The Coming of Bill | Page 9

in a low, tragic voice.
"It--it's not right. It--it's not proper." He drew a long breath. "It's all
wrong. It's got to stop."

"He's perfectly wonderful!" murmured Ruth. "He just opens his mouth
and the words come out. But I knew he was somebody, directly I saw
him, by his forehead. Like a dome!" Bailey mopped the dome.
"Perhaps you don't know it," he said, "but you're getting yourself talked
about. You go about saying perfectly impossible things to people. You
won't marry. You have refused nearly every friend I have."
Ruth shuddered.
"Your friends are awful, Bailey. They are all turned out on a pattern,
like a flock of sheep. They bleat. They have all got little, narrow faces
without chins or big, fat faces without foreheads. Ugh!"
"None of them good enough for you, is that it?"
"Not nearly."
Emotion rendered Bailey--for him--almost vulgar.
"I guess you hate yourself!" he snapped.
"No _sir_" beamed Ruth. "I think I'm perfectly beautiful."
Bailey grunted. Ruth came to him and gave him a sisterly kiss. She was
very fond of Bailey, though she declined to reverence him.
"Cheer up, Bailey boy," she said. "Don't you worry yourself. There's a
method in my madness. I'll find him sooner or later, and then you'll be
glad I waited."
"Him? what do you mean?"
"Why, _him_, of course. The ideal young man. That's who--or is it
whom?--I'm waiting for. Bailey, shall I tell you something? You're so
scarlet already--poor boy, you ought not to rush around in this hot
weather--that it won't make you blush. It's this. I'm ambitious. I mean to
marry the finest man in the world and have the greatest little old baby
you ever dreamed of. By the way, now I remember, I told Clarence

that."
Bailey uttered a strangled exclamation.
"It has made you blush! You turned purple. Well, now you know. I
mean my baby to be the most splendid baby that was ever born. He's
going to be strong and straight and clever and handsome, and--oh,
everything else you can think of. That's why I'm waiting for the ideal
young man. If I don't find him I shall die an old maid. But I shall find
him. We may pass each other on Fifth Avenue. We may sit next each
other at a theatre. Wherever it is, I shall just reach right out and grab
him and whisk him away. And if he's married already, he'll have to get
a divorce. And I shan't care who he is. He may be any one. I don't mind
if he's a ribbon clerk or a prize-fighter or a policeman or a cab-driver,
so long as he's the right man."
Bailey plied the handkerchief on his streaming forehead. The heat of
the day and the horror of this conversation were reducing his weight at
the rate of ounces a minute. In his most jaundiced mood he had never
imagined these frightful sentiments to be lurking in Ruth's mind.
"You can't mean that!" he cried.
"I mean every word of it," said Ruth. "I hope, for your sake, he won't
turn out to be a waiter or a prize-fighter, but it won't make any
difference to me."
"You're crazy!"
"Well, just now you said Aunt Lora was. If she is, I am."
"I knew it! I said she had been putting these ghastly ideas into your
head. I'd like to strangle that woman."
"Don't you try! Have you ever felt Aunt Lora's biceps? It's like a man's.
She does dumb-bells every morning."
"I've a good mind to speak to father. Somebody's got to make you stop

this insanity."
"Just as you please. But you know how father hates to be worried about
things that don't concern business."
Bailey did. His father, of whom he stood in the greatest awe, was very
little interested in any subject except the financial affairs of the firm of
Bannister & Son. It required greater courage than Bailey possessed to
place this matter before him. He had an uneasy feeling that Ruth knew
it.
"I would, if it were necessary," he said. "But I don't believe you're
serious."
"Stick to that idea as long as ever you can, Bailey dear," said Ruth. "It
will comfort you."

Chapter III
The Mates Meet
Kirk Winfield was an amiable, if rather weak, young man with whom
life, for twenty-five years, had dealt kindly. He had perfect health, an
income more than sufficient for his needs, a profession which interested
without monopolizing him, a thoroughly contented disposition, and the
happy knack of surrounding himself with friends.
That he had to contribute to the support of the majority of these friends
might have seemed a drawback to some men. Kirk did not object to it
in the least. He had enough money to