“All right.”
They shook hands, went to the bar, lit a cigar, like men, by Jove! Clifton loved to talk business, to pull out notebooks, quick, and jot things down with a knowing air. Trampy, a mere boy, easy-going, genial, without a red cent for the time being, didn’t care a hang about business and was soon telling Clifton the story of his life: drummer, reporter, racer; his descent,—“Two whiskies, boy!”—what was he saying? Oh, yes, his descent of a staircase on the bike, yes, siree, with a red-hot stove under his arm—a stove painted to look red-hot—pursued by a policeman, leaping over obstacles on the bike; great success at Duluth and Denver as a tramp cyclist: hence his name of Trampy Wheel-Pad. But those girls, by Jove! Well, he who fights and runs away lives to fight another day. Still, a rolling stone doesn’t climb hills. Here he was, stranded. Go to Mexico? So much a week? Such and such a turn? Teach the child? Cert!
Lily never alluded to Mexico afterward without shaking with anger. My, to listen to her, how badly they treated her in Mexico! Worse than a Dago! To tell the truth, it was hot; and Lily, already tired by those long journeys in varying climates, Lily would have preferred to do nothing and to continue to lead her careless life as a playful filly. But no, poor Lily was caught by the hind-leg in Mexico! Ambition had seized upon Pa, body and soul, and life became a more serious matter for the child.
“Look here!” said Pa, pointing to Trampy. “What he, a man, does, you can do! I’ll see to that!”
Pa arranged for a place in which to practise at their ease. In the evening, on the stage, he watched and studied Trampy’s tricks and, in the morning, quick, out of bed, look alive, the bike! Pa no longer had his open-mouthed admiration for Lily, as in South Africa and Asia: his Lily knew nothing at all! But in three months, six months, if necessary, if it cost him every penny he possessed. And it was:
“Come along, Lily ... to work! Show what you can do!”
Trampy, in this country of mañolas—“Grand, by Jove!”—came round about eleven; and Pa, all out of breath, passed Lily on to him:
“You have a go at her, Trampy! I give up, she won’t do what I say!”
And Trampy put down his cigar, took off his collar and cuffs and it was, “Come along, Lily!” till lunch-time. The child, her eyes blinking with fatigue, fell fast asleep before the end of the meal.
Pa was delighted.