The Moonlit Way Part 26

"Wisha then----"

"Stop! I tell you that she's in my employment on a salary. Don't ever touch a penny of it again."

"Sure the child's wages----"

"No, they _don't_ belong to the father. Legally, perhaps, but the law doesn't suit me. So if you take the money that she earns, and blow it in at Grogan's, I'll have to discharge her because I won't stand for what you are doing."

"Would you do that, Mr. Barres?"

"I certainly would."

The Irishman scratched his curly head in frank perplexity.

"Dulcie needs clothes suitable to her age," continued Barres. "She needs other things. I'm going to take charge of her savings so don't you attempt to tamper with them. You wouldn't do such a thing, anyway, Soane, if this miserable drink habit hadn't got a hold on you. If you don't quit, it will down you. You'll lose your place here. You know that. Try to brace up. This is a rotten deal you're giving yourself and your daughter."

Soane wept easily. He wept now. Tearful volubility followed--picturesque, lit up with Hibernian flashes, then rambling, and a hint of slyness in it which kept one weeping eye on duty watching Barres all the while.

"All right; behave yourself," concluded Barres. "And, Soane, I shall have three or four people to dinner and a little dancing afterward. I want Dulcie to enjoy her graduating dance."

"Sure, Misther Barres, you're that kind to the child----"

"_Somebody_ ought to be. Do you know that there was n.o.body she knew to see her graduate to-day, excepting myself?"

"Oh, the poor darling! Sure, I was that busy----"

"Busy sleeping off a souse," said Barres drily. "And by the way, who is that stolid, German-looking girl who alternates with you here at the desk?"

"Miss Kurtz, sorr."

"Oh. She seems stupid. Where did you dig her up?"

"A fri'nd o' mine riccominds her highly, sorr."

"Is that so? Who is he? One of your German pedlar friends at Grogan's?

Be careful, Soane. You Sinn Feiners are headed for trouble."

He turned and mounted the stairs. Soane looked after him with an uneasy expression, partly humorous.

"Ah, then, Mr. Barres," he said, "don't be botherin' afther the likes of us poor Irish. Is there anny harrm in a sup o' beer av a Dootchman pays?"

Barres looked back at him:

"A one-eyed Dutchman?"

"Ah, g'wan, sorr, wid yer hokin' an' jokin'! Is it graft ye say? An'

how can ye say it, sorr, knowin' me as ye do, Misther Barres?"

The impudent grin on the Irishman's face was too much for the young man. He continued to mount the stairs, laughing.

X

HER EVENING

As he entered the studio he heard the telephone ringing. Presently Selinda marched in:

"A lady, sir, who will not giff her name, desires to spik to Mr.

Barres."

"I don't talk to anonymous people," he said curtly.

"I shall tell her, sir?"

"Certainly. Did you make Miss Dulcie comfortable?"

"Yess, sir."

"That's right. Now, take that dress of Miss Dulcie's, go out to some shop on Fifth Avenue, buy a pretty party gown of similar dimensions, and bring it back with you. Take a taxi both ways. Wait--take her stockings and slippers, too, and buy her some fine ones. And some underwear suitable." He went to a desk, unlocked it, and handed the maid a flat packet of bank-notes. "Be sure the things are nice," he insisted.

Selinda, starched, immaculate, frosty-eyed, marched out. She returned a few moments later, wearing jacket and hat.

"Sir, the lady on the telephone ha.s.s called again. The lady would inquire of Mr. Barres if perhaps he has recollection of the Fountain of Marie de Medicis."

Barres reddened with surprise and pleasure:

"Oh! Yes, indeed, I'll speak to _that_ lady. Hang up the service receiver, Selinda." And he stepped to the studio telephone.

"Nihla?" he exclaimed in a low, eager voice.

"C'est moi, Thessa! Have you a letter from me?"

"No, you little wretch! Oh, Thessa, you're certainly a piker! Fancy my not hearing one word from you since April!--not a whisper, not a sign to tell me that you are alive----"

"Garry, hush! It was not because I did not wish to see you----"

"Yes, it was! You knew bally well that I hadn't your address and that you had mine! Is that what you call friendship?"

"You don't understand what you are saying. I wanted to see you. It has been impossible----"

"You are not singing and dancing anywhere in New York. I watched the papers. I even went to the Palace of Mirrors to enquire if you had signed with them there."

"Wait! Be careful, please!----"

"Why?"