"Shut up!" barks Alex, swingin' around on me. "This here is far from a laughin' matter. It's pretty serious business!" He turns to Wilkinson and shakes him by the shoulder. "Young man," he snaps, "is that the kind of stuff you were goin' to put on our boys which fought for you in France?"
Wilkinson is lookin' at the coats like they fascinated him.
"Why—why this is terrible!" he stammers, fin'ly. "They told me—why—Good Heavens, you don't thinkIknew these things were made up like this, do you?"
Alex studies him for a minute.
"No," he says, "I don't! You don't look like you'd do that, anyways. What's the name of your firm?"
"Gerhardt and Schmidt," says Wilkinson. "I know it sounds German, but both members of the firm have been naturalized and—"
"Never mind that," says Alex. "Even if it wasn't no worse than a scheme to clean up on a government contract, I think the Secret Service will be interested in seein' them coats!"
The lovely Wilkinson sits right down on the curb and buries his face in his hands.
"Good night!" he moans. "I'm done for now. I thought this was going to be a big thing for me and—"
Alex slaps him on the back.
"No whinin'," he says. "We're still in Washington—you can't tell what might happen yet."
"You can gimme that fifteen hundred berries right now if you want, Alex," I says, "because I'm gonna grab the next train for Manhattan. This isonethat beat you and—"
"Ssh!" says the lovely Wilkinson, jumpin' up suddenly. "Here comes Colonel Williams himself!"
We looked around and sure enough there's two army officers walkin' over to the War Department. When they got opposite us, Wilkinson braces himself and steps forward.
"Pardon me, Colonel," he says. "I'm Mister Wilkinson of Gerhardt and Schmidt. I had an appointment with you to-day at five to show you those army coats."
The Colonel looks at him.
"Oh, yes," he says, very pleasant. "Just step inside, Mister Wilkinson. I'll see you in my office. You are very prompt. You must have been caught in the downpour—you're soaking wet."
"Yes, sir," says Wilkinson. "I—ah—Colonel, I don't think there's any use of me stepping into your office."
"Eh—why not?" says the Colonel.
Wilkinson turns several of the popular colors.
"I—ah—the fact is," he says, "our coat is not what the United States government wants, Colonel. I didn't know it at the time I solicited the contract—I—I've just found it out. We brought the required number of coats down here by auto truck, not being able to get them here on time by freight or express. The trip was made in yesterday's storm and"—he points to the mess on the truck—"there's the coats!"
The Colonel examines a couple of them soggy rags and he gets very severe. I heard him say somethin' that sounded like "Damn!" a couple of times, and then he turns to Wilkinson.
"This is a matter for the Department of Justice," he says. "You will leave the truck and its load right here, Mister Wilkinson, and I'll personally see that it's taken care of. Your action in coming direct to me with this evidence is commendable. You may telegraph your firm that the United States government is holding this shipment for investigation. I'm sorry for your sake that this happened, as I had all but made up my mind to give you the contract. If you desire to see me further, I'll be in my office until six."
With that he stamps away. The other officer who was with him has been walkin' around the Gaflooey truck all the time and examin' it like it's the first auto he ever seen in his life.
"Pardon me," he says to Wilkinson, "did I understand you to say that you made the trip from New York yesterday in the storm on this truck?"
"Yes, sir," says Wilkinson.
The officer pulls out a notebook.
"What time did you leave New York?" he asks, very businesslike.
Wilkinson tells him. Then the officer asks if we had any trouble, how much gas and oil we used, what was our average speed and a million other things. Alex's eyes begin to dance around, and he winks at me like there's somethin' in the air. Fin'ly the officer walks away, after thankin' the lovely Wilkinson for the information.
"Now!" hollers Alex, grabbin' Wilkinson's arm. "You win!"
"Win?" moans Wilkinson. "I'll be lucky if I don't go to jail!"
"You're crazy!" bellers Alex, gettin' more and more excited. "You had nothin' to do with this thing—you didn't know the coats was no good. Forget about that, the thing is you got a chance right now to put over a bigger thing than them overcoats. You come here to make a sale, didn't you? All right, go to it! That officer is connected with the purchasin' department of the government, and he wasted a lot of time talkin' to you about that truck. Do you realize what a wonderful thing that was to get down here O.K. in that terrible storm yesterday? No—youdon't, buthedid! Right now he's got that there truck on his mind. Go after him before he gets inside the buildin' and make your sale!"
