Mr. Jarvis

“ Jarvis (holding up his hand, which is large and powerful) —And my hand shows indecision of character?
Miss Paysley (aside) —He’s jesting. They’re all alike—men. Keen for praise. (Aloud.) I didn’t say indecisive. You know what you want, but you often don’t value what you have. You are ready to pay for a thing of lesser value with the one of greater.
Mr. Jarvis—So few things have a fixed value; it’s what they seem worth to you. You can only measure the worth of any given thing by the pleasure it gives you.
Miss Paysley—The selfish man’s creed. ”

“ Now he had gone and in his place had bobbed up a strange, unfriendly person who buzzed about the department like a huge blue-bottle fly, and blazed a trail of rebellion wherever he buzzed.
Had those active in the management of the big store known the disturber’s true character, [89] Mr. Jarvis’ outlook would not have been rosy. The “square deal” was among the most revered traditions of Martin Brothers. Nathan Jarvis had been careful to create the impression of a man eager and ready to make every moment count toward the good of his employers. ”

“ Maybe she wasn’t mad at Jarvis. She says he thinks he is too smart. I hope she buys. It’s going to be a dull day. Somebody just told me that it’s raining outside.”
“Hm-m!” Teddy cast a roving glance across the department. “I guess I’d better do a little work for a change. I’ll see you later.” He sauntered off in the direction of the spot devoted to the display of ovens. From afar he had glimpsed the woman who did not admire Mr. Jarvis. “Maybe I can help her pick out an oven and get a sale for Mr. Hickson,” was his kindly thought as he approached the undetermined customer. ”

“ Jarvis one morning and laid down a letter which she had been reading. "Wonders never will cease, and there's an end of it. Who do you think I've heard from, Stephen?"
"Nay, I don't know," growled Mr. Jarvis, who had just received the photograph of a very homely-looking young woman from Mr. Vavasour, and was much incensed by what he considered the agent's stupidity. "Who?"
"Why, from my niece—leastways a sort of niece, seeing as she was poor George's sister Martha Margaret's daughter—Poppy Atteridge, as has just returned to England from foreign parts," answered Mrs. Pringle. ”

“ Jarvis. One whose voice is a passing bell—
Honeyw. Well, well, go do.
Jarvis. A raven that bodes nothing but mischief; a coffin and cross bones; a bundle of rue; a sprig of deadly nightshade; a— (Honeywood, stopping his mouth, at last pushes him off.)
Exit Jarvis. Honeyw. I must own, my old monitor is not entirely wrong. There is something in my friend Croaker's conversation that quite depresses me. His very mirth is an antidote to all gaiety, and his appearance has a stronger effect on my spirits than an undertaker's shop.—Mr. Croaker, this is such a satisfaction—
Enter Croaker. ”

“ It could hardly have happened in so well-trained a servant, and yet surely it was the ghost of a smile which his master saw flitting across Jarvis’ face.
“Eh! What is it, Jarvis?” inquired Mr. Johnstone sharply, “wont these do?”
“Well, sir,” replied the valet with much deference, “most gentlemen wear knickerbockers and lacing boots in the morning when they are going shooting. ”

“ Jarvis said, stepping out on to the moors, "How quiet it is!" Quiet at midday, except when the hunt scatters across it; quiet in the afternoon, save for the drifting sheep; at night the moor is perfectly quiet.
A garnet brooch has dropped into its grass. A fox pads stealthily. A leaf turns on its edge. Mrs. Jarvis, who is fifty years of age, reposes in the camp in the hazy moonlight.
". . . and," said Mrs. Flanders, straightening her back, "I never cared for Mr. Parker."
"Neither did I," said Mrs. Jarvis. They began to walk home.
But their voices floated for a little above the camp. ”

“ Dramatis personæ—Miss Paysley, twenty-one, small, with a dignified carriage, when she remembers it, otherwise she is as impulsive as a little girl. She is pale, blond, blushes easily and has a way of looking at one with a straight, honest, gaze.
Mr. Jarvis, thirty, tall, well built. Has an easy-going, tolerant manner that is sometimes almost indifferent. ”

