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diff --git a/79383-0.txt b/79383-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0f0f878 --- /dev/null +++ b/79383-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1131 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79383 *** + + +[Illustration: “Shell out, kiddo”] + +CLEVER—? + + In the rôle of rescuing hero he entered Janice’s + life—and in his wake came doubt and uncertainty. + +By Jack Woodford + + +Janice was just about through for the evening. Only one customer tarried +over his salad sandwich and tea in the small shop, just around the +corner from Lawrence Avenue. + +The customer somehow disturbed Janice. That she had never seen the man +before this evening she was quite positive. There were things about him +that she instinctively disliked, for no reason that she could put into +words. + +He was so smooth-looking, so altogether immaculate and theatrical. + +Glancing at him again, out of the corner of her eye, she judged him to +be about thirty-five. + +There was a bluish, clean look about his smoothly shaven firm chin. His +teeth were even and white, and his black eyes matched the slick black +sheen of his hair, which was brushed smoothly back from his forehead. He +had long, dark lashes, and a way of looking lazily out from under them +that was disconcerting. + +Possibly he was an actor, Janice thought. Certainly he dressed much as +did the younger among the occasional vaudeville actors who drifted in +now and then from the theater over on Wilson Avenue. + +When he had ordered, Janice had been struck with the deep, musically +vibrating tone of his voice. Soft and liquid it was, a rich barytone, +with just the tinge of some foreign accent. Altogether, she told +herself, he was too “pretty.” Prettiness, in a man, did not appeal to +her. + +Just as she was deciding that she disliked the man heartily, because +of his bold, appraising glances, another man, short, swarthy, and +rough-looking, entered the shop. + +“Too late to get a cup of tea and a sandwich?” the newcomer asked. + +“Certainly not,” returned Janice courteously, mindful that the woman who +owned the shop needed every cent. “Won’t you be seated?” + +The newcomer glanced out of the window, then suddenly swung around and, +facing her, with his back to the window, pointed a stubby black +automatic her way. + +“Shell out, kiddo,” he said. Janice’s heart nearly leaped out of her +mouth. It was Saturday night. The neighborhood banks had closed at noon. +There was a comparatively large amount of money in the cash register. + +“_Move!_” the man snapped throatily, “or I’ll let the light through you, +sure as—” She quickly went to the register and punched the “No Sale” +key; the drawer slid open. Tremblingly she handed all of the bills to +him. He snatched them, tucked them into a pocket, and said: + +“Come out into the kitchen, baby. I’m going out the back way—I happen to +know that the cook’s gone home, so don’t try to string me. You’re a +sweet mamma, any way a guy looks at you, an’ I’m going to let you kiss +me good-by—if you hurry.” + +Janice backed away from him, but he jammed the gun into his coat pocket +and, still covering her with it through his pocket, urged her along +toward the kitchen door. + +Before the door she halted, but the intruder gave her one final push and +she bumped against the swinging door and stumbled through into the +kitchen. A momentary blackness rushed to her head. Her knees suddenly +doubled beneath her, and she slipped to the floor. + +At this juncture she heard the sound of a scuffle. Almost helpless with +fright, but not unconscious, she lay supine upon the floor. Presently +the back door opened and then immediately closed. + +Gathering strength to rise, Janice struggled to her feet and turned on +the light. As she did so the back door opened again. + +She was about to scream when, to her amazement, not the stocky man, but +the customer whose looks she had disliked, came back through the door. + +“Here,” he said, holding out his hand, “is your dough. I got it out of +his pocket. Here, also, is his gun. You ought to keep one around the +place.” + +Mechanically, Janice took the weapon and the wad of bills. + +“But how—” she began. “What on earth—” + +“I crawled behind the tables to the kitchen door while you were handing +him the money, figuring I’d go out the back way and come around front to +nail him when he came out. + +“He was so interested in you he must have forgotten all about me. When I +heard him say he was going out the back door I decided to wait for him +out there. + +“He’ll never succeed. A young man who doesn’t keep his mind on his +business any more than _he_ does ought to take a correspondence course +in bookkeeping and settle down to a life of thrift, rather than one of +bold, bad enterprise! + +“Still, I ought not to criticize. Had I been about to rob you, when I +saw you I’d forget all about my plans too.” + +She blushed and was about to rebuke him, but thought better of it, in +view of what he had just done. After a pause and a bold smile he +returned to his subject: + +“When you two came out into the kitchen, I waited until he let go of the +gun in his pocket, in order to kiss you, and then jumped him. Outside he +got away while I was getting his gun and your money from him.” + +“Oh!” breathed Janice. “How can I ever thank you? You endangered your +very life!” + +“Where would one find a worthier cause?” he asked, with a graceful +shrugging movement of his shoulders and arms. “You’re white as a sheet,” +he went on. “Sit down at one of the tables.” She obeyed him +mechanically. + +“Now _I’ll_ play waiter,” he told her. Going to the service counter he +secured a napkin, draped it over his arm, drew a glass of water from the +cooler, and returned to put the glass down before her with a flourish. + +“_Do_ try our excellent water!” he advised, standing at her elbow. +Despite the fact that her heart was still hammering, Janice laughed +aloud and drank the water. + +“Isn’t it about time you were closing now?” he asked a