To Him That Hath

by Leroy Scott

  CHAPTER IX

  THE MAYOR AND THE INEVITABLE

  At the end of a few days Jimmie Morgan had been settled into David'splace, and David was established in Rogers's room and thoroughly drilledinto his part. Finally, toward the last of the week, a rented typewriterwas installed in the office and Kate Morgan installed before it.

  "As I told you, there'll be little for you to do," Rogers said to herthe afternoon she began work. "When anybody's about you can make a showof being busy--but the rest of the time do as you please."

  He went into his room and closed the door. Kate turned to David, who satat a desk beside her looking a very different man in the well-tailoredsuit Rogers had made him buy.

  "Isn't he fine!" she said in a low voice.

  "He certainly is," David returned warmly.

  "The way he pretended to get all that money for our furniture! But I'llpay him back some day--you see. I didn't think I could, but I know nowthat after a little experience I'll be making good money. They told meat the school I was the fastest girl on the machine they'd had foryears. Some day I hope my chance'll come to do him a good turn."

  David wondered if she guessed, as he had, the kind of turn Rogers, inhis dreams, would like best for her to do him. She had guessed, and sheguessed too what was running that instant in David's brain, for sheshook her head and whispered meaningly:

  "You know I don't care for him that way."

  David looked abruptly back at his desk, and her machine began a whizzingtattoo that fully corroborated the statement of her teachers. But Kateas he had first known her a year before came into his mind, and his eyesslipped surreptitiously up to view the contrast. She wore a white cottondress, its folds as smooth as the iron's bottom, in which she lookedvery fresh and girlish. The hardness and cynicism had gone from herface, and her exaggerated pompadour had subsided into a dressing whichallowed the hair to fall loosely about brow and ears, lending anillusion of fulness to her rather thin face. She was a far softer, farmore controlled Kate Morgan than the Kate Morgan who had been his firstpost-prison friend. But the control, he knew, had not extinguished herold personality. It was there, ready to flame forth when occasionprovoked it.

  That evening, in response to a request sent down by the Mayor of AvenueA, David went up to the Mayor's flat. The sitting-room was a chaos ofchairs, newspapers, clothes and photographs of feminine admirers--theconfirmed disorder of an unmarried man of forty-five. The Mayor,standing amid his household goods in evening clothes, noted that Davidwas observing the quality of his housekeeping.

  "You've seen this before, Aldrich," he said brusquely, "so don't turnyour nose up so much, or you'll spoil the ceilin'."

  He glanced about the room. "It does look like I was boardin' a pethurricane, don't it," he admitted. "Sometimes I've been on the point o'askin' Mrs. Hahn (who attended to the three-room flat) to clean up abit--but, oh say! I can't boss a woman!"

  Early in their friendship the Mayor had discovered that David had someacquaintance with the social customs of Fifth Avenue, and he hadgradually adopted David as his social and sartorial mentor--though inthe item of vests he grumbled against David's taste as altogether tooconservative. So David was not now surprised when the Mayor said, "Isent for you to look me over," stepped into the best light, pulled downhis vest and coat, and demanded complacently: "Well, friend, do I lookfit to be two-steppin' with the ladies?"

  David's gaze travelled upward from the broad, but not broad enough,patent-leather shoes, past his large, white-gloved hands, to the whitevest girdled with a heavy gold chain, across the broad and glisteningarea of his evening shirt, and upward to the culminating glory of hissilk hat.

  "You certainly do!" said David.

  "I thought you'd think so," said the Mayor, nodding. "When I get into mydress suit I ain't such a slouch, am I. But since you made me quitwearin' them handy white bows that hooks in the back o' the neck, myties always look like I'd tied 'em with my feet. Here, fix this blamedthing on me right."

  When David had complied, the Mayor lowered himself into a chair, takingcare to pull up his trousers and to see that the bending did not crumplehis shirt bosom.

  "It's the first fall affair--at the Liberty Assembly Hall--very smallcrowd--very select," he announced to David in a confidential voice thatcould have been heard in the street. "If only the dear ladies--ohLord!--leave me alone!"

  He sighed, and shook his head.

