoriety? Was he a crank or a criminal?
+She couldn't marry him. What would he do? What wouldn't he do? How long
+would he keep it up? Must she flee to Europe?
+
+Her foot was tap-tapping away furiously. She ceased to think in order to
+hate him! Then because she hated him she feared him. Then because she
+feared him she respected him. Then because she respected him she didn't
+hate him. Then because she didn't hate she began to think of him. But
+all she knew about him was that he said he loved her and everybody in
+New York knew it! Who was he? What was he? Should she start an inquiry?
+And yet--
+
+"I beg pardon, miss. But the men--" Frederick paused.
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"They are standing." He meant the sandwiches.
+
+"Well?"
+
+"They are," he reminded her, desperately but proudly, "Mr. Rutgers's
+men."
+
+"Tell them to go away," she said.
+
+He stared a moment, for as the consort of the owner of the men she had
+feudal obligations to fulfil. He remembered that this was America.
+
+"Very good, miss," he said.
+
+She went up-stairs. She wished to think. It would probably make her head
+ache. She therefore told her maid to wake her at six and, taking up one
+of Edwin Lefevre's books, she went to sleep.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+
+On Nassau Street twenty sandwich-men were parading, ten on each side of
+the street, in the block where the Ketcham National Bank stood. Each
+sandwich bore this legend:
+
+[Illustration: ASK THE PRESIDENT OF THE KETCHAM NATIONAL BANK WHY? HE
+WON'T LET ME MARRY HIS DAUGHTER. ASK HIM!]
+
+Besides 12,466 men and 289 women, 13 reporters read the sandwiches.
+
+The men looked pleased; they were seeing a show on D. H. tickets. The
+women sighed enviously and opened their latest Robert W. Chambers in the
+street as they walked on. The thirteen reporters walked into the bank,
+went straight into the president's office, and while he was still
+smiling his welcome asked him why he would not let H. R. marry Grace.
+
+Mr. Goodchild nearly sat in the electric chair. The vice-president
+fortunately was able to grasp in time the hand that held the big
+paper-weight.
+
+"Remember the bank!" solemnly counseled the vice-president.
+
+"To hell with the bank!" said Mr. George G. Goodchild for the first and
+only time in his Republican life.
+
+"Unless you talk to us fully and politely," said the _Globe_ man, "we
+propose to interview your directors and ask each and every one of them
+to tell us the name of your successor. If you raise your hand again I'll
+not only break in your face, but I'll sue you and thus secure vacation
+money and a raise in salary. The jury is with me. Come! Tell us why you
+won't let Mr. Rutgers marry Grace."
+
+Here in his own office the president of a big Wall Street bank was
+threatened with obliterated features and the extraction of cash. The
+cause of it, H. R., was worse than a combination of socialism and
+smallpox; he was even worse than a President of the United States in an
+artificial bull market.
+
+Mr. Goodchild walked up and down the room exactly thirteen times--one
+for each reporter--and then turned to the vice-president.
+
+"Send for the police!" he commanded.
+
+"Remember the newspapers," agonizedly whispered the vice-president.
+
+The _Globe_ man overheard him. "Present!" he said, and saluted. Then he
+took out a lead-pencil, seized a pad from the president's own desk, and
+said, kindly, "I'll take down all your reasons in shorthand, Mr.
+Goodchild!"
+
+"Take yourself to hell!" shrieked the president.
+
+"_Après vous, mon cher Alphonse_," retorted the _Globe_ man, with
+exquisite courtesy. "Boys, you heard him. Verbatim!"
+
+All the reporters wrote four words.
+
+The _Globe_ man hastily left the president's room and went up to the
+bank's gray-coated private policeman who was trying to distinguish
+between the few who wished to deposit money and the many who desired to
+ask the sandwich question or at least hoped to hear the answer. The
+sacred precincts of the Ketcham National Bank had taken on the aspect of
+a circus arena. H. R.'s erstwhile fellow-clerks looked the only way they
+dared--terrified! They would have given a great deal to have been able
+to act as human beings.
+
+"The reporters are in the president's room!" ran the whisper among the
+clerks. From there it reached the curious mob within the bank. From
+there it spread to the congested proletariate without the doors. Said
+proletariate began to grow. Baseball bulletin-boards were not displayed,
+but the public was going to get something for nothing. Hence, free
+country.
+
+The _Globe_ man heard one of the bank's messengers call the policeman
+"Jim." Being a contemporary historian, he addressed the policeman
+amicably.
+
+"Jim, Mr. Goodchild says to bring in Senator Lowry and party."
+
+With that he beckoned to the _Globe_'s militant photographers and five
+colleagues and preceded them into the president's private office.
+
+"Quick work, Tommy," warned the reporter.
+
+"Flash?" laconically inquired "Senator Lowry." He was such a famous
+portraitist that his sitters never gave him time to talk. Hence his
+habit of speaking while he could. He prepared his flash-powder.
+
+"Yep!" and the reporter nodded.
+
+The others also unlimbered their cameras. The _Globe_ man threw open the
+door.
+
+The president was angrily haranguing the reporters.
+
+"Mr. Goodchild," said the _Globe_ man, "look pleasant!"
+
+Mr. Goodchild turned quickly and opened his mouth.
+
+_Bang!_ went, the flash-powder.
+
+"Hel--" shrieked Mr. Goodchild.
+
+"--p!" said the pious young _Journal_ man, with an air of completing the
+presidential speech. A good editor is worth his weight in pearls.
+
+The photographers' corps retreated in good order and record time.
+
+"For the third and last time will you tell us why you won't let your
+daughter marry Mr. Rutgers!" asked the _Globe_.
+
+"No."
+
+"Then will you tell us why you won't let Mr. Rutgers marry your
+daughter?"
+
+Mr. Goodchild was conservative to the last. Too many people who needed
+money had talked to him in the borrower's tone of voice. He could not
+grasp the new era. He said, "You infernal blackmailer--"
+
+"Sir," cut in the _Globe_ man, with dignity, "you are positively
+insulting! Be nice to the other reporters. I thank you for the
+interview!" He bowed and left the office, followed by all the others
+except the _Evening Post_ man, who, unfortunately, had never been able
+to rid himself of the desire to get the facts. It was partly his editor,
+but mostly the absence of a sense of humor.
+
+"I think, Mr. Goodchild, that you'd better give me an official
+statement. I'll give the Associated Press man a copy, and that will go
+to all the papers."
+
+"But I don't want to say anything," protested Mr. Goodchild, who always
+read the _Post_'s money page.
+
+"The other reporters will say it for you. I think you'd better."
+
+"He's right, Mr. Goodchild," said the vice-president.
+
+"But what the dickens can I say?" queried Mr. Goodchild, helplessly, not
+daring to look out of the window for fear of seeing the sandwiches.
+
+"If I were you," earnestly advised the _Post_ man, "I'd tell the truth."
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Say why you won't let your daughter--"
+
+"It's preposterous!"
+
+"Say it; but also say why it is preposterous."
+
+Two directors of the bank came in. They were high in high finance. In
+fact, they _were_ High Finance. They therefore knew only the newspapers
+of an older generation, as they had proven by their testimony before a
+Congressional Committee. The older director looked at Mr. Goodchild and
+began:
+
+"Goodchild, will you tell me why--"
+
+"You, too?" interrupted Mr. Goodchild, reproachfully but respectfully.
+"First the reporters and now--"
+
+The directors gasped.
+
+"You didn't--actually--talk--for--_publication_?"
+
+They stared at him incredulously.
+
+"No. But I'm thinking of giving out a carefully prepared statement--"
+
+The higher of the high financiers, with the masterfulness that made him
+richer every panic, assumed supreme command. He turned to the _Post_ man
+and said: "I'm surprised to see you here. Your paper used to be decent.
+Mr. Goodchild has nothing to say."
+
+"But--" protested the anguished father of Grace Goodchild.
+
+"You haven't!" declared $100,000,000.
+
+"I have nothing to say!" meekly echoed one-tenth of one hundred.
+
+The _Post_ man walked out with a distinctly editorial stride. He began
+to envy the yellows and their vulgar editors, as all _Post_ men must at
+times.
+
+Mr. Goodchild's efforts to suppress the publication of his family
+affairs were in vain. He unfortunately sought to argue over the
+telephone with the owners.
+
+The owners spoke to the editors.
+
+"It's _News_!" the editors pointed out.
+
+"It's _News_," the owners regretfully explained to the bank president.
+
+"But it's a crime against decency," said Mr. Goodchild.
+
+"You are right. It's a damned shame. But it's _News_!" said the owners,
+and hung up.
+
+Mr. Goodchild summoned his lawyer. The lawyer looked grave. He
+recognized the uselessness of trying to stop the newspapers, and
+realized that there would be no fat fees, even if he were otherwise
+successful. He tried to frighten H. R., but was referred to Max
+Onthemaker, Esquire.
+
+Max Onthemaker, Esquire, was in heaven. He finally had butted into
+polite society! From the Bowery to Wall Street! At last he was opposed
+by the very best. A lawyer is known by his opponents!
+
+Mr. Lindsay protested with quite unprofessional heat. It was an outrage.
+
+"_Amare et sapere vix deo conceditur_," Mr. Onthemaker solemnly
+reminded the leader of the corporation bar. "Also, dear Mr. Lindsay, I
+am ready to accept service of any paper you may see fit to honor us
+with. My client means to fight to the bitter end."
+
+"Yes, in the newspapers!" bitterly said the eminent Mr. Lindsay through
+his clenched teeth.
+
+"And with sandwiches! When we ask for bread you give us a stone. But we
+give you a sandwich. There's no ground for criminal action in view of
+the public's frame of mind toward the money power. But if you will sue
+us for one million dollars damages I'll name my forthcoming baby after
+you."
+
+Mr. Lindsay hung up with violence, mistaking the telephone-holder for
+Mr. Onthemaker's cranium.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+
+The reporters of the conservative journals sought H. R. later in the
+day--simply because the reporters for the live newspapers did. The
+system was to blame. A daily paper may eschew vulgarity, but it must not
+be beaten. By using better grammar and no adjectives they intelligently
+show they are never sensational.
+
+The newspaper-men confronted H. R. eagerly. It was the day's big story.
+They asked him about it.
+
+He said to them, very simply, "I love her!"
+
+They wrote it down. He waited until they had finished. Then he went on:
+
+"She is the most beautiful girl in the world--to me. Don't forget
+that--_to me_!"
+
+Those two words would prevent two million sneers from the other most
+beautiful girls in the world who at that moment happened to reside in
+New York. Indeed, all his words would be read aloud to young men by said
+two million coral lips. Perfect Cupid's bows. She was beautiful--_to
+him_!
+
+"Her parents oppose my suit," went on H. R., calmly.
+
+"Is this a free country," interjected Max Onthemaker, vehemently, "or
+are we in Russia? Has Wall Street established morganatic marriages in
+this Republic, or--"
+
+H. R. held up a quieting hand. Max Onthemaker smiled at the rebuke. Two
+reporters had taken down his remarks.
+
+"I have told her parents that I propose to marry Miss
+Goodchild--peacefully. Get that straight, please. Peacefully! I am a
+law-abiding citizen. She is very beautiful. But I am willing to wait--a
+few weeks."
+
+"Yes. But the sandwiches," began a reporter who entertained hopes of
+becoming a Public Utility Corporation's publicity man.
+
+H. R. stopped him with an impressive frown. He cleared his throat.
+
+The reporters felt it coming.
+
+"What I have done--" he began.
+
+"Yes! Yes!"
+
+"--is merely the employment for the first time in history of
+_psychological sabotage_!"
+
+The reporters, now having the head-line, rushed off. All except one, who
+whispered to H. R.'s counsel:
+
+"What in blazes _is_ sabotage? How do you spell it?"
+
+"Quit your joking," answered Max. "You know very well what it is. Isn't
+he a wonder? Psychological sabotage!"
+
+The newspapers gave it space in proportion to the extent of their Wall
+Street affiliations. The _Evening Post_, having none, came out with an
+editorial on "Psychological Sabotage." It held up H. R. as a product of
+the times, made inevitable by T. Roosevelt. The _World_ editorialized on
+"The Wall Street Spirit _versus_ Love"; the _Times_ wrote about "The
+Ethics of Modern Courtship"; and the _Sun_ about "The Decay of Manners
+under the Present Administration and its Mexican Policy." The
+_American_'s editorial was "Intelligent Eugenics and Unintelligent
+Wealth."
+
+But all of them quoted "Psychological Sabotage." This made the Socialist
+papers espouse the cause of H. R.
+
+The _Globe_, however, beat them all. It offered to supply to the young
+couple, free of charge, a complete kitchen-set and the services of a
+knot-tier. It printed the names and addresses of sixteen clergymen, two
+rabbis, three aldermen, and the Mayor of the City of New York.
+
+The Public Sentiment Corps copied two hundred and thirty-eight letters
+prepared by the boss, praising and condemning H. R. and Mr. Goodchild.
+This compelled the newspapers that received the letters to run Grace's
+portrait daily--a new photograph each time.
+
+As for Grace herself, crowds followed her. She could not go into a
+restaurant without making all heads turn in her direction. People even
+stopped dancing when they saw her. And six of New York's bluest-blooded
+heiresses became her inseparable companions. They also had their
+pictures printed.
+
+Grace hated all this notoriety. She said so, at times. But her friends
+soothed her and developed the habit of looking pleasantly at cameras.
+
+H. R. on the third day sent all the clippings to Grace with beautiful
+flowers and a note:
+
+  _For your sake!_
+
+One of Grace's friends asked to be allowed to keep the note. It reminded
+her, she said, of the early Christians; also of the days of knighthood.
+
+The commercial phase of the mission of the Society of American Sandwich
+Artists had become in the meanwhile a matter of real importance to the
+business world. Business men, not being artists, are stupid because they
+deal with money-profits, and they are imitative because money-making in
+the ultimate analysis is never original. When the merchants of New York
+perceived that Fifth Avenue had sanctified sandwiching by paying cash
+for it, and that the better shops elsewhere had perforce resorted to it,
+they accepted it as one of the conditions of modern merchandising. It
+did not become a fad, but worse--an imagined necessity and, as such, an
+institution. The little Valiquet-made statuettes of the Ultimate
+Sandwich sold by the thousands, greatly adding to the personal assets of
+the secretary and treasurer of the society. And what New York did, other
+cities wished to do.
+
+Then the blow fell!
+
+On the same day that H. R. sent his early Christian message to Grace,
+Andrew Barrett reported that while some of the streets were almost
+impassable for the multitude of sandwiches, the greater part of the
+latter, alas! were _non-union men_!
+
+"They are using their porters and janitors to carry boards," said Andrew
+Barrett, bitterly. "I tell you, H. R., this is a crisis!"
+
+H. R., thinking of Grace, nodded absently and said, "Send for
+Onthemaker."
+
+Max came on the run. Nearly three days had elapsed without a front-page
+paragraph for him.
+
+Barrett told him about the crisis. Their idea had been stolen and
+utilized by unscrupulous merchants who were sandwiching without
+permission and using scabs.
+
+"I get you," said Max Onthemaker. Then he turned to the chief and told
+him:
+
+"H. R., you've got to do something to make George G. Goodchild sue you
+for a million dollars." He had drawn and kept ready for use sixty-three
+varieties of restraining orders, writs, etc.
+
+"What's that got to do with our--" began Andrew Barrett, impatiently.
+
+"Certainly!" cut in Mr. Onthemaker. "We must fight Capital with its own
+weapon. The Money Power is great on injunctions. I wish to say that when
+it comes to injunctions I've got Wall Street gasping for breath and--"
+
+"Yes, but what about the scabs? Can't you stop 'em?" persisted Barrett.
+
+The future of the Barrett Itinerant Advertising Agency was at stake.
+
+"Sure! We can hire strong-arm--"
+
+"No!" said H. R., decisively.
+
+Andrew Barrett, who had begun to look hopeful, frowned at his leader's
+negative, and said, desperately, "Something has got to be done!"
+
+When human beings say "Something" in that tone of voice they mean
+dynamite by proxy.
+
+"Certainly!" agreed H. R., absently, his mind still on Grace.
+
+Andrew Barrett stifled a groan. He whispered to Max, "It's the girl!"
+
+Max looked alarmed, then hopeful. Grace was almost as much News as H. R.
+himself.
+
+Andrew Barrett turned to H. R., and said, reproachfully:
+
+"Here we've made sandwiching what it is, and these infernal
+tightwads--"
+
+"That's the word, Barrett," cut in H. R. "Go to it, my son!"
+
+"How do you mean?" asked Barrett.
+
+"Advertise in all the papers, morning and evening."
+
+Young Mr. Barrett stared at him, then he shook his head, tapped it with
+his knuckles, and confessed: "Solid!"
+
+"_Give me a pencil!_" said H. R. It sounded like "Fix bayonets!"
+
+"Nothing," Mr. Onthemaker permitted himself to observe, judicially, "is
+so conducive to front-page publicity as intelligent violence. This is
+not a strike, but a cause. Look at the militants--"
+
+"There is something in that," admitted A. Barrett.
+
+"There is something," said H. R., gently, "in everything, even in Max's
+cranium. But, this is not a matter of principle, but of making money."
+
+"But if you first establish--"
+
+"No," interrupted H. R. "If you make money, the principle establishes
+itself. The situation does not call for a flash of inspiration, but for
+common sense. Listen carefully: Nothing is so timid as Capital!"
+
+He looked at them as if further talk were redundant, superfluous,
+unnecessary, a waste of time, and an insult.
+
+"Well?" said Barrett, forgetting himself and speaking impatiently.
+
+"Utilize it. Treat it as you would a problem in mathematics. You start
+with an axiom. Build on it. Capital is timid. Therefore, people who have
+money never do anything original; that is to say, venturesome; that is
+to say, courageous. All new enterprises are begun and carried through by
+people who have no money of their own to lose. I, single-handed, could
+defeat an army commanded by Alexander, Cæsar, Napoleon, and U. S. Grant,
+if I could put into the pockets of each of the enemy's private soldiers
+six dollars in cash. No man likes to be killed with money in his
+clothes. Money is fear! Fear is unreasoning. I am opposed to injecting
+fear into the situation. No, sir; instead, we must capitalize another
+human force. Have this printed. Big blank margin. All the papers."
+
+He gave them what he had written:
+
+  TO THE PUBLIC
+
+     We are Union Men but we are for Peace.
+
+     We do not hate scabs: we pity them!
+
+     We do _not_ pity Tightwads who make scabs possible.
+
+     We made Sandwiching an Art, also an Honorable Occupation.
+
+     We feed our hungry men out of our Hunger Fund. Those who
+     work support those who can't, until they in turn find work.
+
+     We ask for living wages, but also for the respect of the
+     public.
+
+     Our Emblem is the Sign of the Ultimate Sandwich.
+
+     Every time you see a Sandwich-Board without it you may be
+     sure it belongs to a merchant who skimps his Advertising
+     Appropriation.
+
+     If he skimps in that, what won't he skimp in?
+
+     How about the _quality_ of his goods and his _values_?
+
+     We advertise the High-class Trade, honest advertisers who
+     skimp in nothing to please the public.
+
+     No merchant can misrepresent his goods through us.
+
+     We do not Advertise Frauds nor Misers.
+
+     We could frighten off the Poor Men whose hunger makes scabs
+     of them.
+
+     We would have the approval of the Labor Organizations and of
+     the thinking public.
+
+     _But we are for the Law!_
+
+     They can join our Union if they wish.
+
+     There is no Initiation Fee.
+
+     There is no compulsion to join.
+
+     They are American Citizens!
+
+     _So Are We!_
+
+     The Tightwad Merchant may not be Dishonest. But--
+
+     The Public Must Judge--Calmly.
+
+     Look for the Ultimate Sandwich in all signs!
+
+  American Society of Sandwich Artists.
+  H. R.,
+  _Sec._
+
+     WE NEVER SOLICIT SUBSCRIPTIONS!
+
+Andrew Barrett read it. His jaw dropped and he stared at H. R. Then he
+declared with conviction:
+
+"Next to the Gettysburg address, this!
+WE--NEV-ER--SO-LI-CIT--SUB-SCRIP-TIONS! Where does it all come from?"
+
+H. R. solemnly pointed to the ceiling of his office, meaning thereby,
+like most Americans, heaven. Max Onthemaker looked at him dubiously, the
+Deity being extra-judicial. Then he shook his head uncertainly. History
+had told of Peter the Hermit, Mohammed, and others. It was a familiar
+hypothesis.
+
+The public, when it read in the newspapers that these poor men did not
+believe in killing scabs, but hated tightwads and never asked for
+subscriptions, unmistakably and unreservedly espoused their cause. The
+man who skimped was the common foe of the free citizen. They wrote
+letters to the newspapers.
+
+So did the Public Sentiment Corps.
+
+To hate tightwads and never to ask for subscriptions were admirable
+American traits. Christian merchants and even heretics in trade called
+them Virtues!
+
+Big business took the trouble to tell the reporters that this was the
+kind of labor organization everybody could approve of. It was a check to
+Socialism. Big business believes in some kinds of checks.
+
+The labor organizations could not condemn a union. They said they also
+were for peace and against the wretches who capitalized the hunger of
+their fellows.
+
+In twenty-four hours the scab-users surrendered!
+
+More clippings for Grace.
+
+The Society of American Sandwich Artists prudently leased three more
+offices and prepared for the rush. It came. Orders poured in from scores
+of merchants. The premises were so crowded with men both with and
+without sandwich-boards that the other tenants complained.
+
+The agent of the Allied Arts Building requested H. R. to vacate. He
+requested it three times an hour, from nine to six.
+
+"The other tenants object to your sandwiches," the agent explained to
+H. R.
+
+"Let 'em move out. We'll take the whole building--at a fair concession.
+
+"Move out yourself!" shrieked the agent.
+
+"See our lawyer," said H. R., and turned his back on the agent.
+
+The agent called on Mr. Onthemaker.
+
+"Fifty thousand dollars!" said Max.
+
+The agent fled, holding his watch in place.
+
+In the mean time the treasury of the society was growing apace. H. R.
+transferred his account. He now deposited the funds with the National
+Bank of the Avenue.
+
+The president, Mr. Wyman, told Mr. Goodchild about it. Mr. Goodchild,
+who had turned red as H. R.'s name was mentioned by a highly esteemed
+colleague, looked thoughtful--he might have had the account.
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+
+In the very hour of his great success H. R. suddenly was thus confronted
+by the greatest menace to a political career--wealth!
+
+In one morning's mail he received three hundred and eighty-four offers
+to become the advertising Napoleon of national concerns; no limit to the
+advertising appropriations. He added up the aggregate offers of salary
+and maximum commissions.
+
+His income, if he accepted all the offers, would amount to $614,500 per
+annum.
+
+So great is the danger and so widely recognized is it that nobody is
+worthy of respect until he is threatened by wealth with wealth.
+
+Should H. R. accept greatness to-day and let to-morrow bring the
+littleness?
+
+He did not reply to his correspondents. He thus went up in their
+estimation. To refuse to take money is something. To refuse even to
+refuse it is everything!
+
+He prepared a memorandum containing all the offers he had received, with
+the sum total of same, and sent the originals of the letters and
+telegrams to Mr. Goodchild.
+
+His only comment, in careless lead-pencil, was what it should be:
+
+"_Not enough!_"
+
+He knew Mr. Goodchild would speak about it. How could Mr. Goodchild
+help it? Didn't $614,500 begin with a $?
+
+But H. R. did not think of what he had not done, not even of what he had
+done, but of what he would do. Doers of deeds always think that way. To
+them yesterday is as dead as Cæsar. To-day is settled. To-morrow alone
+is greater opportunity!
+
+He therefore thought of himself. That made him think of Grace.
+
+He had no illusions about himself, but, what was far more intelligent,
+he had none about anybody else. He was aware that already the world was
+divided in their opinion of him. To some he was a humbug, to others a
+crank; to some a genius, to a few a dangerous demagogue.
+
+People respect what they fear. Fear always puts humanity in the attitude
+of a rat in a corner. That is why people with a passion for making money
+naturally think of corners.
+
+To make millions of men follow is to make millions of dollars shake.
+
+But his was an infinitely more difficult problem. How to become the fear
+of the rich and at the same time be respected by the best element? He
+had no precedents by which to guide his steps, no example that he might
+modernize and follow.
+
+He reduced the problem to its simplest form? To bring this about he
+would preach Brotherhood.
+
+To stop the mouths that thereupon would call him Socialist he would
+cover his effort.
+
+Then, in the chemical reactions of his mind, something flashed! He would
+do something to attract the best element. That would bring in the mob.
+What begins by being fashionable always ends by being popular. Nobody
+had ever thought of making goodness a fad. Hence, poverty, and therefore
+wealth!
+
+He would take the first step that night.
+
+About 11 P.M. an excited feminine voice, without the slightest trace of
+Yiddish--indeed, more fashionable than a Fifth Avenue voice ever dared
+to be--called up, one after another, the city editors of the best papers
+and asked:
+
+"Is it true that Grace Goodchild has eloped with Hendrik Rutgers?"
+
+"We had not heard that--"
+
+"It is not true! _It is not true!_" shrieked the voice in the highest
+pitch of dismay and rang on.
+
+Having been told that it was not true, the city editors, after vainly
+trying to get the speaker again, honorably called up the Goodchild
+residence.
+
+Nobody home!
+
+That was enough corroboration for any intelligent man, but the city
+editors despatched their most reliable reporters to the former residence
+of the bride. Being prudent men, the editors prepared the photographs,
+and the head-line was all a matter of final punctuation:
+
+  MISS GOODCHILD ELOPES
+
+It remained for the make-up man to put a "!" or a "?" after "ELOPES."
+
+The reporters could not get to either Mr. or Mrs. Goodchild or to H. R.
+or Grace. The papers therefore did not say that the young people, whose
+courtship was a Fifth Avenue romance, had eloped. That might not be
+true. But they printed Grace's photographs and H. R.'s and reviewed
+H. R.'s meteoric career and called the rumor a rumor. That was common
+sense.
+
+Also, all the newspapers spoke about the Montagues and the Capulets. At
+about 2.30 A.M. the reporters returned with expurgated versions of Mr.
+Goodchild's denial. But the pages were cast. The late city editions
+honorably printed:
+
+     Mr. Goodchild, when seen early this morning, denied the
+     rumor.
+
+It was thus, at one stroke, that the nuptials of Grace Goodchild and
+H. R. were definitely placed among the probabilities. The average
+New-Yorker now knew it was only a matter of days.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+
+H. R. dressed to resemble an undertaker, but wearing a beautiful orchid
+to show he did not do it for a living, called a taxicab, drove to the
+Diocesan House and sent in his card to the Bishop of New York.
+
+The Bishop was a judge of cards. He therefore received H. R. in his
+study instead of the general waiting-room of which the decorative scheme
+consisted of "In His Name" in old English and therefore safe from
+perusal. It might as well have been, "Be Brief!"
+
+"How do you do, Bishop Phillipson?" And H. R. held out his hand with
+such an air of affectionate respect that the Bishop was sure he had
+confirmed this distinguished-looking young man.
+
+But the head of the diocese has to know more than theology. Therefore
+the Bishop answered, very politely:
+
+"I am very well, thank you."
+
+"Did you recognize the name?" modestly asked H. R.
+
+"Oh yes," said the Bishop, who recently had read about some meeting in
+Rutgers Square and therefore remembered Rutgers.
+
+He was a fine figure of a man with clean-cut features and a look of
+kindliness so subtly professional as to keep it from being
+indiscriminatingly benevolent; a good-natured man rather than a strong.
+One might imagine that he made friends easily, but none could visualize
+him as a Crusader. He was cursed with an orator's voice, sensitive ears,
+and the love of words.
+
+"Perhaps you've read the newspapers? They've been full of me and my
+doings these many weeks," said H. R., looking intently at the Bishop.
+
+"My dear boy!" expostulated Dr. Phillipson.
+
+"I need your help!" said H. R., very earnestly.
+
+The Bishop knew it! Those to whom you cannot give cheering words and
+fifty cents are the worst cases. To relieve physical suffering is far
+easier than to straighten out those tangles that society calls
+disreputable--after they get into print.
+
+H. R. went on, "I want you to help me to help our church."
+
+"Help you to help our church?" blankly repeated the Bishop. The
+unexpected always reduces the expectant kind to a mere echo.
+
+"Exactly!" And H. R. nodded congratulatorily. "Exactly! In order that we
+may stop losing ground!"
+
+There were so many ways in which this young man's words might be taken
+that his mission remained an exasperating mystery. But the Bishop smiled
+with the tolerance of undyspeptic age toward over-enthusiastic youth and
+said kindly:
+
+"Pardon me, but--"
+
+"Pardon _me_," interrupted H. R., "but since it is only the Roman
+Catholics who are growing--"
+
+"Our figures--" interjected the Bishop, firmly.
+
+"Ah yes, figures of speech. Don't apply to _our_ church. The reason is
+that the Catholics leave out the possessive pronoun. They never say
+_their_ church any more than they say _their_ God. Now, why did we build
+our huge Cathedral?"
+
+The Bishop stared at H. R. in astonishment. Then he answered, austerely,
+confining himself to the last question:
+
+"In order to glorify--"
+
+"Excuse me. There already existed the Himalayas. The real object of
+building cathedrals hollow, I take it, is to fill 'em with the flesh of
+_living_ people. Otherwise we would have made sarcophagi. We Protestants
+don't bequeath our faith to our posterity; only our pews. They are
+to-day empty. Hence my business. I, Bishop Phillipson, am a
+People-Getter."
+
+"You are what?" The Bishop did not frown; his amazement was too abysmal.
+
+"I fill churches. Since this is really a family affair, let us be frank.
+Of course, you could fill 'em with paper--"
+
+"Paper?"
+
+"Theatrical argot for deadheads, Bishop; people who don't pay, but
+contribute criticisms of the show. I am here to tell you how to go about
+the job efficiently."
+
+H. R.'s manner was so earnest, it so obviously reflected his desire to
+help, that the Bishop could not take offense at the young man's
+intentions. The words, however, were so much more than offensive that
+the Bishop said, with cold formality:
+
+"You express yourself in such a way--"
+
+"I'll tell you the reason. Deeds never convert until they are _talked_
+about. Dynamic words are needed. Ask any business man. I have made a
+specialty of them. I may add that I am not interested in making money,
+only in efficiency!"
+
+The Bishop saw plainly that this well-dressed young man with the keen
+eyes and the resolute chin was neither a lunatic nor an impostor.
+Therefore the Bishop instantly realized that the young man could not
+help the Church and equally that the Church could not help the young
+man. Further talk was a waste of time.
+
+"I fear this discussion is fruitless--"
+
+"I wasn't discussing; I was asserting. I am the man who is going to
+marry Grace Goodchild--"
+
+The Bishop straightened in his chair and looked at H. R. with a new and
+more personal interest.
+
+"Indeed!" he said, so humanly that it sounded like "Do tell!" Grace was
+one of his flock. He remembered now that his friends the Goodchilds had
+been in print lately and that editorials had been written about the
+young man who proposed to marry the only daughter.
+
+"I promised Grace that I would help our Church--"
+
+To the Bishop these words, which the young man had used before, now had
+a different meaning. It was no longer an utter stranger, but an
+eccentric acquaintance; a character, as characterless people call them.
