Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 18, 1928 — page 116: what you’re looking at

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

914 had sent him this customer, he would earn a small commission. On the strength of it, he had called her up and proposed the evening’s treat. In a way, it was fortunate that Anna was involved. When he explained, she would understand why Dick would be de- layed. It was also a piece of luck that the costume was to go to a man at the Hudsonbilt. Dick had agreed to meet Anna there at the basement entrance. He only hoped that she would not leave before he could arrive. One of her virtues was promptness. This would not be the first time she had de- clined to wait for Dick. Downstairs, from the sewing room, came Morrison with the suit. He dumped it on the table and shuffled from the shop. Bol- ton stood glaring after him. Then he caressed the softness of the silk and velvet suit. A Louis XVI courtier— with rapier and buckled shoes—a black and silver domino—and a hat with plumes. What was a minute more or less? Dick proposed to try it on. He rather fancied himself in the thing as he strutted back and forth. Then, re- calling something he must take from the office safe, Bolton crossed to it. While being measured that afternoon, the Hon. Archie Trevington had dropped his cards of admission to the Madison Bal Masque. Dick had found them after he left, and Trevington had asked him to bring them with the costume. “Not so bad!” Dick smiled to himself. Probably that meant a tip. Largesse was, of course, for menials; but Dick could use the money. Putting the cards on the table, he be- gan to discard the suit. The telephone in- terrupted the disrobing. Maybe it was Anna. She might wonder what had happened. So he went to an- swer it. “ Are you there?” inquired a voice. Dick admitted that he was. “This is Mr. Trevington,” the caller went on to explain. “Don’t send that bally costume. I’m not going to the ball. Remember, you’re not to send it! Do you understand?” — ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Dick Bolton did, and it got his goat. For an hour he’d been waiting to take that suit to the Hudsonbilt. Now the idiot changed his mind, and said he didn’t want it. That meant he would not pay for it. He’d ordered it C.O. D. Dick would get no commission and no extra fee. “What about these admission cards?” Dick had a bright idea. Charity charged ten dollars apiece for each of the little pasteboards. They were issued in Trev- ington’s name—for himself and a guest. “Tear them up, old chap!” said the voice. ‘I’m sure I’ve no use for them. Wouldn’t have troubled you if I’d known. No end sorry, you know.” Dick was going to reply, but the wire was dead. He’d have liked to tell that honorable what he thought of him. Simon Bloom would be furious, and Dick would get the blame. The Englishman must have been crazy. “The cheap skate!” muttered Dick. Then, as he still held the telephone, he had a bright idea. Here was a chance he never had dreamed would ever come to him. On his back he had the costume. In his hand the admission cards. That Nep- tune’s Daughter costume, on the shelf up there, surely would fit Anna! He lifted the receiver and called the Hudsonbilt. It seemed an age until the exchange gave him the barber shop. Lucki- ly Anna had not gone. She was most apologetic. “T couldn’t help it, Dick,’ she said. “T'll tell you when I see you—” “Don’t waste time now!” he cut her short. ‘I’ve a scheme that’s too good to be true. We’re going to have a party that’ll be some blowout. Put your little foot on the gas, and hop right over here!” “To the shop you mean?” Anna de- murred. “I'll wait here till you come.” “No good!” Dick objected. “ The party starts from here. Come over as quick as you can.” With curious eyes, she arrived about ten minutes later. Dick thought she had never looked prettier. Haste and her excitement had lent color to her cheeks. Gomichooks Two blue (EO)