sham?
Jimmie, impatient, repeated his question.

"Will you kindly tell us what kind of a man you want?"

Virginia looked up. Calmly she answered:

"I--I want a man I can love."

The clerk gave a low whistle. Sarcastically he said:

"If you can't love a man as rich as Mr. Stafford, take my advice and
go see a heart specialist."

"A girl can't love a man just because she wants to," replied Virginia
with dignity. "Love doesn't go where it's sent; it goes where it
pleases."

"That's right," interrupted Fanny. Turning to her fiancé she said:
"You don't suppose I loved a fourteen-dollar-a-week shipping clerk
because I wanted to, do you?"

Jimmie squirmed in his chair.

"What?" he exclaimed.

Quickly Fanny mended matters. With a conciliatory smile she added:

"I loved him just because I had to."

Immediately placated, the young man rose and, approaching his fiancée
in a manner intended to suggest the tenderest sentiment, he stuttered:

"Same here. The first time I ever set eyes on you, Fanny, something
inside o' me said: 'Me for her!'"

The girl laughed. Placing her hand over her heart, she said mockingly:

"And something here said, 'Him for me!'"

He stooped and kissed her and, taking her hand, they sat side by side
on the sofa together in the manner of all conventional lovers.
Virginia, who had watched them with amusement, shook her head. Sadly
she said:

"My heart never said anything like _that_ to _me_."

"Then perhaps it won't be that way with you," said Jimmie. "Perhaps
you'll learn to care for him by degrees like you would--say, for Mr.
Stafford."

"Don't talk nonsense," cried Virginia.

"He's interested in you, and if you play your cards right--"

"I'm not _going_ to play any cards."

"Let me tell you one thing," he said, rising and going to the table,
"a chance like this don't come to one girl in a million."

"Please!--" exclaimed Virginia, putting up her hand to stop his
talk.

But Jimmie was not so easily suppressed. Earnestly he went on:

"It's a chance of a life time. It means a lot to me and Fanny too."

"Yes, that's true," chimed in his fiancée.

Virginia turned and looked at her sister.

"How?" she demanded.

Jimmie, as usual, replied for his slower-witted partner:

"Do you think," he said, "I want to be a shipping clerk all my life?
Well, I don't. I've got ambitions. Yes, and I've got the ability. All
I need is a chance and I'd be one of 'em, too."

"One of what?"

"A captain of industry, a magnate, a financier."

"You!"

"Me."

"He could do it," exclaimed Fanny admiringly.

"You bet I could," he said positively. Turning to Virginia, he went
on: "And if you married Mr. Stafford and he gave me a chance, which as
his brother-in-law he certainly would--well, if I ever got a flying
start I'd show 'em a few things. I've got ability, I have."

"Why don't you prove it by getting eighteen dollars a week?" retorted
Virginia sarcastically.

Turning her back on him, she walked away and took a seat near the
window, where she could look out on the street. But he followed her:

"I thought you'd say something like that," he said. "It just shows how
much you know."

"Explain it to her, Jimmy," exclaimed Fanny.

"What's the good?" he replied scornfully. "She wouldn't understand.
But I will say this: If I had an opportunity to show some rich man
just what I could do, I'd be worth perhaps a million dollars in ten or
twelve years, and that would mean a swell house for you and me, and
servants, and automobiles and everything like that. I'd show 'em!"

Overcome by the vivid picture he had drawn, Fanny took his hands.
Enthusiastically she cried:

"Oh, Jimmy, wouldn't it be lovely? And perhaps we could get into real
society, too--perhaps we might meet the social leaders from Harlem and
Brooklyn whose pictures are in the papers every Sunday!"

"There'd be nobody we couldn't meet," he cried proudly.

"And fancy!" exclaimed Fanny--"fancy going to the dressmaker's,
picking out half a dozen dresses, having them sent home without even
asking the price, and letting them charge just as much as they like!
Wouldn't that be heavenly?"

"You can have all that and more," he cried exultingly.

Virginia shrugged her shoulders. The topic was becoming distasteful to
her. Impatiently she exclaimed:

"It's perfectly ridiculous!"

Going over to her sister, Fanny put her arm around her neck:

"All I want is for you to be happy, sis."

"I know it, dear," replied Virginia. "That's the way you've been
always."

"You're different to me," went on the elder sister.

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. You'd do any man credit."

"Oh, Fanny!"

"But I'd hate to see you try to keep house on eighteen per. That means
doing your own work, including the cooking--yes, and the washing--and
you weren't made for that."