+
+"Yes?" And the Bishop listened attentively.
+
+"I've doped it out--" pursued H. R., earnestly.
+
+"I beg your pardon?" said the Bishop and blushed.
+
+"I have arrived at a logical conclusion," translated H. R. "In short, I
+have found what will put Episcopalians, Presbyterians, Methodists,
+Lutherans, Jews, Parsees, and native-born Americans on the Christian map
+of New York. And it will not necessitate turning the unoccupied churches
+into restaurants or vaudeville shows."
+
+H. R. turned his hypnotic look full on the Bishop, who read therein the
+desire to do.
+
+"Thus must have looked HILDEBRAND!" thought the Bishop, in Roman
+capitals, in spite of himself. On second thought he remembered to
+characterize the language of Grace Goodchild's fiancé as "bizarre."
+Experience teaches that it is wisdom to encourage good intentions. This
+is done by listening.
+
+Since the Bishop was now obviously glad to listen, H. R. said, more
+earnestly than ever:
+
+"Tell me, Bishop, what is it that is desirable to possess and more
+desirable to give, elevating, rare beyond words, thrice blessed, and
+beautiful as heaven itself?"
+
+"Truth!" exclaimed the Bishop, his voice ringing with conviction and the
+pride of puzzle-solving. Being a human being, he had answered promptly.
+
+H. R. shook his head and smiled forgivingly: "That's only theology;
+possibly metaphysics. Forget rhetoric and get down to cases. _Truth!_
+Pshaw! Can you imagine that combination of four consonants and one vowel
+serving as a political platform or included in any live concern's
+instructions to salesmen? Never! No, sir. Guess again! I've found it.
+Rare, picturesque, with great dramatic possibilities and easy to
+capitalize. It is--"
+
+He paused and looked at the Bishop. The Bishop returned the look
+fascinatedly. This young man was from another world. What would he say
+next? And what would whatever he said mean?
+
+"_Charity!_" exclaimed H. R., proudly.
+
+The Bishop's face fell. You almost heard it.
+
+H. R. shook a rigid forefinger at the Bishop's nose and said, in a
+distinctly vindictive voice:
+
+"_'But the greatest of these is charity'_!"
+
+"We always preach--" began the Bishop, defensively.
+
+"That's the trouble. _Don't!_ We'll tackle charity by easy steps. We'll
+begin by the very lowest form, in order to break in American Christians
+gradually. Feeding the hungry is spectacular and leads to the higher
+forms. Show people that you will not only fill their bellies, but send
+the caterer's bills direct to the Lord for payment, and the populace
+will supply not only the food-receptacles, but the stationery. A great
+deal," finished H. R., reflectively, "depends upon the right
+stationery."
+
+"I fear," said the Bishop, uncomfortably, "that we are talking to each
+other across an impassable gulf."
+
+"Not a bit, Bishop. The human intellect, properly directed, can bridge
+any chasm. Let us be philosophical." H. R. said this as one who proposes
+to speak in words of one syllable. "Now, good people--I don't mean
+_you_, Bishop; you know: _good_ people!--always do everything wrong end
+foremost. Now, what do you, speaking collectively, do to feed the
+hungry?"
+
+"We support St. George's Kitchens--"
+
+"Ah yes, you astutely work to eliminate poverty by tackling the poor,
+instead of operating on the rich. You give tickets to the hungry! Think
+of it--_to the hungry_! Tickets! A green one means a bowl of pea soup; a
+pink one, a slice of ham; a brown one, a codfish ball. The
+polychromatics of systematized charity whereby you discourage the
+increase of a professional pauper class! Tickets! To the hungry! Ouch!"
+
+The Bishop more than once had despaired of solving that very problem.
+He shook his head sadly rather than rebukingly and said, "I have no
+doubt that you are a very remarkable young man and very up to date and
+very hopeful, but in a huge city like New York how can any one solve the
+problem of helping everybody who really needs--"
+
+"By using brains, Bishop Phillipson," cut in H. R., so sternly that the
+Bishop flushed. But before his anger could crystallize, H. R. continued,
+challengingly: "Who in New York are in need of charity? Five thousand
+empty bellies? No. Five million empty souls!"
+
+It was a striking figure of speech. Before the Bishop could say anything
+H. R. went on, very politely:
+
+"Will you oblige me by torturing the ears?"
+
+"Torturing the ears?" echoed the Bishop in a daze.
+
+"Yes; by listening. Do you hear"--H. R. pointed to a corner of the
+room--"do you hear a voice from heaven saying, 'Let them that hunger
+bring a physician's certificate of protracted inanition? You don't? Then
+there's hope. What I propose to do, Bishop, is to revolutionize the
+industry." H. R. spoke so determinedly that the Bishop could not help
+forgetting everything else and asking:
+
+"How?"
+
+"By giving the ticket to the full belly; not to the empty. We utilize
+the machinery already in existence, but the ticket goes to the man
+who pays twenty-five cents, not to the man who needs or accepts
+the quarter's worth of food. There are people who would compel a
+fellow-man made by God after His image to convert himself into a
+first-trip-to-Europe dress-suit case and paste labels all over himself:
+_Pauper! Hungry! Wreck!_ My tickets will be precious tags marked:
+_Charitable! Decent! Christian!_ I accomplish this by giving to the
+giver! Success is a matter of labels."
+
+"But I can't see--"
+
+"My dear Bishop, everybody acknowledges that it is much nicer to give to
+those you love than to receive. That is why we are exhorted to love our
+fellows--that we may love to give to them. It follows that everybody at
+heart likes to be charitable. Vanity was invented pretty early in
+history. But it has not been properly capitalized by the Churches. Now,
+listen to the difference when real brains are used. Remember that though
+all is vanity, vanity is not all. Each person who gives twenty-five
+cents receives a ticket. Since he lives in America, he gets something
+for something! I have planned a mammoth hunger feast in Madison Square
+Garden. Each donor from his seat will see with his own eyes a fellow-man
+eat his quarter."
+
+"But, my dear Mr. Rutgers--"
+
+"I am glad you see it as I do. The ticket-buyer goes to the Garden. He
+knows his ticket is feeding one man. But he sees ten thousand men
+eating. He looks for the particular beneficiary of his particular
+quarter. It might be any one of the ten thousand eaters! Within
+thirty-seven seconds each donor will feel that his twenty-five cents is
+feeding the entire ten thousand! Did a quarter of a dollar ever before
+accomplish so much? Of anybody else," finished H. R., modestly, "I would
+call that genius!"
+
+The Bishop shook his head violently.
+
+"Do you mean to treat it as a spectacle--"
+
+"What else was the Crucifixion to the priests of the Temple?" asked
+H. R., sternly.
+
+The Bishop waved away with his hand and said, decidedly:
+
+"No! No! Would you compel starving men--"
+
+"To eat?" cut in H. R.
+
+"No; to parade their needs, to vulgarize charity and make it offensive,
+a stench in the nostrils of self-respecting--"
+
+"Hold on! Charity, reverend sir, is never offensive. The attitude of
+imperfectly Christianized fellow-citizens makes it a disgrace to show
+charity, but not to display poverty. The English-speaking races, being
+eminently practical, lay great stress upon table manners. They treat
+charity as if it were a natural function of man, and therefore to be
+done secretly and in solitude. Our cultured compatriots invariably
+confound modesty with the sense of smell. Etiquette is responsible for
+infinitely greater evils than vulgarity. Feed the hungry. When you do
+that you obey God. Feed them _all_!"
+
+"But--"
+
+"That is exactly what I propose to do--with your help: feed all the
+starving men in New York. Has anybody ever before tried that? _All the
+starving men!_" He finished, sternly, "Not one shall escape us!"
+
+The Bishop almost shuddered, there was so grimly determined a look on
+H. R.'s face. Then as his thoughts began to travel along their usual
+channel he felt vexed. He had patiently endured the disrespectful
+language of a young man whose point of view differed so irritatingly
+from that of the earnest men who were laboring to solve the problem. All
+he had heard was confusing talk, words he could not remember, but left a
+sting. Time had been spent to no purpose.
+
+"I still," said the Bishop with an effort, "do not see how you solve
+the problem that has baffled our best minds."
+
+"Nobody else could do it," acknowledged H. R., simply. "But I have
+carefully prepared my plans. They cannot fail. And now you will give me
+your signature."
+
+"My signature to what?" asked the Bishop in the tone of voice in which
+people usually say, "Never!" He felt that the interview was ended. A
+suspicion flashed in his mind that this young man might reply, "To a
+check!" But he paid H. R. the compliment of instantly dismissing the
+suspicion. This was, alas! no common impostor.
+
+"To an appeal to New York's better nature," said H. R.,
+enthusiastically. "The masses always follow the classes; if they didn't
+there wouldn't be classes. Mr. Wyman, of the National Bank of the
+Avenue, will act as treasurer."
+
+It was the fashionable bank. Stock in demand at seventy-two hundred
+dollars a share, and all held by Vans.
+
+"Has he--"
+
+"He will," interrupted H. R. so decisively that the Bishop forgot to be
+annoyed at not being allowed to finish his question. "We shall appeal to
+all New-Yorkers. Your name must therefore lead the signatures. Much,
+Bishop Phillipson, depends upon the leader! Of course there will be
+other clergymen, and leading merchants, and capitalists, and the mayor,
+and the borough presidents, and the reform leaders, and everybody who is
+Somebody. They must give the example. Do you not constantly endeavor,
+yourself, to be an example, reverend sir?"
+
+Before the Bishop could deny this H. R. gave into his hands a book
+beautifully bound in hand-tooled morocco. The leaves were vellum. On the
+first page was artistically engrossed:
+
+     _Hunger knows no denomination._
+
+     _There must not be starving men, women, or children in New
+     York._
+
+     _We who do not hunger must feed those who do._
+
+     _LET US FEED ALL THE HUNGRY!_
+
+"Here, Bishop Phillipson, is the place at the head of the list. It will
+be signed by men and women whose names stand for Achievement, Fame, and
+Disinterestedness."
+
+H. R. held a fountain-pen before him and pursued: "If you sign, I'll
+feed all the hungry--_all_! Have you ever seen a starving man? Do you
+know what it is to be hungry?"
+
+The Bishop shook his head at the fountain-pen. He had seen starving men,
+but he had read about signatures. He could not officially sanction a
+plan of which he knew so little. No grown man can say that he did not
+know what he was signing.
+
+"Listen!" commanded H. R., sternly. "Do you hear your Master's voice?"
+
+"Your intentions, I make no doubt, are highly praiseworthy. But your
+language is so close to blasphemy...."
+
+"All words that invoke God in unrhymed English are so regarded in the
+United States. Grace would have it that you would sign in Chinese if by
+so doing it fed the hungry. '_But the greatest of these is charity._'
+The reporters are waiting for the list. Everybody else will sign if you
+head the list."
+
+"Of course." And the Bishop's voice actually betrayed the fact that he
+had been forced into self-defense. "Of course. I should be only too glad
+to sign if I were certain such an action on my part would actually feed
+the hungry--"
+
+"_All_ the hungry," corrected H. R.
+
+"Even a tenth of the hungry of New York," the Bishop insisted. "But, my
+dear young man, excellent intentions do not always succeed. Your methods
+might not commend themselves to men who have made this work the study of
+a lifetime."
+
+"They have not gone about their work intelligently, for there are still
+unfed men in New York. I am a practical man, not a theorist. Emotions,
+respected sir, are all very well to appeal to at vote-getting times, but
+they are poor things to think with. Now I don't suppose I have devoted
+more than one hour's thought to this subject, and yet see the
+difference. _All_ the hungry!" In H. R.'s voice there was not the
+faintest trace of self-glorification nor did his manner show the
+slightest vanity. Both were calmly matter-of-fact. The Bishop had to
+have an explanation. So he asked:
+
+"And your--er--quite unemotional and sudden interest in
+this--er--affair, Mr. Rutgers...."
+
+"You mean, where do I come in?" cut in H. R.
+
+The Bishop almost blushed as he shook his head and explained:
+
+"Rather, your motive in undertaking so difficult...."
+
+"Oh yes. You mean, _why_?"
+
+"Yes," said the Bishop, and looked at H. R. full in the eyes.
+
+"Because I desire to marry Grace Goodchild and I wish to be worthy of
+her. It is a man's job to jolt New York into a spasm of practical
+Christianity."
+
+The Bishop smiled. After all, this was a boy, and his enthusiasm might
+make up for what his motive lacked in profundity of wisdom.
+
+"And besides," went on H. R., in a lowered voice, "I hate to think that
+men can starve when I have enough to eat without earning my food." He
+smiled shamefacedly.
+
+"My boy!" cried the Bishop, and shook the boy's hand warmly, "I'm afraid
+you are--"
+
+"Don't call me good, Bishop!"
+
+"I was going to say it, but I won't. Do you think you can do what you
+propose?"
+
+"I know it!" And H. R. looked at Dr. Phillipson steadily.
+
+The Bishop looked back. He was no match for H. R.
+
+"I will sign!" said the Bishop.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+
+H. R. walked slowly to his office. Spring was in the air. The sky was
+very blue and the air sparkled with sun-dust. Life thrilled in waves.
+The breeze sang, as it does at times in the city. It had not the harps
+of the trees to strum on, but it made shift with the corners of the
+houses. Hand in hand with the breeze from the south came the joy of
+living that, after all, is merely the joy of loving.
+
+The soul of God's beautiful world--light, heat, beauty, love--percolated
+into the soul of Hendrik Rutgers and filled it--filled it full.
+
+It called for the One Woman in songs--the same songs the breeze was
+humming.... Ah, the encouragement of the wind! It bade him take her! It
+told him exactly whither the breeze was going, whither he should carry
+her in his arms. It whispered to him the place where he might lay down
+his burden!
+
+He walked on, head erect, chest inflated, fists clenched. He would take
+her from the world and make her his world. Their world!--his and hers;
+his first, then hers. After that they would share it equally.
+
+The breeze sang on.
+
+As he crossed Madison Square he was made aware that the sparrows also
+had heard the song and, phonograph-like, were repeating it. A little
+shriller, but the same song. Ten thousand sparrows--and each thought it
+was original! And the little pale-green leaves were nodding approval.
+And the azure smile of the sky was benignantly telling all creation to
+go ahead--as it was in the beginning, as it would be in the end.
+
+He loved her! He would love her even if she were not the most beautiful
+girl in all the round world. He would love her if she were penniless;
+even if her father were his best friend. He loved her and he loved his
+love of her. Her eyes were two skies that smiled more bluely than God's
+one. Her hair had the rust of gold and the dust of sun, and radiated
+light and glints of love. From her wonderful lips came, in the voice of
+the flowers, the one command that he, a hater of slaves, would obey,
+gratefully kneeling. And the lips said it, flower-like, in silence!
+
+She was not there to be loved. But he loved her, and because he loved
+her he loved everybody, everything. Even his fellow-men.
+
+They also should love! All of them! Love to love and love to live!
+
+Did they?
+
+He looked for the first time at his fellow-men on the park benches.
+
+He saw sodden faces, reptile-like sunning themselves, warming their
+skins; no more.
+
+They were men without money.
+
+They therefore were men without eyes, without ears, without tongues.
+They therefore were men without love. Everything had been cleanly
+excised by the great surgeon, Civilization!
+
+A wonderful invention, money. To think that puny man had, by means of
+that ingenious device, thwarted not only Nature, but God Himself!
+
+If money had not been invented, there would not be great cities to be
+loveless in!
+
+But those on the park benches, lizard-like sunning themselves, were
+tramps. The pedestrians had money. They, therefore, must have love.
+
+He looked at them and saw that what they had was their hands in their
+pockets. Doubtless it was to keep their money there. By so doing they
+did not have to sit on park benches and fail to see the sky and the
+buds, and fail to hear the birds and the breeze.
+
+And yet, as he looked he saw on their faces the same blindness and the
+same deafness.
+
+On the benches sat immortal souls drugged with misery. On the paths
+walked men asleep with Self.
+
+He alone was alive and awake!
+
+The appalling solitude of a great city was all about him. He was the
+only living man in New York!
+
+And Grace Goodchild was the only woman in the world! He loved her. He
+loved everybody. He wished to give, give, give!
+
+"You'll be fed!" he said to the park benches.
+
+"You'll feed em!" he told the sidewalks.
+
+"I'll marry you! he wirelessed to Grace.
+
+"You," he said to all New York, "will pay for every bit of it!"
+
+He walked into his office, frowning. Andrew Barrett was there.
+
+"Come with me," H. R. told him, and led the way into the private office.
+
+He sat down at his desk, brushed away a lot of letters, and said to his
+aide:
+
+"Barrett, I've got a man's job this time."
+
+Sandwiching for banks that had deposits of over one hundred millions
+appealed to Andrew Barrett. And the Standard Oil and the Steel Trust,
+also, held possibilities. After the S. A. S. A. got those he would go
+into business for himself.
+
+"Who is it?" he asked, eagerly.
+
+"Grace Goodchild!" answered H. R., absently.
+
+"Oh, I thought--"
+
+H. R. started. "What? Oh! You are thinking of business. Well, I'm going
+to put New York on the map at one fell swoop."
+
+Andrew Barrett beamed. At last, millions! All New York using sandwiches
+at regular rates!
+
+H. R. looked at his lieutenant and smiled forgivingly. After all, it was
+not Andrew's fault that the spring was not in his soul.
+
+"Barrett, men and women in all civilized communities desire three
+things. All of them begin with a B. Can you guess?"
+
+"Not I!" answered Barrett, with diplomatic self-depreciation. There are
+questions whose answers gain you mortal enmity by depriving the
+questioner of the greatest of all pleasures.
+
+"Bread, beauty, and bunco. You satisfy all the natural wants of humanity
+by supplying these three. Now men pay for their necessities with
+whatever coin happens to be current. I have sometimes thought of a state
+of society in which payment need not be made in interchangeable labor
+units, but in the self-satisfaction of accomplishment. I have even
+dreamed," he finished, sternly, "of making goodness fashionable!"
+
+"Merciful Heaven!" exclaimed Barrett, in indescribable awe.
+
+H. R. shook his head gloomily. "The trouble," he said, bitterly, "is
+that it is so damned easy to be good, so obviously intelligent, so
+natural! Men are bad, I firmly believe, because badness is so
+roundabout and expensive. How else can you explain it? Society, since
+money was invented, has craved for expensive things. Society is, in
+truth, expense."
+
+"Say, Chief, I don't get the dope about goodness being easy."
+
+"Probably not; it is too obvious. The early Christians died gladly. It
+was good form. Dying for God ceased to be fashionable. Hence universal
+suffrage. To die for God merely means to live for God. Do you see?"
+
+"No. The Christian part bothers me."
+
+"Let us be heathen, then. The Spartan mother loved her sons. Sent them
+to battle saying, _With your shield or on it!_ The axiom of the locality
+is the fashion of the place. To die bravely in Sparta was to be
+fashionable. If I can make goodness fashionable I'll do something that
+is very easy and very difficult. If men were not such damned fools it
+would be so restful to be wise."
+
+"Yes, H. R., but human nature--"
+
+"Exactly. We go against human nature always. God gave to men the
+precious gift of fear in order that they might overcome it. Man's fear
+to-day is to be good. Once upon a time men feared hell. It is now the
+fashion for Americans to think, _To hell with hell!_"
+
+Andrew Barrett shook his head dubiously. He was not really interested in
+abstractions. But he desired to be on good terms with his chief. The
+best way to be nice to a man is to put up a weak argument. He began,
+feebly defending, "But there must be some people--"
+
+"It is perfectly proper to be selfish if you are alone. It is stupid to
+be selfish when you are one of a group. Therefore, my inveterately young
+friend and typical compatriot, we must do something for nothing. Tip off
+the papers."
+
+Barrett shook his head. "I don't get you," he confessed, sadly.
+
+"Few people do when you tell them they have to do something and not be
+paid for it. To-morrow and the day after our men must display a new
+sandwich for the cause for two hours." He paused, then he finished,
+sternly, "Tell them I said so!"
+
+"I will," hastily said Barrett, only too glad to shift the
+responsibility.
+
+"You might request the regular advertisers to pay full time, just the
+same."
+
+"You bet I will! And what will the boards say?"
+
+"Let me have your pencil," said H. R., and he wrote:
+
+  NEXT WEEK
+
+  THE MEN WHO HAVE MADE
+
+  NEW YORK
+
+  THE EMPIRE CITY OF
+
+  GOD'S OWN COUNTRY
+
+  WILL FEED
+
+  ALL THE HUNGRY
+
+  WHO HAVE NO MONEY
+
+  O. K.
+  H. R.,
+  _Sec._
+
+"There!" said H. R.
+
+Andrew Barrett read it. "If it was anybody else--" he muttered.
+
+"Convey to your reporter friends that this is the biggest story of the
+year. Particularly impress upon them that it is a secret!"
+
+"I'll impress that on them, all right," promised Barrett, with profound
+sincerity. "It is really pleasant not to have to lie."
+
+H. R. rose and said: "I must get the other names. I have begun with the
+Bishop. And he showed Barrett the signature of Dr. Phillipson.
+
+"Why his?" asked Barrett.
+
+"I expect him to officiate at my wedding. Also, he is a Conservative,
+and Wall Street is for him, strong. Don't you see? Get the sandwiches
+ready."
+
+H. R. no longer bothered with details. He had discovered that by
+resolutely expecting people to do things, people did them. Every eight
+hundred and thirty-one years a man is born who can throw upon his
+fellow-men the yoke of responsibility so that it stays put.
+
+He decided that it would look well in print to play up the
+non-sectarianism of the affair. He would therefore have the prominent
+people meet in the Granite Presbyterian Church, attracting the
+Presbyterians who otherwise might have objected to Bishop Phillipson's
+leadership. But the meeting would be presided over by Bishop Barrows, a
+Methodist. Bishop Phillipson would agree to this. Did not his name come
+first in the stirring call to the metropolis?
+
+But, of course, to give to the project an attractive and, indeed, a
+compelling interest he would resort to the great American worship of
+bulk. It must be big. It must be the biggest ever!
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+
+He had no trouble in getting the other names. The bankers were easy. He
+told each that the cash was to be handled by a committee of bankers,
+thereby insuring efficient management. If Jones, of the small Nineteenth
+National, signed, Dawson, of the big Metropolitan, must do likewise or
+be convicted of lack of sympathy with a popular cause. The "Dawson
+party," comprising, as it did, the richest men in the world, needed
+popularity, Heaven knew. He also told the bankers that they would not
+have to pay out anything. It won them. He clenched it by comparing
+charity to the income tax.
+
+Yes, he did!
+
+"Nobody," he argued, "objects to an income tax that embraces
+_everybody_! The great good of such a tax is to make every man feel that
+he is supporting the government and to see to it that the government is
+spending his money wisely. The income tax should lead to more
+intelligent citizenship."
+
+Each banker agreed heartily to that.
+
+"The same with charity. Compel everybody to be charitable, the clerk
+equally with the president, that the burden may fall not on the rich,
+but on the many. Just sign here, will you, please? Thank you."
+
+The other signatures were equally easy to get. The so-called experts in
+charity work always give _their_ reasons. Result: $.00.
+
+On parting, H. R. told each signer the same thing:
+
+"The reporters will be present at the meeting. They may not stay till
+the very end. All they want is an advance copy of the speeches and the
+names of the people in the first three rows. The meeting begins at
+eight-thirty sharp!"
+
+He did not urge a single signer to attend, but at eight-twenty every
+seat in the Granite Presbyterian Church was filled by prominent people
+who hated reporters and their loathsome prying into a man's private
+affairs.
+
+It was a distinguished gathering, for H. R. had picked out nobody whose
+name was not familiar to readers of newspaper advertisements, society
+news, and government anti-corporation suits. Entire pews were filled
+with Success in Art, Literature, Science, Commerce, Finance, and
+Christianity.
+
+On the stage, formerly called chancel, were seated four bank presidents,
+four bishops, four merchants, four social leaders, four great writers,
+four great editors, four great painters, four great landlords, four
+great statesmen; in short, four great everything.
+
+H. R. rose and said: "Before introducing the chairman I desire the
+uninvited to retire instantly. The invitations were sent exclusively to
+the men who have made New York what it is!"
+
+Would you believe it? Not one man retired. And they all knew what New
+York was, too!
+
+They really thought New York was something to be proud of.
+
+"Those who do not rightfully belong here will retire!" repeated H. R. so
+threateningly that each man instantly sweated mucilage and remained
+glued to his seat.
+
+"I present our temporary chairman, Bishop Barrows."
+
+"The meeting will come to order," said the Bishop.
+
+Profound silence reigned. This so flabbergasted the reverend chairman
+that he fidgeted. Then he offered a prayer. When he had finished and the
+audience had drawn the customary long breath that follows "Amen" the
+chairman hesitated.
+
+"I'll tell 'em why we are here, if you wish," whispered H. R. Then,
+exactly as though the Bishop had acquiesced, he said, "Very well,
+Bishop," and he obediently arose.
+
+The Bishop repeated, hypnotically, "Mr. Rutgers will tell you why we are
+here."
+
+H. R. bowed to him and to the congregation. The reporters woke up. Here
+was something better than oratory or facts: News. This explains why the
+newspapers give more space to who speaks than to what is said.
+
+"Fellow New-Yorkers! We have been accused of provincialism. They tell us
+we don't care for the rest of the country. This is not true. We do care.
+We ought to: we own it! We supply to the rest of the country the money
+to be prosperous with, the paintings to be artistic with, the magazines
+to be cultivated with, the gowns to be beautiful with, and a place to
+spend money in, unsurpassed in the world. We have built the best hotels
+in the universe expressly to accommodate the people that hate New York.
+This is the soul of hospitality. New York leads. Other cities follow.
+They copy our clothes, our dances, our financiering, our barbers, our
+sandwiches, and the uniform of our street-cleaners. Our superiority is
+not only acknowledged, but resented. We have decided to do something
+that never before has been attempted, not even by automobile
+manufacturers. Let other cities copy us if they will. We are going to
+feed all the hungry who have no money! We are going to do it on the New
+York plan completely, intelligently, efficiently, and, above everything,
+picturesquely. You have seen the sandwich announcements?"
+
+They had. For two days all New York had seen them and all New York had
+talked about them, for the announcements had taken on the aspect of a
+puzzle. The answer was now expected. On vaudeville stages shining stars
+were at that very moment volunteering humorous solutions through their
+noses.
+
+"We propose to do it by means of improved tickets. No man shall buy more
+than one. The millionaire and the minister, the merchant and the mut,
+all will help. And all will help equally that each may benefit his soul
+in like degree without injury to any pocketbook. And, gentlemen, we are
+going to do it in an entirely new way."
+
+Everybody stared intently at H. R.
+
+An entirely new way!
+
+"Nobody will be allowed to buy more than one ticket. The price will be
+twenty-five cents! That sum will buy one Ideal Meal. The ticket not only
+will entitle the holder thereof to admission to Madison Square Garden,
+but it will also carry a coupon worth ten thousand dollars in cash!"
+
+He paused. The assemblage went pale. Hands were seen hastily buttoning
+up coats.
+
+"I personally will give the money," said H. R., sternly.
+
+A great sigh of relief soughed its way himward.
+
+"The meal will be a revelation to those who talk about the high cost of
+living and will conclusively prove the advantage of being permitted to
+do business in a large way without ill-advised interference by a
+grandfatherly government. It thus will have an important bearing on
+current legislation. Each ticket-buyer will see with his own eyes the
+entire journey of the quarter from the pocket to the empty stomach. Also
+the coupon attached to every ticket, worth ten thousand dollars in cash,
+will be a reward not of charity alone, but of the combination of charity
+and brains."
+
+The audience fidgeted. They did not believe it. It was too remarkable.
+But, anyhow, it was the orator's own money.
+
+"There will be," pursued H. R., accusingly, "no waste, no scientific
+un-Christianity, no half-baked philanthropy, no nonsense. On one day
+next week the sun will set on our city, and not one man, woman, or child
+will go to bed hungry, unless it is by his doctor's orders. All the
+hungry who have no money shall be fed. As for the coupon, I have myself
+already contributed the necessary funds to take care of that."
+
+Instead of feeling irritation at the repetition, they looked at him with
+a respect not often seen in a church.
+
+"It has never been attempted. I realize that we cannot make lazy men
+prosperous nor put in brains where they were left out by a wise
+Providence; but we are going to abolish hunger for one day, and then see
+what we can do to make conditions improve permanently. And the burden
+will be shared alike by all--nobody more than twenty-five cents."
+
+A look of resolve came over the faces of the entire audience. It was an
+experiment worth trying!
+
+"Gentlemen," added H. R., sternly, "we are going to call the bluff of
+the anarchistic labor agitators!"
+
+A storm of applause burst from the audience. H. R. held up a hand.
+
+"In giving, it is always wise to know to whom you are giving. The
+Society of American Sandwich Artists, with the aid of those who have
+made New York what it is, pledges itself to see to it that the meals
+find the proper bellies. There is no such thing as scientific charity
+any more than there is unscientific poverty. Nobody hates to give, but
+everybody wishes to give wisely. I guarantee that nobody who has money
+to buy food with will be fed at our expense. _I guarantee this!_"
+
+"_HOW?_" burst from three hundred and eighteen throats.
+
+"That is our secret. I may add that the coupon, worth exactly ten
+thousand dollars in cash, is not a lottery scheme. Gentlemen, I count
+upon your cooperation. I thank you." He bowed, modestly stepped back and
+nodded to Bishop Barrows. "Adjourn," he whispered.
+
+"I have a few--" began Dr. Barrows, protestingly.
+
+"Adjourn. The reporters will print them from your manuscript."
+
+"But--"
+
+H. R. took out his handkerchief and wiped his cool, unfevered brow. He
+had foreseen the chairman's speech. Max Onthemaker, who had been waiting
+for the signal, jumped to his feet and yelled:
+
+"I move we adjourn!"
+
+"Second the motion!" shrieked Andrew Barrett from a rear pew.
+
+The Bishop had to put the motion. Not having been called upon to pledge
+money, the assembly decided it was prudent to get out before the
+situation changed. The motion was unanimously carried.
+
+H. R. received the reporters in the vestry-room. He even shook hands
+with them. Then he said, as usual giving them the "lead" for their
+stories:
+
+"These are the points to emphasize: The tickets are unlike any other
+tickets ever invented. They cost twenty-five cents. They will carry a
+coupon. To a person with brains that same coupon will be worth ten
+thousand dollars in cash. Chance has nothing to do with it. Brains! In
+any event, the twenty-five cents will buy one Ideal Meal. The menu will
+be prepared by the Menu Commission, composed of competent persons, which
+is another novelty in commissions--the highest-paid chefs in New York,
+the proprietors of the three best restaurants, the three leading diet
+specialists, and three experts on hunger. No food fads and no disguised
+advertisements of breakfast foods or nerve-bracers. What Dr. Eliot's
+Five-foot Book-shelf did for literature the S. A. S. A. Ideal
+Hunger-Appeaser will do for the masses. That menu inaugurates a
+revolution without bloodshed, vulgar language, or the destruction of
+fundamental institutions. The low price of our meal is made possible by
+the application of automobile-factory methods and the fact that we have
+no profit to make. Play fair with the restaurant-keeper, boys, and make
+this strong:
+
+"The S. A. S. A., after epoch-making experiments, psychological and
+physiological, has succeeded in making fraudulent hunger impossible. We
+have a cash-detector which will enable us to discard any applicant who
+can pay for his food, and our alcoholic thirst-tester automatically
+eliminates booze-fighters. The mammoth hunger feast will be held at
+Madison Square Garden. Each ticket admits the buyer to the feast--as an
+eye-witness that he may see where his money has gone. The coupon will be
+detached by the ticket-taker at the entrance and returned to the
+ticket-holder. Uncharitable people who have no brains need not buy a
+ticket.
