Skinner's Dress Suit Part 21

"Yes. Out at the Lake the other day."

"I mean a _real_ one--cooked by a _real_ cook--all the tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs."

"No, I can't say that I have."

Jackson paused, drummed on the arm of his chair, and swallowed hard.

"I've got the best cook in the Middle West," he observed.

"That's going some."

"You think you've eaten, don't you? Well, you haven't. You ought to try _my_ cook."

"That would be fine," said Skinner.

Skinner knew exactly what Jackson would say next. It was wonderful, he thought, almost uncanny, how the curmudgeon was doing just what he had schemed out that he would do--willed him to do. He felt like a magician operating the wires for some manikin to dance at the other end or a hypnotist directing a subject.

Things were going swimmingly for Jackson, too. He felt that he had executed his little scheme very well, without any danger of being found out or even suspected, yet he had never known things to fall in line as they were doing now. Still, he flattered himself it was good management. For Jackson was not a believer in luck.

"How long are you going to stay here?" he asked abruptly.

"Tuesday morning."

"You and the Missus had better come out and try that cook of mine before you go."

Jackson affected indifference, but his heart was beating high, higher than it had beaten for years, for he was a man that had always had his own way, and was not given to argument or diplomatic finessing. Having shot his bolt, Jackson waited.

Skinner turned in his chair. "That's mighty good of you, old chap," he said cordially. "You're just like these other hospitable Westerners.

You've bragged about your cook and you want to show me that you can make good. But I'll let you off--I'll take your word for it this time."

"I don't want you to take my word for it," Jackson retorted. "Besides, I'd like to have your wife meet my wife!"

"So would I," said Skinner. He paused a moment.

Right here was the bit of humble pie that Jackson had prepared to eat, if necessary, but taken from the hand of a cordial fellow like Skinner, it would n't be so hard, after all.

"Skinner, you 're a good fellow--so am I a good fellow. I like you.

There's no reason why we should n't be friends--personally--you understand."

"Mr. Jackson," said Skinner, "you're a frank man. I'm going to be frank with you. I don't feel that it would be loyal to my firm if I should accept your hospitality, under the circ.u.mstances. It's all well enough to be impersonal, separate business life from social life but"--and here he began to b.u.t.ter the humble pie that he had felt it to be inevitable that Jackson should eat--"you stood mighty well with our house. You've got a great reputation. It was most important to us.

We did everything we could to please you. After the break came, we went the limit in the way of eating humble pie to get you back again.

But you set your face against us hard. I might even waive that, but just you look at it yourself." Skinner laughed. "You know you did n't treat McLaughlin very well--and the curious part was, McLaughlin was always very fond of you personally."

At the last words Jackson capitulated. "See here, you and the Missus come out to dinner to-morrow night and we'll talk things over."

Skinner hesitated.

"I've thought this all out," said Jackson. "The Starr-Bacon folks have been figuring on that bunch of machinery that I'm going to get in.

Here's what they say. Can you meet those figures?"

Skinner looked over the memorandum Jackson handed him and made a quick calculation. "Yes," said he, "we can meet them."

"The order is yours."

"I won't take it," said Skinner, "unless you throw in that trout dinner."

That night Skinner wired McLaughlin and Perkins, Inc., that he'd caught the bear and was bringing the hide home with him--the hide being the fattest order that that concern had had for many a day.

Then he jotted down in his little book:--

_Dress-Suit Account_

_Debit_ _Credit_

Landed one curmudgeon!

Bait used--domestic tranquillity!

Method--did n't use any!

Just stood off and waited, and he landed himself.

CHAPTER XI

THE OSTRICH FEATHER

When Skinner entered the office of McLaughlin & Perkins, Inc., two days later, he found that the partners had arranged a reception committee of two to welcome him.

Both shook hands cordially and McLaughlin said, "Skinner, we're not only convinced that you're a thoroughly honest and methodical man"--he glanced knowingly at Perking--"but that you're a very able man as well.

We--"

Skinner cut him short. "Mr. McLaughlin, do I get the ostrich feather?"

"You do, indeed,--and I'm only sorry that the great auk is dead!"

Skinner blushed. "You don't know how good you 've made me feel, really you don't--giving me this chance to show what I could do."

"You had your chance and you showed what you could do, all right,"

McLaughlin broke in. He paused, then, "Now, tell us, Skinner, how did you do it?"

Skinner hesitated. "I'd rather not."

"Why?" said McLaughlin. "Ain't you got it patented?"

"Secret process," said Skinner.

"It's more than that, it's an _effective_ process. But what's important to us, Skinner, is--could you work it on other folks besides Jackson?"