The Definite Object | Page 7

a marrying man myself, sir, I regard it with a truly reverent
heye and 'umbly suggest that for you such a oblivious change would
be--"
"Brimberly," said Young R., turning to stare in lazy wonder, "where in
the world are you getting to now?"
Mr. Brimberly coughed and touched a whisker with dubious finger.
"Wasn't you allooding to--hem!--to matrimony, sir?"
"Matrimony! Lord, no! Hardly so desperate a course as that, Brimberly.
I was considering the advisability of--er--this!" And opening a drawer

in the escritoire, Young R. held up a revolver, whereat Mr. Brimberly's
whiskers showed immediate signs of extreme agitation, and he started
to his feet.
"Mr. Ravenslee, sir--for the love o' Gawd!" he exclaimed, "if it's a
choice between the two--try matrimony first, it's so much--so much
wholesomer, sir!"
"Is it, Brimberly? Let me see, there are about five hundred highly
dignified matrons in this--er--great city, wholly eager and anxious to
wed their daughters to my dollars (and incidentally myself) even if I
were the vilest knave or most pitiful piece of doddering
antiquity--faugh! Let's hear no more of matrimony."
"Certingly not, sir!" bowed Mr. Brimberly.
"And I'm neither mad, Brimberly, nor drunk, only--speaking
colloquially--I'm 'on to' myself at last. If my father had only left me
fewer millions, I might have been quite a hard-working, useful member
of society, for there's good in me, Brimberly. I am occasionally aware
of quite noble impulses, but they need some object to bring 'em out. An
object--hum!" Here Mr. Ravenslee put away the revolver. "An object to
work for, live for, be worthy of!" Here he fell to frowning into the fire
again and stared thus so long that at last Mr. Brimberly felt impelled to
say:
"A hobject, of course, sir! A hobject--certingly, sir!" But here he started
and turned to stare toward the windows as from the darkness beyond
two voices were uplifted in song; two voices these which sang the same
tune and words but in two different keys, uncertain voices, now
shooting up into heights, now dropping into unplumbable deeps, two
shaky voices whose inconsequent quaverings suggested four legs in
much the same condition.
"Brimberly," sighed his master, "what doleful wretches have we here?"
"Why, sir, I--I rather fancy it's William and James--the footmen, sir,"
answered Mr. Brimberly between bristling whiskers. "Hexcuse me,

sir--I'll go and speak to 'em, sir--"
"Oh, pray don't trouble yourself, Mr. Brimberly; sit down and hearken!
These sad sounds are inspired by deep potations--beer, I fancy. Be
seated, Mr. Brimberly."
Mr. Brimberly obeyed, and being much agitated dropped his cigar and
grovelled for it, and it was to be noted thereafter that as the singers
drew nearer, he shuffled on his chair with whiskers violently a-twitch,
while his eyes goggled more and his domelike brow grew ever moister.
But on came the singing footmen and passed full-tongued, wailing out
each word with due effect, thus:
"--my sweet 'eart's--me mother The best--the dearest--of--'em all."
"Hum!" murmured Young R., "I admire the sentiment, Brimberly, but
the execution leaves something to be desired, perhaps--"
"If you'll only let me go out to 'em, sir!" groaned Mr. Brimberly,
mopping himself with a very large, exceeding white handkerchief, "if
you honly will, sir!"
"No, Brimberly, no--it would only distress you, besides--hark! their
song is ended, and rather abruptly--I rather fancy they have fallen down
the terrace steps."
"And I 'opes," murmured Mr. Brimberly fervently, "I do 'ope as they've
broke their necks!"
"Of course I ought to have gone out and switched on the lights for
them," sighed Young R, "but then, you see, I thought they were safe in
bed, Brimberly!"
"Why, sir," said Mr. Brimberly, mopping furiously, "I--I ventured to
give 'em a hour's leave of habsence, sir; I ventured so to do, sir, because,
sir--"
"Because you are of rather a venturesome nature, aren't you,

Brimberly?"
"No offence, sir, I 'ope?"
"None at all, Mr. Brimberly--pray calm yourself and--er--take a little
brandy."
"Sir?"
"Your glass is under the chair yonder, or is it your friend's?"
Mr. Brimberly goggled toward Mr. Stevens' betraying glass, picked it
up, and sat staring at it in vague and dreamy fashion until, rousing at
his master's second bidding, he proceeded to mix brandy and soda, his
gaze still profoundly abstracted and his whiskers drooping with an
abnormal meekness.
At this juncture a knock sounded at the door, and a chauffeur appeared,
looking very smart in his elegant livery; a thick-set man, mightily deep
of chest, whose wide shoulders seemed to fill the doorway, and whose
long, gorilla-like arms ended in two powerful hands; his jaw was
squarely huge, his nose broad and thick, but beneath his beetling brows
blinked two of the mildest blue eyes in the world.
"What is it, Joe?"
"And what time will ye be wantin' the car in