George Barr McCutcheon

“ Her mocking eyes grew sober and earnest.
"You're too much of a real man, Buzzy, for that sort of thing," she said. "Don't do it. Marry for love, my dear friend, even if it means getting along on twelve thousand a year. I don't believe, Bosworth Van Pycke, that down in your heart you can see much that is glorious in the spending of a woman's money. You're cut out for better work than that."
"I've just come to the same conclusion, Laura," he said firmly. "Good luck and God bless you. You'll be happy: De Foe doesn't need your money." ”

“ Ancestors for the future are in the club this night, enjoying the luxury, the coziness, the warmth, and the present good cheer of a great and glorious achievement: they are inside of solid walls on this bitter night, eating or tippling, smoking or toasting, reading or chatting with small regard for the ancient gentlemen who gave their Alma Mater its name, but who, if suddenly come to life, would pass away again in a jiffy, not so much through the shock of opulence as at the sight of the wicked high-ball. ”

“ Bosworth clapped his hand to his brow, glaring at the note.
"He's gone clean daffy!" he groaned. "Scoville? Why, he must know she's already—Great Scott! He means the old one!—the pelican!—that's who he means. The good Lord deliver us!"
He was genuinely distressed. The dowager Mrs. Scoville, of all women! For a long time he stood in the window, staring out over the housetops, his heart full of pity for his wayward parent.
"Poor old dad!" he said over and over again. "He's paying an awful price for the privilege of remaining a gentleman to the end. Hang it all! ”

“ Others haven't been so generous." Then her manner changed. "Do you really have to marry some one, Buzzy? Are you so hard up as all that?"
"My dear," he said, "you are alarming Miss Downing."
"Nonsense! Miss Downing knows all about you and all about me. I have no secrets from her. She's not even wondering how you could have contemplated marrying me without loving me. She knows how rich I am."
"Ah," he sighed, "I wonder if she knows how poor I am."
"Every one knows that, Mr. Van Pycke," said Miss Downing. He stared. "You have a paltry twelve thousand a year. ”

“ The sleigh was not in sight. He glanced at his watch. Eleven-twenty. With sudden exasperation he jammed his hands into his pockets and said something softly. Kicking a chair to the window, he sat down and glared at the snow-covered glass. Outside, the wind shrieked louder than ever.
When Bellows came in to turn out the lights at a quarter to twelve, Bosworth did not hear him, nor did Bellows observe the limp figure in the chair. Mr. Van Pycke was sound asleep, and the footman did not have far to go to reach the same state. ”

“ It dawned upon them that Bosworth was not taking his first cocktail. It was quite plain that already he had taken several. They were unwilling to believe their senses. Buzzy never got tight! He always had said it made him dreadfully ill the next day, and a man who is ill the next day—in that way—suffers tremendously during the period of upheaval in the additional loss of self-respect. Be that as it may, he appeared to have forgotten his squeamishness. Young Mr. Van Pycke—he of the sleek blond hair and dark gray eyes—was quite palpably drunk. ”

“ Van Pycke. "Have something, Knapp? Billings? Oh, I remember: you don't drink immediately after dinner. Splendid idea, too. I think I'll follow your example, to-night at least. I have a rather important—er—engagement, later on." He twirled his mustache fondly.
"You'll pursue the fair sex up to the very brink of the grave, Van Pycke," grumbled Knapp.
"If you mean my own grave, yes," said the other, calmly. "If you mean that I'll pursue any fair sexton to the brink of her grave, you're mistaken. I don't like old women. By the way, Knapp, do you happen to know Jim Scoville's widow?" ”

“ This has been the most gallant night of my life. I'll live it over a hundred times in my dreams. By the way, what train do you take in the morning?" He was shaking hands with her, standing beside her chair. There was a new light in his eyes.
"The ten-fifteen, if it isn't snowbound. Why?"
"Never mind. I just asked," he said. He was thinking of violets and a trip to the ferry.
"Don't do anything so absurd, Mr. Van Pycke," she said severely, trying to read his thoughts. He laughed blithely, full of certain early morning enterprise. "Good-bye. Oh, just listen to the wind!" ”

“ What would your poor mother say? She, too, expected you to be a gentleman, sir. Your grandfather expected it. All Van Pyckes are gentlemen. You are the first to forget yourself, sir. By Gad, sir, I suppose you'll marry a shop girl or a stenographer. That's what you'll do! After the way in which I've brought you up and educated you and all that. And with the Van Pycke name and traditions at your command! It's so demmed preposterous that I can't express myself adequately. It's—"
"It's no use, dad," said Bosworth, simply. ”

“ Bellows entered. "Your sleigh will return in half an hour, Mr.—Mr. Bosworth. Will you wait, sir?"
"No, he won't wait," said Mr. Van Pycke. "Get his coat and hat, Bellows. I'm—I'm going to take him away."
"You'll be lost in the snow, sir," said Bellows, mildly. "It's worse than the Alps, sir."
"Alps? Confound you, you've never seen the Alps!"
"No, sir," said Bellows. "But Stokes, the butler, has, sir."
"Send Stokes to me, Bellows," said Miss Downing, quietly. "I will give orders for to-night and to-morrow morning. I hope you will forgive me, Mr. Van Pycke, if I retire at once. I am very tired. ”

