William Bannister Winfield was the most wonderful child. Of course,you had to have a certain amount of intelligence to see this. To thevapid and irreflective observer he was not much to look at in the earlystages of his career, having a dough-like face almost entirely devoidof nose, a lack-lustre eye, and the general appearance of a poachedegg. His immediate circle of intimates, however, thought him a model ofmanly beauty; and there was the undeniable fact that he had come intothe world weighing nine pounds. Take him for all in all, a lad ofpromise.
Kirk's sense of being in a dream continued. His identity seemed to haveundergone a change. The person he had known as Kirk Winfield haddisappeared, to be succeeded by a curious individual bubbling over withan absurd pride for which it was not easy to find an outlet. Hitherto arather reserved man, he was conscious now of a desire to accost perfectstrangers in the street and inform them that he was not the ordinaryperson they probably imagined, but a father with an intensely unusualson at home, and if they did not believe him they could come rightalong and see for themselves.
The only flaw in his happiness at the moment was the fact that hiscircle of friends was so small. He had not missed the old brigade ofthe studio before, but now the humblest of them would have beenwelcome, provided he would have sat still and listened. Even PercyShanklyn would have been acceptable as an audience.
Steve, excellent fellow, was always glad to listen to him on hisfavourite subject. He had many long talks with Steve on the question ofWilliam's future. Steve, as the infant's godfather, which post he hadclaimed and secured at an early date, had definite views on the matter.
Here, held Steve, was the chance of a lifetime. With proper training, ababy of such obvious muscular promise might be made the greatestfighter that ever stepped into the ring. He was the real White Hope. Headvised Kirk to direct William's education on the lines which wouldinsure his being, when the time was ripe, undisputed heavy-weightchampion of the world. To Steve life outside the ring was a pooraffair, practically barren of prizes for the ambitious.
Mrs. Lora Delane Porter, eyeing William's brow, of which there wasplenty, he being at this time extremely short of hair, predicted a lessrobust and more intellectual future for him. Something more on thelines of president of some great university or ambassador at someimportant court struck her as his logical sphere.
Kirk's view was that he should combine both careers and be anambassador who took a few weeks off every now and then in order todefend his champion's belt. In his spare time he might paint a pictureor two.
Ruth hesitated between the army, the navy, the bar, and business. Butevery one was agreed that William was to be something special.
This remarkable child had a keen sense of humour. Thus he seldom beganto cry in his best vein till the small hours of the morning; and onthese occasions he would almost invariably begin again after he hadbeen officially pronounced to be asleep. His sudden grab at the hair ofany adult who happened to come within reach was very droll, too.
As to his other characteristics, he was of rather an imperious nature.
He liked to be waited on. He wanted what he wanted when he wanted it.
The greater part of his attention being occupied at this period withthe important duty of chewing his thumb, he assigned the drudgery oflife to his dependants. Their duties were to see that he got up in themorning, dressed, and took his tub; and after that to hang around onthe chance of general orders.
Any idea Kirk may have had of resuming his work was abandoned duringthese months. No model, young and breezy or white-haired and motherly,passed the studio doors. Life was far too interesting for work. Thecanvas which might have become "Carmen" or "A Reverie" or even "TheToreador's Bride" lay unfinished and neglected in a corner.
It astonished Kirk to find how strong the paternal instinct was in him.
In the days when he had allowed his mind to dwell upon the abstractwife he had sometimes gone a step further and conjured up the abstractbaby. The result had always been to fill him with a firm convictionthat the most persuasive of wild horses should not drag him from hisbachelor seclusion. He had had definite ideas on babies as a class. Andhere he was with his world pivoting on one of them. It was curious.
The White Hope, as Steve called his godson--possibly with the idea ofinfluencing him by suggestion--grew. The ailments which attacked lesserbabies passed him by. He avoided croup, and even whooping-cough paidhim but a flying visit hardly worth mentioning. His first tooth gavehim a little trouble, but that is the sort of thing which may happen toanyone; and the spirited way in which he protested against theindignity of cutting it was proof of a high soul.
