|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 57
* * * * *
At three o'clock the next afternoon he lounged carelessly against the
basement railing of the steam-heated apartment. With Nap on a leash he
was keenly aware that he was "some class." He was arrayed in the new
suit of a quiet check. The cravat with the red stripe shimmered in the
sunlight. He had a new straw hat with a coloured band, bought the day
before at a shop advertising "Snappy Togs for Dressy Men." He lightly
twirled a yellow stick and carried yellow gloves in one hand. He was
almost the advanced dresser, dignified but unquestionably a bit
different. He seemed to be one who has tamed the world to his ends; but,
though he stood erect, expanded his chest and drew in his waist, as
instinctively do all those who wear America's greatest eighteen-dollar
suit, he was nevertheless wondering with a lively apprehension just what
was going to be done with him. This life of "affairs" was making him
uncomfortable.
Taking Nap along, he somehow felt, was a wise precaution. He didn't know
what mad thing you might expect of Grandma, the Demon, but surely
nothing very discreditable could occur in the presence of that innocent
dog. And he would play the waiting game; make 'em show their hands.
At twenty minutes after three he wondered if he mightn't reasonably
disappear. He would walk in the park and say afterward--if there should
be an afterward--that he had given them up. An easy way out. He would do
it. Twenty minutes more passed and he still meant to do it, knowing he
wouldn't.
Then came the blare of a motor horn and Breede's biggest and blackest
car descended upon him, stopping neatly at the curb.
He retained his calm, nonchalantly doffing the new straw hat.
"Just strolling off," he said; "given you up."
"Pops wanted to come," explained the flapper. "I had a perfectly
annoying time not letting him. What a darling child of a dog! _Does_ he
want to--well, he _shall_!"
And Nap did at once. He seemed in the flapper to be greeting an old
friend. He interrogated his lawful owner from the flapper's embrace,
then reached up to implant a moist salute upon the ear of Grandma, who
at once removed herself from his immediate presence.
"Sit there yourself," she commanded Bean. And Bean sat there beside the
flapper, with Nap between them. The car moved gently on under the gaze
of the impressed Cassidy, who had clattered up the iron stairway.
Cassidy's gaze seemed to say, "All right, me lad, but you want t' look
out f'r that sort. I know th' kind well!"
The car was moving swiftly now, heading for the north and the open.
"They cut us off yesterday," said the flapper. "I know I shall simply
make a lot of trouble for that operator some day."
He wondered if she had heard that mad "Chubbins!" But now the flapper
smiled upon him with a wondrous content, and he could say nothing.
Instead of talking he stroked the head of Nap, who was panting with the
excitement of this celestial adventure.
"I like you in that," confided the flapper with an approving glance. He
wondered if she meant the hat, the cravat or America's very best suit
for the money.
"I like _you_ in that," he retorted with equal vagueness, at last stung
to speech.
"Oh, this!" explained the flapper in pleased deprecation. "It's just a
little old rag. What's his darling name?"
"Eh? Name? Napoleon, Man and--I mean Napoleon. I call him Nap," he said
shortly, feeling himself in chameleon-like sympathy with the cravat.
Grandma, on the seat in front of them, stared silently ahead, but there
was something ominous in her rigidity. She had the air of a captor.
Once when his hand was on Nap the flapper brazenly patted it. He
pretended not to notice.
"Everything's all right," she said.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|