Mr. Waddington

“ Bostock's Bank at Wyck, was a perpetual tribute to his power. Mr. Waddington had nothing like the same complacence in thinking of his own son Horace; but then Horace's existence and his activity were not a tribute but a menace, a standing danger, not only to his power but to his fascination, his sense of himself as a still young, still brilliant and effective personality. (Horace inherited his mother's deplorable lack of seriousness.) And it was in Mrs. Levitt's society that Mr. Waddington was most conscious of his youth, his brilliance and effect. ”

“ Sigsbee H. Waddington sat up in his chair. There was a gleam in his eyes. He snorted. Was it such an idiotic suggestion, after all?
He gazed into the future. At the moment the necklace was in safe custody at the bank, but, if Molly was going to marry this young Pinch, it would presumably be taken from there and placed on exhibition among the other wedding-presents. So that ere long there would undeniably be a time—say, the best part of a day—when a resolute man with a nimble set of fingers might....
Mr. Waddington sank back in his chair again. The light died out of his eyes. ”

“ Rickards and Elise Levitt. Elise, if you cared to be critical, had the same defects: short legs, loose hips; the same exaggerations: the toppling breasts underpinned by the shafts of her stays. Not Mr. Waddington's taste. And yet—and yet Elise had contrived a charming and handsome effect out of black eyes and the milk-white teeth in the ivory-white face. The play of the black eyebrows distracted you from the equine bend of the nose that sprang between them; the movements of her mouth, the white flash of its smile, made you forget its thinness and hardness and the slight heaviness of its jaw. ”

“ When you know perfectly well what I did it for."
"Why—what did you do it for?"
"To make things safe for us. To keep Fanny from knowing. To keep myself from knowing, Barbara. To keep you.... But it's too late to camouflage it. We know where we stand now."
"I don't think I do."
"You do. You do."
Mr. Waddington tossed his cigarette into the fire with a passionate gesture of abandonment. He came to her. She saw his coming. She saw it chiefly as the approach of a canary yellow waistcoat. She fixed her attention on the waistcoat as if it were the centre of her own mental equilibrium. ”

“ Waddington. Didn't you give him notice in
December?"
"A mere matter of form. He knows he can stay on if there's nowhere else for him to go to."
"Then why," said Mrs. Levitt, "does he go about saying that he dares you to let the cottage over his head?"
"Does he? Does he say that?"
"He says he'll pay you out. He'll summons you. He was most abusive."
Mr. Waddington's face positively swelled with the choleric flush that swamped its genial fatuity. ”

“ Piquant. And then, her clothes. Mrs. Levitt wore a coat and skirt, her sister's white serge with a distinction, a greyish stripe or something; clean straightness that stiffened and fined down her exuberance. One jewel, one bit of gold, and she might have been vulgar. But no. He thought: she knows what becomes her. Immaculate purity of white gloves, white shoes, white panama; and the black points of the ribbon, of her eyebrows, her eyes and hair. After all, the sort of woman Mr. Waddington liked to be seen out walking with. She made him feel slender.
"My dear Mr. Waddington, how good of you!" ”

“ His lordship staggered back, leaving the way clear for the injured man to gaze upon his erring wife.
"Ha!" said Sigsbee H. Waddington.
"I can explain everything, Sigsbee!"
Mr. Waddington snorted.
"Nerve," he said, "in its proper place and when there's not too much of it, I admire. But when a woman has the crust to disparage the morals of one of the finest young fellows who ever came out of the golden West and then I happen to pop into New York on important business and find her closeted with a man with a tooth-brush moustache and she has the audacity to say she can explain everything...." ”

“ Barbara's eyebrows lifted delicately, innocently. "Has he compromised you?"
"He has."
"How?"
"Never mind how. Quite enough to start all sorts of unpleasant stories."
"You shouldn't listen to them. People will tell stories without anything to start them."
"That doesn't make them any less unpleasant. I should have thought the very least Mr. Waddington could do—"
"Would be to pay you compensation?"
"There can be no compensation in a case of this sort, Miss Madden. I'm not talking about compensation. Mr. Waddington must realize that he cannot compromise me without compromising himself." ”

