The Innocents Part 17

"We'll try to find some decent, respectable work for you," said Mr.

Hartwig. "You'll be at liberty to be away from the Old People's Home for several hours a day, perfect freedom, and perhaps now and then you can help at a sale at a shoe-store. Saserkopee is, as you probably know, the best town of its size in New York, and if you did feel you had to keep in touch with business, I can't for the life of me see why you came clear out here to the West--little d.i.n.ky town with no prospects or nothing. Why even you, at your age, could turn a few dollars in Saserkopee. 'Course with my influence there I could throw things your way." Then, bitterly, "Though of course I wouldn't expect any thanks!"

They turned a corner, came to a row of new bungalows.

The whole block was filled with motor-cars, small black village ones, but very comfortable and dependable. In a bungalow at the end of the block a phonograph was being loud and cheery.

"Somebody giving a party," Mr. Hartwig oracularly informed Father.

"Why! Sure enough! So somebody is! Yes, yes! It must be my boss. That's where I live. Boss lets us bunk in the dust-bin."

Father's voice was excited, slightly hysterical. Mr. Hartwig looked at him wonderingly. "What do you mean, 'in the dust-bin'?" he asked, in a puzzled way.

"I'll show you," said Father, and in a low, poisonous voice he added certain words which could not be made out, but which sounded curiously like "you great big fat weevily ham!"

"We can't b.u.t.t into this party," protested Mr. Hartwig, suddenly feeling himself in a strange town, among strangers, as Father took his arm in front of the bungalow where the party was being fearlessly enacted.

"I never knew you to hesitate about b.u.t.ting in before," said Father.

"Some day I hope you b.u.t.t into the Cyrus K. Ginn Home for Old Fossils, but now--"

While Mr. Hartwig followed him in alarm, Father skipped up the steps, jabbed at the push-b.u.t.ton. The door opened on the living-room--and on a tableau.

In the center of a group of expensive-looking people stood Mother, gorgeous in a gown like a herald's cloth-of-gold tabard. She was as magnificent as one of the larger chairs in a New York hotel lobby. Her hair was waved. She was coldly staring at Harris through a platinum lorgnon. Round her were the elite of Lipsittsville--the set that wore dinner coats and drove cars. A slim and pretty girl in saffron-colored silk bowed elaborately. A tall man with an imperial chuckled.

"Why, Harris, this is ver', ver' pleasant. I had almost forgotten you were coming," Mother said, languidly.... Harris could not know that the distinguished pedestrian, actor, impresario, and capitalist, Mr. Seth Appleby, had spent two hours and seventeen minutes in training the unwilling Mother to deliver this speech. If Mother stumbled somewhat as she went on, that merely enhanced her manner of delicate languor: "So pleasant to see you. Just a few of our friends dropped in for a little informal gathering. Would you like to wash up and join us? Seth dear, will you ring for Lena and have her take dear Harris's bag to his room?

Did you bring your evening clothes, Harris?"

One time in his life, Harris had rented evening clothes, but otherwise--

They didn't give Harris a chance to ask for explanations. When, still in his dusty bulbous gray sack suit, he hesitated out of his pleasant room, he found that Father had changed to dinner coat and a stock, which he was old enough to wear with distinction. Harris was firmly introduced to Mr. Lyman Ford, sole owner and proprietor of the Lipsittsville _Ozone_.

He was backed into a corner, and filled with tidings about the glories of Mr. and Mrs. Seth Appleby, their social position and athletic prowess and financial solidity, and the general surpa.s.sing greatness of Lipsittsville. In fact, Mr. Ford overdid it a little, and Mr. Hartwig began to look suspicious--like a man about to sneeze, or one who fears that you are going to try to borrow money from him.

But with an awkward wonder which expressed itself in his growing shyness, his splay-footed awkwardness, his rapidly increasing deference to Father, Mr. Hartwig saw Lena, the maid, spread forth tables for the social and intellectual game of progressive euchre; saw Father combat mightily with that king of euchre-players, Squire Trowbridge; saw the winners presented with expensive-looking prizes. And there were refreshments. The Lipsittsville _Ozone_ would, in next Thursday's issue, be able to say, "Dainty refreshments, consisting of angel's-food, ice-cream, coffee, macaroons, and several kinds of pleasing sandwiches, were served."

