Otherwise Phyllis Part 45

"It's a delicate matter, the sale of bonds," she continued. "I suppose if they turn out badly the investors have the bad manners to complain."

"Well, it's up to the broker to satisfy them. My father taught me that,"

he went on largely. "He promoted a great number of schemes and n.o.body ever had any kick. You may have heard of the Sycamore troubles--well, I'm personally a.s.suming the responsibility there. I deeply regret, as you may imagine, that there should be all this talk, but I'm going to pull it out. It's only fair to myself to say to you that that's my att.i.tude. There's a lot of spite work back of it; you probably realize that."

He wanted to say that Tom Kirkwood was the malignant agent in the situation, but he shrank from mentioning the lawyer. He wished Phil would come down and terminate an interview that was becoming increasingly disagreeable.

"What do you consider those Sycamore bonds worth, Mr. Holton?"

"Par!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

"You really think so?"

"My word of honor! There's not a better 'buy' in the American market,"

he affirmed solemnly.

"You can dispose of them at full face value?" she queried, arching her brows, her eyes full of wonder.

"I'll pay that for any you have, Mrs. Holton," he threw out at a venture, feeling that it was a "safe" play.

"Then I have twenty of them, and I believe I'll sell. You may bring me a check to-morrow. I shall have the bonds here at, say, three o'clock."

She glanced carelessly at the watch on her wrist, and murmured something about Phil's delay. The bond transaction was concluded, so far as she was concerned; she spoke now of the reported illness of the Czar. She had visited St. Petersburg and appeared to be conversant with Russian politics.

It was in Charles's mind that his Uncle Jack would never have dropped a woman who owned twenty bonds that were worth even a dime apiece. He was confident of some trick. Phil's mother had led him into ambush, and was now enjoying his discomfiture. His face reddened with anger. She knew perfectly well that he could not fulfill the commission he had been trapped into undertaking. His pride was stung, and his humiliation was deepened by her perfect tranquillity. Phil's delay had been by connivance, to give time for this encounter. His Uncle Jack had been right: the woman belonged to the Devil's household.

His ordeal had lasted only twenty minutes, though it had seemed an hour.

Phil's tardiness was due to the fact that she had returned from a tea just as dinner was announced, and she had gone to the table without changing her gown. She had, of course, no idea of what had occurred when she appeared before them, and met with her habitual cheeriness her mother's chaffing rebuke for her dallying.

"Sorry! But it's only eight, and the lecturer dined with Mrs. King, who never hurries. Hope you two haven't bored each other!"

She thrust out her white-sheathed arm for her mother's help with the b.u.t.tons. Charles, still smarting, drew on his gloves with an effort at composure. His good looks were emphasized by his evening clothes, and a glimpse he caught of himself in the gilt-framed mirror above the mantel was rea.s.suring. He picked up the wrap Phil had flung on the chair, and laid it over her shoulders, while Lois stood by, her finger-tips resting on the back of a chair. If she lacked in the essential qualities of a lady, he at least could be a gentleman; and when he had donned his overcoat, he bowed over her hand, with his best imitation of the amba.s.sadorial elegance which the Honorable Stewart King (son of Mrs.

John Newman King) had brought back to Montgomery from the Belgian Court.

"I'm glad to have had this opportunity, Mrs. Holton."

"Not a word to Phil!" The slightest inclination of her head, a compression of the lips, the lifting of her brows, suggested that the most prodigious secrets had been discussed. She was quite equal to rubbing salt in the wounds she inflicted! He was in no mood for a discussion of sunshine and shadow; the lecture would be a bore, but he would have an hour and a half in which to plan revenge upon Mrs. Holton.

As the carriage rattled toward Masonic Hall, Phil talked gayly of the afternoon's tea.

When they reached the hall the lecturer was just walking onto the platform, and Charles saw with elation that Phil and he shared public attention with the orator. As they took their seats there was much craning of necks. Lois's return had set all manner of rumors afloat. It had been said that she had come back to keep Phil out of the clutches of the Holtons; and here was Phil with Charlie Holton. Glances of surprise were exchanged. It was plain that Lois was not interfering with Phil's affairs. Possibly the appearance of the two just now had a special significance. It was tough on Tom Kirkwood, though, that his daughter should be thrown in the way of a son of the House of Holton! The pastor of Center Church introduced the lecturer to an inattentive audience.

At the end there was the usual "visiting," and Phil remained perforce to take her part in it. Phil had enjoyed the lecture; Phil always enjoyed everything! Charles, with her cloak on his arm, made himself agreeable to a visiting girl to whom Phil entrusted him while she obeyed a command from Mrs. King to meet the speaker.

