Part 2 (1/2)
”This Gayheart Review, now, Richard,----” he began.
”Don't consider the question settled, Sir Herbert,” said Miss Let.i.tia Prall, with a note of anxiety in her voice, quite unusual to it. ”Give me a chance to talk to Ricky alone, and I feel almost certain I can influence his views.”
”A little late in the day, ma'am,” Binney returned, shortly. ”I have an alternative plan, but if I wait much longer to make use of it, the opportunity may be lost. Unless Richard changes his mind to-day, he needn't change it at all,--so far as I am concerned.”
”Going to organize a Bakery of ex-chorus girls?” asked Bates, flippantly. ”Going to persuade them to throw in their fortunes with yours?”
A merry, even affectionate smile robbed this speech of all unpleasant effect, and Sir Herbert smiled back.
”Not that,” he returned; ”I'd be ill fitted to attend to a bakery business with a horde of enchanting damsels cavorting around the shop!
No, chorus girls are all right in their place,--which is not in the home, nor yet in a business office.”
”That's true, and I take off my hat to you, Uncle, as a real live business man, with his undivided attention on his work,--in business hours,--and outside of those, his doings are n.o.body's business.”
”With your leanings toward the fair s.e.x, it's a wonder you never married,” observed Miss Prall, inquisitively.
”My leanings toward them in no way implies their leanings toward me,”
returned the bachelor, his eyes twinkling. ”And, moreover, a regard for one of the fair s.e.x that would imply a thought of marriage with her, would be another matter entirely from a liking for the little stars of the chorus. To me they are not even individuals, they are merely necessary parts of an entertaining picture. I care no more for them, personally, than for the orchestra that makes music for their dancing feet, or for the stage manager who produces the setting for their engaging gracefulness.”
”That's so, Uncle,” Bates agreed; ”you're a stage Johnny, all right, but you're no Lothario.”
”Thank you, Son, such discriminating praise from Sir Hubert Stanley, makes me more than ever regret not having his a.s.sociation in my business affairs.”
”Don't be too sure that you won't have him,” Miss Prall temporized; ”when does his time for decision expire?”
”To-night,” said Sir Herbert, briefly, and at that, with a gesture of bored impatience, Bates got up and went out.
CHAPTER II
A Tricky Game
The Prall apartment was on the eighth floor, but Richard Bates pa.s.sed by the elevator and went down the stairs. Only one flight, however, and on the seventh floor, he walked along the hall, whistling in a subdued key.
The air was an old song, a one-time favorite, ”Won't you come out and play wiz me?” and the faint notes grew stronger as he pa.s.sed a certain door. Then he went on, but soon turned, retraced his steps, and went up again the one flight of stairs. Pausing at the elevator, he pushed the down b.u.t.ton and was soon in the car and smiling on the demure young woman in uniform who ran it.
”This car of yours, Daisy,” he remarked, ”is like the church of Saint Peter at Rome, it has an atmosphere of its own. But if the church had this atmosphere there'd be mighty few wors.h.i.+pers! How can you stand it?
Doesn't it make you ill?”
”Ill?” and the girl rolled weary eyes at him; ”I'm dead! You can bring the flowers when you're ready, Gridley!”
”Poor child,” and Bates looked compa.s.sionately at the white face, that even a vanity case failed to keep in blooming condition, so moisty warm was the stuffy elevator. ”It's wicked to shut you up in such a cage----”
”Oh, I'm all right,” she responded, hurriedly, as her bell sounded a sharp, impatient ring. ”I'm not complaining. But people are so trying on a day like this. That's Mr. Binney's ring.”
”How do you know. Do you know everybody's touch?”
”Not everybody's,--but lots of them. Mr. Binney, he hates elevator girls----”