The Coming of Bill Part 15

She was the only person in his immediate sphere over whom he had no financial hold.

He was a man who liked to be surrounded by dependents, and Mrs. Porter stoutly declined to be a dependent. She moved about the world, blunt and self-sufficing, and he hated her as he hated no one else. The thought that she had now come to grips with him and that he could best her in open fight was pleasant to him. All his life, except in his conflicts with her, he had won. He meant to win now.

Bailey's apprehensions amused him. He had a thorough contempt for all actors, authors, musicians, and artists, whom he cla.s.sed together in one group as men who did not count, save in so far as they gave mild entertainment to the men who, like himself, did count. The idea of anybody taking them seriously seemed too fantastic to be considered.

Of affection for his children he had little. Bailey was useful in the office, and Ruth ornamental at home. They satisfied him. He had never troubled to study their characters. It had never occurred to him to wonder if they were fond of him. They formed a necessary part of his household, and beyond that he was not interested in them. If he had ever thought about Ruth's nature, he had dismissed her as a feminine counterpart of Bailey, than whom no other son and heir in New York behaved so exactly as a son and heir should.

That Ruth, even under the influence of Lora Delane Porter, should have been capable of her present insubordination, was surprising, but the thing was too trivial to be a source of anxiety. The mischief could be checked at once before it amounted to anything.

Bailey had not been gone too long before Ruth appeared. She stood in the doorway looking at him for a moment. Her face was pale and her eyes bright. She was breathing quickly.

"Are you busy, father? I--I want to tell you something."

John Bannister smiled. He had a wintry smile, a sort of muscular affection of the mouth, to which his eyes contributed nothing. He had made up his mind to be perfectly calm and pleasant with Ruth. He had read in novels and seen on the stage situations of this kind, where the father had stormed and bl.u.s.tered. The foolishness of such a policy amused him. A strong man had no need to behave like that.

"I think I have heard it already," he said. "I have just been seeing Bailey."

"What did Bailey tell you, father?"

"That you fancied yourself in love with some actor or artist or other whose name I have forgotten."

"It is not fancy. I do love him."

"Yes?"

There was a pause.

"Are you very angry, father?"

"Why should I be? Let's talk it over quietly. There's no need to make a tragedy of it."

"I'm glad you feel like that, father."

John Bannister lit another cigar.

"Tell me all about it," he said.

Ruth found herself surprisingly near tears. She had come into the room with every nerve in her body braced for a supreme struggle. Her father's unexpected gentleness weakened her, exactly as he had foreseen. The plan of action which he had determined upon was that of the wrestler who yields instead of resisting, in order to throw an antagonist off his balance.

"How did it begin?" he asked.

"Well," said Ruth, "it began when Aunt Lora took me to his studio."

"Yes, I heard that it was she who set the whole thing going. She is a friend of this fellow-what is his name?"

"Kirk Winfield. Yes, she seemed to know him quite well."

"And then?"

In spite of her anxiety, Ruth smiled.

"Well, that's all," she said. "I just fell in love with him."

Mr. Bannister nodded.

"You just fell in love with him," he repeated. "Pretty quick work, wasn't it?"

"I suppose it was."

"You just took one look at him and saw he was the affinity, eh?"

"I suppose so."

"And what did he do? Was he equally sudden?"

Ruth laughed. She was feeling quite happy now.

"He would have liked to be, poor dear, but he felt he had to be cautious and prepare the way before telling me. If it hadn't been for Bailey, he might be doing it still. Apparently, Bailey went to him and said I had said I was going to marry him, and Kirk came flying round, and--well, then it was all right."

Mr. Bannister drew thoughtfully at his cigar. He was silent for a few moments.

"Well, my dear," he said at last. "I think you had better consider the engagement broken off."

Ruth looked at him quickly. He still smiled, but his eyes were cold and hard. She realized suddenly that she had been played with, that all his kindliness and amiability had been merely a subst.i.tute for the storm which she had expected. After all, it was to be war between them, and she braced herself for it!

"Father!" she cried.

Mr. Bannister continued to puff serenely at his cigar.

"We needn't get worked up about it," he said. "Let's keep right on talking it over quietly."

"Very well," said Ruth. "But, after what you have just said, what is there to talk over?"

"You might be interested to hear my reasons for saying it."

"And I will argue my side."

Mr. Bannister waved his hand gently.

"You don't have to argue. You just listen."

Ruth bit her lip.

"Well?"

"In the first place," said her father, "about this young man. What is he? Bailey says he is an artist. Well, what has he ever done? Why don't I know his name? I buy a good many pictures, but I don't remember ever signing a cheque for one of his. I read the magazines now and then, but I can't recall seeing his signature to any of the ill.u.s.trations. How does he live, anyway, without going into the question of how he intends to support a wife?"

"Aunt Lora told me he had private means."