The Haunted Pajamas Part 41

"Then, Judge, I have your permission to speak to Frances?"

"Permission?" He lifted his hands and eyes. "You certainly have, my boy--don't I make it clear? Why, I'm simply delighted--and grateful--oh, so _grateful_ to you!"

And, by Jove, he meant it--there was no mistaking his fervency! But it made me feel like a silly a.s.s, you know. Custom or no custom, it just made me a bit nifty to think _her_ father would speak this way. Might be good form, but it appeared rotten taste--lots of things seem that way, dash it! Suggested this to Pugsley once, but he was so devilish shocked couldn't eat his luncheon--wasn't able to fetch a dashed word for four hours!

"Why, Lightnut," he dropped to a chair, leaning forward, with shining eyes, "you can't possibly know what this means just at this time! Why, if you hadn't offered to speak to Francis, it's not likely that any one else _ever_ would!"

"Judge!" I e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, shocked.

"Who would want to?" And he grimaced horribly.

"Oh, I say now!" I protested warmly.

"My boy, I tell you I know--you _don't_!" He lifted his hand eloquently, deflecting the corners of his mouth--oh, such a way! "No, siree, I tell you there's not another living man would dare chance it!" He threw himself backward, puffing his cheeks at me and walling his eyes frightfully. "In fact, hereabouts--where Francis is known, there have been two men--only just two--who ever had the temerity to do it."

"Oh!" I commented. Wondered if one of these was the other chap she was engaged to.

He proceeded impressively: "One of these, my dear sir, was our rector--a most charming and venerable old man, now nearly eighty-three and partially paralyzed and deaf; lives a sweet, patient life all alone, you know, with no one in the world to care for him. _Well_, sir," he stiffened dramatically, leveling one finger at me, "do you think that Francis would even listen to him?"

Did I? Well, dash it, _did_ I?

But I tried to mumble something polite.

"And then--" he puffed as he relighted his cigar, "there's Jack's chauffeur, you know."

"Eh, Jack's--_what's_ that?" I gripped the arms of my chair.

"Yes," he nodded, "Jack's chauffeur. Oh, I was _so_ disappointed at the result of his effort!" The old gentleman slipped back in his chair with a sigh. "Francis just swore at him, you know!"

"By Jove!" I managed to get out--and yet, somehow, I was devilish pleased about it.

"You see?" And he spread out his hands. "Absolutely no sense of appreciation, you observe; and it had seemed such a splendid chance! You see they had been so intimate--oh, are still, for that matter."

I caught my breath. "In--intimate!" I stammered. "You don't mean Frances and this chauffeur?"

"_Oh_, yes," carelessly, "Scoggins is all right; very superior young man for his position--fond of Francis, you know, and I really think has great influence." He puffed complacently an instant. "Fact is, they are always together when Francis is home"--puff--"motoring, boating, or else off somewhere camping together."

"Wha-at--what's that--not _camping_?" I looked at him aghast. "Oh, come now, Judge--really you don't mean _that_, do you--not camping together?"

I spoke excitedly, but he just stared at me with an expression of blank surprise.

"Eh? Why, certainly, my dear boy--for weeks at a time--and why not?" His shift manifested some impatience. "Pshaw, Lightnut," he growled, flicking his ash, "what's the odds--why be so particular? _I_ don't mind!" He jammed his hands into his trousers pockets till it seemed he would go through them. "I tell you, I'm glad I'm democratic!"

"Oh!" I uttered, seeing a light.

So _that_ was it! Well, in any case, I knew now that I was a republican, by Jove! Never did know before what I was and it was a devilish relief to find out. Half made up my mind, then and there, I would vote next election--never had, you know; few of our set ever did. Pugsley, for one, held it to be doubtful form.

"Bright, self-made young man," I caught as I came back. By Jove, he was still talking about that beastly chauffeur! "Such fine morals, you know."

"Oh, dash it, _yes_!" And I think this must have been when I broke the corner out of a filling.

"That was why I was so sorry he failed with Francis," he continued regretfully, "but _you_ may succeed better--oh, I don't know but what it will do just as well!"

"Thanks--er--awfully!" I murmured weakly.

"Oh, I think so--_oh_, yes!" He bobbed his head as though he were quite resigned to it--then went on thoughtfully:

"And anyhow, if Francis finds _you_ are in deadly earnest, why it--" His voice dropped off musingly: "Well, I believe _that_ would make it easier--oh, lots easier for Scoggins."

I blinked a little with my free eye.