"But," says Wilkinson, kinda dazed, "what have I got to sell? The overcoats are—"
"Damn the overcoats!" hollers Alex. "Sell him the truck that brought 'em down—they ain't nothin' wrong with that! If it's good enough for a trip like that, it's good enough for the army, ain't it? Hurry up and make an appointment with him for to-day, and I'll get you the figures on the Gaflooey truck for a hundred or a million—I know 'em by heart!"
"By Heavens, I'll chance it!" says Wilkinson, and runs after the officer.
Comin' up on the train that night I sit in the smoker and write Alex my check for a thousand berries. They was no two ways about it as he showed me, because he had bet he would make Wilkinson put over a sale in Washington. He didn't saywhathe had to sell. The lovely Wilkinson, which has sent about five dollars' worth of night letters to his wife, is sittin' on the other side, delirious with joy and with a order in his pocket for one thousand Gaflooey trucks as per the one we come down in. Alex had wired the Gaflooey people and had Wilkinson appointed a salesman for the Washington territory on his recommendation. Them guys would do anything for Alex, because he put 'em on the map. With telegraphed credentials from New York, the rest was a cinch for even the lovely Wilkinson, because the truck sold itself!
"They is only one thing that beats me," I says to Alex before we turn in on the sleeper. "Why didn'tyousell the truck and make all the dough yourself?"
"Its a good thing you don't need brains in your game," says Alex, "or you and Alice would starve! I wanted Wilkinson to make the sale all by himself, because it will give him confidence, and then, again, he'll advertise me. I get half of his commission, I grab a bonus from the Gaflooey people for helpin' the sale along and then there's that thousand bucks of yours, which I would of lost if I sold the trucks myself. Also, I have put Mister Wilkinson over, and that's what I started out to do!"
"You win!" I says. "I don't see how you get away with it. It's past me!"
"Huh!" says Alex. "They ain't no trick to it at all—why say, evenyoucould of done it!"
They's many a guy clutterin' up a pay roll for about thirty bucks a week, which has got more brains than his boss has income tax. When he went to school they wasn't a day that some other kid didn't wanna murder him because he got 100 in arithmetic and the like. He passed on to high school and even invaded college, where he dumfounded all in hearing with his knowledge of—everything! When he was fin'ly turned loose on a helpless world, he was so far ahead of his class that they held special services for him and had the regular one the next day.
Now the dope oughta be that this marvel of intelligence should be down in Wall Street now, tellin' J. P. Morgan and etc. that the next time they come in late for work he'd fire 'em. Well, about once in ten thousand times this is true. Usually, however, this guy is the bird that takes your card at the office door and says, "Sit down, Mr. Morgan's fifth assistant secretary will see you in a moment." And then the head bookkeeper rings a bell and this guy says, "Yes, sir," and jumps!
They is a reason for this, the same as for everything else outside of the Kaiser. The swell-dressed assassin with the ladies, which writes such beautiful figures and knows offhand how much is thirty-three times eighty, is fast joinin' the list of non-essential industrials. They got a machine now which can count better than him, and don't try to make no date with the stenographer, either! He thinks his boss is a boob, because said boss is a little bit in doubt as to what day of the week Napoleon joined the army, and he wonders how in heaven's name a guy as stupid as that ever got as far as he did. The answer to that one is easy. Whilehewas memorizin' the fact that A plus C equals X, hisbosswas figurin' how to hire a brainy guy like him to count his dough!
The wife and I are about to set sail for the movies one night, when our French maid from the Bronx admits a interruption by the name of Alex.
"Well," he says, kidnappin' my goat by treatin' himself to one of my pet cigars, "I have run across another feller which I am on the verge of makin' a success. I've studied his case carefully and all he needs is to be set on the right track to bust all speed records."
"Where did you meet this second-story man?" I says.
"He ain't no burglar," says Alex; "he's some kind of a bookkeeper, and he's got one of the sweetest little girls in love with him you ever seen!"
"I thought you was married," I says.
"Now," says Alex, snubbin' me as usual, "I want to bring him up here to dinner to-morrow night and have you meet him as he is at present. In a short time later I'll bring him back again, and if he hasn't made himself a success, I'll buy you all the best dinner you ever eat!"
