Shorty McCabe on the Job Part 25

"Gee!" says I. "I'd like to be there."

"You will be," says she; "for you are specially invited."

"Eh?" says I. "To meet the poor relations? How's that?"

"Who said they were poor?" says Sadie. "Why, Twombley-Crane says that his cousin's wife is one of the shrewdest business women he's ever heard of. He has been handling her investments, and says she must be worth half a million, at least; all made out of a country store, maple sugar bushes, and farm mortgages. I'm crazy to see her, aren't you?"

"What--Sallie?" says I. "Half a million! Must be some mistake."

Course I had to tell her then about the couple I'd run across, and about Mr. Sallie, and the pies, and the string bonnet. We had such a warm debate too, as to whether she was really well off or not, that next day my curiosity got the best of me, and I calls up the hotel to see if the Leavitts are in. Well, they was, and Mrs. Leavitt, when she finds who it is, asks pleadin' if I won't run up and see 'em a little while.

"Please come," says she; "for I'm completely flabbergasted. It's--it's about Mr. Leavitt."

"Why, sure," says I. "I'll come right up."

I finds 'em sittin' in their dull, bare little hotel room, one on each side of the bed, with the extension grip half packed on the floor.

"Well," says I, "what's up?"

"Ask him," says she, noddin' at Mr. Sallie.

But Leavitt only hangs his head guilty and shuffles his feet. "Then I'll tell you," says she. "Yesterday he slipped out, hunted up his cousin, and got us invited to dinner. More'n that, he said we'd come."

"Well, why not go?" says I.

"Because," says she, "I--I just can't do it. I--I'm--well, we've been around some since we got here, lookin' into the big stores and so on, and I've been noticin' the women, how they talk and act and dress and--and--oh, I'm afraid, that's all!"

"Why, Sallie!" says Mr. Leavitt.

"Yes, I am," she insists. "I'm plumb scared at the thought of mixin'

with folks like that--just plumb scared. And, as you know, Mr. Leavitt, it's the first time in my life I've ever been afraid of anything."

"Yes, that's so," says he, "that's so, Sallie. But you're not going to be afraid now. Why should you?"

"Listen to him, Mr. McCabe!" says she. "Do you know what he wants me to do? Spend a lot of money on clothes and rig myself up like--like that woman we saw the other night!"

"And you're going to do it too," says Mr. Leavitt. "You can afford to have the best there is,--a Paris frock, and the things that go with it.

I mean you shall, not for my sake, but for your own. You're a wonderful woman, Sallie, and you ought to know it for once in your life. I want my cousin to know it too. You've not only got more brains than most women, but you're mighty good looking, and in the proper clothes you could hold up your head in any company."

"Pshaw!" says Mrs. Leavitt, almost blus.h.i.+n'. "Right before Mr. McCabe too!"

"Well, isn't it so?" demands Mr. Leavitt, turnin' to me.

"Why--er--of course it is," says I.

I tried to make it enthusiastic, and if it come out a little draggy it must have been on account of that ancient lid of hers that's hangin' in full view on one of the bedposts. As a matter of fact, she's one of these straight-built, husky, well-colored dames, with fairly good lines in spite of what the village dressmaker had done to her.

"There!" says Mr. Leavitt. "Now let's have no more talk of going home.

Let's go out and get the clothes right now. Perhaps Mr. McCabe can show us where we can buy the right things."

"Land sakes! What a man you are, Mr. Leavitt!" says Sallie, weakenin' a little.

Five minutes more of that kind of talk, and he'd got her to tie on her bonnet. Then, with me leadin' the way and him urgin' her on from behind, we starts on our shoppin' expedition.

"It's to be a complete outfit, from the ground up, ain't it?" says I.

"That's it," says Mr. Leavitt.

So, instead of botherin' with any department stores, I steers 'em straight for Madame Laplante's, where they set you back hard, but can furnish a whole trousseau, I'm told, at an hour's notice.

