After that he was sleepy, with all the beer he had drunk, and had a nap on the lounge, while Dad went out to see to the drilling. And then the party had lunch, and Mr. Roscoe had another nap, after which he felt fine, and did a lot of talking, and Bunny learned some more about the world in which he lived. “Jim,” said the “magnate,” “I want two hundred thousand dollars of your money.”
“Where’s your gun?” said Dad, amiably.
“You’ll get it back many times over. It’s a little fund we’re raising, me and Pete O’Reilly and Fred Orpan. We can’t talk about it except to a few.”
“What is it, Verne?”
“Well, we’re getting ready for the Republican convention, and by Jees, it’s not going to be any goddamn snivelling long-faced college professor! We’re going to get a round-faced man, like you and me, Jim! I’m going on to Chicago and pick him out.”
“You got anybody in mind?”
“I’m negotiating with a fellow from Ohio, Barney Brockway, that runs the party there. He wants us to take their Senator Harding; big chap with a fine presence, good orator and all that, and can be trusted—he’s been governor there, and does what he’s told. Brockway thinks he can put him over with two or three million, and he’ll pledge us the secretary of the interior.”
“I see,” said Dad—not having to ask what that meant.
“I’ve got my eye on a tract—been watching it the last ten years, and it’s a wonder. Excelsior Pete put down two test wells, and then they capped them and hushed it up; there was a government report that mentioned it, but they had it suppressed and you can’t get a copy anywhere—but I had one stolen for me. There’s about forty thousand acres, all oil.”
“But how can you get it away from Excelsior?”
“The government has taken the whole district—supposed to be an oil reserve for the navy. But what the hell use will it be to the navy, with no developments? The damn fools think you can drill wells and build pipelines and storage tanks while Congress is voting a declaration of war. Let us get in there and get out the oil, and we’ll sell the navy all they want.”
That was Dad’s doctrine, so there was nothing to discuss. He laughed, and said, “You’d better be on the safe side, Verne, and get the attorney-general as well as the secretary of the interior.”
“I thought of that,” said the other, not noticing the laugh. “Barney Brockway will be the attorney-general himself. That’s a part of his bargain with Harding.”
And then all at once Mr. Roscoe recollected Bunny, sitting over by the window, supposed to be reading a book. “I suppose our boy Bolsheviki will understand, this ain’t for use on the soapbox.”
Dad answered, quickly, “Bunny has known about my affairs ever since he was knee-high to a grasshopper. All right, Verne, I’ll send you a check when you’re ready.”
IV
The sun went down, and it was time for Mr. Roscoe to make his getaway. But first he had dinner; and when he was through with his ice-cream and coffee, he pushed his plate away, and took his napkin out of his neck, and leaned back in his chair with a sigh of content; and while he was unrolling his cigar from its gold foil, he fixed his shrewd eyes upon Bunny across the table, and said, “Jim Junior, I’ll tell you what’s the matter with you.”
“All right,” said Jim Junior, receptively.
“You’re a nice kid, but you’re too goddamn serious. You take life too hard—you and your old man both. You got to get a little fun as you go along, and I know what you need. You got a girl, kid?”
“Not right now,” said Bunny, blushing a trifle.
“I thought so. You need one, to take you out and cheer you up. Mind you, I don’t mean one of these jazz-babies—get a girl that’s got some sense, like my Annabelle. You know Annabelle Ames?”
“I’ve never met her. I’ve seen her, of course.”
“Did you see her in Madame Tee-Zee? By Jees, that’s what I call a picture—only one I ever made any money out of, by the way! Well, that girl takes care of me like a mother—if she’d been up here, I wouldn’t ’a drunk all that beer, you bet! You come up to my place some time, and Annabelle’ll find you a girl—lots of ’em up there, with the ginger in ’em, too, and she’s a regular little matchmaker—never so happy as when she’s pairing ’em off, two little lovebirds in a cage. Why don’t you drive back with me now?”
“I’ve got to go to college the day after tomorrow,” said Bunny.
“Well, you come some time, and bring the old man along. That’s what he needs too, a girl—I’ve told him so a dozen times. You got a girl yet, Jim? By Jees, look at him blush, the old maid in pants! I could tell the kid some things about you that would bust the rouge-pots in your cheeks—hey, old skeezicks?” And the great man, who had been getting out of his chair as he discoursed, fetched Dad a couple of thumps on the back and burst into a roar of laughter.
It was things like that that made you know Vernon Roscoe had a big heart. He seemed to have really taken a fancy to Bunny, and was concerned that he should learn to enjoy life. “You come see me some time, kiddo,” he said, as he was loading himself into his big limousine. “Don’t you forget it now, I mean it. I’ll show you what a country place can be like, and you make the old man get one too.” And Bunny said all right, he would come; and the engine began to purr, and the car rolled off in the moonlight, and the big laughing voice died away among the hills. “So long, kiddo!”
V
Bunny came back
