The Coming of Bill · Book II · Chapter 2 6 (2/2)

He loved William Bannister as a son, and it had been one of his favourite day dreams to conjure up a vision of the time when he should be permitted to undertake the child’s physical training. He had toyed lovingly with the idea of imparting to this promising pupil all that he knew of the greatest game on earth. He had watched him in the old days staggering about the studio, and had pictured him grown to his full strength, his muscles trained, his brain full of the wisdom of one who, if his mother had not kicked, would have been middleweight champion of America.

He had resigned himself to the fact that the infant’s social status made it impossible that he should be the real White Hope whom he had once pictured beating all comers in the roped ring; but, after all, there was a certain mild fame to be acquired even by an amateur. And now that dream was over⁠—unless Kirk could be goaded into strong action in time.

“Why don’t you sneak the kid away somewhere?” he suggested. “Why don’t you go right in at them and say: ‘It’s my kid, and I’m going to take him away into the country out of all this white-tile stuff and let him roll in the mud same as he used to.’ Why, say, there’s that shack of yours in Connecticut, just made for it. That kid would have the time of his life there.”

“You think that’s the solution, do you, Steve?”

“I’m dead sure it is.” Steve’s voice became more and more enthusiastic as the idea unfolded itself. “Why, it ain’t only the kid I’m thinking of. There’s Miss Ruth. Say, you don’t mind me pulling this line of talk?”

“Go ahead. I began it. What about Miss Ruth?”

“Well, you know just what’s the matter with her. She’s let this society game run away with her. I guess she started it because she felt lonesome when you were away; and now it’s got her and she can’t drop it. All she wants is a jolt. It would slow her up and show her just where she was. She’s asking for it. One good, snappy jolt would put the whole thing right. And this thing of jerking the kid away to Connecticut would be the right dope, believe me.”

Kirk shook his head.

“It wouldn’t do, Steve. It isn’t that I don’t want to do it; but one must play to the rules. I can’t explain what I mean. I can only say it’s impossible. Let’s think of a parallel case. When you were in the ring, there must have been times when you had a chance of hitting your man low. Why didn’t you do it? It would have jolted him, all right.”

“Why, I’d have lost on a foul.”

“Well, so should I lose on a foul if I started the sort of roughhouse you suggest.”

“I don’t get you.”

“Well, if you want it in plain English, Ruth would never forgive me. Is that clear enough?”

“You’re dead wrong, boss,” said Steve excitedly. “I know her.”

“I thought I did. Well, anyway, Steve, thanks for the suggestion; but, believe me, nothing doing. And now, if you feel like it, I wish you would resume your celebrated imitation of a man exulting over the fact that he is wearing Middleton’s Undeniable. There isn’t much more to do, and I should like to get through with it today, if possible. There, hold that pose. It’s exactly right. The honest man gloating over his suspenders. You ought to go on the stage, Steve.”