The Pit [80]
a ball between his fingers, top-fashion.
"Well," he said at last, hesitatingly, "well--I don't know, J.--you are either Napoleonic--or--or a colossal idiot."
"Neither one nor the other, Samuel. I'm just using a little common sense.... Is it your shot?,"
"I'm blessed if I know."
"Well, we'll start a new game. Sam, I'll give you six balls and beat you in"--he looked at his watch--"beat you before half-past nine."
"For a dollar?"
"I never bet, Sam, and you know it."
Half an hour later Jadwin said:
"Shall we go down and join the ladies? Don't put out your cigar. That's one bargain I made with Laura before we moved in here--that smoking was allowable everywhere."
"Room enough, I guess," observed the broker, as the two stepped into the elevator. "How many rooms have you got here, by the way?"
"Upon my word, I don't know," answered Jadwin. "I discovered a new one yesterday. Fact. I was having a look around, and I came out into a little kind of smoking-room or other that, I swear, I'd never seen before. I had to get Laura to tell me about it."
The elevator sank to the lower floor, and Jadwin and the broker stepped out into the main hallway. From the drawing-room near by came the sound of women s voices.
"Before we go in," said Jadwin, "I want you to see our art gallery and the organ. Last time you were up, remember, the men were still at work in here."
They passed down a broad corridor, and at the end, just before parting the heavy, sombre curtains, Jadwin pressed a couple of electric buttons, and in the open space above the curtain sprang up a lambent, steady glow.
The broker, as he entered, gave a long whistle. The art gallery took in the height of two of the stories of the house. It was shaped like a rotunda, and topped with a vast airy dome of coloured glass. Here and there about the room were glass cabinets full of bibelots, ivory statuettes, old snuff boxes, fans of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The walls themselves were covered with a multitude of pictures, oils, water-colours, with one or two pastels.
But to the left of the entrance, let into the frame of the building, stood a great organ, large enough for a cathedral, and giving to view, in the dulled incandescence of the electrics, its sheaves of mighty pipes.
"Well, this is something like," exclaimed the broker.
"I don't know much about 'em myself," hazarded Jadwin, looking at the pictures, "but Laura can tell you. We bought most of 'em while we were abroad, year before last. Laura says this is the best." He indicated a large "Bougereau" that represented a group of nymphs bathing in a woodland pool.
"H'm!" said the broker, "you wouldn't want some of your Sunday-school superintendents to see this now. This is what the boys down on the Board would call a bar-room picture."
But Jadwin did not laugh.
"It never struck me in just that way," he said, gravely.
"It's a fine piece of work, though," Gretry hastened to add. "Fine, great colouring."
"I like this one pretty well," continued Jadwin, moving to a canvas by Detaille. It was one of the inevitable studies of a cuirassier; in this case a trumpeter, one arm high in the air, the hand clutching the trumpet, the horse, foam-flecked, at a furious gallop. In the rear, through clouds of dust, the rest of the squadron was indicated by a few points of colour.
"Yes, that's pretty neat," concurred Gretry. "He's sure got a gait on. Lord, what a lot of accoutrements those French fellows stick on. Now our boys would chuck about three-fourths of that truck before going into action.... Queer way these artists work," he went on, peering close to the canvas. "Look at it close up and it's just a lot of little daubs, but you get off a distance"--he drew back, cocking his head to one side-- "and you see now. Hey--see how the thing bunches up. Pretty neat, isn't it?" He turned from the picture and rolled his eyes about the room.
"Well, well," he murmured. "This certainly is the real thing, J. I suppose, now, it all represents a pretty
"Well," he said at last, hesitatingly, "well--I don't know, J.--you are either Napoleonic--or--or a colossal idiot."
"Neither one nor the other, Samuel. I'm just using a little common sense.... Is it your shot?,"
"I'm blessed if I know."
"Well, we'll start a new game. Sam, I'll give you six balls and beat you in"--he looked at his watch--"beat you before half-past nine."
"For a dollar?"
"I never bet, Sam, and you know it."
Half an hour later Jadwin said:
"Shall we go down and join the ladies? Don't put out your cigar. That's one bargain I made with Laura before we moved in here--that smoking was allowable everywhere."
"Room enough, I guess," observed the broker, as the two stepped into the elevator. "How many rooms have you got here, by the way?"
"Upon my word, I don't know," answered Jadwin. "I discovered a new one yesterday. Fact. I was having a look around, and I came out into a little kind of smoking-room or other that, I swear, I'd never seen before. I had to get Laura to tell me about it."
The elevator sank to the lower floor, and Jadwin and the broker stepped out into the main hallway. From the drawing-room near by came the sound of women s voices.
"Before we go in," said Jadwin, "I want you to see our art gallery and the organ. Last time you were up, remember, the men were still at work in here."
They passed down a broad corridor, and at the end, just before parting the heavy, sombre curtains, Jadwin pressed a couple of electric buttons, and in the open space above the curtain sprang up a lambent, steady glow.
The broker, as he entered, gave a long whistle. The art gallery took in the height of two of the stories of the house. It was shaped like a rotunda, and topped with a vast airy dome of coloured glass. Here and there about the room were glass cabinets full of bibelots, ivory statuettes, old snuff boxes, fans of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The walls themselves were covered with a multitude of pictures, oils, water-colours, with one or two pastels.
But to the left of the entrance, let into the frame of the building, stood a great organ, large enough for a cathedral, and giving to view, in the dulled incandescence of the electrics, its sheaves of mighty pipes.
"Well, this is something like," exclaimed the broker.
"I don't know much about 'em myself," hazarded Jadwin, looking at the pictures, "but Laura can tell you. We bought most of 'em while we were abroad, year before last. Laura says this is the best." He indicated a large "Bougereau" that represented a group of nymphs bathing in a woodland pool.
"H'm!" said the broker, "you wouldn't want some of your Sunday-school superintendents to see this now. This is what the boys down on the Board would call a bar-room picture."
But Jadwin did not laugh.
"It never struck me in just that way," he said, gravely.
"It's a fine piece of work, though," Gretry hastened to add. "Fine, great colouring."
"I like this one pretty well," continued Jadwin, moving to a canvas by Detaille. It was one of the inevitable studies of a cuirassier; in this case a trumpeter, one arm high in the air, the hand clutching the trumpet, the horse, foam-flecked, at a furious gallop. In the rear, through clouds of dust, the rest of the squadron was indicated by a few points of colour.
"Yes, that's pretty neat," concurred Gretry. "He's sure got a gait on. Lord, what a lot of accoutrements those French fellows stick on. Now our boys would chuck about three-fourths of that truck before going into action.... Queer way these artists work," he went on, peering close to the canvas. "Look at it close up and it's just a lot of little daubs, but you get off a distance"--he drew back, cocking his head to one side-- "and you see now. Hey--see how the thing bunches up. Pretty neat, isn't it?" He turned from the picture and rolled his eyes about the room.
"Well, well," he murmured. "This certainly is the real thing, J. I suppose, now, it all represents a pretty