Part 50 (2/2)
”Yes. The rest of the poor beds are full of ghosts.”
”Ghosts always stalk, don't they?”
He looked at her in concern. ”You are upset,” he said, and they both laughed.
She followed him about for an hour, talking, watching his exact, methodical movements. The early morning air was keen, in spite of the sun. When the postman appeared on the block she ran to the gate to meet him. He was an old friend, on the route ever since she could remember.
”h.e.l.lo, Miss Bambi, you're early this morning,” he called.
”I couldn't sleep for my sins. If you don't give me a letter, Mr. Ben, I'll scream.”
”Go ahead!”
”You mean----”
He laughed at her discomfited face and handed her the letter. A quick glance showed the Empire Theatre in one corner. She blew him a kiss on her finger tips.
”I knew you wouldn't disappoint me, dear Mr. Ben. That's it!”
”I tell you I'm a regular little Cupid. Don't know what the girls in this town would do without me,” he laughed, as he trudged away.
Bambi read:
”MY DEAR MRS. JOCELYN: It gives me pleasure to announce that Mr. Jarvis Jocelyn has almost agreed to accept the commission. I think he feels that it is condescension on his part, but he accepts conditionally. He carried off the copies of the magazine to read your story, and he is to give me his answer to-day. As I am sure of a favourable one, I think we may consider the matter settled.
”Hoping that this meets with your entire approval,
”I am, faithfully,
”CHARLES FROHMAN.
”P.S. I told him that I understood the author was an unhappy wife, who desired to be unknown.”
The Professor looked up as Bambi pirouetted around the beds, waving a fluttering white sheet in good melodrama style.
”This letter that I longed for, it has come!” she sang, lifting a pointed toe over the top of a withered sunflower stalk.
”My dear, that ballet step is a trifle exaggerated for a lady!”
”The sunflower's dead, so it couldn't be shocked. The secret is working fine. Oh, I'm so happy, I'm so happy!” she trilled, and whirled off toward the house.
”If you are still thinking of a career, why not a whirling dervish?”
called her father.
She stopped, and turned to him.
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