"Pooh!" **** cried, craftily."You aren't plump enough to be sensitive about it.Why, you're just right." There was something very boyish about his manner, as he caught at the girl's arm.A memory of the days when she had cuddled him caused him to speak warmly, forgetting the presence of his father.
"Now, don't be angry, Sadie.Just give me a little kiss, as you used to do." He swept her into his arms, and his lips met hers in a hearty caress."There!" he cried."Just to show there's no ill feeling."The girl was completely mollified, though in much embarrassment.
"Why, Mr.****!" she stammered, in confusion."Why, Mr.****!"Gilder, who had watched the scene in great astonishment, now interposed to end it.
"Stop, ****!" he commanded, crisply."You are actually ****** Sarah blush.I think that's about enough, son."But a sudden unaccustomed gust of affection swirled in the breast of the lad.Plain Anglo-Saxon as he was, with all that implies as to the avoidance of displays of emotion, nevertheless he had been for a long time in lands far from home, where the habits of impulsive and affectionate peoples were radically unlike our own austerer forms.So now, under the spur of an impulse suggested by the dalliance with the buxom secretary, he grinned widely and went to his father.
"A little kiss never hurts any one," he declared, blithely.Then he added vivaciously: "Here, I'll show you!"With the words, he clasped his arms around his father's neck, and, before that amazed gentleman could understand his purpose, he had kissed soundly first the one cheek and then the other, each with a hearty, wholesome smack of filial piety.This done, he stood back, still beaming happily, while the astounded Sarah tittered bewilderedly.For his own part, **** was quite unashamed.He loved his father.For once, he had expressed that fondness in a primitive fashion, and he was glad.
The older man withdrew a step, and there rested motionless, under the sway of an emotion akin to dismay.He stood staring intently at his son with a perplexity in his expression that was almost ludicrous.When, at last, he spoke, his voice was a rumble of strangely shy pleasure.
"God bless my soul!" he exclaimed, violently.Then he raised a hand, and rubbed first one cheek, and after it its fellow, with a gentleness that was significant.The feeling provoked by the embrace showed plainly in his next words."Why, that's the first time you have kissed me, ****, since you were a little boy.God bless my soul!" he repeated.And now there was a note of jubilation.
The son, somewhat disturbed by this emotion he had aroused, nevertheless answered frankly with the expression of his own feeling, as he advanced and laid a hand on his father's shoulder.
"The fact is, Dad," he said quietly, with a smile that was good to see, "I am awfully glad to see you again.""Are you, son?" the father cried happily.Then, abruptly his manner changed, for he felt himself perilously close to the maudlin in this new yielding to sentimentality.Such kisses of tenderness, however agreeable in themselves, were hardly fitting to one of his dignity."You clear out of here, boy," he commanded, brusquely."I'm a working man.But here, wait a minute," he added.He brought forth from a pocket a neat sheaf of banknotes, which he held out."There's carfare for you," he said with a chuckle."And now clear out.I'll see you at dinner."**** bestowed the money in his pocket, and again turned toward the door.
"You can always get rid of me on the same terms," he remarked slyly.And then the young man gave evidence that he, too, had some of his father's ability in things financial.For, in the doorway he turned with a final speech, which was uttered in splendid disregard for the packet of money he had just received--perhaps, rather, in a splendid regard for it."Oh, Dad, please don't forget to give Sadie that five dollars Iborrowed from her for the taxi'." And with that impertinent reminder he was gone.
The owner of the store returned to his labors with a new zest, for the meeting with his son had put him in high spirits.
Perhaps it might have been better for Mary Turner had she come to him just then, while he was yet in this softened mood.But fate had ordained that other events should restore him to his usual harder self before their interview.The effect was, indeed, presently accomplished by the advent of Smithson into the office.
He entered with an expression of discomfiture on his rather vacuous countenance.He walked almost nimbly to the desk and spoke with evident distress, as his employer looked up interrogatively.
"McCracken has detained--er--a--lady, sir," he said, feebly.
"She has been searched, and we have found about a hundred dollars worth of laces on her.""Well?" Gilder demanded, impatiently.Such affairs were too common in the store to make necessary this intrusion of the matter on him."Why did you come to me about it?" His staff knew just what to do with shoplifters.
At once, Smithson became apologetic, while refusing to retreat.
"I'm very sorry, sir," he said haltingly, "but I thought it wiser, sir, to--er--to bring the matter to your personal attention.""Quite unnecessary, Smithson," Gilder returned, with asperity.
"You know my views on the subject of property.Tell McCracken to have the thief arrested."Smithson cleared his throat doubtfully, and in his stress of feeling he even relaxed a trifle that majestical erectness of carriage that had made him so valuable as a floor-walker.
"She's not exactly a--er--a thief," he ventured.
