THE PUBLIC LEDGER
WAREHOUSE, &c.
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"And," went on Ralph, with a flash
of transient enjoyment over the past,
"that when a man goes to bed he 'wraps
up the meat in a cloth;' that to call a
man a canary bird, is an unpardonable
insult; if you drink absinthe, it is
'strangling the parrot;' if you take
Clicquot, you 'make eyes at the widow;'
if you are guillotined, you have 'sneezed
in the basket;' if you accept flattery,
you 'drink milk;' if you buy things on
credit, you get them 'on your eye.'
That's not the worst of it," the cheerful
ness evaporating. "What will he do
vten he knows the truth? He will
think me a first class scoundrel, go back
at once to France and take Marie from
me forever."
"And what will he think of us?" de
manded Evvy. "We are in as much of
a scrape as you are, and through you.
Well, the only thing I can see for us to
do is for all of us to talk as they will."
"You can imagine mother using slang,
can't you?" sarcastically remarked Ralph.
"We might coach her," cheerfully sug
gested his sister. "I myself have fre
quently said 'chestnuts' over some of
your stock college stories, you know.
And as for Tom"
"Oh, Tom Jardine," interrupted he,
"he's all right."
"Thank you, sir; Tom does not indulge
in the patois of the streets."
"Everybody does nowadajTs."
"Not the way you do."
"The way I used to, he corrected.
"Evvy, I will never use slang again as
long as I live."
"But you have burned your ships," she
said consolingly.
At that moment the portieres were
agitated, and Tom Jardine came in with
a gleaming shirt front.
"Hi, Evvy!" cried he; "who built your
gown? You are stunning in that ball
dress."
"Oh, Tom," she said, distressedly fly
ing to him, "the marquis and Marie have
arrived."
"Tom," asseverated Ralph, "I've put
my foot in it."
. "Tom," insisted Evvy, "Ralph's in
such a way! He has confessed to me,
and I don't know what's too bad for
him." '
"I wish somebody would confess a
little to me," said Jardine in a puzzled
tone. "What do you two mean?"
"Tom," impressively replied nervous
Ralph, "you talk slang, don't you?"
"I can." returned Jardine, "but 3
never do."
"Wouldn't you do it for me?" asked
Evvy.
"Talk slang for you!" said Jardine.
looking at her as at a hieroglyphic.
Ralph stopped in his feverish walk.
"Evvy's going to do it," he said.
"I'd talked it for you as well, Tom,"
she said.
"But I don't want vou to talk slang
for me," cried Jardine.
She looked at him winningly.
"No," she said, "I want you to do it
for me."
Jardine telescoped his opera hat.
"ilivvv, he said sternly, "are vou
crazy? Tell me this instant what all
this idiocy means."
"Tell him," groaned Ralph, "I can't.
I believe I'm losing my mind."
Jardine could not resist the opportu
nity of saying that the lost article would
be returned to its owner without a re
ward and no questions asked.
"Don't Tom!" said Evvy at this lev
ity. "Don't you think you might respect
the woman you have asked to marry
you? This is no time for silly 3ests."
"Evvy," said Ralph, "take him into the
conservatory and tell him all about it.
The marquis or Marie might come here
in the middle of it."
Miss Cathcart, with an injured air, led
the wav. Jardine. with his chin ele-
vated, but looking suspiciously at Ralph,
followed her out of the room.
II.
"Go take ze valli."
Left to himself, Ralph plunged his
hands into his pockets, as woebegone a
specimen as had accepted an invitation
to a ball that evening.
"What an ass a- fellow may be when
he wants to!" was his cogitation. "I'
never commit another joke as long as 1
live. "Live! I'll die if Marie is taken
away from me."
He put his hands up before his face
Tir! stnnd for a minute motionless. A
movement in the room startled him
There was the haughty old marquis in
his French idea of evening dress, a coat
on his back which may have been made
for him twenty years back. But the
marquis was one or the ancien regime
for all that. He stuck his eyeglass up,
the merriment of a child in his face.
. "Oh, my boy," he said m nis new
Rnp-iich. "how it aroes. eh? Mow is ze
roval nibs? as Benjamin Franklin say."
Ralph, with a ghastly smile, faced
him. "Monsieur." he returned, "1 see
you are ready for the ball."
"In ze togs," replied the marquis
Oui yes, I am ze dandy dresser, as
.Emerson remarK."
"And Marie?"
"She vill be here presentment," an
swered the father. "She vill ze town
paint red. And vare is ze old lady,
madame, ze mere your mozer?"
His eyes were on his expectant son-in-law,
who. could do no more than say he
was expecting the advent of his mother
at any minute.
The marquis, every well made tooth
j showing, tapped him on the arm.
