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diff --git a/43071-8.txt b/43071-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 3408088..0000000 --- a/43071-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4297 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Alternative, by George Barr McCutcheon - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: The Alternative - -Author: George Barr McCutcheon - -Illustrator: Harrison Fisher - -Release Date: July 1, 2013 [EBook #43071] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ALTERNATIVE *** - - - - -Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - THE ALTERNATIVE - - By GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON - - Author of "The Husbands of Edith," "The Purple Parasol," "The - Flyers," "The Butterfly Man," Etc. - - - WITH ILLUSTRATIONS - By HARRISON FISHER - - A. L. BURT COMPANY - PUBLISHERS NEW YORK - - Copyright, 1909, by - DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY - - Published, April, 1909 - - - - -[Illustration: "'Agrippa! Come here, sir!'"] - - - - -Contents - - - CHAPTER I THE VAN PYCKES 1 - - CHAPTER II A YOUNG LADY ENTERS 26 - - CHAPTER III THE AMAZING MARRIAGE 53 - - CHAPTER IV THE SECRETARY GOES HOME 78 - - CHAPTER V HIS FIRST HOLIDAY 97 - - - - -Illustrations - - - "'Agrippa! Come here, sir!'" (_Frontispiece_) - - "'I am Mrs. De Foe's secretary,' she said quietly" - - "He was there. In fact he opened the door and assisted her to - alight" - - "Her eyes were closed. He kissed the lids" - - - - -THE ALTERNATIVE - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE VAN PYCKES - - -A shrieking wind, thick with the sleety snow that knows no mercy nor -feels remorse, beat vainly and with savage insolence against the staid -windows in the lounging room of one of New York's most desirable -clubs--one of those characteristic homes for college men who were up for -membership on the day they were born, if one may speak so broadly of the -virtue that links the early eighteenth-century graduate with his -great-grandson of the class of 1908. Not to say, of course, that the -eighteenth-century graduate was so carefully preserved from the biting -snowstorm as the fellow of to-day, but that he got his learning in the -ancient halls that now grind out his descendants by the hundred, one way -or another. It is going much too far to assert that every member of this -autocratic club had a colonial ancestor in college, but you'd think so -if you didn't pin him down to an actual confession to the contrary. It -is likely to be the way with college men who do not owe their degrees to -certain mushroom institutions in the West, where electricity and -mechanics are considered to be quite as necessary to a young man's -equipment as the acquaintance, by tradition, with somebody's -great-grandaddy, no matter how eminent he may have been in his -primogenial day. - -All of which is neither here nor there. Ancestors for the future are in -the club this night, enjoying the luxury, the coziness, the warmth, and -the present good cheer of a great and glorious achievement: they are -inside of solid walls on this bitter night, eating or tippling, smoking -or toasting, reading or chatting with small regard for the ancient -gentlemen who gave their _Alma Mater_ its name, but who, if suddenly -come to life, would pass away again in a jiffy, not so much through the -shock of opulence as at the sight of the wicked high-ball. - -At one of the windows, overlooking a broad street, stood two elderly -gentlemen, conversing in no mild tones about the blizzard. -Straight-backed, dignified gentlemen, they. They kept their hands -clasped behind their backs, smoked very good cigars instead of cigarets, -and spoke not of the chorus that gamboled just around a certain corner, -but of the blizzard that did the same thing--in a less exalted -manner--around _all_ corners. - -A thin, arrogant figure crossed from the hallway doors, his watery green -eyes sweeping the group of young men at the lower end of the room. -Evidently the person for whom he was looking was not among them. As he -was turning toward the two elderly gentlemen in the window, one of the -joyous spirits of 1908 saw him, and called out: - -"Hello, Mr. Van Pycke! Lookin' for Buzzy?" - -The thin old gentleman paused. He lifted his nose-glasses and -deliberately set them upon the bridge of his long, aristocratic,--and we -must say it,--somewhat rose-tinted nose. Then his slim fingers dropped -to the end of his neat gray mustache. A coolly impersonal stare sought -out the speaker. - -"Good evening," he said, in the most suave manner possible. No one would -have suspected that he was unable to recall the name of the youth who -put the question. "Yes, I rather expected to find Bosworth here. He said -something about dining here." - -"He's upstairs in Peter Palmer's room." - -"Thank you. I sha'n't disturb him. Disagreeable night, gentlemen." - -The back of his spike-tailed coat confronted the group an instant later; -he was crossing the room, headed for the gray-heads in the window. - -"Good evening, Billings. How are you, Knapp? A beastly night." - -The three did not shake hands. They had passed that stage long ago. They -did nothing that they didn't have to do. - -"I was just telling Knapp that it reminds me of the blizzard in--" - -"Stop right there, Billings," interrupted Mr. Van Pycke. "It reminds me -of every blizzard that has happened within my recollection. They're all -alike--theoretically. A lot of wind, snow, and talk about the poor. Sit -down here and have your liqueurs with me." - -"I'm glad I don't have to go in all this to-night," said little Mr. -Billings, '59, unconsciously pressing his knees together as he sat down -at the small table. - -"You're getting old, Billings." - -"So are you, Van Pycke. Demmit, I'm not more than two years older than -you. What's more, you have a grown son." - -"My dear fellow, Bosworth is only twenty-five. A man doesn't have to be -a Methuselah to have a grown son. They grow up like weeds. And some of -them amount to about as much as--ahem! Ahem! Please press that button -for me, will you, Knapp? I don't see why the devil they always have the -button on the other side of the table. No, no! I'll sign for them, old -chap. Don't think of it! Here, boy, let me have the ticket. Mr. Knapp -rang, but he did it to oblige me. Now, see here, Knapp, I don't like -that sort of--" - -"My dear Van Pycke, permit me! Billings is having his coffee with me. -It's coming now. I insist on adding the cordial." - -"Very well, if you insist. Napoleon brandy with a single drop of -Curaçao. Mind you,--a single drop, waiter. Ever try that fine old -brandy, Knapp?" - -"I can't afford it," said Knapp, bluntly. - -"It's the only kind that I can drink," was all that Van Pycke said, -lifting his thin eyebrows ever so slightly. - -"Yes, it's a rotten night," put in Mr. Billings with excellent haste. - -Knapp's face had gone a trifle red. - -Down at the other end of the room the "young bucks" were discussing the -seared trio under the smileless portrait of a college founder. They -spoke in rather subdued tones, with frequent glances toward the door at -their left. - -"Old Van Pycke is the darndest sponge in the club. He never buys a -drink, and yet he's always drinking," said one young man. - -"His nose shows that all right. I hate a pink nose." - -"You'd think he owned the club, the way he treats it," said another. - -"Tell me about him," said a new member--from the West. "He's the most -elegant, the most fastidious gentleman I've ever seen. An old family?" - -"Rather! The Van Pyckes are as old as Bowling Green. Some of 'em came -over in the Ark--or was it the 'Mayflower'?" - -"Buzzy came over in the 'Lusitania' last year," ventured one of them. - -The self-appointed historian, a drawler with ancestors in Trinity -churchyard, went on: "Buckets of blue blood in 'em. The old man there is -the last of his type. His son, Buzzy,--Bosworth Van Pycke,--he's the -chap who gave the much-talked of supper for Carmen the other night--he's -really a different sort. Or would be, I should have said, if he had half -a chance. Buzzy's a good fellow--a regular--" - -"You bet he is!" exclaimed two or three approvingly. - -"The old man's got queer ideas about Buzzy. He insists on his being a -regular gentleman." - -"Nothing queer in that," interrupted the Westerner. - -"Except that he thinks a fellow can't be a gentleman unless he's a -loafer. He brought Buzzy up with the understanding that it wasn't -necessary for him to be anything but a Van Pycke. The Van Pycke name, -and all that sort of rot. It wouldn't be so bad if the old man had -anything to back it up with. He hasn't a sou markee. That's the -situation. For the last twenty years he's lived in the clubs, owing -everybody and always being a gentleman about it. He has a small interest -in the business of Rubenstein, Rosenthal & Meyer,--logical but not -lineal descendants of the Van Pyckes who were gentlemen in dread of a -rainy day,--but he doesn't get much out of it. Five or six thousand a -year, I'd say. When Buzzy's maternal grandfather died, he left something -in trust for the boy. Fixed it in such a way that he isn't to have the -principal until he's fifty. By that time the old man over there will -have passed in his checks. Catch the point? It was done to keep the -amiable son-in-law from getting his fingers on the pile and squandering -it as he squandered two or three other paternal and grand-paternal -fortunes. Buzzy has about ten thousand a year from the trust fund. I -know that he pays some of his father's debts--not all of 'em, of course; -just the embarrassing kind that he hears about from creditors who really -want their money. In a way, the old man has spoiled Buzzy. He has always -pounded it into the boy's head that it isn't necessary to work--in fact, -it's vulgar. When Buzzy first came into the club, two years ago, he was -insufferable. At college, every one liked him. He was himself when out -from under the old man's influence. After he left college, he set -himself up as Van Pycke, gentleman. The old man told him the name was -worth five millions at least. All he had to do was to wait around a bit -and he'd have no trouble in marrying that amount or more. Marriage is -the best business in the world for a gentleman, he argues. I've heard -him say so myself. - -"Well, Buzzy's pretty much of a frivoler, but he isn't a cad. He'd like -to do right, I'm sure. He didn't get started right, that's all. He goes -about drinking tea and making love and spending all he has--like a -gentleman. Just sleeps, eats, and frivols, that's all. He'll never -amount to a hang. It's a shame, too. He's a darned good sort." - -At the little table down the room Van Pycke, senior, was holding forth -in his most suave, convincing manner. - -"Gentlemen, I don't know what New York is coming to. There are not ten -real gentlemen between the Battery and Central Park. Nothing but money -grabbers. They don't know how to live. They eat like the devil and drink -as though they lived in an aquarium; and they say they're New Yorkers." - -Mr. Van Pycke's patrician nose was a shade redder than usual. Billings, -paying no heed to his remarks, was trying to remember how Van Pycke -looked before his nose was thoroughly pickled. It was a long way back, -thought Mr. Billings, vaguely. - -"I think I'll have a high-ball," said Mr. Van Pycke. "Have something, -Knapp? Billings? Oh, I remember: you don't drink immediately after -dinner. Splendid idea, too. I think I'll follow your example, to-night -at least. I have a rather important--er--engagement, later on." He -twirled his mustache fondly. - -"You'll pursue the fair sex up to the very brink of the grave, Van -Pycke," grumbled Knapp. - -"If you mean my own grave, yes," said the other, calmly. "If you mean -that I'll pursue any fair sexton to the brink of _her_ grave, you're -mistaken. I don't like old women. By the way, Knapp, do you happen to -know Jim Scoville's widow?" - -"You mean _young_ Jim Scoville?" - -"Certainly. I don't discuss dowagers. Everybody knows the old one. I -mean the pretty Mrs. Scoville." - -"More or less scandal about her, isn't there?" ventured Billings, -pricking up his ears. - -"Not a grain of truth in it, not a grain," retorted Mr. Van Pycke in -such a way that you had the feeling he wanted you to believe there _was_ -scandal and that he was more or less connected with it. He studied the -chandelier in a most evasive manner. "Ahem! Do you know her?" - -"Only by reputation," said Knapp, with gentle irony. - -"I've seen her," said Billings. "At the horse show. Or was it the -automobile--" - -"I was in her box at one and in her tonneau at the other," said Mr. Van -Pycke, taking the cigar Knapp extended. He glanced at his watch with -sudden interest. "Yes, I see quite a bit of her. Charming girl--ahem! Of -course" (punctuating his opinion with deliberate care) "she has been -talked about, in a way. Lot of demmed old tabbies around town rippin' -her up the back whenever she turns to look the other way. Old Mrs. -Scoville is the queen tabby. She hates the young Mrs. Jim like poison. -And, come to think of it, I don't blame the dowager. Charlotte is one of -the most attract--" - -"Charlotte!" exclaimed Knapp. "Do you call her Charlotte?" - -"Certainly!" said Mr. Van Pycke, with a chilly uplifting of his -eyebrows. - -"I thought her name was Laura," said Billings, who read all the gossip -in the weekly periodicals. - -Mr. Van Pycke coughed. There seemed some likelihood of his bursting, the -fit lasted so long. - -"Charlotte is a pet name we have for her," he explained, somewhat -huskily, when it was over. "Demmed stupid of me!" he was saying to -himself. "As I said before, I don't blame the old lady. Young Mrs. Jim -has got five or six of the Scoville millions, and she's showing the -family how to spend it. Her husband's been dead over two years. She's -got a perfect right to take notice of other men and to have a bit of fun -if she takes the notion. Hasn't she? I--I--it wouldn't surprise me at -all if she were to take a new husband unto herself before long." He -uttered a very conscious cackle and looked at his watch quite -suddenly--or past it, rather, for he forgot to open the virtuously -chased hunting case. - -Billings waited a moment. "I hear she is quite devoted to Chauncey De -Foe,--or is it the other way?" - -Mr. Van Pycke took five puffs at his cigar before responding, all the -while staring at Billings in a perfectly unseeing way. - -"I beg pardon? Oh, yes, I see. Not at all, my dear Billings. De Foe -is--er--you might say, a part of her past. He's out of it, quite. I -don't mind telling you, he's a--ahem! a damned nuisance, though." This -time he looked at his watch with considerable asperity. "Half-past -eight! Where the devil is Bos--I say, Knapp, can you see the length of -the room? Is he in that crowd over there?" - -"No, he isn't," said Knapp, shortly. - -"I shall have to telephone up to Palmer's room. I must see him before -leaving the club. Beastly night, isn't it?" - -"Beastly," remarked the two old gentlemen, unconsciously heaving sighs -of relief as Mr. Van Pycke arose and adjusted his immaculate waistcoat. -Then he moved away, trimly. - -A particularly vicious gust of wind swept up to the windows; the -fusillade of gritty snowflakes caused the two old men to lift their gaze -to the panes. Billings arose and peered into the swirling, seething -street. A phantom-like hansom was passing, a vague, top-heavy thing in -shifting whites. Two taxicabs crawled humbly up to the club entrance, -and away again, ghostly in their surrender to the noise of the wind. - -Mr. Billings shuddered as he resumed his seat. - -"I wonder if Van Pycke imagines that she could even _think_ of marrying -_him_! Sixty-three, if he's a day!" Mr. Billings had not been thinking -of the storm while he stood in the window. - -"Fine old New York name, Billings," mused Knapp. "You can't tell what -these women will do to get a name that means something." - -Mr. Billings was silent for a long time. Suddenly he stirred himself, -relighted his cigar, and remarked: "By Jove, hear that wind howling, -will you! It's really worse than the blizzard of '93." "Billings" was -not yet a fine old New York name. - -The crowd of young fellows at the other end watched Mr. Van Pycke vanish -through the door. He was peering into his nose-glasses in such a lofty -manner that one might have believed that he scented something -disagreeable in every one who passed. As a matter of fact, his sole -object was to discover his son if possible. For a long time he had -nourished the conviction that his son would not take the trouble to -discover him, if he could help it, no matter how close the propinquity. -Mr. Van Pycke attributed this phase of filial indifference to the -sublimity of caste. After all, wasn't Bosworth the son of his father, -and wasn't it quite natural that he should be an improvement on all the -Van Pyckes who had gone before? What was the sense in having a son if it -were not to better the breed? - -Sometimes, however, Mr. Van Pycke experienced the sickening fear that -Bosworth avoided him because of a foolish prejudice against the lending -of money to relatives. There was an admirable counter-irritant, however, -in Bosworth's assertion that one never got back the money he lent to -relatives; and, as long as Mr. Van Pycke had known him in a pecuniary -way, the young man had lived up to this principle by not even suggesting -the return of a loan. Mr. Van Pycke was very proud of his son. He -sometimes wished he could see more of him. - -Bosworth lived in the club. Van Pycke, senior, had lived there, but was -now living at one of the other clubs--he would have had some difficulty -in remembering just which one if suddenly questioned. - -"I hope Buzzy isn't going to turn out like the old man," said one of the -loungers, addressing himself to the crowd. - -"Oh, he'll marry rich and go the pace, and the old man will die happy," -said another. - -"He's hanging around that flossy Mrs. Scoville a good bit these days," -observed the drawler. "That's not the best thing in the world for him." - -"She's not as bad as she's painted," protested some one. - -"My mother says she's the limit," said the drawler. - -"That's what my mother says also," argued another, "but it's because -she's afraid I'll slip up some day and fall a victim to the lady's -charms. These mothers are a nifty lot. They've got their eyes peeled and -their ears spread, and they don't give a hang what they say about a -woman if she's likely to harm sonny-boy." - -"Well, say what you please, Mrs. Scoville is as swift as a bullet. She -carried on to beat the band with Chauncey De Foe long before Jim -Scoville died, and she's still going it. Everybody talked about it then, -and people don't forget. My mother says she knows of a dozen of the best -houses where she is no longer received. I'm sorry that Buzzy has taken -it into his head to flutter about her flame. He's bound to get a good -singeing." - -"Oh, Buzzy's not such a fool as you think. He's pretty wise to women. -He's had nothing else to do but to study 'em since he left college." - -"But she's always doing some freakish thing to get into the newspapers. -Next thing you know, Buzzy'll have his name in the paper as taking a -chimpanzee out to dinner, or being toastmaster at a banquet for French -poodles. She delights in it, just because it makes people sit up and -gasp. That sliding down the banister party she gave at her coming-out -party last spring must have been a ripper. Four or five old ladies who -couldn't slide down a haystack got mad and went home. They've cut her -since then." - -"Coming-out party?" queried the Westerner. "I thought you said she was a -widow." - -"She is. It was when she came out of mourning." - -"I think I'd like to know her," mused the Westerner, his eyes lighting -up. - -"She's very expensive," murmured the drawler, who also would have -enjoyed an acquaintanceship. - -For a few minutes they all seemed to be interested in their own -thoughts. Finally a youth in a lavender waistcoat and a gray dinner -jacket broke the silence. - -"Gimme a cigaret, Bob." - -"Don't you ever _buy_ cigarets, Sticky?" growled the one addressed, -reluctantly extending his case. - -"Sticky" ignored the question. "I wonder if Buzzy's got it into his head -to get married," he said reflectively. - -"She's rich enough," remarked the drawler. - -"How about De Foe? He's the bell-cow, isn't he?" - -"She's in love with him, that's all. The name of Van Pycke would get her -into the very heart of the Four Hundred. With Buzzy's patronymic and the -lamented Jim's millions, she'd be an establishment in herself. And, -besides, Buzzy's a chap any woman might be proud of as a husband. He's -good-looking, amusing, popular, and--useless. His habits are unnaturally -decent. Drinks less than any fellow in the club--except the spooks who -don't drink at all. Gambles moderately and--" - -"Fellows, I believe Buzzy'd make something of himself if he didn't have -the family name to carry around," burst out "Sticky." "Lemme take a -cigaret, Bob. Yes, sir; he's got it in him. If the old man was off the -map, Buzzy'd come to realize that there's something for him to do -besides marrying for money. The way