The Social Triangle

by O. Henry

　　

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At the stroke of six Ikey Snigglefritz laid down his goose. Ikey wasa tailor's apprentice. Are there tailor's apprentices nowadays?At any rate, Ikey toiled and snipped and basted and pressed andpatched and sponged all day in the steamy fetor of a tailor-shop.But when work was done Ikey hitched his wagon to such stars as hisfirmament let shine.It was Saturday night, and the boss laid twelve begrimed andbegrudged dollars in his hand. Ikey dabbled discreetly in water,donned coat, hat and collar with its frazzled tie and chalcedonypin, and set forth in pursuit of his ideals.For each of us, when our day's work is done, must seek our ideal,whether it be love or pinochle or lobster a la Newburg, or the sweetsilence of the musty bookshelves.Behold Ikey as he ambles up the street beneath the roaring "El"between the rows of reeking sweat-shops. Pallid, stooping,insignificant, squalid, doomed to exist forever in penury of bodyand mind, yet, as he swings his cheap cane and projects the noisomeinhalations from his cigarette you perceive that he nurtures in hisnarrow bosom the bacillus of society.Ikey's legs carried him to and into that famous place ofentertainment known as the Cafe Maginnis--famous because it was therendezvous of Billy McMahan, the greatest man, the most wonderfulman, Ikey thought, that the world had ever produced.Billy McMahan was the district leader. Upon him the Tiger purred,and his hand held manna to scatter. Now, as Ikey entered, McMahanstood, flushed and triumphant and mighty, the centre of a huzzaingconcourse of his lieutenants and constituents. It seems there hadbeen an election; a signal victory had been won; the city had beenswept back into line by a resistless besom of ballots.Ikey slunk along the bar and gazed, breath-quickened, at his idol.How magnificent was Billy McMahan, with his great, smooth, laughingface; his gray eye, shrewd as a chicken hawk's; his diamond ring,his voice like a bugle call, his prince's air, his plump and activeroll of money, his clarion call to friend and comrade--oh, what aking of men he was! How he obscured his lieutenants, though theythemselves loomed large and serious, blue of chin and importantof mien, with hands buried deep in the pockets of their shortovercoats! But Billy--oh, what small avail are words to paint foryou his glory as seen by Ikey Snigglefritz!The Cafe Maginnis rang to the note of victory. The white-coatedbartenders threw themselves featfully upon bottle, cork and glass.From a score of clear Havanas the air received its paradox ofclouds. The leal and the hopeful shook Billy McMahan's hand. Andthere was born suddenly in the worshipful soul of Ikey Snigglefritzan audacious, thrilling impulse.He stepped forward into the little cleared space in which majestymoved, and held out his hand.Billy McMahan grasped it unhesitatingly, shook it and smiled.Made mad now by the gods who were about to destroy him, Ikey threwaway his scabbard and charged upon Olympus."Have a drink with me, Billy," he said familiarly, "you and yourfriends?""Don't mind if I do, old man," said the great leader, "just to keepthe ball rolling."The last spark of Ikey's reason fled."Wine," he called to the bartender, waving a trembling hand.The corks of three bottles were drawn; the champagne bubbled inthe long row of glasses set upon the bar. Billy McMahan took hisand nodded, with his beaming smile, at Ikey. The lieutenants andsatellites took theirs and growled "Here's to you." Ikey took hisnectar in delirium. All drank.Ikey threw his week's wages in a crumpled roll upon the bar."C'rect," said the bartender, smoothing the twelve one-dollar notes.The crowd surged around Billy McMahan again. Some one was tellinghow Brannigan fixed 'em over in the Eleventh. Ikey leaned againstthe bar a while, and then went out.He went down Hester street and up Chrystie, and down Delancey towhere he lived. And there his women folk, a bibulous mother andthree dingy sisters, pounced upon him for his wages. And at hisconfession they shrieked and objurgated him in the pithy rhetoricof the locality.But even as they plucked at him and struck him Ikey remained in hisecstatic trance of joy. His head was in the clouds; the star wasdrawing his wagon. Compared with what he had achieved the loss ofwages and the bray of women's tongues were slight affairs.He had shaken the hand of Billy McMahan.* * * * * * *Billy McMahan had a wife, and upon her visiting cards was engravedthe name "Mrs. William Darragh McMahan." And there was a certainvexation attendant upon these cards; for, small as they were, therewere houses in which they could not be inserted. Billy McMahan wasa dictator in politics, a four-walled tower in business, a mogul,dreaded, loved and obeyed among his own people. He was growing rich;the daily papers had a dozen men on his trail to chronicle his everyword of wisdom; he had been honored in caricature holding the Tigercringing in leash.But the heart of Billy was sometimes sore within him. There was arace of men from which he stood apart but that he viewed with theeye of Moses looking over into the promised land. He, too, hadideals, even as had Ikey Snigglefritz; and sometimes, hopeless ofattaining them, his own solid