Skinner's Dress Suit Part 10

Two more dances with a social arbiter. That's what's next! Going some, I reckon.

Between dances, young Crawford took Skinner by the arm. "Come into the den and have a wee nippie."

In the den Skinner found a group of millionaires and multi-millionaires, smoking, drinking casually, and talking in quiet, good-natured tones. For the first time in his life, he was really mixing with the rich. No one there knew what Skinner's position in the business world was. Nor would they have cared if they had known. But Skinner was not trumpeting the fact that he was only a "cage man."

Skinner had many original ideas, which, because of a certain lack of a.s.sertiveness, he'd never been able to exploit. McLaughlin and Perkins had always looked upon him only as a counter of money and a keeper of accounts. But now he was out of his cage. He talked with these men as he never knew he could talk.

As a "cage man," Skinner had always dealt with men of small caliber, who were ever in a hurry. If he chanced to meet one of these on the street or in a restaurant and undertook to exploit his ideas, the other always seemed bored. His att.i.tude was, "Skinner is only a machine--what does he know about real business?" But the men he was now mixing with in the den seemed to have the leisure of the G.o.ds on their hands. They were not bored. They listened with keen interest to what he had to say.

Skinner observed that these men were good listeners and later noted the fact:--

_Dress-Suit Account_

_Debit_ _Credit_

Important discovery! Big men of affairs better listeners than talkers.

But when they did talk at all, they talked in big figures--millions.

And later Skinner jotted down:--

_Dress-Suit Account_

_Debit_ _Credit_

One new experience. Heard much big talk that was not hot air!

There was a fascination to it all. Skinner felt that somehow he was sitting in a big game--sitting on the edge, perhaps, but rubbing shoulders with some of the men who actually shaped the affairs of the business world. The realization stimulated him, lifted him up. And when he went to claim his next dance with the social arbiter, he felt more of an equal with "bigness."

When Skinner that night put the dress suit away, he patted the coat fondly. "Sorry, Skinner, old chap,--you know what for," he murmured.

Then he made the note in his little book:--

_Dress-Suit Account_

_Debit_ _Credit_

One important lesson!

Never prematurely vent spleen on an inanimate object. Only silly a.s.s does that.

CHAPTER VI

DODGING A MAGNATE AND WHAT CAME OF IT

Next morning, good commuter that he was, Skinner made his customary dash for his train. Honey was used to this, but she was not prepared for what followed on this particular morning.

Skinner had only got halfway down to the gate when he saw Stephen Colby's car coming down the road. Here was the multi-millionaire, with whom he had talked on terms of equality the night before, making for the Pullman end of his train--here was he, Skinner, in his shabby old clothes. Would Colby recognize him or would n't he? First, Skinner was afraid he would n't, then he was afraid he would. He decided not to chance it. He darted back into the vestibule, drew the door half to, and waited until the magnate's car had pa.s.sed; then he emerged from his hiding-place and made one of his characteristic heel-and-toe sprints for the depot. When he got there, he hurried into the smoker--the laboring man's club.

Skinner repeated this somewhat eccentric advance, retreat, and quick dash maneuver for three successive days, dodging the formidable car of the magnate, and hoping that Honey might not be at her customary place at the front window to watch him off to his train. At first, he was amused. It was a joke on himself, he thought. But repet.i.tion presently dulled the edge of comedy. On the fourth occasion of this apparently unaccountable behavior on Skinner's part, the "cage man"

began to meditate the matter.

Would he have to do this dodging act every day, like a fugitive, he wondered? It was dawning upon him that his shabby clothes had made him a fugitive from respectability. By jingo! He sat up straight as he realized for the first time that he was the only poorly dressed commuter of whom Meadeville might boast. He had prided himself that he'd never given a cuss what other people thought of his clothes, so long as his bank account was intact. By Jove! Perhaps he'd never known what they thought because they were too polite to tell him!

If he'd had no one but himself to consider, Skinner would have made the plunge and bought a new business suit right away--even in the face of what that might entail. And his experience with the dress suit had taught him that every purchase was fraught with complex possibilities.

But how could he spring it on Honey--chief guardian of the bank account?

Honey, too, pondered Skinner's curious dash out and back, the first day he did it. She had her suspicions, but said nothing. She simply waited until the following morning to confirm them. And when the whole combination of circ.u.mstances--Skinner's advance, Colby's car appearing down the road, Skinner's retreat--was repeated, it was as plain as an open book to the perspicacious little lady. Dearie was shabby, and for the first time in his life he had realized the disadvantage of it. She was secretly glad, for she had always felt that Dearie's thrift with regard to clothes was misplaced. But she could never get him to see it that way. The mere flashing by of Stephen Colby had done more for Skinner in that particular than years of affectionate solicitude on her part. "Really," she mused, "some men have to be blasted out of a rut with dynamite!"

From recent experience, Honey deduced that Skinner would shy at any new purchase, with its ramifying possibilities. Then how to prepare the way? Honey was an arch diplomat--and--Honey was a great cook.

Honey met Skinner at the door the evening of the fourth day and gently drew him into the dining-room.

"Look!" she cried, pointing to the table. "Oysters!--and later--beefsteak! Think of it! Beefsteak!"

Skinner noted with some relief that it was the same formula she had used on a previous memorable occasion. What could it presage? Was it possible that his soul and her soul had but a single thought? Had he betrayed himself by his shuttle-like performance of the past four mornings? Had she observed him, and was she "wise"?

The matter of the business suit was upper-most in the mind of each.

But as it was something that involved a further a.s.sault upon their financial stronghold, it was a subject that must be approached with great tact. Each, dreading an avalanche of reproach, waited for the other to speak. And it was not until Skinner had finished his second demi-ta.s.se that he began, using the suggestive rather than the a.s.sertive form of speech, a form frequently used in the "feeling-out"

process. He knew that he could tell by the way Honey received his suggestion whether to go ahead or gracefully to change the subject and save his face.

"I notice, Honey, that Colby and Crawford and the rest of that bunch wear dark business suits," he ventured.

"Dark, but generally with a fine, threadlike stripe, and ties to match always," Honey said softly. "And the simplest jewelry," she went on,--"inexpensive jewelry!"

Then they both fell silent.

"I know what you're thinking about," Skinner ventured again, not unwilling to shift the burden.

"What?"

"You want me to get a new business suit. Now, don't deny it."

He made the "don't deny it" suggest a warning, almost a threat. But now that the ice was broken, Honey did n't take the plunge. Instead, she felt her way in.

"You have n't had one for ever so long--and that was only a _cheap_ one."

"I would n't need one now if I did n't have to live up to that darned dress suit you made me buy."

Honey sighed.

"Think of the cost," Skinner went on, still using the suggestive form and leaving himself an avenue of escape, if necessary.

Honey threw her head back and looked resolutely into Skinner's eyes.

"Cost or no cost, you must have one!" Skinner had accomplished his purpose and had at the same time avoided the odium of doing so. But Honey had no such scruples. She had taken the initiative and she was going to see the thing through to the limit. "But we must be very careful about the socks and ties--for, of course, you know, Dearie, you must get socks and ties," she went on. "I have figured it all out."

"You have, you fraud?" said Skinner.