Such was the remarkableness of this child that it annoyed Kirk more andmore that he should be obliged to give the exhibition of hisextraordinary qualities to so small an audience. Ruth felt the same;and it was for this reason that the first overtures were made to thesilent camp which contained her father and her brother Bailey.
Since that evening in the library there had come no sign from the houseon Fifth Avenue that its inmates were aware of her existence. Life hadbeen too full till now to make this a cause of trouble to her; but withWilliam Bannister becoming every day more amazing the desire came toher to try and heal the breach. Her father had so ordered his life inhis relation to his children that Ruth's affection was not so deep asit might have been; but, after all, he was William Bannister'sgrandfather, and, as such, entitled to consideration.
It was these reflections that led to Steve's state visit to JohnBannister--probably the greatest fiasco on record.
Steve had been selected for the feat on the strength of his having theright of entry to the Fifth Avenue house, for John Bannister was stillobeying his doctor's orders and taking his daily spell of exercise withthe pugilist--and Steve bungled it hopelessly.
His task was not a simple one. He was instructed to employ tact, tohint rather than to speak, to say nothing to convey the impression thatRuth in any way regretted the step she had taken, to give the idea thatit was a matter of complete indifference to her whether she ever sawher father again or not, yet at the same time to make it quite clearthat she was very anxious to see him as soon as possible.
William Bannister, grown to maturity and upholding the interests of hiscountry as ambassador at some important court, might have jibbed at themission.
William Bannister was to accompany Steve and be produced dramaticallyto support verbal arguments. It seemed to Ruth that for her father toresist William when he saw him was an impossibility. William's positionwas that of the ace of trumps in the cards which Steve was to play.
Steve made a few objections. His chief argument against taking up thepost assigned to him was that he was a roughneck, and that the job inquestion was one which no roughneck, however gifted in the matter ofleft hooks, could hope to carry through with real success. But heyielded to pressure, and the expedition set out.
William Bannister at this time was at an age when he was beginning totalk a little and walk a little and take a great interest in things.
His walking was a bit amateurish, and his speech rather hard to followunless you had the key to it. But nobody could have denied that hiswalk, though staggery, was a genuine walk, and his speech, thoughlimited, genuine speech, within the meaning of the act.
He made no objections to the expedition. On being told that he wasgoing to see his grandpa he nodded curtly and said: "Gwa-wah," afterhis custom. For, as a conversationalist, perhaps the best descriptionof him is to say that he tried hard. He rarely paused for a word. Whenin difficulties he said something; he did not seek refuge in silence.
That the something was not always immediately intelligible was thefault of his audience for not listening more carefully.
Perhaps the real mistake of the expedition was the nature of itsbaggage. William Bannister had stood out for being allowed to take withhim his wheelbarrow, his box of bricks, and his particular favourite,the dying pig, which you blew out and then allowed to collapse with apleasing noise. These properties had struck his parents as excessive,but he was firm; and when he gave signs of being determined to fight itout on these lines if it took all the summer, they gave in.
Steve had no difficulty in smuggling William into his grandfather'shouse. He was a great favourite below stairs there. His great ally wasthe English butler, Keggs.
Keggs was a stout, dignified, pigeon-toed old sinner, who cast off thebutler when not on duty and displayed himself as something of arounder. He was a man of many parts. It was his chief relaxation tolook in at Broadway hotels while some big fight was in progress outWest to watch the ticker and assure himself that the man he had backedwith a portion of the loot which he had accumulated in the form of tipswas doing justice to his judgment, for in private Keggs was essentiallythe sport.
It was this that so endeared Steve to him. A few years ago Keggs hadwon considerable sums by backing Steve, and the latter was always givento understand that, as far as the lower regions of it were concerned,the house on Fifth Avenue was open to him at all hours.
To-day he greeted Steve with enthusiasm and suggested a cigar in thepantry before the latter should proceed to his work.
"He ain't ready for you yet, Mr. Dingle. He's lookin' over some papersin--for goodness' sake, who's this?"He had caught sight of William Bannister, who having wriggled free ofSteve, was being made much of by the maids.
