The Early Bird: A Business Man's Love Story by George Randolph Chester
Produced by Al Haines
[Frontispiece: They stopped and had a drink of the cool water]
THE EARLY BIRD
_A Business Man's Love Story_
BY
GEORGE RANDOLPH CHESTER
Author of
THE MAKING OF BOBBY BURNIT
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
ARTHUR WILLIAM BROWN
INDIANAPOLIS
THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
COPYRIGHT 1910
THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I A VERY BUSY YOUNG MAN II MR. TURNER PLUNGES III A MATTER OF DELICACY IV GREEK MEETS GREEK V MISS JOSEPHINE'S FATHER VI MARASCHINO CHOCOLATES VII A DANCE NUMBER VIII NOT SAM'S FAULT THIS TIME IX A VIOLENT FLIRT X A PIANOLA TRAINING XI THE WESTLAKES INVEST XII ANOTHER MISSED APPOINTMENT XIII A RIDE WITH MISS STEVENS XIV MATRIMONIAL ELIGIBILITY XV THE HERO OF THE HOUR XVI AN INTERRUPTED PROPOSAL XVII SHE CALLS HIM SAM! XVIII A BUSINESS PARTNER
ILLUSTRATIONS
They stopped and had a drink of the cool water . . . _Frontispiece_
They waylaid him on the porch
Hepseba studied him from head to foot
Sam played again the plaintive little air
"I don't like to worry you, Sam"
"Excuse me!" stammered Mr. Stevens
THE EARLY BIRD
CHAPTER I
WHEREIN A VERY BUSY YOUNG MAN STARTS ON AN ABSOLUTE REST
The youngish-looking man who so vigorously swung off the train atRestview, wore a pair of intensely dark blue eyes which immediatelyphotographed everything within their range of vision--flat greencountry, shaded farm-houses, encircling wooded hills and all--weighedit and sorted it and filed it away for future reference; and hisclothes clung on him with almost that enviable fit found only inadvertisements. Immediately he threw his luggage into the tonneau ofthe dingy automobile drawn up at the side of the lonely platform, andpromptly climbed in after it. Spurred into purely mechanical action bythis silent decisiveness, the driver, a grizzled graduate from a haywagon, and a born grump, as promptly and as silently started hismachine. The crisp and perfect start, however, was given check by aperemptory voice from the platform.
"Hey, you!" rasped the voice. "Come back here!"
As there were positively no other "Hey yous" in the landscape, thedriver and the alert young man each acknowledged to the name, andturned to see an elderly gentleman, with a most aggressive beard andsolid corpulency, gesticulating at them with much vigor andearnestness. Standing beside him was a slender sort of girl in a greenoutfit, with very large brown eyes and a smile of amusement which wasjust a shade mischievous. The driver turned upon his passenger a longand solemn accusation.
"Hollis Creek Inn?" he asked sternly.
"Meadow Brook," returned the passenger, not at all abashed, and hesmiled with all the cheeriness imaginable.
"Oh," said the driver, and there was a world of disapprobation in histone, as well as a subtle intonation of contempt. "You are not Mr.Stevens of Boston."
"No," confessed the passenger; "Mr. Turner of New York. I judge thatto be Mr. Stevens on the platform," and he grinned.
The driver, still declining to see any humor whatsoever in thesituation, sourly ran back to the platform. Jumping from his seat heopened the door of the tonneau, and waited with entirely artificialdeference for Mr. Turner of New York to alight. Mr. Turner, however,did nothing of the sort. He merely stood up in the tonneau and bowedgravely.
"I seem to be a usurper," he said pleasantly to Mr. Stevens of Boston."I was expected at Meadow Brook, and they were to send a conveyance forme. As this was the only conveyance in sight I naturally supposed itto be mine. I very much regret having discommoded you."
He was looking straight at Mr. Stevens of Boston as he spoke, but,nevertheless, he was perfectly aware of the presence of the girl; alsoof her eyes and of her smile of amusement with its trace ofmischievousness. Becoming conscious of his consciousness of her, hecast her deliberately out of his mind and concentrated upon Mr.Stevens. The two men gazed quite steadily at each other, not to thepoint of impertinence at all, but nevertheless rather absorbedly.Really it was only for a fleeting moment, but in that moment they hadeach penetrated the husk of the other, had cleaved straight down to thesoul, had estimated and judged for ever and ever, after the ways of men.
"I passed your carryall on the road. It was broke down. It'll be herein about a half hour, I suppose," insisted the driver, opening the doorof the tonneau still wider, and waving the descending pathway with hisright hand.
Both Mr. Stevens of Boston and Mr. Turner of New York were very glad ofthis interruption, for it gave the older gentleman an object upon whichto vent his annoyance.
"Is Meadow Brook on the way to Hollis Creek?" he demanded in a tonefull of reproof for the driver's presumption.
The driver reluctantly admitted that it was.
"I couldn't think of leaving you in this dismal spot to wait for adubious carryall," offered Mr. Stevens, but with frigid politeness."You are quite welcome to ride with us, if you will."
"Thank you," said Mr. Turner, now climbing out of the machine withalacrity and making way for the others. "I had intended," he laughed,as he took his place beside the driver, "to secure just such aninvitation, by hook or by crook."
