Part 18 (1/2)
”Many a name's been up longer than yours,” replied Mr. Blodgett in a comforting voice. ”You don't seem to realize that the Philomathean's a pretty stiff club to get into.”
”But I've been posted for over three years, while here Dr. Hartzmann is elected within four months of his proposing.”
”Well, the doctor has the great advantage of being a sort of natural Philomath, you see,” Mr. Blodgett explained genially. ”He was born that way, and so is ripe for members.h.i.+p without any closet mellowing.”
”But my reputation as a writer is greater than Dr.”--began Mr. Whitely; but a laugh from Mr. Blodgett made him halt.
”Oh come, now, Whitely!”
”What's the matter?” asked my employer.
”Once St. Peter and St. Paul stopped at a tavern to quench their thirst,” said Mr. Blodgett, ”and when the time came to pay, they tossed dice for it. Paul threw double sixes, and smiled. Peter smiled back, and threw double sevens. What do you suppose Paul said, Whitely?”
”What?”
”'Oh, Peter, Peter! No miracles between friends.'”
”I don't follow you,” rejoined Mr. Whitely.
Mr. Blodgett turned and said to me, ”I'm going West for two months, and while I'm gone the Twelfth-night revel at the Philomathean is to come off. Will you see that the boss and Agnes get cards?” Then he faced about and remarked, ”Whitely, I'd give a big gold certificate to know what nerve food you use!” and went out, laughing.
When I took the invitations to Mrs. Blodgett, I found you all with your heads full of a benefit for the Guild, to be given at your home,--a musical evening, with several well-known stars as magnets, and admission by invitation as an additional attraction. Mrs. Blodgett said to me in her decisive way, ”Dr. Hartzmann, the invitations are five dollars each, and you are to take one.”
I half suspected that it was only a device to get me within your doors, though every society woman feels at liberty to whitemail her social circle to an unlimited degree. But the fact that the entertainment was to be in your home, even more than my poverty, compelled me to refuse to be a victim of her charitable kindness or her charitable greed. I merely shook my head.
”Oh, but you must,” she urged. ”It will be a delightful evening, and then it's such a fine object.”
”Do not ask it of Dr. Hartzmann,” you protested, coming to my aid. ”No one”--
”I'm sure it's very little to ask,” remarked Mrs. Blodgett, in a disappointed way.
”Mrs. Blodgett,” I said, in desperation, ”for years I have denied myself every luxury and almost every comfort. I have lived at the cheapest of boarding-houses; I have walked down-town, rain or s.h.i.+ne, to save ten cents a day; I have”--I stopped there, ashamed of my outbreak.
”I suppose, Dr. Hartzmann,” retorted Agnes, with no attempt to conceal the irritation she felt toward me, ”that the Philomathean is one of your ten-cent economies?”
Before I could speak you changed the subject, and the matter was dropped,--I hoped for all time. It was, however, to reappear, and to make my position more difficult and painful than ever.
At Mrs. Blodgett's request, made that very day, I sent you an invitation to the Philomathean ladies' day. It was with no hope of being there myself, since my editorial duties covered the hours of the exhibition; but good or bad fortune aided me, for Mr. Whitely asked me for a ticket, and his absence from the office set me free. The crowd was great, but, like most people who try for one thing only, I attained my desire by quickly finding you, and we spent an enjoyable hour together, studying the delicious jokes and pranks of our artist members. The truly marvelous admixture of absurdity and cleverness called out the real mirth of your nature, and our happiness and gayety over the pictures strangely recalled to me our similar days spent in Paris and elsewhere.
You too, I think, remembered the same experience, for when we had finished, and were ascending the stairs to the dining-room, you remarked to me, ”I never dreamed that one could be so merry after one had ceased to be a child. For the last hour I have felt as if teens were yet unventured lands.”
I confess I sought a secluded spot in an alcove, hoping still to keep you to myself; but the project failed, for when I returned from getting you an ice, I found that Mr. Whitely had joined you. The pictures, of course, were the subject of discussion, and you asked him, ”Are all the other members as clever in their own professions as your artists have shown themselves to be?”
”The Philomathean is made up of an able body of men,” replied Mr.
Whitely in a delightfully patronizing tone. ”Some few of the very ablest, perhaps, do not care to be members; but of the second rank, you may say, broadly speaking, that it includes all men of prominence in this city.”
”But why should the abler men not belong?”
”They are too occupied with more vital matters,” explained my employer.