The Triumph of Virginia Dale Part 23

Sore in mind and body, Mr. Jones was a.s.sisted to his feet by the helpful Miss Knight. "I stumbled," he explained to her in excuse.

"It's a darn good thing you didn't fall," replied the nurse with ill-concealed sarcasm.

Virginia had watched Mr. Jones's acrobatic performances with mixed emotions. She glanced at her wrist watch and, rising, leaned over to bid Joe farewell.

He caught her hand and held it. For a moment the black eyes were gazing squarely into the depths of the blue ones, and no word pa.s.sed between the two, yet they were filled with a new, strange joyousness.

"I must go," she whispered gently, and pulled her hand from Joe's as she turned towards the stricken Mr. Jones. "I hope you are not hurt,"

she told him and left the ward with a nod at Kelly at the door.

Seizing his hat, Mr. Jones limped slowly after her.

"You'll get better control of your muscles after Mike handles you a bit," Joe called after him.

"Didn't I tell you fellows that was Charlie Chaplin?" came a voice from one of the beds. Amidst the merriment aroused by this sally Mr.

Jones joined Kelly and took his departure.

CHAPTER X

AN AFTERNOON OFF

"Dis yere fambly ain' nevah ready to eat. Dey allers has sumpin else dey gotta do," grumbled Serena as she moved out upon the front porch of the Dale home.

Virginia stood upon the greensward listening to the call of a song sparrow in the tree above her head. The notes of the bird rang clear upon the morning air in all of their sweetness, until overwhelmed in compet.i.tion with a jazz melody whistled by Ike as he moved about dragging a serpent-like length of hose behind him.

"c.u.m in to you' breakfus, chil'," commanded Serena.

"In a moment. Isn't it a beautiful day for the concert?"

Although Virginia's tardiness was yet uppermost in her mind, Serena deigned to examine the heavens above and the earth beneath with a critical eye which proposed to allow no fault to escape it. Then she made answer in a cryptic reply, "You ain' said nothin' chil', you ain' said nothin' a tall."

"Virginia," said Obadiah, when they met at the breakfast table, "Mr.

Wilkins was here again yesterday afternoon and you were not at home."

The girl laughed. "I know it, Daddy," she confessed, as she poured a generous measure of thick cream over her dish of sliced peaches. The charge of absenteeism made against her did not appear to be affecting her appet.i.te as she began to eat.

"I warned you that he was coming," Obadiah continued, impressively.

"Yes, Daddy." The girl was enjoying her peaches and cream. "After you told me about it I waited for him and he didn't come," she explained virtuously. "The next afternoon, I had to go out and--of course, he had to come. The afternoon after that, I waited at home expecting Mr.

Wilkins and he never came near. Yesterday I had to go out--and he had to come." She laughed gaily. "We have been playing a game of hide and seek. Mr. Wilkins has been it and hasn't caught me yet."

"It's been an expensive game for me," protested Obadiah. "I pay Mr.

Wilkins a large salary for his time and services and I can use them to better advantage than in making calls upon you."

"That's an ungallant speech. I am filled with shame for my own father." She shook her head sadly in token of her disgrace. "If Mr.

Wilkins wants to see me, why doesn't he arrange to come when I am home?" she argued stoutly.

Obadiah became stern. "You should have remained home for Mr. Wilkins.

You are out a great deal, anyway."

A look of mock horror came into Virginia's face. "Would you have me sit alone in this big house, waiting with folded arms for Mr. Wilkins?"

she giggled.

Even Obadiah relented before this sorrowful picture. "Who said anything about folded arms," he demanded shortly, "or about sitting alone, either? You are out some place in that machine every day. It won't hurt you to remain at home until Mr. Wilkins has seen you. My affairs are of more importance than yours."

Virginia looked at him with great solemnity. "You want to be cross at me, Daddy, and you can't make yourself," she laughed. "These peaches and cream are protecting me. If they didn't taste so good to you, I would get a scolding. I don't deserve it, though, because, after all, my affairs are always your affairs. Ike says that the machine runs better if it is used every day. I keep it in splendid order for you."

The efforts of his daughter did not appear to impress Obadiah.

She went on with an air of pride, "Lately, I have been busy on a surprise for you." She a.s.sumed an air of dignity. "I am giving an entertainment to the old ladies of the Lucinda Home this afternoon. I planned it all by myself and I invite you to be present. There'll be a concert by a bra.s.s band. Aren't you surprised, Daddy?"

Obadiah was surprised. Without reference to natural perplexity as to why festivities for the benefit of the old ladies should be a matter of astonishment to him, there were ample grounds for amazement in the knowledge that his youthful daughter had a.s.sumed management of a production involving a bra.s.s band. It was as if she had announced her connection with a circus for the aged.

"Where did you get the band?" demanded Obadiah, in the tone of an anxious parent whose infant has returned bearing personal property suspected of belonging to a neighbor.

"Colonel Ryan loaned it to me. He is coming, too. Won't you come, Daddy dear, please?" There was a wistful look in the girl's face. "It's going to be lovely."

Obadiah was uncomfortable. "I can't come today," he replied, finally.

"Oh Daddy--" her disappointment showed in every note of her voice--"I have counted so much on having you. I would be so proud of you." She glanced imploringly at him.

"I'm going out of town," he said.

"Can't you put it off?"

"No, Virginia, I have made my plans to go today. I can't let anything interfere with business arrangements. They mean dollars and cents."

"All right, Daddy," she surrendered with a sad little sigh and tried to cheer herself. "Some day when I have something else you'll plan to come, won't you, dear?"

He was interested in his newspaper now. "Perhaps," he finally answered absently without looking up.

For a time they ate in silence. "The afternoon frightens me, Daddy,"

she told him with a worried air. "It's a big responsibility. What if it should be a failure?"

He crushed his paper down by his plate and snapped, "You got into the thing of your own accord. It's up to you to see it through. To make a success of it--a Dale success. You can do it."

His a.s.surance braced the girl. "I'll make a go of it, Daddy," she promised, and then, "It's wrong for me to expect Mr. Wilkins to run after me. I will go to his office this morning and see him."

He gave her a look of approval. "That's business," he agreed.

She hovered about him after they rose from the table. "Could I ask Mr.

Wilkins to come to my concert, Daddy?" There was an appealing look in the big blue eyes. "I don't want it to seem as if I have no friends."

He gave her an uneasy glance and there was almost a note of regret in his voice when he answered, "I am sorry that I can't come. Certainly, you may ask Mr. Wilkins. Tell him that I want him to go. Ask any one you like." Yet in spite of these concessions his conscience disturbed him.