§ 2
Alice’s boy was born in October and was christened Ralph Sturgis Beardsley by the Reverend Doctor Fitzgibbons, much to Mrs. Sturgis’ tearful satisfaction. Alice had a comparatively easy time with the birth of her second child, but again there was an aftermath which kept her weak and anæmic and necessitated an operation just before Christmas.
It was just before Christmas that Jeannette urged Martin to ask for a raise. Several circumstances encouraged her: she had learned through Miss Holland that Walt Chase was getting eighty-five dollars a week,—a big mail order concern out in Chicago had made him an offer and Mr. Corey had been obliged to raise his salary in order to keep him; Martin had met John Archibald of the Archibald Engraving Company, the largest color engravers in the city, and Mr. Archibald had bought Martin a drink at the bar in the Waldorf and presented him with a cigar; lastly, her husband had landed a new engraving account a few weeks before and had brought in considerable holiday business. Martin heeded her advice and had a talk with Herbert Gibbs, who promised to take the matter up with his brother, Joe, and seemed disposed to recommend the increase. In the wildest of spirits, Martin came home, waltzed his wife around the apartment, kissed her a dozen times, told her again and again she was a wonder, insisted she stop her preparations for dinner, and carried her off to a café downtown where he ordered a pint of champagne and toasted her.
His elation, however, was not fully justified. Martin had asked for a substantial increase and a commission on all new accounts. It was evident that in discussing the matter, the brothers had decided this was too much. They agreed to give him three thousand a year on a twelve months’ contract.
“I always detested that flat-headed pig,” Jeannette exclaimed inelegantly when Martin brought home the news. “Think of how we tried to entertain him and that stupid wife of his, and how we went down to visit them and let them bore us to death! I knew he was that kind of a creature!”
“Aw, come, come, Jan,” Martin remonstrated; “you want to be fair. Herb did the best he could; it was old Joe who kicked. Three thousand a year isn’t so bad; that’s two hundred and fifty a month. Not so rotten for a fellow twenty-seven.... Now I hope to God you’ll get a girl in here to help run the kitchen.”
“Well,—all right,” Jeannette conceded, “only you’ve got to go on helping me save. I want to pay off every cent we owe.... I suppose I get my half as usual.”
“Sure. I’ll be paid now twice a month: first and fifteenth.”
“Let’s see; ... that’s a hundred and twenty-five. I get sixty-two fifty; that’s really five dollars more a week, isn’t it?”
“You’re a little tight-wad,—do you know that, darling?”