  "I may look like a happy man, friend, but I ain't. I'm gettin' near myfinish. Yes, sir! The bunch after me is narrowin' down to a few--therest has sorter dropped out o' the runnin'. And them few is closin' inon me--closin' in on me. They're in earnest, every one of 'em. Oh, youcan't count the chances I have to set alone with 'em in their parlours,walk home alone with 'em at night, and all them sort o' tricks. Andme"--he groaned, and despair made a vain effort to wrinkle his smoothface--"me, I like it. That's the hell of it!

  "Yes, one's goin' to get me sure. I wish I knew which one'd win out. I'dbe almost willin' to put my money on Carrie Becker. I guess she's asgood as any of 'em. She's just had a row with Mrs. Schweitzer. You knowMrs. Schweitzer sets in one corner o' Schweitzer's cafe every afternoon,and holds a kind o' reception with the people that drop in. CarrieBecker wants to marry me and do the same thing in my cafe, which is tentimes as good as Schweitzer's. She wants to snow Mrs. Schweitzer under.Oh, I'm onto her! That makes two reasons she has for marryin' me.Yes--if I was bettin', I'd bet on Carrie Becker."

  He heaved a great sigh and rose. "Well, I'd better be goin'. You'resure, are you, that I look all right?"

  "Perfect."

  The joy of living spread over his face. "Yes, I guess I do."

  They walked together to the stoop. David watched the Mayor's progressdown the street, saw the heads turn to stare at his effulgent amplitude,and he guessed how the Mayor's gratification was chirrupping to itselfbeneath the Mayor's waistcoat.

  David had ceased cooking his own meals since he had moved from hisbasement room, and had become a boarder at the Pan-American Cafe. Whenhe, Rogers and Tom appeared at breakfast the next morning the Mayor,pale and agitated, yet striving to look composed, hurried over to theirtable.

  "I want to see you as soon's you're through eatin'," he whispered inDavid's ear.

  "All right," said David.

  The Mayor kept an impatient eye on David, and the moment breakfast wasdone he was at David's side, hat in hand. "We can't talk in here," hesaid. "I've got a key to the Liberty Assembly Hall. Let's go overthere." And excusing themselves to Rogers, he led David out.

  The big ball-room, scattered about with the debris of the previousnight's pleasure, had in the cold light of morning a look of desolationwhich even the mural cascades and seas and mountains could not dispel.The room was a fit setting for the despairing face the Mayor turned uponDavid when the hall door was locked behind them. The Mayor did notspeak for several seconds, held his gaze straight on David; then heshouted, his mask of self-control flung aside:

  "Well, you see me! What d'you think o' me?"

  "What's up?

  "It's all up! I've gone and done it!"

  "Done what?"

  "What?--I've done _It_!--I'm engaged!"

  There was frantic hopelessness in the Mayor's voice and in the Mayor'sface.

  "You don't say so!" David ejaculated.

  "I did say so!"

  David could hardly restrain a laugh at the Mayor's desperate appearance."Engaged! You don't look it!"

  "A-a-h! quit your kiddin'!" roared the Mayor fiercely. "This ain'tnothin' to laugh at. It's serious."

  "To which one?" David queried, with the required gravity.

  "Carrie Becker. I knew she'd get me. Oh, she's a slick one all right!Say, friend, if you want a job kicking me at five dollars an hour, getbusy!"

  He began to pace wildly to and fro across the room, then let himselfdrop with a groan into a chair beneath an Alpine cascade, so that itseemed the water was splashing upon his polished head.

  "It was last night--in
this damned hall--in that damned cornerthere--that it happened," he burst out to David, who had taken a chairbeside him. "The hall was all fixed up fancy. There was a line o' themgreen, shiny, greasy-lookin' perpetuated palms across each corner.What's anybody want a hall fixed like that for!--ain't the old way goodenough, I'd like to know?

  "Them palms made little holes, with settees inside, that the women couldrope you into. Cosy and invitin'--oh, sure! And about how many unmarriedfemales in the bunch d'you think missed tryin' to lead me in? Nary ablamed one! But I was wise to their little game, and I says to myself,'None o' them palms for mine.'