"Listen!" I says. "As Hoover says, 'Food will win the war—don't eat it!' Don't be invitin' no more guys up here to dinner. It's tough enough to have to feedyouthree or four times a week, without you ringin' in these guys which acts like I win them steaks and chops in a raffle. Now I'm goin' to the movies. They's a five-reeler down at the corner called 'She Give Her Soul!' and they ain't no man gonna keep me from seein' that to-night."
"Come along with us, Alex," chimes in the wife. "A couple of my girl friends which used to be in the Winter Garden with me is in this picture and I'm crazy to see them!"
"Hmph!" snorts Alex. "Anybody is crazy which pays money to look at them fool movin' pictures. If I had my way, they'd all be stopped and—"
"Lillian Dish is in this one," butts in the wife. "Have you seen her lately?"
"No!" says Alex, jumpin' up. "By mackerel, I haven't! Hurry up, we'll be late—you people is never in time for anything! Lillian Dish, hey? Say! Did you see her in 'What's a Wife?' She was great! Why I—"
I dragged the both of them out.
Promptly at seven the next night Alex comes up with his new-found friend. I let forth a groan and told the maid to lay a couple more plates, but to slice everything as thin as possible without cuttin' her hands. The stranger was a tall, slim bird which wouldn't have been bad-looking if he hadn't been so serious. He acted like it was a felony to smile, and got my name wrong the first four times he repeated it.
Well, after the sound of clashin' knives and forks had died away, the wife dolls all up and goes over to visit the hero which wed Alex; and us strong men repairs to the parlor, where the cigars clink merrily and the like.
The stranger's name turned out to be S. Jared Rushton, and after a while I figured the "S" stood for "Silly." This guy knowed more about figures than the stage manager at the Follies. He was a hound for numbers, dates and etc. He had a better memory than a loan shark, and a encyclopedia would look stupid alongside of him. No matter what the subject was, this guy knowed more about it than the bird which wrote it and would butt in with the figures to prove it. Fin'ly, when I struck a match and he tells me they is 9,765,543 of them used in New York every fiscal year, I went out into the kitchen for air!
I struck a match and he tells me they is 9,765,543 of them used in New York every fiscal year.I struck a match and he tells me they is 9,765,543 of them used in New York every fiscal year.
I struck a match and he tells me they is 9,765,543 of them used in New York every fiscal year.I struck a match and he tells me they is 9,765,543 of them used in New York every fiscal year.
At first it was kinda interestin' and entertainin' to get the inside dope oneverythingat practically no cost, but they is such a thing as bein'tooclever; and when it become impossible to speak of anything on earth from bankin' to beer, without this bird buttin' in with all the figures on it, I got enough! I tried to yawn him into goin' home, and he notices I got two bum teeth. That furnished him with a scenario for tellin' me that every year 490,517 people is treated by dentists in New York alone, and I says I can't help it and he mustn't of got a wink or sleep the night he counted 'em.
"Oh," he says, "it's very simple. I carry all those figures in my head."
"Why not?" I says. "They's plenty of room there!"
He looked kinda peeved; but before he could come back at me, Alex takes things in hand.
"Jared," he says, "you are certainly a educated citizen. With all them interestin' facts and figures in your head you must be very valuable to the firm you work for, hey?"
Jared throws out what chest he had with him.
"Well," he says, "I saved the Hamilton Construction Company just $6,547.98 last year by cutting down the excessive use of lead pencils and blotters alone!"
"That's fine!" says Alex. "No doubt they give you a handsome bonus for that, hey?"
"Of course," says Jared. "They raised my salary to thirty-five dollars a week. I was only getting thirty-two and a half."
"You saved them six thousand last year and they raised you about a hundred and thirty, eh?" says Alex. "Now, listen! Why couldn't you have made that six thousand foryourselfjust as easy?"
"Why—I—why—" stammers Jared. "I have no chance to make anything but my salary. I'm simply working there, and—"
"And you always will be, if you don't get wise to yourself!" butts in Alex. "Your boss—"
"My boss, eh?" sneers Jared. "Say, he hasn't got the brains of a gnat! He'd be absolutely up in the air if I wasn't at his elbow with data and estimates on everything. He doesn't know anything, and—"
"No, I guess not!" butts in Alex, with a odd grin. "He don't know anything—only how to make money! Say, listen! If this boss of yours is such a boob, what mustyoube? You'reworkin'for him, ain't you? Why should he have any brains, when he can rent yours for thirty-five dollars a week? Now, listen to me, son. You know a little about everything on earth, with the slight exception of yourself! The figures that should interest you more than anything else is these: For every dollaryoumake, your boob boss is makin' a thousand. Ever figure them statistics along with the other stuff?"
