Part 42 (2/2)

”Ain't it h.e.l.l the way things break loose in this world!” he sighed.

”Who'd have thought two years ago----”

”Do you make it only two? I should have put it at about two thousand.”

”Honest, squire, if any one had told me then that Miss Ruth had it in her to take up with all these fool stunts----”

”Well, I can't say I was prepared for it.”

Steve coughed again. Kirk was in an expansive mood this afternoon, and the occasion was ideal for the putting forward of certain views which he had long wished to impart. But, on the other hand, the subject was a peculiarly delicate one. It has been well said that it is better for a third party to quarrel with a buzz-saw than to interfere between husband and wife; and Steve was const.i.tutionally averse to anything that savoured of b.u.t.ting in.

Still, Kirk had turned the talk into this channel. He decided to risk it.

”If I were you,” he said, ”I'd get busy and start something.”

”Such as what?”

Steve decided to abandon caution and speak his mind. Him, almost as much as Kirk, the existing state of things had driven to desperation.

Though in a sense he was only a spectator, the fact that the altered conditions of Kirk's life involved his almost complete separation from Mamie gave him what might be called a stake in the affair. The brief and rare glimpses which he got of her nowadays made it absolutely impossible for him to conduct his wooing on a business-like basis. A diffident man cannot possibly achieve any success in odd moments.

Constant propinquity is his only hope.

That fact alone, he considered, almost gave him the right to interfere.

And, apart from that, his affection for Kirk and Ruth gave him a claim.

Finally, he held what was practically an official position in the family councils on the strength of being William Bannister Winfield's G.o.dfather.

He loved William Bannister as a son, and it had been one of his favourite day dreams to conjure up a vision of the time when he should be permitted to undertake the child's physical training. He had toyed lovingly with the idea of imparting to this promising pupil all that he knew of the greatest game on earth. He had watched him in the old days staggering about the studio, and had pictured him grown to his full strength, his muscles trained, his brain full of the wisdom of one who, if his mother had not kicked, would have been middle-weight champion of America.

He had resigned himself to the fact that the infant's social status made it impossible that he should be the real White Hope whom he had once pictured beating all comers in the roped ring; but, after all, there was a certain mild fame to be acquired even by an amateur. And now that dream was over--unless Kirk could be goaded into strong action in time.

”Why don't you sneak the kid away somewhere?” he suggested. ”Why don't you go right in at them and say: 'It's my kid, and I'm going to take him away into the country out of all this white-tile stuff and let him roll in the mud same as he used to.' Why, say, there's that shack of yours in Connecticut, just made for it. That kid would have the time of his life there.”

”You think that's the solution, do you, Steve?”

”I'm dead sure it is.” Steve's voice became more and more enthusiastic as the idea unfolded itself. ”Why, it ain't only the kid I'm thinking of. There's Miss Ruth. Say, you don't mind me pulling this line of talk?”

”Go ahead. I began it. What about Miss Ruth?”

”Well, you know just what's the matter with her. She's let this society game run away with her. I guess she started it because she felt lonesome when you were away; and now it's got her and she can't drop it. All she wants is a jolt. It would slow her up and show her just where she was. She's asking for it. One good, snappy jolt would put the whole thing right. And this thing of jerking the kid away to Connecticut would be the right dope, believe _me_.”

Kirk shook his head.

”It wouldn't do, Steve. It isn't that I don't want to do it; but one must play to the rules. I can't explain what I mean. I can only say it's impossible. Let's think of a parallel case. When you were in the ring, there must have been times when you had a chance of hitting your man low. Why didn't you do it? It would have jolted him, all right.”

”Why, I'd have lost on a foul.”

”Well, so should I lose on a foul if I started the sort of rough-house you suggest.”

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