The lobby was full of excited men. For in the time of my absence Uncle Sam had ’phoned to the mayor and the president of the Chamber of Commerce and a lot more prominent business men. They were buzzing around young Gennor. And did he like it? I’ll tell the world!
“Yes,” he said, throaty-like, trying hard not to pull in his chest, “my father is the president of the Gennor Radio Corporation of Chicago. And we may build a factory here. It all depends.”
“I’m sure,” said the mayor, “that the town will meet you more than halfway.”
“Yes, indeed,” spoke up Mr. Fisher of the Chamber of Commerce. “If we could—ah—arrange to discuss the matter with your father——”
I knew why he paused. He couldn’t quite convince himself that he would gain anything for the town by talking business with this boy. He was used to doing business with men.
But in the next ten minutes young Gennor’s [[157]]swaggering lingo had them all guessing. About every other word was “I” this or “we” that. To hear him tell it, the world contained just three wonderful people: Felix Gennor, Sr., was one and Felix Gennor, Jr., was the other two.
And convinced that they had everything to gain and very little to lose, the business men got their heads together and cooked up a program to entertain the young visitor. They figured, I guess, that the more they did for him the better pleased his father would be. There was to be a get-together banquet in the hotel dining room; and one of the excited aldermen rounded up the band boys. Into the lobby they came, horns and bass drum and everything, and another such whanging and banging and tooting you never heard in all your life. I tell you it was exciting. Poor Mrs. Tomlinson came running from the kitchen, her glasses hanging on one ear, to see if the house was tumbling down. My cap got knocked off in the jam and bent out of shape under some one’s foot. And the mayor cheered so loud that he shot his false teeth down the back of Mr. Fisher’s neck.
Gennor was the only one who didn’t enjoy the music. For he had to quit talking about himself and listen.
Well, in the course of an hour the band boys [[158]]sort of ran dry on tunes and the mayor and the others went home to get their speeches written down and memorized for the coming banquet, to which, of course, Felix Gennor, Sr., was to be invited, the guest of honor.
“Guess I’ll go up to my room,” Gennor said to Uncle Sam.