+
+"No shop, church, or bank will offer the tickets for sale; only our own
+sellers in person and only one to each customer. We are not going to pay
+anybody twenty thousand dollars. That's flat! The names of the members
+of our various commissions will be announced later." He nodded
+dismissingly. Then he seemed to remember that these were gentlemen. He
+said: "My secretary, who has taken down my remarks in shorthand, will
+give you typewritten copies of same. Use what you will. Only correct my
+English, won't you? I'm not literary."
+
+That made them his friends. But the _Tribune_ man said:
+
+"I'm from Missouri and I'm not going to print anything unless--"
+
+"I don't expect you to print news. These gentlemen know I receive no
+salary. They know as well as I do that my sole object is to win the hand
+of Grace Goodchild."
+
+The _Journal_ man, who was sweet on the "Advice to the Love-Lorn"
+editress, feverishly wrote the head-line,
+
+  ALL FOR LOVE!
+
+"I needn't say to you," went on H. R., with a look that made the
+reporters respect his reticence, "that if I were an advertising man the
+publicity methods that I have introduced would have made me richer than
+I am. _What in hell would I do with more money?_ Answer me that!"
+
+The _Tribune_ man answered by turning pale. The others looked uneasy.
+When a well-dressed young man asks that question in New York there can
+be but two answers: Bloomingdale or Standard Oil.
+
+H. R. was going to marry a rich banker's only daughter. He was therefore
+no lunatic.
+
+H. R. was thenceforth regarded by the newspapers, and therefore by the
+public, as a fabulously rich man. This made him definitely Front Page.
+No other man ever became chronically that without committing murder or
+playing for the labor vote.
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+
+All the morning papers spread themselves on the story and thereby gained
+the respect of those present at the meeting whose names were mentioned.
+Only one of the journals featured Grace Goodchild. Two dwelt strongly on
+the ten-thousand-dollar coupon and on the fact that the wealth of those
+present at the Granite Presbyterian Church aggregated $3,251,280,000.
+One pure-food featurer played up the ideal meal, and two the hope that
+at last charity would be discriminating.
+
+At 9.14 A.M. messages began to rain down on H. R. They came by livened
+youth, by telephone, and by secretaries.
+
+"Why," asked the Fitz-Marlton, "was not our chef considered enough? Why
+drag in others?"
+
+"How does it happen that our fifty-thousand-dollars-a-year Piccolini,
+who possesses eighteen decorations from crowned heads, is not one of the
+Public Menu Commission? Don't you want the best?" This came from the
+Vandergilt in writing that looked like ornamental spaghetti.
+
+"Please call at your earliest convenience and see what we give for
+$17.38 in the way of a substantial breakfast," laconically invited Herr
+Bummerlich of the Pastoral.
+
+Caspar Weinpusslacher called in person. He asked, reproachfully:
+
+"How it comes, Mr. Rutchers, that your best friend--"
+
+"Weinie," interrupted H. R., "this will cost you two thousand five
+hundred tickets for your thirty-cent meal. You are put down as one of
+the best three restaurateurs, together with Perry's and the
+Robespierre."
+
+"But say, Mr. Rutchers, two thousand five hundred--" began Weinie,
+trying to look angry at the extortion. He was rich now; he was even one
+of the sights of New York.
+
+"Three thousand! That's what your haggling has done," cut in H. R., with
+the cold determination that made him so formidable.
+
+"All right!" And Caspar ran out of the room. A terrible man, this. But
+Frau Weinpusslacher would be in society now.
+
+"I trust you will not be misled by _newspaper scientists_ into fool
+dietetics," wrote McAppen Dix, M.D., the hygiene expert of an afternoon
+paper.
+
+H. R. promptly stopped reading the letters and told one of his
+stenographers, "Reply to all telephone inquiries that the personnel of
+the commission has not yet been definitely decided upon."
+
+The three highest-salaried chefs in New York, their emoluments duly
+quadrupled by the reporters after eating sample ideal luncheons, the
+three best restaurateurs, and the three leading experts on stomachic
+functions had their names printed as "Probable Public Menu Commission"
+by the afternoon prints.
+
+Doubtless in order not to be accused of plagiarism each afternoon paper
+published a different set of names. Tentative menus also were given, to
+be repudiated by H. R. and by indignant competitors in the next
+morning's papers.
+
+That is how, in its glorious march to charity, all New York began to
+take an interest in menus. It was the first symptom of an awakened civic
+conscience and intelligent humanitarianism. "Tell me what you eat and I
+will tell you what you are," long ago observed Brillat-Savarin. H. R.
+wrote it for the reporters. It furnished the text for learned editorial
+sermons.
+
+When Andrew Barrett ventured to express his admiration, H. R. murmured:
+
+"Plausible, persistent, and picturesque."
+
+"I don't quite get you," said Barrett.
+
+"Watch me and learn," retorted H. R.
+
+Other men have disregarded persistence, but H. R. did not. He kept up
+the firing; no broadside, but one big gun at a time--once a day. As a
+result, the H. R. plan for feeding the hungry of New York assumed a
+serious aspect. The right bill of fare would change potential Socialists
+into sensible citizens. This was so obviously true that everybody said
+no living man could do it. But everybody anxiously looked for the
+publication of the Public Menu Commission's report. It thus became news
+plus suspense.
+
+The moment H. R. had selected the personnel of the commission he went to
+the Goodchild house.
+
+"Frederick, tell Miss Goodchild to come down at once. I have only a
+minute to stay. Make haste!"
+
+The imperturbable English menial actually ran.
+
+Grace rushed down in alarm. Frederick's incoherent words had made her
+fear it was a message from her dressmaker telling why it was absolutely
+impossible to have it ready in time as promised under oath.
+
+She petrified herself when she beheld the man who had made her famous.
+She did this in order not to betray her glad relief.
+
+"Oh!"
+
+"Grace!" exclaimed H. R., fervently. He quickly approached her, took her
+hand and led her into her own drawing-room. He then waved his disengaged
+left at all the chairs with an air that said, "I give all this
+magnificence to you!" He waved again and commanded, "Sit down!"
+
+She obeyed, but he did not let go her right hand. He sat beside her.
+Just as she was about to pull it away indignantly he patted it twice
+very kindly and himself laid it on her own lap.
+
+Her anger was on the very brink of turning itself into oratory when he
+stood up, squarely before her, clenched his fists in order to hold
+himself in a vanadium-steel clutch, and whispered, huskily:
+
+"Merciful Heaven, but you're beautiful!"
+
+The vocal storm, checked for an instant by his extraordinary exhibition
+of self-control, gave him time to go on: "Don't look at me! Don't you
+know how beautiful you are? It isn't fair!"
+
+He turned from her, walked over to one of the windows, and stared out of
+it.
+
+It showed more than self-control. It showed respect. And there are times
+when a New York girl likes to feel that the man who wishes to marry her
+also respects her. Grace knew it would be absurd to ring for a
+policeman; as absurd as to encourage H. R. to stay. And she really had
+not studied him cold-bloodedly. She looked at his back and wondered.
+
+Presently H. R. turned from the window and with a semblance of composure
+said to her:
+
+"If you will scold me, or laugh at me, or turn your back on me, I'll
+find it easier to speak calmly."
+
+Since such was the case, she decided not to do any of the things he
+desired her to do. She also said nothing. It is a very wise woman who,
+being beautiful, can keep her mouth shut.
+
+"Grace, you and I are now at the door of the church. Our wedding will be
+positively a national event. Have you read the papers? Did you see what
+I have undertaken to do for your sake?"
+
+She turned away her head. But she heard him say, with the calmness of a
+man who is sure of himself, and therefore to be respected:
+
+"I am cool again. You may turn your head this way."
+
+Her foot was tap-tapping the polar-bear skin eighty-four times to the
+minute. She was trying to find a way of getting rid of him once for all.
+She did not desire more sensational newspaper articles, and she realized
+that she must be more than careful if she was not to supply the material
+for them. She was clever enough to realize that this was not a man to be
+shooed away, chickenwise. What had seemed so easy to do was in truth an
+appalling problem.
+
+"Listen, Grace. For your sake I gave to New York free sandwiches."
+
+She sniffed before she could help it.
+
+"You are right," he admitted, "even if it made you famous"--she was
+unmoved--"and me rich!"
+
+She started slightly. She had never thought of the business end of his
+crusade. The motive is everything, in love as in murder.
+
+"You are right," he pursued. "But, really, I am not bragging about it.
+But now I'm going to give free dinners. Millions are affected-- I mean
+millions of dollars, not people. But I must have your help. Even your
+da--
+
+"Sir!" began the loyal daughter, angrily.
+
+"_Dad_, I was going to say, not _damn_, as you naturally assumed," he
+explained, with dignity. "Even dad is on the Mammoth Hunger Feast
+Commission. I put him on. When he sees I got the other bank presidents
+he'll stay on. But I'll tell you why I came to see you--"
+
+"Uninvited," she frowned.
+
+"Of course. I haven't asked for the latch-key. By the way, is this house
+big enough for the wedding reception?" he pondered, anxiously.
+
+"It is--for mine," she said, pointedly. Then she wondered why she didn't
+order him away. The reason was that she couldn't. He wasn't that kind of
+man!
+
+"That's good," he exclaimed with relief. "Well, I want you to sell
+tickets. You read about the tickets for the Mammoth Hunger Feast?"
+
+"No! And I don't wish to know anything about it."
+
+"Quite so," he said, approvingly. "That being the case, you know all
+about it. The tickets are to be sold by the one hundred perfectly
+beautiful girls in New York. You head the list."
+
+She turned her face to him, a sneer on her lips. But before she could
+speak he said, apologetically:
+
+"I know it isn't a subtle compliment. It happens to be a fact. There is
+going to be tremendous pressure brought to bear on me for places on the
+corps. I tell you this because your best friends will drive you crazy
+asking you to use your influence with me. People who decry favoritism
+always expect favors. I'd do anything for you. But I can't have any but
+perfectly beautiful ones. I simply can't!"
+
+She looked at him with irrepressible interest. Then, remembering her
+position, said, coldly, "Will you please leave now and never come back?"
+
+He went on: "It is going to make enemies for you. That will be your
+first payment for being famous. You will be Number One of the perfectly
+beautiful hundred because God made you what you are and not because you
+are my wife--"
+
+"I am not!"
+
+"--to be. You didn't let me finish. Tell your friends you can't. If they
+pester you, tell 'em flatly you won't. And for Heaven's sake don't use
+the photograph of your pearls any more, nor the Crane portrait. Use the
+picture _Vogue_ had last week. Or get some fresh ones and give La Touche
+an order to supply 'em to the reporters. They won't cost you a cent that
+way, because they print his name. Good-by, Grace."
+
+He held out his hand. She quickly put hers behind her back. His face
+thereat lighted up.
+
+"Ah, you love me!" he exclaimed. "It was only a question of time,
+Empress. And you will never know how much I love you until you realize
+what it costs me to go away from here, unkissing, unkissed, and yet
+without regrets! But some day--" He paused, and then, with a fierce
+hunger that made his voice thick, "Some day I'll _eat_ you!"
+
+He walked out. She made an instinctive movement toward him, but checked
+herself. As he left the room she confronted the mirror and looked at
+herself.
+
+It brought the usual mood of kindliness.
+
+She forgave him.
+
+She rang for Frederick. "The Menaud motor, at once!" and went up-stairs
+to telephone. If the reporters had to use photographs, she couldn't stop
+them.
+
+Ten minutes later she had kindly given La Touche the photographer
+eighteen poses.
+
+La Touche thanked her with the perfervid sincerity of a man whose
+irreducible minimum is forty-eight dollars a dozen. Then he asked,
+anxiously:
+
+"In case the reporters--"
+
+"I suppose they'd get them, anyhow." She spoke cynically.
+
+"Not unless they stole 'em," he denied, dignifiedly. "We never give any
+out without permission. Of course they'd use snapshots, which are not
+always--er--artistic."
+
+Remembering that she had been snapped when she had a veil on and also
+with her mouth open, as all mouths must be in active speech, she told
+him in a bored tone:
+
+"It doesn't interest me."
+
+"Thank you, mademoiselle! Thank you!" effusively exclaimed the artist.
+"It is no wonder--"
+
+She turned on him a cold, haughty stare.
+
+He was all confusion.
+
+"_Pardon!_ I--I-- Monsieur Rutgers--" he stammered. "I--I-- He--"
+
+She left the shop, a vindictive look in her wonderful eyes. She hated
+H. R. Was she merely the advertised vulgarity of that unspeakable man
+whom her family so foolishly had not jailed? What had he made of her?
+She might not mind being called beautiful by the newspapers, but--
+
+The photographer's liveried flunky on the sidewalk opened the door of
+her motor.
+
+Nine pedestrians, two of them male, stopped.
+
+"That's Grace Goodchild!" hissed one of the women, tensely.
+
+"See her?" loudly asked another.
+
+In the time consumed between the opening of the car's door and her
+taking her seat eleven more New-Yorkers gathered about the Menaud.
+
+"Home!" she snapped, angrily.
+
+The photographer's flunky stepped away to tell the chauffeur. Instantly
+a young man's head was thrust through the window of the car. Behind him
+crowded a dozen disgusting beasts--female.
+
+"You're a pippin!" came from the young man's face a foot from her own.
+She shrank back. "Say, _he's_ right! I wisht I was in his--" Then the
+motor started and nearly, but, alas! not quite, decapitated the
+loathsome compatriot.
+
+If this was fame, she didn't wish any of it, she decided.
+
+"I hate him!" she said to the cut-glass flower-holder. "He has given me
+this absurd notoriety and-- What delays us?"
+
+She looked out of the window.
+
+They were halted at Thirty-fourth Street. Presently the traffic
+policeman's whistle blew. The motor started again.
+
+She looked at the policeman. He instantly touched his helmet to her. And
+she saw also that he nodded eagerly to his mounted colleague across the
+street.
+
+The man on horseback also saluted her militarily!
+
+She bowed to him. She had to, being well-bred. She also smiled. She was
+of the logical sex.
+
+"Nevertheless, I hate--" But she left her thought unfinished in her
+quick desire to lie to herself.
+
+"The policeman must know papa," she said, aloud, to show H. R. what she
+thought of him.
+
+And that made her wonder what H. R. had up his sleeve now. What did he
+mean by saying that her troubles were only beginning and that she soon
+would feel the heavy price of fame? What absurd thing was that about the
+perfectly beautiful hundred and the tickets and the Beauty Commission
+and the free sandwiches--hateful word!--and the free dinners, and the--
+
+She almost ran up to her room, pretending not to hear the voices of her
+tea-drinking friends in the Dutch room. In her boudoir she quickly read
+all the newspaper clippings. She learned all about the Mammoth Hunger
+Feast because, this being the second time, she now read intelligently,
+instead of looking for a certain name.
+
+If H. R. could do all he said he would, he would be a wonder. And he was
+a very clever chap, anyhow.
+
+Her father must be wrong.
+
+Mr. Goodchild himself could never get the newspapers to say about him
+all the nice things they said about H. R. And Bishop Phillipson and the
+fathers of girls she knew, and people she had heard of and painters and
+novelists and--er--people were helping H. R.
+
+The tickets and the ten-thousand-dollar coupons and the ideal menu!
+
+"He _is_ clever!" she admitted, and smiled. Then she decided, "If he
+makes me ridiculous--" and frowned. "I could kill him!" she said,
+calmly, as befits a Christian assassin. That desire compelled her to
+think of H. R. and of what he had said from their first meeting at the
+bank. He had said much and had done more. In the end she spoke aloud:
+"I wonder if he really loves me?"
+
+A knock at the door was the only answer--a servant who came to tell her
+that Mrs. Goodchild wished her to know they were waiting for her
+downstairs in the Dutch room.
+
+"Very well," she said to the servant. To herself she said, firmly, "Even
+if he loves me and is everything he should be I can never marry a man
+who has made me feel like a theatrical poster!"
+
+Her determination was adamantine. To break it H. R. must be more than
+clever.
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+
+H. R. at that very moment was in his office. He had prepared a few model
+epistles for his Public Sentiment Corps to write to the newspapers,
+asking whether the composition of the ideal hunger-appeaser had been
+printed and when the tickets for the Mammoth Hunger Feast would be
+offered for sale. This would keep alive interest in his plans and in the
+personnel of his public commissions. People had grown to believe that
+all sorts of commissions were necessary not only to free but even to
+intelligent government.
+
+He had his list of names ready for the reporters when they called.
+
+"The announcement as to how we shall sell the tickets--each at
+twenty-five cents--to pay for a wonderful meal for a hungry person and a
+coupon attached, with ten thousand dollars in cash if you have
+brains--will be made to-morrow."
+
+"But--" expostulated a fat reporter.
+
+"To-morrow!" said H. R., feeling strong enough now to be nasty to the
+press. Either he was or he was not yet News. He would decide that matter
+for all time.
+
+"Do you think we are your hired press agents to--" angrily began the fat
+one.
+
+"I don't give a damn if I never see you again. I don't care what you
+print or what you don't print, nor when. We do our advertising through
+the medium of sandwiches. Get to hell out of here and remember the libel
+laws; also that I pay my lawyers by the year. They are not very busy
+just now." To the others he said, kindly, "That's all to-day, boys. I'm
+busy as blazes."
+
+Cursing the absurd libel laws which prevent all newspapers from printing
+the truth, the fat reporter took his list of names and his leave at one
+and the same time. You can't treat even frauds humorously nowadays.
+
+H. R. had won again!
+
+He summoned Andrew Barrett and said to him: "Get this sandwich out
+to-morrow. It is one of our own. S. A. S. A. account; all-day job."
+
+"The men objected to the other--"
+
+"Seven thirty-cent tickets to Weinpusslacher's apiece," interrupted
+H. R., impatiently. "Get them from Weinie. He owes us three thousand."
+
+"Great! Greatissimo!" shouted young Mr. Barrett. He hated to pay out
+real money, and the members were getting ugly. They wanted pay for
+everything, even for sandwiching for the Cause.
+
+"Go to the costumer of the Metropolitan Opera House, to Madame Pauline,
+and to Monsieur Raquin of the Rue de la Paix who is stopping at the
+Hôtel Regina, and to the fashion editor of the _Ladies' Home Mentor_,
+and ask each to send us a design for a ticket-seller's costume. They
+will be worn by perfectly beautiful girls. There will be one hundred of
+them. I myself vote for the Perfect Thirty-eight, about five feet seven
+and one-half tall. My model of perfection is Miss Goodchild. Get busy.
+And, Barrett--"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Here is the text for the sandwich." H. R. handed a sheet of paper to
+his lieutenant, who read thereon:
+
+  ONE HUNDRED GIRLS
+
+  WILL SELL TICKETS
+
+  TO THE
+
+  MAMMOTH HUNGER FEAST
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  THEY ARE THE ONLY
+
+  PERFECTLY BEAUTIFUL GIRLS
+
+  IN ALL NEW YORK
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+  LOOK FOR THEM!
+
+  LOOK AT THEM!
+
+  PERFECTLY BEAUTIFUL!
+
+  O. K.
+  H. R.,
+  _Sec._
+
+"Say, H. R., this is the master-stroke! commented Andrew Barrett.
+
+"To-morrow," said H. R. coldly, "one hundred sandwiches on the Avenue.
+One of them in front of Goodchild's all day. White canvas. Heliotrope
+letters. Pea-green border. Design number eleven. Also insert this ad. in
+all the papers."
+
+This was the copy of the advertisement:
+
+     _Wanted:_ Perfectly Beautiful Girls. Not merely pretty, nor
+     merely young, nor merely hopeful, but Perfectly Beautiful!
+     Object: To make New-Yorkers thank Providence they live in
+     the same town. Apply H. R., Allied Arts Bldg.
+
+Andrew Barrett read it and left the room shaking his head, unable to
+speak coherently.
+
+H. R. looked up a few addresses in the Directory and went out. He called
+on the president of the National Academy of Design, on the Professor of
+Anatomy of the College of Physicians and Surgeons, on the president of
+the National Sculpture Society, the president of the Magazine Cover
+Designers' Guild, the president of the Equal Suffrage League, who was
+Mrs. Vandergilt, and Professor Tangolino, late of the Argentine
+Republic. These, with H. R., would constitute the Public Beauty
+Commission and would decide who was perfectly beautiful.
+
+To each he pointed out that the noble cause of charity must be advanced.
+Also an American standard of perfect beauty would be established for all
+time, their decision being unappealable. The artists instantly approved
+the plan, the method being artistic and therefore strictly logical. The
+president of the Suffrage League at first demurred. She objected to sex
+being dragged into the affair, and, besides, mere physical beauty too
+long had been accorded a disproportionate importance in social and
+political matters. It degraded a sex fit for higher things than to be
+man's plaything. H. R., however, earnestly pointed out that it involved
+the recognition of the superior salesmanship of women--not
+sales_woman_ship, but sales_man_ship, for while man was no better than
+woman in the conduct of the government or anything else, woman was
+infinitely the superior of man in many things. He finally induced Mrs.
+Vandergilt and the others to serve on the commission.
+
+But the damned newspapers, he warned them, would print names and would,
+alas! devote much space to their deliberations.
+
+They said that the regrettable publicity would not stop them from doing
+their duty.
+
+He returned to his office and prepared a series of questions for the
+papers to ask him. This is the most intelligent form of newspaper
+interview because it is always printed. Answers to the reporters' own
+questions always appear in the papers when the reporters themselves have
+to supply them.
+
+These were the questions--which later on the Public Sentiment Corps
+answered with judiciously varied ayes and noes.
+
+     1. Were there one hundred Perfectly Beautiful Girls in New
+     York?
+
+     2. Would there be a second Judgment of Paris?
+
+     3. Was the Public Beauty Commission really competent?
+
+     4. How many points for complexion and coloring? For teeth?
+     For figure? For hands and feet and hair?
+
+     5. Would not a uniform garment, on the lines of Annette
+     Kellerman's bathing-suit, be the only fair way?
+
+     6. Would the wives, daughters, or fiancées of the members of
+     the commission be _hors concours_?
+
+     7. At what age did a girl cease to be a _Girl_?
+
+     8. Should Morality be allowed to interfere with Art?
+
+When the reporters called at the S. A. S. A. offices H. R. gave to each
+a typewritten set of the questions and said:
+
+"The commission will hold meetings. They will be public to the
+applicants. Nobody else, excepting male reporters, will be allowed to be
+present. And you might add, gentlemen, that the commission considers the
+requirements for success so uncommon as to render unnecessary the lease
+of the Madison Square Garden to hold the candidates. The sessions will
+be held in a room not much larger than this room. And," added the
+diabolic H. R., "we have no fear of overcrowding. They have to be
+_perfectly beautiful girls_, beautifully perfect. Now, don't quote me,
+boys, but you might print, as a report on good authority, that the only
+one thus far chosen is Miss Grace Goodchild!"
+
+Though all reporters are human, most of them are grateful. They duly
+published the "rumor" and Grace's latest photographs.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+
+Long before the tea was over, Grace Goodchild, two miles north of him,
+realized that H. R. was one of those detestable persons who are always
+right. A dozen of her intimates surrounded her in the Dutch room. They
+all talked at once. When eleven stopped for lack of breath the twelfth,
+who very cleverly had saved hers, asked:
+
+"Did they really pick you out, Grace?"
+
+The speaker was not perfectly beautiful. But she was wise and therefore
+a virgin.
+
+"No!" said Grace. "But really, I don't want to have anything to do with
+it."
+
+"If Hendrik was _my_ Hendrik, I'd be _It_," said the wise virgin,
+determinedly, "or he'd know it!"
+
+"He told me," Grace spoke modestly, "that only perfectly beautiful girls
+would be chosen. And so of course that lets me out!"
+
+"Oh-h-h-h!" came in chorus. There ensued much whispering. Grace flushed.
+No woman likes to be accused of mendacity monosyllabically. It made her
+dislike H. R. more than ever.
+
+"Does your father," asked the wise one, "still oppose--"
+
+"He does," answered Grace. Then she added, "Of course."
+
+"I think your father--" And the wise one bit her lips. You would have
+thought she was snipping off thread with her teeth. A well-bred person
+must do this oftener than a seamstress--to keep herself from telling the
+truth.
+
+"_My_ father," tactfully observed Marion Molyneux, "could oppose until
+the cows came home."
+
+"Mamma is on the commission and I'm not eligible, so _I_ am not after
+his vote," said Ethel Vandergilt. "But I'd love to meet him, Grace. Is
+he all they say he is?"
+
+Grace Goodchild for the first time began to realize that H. R. was a
+remarkable man. She realized it by the simple expedient of disliking
+Ethel.
+
+"Is it true that he'll do anything you tell him?" cut in Cynthia
+Coleman, enviously. She was a very pretty girl, with the absurd doll
+face that makes men feel so manly. She had brains. A girl with that face
+always has. She shows it by never showing them. The face does the trick
+more quickly.
+
+Grace said, calmly, "H. R. never--"
+
+"Oh, girls, she calls him H. R., too!" exclaimed Marion.
+
+Feeling herself one of a multitude made Grace feel a mere human being.
+Created in the image of God, each of them naturally desires to feel like
+a goddess.
+
+"I do not call him H. R.," said Grace, coldly.
+
+"It is more important to know what he calls her," observed the wise one.
+
+Grace remembered what H. R. had called her. She felt herself blushing
+with anger. Truly, the gods were kind to H. R.
+
+"Coming back to our muttons, are you going to introduce us?" asked Ethel
+Vandergilt.
+
+"I'm not going to have anything to do with the affair," said Grace,
+decisively.
+
+"Aren't you?" said the wise one. It barely missed being a sneer.
+
+"Why not?" asked Ethel. She was the best-gowned woman in the United
+States. And she was _ex-officio hors concours_.
+
+Grace Goodchild felt the stare of twenty pairs of eyes of differing
+degrees of brightness, but of the same degree of unbelief. They
+irritated her by flattering her. No woman can concentrate when watched
+by other women. Grace, therefore, was compelled to live up to the rôle
+which society had assigned to her, whether she liked it or not.
+
+When you tell a man he is wise and ask for advice, he looks as wise as
+he can and answers ambiguously. When you tell a woman you don't believe
+her she indignantly tells you the truth.
+
+"One of the reasons"--she spoke very sweetly--"is that he said my
+friends would ask me to do it but he did not wish me to add to his
+troubles."
+
+The girls were listening with their very souls, for this was inside
+news.
+
+Grace went on: "The commission will be absolutely impartial--"
+
+"You don't know mother!" muttered Ethel Vandergilt.
+
+Grace heard her, and she said, rebukingly, "Yes, absolutely impartial
+and--"
+
+"Are you chosen one of the hundred?" asked the wise virgin.
+
+"Yes, I am!" answered Grace, defiantly. "I had nothing to do with it.
+This whole affair is exceedingly distasteful to me."
+
+"Of course!" came in a great chorus.
+
+To agree with her in that tone of voice was intolerable.
+
+Grace's hatred shifted from the unspeakable H. R. to these bosom
+friends. If it were not that H. R. was always right, she wouldn't
+dislike _him_ so much.
+
+"It is not that I mind not being one of the hundred, but the not being
+asked to be," muttered the doll face.
+
+It was obviously what all of them minded.
+
+Ethel Vandergilt said: "If I could make my mother resign I'd offer my
+services. But she is not the resigning kind. Good-by. I'm crazy to meet
+your H. R."
+
+Well, they were welcome to him--if she made up her mind she did not want
+him for herself.
+
+The moment the last false friend left, Grace's tolerant smile vanished.
+
+Was she, in sooth, chosen Number One? The papers said it was only a
+rumor.
+
+Suppose she was not Number One, after all? Supposing the commission--
+
+"I could kill him!" she hissed, and left the room.
+
+Frederick came to her. "Miss Goodchild, there are five reporters waiting
+to see you."
+
+"Say I'm not at home!" Then she called the man back. "Ask them what they
+want," and went up-stairs to her room.
+
+Frederick returned presently and reported: "They say they will do
+themselves the honor to inform you in person if you will be kind enough
+to see them. And, Miss--" He paused. He had exceeded his duty.
+
+"What is it, Frederick?" asked Grace, knowing that the imperturbable
+cockney was perturbed.
+
+"There is quite a crowd outside. They are photographing the ladies,
+ma'am."
+
+"What ladies?"
+
+"Begging your pardon, Miss Vandergilt and the others, ma'am."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"Just in front of the door. Mr. Goodchild had some trouble in getting
+in, ma'am. He's quite vexed about it, but it wasn't my fault, ma'am," he
+said, forgetting that he was a menial; that is, protesting against
+injustice. "I couldn't help it, ma'am."
+
+"Very well, Frederick," she said, graciously, and descended.
+
+Five reporters were politely listening to Mr. Goodchild's vituperations.
+Therefore his daughter walked down the stairs as majesty descends from
+the dais. One of the reporters started to meet her half-way.
+
+"Hey! confound you, come down!" shrieked papa.
+
+"Miss Goodchild, we wished to ask you if you had been chosen as the
+first of the perfectly beautiful hundred. Now that we have seen you at
+close range, the question is unnecessary."
+
+She smiled slightly; then ceased to smile. The intelligent young man
+proceeded courteously: "Will you therefore kindly tell us when the
+wedding will be?"
+
+All reporters are psychologists in their interrogations. The other
+reporters ceased listening to Mr. Goodchild and as politely as the
+circumstances permitted took out paper and pencils.
+
+When an angry man is suddenly deprived of his audience he becomes a
+mental assassin.
+
+Mr. Goodchild blamed it on H. R.
+
+"She'll never marry that infernal idiot!" he shrieked. He was the head
+of the house.
+
+"Ah yes," said the diplomatist on the stair, looking as though he had
+memorized the exact words. "Ah yes! June! Thank you." He nodded
+gratefully at Mr. Goodchild, jotted down a date, and put the paper in
+his pocket.
+
+"Congratulations, Miss Goodchild," he said to her, with profound
+respect, and descended. In the hall he said to his colleagues: "Come on,
+boys. We've got the month. She _is_ Number One, and--"
+
+"If you dare to print anything I'll have you fired," fumed Mr.
+Goodchild.
+
+"If you were a younger man I'd tell you to fire your grandmother, sir.
+But I fear me she is, alas! no more. In the mean time, Mr. Goodchild,
+will you be good enough to pose for our artist? Look pleasant, please.
+You'll have to close your mouth to do it. Wilson, you may begin filming
+when ready!" he said to his photographer, who had just pushed past
+Frederick.
+
+Sounds of cheering and applause came from the street. The
+ultra-fashionable friends of Grace Goodchild, having been photographed,
+were shaking hands with the artists and spelling their own names to the
+reporters.
+
+The gaping proletariate, seeing such graciousness, recognized the
+aristocracy of the democracy and were cheering madly. An aristocracy
+whose sense of humor makes it kindly is lasting.