Miss Mattie Ford, the society editor of the _Ozone_, was at her wittiest during the food-consumption, and a discussion of Roosevelt and the co-operative creamery engaged some of the brightest minds in Lipsittsville. Father, listening entranced, whispered to Mother, as he pa.s.sed her with his tray of ice-cream, "I guess Harris don't hear any bright talk like this in Saserkopee. Look at him. Goggle-eyed. I always said he looked like a frog. Except that he looks more like a hog."

"I won't have you carrying on and being rude," Mother said, most convincingly.

The party did not end till clear after eleven. When the street was loud with the noise of cars starting, and quant.i.ties of ladies in silk wraps laughingly took their departure, Mr. Harris Hartwig stood deserted by the fireplace. When the door had closed on the last of the revelers Father returned, glanced once at him, coldly stopped to pick up a chair which had been upset, then stalked up to Harris and faced him, boring him with an accusing glance.

"Well," said Harris, uneasily, "you sure got-- Say, I certainly got to hand it to you, Father Appleby." Like a big, blubbery, smear-faced school-boy he complained, "Gee! I don't think it's fair, making a goat of me this way, when I came to do you a service and take you home and all."

He was so meek that Father took pity on him.

"We'll call it square," he said. "I guess maybe you and Lulu will quit worrying, now, at last."

"Yes, I guess we'll have to.... Say, Father, this seems to be a fine, live, prosperous town. Say, I wonder what's the chances for opening a drug-store here? Compet.i.tion is getting pretty severe in Saserkopee."

For the first time since he had married the lovely Lulu Harris Hartwig seemed to care for his father-in-law's opinion.

Father took one horrified glance at Mother. The prospect of the Hartwigs planted here in Eden, like a whole family of the most highly irritating serpents, seemed to have paralyzed her. It was Father who turned Harris's flank. Said he:

"Well, I'm afraid I can't encourage you. There's three good stores here, and the proprietors of all of them are friends of mine, and I'm afraid I couldn't do a thing about introducing you. In fact, I'd feel like a traitor to them if I was responsible for any compet.i.tion with them. So-- But some time, perhaps, we can have Lulu and Harry here for a visit."

"Thank you, Father. Well--"

"Well, I guess we all better be saying good night."

Father ostentatiously wound up the clock and locked the doors. Harris watched him, his Adam's apple prettily rising and falling as he prepared to speak and hesitated, again and again. Finally, as Father yawned and extended his hand, Harris burst out: "Say, how--the--deuce--did you get this house and all? What's the idea, anyway?"

For this Father had been waiting. He had nineteen large batteries concealed in ambush. And he fired them. He fixed Harris with a glance that was the condensed essence of all the fathers-in-law in the world.

"Young man," he snorted, "I don't discuss my business affairs. But I don't mind saying that I am partner in one of the most flourishing mercantile concerns in the State. I knew that Lulu and you would never believe that the poor old folks could actually run their own business unless you came and saw for yourself. I stand ready to refund the railroad fare you spent in coming here. Now are you satisfied?"

"Why--why, yes--"

"Well, then, I guess we'll say good night."

"Good night," said Harris, forlornly.

It was a proof of their complete recovery from Harris-Hartwigism that, while they were undressing, the Applebys discussed Mr. Hartwig only for a moment, and that Father volunteered: "I actually do hope that Lulu and Harry will come to pay us a visit now. Maybe we can impress her, too. I hope so. I really would like a chance to love our daughter a little.

Don't seem natural we should always have to be scared of her. Well, let's forget the Hartwigs. They'll come around now. Catch them not knowing where their bread is b.u.t.tered. Why, think, maybe Lulu will let me kiss her, some day, without criticizing my necktie while I'm doing it!"

The Innocents, the conquering babes in the wood, put out all the lights except the bedside lamp on the table between their twin beds. These aristocratic beds were close enough together so that they could lie with their out-stretched hands clasped. They had left the door into the living-room open, and the low lights from the coals in the fireplace made a path across the polished floor and the new rugs--a vista of s.p.a.ciousness and content.

"It's our first real home," murmured Father. "My old honey, we've come home! We'll have the Tubbses here from the Cape, come Christmas-time.

Yes, and Crook McKusick, if we ever hear from him! And we'll play cribbage. I bet I can beat Joe Tubbs four games out of five. Say, look here, young woman, don't you go to sleep yet. I'm a hard-working man, and it's Doc Schergan's orders that I got to be played with and hold your hand like this for fourteen minutes every night, before I go to sleep.... My old honey!"

"How you do run on!" said Mother, drowsily.

THE END