"Don't worry about me--I'll be all right."

"I hope so," sighed Fanny.

"I will, don't fear," smiled Virginia.

Not yet discouraged the shipping clerk returned to the attack. Folding
his arms in authoritative fashion and addressing his future
sister-in-law he said severely:

"Will you give me a straight answer to a plain question? If Mr.
Stafford does ask you to marry him, will you? Come on, now, will you?"

"I won't talk about such things," retorted the girl.

Her face flushed up. It was easy to see that she was getting angry.
Shrugging his shoulders, the young man walked away, but sarcastically
he said:

"Well, if he does and you don't accept him, you'll be the biggest fool
that ever lived!"

"That's just what I say," laughed Fanny. "Ha! I wish he'd ask me!"

Quickly Virginia turned to her sister.

"Would you accept him?" she asked.

"Would I?" laughed Fanny. "Oh, would I?"

"And throw Jimmie over?"

"I'd throw Jimmie so far and so hard he'd think he was struck by a
cyclone."

"And I wouldn't blame her," said the young man, scratching his head.

Virginia looked in amazement from one to the other.

"I can't understand either of you," she exclaimed.

Never at a loss for an answer the clerk proceeded to explain:

"Why should I expect any girl to stick to me and fourteen per when she
can have a place like this? Look at this swell furniture, these rugs,
and them ornaments--" Going, over to the mantelpiece, he picked up one
of the costly Peach Blow vases, examined it critically for a moment
and turned to the girls: "I suppose this is one of them
peach--peach--something or other--vases I've read about."

"Peach Blow," corrected Virginia.

"That's it," he grinned. "I suppose it's worth six or seven thousand
dollars--"

"Be careful!" exclaimed Virginia warningly, "or you'll drop it."

The words were hardly uttered when Jimmie's foot caught in the rug and
he stumbled, dropping the vase, which broke into two pieces.
Bewildered, horrified, he stood still, surveying with dismay the
fragments at his feet.

"Now you've done it!" he exclaimed hoarsely.

"I have?" exclaimed Virginia indignantly.

"Yes--I shouldn't have dropped it if you hadn't shouted at me."

Picking up the pieces, he tried to fit them together.

Fanny, frightened out of her wits, was speechless.

"I think we'd better go home!" she gasped.

Virginia alone remained cool.

"Don't be foolish," she said.

"Wait a bit! Wait a bit!" cried Jimmie; picking up the pieces and
putting them together. "Look here. How's that for luck? They fit
perfectly. No one will know the difference." Replacing the mended vase
where he had found it, he added: "We'll leave it just like that and
he'll think the Jap did it."

"Fine!" cried Fanny thoughtlessly, grasping at any excuse which
promised to exonerate them.

But Virginia would not permit it.

"We'll do nothing of the kind," she exclaimed indignantly.

"If we don't, he'll think we've done it," said Jimmie apprehensively.

The girl gave him a look that made him quail.

"He's not only got to think it," she said severely--"he has got to
know it."

"But if he does--"

As he spoke the front door bell rang in the outer hall. Quickly he
added: "I'll bet that's him! Shall you tell him?"

"I certainly shall if you don't," replied Virginia firmly.

Oku passed hurriedly through the room on his way to open the front
door.

"Excuse, please, excuse--"

Nervous at meeting her host, Fanny began to mop her face desperately.

"I'm so nervous!" she said. "Do I shake hands with him when I'm
introduced or just say 'pleased to meet you?'"

Virginia laughed heartily.

"Behave as you would with anyone else," she said.

"How do you feel, Jimmie?" inquired Fanny.

There was an expression of comical consternation on the shipping
clerk's face as he pointed to the broken vase.

"I'm not worrying about meeting him," he said ruefully. "I'm worrying
about that--"

The next instant the door leading to the hall opened and Robert
Stafford entered.




CHAPTER VIII


Their host advanced, hand extended, his frank, boyish face lit up with
a cordial smile.

It was hard to realize that this youthful looking man with black hair
not yet tinged by a suspicion of gray, and whose erect, athletic
figure suggested the football field rather than the counting room, was
one of the most influential railroad men in the country, the master of
a large fortune amassed by his own painstaking efforts, his own
energy, initiative and ability.

Attired himself in a plain business suit, a quick glance at his
visitors' dress had already told him that he could dispense with the
formality of changing for dinner. Shaking hands with Virginia, he said
in his usual hearty fashion:

"Well, how are you? I'm so sorry I am late. Oku explained, didn't he?"