+
+"Them's real swells!" shrieked a red-headed girl who carried a large
+bandbox.
+
+More cheers.
+
+At that moment Grace Goodchild, impelled by an irresistible curiosity
+appeared at her door.
+
+"_There she is!_ Hooray!" proudly shrieked two hundred and eighteen
+potential Socialists, making room for Bishop Phillipson.
+
+Hoping they were not too late for the wedding, the throngs clapped
+furiously. Even at marriages there are encore fiends.
+
+"How do you do, my child?" inquired the Bishop, with a tolerant smile.
+
+"Please turn around, Bishop!" shrieked the _Journal_ artist. He was paid
+by the portrait.
+
+The Bishop did so, smiled benignantly, saw the shutter open and close,
+and then said, deprecatingly:
+
+"I do not wish my picture taken, sir."
+
+"No, sir. Will you give us another shot, Bishop?"
+
+The reverend gentleman waited a moment and then shook his head and
+turned his back rebukingly on the photographers, who a second time had
+not respected his wishes.
+
+"Such is fame, Bishop Phillipson," Grace told him, with a smile.
+
+"Reflected greatness, rather," said the Bishop, with his courtly
+kindliness.
+
+"It's an infernal outrage!" came in a husky voice from the house.
+
+"It's papa. He doesn't understand--"
+
+"He and I are too old, I fear," smiled the Bishop, mournfully. "And how
+is H. R., my dear?"
+
+She shook her head and frowned. Always that person!
+
+"A most remarkable young man," pursued the Bishop, congratulatorily. He
+had received three and one-half bushels of letters from utter strangers,
+commending his practical Christianity and his highly intelligent plan
+for feeding the hungry. Five vestry-men also had expressed their
+gratification that his name headed the list of the men who had made New
+York the greatest city of the hemisphere. It looked as though the hungry
+were to be fed.
+
+The Bishop and Grace moved out of the doorway to allow the reporters to
+pass, and were themselves about to enter the house when a sound of
+cheering made them halt in their tracks.
+
+A vast crowd was walking up the Avenue. In the van marched one of
+H. R.'s free sandwiches. He was dressed in crimson broadcloth (from
+Morton & Co. as per the next morning's accounts) and he wore a shining
+silk hat (Fox Brothers, as per same in the _Times_, _Herald_, and
+_Tribune_). The sandwich-board was a most gorgeous affair--a shield of
+burnished gold (by Cellini & Co., Florentine frame-makers) on which were
+the arms of the City of New York in heraldic colors. Beneath, in
+six-inch letters of glittering turquoise enamel, was:
+
+[Illustration: THE FIRST OF THE PERFECTLY BEAUTIFUL 100 IS GRACE
+GOODCHILD OF 777 FIFTH AVENUE.]
+
+In front of the Goodchild mansion the stalwart free sandwich stopped,
+faced Miss Goodchild, raised his glittering top-hat, and held it in the
+air, Beau Brummelesquely.
+
+Andrew Barrett was immediately behind the herald of the free and
+intelligent people of the greatest city of the New World.
+
+A hush fell on the multitude.
+
+"Speech!" shrieked Andrew Barrett.
+
+"Speech!" shrieked twelve hundred and thirty-eight intelligent
+New-Yorkers and seven bankers.
+
+"There's Bishop Phillipson!" shrilled a correctly gowned elderly lady,
+pointing a jeweled lorgnette at the Bishop of New York. It meant the
+Church approved.
+
+"Hooray for the Bishop! Bishop! Bishop!"
+
+"_Vox populi, vox Dei_," murmured the Bishop to himself.
+
+"Say something, my child," he gently urged Grace. "After all, we may
+dislike the way it is done, but if the hungry are fed we may be
+forgiven."
+
+Grace Goodchild burned with desire to make a wonderful speech to prove
+that her greatness was her very own. They wanted her, not H. R., this
+time! It was _her_ triumph, not his.
+
+Alas! She did not know what to say. She did not even know how to say it.
+She therefore shook her head angrily.
+
+"Speech!" shouted the crowd, twice as vehemently as before. They always
+want to hear what you don't wish to say.
+
+The cameras were clicking away madly. They sounded like the
+telegraph-room of a national convention.
+
+Five-dozen healthy young persons began chanting, rhythmically:
+
+"Speech! Speech! Speech!--speech!--speech!"
+
+Grace thought they were saying:
+
+"His Peach! His Peach! His Peach! Peach! Peach!"
+
+She hotly resented the intimation of H. R.'s ownership, but the
+sincerity of the tribute paralyzed her. The sandwich-man had been
+amiably told by Andrew Barrett, "Hold the pose, you slob!" and did so.
+His immobility was most impressive. His shield dazzled Grace. She
+recalled, in a flash, Geraldine Farrar.
+
+She bowed to the sandwich, then to right and left, kissed her hand to
+the crowd of voters and not-yet voters, and ran blushing into the house.
+
+The storm of applause broke loose. The very house rocked drunkenly as
+the sound-waves dashed themselves against the façade.
+
+The strenuous, nerve-racking life of New York compelled the crowd to
+linger for an hour. It was not until they began to break off bits of the
+bronze railing and chip souvenirs from the portico columns that the
+Goodchilds' butler sent a hurry call for the police.
+
+The lieutenant's official version was cold and formal.
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+
+The Public Menu Commission had been having pitched battles. The Public
+Sentiment Corps had been bombarding the newspapers with letters asking
+for the official menu, but the commission refused to be hurried by
+popular clamor, and said so to the reporters. Their own sessions were
+held behind locked doors. Omelette soufflée au curaçoa was definitely
+stricken off Signor Piccolini's tentative menu, on the theory that the
+filling was not permanent.
+
+"Air is cheap," protested Piccolini, "and we have to consider the
+expense."
+
+"But we want something that will stay by the hungry more than fifteen
+minutes."
+
+"Then," said Piccolini, scathingly, "give them sliced rubber boots."
+
+"If _you_ prepared the sauce, dear master," interjected H. R., who
+happened to be present, "I'd rather eat it than any other artist's filet
+Châteaubriand aux--"
+
+Piccolini bowed to him profoundly. Then he shrugged his shoulders at the
+others.
+
+"Nevertheless," he said, with conviction, "Omelette soufflée--"
+
+"What can you expect from the other members?" whispered H. R. to him.
+"If we prolong the debate there won't be any hungry men alive to eat our
+dinner. Yield, dear master, for the sake of humanity." Then he said
+aloud, "Let's try beans."
+
+The Commission therefore reported progress and adjourned for the day.
+
+The newspapers, spurred thereto by the avalanche of letters and favorite
+recipes from charitable ladies in Brooklyn, who gave their names,
+addresses, and terms per week, devoted much space to the ideal
+hunger-appeaser.
+
+For the first time in history New York began to take an intelligent
+interest in menus. Everybody talked about eating as if Hungarian
+orchestras and Brazilian dances did not exist.
+
+Presently the newspapers announced on unimpeachable authority that
+serious dissensions existed among the members of the Public Menu
+Commission. It was hinted that resignations would be called for.
+
+Applications for the vacant places and suggestions from really competent
+men poured into the editorial rooms. It made the commission, as usual,
+an editorial target. More space!
+
+That impelled the Commission, speaking with difficulty by reason of the
+swollen lips of the chairman, to announce the menu. H. R. had it printed
+on academy board.
+
+New York, on the tiptoe of expectation to learn what an ideal
+hunger-appeaser would consist of, and how it could be done for
+twenty-five cents and how the commission could decide without bloodshed,
+made haste to read the menu:
+
+  Soup à la Piccolini
+  Entrée à la Hôtel Regina
+  Roast à la Perry
+  Vegetable à la Weinpusslacher
+  Dessert à la Fitz-Marlton
+  Bread à la Prof. Preston
+  Milk à la Pasteur
+  Coffee à la Manhattan
+  Tea as Wanted
+
+  O. K.
+  H. R.,
+  _Sec._
+
+The exact recipe of each dish would be made public after the Hunger
+Feast. It would remain a secret until then!
+
+More space! See? Could the newspapers help it? Didn't people have to
+have something to talk about? If they didn't, what could the editorial
+writers have to write about?
+
+Knowing that talk must continue in order that interest in the Hunger
+Feast might not abate, H. R. himself went to the shops on Fifth Avenue.
+The shops elsewhere would follow the Avenue fashions.
+
+He told each window-dresser the same thing.
+
+"I come to you _first_ because you are an artist concerned with color
+effects and striking arrangements. You also are a psychologist, since
+you compel people to halt on the sidewalk and then mutely induce them to
+use the doors. You really are the man who declares the dividends on the
+firm's capital stock. Yes, you do, and I'll see that the big chief
+acknowledges it, too. Now I've come to you--_first_! Whatever you do
+will be copied. It makes you plagiarizable, and that is merely the
+recognition of greatness. You have the window. In order to dissociate
+the idea of money from your shop in the public's mind I'm going to give
+you a chance to prove that you are above mere money-making, which is
+something no Fifth Avenue shop ever did before. Remember in this
+connection the psychology of the crowd and of the money they wish to
+spend and at the same time keep in their pockets. You and your windows
+are New York--the New York that draws the crowd of natives and
+Americans. Give a whole window, not to _my_ charity, but to New
+York's--to yours! Put this menu on an easel, with a background of that
+wonderful velvet you had the other day--the one that killed your
+competitors. It was wonderful!"
+
+Before the artist could draw his breath H. R. had warmly bid him
+good-by, leaving a menu in the astonished artist's hand.
+
+They did. It was original, as they explained to the boss. And even
+department-store bosses know that originality means novelty, and novelty
+is what New York pays for.
+
+Within six hours the first edition of menus was exhausted. In every shop
+window in New York the public could read the Public Menu Commission's
+masterpiece. Cost: $68.14 + H. R.
+
+The undoubted possessors of perfect beauty gave more trouble than the
+menu, and therefore got more space in the newspapers. A regular detail
+of police guarded not only the Allied Arts Building day and night, but
+also the honor and features of the Public Beauty Commission. Grace
+Goodchild was compelled to make use of her neighbor's house, Mrs.
+Vantine's, in order to reach the street. She used the Seventy-sixth
+Street entrance. Mrs. Vantine congratulated Grace each time on her
+deserved triumph and asked her to look at Louise, her youngest.
+
+H. R. had told Barrett to convey delicately to the press that the
+relatively young wife of one of the members of the commission had left
+for Reno. No name was mentioned. Therefore the portraits of all the male
+members were impartially published. A neat little interrogation-mark
+after each name did _not_ constitute libel.
+
+The commissioners were thereafter compelled to be particularly nice to
+their own wives in public.
+
+The theatrical profession howled individually, collectively, in person,
+in writing, by telephone, and through press agents. Nightly these
+favorites would ask, more or less nasally and slightly below pitch,
+whether they were not perfectly beautiful, and gave the audience the
+opportunity to judge of fifteen-sixteenths of their persons. And the
+unanimous reply was, "You are!"--from the claque. It became the topic of
+the day, and as such divided families and parted friends.
+
+At the end of three days H. R. diabolically announced that only
+sixty-eight had been selected.
+
+"Aren't there one hundred perfectly beautiful girls in Greater New
+York?" he feverishly asked the reporters. "Aren't there?"
+
+The literary misogynists propounded the same query--in the head-lines,
+at that! On the very morning that saw that insulting question printed it
+was estimated by one of the newspapers that 318,029 answered, "Present."
+It was probably an exaggeration, as there doubtless was some repeating.
+
+The Public Beauty Commission added fourteen to the list of utter
+pulchritudes. Names, addresses, and portraits duly printed.
+
+Elderly persons signing William H. P. or James G. C. in feminine
+hand-writing asked the most conservative newspapers whether there was
+nothing else fit to print but the disgusting travesty on charity or the
+appalling vulgarity of immodest females.
+
+The newspapers printed the letters. One of them, an afternoon sheet,
+stopped printing names and portraits of the successful. It stopped for
+one issue.
+
+The circulation department interviewed the city department. The paper
+went back, under a new city editor, to the business of printing all the
+news that was fit to print.
+
+The public demanded it.
+
+On Sunday all the newspapers published the full list of one hundred
+perfectly beautiful girls who alone would sell tickets admitting the
+holder to the Mammoth Hunger Feast in the capacity of spectator. One to
+each customer; no more.
+
+On Monday they printed a facsimile of H. R.'s ticket.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+No. 1 was a coupon to be detached by the seller. It was in the nature of
+both wages and a vote to show which was the perfectest of the perfect.
+It would mean the only fair election ever held in America. Only one
+ticket to each customer. There would be no rich man buying tickets by
+the thousand, no stuffing of the ballot-boxes by the gallant commander
+of a militia regiment, no undue influence on the part of high political
+officials. No man could resist a perfectly beautiful girl who asked him
+to buy one ticket for a quarter of a dollar, twenty-five cents.
+
+No bribing by kisses was necessary.
+
+The rest of the ticket was retained by the buyer. It bought what the
+masses were beginning to speak of as the dandy belly-filler for a hungry
+person who was warranted not to have any money. No. 3 coupon was to be
+detached by the doorkeeper at Madison Square Garden and returned to the
+ticket-buyer. If the holder of said coupon exercised his or her brains
+he or she would receive ten thousand dollars in cash. Conditions
+governing the collection of said ten thousand dollars would be published
+on Saturday morning. It would _not_ be a lottery.
+
+It now behooved charitable New-Yorkers to buy the tickets which would
+feed all hungry persons who positively had no money to buy food with,
+and at the same time receive ten thousand dollars in cash, brains being
+present--all for twenty-five cents.
+
+The ten thousand would be paid in cash, with United States Treasury
+notes obtained from the National Bank of the Avenue. This insured their
+genuineness.
+
+On Monday the perfectly beautiful started. It was, fittingly, a
+perfectly beautiful day. In automobiles (makers' names given, since it
+was for charity) decked with beautiful flowers (donating florists also
+honorably mentioned in the public prints, and paid advs. besides) the
+perfectly beautiful hundred went forth to appeal to the great heart of
+New York.
+
+They were indeed beautiful. At least the men, being blind and possessing
+the suffrage, thought so. Why, they even clamored to be allowed to buy.
+And found ways and means of repeating. They never can vote honorably.
+
+The newspapers reported that by 11 P.M. 38,647 tickets had been sold.
+Also they announced twenty-three engagements of perfectly beautiful
+ticket-sellers.
+
+Grace Goodchild's name led the list. This time Mr. Goodchild did not
+deny it. The reporters refused to listen to him, damn 'em!
+
+On Tuesday the receipts fell on. Only 7,363 were sold.
+
+No engagements.
+
+On Wednesday the sales rose. The _offers_ of marriage aggregated 18,889.
+Sixteen engagements of poor but perfectly beautiful girls to rich but
+devilishly wise old men!
+
+A truly remarkable thing happened. Everybody ceased to be concerned with
+the sales of tickets or the object thereof. Crowds before the newspaper
+offices patiently watched for announcements of fresh betrothals. Every
+time one went on the bulletin-board the spectators cheered as if it were
+a home run instead of a prospective marriage.
+
+The betrothed reported to H. R. that they found the display of the
+solitaires interfered with the sales of tickets. He advised them to
+remove it. They refused.
+
+"Well," he said, coldly, "the one who sells the most tickets will be
+declared the most beautiful of the hundred. Of course you don't care
+what men think of your looks so long as one man thinks you are the most
+beautiful. He must, since he is your fiancé. By all means show the
+solitaire. I respect your modesty. Besides, it keeps you from receiving
+offers that you cannot, with honor, entertain."
+
+They therefore removed their engagement-rings during business hours.
+
+In Thursday's papers were printed the facsimile of a certified check for
+ten thousand dollars signed by H. R. It was a sample prize. All checks
+would be exchanged for cash before the Hunger Feast began.
+
+_Save your coupons!_
+
+This was already the commercial slogan of a great nation.
+
+On Friday H. R., knowing that even perfectly beautiful girls cannot hold
+the attentive interest of New York unless infractions of the Seventh
+Commandment are provided in relays, gave out a statement for the
+newspapers. The newspapers not only printed it, but featured it.
+
+     Heretofore [said H. R.] when charitable folks have given
+     money to organized charity they have never been able to feel
+     certain that the money went to the right people. Organized
+     charity has been compelled to be careful. While the merits
+     of the case were under investigation it has frequently
+     happened that the case has died of starvation. Now, genuine
+     destitution needs not life-insurance examination, but common
+     sense and ordinary Christianity on the jump. We have
+     undertaken to feed the hungry who have no money to buy food
+     with. If anybody out of the thousands who will be fed by us
+     is proven to be an undeserving object of our charity I will
+     give one hundred thousand dollars par value in gilt-edged
+     securities to any organized charity approved by Mr. George
+     G. Goodchild, president of the Ketcham National Bank, who,
+     being my prospective father-in-law against his wishes, will
+     be glad to have me lose the money.
+
+     Modern methods of efficiency have been applied to charity
+     for the first time. Hence this meal, scientifically studied,
+     artistically concocted, digestible, delicious, and filling.
+     There will be no graft, no throwing away of the public's
+     nobly given money, no dietetic fads, no scientific sawdust,
+     no waste, no salaries, no fraudulent hungers, no inhumanity,
+     no maudlin sentiment, nothing but common sense now first
+     applied to charity by New York. The Mammoth Hunger Feast,
+     marking an era in the life of the great metropolis, will
+     begin at 8.30 P.M. in order to give time for all
+     ticket-holders to dine at home. Well-fed New-Yorkers will
+     therefore be able to see with their own eyes how starving
+     people eat--people who have no money to buy food with.
+     Before each ticket-holder takes the seat to which he is
+     entitled he, or more probably she, will receive ten thousand
+     dollars in cash, by simply using brains. Let us see if
+     New-Yorkers are as clever as they are charitable. Also, I
+     shall marry Grace Goodchild in June.
+
+  [Signed] H. R.
+
+A great many people announce an epoch-making idea and expect the world
+to remember it ever thereafter. H. R. knew that, living in a republic,
+he must iterate, reiterate, repeat, and sign every time.
+
+On Saturday morning the ninety-nine other perfectly beautiful girls were
+engaged. Grace Goodchild, when asked point-blank if she were engaged to
+H. R., now answered, "Do you see any engagement-ring?" Then she held up
+her slim and beautiful hands. No ring.
+
+All told, 186,898 tickets had been sold. It was plain that repeating had
+been indulged in. The fair sellers could not be blamed.
+
+"If susceptible men have bought more than one ticket," H. R. said to the
+reporters, "they need not think they will get more than ten thousand
+dollars. But the fact remains that we have more than enough money."
+
+This entitled H. R. to the respect of the most conservative dailies.
+And, moreover, he paid full rates for a half-page in which he printed
+this advertisement:
+
+     HUNGRY PEOPLE WHO CAN'T BUY FOOD BECAUSE THEY HAVE NO MONEY
+     WILL RECEIVE A FINE DINNER FREE BY GOING TO MADISON SQUARE
+     GARDEN TO-NIGHT BEFORE 8.30. FOURTH AVENUE ENTRANCE.
+
+     NO MATTER HOW YOU CAME TO BE HUNGRY AND PENNILESS; NO MATTER
+     WHAT YOUR LIFE HAS BEEN OR WHAT YOUR RELIGION NOW IS; NO
+     MATTER WHAT YOUR HABITS ARE OR WHAT YOUR POLITICAL OPINIONS
+     MAY BE, WITHOUT REGARD TO YOUR JAIL RECORD, DISEASE, STATE
+     OF MIND, OR FAVORITE NEWSPAPER, IF YOU ARE HUNGRY AND HAVE
+     NO MONEY, COME AND EAT!
+
+     TO THE PUBLIC: COME AND SEE THEM EAT YOUR TICKETS!
+
+     UNDER THE AUSPICES OF THE SOCIETY OF AMERICAN SANDWICH
+     ARTISTS.
+
+  H. R.,
+  _Sec._
+
+     SPONSORS: THE MEN WHO HAVE MADE NEW YORK WHAT IT IS!
+
+Then followed three hundred and seventeen famous names.
+
+"What I have to say," H. R. modestly told the reporters, "I have stated
+in my advertisement. However, if you wish to ask any questions, or if
+you think the public is interested in any particular point--"
+
+"It is! We do!" exclaimed the reporters. "Tell us about the ten thousand
+dollars!"
+
+"It is very simple and very easy," said H. R., with the deadly
+earnestness of a man who knows he will not be believed when he speaks
+the truth in New York. "As each person passes the ticket-taker he will
+go, coupon in hand, into the superintendent's office. There he will be
+asked one question. It is not a catch question. No puns permitted. No
+double meaning. No particularly deep or recondite significance. It is a
+plain question, vital to the welfare of all New-Yorkers, affecting the
+destiny of the American nation. The answer is perfectly obvious. The
+Mayor has been invited to be present, and he will see to it that no
+fraud is perpetrated on the thousands of people who have bought tickets
+in good faith--"
+
+"I thought the object of the tickets was to feed hungry--" began a
+serious-eyed reporter.
+
+"It is; but charity carries a reward in cash. It is the modern way. You
+might add that there will be no reserved seats, no privileged classes.
+Where all men are alike charitable, all men are equal before God and
+man!"
+
+Napoleon revolutionized the art of war by moving quickly and
+overwhelming the foe with artillery. H. R. made charity a success by
+appealing not alone to the charitable instinct of New-Yorkers, but to
+every other instinct he could think of. Therefore everybody who was not
+hungry logically decided to go to the Mammoth Hunger Feast. The
+newspapers printed long and reassuring accounts of the police
+arrangements.
+
+H. R., being a republican at heart, had reserved the Imperial Box for
+Grace Goodchild and her friends, and ninety-nine Royal boxes for the
+other ticket-sellers and their fiancés. His free sandwich men occupied
+the front row of arena seats and had been coached by the leader of the
+Grand Opera claque. At a given signal they were to cheer Grace
+Goodchild. When the bugle announced H. R.'s entrance they were to go
+crazy.
+
+Ten beers _after_ the show.
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+
+At half after seven that night H. R., accompanied by eighteen
+contemporary historians and six magazine psychological portraitists,
+went to the entrance of the hungry. It was in the rear of the Garden and
+was dark and narrow.
+
+Symbolism!
+
+It was the same entrance that a few weeks previously had admitted the
+circus's beasts; only the beasts were not hungry.
+
+Fourth Avenue seethed with humanity. A blind man afflicted with stone
+deafness could have told that hungry people were there provided his nose
+worked.
+
+The street-cars had stopped running at 6.30 P.M., after the
+twenty-seventh accident.
+
+The crowd was orderly and silent, as really hungry people are. And they
+had good manners, as the physically weak always have. And they were not
+impatient, for the prospect of eating always makes the starving hopeful.
+
+A merciful darkness covered the hideousness of ten thousand faces. The
+reporters began to fidget like nervous women at a military play just
+before the execution.
+
+H. R., seizing the exact psychological moment, said to the reporters:
+
+"Let us press the button!"
+
+It is the modern way--the press and the pressure.
+
+He pressed the button. It turned on the lights of an electric sign hung
+above the entrance. The starving men read in blazing letters:
+
+  IF YOU ARE HUNGRY AND
+
+  HAVE NO MONEY WALK IN!
+
+By their light the reporters were able to see the faces of the crowd
+plainly.
+
+"My God!" said the young man from the _Times_.
+
+The dazzling invitation was so worded as to prevent unseemly haste and
+unnecessary crowding. It said, "_Walk_ in."
+
+"It is easy to assume, gentlemen," said H. R., calmly, to the reporters,
+"that all these people are hungry."
+
+"Yes, let 'em all in!" entreated those reporters who were not jotting
+down impressions.
+
+H. R. shook his head sternly.
+
+"We have our duty to the public to perform. We must determine whether
+they have no money."
+
+"Your duty is to feed them _all_," said the _Sun_ man.
+
+"You can't afford to make a single mistake. Did you see that
+white-haired woman--"
+
+"Come with me, gentlemen," cut in H. R., leading the way within.
+
+Streams of people began to flow in at each entrance, sedately; four big
+policemen, representing the majesty of the law, stood, two on either
+side of each entrance. The majesty was of locust wood, held in the air,
+ready to descend on the cranium of the lawless and even of the
+ill-mannered.
+
+As the starving entered the door they found themselves in a passageway
+with sides of heavy plank that narrowed until they were walking in
+single file, just as they do in abattoirs and sheep-dipping pens.
+
+One by one they thus came. There was a small inclosure on one side of
+the passage. There stood H. R. and his reporters. Beside them was a
+small table. A heap of shining silver quarters was on the table in plain
+sight of all.
+
+H. R. asked the first man, "Are you hungry?"
+
+"Yes. I haven't had a bite in--"
+
+H. R. held up a hand to check the autobiography. He inquired, sternly:
+
+"Got any money?"
+
+"Nope."
+
+"Sure?"
+
+"Yep."
+
+The reporters began to sneer. What did this H. R., who was said to be
+clever, expect such people to answer? That's the trouble with all
+wealthy philanthropists. They are damned fools. They don't know human
+nature nor their own compatriots.
+
+"Do you want a quarter?" asked H. R., kindly, at the same time lifting a
+big handful of silver to show there was plenty.
+
+"You bet!"
+
+"Wouldn't you rather have a dollar?" asked H. R. He picked up four
+quarters and jingled them in his open palm by bouncing them up and down
+in the air, gently, invitingly.
+
+The man stared at H. R. and refused to answer.
+
+It must be a trap!
+
+"Don't you or do you? Speak quickly!" said H. R., impatiently.
+
+"Of course!"
+
+"You'll have to let us search you to see how much you've got on you if
+you really want a dollar instead of the quarter."
+
+"Say, yous--" began the man.
+
+"Frisk him!"
+
+"To hell with your dollar," said the man, defiantly clapping one hand to
+his pocket. "I knew it was a plant!"
+
+"This way," politely said the plain-clothes men, leading away the pauper
+who didn't wish to be searched.
+
+The colloquy had not been overheard by the other hungry guests. The man
+was led into a storeroom, where he was kept so that he might not empty
+his pockets and come in again from the street for the dollar he did not
+really want.
+
+"You see how we will eliminate those who have money and--"
+
+But the reporters were not listening to H. R. They were too busy
+writing. This man was no philanthropist. He was intelligent.
+
+There were some guests who said they objected to the indignity of being
+searched, though they had no money. They joined the first man in the
+storeroom.
+
+"No taxpayers' subterfuges tolerated," H. R. said.
+
+But most of the hungry were perfectly willing to be searched and prove
+they had no money. They were told by H. R. to pass on. To those who
+asked for the money H. R. said, sternly:
+
+"Do you wish to swallow a quarter or do you want to eat food?"
+
+They grumbled. They were human. They passed on. They were hungry.
+
+Having shown the reporters how the undoubted penury of the deserving
+hungry was established, H. R. led them into the presence of the
+Infallible Booze-detector.
+
+"Yes, but when those poor people said they were willing to be searched
+and thereby prove they had no money, I notice you didn't give 'em the
+quarter," observed young Mr. Lubin of the _Onward_.
+
+"We never promised to give money. We asked them if they wanted a quarter
+and then if they wouldn't prefer a dollar."
+
+"Yes. But you cruelly raised their hopes," remonstrated Lubin. "These
+are human beings--"
+
+"And we are going to fill their bellies," interrupted H. R. "Giving
+_money_ to those who haven't any simply perpetuates Capitalism besides
+alienating the Christian vote. We _share_ food. That's Socialism. We do
+not give alms. That's insulting. Besides, we do not own the quarters.
+They're borrowed."
+
+Lubin was silenced.
+
+That silence from the Socialist reporter was H. R.'s greatest triumph
+thus far.
+
+As the penniless guests left the glittering heap of stage quarters
+unsearched they walked on along a gallery. At the end of it was another
+glittering electric sign. It said:
+
+  THIS WAY IF YOU ARE HUNGRY!
+
+The hungry walked on eagerly. A few feet from the door that led into the
+arena where the waiting tables were they had to pass by a wide-open
+door. Within, in plain sight of the passers-by, was a long bar. Behind
+the bar were white-jacketed bartenders. The beer-kegs formed an
+inspiring background. On the bar itself stood dozens of big
+schooners--full.
+
+Above the bar could be read:
+
+  FREE BEER! Frei! Gratis!
+
+A few walked on--straight to the dining-hall.
+
+But every one who walked into the free-beer room was told to go through
+a door on the left.
+
+"That way!" a policeman told the thirsty.
+
+The first man who went into the inner room found a policeman standing
+beside a table on which were a dozen full schooners.
+
+"If you drink now you don't eat," courteously said the cop.
+
+"Kismet!" said the starving man, and reached for a schooner.
+
+"It's for _after_ eating!" gently warned the policeman.
+
+"Life is uncertain. I'll drink now and--"
+
+"This way!" The policeman now spoke in his regular voice.
+
+He led the thirsty out of the room by another door which led into still
+another room used for storing the heavy circus impedimenta.
+
+"Do you see?" asked H. R., sweetly, to the reporters and the students of
+sociology from the magazines. "Do you?"
+
+"Mr. Rutgers, Columbus and his egg had nothing on you," said the earnest
+young theorist from the _Evening Post_.
+
+The others were busily turning out literature.
+
+"It won't cheat 'em out of a meal," H. R. whispered to young Mr. Lubin
+from the _Onward_. "But they don't eat with the others."
+
+That is how H. R. kept his promise to the business men of New York. He
+had circumvented fraud, which is the chief aim of modern charity. Also
+he had discouraged the formation of a professional pauper class--the one
+danger against which all commonwealths must guard.
+
+"I'd like to know what you are going to do with the culls," the _Sun_
+man asked H. R. He had of late been trying to elevate the tone of the
+magazines with real fiction; which they refused to print.
+
+"Those who fell through thirst will be fed later," H. R. answered.
+
+"And those that wouldn't be searched? They looked mighty hungry to me."
+He was an expert in hunger. It drove him out of Literature.
+
+"We'll sell the left-over meals to them at cost. We are intelligent
+philanthropists. We shall now have a beer, gentlemen, and let us pass
+on."
+
+That beer had taken on a subtle quality of exclusiveness. All the
+reporters drank with gusto.
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+
+At eight sharp the main entrance of the Garden was thrown open. The
+reporters promptly noted that the crowd of sight-seers exceeded the
+number of the hungry. It restored their belief in republican
+institutions.
+
+As each ticket-holder presented his ticket he demanded the instant
+return of the ten-thousand-dollar coupon. Even the skeptics who knew
+they'd never get the ten thousand dollars did this.
+
+The coupon-holder was then ushered into the superintendent's office, in
+which sat the Mayor of New York, the presidents of seven banks, the
+proprietors of six hotels, one United States Senator, H. R., and the
+reporters.
+
+Behind them was a large frame inclosing stretched white oil-cloth.
+Printed thereon in large black letters was this:
+
+     YOU WILL BE ASKED ONE QUESTION. YOU WILL HAVE TEN SECONDS IN
+     WHICH TO ANSWER. BRAIN-CAPACITY IS MEASURED BY THE QUICKNESS
+     OF PSYCHOLOGICAL ASSOCIATION. IF YOU CAN'T ANSWER IN TEN
+     SECONDS, YOU ARE NOT ENTITLED TO THE $10,000 IN CASH.
