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And

That There Were People In athens Who Would Be Glad

To Explain His Treacherous Character,  She Would Have

Haughtily Scorned the Tale-Bearing and Would Have

Gone With More Haste Into The Professor'S Way Of

Thinking. In fact,  She Was In process Of Undermining

Herself.,  And The Work Could Have Been. Retarded or

Advanced by Any Irresponsible,  Gossipy Tongue.

 

The Professor,  From The Depths Of His Experience

With Her,  Arranged a Course Of Conduct. " If I Just

Leave Her To Herself She Will Come Around All Right,

But If I Go 'Striking while The Iron Is Hot,' Or Any Of

Those Things,  I'Ll Bungle It Surely."

 

As They Were Making ready To Go Down To Luncheon,

Mrs. Wainwright Made Her Speech Which First Indicated

A Changing mind. " Well,  What Will Be,  Will Be,"

She Murmured with A Prolonged sigh Of Resignation.

" What Will Be,  Will Be. Girls Are Very Headstrong In

These Days,  And There Is Nothing much To Be Done With

Them. They Go Their Own Roads. It Wasn'T So In my

Girlhood. - We Were Obliged to Pay Attention To Our

Mothers Wishes."

 

" I Did Not Notice That You Paid Much Attention To

Your Mother'S Wishes When You Married me," Remarked

The Professor. " In fact,  I Thought-"

 

" That Was Another Thing," Retorted mrs. Wainwright

With Severity. " You Were A Steady Young Man

Who Had Taken The Highest Honours All Through Your

College Course,  And My Mother'S Sole Objection Was

That We Were Too Hasty. She Thought We -Ought To

Wait Until You Had A Penny To Bless Yourself With,

And I Can See Now Where She Was Quite Right."

" Well,  You Married me,  Anyhow," Said The Professor,

Victoriously.

 

Mrs. Wainwright Allowed her Husband'S Retort To

Pass Over Her Thoughtful Mood. " They Say * * They

Say Rufus Coleman Makes As Much As Fifteen Thousand

Dollars A Year. That'S More Than Three Times Your Income

* * I Don'T Know. * * It All Depends On Whether

They Try To Save Or Not. His Manner Of Life Is,  No

Doubt,  Very Luxurious. I Don'T Suppose He Knows

How To Economise At All. That Kind Of A Man Usually

Doesn'T. And Then,  In the Newspaper World Positions

Are So Very Precarious. Men May Have Valuable Positions

One Minute And Be Penniless In the Street The

Next Minute. It Isn'T As If He Had Any Real Income,

And Of Course He Has No Real Ability.   If He Was Suddenly

Thrown Out Of His Position,  Goodness Knows What

Would Become Of Him. Still Stillfifteen Thousand

Dollars A Year Is A Big Incomewhile It Lasts. I

Suppose He Is Very Extravagant. That Kind Of A Man

Usually Is. And I Wouldn'T Be Surprised if He Was

Heavily In debt; Very Heavily In debt.  Still * * If

Marjory Has Set Her Heart There Is Nothing to Be Done,

I Suppose. It Wouldn'T Have Happened if You Had

Been As Wise As You Thought You Were. * * I Suppose

He Thinks I Have Been Very Rude To Him. Well,  Some

Times I Wasn'T Nearly So Rude As I Felt Like Being.

Feeling as I Did,  I Could Hardly Be Very Amiable. * *

Of Course This Drive This Afternoon Was All Your Affair

And Marjory'S. But,  Of Course,  I Shall Be Nice To Him."

 

" And What Of All This Nora Black Business? " Asked

The Professor,  With,  A Display Of Valour,  But Really With

Much Trepidation.

 

" She Is A Hussy," Responded mrs. Wainwright With

Energy. " Her Conversation In the Carriage On The

Way Down To Agrinion Sickened me! "

 

" I Really Believe That Her Plan Was Simply To Break

Everything off Between Marjory And Coleman," Said

The Professor,  " And I Don'T Believe She Had Any-Grounds

For All That Appearance Of Owning coleman And The

Rest Of It."

 

" Of Course She Didn'T" Assented mrs. Wainwright.

The Vicious Thing! "

 

" On The Other Hand," Said The Professor,  " There

Might Be Some Truth In it."

" I Don'T Think So," Said Mrs. Wainwright Seriously.

I Don'T Believe A Word Of It."

 

" You Do Not Mean To Say That You Think Coleman

A Model Man ? " Demanded the Professor.

 

"Not At All! Not At All!" She Hastily Answered.

" But * * One Doesn'T Look For Model Men These Days."