“ Pringle.
"She's a rare fine lass, that niece o' yours, missis," he said. "You're welcome to ask her to stop as long as she likes. It'll do her good."
Next morning Mr. Jarvis, saying that he had business in the market-town, ordered out his smart dog-cart and the bay mare, and asked Miss Atteridge to go a-driving with him. They made a good-looking pair as they drove off, for the farmer, in spite of his five-and-fifty years, was a handsome and well-set-up man, with never a grey hair in his head, and he had a spice of vanity in him which made him very particular about his personal appearance. ”

“ Jarvis. Why on earth should they suspect you?
Keble. Well, I was known to be jealous of Mr. Heron, Sir. I found Susan sponging his shirt-front, and Susan and I are as good as engaged. [Pg 397] Jarvis (mildly interested) . How can you sponge a shirt-front?
Keble. It was an india-rubber one, Sir; they sponge off quite clean, and save the laundry bill, Sir. My——
Jarvis. Good Heavens, I'm ruined!
Enter Isaac Wolfe, his partner. Exit Keble.
Wolfe. Got the diamond, my boy?
Jarvis (moodily) . Yes ... I'm done for; I must leave the country.
Wolfe. What d'you mean? You've got the diamond? ”

“ But, in the meantime, he would learn something of the real issues of men and women as they live in great cities, so that he could write a play which would be so true, so vital, that it would be like watching the beating of the hot heart of life. That night was the beginning of a new era for Jarvis.
XVII
Bambina Parkhurst was a young woman not much given to wrath, but as she read the two letters from New York she grew thoroughly enraged at Jarvis. Evidently, he had been exceedingly rude to Mr. Strong, and evidently Mr. Strong had been exceedingly annoyed. ”

“ He has got it all swinging—slung in irons."
"That is far better than having the cook in irons," suggested Margaret.
"Oh!" said Mr. Lemons, as he gazed at the sky, "that remark appeals to me. The lady is correct."
Then he arose and grasped Charley in a vice-like grip, for though fat he was powerful. He pinned the skipper to the deck and sat upon him.
"Say, dearest," he cooed into his ear, "at about what hour will this heavenly-repast be ready?"
"Pull him off—somebody!" groaned Charley. "I hate a man that has to be thrown in the water to—" a thump on the back silenced him. ”

“ But there the other mornin’, just as I was havin’ a breathin’ spell after hammerin’ some 200 surplus ego out of a young society sport that had the idea he could box, the studio door opens, and in pokes this Mr. Jarvis, actin’ like he’d been doped.
Now he’s a big, husky, full blooded young gent, that’s always used himself well, never collected any bad habits, and knows no more about being sick than a cat knows about swimmin’. ”

“ And when the trip in the steamer had ended and most of our crew were having a little doze on the Ideal during the latter part of the afternoon, the curiosity which Mr. Cowper had awakened was still at its height.
After dinner that evening, about eight o'clock, a pretty picture might have been made of the Ideal, as she lay in the shadows, moored to a well-wooded island where the rock banks seemed to dive perpendicularly into blue fathomless depths. The party were taking their coffee in the open air for greater coolness, and all had arrayed themselves for the dance in the evening. ”

“ Sha'n't take Bean in. A client of mine came in to-day—"
"Great Scott! you haven't got a client, have you?" cried Geoffrey, starting from his chair.
"Don't interrupt me," said Mr. Rankin. "As I was saying," he added with composure, "a client of mine—"
"No, no, Morry! This is too much. If you want us to believe you, give us some particulars about this client—just as an evidence of good faith, you know."
"The client you are so inquisitive about," said Rankin, with dignity, "is a lady who has been, in a sense, prematurely widowed—"
"It's Mrs. Priest," said Jack, turning to Geoffrey. ”

“ The caretaker of the yacht club could only tell him, when he called, that Mr. Cresswell had been at the club somewhere about noon the day before, and had gone away in his boating-clothes, rowing east round the head of the wharf close by.
"I must tell you," said Dearborn to the caretaker, "that Mr. Cresswell's friends are alarmed at his absence and have sent me to look after him. Would you know the boat he went in if you saw it?"
"Oh, yes. I handle it frequently, in one way and and another. I painted it for him last spring." ”

“ The only imperfection was the fact she could not tell Jarvis. She could not brag of her triumphs nor repeat the friendly chat with Mr. Strong. It would be such fun to see his surprise at the news—he had so lately patronized her. "You are not the stuff of which creative artists are made, of course."
Tra-la-la! She'd make him eat those words.
Then she began at once to do the next story of the series, and by the time she reached the club she had it all thought out. It was then that Jarvis's telephone message came to her, and she decided that he was even now reading his play aloud to Belasco ”

