Odd Numbers, Page 2

  CHAPTER II

  HOW MAIZIE CAME THROUGH

  Then again, there's other kinds from other States, and no two of 'emalike. They float in from all quarters, some on ten-day excursions, andsome with no return ticket. And, of course, they're all jokes to us atfirst, while we never suspicion that all along we may be jokes to them.

  And say, between you and me, we're apt to think, ain't we, that all therapid motion in the world gets its start right here in New York? Well,that's the wrong dope. For instance, once I got next to a super-energizedspecimen that come in from the north end of nowhere, and before I wasthrough the experience had left me out of breath.

  It was while Sadie and me was livin' at the Perzazzer hotel, before wemoved out to Rockhurst-on-the-Sound. Early one evenin' we was sittin', asquiet and domestic as you please, in our twelve by fourteen cabinetfinished dinin' room on the seventh floor. We was gazin' out of the openwindows watchin' a thunder storm meander over towards Long Island, andTidson was just servin' the demitasses, when there's a ring on the'phone. Tidson, he puts down the tray and answers the call.

  "It's from the office, sir," says he. "Some one to see you, sir."

  "Me?" says I. "Get a description, Tidson, so I'll know what to expect."

  At that he asks the room clerk for details, and reports that it's twoyoung ladies by the name of Blickens.

  "What!" says Sadie, prickin' up her ears. "You don't know any young womenof that name; do you, Shorty?"

  "Why not?" says I. "How can I tell until I've looked 'em over?"

  "Humph!" says she. "Blickens!"

  "Sounds nice, don't it?" says I. "Kind of snappy and interestin'. MaybeI'd better go down and----"

  "Tidson," says Sadie, "tell them to send those young persons up here!"

  "That's right, Tidson," says I. "Don't mind anything I say."

  "Blickens, indeed!" says Sadie, eyin' me sharp, to see if I'm blushin' orgettin' nervous. "I never heard you mention any such name."

  "There's a few points about my past life," says I, "that I've had senseenough to keep to myself. Maybe this is one. Course, if yourcuriosity----"

  "I'm not a bit curious, Shorty McCabe," she snaps out, "and you know it!But when it comes to----"

  "The Misses Blickens," says Tidson, holdin' back the draperies with onehand, and smotherin' a grin with the other.

  Say, you couldn't blame him. What steps in is a couple of drippy femalesthat look like they'd just been fished out of a tank. And bein' wetwa'n't the worst of it. Even if they'd been dry, they must have lookedbad enough; but in the soggy state they was the limit.

  They wa'n't mates. One is tall and willowy, while the other is short anddumpy. And the fat one has the most peaceful face I ever saw outside of apasture, with a reg'lar Holstein-Friesian set of eyes,--the round, calm,thoughtless kind. The fact that she's chewin' gum helps out the dairyimpression, too. It's plain she's been caught in the shower and hassopped up her full share of the rainfall; but it don't seem to troubleher any.

  There ain't anything pastoral about the tall one, though. She's alive allthe way from her runover heels to the wiggly end of the limp feather thatflops careless like over one ear. She's the long-waisted, giraffe-neckedkind; but not such a bad looker if you can forget the depressin' costume.It had been a blue cheviot once, I guess; the sort that takes on sevenshades of purple about the second season. And it fits her like a damptablecloth hung on a chair. Her runnin' mate is all in black, and youcould tell by the puckered seams and the twisted sleeves that it was anoutfit the village dressmaker had done her worst on.

  Not that they gives us much chance for a close size-up. The lengthy onepikes right into the middle of the room, brushes a stringy lock of hairoff her face, and unlimbers her conversation works.

  "Gosh!" says she, openin' her eyes wide and lookin' round at the rugs andfurniture. "Hope we haven't pulled up at the wrong ranch. Are you ShortyMcCabe?"

  "Among old friends, I am," says I, "Now if you come under----"

  "It's all right, Phemey," says she, motionin' to the short one. "Sitdown."

  "Sure!" says I. "Don't mind the furniture. Take a couple of chairs."

