Dinner was a delightful occasion.
Daniel Wheeler, at the head of his own table, was a charming host, and his melancholy entirely disappeared as the talk ran along on subjects grave or gay, but of no personal import.
Appleby, too, was entertaining, and the two men, with Mrs. Wheeler, carried on most of the conversation, the younger members of the party being by what seemed common consent left out of it.
Genevieve looked about the dining-room, with a pleased interest. She dearly loved beautiful appointments and was really imagining herself mistress of just such a house, and visioning herself at the head of such a table. The long room stretched from north to south, parallel with the hall, though not adjoining. The table was not in the centre, but toward the southern end, and Mr. Wheeler, at the end near the windows, had Keefe and Miss Lane on either side of him.
Appleby, as guest of honor, sat at Mrs. Wheelers right, and the whole effect was that of a formal dinner party, rather than a group of which two were merely office employés.
It is one of the few remaining warm evenings, said Mrs. Wheeler, as she rose from the table, we will have our coffee on the veranda. Soon it will be too cool for that.
Which veranda? asked Genevieve of Maida, as they went through the hall. The north one, I hope.
Your hopes must be dashed, laughed the other, for it will be the south one. Come along.
The two girls, followed by Keefe, took possession of a group of chairs near Mrs. Wheeler, while the two older men sat apart, and soon became engrossed in their own discussions.
Nor was it long before Samuel Appleby and his host withdrew to a room which opened on to that same south veranda, and which was, in fact, Mr. Wheelers den.
Well, Sam, Keefe heard the other say, as he drew down the blind, we may as well have it out now. What are you here for?
Outwardly placid, but almost consumed with curiosity, Curt Keefe changed his seat for one nearer the window of the den. He hoped to hear the discussion going on inside, but was doomed to disappointment, for though the murmuring of the voices was audible, the words were not distinct, and Keefe gathered only enough information to be sure that there was a heated argument in progress and that neither party to it was inclined to give in a single point.
Of course, he decided, the subject was the coming election campaign, but the details of desired bargaining he could not gather.
Moreover, often, just as he almost heard sentences of interest, the chatter of the girls or some remark of Mrs. Wheelers would drown the voices of the men in the room.
One time, indeed, he heard clearly: When the Sycamore on the ridge goes into Massachusetts but this was sheer nonsense, and he concluded he must have misunderstood.
Later, they all forgathered in the living-room and there was music and general conversation.
Genevieve Lane proved herself decidedly entertaining, and though Samuel Appleby looked a little amusedly at his stenographer, he smiled kindly at her as he noticed that she in no way overstepped the bounds of correct demeanor.
Genevieve was thinking of what Keefe had said to her: If you do only what is absolutely correct and say what is only absolutely correct, you can do whatever you like.
She had called it nonsense at the time, but she was beginning to see the truth of it. She was careful that her every word and act should be correct, and she was most decidedly doing as she liked. She made good with Mrs. Wheeler and Maida with no trouble at all; but she felt, vaguely, that Mr. Wheeler didnt like her. This she set about to remedy.
Going to his side, as he chanced to sit for a moment alone, she smiled ingratiatingly and said:
I wonder if you can imagine, sir, what it means to me to see the inside of a house like this?
Bless my soul, what do you mean? asked Wheeler, puzzled at the girls manner.
Its like a glimpse of Fairyland, she went on. You see, Im terribly ambitious oh, fearfully so! And all my ambitions lead to just this sort of a home. Do you suppose Ill ever achieve it, Mr. Wheeler?
Now the girl had truly wonderful magnetic charm, and even staid old Dan Wheeler was not insensible to the note of longing in her voice, the simple, honest admission of her hopes.
Of course you will, little one, he returned, kindly. Ive heard that whatever one wants, one gets, provided the wish is strong enough. He spoke directly to her, but his gaze wandered as if his thoughts were far away.
Do you really believe that? Genevieves big blue eyes begged an affirmation.
I didnt say I believed it I said I have heard it. He smiled sadly. Not quite the same so far as Im concerned; but quite as assuring to you. Of course, my belief wouldnt endorse the possibility.
It would for me, declared Genevieve. Ive lots of confidence in other peoples opinions
Anybodys?
Anybody whom I respect and believe in.
Appleby, for instance?
Oh, yes, indeed! Id trust Mr. Applebys opinions on any subject. Lets go over there and tell him so.
Samuel Appleby was sitting at the other end, the north end of the long room. No, said Wheeler, Im too comfortable here to move ask him to come here.
Genevieve looked at him a little astonished. It was out of order, she thought, for a host to speak thus. She pressed the point, saying there was a picture at the other end of the room she wished to examine.
Run along, then, said Wheeler, coolly. Here, Maida, show Miss Lane that etching and tell her the interesting details about it.
The girls went away, and soon after Keefe drifted round to Wheelers side.
You know young Sam Appleby? he asked, casually.
No, Wheeler said, shortly but not sharply. I daresay hes a most estimable chap.
Hes all of that. Hes a true chip of the old block. Both good gubernatorial timber, as Im sure you agree.
What makes you so sure, Mr. Keefe?
Curt Keefe looked straight at him. Well, he laughed, Im quite ready to admit that the wish was father to the thought.
Why do you call that an admission?
Oh, Keefe readily returned, it is usually looked upon as a confession that one has no reason for a thought other than a wish.
And why is it your wish?
Because it is the wish of my employer, said Keefe, seriously. I know of no reason, Mr. Wheeler, why I shouldnt say that I hope and trust you will use your influence to further the cause of young Appleby.
What makes you think I can do so?
While I am not entirely in Mr. Applebys confidence, he has told me that the campaign would be greatly aided by your willingness to help, and so I cant help hoping you will exercise it.
Appleby has told you so much, has he? No more?
No more, I think, regarding yourself, sir. I know, naturally, the details of the campaign so far as it is yet mapped out.
And you know why I do not want to lend my aid?
I know you are not in accordance with the principles of the Appleby politics
That I am not! Nor shall I ever be. Nor shall I ever pretend to be
Pretend? Of course not. But could you not be persuaded?
By what means?
I dont know, Mr. Wheeler, and Keefe looked at him frankly. I truly dont know by what means. But I do know that Mr. Appleby is here to present to you an argument by which he hopes to persuade you to help young Sam along and I earnestly desire to add any word of mine that may help influence your decision. That is why I want to tell you of the good traits of Sam Appleby, junior. It may be I can give you a clearer light on his character than his father could do that is, I might present it as the opinion of a friend