shoulder:
"You will pick on a lady, will you, you drunken scum--you--you
cads---- I'll have you arrested so quick you----"
"Look here, lady," said Tom, gently. "I'm a plain-clothes man,
a detective." His large voice purred like a tiger-tabby's. "I
don't want to run you in, but I will if you don't get out of
here and shut that door. Or you might go down and call the cop
on this block. He'll run you in--for breaking Code 2762 of the
Penal Law! Trespass and flotsam--that's what it is!"
Uneasy, frightened, then horrified, Mrs. Zapp swung bulkily
about and slammed the door.
Sick, guilty, banished from home though he felt, Mr. Wrenn's
voice quavered, with an attempt at dignity:
"I'm awful sorry she butted in while you fellows was here.
I don't know how to apologize "
"Forget it, old man," rolled out Tom's bass. "Come on, let's go
up to Mrs. Arty's."
"But, gee! it's nearly a quarter to eleven."
"That's all right. We can get up there by a little after, and
Mrs. Arty stays up playing cards till after twelve."
"Golly!" Mr. Wrenn agitatedly ejaculated under his breath, as
they noisily entered Mrs. Arty's--though not noisily on his part.
The parlor door was open. Mrs. Arty's broad back was toward
them, and she was announcing to James T. Duncan and Miss
Proudfoot, with whom she was playing three-handed Five Hundred,
"Well, I'll just bid seven on hearts if you're going to get so
set up." She glanced back, nodded, said, "Come in, children,"
picked up the "widow," and discarded with quick twitches of
the cards. The frightened Mr. Wrenn, feeling like a shipwrecked
land-lubber, compared this gaming smoking woman unfavorably with
the intense respectability of his dear lost patron, Mrs. Zapp.
He sat uneasy till the hand of cards was finished, feeling as
though they were only tolerating him. And Nelly Croubel was
nowhere in sight.
Suddenly said Mrs. Arty, "And now you would like to look at that
room, Mr. Wrenn, unless I'm wrong."
"Why--uh--yes, I guess I would like to."
"Come with me, child," she said, in pretended severity. "Tom,
you take my hand in the game, and don't let me hear you've been
bidding ten on no suit without the joker." She led Mr. Wrenn to
the settee hat-rack in the hall. "The third- floor-back will be
vacant in two weeks, Mr. Wrenn. We can go up and look at it now
if you'd like to. The man who has it now works nights--he's
some kind of a head waiter at Rector's, or something like that,
and he's out till three or four. Come."
When he saw that third- floor-back, the room that the smart
people at Mrs. Arty's were really willing to let him have, he
felt like a man just engaged. It was all in soft
green--grass-green matting, pale-green walls, chairs of white
wicker with green cushions; the bed, a couch with a denim cover
and four sofa pillows. It gave him the impression of being a
guest on Fifth Avenue.
"It's kind of a plain room," Mrs. Arty said, doubtfully. "The
furniture is kind of plain. But my head-waiter man--it was
furnished for a friend of his--he says he likes it better than
any other room in the house. It _is_ comfortable, and you get
lots of sunlight and----"
"I'll take---- How much is it, please, with board?"
She spoke with a take-it-or-leave-it defiance. "Eleven- fifty a week."
It was a terrible extravagance; much like marrying a sick woman
on a salary of ten a week, he reflected; nine-teen minus
eleven-fifty left him only seven-fifty for clothes and savings
and things and--but----" I'll take it," he said, hastily. He
was frightened at himself, but glad, very glad. He was to live
in this heaven; he was going to be away from that Zapp woman;
and Nelly Croubel---- Was she engaged to some man? he wondered.
Mrs. Arty was saying: "First, I want to ask you some questions,
though. Please sit down." As she creaked into one of the wicker
chairs she suddenly changed from the cigarette-rolling chaffing
card-player to a woman dignified, reserved, commanding. "Mr.
Wrenn, you see, Miss Proudfoot and Miss Croubel are on this
floor. Miss Proudfoot can take care of herself, all right, but
Nelly is such a trusting little thing---- She's like my
daughter. She's the only one I've ever given a reduced rate
you--uh--drink--drink much, I mean?"
Nelly on this floor! Near him! Now! He had to have this room.
He forced himself to speak directly.
"I know how you mean, Mrs. Ferrard. No, I don't drink much of
any--hardly at all; just a glass of beer now and then; sometimes
I don't even touch that a week at a time. And I don't gamble
and--and I do try to keep--er--straight--and all that sort of thing."
"That's good."
"I work for the Souvenir and Art Novelty Company on
Twenty-eighth Street. If you want to call them up I guess the
manager'll give me a pretty good recommend."
"I don't believe I'll need it, Mr. Wrenn. It's my business to
find out what sort of animiles men are by just talking to them."
She rose, smiled, plumped out her hand. "You _will_ be nice to
Nelly, _won't_ you! I'm going to fire that Teddem out--don't tell
him, but I am--because he gets too fresh with her."
"Yes!"