Jared registers embarrassment. "Look here!" he says. "I really don't see the reason of all this. I consider myself quite successful. I may not be making a million a week, but I'm always sure of my job, and that's quite a lot!"
"You're always sure of your job, hey?" bawls Alex. "That's the slogan of the quitter! 'I'm gettin' my little old salary fifty-two weeks a year, and that's good enough for me.' That's the motto of the loser." With that he jumps up and sticks his face so close to Jared I thought he was gonna bite him or the like. "What about the future?" he hollers. "You must have brains, or you couldn't of collected that mass of junk in your dome. You got a million dollars' worth of salable stuff from the top of your collar to the crown of your derby and you're peddlin' it away for thirty-five a week. I'll bet right now you could produce a scheme for gettin' a quarter that would be unbeatable, legitimate, and successful. But if you was asked to dope out a scheme for gettin' twenty-five thousand dollars, the size of the figures alone would knock that thinker of yours cold! You can't think that big. Your mind's all cluttered up with little things. It's a junk pile. The same concentration and perseverance on some onebigthing would put you over—and if you don't believe it, ask your boob boss, which undoubtedly did just that and is now keepin' you!"
"That's all rot!" remarks Jared. "There's about one chance in a million of getting over in New York. You've got to get in right, and even then it's largely a matter of luck! If I was ever asked, I'd tell every young man to keep away from New York. The town's too big! It swallows you up and you're buried there till—"
Zam!!! Alex bounces outa his chair and shakes his finger under Jared's nose.
"That's not true!" he hollers. "Listen to me, young feller! I came here a short time ago with one-tenth of the ability that you got. New York looked as cold and hard to me as it does to any rube that slinks in from the outlands, crazy with the desire to capture it. But instead of drivin' me back to the dear old farm, the tough conditions hereattractedme. That is, takin' for granted your statement that they are tough, which I don't believe. I know that a man with the genuine goods can deliver them here at top price quicker than any other place on earth."
"But wait!" interrupts Jared, seemin' to catch some of Alex's pep. "Your case was exceptional. You must admit—"
"I don't admit nothin'!" roars Alex. "Suppose your argument is true. Let's say the chances for success hereareslim. All right, fine! That's what mademestick! Your own argument makes New Yorktheplace to make good in. If there's satisfaction in winnin' over one man or a thousand, think of a hard-won square victory over six millions! Why, boy, the very quality of the competition here keeps a man on his toes and, if he makes goodhere, he'sdonesomethin'!"
Well, believe me, when Alex wound up that speech they was so much pep in the room I felt like goin' out and tellin' Rockefeller I'd forgot more about the oil game than he ever knew! Jared looks kinda dazed and Alex never gives him a chance to get set.
"How about—ah—Miss Evans?" he says; "have you thought about her?"
"See here!" busts out Jared. "We won't discuss Mab—er—Miss Evans."
Alex grins.
"That's fine!" he says. "I'm glad you got some spirit left; they's hope for you yet! Let's see," he goes on, like they had been no interruption at all, "how long have you known Miss Evans?"
"Over a year," says Jared. "But I don't see what—"
Alex points a finger at him.
"You love her, don't you?" he barks out.
"Of course I do!" mumbles Jared, like he's answering without knowin' it.
"Then why don't you marry her?"
Jared stares at him like he's in a trance.
"Marryher?" he gasps. "Marry her? Why if I ever asked herthat, she wouldn't even let me call on her any more!"
"You're crazy!" remarks Alex pleasantly. "Now listen, son! You been goin' around with that girl over a year, and if she didn't reciprocate your feelin' for her, you wouldn't of lasted that long. Jared, old boy, a year is too long to monopolize a girl without declarin' yourself! You're spoilin' her chances, and it's dead wrong! They is plenty of other young men which would give their left eye to take her to the movies and the like, but they're layin' off because, havin' always seen her with you, they take it for granted they is no chance. That's fine right now for both of you; but if anything should arise that would make you two part, it won't be as easy for her to replace you. Now you need a incentive, and a strong one, to put you across. They is no bigger incentive on earth than matrimony. Go to her and ask—"
"One minute!" butts in Jared. "I never was talked to like this in my life before, and why I'm permitting you to discuss my personal affairs, I don't know. As long as I am, I'll go through with it. What you say may be true, but this girl is different, and—"
"Jared," says Alex, "I don't doubt that she's different, but, nevertheless, she's a member of the well-known female sex, and I'm basin' my dope on that! I'll tell you what I'll do with you. You ask Miss Evans to marry you, and, if she refuses, I'll give you a job myself for fifty dollars a week; fifteen more than you get now. If she accepts, you gotta raise yourself by your own efforts to fifty dollars a week within six months, or go to work for me for twenty. Now if you got some red blood in you, let's see it!"