it is now, he's just got to marry a -lot of dough. It's cut out for him. That's all he's ever been -taught,--that's all he grew up for. He's--Sh! Here he is!" - -A slender young man, immaculately dressed from tip to toe, approached -the group. If any feature was out of proportion in this young man's -face, it was his nose,--or perhaps it was his mouth. His nose was rather -long and fine,--a typically aristocratic Van Pycke nose, but -unblooming,--and his mouth was a bit too large for perfect symmetry, you -might argue. But the one denoted truly patrician blood; the other -signified no small amount of strength as well as the most engaging good -nature. That is to say, one could not, by any chance, take him for a -snob; the mouth quite offset the nose. Mr. Van Pycke has already said he -was twenty-five. He looked what he was set up to be,--a gentleman, bred -and born. - -More than one of his friends noticed the absence of a certain genial -smile that usually illumined his face when he joined a party of -acquaintances. There was something almost suggestive of gloom in his -eyes. The mobile lips were not spread in the gentle smile they knew so -well; they were rather studied in their sedateness. His hands were in -his pockets (which was most unusual), and--yes, his tie was rather -carelessly knotted. - -"Your father's looking for you, Buzzy," said Sticky. - -"He is? I thought he was looking for some one when I passed him out -there just now. Here, waiter, take the orders." He sat upon the edge of -a table and swung one leg aimlessly while the servant took the orders. - -"I'll take a Bronx," he said, after the others had spoken. - -The drawler took it upon himself to instruct the waiter to find Mr. Van -Pycke, senior, and tell him that his son was in the lounge. - -"Never mind," countermanded Bosworth, sharply. "I'll look him up -directly. Beastly night, isn't it?" - -Every one said it was. It dawned upon them that Bosworth was not taking -his first cocktail. It was quite plain that already he had taken -several. They were unwilling to believe their senses. Buzzy _never_ got -tight! He always had said it made him dreadfully ill the next day, and a -man who is ill the next day--in that way--suffers tremendously during -the period of upheaval in the additional loss of self-respect. Be that -as it may, he appeared to have forgotten his squeamishness. Young Mr. -Van Pycke--he of the sleek blond hair and dark gray eyes--was quite -palpably drunk. - -"This is the sixth for me in the last half hour," he remarked, but not -proudly, as he took up the cocktail. A spoonful or more leaked over the -top of the glass as he raised it to his lips. "Here's how." - -"Six!" exclaimed the drawler. "What's got into you, Buzzy? I thought -your limit was two." - -Buzzy appeared to be thinking. "Two's my limit when I'm perfectly -sober," he said sagely. He waited a moment. "Say, did you fellers see -that thing in the paper's mor--this morning about the party?" - -"What party?" demanded several. - -He looked aggrieved. "Why, there was only one. I haven't heard of -another. The one at Mrs. Thistlethorpe's. By Jove, that's a--a hard name -to pronounce. Didn't you see in the papers that they played a new game -between the Bridge and the pantry? Jus' before supper Mrs. This--Thissus -Miss--the same one I said before--introduced her new trained dog. It was -Willy Buttsford. Willy--the silly ass--came into the room on all fours. -She was leadin' him by a leash. Willy's got such a deuced thin neck that -her poodle's diamond-studded collar fits'm all right. Then she had him -beg for candy, roll over an' play dead, jump over her leg, and--say, he -almost broke his nose doin' that! Awful mess he made of himself, -slippin' on the rug. He closed the show by tellin' the age of every -woman present, barkin' the numbers. I thought I'd die of fatigue when he -gave Mrs. Thisum--ahem!--when he gave _her_ age. He thought it would be -smart to run it up into the hundreds. The dam' fool barked for three -quarters of an hour without stoppin'! I never was so disgusted in my -life. Thass--that's why I'm gettin' full to-night." - -"I don't see why _you_ should get full," said Sticky. - -"Sticky, you _would_ see if you knew the horrible thought that's been -botherin' me all day. Mos' dreadful thought." - -"What is it?" - -"It occurred to me that, next thing I know, I'll be doin' some idiotic -trick like that. I've got a feelin'--an awful feelin'--that I won't be -able to get out of it. Some woman'll want me to play a cow, or a goat, -or a crocodile, sure's your're born, and I'll be _it_. Awful thought!" - -Everybody laughed but Bosworth. He flushed and looked very much hurt. - -"I'm not foolin', boys," he said quite seriously. "I feel it coming. I -haven't money enough to tell 'em to go to the devil, and they know it. -That's the trouble in not havin' money. So, I've made up my mind to -follow the governor's advice. I'm going to marry it." - -"Good boy!" cried the drawler, humoring him. - -"Either that or go to work," said Bosworth, slowly, impressively. Again -they laughed, and again he flushed. "I mean it. I'm either going to -marry some one who can support me in the latest and most approved -fashion, or I'm going to chuck the whole business and devote my time to -solving the labor problem by trying to hold a job somewhere. Twelve -thousand a year is all right if a chap's working part of the time. He's -at least earning the interest on what he spends. But twelve thousand -isn't even pin money in the crowd I'm trying to keep up with." - -"I've always said you'd marry a wad as big as the best of 'em," said -Sticky, greatly encouraged. - -"If I don't marry pretty soon, the governor will," mused Buzzy. "The -Lord knows _he_ won't marry for love or experience. No, gentlemen, you -can't expect to be much more than a poodle dog on twelve thousand. I had -to lick a feller at college once for calling me a pup. I'd hate it like -the deuce if I should live to see his statement proved true. No, I won't -be a trained dog. I'll get married and pay my debts. And--I say, what -time's it getting to be? Eight forty-five? Well, I must be on my way." - -He swung his leg down from the table, straightened his slender, elegant -figure with a palpable effort, and smiled his most genial farewells to -the crowd. - -"Rotten night," he said once more. - -The drawler took his arm and accompanied him to the door. They were very -good friends. - -"Better stay in to-night, Buzzy," he said. - -Bosworth looked at him in haughty surprise. - -"You think I'm tight," he retorted. "There, forgive me, old chap; I -didn't mean to snap you off like that. Le' me tell you about those -cocktails. I took 'em to brace me up. I'm going to do it to-night." This -in a whisper. - -"Do it? Do what?" - -"Ask her!" - -"What the dev--Ask who what?" - -"I don't know just who yet, but I certainly know what. I'm going to ask -some one to become Mrs. Van Pycke. There are three of 'em who are -eligible, according to the governor. He's ding-donged 'em at me for -three months. I've got a taxicab waiting for me out there. The chances -are that it'll get stuck in the snow somewhere. That's why I can't say -which one I'm going to ask. It all depends on which one lives nearest to -the snowdrift in which we get stuck. They're all the same to me. And I -think they are to the governor. But, see here, George, I'm not going to -ask more than one of 'em. If I get turned down to-night, that ends it. -I'm going to work!" - -"I don't wish you any bad luck, Buzzy, but I hope you'll be turned -down," said his friend, earnestly. - -Van Pycke was staring straight before him. His brain seemed clearer when -he replied. There was a distinctly plaintive note in his voice. - -"I wonder if I _could_ make good at work of any kind. Do you suppose any -one would give me a trial?" - -"In a minute, Buzzy! And you would make good. Better stay in to-night. -Let the--" - -"No," said Buzzy, resolutely. "I'm going to try the other thing first. -That's what I've been trained for. Good night, George. Don't tell the -fellows, will you? They'll guy me to death. I just wanted you to -understand that I can't go on as I'm going on twelve thousand a year." - -"I quite understand, old boy." - -Buzzy held his hand for a moment, looking quite steadily into his eyes. -"You don't think I'm as useless as the rest of 'em think I am, do you, -George?" - -"God bless you, no! No one thinks that of you!" - -"George, I hate a liar," said Buzzy, but his face glowed with a happy -smile. - -In the lobby he met his father. - -"Where the devil have you been?" demanded Van Pycke, senior. "Damitall, -I've wasted half an hour waiting for you." - -"I didn't know you were waiting, dad. Why didn't you send in your card?" - -"Send in my--why, confound you, Bosworth, I'm a member of this club. Why -should I send in--" - -"Don't lose your temper, dad. I apologize for keeping you waiting. Don't -let me keep you any longer." - -Mr. Van Pycke looked his son over very carefully. A pained expression -came into his face. - -"Bosworth, I am sorry to see you in this condition. It grieves me beyond -measure. You have never--" - -"It's an awful night, isn't it, dad? Can't I give you a lift in my -taxicab? I see you've got on your overcoat and hat." Bosworth was -moving toward the clubhouse entrance. The old gentleman resolutely kept -pace with him. - -"That's just what I meant to ask you," said he, with some celerity. -"I--I can't get a cab of any sort for love or money. It's generous--" - -"You can't get much of anything for love in these days, dad, except -love." - -Mr. Van Pycke pondered this while Bosworth got into his coat and hat. - -"I am very sorry to see you intox--" - -"Dad, I 'm celebrating," said his son, halting just inside the door. - -"Celebrating what?" - -"My approaching marriage, sir." - -Mr. Van Pycke dropped the glove he was pulling on. He went very white, -except for his nose. That seemed redder by contrast. - -"Not--not a chorus girl?" he stammered, his hand shaking as he raised it -to his brow. - -"No, dad. Not yet. I expect to marry some one else first. I'll save the -other for a rainy day." - -"Who--who is it, my boy? Who is it?" - -"That, sir, is still a matter of conjecture. I haven't quite got down to -the point of selecting--" - -"You insufferable booby," roared his father. "You gave me a--a dreadful -shock, sir! Never do that again." - -"I thought you'd like to know, sir," said Bosworth, politely. He winked -gravely at a mahogany doorpost, and motioned for his father to precede -him through the storm doors. - -"By the way," muttered his father, obstructing the way, as if recalling -something he had forgotten to attend to inside the club, "would you mind -lending me fifty for a couple of days? I meant to speak to you about it -in--" - -"Will ten do, dad? It's all I have with me, except a tip for the driver. -We mustn't forget the driver on a night like this." Bosworth was feeling -in his trousers pocket, no sign of resentment in his face. - -"I dare say I can borrow forty from Stone," said the other, readily. -"No," he went on, after he had pocketed the crumpled bank note and was -fastening his baby lamb collar close up to his shrivelled throat; "no, -we can't forget the driver on a night like this. You really won't mind -dropping me up town, will you, Bosworth? I don't mind walking if you'd -rather not." - -"Come along, governor," said the other, pushing through the doors. "Ah, -that cold air feels good!" The young man drew in a long, deep breath. - -"Good? It might feel good to a polar bear, but I don't see how--" - -"Sh! Be careful, dad! Don't let the driver hear you call me a polar -bear. He wouldn't understand, and it might get into the papers--the very -thing I'm trying to avoid." - -Mr. Van Pycke attributed this remarkable utterance to the cup that -cheers and befuddles. At best he seldom appreciated or understood -Bosworth's wit. - -The taxicab plowed and sputtered its way through a city block of pelting -snow before he gave over trying to analyze this latest example. Then he -broke the silence, in the shrill, chattering tones of one who is very -cold. - -"I don't think I told the driver where he could put me down," he said. - -"Eh?" mumbled Bosworth, coming out of a dream. "Oh, I dare say it won't -matter. I'll tell him when he puts me down." - -"But," expostulated his father, from the recesses of the baby lamb, "you -may be going to--to Harlem." He could think of nothing worse. "I've been -delayed in keeping my appointment on your account, as it is. It's very -annoying, Bosworth, that I should be kept waiting a whole hour there in -the club while you puttered your time away at--" - -"Where _do_ you want to get out, dad?" interrupted the scion of the -house of Van Pycke. - -Mr. Van Pycke had been thinking. He was not sure that he wanted Bosworth -to know just where he was going on this momentous night. It occurred to -him that the walk of a block would not only throw the young man off the -track, but might also serve to soften the heart of the lady for whom he -was risking so much in the shape of health by venturing forth afoot in a -storm so relentless. Moreover, he could tell her that he had walked all -the way up from the club, cabless because even the hardiest of drivers -balked at the prospect. A statement like that, attended by a bushel or -more of snow in the vestibule where it had been brushed off by the -butler, ought to convince the lady in mind that his devotion was thinly -divorced from recklessness. So he told Bosworth that he would get out at -Mr. Purdwell's house. - -The announcement caused Bosworth mentally to eliminate one of the ladies -from his list. He gave a deep sigh of relief at that. The daughter of -the shamelessly rich Mr. Purdwell was so homely and so vain that she was -almost certain to have said "yes"--with all her millions--if he had -asked her. He remembered that Miss Hebbins, almost as rich and quite as -eager to get into the Four Hundred, was the next on his list. She lived -a few blocks farther up the street. - -"All right, dad. Just push the button when we get to Purdwell's corner. -I'm going beyond." - -Mr. Van Pycke hesitated for a moment. "Would it be too much trouble for -you to stop for me on your way down, Bosworth?" - -"Not at all, dad." As an afterthought he added: "Something tells me I -won't be up here long. Can you be ready at half-past ten?" - -"I think so," said his father, who had some misgivings. - -The taxi struggled bravely along for a couple of blocks. Bosworth was -dozing comfortably. His father, seized by an unwelcome sense of -compunction, was turning something over in his mind. In the end, he -concluded to break a certain piece of news to his son. - -"Your mother has been dead for sixteen years, Bosworth." - -Bosworth opened his eyes. - -"Yes, sir," he said, trying to guess what was coming. - -"She was a noble woman, my boy. I--I shall never forget her." - -"I loved her," said Bosworth, vaguely. - -"I have always said that a man shouldn't marry a second time," proceeded -Mr. Van Pycke. Bosworth sniffed. Mr. Van Pycke went on: "That is, until -his first wife has been--er--at rest for fifteen years or more. It's -only decent." - -"I see," said Bosworth, comprehending. - -"You do?" demanded his father, a bit upset. - -"Who is she, dad?" - -Mr. Van Pycke's chin was so far down in the baby lamb that his reply was -barely audible. "I hope to be able to tell you in the morning--perhaps -late this evening, my son." - -The young man was smiling in his corner of the cab. "Are you quite sure -you love her, dad?" he asked, without guile. - -Mr. Van Pycke coughed. - -"Perhaps you'd better wait till morning to tell me that, too," said his -son, coming to the rescue. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -A YOUNG LADY ENTERS - - -Mr. Van Pycke got down in front of the Purdwell mansion. It must be -admitted that he almost funked when he opened the door of the cab and -let in a gust of wind and snow that almost took his breath away. But he -steeled himself and slipped out into the seething blizzard. He blinked -around in all directions as the taxicab chortled off into the white -whirlwind. So dense was the flying snow that he could scarcely see the -houses on the inner side of the pavement; he was nearly a minute in -getting his bearings. Then he shuffled off through the great drifts on -the walk, pointed toward a fashionable apartment building whose lights -glimmered fantastically against the whistling, shifting screen. - -It may be added that Mr. Van Pycke was cursing himself for a fool at -every wretched step of the way. Never, in all his life, had he seen -snowdrifts so deep and never so stubborn. He said to himself that he'd -be d--d if he pay a cent of taxes until civic affairs were administered -by an assembly that knew enough to keep the sidewalks clear of snow. He -also experienced the doleful fear that his nose was freezing in spite of -all that he could do to prevent it. - -Bosworth's taxicab floundered heroically on for two blocks. Then it gave -out and came to a frantic stop, pulsing and throbbing and jerking its -very vitals out in the effort to go ahead. - -"She's stuck, sir," said the driver, opening the door. - -"Where are we?" demanded young Mr. Van Pycke. "Please come inside and -close the door. I hate a draft. That's better. Now we can talk it over. -Are we lost?" - -"Lost, sir? C'tainly not. I know w'ere we are, all right. Only we can't -budge out of this snowdrift. It's the woist ever." - -"I suppose we'll have to sleep here," said Bosworth, resignedly. He was -comfortably sleepy by this time. - -The driver struck a match, the better to inspect his amiable fare. "Not -if I know myself," he growled. "If you should happen to lose your watch -while you're in this condition, I'd be jugged for it. I'll take you to -the Lackaday Hotel in the next block below and turn you over to the -chambermaids. Come along, pardner. I'll see that you get there all -right." - -Buzzy sat up and glared at him in the darkness. "Strike another match, -confound you," he commanded. "How the devil am I to see your number? -Never mind; I sha'n't report your impertinence, after all. I dare say -you meant well. I am a bit drunk. But I can get along all right by -myself. You say the Lackaday is back there in the next block?" - -"Yes, sir. The number you wanted is about three blocks furder up. If it -hadn't a been--" - -"Let me out. I'll walk back. You--you've taken me past the number I -wanted." - -"The ticket says 714, sir, plain as day," began the driver. "You didn't -say nothin' about the Lackaday--" - -"You're quite right, my man. And you didn't say anything about stopping -in the middle of the block for the night, did you? Well, there you are! -That squares us." - -He clambered out into the snowdrift and unbuttoned his overcoat. The man -seemed undecided whether to let him go or to drag him back into the -vehicle. Bosworth found what he was looking for in his waistcoat pocket. -He pressed it into the driver's hand. - -"I'm sorry it isn't more," he said regretfully. "It may be a dollar, or -it may be a five, but no matter which it is, it ought to be more. Now -I'll tell you what I want you to do. If you can't get this thing going -by 'leven o'clock, I want you to go up to Martin's and have 'em send a -four-horse sleigh to No. 511. It's the first residence north of the -Lackaday, and it's the number I've been compelled to select as a last -resort. Understand?" - -"Yes, sir. Martin's livery, sir. I'll attend to everything, sir. Thank -you, sir." - -He stood there in the blinding snow, watching his fare struggle to the -sidewalk. Then he decided to follow along behind him until the "young -gent" was safely within the doors of No. 511. He had driven Mr. Van -Pycke before and he knew that it was not a dollar bill. - -Bosworth reached the steps leading up to the rather imposing doorway at -No. 511. There was a heavy, stubborn iron gate at the foot, which he -had some difficulty in opening because of the snow. While he was working -with it, a man came plump up against him. Together they seized upon the -gate and yanked with all their might and main. - -"Thanks," said Buzzy, when it was open. - -"Don't thank me," snapped the other. "I'm going in myself." - -They mounted the six or eight steps to the storm doors, side by side, -enveloped in the snow that scuttled around the corner of the big -Lackaday hotel next door. With a great stamping of boots they floundered -into the shelter of the outer vestibule. - -The light in the hall beyond shone through the glass doors, illuminating -the box-like coop in which they paused, each selfishly to occupy himself -in catching his breath and at the same time shake the snow from his -person. In the act of knocking the snow from the tops of their silk hats -they glanced up simultaneously, each having arrived at the moment when -it was convenient for him to inquire into the identity of his fellow -visitor. - -They stared hard for a moment. - -"Hello, dad! Are you lost?" - -Mr. Van Pycke muttered something into the collar of his coat. -Fortunately the wind outside was making such a noise that his son did -not hear the remark. - -"Is that you, Bosworth?" he demanded querulously, almost on the instant. - -"Yes, sir,--your long lost son. I--I thought I let you