  "Not for me!" says the tall one. "I'll stand in one spot and drip, andthen you can mop up afterwards. But Phemey, she's plumb tuckered."

  "It's sweet of you to run in," says I. "Been wadin' in the park lake, orenjoyin' the shower?"

  "Enjoying the shower is good," says she; "but I hadn't thought ofdescribing it that way. I reckon, though, you'd like to hear who weare."

  "Oh, any time when you get to that," says I.

  "That's a joke, is it?" says she. "If it is, Ha, ha! Excuse me if I don'tlaugh real hearty. I can do better when I don't feel so much like asponge. Maizie May Blickens is my name, and this is Euphemia Blickens."

  "Ah!" says I. "Sisters?"

  "Do we look it?" says Maizie. "No! First cousins on the whiskered side.Ever hear that name Blickens before?"

  "Why--er--why----" says I, scratchin' my head.

  "Don't dig too deep," says Maizie. "How about Blickens' skating rink inKansas City?"

  "Oh!" says I. "Was it run by a gent they called Sport Blickens?"

  "It was," says she.

  "Why, sure," I goes on. "And the night I had my match there with thePedlar, when I'd spent my last bean on a month's trainin' expenses, andthe Pedlar's backer was wavin' a thousand-dollar side bet under my nose,this Mr. Blickens chucked me his roll and told me to call the bluff."

  "Yes, that was dad, all right," says Maizie.

  "It was?" says I. "Well, well! Now if there's anything I can do for----"

  "Whoa up!" says Maizie. "This is no grubstake touch. Let's get that offour minds first, though I'm just as much obliged. It's come out as dadsaid. Says he, 'If you're ever up against it, and can locate ShortyMcCabe, you go to him and say who you are.' But this isn't exactly thatkind of a case. Phemey and I may look a bit rocky and---- Say, how do welook, anyway? Have you got such a thing as a----"

  "Tidson," says Sadie, breakin' in, "you may roll in the pier glass forthe young lady." Course, that reminds me I ain't done the honors.

  "Excuse me," says I. "Miss Blickens, this is Mrs. McCabe."

  "Howdy," says Maizie. "I was wondering if it wasn't about due. Goshetygosh! but you're all to the peaches, eh? And me----"

  Here she turns and takes a full length view of herself. "Sufferingscarecrows! Say, why didn't you put up the bars on us? Don't you look,Phemey; you'd swallow your gum!"

  But Euphemia ain't got any idea of turnin' her head. She has thempeaceful eyes of hers glued to Sadie's copper hair, and she's contentedto yank away at her cud. For a consistent and perseverin' masticator, shehas our friend Fletcher chewed to a standstill. Maizie is soon satisfiedwith her survey.

  "That'll do, take it away," says she. "If I ever get real stuck onmyself, I'll have something to remember. But, as I was sayin', this is nocase of an escape from the poor farm. We wore these Hetty Green togs whenwe left Dobie."

  "Dobie?" says I.

  "Go on, laugh!" says Maizie. "Dobie's the biggest joke and the slowestfour corners in the State of Minnesota, and that's putting it strong.Look at Phemey; she's a native."

  Well, we looked at Phemey. Couldn't help it. Euphemia don't seem to mind.She don't even grin; but just goes on workin' her jaws and lookin'placid.

  "Out in Dobie that would pass for hysterics," says Maizie. "The only waythey could account for me was by saying that I was born crazy in anotherState. I've had a good many kinds of hard luck; but being born in Dobiewasn't one of the varieties. Now can you stand the story of my life?"

  "Miss Blickens," says I, "I'm willin' to pay you by the hour."

  "It isn't so bad as all that," says she, "because precious little hasever happened to me. It's what's going to happen that I'm living for.But, to take a fair start, we'll begin with dad. When they called himSport Blickens, they didn't stretch their imaginations. He was allthat--and not much else. All I know about maw is that she was one ofthree, an
d that I was born in the back room of a Denver dance hall. I'vegot a picture of her, wearing tights and a tin helmet, and dad says shewas a hummer. He ought to know; he was a pretty good judge.