Well, Jared gets up and walks around the room for a minute and fin'ly he comes over and holds out his hand to Alex.
"You're on!" he says. "Only, I'll say this: If Mabel—er—Miss Evans, accepts me, I'll be so happy that I won't be good foranything for a month. If she refuses me, I'llneverbe any good any more! However, I'll try it. Perhaps I've been asleep. I don't know. But if this girl ever marries me—" He stops and bangs his fists on the table. "Oh, boy!!!!" he winds up.
Just then they is a ring at the telephone. The maid makes a entrance and claims Mr. Jared Rushton is wanted. In about five minutes, Jared comes back and apologizes.
"My boss, Mr. Hamilton," he says. "I've always got to let him know where he can get in touch with me after office hours. I gave him your phone number before I came here to-night." He turns to Alex. "That's what it is to be a valuable man," he says. "The boss wants me to get all the data together for an estimate on one of the biggest contracts we've ever had a whack at. That means I'll be up all night, so I'll have to leave now. Our four big contract experts are scattered 'round the country and the boss will have to go after this one himself to-morrow. There will be a conference at the Hotel Dubois, and—"
Alex jumps up, his eyes flashin'.
"Why can'tyougo after that contract?" he shoots out.
Jared looks like he's been hit on the chin.
"Me?" he stammers. "Why—why—"
"Why, why, nothin'!" butts in Alex. "Here's a chance for you to show Miss Evans, your boss, and the rest of the world what's in you. If your boss calls on you for the figures in this thing, then you must know more about it than he does, or anybody else in the office. Can you get him on the phone?"
"But—but I have never sold anything in my life!" says Jared. "You don't understand this thing at all. It requires experience and—oh, it's silly to even think of it! Why—"
"Yeh?" butts in Alex. "What's his number?" He rushes to the phone.
"Say, listen—please!" pleads Jared; "it's not a bit regular and—why, he'd fire me out of hand if I ever did anything like this!"
"The number!" bawls Alex, with the receiver off the hook.
"Riverside 33,312," stammers Jared, wringin' his hands. "But look here, you mustn't—"
Alex gets the number and Jared falls back in a chair, and mutters somethin' about bein' ruined for life. In another minute, Alex is announcin' to somebody that Mr. Jared Rushton wishes to speak to Mr. Hamilton on a matter of the greatest importance. Jared lets forth a wail like a dyin' fish or the like, and then Alex grabs him by the arms.
"Now, go to it!" he says. "Tell him you want a chance at this contract yourself. Say you know more about it than anyone else and have been plannin' the thing for weeks. You don'tthinkyou can land this contract—youknowit!"
"But," wails Jared, "Idon'tknow—"
Alex shoves him over to the phone.
Well, the funniest conversation you, I, or anybody else ever heard begins right then and there. Jared starts off kinda weak and tremblin' and I felt sorry for him, because from his answers it looked like a cinch that he was fired. Pretty soon he gets a little stronger, and in a few minutes he was talkin' like the boss was workin' forhim! The only way I can figure it is that Alex had hopped him up so much that he got to where he believed himself that he was the only man on earth that could land this contract. When Jared says if he don't get this chance he's gonna quit his job right then and there and the boss can look elsewhere for the estimate figures, I almost fell off the couch, and Alex does a war dance.
Bang! Jared slams down the receiver and swings around on Alex.
"Well," he snaps out, "you've done it! I am to be at the Hotel Dubois at eleven to-morrow to meet the representatives of one of the biggest steel concerns in the country. I'm to take from them a contract running into millions. If I don't get it, I'm fired. If I do get it—well, there's no use talking about that part of it, because I won't!"
With that he sinks into a chair and buries his head in his hands. Alex keeps right on top of him.
