A Man and His Money Read online

  CHAPTER II

  VARYING FORTUNES

  Mr. Heatherbloom's new-found employment proved but ephemeral. The nextday the sheriff took possession of the music emporium and all itcontained, including the nomadic piano and the now empty jug. Thecontents of the last the composer-publisher took care to put beyondreach of his many creditors whom he, in consequence, faced with aseemingly care-free, if artificial, jocularity. Mr. Heatherbloom walkedsoberly forth from the shop of concord.

  He had but turned the corner of the street when into the now dissonant"hole in the wall", amid the scene of wreck and disaster, stepped a talldark man, with a closely cropped beard, who spoke English with an accentand who regarded the erstwhile proprietor and the minions of the lawwith ill-concealed arrogance and disfavor.

  "You have," he began in halting tones, "a young man here who sings onthe street like the minstrels of old, the--what you callthem?--troubadours."

  "We _had_," corrected Mr. Mackintosh. "He has just 'jumped the coup,' orrather been 'shooed out'."

  The new-comer fastened his gaze upon the other; he had superb, almostmesmeric eyes. "Will you kindly speak the language as I understand it?"he said. And the other did, for there was that in the caller's mannerwhich compelled immediate compliance. Immovably he listened to thecomposer-publisher's explanation.

  "_Eh bien!"_ he said, his handsome, rather barbaric head high when Mr.Mackintosh had concluded. "He is gone; it is well; I have fulfilled mymission." And walking out, the imposing stranger hailed a taxi anddisappeared from the neighborhood.

  Meanwhile Mr. Horatio Heatherbloom had walked slowly on; he was nowsome distance from the one-time "emporium." Where should he go? Hisfortunes had not been enhanced materially by his brief excursion intothe realms of melody; he had thirty cents in cash and a"dollar-and-a-half appetite." An untidy place where they displayed abargain assortment of creature comforts attracted his gaze. He thoughtof meals in the past--of caviar, a la Russe, three dollars and a half aportion; peaches Melba, three francs each at the Cafe de Paris; truffledcapon from Normandy; duck after the manner of the incomparable Frederic.About half a dozen peaches Melba would have appealed to him now; helooked, instead, with the eyes of longing at a codfish ball. Oh,glorious appetite, mocking recollections of hours of satiety!

  Should he yield to temptation? He stopped; then prudence prevailed. Theday was yet too young to give way recklessly to casual gastronomicallurements, so he stepped on again quickly, averting his head from shopwindows. Lest his caution and conservatism might give way, he startedto turn into a side street--but didn't.

  Instead, he laughed slightly to himself. What! flee from an outpost oftime-worn celery? beat an inglorious retreat before a phalanx ofmachine-made pies? He would look them (figuratively) in the eye. Having,as it were, fairly stared out of countenance the bland pies and beamedwith stern contempt upon the "droopy," Preraphaelite celery, he went,better satisfied, on his way. It is these little victories that count;at that moment Mr. Heatherbloom marched on like a knight of old forsteadfastness of purpose. His lips veiled a covert smile, as if behindthe hard mask of life he saw something a little odd and whimsical,appealing to some secret sense of humor that even hunger could notwholly annihilate. The lock of hair seemed to droop rather patheticallyat that moment; his sensitive features were slightly pinched; his facewas pale. It would probably be paler before the day was over;_n'importe!_ The future had to be met--for better, or worse. Multitudespassed this way and that; an elevated went crashing by; devastatinginfluences seemed to surround him. His slender form stiffened.

  When next he stopped it was to linger, not in front of an eatingestablishment, but before a bulletin-board upon which was pasted a pageof newspaper "want ads" for "trained" men, in all walks of life."Trained" men? Hateful word! How often had he encountered it! Ah, herewas one advertisement without the "trained"; he devoured it eagerly. Theitem, like an oasis in the desert of his general incapacity anduselessness, exercised an odd fascination for him in spite of theabsolute impossibility of his professing to possess a fractional part ofthose moral attributes demanded by the fair advertiser. She--a Miss VanRolsen--was seeking a paragon, not a person. Nevertheless, he resolvedto assail the apparently unassailable, and repaired to a certainultrafashionable neighborhood of the town.

  Before a brownstone front that bore the number he sought, he paused amoment, drew a deep breath and started to walk up the front steps. Butwith a short laugh he came suddenly to a halt half-way up; looked overthe stone balustrade down at the other entrance below--thetradesmen's--the butchers', the bakers', the candlestick makers'--and,yes, the servants'--their way in!--his?

  He went down the steps and walked on and away as a matter of course, butonce more stopped. He had done a good deal of going this way and that,and then stopping, during the last few months. Things had to be workedout, and sometimes his brain didn't seem to move very quickly.

  To be worked out! He now surveyed the butchers' and the bakers' (andyes, the servants') entrance with casual or philosophic interest fromthe vantage point of the other side of the street. It wasn't differentfrom any other of the entrances of the kind but it held his gaze. Thenhe walked across the street again and went in--or down. It didn't reallyseem now such a bad kind of entrance when you came to investigate it, ina high impersonal way; not half so bad as the subway, and people didn'tmind that.

