The Gray Dawn Part 19

"I can't say he did, now you mention it. He's one of those nice doggy people you don't mind having around."

They discussed the matter animatedly. Teeny McFarlane developed an unexpected obstinacy. She did not suggest that the young man was to be included in any of the future parties; indeed, she answered the direct question decidedly in the negative; no, there was no use trying to include anybody unless they decidedly "belonged."

"You wouldn't call him a live Molly, now would you, Teeny?" implored Cal Bennett.

"No," she answered slowly, "I suppose not. But he is _not_ a hea.r.s.e."

The men, all but Popsy McFarlane, were inspecting Teeny's cool, unrevealing exterior with covert curiosity. She was always an enigma to them. Each man was asking himself why her interest in the mere labelling of this stranger.

"He isn't a live Molly and she objects to his being a hea.r.s.e," laughed Sally. "He must be something between them. What," she inquired, with the air of propounding a conundrum, "is between a live Molly and a hea.r.s.e?"

"Give it up!" they cried unanimously.

Sally looked nonplussed, then shrieked: "Why, the pallbearers, of course!"

The silly phrase caught. Thereafter, those who were acknowledged to be all right enough but not of their feather were known as "pallbearers."

The Keiths were live Mollies. He was decidedly one. His appearance alone inspired good nature and high spirits, he looked so clean, vividly coloured, enthusiastic, alive to his finger tips. He was always game for anything, no matter how ridiculous it made him, or in what sort of a so-called false position it might place him. When he had reached a certain state of dancing-eyed joyous recklessness, Nan was always athrill as to what he might do next. And Nan, spite of her quieter ways and the reserves imposed on her by her breeding, was altogether too pretty and too much of a real person ever to be cla.s.sed as a hea.r.s.e. With her ravis.h.i.+ng Eastern toilettes, her clear, creamy complexion, and the clean-cut lines of her throat, chin, and cheeks, she always made the other women look a little too vividly accented. The men all admired her on sight, and at first did their best to interest her. They succeeded, for in general they were of vital stuff, but not in the intimately personal way they desired. Her nature found no thrill in experiment. One by one they gave her up in the favour of less attractive but livelier or more complaisant companions; but they continued to like her and to pay her much general attention. She never, in any nuance of manner, even tried to make a difference; nevertheless, their att.i.tude toward her was always more deferential than to the other women.

Ben Sansome was the one exception to the first part of the above statement. Her gentle but obvious withdrawals from his advances piqued his conceit. Ben was a spoiled youth, with plenty of money; and he had always been a spoiled youth, with plenty of money. Why he had come to San Francisco no one knew. Possibly he did not know himself; for as his affairs had always been idle, he had drifted much, and might have drifted here. Whatever the reason, the fact remained that in this busy, new, and ambitious community he was the one example professionally of the gilded youth. His waistcoats, gloves, varnished boots, jewellery, handkerchiefs were always patterns to the other amateur, gilded youths who had also other things to do. His social tact was enormous, and a recognized inst.i.tution. If there had been cotillons, he would have led them; but as there were no cotillons, he contented himself with being an _arbiter elegantiarum_. He rather prided himself on his knowledge of such things as jades, old prints, and obscure poets of whom n.o.body else had ever heard. Naturally he had always been a great success with women, both as harmless parlour ornaments, and in more dangerous ways.

In San Francisco he had probably carried farther than he would have carried anywhere else. He had sustained no serious reverses, because difficult game had not heretofore interested him. Entering half interestedly with Nan into what he vaguely intended as one of his numerous, harmless, artistic, perfumed flirtationlets, he had found himself unexpectedly held at arm's length. Just this was needed to fillip his fancy. He went into the game as a game. Sansome made himself useful. By dint of being on hand whenever Keith's carelessness had left her in need of an escort, and only then, he managed to establish himself on a recognized footing as a sort of privileged, charming, useful, harmless family friend.

Outside this small, rather lively coterie the Keiths had very few friends. It must be confessed that the mothers of the future leaders of San Francisco society, and the bearers of what were to be her proudest names, were mostly "hea.r.s.es." Their husbands were the forceful, able men of the city, but they themselves were conventional as only conventional women can be when goaded into it by a general free-and-easy, unconventional atmosphere. That was their only method of showing disapproval. The effect was worthy but dull. It was a pity, for among them were many intelligent, charming women who needed only a different atmosphere, to expand. The Keiths never saw them, and gained their ideas of them only from the merciless raillery of the "live Mollies."

