[XII]
Mr. Kingley decided to give a banquet to the employees of the Evergreen in honor of their former associate, who had been made Queen of the Sunshine Islands by Fate—and her Uncle Pete. Mrs. Kingley looked unutterable words when she heard his plan.
"Bill can run down and ask Miss Gilfooly if it will be all right for Thursday evening," went on Mr. Kingley, much pleased with his idea.
"Bill!" Mrs. Kingley's voice was full of disgust and indignation, about fifty per cent, of each, perhaps. "Do you want Bill to marry Miss Gilfooly?" she asked caustically.
"Marry!" It was Mr. Kingley's turn to stare, and he did it with bulging, questioning eyes. "I don't know as that would be such a bad thing," he muttered after a moment's intensive thought. "I believe it would be a mighty good plan!" he decided emphatically, when he had given it a second moment's thought.
"William Kingley! Your only son—our only son!" Mrs. Kingley angrily claimed a share of Mr. Bill. "And a clerk!" It was quite clear that Mrs. Kingley believed that her only son and the clerks dwelt on vastly different planes, and equally clear that she did not want them on the same plane.
"The Queen of the Sunshine Islands," corrected Mr. Kingley. "A queen is not the same as a clerk, my dear. I believe that such a marriage would be a good thing for the Evergreen. You have no idea," he went on hurriedly as she gave a little snap of scorn, "how the story of Queen Teresa has helped sales. We were feeling the pinch of the business depression, which has been so general, when we found this little queen in our basement. I made the most of the incident, and the papers carried the story all over the country. We have had requests for samples from Chicago and New York and even Denver, Colorado, already. If Bill should marry Miss Gilfooly," he went on thoughtfully, "I actually believe we would have to increase our mail order department. I am sure that it would be an excellent thing for the store."
Mrs. Kingley was so angry at the thought of her only son marrying Miss Gilfooly that she could scarcely speak. Her anger painted her face an unbecoming scarlet, and her eyes flashed furiously. "You think of nothing but the store!" she managed to stammer at last. The words were not at all what she had meant to say. She had meant to wither him with her scorn—and she could only stammer.
Mr. Kingley regarded her with surprise. Of course he thought of the store. "It feeds, clothes and shelters you," he reminded her. "And mighty good food, clothes and shelter," he decided as he looked around the spacious room, so attractively furnished, and at her smart dinner gown, and remembered the excellent dinner he had just eaten. "Mighty good food, clothes and shelter!" he repeated firmly.
"William Kingley!" She towered above him. "You—you—" She stopped and glared at him for a full second. "There is such a thing as a telephone," she finally controlled herself to say majestically. "You could talk to your ex-clerk yourself, instead of sending your only son into danger!" And she sailed from the room to find Ethel and ask her if she ever knew any one as unreasonable and one-idead as her father.