Oh, Money! Money! Part 35

An hour later Mr. Smith came home to supper.

"Well, how did the game go?" queried Miss Maggie, without looking up from the stocking she was mending.

"Game? Go? Oh! Why, I don't remember who did win finally," he answered.

Nor did it apparently occur to him that for one who was so greatly interested in tennis, he was curiously uninformed.

It did occur to Miss Maggie, however.

The next day Mr. Smith left the house soon after breakfast, and, contrary to his usual custom, did not mention where he was going. Miss Maggie was surprised and displeased. More especially was she displeased because she WAS displeased. As if it mattered to her where he went, she told herself scornfully.

The next day and the next it was much the same. On the third day she saw Jane.

"Where's Mr. Smith?" demanded Jane, without preamble, glancing at the vacant chair by the table in the corner.

Miss Maggie, to her disgust, could feel the color burning in her cheeks; but she managed to smile as if amused.

"I don't know, I'm sure. I'm not Mr. Smith's keeper, Jane."

"Well, if you were I should ask you to keep him away from Mellicent,"

retorted Mrs. Jane tartly.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he's been hanging around Mellicent almost every day for a week."

Miss Maggie flushed painfully.

"Nonsense, Jane! He's more than twice her age. Mr. Smith is fifty if he's a day."

"I'm not saying he isn't," sniffed Jane, her nose uptilted. "But I do say, 'No fool like an old fool'!"

"Nonsense!" scorned Miss Maggie again. "Mr. Smith has always been fond of Mellicent, and--and interested in her. But I don't believe he cares for her--that way."

"Then why does he come to see her and take her auto-riding, and hang around her every minute he gets a chance?" snapped Jane. "I know how he acts at the house, and I hear he scarcely left her side at the tennis match the other day."

"Yes, I--" Miss Maggie did not finish her sentence. A slow change came to her countenance. The flush receded, leaving her face a bit white.

"I wonder if the man really thinks he stands any chance," spluttered Jane, ignoring Miss Maggie's unfinished sentence. "Why, he's worse than that Donald Gray. He not only hasn't got the money, but he's old, as well."

"Yes, we're all--getting old, Jane." Miss Maggie tossed the words off lightly, and smiled as she uttered them. But after Mrs. Jane had gone, she went to the little mirror above the mantel and gazed at herself long and fixedly.

"Well, what if he does? It's nothing to you, Maggie Duff!" she muttered under her breath. Then resolutely she turned away, picked up her work, and fell to sewing very fast.

Two days later Mellicent went back to school. Bessie went, too. Fred and Benny had already gone. To Miss Maggie things seemed to settle back into their old ways again then. With Mr. Smith she took drives and motor-rides, enjoying the crisp October air and the dancing sunlight on the reds and browns and yellows of the autumnal foliage. True, she used to wonder sometimes if the end always justified the means--it seemed an expensive business to hire an automobile to take them fifty miles and back, and all to verify a single date. And she could not help noticing that Mr. Smith appeared to have many dates that needed verifying--dates that were located in very diverse parts of the surrounding country.

Miss Maggie also could not help noticing that Mr. Smith was getting very little new material for his Blaisdell book these days, though he still worked industriously over the old, retabulating, and recopying.

She knew this, because she helped him do it--though she was careful to let him know that she recognized the names and dates as old acquaintances.

To tell the truth, Miss Maggie did not like to admit, even to herself, that Mr. Smith must be nearing the end of his task. She did not like to think of the house--after Mr. Smith should have gone. She told herself that he was just the sort of homey boarder that she liked, and she wished she might keep him indefinitely.

She thought so all the more when the long evenings of November brought a new pleasure; Mr. Smith fell into the way of bringing home books to read aloud; and she enjoyed that very much. They had long talks, too, over the books they read. In one there was an old man who fell in love with a young girl, and married her. Miss Maggie, as certain parts of this story were read, held her breath, and stole furtive glances into Mr. Smith's face. When it was finished she contrived to question with careful casualness, as to his opinion of such a marriage.

Mr. Smith's answer was prompt and unequivocal. He said he did not believe that such a marriage should take place, nor did he believe that in real life, it would result in happiness. Marriage should be between persons of similar age, tastes, and habits, he said very decidedly. And Miss Maggie blushed and said yes, yes, indeed! And that night, when Miss Maggie gazed at herself in the gla.s.s, she looked so happy--that she appeared to be almost as young as Mellicent herself!

CHAPTER XVII

AN AMBa.s.sADOR OF CUPID'S

Christmas again brought all the young people home for the holidays. It brought, also, a Christmas party at James Blaisdell's home. It was a very different party, however, from the housewarming of a year before.

To begin with, the attendance was much smaller; Mrs. Hattie had been very exclusive in her invitations this time. She had not invited "everybody who ever went anywhere." There were champagne, and cigarettes for the ladies, too.

As before, Mr. Smith and Miss Maggie went together. Miss Maggie, who had not attended any social gathering since Father Duff died, yielded to Mr. Smith's urgings and said that she would go to this. But Miss Maggie wished afterward that she had not gone--there were so many, many features about that party that Miss Maggie did not like.

She did not like the champagne nor the cigarettes. She did not like Bessie's showy, low-cut dress, nor her supercilious airs. She did not like the look in Fred's eyes, nor the way he drank the champagne. She did not like Jane's maneuvers to bring Mellicent and Hibbard g.a.y.l.o.r.d into each other's company--nor the way Mr. Smith maneuvered to get Mellicent for himself.

Of all these, except the very last, Miss Maggie talked with Mr. Smith on the way home--yet it was the very last that was uppermost in her mind, except perhaps, Fred. She did speak of Fred; but because that, too, was so much to her, she waited until the last before she spoke of it.

"You saw Fred, of course," she began then.

"Yes." Short as the word was, it carried a volume of meaning to Miss Maggie's fearful ears. She turned to him quickly.

"Mr. Smith, it--it isn't true, is it?"

"I'm afraid it is."

"You saw him--drinking, then?"

"Yes. I saw some, and I heard--more. It's just as I feared. He's got in with g.a.y.l.o.r.d and the rest of his set at college, and they're a bad lot--drinking, gambling--no good."

"But Fred wouldn't--gamble, Mr. Smith! Oh, Fred wouldn't do that. And he's so ambitious to get ahead! Surely he'd know he couldn't get anywhere in his studies, if--if he drank and gambled!"

"It would seem so."

"Did you see his father? I saw him only a minute at the first, and he didn't look well a bit, to me."

"Yes, I saw him. I found him in his den just as I did last year. He didn't look well to me, either."

"Did he say anything about--Fred?"

"Not a word--and that's what worries me the most. Last year he talked a lot about him, and was so proud and happy in his coming success. This time he never mentioned him; but he looked--bad."

"What did he talk about?"

"Oh, books, business:--nothing in particular. And he wasn't interested in what he did say. He was very different from last year."