  "As I wasn't much over two days old when they had the funeral, I can'tadd anything more about maw. And the history I could write of dad wouldmake a mighty slim book. Running roller skating rinks was the mostgenteel business he ever got into, I guess. His regular profession wasfaro. It's an unhealthy game, especially in those gold camps where theyshoot so impetuous. He got over the effects of two .38's dealt him by ahalfbreed Sioux; but when a real bad man from Taunton, Massachusetts,opened up on him across the table with a .45, he just naturally gotdiscouraged. Good old dad! He meant well when he left me in Dobie and hadme adopted by Uncle Hen. Phemey, you needn't listen to this nextchapter."

  Euphemia, she misses two jaw strokes in succession, rolls her eyes atMaizie May for a second, and then strikes her reg'lar gait again.

  "Excuse her getting excited like that," says Maizie; "but Uncle Hen--thatwas her old man, of course--hasn't been planted long. He lasted untilthree weeks ago. He was an awful good man, Uncle Hen was--to himself. Hehad the worst case of ingrowing religion you ever saw. Why, he had athumb felon once, and when the doctor came to lance it Uncle Hen made himwait until he could call in the minister, so it could be opened withprayer.

  "Sundays he made us go to church twice, and the rest of the day he talkedto us about our souls. Between times he ran the Palace Emporium; that is,he and I and a half baked Swede by the name of Jens Torkil did. To lookat Jens you wouldn't have thought he could have been taught thedifference between a can of salmon and a patent corn planter; but say,Uncle Hen had him trained to make short change and weigh his hand withevery piece of salt pork, almost as slick as he could do it himself.

  "All I had to do was to tend the drygoods, candy, and drug counters, lookafter the post-office window, keep the books, and manage the telephoneexchange. Euphemia had the softest snap, though. She did the housework,planted the garden, raised chickens, fed the hogs, and scrubbed thefloors. Have I got the catalogue right, Phemey?"

  Euphemia blinks twice, kind of reminiscent; but nothin' in the shape ofwords gets through the gum.

  "She has such an emotional nature!" says Maizie. "Uncle Hen was like thattoo. But let's not linger over him. He's gone. The last thing he did wasto let go of a dollar fifty in cash that I held him up for so Phemey andI could go into Duluth and see a show. The end came early next day, andwhether it was from shock or enlargement of the heart, no one will everknow.

  "It was an awful blow to us all. We went around in a daze for nearly aweek, hardly daring to believe that it could be so. Jens broke the spellfor us. One morning I caught him helping himself to a cigar out of thetwo-fer box. 'Why not?' says he. Next Phemey walks in, swipes a packageof wintergreen gum, and feeds it all in at once. She says, 'Why not?'too. Then I woke up. 'You're right,' says I. 'Enjoy yourself. It's time.'Next I hints to her that there are bigger and brighter spots on thisearth than Dobie, and asks her what she says to selling the Emporium andhunting them up. 'I don't care,' says she, and that was a good deal of aspeech for her to make. 'Do you leave it to me?' says I. 'Uh-huh,' saysshe. 'We-e-e-ough!' says I," and with that Maizie lets out one of thembackwoods college cries that brings Tidson up on his toes.

  "I take it," says I, "that you did."

  "Did I?" says she. "Inside of three days I'd hustled up four differentparties that wanted to invest in a going concern, and before the week wasover I'd buncoed one of 'em out of nine thousand in cash. Most of it's ina certified check, sewed inside of Phemey, and that's why we walked allthe way up here in the rain. Do you suppose you could take me to somebank to-morrow where I could leave that and get a handful of green billson account? Is that asking too much?"

  "Considering the way you've brushed up my memory of Sport Blickens," saysI, "it's real modest. Couldn't you think of something else?"

  "If that had come from Mrs. McCabe," says she, eyin' Sadie kind oflongin', "I reckon I could."

  "Why," says Sadie, "I should be delighted."

  "You wouldn't go so far as to lead two such freaks as us around to thestores and help us pick out some New York clothes, would you?" says she.