+
+As the first coupon-holder entered H. R. rose and took from his pocket a
+huge roll of bills, all yellow-backs. He carelessly peeled off one of
+them and with a bow handed it to the Mayor.
+
+Everybody sat up straight. His Honor looked at it. It was for ten
+thousand dollars. He nodded and then silently passed it to a bank
+president, who in turn examined it, nodded, and passed it on to a
+colleague. The reporters pressed forward.
+
+"Experts in all kinds of small change," smiled H. R., pointing to the
+bankers.
+
+The reporters' eyes followed the return of the ten-thousand-dollar bill
+to the Mayor. They also decided that H. R.'s roll was the most
+impressive demonstration of brute strength ever seen in New York.
+
+Then H. R. asked his question, slowly, distinctly, enunciating carefully
+and smiling the while:
+
+"What is it we have all heard about from earliest childhood and that we
+acknowledge exists; that is neither a person nor a beast, neither a
+thing nor an object, but something that no man can kill, though it is
+dead to-day; that all men need and most New-Yorkers neglect; that should
+be present everywhere and is found in no trade? The answer is a word of
+five letters and begins with A--the first letter of the alphabet, the
+first of the five vowels. There is another word, a synonym, which is now
+obsolescent, though it is at times used in poetry. But while either word
+will win the ten thousand dollars in cash now in the custody of the
+Mayor of New York, the word I particularly have in mind has five
+letters, of which the first is appropriately A, the Alpha of the Greeks,
+the Aleph of the Hebrews, and now the first of all the alphabets of
+European languages. It is logically the first letter because it is the
+first sound that man naturally makes--'A' or 'Ah!' The first letter!
+What is the word of five letters beginning with A that will give you ten
+thousand dollars? With 'A'! _Now!_"
+
+Stop-watch in hand, H. R. began to move his left arm up and down like a
+referee at a prize-fight. He had astutely emphasized the fact that the
+word had five letters, of which the first was A. The mind of the
+coupon-holder was thus made to study the dictionary instead of thinking
+about the question itself.
+
+It was inevitable as fate itself. The first man could not guess. Neither
+could the second nor any of the thousands. But before the applicant's
+indignation at the unfairness of the question and the shortness of the
+time could grow into fury H. R. exclaimed, "Time's up." Approaching the
+non-guesser, he whispered: "The name of the unsuccessful will _not_ be
+given to the newspapers. Not by _us_! I thank you in the name of the
+poor starving people whose lives you have prolonged. That way to the
+seats. You can have your pick of the very best!"
+
+In that simple way was bloodshed and the cry of fraud averted at one and
+the same time.
+
+H. R. then delegated the task of propounding the aureate question to a
+dozen lieutenants. Without varying one word the lieutenants asked the
+men whose charity would feed the starving.
+
+Not one won the ten thousand dollars.
+
+One of the reporters with the air of a man whose life depends upon the
+bulletin-board asked H. R.:
+
+"What's the answer?"
+
+The others heard H. R. reply:
+
+"Ten thousand dollars in cash!"
+
+"Yes; but the word?"
+
+"It is worth ten thousand of my dollars. You can make them yours."
+
+"I guess it's a fake."
+
+"That begins with an 'F.' Mine begins with an 'A.' The Mayor has the
+cash."
+
+The reporter looked at the Mayor. His Honor's lips were moving
+inaudibly. He was going over all the words of five letters that began
+with an "A."
+
+Among them was _Agony_.
+
+Lubin again looked at the ten-thousand-dollar yellow-back and at H. R.
+and suddenly rushed out. On the way he collected nine erudite friends.
+They went to the nearest branch of the public library. Each got a
+dictionary and divided all the definitions under "A" into nine parts.
+
+Nothing doing!
+
+"I knew it was a fraud!" yelled the _Onward_ man. "It isn't in the
+dictionary."
+
+He fairly flew back to the Garden.
+
+H. R. was just about to go into the arena. Lubin yelled:
+
+"There is no such word in the dictionary. I protest against this--"
+
+"You talk like an old-school Republican," said H. R., coldly, to Lubin.
+
+It killed speech in the young man.
+
+The Mayor clenched his right fist tightly. The ten-thousand-dollar
+treasury note lay crumpled within.
+
+"Sir," said H. R. to him, with real dignity, "you have my word that the
+word _is_ in the dictionary."
+
+The Mayor, naturally thinking of political consequences, spoke, "Of
+course, Mr. Rutgers, I expect you to prove it."
+
+"Sir, I shall see to it that you are re-elected!" H. R. said this so
+positively that his Honor blushed guiltily. "I am not stupid enough to
+endeavor to perpetrate so transparent a fraud as this young man charges
+me with. But it would be even greater stupidity to be unfair to honest
+guessers by telling Mr. Lubin or anybody else what the word is. It is of
+five letters and begins with an 'A' and it is in the dictionary. But I
+will tell you, your Honor, and you, Mr. Lubin, what I will do. I shall
+ask the question and give the answer to a man who will say whether it is
+a fair question and whether the word is a fair answer. His decision will
+be final. He will not, I am sure, send for the ten thousand dollars
+after he hears the answer."
+
+The Mayor shook his head dubiously.
+
+"Who is the man?"
+
+Mr. Lubin, being young, went much further.
+
+"There is no man in New York whose word--"
+
+"Silence, sir! I know the man. If he says that the word answers the
+question, everybody in New York will be convinced--Socialists,
+Democrats, Republicans, Progressives, Suffragists, newspaper editors,
+and all."
+
+"There can't be such a man," said Lubin, decisively.
+
+H. R. smiled and turned to the Mayor.
+
+"Your Honor, the man whom I will ask to vouch for my honesty and
+intelligence after I have confidentially disclosed the word to him, is
+the Cardinal Archbishop of New York. His word will be enough, I take
+it."
+
+The Mayor beamed and said, "Certainly, Mr. Rutgers." He made up his mind
+then and there that H. R. must conduct his campaign for re-election.
+
+"Even young Mr. Lubin, I take it, will not doubt the word of his
+Eminence."
+
+Lubin was no fool. "Mr. Rutgers," he said, earnestly, "we hate our
+enemies, the capitalists. But we respect the only foes who are fighting
+us as we are fighting capitalism with honest convictions and real ardor.
+Of course, we think the Catholics--"
+
+"Hold on, Lubin," said H. R., "that policeman's name is Flannery."
+
+Lubin explained: "I was afraid you were going to give us a banker, Mr.
+Rutgers."
+
+"_Never!_" said H. R. so emphatically that Lubin extended his right
+hand. They shook warmly.
+
+A sound of applause came to their ears. The Mayor flushed with vexation.
+It was premature, he thought. He was wrong. It was Grace Goodchild.
+
+Andrew Barrett ran in excitedly.
+
+"Did you hear it?" he asked his chief. "Say, she is smiling to beat the
+band and the crowd is going crazy. Hear that?" And he began to dance a
+jig.
+
+H. R. seized him by the arm and said:
+
+"In exactly two minutes I shall enter."
+
+Andrew Barrett rushed away to tip on the _vox populi_.
+
+"Gentlemen," said H. R. to the reporters, "you had better go in."
+
+They obeyed him. They were escorted to their table on the stage. They
+found there seven military bands that had volunteered their services and
+also their own weapons.
+
+In the background of the stage was a huge placard:
+
+     FIFTY THOUSAND PEOPLE CAN BE SERVED, FED, AND FIRED IN 6-3/4
+     MINUTES BY OUR SYSTEM!
+
+  S. A. S. A., Dept. T.
+  O. K.
+  H. R.,
+  _Sec._
+
+At each reporter's place was a typewritten sheet containing intelligent
+statistics of this stupendous charity.
+
+The reporters saw in the arena long strings of tables, each six hundred
+and eighteen feet long, and benches to match. Each guest was allowed
+nineteen and one-half inches. The dishes were of water-proofed paper
+stamped S. A. S. A. Above each table were aluminum-painted pipes with
+faucets every ten seats for soup, milk, tea, and coffee.
+
+"By keeping the tea, coffee, and soup in circulation wholesome warm
+drinks are secured," read the official statement, "besides obviating the
+assistance of eight hundred and sixteen waiters, who would have had to
+walk an aggregate of six hundred and seventy-seven miles from tables to
+kitchen."
+
+The solid food was brought to the scores of small serving-tables by
+means of overhead conveyors and traveling-cranes, a sort of gigantic
+cash-carrier system operated by electricity. The food came in individual
+covered dishes, also of water-proofed paper. Everything was automatic.
+The S. A. S. A. system prevented spilling, waste, delay, inefficient
+waiters, and the dissatisfaction of the guests.
+
+"You will observe," went on the official statement, "that for the first
+time in history the beneficiaries of the bounty of their fellow-men are
+treated as honored cash guests and not compelled to wait. The bread of
+charity is hard, but not when served by the S. A. S. A."
+
+Leaflets containing much the same information had been placed in each of
+the thousands of seats in the Garden in lieu of programs. As each man
+entered he saw the pipes and the traveling-cranes and the mechanical
+waiters, and read the placard on the stage.
+
+"Ain't it great?" inquired every charitable ticket-buyer. "_In six and
+three-quarter minutes!_ No regiments of waiters. Everything automatic.
+Say, that H. R. is a wonder!"
+
+It naturally took some time before they remembered to look at the
+starving people who were sitting at the long tables waiting to be fed.
+
+They saw haggard faces, sunken-eyed, pale-lipped men and women and
+children. They saw trembling hands that fidgeted with knives and forks
+that were obviously unnecessary. They saw women at the tables trying to
+still whining children. They saw gray-haired heads fallen on soup-plates
+utterly exhausted from inanition.
+
+They saw starving and penniless human beings by the thousand.
+
+And the spectators, hosts of these guests, ran over the faces and the
+forms of the men and women and children--all alike in that all were
+hungry and all were penniless. And the same thought struck them all, and
+they expressed it audibly, with gusto, as though they were original
+thinkers, with the modesty of professional epigrammatists. All the
+spectators said:
+
+"Say, it will be great to see them eat!"
+
+New York's great big heart had spoken in no uncertain accents!
+
+"And the greatest of these is charity."
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+
+Just after the applause that greeted Grace Goodchild's arrival had begun
+to subside, and the public was about to demand that the feast, for which
+they had paid, begin a bugle blew.
+
+H. R., who was Fame since he was initials, entered the arena.
+
+Instantly the well-trained Public Sentiment Corps began to shout,
+angrily:
+
+"_Sit_ down! _Sit down!_"
+
+That, as intended by H. R., made all rise to their feet.
+
+Then, and only then, did H. R. advance into the arena, followed by the
+Mayor of the City of New York, the Bishop of the Diocese of the same,
+and the other dignitaries.
+
+The applause that came from the members of the Society of American
+Sandwich Artists was not applause. It was fervor, frenzy, fury. They
+yelled and shouted with the enthusiastic recklessness of free men who
+knew that after their throats went dry ten beers, also free, would cure.
+
+The audience, seeing and hearing their fellow-men applaud, felt
+themselves left out of something. They were free men. They therefore
+also applauded, even more frenziedly.
+
+No beers; not even knowledge; merely insistence upon political
+equality!
+
+In front of the Goodchild box H. R., whose progress resembled Buffalo
+Bill's minus the curls, paused. He looked intently at Grace Goodchild.
+
+She knew something was expected of her--something spectacular,
+thrilling, befitting the imperial consort. She stared back at H. R.
+agonizedly. Couldn't he prompt her? What was she to do, and how and
+when?
+
+"Grace! Grace! Grace!" shouted the free sandwiches.
+
+Instantly as well as instinctively the other ninety-nine beautiful
+perfections rose in their boxes and waved their handkerchiefs.
+
+The crowd, drawn thither by one of the noblest charities of the age,
+went wild. Grace was rich! She was theirs! They cheered what belonged to
+them!
+
+Grace Goodchild, actually urged by her aristocratic friends, rose and
+bowed to H. R. with a queenly air.
+
+H. R. bowed low to her and walked on.
+
+When he reached the stage all the bands began to play the national
+anthem almost together.
+
+A huge American flag was dropped from the middle of the roof to remind
+New York what its nationality was.
+
+When the bands finished playing there flashed a dazzling electric sign
+over the stage.
+
+In huge letters of light the people read:
+
+  WELL DONE, NEW YORK!
+
+  H. R.
+
+The great building rocked under the applause.
+
+New York can always be trusted to applaud itself.
+
+The lights of the sign went out. H. R. motioned to his stage-manager.
+
+In the back of the stage the curtain that told of the wonderful feeding
+system--50,000 people, 6-3/4 minutes!--fell.
+
+A hush also fell on the audience, for back of it was another white sheet
+on which everybody read:
+
+  WATCH YOUR GUESTS EAT
+
+  YOU ARE FEEDING THEM!
+
+  H. R.
+
+The audience, metamorphosed against its will into charitable hosts, now
+remembered the starving fellow-beings who were there to eat.
+
+H. R. motioned. A bugler advanced to the front of the stage and sounded,
+_Charge_!
+
+The soup began to pour out of the faucets. In fourteen seconds 12,137
+cups of steaming soup _à la Piccolini_ were before the guests.
+
+The audience applauded madly. It was perfectly wonderful what charity
+could do--in fourteen seconds!
+
+The guests were very hungry. The soup, however, was very hot. This made
+the drinking audible to the remotest recesses of the Garden.
+
+Again the bugle blew. The charitable crowd instantly ceased to look at
+their guests and gazed at the electric traveling-cranes carrying laden
+trays. Over six thousand well-fed spectators pulled out their watches
+and timed the entrée.
+
+It took twenty-nine seconds to place the entrée before the guests.
+
+"Quick work!" said the watch-holders, approvingly. It took the guests
+much less than twenty-nine seconds to eat the entrée.
+
+The bugle blew for the third time.
+
+The roast appeared. The rear curtain dropped. Behind it was another on
+which could be read, without the aid of binoculars:
+
+  WATCH THEM EAT!
+
+  YOUR TICKET DID IT!
+
+  H. R.
+
+It happened exactly as H. R. had told Bishop Phillipson. Each charitable
+person thought of his particular ticket and looked for his individual
+guest among the 12,137.
+
+Each charitable person felt that his twenty-five cents had made possible
+the entire feast. At that moment H. R. could have been elected to any
+office within the gift of a free and sturdy people.
+
+The guests began to eat more slowly.
+
+The hosts, filled with kindliness and the desire to help their
+fellow-men by getting their money's worth, began to shout:
+
+"Keep it up!"
+
+"Go on!"
+
+"Eat away!"
+
+"Fill up! Fill up!"
+
+"It's free! It's free!"
+
+Charity is not dead, but sleepeth. When it awakens, it is ruthless.
+
+Presently men and women at the tables, who had thought they were in
+paradise surrounded by angels, began to throw up their hands and shake
+their heads helplessly.
+
+A storm of hisses greeted the ingratitude. Fat hosts began to shout:
+
+"Fakes!"
+
+"Fraud!"
+
+"Take 'em out!"
+
+In self-defense some of the guests began to rub their paunches. Here and
+there those who remembered close experiences with Christian mobs rose in
+their benches ostentatiously, let out their belts, and sat down again
+determinedly.
+
+The hosts clapped madly. They understood, and therefore forgave. Then
+the hosts began to think that fifteen cents would have been enough.
+
+The bugle blew. Dessert was served. It was determinedly put away.
+
+Having convicted themselves of both charity and extravagance, each host
+felt that he was not only a philanthropist but a New-Yorker.
+
+The bugle blew again. The paper dishes were gathered up, and also such
+of the knives and forks as the guests had not put in their pockets. The
+trays were whisked away by the traveling-cranes.
+
+Suddenly all the lights went out. With the utter darkness a hush fell
+upon the vast audience. Then from all the bands came a mighty crashing
+chord. Instantly there blazed an electric sign that stretched from one
+side of the Garden to the other above the stage.
+
+And both hosts and guests saw an American flag in red, white, and blue
+lights, and below it, in letters ten feet high, they read:
+
+  AND THE GREATEST OF THESE
+
+  IS CHARITY
+
+  H. R.
+
+Everybody cheered, for everybody agreed with the sentiment. Some even
+thought it was original.
+
+Then all the lights were turned on again. The tables were carried away
+by the cranes. The guests, directed by H. R.'s lieutenants, formed in
+line and paraded around the Garden. The lame, the old, the young, the
+hopeless, the wicked, the maimed--all who had hungered--marched jauntily
+round the vast arena that their benefactors might see who it was that
+really had made the Mammoth Hunger Feast a success. They carried their
+heads erect, proudly, conscious of their importance in the world. The
+benefactors thereupon cheered the beneficiaries. By so doing they showed
+what they thought of the benefactors. It was none the less noble!
+
+The reporters looked at their watches. A full page on Saturday night is
+no laughing matter to the make-up man. One of them rose and asked H. R.:
+
+"Is this all? We've got to write--"
+
+"It is _not_ all!" answered H. R., and motioned to the trumpeter, who
+instantly blew the Siegfried motif. The crowd looked stageward. The rear
+drop-curtain showed in high letters:
+
+  DANCING!
+
+The guests hesitated.
+
+The curtain was lowered a few feet. Above "Dancing!" the crowd now read:
+
+  FREE OF CHARGE!
+
+Everybody started for the floor.
+
+H. R. left the stage and walked into the Goodchild box. Grace had been
+receiving congratulations all the evening until she had convinced
+herself that this was her dinner. It was all H. R. could do to force his
+way through the plutocracy in the Imperial Box. Talking to Grace at the
+same time were three young men who never before had accepted Mrs.
+Goodchild's invitations to marry Grace. But Grace was now the
+most-talked-of girl in all New York. And she was officially very
+beautiful and Goodchild _père_ was not enough. And Grace was very kind
+to all of them. All empresses are kindly when they haven't Dyspepsia or
+Dynamite Dreams. All unpleasant things seem to begin with a "D." There
+is Death and Damnation; also Duty.
+
+Mr. Goodchild frowned when he saw H. R. in the box. But when he saw that
+H. R. never even looked at him he became really angry.
+
+Mrs. Goodchild looked alarmed and hissed, "Don't you talk to him,
+Grace!"
+
+Grace, knowing herself desired by the most eligible young men in her
+set, decided to squelch H. R. in public. H. R., however, walked past
+everybody, looking neither to left nor right. Feeling themselves treated
+as so many chairs or hat-racks, the élite of New York began to feel like
+intruders.
+
+Then, as an imperial mandate is given, H. R. said to Miss Goodchild:
+
+"We're needed!"
+
+He offered her his arm. The young men rose and made room for him. Duty
+called, and they never interfered with duty.
+
+Grace hypnotically obeyed, for H. R. was frowning. Together they walked
+down to the floor of the Garden.
+
+The Public Sentiment Corps did their duty. They had not yet received the
+beer. They shouted, frenziedly:
+
+"H. R.! H. R.! H. R.!"
+
+The public took up the cheering. Thousands of outstretched hands reached
+out for his. But H. R. merely bowed, right and left, and walked to the
+middle of the floor.
+
+"Smile at them!" he whispered, fiercely, to Grace.
+
+She did. She knew then what it was to be a Queen. She felt an
+overpowering kindliness toward all these delightful, simple people.
+Reggie was not brilliant, but that wasn't expected of a Van Duzen. She
+did not love Reggie, but she _liked_ him. As Mrs. Van Duzen she would
+always have what she liked. She would never marry H. R.! It was
+preposterous.
+
+The band began to play. The crowd, instead of dancing, moved toward the
+sides--to give H. R. room to dance.
+
+Never before on Manhattan Island had such a triumph of personality
+fallen to the lot of any man.
+
+H. R. put his arm about Grace Goodchild. She shrank from the symbolism
+of bondage.
+
+"The world is looking on!" he admonished her.
+
+Knowing that she danced very well, she now had but one fear--that her
+partner might make her ridiculous.
+
+But H. R. was the best dancer she had ever honored.
+
+She felt her resolution not to marry him slipping away. He led divinely.
+She felt that she herself had never danced so well in her life. He
+brought out the best that was in her.
+
+"Ever try the Rutgers Roll?" he whispered, tensely.
+
+"N-no! she gasped.
+
+"Let yourself go!"
+
+When a woman lets herself go, all is over except the terms of the
+capitulation. She let herself go desperately, because she was forced to
+do it; fearfully, because of the appalling possibility of a fiasco.
+
+She did not know how it was done. She had looped the loop and was still
+dancing away--a new but unutterably graceful undulation of torso and
+rhythmical leg work and exquisite sinuous motions of the arms and hands.
+
+A storm of applause came to her ears, a hurricane steeped in saccharine.
+A man who could dance like that was fit to be any girl's husband!
+
+The élite flocked on the floor and began to indulge in old-fashioned
+specialties, some of which were nearly a fortnight old. You heard
+delighted remarks:
+
+"That's Mrs. Vandergilt!"
+
+"There goes Reggie Van Duzen!"
+
+"Look at Katherine Van Schaick!"
+
+Then the New York that Americans call ruffianly, impolite, vulgar,
+selfish, spendthrift, money-loving, self-satisfied, and stupid, also
+began to dance decorously! The veteran reporters did not believe their
+eyes, but they made a note of the fact, nevertheless.
+
+Grace was nearly out of breath. She said, "I'm--I'm--I'm--"
+
+"Certainly, dear girl." And H. R. deftly piloted her out of the crush.
+They stopped dancing, and he gave her his arm. She took it.
+
+"Grace," he said, "when will you marry me?"
+
+"Never!" she answered, determinedly. "And you must not call me Grace."
+
+"Right-O!" he said, gratefully. "I'll call to-morrow afternoon. Shall I
+speak to Bishop Phillipson, or will father--"
+
+"I said _never_!" she frowned.
+
+"I heard you," he smiled, reassuringly. "I--"
+
+Andrew Barrett and the reporters came up to him.
+
+"What about the men that fell for the beer?"
+
+"Oh, give 'em the left-over grub, if you boys think it's right. But
+don't print it. The W. C. T. U. would howl at the thought of giving food
+to people who had first wanted booze."
+
+Grace looked on, marveling at the way he ordered things done and at the
+way men listened to his words.
+
+"But what about that ten-thousand-dollar cash to the coupon-holders?"
+asked young Mr. Lubin, finally taking his eyes off the beautiful
+capitalist. Feeling that he was beginning to condone with capitalistic
+crimes, he spoke sternly to H. R. in self-defense.
+
+"Oh yes!" said H. R. and turned to Grace. "My dear, I'll have to leave
+you. Shall I take you to mother?"
+
+Reggie Van Duzen saved him the trip.
+
+"Say, Mr. Rutgers, could I have--"
+
+"Yes, my boy!" gratefully smiled H. R. He shook hands with Reggie and
+said, very seriously, "_I leave her in your care!_"
+
+Reggie, who was very young and careless, flushed proudly. Here was a man
+who understood men! He would protect Grace with his life. And it gave
+him a new respect for other women.
+
+"I don't blame you, Grace," he said, with his twelve-year-old's smile
+that clung to him through life and made even poor people like him. "He
+is a wonder! Beekman Rutgers had the nerve to tell me that all the
+Rutgerses are like H. R. What do you think of that?"
+
+Grace answered, "Certainly not!"
+
+She was not going to marry H. R., but if you intend to have it known
+that you have refused to marry a man who is crazy to marry you, the
+greater the man the greater the refusal. She added, with conviction:
+
+"There is only one Rutgers like that and his first name is Hendrik."
+
+Reggie nodded, looked at her, sighed, and began to dance.
+
+He didn't touch H. R. as a dancer.
+
+"Can you do the Rutgers Roll?" she asked.
+
+"No!" he confessed.
+
+She could never marry Reggie. She knew it now. But of course she would
+not marry H. R.
+
+In the mean time H. R., accompanied by the reporters, drove to the
+Cardinal's residence. They explained their mission to a pleasant-faced
+young priest and sent in their cards.
+
+The young priest began to make excuses and spoke of the lateness of the
+hour.
+
+H. R. said to him, deferentially: "Monsignor, we have come to the
+Cardinal because he is the supreme authority in this case. The Mayor of
+New York and the representative of the Socialist press, Mr. Lubin, here,
+have agreed to leave it to the decision of his Eminence."
+
+The Cardinal sent back word that he would see Mr. Rutgers.
+
+H. R. went in alone. He saw not the head of the Catholic hierarchy, but
+a man in whose eyes was that light which comes from believing in God and
+from hearing the truth from fellow-men who told him their sins. H. R.
+bowed respectfully before the aged priest.
+
+"How may I help you? asked the Cardinal. He was an old man and this was
+a young man. No more; no less; both of them children.
+
+"Your Eminence, I am the unfortunate American who in his misguided way
+has tried to feed the hungry in order that New York's grown children may
+realize that charity is not dead. If I have used the methods of a
+mountebank it is because I have labored where God had been forgotten,
+almost."
+
+"Generalities are not always verities, though they may come close to
+them. I know about your work. I shall be glad to do what I can for you."
+
+"Thank you, sir. I promised to give ten thousand dollars in cash to any
+New-Yorker who could answer this question: What is it we have all heard
+about from earnest childhood and that we acknowledge exists; that is
+neither a person nor a beast, neither a thing nor an object, but
+something that no man can kill, though it is dead to-day; that all men
+need and most New-Yorkers neglect; that should be present everywhere and
+is found in no trade? The answer is a word of five letters and begins
+with 'A.' There is a synonym that, though not exactly obsolete, is at
+least obsolescent."
+
+"Five letters? Is it in English?" smiled the Cardinal.
+
+"It is in every good English dictionary. I think the dictionary is the
+only place in which I can find it nowadays."
+
+"Oh no, my son." And the Cardinal shook his head in kindly dissent.
+
+"Reverend sir, I said anybody with brains could guess it."
+
+"It was not an ingenuous question, Mr. Rutgers."
+
+"It was a coupon that entitled anybody who held it to answer the
+question and get ten thousand dollars. It was part of a ticket for
+which the holder paid twenty-five cents to feed a starving fellow-being.
+But what I wish you to do is to assure the reporters that it was a
+legitimate question. The word is _Anima_."
+
+"I knew it."
+
+"Because you use it every day."
+
+"But your condition--"
+
+"New York's condition, your Eminence," corrected H. R., politely. "I
+said the synonym, _soul_, would answer. Nobody won the ten thousand
+dollars. New York will cudgel its brains because it did not win the ten
+thousand dollars. In searching for the missing word it may find
+something more precious--the missing _soul_."
+
+"Your way is not our way, but perhaps--" The Cardinal was silent, his
+kindly eyes meditatively bent on H. R.
+
+"The reporters, your Eminence--" began H. R., apologetically.
+
+"Ah yes!" And the white-haired prelate accompanied H. R. to the room
+where the reporters were waiting.
+
+"I have heard Mr. Rutgers's question. The word of five letters beginning
+with an 'A' I think answers it, from his point of view, which is not
+unreasonable. I cannot say that the inability to guess proves the
+non-possession of brains--"
+
+"The Cardinal knew at once," put in H. R.
+
+"But that nobody should have guessed is astonishing."
+
+"They were not all Christians," explained H. R.
+
+"What is the answer?" asked a reporter.
+
+"A word of five letters beginning with 'A,'" said H. R.
+
+"Can't we publish it?"
+
+"It is our secret now. New York is very rich. When it discovers that one
+word--or its synonym of four letters--it will be infinitely richer in
+every way."
+
+The reporters brightened up. They saw columns and columns of guesses.
+But the Cardinal looked thoughtful. Then he said to H. R.:
+
+"Come and see me again."
+
+"Thank you. I will, your Eminence."
+
+The Cardinal bowed his head gravely and H. R. and the newspaper men
+left.
+
+"Are you a Catholic?" the _World_ man asked.
+
+"No," answered H. R., doubtfully.
+
+"All roads lead to Rome," interrupted Lubin, with a sneer.
+
+"Excepting one, Lubin," said H. R., pleasantly. "Keep on going, my boy.
+It's nice and warm there."
+
+
+
+
+XXV
+
+
+The newspapers did nobly. Too many prominent names were involved for
+them not to print the news. There was an opportunity for using real
+humor and impressive statistics in describing the new labor-saving
+machinery. The marvelous efficiency of H. R. as a practical
+philanthropist, demonstrated by his elimination of people who had money
+with which to buy food, and the simple but amazing efficacy of his
+Thirst-Detector raised the story to the realm of pure literature.
+
+There was also a serious aspect to the entire affair. All the hungry
+men, women, and children in Greater New York that had no money had been
+fed. Assuming, as was probable, that most of the hungry were not
+bona-fide residents of New York, it showed that in the metropolis of the
+Western World less than one-thousandth of the total population were
+hungry and penniless. No other city in the world could boast of such
+statistics.
+
+But H. R.'s work was not done. Before he retired for the night, knowing
+that his position in society and in the world of affairs was established
+on an adamant base, he nevertheless composed thirty-eight communications
+for the Public Sentiment Corps to send out the next day to the
+newspapers. A sample will suffice:
+
+     It has been clearly proven that New York is a great big city
+     with a great big heart. As always, it responded generously
+     to the call of Charity. The Hunger Feast at Madison Square
+     Garden was an extraordinary bit of municipal psychology and
+     an illuminating object-lesson. Why not make permanent a
+     state of mind of the public which does so much to dispel the
+     danger of a bloody revolution? Social unrest can be cured by
+     only one thing: Charity! Man does not need justice. He needs
+     the good-will of other men. The newspapers have it in their
+     power to check the hysterical and un-American clamor against
+     individual fortunes. They can throw open their columns!
+     Treat Charity as if it were as important as baseball or at
+     least billiards. Carry a regular Department of Charity every
+     day. Give your readers a chance to be kind. It will be a
+     novelty to many, but it will help all--the giver no less
+     than the beneficiary. If you will agree, Mr. Editor, I'll
+     send check.
+
+Other specimens emphasized the non-sectarian phase of such charities as
+that conceived and carried to success by one of the most remarkable men
+in a city where the best brains of the country admittedly resided.
+Intelligent charity, wisely discriminating, truly helpful, had been
+placed for all time among the possibilities. Systematized charities were
+delusions, chimeras, thin air. There was a demand for the opportunity to
+be decent and kind. Let the newspapers supply it. "If your readers want
+lurid accounts of murder trials and divorce cases, let them have them.
+If they want expert advice on how to help their fellow-men give it to
+them, also. It remains to be seen whether there is one newspaper in New
+York that knows real news when it sees it!"
+
+There were thirty-eight epistolary models in all.
+
+In the afternoon of the day following the Mammoth Hunger Feast H. R.
+called at the Goodchild house.
+
+"Frederick, tell Miss Grace--"
+
+"She 'as _gone_, sir!" said Frederick, tragically.
+
+"Did she leave word when she would return?"
+
+"She 'as _gone_, sir!" persisted Frederick, in abysmal distress at the
+news and at his inability to convey it in letters of molten meteors. He
+added, "To Philadelphia."
+
+It sounded to him like Singapore. He did not think there was much
+difference, anyhow.
+
+"Philadelphia?" echoed H. R., blankly.
+
+"Yes, sir!" said Frederick, with sad triumph.
+
+"Whatever in the world can she--" H. R. caught himself in time. He
+nearly had reduced himself to the level of humanity--well called dead
+level--by confessing ignorance aloud.
