Mary Minds Her Business Part 12

But you wouldn't have thought this on the morning when Mary entered it in response to Burdon's suggestion.

A fire was glowing on the andirons. New rugs gave colour and life to the floor. The mantel had been swept clear of annual reports and technical books, and graced with a friendly clock and a still more friendly pair of vases filled with flowers. The monumental swivel chair had disappeared, and in its place was one of wicker, upholstered in cretonne. On the desk was another vase of flowers, a writing set of charming design and a triple photograph frame, containing pictures of Miss Cordelia, Miss Patty and old Josiah himself.

Mary was still marvelling when she caught sight of Burdon Woodward in the doorway.

"Who--who did this?" she asked.

He bowed low--as d'Artagnan might have bowed to the queen of France--but came up smiling.

"Your humble, obedient servant," said he. "Can I come in?"

It had been some time since Mary had seen him so closely, and as he approached she noticed the faultlessness of his dress, the lily of the valley in his b.u.t.tonhole, and that slightly ironic but smiling manner which is generally attributed to men of the world, especially to those who have travelled far on adventurous and forbidden paths. In another age he might have worn lace cuffs and a sword, and have just returned from a gambling house where he had lost or won a fortune with equal nonchalance.

"He still smells nice," thought Mary to herself, "and I think he's handsomer than ever--if it wasn't for that dark look around his eyes--and even that becomes him." She motioned to a chair and seated herself at the desk.

"I thought you'd like to have a place down here to call your own," he said in his lazy voice. "I didn't make much of a hit with the governor, but then you know I seldom do--"

"Where did you get the pictures?"

"From the photographers'. Of course it required influence, but I am full of that--being connected, as you may know, with Spencer & Son. When I told him why I wanted them, he seemed to be as anxious as I was to find the old plates."

"And the fire and the rugs and everything--you don't know how I appreciate it all. I had no idea--"

"I like surprises, myself," he said. "I suppose that's why I like to surprise others. The keys of the desk are in the top drawer, and I have set aside the brightest boy in the office to answer your buzzer. If you want anybody or anything--to write a letter--to see the governor--or even to see your humble servant--all you have to do is to press this b.u.t.ton."

A wave of grat.i.tude swept over her.

"He's nice," she thought, as Burdon continued his agreeable drawl. "But Helen says he's wicked. I wonder if he is.... Imagine him thinking of the pictures: I'm sure that doesn't sound wicked, and... Oh, dear!....Yes, he did it again, then!... He--he's making eyes at me as much as he dares!..."

She turned and opened a drawer of the desk.

"I think I'll take the papers home and sort them there," she said.

"You're sure there's nothing more I can do?" he asked, rising.

"Nothing more; thank you."

"That window behind you is open at the top. You may feel a draft; I'll shut it."

In his voice she caught the note which a woman never misses, and her mind went back to her room at college where the girls used to gather in the evenings and hold cla.s.ses which were strictly outside the regular course.

"It's simply pathetic," one of the girls had once remarked, "but nearly every man you meet makes love the same way. Talk about sausage for breakfast every morning in the year. It's worse than that!

"First you catch it in their eye and in their voice: 'Are you sure you're comfortable?' 'Are you sure you're warm enough?' 'Are you sure you don't feel a draft?' That's Chapter One.

"Then they try to touch you--absent-mindedly putting their arms along the back of your chair, or taking your elbow to keep you from falling when you have to cross a doorsill or a curb-stone or some dangerous place like that. That's always Chapter Two.

"And then they try to get you into a nice, secluded place, and kiss you.

Honestly, the sameness of it is enough to drive a girl wild. Sometimes I say to myself, 'The next time a man looks at me that way and asks me if I feel a draft, I'm going to say, 'Oh, please let's dispense with Chapter Two and pa.s.s directly to the nice, secluded place. It will be such a change from the usual routine!'"

Mary laughed to herself at the recollection.

"If Vera's right," she thought, "he'll try to touch me next--perhaps the next time I come."

It happened sooner than that.

After she had tied up the papers and carried them to the car, and had made a tour of the new buildings--Archey Forbes blushing like a sunset the moment he saw her--she returned to her motor which was waiting outside the office building. Burdon must have been waiting for her. He suddenly appeared and opened the door of the car.

"Allow me," he said. When she stepped up, she felt the support of his hand beneath her elbow.

She slipped into her place at the wheel and looked ahead as dreamy-eyed as ever.

"Chapter Two..." she thought to herself as the car began to roll away, and taking a hasty mental review of Wally Cabot, and Burdon Woodward and Archey Forbes, she couldn't help adding, "If a girl's thoughts started to run that way, oh, wouldn't they keep her busy!"

It relieved her feelings to make the car roar up the incline that led from the river, but when she turned into the driveway at the house on the hill, she made a motion of comic despair.

Wally Cabot's car was parked by the side of the house. Inside she heard the phonograph playing a waltz.

CHAPTER XIII

Wally stayed for lunch, looking sheepish at first for having been caught dancing with Helen. But he soon recovered and became his charming self.

Miss Cordelia and Miss Patty always made him particularly welcome, listening with approval to his chatter of Boston society, and feeling themselves refreshed as at some Hebian spring at hearing the broad a's and the brilliant names he uttered.

"If I were you, Helen," said Mary when lunch was over, "I think I'd go on teaching Wally that dance." Which may have shown that it rankled a little, even if she were unconscious that it did. "I have some papers that I want to look over and I don't feel very trippy this afternoon."

She went to Josiah's old study, but had hardly untied the papers when she heard the knock of penitence on the door.

"Come in!" she smiled.

The door opened and in came Master Wally, looking ready to weep.

"Wally! Don't!" she laughed. "You'll give yourself the blues!"

"Not when I hear you laugh like that. I know I'm forgiven." He drew a chair to the fire and sat down with an air of luxury. "I can almost imagine that we're an old married couple, sitting in here like this--can't you?"

"No; I can't. And you've got to be quiet and let me work, or I shall send you back to Helen."

"She asked me to dance with her--of course, you know that--or I never would have done it--"

"Oh, fie, for shame," said Mary absently, "blaming the woman. You know you liked to do it."

"Mary--!"

"Hush!"