"Fine!" he says, rubbin' his hands together. "Now call up Miss Evans and ask her to marry you!"
"What?" shrieks Jared, bouncin' up from his chair. "What is this? A nightmare? You've already probably cost me my job, and now you want to wreck my happiness! I was a fool to listen to you. I—"
"Sure!" says Alex. "Let's get her on the phone right away."
Jared looks wildly around the room and grabs for his hat. Alex pushes him back in a chair.
"Now, you listen to me!" he snarls, all the grin gone from him. "You are at this minute facin' the biggest thing that's ever come into your thirty-five-dollar-a-week life. You got a chance now to rise above the mob. You also got a chance to marry what is the greatest girl in the world, accordin' to your own admission. If you ask her to marry youbeforeyou go after this contract and she accepts you, think of the confidence you'll have! Why, boy, if this girl says she'll marry you, they ain't nothin' in New York can stop you from goin' over the top! Go on! You're all worked up now—go to it before you get cold!"
Jared grabs up the phone receiver, pale as a ghost.
"By heavens!" he says. "I—you—if—Gimme Morningside 77,638, quick!"
Alex closes the door and pulls me into the other room.
"That there's gonna be private," he says.
"Where did you meet this Miss Evans?" I says.
"H'mph!" grunts Alex. "I never seen the girl in my life! Jared simply told me about her, that's all!"
"Well," I says, "you certainly have balled things up. They ain't a doubt in my mind but that you've made that poor boy lose his job; and as far as I can see you're gonna make him lose his girl, too! I'd hate to be you when he staggers away from that phone!"
"Yeh?" grins Alex. "Well, I'll tell you somethin': As long as I'm goin' to all this trouble, I might as well get somethin' outta it. I'll bet you ten thousand to five the girl marries him and he lands the contract. If he loses either one, or both, you win!"
"Write it!" I says.
He hain't no more than handed the thing over to me, when in comes Jared. His face is all flushed and he acts like a guy walkin' in his sleep.
"I know neither of you will believe it," he says, in a far-away voice. "In fact, I think I'm dreaming, myself!"
"What did she say?" demands Alex, shakin' him.
"She said yes!" hollers Jared, in a voice that must of woke up sleepers in Kansas City. "Let me have my hat, I want to go over to her right away!"
"Well, what do you think of my dope now, hey?" says Alex.
"I'll never be able to thank you for what you've done for me!" says Jared, holdin' out his hand. "Why, just imagine! This wonderful girl is going to be my wife and I had no more idea—Why, this girl is as different from any other as—But you wouldn't understand—"
"I understand perfect!" says Alex, shakin' his hand. "And now the next thing is that contract, which should be a cinch for you after what you just done. Go over and see her now, but don't forget them figures on the—"
"Contract?" butts in Jared, jammin' on his hat. "What's a contract to me now? I'm going to marry the greatest girl in the world, man! Can you imagine her accepting me! Oh, boy!!!!!"
With that he does a few little fancy steps around the room, throwing a twenty-dollar pillow at Alex and a book at me.
This here's a new angle, and Alex grabs him.
"Look here!" he says. "I know you're in a hurry, so I don't want to hold you up now; but you wanna recover from this here till you land that contract! You'll lose your job if you don't, and you ain't gonna start off married life outta work, are you?"
"I should worry!" sings Jared, still one-steppin' about the room. "I can get another job—forty of 'em! I can get anything at all, now. She's going to marry me, she's going to marry me!"
"She's going to marry me, she's going to marry me!""She's going to marry me, she's going to marry me!"
"She's going to marry me, she's going to marry me!""She's going to marry me, she's going to marry me!"
He dashes for the door, and Alex runs after him.
"What time is the appointment with the big steel men?" he shrieks in his ear.
"What's a big steel man to me?" asks Jared, struggling to get away. "What's anything? I'll bet she would have accepted me long ago if—"
"What time is that conference?" howls Alex.
"I care not!" sings Jared, throwing the phone book up in the air, and a idiotic grin at me. "I'm going to have a quiet wedding and—"
I thought Alex was gonna choke him!
Personally, I developed a bad case of the hystericals.
"The time?" screams Alex.
"Eleven o'clock," says Jared.
"Will you promise me on your word of honor to meet me at that hotel at ten to-morrow, in view of what I done for you?" says Alex.
