Part 1 (1/2)
ROUND THE CORNER IN GAY STREET.
by Grace S. Richmond.
BOOK I. GAY STREET
CHAPTER I
AN INTRODUCTION BY TELEPHONE
The hour for breakfast at the home of Mr. Harrison Townsend, in Worthington Square, was supposed to be eight o'clock. In point of fact, however, breakfast was usually served from that hour on, until the last laggard had appeared.
The head of the house himself was always promptly on hand at eight. On the morning of April second he had, as usual, nearly finished his breakfast before the door opened to admit a second member of the family.
Mr. Townsend raised his eyes as a tall and slender figure limped slowly across the floor.
”Morning, Murray!” he said, and dropped his eyes again to his paper.
”Good morning, sir!” responded his son, and glanced indifferently over the table as he sat down. ”Bring me grapefruit and a cup of coffee,” he said to the maid. ”No, nothing else. Be sure the grapefruit is fixed as I like it.”
Mr. Townsend finished his newspaper and his coffee at the same moment, and rose from the table. Although five minutes had elapsed since the elder of his two sons came into the room, no conversation had pa.s.sed between them. Mr. Townsend's glance dropped upon the young man, who, with his look of ill health, would have appeared to a stranger to have lived several more than the twenty-three years which were really his.
”You're not feeling well this morning, Murray?”
”About as usual.”
”It's not strange that you have no strength, when you take nothing substantial with your morning meal.”
”How can I, when I can't bear the sight of anything but fruit?”
”You don't get out enough.”
”I suppose I don't. There's nothing to take me out.”
Mr. Townsend turned away. As he pa.s.sed through the door, he met his daughter Olive, and greeted her.
This very pretty, dark-skinned, dark-eyed girl of eighteen evidently had been keeping late hours on the previous evening. Her long lashes drooped sleepily over her eyes as she nodded to her brother.
”Grapefruit any good?” she asked.
”Fair, if it wasn't sweetened like a bonbon.”
”I like mine sweet. Annie, tell Gretchen to put half a dozen maraschino cherries in my grapefruit and some crushed ice.”
”You must like the mess that will be,” Murray observed.
”I do--very much,” replied his sister, decidedly.
The two continued their breakfast in silence, which was presently interrupted by the advent of a fourth member of the family. Forrest Townsend, flinging into the room with a rush, dressed in riding clothes, and casting hat and crop upon a chair as he pa.s.sed it, offered a picturesque contrast to the two dark-eyed young persons. Of a little more than medium height, strongly built, fair-haired and blue-eyed, he looked the young athlete that he was.
”h.e.l.lo!” was his morning greeting, as he dropped into a chair. He proceeded instantly to give his directions to the maid. No invalid order was his.