Humorous stories; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction; Private secretaries -- Fiction
Once more Joey does the right thing; for Blair is blubberin' hysterical
and the scene is gettin' worse. So she just tucks him under one arm,
claps a hand over his mouth, and lugs him kickin' and strugglin' into
the lib'ry, givin' Nutt a shove to one side as she brushes by.
You can guess too there was some panicky doin's in the Ellins's drawin'
room for the next few minutes; Mr. Robert and Marjorie and others tryin'
to tell Hamilton what they thought of him, all at the same time. And
Nutt was takin' it sheepish.
"Oh, I say!" he protests. "I was only trying to have a bit of fun with
the little runt, you know. I only meant to----"
"Fun!" breaks in Mr. Robert savage. "This is neither a backwoods barroom
nor a hunting camp, and I want to assure you right now, Hamilton,
that----"
But in comes young Blair again. He's had the tear stains swabbed off,
and he's got some of his color back; but he's still wabbly in the knees.
He pushes right to the front, though.
"I suppose you all think me a great baby," says he, "to get so
frightened and to cry over such a silly trick. Perhaps I am a baby. At
least I haven't control of my nerves. Would you, though, if you had
been an invalid for fifteen years? Well, I have. And a good part of that
time, you know, I spent in hospitals and sanatoriums, and traveling
around with trained nurses and three or four relatives to wait on me and
humor my whims. Even when I was studying music abroad it was that way.
And I suppose I'm not really strong now. So I couldn't help being
afraid. But I don't want your sympathy. You need not scold Hamilton any
more, either. He can't help being a big bully any more than I can help
acting like a baby. He doesn't know any better--never will. All beef and
no brains! And at that I don't care to change places with him. Some day
I shall be well and fairly strong. He'll never have any better sense or
manners than he has now. And I prefer to fight my own battles. So let it
drop, please."
Well, they did. But for the first time, I expect, a few cuttin' remarks
got through Nutt Hamilton's thick hide. He shuffles out of his bear skin
and sneaks off with his head down.
He'd hardly gone when Vee slips up beside me and touches me on the arm.
"We can't do anything with her," she whispers mysterious. "Don't say a
word, but come."
"Can't do anything with who?" says I.
"Joey," says she. "She's in the library, and we can't find out what is
the matter."
"Wha-a-at! Joey?" says I.
It's a fact, though. I finds Joey slumped on a couch with her shoulders
heavin'. She's doin' the sob act genuine and earnest.
"Well, well!" says I. "Why the big weeps?"
She looks up and sees who it is. "Torchy!" says she between sobs.
"Dud-don't tell him. Please!"
"Tell who?" says I.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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