Mrs. Gately blinked and spluttered at the man, her face livid with anger.
“Why—you—you—outrageous creature!” she shrieked. “Who are you, anyway? To speak that way to a lady!”
“Oh, is that what you are? Okay, boys, sling your mud. The ‘lady’ asks for it!”
He stooped to drop his shovel into deepest mud and turned with the evident purpose of planting an ample quantity straight on the tidy little Gately feet. Suddenly Mrs. Gately started screaming and trying to back out of the crowd, but by this time the crowd had closed up behind her and there seemed no way through. Then the lowering man and a couple like-minded evil conspirators, seeing their chance, slung a goodly portion of wet dirt over the imported feet. The furious woman, raising a frantic howl, took a slide on the muddy pavement and sat down with her imported frock in a very wet puddle, till a gentleman, not really knowing what it was all about, reached a helping hand and drew her, spluttering and resisting, back against the wall.
Somebody took pity on the poor lady and hustled her off to a car and to her home, and the crowd soon dispersed. But Lisle Kingsley, following her mother across the street, gave one more glance back at the blue-eyed boy as she turned away, her own smile still on her lips. She felt somehow that they were friends, she and that young man, and the thought of him lingered with her as she went on her way.
John Sargent, as he turned and looked after her furtively, wondered if he would ever see that girl again. He felt a warm, friendly comfort from her smile on a day that had started in anything but a pleasant way.
Then suddenly he heard the words of the two men working next to him. They had paused in their work and were gazing after the girl.
“That’s old Kingsley’s kid,” one of them said, the lowering one who had been so disagreeable to Mrs. Gately.
“Say, is that right?” asked the other one of those who had assisted in the mud slinging. “She’s some looker all right! You didn’t hear her making a fuss about the mud, either, and I bet she has as many ‘imported’ shoes and ‘fwocks’ as the old dame.”
He twisted his face and his voice into a clever imitation of Mrs. Gately’s expressions and tones, and the rest of the gang laughed roughly and cast appraising glances after the pretty girl who was skirting the wet places and crossing the road.
So, that was who she was, thought John Sargent. Daughter of a very rich man! He had heard of him. He turned a furtive look over his shoulder and took in with a swift glance the sign that glittered goldenly in the morning sunshine over the office door just beyond where he was working. He caught a glimpse of the tall gentleman entering the doorway. That would be the girl’s father. He looked it every inch. Dignity, culture, keenness, distinction. All the attributes that go to make up success in the world today. Then, without seeming to do so, his eyes swept across the street to where he could watch the girl as she walked. She was graceful, slender, with an air of ease and assurance without arrogance. The kind of daughter a father like that man would be expected to have. And she had smiled at him and understood how he was feeling about that silly woman! He would cherish that smile. He probably would never see her again, but she would be pleasant to think about now and then, a sort of ideal.
Lisle crossed the street back to her father’s office just above where the water break had been. A slight rise in the ground at that point had left the crossing dry. She came down the street and went in the front office door. That seemed to settle it in John Sargent’s mind that she was the daughter of the head of that well-known and distinguished firm.
And while John Sargent was musing on this matter, the man Lacey stood not far away on the sidewalk, studying him.
As it happened there was still quite a crowd standing around and Lacey was in no danger of being observed, for many people lingered there, watching the work that was going on, and he was not noticeable. As he stood on the sidewalk and looked around quite casually, he noticed his handyman Kurt Entry standing across from him watching the workers interestedly. The other man did not look at him, and no recognition passed between them. But that, of course, was as it should be. And this was not the first time that such a thing had happened, when other operations of the same sort were being planned. Kurt Entry was well trained, a good actor. He knew how to erase himself from any given picture. That was why he was hired.
But the man Lacey carried away with him was the picture of the young man with the gold hair and the blue eyes above the shirt. Yes, that was a young man who would have good sense, but wasn’t there something lacking in that face for the job they wanted to wish on him? Did he lack the daredevil glint in his eye, or didn’t he? There was something firm and determined about the set of his lips, and once won over to accept the role that he was offered, he would stick. He would be a faithful emissary. But would he accept? There was a keen look in his eye. He wouldn’t be one to be fooled, to accept a job without understanding what it involved. Still, with a sick grandmother—a funeral perhaps in the offing—money might be an inducement. It would take plenty, of course, if there proved to be a hereditary fanaticism to be overcome, but money would likely do it. An overzealous twist in the brain would be the only thing that might prevent it. Still, he looked a merry sort of lad with a good sense of humor, and not every fanatic had a sense of humor. Perhaps it would be as well to send Kurt after him tomorrow and let him sound him out about a better-paying job.
Lacey was back in his room a good half hour before the expected phone call came.
“Well, Lacey, size yer man up?” came the boss’s sneering voice.
“Yeah. I looked him over. He may be all right, but he looks mighty soft to me.”
“You’re mistaken. Nothing soft about him. I’ve been watching him for several months. Got a lot of character, that kid.”
