The Gem Collector Part 7

"What!" said Jimmy. "This house?"

"Yes. Of course."

"And--by gad, I've got it. He has married Spennie Blunt's mother."

"Yes."

"Well, I'm--surprised."

Suddenly he began to chuckle.

"What _is_ it, Jimmy?"

"Why--why, I've just grasped the fact that your father--your father, mind you--is my host. I'm the honored guest. At his house!"

The chuckle swelled into a laugh. The noise attracted McEachern's attention, and, looking in the direction whence it proceeded, he caught sight of Molly.

With a grin of joy, he made for the sofa.

"Well, father, dear?" said Molly nervously.

Mr. McEachern was staring horribly at Jimmy, who had risen to his feet.

"How do you do, Mr. McEachern?"

The ex-policeman continued to stare.

"Father," said Molly in distress. "Father, let me present--I mean, don't you remember Jimmy? You must remember Jimmy, father! Jimmy Pitt, whom you used to know in New York."

CHAPTER VI.

On his native asphalt there are few situations capable of throwing the New York policeman off his balance. In that favored clime, _savoir faire_ is represented by a shrewd left hook at the jaw, and a masterful stroke of the truncheon amounts to a satisfactory repartee. Thus shall you never take the policeman of Manhattan without his answer. In other surroundings, Mr. Patrick McEachern would have known how to deal with his young acquaintance, Mr. Jimmy Pitt. But another plan of action was needed here. First of all, the hints on etiquette with which Lady Jane had favored him, from time to time, and foremost came the mandate: "Never make a scene." Scenes, Lady Jane had explained--on the occasion of his knocking down an objectionable cabman during their honeymoon trip--were of all things what polite society most resolutely abhorred.

The natural man in him must be bound in chains. The st.u.r.dy blow must give way to the honeyed word. A cold "Really!" was the most vigorous retort that the best circles would countenance.

It had cost Mr. McEachern some pains to learn this lesson, but he had done it; and he proceeded on the present occasion to conduct himself high and disposedly, according to instructions from headquarters.

The surprise of finding an old acquaintance in this company rendered him dumb for a brief s.p.a.ce, during which Jimmy looked after the conversation.

"How do you do, Mr. McEachern?" inquired Jimmy genially. "Quite a surprise meeting you in England. A pleasant surprise. By the way, one generally shakes hands in the smartest circles. Yours seem to be down there somewhere. Might I trouble you? Right. Got it? Thanks!"

He bent forward, possessed himself of Mr. McEachern's right hand, which was hanging limply at its proprietor's side, shook it warmly, and replaced it.

"'Wahye?" asked Mr. McEachern gruffly, giving a pleasing air of novelty to the hackneyed salutation by p.r.o.nouncing it as one word. He took some little time getting into his stride when carrying on polite conversation.

"Very well, thank you. You're looking as strong as ever, Mr.

McEachern."

The ex-policeman grunted. In a conversational sense, he was sparring for wind.

Molly had regained her composure by this time. Her father was taking the thing better than she had expected.

"It's Jimmy, father, dear," she said. "Jimmy Pitt."

"Dear old James," murmured the visitor.

"I know, me dear, I know. Wahye?"

"Still well," replied Jimmy cheerfully. "Sitting up, you will notice,"

he added, waving a hand in the direction of his teacup, "and taking nourishment. No further bulletins will be issued."

"Jimmy is staying here, father. He is the friend Spennie was bringing."

"This is the friend that Spennie brought," said Jimmy in a rapid undertone. "This is the maiden all forlorn who crossed the seas, and lived in the house that sheltered the friend that Spennie brought."

"I see, me dear," said Mr. McEachern slowly. "'Wah----"

"No, I've guessed that one already," said Jimmy. "Ask me another."

Molly looked reproachfully at him. His deplorable habit of chaffing her father had caused her trouble in the old days. It may be admitted that this recreation of Jimmy's was not in the best taste; but it must also be remembered that the relations between the two had always been out of the ordinary. Great as was his affection for Molly, Jimmy could not recollect a time when war had not been raging in a greater or lesser degree between the ex-policeman and himself.

"It is very kind of you to invite me down here," said he. "We shall be able to have some cozy chats over old times when I was a wanderer on the face of the earth, and you----"

"Yis, yis," interrupted Mr. McEachern hastily, "somewhere ilse, aftherward."

"You shall choose time and place, of course. I was only going to ask you how you liked leaving the----"

"United States?" put in Mr. McEachern, with an eagerness which broadened his questioner's friendly smile, as the Honorable Louis Wesson came toward them.

"Well, I'm not after saying it was not a wrinch at firrst, but I considered it best to lave Wall Street--Wall Street, ye understand, before----"

"I see. Before you fell a victim to the feverish desire for reckless speculation which is so marked a characteristic of the American business man, what?"

"That's it," said the other, relieved.

"I, too, have been speculating," said Mr. Wesson, "as to whether you would care to show me the rose garden, Miss McEachern, as you promised yesterday. Of all flowers, I love roses best. You remember Bryant's lines, Miss McEachern? 'The rose that lives its little hour is prized beyond the sculptured flower.'"

Jimmy interposed firmly. "I'm very sorry," he said, "but the fact is Miss McEachern has just promised to take me with her to feed the fowls.

"I gamble on fowls," he thought. "There must be some in a high-cla.s.s establishment of this kind."

"I'd quite forgotten," said Molly.

"I thought you had. We'd better start at once. Nothing upsets a fowl more than having to wait for dinner."

"Nonsense, me dear Molly," said Mr. McEachern bluffly. "Run along and show Mr. Wesson the roses. n.o.body wants to waste time over a bunch of hens."