Maggie Pepper

Contents

CHAPTER PAGE

I AGENT OF DESTINY 7

II SPORT JOSEPH AT HOME 18

Chapter I

IT was the Marquis de Brensac who turned Holbrooke and Company, of New York, topsy-turvy. This, too, despite the fact that the excellent nobleman had never heard of the great department store at the time of his exploit. For that matter, the marquis would have been horrified by the bare suggestion of trade in connection with his most aristocratic self. It so came about, however, that, without any volition on his part, he served as the instrument of destiny in those stirring events that recently befell the old-established house of Holbrooke.

Joseph Holbrooke, chief owner of the great establishment— by inheritance — met de Brensac twice in France. Because of those meetings, the young man altered the whole course of his life. The change on his part begot history for the firm. Better still, it won happiness for himself. . . . But that is the story to be told.

Joseph found Europe very gay during the year he spent there soon after coming into his inheritance. As to that, Europe is likely to be gay for one who is willing to spend a million of dollars on it within a twelvemonth. Rumor had it that "Le Sport Joseph," as he was genially called by his cronies in Paris, had already lavished this considerable amount of money in his brief career abroad. Doubtless, the truth was exaggerated somewhat, after the common fashion. Joseph himself amusedly denied the gossip concerning his extravagance. Yet, there was a hint of wryness in his smile, for the estimate was close — very close. Being at bottom a wholesome young man of much natural shrewdness, he was inclined to be a bit ashamed of this over-costly pleasuring. The riotous impulse of youth led him to extravagances in the pursuit of gayety. It was not viciousness that drove him on: only the desire to experience in its fulness the best of everything from a new environment. He craved variety : he purchased it lavishly. But, in the end, he began to think that much of his expenditure was merely absurd. In other words, his good sense began to carp against aimless prodigality. The novelty in this life of leisure as his own master, with great wealth at his command, was wearing away swiftly; in its stead came a growing weariness. The red blood that was his from a long line of vigorous American workers pulsed with subtle dissatisfaction, which he could not understand precisely, although he felt it more and more. Most of those with whom he now hobnobbed had blood of the bluest, in which was no discontent with conditions so increasingly irksome to himself. Being little inclined to analysis or introspection, Joseph did not know just wherein lay the trouble, but he was in a mood for change. ... It was the marquis who set light flaring on a new path.

The Norla, a floating palace of renown, had been hired by Joseph because it chanced to be the most expensive on the market at the moment when he was seized with a fancy to roam the sea in his own yacht. After some weeks of languid cruising in the Mediterranean, anchor was dropped one morning just off San Raphael. It was then that the American was pleased to remember the Marquis de Brensac, who had an estate in the neighborhood. On the one occasion of meeting the nobleman, at a supper party in Paris two months before, Joseph had been attracted particularly io MAGGIE PEPPER

by the man's personality. Although barely thirty years of age, the marquis displayed in face and form a certain seriousness uncommon among those with whom Joseph was wont to foregather. Listless at the moment, by reason of the likeness this entertainment bore to countless others, the American manoeuvred to get a chair beside de Brensac when the period of formality was ended. A pleasant conversation between the two followed. Something in the younger man's unjaded outlook on life appealed to the elder. Before they separated, the marquis explained that he was about to withdraw to his estate on the Riviera, and he extended to Joseph a very cordial invitation to visit him there, at any time.

So, now, the invitation was remembered. The American determined to visit the marquis forthwith. Anticipations of the visit proved pleasurable; he hurried his preparations. Two hours after the arrival of The Norla off-shore, he was sitting at ease in the library of the old castle, chatting contentedly with its lord. He was prevailed on, with no great difficulty, to remain for dinner.

It was while the two lingered, smoking, over their coffee and cordials, that the conversation took a serious turn — which resulted in the topsy-turvying of Hoibrooke and Company, in New York. The talk had grown somewhat intimate, for there was instinctively a real sympathy of feeling between the two, sufficient for quick friendship, notwithstanding the differences of birth and training. An honest curiosity led Joseph to reveal something of the unrest in his own spirit by a question he put to his host.