out at -Purdwell's?" Bosworth seemed a bit hazy. - -Mr. Van Pycke cleared his throat. "I didn't find any one at home." It -did not occur to him to ask why Bosworth was there. "So I came up here, -unexpectedly, mind you. I thought perhaps the weather being so dreadful, -I'd be sure to find Mrs. Scoville at home. No one would think of going -out on a night like this." - -"Do you suppose the Purdwells went out _without_ thinking?" asked -Bosworth, innocently. - -"Ring the bell," said Mr. Van Pycke, very sharply. - -His son found the button with some difficulty, and gave it a violent and -unintentionally prolonged push. In silence they awaited the response of -the footman. - -"Is your mistress at home, Bellows?" asked Mr. Van Pycke, as the door -was opened part way to allow the indignant inspection of one who had -certainly expected beggars. - -Bellows, smileless and resourceful individual, seemed a bit uncertain, -not to say upset. He glanced over his shoulder in a very far from -imperious manner, apparently expecting the answer to come from the -softly lighted hallway behind him. - -"I'll see, Mr. Van Pycke. Will you step inside?" - -"Get a broom, Bellows, and brush off some of this snow." - -"Yes, sir." The footman appeared a moment later with a whisk broom. -"It's a very nawsty night, sir," he informed them jointly as he began -scattering the snow in all directions. From tip to toe he whisked the -shivering Mr. Van Pycke, and then turned upon his silent companion. The -elder slipped into the warm hall, feeling his nose in considerable -agitation. - -"Bellows, come in here and take my coat. By Gad, I wonder if I am likely -to catch pneumonia." - -"In a moment, sir." - -"You--you think it likely, Bellows? That suddenly?" - -Bosworth stepped inside, and Bellows gently closed the door before -turning to the distressed Mr. Van Pycke, senior. - -"Bellows, is my nose frozen?" demanded that gentleman, in tones faint -with dread. - -"No, sir. It looks to me to be quite warm, sir." - -"Is your mistress engaged, Bellows?" inserted Bosworth, quietly. "If she -is, I'll not trouble you to help me off with my coat." - -"I--I think she is, sir. I'll see, however." - -"Very odd," said Mr. Van Pycke, senior, as the man disappeared down the -hall. - -"I think there's a dinner going on," said Bosworth, beginning to button -up his coat. - -"No one would go to a dinner on such a night as this," rasped Mr. Van -Pycke, who knew all of the eleventh-hour habits of society. He took up -his position over a simmering floor register. "I'm wet to my knees. My -feet are like ice. I wish that demmed servant would hurry back here and -get me a hot drink of some sort. Ring the bell there, Bosworth. I'm--I'm -quite sure I feel something stuffy in my chest. Good God, if it should -be pneumonia!" His legs trembled violently. - -Bosworth did not ring the bell. He was staring thoughtfully at the -floor, and paid no attention to his father's maunderings. The humor of -the situation was beginning to sift through his slowly clearing brain. - -Bellows returned. - -"Mrs. Scoville is at home, and begs the Misters Van Pycke to bear with -her for a few minutes. She is at dinner with a few guests. In the -drawing-room there are other guests. You will please to make yourselves -at home until she leaves the table. The gentlemen are to smoke in the -drawing-room to-night." - -"A crowd?" muttered Bosworth. Then his eyes lighted up with sudden -relief. "Thank the Lord, I won't have to do it." - -"Do what?" demanded his father. - -Bosworth's wits were keener. "Go out into the storm without something to -warm me up," he equivocated. - -"Bellows, who is in the drawing-room?" asked Mr. Van Pycke, eying the -door with some curiosity. "They're deuced quiet, whoever they are." - -Bellows grew very red in the face and resolutely pressed his lips -together. He took Mr. Bosworth's overcoat and hat and laid them -carefully on the Italian hall seat before venturing to reply. - -"You can't hear them for the wind, sir," he said. - -"Bellows, I'm catching my death," shivered Mr. Van Pycke. "I feel it -coming. Get me something to drink. My God, look at my shoes! They're -sopping wet. Bosworth, don't stand there like a clothing store model! I -must have dry shoes and stockings. I can't--" - -"A clothing store model?" murmured the footman, strangely perturbed. - -"I can't run the chance of pneumonia at my age," went on Mr. Van Pycke. -"Bellows, do you suppose there's a dry pair of trousers in the house? -I'm wet to the knees. I must have shoes. Demmit, Bosworth, do -something!" - -"My dear father, don't look at me. I'm using my trousers. I dare say -Bellows has an extra suit of livery." - -"If you wouldn't mind wearing brown trousers with a yellow stripe down -the leg, sir," began Bellows. - -"Anything," interrupted Mr. Van Pycke, irritably. "But I must also have -shoes." - -Bellows was thoughtful. "I think, sir, that there is an old pair of -riding boots under the stairs, sir. They belonged to poor Mr. Scoville, -sir." - -"I don't like the idea of wearing other men's shoes--" objected Mr. Van -Pycke, with an apprehensive glance at his son. - -"I don't think it would matter, sir," said Bellows, affably. "Mr. -Scoville hasn't worn them in two years and a half." - -Mr. Van Pycke's look of horror caused Bellows to realize. - -"I beg pardon, sir. It would be rather grewsome getting into dead men's -boots, sir. I never thought--" - -"That's undoubtedly what Mr. Van Pycke is contemplating, Bellows," said -Bosworth, slyly. - -"Sir!" snapped Mr. Van Pycke. - -Bellows' face lighted with the joy of a great discovery. "I have it, -sir. If you will wait out here just a few moments, sir, I can have -trousers, shoes, and stockings. Have you a notion, sir, as to the size?" -He stood back and looked Mr. Van Pycke over carefully. "I think I can -fix it, sir." - -He departed hastily, closing the drawing-room door behind him. Bosworth -sat down upon a frail Italian chair and watched his father unbutton his -shoes while standing on one foot, propped against the wall. - -"Dad, he's going to sandbag one of the guests and take off his clothes," -the young man said, smiling broadly. His eyes were quite steady now, and -merry. - -"Why are you here, sir?" demanded his father, irrelevantly, suddenly -remembering that Bosworth had not mentioned his intention to stop at -Mrs. Scoville's. - -The young man was spared the expediency of a reply by the return of -Bellows, with a pair of trousers over his arm, shoes and stockings in -his hand. He seemed in some haste to close the drawing-room door behind -him. - -"You can change in the room at the head of the stairs, sir." - -Mr. Van Pycke, in his stocking feet, preceded the footman up the stairs, -treading very tenderly, as if in mortal fear of tacks. - -Buzzy twirled his thumbs impatiently. He yawned time and again, and more -than once cast his glance in the direction of his coat and hat. Never -before, in any house, had he been required to sit in a reception hall -until the hostess was ready to receive him elsewhere. He could not -understand it. Above all places, Mrs. Scoville's, where the freedom of -the house was usually extended to all who in friendship came. - -From behind closed doors--distant closed doors, by the way--came the -sound of laughter and joyous conversation, faintly audible to the young -man in the hall. - -"I feel like an ass," said young Mr. Van Pycke, probably to the newel -post, there being nothing else quite so human in sight. Then he leaned -back with a comfortable smile. "I've virtually tried the three eligibles -to-night," he mused. "It's a satisfaction to feel that they haven't -dismissed me in so many words, and it's a relief to feel that they -haven't had the actual opportunity to accept me. I've done my best. The -blizzard disposes. I'll see Krosson to-morrow about a place in his -offices." - -Mr. Van Pycke came down stairs even more tenderly than he went up. There -was a look of pain in his face, and he walked slack-kneed, with his toes -turned in a trifle. He was wearing a pair of trousers that had been -constructed for a much larger man, except as to height. - -"The shoes are too small and the trousers too big," he groaned. "I'm -leaving my own up there to be dried out. Bellows says they'll be dry in -half an hour. I had to put these on for a while. One can't go around -with--er--nothing on, so to speak." - -"I'm trying to think who's in there that wears trousers of that -size--and shape," murmured Bosworth, surveying his father critically. - -"Bah!" rasped the uncomfortable Mr. Van Pycke. "Announce us, Bellows." - -Bellows opened the drawing-room door, took a quick peep within, and -then, standing aside, announced in his most impressive tones: - -"Mr. Van Pycke! Mr. Bosworth Van Pycke!" - -The two gentlemen stepped into the long, dimly lighted room. Bellows -disappeared quickly down the hall. Mr. Van Pycke, his sense of dignity -increased by the desire to offset the only too apparent lack of it, -advanced into the middle of the room, politely smiling for the benefit -of a group of ladies and gentlemen congregated at the lower end, near -the windows. So far as he could see, they were engaged in the vulgar -occupation known as staring. - -Bosworth Van Pycke stopped just inside the door, clapping his hand to -his forehead. His mouth fell open and his eyes popped wide with -amazement--almost horror. He sat down suddenly in the nearest chair and -continued to gaze blankly at the figures down the room. He heard his -father say "Good evening" twice, but he heard no response from the -group. His abrupt, incontrollable guffaw of understanding and joy caused -his now annoyed parent to whirl upon him in surprise. - -"Oh, this is rich!" Bosworth was holding his sides, laughing -immoderately. - -"Bosworth!" hissed his father, with a conscious glance at his feet and -legs. "What the devil amuses you?" - -For answer his son strode over and clutched him by the arm, turning him -around so that he faced the silent, immovable group. - -"See that man back there without trousers? The bare-legged, bare-footed -chap? Well, dad, you've got on his pants." - -"Good God!" gasped Mr. Van Pycke, nervously hunting for the bridge of -his nose with his glasses. "Is the poor fellow naked?" - -"Half naked, dad, that's all. Look closely!" - -"Sh! Demmit all, boy, he'd knock me down! And the ladies! What the devil -does he mean, undressing in this bare-faced--" - -"Bare-legged, dad." With a fresh laugh he leaned forward and chucked the -nearest lady under the chin. As she was standing directly in front of -Van Pycke, senior, that gentleman, in some haste, moved back to avoid -the retort physical. - -"Bosworth! How--how dare you?" he gasped. - -"Can't you see, dad? This is the richest thing I've ever known. Don't be -afraid of 'em. They're wax figures, every one of them!" - -Mr. Van Pycke started. Then he stared. - -"Well, upon my soul!" he gasped. He repeated this remark four or five -times during a hasty parade in front of the group, in each instance -peering rudely and with growing temerity into the pink and white face of -a surpassingly beautiful lady. - -"It seems to me that I recognize this one," he said, with a cackle of -joy. "I've seen her in Altman's window. 'Pon my soul I have, Bosworth." - -"I don't know what Laura's game is, but, by Jove, it's ripping, I'll say -that for it," said Bosworth, his face beaming. "How many of them are -there?" He counted. "Fourteen. Seven spiketails and seven directoires. -Great!" - -The two gentlemen withdrew to the upper end of the room, to better the -effect. From the dining-room, four rooms away, came the more distinct -sounds of laughter and conversation. - -"There is a _real_ party out there," said Bosworth, rubbing his chin -contemplatively. "I wonder what's up?" - -Mr. Van Pycke sat down and twirled his thin mustache, first one side and -then the other, murmuring "By Jove!" over and over again in a most -perplexed way. Bosworth stood, with his chin between finger and thumb, -thoughtfully viewing the inanimate group. For several minutes his face -indicated the most penetrating contemplation of the exhibit down the -room. He was still a trifle dizzy, but in no danger of losing his -attitude of sober reflection. - -There were blond ladies and brunettes, old ladies and young ones, and -some who were neither; all beautifully, elaborately gowned in the latest -models from Paris. Their starry glass eyes gazed into space with the -same innocuous stare that baffles all attempts to divert it through -plate-glass windows. Some were sitting, some were standing. Gentlemen in -evening clothes, with monocles or opera hats--mostly plebeian persons, -from Eighth Avenue, you'd say--stood vaguely but stanchly in -juxtaposition to ladies who paid no heed to them, but who, however, were -not unique in their abstraction. Fuzzy-mustached gentlemen were they, -with pink cheeks and iron-clad shoulders. They stared intently but not -attentively at the chandeliers or the wall-paper, unwinking gallants who -seemed only conscious of their clothes. - -The effect was startling, even grewsome. For five minutes Bosworth -surveyed the waxy, over-dressed group in profound silence, cudgeling his -brain for a key to the puzzling exhibition. - -"For the life of me," he said at last, "I can't understand it." - -"I understand it perfectly," said his father, still somewhat dismayed by -the steady gaze of the last pair of blue eyes he had encountered. "Mrs. -Scoville is ordering some new gowns, and the--er--modistes have sent up -samples. Perfectly clear to me." - -"I suppose she's ordering a few suits of men's garments--garments is -what they say in the clothing stores--to lend variety to her wardrobe," -said Bosworth, dryly. - -Mr. Van Pycke coughed indulgently. "Bosworth, you shouldn't take so many -cocktails before--" - -"Yes, father," interrupted Bosworth, humbly. "I quite agree with you. -For a while I thought it might be the cocktails, but now that you see -them, too, I am very much relieved." - -"I am very sorry to see a son of mine--" - -"Hello!" said Bosworth, his gaze suddenly encountering a table near the -fireplace on which were piled a number of small boxes. One could see at -a glance that they were jeweller's boxes. "Looks like Christmas." - -He got up and strode over to the table. - -"Christmas is a week off," said Mr. Van Pycke. "What's up? Some one -coming down the chimney? It wouldn't surprise me, by Jove!" - -His son was gazing, as if thunderstruck, at the contents of more than a -dozen boxes of various sizes. He whistled softly, to best express his -wonder. - -"Great Scott!" he said, after a moment. "There's half a million dollars' -worth of dog-collars, pendants, tiaras, rings, and--" He was holding up, -for his father's benefit, a rope of pearls that could not have cost less -than a hundred thousand dollars. "Take a look at this, dad!" - -Mr. Van Pycke made his way painfully to his son's side. "Astounding!" he -murmured, touching a tiara with respectful fingers. - -"Say!" - -The two Van Pyckes jumped. The voice that uttered the raucous -monosyllable was masculine, and it seemed to burst from a spot not far -removed from their elbows. Bewildered, they stared this way and that in -quest of the rude owner of that voice. - -"Keep your hands off o' them jewels," said the voice, levelly. - -Bosworth's indignant gaze discovered the man in the very centre of the -group of "dummies." The young man experienced a queer shiver of dismay. -Was he losing his senses? - -A pink-cheeked gentleman with a crêpe mustache arose from a chair in the -extreme background. He leveled a menacing finger, with Bosworth as the -object of its concern. - -"Move back from that table, gents," remarked the vivified object near -the windows. The Messrs. Van Pycke fell back several paces, still -staring blankly at the figure. - -Bosworth gulped. "Are you--alive?" he demanded, putting his fingers to -his temple. - -"Alive? What do you think I am? A corrupse?" exclaimed the figure. - -"I meant to say, are you the only live one in--in the crowd?" - -The man looked about him, perplexed. Then he understood. "Oh, you mean -these freaks? Say, my disguise must be all right. I look like a waxwork, -do I? I--" - -Mr. Van Pycke had recovered his dignity. "What the devil is the meaning -of all this, sir? Explain yourself." - -The man picked his way carefully through the group of wax figures. He -was a sturdy person whose evening clothes did not fit him, now that one -observed him carefully. When he was clear of the group, he calmly turned -back the lapel of his coat, revealing a nickel-plated star. - -"Does that star signify anything, gents? It says I'm here on this job, -that's all. Just to see that nobody walks off with the sparklers. I'm -from Wilkerson's Private Detective Agency. See? Now, I'd like to know -when and how you got into this room." - -He faced them threateningly. - -The Van Pyckes started. - -"What do you mean?" exclaimed Bosworth, turning quite red. - -"Just what I say, young feller. When did you come in here?" - -"You say you are a detective!" sneered Bosworth. - -The man from Wilkerson's blinked his eyes suddenly. "I--I guess I -dropped off to sleep for a couple of minutes. Up for three nights--" - -"Do you recognize these trousers?" demanded the young man, pointing to -his father's ridiculous legs. - -The detective peered rather closely. Mr. Van Pycke drew back and glared -at him through his glasses. - -"By thunder, they _don't_ fit him, do they? Say, there's something wrong -with you guys. Where'd you get them pants, you?" - -"Me?" murmured Mr. Van Pycke. - -"Yes, _you_!" - -"I'll have you pitched from this house, you impertinent scoundrel!" -roared Mr. Van Pycke, threatened with apoplexy. - -"Where'd you get them pants?" repeated the sleuth, steadily. "And them -shoes! Say, this has a queer look. I'll have to--here! What's the matter -with you? What you laughin' at? It won't be so blamed funny, young -feller, let me tell you that. You guys can't--" - -"You're a fine detective, you are," laughed Bosworth. - -"I'm Doxey, the star man of the agency," retorted the detective, -angrily. - -"It's a wonder my father isn't wearing your trousers, Mr. Doxey. It -would have been quite as easy, and I really think they'd fit him better -than they fit you. Don't lose your temper, please. Good detectives never -lose their tempers. Please remember that. Now, if you'll be good enough -to cast your eyes upon that shameless person near the cabinet over -there, you'll--" - -"Great Scott!" gasped Mr. Doxey, his eyes bulging. - -"That's right! Keep your eye on him. I don't know who your friend is, -Mr. Doxey, but my father is temporarily inhabiting his trousers--and -shoes. You must have slept soundly not to have been disturbed when -Bellows took them off. You'll find--" - -"Come off!" growled Doxey. "The old man didn't come here without pants, -did he? And if he had his own on, what in thunder was he trading with--" - -Bosworth held up his hand imperatively. - -"Good detectives don't discuss their deductions with--never mind! I -sha'n't say it. Now, it may interest you to know that we are close -personal friends of Mrs. Scoville. We--" - -"Don't haggle with the demmed scoundrel," protested Mr. Van Pycke, -vigorously. - -"Now, don't get fresh--don't get fresh!" said Mr. Doxey, his fusty black -mustache coming loose on one side and drooping over his lip. - -"Don't bite it!" cautioned Bosworth, hastily. Mr. Doxey stuck it back in -place with a white kid paw of huge dimensions. - -"I am Bosworth Van Pycke, and this is my father, Mr. Van Dieman Van -Pycke," said Bosworth, bowing very low. - -"Van Pycke? Wait a minute. I got a list of the guests here in my pocket. -I'll see if you're among 'em. If you belong here, why ain't you out -there eatin' with the rest of 'em?" Mr. Doxey looked up suspiciously -from the paper he had taken from his coat pocket. "I don't like this -pants gag. It sounds fishy." - -"Fishy?" murmured Mr. Van Pycke. "What the devil does he mean by that, -Bosworth?" - -"It's his way of calling me a liar, dad, that's all." - -"Say, there ain't any Van Pyckes on this list. And this is the _correct_ -list, too. The butler gave it to me himself. I--" - -Bosworth suddenly lost his playful manner. He was tired of the game. - -"That will do, Mr. Doxey. Be good enough to go back to your corner," he -said coldly. "I mean it. Don't stand there glaring. It has no effect on -me. I _am_ Mr. Bosworth Van Pycke. I don't blame you for protecting the -jewels--even from Van Pyckes--but there's nothing more for you to do, so -far as we are concerned. We are waiting for Mrs. Scoville and her -guests. And, say, on your way back to your chair--or was it a couch?