Oh, Money! Money! Part 26

But Mellicent shook her head.

"No. If you WILL both write your names down for the same dance, it is nothing more than you ought to expect."

"But divide it, then. Please divide it," they begged. "We'll be satisfied."

"_I_ shan't be!" Mellicent shook her head again merrily.

"I shan't be satisfied with anything--but to sit it out with Mr. Smith.

Thank you, Mr. Smith," she bowed, as she took his promptly offered arm.

And Mr. Smith bore her away followed by the despairing groans of the two disappointed youths and the taunting gibes of their companions.

"There! Oh, I'm so glad you came," sighed Mellicent. "You didn't mind?"

"Mind? I'm in the seventh heaven!" avowed Mr. Smith with exaggerated gallantry. "And it looked like a real rescue, too."

Mellicent laughed. Her color deepened.

"Those boys--they're so silly!" she pouted.

"Wasn't one of them young Pennock?"

"Yes, the tall, dark one."

"He's come back, I see."

She flashed an understanding look into his eyes.

"Oh, yes, he's come back. I wonder if he thinks I don't know--WHY!"

"And---you?" Mr. Smith was smiling quizzically.

She shrugged her shoulders with a demure dropping of her eyes.

"Oh, I let him come back--to a certain extent. I shouldn't want him to think I cared or noticed enough to keep him from coming back--some."

"But there's a line beyond which he may not pa.s.s, eh?"

"There certainly is!--but let's not talk of him. Oh, Mr. Smith, I'm so happy!" she breathed ecstatically.

"I'm very glad."

In a secluded corner they sat down on a gilt settee.

"And it's all so wonderful, this--all this! Why Mr. Smith, I'm so happy I--I want to cry all the time. And that's so silly--to want to cry! But I do. So long--all my life--I've had to WAIT for things so. It was always by and by, in the future, that I was going to have--anything that I wanted. And now to have them like this, all at once, everything I want--why, Mr. Smith, it doesn't seem as if it could be true. It just can't be true!"

"But it is true, dear child; and I'm so glad--you've got your five-pound box of candy all at once at last. And I HOPE you can treat your friends to unlimited soda waters."

"Oh, I can! But that isn't all. Listen!" A new eagerness came to her eyes. "I'm going to give mother a present--a frivolous, foolish present, such as I've always wanted to. I'm going to give her a gold breast-pin with an amethyst in it. She's always wanted one. And I'm going to take my own money for it, too,--not the new money that father gives me, but some money I've been saving up for years--dimes and quarters and half-dollars in my baby-bank. Mother always made me save 'most every cent I got, you see. And I'm going to take it now for this pin. She won't mind if I do spend it foolishly now--with all the rest we have. And she'll be so pleased with the pin!"

"And she's always wanted one?"

"Yes, always; but she never thought she could afford it. But now--! I'm going to open the bank to-morrow and count it; and I'm so excited over it!" She laughed shamefacedly. "I don't believe Mr. Fulton himself ever took more joy counting his millions than I shall take in counting those quarters and half-dollars to-morrow."

"I don't believe he ever did." Mr. Smith spoke with confident emphasis, yet in a voice that was not quite steady. "I'm sure he never did."

"What a comfort you are, Mr. Smith," smiled Mellicent, a bit mistily.

"You always UNDERSTAND so! And we miss you terribly--honestly we do!--since you went away. But I'm glad Aunt Maggie's got you. Poor Aunt Maggie! That's the only thing that makes me feel bad,--about the money, I mean,--and that is that she didn't have some, too. But mother's going to give her some. She SAYS she is, and--"

But Mellicent did not finish her sentence. A short, sandy-haired youth came up and pointed an accusing finger at her dance card; and Mellicent said yes, the next dance was his. But she smiled brightly at Mr. Smith as she floated away, and Mr. Smith, well content, turned and walked into the adjoining room.

He came face to face then with Mrs. Hattie and her daughter. These two ladies, also, were pictures of radiant loveliness--especially were they radiant, for every beam of light found an answering flash in the shimmering iridescence of their beads and jewels and opalescent sequins.

"Well, Mr. Smith, what do you think of my party?"

As she asked the question Mrs. Hattie tapped his shoulder with her fan.

"I think a great deal--of your party," smiled the man. "And you?" He turned to Miss Bessie.

"Oh, it'll do--for Hillerton." Miss Bessie smiled mischievously into her mother's eyes, shrugged her shoulders, and pa.s.sed on into the music-room.

"As if it wasn't quite the finest thing Hillerton ever had--except the g.a.y.l.o.r.d parties, of course," bridled Mrs. Hattie, turning to Mr. Smith.

"That's just daughter's way of teasing me--and, of course, now she IS where she sees the real thing in entertaining--she goes home with those rich girls in her school, you know. But this is a nice party, isn't it Mr. Smith?"

"It certainly is."

"Daughter says we should have wine; that everybody who is anybody has wine now--champagne, and cigarettes for the ladies. Think of it--in Hillerton! Still, I've heard the g.a.y.l.o.r.ds do. I've never been there yet, though, of course, we shall be invited now. I'm crazy to see the inside of their house; but I don't believe it's MUCH handsomer than this. Do you? But there! You don't know, of course. You've never been there, any more than I have, and you're a man of simple tastes, I judge, Mr. Smith." She smiled graciously. "Benny says that Aunt Maggie's got the nicest house he ever saw, and that Mr. Smith says so, too. So, you see, I have grounds for my opinion."

Mr. Smith laughed.

"Well, I'm not sure I ever said just that to Benny, but I'll not dispute it. Miss Maggie's house is indeed wonderfully delightful--to live in."

"I've no doubt of it," conceded Mrs. Hattie complacently. "Poor Maggie!

She always did contrive to make the most of everything she had. But she's never been ambitious for really nice things, I imagine. At least, she always seems contented enough with her shabby chairs and carpets.

While I--" She paused, looked about her, then drew a blissful sigh. "Oh, Mr. Smith, you don't know--you CAN'T know what it is to me to just look around and realize that they are all mine--these beautiful things!"

"Then you're very happy, Mrs. Blaisdell?"

"Oh, yes. Why, Mr. Smith, there isn't a piece of furniture in this room that didn't cost more than the Pennocks'--I know, because I've been there. And my curtains are nicer, too, and my pictures, they're so much brighter--some of her oil paintings are terribly dull-looking. And my Bessie--did you notice her dress to-night? But, there! You didn't, of course. And if you had, you wouldn't have realized how expensive it was. What do you know about the cost of women's dresses?" she laughed archly. "But I don't mind telling you. It was one hundred and fifty dollars, a HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS, and it came from New York. I don't believe that white muslin thing of Gussie Pennock's cost fifty!

You know Gussie?"

"I've seen her."

"Yes, of course you have--with Fred. He used to go with her a lot. He goes with Pearl g.a.y.l.o.r.d more now. There, you can see them this minute, dancing together--the one in the low-cut, blue dress. Pretty, too, isn't she? Her father's worth a million, I suppose. I wonder how 'twould feel to be worth--a million." She spoke musingly, her eyes following the low-cut blue dress. "But, then, maybe I shall know, some time,--from Cousin Stanley, I mean," she explained smilingly, in answer to the question she thought she saw behind Mr. Smith's smoked gla.s.ses.

"Oh, of course, there's nothing sure about it. But he gave us SOME, and if he's dead, of course, that other letter'll be opened in two years; and I don't see why he wouldn't give us the rest, as long as he'd shown he remembered he'd got us. Do you?"

"Well--er--as to that--" Mr. Smith hesitated. He had grown strangely red.