Reel Life (Sep 1913 - Mar 1914)

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6 Sleel Life The Morning ©f .'\iu)lhei' 'Day A New Year Story With Ilhistrations by A. BEARDSLEY All through the fall, she had been conscious of mental oppression in him. His disposition was naturally a cheerful one and, even when obsessed by business affairs which hadn't gone to his liking during the day, he usually managed to brush away their influence and come into the house with the healthy breeziness which made him so universally liked by men and women. But — of late — there had been a shade less of this — a subtly deepening line between his brows — fits of abstraction when they were dining alone — occasional random answers when they were out with friends for the evening. Her woman's instinct would have felt it, unconsciously, even if there had been no outward indication of something amiss. Presently, her growing anxiety reached a phase where some explanation was necessary — amd she ohose the halfhour of mutual confidences before retiring. "Harvey — I think it's time you told me about it." "About what, Kits?" "The thing which is troubling you. Oh, there's no use trying to laugh it off. Dear. You're worried about something — it's been going on a long time — and it doesn't seem to be getting any better. You migfht as well 'fess up and let me share it. I'm wretched — going along this way — not being able to do anything — seeing you come home more and more worried every night. Tell me — won't you Dear?" "You've no idea 'Jiow hard it is, Kits. 1 want you to have what other women have — like to have you go with other women who invite you into decent houses — to meet people who are congenial and worth while. But — we're running deeper into debt all the time. It costs more than I'm making — or can make — honestly — at present." "Why^ Harvey — can't you go to the firm and ask for more salary? I'm sure you're earning it! You work nights and holidays. Tell them if they won't pay you more, you'll go and work for some one else!" "Humph ! They'd wish me luck — and tell me to stop in, any time I was passing — always feel an interest in how I was getting along. Mannigan's about as cold-blooded as a fish ! Any one who ever bluffs him will have to play his cards mighty close to his chest. Of course I'm worth more — worth double what they're giving me. They know it. Some day they'll give me more — ^but not until business in general is a good deal better than it is now. I can't blame them — I'd cut expenses if I were in their place. But the point is — even if they did give me a raise, unless it was way up in the thousands, it wouldn't help us much. You've got to have clothes ! I want to see you as decently dressed as the friends you go with. We can't invite people even to a hotel supper without spending twenty or thirty dollars in an evening. I can't bury you in an apartment with no chance for recreation or amusement." "I — I'm afraid I would get sick if I were cooped up here all alone, Harvey. — And — well — people are so azi'fully nice to me, I just couldn't accept it all without doing anything in return — could I?" (He turned away from her, despairingly, and walked over to the window) . "Well — there it is, you see! We're in an impossible position — and for the life of me, I can't see any way out." "Why — isn't it — there must be some way of getting more money, Dear ! Other men, not half so clever as you, get it ! Look at that stupid Mr. Granger — ^Mrs. Hemingway told me his income was over a hundred thousand a year — and he hasn't sense enough to answer an ordinary question, intelligently !" "Granger is the son of a Tammany contractor. When his father died, he came back from college to boss a business he knew absolutely nothing about. But 'he didn't need to know. When your contracts are handed over to you without costing a nickel car-fare, and you have sub-contractors who do all the work, it isn't so much of a job to put in an hour ot so each day banking the money. Would you like to have me increase my income the same way?" "Why — what do you mean, Harvey? .... It seems quite simple. I'm sure you could do that — very easily." "Perhaps — I doubt it. It's not considered honest, you know. I'm a fool — of course. But some things do go against the grain, Kits." At the end of another fortnight the situation hadn't improved in the least. On the contrary, he was two hundred dollars deeper in debt. And it seemed a peculiarly exasperating time for bare-faced temptation to reach out its slimy claw at him. James K. Murtagh was the active business partner of a successful concern with whom his firm had had some business dealings — not as many, by a large majority, as Murtagh thought it should have. And this, of all mornings, was the time that smooth and prosperous club-man hit upon to walk into the private office of the Purchasing Department. "Hello, Harvey ! . . . . Say — I want you to come around to the Arkwright and lunch with me. Got a few little matters to go over with you." "Can't do it, Murtagh. That's something the Purchasing Agent of as large a concern as this shouldn't do. Doesn't look quite right, you know." "Well — I guess that's right. Say — you're pretty smooth, Harvey — don't mean to have anybody catch you with the goods, do you. Well — after all — that's the only kind of a man it's really safe to do business with. Now — say — these partitions are solid enough — I can't even hear them type-writers in the other room. An' if any one opens that door, I'll shut up like a clam until he goes out. Let's get down to business. You're to give out fifty thousand dollars' worth of orders for goods in our line within the next two weeks — and we're goin' to sell 'em to you — see? Now — I ain't