+
+"Mrs. Goodchild is at 'ome, sir!" suggested Frederick, ingratiatingly.
+
+"Damned good place for her!" muttered H. R., savagely, and gave
+Frederick a five-dollar gold piece. In some respects, Frederick
+admitted, America was ahead of the old country.
+
+H. R. walked away frowning fiercely. He went nearly a block before he
+smiled. Love always interferes with the chemistry of the stomach and
+hits the brain through the toxins. What an ass he was not to have
+realized the truth on the instant:
+
+_Grace had run away from him!_
+
+He returned to his office and told Andrew Barrett to set the Public
+Sentiment Corps at work on the thirty-eight models he had prepared. Then
+he wrote forty-two more. The consciousness of Grace's confessed weakness
+gave him an eloquence he himself had never before known. They were
+masterpieces.
+
+The newspapers always know they have made a bull's-eye when they get
+letters from their readers. It is an obvious fact that a man who writes
+is a steady customer--at least, until his communication is printed.
+
+The Public Sentiment Corps merely started the ball rolling. An avalanche
+of letters from all sorts and conditions of men, women, and merchants
+descended upon the editorial offices.
+
+It became clear, even to the newspapers, that people in New York were
+willing to give, but they didn't know how. The papers, therefore,
+announced that they would thereafter run Charity as a regular
+department. It would be strictly non-sectarian. The world's greatest
+authorities and most eminent philanthropists had been asked to
+contribute--not money; articles. The _World_ printed a full-page
+biography of St. Vincent de Paul and satanically invited some of its pet
+aversions to send in their autobiographies.
+
+All the papers informed the charitable men and women of New York that
+checks, clothing, supplies, etc., could be sent to the Charity editor.
+
+All the papers, also, invited H. R. to accept the editorship of the
+page. His duties would consist of allowing his name to be printed at the
+top of the page.
+
+He declined their offers with profound regret, but promised to give
+interviews to the reporters whenever they wished. Personal matters
+precluded his acceptance of their kind invitations.
+
+The personal matters consisted of the boom in sandwich advertising.
+It was not uncommon to see "Sandwich-board Maker, approved by the
+S. A. S. A.," in signs in various parts of the city. A new industry!
+
+
+
+
+XXVI
+
+
+In the mean time Grace was in Philadelphia. She had gone there for
+sundry reasons. The telephone calls told on her nerves. Mr. Goodchild
+had to install a new one, the number of which was not printed in the
+Directory but confided to intimate friends. Requests for autographs,
+interviews, money, food, advice, name of soap habitually used,
+permission to name massage ointments and face lotions after her,
+contributions to magazines, and ten thousand other things had been
+coming in by mail or were made in person by friends and strangers until
+Grace, in desperation, decided to go on a visit to Philadelphia. She
+craved peace.
+
+Ruth Fiddle had long urged her to come. Grace had agreed to be one of
+her bridesmaids in June and Ruth naturally wished to discuss marriage,
+generally and particularly.
+
+Ruth delightedly met Grace at the station. Two young men were with her.
+One was her fiancé. The other was a very nice chap who had blood,
+brains, and boodle. His ancestors had been William Penn's grandfather's
+landlords in Bristol, England, and he himself had once written a story
+which he had sent to the _Saturday Evening Post_. His father was in
+coal, railroads, and fire insurance.
+
+They decided to adjourn to the Fairview-Hartford for luncheon. Before so
+doing they talked.
+
+Ruth asked a thousand excited questions about the Hunger Feast, fame,
+and the Rutgers Roll. Grace answered, and then confided to Ruth her iron
+resolve never to marry H. R. She admitted that he was as great as the
+papers said, even greater, and, besides, good-looking. But her
+determination was inflexible.
+
+Ruth, to show she approved, told Grace that Monty--the writer--was her
+fiancé's chum and African hunting-companion. Monty himself told Miss
+Goodchild that there was a good story in the whole affair. In fact, two
+stories. In both of them the heroine--he looked at her and nodded his
+head convincingly. "Drawn from life," he added. "Of course I'll have to
+know you--I mean, the heroine--better. But don't you think she'd make a
+great one?"
+
+She wasn't thrilled a bit. She was not even politely interested. What
+was such talk, Grace impartially asked herself, to one who had been
+madly cheered by thousands?
+
+Still, he was a nice boy, not so consciously clever as New-Yorkers who
+chose to regard themselves as vaudeville wits.
+
+Finally they got into the waiting motor and went to the
+Fairview-Hartford, where the eating is better than in any New York
+hotel.
+
+As they were about to enter the dining-room Grace Goodchild put on her
+restaurant look of utter unconsciousness and stone deafness and
+blindness, which had grown into a habit since she became famous.
+
+She entered the dining-room ahead of the others, as usual. She took nine
+steps before she stopped short. Her face went pale.
+
+Nobody had stopped eating!
+
+Nobody had turned around to stare!
+
+Nobody had stage-whispered, "There she is!"
+
+No woman had said, "Do you think she is as beautiful as the newspapers
+try to make out?"
+
+Not one imbecile male look; not one feminine sneer! Nothing! No fame!
+
+"What's the matter?" asked Monty in alarm.
+
+Grace felt an overwhelming desire to stand there until the people
+looked, even if it took a year.
+
+As the century-long seconds passed she barely could resist the impulse
+to shout, "Fire!"
+
+"Anything wrong?" whispered Monty, with real concern.
+
+"N-no-nothing!" she stammered, and followed Ruth, who had passed her,
+unnoticing.
+
+Her color returned as wrath dispelled amazement.
+
+For the first time since H. R. began to woo her in public places with
+sandwiches Grace Goodchild actually had to eat food in a restaurant. In
+New York famous people don't go to restaurants to eat.
+
+She was distraite throughout the luncheon. She thought Monty was an ass.
+
+And the other feeding beasts must have read the New York papers! There
+was absolutely no excuse.
+
+In the evening the same thing happened. That is, nothing happened. The
+Fiddles' friends tried to be particularly nice to her by talking of the
+opera, novels, the dancing-craze, the resurgence of the Republican
+party, and cubism. It only made it worse. And not one knew the Rutgers
+Roll!
+
+The next day Ruth and the young men took her to the Philadelphia Country
+Club. Same thing! And later to a dance at the Fitz-Marlton. Ditto!
+
+Her good looks, her gowns, and her nice manners made a very favorable
+impression on all of Ruth's friends, male and female, young and old.
+Hang 'em, that's all it did!
+
+It was like Lucullus being asked to eat sanitary biscuits.
+
+She had wanted peace. But not in a burial crypt. On the fourth day of
+extinction she said to Ruth after breakfast:
+
+"My dear, I must return to New York!"
+
+"Oh no! Grace, darling, I've accepted seventeen--"
+
+"I must, Ruth. I simply must!"
+
+"But Monty is coming at one to take us to his father's--"
+
+Grace felt like saying that Monty could take himself to Hades or to
+Atlantic City. But she merely shook her head. She dared not trust
+herself to speak. Ruth appealed to her mother. But Mrs. Fiddle shrugged
+her shoulders and said: "No use! New York!" She herself was a Van Duzen.
+
+And so Grace Goodchild returned home, five days before she was expected.
+
+"I couldn't stand it, mother," she explained, almost tearfully.
+
+"Very well," said Mrs. Goodchild.
+
+What else can a mother say in New York? And isn't it right to stand by
+your own flesh and blood?
+
+Grace hesitated, full of perplexities and unformulated doubts and an
+exasperating sense of indecision. She felt like opening the book of her
+soul to other eyes. To hear advice or, at least, opinions.
+
+"I want to have a heart-to-heart talk with you, mother," said Grace,
+hesitatingly. Then she apologized, self-defensively. "It concerns my
+future, dear."
+
+"Yes, darling," said Mrs. Goodchild, absently. "I don't think. I'd like
+it quite like Celestine's-- Grace, love, will you run over to Raquin's
+spring exhibition at the Fitz-Marlton and look at it? It is next to the
+black that Mrs. Vandergilt liked. I have an appointment with
+Celestine--"
+
+Grace knew that the selection of a husband could wait, for fashions in
+that line do not change so quickly as in skirts. She dutifully said, "I
+will!" She also had her eye on one.
+
+Before going to Raquin's display she stopped at Oldman's.
+
+The store flunky opened the door of her motor and smiled happily when he
+saw who it was. She was made subtly conscious that he was dying to
+announce her name to the world at the top of his enthusiastic voice.
+Life in New York had its compensations, after all.
+
+She entered. The shop-girls whispered to the customers on whom they were
+waiting. The customers turned quickly and stared at Grace Goodchild.
+
+"She often comes here!" she heard the pretty little thing in charge of
+seventy-two glove-boxes say proudly to a client.
+
+The girl who waited on Grace was a stranger. Nevertheless, when Grace
+told her "I'll take these!" the girl said, "Very well, Miss Goodchild."
+
+"Oh!" gasped Grace. "You know me?"
+
+"What d'ye t'ink I am?" said the girl, indignantly. "Say, it was great,
+Miss Goodchild!"
+
+The worship in the girl's eyes kept the language from being offensive.
+
+"Thank you!"
+
+"I hope you'll be very happy, Miss Goodchild," said the girl, and
+blushed. "Oh, I didn't mean to be--I--I couldn't help wishing it, Miss
+Goodchild!"
+
+"I'm sure I'm very grateful for your good wishes," Grace told her,
+graciously.
+
+The child's--age twenty-four--eyes filled with tears. As Grace walked
+away, Mayme's lips moved raptly. She was memorizing dem woids.
+
+On her way out Grace went through the same craning of necks, the same
+vivid curiosity, the same half-audible murmurs, the same spitefulness in
+the eyes of the women who, though rich, were not famous. Everybody is so
+disgustingly rich nowadays that society had begun to applaud such
+remarks as, "I've had to give up one of my motors," or, "Jim says he
+won't put the _Mermaid_ in commission this year; simply can't afford
+it."
+
+At Raquin's wonderful exhibition of models Grace saw exactly what she
+wished to see. It would be worthy of her and of her throat. One who is
+photographed many times a week has to have gowns; not to have them is
+almost immoral. Grace was so concerned with doing her duty toward the
+public that she forgot that she had come to see the third one, next to
+Mrs. Vandergilt's black. She was nearly half-way home before she
+remembered what her mother had asked her to do.
+
+Grace went back to the Fitz-Marlton. Dress was a public service. Mrs.
+Goodchild's clothes must tell the public whose mother she was.
+
+She told the chauffeur "Home," and began to think.
+
+Pleasure could be made a duty. Blessed indeed is she in whose mind, as
+in a vast cathedral, pleasure and duty solemnly contract nuptials.
+
+This beautiful figure of speech in turn made her think of marriage. If
+she married Reggie or Mr. Watson or Percival or one of the others, what
+would her married life be? What?
+
+One long visit to Philadelphia!
+
+"I could kill him!" she said to the flower-holder, frowning fiercely.
+Happening to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror for that purpose
+provided in an town cars, Grace smoothed her brow and smiled. A man
+would have required slathers of flattery to dispel ill-humor. With a
+woman, the truth is enough. A mirror does not lie. Providence is more
+than kind to them; even automatic.
+
+If she wouldn't marry Reggie or the others and did marry H. R.-- But how
+could she?
+
+She was an imaginative American girl with a sunshiny soul and much
+vitality who lived in New York. She thought of her marriage to H. R. She
+thought of the newspapers! The mound of clippings that instantly loomed
+before her made her gasp.
+
+What wouldn't the newspapers do when _she_ married H. R., especially if
+H. R., prompted by love, really made an effort?
+
+She was forced to admit that he was a remarkable man!
+
+"Papa," she said aloud, "will never consent!"
+
+Papa's life had been made miserable by H. R. Indeed, the only thing that
+reconciled him to the ungrateful task of living was the steady growth of
+the bank's deposits. It was due, Mr. Goodchild often declared, to his
+management. But he couldn't speak about H. R. without profanity.
+
+Parental opposition was not everything. Marriage was a serious thing.
+
+
+
+
+XXVII
+
+
+The motor stopped. She had arrived at her house. The car door was opened
+by H. R.
+
+She started back. Then she looked at him curiously, almost
+awe-strickenly, as though her wishes had taken on magical properties of
+automatic fulfilment.
+
+Was this the same remarkable person she had almost deified on the way
+from Raquin's exhibition? What would he say? She prayed that he might
+not spoil everything, by some inanity.
+
+He held out his hand to help her alight. Then he spoke.
+
+"It was time!" he said, and walked beside her--but a couple of inches
+ahead. That was because, though he was an American husband-to-be, he
+also was a man, a protector, a leader. Such men are cave-men minus the
+club.
+
+Grace at times was not a true Goodchild. This time she said nothing.
+
+Frederick opened the door. His face expressed no sense of the
+unusualness of the sight.
+
+H. R., with the air of a host, led Grace into the drawing-room. He stood
+beside her in the gorgeous Louis XV. room.
+
+"Grace," he said, gently, "for twenty-nine days I've been the unhappiest
+man in all New York. For five, the unhappiest in the entire world!"
+
+"Will you kindly release my hand?" she asked. No sooner had the words
+left her lips than she realized they were piffle. Then she began to
+laugh. It was the first official acknowledgment that no social barriers
+divided them.
+
+"Suppose," she asked, with a humorously intended demureness, "that I
+wished to use my handkerchief?"
+
+H. R. with his disengaged hand took his own out of his pocket and held
+it to her nose.
+
+"Blow!" he said, tenderly.
+
+"I don't want to," she retorted and tried to pull away her hand.
+
+He replaced his handkerchief in his pocket.
+
+"All over but the mailing-list," he said to her. "Sit down here; by me!"
+
+Something within her stirred to revolt. Unfortunately, he did not
+release her hand, but led her to the historic divan--part of the suite
+for which Mr. Goodchild had paid eighteen thousand five hundred dollars
+in the Sunday supplement. Marie Antoinette had been seated in that very
+place when de Rohan brought the famous diamond necklace to show her.
+(Same issue; third column, fourth page.)
+
+"I think that for sheer, unadulterated impudence--" she began, without
+any anger, because she was too busy trying to decide what she must do to
+him to put an end to a situation that had become intolerable--at least
+in its present shape.
+
+"Grace, don't talk nonsense. Just let me look at you."
+
+He held her at arm's-length and looked into her eyes. He saw that they
+were blue and clear and steady and looked fearlessly at him--the stare
+of a child who doesn't know why she should be afraid.
+
+If they don't watch out that fearlessness becomes anything but childish
+in New York.
+
+He continued to stare steadily, unblinkingly, into them.
+
+"I can't stand it! I can't stand it!" he said, hoarsely, and blinked his
+eyes. Then he closed them--tight. Coward!
+
+She had felt his keen eyes bore through her garments, through her flesh,
+into her very soul of souls--a look that frightened until it warmed; and
+after it warmed, it again frightened--in another way.
+
+She saw a wonderfully well-shaped head and very clean-looking hair and a
+very healthy-looking, clear-cut face and very strong shoulders and very
+masterful hands. And from all of him came waves that thrilled--the
+mysterious effluvia that compels and dominates the woman to whom Life
+means this life.
+
+At length he spoke with an effort. "We shall be married in Grace
+Chapel." He grew calmer, and added, "People will think it was named for
+you!"
+
+"I am not going to marry you," she declared, vehemently.
+
+"No. I am going to marry you. After you are my wife we naturally will
+talk about it. That will enable us to learn whether we shall stay
+married or not. Grace," he said, earnestly, "I'll do anything you wish."
+
+"Leave this house, then."
+
+"It's _your_ house, dear," he reminded her, gently, "and I am your
+guest. That puts it out of your power to enforce your desire. Don't you
+see?"
+
+She tacitly admitted that there was an etiquette of hospitality by
+asking, coldly, "Why should I marry you?"
+
+"I can't give you as many reasons as I might if you asked why I should
+marry you. The principal two are that I love you and that I am the only
+man whom Grace Goodchild can marry and still remain Grace Goodchild."
+
+It seemed to her impossible that he could be sitting beside her talking
+about marriage seriously, and more than impossible that she could be
+sitting there listening.
+
+"People know you as Grace Goodchild. After the marriage they will know
+you as the Grace Goodchild that H. R. has married. What would become of
+you if you cease to be Grace Goodchild?"
+
+She thought of Philadelphia, and shuddered. But he thought he had not
+convinced her. He rose and said to her:
+
+"Oh, my love! You are so utterly and completely beautiful that if I have
+a man's work to do I shall succeed only because the reward is you! I
+have come to the turning-point in my career and I must have the light of
+your eyes to guide me."
+
+She did not love him and therefore she heard his words very distinctly.
+But she was a woman, and she was thrilled by his look and his voice and
+by his manner. He was no longer a mountebank to her, but an unusual man.
+And when she thought of not marrying him her mind reverted in some
+curious way to Philadelphia and its subtle suggestions of sarcophagi and
+the contents thereof. But this man must not think that he could win her
+by stage speeches even though they might be real. She said to him,
+determinedly:
+
+"We might as well understand each other--"
+
+"I am the creature; you are the creator," he quickly interjected. "You
+are very beautiful, _very_! but you have much more than beauty. You
+have brains, and I think your heart is a marvelous lute--"
+
+"A what?" she asked, curiously. No woman will allow the catalogue to be
+skimped or obscured.
+
+"A lute, a wonderful musical instrument that some day will be played by
+a master hand. When you cease to be merely a girl and become a woman,
+with your capacity for loving when you let yourself go! Ah!" He closed
+his eyes and trembled.
+
+All women, at heart, love to be accused of being psychic pyromaniacs.
+
+"_There will I give thee my loves!_" he muttered, quoting from the "Song
+of Songs."
+
+She knew it wasn't original because he said it so solemnly. She dared
+not ask from whom the quotation was. It sounded like Swinburne.
+
+"Come!" He was not quoting this time. He stood before her, his face
+tense, his eyes aflame, his arms stretched imploringly toward her.
+
+She met his gaze--and then she could not look away. She saw the
+wonderful man of whom the papers had printed miles of columns, who had
+made all New York talk of him for weeks, who was young and strong and
+comely and masterful, who had an old name and a fighting jaw, whose
+words stirred the pulses like a quickstep on the piccolo.
+
+And his eyes made her understand what was meant by actinic rays. They
+were looking at her, piercing through her garments until she felt
+herself subtly divested of all concealments.
+
+And then she trembled as if his eyes physically touched her! She
+thrilled, she blushed, she frowned--for she felt herself desired. And
+her thoughts became the thoughts of a woman who is wooed by life, by
+love, by a man's red blood and her own. Her New York inhibitions turned
+to ashes. Life-long mental habits withered and shriveled and vanished in
+microscopic flakes until into her self-hypnotized consciousness there
+came the eternal query of the female who has stopped running, "What can
+I give to this man?"
+
+And Hendrik, seeing her face, held his shaking hands before her,
+impatiently beckoning to her to come. Some unseen spirit took her slim
+hands and, without consulting her, placed them in his.
+
+And then he kissed her.
+
+The heavens flamed. She pushed him from her and sank back trembling upon
+the divan on which Marie Antoinette was not sitting on the day when de
+Rohan did not bring the diamond necklace that did not cause the French
+Revolution, though Mr. Goodchild had paid eighteen thousand five hundred
+dollars for the historic suite, in the Sunday supplement.
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+
+It is difficult for a man to know what to do after the first kiss. A
+second kiss is not so wise as appears at first blush. It impairs mental
+efficiency by rendering irresistible the desire for a third. A banal
+remark is equally fatal. To tell her, "Now you are mine in God's sight,"
+is worse than sacrilegious; it is conducive to acute suffragism and some
+polemical oratory. To say, "Now I am yours for ever," may be of
+demonstrable accuracy, but also conduces to speech.
+
+Hendrik Rutgers was no ordinary man. He knew that one kiss does not make
+one marriage nor even one divorce. But he knew that he was at least at
+the church door and he had a wonderful ring in his waistcoat pocket. He
+therefore became H. R. once more--cool, calm, master of his fate.
+
+It behooved him to do something. He did. He fell on his knees and
+reverently bowed his head. And then she heard him say, "Grant that I may
+become worthy of her!"
+
+Then his lips moved in silence. She saw them move. Her soul trembled.
+Was she so much to this man?
+
+Great is the power of prayer even in the homes of the rich, however
+cynics may sneer.
+
+He did not glance at her, feeling her eyes on him. When he judged it was
+time he looked up suddenly, rose to his feet, and, in a diffident,
+apologetic voice, observed:
+
+"Forgive me, dear! What did you say?"
+
+What could she say? She therefore said it:
+
+"Nothing!" very softly.
+
+"I was very far from New York--and yet you were with me, my love!"
+
+She thought of Philadelphia and her hand sought his with that
+refuge-seeking instinct which cannot be statuted away from them.
+
+He met her half-way. He raised her hands to his lips and his disengaged
+left sought his waistcoat pocket where the ring was.
+
+"She is in the drawing-room, sir, with Mr. Rutgers," came in faithful
+Frederick's warning voice, raised above the menial's pitch.
+
+"What!" they heard Mr. Goodchild ejaculate. Then the titular owner of
+the house entered.
+
+H. R. politely bowed.
+
+"How do you do?" he said, easily. "You are a trifle inopportune. Grace
+and I were talking over our plans."
+
+Mr. Goodchild turned purple and advanced. Grace rose hastily. H. R.
+meditatively doubled up his right arm, moved his clenched fist up and
+down, felt his biceps with his left hand, and smiled contentedly.
+
+Mr. Goodchild remembered his manners and his years at one and the same
+time. With his second calm thought he remembered the reporters. He
+gulped twice and when he spoke it was only a trifle huskily:
+
+"Mr. Rutgers, I have no desire to make a scene in my own house."
+
+H. R. pleasantly pointed to a fauteuil.
+
+"I must ask you--"
+
+"Sit down and we'll talk it over quietly. You will find," H. R. assured
+him, earnestly, "that I am not unreasonable. Have a seat."
+
+Mr. Goodchild sat down.
+
+H. R. turned to Grace and with one lightning wink managed to convey that
+everybody obeyed him--excepting one, whose wish was a Federal statute to
+him.
+
+She looked with a new interest at her father. It was, she realized, the
+eternal conflict between youth and age. Love the prize! _Gratia
+victrix!_
+
+"I--I--am willing to admit"--Mr. Goodchild nearly choked as the unusual
+words came from his larynx--"that you have shown--er--great cleverness
+in your--er--career. But I must say to you--in a kindly way, Mr.
+Rutgers, in a kindly way, believe me!--that I do not care to have
+this--er--farce prolonged. If you are after--if there is any reasonable
+financial consideration that will--er--induce you to desist--I--you--"
+
+"You have relapsed," interrupted H. R., amiably, "into the language of a
+bank president. Suppose you now talk like a millionaire." It was not
+really a request, but a command.
+
+Mr. George G. Goodchild obeyed.
+
+"How much?" he said.
+
+Grace looked as she felt--shocked. She had not fully regained her normal
+composure. But this was a man who had kissed her. Was he to be bought
+off with money? The shame of it overwhelmed her. She listened almost
+painfully to H. R.'s reply.
+
+"I am now," H. R. impassively said to Mr. Goodchild, "waiting for you to
+talk like a father."
+
+Mr. Goodchild stared at him blankly.
+
+"Like a father; like a human being," explained H. R. "Grace is no
+bundle of canceled checks or a lost stock certificate. She is your
+daughter."
+
+"Well?"
+
+"Excuse me; I mean she is your own flesh and blood--the best of your
+flesh and blood, at that. Your wishes cannot be considered where her
+happiness is at stake. Therefore what you think best is merely your
+personal opinion and hence of interest to yourself and to nobody else."
+
+Mr. Goodchild quickly opened his mouth, but before the sound could come
+H. R. went on, hurriedly, "Suppose you had set your heart upon her
+becoming a mathematician. Would that make her one?"
+
+"Never!" instantly declared the non-mathematical Grace.
+
+Mr. Goodchild shook his head violently and again opened his mouth. But
+H. R. once more surpassed him in speed and pursued, calmly
+argumentative:
+
+"Or suppose you did not believe in vaccination. Is your opinion to be
+allowed to prevail against the advice of your competent family physician
+until Grace gets the disease and you are forced to acknowledge that you
+were wrong? Or would even the sight of the most beautiful face in the
+world pitted and pockmarked fail to shake your own faith in your own
+infallibility?"
+
+Grace shuddered. "_Father!_" she exclaimed, horror-stricken, and glared
+at Mr. Goodchild. She was now thinking of paternal opposition in terms
+of smallpox.
+
+"But--" angrily expostulated Mr. Goodchild.
+
+"Exactly," agreed H. R., hastily. "That's it. Now for a favor. Will you
+let me talk business with you? _My_ business!"
+
+Mr. Goodchild's business was to know all about the business of others.
+But he did not take it home with him. However, before he could do more
+than shake his head, H. R. went on:
+
+"I am organizing six companies."
+
+That sounded like good business. But Mr. Goodchild nodded
+non-committally from force of habit.
+
+"The S. A. S. A. Imperial Sandwich Board Corporation. Capital stock, one
+million, of which forty per cent. goes to the public for cash, forty per
+cent. given to me--"
+
+"Forty?" irrepressibly objected Mr. Goodchild.
+
+"Forty," repeated H. R., firmly. "I am no hog. I get what my ideas,
+designs, and patents are worth at a fair valuation. And twenty per cent.
+goes to the S. A. S. A."
+
+"Why?" came from Mr. Goodchild before he could realize that he was
+speaking bankerwise.
+
+"Because the S. A. S. A. will insist upon the company's boards being
+used by all our customers. And besides, as head of the S. A. S. A., I
+vote that twenty per cent. I thus control sixty per cent. and--"
+
+Mr. Goodchild brightened up, but remembered himself and said, very
+coldly:
+
+"Go on."
+
+"We shall manufacture sandwiches of all kinds, at from one dollar to ten
+thousand dollars and upward, and--"
+
+"Dreadful word! Loathe it!"
+
+"--The S. A. S. A. Memento Mori Manufacturing Company to manufacture and
+sell the statuettes of the Ultimate Sandwich. Same capitalization. Same
+holdings. You see, I have sold my ideas, designs, and patents so that
+later on nobody can say my companies were overcapitalized. There are
+also the Rapid Restaurant Service Appliance Company, and four others.
+Same capitalization; same holdings. The money is all raised. And let me
+say," finished H. R., sternly accusing, "that the people who furnish the
+cash and buy the stock get _something_ for their money."
+
+"That's all very well," began Mr. Goodchild, contemptuously, "but--"
+
+"Exactly," said H. R. "I propose to transfer all our accounts to your
+bank. You know you said you'd like to have mine when I became famous."
+
+"I know nothing about your companies, and care less. But I want to tell
+you right now--"
+
+"What interest are you going to allow us on our balances?" cut in H. R.
+
+"No interest!" said Mr. Goodchild in a voice that really meant "No
+Grace!"
+
+H. R. turned to his sweetheart and, desiring to forestall desertion,
+took her hand in his and said to her:
+
+"Grace, this house is a very nice house. You have spent many happy hours
+here. But it is, after all, only a house. And New York is _New York_!"
+
+And Philadelphia was _Philadelphia_!
+
+Grace's hand remained in H. R.'s.
+
+"You can't have her!" said Mr. Goodchild, furiously.
+
+"Who can't have whom?" asked Mrs. Goodchild, entering the room.
+
+H. R. released Grace's hand, approached Mrs. Goodchild, and, before she
+knew what he was going to do, threw his right arm about her and kissed
+her--a loud filial smack.
+
+She quickly and instinctively put one hand up to her hair, for the
+strange young man had been a trifle effusive. But before she could
+transform her surprise into vocal sounds the stranger spoke, in a voice
+ringing with affectionate sincerity not too playful, you understand, but
+convincing, nevertheless:
+
+"She inherits her good looks, her disposition, and her taste in dress
+from you. I saw it the first time I met you. Don't you remember? And I
+warn you now that if I can't marry Grace I'll kill that husband of yours
+and marry _you_!"
+
+To prove it, he kissed her again, twice.
+
+"How dare--" shouted Mr. Goodchild.
+
+"I am not sure," said H. R. to Mrs. Goodchild, "that I want Grace now.
+Between thirty-two and forty a woman is at her best."
+
+He patted her shoulder, as we paternally do with the young ones, and
+went back to Grace. It all had happened so quickly that only H. R. was
+calm.
+
+"My dear!" said Mrs. Goodchild, looking helplessly at Grace.
+
+"What is it, mother?" said H. R., appropriating the affectionate words.
+And as she did not answer he asked, generally. "What do you say to the
+eighth?"
+
+"An eighth?" echoed Mr. Goodchild, almost amiably, thinking, of
+one-eighth of one per cent.
+
+"Of June!" said H. R. "That gives you ample time for everything, Grace.
+And, remember, give the reporters the detailed list of the trousseau."
+
+"There isn't going to be any marriage. And there isn't going to be any
+nauseating newspaper articles with pictures of intimate lingerie enough
+to make a decent man blush."
+
+"A really decent man always blushes with shame when he does not give
+_carte blanche_ to his only daughter," said H. R. with great dignity.
+
+"Mr.--er--Rogers," said Mrs. Goodchild.
+
+"Rutgers," corrected her prospective son-in-law. "The 'g' is hard. It's
+Dutch, like Roosevelt, Van Rensselaer, and Cruger."
+
+"But we don't know anything about your family," she said, very
+seriously.
+
+"Do you know," asked H. R., pleasantly, "the Wittelbachs?"
+
+"It's beer, isn't it?" she said. It might be the best brewing blood in
+Christendom, but still it wasn't Wall Street or real estate.
+
+"Good shot!" exclaimed H. R., admiringly. "It is the patronymic of the
+reigning house of Bavaria. You know, Munich, where beer is the thing.
+And do you know the Bernadottes?"
+
+"I've heard of them," replied Mrs. Goodchild, made wary by her
+non-recognition of a sovereign house.
+
+"It is not French delicatessen, but the royal family of Sweden. And the
+Hapsburgs? The Emperor of Austria belongs to them. And Romanoff? The
+Czar of Russia would answer to that if he voted. And there are also the
+Hohenzollerns and the Bourbons and the Braganzas. And then," he
+finished, simply, "there is _Rutgers_!"
+
+"It seems to me," put in Grace, coldly, "that I have something to say--"
+
+"Empress, you don't. Just look," interrupted H. R. "Of course, the date
+is subject to your approval. I didn't have any luncheon. Will you tell
+Frederick to bring some tea and a few sandwiches--"
+
+"Damnation!" shrieked Mr. George G. Goodchild. "Is a man to be insulted
+in his own home? Get to hell out of here with your sandwiches!"
+
+"George!" rebuked Mrs. Goodchild, placidly. She never frowned.
+Wrinkles.
+
+"Yes, George!" maniacally mimicked her husband. "It's sandwiches!
+Sandwiches! Sandwiches! Everywhere! Yesterday I discharged my
+secretary. I told him to send out for a chicken sandwich for me and
+I heard him give the boy the order: 'Son-in-law for Mr. Goodchild.
+Cock-a-doodle-do!' At this week's meeting of our directors Mr.
