Quinneys 38

Quinneys 38

 "Biz! There are other things downstairs, Mr. Hunsaker. Are you buying

these chairs for yourself?"

  As he spoke he held the bottle in both his hands, caressing it softly.

  "Why, certainly. Have them cased, please, and consigned to my agents in

New York, who will see them through the Custom House. Any marks on that

jar, Mr. Quinney?"

 

Quinney handed to him the bottle.

 

"I don’t think so; they never marked them bottles. It’s marked all

over."

 

Hunsaker turned it upside down, and the key of the cabinet fell out.

 

"The missing key," said Quinney. "Now what fool stuffed it in there?"

 

He replaced it in the lock of the cabinet.

 

"Like to see the inside?" he asked.

 

Posy was in torment. In desperation she blurted out:

 

"Father, dear, Mr. Hunsaker may have other engagements."

 

"I have," said Hunsaker. "Important ones, too. Thank you, Miss

Quinney." He turned to her father. "May I call to-morrow at eleven,

and have another look round?"

 

"Glad to see you any time."

 

As he was speaking, Susan drifted back. Hunsaker went up to her,

speaking cordially:

 

"This has been a very pleasant and informal visit, Mrs. Quinney. Do you

ever go to the play?"

 

"Sometimes," said Susan.

 

"Often," added Posy. Her face was sparkling with smiles. Her cheeks

were delicately flushed. Hunsaker said gaily:

 

"Will you three nice people dine and do a play with me?"

 

"You must leave me out," said Quinney.

 

Posy answered for her mother and herself:

 

"We shall be delighted, Mr. Hunsaker."

 

The young man shook hands. He seemed to hold Posy’s hand a thought

longer than was necessary. Quinney chuckled, because he was thinking

that if his Posy were to be taken away by some enterprising young man

she might well be captured by Cyrus P. Hunsaker, of Hunsaker. Inspired

by this thought he enjoined his daughter to accompany the visitor as far

as the shop. Characteristically, he blurted out what was in his mind,

as soon as he found himself alone with Susan.

 

"He’s taken a shine to our girl, Susie."

 

"Fiddle!" said Susan, for the second time.

 

"Stoopid __EXPRESSION__! You must break yourself of that. I tell you it’s

true. Couldn’t ask for nothing better. Fine upstanding young chap."

 

"A foreigner!"

 

"Nonsense. They could spend half their time over here. You might give

the child a hint. Tell her to play up."

 

"What an idea!"

 

"I have ideas, Susie. We can’t expect to keep her; and the best in this

country won’t marry a tradesman’s daughter. He’s as good as any in his

country. See?"

 

"I see a large mare’s nest," replied Susan.

 

Posy returned, brimming with the determination to retrieve her letter.

Quinney beckoned to her.

 

"Come you here, my girl." He took her head between his hands, and gazed

at her proudly. "Did that young fellow squeeze your hand just now?"

 

"Father!"

 

"None o’ your sauce! Did he?"

 

"Well, yes, he did."

 

Quinney winked triumphantly at Susan. He kissed Posy, and said

superbly:

 

"You’ve got a daddy with ambitions, a kind, loving, clever old daddy!

Lordy! Sometimes I fair wonder at myself, I do. Because I’ve climbed

so high. But you’re a-going higher—bang up! Good looks, I’ll admit you

got them from mother, and good brains, same as mine. Quick wits, God

bless you! You made a hit with young Hunsaker! A bull’s-eye! Now

scoot, both of you! I’ve a lot of business."

 

"I haven’t finished dusting, daddy."

 

"Yes, you have, when I say so. Scoot!"

 

Unhappily, there was nothing else to do.

 

 

 

 

*CHAPTER XVIII*

 

*EXPLOSIONS*

 

*I*

 

 

"I’ve sold the chairs, James. Take ’em away. Pack ’em up at once! Nail

down the cases. See?"

 

"Yes, sir. I congratulate you, sir."

 

"Pack up extra carefully that K’ang He bottle."

 

"The K’ang He bottle?"

 

Something in his tone arrested Quinney’s attention. It brought to mind

what, for the moment, he had forgotten—the loss of the key and its

tumbling out of the bottle. James, perhaps unconsciously, had glanced

at the cabinet, and Quinney’s alert eyes had intercepted the somewhat

furtive, shifting glance. He said sharply:

 

"The key of the cabinet was in that bottle. Did you put it there?"

 

James hesitated and was lost. Had he replied promptly, either in the

affirmative or negative, his employer doubtless would have dismissed the

incident from his mind. James, unhappily, was constrained to determine

swiftly the expediency of saying "Yes."

 

"I may have done so," he replied. He went on fluently: "The key fits

badly, tumbles out of the lock sometimes. I meant to tell you."

 

Quinney blinked at him, wondering why he answered evasively. How did he

know that the key fitted loosely? It was not his business to touch the

cabinet. At the same time he was conscious that James, as the restorer

of the chairs, had been very prompt with his congratulations. Of course

he knew everything; he had to know; and equally of course the secret of

the fake bidding was perfectly safe with him, inasmuch as he had

received a share of the plunder. Quinney had raised his salary; Tomlin

had tipped him handsomely.

 

"Nice profit for you, sir," continued James blandly.

 

"Not bad," Quinney admitted.

 

"Splendid idea, sir, buying in your own stuff."

 

Quinney rather winced at this, but he covered a slight confusion by his

bluff manner and candid speech. He could not flimflam James. It would

be fatuous to play the hypocrite with an accomplice. He said

confidentially:

 

"Christopher’s receipt just clinched matters. You ought to have been

here, my lad. An object lesson for you, by Gum!"

 

James’s voice was very silky as he murmured:

 

"Nobody like you, sir, to sell stuff."

 

"Right you are, James, even if I do say it. There ain’t my superior in

London—that means the world."

 

It was then that James led trumps for the first time. He continued in

the same ingratiating tone:

 

"Oh yes, sir. And such a father, too."

 

Quinney swallowed this easily, smacked his lips over it, much to James’s

satisfaction.

 

"Always done my duty, my lad. That’s a thought to stick to one’s

ribs—hey? Never can remember the day when I couldn’t say that. And the

fam’ly, as I read only t’other day, is the unit o’ national life.

Square, too, I’ve been, within reasonable limits, although I do make

ignorance pay a profit to knowledge. I know a lot, more’n you think

for. And you owe a lot to me, James."

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"You’re very useful to me, my lad, and your future will be my special

care."

 

James smiled.

 

"Thank you, sir."

 

Afterwards, Quinney admitted to Susan that at this particular moment

James’s good looks had hit him, so to speak, in the eye. But he did not

consider them in relation to Posy. We know that the little man was

amazingly shrewd whenever his own interests were imperilled. And it had

occurred to him, not for the first time, that there might be "something"

between his handsome foreman and his quite attractive typist. He could

trust James. Could he trust Mabel Dredge? Some men babbled indiscreetly

to the girls.

 

"You’ll be thinking of gettin’ married one of these fine days?"

 

"I have thought of it, sir."

 

The young man spoke so pleasantly that Quinney’s heart warmed to him.

Moreover, he liked and respected Mabel.

 

"Good! What you want is a helpmate, a worker like yourself, strong,

healthy, and comely."

 

"Strong, healthy, and comely," repeated James.