"Sure!" hollers Jared. "I'll promise anything! Look what's been promised to me!"
With that he breaks away from Alex and dives out the door.
Alex comes back and sinks down into a chair, wipin' off his fevered brow with a handkerchief.
"That baby is a plain nut!" I remarks.
"Whew!" pants Alex. "I started somethin' now, that's sure! Still, I don't blame the boy. I felt the same way when Eve claimed she'd wed me, and I guess you did too when Alice went temporarily insane and brung you into the family. If I can keep him keyed up to that pitch to-morrow, he'll land that contract, and I'll land your five thousand!"
"He won't land nothin'!" I says. "He's gone nutty now, and you'll be lucky if he shows up at all. This here'sonebet I win!"
"Yeh?" snaps Alex, gettin' up and reachin' for his hat. "D'ye wanna take five thousand more of it?"
"No!" I says. "Good night!"
At nine forty-five the next mornin', which is practically the middle of the night for me, Alex comes around and drags me outta bed. He says he's goin' down and watch Jared put the contract over and he wants me along to witness the losin' of my bet.
We are in the lobby of the hotel gettin' ready to have Jared paged, when along he comes with some dame he must have kidnapped from the Follies when Ziegfield was busy countin' up the receipts or somethin'. I'll tell the world fair she wassomegirl.
She's lookin' at Jared like he was the eleventh wonder of the world, and he's gazin' back at her like she was the other ten.
"Hello!" hollers Alex, grabbin' Jared's hand and makin' believe it's a pump handle. "Congratulations! I wish I felt as happy as both you folks look!"
"You couldn't!" says Jared, still with that dazed look on his face. "This is my future wife, gentlemen. We're on our way down for the license now. Come on along as witnesses. We're going to be married right—"
"What about that steel contract?" Alex butts in. "Did you get the figures all together last night?"
"I did not!" says Jared. "What do I care about a steel contract? I landed a bigger contract than that, and—"
"Pardon me," interrupts the girl, with her million-dollar smile. "What is this contract regarding the steel?"
Alex tells her the whole dope from start to finish, and when he gets through the girl turns to Jared and says the followin':
"Well, dear, I suppose this horrid old business could wait, but just run up and land that contract for a—a—wedding gift for me! It shouldn't take you very long. I'll wait here for you."
Oh, boy!!! Talkin' about "just runnin' up and landin'" a million-dollar contract like she was sendin' him for stamps or the like!
"All right, honey," says Jared; "I'll be down in five minutes!"
They wasfifteenminutes partin'.
Alex and Jared and I got in the elevator, and on the way up Jared talked about nothin' else but his comin' marriage. When Alex tried to butt in and ask regardin' the estimate for this steel job, Jared gets peevish and says that will be a cinch and is practically over with; but what's worryin' him is the best place to go for a honeymoon!
We are met at the door of the room by a little bald-headed guy, and Jared introduces himself. The little guy looks at us and says he presumes we are Jared's associates—whatever that is. Before Jared can deny the charge, Alex presents him with a kick on the shins and says we are all of that.
Inside, they is a long table and four more guys sittin' at it. They all look like Wall Street and large money, and the table is covered with papers. Jared sits down and begins hummin' "Here Comes the Bride," and we sit down beside him. One guy gets up and says they have talked with five big contractors already, and they ain't made up their mind which bid to accept. If Jared can show them somethin' better than they've seen, the order is all his. Jared pulls out his watch and gets up.
"Gentlemen," he says, "I have an appointment with my future wife in five minutes. I will be on time! I don't know what these other fellows have offered to do for you, but I'll say this: We can erect your plant for exactly $1,789,451.92. That's our lowest price, and if we talked all day I couldn't take off a cent! My concern is known all over the country for the sterling quality of workmanship and materials it employs on every job, whether it's the erection of a lamp post or a city—and we've done both! We will be pleased to list you among the thousands of our satisfied patrons."
With that he reaches for his hat and would of been out of the door, if Alex hadn't held him back with a look.
"But," says one guy, "your figures are more than ten thousand dollars over your nearest competitor's. How about that?"
Jared is starin' out the window.
"I figure we can get a nice flat in the Bronx for about eighty a month," he says, half to himself. "What do you pay?" he finishes, turnin' to Alex.
Alex says nothin', and the five guys look at each other kinda funny.
"When could your firm begin work?" asks one of them.
