Shorty McCabe Part 38

The lady pushes up her mosquito nettin' drop, like she wanted to see if I was unwindin' the string ball or not, and then for a minute she taps her chin with them foldin' eyegla.s.ses. I wanted to sing out to her that she'd dent the enamel if she didn't quit bein' so careless, but I held in. Say, what's the use eatin' carrots and takin' b.u.t.termilk baths, when you can have a mercerized complexion like that laid on at the shop?

All of a sudden she flashes up a little silver case, and pushes out a visitin' card.

"There's my name and address," says she. "If you should change your mind about using The Toreador, you may telephone me; and I hope you will."

"Oh!" says I, spellin' out the old English letters. "I've heard Pinckney speak of you. Well, say, seein' as you're so anxious, I'll tell you what I'll do; I'll just put you down for an in-vite. How does that hit you?"

I had an idea she might blow up, at that. But say, there was nothin' of the kind.

"Why," says she, "I'm not sure but that would be quite a novelty. Yes, you may count on me. Good day," and she was gone without so much as a "thank you kindly."

When I came to, and had sized the thing all up, it looked like I'd got in over my head. I was due to stand for some kind of a racket, but whether it was a picnic, or a surprise party, I didn't know. What I wanted just then was information, and for certain kinds of knowledge there's n.o.body like Pinckney.

I was dead lucky to locate him, too; but I took a chance on his bein' in town, so I found him at his special corner table in the palm room, just lookin' a dry Martini in the face.

"h.e.l.lo, Shorty!" says he. "Haven't lunched yet, have you? Join me."

"I will," says I, "if you'll answer me two questions. First off, what is it that Mr. Ogden owns that he calls The Toreador?"

"Why," says Pinckney, "that's his steam yacht."

"Steam yacht!" says I, gettin' a good grip on the chair, to keep from falling out. "And me dead sure it was a bunch of six-room-and-baths!

Oh, well, let that pa.s.s. What's done is done. Now what's this evolution stunt they're pullin' off up at Newport next week?"

"The naval evolutions, of course," says Pinckney. "You should read the newspapers, Shorty."

"I do," says I, "but I didn't see a word about it on the sportin' page."

He gave me the program, though; how they was goin' to have a sham torpedo battle, windin' up with a grand illumination of the fleet.

"You ought to run up and see it," says he.

"It looks like I had to," says I.

"But what about The Toreador?" says he.

"Nothin' much," says I,--"only I've bought the blamed thing."

It was Pinckney's turn to grow bug-eyed; but when I'd told him all about the deal, and how the veiled lady had stung me into sayin' what I had, he's as pleased as if he'd been readin' the joke column.

"Shorty," says he, "you're a genius. Why, that's the very thing to do.

Get together your party, steam up there, anchor in the harbor, and see the show. It's deuced good form, you know."

"That's all I want," says I. "Just so long's I'm sure I'm in good form, I'm happy. But say, I wouldn't dare tackle it unless you went along."

I found out later that Pinckney'd turned down no less than three parties of that kind, but when I puts it up to him, he never fiddles short at all.

"Why, I'd be delighted," says he.

With that we finishes our cold fried egg salad, or whatever fancy dish it was we had on the platter, and then we pikes off to the pier where he says the yacht's tied up. And say, she was somethin' of a boat. She made that Dixie Girl, that Woodie and me brought the Incubator kids down in, look like a canoe. She was white all over, except for a gold streak around her, and a couple of d.i.n.ky yellow masts.

I didn't go down stairs. We plants ourselves in some green cushioned easy chairs under the back stoop awnin', and I sends one of the white-wing hired hands after the conductor.

"It's the sailing master you want," says Pinckney.

"Well, bring him along, too," says I.

But there was only the one. He was a solid built, quiet spoken chap, with a full set of red whiskers and a state of Maine accent. He said his name was Ba.s.sett, and that he was just packin' his things to go ash.o.r.e, havin' heard that the boat had been sold.

"The sh.o.r.e'll be there next month," says I. "What'll you take to stay on the job?"

Well, he didn't want no iron worker's wages, bein' content with a captain's salary, so I tells him to take hold right where he left off and tell the rest of the gang they could do the same. So inside of half an hour I has a couple of dozen men on the pay roll.

"Gee!" says I to Pinckney, "I'm glad the yachtin' season's most over when I begin; if it wa'n't I'm thinkin' I'd have to go out nights with a jimmy."

But Pinckney's busy with his silver pencil, writin' down names.

"There!" says he. "I've thought of a dozen nice people that I'm sure of, and perhaps I'll remember a few more in the mean time."

"Say," says I, "have you got the Twombley-Cranes and Sadie on that list?"

"Oh, certainly," says he, "especially Sadie." And then he grins.

Well, for about four days I'm the busiest man out of a job in New York.

I carries a bunch of railroad stocks on margin, trades off some Bronx buildin' lots for a cold water tenement, and unloads a street openin'

contract that I bought off'm a Tammany Hall man. Every time I thinks of that steam yacht, with all them hands burnin' up my money, I goes out and does some more hustlin'. Say, there's nothin' like needin' the dough, for keepin' a feller up on his toes, is there? And when the time came to knock off, and I'd reckoned up how much I was to the good, I feels like Johnny Gates after he's cashed his chips.

Yes, indeed, I was a gay boy as I goes aboard The Toreador and waits for the crowd to come along. I'd made myself a present of a white flannel suit and a Willie Collier yachtin' cap, and if there'd been an orchestra down front I could have done a yo-ho-ho baritone solo right off the reel.

Pinckney shows up in good season, and he'd fetched his people, all right. There was a string of tourin' cars and carriages half a block long. They was all friends of mine, too; from Sadie to the little old bishop. And they was nice, decent folks. Maybe they don't have their pictures printed in the Sunday editions as often as some, but they're ice cutters, just the same. They all said it was lovely of me to remember 'em.

"Ah, put it away!" says I. "You folks has been blowin' me, off'n on for a year, and this is my first set-up. I ain't wise to the way things ought to be done on one of these boudoir boats, but I wants everyone to be happy. Don't wait for the Who-wants-the-waiter call, but just act like you was all star boarders. Everything in sight is yours, from, the wicker chairs on deck, to what's in the ice box below. And I want to say right here that I'm mighty glad you've come. Now, Mr. Ba.s.sett, I guess you can tie her loose."

Honest, that was the first speech I ever shot off, in or out of the ring, but it seemed to go. They was all pattin' me on the back, and givin' me the grand jolly, when a cab comes down the pier on the jump, someone waves a red parasol, and out floats the veiled lady, with a maid. I'd sent her an invite, just as I said I would, but I never thought she'd have the front to take it up.

"We came near missin' you," says I, steppin' up to the gang plank.

But say, she was so busy shakin' hands and callin' the rest of 'em by their front names, that she didn't see me at all. It was that way all day long, while we was goin' up the Sound. She cornered almost everyone else, and chinned to 'em real earnest about somethin' or other, but I never seemed to get in range. Well, I was havin' too good a time to feel cut up about it, but I couldn't help bein' curious.

It wa'n't until dinner time that I got a line on her. Say, she was a converser. No matter what was opened up, she heard her cue. And knock!

Why, she had a tack hammer in each hand. They was cute, spiteful little taps, that made you snicker first, and then you got ashamed of yourself for doin' it.

"Ain't she got any friends besides what's here?" says I to Sadie, after we'd got through and gone up front by ourselves to see the moon rise.

"I'm not so sure about even these," says Sadie.

"Then why didn't someone cut in with a come-back?" says I.

"It isn't exactly safe," says she.