"But don't you ever tire of it all?" he demanded. "Don't you get horribly bored — just living this life of leisure: social functions at the best, dissipation at the worst? Of course, I understand that it's an art over here. We haven't learned the same sort of thing in our country yet. We're too young. . . . And you do know how to live beautifully, making just the right round of things all the time, and how to build a science out of it, as well as an art. . . . But, when all's said and done, don't you get frightfully weary of it, pretty often? You don't mind my asking, I hope? You see, somehow, you seem a bit more thoughtful than most of the chaps I've met in going about."

"The trouble is," the marquis answered readily, smiling a little, "the chaps you meet most in 'going about/ as you put it, are the ones that devote themselves to social pleasures as the chief thing in life. Now, in spite of the contrary reports concerning us current in your country, we have only about the proportion of this sort that you have at home among the children of wealthy parents. The larger part of us by far " He paused, and shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, then, the larger part of you ?" Joseph

urged.

"Why, it may sound a bit conceited to you," the Frenchman continued, with some slight trace of embarrassment, "but the fact is, most of us are better than that. It's a matter of noblesse oblige, you know. In nearly all of our old families, there's a tradition concerning some kind of excellence. A very few, I confess, do seem to take pride in excellent deviltry : but the bulk cherish something worth while. Each of us tries to live up to his family specialty, so to speak. It may be in arms, or in education, or in statesmanship, or in letters, or in science — anything that counts for the good of the world. Always, there is something which is the pride of the race. That is our stimulation. We try to live up to the mark set by our ancestors. We even endeavor to excel it, if possible, which means work — hard work, and plenty of it. If I may be permitted to refer to myself without egotism: I take two months in Paris, during the season. For the other ten months, I avoid society, save only the little obligatory on me here, and I work steadily."

Joseph's clean-cut face was aglow.

"Bless my heart !" he exclaimed. "Why, I had no idea of it. You're the only one of the kind that I've met."

The marquis's lips twitched very slightly; but he courteously refrained from offering a frank explanation.

"It was a fortunate chance that led me to accept the invitation of my cousin to the supper at which you also were a guest," he said suavely. "I do not often attend affairs of the sort. They are, doubtless, admirable for relaxation on occasion, but they are likely to interfere with more serious pursuits." This was as much as courtesy would permit him to say on the subject.

"Tell me, please," Joseph requested, with his clear gray eyes fixed earnestly on the nobleman, "what is the line of work that is your own?"

The marquis smiled openly.

"If you were French," he replied, assuming a manner of pride that became him well, "you would hardly need to ask the question. For generations, the house of Brensac has been famous for its historians. Each head in turn has added something to the reputation of the family in this regard. Others of our blood have helped as well. I have tried to follow as best I might in the path they trod. Thus, you see, I am an hereditary historian."

Joseph stared silently at his host. In his expression, astonishment mingled with admiration. He was at once impressed and gratified by this revelation that was so suddenly come to him concerning a seriousness of which he had not dreamed in the life about him. To be sure, it flashed on him that a life devoted to poring over the musty archives of the past might well prove deadly dull. His own red blood rebelled against the idea of such tedious toil year in and year out for himself, however well it might fit the nature of the blueblooded marquis. Yet, after all, the character of the individual work mattered little, if any. What loomed important was the fact that some of these elegant gentlemen of the old regime, whom he had consistently regarded as wholly frivolous and essentially worthless in the utilitarian scheme of things, were in fact sternly devoted to ideals of duty. Joseph looked on the nobleman before him with new respect, where hitherto had been no more than casual liking. This handsome, aristocratic person of especially polished manners, encountered at one of those roystering suppers in Paris where the food is too good, and the wines too plentiful, and the conversation too decadent — tliis man was striving his best to do the work to which he felt himself called by the obligation of race. The Marquis de Brensac was an hereditary historian.

