Dougherty's Eye-Opener

by O. Henry

　　

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Big Jim Dougherty was a sport. He belongedto that race of men. In Manhattan it is a distinctrace. They are the Caribs of the North -- strong,artful, self-sufficient, clannish, honorable within thelaws of their race, holding in lenient contempt neigh-boring tribes who bow to the measure of Society'stapeline. I refer, of course, to the titled nobility ofsportdom. There is a class which bears as a qualify-ing adjective the substantive belonging to a wind in-strument made of a cheap and base metal. But thetin mines of Cornwall never produced the materialfor manufacturing descriptive nomenclature for "BigJim" Dougherty.The habitat of the sport is the lobby or the outsidecorner of certain -hotels and combination restaurantsand cafes. They are mostly men of different sizes,running from small to large; but they are unanimousin the possession of a recently shaven, blue-blackcheek and chin and dark overcoats (in season) withblack velvet collars.Of the domestic life of the sport little is known. Ithas been said that Cupid and Hymen sometimes takea band in the game and copper the queen of hearts tolose. Daring theorists have averred - not contentwith simply saying - that a sport often contracts aspouse, and even incurs descendants. Sometimes he.sits in the game of politics; and then at chowderpicnics there is a revelation of a Mrs. Sport andlittle Sports in glazed hats with tin pails.But mostly the sport is Oriental. He believes hiswomen-folk should not be too patent. Somewhere be-bind grilles or flower-ornamented fire escapes theyawait him. There, no doubt, they tread on rugs fromTeheran and are diverted by the bulbul and playupon the dulcimer and feed upon sweetmeats. Butaway from his home the sport is an integer. He doesnot, as men of other races in Manhattan do, becomethe convoy in his unoccupied hours of fluttering lacesand high heels that tick off delectably the happyseconds of the evening parade. He herds with hisown race at corners, and delivers a commentary in hisCarib lingo upon the passing show."Big Jim" Dougherty had a wife, but be did notwear a button portrait of her upon his lapel. He bada home in one of those brown-stone, iron-railedstreets on the west side that look like a recently ex-cavated bowling alley of Pompeii.To this home of his Mr. Dougherty repaired eachnight when the hour was so late as to promise nofurther diversion in the arch domains of sport. Bythat time the occupant of the monogamistic haremwould be in dreamland, the bulbul silenced and thehour propitious for slumber."Big Jim" always arose at twelve, meridian, forbreakfast, and soon afterward he would return tothe rendezvous of his "crowd."He was always vaguely conscious that there wasa Mrs. Dougherty. He would have received withoutdenial the charge that the quiet, neat, comfortablelittle woman across the table at home was his wife. Infact, he remembered pretty well that they bad beenmarried for nearly four years. She would often tellhim about the cute tricks of Spot, the canary, andthe light-haired lady that lived in the window of theflat across the street."Big Jim" Dougherty even listened to this con-versation of hers sometimes. He knew that she wouldhave a nice dinner ready for him every evening atseven when he came for it. She sometimes went tomatinees, and she bad a talking machine with sixdozen records. Once when her Uncle Amos blew in ona wind from up-state, she went with him to the EdenMusee. Surely these things were diversions enoughfor any woman.One afternoon Mr. Dougherty finished his break-fast, put on his bat and got away fairly for the door.When his hand was on the knob be heard his wife'svoice."Jim," she said, firmly, "I wish you would takeme out to dinner this evening. It has been three yearssince you have been outside the door with me.""Big Jim" was astounded. She bad never askedanything like this before. It had the flavor of atotally new proposition. But he was a game sport."All right," be said. "You be ready when I comeat seven. None of this 'wait two minutes till I primpan hour or two' kind of business, now, Dele.""I'll be ready," said his wife, calmly.At seven she descended the stone steps in the Pom-peian bowling alley at the side of "Big Jim" Dough-erty. She wore a dinner gown made of a stuff thatthe spiders must have woven, and of a color that atwilight sky must have contributed. A light coat withmany admirably unnecessary capes and adorablyinutile ribbons floated downward from her shoulders.Fine feathers do make fine birds; and the only re-proach in the saying is for the man who refuses togive up his earnings to the ostrich-tip industry."Big Jim" Dougherty was troubled. There wasa being at his side whom be did not know. Hethought of the sober-hued plumage that this bird ofparadise was accustomed to wear in her cage, andthis winged revelation puzzled him. In some way shereminded him of the Delia Cullen that be had marriedfour years before. Shyly and rather awkwardly hestalked at her right band."After dinner I'll take you back home, Dele," saidMr. Dougherty, "and then I'll drop back up to Selt-zer's with the boys. You can have swell chuck to-night if you want it. I made a winning on Anacondayesterday; so you can go as far as you like."Mr. Dougherty had intended to make the outingwith his unwonted wife an inconspicuous one. Uxori-ousness was a weakness that the precepts of theCaribs did not countenance. If any of his friends ofthe track, the billiard cloth or the square circle hadwives they had never