<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_203" id="Page_203">203</SPAN></span></p>
<h3 class="p6">CHAPTER XXVIII<br/> THE WOMAN-HATER'S RELAPSE</h3>
<p class="p2">The observation room was as lonely as a deserted
battle-field and Marjorie as doleful as a
wounded soldier left behind, and perishing of thirst,
when the conductor came back with Snoozleums in
his arms.</p>
<p>He regarded with contemptuous awe the petty
cause of so great an event as the stopping of the
Trans-American. He expected to see Marjorie receive
the returned prodigal with wild rapture, but
she didn't even smile when he said:</p>
<p>"Here's your powder-puff."</p>
<p>She just took Snoozleums on her lap, and, looking
up with wet eyes and a sad smile, murmured:</p>
<p>"Thank you very much. You're the nicest conductor
I ever met. If you ever want another position,
I'll see that my father gets you one."</p>
<p>It was like offering the Kaiser a new job, but the
conductor swallowed the insult and sought to repay
it with irony.</p>
<p>"Thanks. And if you ever want to run this road
for a couple of weeks, just let me know."
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_204" id="Page_204">204</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Marjorie nodded appreciatively and said: "I will.
You're very kind."</p>
<p>And that completed the rout of that conductor.
He retired in disorder, leaving Marjorie to fondle
Snoozleums with a neglectful indifference that would
have greatly flattered Mallory, if he could have seen
through the partition that divided them.</p>
<p>But he was witnessing with the cynical superiority
of an aged and disillusioned man the, to him, childish
behavior of Ira Lathrop, an eleventh-hour Orlando.</p>
<p>For just as Mallory moped into the smoking-room
at one door, Ira Lathrop swept in at the other, his
face rubicund with embarrassment and ecstasy. He
had donned an old frock coat with creases like ruts
from long exile in his trunk. But he was feeling
like an heir apparent; and he startled everybody by
his jovial hail:</p>
<p>"Well, boys—er—gentlemen—the drinks are on
me. Waiter, take the orders."</p>
<p>Little Jimmie woke with a start, rose hastily to
his feet and saluted, saying: "Present! Who said
take the orders?"</p>
<p>"I did," said Lathrop, "I'm giving a party.
Waiter, take the orders."</p>
<p>"Sarsaparilla," said Dr. Temple, but they howled
him down and ordered other things. The porter
shook his head sadly: "Nothin' but sof' drinks in
Utah, gemmen."
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_205" id="Page_205">205</SPAN></span></p>
<p>A groan went up from the club-members, and
Lathrop groaned loudest of all:</p>
<p>"Well, we've got to drink something. Take the
orders. We'll all have sarsaparilla."</p>
<p>Little Jimmie Wellington came to the rescue.</p>
<p>"Don't do anything desperate, gentlemen," he
said, with a look of divine philanthropy. "The bar's
closed, but Little Jimmie Wellington is here with the
life preserver." From his hip-pocket he produced a
silver flask that looked to be big enough to carry a
regiment through the Alps. It was greeted with a
salvo, and Lathrop said to Jimmie: "I apologize
for everything I have said—and thought—about
you." He turned to the porter: "There ain't any
law against giving this away, is there?"</p>
<p>The porter grinned: "Not if you-all bribe the
exercise-inspector." And he held out a glass for the
bribe, murmuring, "Don't git tired," as it was
poured. He set it inside his sanctum and then bustled
round with ice-filled glasses and a siphon.</p>
<p>When Little Jimmie offered of the flask to Dr.
