Part 7 (1/2)
”Never better in health,” he said, ”but very anxious to begin something definite in the way of work.”
Mr. Weil smiled his most affable smile.
”What did I tell you to do, first?” he asked, playfully.
”To fall in love.”
”Which you have not yet done!”
The young man shook his head.
”Good Heavens! And you have lost more than a week!”
Roseleaf colored more than ever.
”Isn't there something else--that I could--begin on?” he asked, humbly.
”I don't know of anything. Love is the alphabet of the novelist. You'd best go straight. Aren't there any eligible young women at your lodging house?”
The younger man thought a moment.
”No; only the chambermaid.”
Mr. Weil sipped his coffee with a wise expression.
”It may come to that,” he said, putting down the cup, ”but we'll hope not. We will hope not. What's the matter with Central Park? There are five hundred nice girls there every afternoon.”
”But I don't know them,” said Roseleaf, desperately. ”And--I have been there. Yesterday one of them looked at me and smiled. I walked toward her, and she slackened her speed. When I came within a few feet she almost stopped. Then--I could think of nothing to say to her, and I walked on, looking in the other direction.”
Several breakfasters in the vicinity turned their heads to note the couple at the table, from which a laugh that could be heard all over the room came musically.
”Why didn't you say 'Good-morning?'”
”Yes! And she might have said 'Good-morning.' And then it would be my turn, and what could I have done?”
Mr. Weil folded up his napkin and laid it by his plate.
”You coward,” he replied, affably, ”you could have done a thousand things. You could have remarked that the day was fair, or that you wondered if it would rain. And you could have asked her to stroll over to a restaurant and take a little refreshment. Once opposite to her, the rest would have come fast enough.”
The novelist took out a handkerchief and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. It all seemed very easy the way Archie described it, but he was sure it would be very different in practice. How could he know, he demanded, that the young lady would go to the restaurant with him? She might have declined, and then he would have been in a worse position than ever.
”Declined!” echoed Archie. ”Declined a lunch? Declined ice cream?
Declined champagne frappe! Well, you _are_ ignorant of the s.e.x. My dear boy, it is evident that I shall have to introduce you to the leading lady of your company, and if you will be patient for a very few days, I hope to be able to do so.”
Rousing himself with a show of genuine interest, Roseleaf inquired for further particulars.
”Listen,” replied the other. ”I expect, to-morrow evening, to spend a few hours in the company of one of the most charming members of her s.e.x.
She, like you, has an ambition to become a successful writer. Like you, also, she lacks some of the prime qualities that are needed for that end. It happens, however, that the things wanting are entirely different in each of your cases--that you will, if you choose, be able to supplement and perfect each other. I shall tell her that I know a young man of literary taste who will give her advice on the points in which she is deficient. With such an opening you will be at once on Easy street, and if you cannot fall in love within forty-eight hours, I shall regard you as a case too hopeless to merit further attention at my hands.”
The young man's cheek glowed with pleasure.