"Why, this is my home, I belong here, the same as other young people live with their folks," replied the girl, somewhat startled by the abruptness of the question. "I haven't planned to shift pastures, as grandaddy would say. Why are you asking such an abrupt, personal question?"
"Well, it is sorta personal and rather abrupt," agreed the midget in an appeasing tone. "I should have made the approach with more finesse. Abruptness is one of my defects. But now that I've blundered in, I'd just as well finish. You don't belong out here in the wide open spaces, in these sparse settlements. You belong in the congested areas, where big things are being done, where there's planning, execution, accomplishment. Why, you've taken over both ends of a little hoss trade, laid out all the plans, details and ground work for a community entertainment, and did it with the ease of a big executive lighting a cigarette. You need a big job, in a big place. With your personality and head-work, you can climb up the ladder to the top rung."
"Well, of all things!" said the girl, embarrassed at the unexpected drift, but laughing at the implications. "And this from a guy that has fled the mob and wants me to take his place. Now just what big job have you laid out for me? Running a circus? Managing a theater? Or maybe operating a railroad?"
"You could make a success with any or all of 'em," retorted Davy. "But none of these were in my mind. Some women want a career. Some gain it by their own efforts and some climb to success on a ladder supported by others. Then there is the big majority—many of 'em brilliant and capable—that just settle down in the doldrums of marriage and let their talents rust out in negligence and inattention."
"Then I'm not to marry?"
"You ought to. A gal as attractive, vivacious, and clever as you are, would have to marry—in self-defense, if for no other reason. Marriage need not interfere. It might help. With that hazard and gamble out of the way, it would allow you to expand your talents in planning, executing, and managing in any line you choose."
"And about when do you plan that this defense marriage—this shotgun wedding—is to take place?" questioned Adine scornfully. "And who's the victim?"
"Now that's a candle-flame that I'll keep my fingers out of," said Davy hastily. "Judge Vane told me once a person who advises or mixes in on the marriage relations of others is liable in damages. And anyhow, sane people don't run matrimonial agencies. In that debacle, you're on your own. I'm promoting talent, not running a marriage bureau. And I don't want the side show to dim the performance in the big top. You've got talent, personality, ability to influence others, and whether you are solo in the orchestra or doubling in brass in the matrimonial band makes no difference. You ought to be directing the mob instead of listening to a lone midget."
Adine Lough laughed, not at the text, but the homely comparisons of the little man that, standing hat in hand, was earnestly and seriously throwing bouquets of compliments and darts of poignant facts right in her face. And both the flowers and darts were coming from an unexpected source. With the delicate matrimonial problem swept completely aside, she felt that this new-found friend, in his nation-wide travels and a million contacts, was really sincere in some of his estimates and was trying to be helpful in his blunt, abrupt appraisals. Anyhow, she was reconciled to that view.
"Well, I never had so many compliments in all my life! I didn't know that you were a student of sociology—could estimate capabilities and get everyone in their right groove. I should have been conferring with you, for I have an unsolved problem, bigger than any you've mentioned." Adine had ceased her scorning tones; now she was asking for an answer. She motioned Davy to a footstool.