The Sin of Monsieur Pettipon Part 8

"Why, no--that is, not particularly," confessed Mr. Pottle. He looked toward her who had quickened his pulse, but her eyes were fastened on Mr. Deeley.

"I'm surprised to hear you say that," said Mr. Deeley. "A most interesting place, Abyssinia--rather a specialty of mine."

He threw one plump leg over the other and leaned back comfortably.

"Abyssinia," he went on in his high voice, "is an inland country situated by the Red Sea between 5 and 15 north lat.i.tude, and 35 and 42 east longitude. Its area is 351,019 square miles. Its population is 4,501,477. It includes Shoa, Kaffa, Gallaland and Central Somaliland.

Its towns include Adis-Ababa, Adowa, Adigrat, Aliu-Amber, Debra-Derhan and Bonger. It produces coffee, salt and gold. The inhabitants are morally very lax. Indeed, polygamy is a common practice, and----"

"Polly Gammy?" cried Mrs. Gallup in imitation of Mr. Deeley's p.r.o.nunciation. "Oh, what is that?"

Mr. Deeley smiled blandly.

"I think," he said, "that it is hardly the sort of thing I care to discuss in--er--mixed company."

He helped himself to three of the Choc-O-late Nutties.

"That reminds me," he said, "of abbreviations."

"Abbreviations?" Mrs. Gallup looked her interest.

"The world," observed Mr. Deeley, "is full of them. For example, Mr.

Puttle, do you know what R. W. D. G. M. stands for?"

"No," answered Mr. Pottle glumly.

"It stands for Right Wors.h.i.+pful Deputy Grand Master," informed Mr.

Deeley. "Do you know what N. U. T. stands for?"

"I know what it spells," said Mr. Pottle pointedly.

"You ought to," said Mr. Deeley, letting off his laugh. "But we were discussing abbreviations. Since you don't seem very well informed on this point"--he shot a smile at Mrs. Gallup--"I'll tell you that N. U.

T. stands for National Union of Teachers, just as M. F. H. stands for Master of Fox Hounds, and M. I. C. E. stands for Member of Inst.i.tute of Civil Engineers, and A. O. H. stands for----"

"Oh, Mr. Deeley, how perfectly thrilling!" Mrs. Gallup spoke; Mr. Pottle writhed; Mr. Deeley smiled complacently, and went on.

"I could go on indefinitely; abbreviations are rather a specialty of mine."

It developed that Mr. Deeley had many specialties.

"Are you aware," he asked, focusing his gaze on Mr. Pottle, "that there is acid in this cherry?" He held aloft a candied cherry which he had deftly exhumed from a Choc-O-late Nuttie.

"My goodness!" cried Mrs. Gallup. "Will it poison us? I've eaten six."

"My dear lady"--there was a world of tender rea.s.surance in Mr. Deeley's tone--"only the uninformed regard all acids as poisonous. There are acids and acids. I've taken a rather special interest in them. Let's see--there are many kinds--acetic, benzoic, citric, gallic, lactic, malic, oxalic, palmitic, picric--but why go on?"

"Yes," said Mr. Pottle; "why?"

"Do not interrupt, Mr. Pottle, if you please," said Mrs. Gallup severely. "I'm sure what Mr. Deeley says interests me immensely. Go on, Mr. Deeley."

"Thank you, Mrs. Gallup; thank you," said the brilliant conversationalist. "But don't you think alligators are more interesting than acids?"

"You know about so many interesting things," she smiled. Mr. Pottle's very soul began to curdle.

"Alligators are rather a specialty of mine," remarked Mr. Deeley.

"Fascinating little brutes, I think. You know alligators, Mrs. Gallup?"

"Stuffed," said the lady.

"Ah, to be sure," he said. "Perhaps, then, you do not realize that the alligator is of the family _Crocodilidoe_ and the order _Eusuchia_."

"No? You don't tell me?" Mrs. Gallup's tone was almost reverent.

"Yes," continued Mr. Deeley, in the voice of a lecturer, "there are two kinds of alligators--the _lucius_, found in the Mississippi; and the _sinensis_, in the Yang-tse-Kiang. It differs from the _caiman_ by having a bony septum between its nostrils, and its ventral scutes are thinly, if at all, ossified. It is carnivorous and piscivorous----"

"How fascinating!" Mrs. Gallup had edged her chair nearer the speaker.

"What does that mean?"

"It means," said Mr. Deeley, "that they eat corn and pigs."

"The strong tail of the alligator," he flowed on easily, "by a las.h.i.+ng movement a.s.sists it in swimming, during which exercise it emits a loud bellowing."

"Do alligators bellow?" asked Mr. Pottle with open skepticism.

"I wish I had a dollar for every time I've heard them bellow," answered Mr. Deeley pugnaciously. "Apparently, Mr. Puddle, you are not familiar with the works of Ahn."

Mr. Pottle maintained a blank black silence.

"Oh, who was he?" put in Mrs. Gallup.

"Johann Franz Ahn, born 1796, died 1865, was an educationalist," said Mr. Deeley in the voice of authority. "His chief work, of which I am very fond, is a volume ent.i.tled, 'Praktischer Lehrgang zur Schnellen und Leichten Erlergung der Franzosischen Sprache.' You've read it, perhaps, Mr. Pobble?"

"No," said Mr. Pottle miserably. "I can't say I ever have." He felt that his case grew worse with every minute. He rose. "I guess I'd better be going," he said. Mrs. Gallup made no attempt to detain him.

As he left her presence with slow steps and a heart of lead he heard the high voice of Mr. Deeley saying, "Now, take alcohol: That's rather a specialty of mine. Alcohol is a term applied to a group of organic substances, including methyl, ethyl, propyl, butyl, amyl----"

Back in his bachelor home the heartsick Mr. Pottle flung his new tie into a corner, slammed his ultra shoes on the floor, and tossed his trousers, heedless of rumpling, at a chair, sat down, head in hand, and thought of a watery grave.

For that he could not hope to compete conversationally or otherwise with the literary Deeley of Xenia was all too apparent. Mrs. Gallup--he had called her Blossom but a few brief hours ago--said she wanted a literary man, and here was one literary to his manicured finger tips.

He would not give up. Pottles are made of stern stuff. Reason told him his cause was hopeless, but his heart told him to fight to the last. He obeyed his heart.

Arraying himself in his finest, three nights later he went to call on Mrs. Gallup, a five-pound box of Choc-O-late Nutties hugged nervously to his silk-s.h.i.+rted bosom.

A maid admitted him. He heard in the living room a familiar high masculine voice that made his fists double up. It was saying, "Aristotle, the Greek philosopher, was born at Stagira in 384 B. C.

and----"

Mr. Deeley paused to greet Mr. Pottle casually; Mrs. Gallup took the candy with only conventional words of appreciation, and turned at once to listen, disciple-like, to the discourses of the sage from Xenia, who for the rest of the evening held the center of the stage, absorbed every beam of the calcium, and dispensed fact and fancy about a wide variety of things. He was a man with many and curious specialties. Mrs. Gallup was a willing, Mr. Pottle a most unwilling listener.