--be -good enough to drape a table cover about the limbs of that unfortunate -person with the bald head--and bald legs, I might add." - -Mr. Doxey looked from one to the other with interest, not to say -curiosity. Something in the young man's manner carried conviction. - -"Are you the--the Buzzy Van Pycke who gave the supper for Carmen the -other--" - -"I am," Bosworth interjected. "I didn't see you there, Mr. Doxey." - -Mr. Doxey snickered. "My wife wouldn't 'a' stood for me--" - -"My good man, there were a number of married men there. All of 'em, no -doubt, were being shadowed by detectives. I thought perhaps you might -have got in--but, there! I am tattling. Please sit down, Mr. Doxey." - -He threw himself into a comfortable chair and crossed his legs. Then he -proceeded to light a cigaret. - -Mr. Van Pycke, senior, had been sitting for some minutes, a strangely -preoccupied look in his eyes, his lips twitching as if with pain. - -"I guess I'll just set out here," said the detective, looking from one -to the other shrewdly. "The town's full of those Raffles crooks. How do -I know--" - -"Quite right, Doxey. How could you know? You sleep too soundly." - -"If you're what you say you are, why don't you call in the footman to -identify you?" - -"Bellows has already announced us, Mr. Doxey. I'm hanged if I'll ask him -to do it over again. Now that I think of it, he almost burst while doing -it. It's not my fault that you did not hear him." - -Mr. Doxey looked uncomfortable. - -"Well, just keep your hands off from the jewels," he said. - -Mr. Van Pycke, senior, spoke for the first time in many minutes. It was -easy to see where his thoughts had been directed during the trifling -dialogue. His gaze was attached to the patent-leather shoes he wore. - -"I don't see how that demmed dummy ever got into these shoes. They're -almost killing me. Confound it, Bosworth, don't grin like an ape! You -are tight, sir,--disgustingly tight!" - -"I'll lay you a fiver I'm not so tight as the shoes, dad." - -Mr. Doxey snickered. Van Pycke, père, glared at him in a shocked sort of -way for a moment, and then, disdaining the affront, fell to tenderly -pressing each of his insteps, very much as if trying to discover a spot -that had not yet developed a pain. - -The detective took a seat where he could watch the two gentlemen and at -the same time keep an eye on the door through to the dining-room far -beyond. Bosworth smoked in silence for some time. - -"What's the meaning of all this?" he asked, after a while, indicating -the group of dummies with a comprehensive sweep of his hand. - -"I'm not here to answer questions," said Mr. Doxey, succinctly. - -"Oh!" said Bosworth. - -Mr. Van Pycke stirred restlessly. "By Jove, I think I'll--'I'll have to -go upstairs and change these shoes for my own, wet or dry. I can't stand -'em any longer. I dare say my trousers are dry by this time, too." He -arose with great deliberateness. He took two delicate steps toward the -hall door; then Mr. Doxey's irritatingly brusque voice brought him up -with a jerk. - -"Hold on, there! None o' that--none o' that! You set right where you -are, mister. I guess I'll just keep you in plain view for a while. Fine -work, me lettin' you go upstairs, eh? Fine work, I don't think!" - -"Confound you, sir, I'll--" began Mr. Van Pycke, drawing himself to his -full height with a spasmodic effort that brought its results in pain. - -"Sit down, father," advised Bosworth, gently. Mr. Van Pycke sat down. -"There's some one coming," added his son a moment later. He arose and -turned toward the portières at the upper end of the room, prepared to -greet the beautiful Mrs. Scoville. - -The portières parted at the bottom. All eyes were lowered. The most -unamiable looking bulldog that ever crossed man's path protruded his -squat body into the room, pausing just inside the curtains to survey the -trio before him in a most disconcertingly pointed manner. His whole body -seemed to convert itself into a scowl of disapproval. - -Bosworth sat down dismayed. His father swore softly and drew his feet a -bit nearer to the legs of the chair. Both of them knew the dog. They -knew, moreover, that the only living creature in the whole world exempt -from peril was the beast's mistress, the fair lady to whom they had come -to pay coincidental devoirs. All other persons came under the head of -prey, so far as Agrippa was concerned--Agrippa being the somewhat -ominous name of the pet. - -"How--how does he happen to be loose?" murmured Bosworth, with a side -glance at the detective. - -"Is he dangerous?" asked Mr. Doxey. - -"He's a man-eater," said the other, quite uncomfortably. - -"Nobody told me about a watchdog." - -"Ah, now I understand why he's loose," said Bosworth, promptly. Mr. -Doxey looked thoughtful for a moment, and then opened his lips to resent -the imputation, half rising from his chair to obtain greater emphasis in -his delivery. - -Agrippa emitted a prophetic growl. Mr. Doxey resumed his seat in some -haste. - -"Will he bite?" he demanded instead. - -"Bite? Hang it all, man, he'll chew us to ribbons if we move. I--I know -that dog. We don't dare to twiddle until Mrs. Scoville comes in to call -him off. He's got us treed, that's all there is to it. I wouldn't move -my little finger for fifty dollars cash. Look at his eyes! Observe the -size of his incisors!" - -"I believe you," said Mr. Doxey, with a belated shudder. - -"Demmed outrage!" sputtered Mr. Van Pycke. "Now I _can't_ take them -off." - -Mr. Doxey was seized by an inspiration. He smiled. "Why don't you go -upstairs and change 'em?" he asked. Mr. Van Pycke moved one foot, -evidently agitated by a desire to kick Mr. Doxey. Agrippa growled. "Just -to see if he _will_ bite," added the detective, with a nervous laugh. - -"You go to the devil, sir!" grated Mr. Van Pycke, but entirely without -muscular emotion. - -Conversation lagged. For five minutes the three men sat immovable, -staring with intensely wakeful eyes at the grim figure of Agrippa, who -had eyes for all of them. He had moved farther into the room, possibly -for the purpose of indulging in a more or less unobstructed scrutiny of -the mysterious group of ladies and gentlemen beyond. Agrippa was puzzled -but not disturbed. He was not what you would call an inquisitive dog. - -"I have never been so insulted in my life," said Mr. Van Pycke, without -raising his voice above a polite monotone. - -"Neither have I," said Mr. Doxey. - -"You, sir? You are the _insult_, sir. How can you be insulted? It is -impossible to insult an insult. I won't put up with--" - -"Keep cool, father," warned Bosworth. "You came very near to moving your -leg just then. I warn you." - -"I'm quite sure a dog couldn't _add_ anything to the pain I'm already -suffering from these demmed shoes. Come here, doggie! Nice doggie!" The -wheedling tones made no impression on Agrippa. "What an unfriendly -beast!" - -The figures in wax down the room were not more rigid than the four -creatures above--three men and a dog. A little French clock on the -mantelpiece clicked off the seconds in a more or less sonorous manner; -Mr. Van Pycke's sighs and the detective's heavy breathing were quite -plainly distinguishable, even though the wind howled with lusty lungs at -every window in an effort to monopolize attention. - -"I shall have that dog shot the very first thing," mused Mr. Van Pycke -aloud. - -"I guess not," protested Bosworth. "He's a corker. I wouldn't take a -thousand for him." - -Then they shot simultaneous glances of apprehension at each other. Each -wondered if he had let his cat out of the bag. - -Bosworth was quick to say to himself: "I see through the governor's -game. Well, I'm a dutiful son. I've tried for three of them to-night and -Fate has been against me. It means that I'm intended for something -better than matrimony." - -Bosworth's father was thinking: "If I don't ask her at once, he'll -propose. And she'll take him in a second if he does. I'll not give him -the chance. I'll get it over with inside of five minutes. And I _will_ -kill that demmed dog." - -Agrippa pricked up his ears and turned his head ever so slightly in the -direction of the portières behind him. A moment later the light, quick -tread of some one was heard in the adjoining room, accompanied by the -swish of silky garments. - -Three pairs of eyes were lifted to the portières. A young woman appeared -between the heavy silk curtains. For a second she held an attitude of -polite inquiry. Then a wrinkle of perplexity crept into her smooth, -white forehead. She looked in surprise from one to the other of the -motionless gentlemen, ignoring the detective as completely as if he had -not been there at all. - -What surprised her most was the fact that the Messrs. Van Pycke, noted -as the most courteous of men, remained rooted to their chairs. - -"Good evening," said Bosworth, allowing his gaze to stray from her now -indignant face to the commanding jowl of Agrippa. "Pardon me for not -arising--pardon all of us, I might say,--but it is quite out of the -question. By Jove! Do you happen to know Agrippa? If you don't, please -escape while you can. He's--" - -"Agrippa? Oh!" She had a very soft, musical voice. It was doubly -attractive because of an uncertain quaver that bespoke amazement. "Are -you Mr. Van Pycke?" She looked at the young man with unmistakable -interest--or was it curiosity? - -"I am Mr. Van Pycke's son," said Bosworth, cautiously inclining his -head. - -The young lady smiled suddenly. "You poor men!" she cried. "Agrippa! -Come here, sir!" - -Agrippa's dominion was ended. He turned to her, a very humble dog. She -leaned over and boxed his ears with a soft, white hand--but so gently -that Agrippa would have smiled if he knew how. He did wag his stubby -tail by way of acknowledgment. "Please don't stir," she said to the -three appalled observers. "I'll take him away. He's a very naughty dog." - -She departed, Agrippa's collar in her fingers. A moment later she -returned. The three men were standing, but, by curious coincidence, each -had taken a position behind the chair he had occupied. - -"Mrs. Scoville begs me to say that she is sorry to have kept you waiting -so long, and that she will be down as soon as she has changed her -gown." - -"Her gown?" murmured Bosworth. - -"Changing it for what?" muttered Mr. Van Pycke, dreadfully bewildered. - -"For a street gown. She's going out, you see." - -Mr. Doxey coughed by way of attracting attention. "Do you know these -gents, Miss Downing?" - -The smile deepened in her face. Bosworth never had seen a smile so -ravishing. He smiled in sympathy, without knowing just why he did it. - -"It isn't necessary to watch them any longer," she said very sweetly. -Mr. Doxey retired to the group near the windows. - -"Thanks," said Bosworth, bowing to her. - -"Pardon me," said his father, "but I understood Mrs. Scoville was at -dinner." - -"That was some time ago, Mr. Van Pycke," the girl said quickly. "She -just _had_ to change her gown, you know." - -"Spilled something on it?" he queried. "These confounded servants are -so--" - -"Won't you sit down?" she interrupted. Bosworth noted a sudden touch of -nervousness in her manner. For some reason she bit her lip as she looked -in the direction of the dummies. - -"If you don't mind," mumbled Mr. Van Pycke, "I think I'll go upstairs -and change my shoes and trousers." He started for the door. - -Miss Downing stood aghast--petrified. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE AMAZING MARRIAGE - - -No one opposing him, Mr. Van Pycke carefully made his way to the door -and disappeared into the hall. Miss Downing continued to stare after him -for many seconds, plainly perplexed. She was not so transfixed, however, -that she failed to note the grotesque misfit of his trousers; nor did -his manner of locomotion escape her attention. Could this hobbling, -ill-dressed person be the fastidious Van Dieman Van Pycke, of whom she -had heard so much? - -And he was going upstairs to--by the virtue of all the saints, what -_did_ he mean? - -A blush raced into her fair cheek. She turned to young Mr. Van Pycke -with parted lips, half inclined to smile, half to protest. She found him -smiling, yes, more than that; he had his hand over his mouth. Plainly, -he was having a struggle of an inward character. - -"I--I don't understand," she murmured, the flush growing. - -"And _we_ don't understand," he responded after a moment, waving his -hand in the direction of the dummies. - -She smiled brightly. "You've noticed them?" - -"Noticed them?" he repeated. He intended to say more, but a sudden, -sickening doubt interfered. However, a quick, rather penetrating glance -reassured him. Mr. Doxey had wrapped a rug about the unfortunate -gentleman and was now engaged in making room for him behind the Steinway -grand. The young lady's glance followed Bosworth's. - -"What is he doing?" she demanded, starting forward. "Those wax figures -are not to be disturbed." - -Bosworth stayed her with a gesture. "You must not interfere with an -officer in the discharge of his duty," he said with great gravity. - -"But--" - -"Please don't pay any attention to him," he pleaded, stepping in front -of her. "Sit down and tell me about the dummies." - -She looked at the door through which Mr. Van Pycke had passed. "Where -_has_ your father gone, Mr. Van Pycke?" - -"Can you keep a secret?" - -Her eyes were expressive. - -"You'll have to sit down--over here," he went on. "I don't want the -detective to hear me." - -They sat down side by side in a Louis Seize divan. He told her of the -predicament in which his father had found himself on arrival, and of the -expedient footman who came to the rescue. Miss Downing stifled her -laughter three times by successful applications of a handkerchief, but -the fourth time she failed. If I were not writing of a young lady in a -drawing-room, I'd tell the truth and say that she shrieked. - -"It _is_ droll, isn't it?" he asked, after watching her convulsed face -for a moment. - -"Perfectly killing!" she gasped. - -He waited until she had dabbed her eyes with the handkerchief a few -times and was able to meet his gaze with a certain degree of steadiness. -Then he remarked: "It's strange that I've never met you before. Are you -an old friend of Mrs. Scoville's?" - -"There isn't any Mrs. Scoville," she said quietly. She was watching his -face. - -He stared. Then he started to his feet in alarm, with a bewildered look -around the room. - -"Can it be that I am in the wrong house?" - -"There used to be a Mrs. Scoville here." - -"Used to be?" - -"But she's Mrs. De Foe now." - -She was smiling into his eyes now, so merrily, so frankly, that somehow -he overcame the immediate impulse to express his consternation by -leaping a foot or two into the air. Instead of doing anything so utterly -common, he merely gulped and stared the harder. - -"She's--she's gone and got married to Chauncey De Foe?" he murmured, his -eyes very wide. - -"This very night, Mr. Van Pycke," said she, leaning back to see how he -would take it. His face grew suddenly radiant. - -"Oh," he exclaimed, "you don't know how happy you have made me!" - -"Happy? You?" she cried, amazed. - -"Yes. I--" he caught himself in time. "I'll tell you all about it, but -not now. Some other day, if I may. Oh, I say, this will fetch the -governor an awful cropper! Married to-night! Here? In this house? -Why--why, it must have been in this very room. And those confounded -dummies were--By Jove!" He stood up and surveyed the inanimate group -through a seldom used monocle. An intensely thoughtful expression put -many wrinkles upon his brow, but a sudden burst of understanding cleared -them away in a jiffy. He beamed. "She's had real dummies at the wedding -instead of the imitations that society provides. Oh, I say, that's -sarcasm simplified. It's pretty rough, though, don't you think, Miss -Downing?" - -"It doesn't seem to distress you very deeply, Mr. Van Pycke," she said. -"But you are wrong in your conclusions. The figures do not represent the -blockheads of New York society. They are meant to approximate the more -active of the busybodies now at large. Do you see?" - -"I'm hanged if I do." - -"You are a very good friend of Mrs. Sco--Mrs. De Foe's, are you not?" -she demanded. - -"A devoted admirer, I swear, or I wouldn't be here to-night." - -"Then, I think I may explain the situation to you. Those figures -represent the society queens who closed their doors against Mrs. -Scoville last season. The masculine examples represent the satellites of -those virtuous ladies who profess never to have been found out. Mrs. -Scoville made out her list of guests last week. She resolved to return -good for evil. She invited the ladies and their satellites--by mental -telepathy, I might say. Then she sent the butler over into Eighth Avenue -with instructions to fetch them here in a moving van. They arrived last -night, under cover of darkness. They spent the night in this room. -Shocking, you'd say? That--" - -He interrupted, his eyes gleaming. "You mean to say that she rented -these figures for no other purpose than to pose here as people who cut -her because--er--because Mrs. Grundy gossiped too fluently? Suffering -Mo--I should say, good gracious! What an idea!" - -"That's it precisely, Mr. Van Pycke. I fancy you know the ladies and -gentlemen quite well. They treated her abominably last winter. She -didn't mind it very much, as you know. She's not that sort. People _did_ -talk about her, but her real friends remained true. She thought it would -be splendid to have her enemies here in just this way. With the -understanding, of course, that the whole story is to get into the -newspapers." - -He stared harder than ever. "Into the newspapers? Good heavens, you -don't mean to say she's going to let the papers in on this?" - -"Certainly," she said very quietly. "Why not? It will make a beautiful -story. People invite monkeys to dinner and the papers are not denied the -facts, are they? They have banquets for dogs and picnics for cats, don't -they? Some one gave a fashionable supper the other night for the -three-legged girl in the circus, and some one else followed it up with a -tea for the four-legged rooster. The papers were full of details. Mrs. -Scooper and many other ladies gave dinners and balls for a woman who had -been the favorite of nearly all the masculine crowned heads in Europe, -and the richly cultivated Mrs. Rankling once included in the list of -invitations to an author's reading the names of J. Fenimore Cooper and -Nathaniel Hawthorne. I don't see why Mrs. De Foe's dummies are worse -than the freaks I've mentioned. Heaven knows they're respectable." - -"I like your enthusiasm," he said, but still a little shaken by the -intelligence. - -"Mrs. Sco--Mrs. De Foe is the best, the dearest friend I have in the -world," said the girl, simply. - -Young Mr. Van Pycke was very tactful. He appeared properly impressed. At -the same time he looked at her with new interest. She seemed very young -to be calling the former Mrs. Scoville her dearest friend. Somehow, her -face was vaguely familiar. He wondered where he had seen a photograph of -her. - -"She's a terribly good sort," he agreed, and he meant it. "But, I say, -this is ripping! Talk about monkey dinners and--why, there's never been -anything like this! Dummy guests at one's own wedding! It's rich! -It's--" - -She held up her hand, gentle reproof in her eyes. "I can't say that I -like it, Mr. Van Pycke. I'm only saying I approve of it because she was -bound to have her own way in spite of the rest of us. But, to be -perfectly honest, I think that a wedding is something beautifully -sacred. It should be held sacred in every respect. It seems -dreadful--But, there, I won't say any more. It's all right, I know. -Besides, it was not my wedding." - -"I quite agree with you. Next to a funeral, a wedding is our most sacred -ceremony," he said. - -"I've never heard you accused of super-sacredness," she said, with a -little smile. - -"But I have very fine feelings," he protested. As an afterthought he -added, "Sometimes." - -She turned her head to look at the portières, apparently anticipating -sounds from beyond. He had a fine view of her profile. Leaning back in -the divan, he made the most of the opportunity. It was a very pure, -gentle face, full of strength and character and sweetness. Hardly the -face, thought he, of one who had trained for any length of time in the -set affected by the new Mrs. De Foe. Her hair was dark and fine and came -low about her temples. It was all her own, he was quite sure, and there -was an abundance of it. A small ear peeped invitingly out at -him--somewhat timidly, he felt, as if he were a very wicked person to be -shunned. Her neck was round and slim, her shoulders white and almost -velvety in their healthy youthfulness. Somewhat to his amazement, there -were no bones in evidence; and yet she was slender. He laid this -phenomenon to perfect health, a condition heretofore regarded as -perfectly unfeminine. Her cheeks were warm and clear, her lips red and -almost tremulous in their sweetness; her eyes were--well, he could not -see them, but he quite certainly remembered that they were blue. The -nose--a very patrician nose--recalled to his mind one that he had seen -in a very famous portrait somewhere, sometime. He had a vague -recollection that it was some one's "Portrait of a Lady." Just as he was -visually caressing the firm, white chin and throat, she turned upon him -with a warning "Sh!" He already had decided that she was twenty-one and -that her white satin evening gown was quite new and very exquisite. His -intense gaze, caught red-handed, so to speak, confused her. She was not -used to it: that was plain. He had the grace to look at the portières -expectantly. - -"They are coming," she said, arising at once. - -"Can't you tell me more about the wedding?" he asked, standing beside -her. - -"Not