Shorty McCabe on the Job Part 45

And an hour later he's still there, reposin' comf'table in an office chair with his feet on the windowsill, smokin' cigarettes, and throwin'

off chunks of cla.s.sy dialogue that had Swifty Joe gawpin' at him like he was listenin' to a foreign language.

"My a.s.sistant, Mr. Gallagher," says I, by way of apologizin'.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But that little play only makes it all the harder for me to shoo him out. The fact is, though, it's gettin' almost time for a directors'

meetin' that's to be pulled off in my front office. Sounds imposin', don't it? Didn't know I was on a board, eh? Well, I am, and up to date it's been one of the richest luxuries I ever blew myself to. I'd been roped, that's all.

Young Blair Woodbury, one of my downtown reg'lars, had opened the cellar door for me. Thinks he's a great promoter, Blair does. And somewhere he'd dug up this nutty inventor with his milk container scheme. Oh, it listens good, the way he put it. Just a two-ounce, woodpulp, mailin'

cartridge lined with oiled paper, that could be turned out for a dollar a thousand, pint and quart sizes, indestructible, absolutely sanitary, air tight, germ proof, and so on.

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

delivery. There you are!

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

That was six or eight months ago, and we'd stood for two a.s.sessments.

Then it turned out there was something wrong with the pulp compressor dingus that was to have shot out containers at the rate of two hundred a minute. Some of us went over to Jersey to see it work; but all it produced while we was there was a groanin' sound and a smell of sour dough. I could have bought out the holdin's of the entire bunch for my return ticket. But the ticket looked above par to me.

After that our board meetin's wa'n't such gay affairs. A grouchy lot of tinhorn investors we was, believe me; for the parties young Mr. Woodbury had decoyed into this fool scheme wa'n't Standard Oil plutes or any of the Morgan crowd: mostly salaried men, with a couple of dentists, a retail grocer, and a real estate agent! None of us was stuck on droppin'

a thousand or so into a smelly machine that wouldn't behave. Maybe it would next time; but we had our doubts. What we wanted most was to get from under, and this meetin' to-day was called to chew over a proposition for dumpin' the stock on the Curb on the chance that there might be enough suckers to go around. It wouldn't be a cheerful seance, either, and bystanders might not be exactly welcome. Misery may like comp'ny; but it don't yearn for a gallery.

So I has to hint to Alvin that as I had a little business meetin'

comin' on maybe he wouldn't find it so entertainin'.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'll put it up to the board," says I. "If they say---- Ah, here comes Doc Fosd.i.c.k and Meyers the grocer now."

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

"You professional chaps," says he to the Doc, "are such fine fellows to know. Ah, a bit crusty on the surface perhaps; but underneath--what big hearts! Delighted, Mr. Meyers! One can readily see how you translate good health into good nature. And I congratulate you both on being a.s.sociated in such a splendid enterprise as this milk container scheme.

Bound to be a big thing; for it is founded on the public good. Altruism always wins in the long run, you know, always."

Doc he tries to sniff disagreeable, and Meyers grunts disapprovin'; but Alvin had 'em goin' for all that. You could tell by the satisfied way the grocer lights up a cigar, and the soothed actions of Fosd.i.c.k. As the others drops in one by one, Alvin kept on spreadin' seeds of sunshine, and before the meetin' was called to order he was on chummy terms with nearly everyone in the room. The point of whether he was to stay or not wa'n't even raised.

It was Manning, the real estate man, who sprung the new proposition.

"That fool inventor Nevins," says he, "insists that if we can give him two weeks more and raise twenty-five thousand, he can perfect his machine and start manufacturing. Now if we could only find buyers for half those unsubscribed shares----"

"Bah!" snorts Fosd.i.c.k. "Hasn't Woodbury hawked 'em all over town? Why isn't he here now? Tell me that, will you? Because he's done with us!

We're squeezed lemons, we are, and he can't find any more to squeeze!"

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

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

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

"Alvin Pratt Barton," says our Santa Claus.

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

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

Say, he got it! Inside of three minutes we'd voted unanimous to hold on for two months longer, made Alvin vice president of the comp'ny, and his check has been handed over to the treasurer, which is me. Then he'd shaken hands hearty with each one, patted 'em on the back, and even got Doc Fosd.i.c.k smilin' amiable as he leaves.

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

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

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

He consents ready enough, providin' I'll stroll over to the Grand Central with him first, while he sees about some baggage. We was makin'

a dash through the traffic across Sixth-ave. when I misses Alvin, and turns around to find him apologizin' to a young female he's managed to b.u.mp into and spill in the slush just as he fetched the curb. He has his hat off and is beggin' her pardon in his best society way too; although he must have seen at a glance what she was,--one of these bra.s.sy-eyed parties with a hand-decorated complexion and a hangover breath.

"Ah, chop the soft stuff!" says she, brushin' the mud off her slit skirt vigorous. "And next time lamp who you're b.u.t.tin' into, you pie-faced, turkey-shanked----"

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

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

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

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

And in a jiffy he's back at the curb, presentin' that armful of roses to Tessie of the tabasco tongue, and doin' it as graceful and dignified as if he was handin' 'em to a Pittsburgh d.u.c.h.ess. He don't wait for any thanks, either; but takes me by the arm and hurries off. I had to have one more look, though, and as I glances back she's still standin' there starin' at the flowers sort of stupid, with the brine leakin' from both eyes.