Wasn't sure, you know, but somehow it seemed to me a rum thing to say--almost offensive, dash it! But then, for that matter, everything was rum of late--so _that_ counted for nothing. Fact was, it just seemed to me like there was something in the air--everybody seemed so queer--well, jolly muddled, I should call it! Idea had been gradually coming to me that I was the only one who appeared to have any clear understanding of things; and somehow the realization just made me devilish nervous--the responsibility, don't you know!

And just then the judge looked suddenly at his watch, muttered something, and hitched up to the table strewn with papers. He bent over these with a frown, coughed oddly, glanced at me--and bent again with a mutter. Of course, I saw he was annoyed over sudden consciousness of the break he had made, and was striving to cover his embarra.s.sment.

And, by Jove, it seemed to me he _ought_ to _feel_ embarra.s.sed, for the very rummest thing yet was this crazy infatuation for this infernal chauffeur. It was pitiful--oh, disgusting, if you ask _me_--and the more so because it was something she did not share. I _knew_ she didn't, you know! No, it was plain enough, dash it, that between her father and this mucker of a chauffeur, my poor darling was being crowded to the what's-its-name. _This_ was what she had meant--had hinted at--and, by Jove, I was ready to wager anything on it; eager to put up all I was worth, you know!

Didn't know, dash it, how much I _was_ worth Went down in Wall Street one day and asked old Morley, my man of affairs, but forgot what he said. Never could remember afterward whether it was one million or ten and always hated to ask again.

Truth was he had stared at me so and seemed so oddly surprised, I just worked off some jolly apologetic rubbish and got out. Pugsley thought I must have violated some rotten, silly law of commercial ethics--that sort of thing, you know; declared that his attorney had had the dashed impertinence once to ask him about some investments, so he got another man and gave him a power of what's-its-name. Never was bothered now, he said, by checks or reports or any boring distractions of that sort; _this_ man just kept him supplied with money, and once in a while he scrawled his name on something--all he had to do. Devilish simple, you see, but then Pugsley is so ingenious, so--oh, _clever_, you know.

"H'm!" coughed the judge, "Er--h'm!" And I stopped snapping the cover of my cigarette case, thinking he was about to say something, but he did not look up. By Jove, how I wished that he were _really_ busy, so I might slip out without danger of offending him! But I was afraid to chance it--did so want to rub him right, don't you know, on account of Frances. Knew he was still feeling a bit plucked over his slip of the tongue--showed plainly he was bothered, you know; you could tell by his puckered brows and the way he kept clearing his throat. So meantime, knowing that the best thing was to appear unconscious--just give him time, you know--I fell carelessly to jingling some coins in my pocket and tapping my foot upon the hardwood, as I hummed a devilish neat little air from _La Juive_ that I almost knew by heart:

"_Qu'il, l'apprenne de vous?

Helas, je vous implore, benissez mon epoux_--"

By Jove, I had just got that far, when he shook his head with a kind of snort, threw down his pen, and got to his feet, facing me with a sickly smile.

"I am going to ask you to excuse me, my dear Lightnut"--came right out frankly like that, you know! "But the fact is--" he opened and shut his watch--nervously, you know--"I have just realized how--"

But I stopped him--couldn't let him go on, of course: "Oh, I say, you know! Not another word, my _dear_ Judge--I don't care a jolly hang, dash it!" And to show him, I smiled, got out a cigarette, and perched kind of sidewise on the edge of the table. "I'm not a bit sensitive, don't you know!"

He stared. "Indeed, no--I see you are not!" he said warmly.

I drew a light a bit airily. "Of course," I puffed, "what _you_ are thinking of is your servant, but I"--I shot him a light wink--"I've got to think a little about my own affair, don't you--"

"_Lightnut!_" He caught me by the arms, his face reddened almost black.

"My _dear_ boy, ten thousand pardons! I a.s.sure you--"

"That's just all right, Judge," I rea.s.sured him soothingly. "All I am holding out for is just to be sure we understand each other about Frances--that I may be sure I have your authority--"

"So _that's_ it!" He relaxed with a deep breath. Then quietly: "My dear boy, you make me ashamed of myself--I _was_ rude!" And he shook my hand.

"Yes, indeed--you just go right ahead; almost anything is preferable to the vicious life Francis is leading--_anything_!" He sighed and his voice dropped confidentially: "I'm afraid even you would be discouraged if I told you of one or two disgraceful episodes at Cambridge--I _know_ Scoggins would be!"

Scoggins again--always Scoggins! _Dash_ Scoggins! Of course he would be discouraged, but I should not. Devilish simple reason, you know--wouldn't believe it, by Jove!

"Yes, I learned all about it from my daughter when she came home," he proceeded gloomily; "she feels that in a measure it has marred Miss Kirkland's visit with her."