“ Bosworth was holding his sides, laughing immoderately.
"Bosworth!" hissed his father, with a conscious glance at his feet and legs. "What the devil amuses you?"
For answer his son strode over and clutched him by the arm, turning him around so that he faced the silent, immovable group.
"See that man back there without trousers? The bare-legged, bare-footed chap? Well, dad, you've got on his pants."
"Good God!" gasped Mr. Van Pycke, nervously hunting for the bridge of his nose with his glasses. "Is the poor fellow naked?" ”

“ She squeezed into the decrepit little hack, laughing joyously. He scrambled up beside Tobias, clinging manfully to less than ten inches of seat, a splendid grin on his face all the way across town, utterly oblivious to the curious stares of Christmas pedestrians who passed them by.
He was thinking only of her smile of delight and of the amazing change it had wrought in him—like a flash, so to speak. Already Christmas was beginning to mean a great deal to him. ”

“ Pembroke's house, please. We're going in through the kitchen, Mr. Van Pycke. There's to be a Christmas tree at three o'clock. You are to be Santa Claus. I'll secrete you in the butler's pantry until it is time for you to appear. Now, please don't object. We have the fur coat and the whiskers and the red cap. All you have to do is to come in and play you're delighted. ”

“ Billings shuddered as he resumed his seat.
"I wonder if Van Pycke imagines that she could even think of marrying him! Sixty-three, if he's a day!" Mr. Billings had not been thinking of the storm while he stood in the window.
"Fine old New York name, Billings," mused Knapp. "You can't tell what these women will do to get a name that means something."
Mr. Billings was silent for a long time. Suddenly he stirred himself, relighted his cigar, and remarked: "By Jove, hear that wind howling, will you! It's really worse than the blizzard of '93." "Billings" was not yet a fine old New York name. ”

“ Twelve thousand a year is all right if a chap's working part of the time. He's at least earning the interest on what he spends. But twelve thousand isn't even pin money in the crowd I'm trying to keep up with."
"I've always said you'd marry a wad as big as the best of 'em," said Sticky, greatly encouraged.
"If I don't marry pretty soon, the governor will," mused Buzzy. "The Lord knows he won't marry for love or experience. No, gentlemen, you can't expect to be much more than a poodle dog on twelve thousand. I had to lick a feller at college once for calling me a pup. ”

“ Just as he was visually caressing the firm, white chin and throat, she turned upon him with a warning "Sh!" He already had decided that she was twenty-one and that her white satin evening gown was quite new and very exquisite. His intense gaze, caught red-handed, so to speak, confused her. She was not used to it: that was plain. He had the grace to look at the portières expectantly.
"They are coming," she said, arising at once.
"Can't you tell me more about the wedding?" he asked, standing beside her.
"Not now. Later on, perhaps. You do know her well enough to wish her happiness, don't you?" ”

“ Miss Downing had quietly reentered the room and was standing just inside the door, a growing smile of appreciation on her lips.
"Wha—what did you do, sir?" asked Bosworth, controlling himself heroically.
"Do? What could I do? Demmit all, trousers don't grow on chandeliers, do they? I couldn't pick off a pair, à la Santa Claus, could I? There was only one thing left to do. That was to shout for Bellows. Just as I was on the point of stealing out to the head of the stairs, I heard voices—a man's and a woman's. I dashed back into the bedroom. 'Gad, sir, what do you think? ”

“ Van Pycke, without raising his voice above a polite monotone.
"Neither have I," said Mr. Doxey.
"You, sir? You are the insult, sir. How can you be insulted? It is impossible to insult an insult. I won't put up with—"
"Keep cool, father," warned Bosworth. "You came very near to moving your leg just then. I warn you."
"I'm quite sure a dog couldn't add anything to the pain I'm already suffering from these demmed shoes. Come here, doggie! Nice doggie!" The wheedling tones made no impression on Agrippa. "What an unfriendly beast!" ”

“ Bosworth lived in the club. Van Pycke, senior, had lived there, but was now living at one of the other clubs—he would have had some difficulty in remembering just which one if suddenly questioned.
"I hope Buzzy isn't going to turn out like the old man," said one of the loungers, addressing himself to the crowd.
"Oh, he'll marry rich and go the pace, and the old man will die happy," said another.
"He's hanging around that flossy Mrs. Scoville a good bit these days," observed the drawler. "That's not the best thing in the world for him."
"She's not as bad as she's painted," protested some one. ”

“ There was a sudden silence in the room.
"The blizzard, sir," said Bellows, briefly.
"But, hang it all, we must get to the station," cried the groom. "What the devil's the meaning of all this?"
"Don't blame Bellows, old man," said Bosworth Van Pycke. "He isn't a blizzard. And don't lose your temper, either. Remember it's your wedding night. Now, I have a big sleigh coming for me at 10.30. Taxis can't budge in this weather. You and the bride can take my sleigh—"
He did not finish. Every man in the party had begun to berate the kind of car he owned and every woman was scolding the weather. ”