________________________________________________
_ William extricated his arm, huskily muttering
words which were lost in the general
outcry, ``Car's coming!'' The young people
poured out through the gate, and, as the car
stopped, scrambled aboard. For a moment
everything was hurried and confused. William
struggled anxiously to push through to Miss
Pratt and climb up beside her, but Mr. George
Crooper made his way into the crowd in a beaming,
though bull-like manner, and a fat back in
a purple-and-white ``blazer'' flattened William's
nose, while ponderous heels damaged William's
toes; he was shoved back, and just managed to
clamber upon the foot-board as the car started.
The friendly hand of Joe Bullitt pulled him to a
seat, and William found himself rubbing his nose
and sitting between Joe and Johnnie Watson,
directly behind the dashing Crooper and Miss
Pratt. Mr. Crooper had already taken Flopit
upon his lap.
``Dogs are always crazy 'bout me,'' they heard
him say, for his high voice was but too audible
over all other sounds. ``Dogs and chuldren. I
dunno why it is, but they always take to me.
My name's George Crooper, Third, Johnnie Watson's
cousin. He was tryin' to intradooce me
before the car came along, but he never got the
chance. I guess as this shindig's for you, and I'm
the only other guest from out o' town, we'll have
to intradooce ourselves--the two guests of honor,
as it were.''
Miss Pratt laughed her silvery laugh, murmured
politely, and turned no freezing glance
upon her neighbor. Indeed, it seemed that she
was far from regarding him with the distaste
anticipated by William and Joe Bullitt. ``Flopit
look so toot an' tunnin','' she was heard to
remark. ``Flopit look so 'ittle on dray, big,
'normous man's lap.''
Mr. Crooper laughed deprecatingly. ``He does
look kind of small compared with the good ole
man that's got charge of him, now! Well, I
always was a good deal bigger than the fellas I
went with. I dunno why it is, but I was always
kind of quicker, too, as it were--and the strongest
in any crowd I ever got with. I'm kind of muscle-
bound, I guess, but I don't let that interfere with
my quickness any. Take me in an automobile,
now--I got a racin'-car at home--and I keep my
head better than most people do, as it were. I
can kind of handle myself better; I dunno why
it is. My brains seem to work better than other
people's, that's all it is. I don't mean that I
got more sense, or anything like that; it's just
the way my brains work; they kind of put me
at an advantage, as it were. Well, f'rinstance,
if I'd been livin' here in this town and joined in
with the crowd to get up this party, well, it
would of been done a good deal diff'rent. I won't
say better, but diff'rent. That's always the way
with me if I go into anything, pretty soon I'm
running the whole shebang; I dunno why it is.
The other people might try to run it their way
for a while, but pretty soon you notice 'em beginning
to step out of the way for good ole George.
I dunno why it is, but that's the way it goes.
Well, if I'd been running THIS party I'd of had
automobiles to go out in, not a trolley-car where
you all got to sit together--and I'd of sent over
home for my little racer and I'd of taken you
out in her myself. I wish I'd of sent for it,
anyway. We could of let the rest go out in the
trolley, and you and I could of got off by ourselves:
I'd like you to see that little car. Well,
anyway, I bet you'd of seen something pretty
different and a whole lot better if I'd of come
over to this town in time to get up this party
for you!''
``For US,'' Miss Pratt corrected him, sunnily.
``Bofe strangers--party for us two--all bofe!''
And she gave him one of her looks.
Mr. Crooper flushed with emotion; he was
annexed; he became serious. ``Say,'' he said,
``that's a mighty smooth hat you got on.'' And
he touched the fluffy rim of it with his forefinger.
His fat shoulders leaned toward her yearningly.
``We'd cert'nly of had a lot better time sizzin'
along in that little racer I got,'' he said. ``I'd
like to had you see how I handle that little car.
Girls over home, they say they like to go out
with me just to watch the way I handle her;
they say it ain't so much just the ride, but more
the way I handle that little car. I dunno why
it is, but that's what they say. That's the way
I do anything I make up my mind to tackle,
though. I don't try to tackle everything--there's
lots o' things I wouldn't take enough interest in
'em, as it were--but just lemme make up my
mind once, and it's all off; I dunno why it is.
