FOR THE SAKE OF TOODLEUMS
"Now, Bert, listen," said Mrs. Rodney, taking her brother into full confidence. "I want to talk to you. Tom is really the best husband that ever was. Of course I've never had another husband, but just think how he adores our baby—our Toodleums!"
Bert Loring glanced at his sister's face to gather that the last remark was as a gold seal on her husband's virtues. She was young, pretty, and winsome. She was also Loring's only sister. Nevertheless he rubbed his chin a trifle doubtfully, for Rodney was a sad failure in a business sense.
"Oh, well," he returned at last. "Since you say so, I presume that settles the matter. You ought to know, Mary. Personally, I've nothing against Tom."
"No," she affirmed decisively. "No one could help liking Tom. He's just the most lovable fellow imaginable, so generous and kind-hearted toward every one."
"Um—er—Oh yes!" nodded the brother. "There's no question about Tom's generosity."
He was thinking of the last occasion when he chanced upon Tom downtown. With great cordiality Tom invited him to lunch. It was a capital lunch, too, nothing wanting, only—somehow Tom found it was unfortunately necessary to borrow five dollars to pay for it. He had forgotten to drop in at his bankers, By Golly! That was a joke on Tom, at which he laughed in the utmost good nature. His wife was quite right when she spoke of his kindly disposition toward every one. The waiter's smile bore witness to it, when helping to adjust Tom's overcoat. Loring went out with his overcoat collar bracing his ears. So much for the waiter's discernment.
"But, you see, Bert," explained Mrs. Rodney, "Tom's only drawback is that he has never been given a chance to prove what he is really worth. He's wonderfully bright."
"As bright as a new five-dollar gold piece," subconsciously acquiesced the brother. He was still thinking of the lunch.
"And ambitious for bigger things," added Mrs. Rodney.
"I don't doubt it," nodded her brother. It occurred to him that Tom was capable of ordering a mighty fine dinner.
"Then, Bert, why don't you get him a good position in your insurance office?"
"What!" he cried. "Pardon me, Mary, I didn't quite—"
"Hush!" she laid a finger on her lips. "Don't be so noisy, Bert. You'll wake Toodleums. Yes," she went on in an undertone, "a good position in your insurance office. One in which Tom could shine and Toodleums feel proud of his Dada. You know how attached you are to Toodleums—the precious!"
"Yes, but you see, Mary," her brother began to protest, "the shining positions in our office are pretty well all occupied. I don't glitter much yet, and I've been years climbing up from the bottom."
"But Tom is so brilliant—such a fine talker," declared Mrs. Rodney enthusiastically. "If he were once given the chance he would jump right up to the top. Everybody likes him."
"Well, our president has been pretty good to me," he remarked. "I'd really hate to see him lose his job—I mean within the next few weeks—even on Tom's account."
"Bert, don't be ridiculous and sarcastic. Toodleums—the love—does not like people who are sarcastic."
"No, probably not. But honestly, Mary, you must see what I mean. If I got Tom a position in our office, he would have to take his chance with the rest. But, as you say, he is a good talker, and might do pretty well in outside work."
"Then you will introduce him to your president?"
Her face lit up with pride at the success of her plan to obtain a position for her husband.
"I'll put him in line to show what he's made of. That's all I can promise at present."
"Then you may kiss Toodleums," she added by way of great reward.
She rose and moved softly toward a lace ruffled and beribboned shrine.
"And be careful, Bert," she enjoined, "you don't stumble over something and wake the sweetest. You are so clumsy in comparison with Tom."
Loring faithfully kept the promise to his sister. He first spoke with Tom, pointing out the excellent chances for a good talker in the insurance business, and the agreeable nature of outside work. For the right man it might lead to the confidence of millionaires, and the friendship of United States Senators. Tom was quite enthusiastic.
"Just the thing," he cried, slapping Loring on the shoulder. "The very position I've been looking for. Don't worry about the beginning at the bottom of the ladder idea. I'll climb up hand over fist. You watch me."