Of a sudden, Joseph felt a pang of penetrant, fierce envy, followed by a fervid disgust for his own uselessness in the world. Then, in the next moment, thought crystallized in his brain. The vague unrest in him was interpreted: it shifted into purpose. In the shock of surprise, he cried out sharply, to the vast astonishment of his host. For a long second, panoramic vision swept before him. He saw the great store, the seeming jumble of multitudinous activities, all ordered to perfection, the crowded aisles, the army of employees, the profusion of rich goods in every guise. He beheld the tremendous structure reared by two generations of his blood, the thing that was his inheritance — his !

"Why, good Lord !" he ejaculated vehemently. The marquis raised inquiring eyebrows. "Just look at me, if you please," the American went on, with even greater emphasis. "I, sir — I am an hereditary shopkeeper! Now, what do you think of that?" He spoke with a i6

certain levity ; yet, underneath it was a new realization of himself — one that solved perplexities.

The historian shrugged his shoulders, doubtfully. Always, it was quite impossible to understand these mad Americans. The present guest was no exception, although otherwise far superior to most of his countrymen. A scrutiny of the young man suggested no clue in explanation of such extraordinary behavior. His expression was half-whimsical, half-resolute : it did not reveal a reason for so great excitement. This was a democratic age, the marquis reflected sadly, but a shopkeeper— ugh! Despite his habitual politeness, the host showed a trace of disdain in a second shrug. Then, he mastered himself once again, and regained his mental poise. The American was undeniably a gentleman, though sprung of a line of merchant princes, as gossip told. The false pride that apes humility led him to speak thus disparagingly of himself. The marquis shrugged his shoulders for a third time.

Joseph observed the third shrug with attention, understood it, answered it succinctly.

"It amounts to just that," he declared, firmly. "Yes, I'm an hereditary shopkeeper. My father kept a shop — mighty well, too ! My grandfather before him kept a shop. It was a good one for its day. I guess that's about as far back as we amount to much. . . . Pride of race — family tradition — noblesse oblige! By Jove, marquis, you've hit the nail on the head. You're the hereditary historian. Well, I'm the hereditary shopkeeper. That's what's the matter with me. I've no earthly business fooling around over here. My place is over there in the shop. Noblesse oblige — certainly !" De Brensac smiled as amiably as he could, but without enthusiasm. Trade of any sort remained something infinitely below his consideration. He did his best to appear sympathetic, for he liked the young American. His voice was, however, undeniably dismal as he repeated the phrase inanely :

"Ah, yes, quite so, monsieur — noblesse oblige" "Yes, sir," Joseph declared. There was the earnestness of profound conviction in his tone. "I must get busy with the traditions of my blood." He stood up abruptly, drawn to his full six feet of height, his shoulders squared. "I think I'll just say good-bye, marquis. You see," he laughed softly, "I must hurry home now — to the shop !"

Chapter II

JOSEPH HOLBROOKE lost no time in carrying out the plan so hastily envolved from his conversation with the Marquis de Brensac. Three days after his visit at the castle, he sailed from Liverpool for New York.

It must be confessed that on the voyage the young man found himself often sadly beset with doubts as to the wisdom of his course. His resolution remained unshaken, but his intelligence was sufficient to array before him the multitudinous difficulties with which he would be confronted. He was well aware that his university training would serve him not at all in the new situation. His education had been excellent of its kind, but it had never touched on business affairs. Of these, any office-boy knew much more than Joseph suspected. Thus, at the outset, he must be grievously handicapped by ignorance. The fact was frankly admitted, it was regretted as well; but undue importance was not given to it. At the worst, it could cause nothing more disastrous than delay in the accomplishment of his hereditary task. He would devote himself diligently to mastering all details of the business that had come to him by inheritance, its subtleties, its policies, its ambitions. Then, he would carry it forward to magnificent achievement, to a success beyond that wrought by even his father. Such was the duty that was his by reason of his blood; he would fulfill it scrupulously. . . Noblesse oblige!

