Part 47 (1/2)
”I'll take the early morning train to-morrow.”
”I reckon I'll fry up some chicken an' bake some cakes, so yo' can tote it right along wid yo'.”
”Now, look here, Ardelia. I'm not going to pack any basket along on the train to New York. Jarvis can buy his fried chicken there.”
”He say dey ain't no cookin' lak' dere is in dis town.”
”Well, it will have to do for a little longer. I'll have my bag and plenty to carry.”
”Yo' ain't got no nat'chal feelin' fo' dat boy,” Ardelia scolded her.
When the Professor heard the news he evinced a mild surprise.
”Have you any money for this trip? I'm a trifle short, now. The bank notified me yesterday that I was overdrawn.”
”Professor, not again? What is the use of being a mathematician if you are always overdrawn?”
”The trouble is I forget to look at my balance. I just continue to draw until I am notified. You will see Jarvis, of course?”
”Yes.”
”You say you have business to attend to in the city?”
”Yes.”
”About the secret?”
”Yes.”
”Is the moment of disclosure approaching?”
She nodded.
”Well, I wish you the best of luck, my dear.”
”Thanks, Herr Professor.”
She took the early train in high good humour the next morning, clad in her most fetching frock.
”Even a stony-hearted manager could not be impervious to this hat,” was her parting comment to her gla.s.s.
She was very undecided as to whether she would go straight to Jarvis's lodgings and surprise him, or wait until after the interview with Frohman. She finally decided that she could not wait until four o'clock, but that she would give Jarvis no hint of the coming momentous appointment. As she came into the city, she noted the bright, crisp winter day with pleasure--very different from that spring day when she and Jarvis had entered the gates together. But to-day was to-day and she was glad of it.
She took a taxi, with that sense of affluence which attacks one like a germ on entering the City of Spenders. The driver looked at her again as she gave the address. The trim, smart little figure did not look much like the neighbourhood she was headed for. Probably one of these settlement workers, he decided.
At first Bambi did not notice where she was going, so happy was she to be back in this gay city.
”I know you're a Painted Lady, but you're so pretty!” she smiled, as the streets ran by. Downtown and still downtown the taxi sped, past the Was.h.i.+ngton Square district, which they had explored together, shooting off at a tangent into the kind of neighbourhood where Bambi had fallen sick at the sights and the filth. They drew up before an old-fas.h.i.+oned house, with dirty steps and windows and curtains. It looked like a better-cla.s.s citizen on the down grade, beside the neighbouring houses, which were frankly low-cla.s.s. The driver opened the door and Bambi stared up at the place.
”Why, this can't be it!” she exclaimed.
”This is the number you gave me.”