  Still Mr. Heatherbloom experienced a peculiar thrill when he put up histhumb, pressed a button, and wondered what next would happen. Whoanswered doors down here,--the maid--the cook--the laundress? He felthimself to be very indistinct and vague standing there in the shadow,and tried to assume a nonchalant bearing. He wondered just what bearing_was_ proper under the circumstances; he cherished indistinctrecollections of having heard or read that the butcher's boy is usuallyfavored with a broadly defying and independent visage; that he comes inwhistling and goes forth swaggering. A cat-meat man he had once lookedupon from the upper lodge of front steps somewhere in the dim long ago,had possessed a melancholy manner and countenance.

  How should he comport himself; what should he say--when the inevitablehappened; when the time came to say something? How lead the conversationby natural and easy stages to the purport of his visit? He rehearsed afew sentences, then straightway forgot them. Why did they keep himwaiting so long? Did they always keep people as long as that--down here?He put his thumb again--

  "Well, what do you want?" The door had opened and a buxom female, armsakimbo, regarded him. Mr. Heatherbloom repaid her gaze with interest; it_was_ the cook, then, who acted as door tender of these regionssubterranean. He feared by her expression that he had interrupted her inthe preparation of some esculent delicacy, and with the fear was born aparenthetical inquiry; he wondered what that delicacy might be? Butforbearing to inquire he stated his business.

  "You'll be the thirteenth that's been 'turned down' to-day for thatjob!" observed cook blandly. With which cheering assurance she consignedhim to some one else--a maid with a tipped-up nose--and presently hefound himself being "shown up"; that was the expression used.

  The room into which he was ushered was a parlor. Absently he seatedhimself. The maid tittered. He looked at her--or rather the tipped-upnose, an attractive bit of anatomy. Saucy, provocative! Mr.Heatherbloom's head tilted a little; he surveyed the detail with thelook of a connoisseur. She colored, went; but remained in the hall topeer. There were many articles of virtu lying around--on tables or incabinets--and the caller's appearance was against him. He would bearwatching; he had the impudence--Just fancy his sitting there in a chair!He was leaning back now as if he enjoyed that atmosphere of luxury;surveying, too, the paintings and the bronzes with interest. But for nogood reason, thought the maid; then gave a start of surprise. The handof the suspicious-looking caller had lifted involuntarily to his breastpocket; a mechanical movement such as a young gentleman might make whowas reaching for a cigarette case. Did he intend--actually intendto--but the caller's hand fell; he sat forward suddenly on the edge ofhis ch
air and seemed for the first time aware that his attitude partookof the anomalous; for gathering up his shabby hat from the gorgeousrug, he abruptly rose.

  Just in time to confront, or be confronted by, an austere lady in stiffsatin or brocade and with bristling iron-gray hair! He noticed, however,that unlike the maid, she had a very prominent nose--that _now_ sniffed!

  "Good heavens! What a frightful odor of gasolene. Jane, where are mysalts?"

  Jane rushed in; at the same time four or five dogs that had followed inthe lady's wake began to bark as if they, too, were echoing the plaint:"What a frightful odor! Salts, Jane, salts!" And as they barked in manykeys, but always fortissimo, they ran frantically this way and that asthough chased by somebody, or something (perhaps the odor of gasolene),or chasing one another in a mad outburst of canine exuberance.

  "Sardanapolis! Beauty! Curly! Naughty!" the lady called out.

  But in vain. Sardanapolis continued to cut capers; Beauty's conduct wasnot beautiful; while as for Naughty (all yellow bows and black curls)he seemed endeavoring to live up to the fullest realization of his name.

  "Dear me! What _shall_ I do?"

  "Just let 'em alone, ma'am," ventured Jane, "and they'll soon tirethemselves out."

  Fortunately, by this time, the be-ribboned pets showed signs of reachingthat state of ennui.

  "Dear me!" said now the lady anxiously. "How wet the poor dears' tonguesare!"

  "Nature of the b--poor dears, ma'am!" commented Jane.

  The lady looked at her. "_You_ don't like dogs," she said. "You can go."And then to Mr. Heatherbloom: "What brought you here? Don't answer atonce. Stand farther back."

  Mr. Heatherbloom, who seemed to have been rather enjoying this littleimpromptu entertainment, straightened with a start; he retired a fewpaces, observing in a mild explanatory tone something about spots on hisgarments and the necessity for having them removed at a certain littleGreek shop, before doing himself the honor of calling and--

  "You're another answer to the advertisement then, I suppose?" thelady's voice unceremoniously interrupted.

  He confessed himself Another Answer, and in that capacity proceeded nowto reply as best he might to a merciless and rapid fire of questions.She would have made an excellent cross-examiner for the prosecution; Mr.Heatherbloom did not seem to enjoy the grilling. A number of querieshe answered frankly; others he evaded. He seemed--ominouscircumstance!--especially secretive regarding certain details of hispast. He did not care to say where he was born, or who his parents were.What had he done? What occupations had he followed?

