Vicky Van | Page 3

and rose, as was the dictum of the moment.
On the rose-brocaded walls were few pictures, but just the right ones.
Gray enameled furniture and deep window-seats with rose-colored
cushions provided resting-places, and soft rose-shaded lights gave a
mild glow of illumination.
Flowers were everywhere. Great bowls of roses, jars of pink carnations
and occasionally a vase of pink orchids were on mantel, low bookcases
or piano. And sometimes the odor of a cigarette or a burning pastille of
Oriental fragrance, added to the Bohemian effect which is, oftener than
not, discernible by the sense of smell.

Vicky herself, detested perfumes or odors of any kind, save fresh
flowers all about. Indeed, she detested Bohemianism, when it meant
unconventional dress or manners or loud-voiced jests or songs.
Her house was dainty, correct and artistic, and yet, I knew its
atmosphere would not please my Aunt Lucy, or be just the right place
for Winnie.
Many of the guests I knew. Cassie Weldon was a concert singer and
Ariadne Gale an artist of some prominence, both socially and in her art
circle. Jim Ferris and Bailey Mason were actors of a good sort, and Bert
Garrison, a member of one of my best clubs, was a fast rising architect.
Steele hadn't come yet.
Two tables of bridge were playing in the back part of the room, and in
the rest of the rather limited space several couples were dancing.
"Mayn't we open the doors to the dining room, Vicky?" called out one
of the card players. "The calorics of this room must be about ninety in
the shade."
"Open them a little way," returned Miss Van Allen. "But not wide, for
there's a surprise supper and I don't want you to see it yet."
They set the double doors a few inches ajar and went on with their
game. The dining room, as I knew, was a wide room that ran all across
the house behind both living-room and hall. It was beautifully
decorated in pale green and silver, and often Vicky Van would have a
"surprise supper," at which the favors or entertainers would be well
worth waiting for.
Having greeted many whom I knew, I looked about for further speech
with my hostess.
"She's upstairs in the music room," said Cassie Weldon, seeing and
interpreting my questing glance.
"Thank you, lady, for those kind words," I called back over my

shoulder, and went upstairs.
The front room on the second floor was dubbed the "music room,"
Vicky said, because there was a banjo in it. Sometimes the guests
brought more banjos and a concert of glees and college songs would
ensue. But more often, as to-night, it was a little haven of rest and
peace from the laughter and jest below stairs.
It was an exquisite white and gold room, and here, too, as I entered,
pale pink shades dimmed the lights to a soft radiance that seemed like a
breaking dawn.
Vicky sat enthroned on a white divan, her feet crossed on a
gold-embroidered white satin foot-cushion. In front of her sat three or
four of her guests all laughing and chatting.
"But he vowed he was going to get here somehow," Mrs. Reeves was
saying.
"What's his name?" asked Vicky, though in a voice of little interest.
"Somers," returned Mrs. Reeves.
"Never heard of him. Did you, Mr. Calhoun?" and Vicky Van looked
up at me as I entered.
"No; Miss Van Allen. Who is he?"
"I don't know and I don't care. Only as Mrs. Reeves says he is coming
here tonight, I'd like to know something about him."
"Coming here! A man you don't know?" I drew up a chair to join the
group. "How can he?"
"Mr. Steele is going to bring him," said Mrs. Reeves. "He
says--Norman Steele says, that Mr. Somers is a first-class all-around
chap, and no end of fun. Says he's a millionaire."
"What's a millionaire more or less to me?" laughed Vicky. "I choose

my friends for their lovely character, not for their wealth."
"Yes, you've selected all of us for that, dear," agreed Mrs. Reeves, "but
this Somers gentleman may be amiable, too."
Mrs. Reeves was a solid, sensible sort of person, who acted as ballast
for the volatile Vicky, and sometimes reprimanded her in a mild way.
"I love the child," she had said to me once, "and she is a little brick. But
once in a while I have to tell her a few things for the good of the
community. She takes it all like an angel."
"Well, I don't care," Vicky went on, "Norman Steele has no right to
bring anybody here whom he hasn't asked me about. If I don't like him,
I shall ask some of you nice, amiable men to get me a long