The Salamander Part 13

"Very sincerely yours, "ORLANDO B. PEAVEY.

"P. S. Am called to important business appointment at one-thirty sharp, but take this brief opportunity to see you again.

Telephone my office only in case you _can not_ come.

"O. B. P."

"Sweetest old thing!" she said, smiling at the postscript characteristically initialed. "So thoughtful--kindest person in the world!"

Snyder brought her coffee and an egg broken and seasoned in a tooth-mug.

Dore glanced at it suspiciously, seeking to discover if the division had been fair.

"My! Eggs are a luxury," she said, applying the tip of her tongue to the tip of the spoon; and she added meditatively: "I wish Stacey went in for chickens!"

She took up the unknown letter, turned it over once more, and laid it slowly aside in favor of the second, a fat envelope covered with the boyish scrawl of the prop in disgrace. She spread the letter, frowning determinedly. Joe Gilday was difficult to manage, too alert to be long kept in the prop squad. It began without preliminaries and a fine independence of punctuation:

"Look here, Do--what's the use of rubbing it in on a fellow?

You've made me miserable as an Esquimo in Africa, and why? What have I done? Supposing I did slip fifty in your bureau honest to G.o.d Do you don't think I'd do anything to jar your feelings do you? Lord, I'll lay down and let you use me for a door mat for a week if it'll help any. Kid you've got me going bad. I'm miserable. I'm all shot to pieces--insult you, why Do, I'd Turkey Trot on my Granny's grave first. Won't you let up--see a fellow won't you? I'll be around at noon if you don't see me I swear I'll warm the door-step until the neighbors come out and feed me for charity: _that's_ straight too! Now be a good sort Do and give me a chance to explain.

"Down in the dumps, "J. J. (Just Joe.)"

This note, inspired with the slang of Broadway, would have made Dore laugh the day before, but the experiences of the last twenty-four hours had given her a standard of comparison. Between Joseph Gilday, Junior, and the men she had met there was a whole social voyage. Nevertheless, props were necessary, and undecided, she laid the scrawl on Mr. Peavey's neat invitation, postponing decisions. She opened the third, drawing out a neat oblong card, neatly inscribed in a minuscule graceful handwriting, slightly scented:

"_My dear Miss Baxter_:

"I shall call this afternoon at two o'clock.

"A. E. Sa.s.sOON."

She was not surprised at the signature nor the pasha-like brevity.

"Harrigan Blood won't take chances; he'll telephone," she thought. At the bottom she was pleased at this insistence of Sa.s.soon's; it worked well with the plan she had determined on for his disciplining. "You're sure that's all?" she said aloud, wondering what Ma.s.singale would do.

"Yes."

"Wonder why he called so soon?" she thought pensively; and then, remembering the warring cards of Blood and Sa.s.soon, added: "To warn me, perhaps?"

She smiled at this possibility, sure of herself, knowing well how weak the strongest man is before the weakest of her s.e.x, when he comes with a certain challenge in his eyes.

"So Sa.s.soon is coming, is he? Good!" she said musingly, a little far-off mockery in her smile; and to herself she rehea.r.s.ed again the scene she had prepared, coddling her cheek against her bare soft arm, dreamily awake.

She would receive him with carefully simulated cordiality there below in the dusky boarding-house parlor; she could even lead him to believe that he might dare anything; and suddenly, when she had led him to indiscretions, she would say suddenly, as if the thought had just suggested itself:

"What! you have no flowers. You shall wear mine!"

She smiled a little more maliciously at the thought of the look that would come into those heavy foolish eyes at this. Then, taking a few violets from her corsage, she would fix them in his b.u.t.tonhole, saying:

"No, no; look up at the ceiling while I fix them nicely--so!"

And, when she had coaxed him into a ridiculous craning of his neck, she would deftly pin the hundred-dollar bill on the lapel under the little cl.u.s.ter of purple, and turning him toward the mirror, say, with a mocking farewell courtesy:

"Mr. Albert Edward Sa.s.soon, I have the pleasure of returning your visiting-card!"

She was so content with this bit of romance that she laughed aloud.

"h.e.l.lo! what's up?" said Snyder, taking away the tooth-mug.

Dodo could not restrain her admiration.

"You know, Snyder," she said seriously, "I am really very clever!"

But she did not particularize. She had a feeling that Snyder, who watched over her in a faithful, adoring, dog-like way, might not quite approve. She did not know quite what made her feel this, for they had not exchanged intimacies; yet she felt occasionally in Snyder's glance, when she met it unawares, a dormant uneasy apprehension.

"Now for it!" she thought, and taking up the last note, unstamped, she tore it open.

"Miss Dore Baxter, Dr.

"To Miss Evangelica Pim

"Four weeks' lodging, third floor double room front at $10 per week ...............................................$40

"Kindly call to see me as to above account."

"Four--impossible!" exclaimed Dore, bolt upright, now thoroughly awake.

But instantly she repressed her emotions, lest Snyder might guess the cause. She made a rapid calculation, and discovered that in fact she had to face four deficiencies instead of three. But finances never long dismayed her.

"Anyhow," she thought, "I can turn over the champagne. If only Winona raised something on the orchids! There are a dozen ways, but I must give it some attention!"

Suddenly she remembered Harrigan Blood's estimate of the cost of yesterday's luncheon, and of what she had herself turned over with her fork. She thought of what Sa.s.soon spent so carelessly, and of what he might squander were he once awakened, really interested.... Not that there was the slightest temptation,--no--but it did amuse her to consider thus the irony of her present dilemma. Well, there certainly were funny things in life!

Snyder had silently cleared away breakfast, and seated herself with a book by the window. Now, glancing at the clock, she rose.

"Ready for tub, Petty? I'll start it up."

"Snyder, you're too good to me!" said Dore, rousing herself from her reveries.

"Huh! Wish I could! Hot or cold?"

But Dore, catching her wrist, detained her, her curiosity excited.

"You're the queerest thing I ever knew!" she said, looking at her fixedly.

"That's right, too!"

"Why do you insist upon my calling you Snyder?"

"Don't like to get fond of people," said the other shortly.

"Why not?"