Nature had been in a slightly playful mood when she chiseled Mr. Gump. He was a well-set-up young man--solidly knit and close packed--but five inches short of the stuff that matinee idols and policemen are made of. Napoleon and Don Quixote lacked those same five inches. This facetious mood, however, was further emphasized in the large, well-formed ears, which flared away from his head as if alarmed, and in a wide, heavy-set mouth, which seemed straining to meet those respective ears; yet when Mr. Gump smiled he showed a double deck of large white teeth, dazzling as snow, and his eyes illuminated, and small-rayed wrinkles spread out from the corners and gave them geniality. "Your mamma was here at the whist this afternoon, Marcus. We think she's a grand woman!" His face lighted. "I was afraid she wouldn't come on account of the weather. I meant to telephone from the factory to take a cab, but I had a hard day of it. What's the difference, I always say in a case like that, whether it costs a little more or a little less? Recreation is good for her." "It's a terrible night, isn't it? Papa says even the horses can't walk--it's so slippery." "I care a lot how slippery it is when I come to see you, Birdie." He sighed and regarded her nervously. "Aw, Marcus! Jollier!" She colored the red of the deepest peony in the garden and giggled like water purling over stones. "You can believe me, I wish I was jollying! Until I met you it was all right to say that about me; but now--but--Oh, well, what's the use of talking?" He rose from the divan in some agitation, thrust his hands into his pockets, hitched his trousers upward, and walked away. Birdie remained on the divan, observing the rules of the oldest game, clasped her hands on her knees, and held the silence. When she finally spoke her voice was filtered by the benign process of understanding. "Look how easy he gets mad," she said, querulously; "just like I'm not glad he wasn't jollying!" There was a pause; the large onyx clock on the mantelpiece ticked loudly and impersonally, as if its concern were solely with time and not with man. Mr. Gump dilly-dallied backward and forward on his heels, and gazed at an oak-framed print of two neck-and-neck horses--a sloe black and a virgin white--rearing at a large zigzag of lightning. "A fellow like me ain't got much chance with a girl like you, anyway. It's like I said to you last night--if a fellow can't give you what you're used to he'd better keep his hands off." "A boy that's going to manage Loeb Brothers' new factory to talk like that!" Mr. Gump swung suddenly on his heel, came toward her, and took her pliant hands in his. In the improvised caldron of their palms an important chemical reaction suddenly effervesced and sent the blood fizzing through their veins.