Temple, the clergyman put out his hand with a politely
horrified: "No, thank you."</p>
<p>Lathrop frightened him with a sudden comment:
"Look at that gesture! Doc, I'd almost swear you
were a parson."</p>
<p>Mallory whirled on him with the eyes of a hawk
about to pounce, and "The very idea!" was the best
disclaimer Dr. Temple could manage, suddenly finding
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_206" id="Page_206">206</SPAN></span>
himself suspected. Ashton put in with, "The
only way to disprove it, Doc, is to join us."</p>
<p>The poor old clergyman, too deeply involved in
his deception to brave confession now, decided to
do and dare all. He stammered, "Er—ah—certainly,"
and held out his hand for his share of the
poison. Little Jimmie winked at the others and
almost filled the glass. The innocent doctor bowed
his thanks. When the porter reached him and prepared
to fill the remainder of the glass from the
siphon, the parson waved him aside with a misguided
caution:</p>
<p>"No, thanks. I'll not mix them."</p>
<p>Mallory turned away with a sigh: "He takes
his straight. He's no parson."</p>
<p>Then they forgot the doctor in curiosity as to
Lathrop's sudden spasm of generosity—with Wellington's
liquor. Wedgewood voiced the general curiosity
when he said:</p>
<p>"What's the old woman-hater up to now?"</p>
<p>"Woman-hater?" laughed Ira. "It's the old story.
I'm going to follow Mallory's example—marriage."</p>
<p>"I hope you succeed," said Mallory.</p>
<p>"Wherever did you pick up the bride?" said
Wedgewood, mellowing with the long glass in his
hand.</p>
<p>"Brides are easy," said Mallory, with surprising
cynicism. "Where do you get the parson?"
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_207" id="Page_207">207</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Hang the parson," Wedgewood repeated,
"Who's the gel?"</p>
<p>"I'll bet I know who she is," Ashton interposed;
"it's that nectarine of a damsel who got on at Green
River."</p>
<p>"Not the same!" Lathrop roared. "I found my
bride blooming here all the while. Girl I used to
spark back in Brattleboro, Vermont. I've been vowing
for years that I'd live and die an old maid. I've
kept my head out of the noose all this time—till I
struck this train and met up with Anne. We got
to talking over old times—waking up old sentiments.
She got on my nerves. I got on hers. Finally I
said, 'Aw, hell, let's get married. Save price of one
stateroom to China anyway.' She says, 'Damned if
I don't!'—or words to that effect."</p>
<p>Mallory broke in with feverish interest: "But
you said you were going to get married on this
train."</p>
<p>"Nothing easier. Here's How!" and he raised
his glass, but Mallory hauled it down to demand:
"How? that's what I want to know. How are you
going to get married on this parsonless express.
Have you got a little minister in your suitcase?"</p>
<p>Ira beamed with added pride as he explained:</p>
<p>"Well, you see, when I used to court Anne I had
a rival—Charlie Selby his name was. I thought he
cut me out, but he became a clergyman in Utah—Oh,
Charlie! I telegraphed him that I was passing
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_208" id="Page_208">208</SPAN></span>
through Ogden, and would he come down to the
train and marry me to a charming lady. He always
wanted to marry Anne. I thought it would be a
durned good joke to let him marry her—to me."</p>
<p>"D-did he accept?" Mallory asked, excitedly, "is
he coming?"</p>
<p>"He is—he did—here's his telegram," said Ira.
"He brings the license and the ring." He passed
it over, and as Mallory read it a look of hope spread
across his face. But Ira was saying: "We're going
to have the wedding obsequies right here in this car.
You're all invited. Will you come?"</p>
<p>There was a general yell of acceptance and Ashton
began to sing, "There was I waiting at the
church." Then he led a sort of Indian war-dance
round the next victim of the matrimonial stake. At
the end of the hullaballoo all the men charged their
glasses, and drained them with an uproarious
"How!"</p>
<p>Poor Doctor Temple had taken luxurious delight
in the success of his disguise and in the prospect of
watching some other clergyman working while he
rested. He joined the dance as gaily, if not as
gracefully, as any of the rest, and in a final triumph
of recklessness, he tossed off a bumper of straight
whisky.</p>
<p>Instantly his "How!" changed to "Wow!" and
then his throat clamped fast with a terrific spasm
that flung the tears from his eyes. He bent and
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_209" id="Page_209">209</SPAN></span>
writhed in a silent paroxysm till he was pounded and
shaken back to life and water poured down his throat
