Our Mr. Wrenn The Romantic Adventures of a Gentle Man

oyment offices, which are regarded as humorous by the proprietor, M. Baraieff, a short slender ejaculatory person with a nervous black beard, lively blandness, and a knowledge of all the inc

enn murmured: "Say, I read your ad. about wanting

s, Mistaire. I fee

ars plea

does that en

e trip on Europe. Sure. I feex you right up. I send you off on a nice easy cattleboat wh

from?" Mr. Wrenn was a bit confused. He had never

y I send you

ieff." Brightly declaring "I geef you a fine ship," M. Baraieff added, on the margin of the card, in copper-plate script, "Best ship, easy work." He caroled, "Come early next Tuesday morning, "and

e was going. That Theresa laughed at him for a cattleman, while Goaty, in the kitchen, audibly observed that "nobod

case packed to bursting with clothes and Baedekers, with one hundred and fifty dollars in express-company drafts crafti

ket to Boston and a letter to Trubiggs's shipping-office: "Give bearer Ren as per in

Free, free, that's me!" He had persuaded himself that there was practically no danger of the boat's sinking or catching fire. Anyway, he just wasn't going to be scared. As the

turned to the deck; and the rest of the night, while the other passengers snored, he sat modestly on a canvas stool, unblinkingly gloating over a sea-fabric of frosty b

st, B

and directories to be ranked as antiques. In the midst of these remains a red-headed Yankee of forty, smoking a Pittsburg stogie, sat tilted back in a kitchen chair, r

lanced through the l

ere last night I could 've sent you off this morning on a Dominion Line boat. All I got now is a Leyland boat that starts from Portland Saturday. Le's see; this is Wednesday. Thursday, Friday-you'l

; I wou

es of rah-rah boys wanting to cross, and Canadians wanting to get back to England, and Jews beating it to Poland-to sling bombs at the Czar

stated, "Of course I'll be glad

.... Sit down, Mr. Wrenn. You see, it's like this: I'll tell you in confidence, you understand. This letter from Bryff ain't worth the paper it's written on. He ain't got any right to be sending

gh he were ill, and toed an old almanac a

rubiggs. Tru by name a

dently a joke which had come down from earlier years. M

biggs, I'd be wil

ok out for Americans. Even if you didn't come to me first I'll watch out for your interests, same's if they was mine. N

I do, Mr.

en waiting, too-but if it 'd be

the five

ater-jacket and tennis-shoes that he would be able to squeeze out only three

oming as late as this. Course five dollars is less 'n what I usually get." He contemptuously

Did I give you only five dollars?" Receiving the bill, he folded it wi

ong. If five dollars ain't enough, why, then you can just go to hell, Mr. Trubiggs; yes, sir, that's what you can do. I'm just getting tired of monkeying around. If fi

he society of what he called "white people." He laughe

x you up. Have a sm

to my foreman when

't care a rap whic

luff yo

s two nights in Boston. "Tell the clerk that red-headed Trubiggs sent you,

sucker coming, Blaugeld. Now don't try to do me out of my bit or I'll cap for some

e no coat and whose corduroy vest swung cheerfully open. A motley troupe were the cattlemen-Jews with small trunks, large imitatio

American named Tim, who said he was a hatter out of work, and a

d his confidants for the trip to Portl

d and solid as a granite monument, but merry of eye and hinting friendliness in his tousled s

miled at each othe

out, and a wind swe

f Else

like a golf-stick head and somewhat like a toad, a

n we've got to go with. N

meet you, Mr. Morto

off at last,

should s

g for this for years

. in N'

rom New Y

ved the

I-" began

ths. On me. Gives me a chance to travel a little. Got ten plunks and a second-class ticket ba

y don't you go st

k like a gentleman.

rk, to

Street. I been wanting to get away for quite some tim

I'm only twenty-eight, but I've been on my own, like the English fellow says

old Jews. They seem to be fine old coots. They make you think of-oh-you know-prophets and stuff. Watch 'em, over there, making t

l! You don

men who, in Kipling, stand at steamer rails exchanging o

hat sunset. Ain

see how anybody could believe i

ped: "Honestly, I don't see that at all. I don't see how anybody could disbelieve anything after a sunset like

natural. Just is. Gives the imagination enough to

hat don't come down to brass tacks-ain't got nothing to do with real folks. But just the same, I love to go up to S

nly not. I und

e the arches and so on. And the priests in their robes-they look

ic end of the game. Esthetic,

it is. Yes, 'sthetic. But, just the same, it makes

I got to admit. But looks as though it might be that way. It's dead certain the old political parties are just gangs-don't stand for anything except the name. But this comrade business-good stunt. Brotherhood

mote each other upon the shoulder and laug

stuff," mused Mr. Wrenn, with tilted head, e

s inherited the right to boss you. And internation

d like that, awfull

ng sunset; saffron-vestured Mandarin marching by flax-faced Norseman and lan

socialists, though," mused Morton. "The kind that holler `Come get

re. Ha!

h!

can't bank on the rah-rah boys that wear eye-glasses and condescend to like us, cause they think we ain't entirely too dirty f

Y' right there, I

hared sandwiches and confessions. When the other passengers had gone to bed and the sailors on wat

at Portland and were herded to a lunch-room by the boss, who cheerfully smoked

ses bluff you aboard the Merian. They'll try to chase

rub do

d bread. A

's sc

the beef. Oh, the

He wouldn't be nowher

n egg sandwich made with thick crumby slices of a bread that had no personality to it. He roved forlornly about Portland, beside the gloomy pipe-valiant Morton, fighting two fears: the company might not need all of them this trip, and he might have to wait; secondly, if he incredibly did get shipped and

littered with cordage and the cattlemen's luggage. The Jewish elders stared sepulchrally at

love upon the rusty iron sides of their pilgrims' caravel; and as the Merian left the wh

to sea. Free, f

!... Gee w