“Well, mebbe so, but the girl I’m thinking of is a regular. If you had time I could tell you a lot of jobs that dame’s pulled off, and she’s pretty as all git out. If I know anything at all about that young guy you say is to have charge of his dad’s plant, she could work him for almost anything you want. Like to have you see her. She’s worth looking at. If you could drop in anywhere you want to suggest, I could have her there and introduce you. You wouldn’t need to commit yourself in her presence. She knows the score.”
“You haven’t told her anything about this affair, have you?”
“What do you take me for? I should say not. But I’ve tried her out already on so many other jobs, I know just how she’ll react, and this would be right up her alley. She’d eat it up. She’s plenty proud of her past record.”
“I see,” said the grim, heavy voice of the boss. “But I tell you, this is no lady’s job. It wouldn’t be permitted.”
“Okay! But I’d like you to meet the lady now she’s in the vicinity. You’ll need her sometime, even if you don’t need her now.”
“Well,” said Weaver after an instant’s pause, “I’ll be at the restaurant at the corner of Tenth and Harper at twelve sharp tomorrow. If she’s there, all right, and if not, that’s the end. This, you understand, is a man’s job. Get to work on your man as soon as possible. I’ll have the job rounded up for him by morning. That’s all!” And the boss hung up.
But about that time Kurt Entry lurched across the pile of rubble at the curb and fell into step behind the young man John Sargent, whom he had been watching carefully for the last hour.
And a little later a girl in a grubby room of a cheap hotel received a phone call.
“That you, Erda?”
“The same.”
“We’ll make it twelve sharp tomorrow. Tenth and Harper.”
“Very well. Any special line?”
“Nothing new yet.”
“Okay!”
Chapter 2
Lisle went through the outer room where stenographers and clerks were already hard at work. She smiled at one and another of them, and they all smiled back as if they liked her. She had a habit of making even a smile seem an honor.
Lisle had
not long to wait. Her mother soon came out of her father’s inner office, and they started out together on their shopping expedition.
“I think we had better go to the tailor’s first, dear, and get that fitting out of the way, don’t you?” said her mother. “There may be some changes to make, and I don’t want him to be held up getting your suit done. You might need it in a hurry. There is liable to be a change in the weather any time now. Also, you will have to decide on the fur for your collar, you know. Really, I think, dear, that it is smarter to have fur on your collar this year, don’t you? It’s a bit more feminine, and I don’t want you to look as if you were in uniform, not all the time, anyway. You’re too young to affect that style.”
“Yes, I like the fur, Mother. It’s certainly more comfortable in the fall before it’s time to put on a whole fur coat. But there isn’t any special hurry about it, is there? I thought you wanted to see those gloves that were advertised in the paper this morning, and they might be all gone if we don’t go to Hayden’s first.”
“That’s true, too, but after all, there are always gloves of one kind or another. I think we ought to get this fitting out of the way at once. You see, Victor telephoned after you went down to the car to say he would meet us at Hayden’s for lunch at noon. We must get there soon after twelve so we could go to lunch together.”
“Oh!” said Lisle, a kind of blank dismay in her voice. “I thought this was going to be a shopping excursion. Why did he have to barge in? I do hate to have to select things with somebody standing around watching, criticizing, trying to advise. It always upsets my judgment and I take anything, whether I like it or not. Victor always thinks he knows it all and insists that I do as he suggests.”
Her mother looked at her in surprise.
“Why, my dear! I didn’t know you felt that way. He asked if he might come, and I supposed, of course, that it would be the thing you would want, especially since he may receive his commission as an officer any day now and will probably soon be called away. I couldn’t say no, he seemed so eager about it. I didn’t think you would want to be rude to him.”
“Of course not, Mother. I just thought it would be so nice to have the whole day to ourselves and not have to hurry. But it’s quite all right. Of course you were right to tell him to come.”
Her mother gave her a quick look, noted her troubled face—the slight frown on the girl’s soft brows, the disappointed set of the sweet lips—and then her tone changed.
“Lisle, have you and Victor been having a—difference of opinion? Not a quarrel, of course. I am sure you would not descend to anything as unladylike as that, but has something come between you? I noticed you have not been going out with him every time he’s asked you.” She watched her daughter’s face while she waited for an answer.
“Why, no, Mother, not exactly a difference of opinion,” said Lisle, “but he has been sort of disappointing lately. I suppose maybe he’s just growing up, but he was a lot nicer the way he used to be.”
“Why, my dear!” said her mother. “I had no idea you felt that way. What has he done? What happened?”
“Oh, nothing, Mother! Nothing really happened. He just seems so determined that he is going to order my life for me.”
“But—my child! In what way?”
“Well, for one thing, he doesn’t like my college. He says I need to get away from home, that I’m living in a very narrow environment, and I didn’t like that! I don’t think he has any right to criticize the way you and Father are bringing me up. He keeps saying I have no mind of my own. And I do! I like my college, and I don’t want to go to any other. I refuse to go to any highbrow college, just to be able to say I’ve been there. I prefer the way you chose for me to be educated.”
