Vicky Van | Page 4

plank, and
we'll put it out of a window, and make him walk it. Shall we?"
We all agreed to do this, or to tar and feather and ride on a rail any
gentleman who might in any way be so unfortunate as to fall one iota
short of Vicky Van's requirements.
"And now," said Vicky, "if you'll all please go downstairs, except Mrs.
Reeves and Mr. Garrison and my own sweet self, I'll be orfly obliged to
you."
The sweeping gesture with which she sought to dismiss us was a wave
of her white arms and a smile of her red lips, and I, for one, found it
impossible to obey. I started with the rest, and then after the gay crowd
were part way down stairs I turned back.
"Please, mayn't I join your little class, if I'll be very good?" I begged. "I
don't want Bert Garrison to be left alone at the mercy of two such
sirens."
Miss Van Allen hesitated. Her pink-tipped forefinger rested a moment
on her curved lip. "Yes," she said, nodding her head. "Yes, stay, Mr.
Calhoun. You may be a help. Are you any good at getting theatre boxes
after they're all sold?"

"That's my profession," I returned. "I learned it from a correspondence
school. Where's the theatre? Lead me to it!"
"It's the Metropolis Theatre," she replied. "And I want to have a party
there to-morrow night, and I want two boxes, and this awful, dreadful,
bad Mr. Garrison says they're all sold, and I can't get any! What can
you do about it?"
"Oh, I'll fix it. I'll go to the people who bought the boxes you want,
and--I don't know what I'll say to them, exactly--but I'll fix up such a
yarn that they'll beg me to take the boxes off their hands."
"Oh, will you, really?" and the dazzling smile she gave me would have
repaid a much greater Herculean task than I had undertaken. And, of
course, I hadn't meant it, but when she thought I did, I couldn't go back
on my word.
"I'll do my best, Miss Van Allen," I said, seriously, "and if I can't
possibly turn the trick, I'll--well, I'll buy the Metropolitan Opera House,
and put on a show of my own."
"No," she laughed, "you needn't do that. But if you try and fail--why,
we'll just have a little party here, a sort of consolation party, and--oh,
let's have some private theatricals. Wouldn't that be fun!"
"More fun than the original program?" I asked quickly, hoping to be let
off my promise.
"No, sir!" she cried, "decidedly not! I want especially to have that
theatre party and supper afterward at the Britz. Now you do all you can,
won't you?"
I promised to do all I could, and I had a partial hope I could get what
she wanted by hook or crook, and then, as she heard a specially favorite
fox-trot being dashed off on the piano downstairs, she sprang from her
seat, and kicking the satin cushion aside, asked me to dance. In a
moment we were whirling around the music room to the zipping music,
and Mrs. Reeve and Garrison followed in our steps.

Vicky danced with a natural born talent that is quite unlike anything
acquired by lessons. I had no need to guide her, she divined my lead,
and swayed in any direction, even as I was about to indicate it. I had
never danced with anyone who danced so well, and I was profuse in my
thanks and praise.
"I love it," she said simply, as she patted the gold fringes of her gown
into place. "I adore dancing, and you are one of the best partners I have
ever had. Come, let us go down and cut into a Bridge game. We'll just
about have time before supper."
Pirouetting before me, she led the way, and we went down the long
steep stairs.
A shout greeted her appearance in the doorway.
"Oh, Vicky, we have missed you! Come over here and listen to Ted's
latest old joke!"
"No, come over here and hear this awful gossip Ariadne is telling for
solemn truth. It's the very worst taradiddle she ever got off!"
"Here's a place, Vicky Van, a nice cosy corner, 'tween Jim and me.
Come on, Ladygirl."
"No, thanks, everybody. I'm going to cut in at this table. May I? Am I a
nuisance?"
"A Vicky-nuisance! They ain't no such animal!" and Bailey Mason rose
to give her his chair.
"No," said she, "I want you to stay, Mr. Mason. 'Cause why, I want to
play wiz you. Cassie, you give me your place, won't you,
Ducky-Daddles? and you go and flirt with Mr. Calhoun. He knows the
very newest flirts! Go, give him a