Grafting.
Indianapolis, Ind., 19—.
Dear Billy:—
Grafting is tipping on a large scale. The average man kicks because the porters, bell boys and waiters hold him up for his small change, but the chances are if you should find out all about the kicker you would find he was a grafter and one of the worst kind.
At the St. Louis exposition I wandered into a dancing hall where the Turkish dancers were going through their agonies, and in looking about the audience, I saw a bumpkin taking in the show. Beside him was his Sunday girl, who was trying to be shocked by the performance. After one or two looks she dropped her eyes and would not be comforted. The guy, who was grinning all over his face, had to take her out, but she was only doing what the grafter often does, playing to the grand stand. If that girl was my wife I would put a detective on her trail right from the start. She reminded me of a woman I saw in Los Angeles once.
This woman was married and very modest, but she got stuck on a friend of mine who was a good deal of a rounder, and she used to come down town to meet him two or three times a week. One day she was coming down in the car and a duffer winked at her. She was wild with indignation, shed tears in the car and demanded that the car be stopped and the conductor call a policeman. The masher left the car, the modest lady kept her appointment with her sweetheart and telephoned to her husband from their trysting place that she was home darning his socks.
The telephone is a great thing, Billy, and by the way it is the bellwether as a grafter. Just show this to the president of the old company in Chicago, he knows it. It doesn’t do to judge from appearances, Billy. Things are not always as they seem. Speaking of grafting, it doesn’t always mean money, but it costs money to go the pace. I was in a town not a hundred miles from this one a short time ago when I ran across Johnny Morgan. You remember Johnny, he was always one of the good boys. He was so d——d good it used to make me mad and I licked him often just because he was so good that it worried me. When Johnny got big enough he went to work instead of living on the old man, like you and I did, and I laid it up against him as much as I did his being good. It seems Johnny has gotten to be a crack salesman and is traveling for a school book house. Easiest thing in the world to sell, I should think, if a fellow has the best, but Johnny says not.
Perhaps I am not learning a lot about tips, or graft, as it is called when it gets into society. You see in order to get his books introduced, Johnny is obliged to present his case to the superintendent of schools. If he succeeds in getting him coming his way, the next thing to do is to tackle the school board. Johnny got this far in telling his story to me and it struck me he was making a strong drink out of a weak one.
“Look here, Johnny,” said I, “what better do you want than that you have an intelligent, educated lot of men to deal with who are after the best thing that can be had for the interests of the school?”
“One minute,” said Johnny, and he swelled up with his superior knowledge of the business, “it is not the educated, intelligent side of the board I have to deal with, but it is the same side that the graft aldermen in the Chicago City Council shows when you want to get a bill through.”
“Do you mean,” said I, “that these school boards have to be seen?”
“Do they? Well, I should say they do, and if they are very intelligent or very well educated they have to be seen two or three times.”
Wouldn’t that knock an educated pup off the balance pole, Billy?
“How are you getting along in this town?” said I.
“That’s just it, Jack, I am not getting along at all. I have them all but one on my side, but he has sort of taken a dislike to me and I can’t budge him an inch. I thought perhaps you might help me out as you are something of a schemer, besides you owe me something for the lickings you used to give me when we were kids.”
“All right, Johnny, I will help you, but not on account of the lickings. They helped to make a man of you.”
Just then a lady came up the street who attracted my attention. She was just my style, tall, slim, dark and handsome, and had eyes that talked in spite of herself. She gave me a look that went under my vest and hurt. Johnny had to shake me before I woke up.
“Isn’t she the whole works, Johnny?” said I.
“Not exactly, Jack. Her brother is the part of the works I can’t make go.”
“Johnny,” said I, grabbing him by the hand, “now I am in dead earnest. We will land that order if it takes the last drink in the bar.”
“How do you propose to do it, Jack?”
“I don’t know yet,” said I, “but you hold the bunch together that you have and I will agree to land the other duffer—what is his name, anyway?”
“Doctor Davidson,” said Johnny, brightening up at my earnestness, “but I don’t think you know what you are up against.”
“Never mind what I am up against, I have given you my promise and Jack Henderson never goes back on his word.”
I had no idea as to how it could be done, but I had decided that the first thing for me to do was to get acquainted with Miss Davidson. Did it ever strike you, Billy, how hard a chap will work to get acquainted with a woman who strikes his fancy? I don’t know of anything he will work harder at unless it is to get rid of one that he has taken a dislike to. I never had much experience in that line, but I was willing to try—no, not willing, for when I thought of those eyes I felt that I must try. I went to work in earnest and found out that she was the doctor’s pet sister, that she lived with him and that her front name was Laura. Billy, I never knew that was such a pretty name before. I actually reformed some, I quit drinking before breakfast.
The next thing I did was to watch my chance and meet her good and fair. I bowed and smiled, but she gave me the busy signal and passed on, then I waked up to the fact that men did not get acquainted with this kind of a girl in that way. Then it came to me that I had heard that society people always had to be introduced and I realized I was up against it right. I could not help but think of what Dug and Konk would say if they knew I had gone nutty on account of a pair of brown eyes and a smile.