For this assurance he received a glance from the big eyes; not at all aflirtatious glance, but one of amusement, with a trace of mischief.The remark, however, had well-nigh stopped all conversation on the partof Mr. Stevens, who suddenly remembered that he had a daughter toprotect, and must discourage forwardness. His musings along theselines were interrupted by an enthusiastic outburst from Mr. Turner.
"By George!" exclaimed the latter gentleman, "what a fine clump ofwalnut trees; an even half-dozen, and every solitary one of them wouldtrim sixteen inches."
"Yes," agreed the older man with keenly awakened interest, "they arefine specimens. They would scale six hundred feet apiece, if they'dscale an inch."
"You're in the lumber business, I take it," guessed the young manimmediately, already reaching for his card-case. "My name is Turner,known a little better as Sam Turner, of Turner and Turner."
"Sam Turner," repeated the older man thoughtfully. "The name seemsdistinctly familiar to me, but I do not seem, either, to remember ofany such firm in the trade."
"Oh, we're not in the lumber line," replied Mr. Turner. "Not at all.We're in most anything that offers a profit. We--that is my kidbrother and myself--have engineered a deal or two in lumber lands,however. It was only last month that I turned a good trade--a verygood trade--on a tract of the finest trees in Wisconsin."
"The dickens!" exclaimed the older gentleman explosively. "So you'rethe Turner who sold us our own lumber! Now I know you. I'm Stevens,of the Maine and Wisconsin Lumber Company."
Sam Turner laughed aloud, in both surprise and glee. Mr. Stevens hadnow reached for his own card-case. The two gentlemen exchanged cards,which, with barely more than a glance, they poked in the other flaps oftheir cases; then they took a new and more interested inspection ofeach other. Both were now entirely oblivious to the girl, who,however, was by no means oblivious to them. She found them, in thisnew meeting, a most interesting study.
"You gouged us on that land, young man," resumed Mr. Stevens with a wrylittle smile.
"Worth every cent you paid us for it, wasn't it?" demanded the other.
"Y-e-s; but if you hadn't stepped into the deal at the last minute, wecould have secured it for five or six thousand dollars less money."
"But what I don't yet understand," protested Mr. Stevens, "is how youcame to be in the deal at all. When we sent out our men to inspect thetrees they belonged to a chap in Detroit. When we came to buy themthey belonged to you."
"Certainly," agreed the younger man. "I was up that way on otherbusiness, when I heard about your man looking over this valuableacreage; so I just slipped down to Detroit and hunted up the owner andbought it. Then I sold it to you. That's all."
He smiled frankly and cheerfully upon Mr. Stevens, and the frown ofdiscomfiture which had slightly clouded the latter gentleman's brow,faded away under the guilelessness of it all; so much so that hethought to introduce his daughter.
Miss Josephine having been brought into the conversation, Mr. Turner,for the first time, bent his gaze fully upon her, giving her the sameswift scrutiny and appraisement that he had the father. He wasevidently highly satisfied with what he saw, for he kept looking at itas much as he dared. He became aware after a moment or so that Mr.Stevens was saying something to him. He never did get all of it, buthe got this much:
"--so you'd be rather a good man to watch, wherever you go."
"I hope so," agreed the other briskly. "If I want anything, I goprepared to grab it the minute I find that it suits me."
"Do you always get everything you want?" asked the young lady.
"Always," he answered her very earnestly, and looked her in the eyes sospeculatively, albeit unconsciously so, that she found herself battlingwith a tendency to grow pink.
Her father nodded in approval.
"That's the way to get things," he said. "What are you after now?More lumber?"
"Rest," declared Mr. Turner with vigorous emphasis. "I've worked likea nailer ever since I turned out of high school. I had to make theliving for the family, and I sent my kid brother through college. He'sjust been out a year and it's a wonder the way he takes hold. But doyou know that in all those times since I left school I never took alay-off until just this minute? It feels glorious already. It's fineto look around this good stretch of green country and breathe thisfresh air and look at those hills over yonder, and to realize that Idon't have to think of business for two solid weeks. Just absoluterest, for me! I don't intend to talk one syllable of shop while I'mhere. Hello! there's another clump of walnut trees. It's a pitythey're scattered so that it isn't worth while to buy them up."
The girl laughed, a little silvery laugh which made any memory of grandopera seem harsh and jangling. Both men turned to her in surprise.Neither of them could see any cause for mirth in all the fields or sky.
"I beg your pardon for being so silly," she said; "but I just thoughtof something funny."
"Tell it to us," urged Mr. Turner. "I've never taken the time I oughtto enjoy funny things, and I might as well begin right now."
But she shook her head, and in some way he acquired an impression thatshe was amused at him. His brows gathered a trifle. If the young ladyintended to make sport of him he would take her down a peg or two. Hewould find her point of susceptibility to ridicule, and hammer upon ituntil she cried enough. That was his way to make men respectful, andit ought to work with women.
When they let him out at Meadow Brook, Mr. Stevens was kind enough toask him to drop over to Hollis Creek. Mr. Turner, with impulsivealacrity, promised that he would.