Mr. Johnson, said he, will you kindly send out and get two dozen pink carnations for my room?
Quiet, big Jack Starlett, having loaded and lit and taken the first long puff, removed his pipe from his lips.
Bully! said he.
CHAPTER III OLD JOHN BURNITS ANCIENT ENEMY POINTS OUT THE WAY TO GRANDEUR
Trimmer, mused Bobby. Oh, yes; he is the John Burnit Stores chief competitor; concern backs up against ours, fronting on Market Street. Show him in, Johnson.
Jack Starlett, who had dropped in to loaf a bit, rose to go.
Sit down, insisted Bobby. Im conducting this thing all open and aboveboard. You know, I think I shall like business.
They tell me its the greatest game out, commented Starlett, and just then Mr. Trimmer entered.
He was a little, wiry man as to legs and arms, but fearfully rotund as to paunch, and he had a yellow leather face and black eyes which, though gleaming like beads, seemed to have a muddy cast. Bobby rose to greet him with a cordiality in no degree abashed by this appearance.
And what can we do for you, Mr. Trimmer? he asked after the usual inanities of greeting had been exchanged.
Take lunch with me, invited Mr. Trimmer, endeavoring to beam, his heavy, down-drooping gray mustache remaining immovable in front of the deeply-chiseled smile that started far above the corners of his nose and curved around a display of yellow teeth. I have just learned that you have taken over the business, and I wish as quickly as possible to form with the son the same cordial relations which for years I enjoyed with the father.
Bobby looked him contemplatively in the eye, but had no experience upon which to base a picture of his father and Mr. Trimmer enjoying perpetually cordial relations with a knife down each boot leg.
Very sorry, Mr. Trimmer, but I am engaged for lunch.
Dinner, then at the Traders Club, insisted Mr. Trimmer, who never for any one moment had remained entirely still, either his foot or his hand moving, or some portion of his body twitching almost incessantly.
Inwardly Bobby frowned, for, so far, he had found no points about his caller to arouse his personal enthusiasm; and yet it suddenly occurred to him that here was doubtless business, and that it ought to have attention. His father, under similar circumstances, would find out what the man was after. He cast a hesitating glance at his friend.
Dont mind me, Bobby, said Starlett briskly. You know I shall be compelled to take dinner with the folks to-night.
At about what time, Mr. Trimmer? Bobby asked.
Oh, suit yourself. Any time, responded that gentleman eagerly. Say half-past six.
The Traders, mused Bobby. I think the governor put me up there four or five years ago.
I seconded you, the other informed him; and I had the pleasure of voting for you just the other day, on the vacancy made by your father. Youre a full-fledged member now.
Fine! said Bobby. Business suit or
Anything you like. With again that circular smile behind his immovable mustache, Mr. Trimmer backed out of the room, and Bobby, dropping into a chair, turned perplexed eyes upon his friend.
What do you suppose he wants? he inquired.
Your eye-teeth, returned Jack bluntly. He looks like a mucker to me.
Oh, I dont know, returned Bobby, a trifle uneasily. You see, Jack, he isnt exactly our sort, and maybe we cant get just the right angle in judging him. Hes been nailed down to business all his life, you know, and a fellow in that line dont have a chance, as I take it, to cultivate all the little well, say artificial graces.
Your father wasnt like him. He was as near a thoroughbred as I ever saw, Bobby, and he was nailed down, as you put it, all his life.
Oh, you couldnt expect them all to be like the governor, responded Bobby instantly, shocked at the idea. But this
chap may be no end of a good sort in his style. No doubt at all he merely came over in a friendly way to bid me a sort of welcome into the fraternity of business men, and Bobby felt quite a little thrill of pride in that novel idea. By George! Wait a minute, he exclaimed as still another brilliant thought struck him, and going into the other room he said to Johnson: Please give me the letter addressed: To My Son Robert, Upon the Occasion of Mr. Trimmers First Call.
For the first time in days a grin irradiated Johnsons face.
Nothing here, sir, he replied.
Let me go through that file.
Strictly against orders, sir, said Johnson.
Indeed, responded Bobby quizzically; I dont like to press the bet, Johnson, but really Id like to know who has the say here.
You have, sir, over everything except my private affairs; and that letter file is my private property and its contents my private trusteeship.
I can still take my castor oil like a little man, if I have to, Bobby resignedly observed. I remember that when I was a kiddy the governor once undertook to teach me mathematics, and he never would let me see the answers. More than ever it looks like it was up to Bobby, and whistling cheerfully he walked back into his private office.