“That’s very sweet of you, dear, and certainly we do not need any advice in arranging for your education. Your father and I have talked this matter over for several years, and we felt that on the whole we had chosen well and wisely. Also, we wanted to keep you near us as long as possible, and I still think that was right. But surely, Lisle, there is some mistake. It does not seem like the old Victor to criticize your family and your life plans. You must have misunderstood him. He must have been joking. Just doing what you call ‘kidding.’ He couldn’t have meant that. He was well brought up. His mother is very particular about behavior. He was taught to be polite almost from his babyhood!”
“Oh, he’s polite enough,” said Lisle thoughtfully. And then after an instant’s pause, “But very firm!”
Her mother studied her with a puzzled expression.
“What do you mean by that, dear?”
“He’s determined I shall think for myself, even if I do make mistakes, and not always have to consider what you would say or think about anything.”
“My dear, do you feel the need of more freedom in your actions?” asked the mother with a troubled look.
“No, Mother, I don’t,” said Lisle with a set of her firm little chin. “I’ve always sort of gloried in the fact that you and father never said ‘You shall’ or ‘You must,’ not since I was a very little child and very naughty. You’ve always taken me to a quiet place and explained why you felt it would not be a good thing to do, and then put it up to me to decide. And I couldn’t help but see that your advice was good. You gave me the feeling that you had had more experience than I, and you had found it wasn’t a good thing to do. You gave me confidence in your judgment. It was as if we were going down a strange road together, and you had traveled that way before and found where it led and where to turn off, and if I saw a side road where a lot of flowers grew and you said it led to a swamp where I might get drowned quickly and no one would know where I was, you taught me to think twice about it, and to remember what your experience had been when you took that same path years ago and almost lost your life.”
A look of great relief passed over the quiet dignity of the mother’s face. Then after a moment she asked, “And couldn’t you explain it that way to Victor?”
The girl’s face was swept by a stormy memory.
“I have, Mother. I told it to him just like that, and he simply got that maddening smile on his face, a sort of superior sneer he has, and said, ‘Times have changed, darling, and you are living in the antique past!’ ”
The mother looked startled.
“Well,” she said, “I’m afraid I shouldn’t at all approve of the college he attends. It seems to have done something undesirable to him. However, my dear, I suppose it is just a phase of his youth. He will probably get over it when he really grows up and gets beyond that superiority complex. That’s what your father feared when he heard Victor had chosen that college. They simply don’t believe anything. But I’m sure he’ll get over that.”
“I don’t think he will, Mother,” said Lisle sadly. “He really is grown up, you know. He’ll be of age in a few days now. You know that party his mother is giving is in honor of his twenty-first birthday. Mother, I wish I didn’t have to go to that! I don’t like his attitude toward me. It’s entirely too possessive.”
“Well, dear child, don’t worry about that. There may not be any party. Not if he goes to war and is called soon. But of course you would have to go if there is a party. You are one of his oldest friends, and you are already invited.”
“What do you mean, there may not be any party? Of course there’ll be a party.”
“Why, Victor told me he wasn’t sure, but he might have to go away sooner than he expected. He had a letter this morning hinting that he might be called very soon.” Mrs. Kingsley was watching her daughter closely. How would this news affect her child? But Lisle did not wince, did not turn pale, did not even look disturbed.
“Of course, Mother, that would be entirely possible, I had thought of that, and almost dared to hope that that might be a way of escape from that party, but it seems so selfish to want it just for my own comfort, when I know Victor is looking forward to it, and I know it means so much to his mother. But you know, Mother, there isn’t a c
hance that even that possibility would stop that party. Why, Victor’s mother has been looking forward to that party and counting on it for years, and she’ll find some way to pull it off in spite of the government. You’ll see. I’ve heard her talk so many times, and she’s simply fed it to Victor all through the years. You’d almost think it was some kind of coronation day. And he’s begun to act as if he felt that way about it himself. He has, Mother. It just made me ashamed for him when he began to talk the other day.”
“But Lisle! Child! Don’t speak so bitterly! I can’t think how you can turn against your old friend this way. Victor is not to blame. That party is a sort of symbol of his young manhood. Perhaps his mother has been foolish about it. She’s rather fond of social customs and old family traditions. But you ought not to turn against your old friend for that.”
“Oh, I haven’t turned against him, Mother, only it makes me so tired to hear them talk. Why, they are making a lot more of that party than they are of Victor’s going off to war.”
“Well, dear, perhaps it’s something to help ease the pain of their parting. You know Mrs. Vandingham has always been so very close to her son.”
“Yes, I know,” said Lisle. “But that’s no excuse for her making a perfect sissy out of him.”
“Oh, my dear! What a state of mind you are in! You never thought that of Victor before, I’m sure.”
“No … perhaps not!” said the girl with a troubled sigh. “Though I’m not sure but it was in the back of my mind all the time, and sometimes it would come up and worry me.”
“Oh, my dear! Why didn’t you tell me? Perhaps we could have done something about it.”
“What could we have done? Besides, I wasn’t altogether sure about anything.”