 

"'Who Told You He Made Fifteen Thousand A Year?

Asked the Professor.

 

"It Was Peter Tounley This Morning. We Were

Talking upstairs After Breakfast,  And He Remarked that

He If Could Make Fifteen Thousand,  A Year: Like Coleman,

He'D-I'Ve Forgotten What-Some Fanciful Thing."

 

" I Doubt If It Is True," Muttered the Old Man Wagging his Head.

 

"Of Course It'S True," Said His Wife Emphatically.

" Peter Tounley Says Everybody Knows It."

 

Well * Anyhow * Money Is Not Everything."

 

But It'S A. Great Deal,  You Know Well Enough. You

Know You Are Always Speaking of Poverty As An Evil,

As A Grand Resultant,  A Collaboration Of Many Lesser

Evils. Well,  Then?

 

" But," Began The Professor Meekly,  When I Say

That I Mean-"

 

" Well,  Money Is Money And Poverty Is Poverty,"

Interrupted his Wife. " You Don'T Have To Be Very

Learned to Know That."

 

"I Do Not Say That Coleman Has Not A Very Nice

Thing of It,  But I Must Say It Is Hard To Think Of His

Getting any Such Sum,  As You Mention."

 

" Isn'T He Known As The Most Brilliant Journalist In

New York?" She Demanded harshly.

 

" Y-Yes,  As Long As It Lasts,  But Then One Never

Knows When He Will Be Out In the Street Penniless.

Of Course He Has No Particular Ability Which Would

Be Marketable If He Suddenly Lost His Present Employment.

Of Course It Is Not As If He Was A Really Talented young Man.

He Might Not Be Able To Make His Way At All In any New Direction."

 

" I Don'T Know About That," Said Mrs. Wainwright

In Reflective Protestation. " I Don'T Know About That.

I Think He Would."

 

" I Thought You Said A Moment Ago-" The Professor

Spoke With An Air Of Puzzled hesitancy. "I

Thought You Said A Moment Ago That He Wouldn'T Succeed

In Anything but Journalism."

 

Mrs. Wainwright Swam Over The Situation With A

Fine Tranquility. " Well-I-I," She Answered musingly,

"If I Did Say That,  I Didn'T Mean It Exactly."

 

" No,  I Suppose Not," Spoke The Professor,  And De-

Spite The Necessity For Caution He Could Not Keep Out

Of His Voice A Faint Note Of Annoyance.

 

" Of Course," Continued the Wife,  " Rufus Coleman

Is Known Everywhere As A Brilliant Man,  A Very Brilliant

Man,  And He Even Might Do Well In-In Politics Or

Something of That Sort."

 

" I Have A Very Poor Opinion Of That Kind Of A Mind

Which Does Well In american Politics," Said The Pro-

Fessor,  Speaking as A Collegian,  " But I Suppose There

May Be Something in it."

 

" Well,  At Any Rate," Decided mrs. Wainwright.

" At Any Rate-"

 

At That Moment,  Marjory Attired for Luncheon And

The Drive Entered from Her Room,  And Mrs. Wainwright

Checked the Expression Of Her Important Conclusion.

Neither Father Or Mother Had Ever Seen Her So Glowing

With Triumphant Beauty,  A Beauty Which Would

Carry The Mind Of A Spectator Far Above Physical

Appreciation Into That Realm Of Poetry Where Creatures

Of Light Move And Are Beautiful Because They Cannot

Know Pain Or A Burden. It Carried tears To The Old

Father'S Eyes. He Took Her Hands. " Don'T Be Too

Happy,  My Child,  Don'T Be Too Happy," He Admonished

Her Tremulously. " It Makes Me Afraid-It Makes Me

Afraid."

 

Chapter 29

It Seems Strange That The One Who Was The Most

Hilarious Over The Engagement Of Marjory And Cole-

Man Should Be Coleman'S Dragoman Who Was Indeed

In A State Bordering on Transport. It Is Not Known

How He Learned the Glad Tidings,  But It Is Certain That

He Learned them Before Luncheon. He Told All The

Visible Employes Of The Hotel And Allowed them To

Know That The Betrothal Really Had Been His Handi-Work

He Had Arranged it. He Did Not Make Quite

Clear How He Had Performed this Feat,  But At Least He

Was Perfectly Frank In acknowledging it.

 

When Some Of The Students Came Down To Luncheon,

They Saw Him But Could Not Decide What Ailed him.