Yet, there was much more in Joseph's heart than a stark desire to follow a family tradition. The young gentleman of leisure, who had grown weary of frivolities, now found himself eagerly anticipating the new activities. His handsome face took on an air of gravit}'-; he moved more sedately. He was abruptly metamorphosed into the man of affairs, and unconsciously betrayed the unaccustomed dignity by a changed bearing, although, as yet, he could not have told the difference between a balance-sheet and an inventory. In short, he was all agog with interest for the future work, and happier than ever before in his life. He was so very busy with imaginations, speculations and ambitions concerning the business that he had little time for thought of Ethel Hargen, the girl to whom he was engaged. He had been mindful to cable her of his sailing; then he had dismissed her from his mind, if not his heart, although there had been a full year of separation. If he gave her any heed at all, it was to include as a matter of course her gratification over the change in him. Her uncle, of whom she was very fond, had been an active man of business all his life; he was, in fact, the Company of the Holbrooke firm, and managed the concern. Naturally, Ethel would be delighted to have her husband similarly energetic in the world of affairs. Joseph's first disillusionment came the evening of his arrival in New York, when he was tete-a-tete with Ethel in the drawing-room of the Hargen mansion. The usual raptures of lovers' greetings were past; there came a little silence between the two, in which Joseph contemplated the beautiful face of the girl with esthetic satisfaction, if without exceeding ardor. He admired intensely the warm pallor of the oval face, with the curving lips of scarlet, with the long, black lashes that now veiled the deep brown of the eyes. His glance wandered contentedly over the lithe slenderness of her form, curving, seductively in the throne-like chair that was her favorite. Then, his thoughts went again to the new purpose on which he was determined, and he opened his lips to proclaim the splendid truth to her.

Ethel, however, forestalled him. There was an ominous tightening of the charming lips; a note of hardness sounded in the low, musical voice.

"There have been such horrid reports about you, Joe," she declared, crisply. She flashed him a sudden glance from widened eyes. "I hope I'm not a prude, but, really — well, perhaps, you've been overdoing things rather on the other side." There was a gloss of amiability in her manner of reproof, but more than a hint of tartness lay underneath.

"Why, I fancy I have been a little frisky," Joseph admitted, cheerfully. "I was out for a bit of a fling before settling down, and I guess I had it."

"I guess you did!" Ethel ejaculated. The tartness was quite undisguised now. "It was, naturally, rather unpleasant for me."

"Oh, see here," the lover expostulated; "there never was anything to bother you — not actually, you know. There never was any scandal, or anything like that. Of course, the newspaper gossip chaffed me a bit now and then. But there was never a word of — er — of women and all that sort of thing, nothing for you to fret over."

The set expression of the girl's face did not soften.

"It was very annoying," she declared, coldly. "There were cables about this and that — your follies they were called. And there were any number of pages in the dreadful Sunday supplements, which everybody read, of course, and talked about to me. There has been no danger of my forgetting you for a day. There has always been somebody to remind me of just the kind of thing that you were doing."

"I'm mighty sorry that you were troubled in any way," the young man answered, with obvious sincerity. "Somehow, I never thought of that part of it. I didn't think I was important enough to stir up matters over here to such an extent. Forgive me, dear. I promise you I won't do it again." He was really contrite, for his own conscience justified the girl's accusation.

Ethel, however, was disinclined to absolve him from his sins quite so readily. Her severity of manner did not relax in response to his plea.

"You were so absurdly extravagant !" she went on, petulantly. "There was a quotation from one of the Paris papers, which told how they called you, 'Le Sport' Joseph. Such a stupid name!"

"Well, anyhow, I didn't invent it," the badgered lover retorted.

"You were the cause of it by your conduct," came the logical answer, delivered with finality. "And that same paper made a calculation as to how much money you had spent in the year. It was a million dollars! Think of it — a million dollars, wasted!"