She suddenly broke into laughter, and ejaculated: "_Say_, that
was hard work! Don't you _hate_ to have to be serious? Let's trot
down, and I'll make Tom or Duncan rush us a growler of beer to
welcome you to our midst.... I'll bet your socks aren't darned
properly. I'm going to sneak in and take a look at them, once I
get you caged up here.... But I won't read your love- letters!
Now let's go down by the fire, where it's comfy."
CHAPTER XV
HE STUDIES FIVE HUNDRED, SAVOUIR FAIRE, AND LOTSA-SNAP OFFICE MOTTOES
On a couch of glossy red leather with glossy black buttons and
stiff fringes also of glossy red leather, Mr. William Wrenn sat
upright and was very confiding to Miss Nelly Croubel, who was
curled among the satin pillows with her skirts drawn carefully
about her ankles. He had been at Mrs. Arty's for two weeks now.
He wore a new light-blue tie, and his trousers were pressed like
sheet steel.
"Yes, I suppose you're engaged to some one, Miss Nelly, and
you'll go off and leave us--go off to that blamed Upton's Grove
or some place."
"I am _not_ engaged. I've told you so. Who would want to marry
me? You stop teasing me--you're mean as can be; I'll just have
to get Tom to protect me!"
"Course you're engaged."
"Ain't."
"Are."
"Ain't. Who would want to marry poor little me?"
"Why, anybody, of course."
"You _stop_ teasing me.... Besides, probably you're in love with
twenty girls."
"I am _not_. Why, I've never hardly known but just two girls in
my life. One was just a girl I went to theaters with once or
twice--she was the dau
ghter of the landlady I used to have
before I came here."
"If you don't make love to the landlady's daughter
You won't get a second piece of pie!"
quoted Nelly, out of the treasure-house of literature.
"Sure. That's it. But I bet you----"
"Who was the other girl?"
"Oh! She.... She was a--an artist. I liked her--a lot.
But she was--oh, awful highbrow. Gee! if---- But----"
A sympathetic silence, which Nelly broke with:
"Yes, they're funny people. Artists.... Do you have your
lesson in Five Hundred tonight? Your very first one?"
"I think so. Say, is it much like this here bridge-whist? Oh
say, Miss Nelly, why do they call it Five Hundred?"
"That's what you have to make to go out. No, I guess it isn't
very much like bridge; though, to tell the truth, I haven't ever
played bridge. . My! it must be a nice game, though."
"Oh, I thought prob'ly you could play it. You can do 'most
everything. Honest, I've never seen nothing like it."
"Now you stop, Mr. Wrenn. I know I'm a--what was it Mr. Teddem
used to call me? A minx. But----"
"Miss _Nelly!_ You _aren't_ a minx!"
"Well----"
"Or a mink, either. You're a--let's see--an antelope."
"I am not! Even if I can wriggle my nose like a rabbit.
Besides, it sounds like a muskmelon. But, anyway, the head
buyer said I was crazy to-day."
"If I heard him say you were crazy----"
"Would you beat him for me?" She cuddled a cushion and smiled
gratefully. Her big eyes seemed to fill with light.
He caught himself wanting to kiss the softness of her shoulder,
but he said only, "Well, I ain't much of a scrapper, but I'd try
to make it interesting for him."
"Tell me, did you ever have a fight? When you were a boy? Were
you _such_ a bad boy?"
"I never did when I was a boy, but--well--I did have a couple of
fights when I was on the cattle-boat and in England. Neither of
them amounted to very much, though, I guess. I was scared stiff!"
"Don't believe it!"
"Sure I was."
"I don't believe you'd be scared. You're too earnest."
"Me, Miss Nelly? Why, I'm a regular cut-up."
"You stop making fun of yourself! I _like_ it when you're
earnest--like when you saw that beautiful snowfall last
night.... Oh dear, isn't it hard to have to miss so many
beautiful things here in the city--there's just the parks, and
even there there aren't any birds, real wild birds, like we used
to have in Pennsylvania."
"Yes, isn't it! Isn't it hard!" Mr. Wrenn drew nearer and looked
sympathy.
"I'm afraid I'm getting gushy. Miss Hartenstein--she's in my
department--she'd laugh at me.... But I do love birds and
squirrels and pussy-willows and all those things. In summer
I love to go on picnics on Staten Island or tramp in Van
Cortlandt Park."
"Would you go on a picnic with me some day next spring?"
Hastily, "I mean with Miss Proudfoot and Mrs. Arty and me?"
"I should be pleased to." She was prim but trusting about it.
"Oh, listen, Mr. Wrenn; did you ever tramp along the Palisades
as far as Englewood? It's lovely there--the woods and the river
and all those funny little tugs puffing along, way _way_ down
below you--why, I could lie on the rocks up there and just dream
and dream for hours. After I've spent Sunday up there"--she
was dreaming now, he saw, and his heart was passionately tender
toward her--"I don't hardly mind a bit having to go back to the
store Monday morning.... You've been up along there, ha ven't you?"
"Me? Why, I guess I'm the guy that discovered the Palisades!...
Yes, it is _won_-derful up there!"
"Oh, you are, are you? I read about that in American history!...
But honestly, Mr. Wrenn, I do believe you care for tramps and
things--not like that Teddem or Mr. Duncan--they always want
to just stay in town--or even Tom, though he's an old dear."
