All Story Magazine, December 1913 — page 100: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

810 I also learned that ‘‘ Miss MacGre- gor’ had reengaged her and told her she must not leave again, no matter what Miss Borrowman said; and that the maid had threatened to leave be- cause the nurse had blamed her for feeding the child bad milk. All of which, doubtless, was the cause of the rumpus and of Della’s spitfire mood on my arrival. That afternoon plodded -on toward evening, keeping me in a continual state of unrest, wondering what Campbell wanted with me at the musty th Street house. I did not care for the arrangement at all, pictur- ing as I did dark shapes of men lurk- ing about outside, dim lights inside, and people going about on_ tiptoe, speaking in whispers. with somewhere up-stairs Rollins probably bound and gagged, waiting for whatever Camp- bell’s ingenious mind had in store tor him. Della returned sometime before dark and gave pe as wide a berth as the place would allow. Getting back from the luxury of a shave and a leisurely dinner about a quarter of nine, the maid let me in, and I ambled through to the parlor, to waste half an hour or so, guessing by the light in Della’s room that she was dressing to receive her visitors. I hoped she would not drag me into the reception, and bethought me of the room adjoining the parlor as a means of escape, if my hostess did not ap- pear and give me Margaret's trinkets beforehand. Presently. as I trifled with a stray volume of Browning, a door opened and closed. and I heard the rustle of silken skirts come along the hall and through the dining-room. A small hand threw back the por- tiéres and Della appeared. Della—but different. I stared at her in amazement. Framed in the deep red hangings, clothed in a semidécolletée gown that clung to her supple young figure, glit- tering fires flashed from out of her THE ALL-STORY MAGAZINE. wonderful hair, about her throat, her wrists and her fingers. She was wearing Margaret's jew- elry! CHAPTER 2A SE BORROWED PILUMES. I srARTED to my feet, partly in as- tonishment, but greatly in admiration. There was still a hint of contempt in her deep-blue eyes. “Some class to this rig?” “ Good Heavens! You mustn't wear those-—those things!” “ Aw—g-wan!” She came from between the portiéres and rustled toward the center of the room, moving with perfect ease and grace. “You can bet your life I’m gonna wear ‘em. Fanny ain’ gonna put nuth- in’ acrost on me wit’ them sparks lyin’ roun’ loose.” She turned about and looked over her shoulder to get the back view in the long panel mirror. “Tits close, don’ it? Guess if I kep’ my face shut you wouldn’ know me iri a= reg’lar Fif’ Avenoo dame. Fanny's on’y comin’ in for a minit, jus’ to let me lamp her new beau ’fore him an’ her goes joy-ridin’ somewheres, so you needn’ worry. You'll get the sparks in time ‘nough.” Realizing the futility of objection, and since I could not take the jewels without personal violence, I sat down again, watching the iridescent flashes coine out of her jet-black hair. There was a diamond-studded brace- let and one of plain gold upon her right wrist. Upon her left was an odd chainlike affair with a diamond-set clasp. The necklace set her throat on fire: a brooch, like a star, twinkled upon her left shoulder, and her fingers sparkled with the assistance of’ several rings. As she moved toward a chair, ap-. parently quite satisfied that her friend Fanny would receive the proper sort comiicloooks.com