The Argosy, March 27, 1920 — page 22: what you’re looking at

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

172 memory. Not ene word of what she had taken down on the machine escaped the girl’s mind. And as she fell asleep that night one name was on her lips. She won- dered drowsily who could be the Scarlet Rider? It was as attractive, romantic name. Anita Ferndale was Araminta’s compan- jon. She did all the things Araminta didn't want to do, and stood as a buffer between that young woman and a kind and indul- gent world too urgent in pressing its claims, She had one pride; her capability, Say, for an instant, that she was not the perfect social secretary, and Anita was up in arms. She knew that she could not be bettered in this capacity. And she adored Araminta Letherby, because she admitted it, It didn’t matter whether Araminta was in a good temper or bad, she never made the mistake ef depreciating Anita’s qualities. In return, Miss Ferndale gave unstinted good measure for her generous salary, and reserved the right to be as sulky—or saucy —to the beautiful Miss Letherby as she pleased. She made one mistake only: she took Araminta at the valuation she had set upon herself. She thought her stupid. “JT had a message from Peters, Minta,” she said, coming across the crowded lounge a few minutes later, her trim figure clad in a nondescript suit of gray, the furs about her shoulders giving the impression of be- ing unbecoming, somehow, although Ara- minta herself had chosen them. ‘“ He said you needed me here at one twenty-five. It is now exactly that,” she added. “ Punctual as usual; how do you do it, child?” There was lazy admiration in Araminta’s voice, and Anita flushed. She sat down on the seat next to her employer, and looked over the crowd. “What are we doing?’ she asked, “ Something new?” “7 am,” Araminta drawled. ‘‘ Take my hand-bag, like a good girl, and find a fold- ed letter—crumpled paper, dirty, horrid thing to touch—yes, that’s it. Now, I want you to wait here for Mr. Fane, he’s coming in with a friend on their way somewhere, and he wants that letter. He’s expecting to see you.- Here comes my escort; I’m lunching in the Gold Room; I’ll be home by four o'clock.” THE ARGOSY. She rose from her seat, nodded smilingly across her shoulder at her, and left Anita sitting contemplatively with Araminta’s hand-bag on her lap, and a folded, crum- pled bit of paper clasped in with it. But Anita did not mind. She had, for a won- der, no idea as to who Araminta’s escort might be. He was tall and thin and aris- tocratic looking, but Miss Ferndale made a mental comment as she looked after him. ‘ Bet he’s the devil of a temper!” she told herself inelegantly, Philosophically, she searched in the hand-bag left in her care—one of Araminta’s stupidities, she knew—for bonbons. It was late, she had not had luncheon, and she knew Araminta’s propensity for candy. She was rewarded by finding some cakes of chocolate, but they were warm and sticky to the teuch. She was annoyed to be found sucking off the remnants that had adhered to her fingers, when Antony lane stopped beside her; for if Anita had a fancy lor any man, it was for the young giant before her. He was so good-tem- pered, so wholesome, so yitile. She smiled comically now, making a\little face of dis- may. ‘“ What a mess to find me in,” she said; ‘and you look as if you’d come out of a bandbox, as usual. Miss Letherby wanted me to give you this, Mr. Fane,” She handed him the folded paper. Tony thanked her, and presented David Cortland. Both men were exceedingly spick and span, and Anita rose, eying them with sparkling eyes in which mischief gleamed, “You're evidently going somewhere to conquer,” she remarked, “and 1 must go home. Don’t let me detain you, there are all kinds of beautiful girls waiting.” Tony laughed. “ We're going to call on one—Mr. Cortland’s little sister, At least, she seems little to me; I haven’t seen her since she grew up. We're all dining with Miss Letherby to-night, you know, so we'll meet again,” “T didn't know; glad you told me,” Anita retorted grimly, ‘‘ Araminta expects me to have second sight about her guests. What sort of a dinner is it to be, Mr. Fane; any idea?” ~— Commiclooolks.Ccomn ee ee... =