II. Ritchey

by Ring Lardner

　　WELL, I was just getting used to the Baldwin and making a few friends roundthere when Ella suddenly happened to remember that it was Griffin who hadrecommended it. So one day, wile Kate was down to the chiropodist's, Ellasays it was time for us to move and she had made up her mind to find anapartment somewheres."We could get along with six rooms," she said. "All as I ask is for it tobe a new building and on some good street, some street where the realpeople lives.""You mean Fifth Avenue," said I."Oh, no," she says. "That's way over our head. But we'd ought to be able tofind something, say, on Riverside Drive.""A six room apartment," I says, "in a new building on Riverside Drive? Whatwas you expecting to pay?""Well," she said, "you remember that time I and Kate visited the Kitchellsin Chi? They had a dandy apartment on Sheridan Road, six rooms and brandnew. It cost them seventy-five dollars a month. And Sheridan Road isChicago's Riverside Drive.""Oh, no," I says. "Chicago's Riverside Drive is Canal Street. But listen:Didn't the Kitchells have their own furniture?""Sure they did," said Ella."And are you intending to furnish us all over complete?" I asked her."Of course not," she says. "I expect to get a furnished apartment. But thatdon't only make about twenty-five dollars a month difference.""Listen," I said: "It was six years ago that you visited the Kitchells;beside which, that was Chi and this is the Big Town. If you find a six roomfurnished apartment for a hundred dollars in New York City to-day, we'll beon Pell Street in Chinatown, and maybe Katie can marry into a laundry or ajoss house.""Well," said the wife, "even if we have to go to $150 a month for a placeon the Drive, remember half of it's my money and half of it's Kate's, andnone of it's yours.""You're certainly letter perfect in that speech," I says."And further and more," said Ella, "you remember what I told you the otherday. Wile one reason we moved to New York was to see Life, the main idearwas to give Kate a chance to meet real men. So every nickel we spend makingourself look good is just an investment.""I'd rather feel good than look good," I says, "and I hate to see usspending so much money on a place to live that they won't be nothing leftto live on. For three or four hundred a month you might get a joint on theDrive with a bed and two chairs, but I can't drink furniture.""This trip wasn't planned as no spree for you," says Ella. "On the otherhand, I believe Sis would stand a whole lot better show of landing theright kind of a man if the rumor was to get out that her brother-in-lawstayed sober once in a wile.""Well," I said, "I don't think my liberal attitude on the drink questionaffected the results of our deal in Wall Street. That investment would ofturned out just as good whether I was a teetotaler or a lush.""Listen," she says: "The next time you mention ancient history like that,I'll make a little investment in a lawyer. But what's the use of arguing? Iand Kate has made up our mind to do things our own way with our own money,and to-day we're going up on the Drive with a real estate man. We won't payno more than we can afford. All as we want is a place that's good enoughand big enough for Sis to entertain her gentleman callers in it, and shecertainly can't do that in this hotel.""Well," I says, "all her gentleman callers that's been around here in thelast month, she could entertain them in one bunch in a telephone booth.""The reason she's been let alone so far," says the Mrs., "is becauseI won't allow her to meet the kind of men that stays at hotels. You neverknow who they are.""Why not?" I said. "They've all got to register their name when they comein, which is more than you can say for people that lives in $100 apartmentson Riverside Drive."Well, my arguments went so good that for the next three days the two galswas on a home-seekers' excursion and I had to spend my time learning theeastern intercollegiate kelly pool rules up to Doyle's. I win aboutseventy-five dollars.When the ladies come home the first two nights they was all wore out andsinging the landlord blues, but on the third afternoon they busted in allsmiles."We've found one," says Ella. "Six rooms; too.""Where at?" I asked her."Just where we wanted it," she says. "On the Drive. And it fronts right onthe Hudson.""No!" I said. "I thought they built them all facing the other way.""It almost seems," said Katie, "like you could reach out and touch NewJersey.""It's what you might call a near beer apartment," I says."And it's almost across the street from Grant's Tomb," says Ella."How many rooms has he