Jane Cable | Page 2

you, and that
you seemed to be in a great rage. He dared me to venture into your
presence, and--that's why I'm here."

"What a hopelessly, commonplace explanation! Why did you not leave
me to think that there was really something psychic about it? Logic is
so discouraging to one's conceit. I'm in a very disagreeable humour
to-day," she said, in fine despair.
"I don't believe it," he disputed graciously.
"But I am," she insisted, smiling brightly. His heart was leaping
high--so high, that it filled his eyes. "Everything has gone wrong with
me to-day. It's pretty trying to have to wait in front of a big office
building for fifteen minutes. Every instant, I expect a policeman to
come up and order me to move on. Don't they arrest people for
blocking the street?"
"Yes, and put them in awful, rat-swarming dungeons over in Dearborn
Avenue. Poor Mr. Cable, he should be made to suffer severely for his
wretched conduct. The idea of--"
"Don't you dare to say anything mean about dad," she warned.
"But he's the cause of all the trouble--he's never done anything to make
you happy, or--"
"Stop!--I take it all back--I'm in a perfectly adorable humour. It was
dreadfully mean of me to be half-angry with him, wasn't it? He's in
there, now, working his dear old brain to pieces, and I'm out here with
no brain at all," she said ruefully.
To the ingenuous youth, such an appeal to his gallantry was well-nigh
irresistible, and for a moment it seemed as if he would yield to the
temptation to essay a brilliant contradiction; but his wits came to his
rescue, for quickly realising that not only were the frowning rocks of
offence to be avoided, but likewise the danger of floundering helplessly
about in the inviting quicksands of inanity, he preserved silence--wise
young man that he was, and trusted to his eyes to express an eloquent
refutation. At last, however, something seemed to occur to him. A
smile broke on his face.
"You had a stupid time last night?" he hazarded.
"What makes you think so?"
"I know who took you in to dinner."
The eyes of the girl narrowed slightly at the corners.
"Did he tell you?"
"No, I have neither seen nor heard from anyone present." She opened
her eyes wide, now.

"Well, Mr. S. Holmes, who was it?"
"That imbecile, Medford."
Miss Cable sat up very straight in the trap; her little chin went up in the
air; she even went so far as to make a pretence of curbing the
impatience of her horse.
"Mr. Medford was most entertaining--he was the life of the dinner," she
returned somewhat severely.
"He's a professional!"
"An actor!" she cried incredulously.
"No, a professional diner-out. Wasn't that rich young Jackson there?"
"Why, yes; but do tell me how you knew?" The girl was softening a
little, her curiosity aroused.
"Of course I will," he said boyishly, at once pleased with himself and
his sympathetic audience. "About five-thirty I happened to be in the
club. Medford was there, and as usual catering to Jackson, when the
latter was called to the 'phone. Naturally, I put two and two together."
He paused to more thoroughly enjoy the look of utter mystification that
hovered on the girl's countenance. It was very apparent that this method
of deduction through addition was unsatisfying. "What Jackson said to
Medford, on his return," the young man continued, "I did not hear; but
from the expression on the listener's face I could have wagered that an
invitation had been extended and accepted. Oh, we boys have got it
down fine! Garrison is---"
"And who is Garrison?"
"Garrison is the head door man at the club. It's positively amazing the
number of telephone calls he receives every afternoon from
well-known society women!"
"What about? And what's that got to do with Mr. Medford taking me in
to dinner?"
"Just this: Suppose Mrs. Rowden..."
"Mrs. Rowden!" The girl was nonplussed.
"Yes--wants to find out who's in the club? She 'phones Garrison.
Instantly, after ascertaining which set--younger or older is wanted, from
a small card upon which he has written a few but choice names of club
members, he submits a name to her."
"Really, you don't mean to tell me that such a thing is actually done?"
exclaimed Miss Cable, who as yet was socially so unsophisticated as to

be horrified; "you're joking, of course!"
"But nine time out of ten," ignoring the interruption; "it is met with:
'Don't want him!' Another: 'Makes a bad combination!' A third: 'Oh, no,
my dear, not a dollar to his name--hopelessly ineligible!' This last
exclamation though intended solely for the visitor at her home, elicits
from Garrison a low chuckle of approval of the speaker's discrimination;
and presently, he hears: