When they were settled, Jeff glowed at him, and respectfully offered, "I
thought of you so often, Daggett, on a recent little jaunt of mine.
You'd have been helpful."
"Where was that?" asked Milt suspiciously (wondering, and waiting to
see, whether you could take cold ham in your fingers).
"Oh, in Alaska."
"In--Alaska?" Milt was dismayed.
"Yes, just a business trip there. There's something I wish you'd advise
me about."
He was humble. And Milt was uneasy. He grumbled, "What's that?"
"I've been wondering whether it would be possible to use wireless
telephony in Alaska. But I'm such a dub at electricity. Do you know----
What would be the cost of installing a wireless telephone plant with a
hundred-mile radius?"
"Gee, I don't know!"
"Oh, so sorry. Well, I wonder if you can tell me about wireless
telegraphy, then?"
"No, I don't know anything about that either."
Milt had desperately tried to make his answer gracious but somehow----
He hated this devil's obsequiousness more than he had his chilliness at
Flathead Lake. He had a feeling that the Gilsons had delightedly kicked
each other under the table; that, for all her unchanging smile, Claire
was unhappy.... And she was so far off, a white wraith floating beyond
his frantic grasp.
"It doesn't matter, really. But I didn't know---- So you've started in
the engineering school at the University of Washington," Saxton was
purring. "Have you met Gid Childers there--son of old Senator
Childers--charming people."
"I've seen him. He has a Stutz--no, his is the Mercer," sighed Milt.
He hated himself for it, but he couldn't quite keep the awe out of his
voice. People with Mercers---Claire seemed to be trying to speak. She made a delicate, feminine,
clairesque approximation to clearing her throat. But Jeff ignored her
and with almost osculatory affection continued to Milt: "Do let me know if there's anything I can do to help you. We're
acquainted with two or three of your engineering faculty at the Office.
They write in about various things. Do you happen to know Dr.
Philgren?"
"Oh yes. Say! He's a wonder!" Milt was betrayed into exclaiming.
"Yes. Good chap, I believe. He's been trying to get a job with us. We
may give him one. Just tell him you're a friend of mine, and that he's
to give you any help he can."
Milt choked on a "Thanks."
"And--now that we're just the family here together--how goes the
financial side? Can I be of any assistance in introducing you to some
engineering firm where you could do a little work on the side? You could
make quite a little money----"
So confoundedly affectionate and paternal---Milt said irritably, "Thanks, but I don't need to do any work. I've got
plenty of money."
"How pleasant!" Saxton's voice was smooth as marshmallow. "You're
fortunate. I had quite a struggle to get through Princeton."