Mrs. Leavitt was still protestin' that maybe she wouldn't do any more than look at the things, and how she wouldn't promise to wear 'em even if she did buy a few; but you know what smooth salesladies they have in such places. When I left two of 'em was gus.h.i.+n' over Mrs. Leavitt's chestnut-tinted hair that she had piled up in slick coils under the bonnet, and a third was runnin' a tape over her skillful. If it had been anybody but Mrs. Sallie Leavitt, I'd have hated to take chances on havin' to write the check when it was all over.

"Well, is she coming?" asks Sadie that night.

"Search me," says I. "I wouldn't bet a nickel either way."

That was Wednesday. All day Thursday I was expectin' to be called in again, or hear that Sallie had made a break back for Vermont. But not a word. Nor on Friday, either. So at seven o'clock that night, as we collected in the Twombley-Cranes' drawin' room, there was some suspense; for at least half of us were wise to the situation. At seven-fifteen, though, they arrives.

And, say, I wish you could have seen Mrs. Sallie Leavitt of Clarks Mills! I don't know what it cost to work the miracle, but, believe me, it was worth twice the money! Leavitt was dead right. All she needed was the regalia. And she'd got it too,--sort of a black lacy creation, with jet spangles all over it, and long, sweepin' folds from the waist down, and with all that hair of hers done up flossy and topped with a fancy rhinestone headdress, she looked tall and cla.s.sy. And stunnin'? Say, she had a neck and shoulders that made that Mrs. K. Taylor French party look like a museum exhibit!

Then there was Mr. Leavitt, all dolled up as correct as any cotillion leader, balancin' his silk tile graceful on one wrist, and strokin' his close-cropped mustache with his white glove, just as Mrs. Humphry Ward describes on page 147.

"Well!" gasps Sadie. "I thought you said they were a pair of countrified freaks!"

"You should have seen 'em when they landed with the pies," says I.

And, if you'll believe me, Mr. Leavitt not only had on the costume, but he had the lines too. Sounded a little booky in spots maybe; but he was right there with the whole bag of chatty tricks,--the polite salute for the hostess, a neat little epigram when it come his turn to fill in the talk, a flash or so of repartee, and an anecdote that got a good hand all round the table. You see, he was sort of doublin' in bra.s.s, as it were; conversin' for two, you know. For Sallie was playin' it safe, watchin' how the others negotiated the asparagus, pa.s.sin' up all the dishes she couldn't dope out, and sayin' mighty little. Mostly she's watchin' Mr. Leavitt, her eyes growin' brighter and rounder as the meal progresses, and at last fairly beamin' across the table at him.

I didn't quite get the slant of all this until later, when we'd finished and was trailin' into the lib'ry. Mrs. Leavitt breaks loose from Twombley-Crane and falls back alongside of me.

"Well, how goes it?" says I. "Wasn't so bad, after all, was it?"

"Don't tell anyone," she whispers, "but I'm so scared I'd like to yell and run away. I would too, if it wasn't for Edwin."

"Who?" says I.

"Mr. Leavitt," says she. "He's going to be Edwin to me after this, though--my Edwin. Isn't he great, though? Course, I always knew he was a good talker, and all that; but to do it in comp'ny, before a lot of city folks--well, I must say I'm mighty proud of such a husband, mighty proud! And anybody who ever calls him Mr. Sallie Leavitt again has got to reckon with me! They'll never have a chance to do it in Clarks Mills.

The Mills ain't good enough for Edwin. I've just found that out. And to think that all these years I've believed it was the other way round! But I'm going to make up for all that. You'll see!"

Uh-huh! Mrs. Leavitt's a woman of her word. Soon as she can settle up things at the store, foreclose a few mortgages, and unload a few blocks of stock that can't be carried safe without watchin', it's goin' to be the grand European tour for her and Edwin, and maybe a house in town when they come back.

"Which only goes to show, Mrs. McCabe," says I, "how it's never too late to discover that, after all, old Hubby's the one best bet on the card."

"Pooh!" says Sadie. "It isn't always safe to let him know it, even if you have."

CHAPTER XII