He Was In the Main Corridor Of The Hotel,  Grinning

From Ear To Ear,  And When He Perceived the Students

He Made Signs To Intimate That They Possessed in com-

Mon A Joyous Secret. " What'S The Matter With That

Idiot?" Asked coke Morosely. " Looks As If His

Wheels Were Going around Too Fast."

Peter Tounley Walked close To Him And Scanned

Him Imperturbably,  But With Care. " What'S Up,

Phidias ? " The Man Made No Articulate Reply. He

Continued to Grin And Gesture. "Pain In oo Tummy?

Mother Dead? Caught The Cholera? Found Out

That You'Ve Swallowed a Pair Of Hammered brass And

Irons In your Beer? Say,  Who Are You,  Anyhow? "

But He Could Not Shake This Invincible Glee,  So He

Went Away.

 

The Dragoman'S Rapture Reached its Zenith When

Coleman Lent Him To The Professor And He Was

Commissioned to Bring a Carriage For Four People To The

Door At Three O'Clock. He Himself Was To Sit On

The Box And Tell The Driver What Was Required of

Him. He Dashed off,  His Hat In his Hand,  His Hair Flying,

Puffing,  Important Beyond Everything,  And Apparently

Babbling his Mission To Half The People He Met

On The Street. In most Countries He Would Have

Landed speedily In jail,  But Among A People Who Exist

On A Basis Of'Jibbering,  His Violent Gabble Aroused no

Suspicions As To His Sanity. However,  He Stirred

Several Livery Stables To Their Depths And Set Men Running

Here And There Wildly And For The Most Part

Futiltiy.

 

At Fifteen Minutes To Three O'Clock,  A Carriage With

Its Horses On A Gallop Tore Around The Corner And Up

To The . Front Of The Hotel,  Where It Halted with The

Pomp And Excitement Of A Fire Engine. The Dragoman

Jumped down From His Seat Beside The Driver And

Scrambled hurriedly Into The Hoiel,  In the Gloom Of

Which Hemet A Serene Stillness Which Was Punctuated

Only By The Leisurely Tinkle Of Silver And Glass In the

Dining room. For A Moment The Dragoman Seemed

Really Astounded out Of Specch. Then He Plunged

Into The Manager'S Room. Was It Conceivable That

Monsieur Coleman Was Still At Luncheon? Yes; In

Fact,  It Was True. But The Carriage,  Was At The Door!

The Carriage Was At The Door! The Manager, 

Undisturbed,  Asked for What Hour Monsieur Coleman Had

Been Pleased to Order A Carriage. Three O'Clock !

Three O'Clock? The Manager Pointed calmly At The

Clock. Very Well. It Was Now Only Thirteen Minutes

Of Three O'Clock. Monsieur Coleman Doubtless Would

Appear At Three. Until That Hour The Manager Would

Not Disturb Monsieur Coleman. The Dragoman

Clutched both His Hands In his Hair And Cast A Look Of

Agony To The Ceiling. Great God! Had He Accomplished

The Herculean Task Of Getting a Carriage For

Four People To The Door Of The Hotel In time For A Drive

At Three O'Clock,  Only To Meet With This Stoniness,  This

Inhumanity? Ah,  It Was Unendurable? He Begged

The Manager; He Implored him. But At Every Word.

The Manager Seemed to Grow More Indifferent,  More

Callous. He Pointed with A Wooden Finger At The

Clock-Face. In reality,  It Is Thus,  That Greek Meets

Greek.

 

Professor Wainwright And Coleman Strolled together

Out Of The Dining room. The Dragoman Rushed ecstatically

Upon The Correspondent. " Oh,  Meester Coleman!

The Carge Is Ready !"

 

"Well,  All Right," Said Coleman,  Knocking ashes

From His Cigar. "Don'T Be In a Hurry. I Suppose

We'Ll Be Ready,  Presently." The Man Was In despair.

 

The Departure Of The Wainwrights And Coleman On

This Ordinary Drive Was Of A Somewhat Dramatic And

Public Nature,  No One Seemed to Know How To Prevent

Its Being so. In the First Place,  The Attendants

Thronged out En Masse For A Reason Which Was Plain

At The Time Only To Coleman'S Dragoman. And,  Rather

In The Background,  Lurked the Interested students.

The Professor Was Surprised and Nervous. Coleman

Was Rigid And Angry. Marjory Was Flushed and Some

What Hurried,  And Mrs. Wainwright Was As Proud As

An Old Turkey-Hen.

 

As The Carriage Rolled away,  Peter Tounley Turned

To His Companions And Said: " Now,  That'S Official!

That Is The Official Announcement! Did You See Old

Mother Wainwright? Oh,