+Garrettson asked me: 'How is the King of the Sandwiches? Living at your
+house yet?' And the other jackasses all laughed. _Sandwiches!_"
+
+He turned to his daughter, and fearing that she was in the conspiracy,
+asked her, vehemently: "Do you wish to be known all your life as the
+Queen of the Sandwiches? Do you? Do you wish your humorous friends to
+say to you, Grace, will you have a caviare husband?"
+
+"No!" replied Grace. Fame was fame, but ridicule was Hades.
+
+"Oh, dear! Oh, dear!" said Mrs. Goodchild.
+
+"Tell Frederick," said H. R., fiercely, "to bring in fifteen Rutgerses,
+if you prefer to call them that."
+
+"That isn't funny," rebuked Grace, coldly. "I don't think you are
+accustomed to surroundings--"
+
+"No; it's hospitality. I'm starving."
+
+"You'll have sandwiches for breakfast, luncheon, and dinner, my child,"
+Mr. Goodchild told Grace, angrily but intelligently. "In the
+newspapers!"
+
+"Of course I won't marry him!" said Grace, decisively. "It's
+preposterous."
+
+H. R. went up to her. She shook her head. He spoke very seriously:
+
+"Grace, when people tell you that I have given free sandwiches to New
+York they mean that I have taken the poorest of the poor, the pariahs of
+commerce, the despised of the rabble, poor human derelicts, souls
+without a future, without a hope, worse than dirt, poorer than poverty,
+and I have made them _men_!"
+
+"Yes, but s-s-sandwiches," blubbered Grace.
+
+"I took these victims of society and capitalism and organized them, and
+then I emptied them into the golden Cloaca Maxima that you call Fifth
+Avenue, and lo! they emerged free men, self-supporting, well-fed,
+useful, artistic. They have been the efficient instruments of fame. It
+is they who have made you known from one end of the city to the other."
+
+"Yes; but sandwiches!" doggedly repeated Grace.
+
+"I have worked," said H. R., sternly, "with human souls--"
+
+"Sandwiches!" corrected Mr. Goodchild.
+
+H. R. flushed angrily.
+
+"The sandwich," he told them all with an angry finality, "is here to
+stay. Our net receipts, after paying big wages, are over one thousand
+dollars a day. What do you think I am, an ass? Or a quick lunch? Or a
+bank president? _Pshaw!_ We've only begun! A capitalization of over five
+millions at the very start and the business growing like cheap
+automobiles, and me owning forty per cent. of the stock and controlling
+sixty per cent. in perpetuity! These men have made me their leader. I
+will not forsake them!"
+
+"Can you give me," said Mr. Goodchild, seriously, "evidence to prove
+your statements?" If the love affair was not to end in an elopement it
+would be wise to have a business talk with this young man, who, after
+all was said and done, had a valuable asset in his newspaper publicity.
+
+"You may be a wonderful man," said Grace to H. R., "but all my friends
+would ask me if I am going to have a mammoth sandwich instead of a
+wedding-cake! I ask you not to persist--"
+
+H. R. smiled sympathetically and said: "You poor darling! Is _that_ all
+you are afraid of?"
+
+She thought of Philadelphia and a quiet life, and she shook her head
+sadly. Why couldn't he have made her famous by unobjectionable methods.
+
+But H. R. said, "I'll guarantee that my name will never again be
+associated with sandwiches--"
+
+"You can't do it!" declared Grace, with conviction, thinking of humorous
+American girls. "When they are friends all you have to do is to take out
+the 'r' to turn them into fiends."
+
+Mrs. Goodchild said nothing, but frowned. It had just occurred to her
+that here they all were, amicably talking with the man who had made
+their lives grievous burdens. Mr. Goodchild also was silent, but
+shrewdly eyed H. R.
+
+"I'll do it!" repeated H. R., confidently.
+
+"How can you without killing everybody?" challenged Grace, skeptically.
+"Everybody knows you as the leader of the sandwich men, and if you form
+companies--"
+
+"My child," H. R. told her, gently, "I don't know anything about
+finance. That is why I want to get father's advice about my business.
+Every man to his trade. But I do know New York. I ought to, hang it! My
+grandfather owned what is now the Hôtel Regina, and-- Well, look here!
+If by the first of June nobody even remembers that I had anything to do
+with sandwiches will you marry me?"
+
+"Yes," said Mr. Goodchild.
+
+If H. R. could do that he was fit to be anybody's son-in-law. If he
+couldn't, the annoyance would end.
+
+"Grace?" asked H. R.
+
+"I'm willing to take a chance for two weeks," said Mr. Goodchild,
+feeling certain he was displaying Machiavellian wisdom. But Grace shook
+her head.
+
+"Everything you've done," she told H. R., "is child's play--"
+
+"What!" interrupted H. R., indignantly. "Make New-Yorkers give money for
+charity that they might have spent for their own pleasure?"
+
+"Nothing alongside of making 'em forget that you invented sandwiches. If
+it had been anything else, you might--I might--you--" She floundered
+helplessly. Her life for weeks had been so full of excitement that she
+could not co-ordinate her ideas quickly.
+
+"You don't know me, dear," said H. R. "I hate to say it myself, but,
+really, I'm a wonder!"
+
+He looked so confident, so masterfully sure of himself, so little like a
+dreamer, and so much like a doer, that Grace was impressed.
+
+"Can you?" she asked, more eagerly than Mr. Goodchild liked to see. But
+then H. R. had never kissed him.
+
+"With your hand for the prize and your love for my reward? Can you ask
+me if I can?"
+
+"Yes, I can. Can you?"
+
+"Yes!" he said. "But of course I'll need your help."
+
+"My help?" Doubt came back into her eyes.
+
+"Yes. This way." He took her in his arms and kissed her.
+
+Mrs. Goodchild stared, open-eyed. Mr. Goodchild grew purple, and
+shouted:
+
+"Here! This is--"
+
+H. R. turned to him and said, "This is all right." And again he pressed
+his lips to hers and kept them pressed this time.
+
+"I won't have it!" shrieked Mr. Goodchild, going toward the young
+people, one fist upraised.
+
+H. R. ceased kissing, and spoke rebukingly:
+
+"What do you want me to do? Kiss her in the vestibule before ringing the
+door-bell, as if we were plebeian sweethearts? Or in a taxi in the Park?
+Listen: _Fear not to intrust your daughter to a man who never kisses her
+save in the sight of those who brought her into this world!_" H. R.
+spoke so aphoristically that Mr. Goodchild thought it was a quotation
+from Ecclesiastes.
+
+H. R. took the ring out of his waistcoat pocket and gave it to Grace.
+
+"Here, my love!"
+
+It was a magnificent green diamond, the rarest of all. Mrs. Goodchild
+rose quickly and said, "Let me see it!" Mother-like, being concerned
+with her only daughter's happiness, she took the ring to the window.
+
+Grace followed. It was her ring.
+
+"Say, Big Chief," H. R. asked his prospective father-in-law, "do I get
+the sand--do I get some slices of bread with some slices of viands, two
+breads to one viand, and a cup of tea?"
+
+"Tea be hanged! Have a man's drink," hospitably and diplomatically said
+Mr. Goodchild. There was still a chance of escaping. He knew what
+violent opposition had done to sentimental daughters.
+
+"Yes, but you'll have to allow us a decent rate of interest on our
+balances."
+
+"How much do you carry?" asked Mr. Goodchild, carelessly.
+
+"Enough for Dawson to offer three per cent. But let us not talk
+business here. I'll call on you to-morrow.
+
+"All right. But Dawson can't do it, not even on time deposits, and--"
+
+"Scotch for mine," said H. R. "Is Frederick coming?"
+
+Mr. Goodchild was, after all, a gentleman. He rang for Frederick. He
+also was thirsty.
+
+"Hendrik, it's beautiful," said Grace, enthusiastically. "But are you
+perfectly sure you can--"
+
+"Empress, don't you wish it done?"
+
+"Of course."
+
+"Then, of course, it is done. You'll be able to yell '_sandwich_'!
+anywhere in New York and nobody will think of anything except that you
+are the most beautiful girl in the world. Give me another before
+Frederick brings 'em."
+
+"Brings what?"
+
+"Lamb chops!" answered H. R., who was a humorist of the New York school.
+"Quick!" And he kissed her twice.
+
+"We'll have tea up-stairs if you're really going to be one of the
+family," said Mrs. Goodchild, with the dubious smile so familiar on the
+faces of mothers of New York girls.
+
+"Come, Grace!" said H. R., taking her by the unringed hand. He knew
+better--by instinct.
+
+It was a very satisfactory day. Such was the compelling force of his
+self-confidence that before he left the house Mr. and Mrs. Goodchild
+sincerely hoped he could accomplish the impossible and wipe out the
+sandwich stain from the old Knickerbocker name of Rutgers.
+
+
+
+
+XXIX
+
+
+The next morning H. R. called Andrew Barrett into the inner office.
+
+"Shut the door," said he.
+
+Andrew Barrett did so and looked alarmed--alarmed rather than guilty.
+
+"To-morrow, and until further notice," said H. R., sternly, "you will
+tell the department-store sandwiches to parade in front of the various
+newspaper offices from morning until night."
+
+"But not in Park Row, surely?"
+
+"Exactly! And find out whether the business managers of the various
+newspapers have been holding conferences with the managing editors. They
+probably will--this afternoon or to-morrow."
+
+"How can I--"
+
+"By paid spies--office-boy scouts. Of course, lady stenographers being
+more in your line-- No! Look me in the eye!"
+
+Andrew Barrett blushed and said, feebly:
+
+"I am taking the count, Chief."
+
+"Very well. I shall now go out and do your work. See that you do mine!"
+And H. R. went out, leaving Andrew Barrett full of devastating
+curiosity.
+
+"I wonder what he has up his sleeve now?" mused young Mr. Barrett. "I'll
+bet it's a corker!"
+
+H. R. himself called on the head of one of the most progressive of New
+York's great department stores--a man to whom full pages on week-days
+were nothing. He, therefore, had heard of H. R., and also had used
+sandwiches. He greeted the founder of the S. A. S. A. with respectful
+interest. H. R. said, calmly:
+
+"I am here now to make you a present of from ten thousand to fifty
+thousand dollars a year--in cash!"
+
+Mr. Liebmann, of course, knew that H. R., though an aristocrat, was
+neither a fool nor a lunatic. He diplomatically asked, "And my gratitude
+for your kindness may be expressed just how, Mr. Rutgers?"
+
+"By accepting the cash and putting it in your pocket, to have and to
+hold until death do you part."
+
+"Mr. Rutgers, I am an old man and suspense is trying." And Mr. Liebmann
+smiled deprecatingly.
+
+"I have come to show you how you may save the amount I have mentioned in
+your newspaper-advertising appropriation. You big advertisers are now
+helpless to help yourself. There are no rebates and you can't play one
+paper against the others. Those days are over. Will you hear me to the
+end and not go on at half-cock while I am talking?"
+
+"Yes," promised Mr. Liebmann, impetuously.
+
+"Mr. Liebmann, you must write a letter to all the advertising managers
+of all the newspapers, saying that you have decided to discontinue all
+advertising in the daily papers as soon as your contracts expire. Hold
+your horses! Explain that you intend to reach your suburban trade
+through the fashion magazines, local papers, and circulars, and that for
+Manhattan and Brooklyn you have decided to use sandwiches--Don't talk
+yet!"
+
+"I am only listening," Mr. Liebmann hastened to assure him.
+
+"The newspapers know that you are a Napoleonic advertiser. They will pay
+to your communication the double compliment of belief and consternation.
+They know you know your business and that you are not only ultra-modern,
+but a pioneer. You have always been a highly intelligent advertiser. You
+will then let me supply you with one hundred of our best men, who will
+parade in front of the newspaper-offices in full regalia, and also in
+plain sight of your dear friends, the advertising managers. You know
+their psychology. Take it from me, you'll win.
+
+"The only thing you mustn't do is to call the reductions rebates. There
+is no way by which the papers can get back at you. If I can make New
+York feed the hungry, would it be very difficult for me to make the
+advertising managers act wisely? Of course, if your letter does not
+bring about a saving of not less than ten thousand dollars a year you
+will not have to pay a penny for the sandwiches. I wish nothing written
+from you. The word of a Liebmann is enough for a Rutgers. My family has
+been in New York long enough for you to know whether a Rutgers is a man
+of his word or not."
+
+"I'd rather shake hands with you than save a million a year in
+advertising," said Mr. Liebmann.
+
+H. R. looked him straight in the eye--suspiciously, incredulously,
+insultingly. Mr. Liebmann flushed and then H. R. said, earnestly:
+
+"I believe you, Mr. Liebmann!" and shook hands.
+
+Mr. Liebmann, bareheaded, proudly escorted him to the sidewalk. He
+thanked H. R. to the last.
+
+H. R. called on the other liberal advertisers and, with more or less
+ease, succeeded in impressing them as he had Mr. Liebmann.
+
+Then he visited the managing editors of all the daily papers. He began
+with the best. The managing editor was delighted to see the man he had
+helped to make famous.
+
+"I have come," H. R. told him, "to ask a great favor of you. I am, as
+you know, very greatly interested in charity work. Your paper has been
+good enough to publish my views."
+
+H. R. spoke with a sort of restrained zeal simply, not humorously,
+obviously as a one-idea man, a crank, still young and undyspeptic. The
+editor prided himself on his quick and accurate insight into character.
+He said:
+
+"Oh yes; I know about your work."
+
+"Thank you. Well, sir, I find my usefulness to the cause somewhat
+impaired by the persistence with which my name is associated with the
+merely commercial phase of sandwiching. You know the sandwich men
+commercially were vermin, and I have taught them to pay for their own
+food. I took paupers and unpauperized them."
+
+"And the signs in your parade were great. I told them at the Union
+League Club that at least one poor man's parade had shown brains. Not a
+single threat! Not one complaint! Not one window smashed! Not one
+spectator insulted! It showed genius!" And the editor held out his hand.
+
+"I am a Christian, sir," said H. R., gently.
+
+"Well, I'll shake hands, anyhow, if you'll let me," said the editor,
+cordially.
+
+H. R. took his hand and looked so embarrassed that the editor would have
+sworn he blushed. This was no publicity-seeker, no fake modesty. Yes,
+that must be it--a Christian, the kind editors seldom shake hands with.
+
+"And so," continued H. R., earnestly, "if you please, if you would only
+tell your reporters not to mention me in connection with sandwiches I
+could do more for the cause. You see, what I did with the sandwiches was
+merely the entering wedge. I don't want you to think I am complaining of
+your reporters, sir; they have been more than kind to me; but if you
+could see your way clear to not speaking about sandwiches as though they
+were my personal property--"
+
+"You are the man who gave free sandwiches to New York," smiled the
+editor, as though he had said something original.
+
+The situation was more serious than H. R. had believed, but he said,
+with dignity:
+
+"I made free men of pariahs, sir. That job is finished. The newspapers
+have helped nobly; and to-day, thanks to them, charity is brought daily
+before their readers."
+
+"But it is less picturesque than your courtship of Miss Goodchild with
+sandwiches."
+
+"There were"--and H. R. smiled deprecatingly--"peculiar circumstances
+about my personal relations with Mr. Goodchild. Of course, I also
+desired to prove to intelligent but not very original business men that
+sandwiching is the most effective form of advertising. It is like all
+art, sir. The personal quality gives to it a human appeal that no
+combination of printed words on a page can have."
+
+"How do you make that out?" asked the editor.
+
+"When you read a play you see the printed words; but when you see the
+same play well acted you find that the same words you have read and
+liked reach the public through the senses of sight and of hearing as
+well as through the intellect, and is thus trebly efficient on the
+stage. Now, sandwiching is beyond question the highest form of
+commercial advertising. It succeeds even in love! And--"
+
+"I congratulate you," said the editor, heartily.
+
+H. R. looked so serious that the editor found himself saying, with even
+greater seriousness, "What you say is extremely interesting."
+
+"I have long studied--in my humble way--the psychology of the crowd. I
+have discovered some very interesting things--at least they are
+interesting to me, sir," apologized H. R., almost humbly. "I am led to
+think, indeed I feel certain, that the art of sandwiching is in its
+infancy. The marvelous imagination of the American people, their
+resourcefulness and ingenuity, will make the development of artistic
+sandwiching one of the most extraordinary commercial phenomena of the
+twentieth century. But personally I am not interested in advertising,
+sir, except as in this instance as a means to an end. When the result is
+reached that is the end of my interest. And so, sir, though I feel
+gratitude for the noble work your paper is doing for the cause of
+charity, I really and honestly think that less attention should be paid
+to the business side of one of our successful experiments with the
+submerged tenth, and more to charity itself. Can't you tell your
+reporters that sandwiching at union wages has nothing to do with it?"
+
+"News is news," said the editor, shaking his head regretfully. "We print
+what is of interest to our readers."
+
+"If your readers were made to think of filling other people's stomachs
+instead of their own there would be less dyspepsia--and more
+newspaper-readers, sir. It is a discouraging fact that the world appears
+to be more concerned over making money than over the unspeakable folly
+of dying rich."
+
+"We can do without death more easily than without money," observed the
+editor, sententiously.
+
+"Oh no! Death was invented in order to teach men how to live wisely.
+This is the only reason why the cessation of the organic functions,
+which is life's one great commonplace, has at all times attained to the
+dignity of rhetoric. But I am taking your time. I hope you will be good
+enough to drop sandwiches and stick to charity. I thank you for your
+kindness; and--and," he finished, diffidently, "I should like to shake
+hands with you."
+
+He looked appealingly at the editor, who thereupon shook his hand
+warmly.
+
+"I'll do what I can for you, Mr. Rutgers. I am very glad to have met
+you. Anything we can do to help you in your efforts we shall gladly do.
+You are a very remarkable man and you have done greater work than you
+seem to realize."
+
+H. R. shook his head vehemently, however, and retired in obvious
+confusion.
+
+With a few trifling differences, due to the divers editorial
+personalities, he did the same thing to the other managing editors. All
+of them thought that none of the reporters really knew what manner of
+man H. R. was. Withal, all of them were right. He was a wonder!
+
+On the next morning the eyes of the business managers of the great
+metropolitan dailies, morning and evening, were made to glow by
+twenty-seven letters from their biggest advertisers. The tenor of the
+communications was that, as soon as existing contracts expired, the
+twenty-seven biggest would do their urban advertising by means of
+S. A. S. A. sandwiches. They expected to reach the suburbs through
+fashion journals, circulars, and local media.
+
+The advertising managers smiled, not only at the palpable bluff, but at
+the evidence of an infantile conspiracy. Before ten o'clock, however,
+the vast crowds in front of their very doors made them swear. Scores of
+sandwich men, advertising the said twenty-seven shops and the day's
+bargains, were parading up and down, causing said crowds to collect and
+to comment audibly and admiringly.
+
+The advertising managers rushed to the managing editors to tell than
+that something must be done to prevent their sudden death. The managing
+editors, to a man, recalled H. R.'s prophecy of the marvelous growth of
+the most effective form of advertising.
+
+"That H. R.," said the managing editor of the _Times_, "is a wizard!"
+
+"You fellows made him," bitterly retorted the business manager. "He's
+had more free advertising than I can book in a hundred and ten years!"
+
+"Why, he particularly asked me not to mention sandwiches!"
+
+"Well, by gad, you'd better not!" Then, "What d'ye want?" he snarled at
+his first assistant, who came in with a sheet of paper in his right hand
+and a look of perplexity in both eyes.
+
+The assistant silently gave him the copy:
+
+     ALL THE LEADING SHOPS AND THE BIG DEPARTMENT STORES OF
+     GREATER NEW YORK ARE USING OUR SANDWICHES. THEY EMPLOY THE
+     BEST ADVERTISING TALENT IN THE WORLD.
+
+     THEIR EXPERTS UNANIMOUSLY HAVE DECIDED THAT SANDWICHING IS
+     THE HIGHEST FORM OF ADVERTISING YET DISCOVERED. IT IS THE
+     CHEAPEST WHEN RETURNS AND RESULTS ARE CONSIDERED.
+
+     ARE YOU USING OUR SANDWICHES, MR. MERCHANT?
+
+     THEY WILL MOVE YOUR SHOP TO FIFTH AVENUE.
+
+     TRY IT! EMPLOY ONLY UNION MEN.
+
+  SOCIETY AMERICAN SANDWICH ARTISTS,
+  ALLIED ARTS BUILDING.
+
+For the first time in history the familiar
+
+  O. K.
+  H. R.,
+  _Sec._
+
+was absent.
+
+It bore out the managing editor's assertion of H. R.'s distaste of
+publicity.
+
+"Go out and lasso your maverick advertisers," said the managing editor,
+sternly, after he had read the S. A. S. A. advertisement--full-page,
+too! "I'll take care of the news columns."
+
+"The damned sandwich men are so thick in this town I'll have trouble in
+breaking through their lines."
+
+"Use dynamite!" said the managing editor, savagely. He owned ten bonds
+of his own paper.
+
+He then summoned the city editor and said, sternly:
+
+"Mr. Welles, under no circumstances whatever must this paper mention
+sandwiches or sandwich advertising or the S. A. S. A."
+
+"Did you see their latest exploit? Two hundred and seventy-six
+sandwiches to the block, by actual count. Talk about high art!"
+
+"They have commercialized it," frowned the managing editor. "Not a
+line--ever!"
+
+The same thing must have happened in all the other offices. The public
+talked about the advertising revolution and the wonderful new styles in
+boards; and they looked in the next morning's papers to get all the
+picturesque details, as usual. Not a word!
+
+
+
+
+XXX
+
+
+H. R. called, shortly after ten o'clock the next morning, at the Ketcham
+National Bank to discuss with his father-in-law-to-be interest rates on
+the balance he did not yet have.
+
+Mr. Goodchild had slept over the matter. He had spent an hour in going
+over his annoyances and humiliations, and had failed himself with a
+wrath that became murderous anger when he compelled himself to realize
+that H. R. had it in his power to intensify the troubles of the
+Goodchild family. The marriage of H. R. with his daughter became worse
+than preposterous; it was a species of blackmail against which there was
+no defense. He could not reach H. R. by means of the law or by speech or
+by violence.
+
+When his anger cooled, however, he saw that what he had done was to pay
+the young man the greatest compliment an elderly millionaire can pay
+anybody. The more formidable your enemy is, the less disgraceful is your
+defeat. Mr. Goodchild was as intelligent a man as one is apt to find in
+the office of the president of a bank; but he was susceptible, as all
+men are, to self-inflicted flattery. He therefore decided that H. R. was
+a problem to be tackled in cold blood, with both eyes open and prayer in
+the heart. The only plan of action he could think of was proposing to
+H. R. to accomplish an impossibility; in fact, two impossibilities. He
+also would treat H. R. amicably.
+
+"Good morning, young man!" he said, pleasantly.
+
+"Morning!" said H. R., briskly. "Now let's get down to cases. I expect
+you to--"
+
+"Hold on!" said Mr. Goodchild, coldly, in order to keep from saying it
+hotly. "Aren't you a trifle premature?"
+
+"No," said H. R. "I find I can give you a few minutes to-day."
+
+"You'll have to use some of those minutes in listening to me," said Mr.
+Goodchild, trying to look as though this was routine business.
+
+"I'll listen," H. R. assured him, kindly.
+
+"You will admit that you have given me cause to--well, not to feel
+especially friendly toward you."
+
+"Big men are above petty feelings," said H. R. "You will, in turn, admit
+that you made a mistake in not advancing me in the bank-- Wait! I'll
+listen later, as long as you wish. You object, I suppose, to my methods;
+but let me point out to you that I have arrived! Where should I be if I
+hadn't been talked about? And where shall I land if I keep on
+hypnotizing the newspapers into giving me columns of space? You know
+what publicity means in business to-day, don't you? Well, just bear in
+mind that I not only make news, but, by jingo, I am news! There is only
+one other man in the United States who can say that, and you may have to
+vote for him for President, notwithstanding your fear of him. Wait!"
+H. R. held up his hand, took out his watch, and went on: "For an entire
+minute think of what I have said before you answer. Don't answer until
+the time is up. One minute. Begin! Now!"
+
+H. R. held his hand detainingly two inches in front of Mr. Goodchild's
+lips. Mr. Goodchild did not open them. He thought and thought, and he
+became conscious that he had to argue with himself to find said answer.
+
+"Speak!" commanded H. R. when the minute was up.
+
+"The cases are not analogous. Publicity has its uses and--"
+
+"It has this one use--that you can always capitalize it. It spells
+dollars--and, more than that, easy dollars, untainted dollars, dollars
+that nobody begrudges you and that nobody wants to take away from
+you--not even the Administration at Washington. Think over that for two
+minutes. And he pulled out his watch once more.
+
+"Look here, I--"
+
+"Damn it, don't talk! Think!" said H. R. so determinedly that Mr.
+Goodchild almost feared a scene would be enacted which he should regret
+after seeing it in the newspapers. "You have wasted forty seconds in
+overcoming your anger at my manner of speech," continued H. R.,
+reprovingly. "Begin all over. Two minutes. Now!" And before Mr.
+Goodchild's wrath could become articulate he rose and walked over to a
+window.
+
+H. R. stared across the street. It was there he had captured Fleming.
+How far away that day seemed now--and how far below! The two minutes
+were up. He turned to Mr. Goodchild.
+
+"Look here; you bank presidents are an unscientific lot. You ought to be
+psychologists instead of being merely bookkeepers. It is knowledge of
+people you need--not of human nature at its worst, or of political
+economy, or of finance, but of people--the people who vote; the people
+who in the end say whether you are to be allowed to enjoy your money and
+theirs in comfort or not. Study them! You sit here and disapprove of my
+methods because they violate some rule established years ago by somebody
+as radical then as I appear to be now. It is not a question of good
+taste or bad taste. It was good taste once to kill each other in duels,
+and to drink two bottles of port, and to employ children in factories.
+The suffragettes are attacked for methods--"
+
+"Do you mean to say you approve of their slashing pictures--"
+
+"That is beside the question. If the suffragettes stuck to ladylike
+speeches and circulars they would be merely a joke at the club. The
+right of women to vote is a problem. Well, the suffragettes have made
+themselves exactly that--a problem! If they have not a sense of relative
+values it is because they don't get me to run their campaign for them. I
+could succeed without destroying one masterpiece. Maybe I will--some
+day. And then I could marry ten bankers' daughters if I were not in love
+with one. Let's come back to our own business. Do you think I have
+brains?"
+
+"Well--"
+
+"No, no! Remember what I have said to you and consider whether it is
+asinine; and think of what I have done and ponder whether it shows
+hustling and executive ability, and those qualities that mean the power
+to develop the individual bank account. Am I an ass or have I brains?"
+
+"Yes; but--"
+
+"All men of brains at all times have had more buts than bouquets thrown
+at them. I tell you now that I have gone about this business for the
+purpose of getting there. To become news, to be interesting to the
+public in some way--in any way--is the quickest way. Then you can pick
+your own way, a way that will commend itself to the well-bred
+nonentities who never accomplish anything. Well, I am famous; and it's
+up to me to decide what I shall do in the future to take advantage of
+the fact that when people hear of H. R., or see those two initials in
+print, they look for something interesting to follow. The least of my
+troubles is that I shall become one of your respected depositors. I
+don't drink; I am healthy--no taint of any kind, hereditary or acquired;
+I don't have to lie to get what I want or cheat to get all the money I
+need--and I need a lot. I've got ideas, and I don't fall down in
+carrying them out, because I don't go on at half-cock. I never move
+until I see my destination; and if there is a wall ahead I have my
+scaling-ladder all ready long before I arrive at the wall."
+
+H. R. paused, and then went on more slowly: "When you get over your
+soreness at the raw deal the newspapers have given you, you will be glad
+to have a man of brains in your house. I don't want you to give Grace
+anything; but I tell you now I'm going to marry her, and you'd better
+begin to be reconciled to the idea of having me for a son-in-law. I want
+to be your friend, because I'm quite sure you will not enjoy having me
+for your enemy--not after I begin the counter attack."
+
+It is always the delivery that does it, as Demosthenes triply assured
+posterity. Mr. Goodchild's eyes had not left H. R.'s face and he had
+listened intently to the speech. He did not grasp in full all that H. R.
+had said; but what really had emptied Mr. Goodchild of anger, and
+filled him with an interest which was not very different from respect,
+was the delivery. H. R.'s faculty of knowing how to speak to a
+particular auditor was instinctive. It always is, with all such men,
+whether they are famous or obscure, orators or life-insurance agents. It
+is very simple when you are born with it.
+
+Mr. Goodchild, however, finding his own weapons of offense more
+dangerous to himself than to the foe, fell back on defense. To do so, he
+naturally began with a lie. That is the worst of verbal defenses.
+
+"I don't object to you personally. I--I even admit that I made a mistake
+in not promoting you, though I don't know what position you could have
+filled here that would have suited you--"
+
+"None; because you don't realize that banks need modernizing. None! Skip
+all that and get back to me as your son-in-law."
+
+Mr. Goodchild, thinking of his two plans which were his one hope, asked,
+abruptly:
+
+"Are you a man of your word?"
+
+"Since I have brains, I am. Are you?"
+
+"I object to your methods. Your speech I might overlook, though it comes
+hard. I am speaking plainly. Now you are known as the Sandwich Man. That
+would bar you from my club and from ever becoming a really--"
+
+"But that will stop. It will stop to-day. I have told Grace that within
+a month nobody will ever connect my name with sandwiches."
+
+"Will you agree not to marry or seek to marry my daughter, or annoy us
+in any way--in short, if a month from now you are still famous as the
+organizer of the sandwiches, will you stop trying to be my son-in-law?"
+
+"Sure thing!" promised H. R., calmly. Mr. Goodchild was distrustful and
+looked it, which made H. R. add, impressively: "I'll give you my word
+that after to-day I'll never even try to see you or Grace, or write to
+her, or revenge myself on you. So far as I am concerned I'll cease to
+exist for you. And here's my hand on it."
+
+He held out his hand in such a manner that Mr. Goodchild took it and
+shook it with the warmth of profound relief. Then he said, heartfully:
+
+"If you do that--"
+
+"Don't worry! It won't kill my business. I'll be just as famous as
+ever."
+
+"The newspapers made you. Their silence will unmake you."
+
+"Oh no!" And H. R. smiled as one smiles at a child.
+
+Mr. Goodchild almost felt as though his head had been kindly patted.
+
+"Why not?" he asked.
+
+"Sandwiching is here to stay and--and my companies are organized. I'll
+change the dummy directors as soon as you and I decide which of your
+friends and clients shall be permitted to buy some of the stock my men
+haven't sold. For cash, understand! The newspapers have done their work.
+The newspapers in this instance are like incubators. I put in an egg.
+The incubator hatched it. Then I took the chick out of the incubator.
+Suppose the incubator now refuses to keep up the temperature of 102-1/2
+degrees Fahrenheit necessary to hatch the egg? Suppose the incubator
+gets stone cold? Well, let it! The chick is out and growing. And let me
+tell you right now that I am not going to let Wall Street financiers get
+their clutches on my chick. They'd caponize it. Talking about interest
+rates--"
+
+"How big a balance do you expect to keep with us?" asked Mr. Goodchild.
+He did not like to admit the surrender.
+
+"It depends on you." H. R. pulled out his watch, looked at the time,
+snapped it shut, and said: "I haven't time to go over the business; but
+I'll send one of my office men to tell you all you want to know. Listen
+to him and then ask him any questions you wish. So far as you and I are
+concerned we are beyond the sandwich stage. I'll send Barrett to you
+this afternoon. And, believe me, you are going to be my father-in-law.
