Raspberry Jam | Page 7

of
the club."
"And that's the truth," declared Eunice. "Sanford is getting himself
disliked in some quarters, influential ones, too, and he's making
life-long enemies--not Alvord, but others--and it is all because he has
the real interests of the club at heart. Al Hendricks is running it
into--into a mud-puddle! Isn't he, San?"
"Well, yes, though I shouldn't have thought of using that word. But, he
is bringing its gray hairs in sorrow to the grave--or will, if he remains
in office, instead of turning it over to a well-balanced man of good
judgment and unerring taste--say, like one Sanford Embury."
"You certainly are not afflicted with false pride, Sanford," and Aunt
Abby bit into her crisp toast with a decided snap.
"Why, thank you," and Embury smiled as he purposely misinterpreted

her words. "I quite agree, Aunt, that my pride is by no means false. It is
a just and righteous pride in my own merits, both natural and acquired."
He winked at Eunice across the table, and she smiled back
appreciatively. Aunt Abby gave him what was meant to be a scathing
glance, but which turned to a nod of admiration.
"That's so, Sanford," she admitted. "Al Hendricks is a nice man, but he
falls down on some things. Hasn't he been a good president?"
"Until lately, Aunt Abby. Now, he's all mixed up with a crowd of
intractables--sporty chaps, who want a lot of innovations that the more
conservative element won't stand for."
"Why, they want prize-fights and a movie theatre-right in the club!"
informed Eunice. "And it means too much expense, besides being a
horrid, low-down--"
"There, there, Tiger," and Sanford shook his head at her. "Let us say
those things are unpalatable to a lot of us old fogies--"
"Stop! I won't have you call yourself old--or fogyish, either! You're the
farthest possible removed from that! Why, you're no older than Al
Hendricks."
"You were all children together," said Aunt Abby, as if imparting a bit
of new information; "you three, and Mason Elliott. Why, when you
were ten or eleven, Eunice, those three boys were eternally camping out
in the front yard, waiting for you to get your hair curled and go out to
play. And later, they all hung around to take you to parties, and then,
later still --not so much later, either--they all wanted to marry you."
"Why, Auntie, you're telling the 'whole story of my life and what's my
real name!'--Sanford knows all this, and knows that he cut out the other
two--though I'm not saying they wanted to marry me."
"It goes without saying," and her husband gave her a gallant bow. "But,
great heavens, Eunice, if you'd married those other two--I mean one of

'em--either one--you'd have been decidedly out of your element.
Hendricks, though a bully chap, is a man of impossible tastes, and
Elliott is a prig--pure and simple! I, you see, strike a happy medium.
And, speaking of such things, are your mediums always happy, Aunt
Abby?"
"How you do rattle on, Sanford! A true medium is so absorbed in her
endeavors, so wrapped up in her work, she is, of course, happy--I
suppose. I never thought about it."
"Well, don't go out of your way to find out. It isn't of vital importance
that I should know. May I be excused, Madam Wife? I'm called to the
busy marts--and all that sort of thing." Embury rose from the table, a
big, tall man, graceful in his every motion, as only a trained athlete can
be. Devoted to athletics, he kept himself in the pink of condition
physically, and this was no small aid to his vigorous mentality and
splendid business acumen.
"Wait a minute, San," and for the first time that morning there was a
note of timidity in Eunice's soft voice. "Please give me a little money,
won't you?"
"Money, you grasping young person! What do you want it for?"
"Why--I'm going to Newark, you know--"
"Going to Newark! Yes, but you're going in Hendricks' car--that doesn't
require a ticket, does it?"
"No--but I--I might want to give the chauffeur something when I get
out--"
"Nonsense! Not Hendricks' chauffeur. That's all right when you're with
formal friends or Comparative strangers--but it would be ridiculous to
tip Hendricks' Gus!"
Embury swung into the light topcoat held by the faithful Ferdinand.

"But, dear," and Eunice rose, and stood by her husband, "I do want a
little money," she fingered nervously the breakfast napkin she was still
holding.
"What for?" was the repeated inquiry.
"Oh, you see--I might want to do a little shopping in Newark."
"Shop in Newark! That's a good one! Why, girlie, you never want to
shop outside of little old New York, and you know it. Shop in
Newark!"
Embury laughed at the very idea.