“ You can't expect me to take your sentimental, view of Ballinger."
"It isn't Ballinger. It's poor Susan-Nanna and the babies, and the lavender bags."
Mr. Waddington swayed placably up and down on the tips of his toes. "It serves poor Susan-Nanna right for marrying Ballinger."
"Oh—I suppose it serves me right, too—"
Though she clenched her hands tight, tight, she couldn't keep back that little spurt of anger.
He was smiling his peculiar, voluptuous smile. "Serves you right? For spoiling everybody in the village? It does indeed."
"You don't in the least see what I mean," said Fanny. ”

“ Waddington affably.
"That is very gratifying, sir."
"Always have. Shows how honest I am, ha ha! If I were a crook, I suppose I'd be scared stiff, sitting here talking to you." Mr. Waddington drew bluffly at his cigar. "I guess you come across a lot of criminals, eh?"
"It is the great drawback to the policeman's life," assented Officer Garroway, sighing. "One meets them on all sides. ”

“ There was a silence. Officer Garroway, who was trying to find a good synonym for one of the adjectives in the poem on which he was occupied, stared thoughtfully at the ceiling. Mr. Waddington chewed his cigar intensely.
"Say, listen!" said Mr. Waddington.
"Sir?" said the policeman, coming out of his reverie with a start.
"Suppose," said Mr. Waddington, "suppose, just for the sake of argument, that a wicked person wanted a crook to do a horrible, nefarious job for him, would he have to pay him?"
"Undoubtedly, sir. These men are very mercenary."
"Pay him much?"
"I imagine a few hundred dollars. ”

“ Mr. Waddington murmured. "Do you know," he continued, dropping his voice and looking around him anxiously, "that I've taken to reading Ruskin? I've got a copy of 'The Seven Lamps' at the office, and I can't keep away from it. I slip it into my drawer if any one comes in, like an office boy reading the Police Gazette. All the time I am in the streets I am looking at the buildings, and, Burton, this is the extraordinary part of it, I know no more about architecture than a babe unborn, and yet I can tell you where they're wrong, every one of them. ”

“ Horatio?"
Mr. Waddington looked up with the benign expression he had had when he came on Barbara alone in the drawing-room before dinner, a look so directed to her neck and shoulders that it told her how well her low-cut evening frock became her.
"She shall sit anywhere she likes. The library is hers whenever she wants to use it."
Barbara thought she would rather like the library. As she went she couldn't help seeing a look on Fanny's face that pleaded, that would have kept her with her. She thought: She doesn't want to be alone with him. ”

“ Fanny put up her hands to her own cheeks to draw attention to Barbara's. "You are growing a country girl, aren't you? You should have seen her white face when she came, Horatio."
"What has she been doing to herself?" He had settled again into his chair and his attitude.
"She's been out walking with Ralph."
"With Ralph? Is he here still?"
"Why shouldn't he be?"
Mr. Waddington shrugged his immense shoulders. "It's a question of taste. If he likes to hang about the place after his behaviour—"
"Poor boy! whatever has he done? 'Behaviour' makes it sound as if it had been something awful." ”

“ Molly put her arms round her father's neck and kissed him fondly—a proceeding which drew from George a low, sharp howl of suffering like the bubbling cry of some strong swimmer in his agony. There is a limit to what the flesh can bear.
"Darling, you must be good. Up you go at once and be very nice to everybody. I'll stay here and entertain Mr.——"
"His name is Pinch," said Mr. Waddington, rising reluctantly and making for the door. "I met him out on the side-walk where men are men. Get him to tell you all about the West. I can't remember when I've ever heard a man talk so arrestingly. ”

“ Out West, men are men and do not dance tangoes by themselves on front door-steps. Venters, the hero of "Riders of the Purple Sage," he recalled, had been described by the author as standing "tall and straight, his wide shoulders flung back, with the muscles of his arms rippling and a blue flame of defiance in his gaze." How different, felt Mr. Waddington, from this imbecile young man who seemed content to waste life's springtime playing solitary round-games in the public streets. ”

“ Barbara stood for a collected instant at the door and spoke:
"I'm sorry I forgot the photographs." As if she said: "Cheer up, old thing. I didn't really see you."
Through the closed door she heard Mrs. Levitt's laughter let loose, malignant, shrill, hysterical, a horrid sound.
"I'm sorry, Elise. But I thought you cared for me."
"You'd no business to think. And it wasn't likely I'd tell you."
"Oh, you didn't tell me, my dear. How could you? But you made me believe you wanted me."
"Wanted? Do you suppose I wanted to be made ridiculous?"
"Love isn't ridiculous," said Mr. Waddington. ”

