Angela's Business Part 29

"Oh!... Just talking to myself. Bad habit of mine," he said, with an effort. "You're rather flossy to-night!--out to give the girls a treat, I gather. Let's see. German, I suppose?" Laying his tall hat tenderly on the Judge's little typewriter-table, Donald acknowledged the soft impeachment.

"Well, who's the lucky lady, this time?--Or maybe you're stagging?"

"Who, me? Not on your life! I've got Miss Carson again--lucky thing!"

"Indeed," said the author, coldly.

"And a pippin she is too! Talk about clever, Charlie! By Jove, there's a girl that makes a fellow use his cocoa all the time, let me tell you!"

Charles sat down heavily at his writing-table, and lit a cigarette. Mary Wing managed her affairs well, indeed. He spoke with mysterious bitterness:--

"You _are_ blossoming out! If anybody'd told me last year that you'd be praising one of the new highbrow sisters, I'd have kicked him downstairs for a liar."

"When a girl can look like that, my boy--"

"Developing into a regular man-flirt too, aren't you? Last I heard of you, you were driving up Washington Street with Miss Flower."

Instead of resenting the odious epithet, Donald's face was seen to a.s.sume a pleased smirk.

"Ho!--had your spies on me, have you? Why, did we pa.s.s you to-day?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "HO!--HAD YOUR SPIES ON ME, HAVE YOU?"]

Charles's heart seemed to leap a little. "Why, no," he said, sweetly. "I was speaking of one day last week. So you stole another drive to-day--you sly rascal!"

"Don't know that you'd call it driving, exactly. Where'd that brother of hers dig the little four-wheeler, d'you s'pose? I thought that kind were extinct, same as the Dodo--"

"Why, I think it's a very nice little car, Donald! Small, old-fashioned, yes--but very comfortable and--easy-going. I've--ah--had a--a number of pleasant drives in it. The real trouble is," said Charles, with immense carelessness, "she honestly doesn't know how to manage it very well as yet. And I, of course, don't know how to teach her--unfortunately."

Having seated himself in Judge Blenso's chair, Donald was lighting, with a lordly air, one of Judge Blenso's cigars; the Judge himself being at his club, through lack of interest in the Studio. Extinguishing his match by waving it languidly back and forth, the youth said, with a faint reminiscent smile:--

"Well, I gave her a pretty good lesson this afternoon, far as that goes.

Had a very fairish time, too. Nice little girl, she is."

The author gazed, with a sort of nervous incredulity. He laughed hurriedly.

"Nice!--well, I should say so! She's--she's charming! You'll have to look pretty sharp if you want any more drives there--too much compet.i.tion! But, of course, she may not be _bookish_ enough, to suit your new taste--"

"Oh, bookish, no. She's not that sort. I'll tell you what your little friend is, Charlie," said the young engineer, with an air of insufferable conceit. "She's what _I_ call a womanly woman."

Charles averted his eyes. This simple fool's quick response to the "putting on" treatment almost pa.s.sed belief. Unquestionably, Donald was far more receptive to feminine influences now, than he had been in his industrious pre-Wyoming days; again, mere use, mere custom and propinquity, were famous for accomplishing just these wonders. Still, Charles's philosophic overmind, contrasting this grin on Donald's face with that unflattering remark of his last November, threw out a different concept, viz.: that perseverance in a woman is a marvelous thing.

But the hope, though it shot up delightfully, was a thin one yet. Dull Donald went on knowingly:--

"But speaking of the compet.i.tion, what's happened to you, old horse?"

"How do you mean, happened to me?"

"Your little friend says you used to meet her nearly every day for a drive, but now you haven't been seen for days. I told her you'd probably changed your hours a little, as I'd seen you at lunch earlier than--"

"You did?" said the author, looking at the engineer with unconcealed annoyance. "Well, you were mistaken, that's all! You had no business to say anything of the sort. Of course, my hours may vary a little--in fact, they vary a good deal. Great heavens, I--"

"Well, don't get peevish about it!--friendly tip I'm giving you, that's all. She thinks you're mad with her--do you get me? Says you've never forgiven her for something she said to you once--some misunderstanding you had--you know, I guess--"

"Why, d.a.m.nation, we never _had_ any misunderstanding! I'm _busy_! I don't undertake to start to lunch at a certain particular second--"

"Well, don't tell it to me!" said Donald, cheerfully. "Trot along and explain it to her, that's the way.--I say, Charlie--change the subject--did I tell you what old Gebhardt said to me the first day we looked over the plans? About my concrete bridge over Sankey River?"

And then the childish egotistical youth was off. It seemed, indeed, that the monologue ensuing was what he had come for; it seemed that he had dressed himself one hour too early for the German with just this most agreeable of all purposes in his mind: to sit and have a good long talk about himself. Charles received his boastings with restless boredom, marking meaninglessly on the pad before him, moodily biding his time. He could have kicked Donald for his stupidity in mentioning his trifling change of hours; but of course his need was to get the conversation back to Angela quietly, without arousing the slightest suspicion. His need was that Donald should agree to give Angela regular lessons in driving the Fordette, every day through the lunch-hour.

But Donald, happening to note the face of Big Bill, came suddenly to his feet: and then, as suddenly, gave the talk an unlooked-for turn.

"I say, Charlie! How about you and old Blenso for the Wings' apartment?"

Charles's head came slowly round. "How about what?"

"Dashed sight more comfortable than up your two flights here!"

"The Wings' apartment is for rent?"

"Didn't you know that, old stick-in-the-mud? What's the matter with you?

Mary's been hunting a tenant for two weeks."

Charles, finding it unnecessary to state that he had not seen Mary for exactly that length of time,--barring one very transient meeting on the street,--merely indicated, without any polish, that, not being a gadabout a.s.s like some, he made no pretense of keeping up with all the latest t.i.ttle-tattle.

He then asked, in a voice indicating no interest in the subject: "What's Mrs. Wing going to do?"

"Going to North Carolina to live with f.a.n.n.y."

"With f.a.n.n.y!... I suppose she didn't consider going with Miss Mary?"

"Couldn't stand the pressure. Why, New York would kill her off like a fly! And besides, she doesn't want to get too far away from the Warders, you know. Of course, f.a.n.n.y can't make her very comfortable just now--but we talked it all over and that seemed the best arrangement, all round."

"I see."

"Mary can't turn back now, of course. Well, Charlie," said Donald, earnestly, "I don't hold with her fool notions, and all that but hang it all!--she's no ordinary woman, and this is no ordinary job. Those people are giving her two a.s.sistants and $5000 a year. What d'you know about that for a poor little girl?"

He was struggling to get into his overcoat without "breaking" his shirt-front--going at once, evidently. But Charles had lost sight of his strategic intentions.

"Well, how about you two old chaps for the furnished apartment--February fifteenth, if you want it?"

Charles observed that he couldn't look at it. Donald, as if only stimulated by his host's taciturnity, became sentimental.

"First Mary, then Mrs. Wing, then me--this is going to be a break-up, Charlie, do you realize it? I'm beginning to feel it, too, let me tell you! Jove," said Donald, putting on his shining head-piece and bringing the conversation back to himself simultaneously--"now that I come right down to it, _I_ don't want to leave this good old town!"

He departed, to his unconscious match-making. Charles, left alone, merely sat on at his table. And all that he thought of Angela Flower now was of an insignificant remark she had let fall, the first time they had walked together: "Mr. Garrott do you know who _Marna_ reminded me of?

Somebody you admire a great deal...."