  "My dear girl!" says Sadie, grabbin' both her hands. "We'll do itto-morrow."

  "Honest?" says Maizie, beamin' on her. "Well, that's what I call rightdown decent. Phemey, do you hear that? Oh, swallow it, Phemey, swallowit! This is where we bloom out!"

  And say, you should have heard them talkin' over the kind of trousseausthat would best help a girl to forget she ever came from Dobie.

  "You will need a neat cloth street dress, for afternoons," says Sadie.

  "Not for me!" says Maizie. "That'll do all right for Phemey; but when itcomes to me, I'll take something that rustles. I've worn back numbercast-offs for twenty-two years; now I'm ready for the other kind. I'vebeen traveling so far behind the procession I couldn't tell which way itwas going. Now I'm going to give the drum major a view of my back hair.The sort of costumes I want are the kind that are designed this afternoonfor day after to-morrow. If it's checks, I'll take two to the piece; ifit's stripes, I want to make a circus zebra look like a clipped mule. AndI want a change for every day in the week."

  "But, my dear girl," says Sadie, "can you afford to----"

  "You bet I can!" says Maizie. "My share of Uncle Hen's pile is forty-fivehundred dollars, and while it lasts I'm going to have the lilies of thefield looking like the flowers you see on attic wall paper. I don't carewhat I have to eat, or where I stay; but when it comes to clothes, showme the limit! But say, I guess it's time we were getting back to ourboarding-house. Wake up, Phemey!"

  Well, I pilots 'em out to Fifth-ave., stows 'em into a motor stage, andheads 'em down town.

  "Whew!" says Sadie, when I gets back. "I suppose that is a sample ofWestern breeziness."

  "It's more'n a sample," says I. "But I can see her finish, though. Insideof three months all she'll have left to show for her wad will be a trunkfull of fancy regalia and a board bill. Then it will be Maizie hunting ajob in some beanery."

  "Oh, I shall talk her out of that nonsense," says Sadie. "What she oughtto do is to take a course in stenography and shorthand."

  Yes, we laid out a full programme for Maizie, and had her earnin' herlittle twenty a week, with Phemey keepin' house for both of 'em in a nicelittle four-room flat. And in the mornin' I helps her deposit thecertified check, and then turns the pair over to Sadie for an assault onthe department stores, with a call at a business college as a finish forthe day, as we'd planned.

  When I gets home that night I finds Sadie all fagged out and drinkin'bromo seltzer for a headache.

  "What's wrong?" says I.

  "Nothing," says Sadie; "only I've been having the time of my life."

  "Buying tailor made uniforms for the Misses Blickens?" says I.

  "Tailor made nothing!" says Sadie. "It was no use, Shorty, I had to givein. Maizie wanted the other things so badly. And then Euphemia declaredshe must have the same kind. So I spent the whole day fitting them out."

  "Got 'em something sudden and noisy, eh?" says I.

  "Just wait until you see them," says Sadie.

  "But what's the idea?" says I. "How long do they think they can keep upthat pace? And when they've blown themselves short of breath, whatthen?"

  "Heaven knows!" says Sadie. "But Maizie has plans of her own. When Imentioned the business college, she just laughed, and said if shecouldn't do something better than pound a typewriter, she'd go back toDobie."

  "Huh!" says I. "Sentiments like that has got lots of folks intotrouble."

  "And yet," says Sadie, "Maizie's a nice girl in her way. We'll see howshe comes out."

  We did, too. It was a couple of weeks before we heard a word from eitherof 'em, and then the other day Sadie gets a call over the 'phone from aperfect stranger. She says she's a Mrs. Herman Zorn, of West End-ave.,and that she's givin' a little roof garden t
heater party that evenin', inhonor of Miss Maizie Blickens, an old friend of hers that she used toknow when she lived in St. Paul and spent her summers near Dobie. Alsoshe understood we were friends of Miss Blickens too, and she'd be pleasedto have us join.

  "West End-ave.!" says I. "Gee! but it looks like Maizie had been able tobutt in. Do we go, Sadie?"