"It wasn't a million dollars," Joseph protested. But his tone was unconvincingly feeble, for he remembered that the estimate had been close — very close! — to the truth. "Anyhow," he went on sulkily, "it was my money, so why shouldn't I blow in a bit of it, once in a way?"

There was scorn in the girl's dusky eyes as she regarded the speaker.

"A bit of it!" she exclaimed. "Why, uncle said that such enormous expenditure on your part actually crippled the business of the firm."

The young man was, at last, aroused to anger. Hitherto, justice had been against his defense; now, however, the accusation had become unfair. It was a relief to speak in his own behalf with honest wrath.

"Now, see here, Ethel," he commanded hotly; "you're talking utter nonsense! What I've spent has nothing to do with the finances of the firm — nothing whatever. You ought to have sense enough to know that. Anyhow, your uncle has. You've simply twisted something the old gentleman said. I fancy he said enough. But don't get things mixed again in that way, my dear. I can go out and spend a few more millions if I like without touching the firm's money."

The explosion did Joseph's wounded feelings a vast deal of good. In another moment, he had recovered his usual good-nature. The association of ideas recalled to him his delayed purpose of explanation to Ethel concerning entrance on a business career. Forthwith, he addressed her gayly, proudly.

"Dearest," he began in a tender voice, "I have some good news for you, something that will make you very, very happy."

The girl sprang up eagerly, her mood of criticism all dispelled in the twinkling of an eye. She came close to his chair, and stood looking down on him with radiant eyes. Her pliant body was tense in expectancy; her lips bent to a winsome smile.

"Oh, what is it?" she questioned. Her voice was a caress. "Tell me, please, Joe." Undoubtedly, it was something gorgeous from the rue de la Paix. Her imagination hurried fondly over marvels in diamonds, rubies, emeralds, pearls. Her betrothed must have bought for her something" peculiarly sumptuous to offset that senseless expenditure of a million.

"Why, it's this way," the ill-fated lover explained. He, too, stood up. He took Ethel's hands in his and pressed them. His form was held bravely erect, as that of one about to do battle with the world and to conquer it. There was something almost pompous now in his tones as he ventured the momentous statement of his resolve. "I have decided to engage actively in the business which I have inherited from my father."

For an interval of seconds, the girl stared uncomprehendingly into the young man's animated face. Then, she snapped a single word:

"What?"

Joseph repeated his declaration, slowly, emphatically. He was not astonished or distressed in any way by her evident dismay in the face of this information. The shock of a fact so stupendous might well startle and alarm a maiden utterly unprepared. But, presently, he became doubtful as to the correctness of his idea in this instance. He perceived with growing consternation that his fiancee's face had hardened. She pulled her hands from his clasp, and returned to her chair, where she cast herself down with a flouncing movement that was significant. Sadly puzzled, the lover resumed his seat, whence he stared reproachfully.

"Now, Ethel," he coaxed, "please don't—"

The girl did not scruple to interrupt rudely.

"Joseph Holbrooke," she stormed, her eyes gleaming dangerously, "whatever put such a silly notion into that foolish head of yours? The idea — going into business, indeed — you! Pooh!" The sole of her golden slipper was beating a tattoo of temper on the rug.

Naturally enough, these pointed remarks were not gratifying to a young gentleman who usually enjoyed a good conceit of himself. He stiffened in his chair; he thrust his chin forward a little, belligerently; he drew his brows in a frown. For once, Joseph was deeply displeased with the girl whom he loved. He could endure tantrums in an easy-going fashion all his own; but this fault in her now was something fundamental. It was painfully evident that she had no appreciation whatsoever of the grave responsibilities laid upon him by his blood. She was totally unsympathetic with the duty that had come to him by inheritance. He forgot the recentness of his own awakening under the words of the Marquis de Brensac, and he blamed Ethel with unreasoning violence.

