Nothing But the Truth

“Never mind,” said the jolly little pal. “You needn’t tell me. There are some things we keep locked up, forever and ever, in the inner sanctums of our hearts, aren’t there?” Sadly. “And we die and they are buried with us. Oh, dear! I’m beginning to feel dreadful. Only jolly little pal is awfully sorry.” For him, she meant. Bob winced. “I hate to think of you sitting there, poor dear, all alone, and – and – ”

“I’m having a bully time – honest,” said Bob. “I really am. I’m planning out my future. I’m going to do something. I’m tired of being nothing. I’ll work right with the workmen at first.”

“And you will be all perspirey and covered with soot?” In horror.

“I’ll be worse than that. I’ll be sweaty and covered with soot,” said Bob practically.

Dolly groaned. “It seems to me as if everything is upside down.”

“No. Downside down. ‘Life is real; life is earnest,’” he quoted, laughing.

“Oh, dear! That solemn sound! I can tell you are terribly determined.” He did not answer. “Well, good-by, great, big, perspirey – I mean sweaty, sooty old pal!”

“Good-by, Dolly. And thank you for calling me up. It did me good to hear little pal’s voice. Wish me luck.”

“I’ll send you a horseshoe to-morrow,” she laughed. And then suddenly, as an afterthought – “By the way, I have a ’fession to make.”

“All right. ’Fess ahead.”

“Well, I don’t suppose I really and truly – deep down, you know – actually ever did quite think you were a regular burglar. I guess it was the dramatic situation that appealed to me. I’ve often thought I had ‘histrionic ability’ and you did make such a big, bold, handsome, darling make-believe burglar to play with, I just couldn’t resist.”

“I understand!” said Bob. “I guess – deep down – I guessed as much.” And rang off.

Bob went back to the fireplace. Was he dreaming now or only thinking? Dolly’s voice had taken him back to Mrs. Ralston’s, and the coals now framed a face. He looked quickly from them, his eyes following the smoke of his pipe. But the smoke now framed the face. Bob half-closed his eyes an instant, then resolutely he laid down his pipe and went to bed. Dad had closed the rather spacious old-fashioned house when he went away, and a momentary feeling of loneliness assailed Bob, as he realized there was no other person in the place, but he fought it down. Work was his incentive now – hard work —

The next day he learned they had lodged the promoter in jail. The big men had gone gunning for him, and, as usual, they got him. They got the “Utopian,” too. They took that because there wasn’t anything else to take. Incidentally, they discredited the broker’s statement that no one but a buzzard would go near it. Or, maybe, some of the big men were buzzards in disguise. Anyhow, they had the Utopian on their hands, and after they had settled with the promoter who had dared cross the trail of the big interests in his operations, they poked their fingers into Utopian and prodded it and examined it more carefully and discovered that with “honest judicial management” and a proper application of more funds that which had been but an odorous prospect might be converted into a “property.” The promoter had taken funds which he shouldn’t so he was out of their way, until he got pardoned.

The Utopian accordingly now began to soar. There were plenty of people who would sniff at it in its new aspect, and take a bite, too. A shoal of speculators wanted to get aboard. That “honest management” was a bait; that “property” probability became a “sure thing.” Big names were juggled in little offices. The usual thing happened – just one of those common occurrences hardly worth describing – only later it would probably be included in a congressional investigation and there would be a few reverberations at Albany. Bob pulled out in about two days.

“How’d you know?” said the broker.

“Fellow feeling. Been called a thief and a crazy man, myself.”

“What you want to buy now? The next rankest thing I know of is – ”

Bob shook his head. “Never again. Good-by forever.”

“Good-by,” said the melancholy man. He thought he would see Bob down there again some day, but he never did. Bob went to a bank and opened an account. He wasn’t exactly rich but he had a nice comfortable feeling. Moreover he expected to build solidly. He leased the factory and then he went to work. Dad came home. He didn’t seem much interested in what Bob was doing. He loafed around and told fish stories. Bob got up about five a.m. but dad didn’t arise until nine. Sometimes he had his breakfast in bed and had his man bring him the newspaper. Bob didn’t have a man, though he soon began to prosper. The device was considered necessary in the trade; it proved practical.

Bob added to his factory and built a fair-sized chimney. Dreamily he wondered if it would realize jolly little chum’s idea of a chimney. He had to cut out all the social functions now for he was so tired when he got home he wanted only his dinner and his pipe and bed. Dad, however, stayed out late. He remarked once he thought he would learn to tango. Bob never knew though whether he carried out the idea or not.

The newspapers, a few months later, apprised Bob that Gee-gee had landed the grand duke. A snapshot revealed him imbibing from Gee-gee’s Cinderella slipper. Possibly the grand duke was enraged over the snap-shot. More likely, however, he didn’t care; he was so high up he could do anything and snap his fingers at the world. Bob permitted himself a little recreation; out of mild curiosity, he went to see Gee-gee. She now had a fair-sized part and was talked about. Incidentally, she had acquired a few additional wriggles.

