The Lady of Big Shanty | Page 6

asked, after a short pause during which
neither had spoken.
The shoulders beneath the rose tea-gown shrugged with a gesture of
impatience.
"In the library, I suppose," she returned. Then, with a woman's intuition,
she noticed that the third envelope had been touched. Her lips tightened.
"Get dressed, Sam, or you will be late, as usual."
Thayor raised his head and looked at her.
"You never told me, Alice, that you were giving a dinner to-night--I
never knew, in fact, until I found these."
"And having found them you pawed them over." There was a subtle,
almost malicious defiance in her tone. "Go on--what else? Come--be
quick! I must look at my table." One of her hands, glittering with the
rings he had given her, was now on the portiere, screening the dining
room from out which came faintly the clink of silver. She stopped, her
slippered foot tapping the marble floor impatiently. "Well!" she
demanded, her impatience increasing, "what is it?"
"Nothing," he replied slowly--"nothing that you can understand," and
he strode past her up the sweeping stairs.
Margaret was in the biggest chair in the long library, sitting curled up
between its generous arms when he entered. At the moment she was
absorbed in following a hero through the pages of a small volume
bound in red morocco. Thayor watched her for a moment, all his love

for her in his eyes.
"Oh, daddy!" she cried. Her arms were about his neck now, the brown
eyes looking into his own. "Oh, daddy! Oh! I'm so glad you've come.
I've had such a dandy ride to-day!" She paused, and taking his two
hands into her own looked up at him saucily. "You know you promised
me a new pony. I really must have one. Ethel says my Brandy is really
out of fashion, and I've seen such a beauty with four ducky little white
feet."
"Where, Puss?" He stroked her soft hair as he spoke, his fingers
lingering among the tresses.
"Oh, at the new stable. Ethel and I have been looking him over; she
says he's cheap at seven hundred. May I have him daddy? It looks so
poverty-stricken to be dependent on one mount."
Suddenly she stopped. "Why, daddy! What's the matter? You look half
ill," she said faintly.
Thayor caught his breath and straightened.
"Nothing, Puss," he answered, regaining for the moment something of
his jaunty manner. "Nothing, dearie. I must go and dress, or I shall be
late for our guests."
"But my pony, daddy?" pleaded Margaret.
Thayor bent and kissed her fresh cheek.
"There--I knew you would!" she cried, clapping her hands in sheer
delight.
Half an hour later, when the two walked down the sweeping stairs, her
soft hand about his neck, the other firmly in his own, they found the
mother, now radiant in white lace and jewels, standing before the white
chimney piece, one slippered foot resting upon the low brass fender.
Only when the muffled slam of a coupe door awoke her to

consciousness did she turn and speak to them, and only then with one
of those perfunctory remarks indulged in by some hostesses when their
guests are within ear-shot.
In the midst of the comedy, to which neither made reply, the heavy
portieres were suddenly drawn aside and Blakeman's trained voice rang
out:
"Dr. Sperry!"
A tall, wiry man with a dark complexion, alluring black eyes and black
moustache curled up at the ends, entered hastily, tucking the third
envelope in the pocket of his pique waistcoat.
A peculiar expression flashed subtly from Alice's dark eyes as she
smiled and put forth her hand. "I'm so glad you could come," she
murmured. "I was afraid you would be sent for by somebody at the last
moment."
"And I am more than happy, I assure you, dear lady," he laughed back,
as he bent and kissed the tips of her fingers.
"And yet I feel so guilty--so very guilty, when there is so much
sickness about town this wretched weather," she continued.
Again he smiled--this time in his best professional manner, in the midst
of which he shook hands with Margaret and Thayor. Then he added in
a voice as if he had not slept for months--
"Yes, there is a lot of grippe about."
Thayor looked at him from under lowered lids.
"I wonder you could have left these poor people," he said sententiously.
Alice, scenting danger, stretched forth one white hand and touched the
doctor's wrist.
"You came because I couldn't do without you, didn't you, dear doctor?"

Again the portiere opened.
"Mr. and Mrs. Reginald Van Rock--Mr. Kennedy Jones--Miss Trevor,"
announced Blakeman successively.
Mrs. Thayor's fourth dinner party that week had begun.
* * * * *
As the door closed at midnight upon the last guest, Margaret kissed