now. Later on, perhaps. You _do_ know her well enough to wish her -happiness, don't you?" She added the last imploringly. - -"That's what I came here for--to insure her happiness," he said, smiling -to himself. - -"You knew then?" she whispered in wonder. - -"I can't say that I knew that she was going to be married so soon," he -replied evasively. "As a matter of fact, I didn't have De Foe in mind at -all." - -Men and women, laughing, were approaching through the next room. - -"Do I know them?" he asked, nervously adjusting his monocle. - -She named a dozen people quickly. He nodded his head after each name. -They were old friends, all of them. - -"And Mr. Rexford," she concluded. - -"Rexford? Who's he?" - -"He's from Pittsburg," she said, looking away. - -He studied the back of her head for a moment. "Oh, I see," he said, with -a dry laugh. - -She faced him. "You are very much mistaken," she said. - -Bellows threw back the curtains and a group of very lively persons came -crowding into the room. - -"Hello, Buzzy!" shouted three or four of the men. They had dined -beautifully. For that matter, so had the ladies. They surrounded him and -assaulted him verbally. You could have heard them laugh as far down as -35th Street, if you had been there. (Of course you were not, it being -such a wretched night.) - -Bosworth grinned amiably under the volley of chaff they fired at him. He -observed that Miss Downing effaced herself. She retired alone to the -group of dummies. He was not long in wishing that he could be with her -in that region of peace and rectitude. - -"Where's the groom?" he managed to ask, after ten or twelve voices had -expended themselves in levity--not any of which appealed to his stricken -bump of humor. - -"De Foe? He's changing," said one of the men. "They're leaving for -Boston to-night." - -"Say, Buzzy, what do you think of the waxies?" cried another. "Have you -seen 'em yet?" - -"Think I'm blind, Stockton? Good evening, Mrs. Runway. How do, Mrs. -Clover." - -"I'm surprised you weren't asked, Buzzy," said Mrs. Runway, a blondish -lady with black eyes and rather darkish skin. "You were such pals." - -"Where's your father, Buzzy?" shouted some one. - -"He was announced half an hour ago," said another. They all roared. -Bosworth flushed painfully. There was a strange, new resentment in his -heart. - -"He's changing," he announced coldly, and left them to wonder what he -meant by the remark. - -Mr. Stockton volunteered: "Changing what? His spots or his mind?" - -But Bosworth had turned toward the young lady who had effaced herself. -Somehow he rather rejoiced in the fact that she had forsaken this group -for another and less objectionable one. Mrs. Runway intercepted him. - -"They do say, Buzzy, that you were in love with her," she said. "Are you -dreadfully cut up about it?" - -He stared past her. "Not at all," he announced. "Far from it. Nothing -would have afforded me greater pleasure than the privilege of giving the -bride away." - -"Dear me," she said, as he smiled and walked on. Struck by a sudden -impulse he turned to her. - -"Who is Miss Downing? Where have I seen her before?" - -"How should I know?" said Mrs. Runway, stiffly. - -"Oh," he said, turning again. A strange young man, very much the worse -for champagne, had now approached the girl, his hands in his pockets, a -vacuous smile on his flushed face. Bosworth changed his course and -engaged young Mrs. Chanier in conversation, all the while keeping his -eye on the girl down the room. - -"Terrible night, isn't it, Blanche?" he observed by way of reserving her -attention, which seemed inclined to wander. - -"Ripping," she said. "Everything went off beautifully. Only one hitch, -my dear. I say, who's the girl talking to Tommy Rexford?" She used her -lorgnette. - -"I was just about to ask who the chap is talking to her. She's a Miss -Downing." - -"Know her?" - -"Oh, yes," he prevaricated nobly, catching an ugly gleam in the young -matron's eye. "She's a terribly nice girl." - -"I thought as much. Isn't she too nice?" - -"Who's this Rexford chap?" - -She stared at him. "Oh, he's all right, Mr. Buzzy Van Pycke," she said, -resenting his ignorance. "Tommy Rexford is one of the dearest boys in -the world. He's from Pittsburg. I met him at Palm Beach last winter. He -comes to New York pretty often. I say, Buzzy, are you listening?" - -"Sure," said Buzzy, whose attention had drifted to the girl in the white -satin. Plainly, she was being annoyed by the attentions of the -intoxicated Mr. Rexford. He appeared to be relating a story which -shocked her. "He seems very keen about Miss Downing," he volunteered, a -queer bitterness in his heart. - -Mrs. Chanier bridled. "What? Why, he's been drinking a little too much, -that's all." Her tone was nasty. Bosworth was not slow to grasp the true -state of affairs. - -"How's your husband?" he asked bluntly. - -She smiled serenely. "Oh, he's still got his locomotor ataxia, if that's -what you mean." - -Miss Downing abruptly left Mr. Rexford, who, looking after her for a -moment as if dazed, allowed himself a short laugh of derision. Young Mr. -Van Pycke's foot itched with the desire to kick young Mr. Rexford. - -"I'm sure liquor doesn't affect me in that way," he muttered, overtaken -by the sudden recollection that he had imbibed quite freely, and further -distressed by the fear that it had not entirely worn off. To himself he -was saying: "That fellow's a warning to me. If I thought I looked or -acted as he does, I'd--well, anyhow, I don't drink to excess, so I can't -make comparisons or resolutions. That girl doesn't belong with this -crowd. She's too good for them." - -With this sage conclusion he promptly took it upon himself to put her -into better company. He joined her as she was about to pass into the -library. - -"What was that fellow saying to you?" he demanded, quite as if he had -always possessed the right to interrogate. - -"Was it so plain as all that, Mr. Van Pycke?" she asked, distress in her -eyes. "He's been drinking." - -"That's no excuse," said he with surpassing severity. "I say, you--you -don't really belong in this crowd," he went on earnestly. "Not that -there's anything bad--I mean, the set's a bit faster than you're -accustomed to. I can see that. I'm not throwing stones, so don't look at -me so scornfully. Believe me, it's not the rottenest set in town. It's -only the gayest. How do you happen to be here? Are you related to Mrs. -Scoville?" - -"Birds of a feather," she said, a gleam of anger in her unsmiling eyes. - -"You mean that to apply to yourself or to me?" he asked, with a wry -smile. - -"Do you profess to be any better than the rest of them, Mr. Van Pycke? -They call you 'Buzzy' and 'dear,' so they must be your intimates. Why do -you set yourself above them?" - -"The Lord knows I don't, Miss Downing. But I _do_ set you above them. -You'll have to admit there's something in that. I--" - -She smiled faintly. "Please don't look so dismal. I didn't mean to bite -your head off." - -"It would be amazingly interesting, I'm sure, if you were to try it," he -said, with his finest smile. She was disarmed. "Still, I don't forget -how you subdued Agrippa." - -"Oh, Agrippa loves me," she announced calmly. He looked into her deep -eyes and realized that she was not an untrained girl from the country. -She was very sure of herself. - -"Lucky dog," he said. - -"He has known me for ages," she explained. - -"That doesn't necessarily follow," he said gallantly. "It comes -unexpectedly sometimes, even to dogs." - -"Do you like dogs, Mr. Van Pycke?" she asked, with disquieting serenity. - -"What is all this leading up to?" he demanded suspiciously. "You're not -going to invite me to a dog dinner, are you?" - -"Dear me, no. How silly!" - -"Well, one never knows in these days." - -"These are not the dog days." He grinned amiably. "And so you are the -wonderful Buzzy Van Pycke," she went on, quite frankly interested. "I've -often wondered what you would be like." - -"You don't mean it," he said, surprised. - -Her only response was a penitent, apologetic smile; but it served better -than words. He was dazzled. He afterward recalled that the whole course -of his life changed in that instant. He was not quite sure that he -didn't hear something snap inside. Still, it might have been his -imagination. - -At this moment the bride hurried into the room, her arms full of furs. -There was a shout of joy from the guests. She smiled for every one, and -then sent a quick, searching glance among them. Discovering Bosworth, -she uttered a little cry of pleasure, tossed the furs into a -chair,--which, it seems, already was occupied,--and rushed over to him, -both hands extended. - -"Dear old Buzzy, I'm so glad you came without an invitation! I am, -truly. I would have sent you one, only I wasn't sure you would fit in -under the circumstances. You see, it was a wedding. You'll understand, -I'm sure." - -"Perfectly," he said. Regardless of Miss Downing's presence, he added -without a qualm: "I'm rather glad you've done it, Laura. It's saved me a -lot of despair, I'm sure. You see, I came up to-night to propose to -you." - -She laughed easily, affecting no confusion. "And I might have accepted -you. That's what you mean?" - -"Well, you might have done worse. But you haven't," he added hastily. -"Chauncey's a brick. I've approved of him from the start. Always wanted -him to get you, Laura." - -"It's nice of you to say that, Buzzy," she said, serious for an instant. -Her fine eyes glowed. "I know you mean it, too. Others haven't been so -generous." Then her manner changed. "Do you really have to marry some -one, Buzzy? Are you so hard up as all that?" - -"My dear," he said, "you are alarming Miss Downing." - -"Nonsense! Miss Downing knows all about you and all about me. I have no -secrets from her. She's not even wondering how you could have -contemplated marrying me without loving me. She knows how rich I am." - -"Ah," he sighed, "I wonder if she knows how poor I am." - -"Every one knows that, Mr. Van Pycke," said Miss Downing. He stared. -"You have a paltry twelve thousand a year. Even the street sweepers get -more than that." Her sarcasm was veiled by a polite smile. - -The bride laughed. He felt a sudden, inexplicable shame. - -"Well, Buzzy, I can't stop here talking to you all night. We're leaving, -you know, by the 11.30. Thanks, dear boy, for the thought that brought -you up to-night, I appreciate the honor." She extended her hand. "Good -luck, my friend. Try further up the street." - -"Oh, I say, Laura," he protested. She saw the genuine hurt in his eyes. -Instead of withdrawing the hand he had clasped, she suddenly gave his a -warm pressure. Her mocking eyes grew sober and earnest. - -"You're too much of a real man, Buzzy, for that sort of thing," she -said. "Don't do it. Marry for love, my dear friend, even if it means -getting along on twelve thousand a year. I don't believe, Bosworth Van -Pycke, that down in your heart you can see much that is glorious in the -spending of a woman's money. You're cut out for better work than that." - -"I've just come to the same conclusion, Laura," he said firmly. "Good -luck and God bless you. You'll be happy: De Foe doesn't need your -money." - -She dashed off to give orders to the butler and the maids who were -waiting in the library beyond. De Foe's entrance was the signal for -another outburst of joyous badinage. He was a handsome, strong-featured -man of rather serious mien. - -Bosworth at once shook hands with him, the others looking on curiously. -"God bless you and--thank you, old chap," he said. De Foe was never to -know why the young man thanked him, but the attentive Miss Downing -understood and favored the speaker with a glance of profound concern. - -He turned to her as De Foe was claimed by the others. An expression of -deep uneasiness had come into his eyes. - -"I wonder what keeps father so long," he said, so quaintly that she -laughed aloud. Then both of them turned to watch the preparations for -departure. - -The butler tossed the jewel boxes into a stout black bag; the detective -took charge of it. Bellows peered from the front windows in quest of the -motor cars; everybody chattered and gabbled while they were being -bundled into their outer garments by the nimble attendants. One could -only think of the anterooms in the Savoy or the Ritz. - -"Now get out, every one of you," cried the bride. "I insist on being the -last to leave the house. It's for good luck." - -Bellows said something in a low voice to Mr. De Foe. Any one but Bellows -would have betrayed concern. - -"No motors!" exclaimed Mr. De Foe. There was a sudden silence in the -room. - -"The blizzard, sir," said Bellows, briefly. - -"But, hang it all, we must get to the station," cried the groom. "What -the devil's the meaning of all this?" - -"Don't blame Bellows, old man," said Bosworth Van Pycke. "He isn't a -blizzard. And don't lose your temper, either. Remember it's your wedding -night. Now, I have a big sleigh coming for me at 10.30. Taxis can't -budge in this weather. You and the bride can take my sleigh--" - -He did not finish. Every man in the party had begun to berate the kind -of car he owned and every woman was scolding the weather. Then there was -a common demand for four-horse sleighs. Bellows received half a dozen -orders to telephone to the garages and to the livery stables, all in the -same breath, it seemed. - -"Don't worry, Chaunce. My sleigh is sure to come. The bride is safe." -So spoke the confident Mr. Van Pycke. "All I ask you to do in return is -to send it back here for me as soon as you're safely there." - -"You're an angel, Buzzy," cried the bride from the depths of her sables. - -Just as the sleigh was announced, half an hour later, a diversion was -created by the entrance of Mr. Van Pycke, senior. He was dressed for the -street, fur-coated and gloved. The shout which greeted him brought him -up just inside the door. He glared at the crowd. - -"Where are you, Bosworth?" he called out, his voice husky with emotion. - -"Here, father. Are you ready to go?" His son stepped forward rather -quickly. - -"Do you think I'm going to stay all night?" snapped the old gentleman. -"I'm--I'm damned if I do!" - -Every one was rushing for the doors. The bride took time for a few words -with the latest arrival. - -"How late you are, Mr. Van Pycke!" she cried, grasping his hand. "I'm so -sorry we must be going. Catching a train, you know. By the way, Buzzy, -we're sailing for the Azores day after to-morrow. When you're in Paris, -be sure to look us up. Thank God, I'm never coming back to New York. Now -you know why I don't care a snap what people say or think about my -wedding guests. Good-bye, my dear. Good-bye, Mr. Van Pycke. Thanks, so -much, for the roses you sent up to-day. Be sure we get the right sleigh, -Bellows. Come, Mary, dear, kiss me. I _know_ you'll look me up when you -come to Paris." - -She enveloped the pretty Miss Downing in her arms, kissed her warmly, -and then rushed off into the hall, where the crowd was being shooed out -into the storm ahead of her. - -Bosworth observed that Miss Downing was not attired for the street. - -"You're not going?" he asked quickly. - -"Not till to-morrow," she said. "I'm staying overnight." - -"Bosworth," put in Mr. Van Pycke, in deadly tones, "where is your cab?" - -"Stuck in the snow, dad. My sleigh will be back in half an hour. Take -off your coat. Miss Downing won't mind our staying here a while longer. -She--" - -"Not another minute, sir!" snapped Mr. Van Pycke. "You don't know what I -know. You--" - -"I don't believe you know what I know, either, dad," said his son, -dryly. - -Bellows entered. "Your sleigh will return in half an hour, Mr.--Mr. -Bosworth. Will you wait, sir?" - -"No, he won't wait," said Mr. Van Pycke. "Get his coat and hat, Bellows. -I'm--I'm going to take him away." - -"You'll be lost in the snow, sir," said Bellows, mildly. "It's worse -than the Alps, sir." - -"Alps? Confound you, you've never seen the Alps!" - -"No, sir," said Bellows. "But Stokes, the butler, has, sir." - -"Send Stokes to me, Bellows," said Miss Downing, quietly. "I will give -orders for to-night and to-morrow morning. I hope you will forgive me, -Mr. Van Pycke, if I retire at once. I am very tired. It has been a busy -day and--a rather wearing night." - -"Please don't go just yet," he begged. "You promised to tell me about -the--" He was going to say wedding, but his father interrupted. - -"If you're not coming at once, Bosworth, I'll leave you here. I'll walk. -I'll have pneumonia anyhow, so what's the sense of taking care of -myself? I've been insulted, outraged, humiliated in this--But, I can't -talk about it now, not in the presence of a lady--for I'm sure she is a -lady. I can tell 'em by the sound of their voices. What, in God's name, -are you doing here? That's the thing that puzzles me. 'Gad, if I did the -proper thing, I'd take you away at once, storm or no storm." - -"Dad, you don't understand," began Bosworth. - -"Are you coming away with me?" roared his father, stamping the floor. - -"Do they still hurt you?" asked his son, with a solicitous glance at the -old gentleman's feet. - -Mr. Van Pycke sputtered. "I have my own on, sir. But I'm crippled for -life, just the same. Thank God, I got my trousers in the end." He passed -his hand nervously over his brow. - -"In the end?" murmured Bosworth. Miss Downing turned to the fireplace. - -"I--I can't tell you about it now," said his father in a constrained -manner. "'Gad, it was--it was awful! Bellows! Where the deuce is the -man? Ah, here you are. Bellows, call me a cab or something at--" - -"Mr. Stokes will be here directly, Miss," said Bellows. "Very good, Mr. -Van Pycke. A four-wheeler?" - -"Take the subway, dad," interposed Bosworth, glaring at Bellows. "Next -corner below. But, think it over. You'd better wait for me." - -Stokes came in, and Miss Downing, with a significant glance at Bosworth, -retired to the library with the butler. - -"Has everybody departed?" asked Bosworth of Bellows, who was turning off -some of the lights in the lower end of the room. The young man dropped -into a chair, opened his cigaret case, and then, first looking at the -portières obscuring the library, yawned prodigiously. - -"Yes, sir," said Bellows, caught in the middle of an illy-suppressed -yawn. "The detective, my mistress's maid, and Mr. De Foe's man, with the -bags, sir, went away with the 'appy couple in your sleigh. It was a bit -crowded, sir, for the driver." - -"Bellows," hissed Mr. Van Pycke, "who instructed you to take my trousers -out to press 'em?" - -"They needed it, sir, badly," explained Bellows. - -"And my shoes, sir,--I did not ask to have them polished, did I?" - -"No, sir. As I remember it, you did not." - -"It wouldn't have been so bad," almost moaned the unhappy gentleman, -turning to his son, "but I didn't discover their absence until after I -had, in my ungovernable rage, thrown those confounded wax figure's -garments from an upstairs window. And then, by Gad, sir, I couldn't -find my own trousers. What's more, I couldn't find the bell button to -call for Bellows. There I was, in a strange bedroom without--Oh, I'll -never forget it, Bosworth--never! What the devil are you laughing at, -sir?" - -Miss Downing had quietly reentered the room and was standing just inside -the door, a growing smile of appreciation on her lips. - -"Wha--what did you do, sir?" asked Bosworth, controlling himself -heroically. - -"Do? What could I do? Demmit all, trousers don't grow on chandeliers, do -they? I couldn't pick off a pair, à la Santa Claus, could I? There was -only one thing left to do. That was to shout for Bellows. Just as I was -on the point of stealing out to the head of the stairs, I heard -voices--a man's and a woman's. I dashed back into the bedroom. 'Gad, -sir, what do you think? Those people were in the next room, and the -door, which I hadn't noticed before, was partly ajar. At any minute they -might come in and find--ahem! I didn't see you, Miss Downing." - -"Please go on," she said. - -"Only to convince you what kind of a house we have all gotten into," he -explained, after a moment of indecision. "Well, I quickly entered a -clothes closet near by. I don't want to hurt your feelings, Miss -Downing, but the lady in the next bedchamber was your friend, Mrs. -Scoville. The man was that confounded De Foe chap. I--I can't tell you -what they were saying to each other. It was sickening, I'll say that -much. No, no--I won't go into details. It seems there was a maid in -there, hooking her up, but they didn't mind her. When the maid went out, -I distinctly heard five or six kisses--ahem! Hang it all, Bosworth, I -couldn't help eavesdropping. There were people in the hall outside. It -was the most brazen thing I've ever known. Unfortunately, I had to -sneeze." - -He stopped to blow his nose. Bellows also blew his, but for a different -reason. - -"Yes, I sneezed. The exhibition ceased. I had just time to shut the -closet door before De Foe came into the room, looking about. He said -something about 'confounded servants,' and then went back to her. Then I -heard him call her 'sweetheart' and ask her if she wouldn't tie his -necktie for him, like a little darling. By Gad, sir, it was worse than I -thought. I--" - -Bosworth coughed violently, and Miss Downing found it necessary to fleck -some dust from a bronze bit at her elbow--somewhat to the rear of it, to -be perfectly accurate. - -"You don't understand, father--" began Buzzy, nervously. - -"Confound it sir, I'm not deaf. I'll pass over the next half hour, -except to say that they billed and cooed without cessation. I give you -my word, that closet was like an ice-chest. I demmed near froze to -death. At last they went away. Bellows came back with my trousers and -shoes. After he'd gone, I stole out and got into 'em. There's a lot more -I could tell, but--what's the use? I want to get out of here. Just to -think that I came up here in all this storm to ask that creature to be -my wife! 