  "I balked every time they led me that way--till that last dance withCarrie Becker. I was prancin' along with her in my arms, comfortable andthinkin' nothin' about danger, when she says her shoe's untied and won'tI fasten it. I'll bet my hat she undone it herself, and on purpose!Well, in I went behind her, doubled myself up and fastened her shoe. Iheld out my arm to her, but she said she was out o' breath and didn't Iwant to rest a minute, and she throwed me up a smile. You know she's gota real smile, even if it has been workin' forty years. Right there'swhere I ought t've run, but I didn't. I set down.

  "The window was open, and outside was a new moon. Well, she leaned overclose to me--you know how they do it!--and began to talk about thatmoon. It looked like a piece o' pie-crust a man leaves on his plate. Iknew it was time for me to be movin', and I started up good and quick.But just then her hand happened to fall on mine--accident, oh,sure!--and what d'you think I done? Did I run? No. I'm a fool. I setdown. And it was good-bye for me.

  "When a woman gets hold o' my hand she's got hold o' my rudder, and shecan steer me just about where she likes. Outside was the moon, therebehind them palms playin' goo-goo music was the orchestra, and therebeside me a little closer'n before was Carrie Becker. Well, I ain't nowooden man, you know; I like the ladies. I began to get dizzy. I think Ienjoyed it. Yes, while it lasted I enjoyed it.

  "She said a few things to me, and I said a few things to her--and prettysoon there she was, tellin' me how unpleasant it was livin' with herbrother's family. I was plumb gone by that time. 'Why don't you getmarried?' I asked her. Oh, yes, I was squeezin' her hand all right.'Nobody'll have me,' she said. 'Oh, yes,' I said, and I named half adozen. 'But I don't care for any o' them--I only care for one man,' shesaid. I asked who. She give me that smile o' hers again and said, 'You.'

  "I was dizzy, you know--way up in the air, floatin' on clouds, and--oh,well, I asked her! I ain't goin' to deny that. I asked her! And you canbet she didn't lose no time sayin' yes and fallin' on my shirt-front. Asfor me--well, friend, I won't go into no details, but I done what wasproper to the occasion. And I enjoyed it. Yes, while it lasted I enjoyedit.

  "She didn't give me no chance to back out. Not much! As soon as we comefrom behind them palms she told, and then come the hand-shakin'. Theladies shook my hand, too; but cold--very cold! And soon they all wantedto go home. Understand, don't you? And everybody's been shakin' handsthis mornin'. They think I'm happy. And I've got to pretend to be. But,oh Lord!"

  He glared despairingly, wrathfully, at the corner wherein had beenenacted the tragedy of his wooing, then looked back at David.

  "There's the whole story. Now I want you to help me."

  "Help you?" queried David. "What do?"

  "What do!" roared the Mayor, sarcastically. "D'you think I'm chasin'down a best man!"

  "If I can help you that way----"

  "Oh, hell! See here--I want you to help me out o' this damned hole I'min. You ought to know how to get me out."

  "Oh, that's it." David thought for a moment, on his face the requiredseriousness. "There are only three ways. Disappear or commitsuicide----"

  "Forget it!"

  "Break it off yourself----"

  "And get kicked out o' this part o' town!"

  "Or have her break it off."

  "Now you're comin' to the point, friend. She must break it off, o'course. But how'll I get her to?"

  "Isn't there something bad in your past you can tell her--so bad thatshe'll drop you?"

  "Oh, I've tried that already. As soon as I got outside the hall lastnight and struck cool air, I come to. I began to tell her what a devilof a fellow I'd been--part truth, most lies. Oh, I laid it on thickenough!"

  "And what did she say?"

  "Say? D'you suppose she'd take her hooks out o' me? Not much! Say? Shesaid she was goin' to reform me!"

  They looked steadily at each other for a long time; then David asked:

  "You really want my advice?--my serious advice?"

  "What d'you suppose I brought you here for? Sure I do."

  "Here it is then: Marry her."

  David expected an outburst from the Mayor, but the Mayor's head fellhopelessly forward into his hands and he said not a word. David tookadvantage of the quiet to speak as eloquently as he could of theadvantages of marrying in the Mayor's case. At length the Mayor lookedup. Hopelessness was still in his face, but it was the hopelessness ofresignation, not the hopelessness of revolt.

  "Well, if it had to be one o' them, I'd just as soon it was her," hesaid, with a deep sigh.