got?" I says."We was pretty lucky," said Ella. "The people that had it was forced to gosouth for the man's health. He's a kind of a cripple. And they decided tosublet it furnished. So we got a bargain.""Come on," I says. "What price?""Well," she says, "they don't talk prices by the month in New York. Theygive you the price by the year. So it sounds a lot more than it really is.We got it for $4,000.""Sweet patootie!" I said. "That's only half your income.""Well, what of it?" says Ella. "It won't only be for about a year and it'sin the nicest kind of a neighborhood and we can't meet nothing only thebest kind of people. You know what I told you."And she give me a sly wink.Well, it seems like they had signed up a year's lease and paid a month'srent in advance, so what was they left for me to say? All I done was makethe remark that I didn't see how we was going to come even close to a trialbalance."Why not?" said Katie. "With our rent paid we can get along easy on $4,000a year if we economize.""Yes," I said. "You'll economize just like the rest of the RiversideDrivers, with a couple of servants and a car and four or five new eveningdresses a month. By the end of six months the bank'll be figuring ouraccount in marks.""What do you mean 'our' account?" says Ella."But speaking about a car," said Katie, "do you suppose we could get a goodone cheap?""Certainly," I said. "They're giving away the good ones for four doublecoupons.""But I mean an inexpensive one," says Kate."You can't live on the River and ride in a flivver," I said. "Besides, thebuses limp right by the door.""Oh, I love the buses!" said Ella."Wait. till you see the place," says Katie to me. "You'll go simply wild!They's a colored boy in uniform to open the door and they's two elevators.""How high do we go?" I said."We're on the sixth floor," says Katie."I should think we could get that far in one elevator," I says."What was it the real estate man told us?" said Ella. "Oh, yes, he said thesixth floor was the floor everybody tried to get on.""It's a wonder he didn't knock it," I said.Well, we was to have immediate possession, so the next morning we checkedout of this joint and swooped up on the Drive. The colored boy, who Inicknamed George, helped us up with the wardrobe. Ella had the key andinside of fifteen minutes she'd found it.We hadn't no sooner than made our entree into our new home when I knew whatailed the previous tenant. He'd crippled himself stumbling over thefurniture. The living room was big enough to stage the high hurdles, andthat's what was in it, only they'd planted them every two feet apart. If astew with the blind staggers had of walked in there in the dark, the folkson the floor below would of thought he'd knocked the head pin for a goal."Come across the room," said Ella, "and look at the view.""I guess I can get there in four downs," I said, "but you better have asubstitute warming up.""Well," she says, when I'd finally fell acrost the last white chalk mark,"what do you think of it?""It's a damn pretty view," I says, "but I've often seen the same view fromthe top of a bus for a thin dime."Well, they showed me over the whole joint and it did look O.K., but not$4,000 worth. The best thing in the place was a half full bottle of rye inthe kitchen that the cripple hadn't gone south with. I did.We got there at eleven o'clock in the morning, but at three p.m. the galswas still hanging up their Follies costumes, so I beat it out and over toBroadway and got myself a plate of pea soup. When I come back, Ella andKatie was laying down exhausted. Finally I told Ella that I was going tomove back to the hotel unless they served meals in this dump, so her andKate got up and went marketing. Well, when you move from Indiana to the BigTown, of course you can't be expected to do your own cooking, so what wehad that night was from the delicatessen, and for the next four days welived on dill pickles with dill pickles."Listen," I finally says: "The only reason I consented to leave the hotelwas in the hopes I could get a real home cook meal once in a wile and if Idon't get a real home cook meal once in a while, I leave this dive.""Have a little bit of patience," says Ella. "I advertised in the paper fora cook the day before we come here, the day we rented this apartment. And Ioffered eight dollars a week.""How many replies did you get?" I asked her."Well," she said, "I haven't got none so far, but it's probably too soon toexpect any.""What did you advertise in, the world almanac?" I says."No, sir," she says. "I advertised in the two biggest New York papers, theones the real estate man recommended.""Listen," I said: "Where do you think you're at, in Niles, Michigan? If youget a cook here for eight dollars a week, it'll be a one-armed leper thathasn't yet reached her teens.""What would you do, then?" she asked me."I'd write to an employment agency," I says, "and I'd tell them we'll paygood wages."So she done that and in three days the phone rung and the agency said theyhad one prospect on hand and did we want her to come out and see us. SoElla said we did and out come a colleen for an interview. She asked howmuch we was willing to pay."Well," said Ella, "I'd go as high as twelve dollars. Or I'd make itfifteen if you done the washing."Kathleen Mavourneen turned her native color."Well," I said, "how much do you want?""I'll work for ninety dollars a month," she said, only I can't get thebrogue. "That's for the cookin' only. No washin'. And I would have to havea room with a bath and all day Thursdays and Sunday evenin's off.""Nothing doing," said Ella, and the colleen started for the door."Wait a minute," I says. "Listen: Is that what you gals is getting in NewYork?""We're a spalpeen if we ain't," says the colleen bawn.Well, I was desperate, so I called the wife to one side and says: "Forheaven's sakes, take her on a month's trial. I'll pay the most of it with alittle piece of money I picked up last week down to Doyle's. I'd rather dothat than get dill pickled for a goal.""Could you come right away?" Ella asked her."Not for a couple days," says Kathleen."It's off, then," I said. "You cook our supper to-night or go back toGreece.""Well," she says, "I guess I could make it if I hurried."So she went away and come back with her suitcase, and she cooked our supperthat night. And Oh darlint!Well, Beautiful Katie still had the automobile bug and it wasn't none of mybusiness to steer her off of it and pretty near every day she would go downto the "row" and look them over. But every night she'd come home whistlinga dirge."I guess I've seen them all," she'd say, "but they're too expensive or elsethey look like they wasn't."But one time we was all coming home in a taxi from a show and come upBroadway and all of a sudden she yelled for the driver to stop."That's a new one in that window," she says, "and one I never see before."Well, the dive was closed at the time and we couldn't get in, but sheinsisted on going down there the first thing in the morning and I and Ellamust go along. The car was a brand new model Bam Eight."How much?" I asked him."Four thousand," he says."When could I get one?" says Katie."I don't know," said the salesman."What do you mean?" I asked him. "Haven't they made none of them?""I don't know," says the salesman. "This is the only one we got.""Has anybody ever rode in one?" I says."I don't know," said the guy.So I asked him what made it worth four thousand."Well," he says, "what made this lady want one?""I don't know," I said."Could I have this one that's on the floor?" says Katie."I don't know," said the salesman."Well, when do you think I could get one?" says Katie."We can't promise no deliveries," says the salesman.Well, that kind of fretted me, so I asked him if they wasn't a salesman wecould talk to."You're talking to one," he said."Yes, I know," said I. "But I used to be a kind of a salesman myself, andwhen I was trying to sell things, I didn't try and not sell them.""Yes," he says, "but you wasn't selling automobiles in New York in 1920.Listen," he says: "I'll be frank with you. We got the New York agency forthis car and was glad to get it because it sells for four thousand andanything that sells that high, why the people will eat up, even if it's apearl-handle ketchup bottle. If we ever do happen to get a consignment ofthese cars, they'll sell like oil stock. The last word we got from thefactory was that they'd send us three cars next September. So that meanswe'll get two cars a year from next October and if we can spare either ofthem, you can have one."So then he begin to yawn and I said, "Come on, girls," and we got a taxiand beat it home. And I wouldn't of said nothing about it, only if Katiehad of been able to buy her Bam, what come off might of never came off.It wasn't only two nights later when Ella come in from shopping allexcited. "Well," she said, "talk about experiences! I just had a ride homeand it wasn't in a street car and it wasn't in a taxi and it wasn't on thesubway and it wasn't on a bus.""Let's play charades," said I."Tell us, Sis," says Katie."Well," said the wife, "I was down on Fifth Avenue, waiting for a bus, andall of a sudden a big limousine drew up to the curb with a liverychauffeur, and a man got out of the back seat and took off his hat andasked if he couldn't see me home. And of course I didn't pay no attentionto him.""Of course not," I said."But," says Ella, "he says, 'Don't take no offense. I think we're next doorneighbors. Don't you live acrost the hall on the sixth floor of theLucius?' So of course I had to tell him I did.""Of course," I said."And then he said," says Ella, "'Is that your sister living with you?''Yes,' I said, 'she lives with my husband and I.' 