moment later. +“It’s pretty late, and nobody except holdup men are likely to come in +this time of the evening.” + +“Yes,” she admitted. “I was just going to close up and go home when you +came in—and stayed so long—thank goodness you did—there’s no telling—” + +“I suppose you never suspected, or dreamed, twenty minutes ago,” he went +on with a twinkle in his bright eyes, “that you were going home escorted +by no less a person than the customer whom you eyed so frostily when he +presumed to stare at you—he not being able to remove his eyes from the +contemplation of such an exquisitely pretty girl.” + +“Now, _please_,” objected Janice, “don’t talk like that. You’ve been so +wonderful—don’t spoil it.” + +He became comically solemn, drawing down the corners of his mouth and +knitting his fingers across his stomach as he stood across from where +she sat at the table, in ludicrous imitation of the comic supplement +conventional ministerial type. + +“I promise to be good,” he told her, “if you’ll let me see you safely +home.” + +“It’s only a short way—and it will be ever so kind of you. I’d be afraid +to go alone _now_—after what nearly happened; especially as I have to +carry nearly two hundred dollars that’s here.” + +She glanced down at the wad of bills now reposing on the table before +her, with the revolver beside them. + +Rising, she put on her coat and hat, shoved the bills into her purse, +gingerly carried the revolver over and put it behind the counter, and +turned off the lights within the store. In the street, after she had +locked the door, he took her arm possessively. + + + + + II. + + +“It’s not far,” she told him; “just up Kenmore, two blocks, and then a +block east on Argyle—but perhaps we ought to see a police officer and +report the—” + +He laughed aloud. + +“It’s easy to see that you haven’t been in Chicago long. The common or +garden variety of holdup wouldn’t interest a policeman; they’re too busy +with fancy robberies—there’s always plenty to go around, and one for +each cop to work on every evening, if he’s ambitious. Never call a cop +in Chicago unless you’re prepared to pay him well to do his duty. + +“And, besides, I’ve no grudge against that stickup. I could present him +with a box of cigars in gratitude for what he’s done for me; if it +hadn’t been for him you would have been lost to me entirely. + +“Why, you were eying me poisonously before he came in—and now—it’s a +great, and eternally queer, life! + +“Isn’t there some way we could go to your home that’s lots farther than +the way you usually go?” + +Janice did not quite like his glibness. She had never known any man who +talked so easily and freely in the presence of a lady. He seemed so +appallingly without diffidence; and yet, there _was_ something jolly +about it, too. + +“W-e-e-l,” she hesitated, not at all sure that she ought to say it, but +tempted because of the loveliness of the night, after the long, hard, +confining day in the lunchroom, “perhaps we might walk down to Clarendon +Avenue, by the lake, and go around to Argyle that way; it’s much +farther.” + +“I wish we could go by way of Gary, Indiana,” he told her smoothly. +“Still, Clarendon-by-the-Lake is something.” + +It was queer, Janice thought, that he should be so utterly unconcerned +over what had nearly happened. Down home they would have talked about +the attempted holdup for years, would have dated subsequent events by +placing them at such and such a time after the holdup. + +The men folks would have considered that she should be in a state of +nervous collapse for days after such an occurrence. Still, his attitude +did not displease her. City people were totally different; and, after +all, worse things happened every hour in Chicago. + +When, a few minutes later, they reached the lake and Clarendon Beach, it +was so deliciously cool there that Janice yielded to his persuasion and +let him lead her out upon the stone porch of the large Municipal Bathing +Pavilion, to sit down upon one of the benches and watch the bathers at +play beneath the huge electric spotlights, mounted upon gaunt steel +supports. + +“Tell me,” he began, when they had seated themselves and he had lighted +a cigarette, “how a bit of a girl like you comes to be running a +lunchroom all alone? It’s the last thing any one would expect to see you +doing. You don’t look the type at all. + +“One would expect, seeing you upon the street, that if you worked at +all, it must be in a little specialty shop, or the lingerie section of +some ritzy store on Sheridan Road; or, possibly, in a beauty salon—” + +It had been a long time since Janice had enjoyed a chance to confide in +any one—and there was a lovely moon. The jolly voices of the night +bathers drifted up to them. It was wonderful to be _sitting down_ in a +cool breeze, after a day upon one’s feet in a hot room. + +“Well,” began Janice, a little surprised at herself for so willingly +becoming confidential, “you see, the lady who ran the lunchroom when I +applied for a position there as waitress can’t stand more than an hour +or so on her feet. + +“She seldom comes to the store any more; in fact, she’s never coming +back to stay. She’s getting ready to go to California to live with her +son, who has a good position out there. + +“I’m going to buy the lunchroom and run it. There’s a comfortable profit +in the little shop, and it will grow—is growing. With enough capital the +store next to it could be leased, too, and the partition knocked out, +and a fine business made of the lunchroom. + +“Of course, that’s out of the question for the present; but, anyway, the +woman will sell me the store, fixtures, good will, and lease for fifteen +hundred.” + +“And you’ve saved up fifteen hundred dollars?” + +“Well, no, I haven’t fifteen hundred dollars; I haven’t fifty dollars to +my name. But some one is coming to town very shortly who has fifteen +hundred dollars to buy the store with for me—for us, that is—” + +“Oh! A sweetheart, eh?” + +“My _fiancé_. We are to be married as soon as he arrives.” + +“That’s a terrible blow!” he sighed. + +“Now, don’t be silly!” + +“_Not_ being silly—I’m downright heartbroken.” + +She turned a glance of reproof upon him, but his eyes sparkled so +merrily back at her that she withheld any further objections. + +“Somewhere,” she said very softly, “maybe even among the bright voices +we hear down there upon the beach right now, there is another girl for +you. + +“You are very nice, and very brave. You deserve to be made +extraordinarily happy. I hope you will find a lovely girl.” + +“I have!” His implication was unmistakable, and he was serious now. +Janice rose from the bench. + +“Don’t tell me you want to go _already!_” he exploded, rising hurriedly. + +“Really, I must. It’s getting late, and I’ve got to be at the lunch room +early in the morning.” Making a wry face, he gave in and they started +off. + +“Tell me something about this luckiest man alive, your _fiancé_,” he +begged, as they turned down Clarendon Avenue, walking north toward +Argyle. + +Janice felt that she should not be so loquacious to an utter stranger; +but he had proved himself such a wonderful friend, at the risk of his +very life, and she was alone in the city, and more than a little +lonesome. + +“Well, you see, we lived on adjoining farms, his father’s and mine, in +Nedry, Iowa, a little town you probably never heard of. My father +married again, after my own mother died, and his new wife didn’t take +any particular fancy to me. + +“And yet, I had to stay on at the farm, working like a machine; the +lunch room work seems like play compared to it. + +“Robert, my _fiancé_, came to me one day and insisted that I accept some +money he had saved up and go to the city to find a position where I +wouldn’t have to work so hard. + +“I was of age then. He asked me to marry him, and I told him that I +would, whenever he wished. + +“We’ve always loved each other, ever since we were kids. I had no +hesitancy in taking the money and coming on, especially when he told me +that he would arrange to follow, so soon as he conveniently could, and +that we would be married when he got here.” + +“How old were you then?” put in her new friend. + +“Eighteen,” replied Janice. “Why?” + +“Oh—nothing. Go on. I’m very much interested in what you’re telling me.” + +“I came on to Chicago. Found a position in a mail order office, which I +detested. Lived out here on the north side, in a furnished room. And +then, one day, I saw the ‘Waitress Wanted’ sign in that little +restaurant. + +“The place looked so very neat and cozy. I wanted to work with real +things, like food and dishes; I was so tired of handling crisp bits of +paper, poking slips of things into files and taking them out again, +without knowing, or caring, what it was all about. + +“I applied and got the job. Then the owner was taken sick. I wrote Bob +all the details. He said that he was lonesome and tired of farm life. +He’d saved up enough to buy the lunch room. He’s coming on to Chicago, +right away.” + +“And you’re content to keep right on working in the restaurant, after +you’re married?” + +“I’ll simply love it. It will be wonderful—knowing that it’s my own, or +at least half mine—and that the business I’m helping to build will +belong to Bob and me.” + +“Do you really love him?” her companion suddenly asked, after a short +silence. + +“Why, of course,” replied Janice, without a moment’s hesitation. They +were before the building which contained her room. She started up the +steps and turned to say good night. + +“Good night, little princess,” he said sadly. “You haven’t seen the last +of me yet, though—and I’d like to give you something to think over, if +you don’t mind. + +“I haven’t the slightest doubt but what this Arcadian hero of yours is a +worthy chap. You two were thrown together by circumstances over which +neither one of you had any control. You grew up together; you became, +probably, like brother and sister to each other. + +“He has loaned you money, rescued you from intolerable circumstances. He +is now going to have your dreams come true by making it possible for you +to own the little lunch room you’ve taken such an odd fancy to—all very +nice and _logical_; but thoughts of _convenience_ and expedience do not +predicate love, my dear girl; are you _sure_ that what you feel for the +‘Bob’ person is _love_?” + +Without waiting for a reply he turned, lifted his cap, and strode off. + + + + + III. + + +For several moments Janice stood very still upon the spot where he had +left her, watching his tall, slim form stride off down the street. Then +she went on up into the building to her tiny, hot room, at the end of +the hall, on the third floor. She undressed thoughtfully. + +“_‘Is it love?’_” The question kept stabbing at her consciousness. It +was as though some one had taken hold of her and roughly shaken her. “Is +it love?” The question repeated itself over and over again in her mind. + +She glanced at the pale, wistful-eyed girl in the mirror. The girl +stared back questioningly, with wide, round, startled eyes. + +The question pursued her even under the covers, though she pulled them +over her head, hot as the room was. + +The following evening Janice, as she had half expected that she would, +saw the young man enter the shop again, at about the same time that the +attempted holdup had occurred the night before. + +“Good evening!” he called out confidently, as though he were a friend of +years standing. + +“Good evening,” she greeted. + +“You say that to every one,” he charged. “Name’s Rickey; say ‘Good +evening, Rickey,’” he ordered, with polite insistence. Janice returned, +banteringly: + +“Service is the policy here. We strive to please the most exacting—Good +evening, _Mr._ Rickey.” + +“No, not ‘_Mr._ Rickey,’” he mimicked in a ludicrous falsetto +exaggeration of her own voice, “just _Rickey_.” + +“All right, Just Rickey; what are you going to have this evening?” + +“You.” + +“Now you’re being silly again,” her tone became a trifle sharp. + +“Please forgive me; but, really, what I came in for is to know whether +you won’t come out with me and have a bite to eat somewhere else? Not +that this isn’t the finest lunch room on the north side—only, it +occurred to me that maybe you were tired of always eating here, and +would like a change.” + +He must be a mind reader, Janice decided. He was so clever and +thoughtful. She _was_ tired of eating the food that she served all day. +Still, was it fair to Bob? + +She decided that it was, since she would not hesitate to tell Bob all +about it, just as freely as she would have told him all about a friendly +companionship with some girl—if there had been any chance for such—if +all of the girls in the district hadn’t been so impossibly frivolous and +man-mad. Her decision made, Janice said: + +“All right; tell you what I’ll do: if you’ll make it a ‘Dutch Treat,’ +I’ll go with you.” + +“But I’m not Dutch,” he protested. “I’m French.” + +Janice laughed. + +“I’m not Dutch either, but that’s the only way I’ll go.” + +“Why?” + +“Because I’m engaged, and I don’t think—” + +“Goodness, what hair-splitting! If it’s wrong for you to let me treat +you, it’s wrong for you to go out with me at all. And surely even your +corn-fed friend wouldn’t be so narrow as to deny you a platonic friend, +just because the friend happened to be of the same sex he is?” + +Janice frowned, she hoped, severely, and he hastened to make amends: + +“Please forgive me; I didn’t mean to speak lightly of your _fiancé_. I +probably did so just because I’m jealous of him. I humbly apologize. + +“Tell you what I’ll do. I’ll match you to see who pays for _both_ +dinners.” He was so good-natured about it all that Janice found herself +forgiving him completely and championing the “head” side of a dime. + +He threw the coin into the air, caught it in his hand, slapped it down +upon the back of his other hand and announced: “Tails! You lose!” + +Half an hour later they sat down at a beautifully white table, in the +largest hotel of the neighborhood. + +It was the first time in her life that Janice had ever been inside such +a hostelry. She was enchanted with the glistening white tablecloth of +heavy linen, the dainty silver vase containing flowers in the center of +the table. She noticed that they were _real_ flowers, and wondered how +the management could afford to change them every day. + +The pretty dosser over the back of her chair seemed to burn her back, +and she hardly dared lean against it, for fear of harming it. + +The bewildering menu, with its foreign names, and its almost incredible +“teal” and “capon” left her speechless. She knew what they got for +capons and teals down home—what they charged for them here was amazing; +they got as much for half a capon as her father received from the buyers +representing out-of-town hotels for a dozen whole ones. + +She wondered how the management dared trust the heavy silver service to +their diners in a city like Chicago, not knowing that the theft of this +same silverware by some of the diners was paid for by every one who ate +a meal there. + +She was thinking of her humble little “card” at the lunchroom—which she +had previously considered quite fancy—when she noticed that people at +surrounding tables were staring at her. At once she felt uncomfortable +and self-conscious. She thought of her cheap dress, which she had made +herself. + +Rickey noticed her obvious discomfiture and instantly guessed its cause. + +“My dear, you’re superb; don’t worry about your clothes. I wouldn’t have +brought you here if I hadn’t seen that you looked up to it. + +“You’re dressed more prettily than any one else present. That little +frock you’ve got on is so simple and neat that it looks positively +Parisy.” + +“Then why _are_ people looking at me?” + +“‘People’? Isn’t it mainly _the men_ who are looking at you? Do you not +see that they are frankly admiring you?” + +The waiter came to take their order, and Rickey thoughtfully ordered for +both, not permitting her to be embarrassed by her ignorance of the +foreign items upon the menu. + +When the waiter had gone he resumed softly: + +“You’re soothing upon the male optic nerve; that’s why they are looking +at you. Such clear, soft skin, natural healthy color and bright eyes and +lovely, naturally golden hair is not often seen in this high-tone +hashery. You’re like—” he searched for a minute, “like Aphrodite, after +reducing. No wonder they look at you! + +“I’ll match you another dime to see whether or not I eat you.” He saw +her look of dismay at his flippant words and suggested quickly: + +“Dance?” + +They had finished their _hors d’oeuvres_ and the orchestra had started a +fox trot. + +“Oh, no—I’m sorry,” she said. “It isn’t that I don’t want to; I simply +don’t know how.” She blushed and wondered how it would be at all +possible to tell such a sophisticated young man that where she came from +dancing was still thought to be a device of the devil. + +“Impossible,” he denied. “Any one as graceful and fairylike as you are +has it born in them—and this fox-trot thing—it’s a cinch. Anyway, the +floor’s so packed no one will see, even if you do make a few mistakes at +the start. Let me show you what you can do if you half-try.” + +Much against her better judgment, she rose and he escorted her out of +the loge at the side of the dancing floor, in which they had been +sitting. Out upon the polished floor space reserved for dancers, Janice +felt as though she had dived into ice water over her head. + +The jazz band was beating out a melody that seemed to throb through her +like a fever. A potent evocation for some latent sense of rhythm within +her, it caused her feet to glide about the floor with surprising ease. + +Rickey controlled her lithe young body with just the suggestion of a +push or pull, so that she seemed to be dancing expertly, with an almost +magical facility: + +“Used to be a dancing instructor,” he explained. “Quit it because there +wasn’t one customer in a thousand as graceful and as easy to teach as +you are.” + +“You _will_ persist in flattering me, won’t you?” she reproved. + +“_Because I love you!_” he sang with the song that was at the moment +being played, the words happening to fit in perfectly at the time. + +The dance over, they went back to the table for the rest of their +dinner. + +“Tell you what let’s do,” said Rickey as they finished up with two pink +frozen sorbets; “it’s a little late, but the moon will be delightful. +Let me go around to the ‘Drive Your Own’ garage and pick up a car. We’ll +go for a drive out along the north shore.” + +The rhythm of the dance was still in Janice’s head. Like a spell of +enchantment, the consciousness of excitement and strange beauty was upon +her, seeming to make her unfold to new delights of which she had never +dreamed before. + +She was intoxicated with the sight of wonderfully gowned women, men in +sleek evening wear—brightness, music, flowers, laughter—like some +strange new and delightful world. + +Surely Bob would not object to this interlude of hectic pleasure. When +they were married they should have to work very hard; there wouldn’t be +much time for fun. Not that she’d object! + + + + + IV. + + +The car was secured from the garage, and in a few minutes they were +rolling along smoothly on the even surface of Sheridan Road. The air, +which, a moment before, had been dead and stifling, was now rushing in +cool waves against her face. + +After a time Rickey stopped the car beside a wooded embankment close to +the lake. In Hubbard’s Woods. + +“Enjoying yourself?” he inquired. + +“Oh, wonderfully! But doesn’t it cost an awful lot to rent a car? You +must be a millionaire, taking me to such an expensive place for dinner, +renting a car, never worrying about or even mentioning your job.” He +laughed heartily. + +“Me—a millionaire. What a notion! I’m a poor but honest working man. I +sell steel—on a straight commission basis. Since I receive no salary, my +time is my own. It costs next to nothing to rent a car. + +“Don’t let it worry you. I’ve never known a girl who could be ‘taken +out’ so economically as you; I’m positively ashamed of myself, the way +I’ve treated you.” + +There was a full moon riding high over the blue-black, sparkling waters +of the lake. In some near-by home a radio set was receiving an excellent +program, which they could hear filtering softly through the trees. +Janice felt that she would remember the moment always. + +A moment later she _knew_ that she would, for Rickey took her into his +arms, lifting her light body off of the seat to his lap. She struggled, +but he held her tightly. + +“Little angel,” he breathed, “I can’t help this. I must tell you that I +love you. Please don’t be angry with me. How can I possibly keep from +telling you—you make yourself irresistible without at all trying +to—probably, in fact, that’s the very secret of it.” + +“You ought to be able to keep from saying such things to me, after I’ve +told you that I’m engaged,” Janice told him firmly. + +“But could Bob possibly love you as I do?” + +“Bob loves me, I’m sure.” + +“You don’t _sound_ as though you were so very sure of it. Just give +yourself time and you’ll believe as I do that your engagement to Bob was +merely a matter of propinquity.” + +“But I’m _promised_ to him!” + +“That’s just it. You’ve mistaken his kindness for love. If Bob is the +right sort of fellow, and you explain things to him, he’ll release you—I +feel sure of that. He’s _got_ to. + +“He’ll see that you’ve changed. You’re no country girl any more. You’re +bright and clever; together, dear, we could go far beyond anything +you’ve planned. + +“You’re made for something better than serving meals in a lunch room—not +that you don’t considerably raise that profession by your connection +with it.” + +Without giving her any indication of his intention to do so, he pressed +his lips down upon hers. She jerked from him and withdrew to the +farthest corner of the seat. + +“Please let’s drive back,” she said, calmly enough, though her heart was +filled with rage, rage at herself that she could have so thrilled to his +kiss, promised, as she was, to another. + +It seemed cruel that she should be in such a position. Before her a new +life might well open up, with Rickey, a life full of beauty, far removed +from the drabness that had always marked her living, marked it just as +unmistakably in the city, as back in Iowa. + +Was she, she wondered, one of those unlucky ones born under some fateful +star, doomed to a commonplace, unlovely life? She bit her lip angrily, +as she noticed that the little trefoil device, containing a miniature +light, on the radiator cap of the car, was becoming blurred to her +vision. + +What right, she asked herself angrily, had she to think of a life with +Bob as commonplace and unlovely? What had come over her? She looked far +out into the somnolent complacency of the lake, as the road paralleled +it for a long stretch. + +Thoughts bobbed into her head unbidden: Bob, in overalls, his hair +creeping out over the edges of his ears; a corncob pipe in his mouth; +his face tanned, weather-beaten to a hard bronze; his slow manner of +speech; his equally slow way of thinking. + +Rickey, in his immaculate clothing, his dark good looks, smooth, white +skin, nimble mind, easy fluency. + +When he turned to her again, as they passed through Winnetka, she +listened silently as he talked and drove. + +“You’re just a wee bit stubborn,” he said in a tone of voice that took +the sting out of the words; “you made up your mind and you’re determined +to _keep_ it made up. + +“I honestly believe that, deep down in your heart, you recognize, now, +your mistake in having become engaged to Bob. But you’re going to go +ahead and marry him, even though you’re beginning to suspect that you do +not love him, just for the sake of keeping your mind made up. + +“Janice, dear, you _must_ reconsider. Your happiness depends upon it; +his happiness depends upon it, and so does mine. You two couldn’t get +along well together. _Your_ mind is capable of infinite expansion.” + +Janice was silent. Something deep within her was agreeing with him; and +yet, something else—was it just loyalty, she wondered?—was very +violently disagreeing with him. + +It was as though a tiny, almost incoherent voice that did not use words +at all for its medium of expression which was whispering to her. It was +as though the heart itself were meekly striving, in its own language, +for recognition, against the dictates of the mind. He cut in upon her +thoughts with: + +“Afraid of your own best judgment—that’s what you are. But forgive me; I +won’t pester you any more to-night. Think it over, though. I haven’t +given up; I just don’t want to spoil your ride. I won’t say anything +more about it.” + +“Thanks, awfully,” she said with relief: “you’re really so considerate. +And it’s a mighty good thing you are, because your ability as a salesman +is—” She didn’t finish it and he, understandingly, after a minute, said: + +“How could one be other than gracious with _you_?” + + + + + V. + + +At home, after their ride, Janice sat down alone in her room for the +purpose of thinking things out straight. Was she doing wrong? she asked +herself. Was she letting herself be superficially attracted by a surface +glitter? + +Because she happened to love to read, had she let herself be fascinated +merely because she had at last met a man who looked and talked like a +character in a book, as opposed to the dull, plodding, slow-witted men +she had known at home? + +And, on the other hand, had she any right to turn from Bob’s devotion to +her, and his demonstrated sincere regard for her, even though her heart +turned from him to another—as she was afraid that it was about to do? + +Hadn’t Bob a very definite right to _his_ happiness? Wasn’t it more +important to consider Bob’s happiness than her own? + +She decided that she had no right to break Bob’s heart. + +But the decision, though she knew that she would stick to it, brought +her no peace of mind. Quite the contrary, in fact. + +Why was it, she wondered, that love was always so complicated—even in +real life, just as in books? Was it a test of some sort that every one +had to go through some time, in order to prove themselves really +deserving of the priceless gift of true love? + +At any rate one thing was clear to her: She would tell Bob the truth, +but if he would not release her from their engagement—until she was more +certain of her own mind—she would marry him as she had promised. On this +final decision she lay down to sleep. + +When, the following afternoon, she got Mrs. Halsey to come to the lunch +room to watch things for an hour or so, while she went to the station to +meet Bob, she was still rather undecided as to what, exactly, her course +of action would be. + +She was near to panic with the realization that the crucial hour had +come. All of the rest of her life might be altered within the hour. + +Rickey, thoughtful as ever, had sent around a taxi to take her to the +station. He had instructed the driver to tell her that the trip down was +paid for in advance. He had even sent a note by the driver, telling her +that he had engaged a room for Bob. The key to the room was inclosed +with the note. + +At the station, while she waited for the train, Janice made up her mind +to one thing: she must tell Bob all. But, later, when she saw him, her +determination to do this almost fled. + +She hardly recognized him. When he swooped down upon her, neat traveling +bag in hand, he looked just like any well-dressed city man, so far as +his clothing and outward appearance were concerned; but his shoulders +were broader, his face healthily tanned. + +Before every one he swept her diminutive form into his arms and kissed +her. All in a moment, understanding came to her, as she stood strained +against his big, protecting body. + +It _was_ Bob that she loved. What subtle influence could ever for a +moment have caused her to think otherwise? + +“Oh, Bob!” she breathed. “You mustn’t! You mustn’t, before all of these +people!” + +But he was too happy to notice her strange, tense manner. He swept her +along with him toward the exit, chatting volubly. She had never heard +him talk so much. + +It was as though his release from the farm had opened some prison door +within him, behind which he had previously confined a different sort of +Bob, waiting and longing for emancipation. She remembered that something +of the sort had taken place with her, too, when she had first come to +the city. + +“Everything’s lovely,” he told her. “Dad found a first-rate hired man to +take my place. I sold out all of my own personal things—stock I’d raised +myself—everything. Got the fifteen hundred, and more, right with me, in +cash. + +“Didn’t know anybody up here except you. Wasn’t taking any chances on +having trouble getting a check cashed. + +“We’ll be regular folks, Janice, dear; isn’t it wonderful, after all +those dull days down on the farm? I never minded them so much when you +were there—but after you’d gone! Lordy! It was as though heaven and +earth had passed away and left a great hole with no edge around it.” + +She remained silent as they climbed into a taxi and started north. She +hoped that presently he would talk himself out. Then, maybe, she could +summon up courage to tell him what she _must_ tell him, in all fairness +to both men. + +“Let’s get married right away, to-morrow,” he ended up, beaming down at +her and drawing her slim form into the strong circle of his arm. She +looked back up at him tragically, finding time, however, to note with +approval that his hair was neatly clipped and that he was really +handsome, even as judged by city standards. + +“Bob,” she began, hesitantly, “I’ve got something to tell you.” And then +she told him everything, clear down to the fact of Rickey having engaged +a room for him. + +He said nothing at all, during her recital, never once interrupting her. +When she had finished he remarked only: + +“You say that this Rickey chap is very clever?” + +“W-e-e-l, he’s—” + +“And you don’t consider me, er—precisely _clever_, do you, Janie?” + +“Oh, Bob! Why put it _that_ way? And, anyway, I _know_, now, that it is +you I love.” + +“Let’s not say any more about it,” he suggested, “for the present. +However, this thing will have to be worked out in the right way before +we can talk marriage. I wouldn’t for the world have you marry me while +there is the slightest notion in your pretty head that it might be some +sort of _duty_. + +“Is that the post office over there?” he broke off to ask, as they +traveled slowly through the traffic on Clark Street. + +“Yes,” Janice told him mechanically. + +“Driver, stop at the post office a minute, please,” he ordered, opening +the glass panel in the front division of the cab. “Got to get a letter +off,” he explained cryptically to Janice, as the cab stopped and he +swung out and up the post office steps. + +Janice watched him mount the steps, her heart heavy. All of the spring +had gone out of his step. She had, she told herself, ruined everything. + +That it was Bob she truly loved, she knew now beyond any question of a +doubt. But he would never believe that there was not some reservation in +her mind. + +How happy they could have been, she told herself, and _why was it_ that +Rickey had come into her life? Providence was most unkind. She furtively +dabbed at her hot eyes as she sat alone in the taxi, thinking of poor +Bob’s dragging steps up the post office ramp. + +It was a long time before he came out. When at last he did, he spoke +cheerfully of matters “down home,” bravely pretending to be happy. + +But Janice knew only too well that she had made him miserable, upon what +should have been the happiest of his life’s days. She hung her head and +gazed dejectedly out of the taxi window. + + + + + VI. + + +It was necessary that she go immediately back to the lunch room to +relieve Mrs. Halsey, who was white of face, and almost ready to drop +when Janice arrived. + +Rather glad, Janice was, of the opportunity to work and think alone. +Bob, apparently, was almost relieved at their temporary parting. + +He bid a cheerful good-by to her from the taxi, when she got out before +the lunch room; then he went on to the room Rickey had engaged for him, +without once looking back, though Janice watched for him to do so. + +All afternoon, while she worked, she waited for Bob to come to the lunch +room; and, at dinner time, she thought surely he would appear. But the +hours passed, and there was no sign of him. + +At last, after closing up, she decided to go to his rooming house. +Probably there would be some sort of lobby, where they could talk; +perhaps Bob would take her out for a walk. + +How lovely it would be to walk with him, to show him the things that had +interested her, when she had first come to the city; watch his eyes open +wide at the sights she could show him: the huge Municipal Beach, the +Lake Shore Drive, and its constant pageant of beautiful motor cars! + +How delightful it would have been to rest her arm upon his big, strong +one and walk closely to him, side by side, as they often had through the +countryside at home, talking so understandingly, without ever a thought +of any one coming between them! + +And she had ruined all that; her heart was near to breaking as she drew +close to the address that had been contained in the note from Rickey. + +The building proved to be close to the edge of a run-down section on the +north side, where two twisted short streets joined. + +A slatternly old woman shuffled up some steps that led down into a +basement doorway. The woman eyed Janice strangely when she asked that +the young man who had come in that afternoon for the room Rickey had +recommended be notified that she was downstairs. + +“He’s in the hospital,” the woman said, with an abruptness that was +nothing short of brutal. + +“In the _hospital_?” Janice gasped. “_In the hospital!_ Oh! I see! You +just don’t understand who it is that I’m looking for. I suppose more +than one man came in for a room this afternoon, of course.” + +“No, no—I know who you mean,” interrupted the woman, “the country jake. +Sure. I know. There was a big fight in his room. He was hurt. They took +him to the Grant Brothers’ hospital.” + +As fast as she could get there by taxi, Janice rushed out to the +hospital on the northwest side. Explaining that she was affianced to the +injured man, she was at last dubiously admitted, after some +complications due to the fact that it was a time at which visitors were +not permitted entry. + +“H’lo,” Bob greeted her cheerfully, from his bed in a small ward wherein +he was, at the time, the only patient. + +“_Bob!_” she cried, kneeling down by the side of the bed, taking one of +his big, rough hands into her own tiny ones: “Bob. How badly are you +hurt?” She tried to force back the tears, but her lips trembled so that +she scarce could speak, and the film of smarting tears almost blinded +her eyes. + +“Hurt! Shucks! I’m not hurt. Got a wallop over the head with a billy +that split open my scalp. Knocked me out for a time. They insist that +I’ve got to lie here until morning. + +“I’ve been hurt worse on the farm, lots of times, and went right on +working.” His head was bandaged, and there was blood upon the bandage. + +“But how did it happen?” + +“Stickups; they came into my room. They got my wallet, and everything +that was in it,” he added. + +Janice tried to speak, but it was impossible. Looking into his cheerful +face, the tears fell fast. She was thinking of the years it had taken +him to save that money. + +“Don’t mind, dear,” she managed at last. “I’ll keep on working. If I +have to give up the place in the lunch room, when Mrs. Halsey sells it, +I’ll find another job, and I’ll help you find one. We’ll be married at +once, and work together.” + +“Maybe,” he pointed out, “the police will recover my wallet. They got +one of the fellows. I knocked him out before they got me. But he didn’t +have the wallet on him, they said. + +“And, anyway, how about this Rickey chap? Maybe you _do_ truly love him. +Maybe he could help you to buy the restaurant right away. Maybe you only +thought you loved me because there was nobody else around, back home.” + +“Don’t even talk that way,” put in Janice, blushing. “I don’t ever want +to see Rickey again so long as I live—I’ll never forgive him for having +let you go to a questionable place.” + +“You’re sure you don’t love him?” + +“Oh, Bob! _Please_ believe me when I say that I don’t.” + +He smiled up at her confidently. “I believe you, and I fully understand. +There are men who could fool anybody.” His eyes told her that she was +fully forgiven. She threw herself upon her knees, by the side of the +bed, putting her arms about him. + +“You _sure_ you’re not badly hurt?” she asked, holding him so tightly +that, strong as he was, he winced and looked up into her face in +surprise. + +“Honestly, it’s nothing,” he assured her, a new pleasure in his voice. +“And,” he added softly, “you _do_ really care, don’t you, Janie? It +doesn’t seem possible you could care for a big, awkward stiff like me!” + +She lowered her head to his shoulder and hid her face against the side +of his neck. He felt the damp of her tears. + +“Why! What are you crying about, Janie, little angel? There’s nothing +for you to cry over.” + +“I’m crying,” she got out, “to think that I ever for a moment supposed +that any man but you could hold even a very tiny corner of my heart.” + +He raised her up and, kissing her, patted her head lovingly. Several +moments later a surgeon came in and lifted her up, escorting her to the +door with a polite: + +“Please—he ought to get a nap now.” + +Outside the ward she asked the surgeon tensely: + +“How badly hurt _is_ he? I must know.” + +“It’s almost nothing,” the doctor told her with a shrug. “He really +could go right now, only I thought it best that he stay until morning, +so that I can have one more look at the abrasion on his head. + +“There’s not the slightest danger, but I don’t want to take any chances +on an infection setting up. I can check it easily, if I have him where I +can watch.” + +He picked up a paper from the waiting room table and handed it to her. + +“Seen this last edition?” he asked politely, “there’s an account of the +affair in it.” Janice took the early morning edition of one of the +city’s leading dailies and was confronted with a picture of Rickey. + +The news article ran: + + “Gentleman Sanders” is in trouble again. This nimble-witted + ex-convict, who has kept the smartest minds at the detective + bureau busy for several years, met his Waterloo yesterday + in the person of a farmer from Iowa who, in company with + several of his notorious companions, he succeeded in relieving + of his wallet—but only after the gentleman from Iowa had + handed him a haymaker which kept him in dreamland until the + police arrived. + + Unfortunately Gentleman Sanders’s companions made off with + their victim’s wallet, and no trace has been found of them + or the wallet. + + However, the various rewards on Gentleman, which will naturally + go to Iowa’s husky son, should more than make up for the + contents of the wallet. + + Several of Gentleman Sanders’s bigamous wives have been searching + for the slick young college man who turned to crime. + +Early the following morning, Janice went again to the hospital. Another +surgeon, then on duty, cheerfully permitted “the hard-hitting gentleman +from Iowa,” as he called him, to leave with her in a taxi. + +As they drove toward the lunch room, Bob took her into his arms, kissed +her, and hugged her until Janice squealed for mercy. + +“You’re not so slow,” she told him delightedly, “catching one of the +keenest crooks in the city, and carrying on like this in a taxicab—how +did you know that city people often kiss and hug in taxicabs?” + +“Been getting the Chicago papers ever since you left,” he laughed. “All +I’ve thought about since you pulled out was you and Chicago; can’t we be +married _right away_?” + +“I’ll get Mrs. Halsey to come to the lunch room for an hour or so this +afternoon, and we’ll go down town and be married.” + +“O. K.,” he grinned. + +When they got to the lunch room and opened up, Bob sat down at a table +and grandly ordered breakfast. + +“I’ll cook it for you myself, before the cook comes,” Janice told him. + +“No, you won’t!” He looked very stern. “I won’t have you cooking a meal +in a restaurant for me—and I won’t have you waiting on table in a +restaurant. We’re going to have plenty of capital now; we’ll rent that +store next door, and join it to this one. + +“I understand that that reward money will run to nearly five thousand +dollars. That’ll be enough to run the new restaurant on, on a good, +substantial scale, to start, and yet leave a small, safety-first +reserve, in case things don’t go well, so that we can get into something +else later, if needs be.” + +Just then the mailman came in. There was the usual deluge of advertising +matter, which Janice threw on the table unopened; but, this time, there +was also a letter for her. It was a large envelope, registered and +insured. After signing for it, Janice excitedly tore it open. + +A sheaf of currency fell out upon the table, and with the bills was a +letter, which read: + + My own dear little Janice: + + From what you’ve told me about this Rickey chap, I’m afraid. + I think he was in on that holdup you described, as a lookout, + and that he decided to go after bigger game when he got + inside the store and saw beautiful little you. + + I am afraid he has engaged the room for me with intentions + not wholly kindly; you may have let him trick you into telling + him about the money I would have with me when I came to Chicago. + It would be so easy for him to get both my money and my girl, + if he’s the wrong kind. + + But he may not give me credit for a little smartness, myself; + and he may be overestimating his hold on you. We’ll see. + + If I’m all wrong, I’ll humbly apologize to him. But, in the + meantime, I’m going to play safe and mail this money to you for + safekeeping. + + Bob. + +[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in _Argosy_ magazine, +July 28, 1928. It is believed to be in the public domain in the +United States; copyright status may differ in other countries.] + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79383 *** |