What's-His-Name Part 29

He was waiting in the Lake Sh.o.r.e station when the train pulled in on Tuesday. His legs were trembling like two reeds in the wind and his teeth chattered with the chill of a great excitement. Out of the blur that obscured his vision bounded a small figure, almost toppling him over as it clutched his not too stable legs and shrieked something that must have pleased him vastly, for he giggled and chortled like one gone daft with joy.

A soulless guard tapped him on the shoulder and gruffly ordered him to "get off to one side with the kid," he was blocking the exit--and flooding it, he added after a peep at Harvey's streaming eyes.

Rachel, tall and sardonic, stood patiently by until the little man recovered from his ecstasies.

"I thought you were staying with my--with Mrs. Fairfax," he said, gazing at her in amazement. He was holding Phoebe in his arms, and she was so heavy that his face was purple from the exertion.

"You'd better put her down," said Rachel, mildly. "She's not a baby any longer." With that she proceeded to pull the child's skirts down over the unnecessarily exposed pink legs. Harvey was not loath to set her down, a bit abruptly if the truth must be told. "Mrs. Fairfax is still in the drawing-room, sir. She doesn't want to get off until the crowd has moved out."

Harvey stared. "She's--on--the--train?"

"We change for the Santa Fe, which leaves this evening for the West.

I'll go back to her now. The way is quite clear, I think. Good-bye, Phoebe. Be a good----"

[Ill.u.s.tration: Copyright, 1911, by Dodd, Mead & Company He stopped, aghast, petrified]

"I'm going with you!" cried Harvey, breathlessly. "Take me to the car."

Rachel hesitated. "You will be surprised, sir, when you see her. She's very frail, and----"

"Come on! Take me to my wife at once!"

"You forget, sir. She is not your wife any----"

"Oh, Lordy, Lordy!" fell dismally from his lips.

"And you have a new wife, I hear. So, if I were you, I'd avoid a scene if----"

But he was through the gate, dragging Phoebe after him. Rachel could not keep up with them. The eager little girl led him to the right car and he scurried up the steps, bursting into drawing-room B an instant later.

Nellie, wrapped in a thick garment, was lying back in the corner of the seat, her small, white face with its great dark eyes standing out with ghastly clearness against the collar of the ulster that almost enveloped her head.

He stopped, aghast, petrified.

"Oh, Nellie!" he wailed.

She betrayed no surprise. A wan smile transfigured her thin face.

With an effort she extended a small gloved hand. He grasped it and found there was so little of it that it seemed lost in his palm. The sweat broke out on his forehead. He could not speak. This was Nellie!

Her voice was low and husky.

"Good-bye, Harvey. Be good to Phoebe, old fellow."

He choked up and could only nod his head.

"We can get out now, Mrs. Fairfax," said Rachel, appearing at the door. "Do you think you can walk, or shall I call for a----"

"Oh, I can walk," said Nellie, with a touch of her old raillery. "I'm not that far gone. Good-bye, Harvey. Didn't you hear me? Don't stand there watching me like that. It's bad enough without----"

He turned on Rachel furiously.

"Where is that d.a.m.ned Fairfax? Why isn't he here with her? The dog!"

"Hush, Harvey!"

"He's mean to mamma," broke in Phoebe, in her high treble. "I hate him. And so does mamma. Don't you, mamma?"

"Phoebe! Be quiet!"

"Where is he?" repeated Harvey, shaking his finger in Rachel's face.

"What are you blaming me for?" demanded the maid, indignantly.

"Everybody blames me for everything. He's in New York, that's where he is. Now, you get out of here!"

She actually shoved him out into the aisle, where he stood trembling and uncertain, while she a.s.sisted her mistress to her feet and led her haltingly toward the exit.

Nellie looked back over her shoulder at him, quite coquettishly. She shook her head at him in mild derision.

"My, what a fire-eater my little Harvey has become," she said. He barely heard the words. "Your new wife must be scared half out of her wits all the time."

He sprang to her side, gently taking her arm in his hand. She lurched toward him ever so slightly. He felt the weight of her on his arm and marvelled that she was so much lighter than Phoebe.

"I'm not married, Nellie dear!" he cried. "It's not to be till Friday.

You got the date wrong. And it won't be Friday, either. No, sir! I'm not going to let you go all the way out there alone. I said I'd look out for you when we were married, and I'm going to. You've got a husband, but what good is he to you? He's a brute. Yes, sir; I'm going with you and I don't give a cuss who knows it. See here! See this wad of bills? Well, by jingo, there's more than three thousand dollars there. I drew it out this morning to give to you if you were hard up.

I----"

"Oh, Harvey, what a perfect fool you are!" she cried, tears in her eyes. "You always were a fool. Now you are a bigger one than ever. Go away, please! I can get along all right. Fairfax is paying for everything. Put that roll away! Do you want to be held up right here in the station?"

"And I've still got the photograph gallery," he went on. "It's rented and I get $40 a month out of it. I'll take care of you, Nellie. I'll see you safely out there. Then maybe I'll have to come back and marry old Mrs. Davis, G.o.d help me! I hate to think of it, but she's got her mind set on it. I don't believe I can get out of it. But she'll have to postpone it, I can tell you that, whether she likes it or not.

Maybe she'll call it off when she hears I've eloped with another man's wife. She thinks I'm a perfect scamp with women, anyway, and this may turn her dead against me. Gee, I hope it does! Say, let me go along with you, Nellie; please do. You and I won't call it an elopement, but maybe she will and that would save me. And that beast of a Fairfax won't care, so what's the harm?"

"No," said Nellie, looking at him queerly. "Fairfax won't care. You can be sure of that."

"Then I'm with you, Nellie!" he shouted.

"You are a perfectly dreadful fool, Harvey," she said, huskily.

"I know it!" he exclaimed.

GROSSET & DUNLAP'S DRAMATIZED NOVELS

Original, sincere and courageous--often amusing--the kind that are making theatrical history.

MADAME X. By Alexandra Bisson and J. W. McConaughy. Ill.u.s.trated with scenes from the play.