"Perfectly," smiled Virginia. "He took good care of us."

Turning to Fanny, he said:

"This, I presume, is your sister--"

Virginia hastened to make introductions:

"Fanny," she said, "let me introduce Mr. Stafford."

The host bowed and smiled pleasantly, while Fanny, embarrassed, not
knowing whether to offer her hand, felt awkward and ill at ease, as do
most people who, going seldom into society, are not in constant
practice with its civilities.

"I'm very pleased, indeed, to meet you, Miss Blaine," said Stafford,
bowing.

"And this," went on Virginia, turning to her brother-in-law elect, who
stood gaping in the background, "is Mr. Gillie--just 'Jimmie' we call
him, don't we, Fanny?"

"Yes--Jimmie--of course," stammered Fanny, blushing furiously.

Stafford held out his hand and gave the shipping clerk a grip that
made him wince.

"How do you do, Mr. Gillie?"

"How are you?" returned Jimmie with an indifferent nod as he nursed
his crushed fingers behind his back.

Stafford beamed good-naturedly on all three. He looked genuinely glad
to see them, and this immediately set his guests at their ease. He may
not have really felt the cordial welcome he gave them, but he looked
as if they were just the people whose society he enjoyed most, a happy
knack which some men possess of adapting themselves to their
environments, and which had always been the secret of his popularity
with men and women both. His manner was so natural, so free from
restraint and pose, that even Fanny, timid and nervous as she was,
felt reassured.

But while he was affable with all, he had eyes only for Virginia. The
others he would willingly have dispensed with, especially the shipping
clerk, whom he had sized up with one quick glance. He winced as he
took note of the man's cheap, ready-made clothes and boorish manners.
Decidedly he was quite impossible, but for the pleasure of a few
moment's _tête-à-tête_ with Virginia, he was ready to make any
sacrifice--even to meet on equal social terms a Mr. Gillie.

"Are you quite sure," he went on apologetically, "that I am forgiven
for keeping you waiting? Believe me, it was absolutely unavoidable or
it wouldn't have happened."

"Oh, yes," rejoined Virginia quickly, "we're quite sure of that."

The host turned to the Japanese butler, who was busy at the table,
placing the empty cocktail glasses on the tray.

"Did you explain thoroughly, Oku?" he asked.

The man looked up.

"Yes, sir. I tell you have big meeting and say 'very much excuse,
please.'"

"That was right," rejoined his master, with a laugh. "Now get me the
menu."

Oku picked up the tray and made for the door.

"Yes--excuse, please. Excuse."

When his butler had disappeared, Stafford turned to his guests with a
smile:

"Queer little chap, isn't he? He is very devoted, and I find him very
useful. You see, being a bachelor, I don't keep house, but if I have a
little party like this, I generally leave the selection of the dinner
to Oku and have it served in there--" He pointed to the dining-room,
the folding doors of which the butler had closed. With a good-natured
laugh, he added: "He has shut the doors so we can't see the spread. I
hope the little beggar has something good."

Jim, who, until now, had remained in the background, trying to summon
up enough courage to take an aggressive part in the conversation,
spoke up boldly:

"Nice little place you have here, Mr. Stafford."

There was an amused expression, which did not escape Virginia's
notice, hovering around the corners of the millionaire's mouth, as he
replied:

"Glad you like it. Have you seen the other rooms?"

"No," replied the clerk carelessly, as he flecked the ashes from his
cigar on to the fine Turkish rug. "I'm judging by this one--"

At that moment Oku re-entered the room, bearing in his hand a menu,
which he handed to his master. Stafford glanced over it and nodded
approvingly, then, taking out a pencil, he made one correction. This
done, he handed it back.

"I think that will do nicely. Have dinner served when ready."

"Yes--sir--excuse, please."

The butler was about to leave the room, when his master called him
back.

"Oku--just a moment." Turning apologetically to the others, he said:

"Will you excuse me?" In an undertone to the butler, he said: "I
shan't dress to-night--"

Oku salaamed.

"Anything else, sir?"

"No--you can go."

"Then excuse--please. Excuse--"

The butler disappeared and the host rejoined his guests. Addressing
the shipping clerk amiably, he said:

"I'm glad you like this room, Mr. Gillie."

There was no sarcasm in his voice, nor did he intend any. The railroad
promoter was in good humor that evening, and he wanted his guests to
feel perfectly at home, but Jimmie, in his ignorant egotism thought
that his host was really flattered by his praise. Patronizingly, he
said:

"I do, for a fact. I think it's all right."

