"Of course, sir," Pearson apologized, "leaving New York so hurriedly, your--your man evidently had not time to-- er--"Tembarom looked at him a few seconds longer, as if making up his mind to something.Then he threw himself easily into the big chair by the fire, and leaned back in it with the frankest and best- natured smile possible.
"I hadn't any man," he said."Say, Pearson," waving his hand to another chair near by, "suppose you take a seat."Long and careful training came to Pearson's aid and supported him, but he was afraid that he looked nervous, and certainly there was a lack of entire calm in his voice.
"I--thank you, sir,--I think I'd better stand, sir.""Why?" inquired Tembarom, taking his tobacco-pouch out of his pocket and preparing to fill another pipe.
"You're most kind, sir, but--but--" in impassioned embarrassment--"Ishould really PREFER to stand, sir, if you don't mind.I should feel more--more at 'ome, sir," he added, dropping an h in his agitation.
"Well, if you'd like it better, that's all right," yielded Mr.Temple Barholm, stuffing tobacco into the pipe.Pearson darted to a table, produced a match, struck it, and gave it to him.
"Thank you," said Tembarom, still good-naturedly."But there are a few things I've GOT to say to you RIGHT now."Pearson had really done his best, his very best, but he was terrified because of the certain circumstances once before referred to.
"I beg pardon, sir," he appealed, "but I am most anxious to give satisfaction in every respect." He WAS, poor young man, horribly anxious."To-day being only the first day, I dare say I have not been all I should have been.I have never valeted an American gentleman before, but I'm sure I shall become accustomed to everything QUITEsoon--almost immediately."
"Say," broke in Tembarom, "you're 'way off.I'm not complaining.
You're all right."
The easy good temper of his manner was so singularly assuring that Pearson, unexplainable as he found him in every other respect, knew that this at least was to be depended upon, and he drew an almost palpable breath of relief.Something actually allured him into approaching what he had never felt it safe to approach before under like circumstances--a confidential disclosure.
"Thank you, sir: I am most grateful.The--fact is, I hoped especially to be able to settle in place just now.I--I'm hoping to save up enough to get married, sir.""You are?" Tembarom exclaimed."Good business! So was I before all this"--he glanced about him--"fell on top of me.""I've been saving for three years, sir, and if I can know I'm a permanency--if I can keep this place--""You're going to keep it all right," Tembarom cheered him up with."If you've got an idea you're going to be fired, just you forget it.Cut it right out.""Is--I beg your pardon, sir," Pearson asked with timorous joy, "but is that the American for saying you'll be good enough to keep me on?"Mr.Temple Barholm thought a second.
"Is 'keep me on' the English for 'let me stay'?""Yes, sir."
"Then we're all right.Let's start from there.I'm going to have a heart-to-heart talk with you, Pearson.""Thank you, sir," said Pearson in a deferential murmur.But if he was not dissatisfied, what was going to happen?
"It'll save us both trouble, and me most.I'm not one of those clever Clarences that can keep up a bluff, making out I know things I don't know.I couldn't deceive a setting hen or a Berlin wool antimacassar."Pearson swallowed something with effort.
"You see, I fell into this thing KERCHUNK, and I'm just RATTLED--I'm rattled." As Pearson slightly coughed again, he translated for him, "That's American for 'I don't know where I'm at'.""Those American jokes, sir, are very funny indeed," answered Pearson, appreciatively.
"Funny!" the new Mr.Temple Barholm exclaimed even aggrievedly."If you think this lay-out is an American joke to me, Pearson, there's where you're 'way off.Do you think it a merry jest for a fellow like me to sit up in a high chair in a dining-room like a cathedral and not know whether he ought to bite his own bread or not? And not dare to stir till things are handed to him by five husky footmen? I thought that plain-clothes man was going to cut up my meat, and slap me on the back if I choked."Pearson's sense of humor was perhaps not inordinate, but unseemly mirth, which he had swallowed at the reference to the setting hen and the Berlin wool antimacassar, momentarily got the better of him, despite his efforts to cough it down, and broke forth in a hoarse, ill-repressed sound.
"I beg pardon, sir," he said with a laudable endeavor to recover his professional bearing."It's your--American way of expressing it which makes me forget myself.I beg pardon."Tembarom laughed outright boyishly.
"Oh, cut that out," he said."Say, how old are you?""Twenty-five, sir."
"So am I.If you'd met me three months ago, beating the streets of New York for a living, with holes in my shoes and a celluloid collar on, you'd have looked down on me.I know you would.""Oh, no, sir," most falsely insisted Pearson.
"Oh, yes, you would," protested Tembarom, cheerfully."You'd have said I talked through my nose, and I should have laughed at you for dropping your h's.Now you're rattled because I'm Mr.Temple Temple Barholm; but you're not half as rattled as I am.""You'll get over it, sir, almost immediately," Pearson assured him, hopefully.
"Of course I shall," said Tembarom, with much courage."But to start right I've got to get over YOU.""Me, sir?" Pearson breathed anxiously.
"Yes.That's what I want to get off my chest.Now, first off, you came in here to try to explain to me that, owing to my New York valet having left my New York wardrobe behind, I've not got anything to wear, and so I shall have to buy some clothes.""I failed to find any dress-shirts, sir," began Pearson, hesitatingly.
Mr.Temple Barholm grinned.
"I always failed to find them myself.I never had a dress-shirt.Inever owned a suit of glad rags in my life."