'Well,' he says, 'ifyou'll get in and let me take you home, I'll tell you what a beautiful girlI think she is.' So I seen then that he was all right, so I got in and comehome with him. And honestly, Sis, he's just wild about you!""What is he like?" says Katie."He's stunning," says the wife. "Tall and wears dandy clothes and got acute mustache that turns up.""How old?" says Kate, and the Mrs. kind of stalled."Well," she said, "he's the kind of a man that you can't tell how old theyare, but he's not old. I'd say he was, well, maybe he's not even that old.""What's his name?" asked Kate."Trumbull," said the Mrs. "He said he was keeping bachelor quarters, but Idon't know if he's really a bachelor or a widower. Anyway, he's a dandyfella and must have lots of money. Just imagine living alone in one ofthese apartments!""Imagine living in one of them whether you're a bachelor or a Mormon," Isays."Who said he lived alone?" asked Katie."He did," says the Mrs. "He told me that him and his servants had the wholeapartment to themselves. And that's what makes it so nice, because he'sasked the three of us over there to dinner to-morrow night.""What makes it so nice?" I asked her."Because it does," said Ella, and you can't ever beat an argument likethat.So the next night the two girls donned their undress uniforms and made meput on the oysters and horse radish and we went acrost the hall to meet ourhero. The door was opened by a rug peddler and he showed us into a twinbrother to our own living room, only you could get around it without beingHoudini."Mr. Trumbull will be right out," said Omar.The ladies was shaking like an aspirin leaf, but in a few minutes, in comemine host. However old Ella had thought he wasn't, she was wrong. He'd seenbaseball when the second bounce was out. If he'd of started his career as abarber in Washington, he'd of tried to wish a face massage on ZacharyTaylor. The only thing young about him was his teeth and his clothes. Hisdinner suit made me feel like I was walking along the station platform atToledo, looking for hot boxes."Ah, here you are!" he says. "It's mighty nice of you to be neighborly. Andso this is the young sister. Well," he says to me, "you had your choice,and as far as I can see, it was heads you win and tails you win. You'relucky."So when he'd spread all the salve, he rung the bell and in come Allah withcocktails. I don't know what was in them, but when Ella and Katie had hadtwo apiece, they both begin to trill.Finally we was called in to dinner and every other course was hootch. Afterthe solid and liquid diet, he turned on the steam piano and we all danced.I had one with Beautiful Katie and the rest of them was with my wife, or,as I have nicknamed them, quarrels. Well, the steam run out of three of usat the same time, the piano inclusive, and Ella sat down in a chair thatwas made for Eddie Foy's family and said how comfortable it was."Yes," says Methuselah, "that's my favorite chair. And I bet you wouldn'tbelieve me if I told you how much it cost.""Oh, I'd like to know," says Ella."Two hundred dollars," says mine host."Do you still feel comfortable?" I asked her."Speaking about furniture," said the old bird, "I've got a few bits thatI'm proud of. Would you like to take a look at them?"So the gals said they would and we had to go through the entire apartment,looking at bits. The best bits I seen was tastefully wrapped up in kegs andcases. It seemed like every time he opened a drawer, a cork popped up. Hewas a hundred per cent proofer than the governor of New Jersey. But he wasgiving us a lecture on the furniture itself, not the polish."I picked up this dining room suit for eighteen hundred," he says."Do you mean the one you've got on?" I asked him, and the gals give me adirty look."And this rug," he says, stomping on an old rag carpet. "How much do yousuppose that cost?"It was my first guess, so I said fifty dollars."That's a laugh," he said. "I paid two thousand for that rug.""The guy that sold it had the laugh," I says.Finally he steered us into his bedroom."Do you see that bed?" he says. "That's Marie Antoinette's bed. Just a coolthousand.""What time does she usually get in?" I asked him."Here's my hobby," he