Pointing to the library beyond, the millionaire said carelessly:

"My best things are in that room. But there are some here that are
rather good, I think. Did you notice this?" He picked up from a table
a piece of carved ivory and held it so that all might see. "It was
carved by a Japanese master nearly eight hundred years ago."

"Did he get much for it?" asked Jimmie, opening wide his eyes.

"Who," smiled Stafford, "the carver?"

"Yes."

"Probably a few cents a day."

"A few cents a day?" gaped the clerk.

"Yes."

Jimmie whistled and walked away. Contemptuously he said:

"He ought to have joined the Carvers' Union."

Stafford laughed.

"There was none in those days," he said. "Even if there had been he
wouldn't have joined. He was an artist; he worked for the joy of
working."

Jimmie snickered. Sneeringly he said:

"He knew his own business best, I suppose, but I've never seen a man
who could raise a family on that."

Replacing the ivory back in the cabinet where it belonged, Stafford
turned to the mantel and pointed to the Peach Blow vase, which only a
few moments before had met with disaster. But the damage was not
visible from a distance, and with the natural pride of a collector
showing one of his most valued possessions, the railroad man said:

"I have one or two Peach Blows that I think are rather good. There is
one up there which I am particularly fond of."

Jimmie more and more nervous gave his fiancée a nudge. In a frightened
undertone he whispered to her:

"It's coming! It's coming!"

To hide her confusion, Fanny pretended to be very busy with her
handkerchief. Stafford, meantime, had gone up to the bookcase.
Reaching up his hand so he could take hold of the vase by its neck,
the millionaire went on:

"This vase is said to be--"

His hand touched the vase, but, instead of lifting it, he simply
lifted up the piece which had been broken off. For a moment he stared
at the fragment in amazement, while the others looked on in silent
consternation. There was an ominous pause. Jimmie, turning pale, could
feel his heart thumping violently against his ribs.

"Why, it's broken!" exclaimed their host.

"Yes--" said Jimmie quickly.

"Why--so it is!" gasped Fanny, on the theory that an expression of
bewilderment on her part would exonerate her from suspicion.

Stafford stood still, trying to fix the two pieces together. He was
quite cool and to all appearances the least concerned of the four.
There was not even a note of impatience in his voice as he said:

"Oku must be more careful. I never knew him to do a thing like this
before."

Virginia approached her future brother-in-law. In a quick undertone
she said:

"Tell him."

"Not on your life," he answered in the same tragic whisper. "He
doesn't suspect us. We can get away with it."

Utterly disgusted, Virginia moved toward her host.

"Mr. Stafford!" she said loudly and firmly.

He looked up, surprised at her manner and tone.

"Yes?" he smiled.

"Oku didn't break it."

Stafford stared at her in amazement.

"Didn't he?"

"No."

"Really?"

"No--it wasn't Oku." She hesitated a moment; as if still unwilling to
disclose the real culprit, Finally she said: "We--we did--it."

An expression of amused surprise came over his face, as he echoed:

"Did we?"

He looked from one to the other, his glance finally failing on Fanny.
Alarmed at his scrutiny, she hurriedly pointed to her sister and her
fiancé:

"Not me! Them!" she exclaimed.

Stafford smiled. Although it meant a serious loss, to say nothing of
the blow to his pride as a collector he was too much the man of the
world to betray annoyance or to permit a little accident of that kind
to spoil the evening's enjoyment. Courteously he said:

"It doesn't matter in the least."

Ashamed to hide behind a woman's skirts any longer, Jimmie now came
forward. In a halfhearted fashion, he said:

"I was looking at it when Virginia suddenly addressed me and I dropped
it." With airy self-assurance, he added: "Of course I'll pay for it."

Stafford shrugged his shoulders. Carelessly he said:

"Please don't give it another thought, any of you."

Leaving her companions, Virginia approached her host. Looking up at
him earnestly, she said in an undertone:

"I can't tell you how sorry I am."

He was so tall that, standing close by she had to look up at him. As
he stood there, so big and strong, smiling down at her, taking
good-naturedly what might well have irritated any man, she thought to
herself how handsome and nice he was. Looking into her eyes with the
same ardent expression she had so often noticed in his glance, he said
softly:

"The only thing that I could possibly regret is the fact that the
incident might throw a little cloud over what I hope will be a very
pleasant evening. If you want to be really good to me, you will