+Good morning!" He left the office without offering to shake hands.
+
+On his way out H. R. stopped to speak to Mr. Coster, to whom he owed so
+much for having led him, as a clerk with the springtime in his blood, to
+the president's office to be discharged.
+
+"Well, old top, here I be!" said H. R., kindly humorous in order to
+remove all restraint.
+
+"How do you do, Mr. Rutgers?" said Coster, respectfully.
+
+The clerks looked at their erstwhile fellow-slave furtively, afraid to
+be caught looking. Was this Hendrik Rutgers? Was this what a man became
+when he ceased to be a clerk?
+
+Ah, but a salary! Something coming in regularly at the end of the week,
+rain or shine! Gee! but some men are born lucky!
+
+
+
+
+XXXI
+
+
+H. R. returned to his office feeling that the big battle was about to
+begin. The preliminary skirmishes he had won. He had captured fame and
+must now begin his real attack on fortune. He spent an hour dictating
+plans of campaign for his various companies. Shortly before noon he told
+the stenographer to call up Miss Goodchild and inform her that Mr.
+Rutgers would be there in half an hour.
+
+He had promised not to call on Grace for a month after that day. He must
+not make love to her. He was determined to keep his promise; but she
+must not forget him. He had accustomed her to his impetuous wooing. In
+thirty days of inaction much might be undone if he did nothing.
+
+He was punctual. He found Grace waiting for him, curious to know what
+had happened at H. R.'s conference with her father at the bank. Her
+curiosity made her forget many other things.
+
+She expected a characteristic greeting from H. R., but his face was so
+full of adamantine resolution that her curiosity promptly turned into
+vague alarm. She had told herself she did not love him, but
+instinctively she now walked toward him quickly.
+
+"What is it?" she asked.
+
+He waved her back and said, hastily:
+
+"Stop right where you are! Don't come any nearer. For the love of Mike,
+don't!"
+
+She had been thinking of treating him coldly, to keep him at a distance.
+
+"What is it?" she asked again, and again advanced.
+
+"Don't!" said H. R., with a frown.
+
+She now felt alarmed, without giving herself any reason for it.
+
+"Wh-what's the m-matter?" she asked.
+
+"You!" he answered. "You!"
+
+She stared at him. He was looking at her so queerly that naturally she
+thought something had happened to her face. She looked into the mirror
+on her right. It was not so. Another look fully confirmed this. So she
+looked at him. His expression had lost some of its anxiety.
+
+"I promised your dad," he explained, "that I would not see you after
+to-day, or call here, or try to make love to you by mail, or annoy you
+or him in any way until I had wiped the sandwich stain off your surname.
+I have a month in which to do it, and I promised all that! One month!
+Not to see you! But--"
+
+He looked at her so hungrily that, born and bred in New York though she
+was, she blushed hotly and turned her face away. Then she felt the
+thrill by which victory is made plain to the defeated.
+
+"But--but--" repeated H. R. through his clenched teeth, and took a step
+toward her.
+
+Whatever she saw in his face made her smile and say, challengingly:
+
+"But what?"
+
+Being very wise, he caught his breath and said, sharply:
+
+"Don't do that!"
+
+"Do what?" she asked, innocently, and kept on smiling.
+
+"I will not see you!"
+
+"You won't?" She ceased to smile, in order to look skeptical.
+
+"No, I won't; I'll keep my word, Grace." He was speaking very earnestly
+now. "I love you--all of you; the good and the bad, your wonderful
+woman's soul and your perennial childishness. You are so beautiful in so
+many ways that you yourself cannot know how completely beautiful you
+are. But I love more than your beauty. After it is all over you will
+realize that I can be trusted implicitly. Never has man been put to such
+a task. Don't you know--can't you see what I am doing?"
+
+She knew; she saw. She felt herself mistress of the situation. She
+therefore said, softly:
+
+"I shouldn't want you to commit suicide here."
+
+Hearing no reply, she looked at him. He was ready for it. She saw his
+nostrils dilate and his fists clench and unclench.
+
+"Then I won't see you. But--but you can see me," he said.
+
+She frowned.
+
+He went on: "I shall lunch every day at Jerry's--small table in the
+northeast corner. At one o'clock every day for a whole month."
+
+Did he expect her to run after him? She said, very coldly:
+
+"That wouldn't be fair."
+
+"If you go to Jerry's for luncheon with one of your girl friends, and
+you see me eating alone, keeping bushels of wonderful news all to
+myself, is that making love to you?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"No!" he contradicted, flatly. "But I'll do more-- I'll let you tell
+Mrs. Vandergilt that you own the only engine of destruction available
+against man's stupidity."
+
+Knowing that he was alluding to her beauty, she said:
+
+"What are you talking about?"
+
+"Well, I belong to you, don't I? And if women are to get the vote can't
+you tell dear Ethel's mother--"
+
+"Do you mean old Mrs. Vandergilt?" she interrupted.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then say so."
+
+"I will," he meekly promised. "You tell the old lady that you will
+insure success for the Cause by lending me to her. I've got a scheme
+that will do more in a month than all the suffragettes have accomplished
+in fifty years. You might get Ethel interested in my plan--"
+
+"I won't!" She smiled the forgiving smile that infuriates. She lost her
+head. "You think I am jeal--that I'm--"
+
+"I think not of you, but of myself, and of how I may keep my promise to
+your father and survive. If you see me, and can talk to me, I shall live
+honorably. Will you shake hands?" He held out his right hand. She
+ignored it. He deliberately took hers and led her to a chair. "Will you
+do what I ask, dear?" he entreated, humbly.
+
+"No!" She stood there, cold, disdainful, refusing everything--even to
+sit down.
+
+"Then," he said, tensely, "then I must--" He seized her in his arms and
+kissed her unresponsive lips. "I am not making love to you," he
+murmured. "I am not!" And he kissed her again. "I promised not to see
+you; and I won't--not even if you see me."
+
+He released her and was silent. She looked up and saw that his eyes were
+tightly closed.
+
+"I'll be there," she said, triumphantly, "at one o'clock."
+
+"I am a man of my word!" he said, fiercely.
+
+"Every day!" she added, with decision.
+
+She did not know that this wifelike attitude thrilled him as not even
+the kisses had; but he said, earnestly:
+
+"No. I'm going now. It's good-by for a month. For a whole month!"
+
+"Northeast corner table," she said, audibly, as though to herself.
+"Northeast cor--"
+
+"Play fair!" he urged. "Amuse yourself with Mrs. Vandergilt." He looked
+at her as though he desired her to occupy herself with some hobby for
+thirty days. The sight of her face, and nothing else that she could see,
+made him say, "Good-by!" And he almost ran out of the room.
+
+She went up-stairs to get her gloves. On second thought she called Ethel
+on the telephone and invited her to luncheon at Jerry's.
+
+He was waiting for her at the northeast corner table when she and Ethel
+went in. Grace, who had been looking toward the southwest corner, where
+the exit to the kitchen was, turned casually and saw him.
+
+"There's Hendrik!" she said to Ethel.
+
+He had not risen. He looked up casually now and approached them.
+
+"I was born lucky," he told them, and shook hands with Grace. To Miss
+Vandergilt he said, very seriously, "Are you Grace's friend?"
+
+"I'm more than that," answered Ethel; "I am the best friend she's got."
+
+"Then I am doubly lucky. I have a table, Ethel. I want you to be a
+witness to the miracle." There was no reason why he should call Miss
+Vandergilt by her first name. Even Ethel looked it. But H. R. merely
+said: "Take this chair, Grace. Ethel--here."
+
+"It seems to me--" began Grace, coldly.
+
+"Your friends are my friends. The miracle, Ethel, is that I've promised
+not to make love to Grace for a whole month--thirty days; forty-three
+thousand two hundred precious wasted minutes!"
+
+"Don't you sleep?" interjected Ethel, curiously.
+
+"My poor carcass does, but not my thoughts of her. Now let us eat and be
+miserable."
+
+It was a wonderful luncheon. H. R. let them do all the talking. He was
+at his coffee when Ethel mentioned her mother.
+
+"Ah, yes!" said H. R. "By the way, has Grace told her?"
+
+"Told her what?"
+
+Grace caught his eye and shook her head with a frown.
+
+"Very well, dear girl," he said to her. To Ethel he explained, "She
+doesn't wish me to tell you of her plan."
+
+"Oh, do! Please!" said Ethel, eagerly.
+
+"I'm in training for the position of her husband, Ethel," H. R. told
+her. "She says no--that's all; plain no!"
+
+"Grace, tell him to tell me!" said Ethel.
+
+"Shall I, Grace?" smiled H. R.
+
+Ethel looked at her and smiled. It made Grace so furious that she said:
+
+"I have no control over his speech."
+
+"Then, Ethel, it is only that Grace has a plan for a suffrage campaign
+that--well, it isn't for me to boast of her strategy; but it's a sure
+winner. I thought she would tell your mother."
+
+"It doesn't interest me," said Grace, very coldly, being hot within.
+
+"It will after you're married," observed Ethel, sagely.
+
+"That depends on whom I marry," said Grace, casually.
+
+"So it does," assented H. R., calmly.
+
+"I agree with Hendrik," said Ethel, more subtly personal than Grace
+thought necessary; so she pushed back her chair and took up her gloves.
+
+"Same table, same time--to-morrow?" H. R. said this to Grace so that
+Ethel could hear it.
+
+"No," said Grace.
+
+"Very well," he said, meekly. "I'll be here just the same--in case."
+
+She shook her head. Ethel, who was carefully not looking, saw her do it.
+
+Grace did not appear the next day, but Ethel did, properly accompanied
+by her own mother. They walked toward the northeast corner, on their way
+to a near-by table. H. R. rose and approached them.
+
+"Just in time," he said to them. "Thursday always was my lucky day."
+
+They sat down. To the waiter he said:
+
+"Tell the chef--for three; for me."
+
+"Yes, Mr. Rutgers," said the waiter, very deferentially.
+
+"What have you up your sleeve, Mrs. Vandergilt? And how near is
+victory?"
+
+"You mean--"
+
+"The Cause!" said H. R., reverently.
+
+"I never heard you express an opinion," said Mrs. Vandergilt,
+suspiciously.
+
+"You have expressed them for me far better than I could. Mine isn't a
+deep or philosophical mind," he apologized to the mind that was. "I
+merely understand publicity and how sheeplike men are."
+
+"If you understand that, you understand a great deal," remarked Mrs.
+Vandergilt, sententiously.
+
+"Grace thought--" began H. R., and caught himself in time. "You haven't
+talked to her about it?"
+
+"Grace?"
+
+"Miss Goodchild."
+
+"No. Why should I?"
+
+"No reason--only that she has what I, as a practical man, in my low-brow
+way, think is a winner. Of course the suffrage has long since passed the
+polemical stage. The question does not admit of argument. The right is
+admitted by all men. But what all men don't admit is the wrong. And all
+men don't admit it, because all women don't."
+
+"That is true," said Mrs. Vandergilt, vindictively.
+
+"Any woman," pursued H. R., earnestly, "can make any man give her
+anything she wants. Therefore, if all the women wanted all the men to
+give them anything, the men would give it. A woman can't always take
+something from a man; but she can always get it. To put it on the high
+plane of taking it as a right may be noble; but what I want is results.
+So long as I get results, nothing short of murder, lying, or ignoble
+wheedling can stop me. Grace and I went all over that; but she seems to
+have lost interest--"
+
+"Yes, she has," confirmed Ethel, so amiably that H. R. smiled
+gratefully; and that annoyed Ethel.
+
+"You have asked for justice," pursued H. R., addressing himself to Mrs.
+Vandergilt; "but it is at the ignoble side of man that you must shoot.
+It is a larger target--easier to hit."
+
+"But--" began Mrs. Vandergilt.
+
+"If I were a woman my dream should be to serve under you and implicitly
+obey all orders. I'd distribute dynamite as cheerfully as handbills.
+Without competent marshals do you imagine Napoleon could have done what
+he did?
+
+"Don't I know it?" said Mrs. Vandergilt, bitterly.
+
+"How would you go about it?" interjected Ethel, who had grown weary of
+her own silence.
+
+"I'd get the marshals. I'd get subordinates that, when your mother said
+'Do thus and so!' she could feel sure would obey orders. The general
+strategy must come from her."
+
+"I've said that until I was black in the face," said Mrs. Vandergilt.
+"I've told them--" And the great leader talked and talked, while H. R.
+stopped eating to listen with his very soul. With such a listener Mrs.
+Vandergilt was at her best.
+
+"Mother, the squab is getting cold," said Ethel.
+
+"The next time it will be cold in advance," said H. R., impatiently. "Go
+on, Mrs. Vandergilt!"
+
+But Mrs. Vandergilt, knowing she could not finish at one luncheon, shook
+her head graciously and invited H. R. to dinner the next evening.
+
+"I can hardly wait!" murmured H. R.
+
+
+
+
+XXXII
+
+
+The dinner at Mrs. Vandergilt's home was H. R.'s initial social triumph.
+The first thing he did was to confess to Mrs. Vandergilt that what he
+desired above all things was to be her military secretary. All he asked
+was to serve the Cause so long as she led, and no longer.
+
+"I hate failures," he told her. "I don't propose to be identified with
+any. If I did not see in you what I do I should not be here. I know
+creative genius when I see it. You paint the picture. I am only the
+frame-maker--necessary, but not among the immortals."
+
+"You are more than that," she assured him, with a smile. He shook his
+head.
+
+"I can fool the rabble; but you know the trick! Organize your personal
+staff. Fire them with your own enthusiasm. Of course they won't all have
+brains; but they will do to stop gaps and follow instructions."
+
+And Mrs. Vandergilt, in order that all might know that great minds
+acknowledged a greater mind, cracked up H. R. to the sky. H. R.'s
+success was all the greater since he made a point of declining most
+invitations. He was seen only where most people wished to be seen. That
+made him talked about.
+
+Grace heard about his stupendous social success. Since the demand for
+H. R.'s presence came from her social equals, he was at last a desirable
+possession. She stayed away from Jerry's in a mood of anger that
+naturally made it impossible for her to stop thinking of H. R.
+
+Meantime H. R. regularly, every day, sent a complete file of newspapers
+to the Goodchild residence. By his orders the Public Sentiment Corps
+bombarded the editors with requests for information as to the Society of
+American Sandwich Artists, and of sandwiching in general. He prepared
+learned and withal highly interesting articles on sandwiches, their
+history and development. He suggested over divers signatures that all
+court notices should be brought to the public's notice by sandwiches,
+thereby getting nearer to the picturesque town-crier of our sainted
+forefathers.
+
+Not a single communication was printed. The department stores were
+holding out for lower advertising rates. Many of the letters asked
+questions about H. R. in his capacity as the greatest living authority
+on sandwiches. These, also, were ignored. On the other hand, to show
+they were not prejudiced, the papers continued to run the charity page
+and used suggestions furnished by H. R., giving him full credit when it
+came to philanthropies that had nothing to do with sandwiches.
+
+The series of harrowing radiographs of diseased viscera, published with
+success by the most conservative of the evening journals, was one of
+H. R.'s subtlest strokes. And prominent persons took to contributing
+checks and articles, both signed in full, in response to H. R.'s
+occasional appeals in aid of deserving destitution.
+
+Then the Public Sentiment Corps began to ask, with a marvelous diversity
+of chirography and spelling, why H. R. did not undertake to secure
+votes for women and employment for men. Mrs. Vandergilt, when asked
+about it by the reporters, replied:
+
+"H. R. is my most trusted adviser. Just wait! When we are ready to move
+we'll begin; and there will be no stopping us this time!" They published
+her remarks and her photograph, and also H. R.'s.
+
+Mr. Goodchild had tried, one after another, to get all the newspapers to
+attack H. R. viciously--then to poke fun at him; and he had failed
+utterly. When he read the Vandergilt interview, on his way home that
+evening, he decided to speak to Grace.
+
+"Mrs. Vandergilt is crazy," he said.
+
+"Have they sent her away?" asked Grace, her face full of excitement.
+Poor Ethel!
+
+"Not yet; but I see she has taken up that--that--"
+
+"Hendrik?" asked Grace, and frowned.
+
+Mr. Goodchild nodded. Then he asked, suspiciously:
+
+"You haven't seen him?"
+
+"Yes; but not to--well, he hasn't made--he has kept his word to you. And
+the newspapers don't print anything about sandwiches."
+
+"No--damn 'em!" he muttered.
+
+"I thought you didn't want them to."
+
+"I don't want you to have anything to do with him. It is perfectly
+absurd to think of marrying a fellow like that--"
+
+"He can marry anybody now," she told him. Thinking of this made her so
+angry that she said, "He hypnotizes people so they think he is--"
+
+"I know what he is," he interrupted. "I'd like to--"
+
+"I suppose you would," she acquiesced; "but you can't deny he is an
+extraordinary person, and--"
+
+"Do you love him?" he interrupted.
+
+Grace hesitated. She had to in order to be honest.
+
+"I--I don't know," she answered, finally.
+
+"Great Scott! Do you mean to say you don't know that?"
+
+"No; I don't," she replied, tartly.
+
+She thought of H. R., of all he had done, of all he had said to her, of
+all he might yet do. And then she thought of the way H. R. had been
+taken up by the people at whose homes she dined and danced. She shook
+her head dubiously.
+
+"Well, finish!" said her father, impatiently.
+
+"He makes people do what he wants them to," she said, slowly; "though he
+says he will do what I wish him to do, and--"
+
+"Can you make him do what he doesn't want to do?" challenged her father,
+with his first gleam of sense.
+
+She thought of H. R.'s love of her.
+
+"Yes," she said, thrilled at the thought of her power.
+
+"Then make him give you up!"
+
+Her father permitted himself a smile of incredulity, which made her say:
+
+"I will!"
+
+Mr. Goodchild rose. He patted her cheek encouragingly and said:
+
+"I think you will, my dear."
+
+"I am going to make him--"
+
+"I beg pardon, but Miss Goodchild is wanted at the telephone, sir,"
+announced Frederick.
+
+Grace went to answer the phone. It was Marion Molyneux who spoke.
+
+"Is it true, Grace, that your engagement with H. R. is off?"
+
+"Who told you?" naturally asked Grace before she could think of anything
+else.
+
+"Why, everybody is talking about it; and--"
+
+"Everybody knows my business better than I do."
+
+"Well, they say Mrs. Vandergilt doesn't give him time to--"
+
+"Is he engaged to her?"
+
+"Oh, dear! You are angry, aren't you? Well, I am glad it isn't true.
+Good-by."
+
+How could the engagement be off when it never had been on? Grace made up
+her mind to talk to him very plainly, for the last time, that evening.
+She knew he would be at the Vandergilts' dinner dance that night. Well,
+she was going there, anyhow. Therefore she went. She almost had to elbow
+her way to where he stood. Mrs. Vandergilt was beside him; but Grace
+could see that H. R. owned the house.
+
+"How do you do, my dear?" said Mrs. Vandergilt, so very graciously that
+Grace was filled with fury.
+
+It was plain that H. R. was making a professional politician of Mrs.
+Vandergilt. Grace smiled at her--that is, she made her lips do it
+mechanically. Then she addressed the fiancé to whom she was not engaged:
+
+"Hendrik!"
+
+That was all she actually said, but, with her eyes, in the manner known
+only to women who are sure they are not in love, she commanded him to
+follow her.
+
+"You see him all the time and we don't get a chance very often,"
+protested a vulgar little thing whose father was a financial pirate of
+the first rank and had given her all the predatory instincts. "Go on,
+H. R.! Tell us some more. Do!"
+
+Grace's eyes grew very bright and hard, and her cheeks flushed.
+
+"I have news for you," she said to H. R., calmly ignoring the others.
+
+"I am sorry, children," said H. R., regretfully. "Business before
+pleasure."
+
+"Your business," persisted the vulgar little thing, "is to obey!"
+
+"Hence my exit," he said, and followed Grace.
+
+She led the way to the conservatory. She was conscious of her own
+displeasure. This enabled her to dispense with the necessity of finding
+reasons for her own feelings. She halted beside an elaborately carved
+marble seat, built for two, and motioned for him to sit down. He looked
+at her. She then said:
+
+"Sit down!"
+
+He obeyed. Then she sat beside him. The seat was skilfully screened by
+palms and ferns.
+
+"I had a little talk with father this morning," she went on, and
+frowned--in advance.
+
+"You poor thing!" he murmured, sympathetically, as though he were
+thinking of what she must have suffered.
+
+As a matter of fact his mind was full of the conviction that she herself
+did not know which way she was going to jump and it behooved him to pick
+the right way.
+
+"He asked me whether I loved you," she went on, sternly.
+
+"Well, the answer to that was an easy syllable. When we go back you tell
+Mrs. Vandergilt that you have decided to allow me to serve under her.
+Don't worry; I'll be the boss. Ethel has played up like a trump--"
+
+"I told him I didn't," she interrupted.
+
+"You couldn't have told him that!" He smiled easily. "There was no
+occasion for it. Now tell me exactly what you did say to him."
+
+He could see anger in her eyes--the kind of anger that is at least a
+first cousin to hatred.
+
+"I said--"
+
+"The exact words."
+
+The change in his voice made her look at him. His eyes, keen, masterful,
+were fixed on hers. They looked hard, yet not altogether ruthless; and
+particularly they looked as though they could read thoughts with no
+effort, which made it necessary to tell the truth.
+
+"I told him I didn't know," she said. To preserve her self-respect she
+sneered.
+
+"What a wonderful girl you are!"
+
+In his eyes she saw a great admiration. She could not tell what it was
+this man considered so wonderful; but, whatever it was, he knew
+exactly--and she did not!
+
+"If I really loved you, shouldn't I know it?"
+
+"Of course not. You are not the surrendering kind. The others are--born
+slaves, diminutive souls, toys, little pets. Souls like yours don't
+marry; they mate with an eagle! You will love me as I love you. And then
+there is nothing that we, together, cannot do! Nothing!"
+
+She opened her mouth, but he checked her speech by saying, sternly:
+
+"Why do you think it is that, having loved you, I cannot love any one
+else? Because I alone know what you are and what you will be! Grace, I
+promised your father I would not make love to you until I had deleted
+one word from our visiting-cards. It is done; but the month isn't up
+quite, and I won't make love to you. That's flat! I can't break my
+word."
+
+He looked so determined that naturally she looked away and said, very
+softly:
+
+"And--and if I should want you to?"
+
+"You should want me to make love to you, but not to break my word!"
+
+"But you say you love me," she complained.
+
+"Love you!"
+
+It flamed in his eyes and his hand reached for hers; but he checked
+himself abruptly. She extended her hand, but he edged away from her. She
+drew nearer to him. He retreated to the very edge of the seat. She was
+pursuing now. He bit his lip and frowned.
+
+She no longer thought of other things. She knew he could not retreat any
+farther. She covered his hand with hers. He suddenly clutched it so
+tightly that he hurt her, and that gave her the fierce joy of success in
+love as she understood it. She felt like shouting: "Hurt me! Hurt me!
+I've got you!" But what she did was to murmur:
+
+"Hendrik!"
+
+"What?" he said, hoarsely, resolutely keeping his eyes from looking into
+hers.
+
+"Hendrik, do you really love me?"
+
+"My promise!" he whispered, tensely, and looked at her pleadingly.
+"Don't, dear!"
+
+She understood him perfectly; so she smiled. It was her iron will
+against his. He must do what he did not wish to do, and do it because
+she wished it! She did not wish to kiss him; but she wished,
+hypnotist-like, to compel him to kiss her. With her eyes she beckoned
+him to come closer.
+
+Knowing that this would clinch it he stared back at her with a pitiful
+appeal in his troubled eyes, and shook his head weakly, as though his
+soul, thinking of his honor, was saying: "No, no! Please don't!"
+
+Her face moved toward him a little and stopped. Something within her was
+stamping its foot, saying: "Yes! Yes!"--like a peevish child.
+
+H. R., continuing to follow the subtle strategy of the reversed
+position, stared fascinatedly at her lips. Then slowly, like a man in a
+trance, his face moved toward hers. On the very brink he paused and
+said, brokenly: "No! Oh, my darling! No! No!"
+
+She said nothing, in order not to commit herself; but she smiled at him,
+while her eyes, luminous and blue, pounded away on his resolve,
+battering it to pieces. Nearer his face came--nearer--until his lips
+reached hers.
+
+His honor had been wrecked on the coral reef; but all she knew, and all
+she cared to know, was that she had won! She was so certain of it and
+showed it so plainly that he knew he had better make it doubly sure; so
+he pressed his cheek against hers, that she might not see his face while
+he murmured:
+
+"Now you can't cast me off!"
+
+It was an entreaty, with the nature of which she was familiar from her
+literary studies; and her answer, eminently feminine, was:
+
+"Never, dearest!"
+
+He started to his feet abruptly.
+
+"Don't follow me!" he said, harshly, and walked away very quickly.
+
+When she rejoined the crush in the drawing-room she learned that H. R.
+had excused himself on the plea of urgent business and had gone.
+
+"What is he going to do?" they asked her, eagerly.
+
+They were sure it was something picturesque, but she saw in their
+excited wonderment the appraisal of her victory. The displeasure and
+suspicion in Mrs. Vandergilt's eyes gave her intense joy.
+
+She was willing to pay for her victory. He loved her! She could make him
+do whatever she wished. It did not matter whether she loved him or not.
+There was now no reason, that she could see, why she should not marry
+him--if the worst came to the worst.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+
+Grace did not hear from H. R. the next morning as she fully expected.
+Since expectation is disguised desire, she was vexed by his silence. She
+had conquered. Why did he not acknowledge?
+
+She obeyed what she would have called a sudden impulse of no particular
+significance and called up his office. Andrew Barrett answered. He told
+her that H. R. had gone away--nobody knew whither--and would not return
+until the following Thursday.
+
+H. R.'s move was so mysterious that it could mean but one thing: He was
+running away!
+
+Merely to make sure of it, she went to Jerry's at one o'clock. The
+northeast corner table was there, but not H. R. However, she sat down
+and waited.
+
+She ordered her luncheon herself, irritated at having to do what he
+should have done. If it was business that kept H. R. away, she ought to
+know it. The right to know everything was part of the spoils. When he
+came back there would be no more ignorance--ever again!
+
+At three o'clock she went home. But as the days passed she became
+uneasy. H. R. was the only human being she completely dominated.
+Brooding on his inexplicable absence, her thoughts came more and more to
+take the form of the question that victrices always ask of high Heaven:
+"Have I lost him?"
+
+That made her love him.
+
+At noon on the 20th of May he telephoned to her:
+
+"Meet me at the Plaza at four--for tea. Don't fail! Good-by!"
+
+"Wait!" she exclaimed, angrily, rebellion surging within her by reason
+of his dictatorial tone of voice. She had been very anxious to see him,
+but not at that price.
+
+He had wisely hung up the receiver, however. That compelled her to do
+what he had told her to do. She had something to say to him.
+
+She found him sitting at a small table in the Palm Room. Ethel
+Vandergilt and Reggie Van Duzen were with him. She approached him
+frowning, because she ran the usual gantlet of stares, and overheard the
+usual murmurs: "That's Grace Goodchild! Do you think she is as pretty
+as--"
+
+Ethel greeted her affectionately, and Reggie looked proud to be there.
+He was a worshipper of the dynamic H. R. But all that H. R. himself
+said, in his exasperatingly peremptory voice, was:
+
+"Month is up to-day. Now for the test! Tell Ethel you want some
+sandwiches!"
+
+Grace started slightly and realized that Ethel had not overheard
+H. R.--he had taken care that she should not.
+
+"No! I--I'm afraid, Hendrik," she stammered, turning pale. Women love to
+gamble--in their minds, when alone.
+
+"You? Afraid? Of anything?" He looked at her in pained amazement. "Look
+at me!"
+
+She did.
+
+"I--I'll marry you any--anyway," she said, to show it was not cowardice,
+but the reverse.
+
+"Play the game!" he said, sternly.
+
+Before she knew it she obeyed. She sat down limply and said:
+
+"Ethel, I w-want a s-s-sandwich!"
+
+"You poor thing! You're actually faint with hunger. Don't you want some
+bouillon? Waiter!"
+
+"No; I want a sandwich!" said Grace, loudly. You would have thought she
+had said, "_Jacta est alea!_"
+
+Ethel and Reggie heard Grace use that word. People all about them knew
+who she was and had proudly told their out-of-town companions all about
+H. R. and Grace Goodchild. They, too, heard Grace say she wanted a
+sandwich.
+
+Not a soul smiled! Not having seen anything about it in the newspapers
+for a month, New York had forgotten that H. R. had wooed Grace with
+sandwiches. H. R. was as famous as ever, but his fellow-citizens no
+longer knew why or how.
+
+The waiter took the order with unsmiling respect. Grace looked at H. R.
+almost with awe. He smiled reassuringly and asked her:
+
+"Aren't you going to ask Ethel?"
+
+"Ask me what?" said Ethel.
+
+Grace was silent, because she was blushing like a silly thing in public.
+
+"On the eighth of June," said H. R. "I suppose you won't mind being a--"
+
+Ethel naturally interrupted him by saying to Grace:
+
+"I'm so glad! Is it announced?"
+
+"You're the first one we've told, dear girl," H. R. declared, solemnly.
+"Reggie, you will give me courage at the altar?"
+
+"Will I?" chuckled Reggie, proudly, and insisted on shaking hands.
+
+H. R. rewarded him. He said:
+
+"Reggie, I'm going to let you help me in my campaign. I'm going to the
+Assembly in the autumn."
+
+"Albany!" said Reggie, enthusiastically. "First stop on the way to
+Washington! There was Cleveland--and Roosevelt; and now--"
+
+"Oh, Hendrik!" gasped Grace. She would help him all she could--at the
+receptions.
+
+Then she looked at Ethel to see whether she, also, understood national
+politics. Ethel did. She said, with conviction:
+
+"And we'll all vote for him, too!"
+
+The waiter laid a plate of sandwiches before Grace.
+
+H. R. stared at them--a long time, as though he were crystal-gazing. He
+saw the labor-unions, the churches, the aristocracy, the bankers, the
+newspapers, the thoughtless, and the hungry; and all were with him and
+for him. He was the only man the Socialists really feared. If he was
+H. R. to New York, why should he not become H. R. to the nation?
+
+He saw himself on the steps of the Capitol on a 4th of March. It was
+typical Rutgers weather. The mighty sun was trying its best to please
+him and incidentally tranquilizing Big Business by shining goldenly. The
+clouds, however, were pure silver--with an eye to the retail trade.
+
+In the distance he saw the monument erected with infinite pains to the
+one American who could not tell a lie. It was a great white finger
+pointing straight at heaven. It was as though George Washington's
+stupendous gesture meant, "That is where I got it from!"
+
+That is the place from which everything good comes. It should not be
+difficult, H. R. thought, to convince his fellow-Americans of it. They
+had been accustomed to reading, every day, "In God we trust." It was on
+all the dollars.
+
+"Hendrik!" said Grace.
+
+H. R. started from his dream and passed his hand over his eyes.
+
+"Grace," he said to her resolutely, "my work is just beginning!"
+
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of H. R., by Edwin Lefevre
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