There was a brakeman on the train got kind of
fresh: he didn't know who I was. Well, I just
put my hand on his shoulder and pushed him
down in his seat like this''--he set his hand upon
Miss Pratt's shoulder. ``I didn't want to hit
him, because there was women and chuldren in
the car, so I just shoved my face up close to
him, like this. `I guess you don't know how
much stock my father's got in this road,' I says.
Did he wilt? Well, you ought of seen that brakeman
when I got through tellin' him who I was!''
``Nassy ole brateman!'' said Miss Pratt, with
unfailing sympathy.
Mr. Crooper's fat hand, as if unconsciously,
gave Miss Pratt's delicate shoulder a little pat
in reluctant withdrawal. ``Well, that's the way
with me,'' he said. ``Much as I been around this
world, nobody ever tried to put anything over on
me and got away with it. They always come
out the little end o' the horn; I dunno why it is.
Say, that's a mighty smooth locket you got on
the end o' that chain, there.'' And again stretching
forth his hand, in a proprietor-like way, he
began to examine the locket.
Three hot hearts, just behind, pulsated hatred
toward him; for Johnnie Watson had perceived
his error, and his sentiments were now linked to
those of Joe Bullitt and William. The unhappiness
of these three helpless spectators was the
more poignant because not only were they
witnesses of the impression of greatness which
George Crooper was obviously producing upon
Miss Pratt, but they were unable to prevent
themselves from being likewise impressed.
They were not analytical; they dumbly
accepted George at his own rating, not even being
able to charge him with lack of modesty. Did
he not always accompany his testimonials to
himself with his deprecating falsetto laugh and
``I dunno why it is,'' an official disclaimer of
merit, ``as it were''? Here was a formidable
candidate, indeed--a traveler, a man of the world,
with brains better and quicker than other people's
brains; an athlete, yet knightly--he would not
destroy even a brakeman in the presence of
women and children--and, finally, most enviable
and deadly, the owner and operator of a ``little
racer''! All this glitter was not far short of
overpowering; and yet, though accepting it as
fact, the woeful three shared the inconsistent
belief that in spite of everything George was
nothing but a big, fat lummox. For thus they
even rather loudly whispered of him--almost as
if hopeful that Miss Pratt, and mayhap George
himself, might overhear.
Impotent their seething! The overwhelming
Crooper pursued his conquering way. He leaned
more and more toward the magnetic girl, his
growing tenderness having that effect upon him,
and his head inclining so far that his bedewed
brow now and then touched the fluffy hat. He
was constitutionally restless, but his movements
never ended by placing a greater distance
between himself and Miss Pratt, though they
sometimes discommoded Miss Parcher, who sat at
the other side of him--a side of him which
appeared to be without consciousness. He played
naively with Miss Pratt's locket and with the
filmy border of her collar; he flicked his nose for
some time with her little handkerchief, loudly
sniffing its scent; and finally he became interested
in a ring she wore, removed it, and tried
unsuccessfully to place it upon one of his own
fingers.
``I've worn lots o' girls' rings on my watch-fob.
I'd let 'em wear mine on a chain or something.
I guess they like to do that with me,'' he said.
``I dunno why it is.''
At this subtle hint the three unfortunates held
their breath, and then lost it as the lovely girl
acquiesced in the horrible exchange. As for
William, life was of no more use to him. Out of
the blue heaven of that bright morning's promise
had fallen a pall, draping his soul in black and
purple. He had been horror-stricken when first
the pudgy finger of George Crooper had touched
the fluffy edge of that sacred little hat; then,
during George's subsequent pawings and leanings,
William felt that he must either rise and murder
or go mad. But when the exchange of rings was
accomplished, his spirit broke and even resentment
oozed away. For a time there was no room
in him for anything except misery.
Dully, William's eyes watched the fat shoulders
hitching and twitching, while the heavy arms
flourished in gesture and in further pawings.
Again and again were William's ears afflicted
with, ``I dunno why it is,'' following upon tribute
after tribute paid by Mr. Crooper to himself, and
received with little cries of admiration and sweet
child-words on the part of Miss Pratt. It was a
long and accursed ride. _
Read next: CHAPTER XX. SYDNEY CARTON
Read previous: CHAPTER XVIII. THE BIG, FAT LUMMOX
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