"Immediately!" says Jared. "I'm going to use your phone here for a minute and telephone my future wife. She's downstairs waiting and will be worried sick—I said I'd be right back!" He walks across the room, while them guys all stare after him like they're in a trance themselves. "Still," mutters Jared, "she mightn't like to live in the Bronx at that!"
While he's on the phone, the five guys puts their heads together and has a whispered conference. By the time he's finished, so are they.
"Mr. Rushton," says the little guy, gettin' up and clearin' his throat, "we have decided to give you the contract. Your methods of salesmanship are somewhat unusual—but they may be due to your extreme confidence, which anybody can see is the right kind of stuff in that line and—"
The little guy goes on with a lot of talk about figures, to which Alex and me listens respectfully and Jared don't listen at all. And fin'ly the little guy says again that they're gonna give Jared the contract, and mebbe, if his future wife is waiting—
"Thanks!" says Jared. "Sheiswaiting and—"
"Shall we draw up the contract now?" butts in Alex. "They's a notary on this floor."
In half a hour we are down in the lobby again, havin' had to hold Jared by main force long enough to sign this thing. The first guy we bump into is his boss!
"Where haveyoubeen?" he hollers at Jared. "I suppose you've botched everything all up. I'll be the laughing stock of New York! Where are those figures for that steel contract?"
Jared looks at him for a minute like, Who is this person? Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the contract.
"Here's your old contract!" he says. "I'm going to take a month off. I'm going to get married. When I come back I want seventy-five dollars a week to start and a job as head of the contract department. And, also—don't never yell at me like that again."
I thought his boss would die of apoplexy then and there. He stares at Jared, snatches the contract, reads a few lines—and then I got the idea he was gonna kiss all of us!
"My boy, you're a wonder!" he says. "I always knew you had the stuff in you! I'll discuss—the—er—the matter of your salary when you come back."
"We'll finish it right now!" butts in Jared. "I don't want nothing worrying me while I'm on my honeymoon. Do I get that or don't I?"
"But," stammers the boss, "your commission on that contract alone will run—"
"Yes or no!" says Jared very cold.
"Yes!" says the boss, with a sigh that could be heard in Harlem. "No wonder you landed that contract if you went after them that way! I've been asleep!"
"No," says Jared, "I've been doing the dreaming."
Every time some guy goes over the top to notoriety and money in this movie called life, they is some 5,678,954 also rans which wags their heads from side to side and says, "Well—no wonder. He was born that way and couldn't help himself!" Then, they go back to their dub jobs and wish they was lucky.
That stuff is all wrong! A guy may be born with different color hair from the next guy, but he's never born with any secret of success that the kid in the adjoinin' crib ain't got. All you need to be born with in order to get the world familiar with your last name is the usual number of arms, legs and etc. and a mad habitual yearnin' to make good that a sudden hypodermic of success don't kill. Anything but failure is possible to a hustler, and by a hustler I don't mean one of them breezy birds which makes a lotta noise, thinks they is only one letter in the alphabet and that's the one after "H," but the guy which takes setbacks as encouragement and quits tryin' the day the undertaker is called in.
They's many a big artist whose ancestors thought paint was used for the sides of barns only, they's many a famous actor whose father figured Shakespeare was the name of a puddin', they's many a big league author come from families which confined their readin' matter to the city directory, and so it goes all along the line—Columbus's old man was a cotton picker. You don't inherit success, you take it by force, usin' your ambition, nerve and ability as the weapons.
The above information was handed on to me by Alex. He says Broadway is too narrow and Vermont moonlight had it lookin' dark at night and he then proceeds to wed one of the prettiest girls that ever looked over the Winter Garden footlights—she makes homemade bread now, too! The first time he went to the Metropolitan Opera House he claims he'd like grand opera if they wouldn't sing and when does the acrobats come out, yet the next week he's able to take a apartment on Riverside Drive. This here is just a few of the things Alex done to break up the dull monotony of life in a burg where that and death is mere incidents.
The wife and I is sittin' together in the parlor one night and she's knittin' a sweater for me that will prob'ly make me off her for life, whilst I'm readin' aloud to her from the only novel in which true love and the like don't win out in the end. It's called "Simpson's Universal Educator" and the subject we are on is how wet is the Pacific, or some such hot stuff as that. They is a ring at the bell and the wife grabs the book outa my hand and slings about thirty dollars' worth of wool over my arms.