said, opening up a closet, "dressing gowns andbathrobes."Well, they was at least a dozen of them hanging on hangers. They was allcolors of the rainbow including the Scandinavian. He dragged one down thatwas redder than Ella's and Katie's cheeks."This is my favorite bathrobe," he said. "It's Rose D. Barry."So I asked him if he had all his household goods and garments named aftersome dame."This bathrobe cost me an even two hundred," he says."I always take baths bare," I said. "It's a whole lot cheaper.""Let's go back in the living room," says Katie."Come on," said Ella, tugging me by the sleeve."Wait a minute," I says to her. "I don't know how much he paid for histoothbrush."Well, when we got back in the living room, the two gals acted kind ofdrowsy and snuggled up together on the davenport and I and the old bird wasleft to ourself."Here's another thing I didn't show you," he says, and pulls a pair ofAfrican golf balls out of a drawer in his desk. "These dice is realivory and they cost me twelve and a half berries.""You mean up to now," I said."All right," he said. "We'll make it a twenty-five dollar limit."Well, I didn't have no business in a game with him, but you know how a guygets sometimes. So he took them first and rolled a four."Listen," I says: "Do you know how many times Willard set down in the firstround?"And sure enough he sevened."Now solid ivory dice," I said, "how many days in the week?"So out come a natural. And as sure as I'm setting here, I made fourstraight passes with the whole roll riding each time and with all that wadparked on the two thousand dollar rug, I shot a five and a three. "Ivory,"I said, "we was invited here to-night, so don't make me pay for theentertainment. Show me eighter from Decatur."And the lady from Decatur showed.Just then they was a stir on the davenport, and Ella woke up long enough tomake the remark that we ought to go home. It was the first time she eversaid it in the right place."Oh," I says, "I've got to give Mr. Trumbull a chance to get even."But I wasn't in earnest."Don't bother about that," said Old Noah. "You can accommodate me someother time.""You're certainly a sport," I says."And thanks for a wonderful time," said Ella. "I hope we'll see you againsoon.""Soon is to-morrow night," said mine host. "I'm going to take you all upthe river to a place I know.""Well," I says to Katie, when we was acrost the hall and the door shut,"how do you like him?""Oh, shut up!" says Katie.So the next night he come over and rung our bell and said Ritchey waswaiting with the car and would we come down when we was ready. Well, thegals had only had all day to prepare for the trip, so in another half hourthey had their wraps on and we went downstairs. They wasn't nothing infront but a Rools-Royce with a livery chauffeur that looked like he'd beenput there by a rubber stamp."What a stunning driver!" said Katie when we'd parked ourself in the backseat."Ritchey?" says mine host. "He is a nice looking boy, but better than that,he's a boy I can trust."Well, anyway, the boy he could trust took us out to a joint called theIndian Inn where you wouldn't of never knew they was an eighteenthamendment only that the proprietor was asking twenty berries a quart forstuff that used to cost four. But that didn't seem to bother Methuselah andhe ordered two of them. Not only that but he got us a table so close to theorchestra that the cornet player thought we was his mute."Now, what'll we eat?" he says.So I looked at the program and the first item I seen was "Guinea Hen,$4.50.""That's what Katie'll want," I says to myself, and sure enough that's whatshe got.Well, we eat and then we danced and we danced and we danced, and finallyalong about eleven I and Ella was out on the floor pretending like we wasenjoying ourself, and we happened to look over to the table and there wasKatie and Trumbull setting one out and to look at either you could tellthat something was wrong."Dance the next one with her," says Ella, "and find out what's the matter."So I danced the next one with Katie and asked her."He squeezed my hand," she says. "I don't like him.""Well," said I, "if you'd of ordered guinea hen on me I wouldn't of stoppedat your hand. I'd of went at your throat.""I've got a headache," she says. "Take me out to the car."So they was nothing to it but I had to take her out to the car and comeback and tell Ella and Trumbull that she wasn't feeling any too good andwanted to go home."She don't like me," says the old guy. "That's the whole trouble.""Give her time," says Ella. "Remember she's just a kid.""Yes, but what a kid!" he says.So then he paid the check without