The Lighted Way | Page 3

upon the cricket field or in any gathering of
people belonging to the other side of life. Here he seemed almost a
curiously incongruous figure. He passed through the glass-paned door
and stood respectfully before his employer. Mr. Weatherley--it was
absurd, but he scarcely knew how to make his suggestion--fidgetted for
a moment and coughed. The young man, who, among many other quite
unusual qualities, was possessed of a considerable amount of tact,
looked down upon his employer with a little well-assumed anxiety. As
a matter of fact, he really was exceedingly anxious not to lose his place.
"I understood from Mr. Jarvis that you wished to speak to me, sir," he
remarked. "I hope that my work has given satisfaction? I know that I
am quite inexperienced but I don't think that I have made any
mistakes."
Mr. Weatherley was, to tell the truth, thankful for the opening.
"I have had no complaints, Chetwode," he admitted, struggling for that
note of condescension which he felt to be in order. "No complaints at
all. I was wondering if you--you happened to play bridge?"
Once more this extraordinary young man showed himself to be
possessed of gifts quite unusual at his age. Not by the flicker of an
eyelid did he show the least surprise or amusement.
"Bridge, sir," he repeated. "Yes, I have played at--I have played
occasionally."
"My wife is giving a small dinner-party this evening," Mr. Weatherley
continued, moving his umbrella from one hand to the other and
speaking very rapidly, "bridge afterwards. We happen to be a man short.
I was to have called at the club to try and pick up some one--find I
sha'n't have time--meeting at the Cannon Street Hotel to attend. Would

you--er--fill the vacant place? Save me the trouble of looking about."
It was out at last and Mr. Weatherley felt unaccountably relieved. He
felt at the same time a certain measure of annoyance with his junior
clerk for his unaltered composure.
"I shall be very much pleased, sir," he answered, without hesitation.
"About eight, I suppose?"
Again Mr. Weatherley's relief was tempered with a certain amount of
annoyance. This young man's savoir faire was out of place. He should
have imagined a sort of high-tea supper at seven o'clock, and been
gently corrected by his courteous employer. As it was, Mr. Weatherley
felt dimly confident that this junior clerk of his was more accustomed
to eight o'clock dinners than he was himself.
"A quarter to, to-night," he replied. "People coming for bridge
afterwards, you see. I live up Hampstead way--Pelham Lodge--quite
close to the tube station."
Mr. Weatherley omitted the directions he had been about to give
respecting toilet, and turned away. His youthful employee's manners, to
the last, were all that could be desired.
"I am much obliged to you, sir," he said. "I will take care to be
punctual."
Mr. Weatherley grunted and walked out into the street. Here his
behavior was a little singular. He walked up toward London Bridge,
exchanging greetings with a good many acquaintances on the way.
Opposite the London & Westminster Bank he paused for a moment and
looked searchingly around. Satisfied that he was unobserved, he
stepped quickly into a very handsome motor car which was drawn up
close to the curb, and with a sigh of relief sat as far back among the
cushions as possible and held the tube to his mouth.
"Get along home," he ordered, tersely.

* * * * *
Arnold Chetwode, after his interview with his employer, returned
unruffled to his place. Mr. Jarvis bustled in after him. He was annoyed,
but he wished to conceal the fact. Besides, he still had an arrow in his
quiver. He came and stood over his subordinate.
"Congratulate you, I'm sure, Chetwode," he said smoothly. "First time
any one except myself has been to the house since Mr. Weatherley's
marriage."
Mr. Jarvis had taken the letters there one morning when his employer
had been unwell, and had waited in the hall. He did not, however,
mention that fact.
"Indeed?" Chetwode murmured, with his eye upon his work.
"You understand, of course," Mr. Jarvis continued, "that it will be an
evening-dress affair. Mrs. Weatherley has the name of being very
particular."
He glanced covertly at the young man, who was already immersed in
his work.
"Evening dress," Chetwode remarked, with a becoming show of
interest. "Well, I dare say I can manage something. If I wear a black
coat and a white silk bow, and stick a red handkerchief in underneath
my waistcoat, I dare say I shall be all right. Mr. Weatherley can't expect
much from me in that way, can he?"
The senior clerk was secretly delighted. It was not for him to acquaint
this young countryman with the necessities of