All this implied more or less entertaining, and entertaining was expensive. The Boyle house was expensive for that matter; and about everything else, save Chinese servants, and, temporarily, whatever the latest clipper s.h.i.+p had glutted the market with. Keith had brought with him a fair sum of money with which to make his start; but under this constant drainage, it dwindled to what was for those times a comparatively small sum. Clients did not come. There were more men practising law than all the other professions. In spite of wide acquaintance and an attractive popular personality, Keith had not as yet made a start. He did not worry--that was not his nature--but he began to realize that he must do one of two things: either make some money, somehow, or give up his present mode of living. The latter course was unthinkable!

XIX

One morning Keith was sitting in his office cogitating these things.

His door opened and a meek, mild little wisp of a man sidled in. He held his hat in his hand, revealing clearly sandy hair and a narrow forehead. His eyebrows and lashes were sandy, his eyes pale blue, his mouth weak but obstinate. On invitation he seated himself on the edge of the chair, and laid his hat carefully beside him on the floor.

"I am Dr. Jacob Jones," he said, blinking at Keith. "You have heard of me?"

"I am afraid I have not," said Keith pleasantly.

The little man sighed.

"I have held the City Hospital contract for three years," he explained, "and they owe me a lot of money. I thought you might collect some of it."

"I think if you'd put in a claim through the usual channels you'd receive your dues," advised Keith, somewhat puzzled. He had not heard that the city was refusing to pay legitimate claims.

"I've done that, and they've given me these," said Doctor Jones, handing Keith a bundle of papers.

Keith glanced at them.

"This is 'scrip,'" he said. "It's perfectly good. When the city is without current funds it issues this scrip, bearing interest at 3 per cent. a month. It's all right."

"Yes, I know," said the little man ineffectually, "but I don't want scrip."

Keith ran it over. It amounted to something like eleven thousand dollars.

"What do you want done about it?" he asked,

"I want you to collect the money for me."

But Keith, had recollected something.

"Just wait a minute, please," he begged, and darted across the hall to a friend's office, returning after a moment with a file of legislative reports. "I thought I'd heard something about it; here it is. The State Legislature has voted an issue of 10 per cent. bonds to take up the scrip."

"I don't understand," said Doctor Jones.

"Why, you take your scrip to the proper official and exchange it for an equal value of State bonds."

"But what good does that do me?" cried Jones excitedly. "It doesn't get me my money. They don't guarantee I can sell the bonds at par, do they?

And answer me this: isn't it just a scheme to cheat me of my interest?

As I understand it, instead of 3 per cent. a month I'm to get 10 per cent. a year?"

"That's the effect," corroborated Keith.

"Well, I don't want bonds, I want money, as is my due."

"Wait a minute," said Keith. He read the report again slowly. "This says that holders of scrip _may_ exchange, for bonds; it does not say they _must_ exchange," he said finally. "If that interpretation is made of the law, suit and judgment would lie against the city. Do you want to try that?"

"Of course I want to try it!" cried Jones.

"Well, bring me your contract and vouchers, and any other papers to do with the case, and I'll see what can be done."

"I have them right here," said Doctor Jones.

This, as Keith's first case, interested him more than its intrinsic worth warranted. It amused him to bring all his powers to bear, fighting strongly for the technical point, and finally establis.h.i.+ng it in court. In spite of the evident intention of the Legislature that city scrip should be retired in favour of bonds, it was ruled that the word _may_ in place of the word _must_ practically nullified that intention. Judgment was obtained against the city for eleven thousand dollars, and the sheriff was formally instructed to sell certain water-front lots in order to satisfy that judgment. The sale was duly advertised in the papers.

Next morning, after the first insertion of this advertis.e.m.e.nt, Keith had three more callers. These were men of importance: namely, John Geary, the first postmaster and last _alcalde_ of the new city; William Hooper, and James King of William, at that time still a banker. These were grave, solid, and weighty citizens, plainly dressed, earnest, and forceful. They responded politely but formally to Keith's salute, and seated themselves.

"You were, I understand, counsel for Doctor Jones in obtaining judgment on the hospital scrip?" inquired Geary.

"That is correct," acknowledged Keith.

"We have called to inform you of a fact that perhaps escaped your notice: namely, that these gentlemen and myself have been appointed by the Legislature as commissioners to manage the funded debt of the city; that, for that purpose, t.i.tle of all city lands has been put in our hands."

"No, I did not know that," said Keith.

"Therefore, you see," went on Geary, "the sheriff cannot pa.s.s t.i.tle to any lots that might be sold to satisfy Doctor Jones's judgment."

Keith pondered, his alert mind seizing with avidity on this new and interesting situation.