success was as dust and ashes in hismouth. And Mrs. William Darragh McMahan wore a look of discontentupon her plump but pretty face, and the very rustle of her silksseemed a sigh.There was a brave and conspicuous assemblage in the dining saloonof a noted hostelry where Fashion loves to display her charms. Atone table sat Billy McMahan and his wife. Mostly silent they were,but the accessories they enjoyed little needed the indorsement ofspeech. Mrs. McMahan's diamonds were outshone by few in the room.The waiter bore the costliest brands of wine to their table. Inevening dress, with an expression of gloom upon his smooth andmassive countenance, you would look in vain for a more strikingfigure than Billy's.Four tables away sat alone a tall, slender man, about thirty,with thoughtful, melancholy eyes, a Van Dyke beard and peculiarlywhite, thin hands. He was dining on filet mignon, dry toast andapollinaris. That man was Cortlandt Van Duyckink, a man worth eightymillions, who inherited and held a sacred seat in the exclusiveinner circle of society.Billy McMahan spoke to no one around him, because he knew no one.Van Duyckink kept his eyes on his plate because he knew that everyone present was hungry to catch his. He could bestow knighthood andprestige by a nod, and he was chary of creating a too extensivenobility.And then Billy McMahan conceived and accomplished the most startlingand audacious act of his life. He rose deliberately and walked overto Cortlandt Van Duyckink's table and held out his hand."Say, Mr. Van Duyckink," he said, "I've heard you was talking aboutstarting some reforms among the poor people down in my district. I'mMcMahan, you know. Say, now, if that's straight I'll do all I can tohelp you. And what I says goes in that neck of the woods, don't it?Oh, say, I rather guess it does."Van Duyckink's rather sombre eyes lighted up. He rose to his lankheight and grasped Billy McMahan's hand."Thank you, Mr. McMahan," he said, in his deep, serious tones. "Ihave been thinking of doing some work of that sort. I shall be gladof your assistance. It pleases me to have become acquainted withyou."Billy walked back to his seat. His shoulder was tingling from theaccolade bestowed by royalty. A hundred eyes were now turned uponhim in envy and new admiration. Mrs. William Darragh McMahantrembled with ecstasy, so that her diamonds smote the eye almostwith pain. And now it was apparent that at many tables there werethose who suddenly remembered that they enjoyed Mr. McMahan'sacquaintance. He saw smiles and bows about him. He became envelopedin the aura of dizzy greatness. His campaign coolness deserted him."Wine for that gang!" he commanded the waiter, pointing with hisfinger. "Wine over there. Wine to those three gents by that greenbush. Tell 'em it's on me. D----n it! Wine for everybody!"The waiter ventured to whisper that it was perhaps inexpedient tocarry out the order, in consideration of the dignity of the houseand its custom."All right," said Billy, "if it's against the rules. I wonder if'twould do to send my friend Van Duyckink a bottle? No? Well, it'llflow all right at the caffy to-night, just the same. It'll be rubberboots for anybody who comes in there any time up to 2 A. M."Billy McMahan was happy.He had shaken the hand of Cortlandt Van Duyckink.* * * * * * *The big pale-gray auto with its shining metal work looked outof place moving slowly among the push carts and trash-heaps onthe lower east side. So did Cortlandt Van Duyckink, with hisaristocratic face and white, thin hands, as he steered carefullybetween the groups of ragged, scurrying youngsters in the streets.And so did Miss Constance Schuyler, with her dim, ascetic beauty,seated at his side."Oh, Cortlandt," she breathed, "isn't it sad that human beings haveto live in such wretchedness and poverty? And you--how noble it isof you to think of them, to give your time and money to improvetheir condition!"Van Duyckink turned his solemn eyes upon her."It is little," he said, sadly, "that I can do. The question is alarge one, and belongs to society. But even individual effort isnot thrown away. Look, Constance! On this street I have arranged tobuild soup kitchens, where no one who is hungry will be turned away.And down this other street are the old buildings that I shall causeto be torn down and there erect others in place of those death-trapsof fire and disease."Down Delancey slowly crept the pale-gray auto. Away from it toddledcoveys of wondering, tangle-haired, barefooted, unwashed children.It stopped before a crazy brick structure, foul and awry.Van Duyckink alighted to examine at a better perspective one of theleaning walls. Down the steps of the building came a young man whoseemed to epitomize its degradation, squalor and infelicity--anarrow-chested, pale, unsavory young man, puffing at a cigarette.Obeying a sudden impulse, Van Duyckink stepped out and warmlygrasped the hand of what seemed to him a living rebuke."I want to know you people," he said, sincerely. "I am going to helpyou as much as I can. We shall be friends."As the auto crept carefully away Cortlandt Van Duyckink felt anunaccustomed glow about his heart. He was near to being a happy man.He had shaken the hand of Ikey Snigglefritz.

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