"The kid," said Steve briefly.
"Not----"Steve nodded.
"Sure. His grandson."Keggs' solemnity increased.
"You aren't going to take him upstairs with you?""Surest thing you know. That's why I brought him.""Don't you do it, Mr. Dingle. 'E's in an awful temper this morning--hegets worse and worse--he'll fire you as soon as look at you.""Can't be helped. I've got me instructions.""You always were game," said Keggs admiringly. "I used to see thatquick enough before you retired from active work. Well, good luck toyou, Mr. Dingle."Steve gathered up William Bannister, the wheelbarrow, the box ofbricks, and the dying pig and made his way to the gymnasium.
The worst of these pre-arranged scenes is that they never happen justas one figured them in one's mind. Steve had expected to have to wait afew minutes in the gymnasium, then there would be a step outside andthe old man would enter. The beauty of this, to Steve's mind, was thathe himself would be "discovered," as the stage term is; the onus ofentering and opening the conversation would be on Mr. Bannister. And,as everybody who has ever had an awkward interview knows, this makesall the difference.
But the minutes passed, and still no grandfather. The nervousness whichhe had with difficulty expelled began to return to Steve. This wasexactly like having to wait in the ring while one's opponent tried toget one's goat by dawdling in the dressing room.
An attempt to relieve himself by punching the ball was a dismalfailure. At the first bang of the leather against the wood WilliamBannister, who had been working in a pre-occupied way at the dying pig,threw his head back and howled, and would not be comforted till Stevetook out the rope and skipped before him, much as dancers used to dancebefore oriental monarchs in the old days.
Steve was just saying to himself for the fiftieth time that he was afool to have come, when Keggs arrived with the news that Mr. Bannisterwas too busy to take his usual exercise this morning and that Steve wasat liberty to go.
It speaks well for Steve's character that he did not go. He would havegiven much to retire, for the old man was one of the few people whoinspired in him anything resembling fear. But he could not returntamely to the studio with his mission unaccomplished.
"Say, ask him if he can see me for a minute. Say it is important."Keggs' eye rested on William Bannister, and he shook his head.
"I shouldn't, Mr. Dingle. Really I shouldn't. You don't know what anugly mood he's in. Something's been worrying him. It's what you mightcall courting disaster.""Gee! Do you think I _want_ to do it? I've just got to. That's allthere is to it."A few moments later Keggs returned with the news that Mr. Bannisterwould see Dingle in the library.
"Come along, kid," said Steve. "Gimme hold of the excess baggage, andlet's get a move on."So in the end it was Mr. Bannister who was discovered and Steve whomade the entrance. And, as Steve pointed out to Kirk later, it justmade all the difference.
The effect of the change on Steve was to make him almost rollicking inhis manner, as if he and Mr. Bannister were the nucleus of an Old HomeWeek celebration or two old college chums meeting after long absence.
Nervousness, on the rare occasions when he suffered from it, generallyhad that effect on him.
He breezed into the library, carrying the wheelbarrow, the box ofbricks, and the dying pig, and trailing William in his wake. William'sgrandfather was seated with his back to the door, dictating a letter toone of his secretaries.
He looked up as Steve entered. He took in Steve and William in a rapidglance and guessed the latter's identity in an instant. He had expectedsomething of this sort ever since he had heard of his grandson's birth.
Indeed, he had been somewhat surprised that the visit had not occurredbefore.
He betrayed no surprise.
"One moment, Dingle," he said, and turned to the secretary again. Afaint sneer came and went on his face.
The delay completed Steve's discomfiture. He placed the wheel harrow onthe floor, the box of bricks on the wheelbarrow, and the dying pig onthe box of bricks, whence it was instantly removed and inflated byWilliam.
"'Referring to your letter of the eighth--'" said Mr. Bannister in hiscold, level voice.
He was interrupted by the incisive cry of the dying pig.
"Ask your son to be quiet, Dingle," he said impassively.
