A Man and His Money | Page 6

nose--and presently he
found himself being "shown up"; that was the expression used.
The room into which he was ushered was a parlor. Absently he seated
himself. The maid tittered. He looked at her--or rather the tipped-up
nose, an attractive bit of anatomy. Saucy, provocative! Mr.
Heatherbloom's head tilted a little; he surveyed the detail with the look
of a connoisseur. She colored, went; but remained in the hall to peer.
There were many articles of virtu lying around--on tables or in
cabinets--and the caller's appearance was against him. He would bear
watching; 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 no
good reason, thought the maid; then gave a start of surprise. The hand
of the suspicious-looking caller had lifted involuntarily to his breast
pocket; a mechanical movement such as a young gentleman might
make who was reaching for a cigarette case. Did he intend--actually
intend to--but the caller's hand fell; he sat forward suddenly on the edge
of his chair and seemed for the first time aware that his attitude partook
of the anomalous; for gathering up his shabby hat from the gorgeous
rug, he abruptly rose.

Just in time to confront, or be confronted by, an austere lady in stiff
satin 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 my
salts?"
Jane rushed in; at the same time four or five dogs that had followed in
the 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 many
keys, but always fortissimo, they ran frantically this way and that as
though 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 was
not 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 tire
themselves out."
Fortunately, by this time, the be-ribboned pets showed signs of
reaching that state of ennui.
"Dear me!" said now the lady anxiously. "How wet the poor dears'
tongues are!"
"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
at once. Stand farther back."
Mr. Heatherbloom, who seemed to have been rather enjoying this little

impromptu entertainment, straightened with a start; he retired a few
paces, observing in a mild explanatory tone something about spots on
his garments and the necessity for having them removed at a certain
little Greek shop, before doing himself the honor of calling and--
"You're another answer to the advertisement then, I suppose?" the
lady's voice unceremoniously interrupted.
He confessed himself Another Answer, and in that capacity proceeded
now to 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
queries he answered frankly; others he evaded. He seemed--ominous
circumstance!--especially secretive regarding certain details of his past.
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 washing
dishes; but--dreamily--they had discharged him; the man said
something about there being a debit balance on account of damaged
crockery. He had essayed the rôle of waiter but had lasted only through
the first courses; down to the entrées, he thought; certainly not much
past the pottage. He believed he bumped into another waiter; a few
guests within range had seemed put out; afterward, he himself was put
out. And then--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. He
once worked for a moving-picture firm; fell from a six-story window
for them. That is, he started to fall; something--a net or a platform--was
supposed to catch him at the fifth, and then a dummy completed the
descent and got smashed on the sidewalk. He was a little doubtful
about their intercepting him at the fifth and that he, instead of the
dummy--But he didn't