no competition and we went out and dumbin the big limmie. Katie was pretending like she was asleep and neitherElla or Trumbull acted like they wanted to talk, so the conversation on theway home was mostly one-sided, with me in the title role. Katie went in theapartment without even thanking mine host for the guinea hen, but he keptElla and I outside long enough to say that Ritchey and the car was at ourservice any time we wanted them.So Ella told her that the next noon at breakfast. "And you'd ought to beashamed of yourself," says Ella, "for treating a man like that like that.""He's too fresh," says Katie."Well," said Ella, "if he was a little younger, you wouldn't mind him beingfresh.""No," said Katie, "if he was fresh, I wouldn't care if he was fresh. Butwhat's the number of the garage?"And she didn't lose no time taking advantage of the old bird. That sameafternoon it seemed she had to go shopping and the bus wasn't good enoughno more. She was out in Trumbull's limmie from two o'clock till pretty nearseven. The old guy himself come to our place long about five and wanted toknow if we knew where she was at. "I haven't no idear," said Ella. "Iexpected her home long ago. Did you want to use the car?""What's the difference," I said, "if he wanted to use the car or not? He'sonly the owner.""Well," says Trumbull, "when I make an offer I mean it, and that littlegirl is welcome to use my machine whenever she feels like it."So Ella asked him to stay to dinner and he said he would if we'd allow himto bring in some of his hootch, and of course I kicked on that proposition,but he insisted. And when Katie finally did get home, we was all feelinggood and so was she and you'd never of thought they'd been any bad feelingsthe night before.Trumbull asked her what she'd been buying."Nothing," she says. "I was looking at dresses, but they want too muchmoney.""You don't need no dresses," he says."No, of course not," said Katie. "But lots of girls is wearing them.""Where did you go?" said Ella."I forget," says Katie. "What do you say if we play cards?"So we played rummy till we was all blear-eyed and the old guy left, sayingwe'd all go somewhere next day. After he'd gone Ella begin to talk serious."Sis," she says, "here's the chance of a lifetime. Mr. Trumbull's head overheels in love with you and all as you have to do is encourage him a little.Can't you try and like him?""They's nobody I have more respect for," said Katie, "unless it's GeorgeWashington."And then she give a funny laugh and run off to bed."I can't understand Sis no more," said Ella, when we was alone."Why not?" I asked her."Why, look at this opportunity staring her in the face," says the Mrs."Listen," I said: "The first time I stared you in the face, was youthinking about opportunity?"Well, to make a short story out of it, I was the only one up in the housethe next morning when Kathleen said we had a caller. It was the old boy."I'm sorry to be so early," he says, "but I just got a telegram and itmeans I got to run down to Washington for a few days. And I wanted to tellyou that wile I'm gone Ritchey and the car is at your service."So I thanked him and he said good-by and give his regards to the Mrs. andespecially Katie, so when they got up I told them about it and I never seena piece of bad news received so calm as Katie took it."But now he's gone," I said at the breakfast table, "why not the three ofus run out to Bridgeport and call on the Wilmots?"They're cousins of mine."Oh, fine!" said Ella."Wait a minute," says Katie. "I made a kind of an engagement with adressmaker for to-day."Well, as I say, to make a short story out of it, it seems like she'd madeengagements with the dressmaker every day, but they wasn't no dresses evercome home.In about a week Trumbull come back from Washington and the first thing hedone was look us up and we had him in to dinner and I don't remember howthe conversation started, but all of a sudden we was on the subject of hisdriver, Ritchey."A great boy," says Trumbull, "and a boy you can trust. If I didn'tlike him for nothing else, I'd like him for how he treats his family.""What family?" says Kate."Why," says Trumbull, "his own family: his wife and two kids.""My heavens!" says Katie, and kind of fell in a swoon.So it seems like we didn't want to live there no more and we moved back tothe Baldwin, having sublet the place on the Drive for three thousand ayear.So from then on, we was paying a thousand per annum for an apartment wedidn't live in two weeks. But as I told the gals, we was getting prettynear as much for our money as the people that rented New York apartmentsand lived in them, too.