Chapter XIII
Mr. James Gillie looked to-day an entirely different person to what he had appeared when he first came courting his wife. He had never lacked a bold front, at any time, but in those early days his salary of $14 per did not permit any great latitude in the important matter of furnishing his wardrobe. Compelled to be satisfied with the cheapest ready-made garments, the knowledge of his sartorial shortcomings had always exercised a certain sobering effect on him, especially when in presence of his superiors. But now conditions had changed. Thanks to his present employer's liberality, he was able to stamp himself with the hall mark of success. As Robert Stafford's right-hand man, drawing $5,000 a year, self-denial was no longer necessary; he could indulge his taste to the limit. Dressed in a fashionably cut evening dress coat, with white tie and waistcoat, patent-leather pumps and silk socks with embroidered trees, anyone might have easily taken him for a gentleman—until they heard him talk. His speech, crude and slangy as ever, seemed to have lagged behind in his climb toward business and social recognition.
Nor could it be said that the young man, so fertile in ideas, had lived up to all the brilliant promises which he had made. After two years rich with opportunities of a kind which fall to the lot of few men, he had accomplished nothing that was at all likely to prove of lasting or even temporary benefit to his fellow man. Much to his astonishment and mortification, his most cherished inventions had been openly derided as little better than the ravings of a lunatic, and he soon discovered that no one in the railroad office—not even the office boy—took him seriously. He was tolerated by the office staff because he happened to be the husband of the boss' sister-in-law, but no one dreamed for an instant of entrusting him with any work involving responsibility. He was given an occupation in which he would do the least harm, and for his services his millionaire employer, anxious to help his sister-in-law in every way possible, humorously invented quite a novel rate of remuneration. He decided to pay Jimmie exactly ten times what he was actually worth. Thus at first when the clerk was actually worth $5 he was given $50; later when he was worth $10 he was raised to $100. Being quite unaware of this carefully graduated scale of wages, made specially in his honor, Jimmy went to the Stafford office every day wearing the same jaunty self-confident air, convinced that his employer was underpaying him and that he was a very valuable person, indeed.
As he entered Fanny ran up to him and kissed him impulsively. Jimmie looked at her in surprise. Comically he remarked:
"What's that for? A touch?"
She laughed heartily.
"Not this time." Looking admiringly at her husband, she added:
"Well, I guess this was some night for the Gillie family, eh?"
"Yes—wasn't it!" exclaimed Virginia, still occupied in preparing for the night.