“ Waddington re-opened the silver casket.
"It is Fate," he decided. "Here are two beans." Burton folded them up in a piece of paper and placed them carefully in his waistcoat pocket.
"I felt convinced," he said gratefully, "that I should not make my appeal to you in vain. Tell me, what do you think of doing with the rest?"
"I am not sure," Mr. Waddington admitted, after a brief pause. "We are confronted from the beginning with the fact that there isn't a living soul who would believe our story. ”

“ George switched on the light. If the enemy was in as distant a spot as Hamilton Beamish's apartment, prudence might be relaxed.
"'At's right," said Mr. Waddington, welcoming the illumination. He was leaning against a book-shelf with his hat on the back of his head and a cigar between his lips. His eyes were sparkling with an almost human intelligence. "I've got a smart business head, Pinch," he said, shooting the cigar from due east to due west with a single movement of his upper lip. "I'm the guy with the big brain." ”

“ To me Miss Waddington seems like some...."
"I shall clean up big. It is only a question of time."
"The first thing anyone would notice on seeing Miss Waddington...."
"Thousands and thousands of dollars. And then...."
"A poet has spoken of a young girl as 'standing with reluctant feet where the brook and river meet....'"
Mr. Waddington shook his head.
"It isn't only meat. What causes the real trouble is the desserts. It stands to reason that if a woman insists on cramming herself with rich stuff like what we were having to-night she is bound to put on weight. ”

“ Waddington inquired.
Burton smiled quite pleasantly.
"It does seem queer, sir," he admitted. "I said that I was getting on all right because I am contented and happy. That is the chief thing after all, isn't it?"
Mr. Waddington opened his mouth and closed it again.
"I wish I could make out what the devil it was that happened to you," he said. "Why, you used to be as smart as they make 'em, a regular nipper after business. I expected you'd be after me for a partnership before long, and I expect I'd have had to give it you. And then you went clean dotty. ”

“ Fanny, will you tell Kimber to be careful?"
Her face trembled with anxiety as she held it to him to be kissed. At that moment he was her child, escaping from her, going out rashly into the dangerous world.
"I like going to see Granny," said Fanny as Kimber tucked them up together in the car. "She makes me feel young."
"You may very well feel it," said Mr. Waddington. "It's only my mother's white hair, Miss Madden, that makes her look old."
"I thought," said Barbara, "she looked ever so much younger"—she was going to say, "than she is"—"than most people's mothers." ”

“ Waddington continued. "He seemed to like the way I put it to him, and instead of being scared he went to an expert in drains, who advised him that there was only quite a small thing wrong. He's doing up some of the rooms and moving in in a fortnight."
"This sounds as though there might be an opening for an honest house-agent," Burton suggested.
Mr. Waddington looked dubious.
"It's never been tried. Just this once it came off, but as a regular thing I should have no confidence in it. People like to be gulled. They've been brought up to it. ”

“ Barbara was in the morning-room, stirring some black, sticky stuff in a saucepan over the fire. The black, sticky stuff was to go on Mr. Waddington's chest. Horry looked on, standing beside her in an attitude of impatience. A pair of boots with skates clipped on hung from his shoulders by their laces. He felt that his irritation was justifiable, for Barbara had refused to go out skating with him.
"Why 'don't'?" said Horry. "It's obvious."
"Very. But he's ill."
"There can't be much the matter with him or the mater wouldn't look so chirpy."
"She likes nursing him." ”

“ I know it's a game for gods; but it's a cruel game. We must give it up."
"You mean we must give him up?"
"Yes, we've hunted and hounded him enough. We must let him go."
"That's the compact, is it?"
"Yes."
"We shall break it, Barbara; see if we don't. We can't keep off him."
4
Mr. Waddington judged that, after all, owing to his consummate tact, he had scored in the disagreeable parting with Mrs. Levitt. But when he thought of Barbara, little Barbara, a flush mounted to his face, his ears, his forehead; he could feel it—wave after wave of hot, unpleasant shame. ”