His Vivacious Highness sat in a box and Gee-gee wriggled mostly for him. She hardly looked at the audience, but the audience didn’t act offended. It applauded. Gee-gee’s dream had come true. She was a star. And to her credit she reached out a helping hand to Gid-up. The latter now said more than “Send for the doctor.” She had eight lines – which was certainly getting on some. Bob, however, didn’t notice Dan or Clarence in the audience. They were probably billing and cooing at home now. Only grand dukes can afford to toy with Gee-gees. Bob didn’t stay to see and hear it all for a little of Gee-gee went a long way, and besides, he had to get up early. Dad though, who accompanied Bob, said he would stay right through.

Once on Fifth Avenue, Bob passed Miss Gerald; she was just getting out of her car. An awful temptation seized him to stop, but he managed to suppress it, for he had himself fairly in hand by this time. He saw they would almost meet, but there were many people and, in the press, he didn’t have to see her. So he didn’t. He felt sure she would cut him if he did. It was the first foolish thing he had done for some time; he realized that when he got away. But what was he to do? He objected to being cut, and by her, of all persons. He regretted the incident very much. It hurt his pride and, of course, he had earned her dislike.

Bob hied him factoryward and toiled mightily that day. It was work – work – though to what end? If he only knew! He had tried to tell himself that he was learning to forget, that he was becoming reconciled to the inevitable, but that quick glimpse he had caught of her from a distance, before he drifted by with the others, had set his pulses tingling. For a moment now Bob gave way to dreaming; the day was almost done. He sat with his head on his hand and his elbow on the desk. He had shown he was more than a dancing man. He would now have to fight an even harder battle. He would have to take her out of his heart and mind.

But he couldn’t do that. It was impossible, when his whole nature clamored for her. He yielded now to the dubious luxury of thinking of her. He hoped he wouldn’t see her again and then gradually he would win in that fight against nature – or do his best to. Yes; he must do his best; he must, he repeated to himself, closing a firm hand resolutely. Then he started and stared – at a vision standing before him.

“Why did you cut me to-day?”

CHAPTER XXIV – AT THE PORTALS

It was some time before Bob recovered sufficiently to answer. Fortunately they were alone in Bob’s private office. From below came the sound of hammers, but that and the dingy surroundings did not seem to disconcert her. She looked at Bob coldly, the violet eyes full of directness.

“I – well, I feared you would cut me,” stammered Bob. “Won’t – won’t you sit down?”

“No, thank you. At least, not yet. I,” accusingly, “am not accustomed to being cut, and if any of my friends cut me, I want to know why. That’s why I am here.”

She was her father’s daughter at that moment – straight, forceful.

“But,” said Bob eagerly, looking once more the way he used to, before he had got into this sobering business of manufacturer, “that’s just the point. You see I felt I had somehow forfeited my right to be one of your friends. I felt out of the pale.”

“Do you think you deserve to forfeit the right?”

“I – perhaps. I don’t know. I’m very confused about all that happened at your aunt’s place.”

Was that the shadow of a smile on the proud lips? Bob wasn’t looking at her. He dared not. He was talking to a drawing of his device.

“Perhaps you have heard of that confounded wager,” he went on. “I told you why I – I didn’t want to see you. At least, I think I did.”

“I have a vague impression of something of the kind,” said the girl.

“And there you are,” observed Bob helplessly. “It was an awful muddle, all right. You certainly punished me some, though. Honestly, if I offended you, you did get back good and hard.”

“Did I?” said she tentatively. “Is that a drawing of it on the wall?” She was looking at the device.

“Yes. That’s what I make.”

“Won’t you show me around?”

Bob did, walking as in a dream among the dingy workmen who paused as the vision passed. For a long time they talked – just plain ordinary talk. Then he told her how he was inventing something else and Miss Gerald listened while all differences seemed magically to have dropped between them. Drinking deep of the joy of the moment, Bob yielded to the unadulterated happiness that went with being near her. He forgot all about the long future when he would see her no more.

Finally Miss Gerald got up to go. They had returned to Bob’s office and she had seated herself in a shabby old chair.

Bob’s face fell. His heart had been beating fast and the old light had come to his eyes.

“Going?” he said awkwardly.

“Yes.”

She put out her hand and Bob took it, looking into her eyes. Then – he never knew how it happened – he had her in his arms. Bang! bang! went Bob’s hammers below and they seemed to be competing with the beating of his heart. At length the girl stirred slightly. She was wonderful in her proud compliance to Bob’s somewhat chaotic and over-powering expression of his emotions. “I suffered, too, a little, perhaps,” she said.

That nearly completed Bob’s undoing. “You! you!” he said, holding her from him and regarding her face eagerly, devouringly.

“Yes,” the proud lips curled a little, “I haven’t really a heart of stone, you know.”