Try as he might, Willis could not solve the problem. It was utterly past solution as far as he was concerned.
Ill find out, and Ill find out like a brave man, he said, after racking his brains for an hour or two in a vain endeavor to get at the cause of Miss Hollisters cut. Ill call upon her to-night and ask her.
He was true to his first purpose, but not to his second. He called, but he did not ask her, for Miss Hollister did not give him the chance to do so. Upon receiving his card she sent down word that she was out. Two days later, meeting him face to face upon the street, she gazed coldly at him, and cut him once more. Six months later her engagement to a Boston man was announced, and in the autumn following Miss Hollister of New York became Mrs. Barrows of Boston. There were cards, but Willis did not receive one of them. The cut was indeed complete and final. But why? That had now become one of the great problems of Williss life. What had he done to be so badly treated?
II
A year passed by, and Willis recovered from the dreadful blow to his hopes, but he often puzzled over Miss Hollisters singular behavior towards him. He had placed the matter before several of his friends, and, with the exception of one of them, none was more capable of solving his problem than he. This one had heard from his wife, a school friend and intimate acquaintance of Miss Hollister, now Mrs. Barrows, that Williss ideal had once expressed herself to the effect that she had admired Willis very much until she had discovered that he was not always as courteous as he should be.
Courteous? Not as courteous as I should be? retorted Willis. When have I ever been anything else? Why, my dear Bronson, he added, you know what my attitude towards womankind as well as mankind has always been. If there is a creature in the world whose politeness is his weakness, I am that creature. Im the most courteous man living. When I play poker in my own rooms I lose money, because Ive made it a rule never to beat my guests in cards or anything else.
That isnt politeness, said Bronson. Thats idiocy.
It proves my point, retorted Willis. Im polite to the verge of insanity. Not as courteous as I should be! Great Scott! What did I ever do or say to give her that idea?
I dont know, Bronson replied. Better ask her. Maybe you overdid your politeness. Overdone courtesy is often worse than boorishness. You may have been so polite on some occasion that you made Miss Hollister think you considered her an inferior person. You know what the poet insinuated. Sorosis holds no fury like a woman condescended to by a man.
Ive half a mind to write to Mrs. Barrows and ask her what I did, said Willis.
That would be lovely, said Bronson. Barrows would be pleased.
True. I never thought of that, replied Willis.
You are not a thoughtful thinker, said Bronson, dryly. If I were you Id bide my time, and some day you may get an explanation. Stranger things have happened; and my wife tells me that the Barrowses are to spend the coming winter in New York. Youll meet them out somewhere, no doubt.
No; I shall decline to go where they are. No woman shall cut me a second time not even Mrs. Barrows, said Willis, firmly.
Good! Stand by your colors, said Bronson, with an amused smile.
A week or two later Willis received an invitation from Mr. and Mrs. Bronson to dine with them informally. I have some very clever friends I want you to meet, she wrote. So be sure to come.
Willis went. The clever friends were Mr. and Mrs. Barrows; and, to the surprise of Willis, he was received most effusively by the quondam Miss Hollister.
Why, Mr. Willis, she said, extending her hand to him. How delightful to see you again!
Thank you, said Willis, in some confusion. I er I am sure it is a very pleasant surprise for me. I er had no idea
Nor I, returned Mrs. Barrows. And really I should have been a little embarrassed, I think, had I known you were to be here. I ha! ha! its so very absurd that I almost hesitate to speak of it but I feel I must. Ive treated you very badly.
Indeed! said Willis, with a smile. How, pray?
Well, it wasnt my fault really, returned Mrs. Barrows; but do you remember, a little over a year ago, my riding up-town on a horse-car a Madison Avenue car with you?
Hm! said Willis, with an affectation of reflection. Let me see; ah yes I think I do. We were the only ones on board, I believe, and ah
Here Mrs. Barrows laughed outright. You thought we were the only ones on board, but we werent. The car was crowded, she said.
Then I dont remember it, said Willis. The only time I ever rode on a horse-car with you to my knowledge was
I know; this was the occasion, interrupted Mrs. Barrows. You sat in a corner at the rear end of the car when I entered, and I was very much put out with you because it remained for a stranger, whom I had often seen and to whom I had, for reasons unknown even to myself, taken a deep aversion, to offer me his seat, and, what is more, compel me to take it.
I dont understand, said Willis. We were alone on the car.