III
“Crazy! You’ve gone plumb stark crazy!” said Helen, as she thrust her arms into the dishwater. “It’s cruel to raise mother’s hopes that way. You know well enough that as things are going we’re just about getting by, with the grocery bill two months behind and that eternal interest on the mortgage hanging over us like the well-known sword of Damocles.”
“The sword is in my hands!” declared John, balancing a plate on the tip of his finger. “How does that old tune go?
The Campbells are coming, tra la, tra la,
The Campbells are coming, tra la!
There’s a bit of Scotch in us, and I feel my blood tingle to those blithe martial strains! What’s the rule for drying dishes, sis? Do you make ’em shine like a collar from a Chinese laundry, or is the dull domestic finish in better form?”
“If you break that plate I’ll poison your breakfast coffee! If I didn’t know you for a sober boy I’d think you’d been keeping tryst with a bootlegger! You don’t seem to understand that you sat there at the table spending money like Midas on a spree. You couldn’t borrow a cent if you tried!”
“Borrow!” he mocked. “I’m going to pull this thing off according to specifications, and I’m not going to borrow a cent. I expect to be refusing offers of money gently but firmly within a week. Observe my smoke, dearest one! Watch my fleet sail right up to the big dam in Sycamore River laden like the ships of Tarshish that brought gifts of silver and gold and ivory, apes and peacocks for Solomon’s delight!”
“You’re not calling the Campbells apes and peacocks!”
“Not on your life! All those rich treasures will be yours and mine, O Helen of Kernville! The Campbells are rich enough. We’re not going to embarrass them by piling any more wealth on ’em. But the magic of the name of Walter Scott Campbell, if properly invoked, manipulated and flaunted will put us all on the high road to fame and fortune.”
“You’ll break mama’s heart if you begin bragging about her acquaintance with this woman she hasn’t seen for a quarter of a century! She’s already warned you against vulgar boasting.”
“Keep mother busy planning for the care and entertainment of our guests! I’ll hold father steady. This being Thursday I’ve got time enough to plan the campaign before Sunday. I’ll lay down a barrage and throw myself upon the enemy. To the cheering strains of ‘The Campbells are Coming!’ we’ll cross the valley of death and plant our flag on the battlements without a scratch or the loss of a man.”
By the time the kitchen was in order he had her laughing and quite won to his idea that it was perfectly legitimate to avail themselves fully of the great opportunity offered by the Campbells’ visit.
“Nothing undignified at all! The Campbells will never be conscious of my proceedings as they don’t read the Kernville papers and will linger only a day. By the way, it happens that Billy Townley, a fraternity brother of mine, has just been made city editor of the Journal and Billy and I used to pull some good stunts when we were together at the ’varsity. When I hiss the password in his ear and tell him I’ll need a little space daily for a few weeks he’ll go right down the line for me. And the boys on the Evening Sun are friends of mine, too. They have less space but they make up for it with bigger headlines.”
“You’re a dear boy, John, if you are crazy! I believe you can do most anything you tackle, and I’ll stand by you whether you land us in jail or in the poorhouse.”
“Bully for you, sis!” And then lowering his voice, “This chance may never come again! I’m going to wring every possible drop out of it even as you wring out that dish rag. By-the-way, if it isn’t impertinent, when did you see Ned last?”
“Not since the day you saw me walking with him—for the last time. But he telephoned this afternoon. He wanted to come up this evening.”
“Well, he’s of age and the curfew law can’t touch him. What was the answer?”
“I told him I wouldn’t be at home. I’m not going to have him calling here when his mother barely speaks to me! Ned didn’t say so, but I suspect she gave him a good scolding for taking me instead of Sally to the Seebrings’ dance.”
“How do you get that? If he didn’t tell you——!”
“Of course not! But Sally had to go with her mother and there were more girls than men; so Sally only had about half the dances and the rest of the time sat on the sidelines with her mother and Mrs. Kirby. I caught a look now and then that was quite suggestive of murder in the first degree.”
“Helen,” said John, lifting his eyes dreamily to the ceiling, “I’ll wager a diamond tiara against one of your delicious buckwheat cakes that you and I will get an invitation to the Kirby party.”
“Taken! The cards went out yesterday. I met some of the girls downtown this morning, and they were buzzing about it.”
“Let ’em buzz! Ours will probably come special delivery with a note of explanation that in copying the list or something of the kind we were regrettably omitted. And let me see,” he went on, rubbing his chin reflectively, “I rather think Ned will ask you to go to the party with him. It occurs to me that old man Shepherd owns some land he’s trying to sell to the Transcontinental, and the railway people are shy of it because it’s below the flood line on our perverse river. Yes; I think we may jar the Shepherds a little too.”
“Why, John!” she laughed as she hung up her apron, “you almost persuade me that you’ve already got free swing at the Campbell boodle!”
“I look at it this way, Helen. We can all spend our own money; it’s getting the benefit of other people’s money that requires genius. I must now step down to the public library and to the Journal office to get some dope on the Campbells. Also I’ll have to sneak mother’s photograph of Mrs. Campbell out of the house. A few illustrations will give tone to our publicity stuff.”
“Be bold, John, but not too bold!”
“‘The Campbells are coming, tra la!’” he sang mockingly, and spiking her hands, hummed the air and danced back and forth across the kitchen. “By jing, that tune’s wonderful for the toddle!” he cried exultantly. “We’ll make all Kernville step to it.”