The Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine, September, 1913: Vol. LXXXVI, No. 5Various
General
The Century Illustrated Monthly Magazine, September, 1913: Vol. LXXXVI, No. 5
Various
Periodicals
“When I first came here, every one of them had a fool idea I’d want
to pretend I’d never set eyes on a newsboy or a bootblack, and that I
couldn’t find my way in New York when I got off Fifth Avenue. I used to
see them thinking they’d got to look as if they believed it, if they
wanted to keep next. When I just let out and showed I didn’t care a
darn and hadn’t sense enough to know that it mattered, it nearly made
them throw a fit. They had to turn round and fix their faces all over
again and act like it was ‘interesting.’ That’s what Lady Mallowe calls
it. She says it’s so ‘interesting!’ Now, Palliser--” he paused and
grinned again.
“Yes, Palliser? Don’t let us neglect Palliser,” his host encouraged him.
“He’s in a worse mix-up than the rest because he’s got more to lose. If
he could work this mammoth-mine song and dance with the right people,
there’d be money enough in it to put him on Easy Street. That’s where
he’s aiming for. The company’s just where it has to have a boost. It’s
just _got_ to. If it doesn’t, there’ll be a bust up that may end in
fitting out a high-toned promoter or so in a striped yellow-and-black
Jersey suit and set him to breaking rocks or playing with oakum. I’ll
tell you, poor old Palliser gets the Willies sometimes after he’s read
his mail. He turns the color of écru baby Irish. That’s a kind of lace
I got a dressmaker to tell me about when I wrote up receptions and
dances for the Sunday ‘Earth.’ Écru baby Irish--that’s Palliser’s color
after he read his letters.”
“I dare say the fellow’s in a devil of a mess, if the truth were
known,” the duke said.
“And here’s ‘T. T.,’ hand-made and hand-painted for the part of the
kind of sucker he wants.” T. Tembarom’s manner was almost sympathetic
in its appreciation. “I can tell you I’m having a real good time with
Palliser. It looked like I’d just dropped from heaven when he first saw
me. If he’d been the praying kind, I’d have been just the sort he’d
have prayed for when he said his ‘Now-I-lay-me’s’ before he went to
bed. There wasn’t a chance in a hundred that I wasn’t a fool that had
his head swelled so that he’d swallow any darned thing if you handed
it to him smooth enough. First time he called he asked me a lot of
questions about New York business. That was pretty smart of him. He
wanted to find out, sort of careless, how much I knew--or how little.”
The duke was leaning back luxuriously in his chair and gazing at him as
he might have gazed at the work of an old master of which each line and
shade was of absorbing interest.
“I can see him,” he said. “I see him.”
“He found out I knew nothing,” Tembarom continued. “And what was to
hinder him trying to teach me something, by gee! Nothing on top of the
green earth. I was there, waiting with my mouth open, it seemed like.”
“And he has tried--in his best manner?” said his grace.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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