Selden had not heartily liked Lord Mount Dunstan, and lived in the atmosphere surrounding him, looking about him with sharp young New York eyes, without learning a good deal.
He had seen the practical hardship of the situation, and laid it bare.
"What Mr.Penzance says is that he's like the men that built things in the beginning--fought for them--fought Romans and Saxons and Normans--perhaps the whole lot at different times.I used to like to get Mr.Penzance to tell stories about the Mount Dunstans.They were splendid.It must be pretty fine to look back about a thousand years and know your folks have been something.All the same its pretty fierce to have to stand alone at the end of it, not able to help yourself, because some of your relations were crazy fools.I don't wonder he feels mad.""Does he?" Mr.Vanderpoel inquired.
"He's straight," said G.Selden sympathetically."He's all right.But only money can help him, and he's got none, so he has to stand and stare at things falling to pieces.And--well, I tell you, Mr.Vanderpoel, he LOVES that place--he's crazy about it.And he's proud--I don't mean he's got the swell-head, because he hasn't--but he's just proud.Now, for instance, he hasn't any use for men like himself that marry just for money.He's seen a lot of it, and it's made him sick.
He's not that kind."
He had been asked and had answered a good many questions before he went away, but each had dropped into the talk so incidentally that he had not recognised them as queries.
He did not know that Lord Mount Dunstan stood out a clearly defined figure in Mr.Vanderpoel's mind, a figure to be reflected upon, and one not without its attraction.
"Miss Vanderpoel tells me," Mr.Vanderpoel said, when the interview was drawing to a close, "that you are an agent for the Delkoff typewriter."G.Selden flushed slightly.
"Yes, sir," he answered, "but I didn't----""I hear that three machines are in use on the Stornham estate, and that they have proved satisfactory.""It's a good machine," said G.Selden, his flush a little deeper.
Mr.Vanderpoel smiled.
"You are a business-like young man," he said, "and Ihave no doubt you have a catalogue in your pocket."G.Selden was a business-like young man.He gave Mr.
Vanderpoel one serious look, and the catalogue was drawn forth.
"It wouldn't be business, sir, for me to be caught out without it," he said."I shouldn't leave it behind if I went to a funeral.A man's got to run no risks.""I should like to look at it."
The thing had happened.It was not a dream.Reuben S.
Vanderpoel, clothed and in his right mind, had, without pressure being exerted upon him, expressed his desire to look at the catalogue--to examine it--to have it explained to him at length.
He listened attentively, while G.Selden did his best.He asked a question now and then, or made a comment.His manner was that of a thoroughly composed man of business, but he was remembering what Betty had told him of the "ten per," and a number of other things.He saw the flush come and go under the still boyish skin, he observed that G.
Selden's hand was not wholly steady, though he was making an effort not to seem excited.But he was excited.This actually meant--this thing so unimportant to multi-millionaires --that he was having his "chance," and his young fortunes were, perhaps, in the balance.
"Yes," said Reuben S., when he had finished, "it seems a good, up-to-date machine.""It's the best on the market," said G.Selden, "out and out, the best.""I understand you are only junior salesman?""Yes, sir.Ten per and five dollars on every machine Isell.If I had a territory, I should get ten.""Then," reflectively, "the first thing is to get a territory.""Perhaps I shall get one in time, if I keep at it," said Selden courageously.
"It is a good machine.I like it," said Mr.Vanderpoel.
"I can see a good many places where it could be used.Perhaps, if you make it known at your office that when you are given a good territory, I shall give preference to the Delkoff over other typewriting machines, it might--eh?"A light broke out upon G.Selden's countenance--a light radiant and magnificent.He caught his breath.A desire to shout--to yell--to whoop, as when in the society of "the boys," was barely conquered in time.
"Mr.Vanderpoel," he said, standing up, "I--Mr.
Vanderpoel--sir--I feel as if I was having a pipe dream.I'm not, am I?""No," answered Mr.Vanderpoel, "you are not.I like you, Mr.Selden.My daughter liked you.I do not mean to lose sight of you.We will begin, however, with the territory, and the Delkoff.I don't think there will be any difficulty about it.".....
Ten minutes later G.Selden was walking down Fifth Avenue, wondering if there was any chance of his being arrested by a policeman upon the charge that he was reeling, instead of walking steadily.He hoped he should get back to the hall bedroom safely.Nick Baumgarten and Jem Bolter both "roomed" in the house with him.He could tell them both.It was Jem who had made up the yarn about one of them saving Reuben S.Vanderpoel's life.There had been no life-saving, but the thing had come true.
"But, if it hadn't been for Lord Mount Dunstan," he said, thinking it over excitedly, "I should never have seen Miss Vanderpoel, and, if it hadn't been for Miss Vanderpoel, I should never have got next to Reuben S.in my life.Both sides of the Atlantic Ocean got busy to do a good turn to Little Willie.Hully gee!"In his study Mr.Vanderpoel was rereading Betty's letters.
He felt that he had gained a certain knowledge of Lord Mount Dunstan.