So Loring introduced his brother-in-law to the chief of the proper department, and with him Tom talked with much enthusiasm of purpose. He was finally told to report the next morning, when full instructions would be given. He was in such high feather on the way home that he bought a silver rattle for Toodleums—on credit.
His conference with the chief of his department the next morning was satisfactory in all respects. He appeared to grasp quickly the details of the various insurance policies, and spoke confidently of what he intended to do with the list of prominent citizens he was instructed to call upon.
"Mr. Vandermorgan. Sure! I'll touch him for a one hundred thousand dollar policy right away. If I clean him up before lunch, I guess that would be doing something."
"I guess it would," agreed the chief, who knew how for many months they had fished unsuccessfully for Mr. Vandermorgan.
So Tom gathered up his papers and strode briskly out of the office. He took the elevator with the air of a man who talked in nothing less than six figures. Then he went out and walked around the block. When he came back to the majestic portals of the Long Life Building he paused to reflect. An idea seemed to occur to him. That it was a corking idea, the pleased expression on his face indicated. He again took the elevator, and was shot up to the floor on which his brother-in-law's office was located.
"Hello, Bert!" he greeted, looking in at the door.
"Hello, Tom! How's business? How are you getting along?"
"Fine! Just going out to tackle Vandermorgan."
"Good! Hope you'll land him."
"Yes," Tom proceeded, drawing a chair up to his brother-in-law's desk, and spreading out his papers. "But I thought I'd have a talk with you first."
"Well, go ahead. Glad to help out in any way possible."
"Yes, that's just what I thought. Now, see here, Bert, how about your taking out one of our ten-thousand-dollar policies?"
"What!" cried Loring, falling back in his chair. "Man alive! What on earth do I want with a ten-thousand-dollar policy?"
"That's the point. That's just what I want to talk to you about," argued Tom complacently. "Every man ought to provide for the comfort and happiness of his wife after his death. That's about how the chief said I might begin."
"But you know I haven't got a wife," protested Loring.
"Well, that doesn't alter the case. Those near and dear to you will do as well," went on Tom sympathetically. "Those attached to you by the strongest ties."
"By the strongest ties?" questioned Loring.
"Sure! There are Mary and little Toodleums. As you are going to be Toodleums' godfather do it for the sake of Toodleums. I'll just fill out an application in his favor. Of course we'd hate for anything unfortunate to happen to you, but every man should make a suitable provision for those who are dear to him. The chief said that phrase usually catches on."
"Well, I'll be hanged!" ejaculated Loring.
"I sincerely hope not," fervently added Tom, as he prepared to fill out an application blank. "Shall we make it twenty or thirty thousand dollars?" he asked, looking up calmly.
"Make it five and then go and chase Vandermorgan," retorted Loring, fearful that worse might happen.
"All right. Five thousand dollars in favor of Toodleums. See you later, Bert," and with a smile Tom strolled out of Loring's office to deposit the signed application with the proper clerk. Suddenly he stopped, drew a pad and pencil from his pocket, and began figuring.
"By Jove," he exclaimed, "not a bad beginning! My commission on that policy is just forty-one dollars and I landed it in less than an hour. That's three hundred and twenty-eight dollars a day, one thousand nine hundred and sixty-eight dollars a week, and—"
His calculations were interrupted by Dick Willman, who grasped his hand and inquired: "How're you getting on, Tom, and where are you bound for? Bert tells me you've taken up life insurance."
"Congratulate me, old fellow. This very morning I dropped into a berth that pays me a hundred thousand a year. I'm through for to-day and am off for home to tell my wife. So long"—and Tom was gone.
He had not yet reached the elevator when he turned, called back to his friend, and going up to him, his face still wreathed in smiles, confided: "Dick, in my hurry to get down to business this morning I came away without even car fare. Loan me a five. Ah, thank you. And come have a bird and a bottle with me at the club to-morrow. Bye-bye," and once more Tom was on his way to carry the news to Mary.
"I knew it and always told people you would make good if you only had half a chance," interrupted his wife, as Tom triumphantly related his morning's success to her.
"Oh, yes," agreed the husband. "I know how to get there all right. By the way, how's Toodleums and how does he like his new rattle?"