Mr. Wrenn looked jealous, with a small hot jealousy. She
hastened on with: "Of course, I mean he's just like a big
brother. To all of us."
It was sweet to both of them, to her to declare and to him to
hear, that neither Tom nor any other possessed her heart. Their
shy glances were like an outreach of tenderly touching hands as
she confided, "Mrs. Arty and he get up picnics, and when we're
out on the Palisades he says to me--you know, sometimes he
almost makes me think he _is_ sleepy, though I do believe he just
sneaks off under a tree and talks to Mrs. Arty or reads a
magazine--but I was saying: he always says to me, ` Well, sister,
I suppose you want to mousey round and dream by yourself--you
won't talk to a growly old bear like me. Well, I'm glad of it.
I want to sleep. I don't want to be bothered by you and your
everlasting chatter. Get out!' I b'lieve he just says that
'cause he knows I wouldn't want to run off by myself if they
didn't think it was proper."
As he heard her lively effort to imitate Tom's bass Mr. Wrenn
laughed and pounded his knee and agreed: "Yes, Tom's an awfull.
/ne fellow, isn't he!... I love to get out some place by
myself, too. I like to wander round places and make up the
doggondest fool little stories to myself about them; just as bad
as a kiddy, that way."
"And you read such an awful lot, Mr. Wrenn! My! Oh, tell me,
have you ever read anytsˆng by Harold Bell Wright or Myrtle
Reed, Mr. Wrenn? They write such sweet stories."
He had not, but he expressed an unconquerable resolve so to do,
and with immediateness. She went on:
"Mrs. Arty told me you had a real big library--nearly a
hundred books and---- Do you mind? I went in your room and peeked
at them."
"No, course I don't mind! If there's any of them you'd like to
borrow any time, Miss Nelly, I would be awful glad to lend them
to you.... But, rats! Why, I haven't got hardly any books."
"That's why you haven't wasted any time learning Five Hundred and
things, isn't it? Because you've been so busy reading and so on?"
"Yes, kind of." Mr. Wrenn looked modest.
"Haven't you always been lots of--oh, haven't you always
'magined lots?"
She really seemed to care.
Mr. Wrenn felt excitedly sure of that, and imparted: "Yes, I
guess I have.... And I've always wanted to travel a lot."
"So have I! Isn't it wonderful to go around and see new places!"
"Yes, _isn't_ it!" he breathed. "It was great to be in
England--though the people there are kind of chilly some ways.
Even when I'm on a wharf here in New York I feel just like I was
off in China or somewheres. I'd like to see China. And
India.... Gee! when I hear the waves down at Coney Island or
some place--you know how the waves sound when they come in.
Well, sometimes I almost feel like they was talking to a
guy--you know--telling about ships. And, oh say, you know the
whitecaps--aren't they just like the waves was motioning at
you--they want you to come and beat it with y
ou--over to China
and places."
"Why, Mr. Wrenn, you're a regular poet!"
He looked doubtful.
"Honest; I'm not teasing you; you are a poet. And I think it's
fine that Mr. Teddem was saying that nobody could be a poet or
like that unless they drank an awful lot and--uh--oh, not be
honest and be on a job. But you aren't like that. _Are_ you?"
He looked self-conscious and mumbled, earnestly, "Well, I try
not to be."
"But I am going to make you go to church. You'll be a socialist
or something like that if you get to be too much of a poet and
don't----"
"Miss Nelly, please _may_ I go to church with you?"
"Why----"
"Next Sunday?"
"Why, yes, I should be pleased. Are you a Presbyterian, though?"
"Why--uh--I guess I'm kind of a Congregationalist; but still,
they're all so much alike."
"Yes, they really are. And besides, what does it matter if we
all believe the same and try to do right; and sometimes that's hard,
when you're poor, and it seems like-- like----"
"Seems like what?" Mr. Wrenn insisted.
"Oh--nothing.... My, you'll have to get up awful early Sunday
morning if you'd like to go with me. My church starts at
ten-thirty."
"Oh, I'd get up at five to go with you."
"Stupid! Now you're just trying to jolly me; you _are_;
because you men aren't as fond of church as all that, I know you
aren't. You're real lazy Sunday mornings, and just want to sit
around and read the papers and leave the poor women---- But
please tell me some more about your reading and all that."
"Well, I'll be all ready to go at nine-thirty.... I don't know;
why, I haven't done much reading. But I would like to travel
and---- Say, wouldn't it be great to--I suppose I'm sort of a
kid about it; of course, a guy has to tend right to business,
but it would be great---- Say a man was in Europe with--with--a
friend, and they both knew a lot of history--say, they both knew
a lot about Guy Fawkes (he was the guy that tried to blow up
the English Parliament), and then when they were there in London
they could almost think they saw him, and they could go round
together and look at Shelley's window--he was a poet at
Oxford---- Oh, it would be great with a --with a friend."
"Yes, wouldn't it?... I wanted to work in the book department
one time. It's so nice your being----"
"Ready for Five Hundred?" bellowed Tom Poppins in the hall