"Ze young man look ouwell, he
laughed. "Mon cher, I have myself
been zare. It is ze dinner, ze vin you
razzle dazzle, eh? Let up on ze vin, dear
boy, or ze leetle rams you vill have vat
you call ze snakes. Brace up brace
up! Ah!"
For here Mrs. Cathcart, in sweeping
velvet and jewels, sailed in.
"Marquis," she cried, "j'ai bien de la
joie de vous voir."
"E-english, E-english!" cried he, shak
ing his head negatively. "Je ne puis
parle pas Francais."
"Que voulez-vous dire?" she insisted.
"Parlez Anglais?" returned he senten
tiously. "Parlez Anglais?"
"Ah," she said, as he raised her fingers
to his lips, "I see. But, my dear mon
sieur, this pleasure, after twenty-five
years interruption of our old acquaint
ance, is indeed appreciated. How much
we have to talk over, the changes of
time, old friends in France and all that.
And you will surely forgive me for not
welcoming you when you arrived"
"You knock me silly, madame, as
Vashington say at Trenton," interrupted
the marquis. "I comprendez it vas ze
toilette zat detain you. I catch on."
"What is that?" sharply asked his
hostess. "I ah, Marie! Where is she?"
"In ze boudoir," responded he. "Ze
last vord she say, 'Old man, give me not
away,' ahe refer to ze costume."
"Give away her costume!" said Mrs.
Cathcart, in a stunned sort of way. "I
do not understand."
Ralph had been on tenter hooks all
this time; he feared an explosion was at
hand. With a smothered exclamation
he ran out of the room to seek Jardine
and Evvy.
. His mother looked after him.
"It is nozzings," said the marquis
happily. "It is ze razzle dazzle, ze
skates, as Hawzorn call it."
Mrs. Cathcart edged away from him.
"Really," she began, when he broke in:
"You astonish wiz my fluency in ze
Anslais? Ralph he teach me, I teach
Marie."
Mrs. Cathcart caught her breath; she
knew her son of old.
"Ralph taught you English?" she said
a crimson flood spreading across her
face, a light breaking in upon her.
"Maisoui," answered the smiling mar
quis. "I vill speak no ozer tong it is
ravishment. You must hear Marie; she
climb all over me, as zey say in ze school
at Concord."
She had not a word to say. What
could she have said? But her anger for
Ralph was something more than normal
"Oui," her guest was volubly going
on, "Marie she work ze Anglais for all
it is vorth."
And then Tom Jardine was with them,
his face a match for hers.
"Tom," said she, "have you heard that
Ralph is responsible for the English of
the marquis and his daughter?"
"It is simply outrageous," returned
that young man. "And Evvy wishes
us all to talk this way in order to screen
Ralph. I've just had a tiff withjier re
garding the matter."
"Tiff!" cried the marquis. "Zat is ze
same as scrap, eh?"
"Pardon me, monsieur," said Mrs.
Cathcart; "allow me Mr. Tom Jar
dine." The marquis grasped Jardine's hand.
"Ah," he murmured, "Ralph he tell me
you vill be ze mari ze husband of
Mees Cathcart. I congr-ratulate you,
sair. Mees Cathcart is too sweec for
any use. Madame, je lui en ai fait mon
compliment."
Jardine was a thoroughly angry man.
The happy frame of mind of Ralph's
victim did not tend to placate him. He
heard a sound out in the hall, and he
thought it was Ralph come to see how
he would disport himself. He did not
care what happened, the marquis should
not be made a jest of any further.
"Monsieur," he said, "I regret to say
that a miserable practical joke"
He got no further, for it had not been
Ralph in the hall; instead, there stood a
vision of youth and beauty, one of the
fairest of the lilies of France, and ar
rayed in the Solomon glory of Felix.
Mrs. Cathcart went toward her with
outstretched arms.
"Marie," she said, my dear child, est
ce bien vous? is it really you?" and
Marie, standing there bashfully, her
beautiful eyes raised gently, merely an
swered: "Ah, zare!"
Mrs. Cathcart fell back.
"Marie," called her father, "salute
madame!"
1 Marie raised her coral lips to the elder
lady, and wondered at the chaste ness of
the salute she received.
"Marie," said the marquis, "behold ze
fiance of Mees Cathcart, Mistair Tommy
Garden. Ah, you must hear Marie's
E-english."
Marie, bowing low to Jardine, mod
estly said:
"Papa, you make me tired, go take ze
valk and get ze hair cut."
Mrs. Cathcart, who was now begin
ning to look something like a novelist's
duchess, and not so much like a morti
fied woman, here interposed:
"Mrie." she said, "I am sorer, heart
ily sorry" when her heart failed her the
girl seemed so happy "I mean, you are
looking lovely."
"Oh," returned Marie in a low voice,
her eyes downcast, "vat are you giving
us, taffy?"
"I mean," Mrs. Cathcart went on he
roically, "that your gown is vastly be
coming." Even a modest girl takes courage when
her dress is praised.
"Oh, ze bal Americain," lisped M?.rie.
"I shall go to ze bal. I shall have ze
daisy time. I shall get ze vork in. Papa,
he is not in it he is vat you say on ze
shelf, played. Yet papa he is ze trump,"
and she kissed the marquis filially; "but
I have ze drop on ze Anglais."
"You see," the marquis fairly beamed,
"Marie speak ze E-english like ze luui
tum. You tumbles, as ze poet, John L.,
ask."
"Ah," said Marie, with a sweet girl
ish laugh, "I nevair get left. I get zere
all ze same."
Jardine had been fairly boiling; speech
was a safety valve.
"This is more than shocking," he said.
"I am ready to faint," poor Mrs. Cath-
I cart managed to whisper.
Jardine raised his shoulders. "Mon
sieur, he said, "there is ah consider
able of a mistake. The garden is not
unpleasantly cool; if you will go there
with me I will explain."
Marie looked kindly at him.
"Ze jardin," she said. "Go, papa, and
chin wiz Tommy; I would be wiz ma
dame. Scoot! Get ze move on you!
Light out! Skip! Dust! Ah, vat I see?"
What she saw was a photograph of
Ralph on a table. She went there with
her father and examined the picture.
"Oh, Tom!" gasped Mrs. Cathcart.
"Come, monsieur," called Tom, his
nostrils expanded.
"Not a word, Tom," said a voice, and .
Evvy had quietly entered the room.
"Ralph is nearly beside himself."
But Jardine was not in a state of
mind to bear contradiction. "I certain
ly shall tell this man the truth," he
said. ' .
"Then everything is over between us,"
returned Evvy in his own manner.
Her mother wrung her gloved hands.
"Be still, mamma," said Evvy, herself
on the verge of desperation. "There will
certainly be a way out of it. Ralph is
nearly frantic."
"Come, monsieur," said Jardine. "Ex
plain to him," whispered Evvy to her
lover, a heightened color in her face,
"and we are strangers from this night
on."
But Jardine paid no attention to her.
"Monsieur?" he called peremptorily.
The marquis ambled away from the
table.
"I am wiz you, moncher," he said.
Then gallantly to Evvy, "Mees, I con
gratulate you; you are Mistair Tommy's
best girl," and with a profusion' of bows
and apologetic gestures he followed after
Jardine, who carried himself like a ram
rod. Only then did Marie put down the
picture of Ralph.
"Good," said she. "Now, I wiz ze
mama and ze sistair of ze man zat teach
papa ze beautiful E-english. I love my
Ralph first because he teaoh papa ze
beautiful E-english. You catch on? I
may make ze mistake ten times out of
nine, but if madame or mees vill tip me
ze vink I vill make ze regular circus
every time. See? I am ze talker from
Talkerville. See?"
Mrs. Cathcart sat heavily down.
"Was there ever such a horror?" she
asked of space.
"Marie" said Evvy, then stopped,
for what had she to say?
Marie looked timidly at her. .
"But my E-english is beautiful?" she
asked deprecatingly. "It is not passee?
It is moderne?"
"Very modern," answered Evvy, with
meaning; "very, very modern."
"Ah!" cried Marie gleefully, "I like
ze mode my costume du bal is ze mode.
I am ze stuff. I vill paint ze town."
Evvy caught her arm.
"My poor Marie!" she said. "Oh,"
viciously, "if I had my will of Ralph!"
"Vill!" echoed Marie, "Vill of Ralph!
Vill zat means ze test'ment of ze man
vat pass in ze checks, kicks ze bucket
and leave ze boodle. Ralph Ralph is
not ill!"
"I should like to make him so," re
plied Evvy.
Marie jerked herself away from her
and drew herself up.
"Mademoiselle," she said, with con
siderable hauteur, "you must not sit on
Ralph ze person zat give my Ralph ze
cold shake is N. G. You hear me?"
Mrs. Cathcart had split one of her
gloves in pieces.
"Marie," she said with hysterical de
termination, "come with me; I must ex
plain this a wf ulness to you."
But she had her daughter to contend
with.
"Mamma," said Evvy, "remember!
Ralph loves her. Separate them and I
do not know what will happen. "
"I will not allow this to go on," re
turned her mother. "Marie!"
"But ze bal!" demurred Marie; "do we
not attend ze bal, vare I shoot off my
E-english?"
"I must speak with you," said the ex
cited matron. "Ralph has not been
kind to you."
Marie started, but looked incredulous.
"Not kind!" she repeated. "Vy he
teach papa ze E-english. Veil, I vill
listen, but Ralph you cannot make not
kind. Zat is ze size of it. Ta, ta, Mees
Evvy! So long!"
TO BS CONTINUED.
2 or 3 dwellings and 2 or 3 store houses.
John A. Williams,