“I think I’ll decline, then, just to see how you take it.”
“Well, it’s only polite to say it would be a blow. I have a pocketful of strychnine and it might be unpleasant to have me die on the doorstep.”
“I could stand that probably better than the neighbors could. You’d better try a poison that’s warranted not to kill on the premises.”
Jerry tortured himself with speculations as to whether he should hire a taxi to transport them to the Little Ripple Club, but finally decided against it as an unwarranted extravagance, calculated to arouse suspicion in the mind of Farley. However, when he reached the house at two o’clock on Saturday, Nan announced that the nurse was taking her place as Farley’s companion for his regular drive and that they would carry them to the club. This arrangement caused his breast to swell.
“That will give my credit a big boost; you’ll see a lot of the boys drop dead when we roll up with Uncle Tim.”
Farley alighted to inspect the clubhouse and the fleet of canoes that bobbed at the landing. It was a great day for Jerry.
“There’s something nice about a river,” said Nan, as Jerry sent his maroon-colored craft far out into the stream. “Ever since I came away I’ve missed the old river at Belleville.”
This was one of the things he liked about Nan. She referred often to her childhood, and it even seemed that she spoke of it with a certain wistfulness.
“The last girl I had out here,” Jerry said as he plied his blade, “was Katie McCarthy, who works in the County Treasurer’s office—mighty responsible job. I used to know Katie when she stenogged at four per for a punk lawyer, but I knew she was better than that, so I pulled a few wires and got her into the court-house. Katie could be cashier in a bank—she’s that smart! No; not much to look at. I studied Katie’s case a good deal, and she’d never make any headway in offices where they’d rather have a yellow-haired girl who overdresses the part and is always slipping out for a retouch with the chamois. It’s hard to find a job for girls like Katie; their only chance is some place where they’ve got to have a girl with brains. These perfumed office darlings, that’s just got to go to vaudeville every Monday night so they can talk about it the rest of the week, never get anywhere.”
“My heart warms to Katie. I wonder,” murmured Nan lazily, as Jerry neatly negotiated a shallow passage between two sandbars, “if I had to do it—I wonder how much I could earn a week.”