"Your remarks show a deplorable lack of interest in the really important things of life," he said, sharply. "I have spoken to you as to my plans. I mean to attend to my duties. I shall take them up at once. Your failure to respect my purpose will make no difference in my carrying it out. But, perhaps, if you think me so entirely incompetent, it would be better—"

Ethel Hargen was wise in her own way, although on occasion indiscreet. Moreover, Joseph Holbrooke was too good a parti to be thrown away for a moment's whim. She had no intention of letting him complete a sentence that might be so offensive to her dignity as to require the breaking of their engagement. So, now, she interrupted swiftly, with an amazing change of manner. Her scarlet lips were alluring; her eyes were softly luminous; her voice was winning.

"Oh, Joe, why are you always turning me upside down with so many moods? Good gracious! You gallivant about Europe in a blaze of glory. Then, the first time I see you in a year, you scare me half to death by telling me that you're going down to run the store. Sympathetic! Of course, I'm not sympathetic. I'm too much up in the air. Explain it all to me slowly, until I catch my breath. It's such a strange idea: you, in business!" The words were much like those she had spoken before, but now the inflection took all harm from them.

Joseph, being at heart a rather guileless youth, ceased to disapprove so earnestly. Probably, he had misjudged the girl, after all. It was the duty of his superior intelligence to enlighten her with patience. ... He did so, at some length.

When, finally, he ceased speaking, Ethel nodded brightly.

"I quite understand," she declared, and her tone was very fond. "I think it is noble of you, Joe." This was so agreeable to hear that the lover went to her, and kissed her, gratefully. He was well content with all things as he returned again to his chair. "Of course, you must go slowly at first."

"Never fear!" was the confident response. "I know that I have a lot to learn. I sha'n't try things off my own bat until I've nosed about a bit." He smiled complacently, utterly unashamed of the atrocious metaphor.

Ethel could not quite contrive a blush for her next endeavor, but she dropped her eyes in an apt semblance of maidenly confusion, and her voice was very low, with faltering words:

"Perhaps — you will begin — it will be after — " She broke off, her face turned away.

Joseph understood her vague reference perfectly, and a warm glow of conscious virtue in renunciation stole through him. The girl was very beautiful, and he loved her with all his heart and soul. Only the sternest devotion to duty could enable him to refuse for the present the happiness at which she thus confusedly hinted. He replied to her with extreme tenderness:

"My darling, we must delay the bliss of our union. It is not right that I should take you now, before I have proved myself. I must do my duty first. Then, when I have shown myself worthy, I shall come to you again, with a clear conscience."

Joseph rose from his chair, and again kissed his betrothed, who endured the caress with an appearance of responsiveness that bore witness to her self-control, for she was furious. But she said nothing in answer. What was there to say at such a time to such a man? Once her husband, he might grovel in an office through eternity for all she cared. But she had meant to marry him immediately after his return from abroad. The absurd whim that possessed him bade fair to wreck her hopes. Her uncle, fond of her as he was, could not afford to gratify extravagant tastes, of which she had a plenty. She was very anxious herself for the spending of a million rapidly. Alas! when she suggested marriage, he prated of duty. If her beauty were not a sufficient answer, what, indeed, could she say to a man like that?

It was fortunate for Joseph Holbrooke's selfesteem that no telepathy taught him the thoughts of the girl as she lay in his arms, her scarlet lips softly yielding under his kisses.

Chapter III

THE influence of that involuntary agent of destiny, the Marquis de Brensac, extended ultimately even to Jacob Rothschild, jobber, of New York.

Jake, as he was widely, if not always favorably, known in Metropolitan trade circles, had achieved notoriety by the number and ingenuity of his failures and revivals. He was a flamboyant person, glorying always in the impressiveness of his raiment, which was unrestrained by finical notions of good taste. Jewelry was a delight to him, and no niggardly habit of concealment caused him to store away his collection in safe-deposit vaults. On the contrary, he persistently carried it about with him on all business and social expeditions, and proudly exhibited it to everyone having eyes to see: that is to say, he wore it strewn over his person as conspicuously as possible. When there was opportunity, which he was not reluctant to create, he multiplied the price by two or three, and told it with joyous candor. In his business pursuits,