  Well--he seemed to hesitate a good deal--he had once tried washingdishes; but--dreamily--they had discharged him; the man said somethingabout there being a debit balance on account of damaged crockery. He hadessayed the role of waiter but had lasted only through the firstcourses; down to the entrees, he thought; certainly not much past thepottage. He believed he bumped into another waiter; a few guests withinrange had seemed put out; afterward, he himself was put out. Andthen--well, he had somehow drifted, more or less.

  "Drifted!" said the lady ominously.

  "Oh, yes! Tried his hand at this and that," he added rather blithely. Heonce worked for a moving-picture firm; fell from a six-story window forthem. That is, he started to fall; something--a net or a platform--wassupposed to catch him at the fifth, and then a dummy completed thedescent and got smashed on the sidewalk. He was a little doubtful abouttheir intercepting him at the fifth and that he, instead of thedummy--But he didn't seem to mind taking the risk--reflectively. Theysaid he was a great success falling through the air, and they had him,in consequence, fall from all kinds of places,--through drawbridges intothe water, for example. That's where he contracted a bad cold, and whenhe had recovered, another man had been found for the heavier-than-airrole--

  "What are you talking about?" The lady's back was stiffer than a poker.

  "If ever you go to a moving-picture palace of amusement, Madam, and seea streak in the air, you might reasonably conclude you are"--hebowed--"beholding me. I went once; it seemed funny. I hardly recognizedmyself in the part. I certainly seemed to be 'going some'," he murmuredseriously. "Is there anything else, Madam, you would care to question meabout?"

  "I think," she said significantly, "what I have learned is quitesufficient. If the occupations you have told me about are sodisreputable--what were those you have kept so carefully concealed? Forexample, where were you and what were you doing four--five--six--yearsago? You have already refused to answer. You relate only a fewinconsequential and outre trifles. To cover up--What? What?" sherepeated.

  Then she transfixed him with her eye; the dogs transfixed him with theireyes. Accusingly? Not all of them. Naughty's glance expressed approval;his tail underwent a friendly agitation.

  "Naughty!" said the lady sharply. Naughty gamboled around Horatio.

  "How odd!" murmured the mistress, more to herself than the other. "Howvery extraordinary!"

  "What, Madam?" he ventured.

  "That Naughty, who so seldom takes to strangers, should--" she foundherself saying.

  "Perhaps it's the scent of the gasolene," he suggested.

  "It's _in spite of_ the gasolene," she retorted sharply.

  And for some moments ruminated. It was not until afterward Mr.Heatherbloom learned that her confidence in Naughty's instinct amountedto a hobby. Only once had she thought him at fault in his likes ordislikes of people; when he had showed a predilection for the assistantrector's shapely calves. But after that gentleman's elopement with alady of the choir and his desertion of wife and children, Naughty'serstwhile disrespect for the cloth, which Miss Van Rolsen had grievedover, became illumined with force and significance. Thereafter she hadnever doubted him; he had barked at all twelve of Mr. Heatherbloom'spredecessors--the dozen other answers to the advertisement; but here hewas sedulous for fondlings from Horatio. Extraordinary truly! The ladyhesitated.

  "I suppose we shall all be murdered in our beds," she said half toherself, "but," with sudden decision, "I've concluded to engage you."

  "And my duties?" ventured Mr. Heatherbloom. "The advertisement did notsay."

  "You are to exercise the darlings every day in the park."

  "Ah!" Horatio's exclamation was noncommittal. What he might have addedwas interrupted by a light footstep in the hall and the voice of someone who stopped in passing before the door.

  "I am going now, Aunt," said a voice.

  Mr. Heatherbloom started; his hand tightened on the back of a chair;from where he stood he could see but the rim of a wonderful hat. Hegazed at a few waving roses, fitting notes of color as it were, for thelovely face behind, concealed from him by the curtain.

  The elderly lady answered; Mr. Heatherbloom heard a Prince Someone'sname mentioned; then the roses were whisked back; the voice--musical assilver bells--receded, and the front door closed. Mr. Heatherbloom gazedaround him--at the furnishings in the room--she who stood before him. Heseemed bewildered.

  "And now as to your wages," said a voice--not silver bells!--sharply.

  "I hardly think I should prove suitable--" he began in somewhatpanic-stricken tones, when--

  "Nonsense!" The word, or the energy imparted to it, appeared to crushfor the moment further opposition on his part; his faculties becameconcentrated on a sound without, of a big car gathering headway in frontof the door. Mr. Heatherbloom listened; perhaps he would have liked toretreat then and there from that house; but it was too late! Fate hadprecipitated him here. A mad tragic jest! He did not catch the amountof his proposed stipend that was mentioned; he even forgot for themoment he was hungry. He could no longer hear the car. It had gone; but,it would return. Return! And then--? His head whirled at the thought.