'Gad, I wouldn't ask her now if she was the last woman on -earth. Open the door for me, Bellows! I'm going next door to the -Lackaday, for the night, Bosworth. Call up by 'phone in the morning to -see if I have pneumonia." - -He stormed into the hall without saying good night to Miss Downing. They -heard him swear roundly as Bellows opened the door to the vestibule. -Then there was a slam of the outer door. Together the young man and -woman walked to the front window, and, side by side, they saw him fight -his way down the steps and across the thirty feet of snowbank that lay -between the house and the street entrance to the hotel bar. - -Mr. Van Pycke did not know, until he saw it in the papers next day, that -there had been a wedding. It may be well to add in this connection that -it was a long time before New York heard the last of that wedding and -its amazing guests by proxy. - -"Good night," said Miss Downing, as they turned away from the window. - -"Oh, please, not yet," he cried. - -"I am so tired," she pleaded. - -"The sleigh will be back in twenty or thirty minutes." - -"I'll stay ten minutes," she agreed. "Come and sit before the fire in -the library. You may have a cigar or a cigaret--but nothing to drink." -He started guiltily. - -At the end of ten minutes, despite the fact that he was very amusing, -she rose from the deep, comfortable chair before the fender, and said -good night once more. "I hear sleigh bells in front," she said. - -"When are you leaving?" he asked, looking into her eyes with all of the -new interest that had come into his own. - -"To-morrow. I'm to have a year's vacation on full pay," she said quite -clearly. His eyes flew very wide open. "Isn't it nice, Mr. Van Pycke?" - -She was gone. He stood perfectly still, listening to the rustle of her -gown as she sped up the stairs beyond. Something like a soft laugh came -back to him from the dome of the hall. His face was a study. - -"By thunder!" he murmured, prior to a long, intent contemplation of the -blazing coals. At last, shrugging his shoulders in dire perplexity, he -turned and slowly made his way to the front windows. - -The sleigh was not in sight. He glanced at his watch. Eleven-twenty. -With sudden exasperation he jammed his hands into his pockets and said -something softly. Kicking a chair to the window, he sat down and glared -at the snow-covered glass. Outside, the wind shrieked louder than ever. - -When Bellows came in to turn out the lights at a quarter to twelve, -Bosworth did not hear him, nor did Bellows observe the limp figure in -the chair. Mr. Van Pycke was sound asleep, and the footman did not have -far to go to reach the same state. - -A sleigh came up, banked with snow, waited awhile in front of the dark -house, and then departed. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE SECRETARY GOES HOME - - -He was chilled to the bone when he awoke, an hour and a half later. The -room was in pitchy darkness. It is only natural to suppose that he did -not know where he was. He felt of himself, surprised to find that he was -not undressed and not in bed. With more philosophy than is usually -exhibited under such puzzling conditions, he fell back in his chair and -forced himself into full wakefulness. - -A moment later, with a gasp of dismay, he was on his feet, scraping away -the frost and peering from the black window into the night, his eyes -wide with anxiety. His arms and legs were stiff with the cold; he found -himself shivering as with a mighty chill. Turning his back to the -window, for many minutes he stared dumbly into the opaqueness before -him. The house was as black as the grave and quite as silent. He began -to experience, strangely enough, the same dread of darkness he had felt -when a boy. - -A furnace register, he remembered, was near the door leading to the -hall, wherever that might be. His first thought was to seek the comfort -of its friendly, warmth-giving drafts. On second thoughts, he ransacked -his pockets for a match. A clock in the hall struck once, but how was -he to know whether it signified one o'clock or half-past something else? -Finding no match, he started for the register, his hands stretched -before him. - -Of one thing he was reasonably sure; the household was wrapped in -slumber. There was not a sound in the house. He was reminded of a -childhood poem in which it was said: "Not a creature was stirring, not -even a mouse." The memory of this line brought a smile to his lips. - -His progress was rather sharply checked by bodily contact with one of -the dummies, whose presence he had quite forgotten. Not only was there a -hollow protest from the dummy, but a more substantial one from Mr. Van -Pycke. Not content with a mild encounter with this particular obstacle, -he proceeded, in his confusion, to back into another, which, being less -sturdy, toppled over with a crash that must have been heard in the -attic. - -Panic-stricken, the young man floundered on, now intent upon reaching -the hall and making as dignified an escape as possible before the -servants appeared with blunderbusses and tongs. His only desire now was -to find his overcoat and hat and the front steps without butting his -brains out in the darkness. - -He brought up against a chair, creating additional racket and barking -his knee into the bargain. - -"Good heaven," he muttered, "where am I? Is it a barricade?" - -His heart stood still for a second. Distinctly he heard the soft, -suppressed cry of a woman--and then the unmistakable sound of scurrying -fabrics. The sounds came from some remote corner of the room--or -possibly from a room hard by--and were indicative of great alarm on the -part of an unseen person. - -Bosworth was not a slow thinker. He took the safest way. Without -hesitation he called out: "It's all right! I am Bosworth Van Pycke!" - -There was dead silence for the next sixty seconds. The French clock -ticked them off. He involuntarily counted twenty-five or thirty before a -small, hushed voice responded,--from the library, he was sure,--the -voice of a woman. - -"What did you say?" - -"I am Mr. Van Pycke. Don't be alarmed. It's--it's all a mistake. I--" - -"Mr. Van Pycke? Why--why--" - -He recognized the voice. - -"Is that you, Miss Downing?" - -"Are you--are you sure that you are Mr. Van Pycke? I have my finger on -the call button. Wha--what are you doing here?" - -"I am trying to get out," he said, lowering his voice. "Don't you -recognize my voice?" - -"Ye--yes, I think I do." - -"Where are you?" - -"Why didn't you go out before?" asked the voice, a bit querulously he -thought. - -"I am not a sleep walker," he said. Realizing that it was a poor time to -jest, he hastily supplemented: "I went to sleep--waiting. Where are -you? What time is it? Is every one in bed?" - -The curtains at the opposite end of the room parted very slowly. First, -a strong, red glow appeared beyond, mellow and somewhat fitful; then the -shadowy figure of the girl was silhouetted against the red, framed on -either side by shivering drapery. - -She was still wearing the white satin evening gown. He took hope. - -"It isn't so late, after all," he cried, starting toward her. - -"I hope you will go away at once, Mr. Van Pycke," she said quickly. "It -is half-past one--and every one _is_ in bed. I don't understand why you -are still here." - -"I'll tell you all about it," he said, not very confidently. "Don't turn -me out until I've got warm, please. I give you my word, I'm paralyzed -with the cold." - -"Really, Mr. Van Pycke, I--I can't have you here--I mean, it is so -terribly late. I--I--" - -"Were you horribly frightened?" he asked, somewhat irrelevantly. He had -come up to her by this time, and, peering beyond, saw a splendid fire in -the library grate. There were no lights in the room. A big chair stood -before the fender, invitingly. - -His teeth were chattering. - -"I was almost petrified," she said rather breathlessly. "If you had not -called out, I--I think my heart would have refused to beat again. Oh, I -am _so_ glad it is you and not a burglar!" - -"May I come in and get warm?" he pleaded. She saw that he was shivering. -With a quick glance over her shoulder she stood aside and allowed him to -pass. - -"You _are_ cold," she said. "Sit down by the fire. I'll poke it up a -bit. Just for a few minutes, and then you must go. I wonder if the -racket alarmed the servants. You see, I am the only person in this part -of the house, Mr. Van Pycke." - -He looked up from the grate, over which he was holding his hands. "By -the way, why are you not in bed? I distinctly remember you said good -night--and started." - -She hesitated. "I wasn't sleepy," she said. - -"On the other hand, I slept very soundly," he said. "Have you been down -here all this time?" - -"Since twelve o'clock. I love a grate fire." - -"Won't you sit down? Do." - -"No, thank you. I'll wait till you have gone. If I sit down now, you'll -stay, I'm afraid." - -He moved the big chair and drew up another for himself beside it. She -watched the proceedings without approval or resentment. When the two -chairs stood side by side before the fender, he motioned for her to sit -down. She was now gazing at him fixedly, a somewhat detached smile on -her lips. After a moment she shrugged her shoulders and sat down. He -promptly dropped into the other chair and stretched out his feet to the -fire. - -"You said something that surprised me, just as you left me--two hours -ago," he remarked, after a long silence. "A year's vacation on full -pay," he repeated. - -"I am Mrs. De Foe's secretary," she said quietly. He turned to look at -her. - -[Illustration: "'I am Mrs. De Foe's secretary,' she said quietly."] - -"Secretary? I didn't dream of that, Miss Downing." - -"Have I fallen in your estimation?" she asked, meeting his gaze -steadily. - -"I think you've risen," he said slowly. - -"You may not remember me, but I crossed on the steamer with you from -Liverpool when I was eight years old. You were eleven, I think you said. -I was a very pretty little girl. You said that, too. Do you remember?" - -He was cudgeling his brain. "I can't say that I do, to be perfectly -candid. Still, I've been wondering where I've seen you. I recall the -voyage, but as for little girls, I remember but one. Ah, she was a -little beauty. I was so desperately in love with her that I dare say I -had thoughts or eyes for no one else. I'm sorry." - -"Do you remember her name?" - -"Perfectly. It wasn't so long ago, you know. I'm twenty-five. She had a -perfectly ungovernable nurse. I was obliged to do my worshiping from a -distance. By Jove, that reminds me, her father was put down and out a -few years ago in Wall Street. I think he had a stroke of paralysis, or -something, poor devil, afterwards. Lost everything. I wonder what has -become of her. I never saw her after we landed in New York." - -"Was her name Pembroke?" - -He started. "Yes,--Mary Pembroke! You knew her? Why, I believe--" He -stared hard. - -"I am Mary Pembroke," said she, leaning back and smiling. His -astonishment was unqualified. - -"You? Yes! I can see it now. All evening there has been some vague thing -about you that has puzzled me. Why, it is wonderful--positively -wonderful. I--" He stopped suddenly, a look of concern in his eyes. "I -hope I didn't say anything just now to hurt you,--I mean, about your -father." - -"You spoke of him as the world speaks, Mr. Van Pycke. And you did say -'poor devil.' That was something. He is--still a helpless invalid. -Perhaps you did not know that." - -"I'm sorry--very sorry." He hesitated for a moment. "Is that why you are -Mrs. De Foe's secretary?" - -"We are quite poor, Mr. Van Pycke. So poor that I am unwilling to take -from the slender annuity that keeps us together--my father, my two -little sisters and me. There is enough for him to live on to the end of -his poor, desolated life. I am strong, and I love him too well to take -from that little store. Mine hasn't been such a trying position, after -all. Mrs. Scoville is an old friend. I've known her since I was a little -girl. She's been very kind and very generous. I don't mind the work. -It's much better than marrying some one for his money, I'm sure. Have -you ever read of Lily Bart? She had a very much harder time than I, poor -thing, in her house of mirth. She did not deserve it, but she served as -a warning to me." - -"I dare say you remember that I told Mrs. Scoville I had come up here -to-night to propose to her," he said ruefully. She nodded, and her eyes -narrowed. - -"You are not so brave as I am, Mr. Van Pycke," she said. "I thought you -were very brave and very manly as a little boy." - -"Well, I didn't ask her, after all," he said, resenting her tone. "I -don't believe I could have done it, if it had actually come to the test. -I couldn't do it now to save my very soul. I'm going to marry for love -or not at all. Money be hanged." - -"Oh, don't say that!" she cried. "You forget how rich you are!" - -"Rich! I'm a pauper." - -"On twelve thousand a year? I consider myself quite well off on the -fifteen hundred Mrs. Scoville pays me. You are fabulously rich." - -"You are laughing at me," he exclaimed, shamed. - -"Who am I to laugh at the wonderful Buzzy Van Pycke, prince of the -dandies in--" - -"Please don't." He clenched his hands and set his jaw, leaning forward -to gaze into the bed of coals. She studied his averted face. - -"You have a strong face," she said at last, voicing her thoughts. - -"Thanks," he muttered. - -"You don't know _how_ to work. Is that it, Mr. Van Pycke?" she asked. - -"Oh, I fancy I could earn a living," he said, without looking up. - -"And then you could save the twelve thousand intact," she observed. He -looked up curiously. "In ten years you would have at least one hundred -and twenty-five thousand. You could buy a yacht with that much money. -Just think what fun it would be to spend it all in an hour." - -"It may interest you to know that I _am_ going to work," he said, -conscious of a burning sensation in his face. - -"Are you in earnest?" - -"Certainly. I'm tired of this sort of thing." - -"Splendid! And what are you going to do? Something gentlemanly, I hope, -such as selling bonds on commission. Gentlemen who go to work always do -that, don't they, whether they're qualified or not?" - -"You're a bit sarcastic, aren't you? I _was_ going to sell bonds, having -been solicited to do so, but I've changed my mind. I'm going to get a -job with an undertaker." - -They laughed, at first rather half heartedly, then merrily. For ten -minutes they talked of the past, the present, and the future. He -gathered that she had assumed the name of Downing for secretarial -purposes only; that she kept herself very much in the background in Mrs. -Scoville's establishment; that she had watched his social career with -unflagging interest; that she was returning to her own home on the -following day, with a check for fifteen hundred in her possession; that -she expected to marry if the right man came along; that Mrs. Scoville -had made her a present of the gown--and so on and so forth. They -discussed the wedding and the hullabaloo it was to create. They united -in deprecating the impulse which robbed the marriage of its natural -sanctity, but they agreed that she was a lovely bride. - -"And now you must go home," she said at last. The clock chimed a quarter -after two. - -"That reminds me," he said. "You said you were going to your own home in -the morning, early enough to avoid the reporters, who are to be managed -by Stokes. May I inquire where your own home is, Miss Pembroke?" - -"We live in Princeton, Mr. Van Pycke." - -"Princeton? Why, I was there four years, you know. Strange I never saw -you." - -"You forget we were living in Fifth Avenue or Mayfair until two years -ago. The house in Princeton is all that is left of the Pembroke -millions. It was my mother's." - -"By Jove, I remember you came out three years ago. I--I was asked, -wasn't I?" - -"You were. And you didn't come." - -"I'd like to come to Princeton, if it isn't too late." - -"If it doesn't interfere with your work, you mean." - -"Oh, come now!" he protested. - -"We have to consider everything," she said. - -"I'll try to get a job in the faculty. I remember distinctly that I knew -more than any man in the faculty at one time. That would simplify -matters, wouldn't it?" - -"Do you really feel the need of that eyeglass, Mr. Van Pycke?" she -asked, again veering off, much to his annoyance. - -"Not at all." He calmly tossed the monocle upon the coals. She cried -out. - -"Oh, I didn't mean you to do that. I _love_ monocles!" - -"The deuce! Why didn't you say so?" he lamented. - -"It's too bad," she sighed. "You would have needed it so much, too, -looking for work." - -"By Jove, I like you!" he cried. "You're a plucky girl and a -philosopher. You do something toward the support of a whole family, -while I--well, look at me! What good have I done? I have not earned ten -dollars in my whole life by honest toil. I'm ashamed. I am--" - -"Please, please," she interposed despairingly. "Don't go into that -again. It's too late. I am really very sleepy now. I hate to turn you -out in the storm, but you _must_ go. If the servants should--heavens, -please go!" - -"You're right! I'm off. I'll be as quiet as a mouse, so don't worry. -This has been the most gallant night of my life. I'll live it over a -hundred times in my dreams. By the way, what train do you take in the -morning?" He was shaking hands with her, standing beside her chair. -There was a new light in his eyes. - -"The ten-fifteen, if it isn't snowbound. Why?" - -"Never mind. I just asked," he said. He was thinking of violets and a -trip to the ferry. - -"Don't do anything so absurd, Mr. Van Pycke," she said severely, trying -to read his thoughts. He laughed blithely, full of certain early morning -enterprise. "Good-bye. Oh, just listen to the wind!" - -She shuddered. - -"Don't leave the fire," he said. "And _do go to bed_! Remember, you are -to catch the ten-fifteen." - -He tiptoed into the hall. There was not a sound in the house. A minute -later the outer doors closed behind him, gently. He was out in the cold, -bitter night, plowing his way through snowdrifts three and four feet -deep, bound for the hotel next door, the nearest place of refuge. - -In the office he left a call for seven o'clock. Not in ten years had he -done anything so amazing. - -"She helps to support a family--a helpless father and two small -sisters," he said to himself as he crept into bed. "But, it wouldn't be -the same thing supporting my governor. _I should say not!