Wayland Brown Bayless was encircled by a number of leading citizens and citizenesses. Judge Walters was in the group, and Captain Joshua Wilson, and Mr. and Mrs. Alec Waterman, and General and Mrs. Wilks, and the wife of Congressman Reynolds--representatives of Montgomery's oldest and best. Phil shook hands with Wayland Brown Bayless and told him she was glad he had quoted Sh.e.l.ley's "Skylark," her favorite poem, whereupon he departed hurriedly to catch a train. It was then that Mrs. King took advantage of the proximity of so many leading citizens and citizenesses, who had just heard pessimism routed and optimism glorified, to address Phil in that resonant tone of authority she brought to all occasions.

"Phil, how's your mother?"

"Mamma's very well, thank you, Mrs. King."

"I wish you would tell Lois to make no engagement for Thursday night--Thursday, remember--as I want her to dine with me;--that means you and Amzi, too. The Sir Edward Gibberts, who made the Nile trip when I did in '72, are on their way home from j.a.pan and are stopping off to see me. Don't forget it's Thursday, Phil."

It was all Montgomery she addressed, not Phil, as Phil and every one in hearing distance understood perfectly. Reduced to terms, what had happened was this: Mrs. John Newman King, the indisputable social censor of Montgomery, whose husband, etc., etc., was "taking up" Lois Holton!

Not since that April afternoon when General Wilks, judge of the circuit court, left the bench and personally beat a drum on the court-house steps to summon volunteers to avenge the firing upon Sumter had anything quite touched the dramatic heights of this incident. And Mrs. King's pew in Center Church was Number 2 on the middle aisle!

Phil's blood tingled and her eyes filled. Her Aunt Josephine flung a murderous glance at her, as though she were in any wise responsible for the vagaries of Mrs. John Newman King!

The gloomy station hack was waiting at the door when she emerged with her escort. Charles had exerted himself to interest the visiting girl--and she had promised to call him up the next time she was in Indianapolis, which was some compensation for the ba.n.a.lities of the lecture.

"It's a fine night; let's walk home," said Phil.

Charles discharged the hackman without debate. His had been the only carriage at the door, except Mrs. King's ancient coach, and he felt that Phil had not appreciated his munificence. The remembrance of his encounter with her mother rankled, and as he thought of Fred's rejection of his proposal about the bonds and of Kirkwood's persistent, steady stroke in the traction matter, he was far from convinced by the lessons of the lecture. The sight of Montgomery in its best clothes, showing its delight in optimism, had only aroused his contempt. He had been annoyed by Phil's manifestations of pleasure; she had laughed aloud once at a story, before the rest of the audience caught the point, and he felt that considerable patient labor would be required to smooth out Phil's provincial crudenesses.

Phil's spirits soared. The world was, indeed, a good place, and full of charity and kindness. Wayland Brown Bayless had said so; Mrs. John Newman King had done much to prove it. She walked from the hall in one of her moods of exaltation, her head high.

"I apologize, Phil; I had no idea the old fellow could be such a bore. I heard him once when I was in college and thought he was the real thing--and it was, to the soph.o.m.oric taste."

"Oh, he's a perfect dear! Don't you dare apologize! And his stories were perfectly killing--all new to me."

"You deserve better things, Phil, than the entertainments this town affords. You were destined for the wider world; I've always felt that about you."

He had forced a slower pace than the quick step with which Phil had set out. His mind was working busily. Phil was an exceedingly pretty and a very intelligent girl, and it would be a good stroke on his part to marry her. Amzi would undoubtedly do the generous thing by her. He had made his boast to Fred--and why not? There was no surer way of staying Kirkwood's hand than to present himself as the affianced husband of the lawyer's daughter. Phil's mother did not matter, after all. Kirkwood would probably be relieved to find that Phil had been rescued from a woman he had every reason to hate.

"You never looked so well as you did to-night, Phil. I was proud of you.

And you won't mind my saying it, but it was fine of you to go with me when--well, you know what I mean."

Phil knew what he meant. She said:--

"Fine, nothing. You were kind to ask me and I had a good time every minute."

"I wasn't sure you'd go. Things have happened queerly--you know what I mean."

Phil knew what he meant.

"Oh, don't be looking for queernesses; we've got to take things as they come along. That's my way of doing; and I'm more than ever convinced that optimism is the true doctrine."

In spite of herself her last words ended a little dolorously. He was quick to seize advantage of this unfamiliar mood.

"I hope you know that any trouble that may come to you is my trouble, too, Phil. Not many girls would have done what you did to-night. No other girl I ever knew or read of would have taken the chance of stirring up gossip as you did in going with me. It was splendid and heroic."

"Pshaw! I don't see anything heroic in going to a lecture you want to hear if a kind friend offers to take you. Let's talk of something else."

"I want to talk about you, Phil."

"Then you'll have to find somebody else to listen; I won't! I like to hear about interesting things. Now don't feel you must tell me I'm a fruitful topic!"

"I'm serious to-night. I haven't been happy lately. I've had a lot of responsibilities thrown on me--things I never knew about have been dumped down on me without any warning. I was tired to death to-night, and I can't tell you what a joy it's been to be with you. I wasn't listening to the lecture; it meant nothing to me. I was thinking of you, Phil."