While the feast of reason and flow of soul had been in progressin the drawing-room, in the gymnasium on the top floor JerryMitchell, awaiting the coming of Mr. Pett, had been passing thetime in improving with strenuous exercise his already impressivephysique. If Mrs. Pett's guests had been less noisilyconcentrated on their conversation, they might have heard themuffled _tap-tap-tap_ that proclaimed that Jerry Mitchell waspunching the bag upstairs.
It was not until he had punched it for perhaps five minutes that,desisting from his labours, he perceived that he had the pleasureof the company of little Ogden Ford. The stout boy was standingin the doorway, observing him with an attentive eye.
"What are you doing?" enquired Ogden.
Jerry passed a gloved fist over his damp brow.
"Punchin' the bag."He began to remove his gloves, eyeing Ogden the while with adisapproval which he made no attempt to conceal. An extremist onthe subject of keeping in condition, the spectacle of the bulbousstripling was a constant offence to him. Ogden, in pursuance ofhis invariable custom on the days when Mrs. Pett entertained, hadbeen lurking on the stairs outside the drawing-room for the pasthour, levying toll on the food-stuffs that passed his way. Hewore a congested look, and there was jam about his mouth.
"Why?" he said, retrieving a morsel of jam from his right cheekwith the tip of his tongue.
"To keep in condition.""Why do you want to keep in condition?"Jerry flung the gloves into their locker.
"Fade!" he said wearily. "Fade!""Huh?""Beat it!""Huh?" Much pastry seemed to have clouded the boy's mind.
"Run away.""Don't want to run away."The annoyed pugilist sat down and scrutinised his visitorcritically.
"You never do anything you don't want to, I guess?""No," said Ogden simply. "You've got a funny nose," he addeddispassionately. "What did you do to it to make it like that?"Mr. Mitchell shifted restlessly on his chair. He was not a vainman, but he was a little sensitive about that particular item inhis make-up.
"Lizzie says it's the funniest nose she ever saw. She says it'ssomething out of a comic supplement."A dull flush, such as five minutes with the bag had been unableto produce, appeared on Jerry Mitchell's peculiar countenance. Itwas not that he looked on Lizzie Murphy, herself no LillianRussell, as an accepted authority on the subject of facialbeauty; but he was aware that in this instance she spoke notwithout reason, and he was vexed, moreover, as many another hadbeen before him, by the note of indulgent patronage in Ogden'svoice. His fingers twitched a little eagerly, and he lookedsullenly at his tactless junior.
"Get out!""Huh?""Get outa here!""Don't want to get out of here," said Ogden with finality. He puthis hand in his trouser-pocket and pulled out a sticky mass whichlooked as if it might once have been a cream-puff or a meringue.
He swallowed it contentedly. "I'd forgotten I had that," heexplained. "Mary gave it to me on the stairs. Mary thinks you'vea funny nose, too," he proceeded, as one relating agreeablegossip.
"Can it! Can it!" exclaimed the exasperated pugilist.
"I'm only telling you what I heard her say."Mr. Mitchell rose convulsively and took a step towards hispersecutor, breathing noisily through the criticised organ. Hewas a chivalrous man, a warm admirer of the sex, but he wasconscious of a wish that it was in his power to give Mary what hewould have described as "hers." She was one of the parlour-maids,a homely woman with a hard eye, and it was part of his grievanceagainst her that his Maggie, alias Celestine, Mrs. Pett's maid,had formed an enthusiastic friendship with her. He had noevidence to go on, but he suspected Mary of using her influencewith Celestine to urge the suit of his leading rival for thelatter's hand, Biggs the chauffeur. He disliked Mary intensely,even on general grounds. Ogden's revelation added fuel to hisaversion. For a moment he toyed with the fascinating thought ofrelieving his feelings by spanking the boy, but restrainedhimself reluctantly at the thought of the inevitable ruin whichwould ensue. He had been an inmate of the house long enough toknow, with a completeness which would have embarrassed thatgentleman, what a cipher Mr. Pett was in the home and how littlehis championship would avail in the event of a clash with Mrs.
Pett. And to give Ogden that physical treatment which should longsince have formed the main plank in the platform of his educationwould be to invite her wrath as nothing else could. He checkedhimself, and reached out for the skipping-rope, hoping to easehis mind by further exercise.
Ogden, chewing the remains of the cream-puff, eyed him withlanguid curiosity.
"What are you doing that for?"Mr. Mitchell skipped grimly on.
"What are you doing that for? I thought only girls skipped."Mr. Mitchell paid no heed. Ogden, after a moment's silentcontemplation, returned to his original train of thought.
"I saw an advertisement in a magazine the other day of a sort ofmachine for altering the shape of noses. You strap it on when yougo to bed. You ought to get pop to blow you to one."Jerry Mitchell breathed in a laboured way.
"You want to look nice about the place, don't you? Well, then!
there's no sense in going around looking like that if you don'thave to, is there? I heard Mary talking about your nose to Biggsand Celestine. She said she had to laugh every time she saw it."The skipping-rope faltered in its sweep, caught in the skipper'slegs, and sent him staggering across the room. Ogden threw backhis head and laughed merrily. He liked free entertainments, andthis struck him as a particularly enjoyable one.
There are moments in the life of every man when the impulseattacks him to sacrifice his future to the alluring gratificationof the present. The strong man resists such impulses. JerryMitchell was not a weak man, but he had been sorely tried. Theannoyance of Ogden's presence and conversation had sapped hisself-restraint, as dripping water will wear away a rock. A shortwhile before, he had fought down the urgent temptation tomassacre this exasperating child, but now, despised love addingits sting to that of injured vanity, he forgot the consequences.
Bounding across the room, he seized Ogden in a powerful grip, andthe next instant the latter's education, in the true sense of theword, so long postponed, had begun; and with it that avalanche ofsound which, rolling down into the drawing-room, hurled Mrs. Pettso violently and with such abruptness from the society of herguests.
Disposing of the last flight of stairs with the agility of thechamois which leaps from crag to crag of the snow-topped Alps,Mrs. Pett finished with a fine burst of speed along the passageon the top floor, and rushed into the gymnasium just as Jerry'savenging hand was descending for the eleventh time.
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