Trenton was talking during the cocktailing period to one of the most attractive of the girls, and when Grace glanced at him he smiled and held up his unemptied glass and put it back on the tray. He was not drinking, not even the single cocktail he usually permitted himself. There was serious business before them; both must keep their heads clear for it.
The dinner seemed endlessly long. Now and then Grace felt the reassuring pressure of Trenton’s hand, but the gentleman on the other side of her, under the mellowing influence of champagne piled upon the “Tommy Kemps” he had imbibed, was making violent love to her; and his elaborate tributes of adoration could not be wholly ignored. Seeing that Trenton was talking little, Kemp, still sober, thanks to Irene’s watchfulness, addressed him directly:
“I’ve got news for you, Ward. At five o’clock this afternoon I closed a deal for Cummings’s plant. Bought Isaac Cummings’s controlling interest and for better or worse the darned thing’s mine. Please, everybody, drink to good luck!”
“We don’t know what it’s all about, but we’re for you, Tommy,” cried one of the girls.
“I thought you said you’d never do it, Tommy,” said Trenton, smiling at his friend and lifting his champagne glass, reversed as it had stood on the table.
Kemp protested that this was bad luck and ordered Jerry to serve no more food until every one had drunk to the success of the merger. This brought them all to their feet with lifted glasses.
“Oh, king, live forever!” cried Irene.
“That’s something like it,” said Kemp. “I didn’t mention the matter just to advertise my business. I wanted you to know, Grace, that it gave me a special satisfaction on your account to see Cummings pass out. It was a downright low trick he played on your father. Things do sort o’ even up in this world and this struck quick and hard. When Cummings threw your father out the business was ripe for bankruptcy. Don’t let Ward scold me. He advised me against it.”
“I advised you against taking on new responsibilities,” Trenton replied. “You’ve got enough on your hands now.”
“You think I’m a sick man,” said Kemp. “But I’m going to see you all under the sod. I like this world and I’m going to live a hundred years. Jerry, fill ’em up!”