Steve was staggered.
"Say, this ain't my son, squire," he began breezily.
"Your nephew, then, or whatever relation he happens to be to you."He resumed his dictation. Steve wiped his forehead and lookedhelplessly at the White Hope, who, having discarded the dying pig, wasnow busy with the box of bricks.
Steve wished he had not come. He was accustomed to the primitiveexhibition of emotions, having moved in circles where the wrathfulexpressed their wrath in a normal manner.
Anger which found its expression in an exaggerated politeness was outof his line and made him uncomfortable.
After what seemed to him a century, John Bannister dismissed thesecretary. Even then, however, he did not come immediately to Steve. Heremained for a few moments writing, with his back turned. Then, justwhen Steve had given up hope of ever securing his attention, he turnedsuddenly.
"Well?""Say, it's this way, colonel," Steve had begun, when a triumphant cryfrom the direction of the open window stopped him. The White Hope waskneeling on a chair, looking down into the street.
"Bix," he explained over his shoulder.
"Kindly ring the bell, Dingle," said Mr. Bannister, unmoved. "Yourlittle nephew appears to have dropped his bricks into Fifth Avenue."In answer to the summons Keggs appeared. He looked anxious.
"Keggs,"said Mr. Bannister, "tell one of the footmen to go out into the avenueand pick up some wooden bricks which he will find there. Dingle'slittle brother has let some fall."As Keggs left the room Steve's pent-up nervousness exploded in a whirlof words.
"Aw say, boss, quit yer kiddin'. You know this kid ain't anything to dowith me. Why, say, how would he be any relation of a roughneck like me?
Come off the roof, bo. You know well enough who he is. He's yourgrandson. On the level."Mr. Bannister looked at William, now engaged in running the wheelbarrowup and down the room, emitting the while a curious sound, possibly toencourage an imaginary horse. The inspection did not seem to excite himor afford him any pleasure.
"Oh!" he said.
Steve was damped, but resumed gamely:
"Say, boss, this is the greatest kid on earth. I'm not stringing you,honest. He's a wonder. On the level, did you ever see a kid that agewith a pair of shoulders on him like what this kid's got? Say, squire,what's the matter with calling the fight off and starting fair? MissRuth would be tickled to death if you would. Can the rough stuff,colonel. I know you think you've been given a raw deal, Kirk chippingin like that and copping off Miss Ruth, but for the love of Mike, whatdoes it matter? You seen for yourself what a dandy kid this is. Well,then, check your grouch with your hat. Do the square thing. Have outthe auto and come right round to the studio and make it up. What'swrong with that, colonel? Honest, they'd be tickled clean through."At this point Keggs entered, followed by a footman carrying woodenbricks.
"Keggs," said Mr. Bannister, "telephone for the automobile at once--""That's the talk, colonel," cried Steve joyfully. "I know you were asport.""----to take me down to Wall Street."Keggs bowed.
"Oh Keggs," said Mr. Bannister, as he turned to leave.
"Sir?""Another thing. See that Dingle does not enter the house again."And Mr. Bannister resumed his writing, while Steve, gathering up thewheelbarrow, the box of bricks, and the dying pig, took William by thehand and retreated.
* * * * *That terminated Ruth's attempts to conciliate her father.
There remained Bailey. From Bailey she was prepared to stand nononsense. Meeting him on the street, she fairly kidnapped him, drivinghim into a taxicab and pushing him into the studio, where he wasconfronted by his nephew.
Bailey came poorly through the ordeal. William Bannister, a sterncritic, weighed him up in one long stare, found him wanting, andannounced his decision with all the strength of powerful lungs. In theend he had to be removed, hiccupping, and Bailey, after lingering a fewuneasy moments making conversation to Kirk, departed, with such a lookabout the back of him as he sprang into his cab that Ruth felt that thevisit was one which would not be repeated.
She went back into the studio with a rather heavy heart. She was fondof Bailey.
The sight of Kirk restored her. After all, what had happened was onlywhat she had expected. She had chosen her path, and she did not regretit.
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