_" Later on, -very drowsily: "I was sure I had seen her before. Little Mary Pembroke! -How I adored her! But it seems to me her hair was yellow then. It's -black now. Still, I dare say that's better than if it had been black -then and yellow now. Seven o'clock! What an ungodly hour to get up. But -I'll have to get used to it." - -Miss Pembroke resisted the desire to look after him from the front -window. She couldn't bear the thought of scraping the frost from the -window pane with her fingernails, for one thing; for another, he might -take it into his head to look back. - -So she went to bed, thinking of him--as she had been doing for an hour -or more before his amazing second appearance. - -"He was such a shy boy," she reflected. "But he was the best looking -thing. Dear me, how long ago it seems! And those silly love letters I -wrote to him and never mailed. What funny things children are!" - -At nine o'clock the next morning she was called to the telephone. She -was at breakfast, and her bag was ready for the train. An early glance -from the window had filled her with misgivings. The street was -absolutely impassable, it seemed to her. - -"I won't talk to the reporters," she said to Stokes. - -"It isn't a reporter, Miss. It's a gentleman." - -"Don't be a snob, Stokes. Who is it?" - -"It's Mr. Van Pycke, Miss." - -She started. Then she flushed warmly. - -"Say to him, Stokes, that I have gone," she said, after a moment. - -"Very good, Miss. Anything else?" - -She pondered. "Yes, Stokes. Ask him to hold the wire." - -"Hold the wire, Miss?" - -"Yes, while you run to the door to call me back." - -A moment later she was in the telephone room, quite out of breath. - -"Who is it?" she called. She compelled him to repeat the name four -times. Eventually he got her serious attention. - -"No trains until this afternoon?" she cried despairingly. "Why, the -children will be at the station to meet me." - -"Trains all snowbound," he announced quite cheerfully. "I've been -telephoning." - -"It's awfully good of you. I'll call up the Pennsylvania--" - -"Don't bother," he called. "I've seen to all that. There's only one -thing to do. Go to the ferry at one o'clock and wait. They'll get a -train out as soon as possible. I'm glad it's to be no earlier than one. -This is my busy day, you see." - -"What has that to do with it?" - -"I think I can be at liberty at one o'clock, that's all. I'm at my rooms -now, writing letters of resignation to eleven clubs and declining -invitations to four Christmas house parties on Long Island. I'm going -down to see Thrush and Wrenn, the publishers, at eleven." - -"Indeed?" - -"Yes. I'm thinking of writing a book exposing New York society. They're -all the rage now. This will be the literary remains of a fizzle." - -"Are you jesting?" - -"It depends," he said. "At ten I am to see George P. Krosson, the -capital king. You see I _have_ been telephoning. I got him out of bed at -seven-thirty. He says he didn't know I had it in me to be so energetic. -He's an old friend, however, so it's all right. He--" - -"Please tell me what it's all about. I know who he is, so don't -enlighten me. He once was an old friend of ours." - -"Well, he's always said he'd take me as a secretary, if I'd agree to -buckle down to it. I'm going to try it on." - -"You--to be a secretary?" - -"Don't be so surprised, please! It's only a starter, you know. His last -secretary owns a bank now, and the present one is going to Congress. But -I'll tell you about it--at the ferry." - -She tried not to appear to be looking for him when her fretting taxicab -finally struggled up to the ferry building at Twenty-third Street, just -before one o'clock. Nearly an hour had been spent in the trip from the -Scoville home to the ferry. There were times when she thought the effort -would have to be abandoned. - -He was there. In fact he opened the door and assisted her to alight from -the vehicle. There was a brief discussion with the driver over the -register's showing. Then they hurried into the ferry building, pursued -by three bags and a "Much obliged, Miss," from the surprised chauffeur. - -[Illustration: "He was there. In fact he opened the door and assisted -her to alight."] - -"You were very reckless, giving him a dollar," he criticised severely, -but not forgetting that he had given five the night before. He had been -wondering all the morning if _she_ had noticed the cocktails. - -"It is so good of you to come down," she said, a color in her cheeks -that was not from the cold. He was marveling. Never, in all his life, -had he seen any one so pretty as this trim, proud young person in the -Persian lamb coat and ermine stole and muff. She gauged his thoughts. -"Presents from Mrs. Scoville--in advance of Christmas," she said dryly. -He was properly embarrassed. "Now, I must ask about the trains." - -"It's all attended to, Miss Pembroke," he said. "I got here at half-past -twelve, lunchless. Boat in ten minutes, train out of Jersey City at two -o'clock, positively. We can have luncheon on the train." He seemed a bit -embarrassed, as he ought to have been, in truth. - -She stood still and looked at him. "On the train?" she murmured. - -"Yes, Miss Pembroke. I have an afternoon off. I'm going to Princeton. -Oh, by the way, don't bother about the tickets. I have them. Come along, -please, or we'll miss the boat." - -Of course she protested. She was very much annoyed--or, at least, that -is what she meant to be. - -He explained, in a burst of confidence meant to cover the unique -trepidation he felt, that he was not to assume his duties as secretary -to Mr. Krosson until the following Monday. "This is my last free week. -Don't begrudge me an excursion. It's to take the place of four house -parties." - -She held out stubbornly, for appearance's sake; it was not until they -were in the middle of the Hudson that she said it would be very nice, -and he could catch the five o'clock train back to New York. - -It would be difficult to relate all that they said during the tortuous -trip to Princeton. Naturally they discussed his prospects. - -"I'm not sure that I know what a secretary has to do," he confessed. -"But," with a determined gleam in his eyes, "whatever it is, I'm going -to do it. I don't expect Mr. Krosson to give me a year's vacation on -full pay, and I'm not looking for furs in my stocking at this or any -other Christmas, but I do mean to live on what I earn. I'm to have -twenty-five hundred a year, in the beginning." - -"Goodness, that _is_ a lot of money," she said. They were at luncheon in -the private dining car. - -"I'll retain my membership in two clubs. I'm starting out to-morrow to -find a couple of cozy rooms in a genteel apartment hotel." - -"Have you broken the news to your father?" - -He laughed. "No. I stopped at his room to see if he had pneumonia. He -said he was asleep and couldn't tell--and for me to go to the devil." - -From the car window they watched the great white sea through which they -were gliding. Their hearts were free and their hearts were sparkling. -Constantly recurring in their thoughts were the little forgotten things -of that memorable voyage across the Atlantic. It was he, however, who -presumed to steal surreptitious glances in which wonder was uppermost; -she steadfastly declined to be led by her impulses. - -"You've never heard anything particularly terrible about me, have you?" -he demanded, rather anxiously, once in course of a duet of -personalities. - -"Only that a great many women are in love with you." - -"It's funny I've never heard that," he said dolefully. - -"Men say that you are an exceptionally decent chap and it's too bad -you'll never amount to anything." - -"Oh, they do, do they?" indignantly. - -"I think they'll be stunned when they hear of your latest move." - -"Well, I'll show 'em what I'm made of." - -"Splendid! I like to hear you speak in that way." - -"You do?" he asked eagerly. "You _do_ think I'll make good, don't you?" - -"What station is this?" she asked deliberately. - -"Rahway," he said, leaning close to her in order to see the name on the -station. - -"I think I'll have a holiday on Christmas," he ventured carefully. -"That's next week, you know. May I come down to Princeton for the -afternoon and evening?" - -"To see me?" She seemed surprised. - -"Yes," he said simply. She had expected some frivolous reply. Her gaze -wavered ever so slightly as it met his. - -"It will be a very dull way to spend Christmas," she said. - -"Christmas is always a dull day," he said, so imploringly that she -laughed. He came very near to adding, irrelevantly, that she was -prettier than ever when she smiled. - -"When there are no children about," he succeeded in saying, as an amend -for his slip. - -"There are two in our house, besides myself," she said gayly. - -"Splendid!" he cried enthusiastically. "Can't we have a tree?" - -On the platform at Princeton he was introduced to two small and very -pretty young ladies, six and eight, and to a resentful gallant aged -nine, who seemed to look upon him with disfavor. It afterwards developed -that he was the characteristic neighbor boy who loves beyond his years. -He adored Miss Pembroke. - -"Mr. Van Pycke is coming down for Christmas," announced Miss Pembroke, -in course of time, drawing her little sisters close to her side and -smiling upon the dazzled gallant, aged nine. - -"Will you play bear for me?" asked the young lady aged six, after a sly -look at her nurse. - -"The whole menagerie," said Mr. Van Pycke, most obligingly. Then, having -occupied a perilously long time in shaking hands with the girl in the -Persian lamb, he rushed off in response to the station master's -satirical warning that last night's train was just pulling out for New -York. - -"I know just what's going to happen to me," he said to himself, -jubilantly, as he waved to her from the window. "I can feel it coming." - - - - -CHAPTER V - -HIS FIRST HOLIDAY - - -Two days passed before Mr. Van Pycke, senior, in diligent and somewhat -wrathful quest of his son, came to know that the young man had accepted -a position as secretary to Mr. Krosson. - -"I can't believe it," said Mr. Van Pycke, a sudden pallor almost -retrieving the lost complexion at the end of his nose. He then went -about the search in earnest, ultimately discovering his son in his room -at the club, busily engaged in superintending the packing of cherished -Penates. - -"Is what I hear true, Bosworth?" demanded the old gentleman, without -preliminaries. - -"Sit down, dad. Try that trunk. The chairs seem to be occupied by odds -and ends." Bosworth was in his shirt sleeves. His hands were dirty, and -there was a long dark streak across his brow. "I'm moving." - -"Moving? What the devil's the meaning of all this?" sputtered his -father, kicking a package of rugs out of the way. - -"I can't afford to live here on twenty-five hundred a year," said his -son, genially. The perspiring porters retired to the hall. - -"But you have twelve thou--" - -"And I have decided to save that twelve thousand. My salary will have to -do for a few years, dad." - -"Your salary? Then it is true?" It was almost a wail. - -"It does seem too good to be true, doesn't it? I am like you, dad. I -didn't believe any one would hire me. But Mr. Krosson seems to think -I've got it in me to--" - -"Bosworth," interrupted his father, sternly, "I won't permit you to make -an ass of yourself. I forbid you--" - -"Hold on, dad," said Bosworth, rather shortly. "We won't discuss it -unless we can do so agreeably. I'm going into this thing with all my -heart, and I mean to stick to it. There's an end to that. I'm tired of -leading an absolutely useless, butterfly life." - -"But, my boy, my boy," groaned the other, "this step will blast every -prospect of a suitable marriage. Demmit all, no one will marry you." - -"I'm not so sure of that," said his son, sticking his hands into his -pockets and breathing deeply. "I think, if I'm careful, I can make a -very suitable marriage." - -"Rubbish! Who'd marry a secretary?" sniffed Mr. Van Pycke, jabbing a -chair-back with his cane. - -Bosworth radiated joy. "I would!" he cried so emphatically that Mr. Van -Pycke almost rose to his toes. - -"That's not the point, sir," said he, a little bewildered. "You can't -marry yourself." - -Bosworth laughed softly, but ventured no explanation to the odd remark. -If, during the next ten minutes, his father noticed a detached, -far-away look in the young man's eyes, he attributed it to the force of -his own arguments. Just as he was beginning to feel that he had -succeeded in turning the thoughtful young man from his suicidal course, -Bosworth came to himself with a start. - -"Beg pardon, dad; my mind must have been wandering. What were you -saying?" - -"Do--do you mean to tell me you haven't heard what I've been saying to -you?" roared the old gentleman, coming to his feet. - -"I'm sorry; but, you see, this new undertaking is on my mind all the -time. It's a rather serious step I'm taking and I can't help giving it a -good deal of thought. Mr. Krosson says he'll raise my salary at the end -of--" - -But Mr. Van Pycke was standing over him, his face red with anger. - -"I brought you up as a gentleman, sir, and this is what comes of it. -What would your poor mother say? She, too, expected you to be a -gentleman, sir. Your grandfather expected it. All Van Pyckes are -gentlemen. You are the first to forget yourself, sir. By Gad, sir, I -suppose you'll marry a shop girl or a stenographer. That's what you'll -do! After the way in which I've brought you up and educated you and all -that. And with the Van Pycke name and traditions at your command! It's -so demmed preposterous that I can't express myself adequately. It's--" - -"It's no use, dad," said Bosworth, simply. "I'm lost." - -"You could marry that little Hebbins girl next week if you--" - -"I'm going to marry for love, dad," said his son. - -Mr. Van Pycke opened his lips to say something, thought better of it, -and stalked majestically out of the room. In the hall he encountered the -two porters. - -"Is Mr. Bosworth ready for us now, Mr.--" began one of the men, very -deferentially, for Mr. Van Pycke was very well known in the club. - -"Get out of my way!" roared Mr. Van Pycke. - -The next morning, it being a Sunday at that, Bosworth sustained a blow -that shook him mightily. In his box he found a curt letter from his -father. - -"My dear son," it read, "I neglected to announce my coming marriage to -you at our last meeting. I dare say it was because I was so upset. I am -to be married to Mrs. Scoville on the third of January. If you can get -away from the shop, or the office, or whatever it is, at three o'clock -on that day, I will be very much gratified to see you at the ceremony. -Your loving father." - -Bosworth clapped his hand to his brow, glaring at the note. - -"He's gone clean daffy!" he groaned. "Scoville? Why, he must know she's -already--Great Scott! He means the old one!--the pelican!--that's who he -means. The good Lord deliver us!" - -He was genuinely distressed. The dowager Mrs. Scoville, of all women! -For a long time he stood in the window, staring out over the housetops, -his heart full of pity for his wayward parent. - -"Poor old dad!" he said over and over again. "He's paying an awful -price for the privilege of remaining a gentleman to the end. Hang it -all! I would have taken care of him. I'd have given him half of my -income--yes, two thirds of it--sooner than see him sell out to that old -tigress. I'll see him at once. I'll make the proposition to him. He may -be able to crawl out of it." - -He soon discovered that an appeal of any sort was out of the question. -The Sunday papers announced the approaching marriage of the venerable -society leaders. As a man of honor, Van Dieman Van Pycke could not now -retreat. - -"Poor dad!" said Bosworth a hundred times that day. He could not banish -the calamity from his mind. Thoughts of Mary Pembroke crept in -frequently to chasten his ill humor, but even a developing interest in -that adorable creature failed to overcome the shock he had received. - -He ended by writing a long, boyish letter of congratulation and well -wishes to his father, closing with the ingenuous hope that he might live -long to enjoy the fruits of his folly. - -The next day, bright and early, he was at the office of the great Mr. -Krosson, a bit nervous, but withal full of the confidence that will not -be gainsaid. Every man in the club, on that momentous Sunday, had -congratulated him on the step he was taking. Somehow, he was beginning -to feel that he was no longer "Buzzy" Van Pycke. He was almost a -stranger to himself. - -Christmas came on Friday. By that time he was fairly well acquainted -with the inner offices of Mr. Krosson. The novelty was wearing off, but -his ambition was being constantly whetted by signs of achievement that -met him, no matter which way he looked in contemplation of his new -environment. To his surprise and gratification--and also to his -consternation--society was not ready to drop him. As a matter of fact, -he was more sought after than ever. Most of his time as secretary to Mr. -Krosson was spent in declining the invitations that poured in upon him -from admiring hostesses who, far from disdaining him, frankly intimated -that they liked him the better for the step he had taken. Old Mrs. -Beeker, society's leader, halted him in Fifth Avenue the day before -Christmas and leaned from her carriage window to tell him that she was -proud of him. - -"Women despise idlers and dawdlers, my dear boy," she said. "Make -something of yourself. If you should happen to get a wife, beat her -occasionally." - -His personal effects had been removed to less conspicuous rooms in -Seventy-seventh Street. He was at home there every evening. - -"I wonder if this will last," he said to himself more than once in those -first days. - -He was off to Princeton on the noon train, more pleasurably excited than -he had been in many a day. He had asked Mr. Krosson if his services were -necessary at the office on Christmas day. - -"If not, I think I will run down to Princeton to spend the holiday with -friends." - -"I thought you were going to drop out of society, Bosworth," said the -capitalist, putting his hand on the young man's shoulder. - -Bosworth flushed. "I expect to, Mr. Krosson, but I'm not going into a -monastery," he said. - -"I'm glad you were not one of the guests at that ridiculous De -Foe-Scoville wedding," said his old friend and new master. "That was the -limit in outrages." - -"It was very daring," said Bosworth, swallowing hard. - -He had seven bundles and a suit case on the seat in front of him when -the train pulled out of Jersey City. In his pocket was a great bunch of -newspaper clippings, intended for the private eye of the new Mrs. De -Foe's one-time secretary. He wondered how she would take the caustic, -sometimes scurrilous things the editors were saying about the now -historic wedding. Few if any of them left a shred on which the bride -could depend for support if she ever presumed to apply to New York -society for reestablishment. He was distressed by the fear that Mary -Pembroke would take to heart the bitter things that were being said of -her benefactress. He discovered, later on, that Mrs. De Foe had quite -fully prepared the girl for the avalanche of criticism. And so it was -that Mary was able to smile when he showed her the clippings. - -"I'm still her private secretary, Mr. Van Pycke," she said, "and -therefore I cannot discuss her private affairs with any one. As Mr. -Krosson's secretary, you wouldn't think of discussing his affairs, would -you?" - -But we are getting ahead of the story, or, more properly speaking, ahead -of the train. When he got down at Princeton, with his bundles and his -bag, he was surprised and not a little mortified by the half-checked -shriek of laughter that greeted him from the shelter of the station -building. She had come down to meet him. He had not expected it. But it -was most unkind of her to laugh at him. The bundles contained Christmas -presents for the children, he had lugged them about at great -inconvenience, and--He was thinking these things, but not venturing to -express them aloud. - -"Forgive me," she cried, hurrying over to him. "You _are_ so funny with -all those packages." - -He promptly set them down, regardless, and shook hands with her. His -ears were a bit red. On second thoughts, he didn't blame her for -laughing. He now recalled that other people had smiled as he crowded -through the aisle of the car, but he had not noticed it at the time on -account of a certain abstractedness that had to do with the future and -not the present. - -"I didn't expect you," he said. "It's awfully good of you to meet me. -Merry Christmas!" - -"To you the same," she cried, meeting his gaze with one in which -happiness shone brightly. "I had a dark purpose in meeting you here, Mr. -Van Pycke. It's very mysterious." - -"Splendid!" he said. "I've always wanted to be a conspirator." - -"Let me take some of the packages--yes, do! I insist! You are -ridiculous, carrying all these things. I have a cab around the corner. -We'll--" - -"A cab!" he exclaimed, dropping a picture puzzle with considerable -effect. "My dear Miss Pembroke, we can't afford cabs! They're -luxuries." - -"You won't say so when you see this one," she said gayly. Together they -collected the bundles, large and small, and hurried off to the waiting -cab. There was some doubt as to which should go in first, the passengers -or the parcels. - -"If we get in first, there will be no room for the bundles," said he. -"And if we put them in first, there'll be no room for us." The venerable -driver scratched his head in perplexity. - -"We could make two loads of it, sir," he said. "I c'n take your wife and -half the bundles up first and come back--" - -"It isn't to be thought off," interrupted Bosworth, quickly. "Don't you -remember me, Tobias?" - -"It--it ain't Mr. Van Pycke? Well, by gracious! It beats the--" - -Bosworth checked him in time. To Miss Pembroke he said: "Tobias drove me -all the way from the freshman class to the senior." - -"I knew it, Mr. Van Pycke. That's why I engaged him." - -Tobias was suddenly confused. "Excuse me, I was thinking of another -gentleman when I said wife, sir. My mistake, sir. It sha'n't happen -again." - -"Don't make rash statements like that, Tobias," said Bosworth, boldly. -"You can't tell what will happen." - -"Put the bundles in, Tobias," said Miss Pembroke quietly, far from -amused. "Mr. Van Pycke must ride on the seat with you. He has done it a -great many times, if tradition is to be trusted." - -"My dear Miss Pembroke--" - -"Drive us into the alley at the rear of Mr. Pembroke's house, please. -We're going in through the kitchen, Mr. Van Pycke. There's to be a -Christmas tree at three o'clock. You are to be Santa Claus. I'll secrete -you in the butler's pantry until it is time for you to appear. Now, -please don't object. We have the fur coat and the whiskers and the red -cap. All you have to do is to come in and play you're delighted. You -will read off the names and--now, _do_ be nice! You know it will be -great fun." - -He could not resist the appeal in her eyes. It seemed to him that to be -disagreeable about it--or even reluctant--would be the most dastardly -crime imaginable. He caught the spirit. - -"Great fun? It will be gorgeous!" - -"Oh, lovely," she