“ She said: "I do not see why you call yourself a harbinger of spring or anything else unless you have something to tell us. What is your good news? Has Mr. Cresswell won the prize?"
"By about two inches," said Geoffrey. "I thought I might create an indirect interest in myself, with Miss Lindon at least, by coming to tell you of it." He wore a grave smile as he said this, which made Nina blush.
"And so you did create an indirect interest in yourself," said Margaret. "Now you can interest us on your own account. What are you going to compete for to-day?" ”

“ And then you know Clair—that is Lady Matthews—is so pressing in her invitation—Why!”
For some moments before Mrs. Mount broke off her conversation I noticed Mr. Bang’s eyes directed towards Iris and Basil. A slight rustle behind me and Mr. Bang jumping to his feet, caused the interruption. Mr. Bang made a bolt towards where his eyes had been directed, and I wheeled round and saw him bending over the form of Iris, while beside him stood Basil, looking on more or less stupidly. Of course, we all rushed to help. Mr. Bang grabbed a tumbler of water and threw it in the face of the unconscious girl. ”

“ To them the Klondike was—as to all of us—the Promised Land. And there was the girl steady and trusting; the kind that will go through fire and water for her man. She was penniless. You know the old story. ‘Behold the sequel!’ he said of a sudden.” As he spoke Mr. Bang’s face was full of sympathy.
“So ended our dinner. Such too often is life.
“I frequently met Tom Dahlmun afterwards and we became friendly. One day I learned of work at Gold Run Creek, forty-five miles from Dawson, and engaged employment for two. ”

“ Bang hates eastern society, I confess the more I see of its movement and brightness, the more I intend to get on. The way will open—I know that—and I am quite rid of the queer ideas that filled my mind last night. I can make use of Mr. Bang and Ethel Bassett, and possibly—Mrs. Mount, “that old battle-axe,” who is more like, shall I say, a Fairy Godmother. Possibly, we’ll see.
Christmas Day.
Such a heavenly day, sunshine with ice crystals, no wind.
Mumsie came into my room at peep of dawn, carrying a bundle. There was a letter in it from Dad enclosing another hundred dollars for me to spend. ”

“ Tom concluded his story about the death of the Homelovers treasurer, down to the last detail of the framed photograph on Wright's desk. The tale brought Colonel Mordigan into immediate action. He buzzed for his orderly, and in another minute, was fumbling through a folder marked Classified.
"Yes," he said numbly. "It's the same man. Father's named Benjamin Wright, and he's vice-president and treasurer of Homelovers, Incorporated. I never connected the two ..." He looked up, his eyes heavy. "If your story is true, Mr. Blacker, then Captain Wright is one of these so-called Antamundans. ”

“ Manson Hampstead, one of the old families in Shropshire. And so you are. We will let it rest at that. Family differences must always be disagreeable subjects. Let us talk about something else."
"Now we are on the subject, I might as well tell you all about it. First, I will secure Rankin's secrecy. Behold five cents! Mr. Rankin, I retain you with this sum as my solicitor to advise when called upon concerning the facts I am about to relate. You are bound now by your professional creed not to divulge, are you not?"
"Drive on," said Maurice, "I'm an oyster." ”

“ Mr. Dearborn was not much comforted by all this talk. Cresswell might have crossed the lake in his skiff. Evidently he was a man who would do it if he wished. They continued their search on every wharf and through every boat-house, which occupied a good deal of time.
Suddenly, near Yonge Street wharf, the caretaker said: "Give us your two dollars, mister. There's the skiff on the deck of the stone-hooker."
Inquiries soon showed that Jack had gone off on the schooner North Star to Oswego, and then Mr. Dearborn began to look grave. The schooner had got a long start. ”

“ Pringle went to bed, after consuming her toddy in the kitchen—Mr. Jarvis being unusually solemn and greatly preoccupied—she found the guest packing her portmanteau.
"I am going away to-morrow, after breakfast," said Miss Atteridge. "As I shall not be here on Sunday please say good-bye for me to Mr. John William."
John William, coming on Sunday in time for dinner, found things as they usually were at the Old Farm in the days previous to the advent of Miss Atteridge. Mr. Jarvis was in the parlour, amusing himself with a cigar, the sherry decanter, and the Mark Lane Express; Mrs. ”