John Marvel, Assistant Part 34

"Oh! ah! How do you do?" said the count, turning with a start and a short bow.

"I met you at the ball not long ago. Miss McSheen introduced me to you.

Don't you remember?" She glanced at the young lady who stood waiting.

"Ah! Yes--certainly! To be sure--Miss McSheen--ah! yes, I remember."

Doubtless, he did; for at this juncture the young lady I had been talking to, stepped forward and claimed the attention of the count, who, I thought, looked a trifle bored.

Feeling as if I were a mouse in a trap, I was about to try to escape when my intention was changed as suddenly as by a miracle, and, indeed, Eleanor Leigh's appearance at this moment seemed almost, if not quite, miraculous.

She had been walking rapidly in the wind and her hair was a little blown about--not too much--for I hate frowsy hair--just enough to give precisely the right touch of "sweet neglect" and naturalness to a pretty and attractive girl. Her cheeks were glowing, her eyes sparkling, her face lighted with some resolution which made it at once audacious and earnest, and as she came tripping into the room she suddenly transformed it by giving it something of reality which it had hitherto lacked. She appeared like spring coming after winter. She hurried up to her aunt (who, I must say, looked pleased to see her and gave Pushkin an arch glance which I did not fail to detect), and then, after a dutiful and hasty kiss, she pulled up a chair and dashed into the middle of the subject which filled her mind. She was so eager about it that she did not pay the least attention to Pushkin, who, with his heels close together, and his back almost turned on the other girl, who was rattling on at his ear, was bowing and grinning like a j.a.panese toy; and she did not even see me, where I stood a little retired.

"My dear, here is Count Pushkin trying to speak to you," said her aunt.

"Come here, Miss McSheen, and tell me what you have been doing." She smiled at the blonde girl and indicated a vacated chair.

But Miss McSheen saw the trap--she had no idea of relinquishing her prize, and Miss Leigh did not choose to try for a capture.

"Howdydo, Count Pushkin," she said over her shoulder, giving the smiling and bowing Pushkin only half a nod and less than half a glance. "Oh!

aunt," she proceeded, "I have such a favor to ask you. Oh, it's a most worthy object, I a.s.sure you--really worthy."

"How much is it?" inquired the older lady casually.

"I don't know yet. But wait--you must let me tell you about it, and you will see how good it is."

"My dear, I haven't a cent to give to anything," said her aunt. "I am quite strapped."

"I know, it's the family disease," said the girl lightly, and hurried on. "I am trying to do some work among the poor."

"The poor!" exclaimed her aunt. "My dear, I am so tired of hearing about the poor, I don't know what to do. I am one of the poor myself. My agent was here this morning and tells me that any number of my tenants are behind on their rents and several of my best tenants have given notice that on the expiration of their present terms, they want a reduction of their rents."

"I know," said the girl. "They are out of work. They are all ordered out, or soon will be, papa says, poor things! I have been to-day to see a poor family----"

"Out of work! Of course they are out of work! They _won't_ work, that's why they are out--and now they are talking of a general strike! As if they hadn't had strikes enough. I shall cut down my charities; that's what I shall do."

"Oh! aunt, don't do that!" exclaimed the girl. "They are so poor. If you could see a poor family I saw this morning. Why, they have nothing--nothing! They are literally starving."

"Well, they have themselves to thank, if they are." She was now addressing the count, and two or three ladies seated near her on the edge of their chairs.

"Very true!" sighed one of the latter.

"I know," said the count. "I haf read it in th' papers to-day t'at t'ey vill what you call strike. T'ey should be--vhat you call, put down."

"Of course they should. It almost makes one despair of mankind," chimed in Mrs. Gillis, who, though standing, could not tear herself away. As she stood b.u.t.toning at a glove, I suddenly recalled her standing at the foot of a flight of steps looking with cold eyes at a child's funeral.

"Yes, their ingrat.i.tude! It does, indeed," said Mrs. Argand. "My agent--ah! your husband--says I shall have to make repairs that will take up every bit of the rents of any number of my houses--and two of my largest warehouses. I have to repair them, of course. And then if this strike really comes, why, he says it will cost our city lines alone--oh!

I don't know how much money. But I hate to talk about money. It is so sordid!" She sat back in her chair.

"Yes, indeed," a.s.sented the bejewelled lady she addressed. "I don't even like to think about it. I would like just to be able to draw my cheque for whatever I want and never hear the word _money_--like you, Mrs.

Argand. But one can't do it," she sighed. "Why, my mail----"

"Why don't you do as I do?" demanded Mrs. Argand, who had no idea of having the conversation taken away from her in her own house. "My secretary opens all those letters and destroys them. I consider it a great impertinence for any one whom I don't know to write to me, and, of course, I don't acknowledge those letters. My agent----"

"My dear, we must go," said the lady nearest her to her companion. As the two ladies swept out they stopped near me to look at a picture, and one of them said to the other:

"Did you ever hear a more arrogant display in all your life? Her secretary! Her interest--her duties! As if we didn't all have them!"

"Yes, indeed. And her agent! That's my husband!"

"But I do think she was right about that man's pushing in----"

"Oh! yes, about that--she was, but she need not be parading her money before us. My husband made it for old Argand."

"My husband says the Argand Estate is vilely run, that they have the worst tenements in the city and charge the highest rents."

"Do you know that my husband is her--agent?"

"Is he? Why, to be sure; but of course, she is responsible."

"Yes, she's the cause of it."

"And they pay more for their franchises than any one else. Why, my husband says that Coll McSheen, who is the lawyer of the Argand Estate, is the greatest briber in this city. I suppose he'll be buying a count next. I don't see how your husband stands him. He's so refined--such a----"

"Well, they have to have business dealings together, you know."

"Yes. They say he just owns the council, and now he's to be mayor."

"I know."

"Did you see that article in the paper about him and his methods, charging that he was untrue to every one in town, even the Canters and Argands who employed him?"

"Oh, didn't I? I tell my husband he'd better be sure which side to take.

One reason I came to-day was to see how she took it."

"So did I," said her friend. "They say the first paper was written by a Jew. It was a scathing indictment. It charged him with making a breach between Mr. Leigh and Mrs. Argand, and now with trying to ruin Mr.

Leigh."

"And it was written by a Jew? Was it, indeed? I should like to meet him, shouldn't you? But, of course, we couldn't invite him to our homes. Do you know anybody who might invite him to lunch and ask us to meet him?

It would be so interesting to hear him talk."

So they pa.s.sed out, and I went up to make my adieux to our hostess, secretly intending to remain longer if I could get a chance to talk to her niece, who was now presenting her pet.i.tion to her, while the count, with his eye on her while he pretended to listen to Miss McSheen, stood by waiting like a cat at a mousehole.

As I approached, Miss Leigh glanced up, and I flattered myself for weeks that it was not only surprise, but pleasure, that lighted up her face.

"Why, how do you do?" she said, and I extended my hand, feeling as shy as I ever did in my life, but as though paradise were somewhere close at hand.

"Where did you two know each other?" demanded her aunt, suspiciously, and I saw Pushkin's face darken, even while the blonde girl rattled on at his ear.

"Why, this is the gentleman who had the poor children on the train that day last spring. They are the same children I have been telling you about."