cried. "Hurry up, please. It's after two, and I still -have to put some things on the tree." - -She squeezed into the decrepit little hack, laughing joyously. He -scrambled up beside Tobias, clinging manfully to less than ten inches of -seat, a splendid grin on his face all the way across town, utterly -oblivious to the curious stares of Christmas pedestrians who passed them -by. - -He was thinking only of her smile of delight and of the amazing change -it had wrought in him--like a flash, so to speak. Already Christmas was -beginning to mean a great deal to him. - -The chatty Tobias, reminiscent and more or less paternal, swung into an -alley entrance in course of time,--not without a smug uplifting of his -left eyebrow,--and trotted his venerable nag onward until a sharp -rapping on the window-glass from within brought him to a rather heroic -stop between two widely separated back gates. - -"Drive on to the next gate," called out the young lady, partly opening -the door. Bosworth almost fell off in his valiant attempt to catch a -glimpse of her face. - -With a great deal of stealth and no small amount of suppressed, eager -laughter, they made their way into the kitchen of the quaint old house. - -Half an hour later Mr. Bosworth Van Pycke, suffering somewhat from stage -fright but buoyed by the promise of unequivocal success in his new rôle, -bounded from the pantry into the dining-room, befurred and bewhiskered, -with nothing showing but his nose, greatly to the delight and -consternation of a dozen small children who shrieked with excitement. - -He had appeared with some success in amateur theatricals and had led -cotillions under the most nerve-racking conditions, but never before had -he come plump against an audience of children. It was rather terrifying. -He halted in the middle of the room, to the left of the brilliantly -lighted, tinselled tree with its load of presents, and there he stuck, -spellbound, until the shrill voice of one less awed than the rest broke -the hush that had fallen upon the expectant group in the row of chairs -beyond. - -"Hello, Santy!" piped up this small, confident voice. Bosworth could -not afford to be outdone in politeness. He responded: - -"Hello, Mr. What's-your-name!" - -"What a pretty voice you have," called out a pink little girl. - -Right there Bosworth forgot his lines. He was to say something about -Christmas coming but once a year and that Santa Claus loved nice little -girls and boys, after which he was to appeal to Miss Pembroke for -assistance in distributing the presents. But the ingenuous compliment -upset him. He made his appeal to Miss Pembroke first, and it was rather -a piteous one at that. She flew at once to his relief. In two minutes he -was talking volubly, even brilliantly, shouting back at the children and -making himself so generously noisy that he would have been very much -shocked if he could have stepped outside and heard himself. - -Four or five nurses in the background giggled and simpered; the -housemaid and the cook grinned so amiably that Miss Pembroke had real -hopes that she could keep them in Princeton for the rest of the winter. - -"The Pembroke infants are the only poor man's blessings in the crowd, -Mr. Van Pycke," said Mary in a gay aside. "The others have everything. -But they are having a good time, aren't they?" - -"They're not having half so good a time as I am," he said eagerly. By -this time he was thoroughly imbued with the spirit of the hour. "I never -knew Christmas could be so good to grown-ups. Why, it's--it's ripping!" - -Once at the top of a stepladder, he burst into uncontrollable laughter, -seemingly for no reason on earth. It had just occurred to him to wonder -what his friends in New York would say if they could see him now! Miss -Pembroke looked up in some surprise. - -"What is it?" she called rather anxiously. - -"Nothing," he replied hastily. "A hang-over laugh from my youth, that's -all. This is the first chance it's had to escape." - -At last the tree was completely shorn of its wealth; nothing but the -tinsel, the pop-corn, and the tin candlesticks were left. In front of -each child stretched a new panorama of possessions. Each little one was -a person of vast and suddenly acquired wealth; arrogantly wealthy was -each, at that, for no one admitted the superiority of another's -acquisitions. We were all wealthy on the Christmas days of long ago. - -Bosworth had the satisfaction of knowing that his own presents to the -small Pembrokes were received with wild acclaim. He could not help -recalling certain presents he had bestowed on former Christmases, upon -more mature ladies, who received them as a matter of tribute and with -hardly so much as a sigh of pleasure. - -Then the children were herded into the library with their toys and their -sweetmeats, pursued by anxious, colic-fearing nurses. Bosworth, very hot -and very happy, retired to the pantry to remove his great coat, his -whiskers, and his cotton wig (the latter the handiwork of Miss Pembroke, -who, whatever else she might have been proficient in, was not a -successful wig-maker). - -She appeared in the swinging door, her face flushed and her eyes -glowing. - -"Wasn't it fun?" she cried. - -He was picking cotton from his hair. He paused in this operation to -stare at her, entranced. - -"By Jove!" he murmured, his soul leaping to his eyes. As if fascinated, -he advanced slowly, his hands extended to clasp hers. She drew back ever -so slightly, confused by the look in his eyes. She gave him her hands, -however,--warm, firm little hands that hesitated a long time before -responding to the grip he gave them. - -"Do you know," he said, irrelevant but serious to the point of -perplexing her, "I believe I've never had you out of my mind during all -these years? I haven't realized it before, but now I honestly believe -it's true. You've been here--in my brain--all this time. That's why no -one else ever really got in. Mary Pembroke, you are still the loveliest -girl I've ever seen--just as you were fourteen years ago. You are just -as wonderful to me now as you were then--even though you were eight and -yellow-haired and lived in the cabin _de luxe_. It's--it's marvelous. -You've been lying dormant in my memory--in my heart--all these years. -Now you are suddenly revived. It's a terribly queer sensation. I--I -don't believe I'll get over it." - -She withdrew her hands; her lids wavered before his steady gaze. -Something ineffably sweet crept into the dark eyes; a quick, almost -imperceptible quiver flashed over her chin, and her lips parted in -tremulous protest against the possibility of jest. - -"I'm--I 'm glad that you do remember me," she said, with a vague little -smile. - -"I loved you--oh, how I loved you on that long-ago voyage," he said -recklessly. "I used to lie awake half the night in my berth, lamenting -the fact that I was so ungainly and so homely, and so utterly unfit to -be a story-book hero to you. I had a terrible fear that my legs would -always be beanpoles and that my chest would never grow to even -respectable proportions. I thought my ears were big and--" - -"They _were_ big," she interposed, the mysterious quaver still in her -voice. - -"They were like bat's ears, only bigger," he agreed dismally. "And I -hated my freckles and despaired of my hair, which would curl up at the -back of my neck. All this time you were so lovely, so perfect, so -adorable--" - -"What a rhapsodist you are!" she cried. - -"You didn't possess a single flaw--not one," he announced firmly. "Every -boy on the boat was perishing of love for you. By Jove, you knew it, -too." - -"Oh, you forget how young I was!" - -"At any rate, you knew I was sick over you. And for months after we -landed in New York--yes, until long after I went away to -boarding-school--you were the princess of my dreams, the treasure of my -heart. Then I thought I had forgotten you. You slipped back into my -memory and hid yourself completely away. There you stayed snugly, -serenely, quite as if I had stored you in a safety deposit box, all the -while growing more beautiful, more lovely, more valuable. Last week I -opened the box and took you out. I was amazed to find that you had -always been there. I had put you there as a little girl, and when I came -to take you out, you were a beautiful lady. I'd been treasuring you up -through all these years without really knowing it. I never knew I was so -rich." - -A sudden panic assailed her. She realized, without warning, that she was -being made love to, and that underneath his fanciful declarations there -was something real, and strong, and earnest. She might have laughed at -him and chided him for his gallantry had it not been for one distressing -obstacle: he, Bosworth Van Pycke, had been lying just as snugly all -these years in the deepest recesses of her heart. Unlike him, however, -she had never quite forgotten the flaxen-haired lad of the steamship. - -"It's so very nice of you to say--" she began. - -"I mean it all, too--every word of it," he said gently. "It's all come -back to me--" - -"Don't you think we'd better go in where the children are?" she asked -nervously, backing toward the door, the light in her eyes very bright. -"This--this, Mr. Van Pycke, is the pantry." - -He flushed. "I--I dare say it does seem rather like backstairs -gallantry," he said, in genuine humility. - -"I didn't mean it in that way," she cried instantly. "It was the most -beautiful thought I've ever heard expressed." She stopped suddenly. "Are -you coming?" - -"Not until I've said the rest of it," he said, looking over his -shoulder. Then, with fierce eagerness, drawing closer to her: "I adored -you when you were eight. You may call it boyish impulse or whatever you -like. Be that as it may, I've never loved any one else. A hundred times -I've tried to picture the face, the form, the character of the girl I'd -really come to love. Always there came to my mind a face--not a child's -face, but a child's face grown to a woman's. It was always the same. The -face of the little girl who grew up in my brain without being -observed--without a sign that she was there. When she was fifteen, she -was fifteen to my dreams; when she was twenty, I imagined her as such. -She grew up with me. Every year I saw the change in the girl I pictured -as the one I could love. No other came up to that ideal. There could be -no other, for there was a real girl there all the time. I loved you -years ago, Mary Pembroke, and I must tell you that--" - -"Oh, you mustn't say it--you mustn't!" she cried, tremulously, putting -out her hand. "It--it doesn't seem real--it wouldn't seem honest. -Please, please don't treat it lightly. Don't spoil it all by--" - -"I never was so serious," he said. "I--I didn't mean to shock you. It -must sound foolish to you. Of course, I've never meant anything to you. -It's all on my side. I've been too abrupt. I've been an awful ass to -blurt it out to you so soon. Why, you can't help looking upon me as a -total stranger. You haven't thought of me in years and years." - -"Oh, I haven't forgotten the spindle-shanked boy," she said in a very -low voice. "You may not have known it, my friend, but I was very deeply -in love with you in the days of the old _Campania_. I was--" - -"You were! You really were?" he cried, with difficulty reducing it to a -half whisper. - -"I was a very impressionable child," she said, regaining all of her lost -ground as only a woman can when carried to the last extremity. - -"And--and I _may_ have a chance even now?" he cried, his eyes gleaming. - -She pushed the swing-door open with her elbow and demurely held it ajar -for him, a soft smile on her lips that he did not then understand and -never was to understand, being a male. - -"You are Santa Claus, not Romeo," she said. He also missed the flutter -in her voice and entirely overlooked the fact that she was breathing -quickly. - -He followed her into the dining-room, strangely subdued. They came by -the light of a window. There, with an impulsive gesture and a quick -laugh, she halted him. Her amused eyes were taking in his tumbled hair. - -"Wait," she said. "Do you mind if I pick some of the cotton out of your -hair?" - -"Not at all," he said with alacrity. - -"Lean over," she said. He did so. Very daintily, very deftly she pulled -the stray wisps of cotton from his hair, so deftly, in fact, that he -scarcely felt the touch of her fingers, although his whole being -thrilled with the delicious sensation of contact. For years he was to -remember that infinite minute and a half. He knew how pleased Samson -must have been while his strength was being shorn, even though the -parable says he slept. - -A trifle dazed by exaltation, he followed her into the library. The -children who had greeted him vociferously as Santa Claus were now -strangely silent and tongue-tied in the presence of a mere human,--but -only for a moment. - -"Oh, it's Mr. Pycke!" screamed the pinkest one of them all. "I know -him!" - -Whereupon she announced that he had come down from New York to see her -sister Mary and was going to stay for dinner and play bear. - -"Do you mind being left alone with them for a few minutes?" asked Mary. -"I must go up to father's room. He is quite helpless, you know." - -"I'd forgotten to ask how he's feeling to-day," he murmured contritely. - -The tears suddenly rushed to her eyes. A very pathetic smile and a shake -of her head was the only answer he received. She left him standing -there, surrounded by glad, expectant revelers, prey to a most unusual -depression--as swift as it was surprising. His heart, overflowing with a -new sensation of tenderness and pity, followed the slender figure up the -stairs; there was but little of it left below to encourage the gleeful -spirits of the care-free lads and lassies. - -For some unexplained reason, which he afterward sought to attribute to -hysteria, he hugged the pink little Pembroke girl with unnecessary -ardor, and would have kissed her older sister if he could have caught -her. - -When Miss Pembroke came downstairs half an hour later, she found him -playing bear, with tiny Miss Florence leading him about the room at the -end of a long red ribbon. His hair was rumpled and his face was flushed, -and it seemed that he was gasping for breath--whether from exertion or -because the ribbon was choking him, she could not tell. She rescued him -at once. - -"I like it," he cried. "It's fun to be a kiddie once more. As a matter -of fact, you know, I never really had a kid's life. I'm having the time -of my life." - -"Why, they 're wearing you out," she cried. "May I ask what you were -representing?" - -"A bear!" shouted eleven voices. Bosworth gravely nodded. - -"He was going to be a trained seal, only we couldn't get a tub for him -to lie on," said Mary's nine-year-old worshiper. - -Miss Pembroke laughed gayly. "I understood you to say last week, Mr. Van -Pycke, that you were through with menagerie performances for all time." -There was a witchery in her eyes that enthralled him. - -"This is different," he protested in some confusion. "I draw the line at -grown-up tomfoolery. It may interest you to know that I was a horse just -before you came in. They've all had a ride on my back. This chap here, -when I wasn't looking, took those cavalry spurs from the mantelpiece -over there and, by Jove! he _did_ get me moving!" - -The children shrieked with glee. - -"You poor man!" Mary cried, genuinely troubled over his experiences. -"You've had a dreadful time. I'll save you before it grows any worse. -Come upstairs, won't you, please? Father is very eager to meet you." - -"But I've promised to be another horse," he said loyally. - -"It wasn't a horse," corrected one of the boys. "You have been that. You -said you'd be a jackass. None of us ever saw a jackass." - -"You said you could be a jackass without half trying, Mr. Van Pycke," -said the little pink Pembroke. - -Mr. Van Pycke fled. His charming hostess overtook him in the hall, -where, in dire humility, he had paused to wait for her. She was having -immense difficulty to keep her face straight and serene. - -"I--I wonder if the little beggars think I _am_ such an idiot as I -seem," was his unhappy lamentation. - -"They adore you!" she cried. "You have been too splendid for anything. I -am so afraid you have been bored by--" - -"If you don't banish that pathetic droop from the corners of your--your -adorable mouth, I'll do something positively desperate," he interrupted, -folding' his arms resolutely so that he couldn't, by any chance, do it. - -She smiled at him, quite confidingly,--greatly to his disappointment, -for he had rather hoped for consternation,--and said: - -"It is banished." Then she started up the stairs. "Come. I'll show you -to your room first. You may come into father's room when you have -brushed your hair. It looks positively savage." - -"My room?" he murmured, coming close behind her. - -"Yes. Don't you expect to dress for dinner, sir?" - -"Oh, I can't put you to the trouble of--" - -"You are to stop here--in this house, Mr. Van Pycke. Your room is all -ready for you. I was compelled to turn you out in the cold the other -night and I was so sorry. Now you are in my own home, you must stay--to -make up for the other time. My father expects you to stay." - -"Over night?" he said unbelievingly. - -"Unless, of course, you've something else you'd rather do," she said -quickly. - -"Why--why," he stammered, his head swimming with delight, "there's -nothing in the world I'd rather do than to stay here. It seems -incredible." - -"There's a train up at eight in the morning," she announced calmly. -"You'll be called at six-thirty. Breakfast at seven. Bacon and eggs and -popovers. Is that all right?" - -"There's only one thing lacking," he cried, his heart leaping. They were -standing quite close to each other at the head of the stairs. - -"If our home isn't--" - -"If you'll promise to come down to breakfast, I'll never get over the -joy of this visit," he said. - -"I always have breakfast with the children." He looked askance. "At -seven o'clock," she vouchsafed. - -"By Jove!" was all he could gasp in his delirium. - -"That's father's door at the end of the hall. Come in there when you are -ready. I'll be with him. Don't be long. Your room is here." - -He watched her until she closed her father's door behind her. Then he -went into the sweet little bedroom across the hall, sat down rather -heavily upon the edge of a couch, pulled his collar away from his throat -as if that act were necessary to let the blood back from his head, and -murmured over and over again, in the haziest manner imaginable: - -"Who would have thought it could come like this? Who would have dreamed -it?" - - * * * * * - -Eleven o'clock that night. A fire in the library grate; logs crackling -and the sap singing; the smell of live wood burning; the musketry of -popping sparks; the swirl of smoke into the drafty chimney. New logs had -just found their place of duty upon the half-starved fire behind the -ancient "dogs." A sturdy poking had put life into the lazy embers. It -was high time, indeed. For an hour the fire had gone neglected, -unheeded. The chill of a bitter night had come creeping into the room, -slowly conquering the warmth that had reigned supreme. Outside the wind -had begun to whistle with a wilder glee; the creeking of wagon-wheels on -the frozen roadway grew louder and more angrily insistent; a desolate -cornet, far off in the Christmas air, sobbed its pathetic song to the -fickle ear of the night. - -Two sentinels had stood watch over the fire for hours. It died as they -watched it, and yet they did not see. - -Not unlike another fire, a week old and long since dead, was this one, -and not unlike the soft glow of another fire-light was that which played -on the serene faces of the two sentinels who sat side by side and -watched their charge eke out its life. But on that other night these -sentinels were not lovers. - -She shivered. He had been telling her of the world that was ahead of -them and of all the joys it was to hold for him. He had told her that he -would care for her all his life--that he would take care of her to the -end of hers. - -It was then that she smiled fairly, a dear little pucker coming between -her eyes. - -"I know, Bosworth, dear," she said quaintly, "but would you mind taking -a little care of me now? I am freezing. Please poke up the fire." - -It was not until then that the fireplace renewed its roar of gladness, -supported by his tardy but vigorous conscience. - -Together they stood before the resulting blaze. Her hands were in his, -clasped close to his breast. Her eyes were closed. He kissed the lids. - -[Illustration: "Her eyes were closed. He kissed the lids."] - -"Fourteen years is a long time, Bosworth, dear, for two people to love -each other without knowing it," she said, ever so softly, freeing one -hand only that it might be slipped up to his cheek and then to his hair. - - -THE END - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Alternative, by George Barr McCutcheon - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ALTERNATIVE *** - -***** This file should be named 43071-8.txt or 43071-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/0/7/43071/ - -Produced by Larry B. 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