Robert Kimberly. Spearman Frank Hamilton
isn't any consolidation."
"Combination, then?"
"Slowly. How is the market?"
"Our end of it is waiting on you. When shallyou have some news for us?"
"You don't need news to make a market,"returned Kimberly indifferently, as he sat down.He looked at those around the table. "What areyou doing?"
"Tell your story again, Dora," suggested Doane.
Dora Morgan looked at Kimberly defiantly."No," she said briefly.
"Pshaw, tell it," urged Doane. "It's about theVirgin Mary, Robert."
Dora was firm: "It's not a bachelor's story,"she insisted.
"Most of your stories are bachelors' stories,Dora," said Kimberly.
Dora threw away her cigarette. "Listen tothat! Didn't I tell you?" she asked appealingto Doane. "Robert is getting to be a real nice man."
In an effort to appease both sides, Doanelaughed, but somewhat carefully.
"I got into trouble only the other day in tellingthat story," continued Dora, with the sameundercurrent of defiance.
Effectively dressed, though with a tendency tocolor, and with dark, regular features, flushed alittle at night, Dora Morgan had a promise ofmanner that contrasted peculiarly with herfreedom of tongue.
"Tell us about it, Dora?" said Lottie Nelson.
"It was over at The Towers. I was telling thestory to Uncle John. His blood is red, yet," sheadded without looking at Robert Kimberly toemphasize her implication.
"Uncle John!" echoed Fritzie, at fault. "DidUncle John object?"
"Oh, no, you misunderstand. It wasn't UncleJohn." Every one but Kimberly laughed. "Iwas telling Uncle John the story, and his nurse-yourprotégé, what's his name? I never canremember-Lazarus? the queer little Italian," shesaid, appealing to Kimberly.
"Brother Francis," he answered.
"He's not so awfully little," interposed Fritzie.
"Well, he was in the room," continued Dora,"and he got perfectly furious the moment he heard it."
"Furious, Dora? Why, how funny!" exclaimedLottie Nelson, languidly.
"He turned on me like a thunder-cloud. PoorUncle John was still laughing-he laughs on oneside of his face since his stroke, and looks sofiendish, you know-when Lazarus began toglower at me. He was really insulting in hismanner. 'Oh, I didn't know you were here,' Isaid to hush him up. 'What difference shouldthat make?' he asked, and his eyes were flashing,I can tell you."
"'The Virgin Mary is no relation of yours, isshe?' I demanded frigidly. You ought to haveseen the man. You know how sallow he is; heflushed to the roots of his hair and his lips snappedlike a trap. Then he became ashamed of himself,I dare say, and his eyes fell; he put his handon his breast and bowed to me as if I had been aqueen-they certainly have the prettiest manners, these poor Italians-haven't they, Imogene?"
"But what did he say?" asked Fritzie.
"'Madame,' he exclaimed, as if I had stabbedhim to the heart, 'the Blessed Virgin is mymother.' You really would have thought I hadinsulted his own mother. They have such queerideas, these foreigners. My, but he was mad!Then, what do you think? The next day Ipassed him walking up from the lake and he cameover with such apologies! He prayed I wouldoverlook his anger-he professed to have been soshocked that he had forgotten himself-no doubthe was afraid he would lose his job."
"George, you look sleepy," Lottie Nelsoncomplained, looking at Doane. "You needsomething to wake you up. Suppose we adjourn tothe dining-room?"
Imogene returned to the piano. Kimberlywalked to the door of the dining-room with theothers. "I will go upstairs," he said to LottieNelson.
"Don't stay all night," she returned peremptorily."And come have something before you go up."
"Perhaps when I come down."
Fritzie caught his arm, and walked with himinto the hall. They talked for a moment. "Youmust meet her," declared Fritzie at length, "sheis perfectly lovely and will be over after a whilewith Dolly." Then she looked at him suddenly: "I declare, I don't believe you've heard a wordof what I've been saying."
"I'm afraid not, Fritzie, but no matter, listento what I say. Don't go in there and drink withthat bunch."
"I won't."
"Whiskey makes a fool of you."
Fritzie put up her hand: "Now don't scold."
Upstairs, Nelson and Charles Kimberly, facingeach other, were seated at a big table on which laya number of type-written sheets, beautifully clearand distinct. These they were examining.
"What are you going over?" asked Robert, taking the chair Nelson drew up for him.
"The Colorado plants."
"Our own or the MacBirney?"
"Both."
Charles Kimberly with one hand in his pocket, and supporting his head with the other as hiselbow rested on the table, turned to Robert with aquestion.
"You've seen the MacBirney figures. What doyou think of them?"
"They are high. But I expected that."
"Do you really need the MacBirney plants tocontrol the Western market?" asked CharlesKimberly. With eyes half closed behind hisglasses he studied his brother's face, quite asoccupied with his thoughts as with his words.
Robert did not answer at once. "I should hateto say so, personally," he remarked at length.
"McCrea," continued Charles, "contends thatwe do need them to forestall competition. Thatis, he thinks with the MacBirney crowd out of thefield we can have peace for ten years out there."
Nelson asked a question. "What kind offactories have they got?"
"Old-fashioned," answered Robert Kimberly.
"What kind of influence?"
"In public affairs, I don't know. In tradethey are not dangerous, though MacBirney isambitious and full of energy. The father-in-lawwas a fine old fellow. But he died just before thereorganization. I don't know how much moneythey've got now."
"They haven't much," remarked Nelson.
"We bother them a good deal from San Francisco,"continued Robert Kimberly, reflecting, "butthat is expensive. Ultimately we must own morefactories in Colorado. Of course, as far as thatgoes, I would rather build new plants thanremodel rat-hospitals."
Charles Kimberly straightened up and turnedhimself in his chair. "Ten years of peace is wortha good deal to us. And if MacBirney can insurethat, we ought to have it. All of this," heappealed to Robert, as he spoke, "is supposing thatyou are willing to assent."
"I do not assent, chiefly because I distrustMacBirney. If the rest of you are satisfied totake him in, go ahead."
"The others seem to be, Robert."
"Then there is nothing more to be said. Let'sget at the depreciation charges and the estimatesfor next year's betterments, so we can go over thenew capitalization."
While the conference went on, the muffled humof gathering motor-cars came through the openwindows.
Robert Kimberly leaving the two men, walkeddownstairs again. The rooms were filling withthe overflow from the dance. They who hadcome were chiefly of the married set, though boysand girls were among them.
After the manner of those quite at home, the dancers, still wearing their flower leis, werescattered in familiar fashion about small tableswhere refreshment was being served.
At one end of the music room a group applaudeda clever young man, who, with his coat cuffs rolledback, was entertaining with amateur sleight-of-hand.
At the other end of the room, surrounded by asecond group, Fritzie Venable played smashingrag-time. About the tables pretty, overfedmarried women, of the plump, childless type, withlittle feet, fattening hands, and rounding shoulders, carried on a running chatter with men youngerthan their husbands.
A