  "I said we'd be charmed," says she. "I'm dying to see how Maizie willlook."

  I didn't admit it, but I was some curious that way myself; so abouteight-fifteen we shows up at the roof garden and has an usher lead us tothe bunch. There's half a dozen of 'em on hand; but the only thing worthlookin' at was Maizie May.

  And say, I thought I could make a guess as to somewhere near how shewould frame up. The picture I had in mind was a sort of cross between aGrand-st. Rebecca and an Eighth-ave. Lizzie Maud,--you know, one of thenear style girls, that's got on all the novelties from ten bargaincounters. But, gee! The view I gets has me gaspin'. Maizie wa'n't near;she was two jumps ahead. And it wa'n't any Grand-st. fashion plate thatshe was a livin' model of. It was Fifth-ave. and upper Broadway. Talkabout your down-to-the-minute costumes! Say, maybe they'll be wearin'dresses like that a year from now. And that hat! It wa'n't a dream; itwas a forecast.

  "We saw it unpacked from the Paris case," whispers Sadie.

  All I know about it is that it was the widest, featheriest lid I ever sawin captivity, and it's balanced on more hair puffs than you could put ina barrel. But what added the swell, artistic touch was the collar. It's achin supporter and ear embracer. I thought I'd seen high ones, but thistwelve-inch picket fence around Maizie's neck was the loftiest choker Iever saw anyone survive. To watch her wear it gave you the samesensations as bein' a witness at a hanging. How she could do it and keepon breathin', I couldn't make out; but it don't seem to interfere withher talkin'.

  Sittin' close up beside her, and listenin' with both ears stretched andhis mouth open, was a blond young gent with a bristly Bat Nelsonpompadour. He's rigged out in a silk faced tuxedo, a smoke colored, openface vest, and he has a big yellow orchid in his buttonhole. By the wayhe's gazin' at Maizie, you could tell he approved of her from the groundup. She don't hesitate any on droppin' him, though, when we arrives.

  "Hello!" says she. "Ripping good of you to come. Well, what do you think?I've got some of 'em on, you see. What's the effect?"

  "Stunning!" says Sadie.

  "Thanks," says Maizie. "I laid out to get somewhere near that. And, gosh!but it feels good! These are the kind of togs I was born to wear. Phemey?Oh, she's laid up with arnica bandages around her throat. I told her shemustn't try to chew gum with one of these collars on."

  "Say, Maizie," says I, "who's the Sir Lionel Budweiser, and where did youpick him up?"

  "Oh, Oscar!" says she. "Why, he found me. He's from St. Paul, nephew ofMrs. Zorn, who's visiting her. Brewer's son, you know. Money? They've gotbales of it. Hey, Oscar!" says she, snappin' her finger. "Come over hereand show yourself!"

  And say, he was trained, all right. He trots right over.

  "Would you take him, if you was me?" says Maizie, turnin' him round forus to make an inspection. "I told him I wouldn't say positive until I hadshown him to you, Mrs. McCabe. He's a little under height, and I don'tlike the way his hair grows; but his habits are good, and his allowanceis thirty thousand a year. How about him? Will he do?"

  "Why--why----" says Sadie, and it's one of the few times I ever saw herrattled.

  "Just flash that ring again, Oscar," says Maizie.

  "O-o-oh!" says Sadie, when Oscar has pulled out the white satin box andsnapped back the cover. "What a beauty! Yes, Maizie, I should say that,if you like Oscar, he would do nicely."

  "That goes!" says Maizie. "Here, Occie dear, slide it on. But remember:Phemey has got to live with us until I can pick out some victim ofnervous prostration that needs a wife like her. And for goodness' sake,Occie, give that waiter an order for something wet!"

  "Well!" says Sadie afterwards, lettin' out a long breath. "To think thatwe ever worried about her!"

  "She's a little bit of all right, eh?" says I. "But say, I'm glad I ain'tOccie, the heir to the brewery. I wouldn't know whether I was engaged toMaizie, or caught in a belt."