The Intrusion of Jimmy | Page 8

on
accomplishing anything, since, under the stimulus of a challenge, he
ceased to be a reasoning being, amenable to argument. And, in the
present case, he knew that Willett's words had driven the challenge
home. Jimmy was not the man to sit still under the charge of being a
fakir, no matter whether his accuser had been sober or drunk.
Jimmy, meanwhile, had produced whiskey and cigars. Now, he was
lying on his back on the lounge, blowing smoke-rings at the ceiling.
"Well?" said Arthur Mifflin, at length.
"Well, what?"

"What I meant was, is this silence to be permanent, or are you going to
begin shortly to amuse, elevate, and instruct? Something's happened to
you, Jimmy. There was a time when you were a bright little chap, a
fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy. Where be your gibes
now; your gambols, your songs, your flashes of merriment that were
wont to set the table in a roar when you were paying for the dinner?
Yon remind me more of a deaf-mute celebrating the Fourth of July with
noiseless powder than anything else on earth. Wake up, or I shall go.
Jimmy, we were practically boys together. Tell me about this girl--the
girl you loved, and were idiot enough to lose."
Jimmy drew a deep breath.
"Very well," said Mifflin complacently, "sigh if you like; it's better than
nothing."
Jimmy sat up.
"Yes, dozens of times," said Mifflin.
"What do you mean?"
"You were just going to ask me if I had ever been in love, weren't
you?"
"I wasn't, because I know you haven't. You have no soul. You don't
know what love is."
"Have it your own way," said Mifflin, resignedly.
Jimmy bumped back on the sofa.
"I don't either," he said. "That's the trouble."
Mifflin looked interested.
"I know," he said. "You've got that strange premonitory fluttering,
when the heart seems to thrill within you like some baby bird singing
its first song, when--"

"Oh, cut it out!"
"--when you ask yourself timidly, 'Is it? Can it really be?' and answer
shyly, 'No. Yes. I believe it is!' I've been through it dozens of times; it
is a recognized early symptom. Unless prompt measures are taken, it
will develop into something acute. In these matters, stand on your
Uncle Arthur. He knows."
"You make me sick," Jimmy retorted.
"You have our ear," said Mifflin, kindly. "Tell me all."
"There's nothing to tell."
"Don't lie, James."
"Well, practically nothing."
"That's better."
"It was like this."
"Good."
Jimmy wriggled himself into a more comfortable position, and took a
sip from his glass.
"I didn't see her until the second day out."
"I know that second day out. Well?"
"We didn't really meet at all."
"Just happened to be going to the same spot, eh?"
"As a matter of fact, it was like this. Like a fool, I'd bought a
second-class ticket."
"What? Our young Rockerbilt Astergould, the boy millionaire,

traveling second-class! Why?"
"I had an idea it would be better fun. Everybody's so much more cheery
in the second cabin. You get to know people so much quicker. Nine
trips out of ten, I'd much rather go second."
"And this was the tenth?"
"She was in the first-cabin," said Jimmy.
Mifflin clutched his forehead.
"Wait!" he cried. "This reminds me of something--something in
Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet? No. I've got it--Pyramus and Thisbe."
"I don't see the slightest resemblance."
"Read your 'Midsummer Night's Dream.' 'Pyramus and Thisbe,' says
the story, 'did talk through the chink of a wall,'" quoted Mifflin.
"We didn't."
"Don't be so literal. You talked across a railing."
"We didn't."
"Do you mean to say you didn't talk at all?"
"We didn't say a single word."
Mifflin shook his head sadly.
"I give you up," he said. "I thought you were a man of enterprise. What
did you do?"
Jimmy sighed softly.
"I used to stand and smoke against the railing opposite the barber's
shop, and she used to walk round the deck."

"And you used to stare at her?"
"I would look in her direction sometimes," corrected Jimmy, with
dignity.
"Don't quibble! You stared at her. You behaved like a common rubber-
neck, and you know it. I am no prude, James, but I feel compelled to
say that I consider your conduct that of a libertine. Used she to walk
alone?"
"Generally."
"And, now, you love her, eh? You went on board that ship happy,
careless, heart-free. You came off it grave and saddened. Thenceforth,
for you, the world could contain but one--woman, and her you had
lost."
Mifflin groaned in a hollow and bereaved manner, and took a sip from
his glass to buoy him up.
Jimmy moved restlessly on the sofa.
"Do you believe in love at first sight?" he asked, fatuously. He was