complained of the fact in public.There were a number of table d'hote places on thecross streets near the broad and shining way; and toone of these he had purposed to escort her, so that thebushel might not be removed from the light of hisdomesticity.But while on the way Mr. Dougherty altered thoseintentions. He had been casting stealthy glances athis attractive companion and he was seized with theconviction that she was no selling plater. He re-solved to parade with his wife past Seltzer's cafe,where at this time a number of his tribe would begathered to view the daily evening procession. Yes;and he would take her to dine at Hoogley's, the swell-est slow-lunch warehouse on the line, he said tohimself.The congregation of smooth-faced tribal gentle-men were on watch at Seltzer's. As Mr. Doughertyand his reorganized Delia passed they stared, mo-mentarily petrified, and then removed their hats - aperformance as unusual to them as was the astonish-ing innovation presented to their gaze by "Big Jim".On the latter gentleman's impassive face there ap-peared a slight flicker of triumph - a faint flicker,no more to be observed than the expression calledthere by the draft of little casino to a four-card spadeflush.Hoogley's was animated. Electric lights shoneas, indeed, they were expected to do. And the napery,the glassware and the flowers also meritoriously per-formed the spectacular duties required of them. Theguests were numerous, well-dressed and gay.A waiter - not necessarily obsequious - conducted"Big Jim" Dougherty and his wife to a table."Play that menu straight across for what you like,Dele," said "Big Jim." "It's you for a trough ofthe gilded oats to-night. It strikes me that maybewe've been sticking too fast to home fodder.""Big Jim's" wife gave her order. He looked ather with respect. She had mentioned truffles; and bebad not known that she knew what truffles were. Fromthe wine list she designated an appropriate and de-sirable brand. He looked at her with some admiration.She was beaming with the innocent excitement thatwoman derives from the exercise of her gregarious-ness. She was talking to him about a hundred thingswith animation and delight. And as the meal pro-gressed her cheeks, colorless from a life indoors, tookon a delicate flush. "Big Jim" looked around theroom and saw that none of the women there had hercharm. And then he thought of the three years shehad suffered immurement, uncomplaining, and a flushof shame warmed him, for he carried fair play as anitem in his creed.But when the Honorable Patrick Corrigan, leaderin Dougherty's district and a friend of his, saw themand came over to the table, matters got to the three-quarter stretch. The Honorable Patrick was a gal-lant man, both in deeds and words. As for the Blar-ney stone, his previous actions toward it must havebeen pronounced. Heavy damages for breach ofpromise could surely have been obtained had theBlarney stone seen fit to sue the Honorable Patrick."Jimmy, old man!" he called; he clapped Dough-erty on the back; be shone like a midday sun uponDelia."Honorable Mr. Corrigan - Mrs. Dougherty,"said "Big Jim."The Honorable Patrick became a fountain of en-tertainment and admiration. The waiter had tofetch a third chair for him; he made another at thetable, and the wineglasses were refilled."You selfish old rascal!" he exclaimed, shaking anarch finger at "Big Jim," "to have kept Mrs.Dougherty a secret from us."And then "Big Jim" Dougherty, who was notalker, sat dumb, and saw the wife who had dinedevery evening for three years at home, blossom likea fairy flower. Quick, witty, charming, full of lightand ready talk, she received the experienced attackof the Honorable Patrick on the field of repartee andsurprised, vanquished, delighted him. She unfoldedher long-closed petals and around her the roombecame a garden. They tried to include "BigJim" in the conversation, but he was without avocabulary.And then a stray bunch of politicians and goodfellows who lived for sport came into the room. Theysaw "Big Jim" and the leader, and over they cameand were made acquainted with Mrs. Dougherty. Andin a few minutes she was holding a salon. Half adozen men surrounded her, courtiers all, and sixfound her capable of charming. "Big Jim" sat,grim, and kept saying to himself: "Three years,three years!"The dinner came to an end. The Honorable Pat-rick reached for Mrs. Dougherty's cloak; but thatwas a matter of action instead of words, and Dough-erty's big band got it first by two seconds.While the farewells were being said at the doorthe Honorable Patrick smote Dougherty mightilybetween the shoulders."Jimmy, me boy," he declared, in a giant whis-per, "the madam is a jewel of the first water. Ye'rea lucky dog.""Big Jim" walked homeward with his wife. Sheseemed quite as pleased with the lights and showwindows in the streets as with the admiration of themen in Hoogley's. As they passed Seltzer's theyheard the sound of many voices in the cafe. Theboys would be starting the drinks around now anddiscussing past performances.At the door of their home Delia paused. Thepleasure of the outing radiated softly from hercountenance. She could not hope for Jim of evenings,but the glory of this one would Tighten her lonelyhours for a long time."Thank you for taking me out, Jim," she said,gratefully. "You'll be going back up to Seltzer'snow, of course.""To -- with Seltzer's," said "Big Jim," em-emphatically. "And d-- Pat Corrigan! Doeshe think I haven't got any eyes?And the door closed behind both of them.

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