Part 4 (1/2)
The time was promptly agreed to.
”In the meantime, I will take the MSS. and look it over, to form a general idea of the plot. Here is my card. By-the-way, you will of course arrange it so that we shall not be interrupted during our conference. It disturbs anything of that kind to have people coming in and out. We want to be entirely alone so as to give our full attention to the work in hand.”
Miss Fern smilingly acquiesced, saying that it was exactly what she would wish.
”And do you think there may be hope for it yet--that poor little ma.n.u.script?” she asked, as she stood by the door ready to take her departure.
”That is a question I can hardly answer,” he replied. ”I shall be better able to tell you in a week or two, I trust.”
She lingered, with her hand on the door k.n.o.b.
”My father is willing to take all the financial risks,” she said. ”That ought to make a difference, don't you think so?”
”It would, with many houses,” he admitted. ”I am glad to know these things. Thursday, then, Miss--Miss Fern.”
He wanted to call her ”Millicent,” for he had read the name on the package he still held in his hand; but on the whole he concluded that this would be a little premature.
CHAPTER III.
”HER FEET WERE PINK.”
When Miss Millicent Fern entered the office of Lawrence Gouger, as detailed in the preceding chapter, it will be remembered that she found that gentleman and his friend, Archie Weil, with their hats in their hands. The fact was that Mr. Weil had but just entered the room, and that Mr. Gouger had accepted an invitation to take lunch with him, an arrangement that was by no means an infrequent one between them. The entrance of Miss Fern, and the subsequent proceedings, compelled the literary critic to go out alone, as has been seen. When he returned he found Mr. Weil still there.
”Haven't you been to lunch yet!” exclaimed Mr. Gouger.
”I have not been out of this office,” was the reply, ”and all appet.i.te for anything to eat has left me. Lawrence, that is one of the most interesting girls I ever met.”
Mr. Gouger pursed up his lips, and uttered an impatient, ”Pah!” He then remarked that Mr. Weil had a habit of finding such a quality in the latest women of his acquaintance.
”What does she amount to?” he asked. ”An overgrown schoolgirl, who did not half learn her lessons. Read that MSS. she left here, and get disillusionized in short order. Why, she doesn't even know how to spell, and her periods and commas are in a hopeless tangle.”
His companion eyed him quizzically.
”Are periods and commas, even a correct spelling of the English language, the only things you can see in a bright, handsome girl?” he demanded. ”For shame, Lawrence! You are a dried-up old mummy. Your senses are numb. A lively wind will come in at the keyhole some day and blow you out of that chimney.”
Mr. Gouger heaved a sigh, as if to say that discussion with such a nonsensical fellow was useless, and took his seat at his desk, where an unfinished pile of MSS. awaited his reading.
”She's given me leave to take her story home,” said Mr. Weil, with a mischievous expression.
The critic stared at his friend.
”Given it to you?” he repeated. ”How did that happen?”
”I asked her for it, naturally. You were so severe on the poor child, that I couldn't help putting in a cheering word. We talked of the whole business, and she was willing I should see if my opinion agreed with yours.”
”_Your_ opinion!” echoed Gouger, testily. ”What is that worth? But take the stuff, if you want it, and when you are done, send it to her; it will make less rubbish in this confounded hole. One thing I'll tell you, though, in advance. You'll never be able to make sense of it, unless you get some one to straighten it out.”
”That's all right,” replied the other. ”After I have read it through, I am going to Miss Fern's house, where she will read it to me.”