to reopen a passage.</p>
<p>The others thought he had merely choked and
made no comment other than sympathy. They could
not have dreamed that the old "physician" was as
ignorant of the taste as of the vigor of pure
spirits.</p>
<p>After a riot of handshaking and good wishes, Ira
was permitted to escape with his life. Mallory followed
him to the vestibule, where he caught him
by the sleeve with an anxious:</p>
<p>"Excuse me."</p>
<p>"Well, my boy——"</p>
<p>"Your minister—after you get through with him—may
I use him?"</p>
<p>"May you—what? Why do you want a minister?"</p>
<p>"To get married."</p>
<p>"Again? Good Lord, are you a Mormon?"</p>
<p>"Me a Mormon!"</p>
<p>"Then what do you want with an extra wife? It's
against the law—even in Utah."</p>
<p>"You don't understand."</p>
<p>"My boy, one of us is disgracefully drunk."</p>
<p>"Well, I'm not," said Mallory, and then after a
fierce inner debate, he decided to take Lathrop into
his confidence. The words came hard after so long
a duplicity, but at last they were out:
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_210" id="Page_210">210</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Mr. Lathrop, I'm not really married to my
wife."</p>
<p>"You young scoundrel!"</p>
<p>But his fury changed to pity when he heard the
history of Mallory's ill-fated efforts, and he promised
not only to lend Mallory his minister at secondhand,
but also to keep the whole affair a secret, for
Mallory explained his intention of having his own
ceremony in the baggage-car, or somewhere out of
sight of the other passengers.</p>
<p>Mallory's face was now aglow as the cold embers
of hope leaped into sudden blaze. He wrung Lathrop's
hand, saying: "Lord love you, you've saved
my life—wife—both."</p>
<p>Then he turned and ran to Marjorie with the good
news. He had quite forgotten their epoch-making
separation. And she was so glad to see him smiling
at her again that she forgot it, too. He came tearing
into the observation room and took her by the
shoulders, whispering: "Oh, Marjorie, Marjorie,
I've got him! I've got him!"</p>
<p>"No, I've got him," she said, swinging Snoozleums
into view.</p>
<p>Mallory swung him back out of the way: "I don't
mean a poodle, I mean a parson. I've got a parson."</p>
<p>"No! I can't believe it! Where is he?" She
began to dance with delight, but she stopped when
he explained:
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_211" id="Page_211">211</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"Well, I haven't got him yet, but I'm going to
get one."</p>
<p>"What—again?" she groaned, weary of this old
bunco game of hope.</p>
<p>"It's a real live one this time," Mallory insisted.
"Mr. Lathrop has ordered a minister and he's going
to lend him to me as soon as he's through with him,
and we'll be married on this train."</p>
<p>Marjorie was overwhelmed, but she felt it becoming
in her to be a trifle coy. So she pouted: "But
you won't want me for a bride now. I'm such a
fright."</p>
<p>He took the bait, hook and all: "I never saw
you looking so adorable."</p>
<p>"Honestly? Oh, but it will be glorious to be Mrs.
First Lieutenant Mallory."</p>
<p>"Glorious!"</p>
<p>"I must telegraph home—and sign my new name.
Won't mamma be pleased?"</p>
<p>"Won't she?" said Mallory, with just a trace of
dubiety.</p>
<p>Then Marjorie grew serious with a new idea: "I
wonder if mamma and papa have missed me yet?"</p>
<p>Mallory laughed: "After three days' disappearance,
I shouldn't be surprised."</p>
<p>"Perhaps they are worrying about me."</p>
<p>"I shouldn't be surprised."</p>
<p>"The poor dears! I'd better write them a telegram
at once."
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_212" id="Page_212">212</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"An excellent idea."</p>
<p>She ran to the desk, found blank forms and then
paused with knitted brow: "It will be very hard to
say all I've got to say in ten words."</p>
<p>"Hang the expense," Mallory sniffed magnificently,
"I'm paying your bills now."</p>
<p>But Marjorie tried to look very matronly: "Send
a night letter in the day time! No, indeed, we must
begin to economize."</p>
<p>Mallory was touched by this new revelation of
her future housewifely thrift. He hugged her hard
and reminded her that she could send a day-letter
by wire.</p>
<p>"An excellent idea," she said. "Now, don't
bother me. You go on and read your paper, read
about Mattie. I'll never be jealous of her—him—of
anybody—again."</p>
<p>"You shall never have cause for jealousy, my
own."</p>
<p>But fate was not finished with the initiation of
the unfortunate pair, and already new trouble was
strolling in their direction.
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