My next stroke was a bold one, but it worked. I dropped in at a church social after I had seen Miss Laura enter the church. It is a fact, Billy, though—if I knew how, I would blush to tell it—I really went into a church after those brown eyes. After I got in there I felt as much out of place as I ever did in school; the only familiar face I saw was Laura’s, and I did not dare to look at her. The minister came along and I overheard a little conversation that put me on to the right track. A lady commenced it by saying:
“I enjoyed your lecture last night very much.”
“I am glad you liked it,” said the preacher, “I remember seeing you—your husband was with you.”
“Oh, no, Mr. Parker, my brother was with me; don’t you remember I introduced him to you after the lecture?”
“Yes, yes, certainly,” said Mr. Parker, “but there were so many introductions,” and I knew by the way he said it he was lying and did not remember her nor her brother. This gave me my cue; I got out of that part of the church and waited until the Rev. Mr. Parker came my way again, then I pounced upon him. I shook hands with him as though he was an uncle whom I expected would die soon and leave me a fortune.
“Mr. Parker,” said I, “you remember me, Mr. Henderson, I was introduced to you last night just after your lecture. I was deeply impressed by the way you handled your subject.” I had heard someone else say that to him, so I knew it must be the proper caper. He shook hands with me warmly,—he had to, I was doing the shaking and others were talking to him, but I still hung on. Pulling him towards me I said:
“Mr. Parker, I want you to introduce me to Miss Davidson.” With this I walked him across the room to where I felt she was watching us, and the deed was done.
“Miss Davidson, allow me to present Mr. Henderson,” and the preacher was released and gone. I put out my hand, but there was nothing doing—not with her hands, but her eyes sparkled with fun.
“Mr. Henderson, allow me to congratulate you on your wonderful nerve,” said she, and don’t you know, Billy, that was a body blow for me. I was down and nearly out and I know I must have looked foolish. I was not counted out, though, for I recovered before anyone could have counted more than nine.
“Miss Davidson,” said I, “I tried to be square and get acquainted without an introduction, but you wouldn’t have it that way, so I did the best I could.”
“Yes,” said she, “and you trapped a preacher into being your tool to carry out your plans.”
Say, Billy, but those brown eyes were the only lights in the room, but she had the hooks into me good and proper and I was squirming and gasping for breath. I felt that I could not hurt my case any and I spoke out just as I felt and just as I caught another glimpse of those eyes, I said:
“Miss Laura, I would have gone to the hot place and asked the devil to help me if I could have gotten there quicker than the way I went to work.”
“I believe you would, Mr. Henderson, and I am glad to know that you are honest even if your language is forceful.”
“Call me Jack,” said I, “and you can walk on my face.”
Say, Billy, wasn’t I gone to the bumpers, though?
“Sit down here, Mr. Jack,” said she, “I want to talk to you.”
We sat down, some one came around with refreshments, cake and ice cream.
“No pot wash for me,” said I, “haven’t you any—” I was going to say bug juice, but just then Miss Laura stuck a pin into my leg and said to the attendant:
“Mr. Henderson says he does not feel like eating ice cream, but will take something later.”
The attendant passed on; ain’t she a trump, though.
“Look here, Mr. Jack,” said she, “did you ever see Mr. Parker before tonight, or did any one introduce you?”
“You have sized the case all right, Miss Laura, but what of it? I had to do it.”
“A song by Miss Davidson,” said some one, and Miss Laura turned to me and said:
“Either get your hat and go or else don’t speak to any one while I am gone.”
“Call me Jack,” said I.
“Jack.”
“I’ll be here.”
She was on to my curves all right. She knew if I tried to talk to any of that bunch I would spill. A fellow with a shock of tan colored hair worked the piano for her and she sang something that made me hold my breath. They gave her the hand and then she sang “Home, Sweet Home” in a way that would bring tears from a deaf mute. When she came back to me the tears were running down my cheeks, but I didn’t know it until she laughed.
“You are a good-hearted boy,” said she, “but don’t you think you had better go now? I must not spend all my time with you, you know, and I want to talk to some of the other people.”
“No,” said I, “this may be my last chance of heaven and I am going to see you home.”
She looked startled for a moment and then said:
“All right, you wait here a few minutes.”
She came back in a few minutes with her things on. I went home with her and don’t remember to have hit the ground but three times walking the four blocks. I don’t know what she said to me, but she called me Jack and in some way made it plain to me that I was outclassed. I stayed up with the bartender until he closed up that night, and we got awful chummy with a dub from New York, who had invented a new drink. He called it a “sleeper,” and I guess it was, for I did not wake up until twelve o’clock the next day. When I came down the first man I met was Johnny Morgan. He shook my hand as though he had not seen me for a year, and said, with tears in his voice:
“You are a brick, Jack, you’re a brick; how did you do it? At a meeting of the board this morning the doctor not only voted for my books, but he talked for them.”
Johnny insisted on my taking twenty-five dollars. I hadn’t said anything about the books, neither had I thought of them, but it was a case of graft. Anyway, I took the twenty-five.
Yours,
Jack.
“CAPT. JONES, I AM PLEASED TO MAKE YOUR ACQUAINTANCE.”
The Long Salesman.
Jack
Henderson.