Bought and Paid For; From the Play of George Broadhurst Part 29

The clerk's face broadened into a grin. At last his ability was receiving tardy acknowledgment. Hadn't he told f.a.n.n.y months ago that he was worth the money? Well, better late than never! He was about to express his thanks when the millionaire interrupted him with a careless gesture.

"When you're really worth twenty, I'll make it two hundred--"

The young man's expression fell. Had he heard aright? What could the boss mean?

"Twenty?" he echoed, puzzled.

Stafford laughed loudly. Mockingly he said:

"Yes, I have a system about you. I pay you ten times what I think you're worth."

The listener's jaw dropped a few inches more. This did not sound as if his employer appreciated his merit any too much. Instinctively, he glanced around to see if anyone had overheard. It was just as well f.a.n.n.y was not present. "Oh, you do?" he exclaimed with a crestfallen air.

Stafford seemed to enjoy the young man's discomfiture. Promptly he went on to explain:

"When you first came I figured you were worth five dollars, so I gave you fifty. When I thought you were worth seven dollars and a half, I gave you seventy-five, and when I thought you were really earning ten, I raised it to a hundred!"

Utterly unnerved by this unexpected blow to his pride, completely cowed, the young man stood staring foolishly at the railroad promoter, not daring to raise his voice in protest, completely intimidated by his employer's manner.

"And now," he asked timidly, "you think I'm worth fifteen?"

Stafford broke out into boisterous laughter.

"No, I don't, Jimmie! Oh, no, I don't! I raise you the other fifty because--well--there's a reason!" Coaxingly, he went on: "Jimmie, as a favor--as a favor--promise me you'll never get to be worth twenty-five! The manager of your department gets only two hundred and fifty and I couldn't pay you as much as I pay him, could I?"

"I hoped to be manager of the department some day," spoke up the clerk, regaining some of his self-a.s.surance.

"What's that?"

"I say I hoped to be manager of the department some day--"

Stafford shook his head. With mock solemnity he said:

"Jimmie, for all our sakes, let's hope that your hope doesn't come out."

The young man was about to make a retort in kind, but at that instant his employer's attention was diverted to something more important.

Virginia and f.a.n.n.y had re-entered the boudoir from the bed chamber, and were standing conversing at the far end of the room.

On seeing his wife, the railroad man seemed to forget aught else. His eyes appeared to be fascinated by her; he closely watched her every movement. Never, it seemed to him, had Virginia looked so attractive.

Was it her pale face, with the large appealing black eyes and small curved lips that thrilled him, or was it her negligee gown, the clinging folds of which imparted suggestive voluptuous lines to her slender figure, which set his sensualism aflame?

Virginia was painfully conscious of his steady stare and she trembled.

Well she knew what it meant. If only she could keep her sister with her! But it was late; the Gillies would soon retire. Embarra.s.sed by his persistent gaze, she went to the opposite side of the room on pretext of getting a photograph from a desk. Before she could reach it, her husband had intercepted her. Hoa.r.s.ely he exclaimed:

"My, but you do look sweet to-night!"

He attempted to lay a hand on her arm and seemed about to bend over and kiss her, but she quickly evaded him. In a vexed tone, she exclaimed in a low voice:

"Please, Robert, behave yourself. Don't you see that there are others present?"

Thus unceremoniously repulsed, Stafford appealed to his sister-in-law, who had retreated to a corner on the other side of the room. In a maudlin, jocular way he asked:

"You wouldn't mind, would you? You wouldn't mind if a husband kissed his own wife."

"No, of course not," she smiled, at a loss what answer to make. She was anxious to defend her sister, but at the same time unwilling to displease her husband's employer.

The millionaire smiled, and leaving his wife, sauntered over to where f.a.n.n.y was sitting.

"How's the kid?" he inquired affably.

"Very well, thank you."

Stafford shook his head. Dubiously he said:

"When I saw her this morning I thought she looked a little pale. It isn't good for kids to look pale. It shows that they don't get enough fresh air and suns.h.i.+ne. Do you know what I'm going to do?"

"No," replied the mother, looking up at her brother-in-law in surprise.

"In the morning I'm going to send you one of my cars as a present for her."

"Oh, Robert!" she exclaimed breathlessly.

He winked significantly as he went on:

"That's the reason I've just raised Jimmie fifty--to pay for the chauffeur and things. So the kid can have plenty of fresh air. See?"

f.a.n.n.y clasped her hands in delight.

"Oh, you're too good!" she exclaimed gratefully.

"Hus.h.!.+" he said in an undertone. "It's for the kid! I'm very fond of her!" After a pause he added: "Besides, she's named for Virgie!"

Turning to Jimmie, he asked: "How does the idea strike you?"

"What idea?" demanded the father, who had not been listening.

"I've just made your little daughter--a present of an auto--"

"What make is it?"

The question came so spontaneously and was so characteristic of the man that Stafford burst into a roar of merriment. As soon as he had regained his composure he said:

"It's a--"

He was about to tell him the make when, realizing the colossal impudence of the question, he stopped short and burst into laughter.

"You're always there, aren't you? Honest, Jimmie, you give me many a laugh! Don't change your disposition or I'll never forgive you!"

"I didn't know I was so funny!" said the clerk resentfully, quite at a loss to see humor in the situation.