The Argosy, December 1905 — page 82: what you’re looking at

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

64 with a box, the bell rang, and Ben heard a knock at his door. Ben set the box upon the table, fished into his vest pocket for his knife, and cut the silk cord. There was revealed before his astonished gaze the orchid. What orchid? Why, the only one spoken of that winter—the one that had drawn the crowds to the windows otf “ Hartley, the Florist,” the one of fabu- lous value. It was unmistakable, for Ben had seen it many a time and oft, and, besides, Ben knew Hartley himself, who had given him an inkling of its value. Ben searched for the card. ‘“ From an admirer,” in a feminine hand, was all that could be learned. Any one who knows anything about matinée idols knows that Ben Stockton immediately ascribed the gift to the genus matinée girl, with the trifling dif- ference, mayhap, that this one went the others a little better and hence argued herself a little more of a fool. But Ben surely was tickled. Here was just what he’d been pining for. He squinted at his dress shirt to see if it would stand another wearing, de- cided no, and began pulling away at the studs. An hour or so thereafter he was ush- ered into the Calvert drawing-room and caught the swish of skirts on the stairs. “ Good-evening, Miss Calvert.” Ben rose hastily, but with due regard for the orchid box tucked carefully under his left arm. “ Good-evening, Mr. Stockton,” an- swered Miss Calvert cordially as she shook hands. ‘‘ How cold it must be outside.” “(Quite so,’ assented Ben, whose hands were chill from nervousness. “ Miss Calvert, I trust that, in keep- ing with the season, you will allow me the honor.” Ben passed over the box with Delsarte grace. None could ‘bow better ‘than Ben—in a play. Miss Calvert smiled her pleasure and toiled at Ben’s hard knot. Ben came to her relief with his blade. Softly nestled in fern and tissue lay the orchid. Miss Calvert started at sight of the renowned flower. “Yes, Miss Calvert, it is the Hartley THE ARGOSY. orchid; but what could be more fitting than that the one flower should go to the one woman?” ‘You overwhelm me, Mr. Stockton.” ‘“Nonsense, Miss Calvert; it’s but a poor tribute, and the only thing at all that has hfted it above the common- place has been the difficulty I expe- rienced in forcing Hartley to part with it. He finally consented, however, and so | now have my pleasure in the realiza- tion that the things that are dearly bought are those that are really worth while.” , But Ben’s pleasure was short-lived. A chilliness was creeping into that well-heated drawing-room. Something was wrong. Miss Calvert’s eyebrows had lifted. Conversation lagged and topics grew choppy. Ben grew uneasy, rose, and backed himself, hat to breast, out into the eve- ning air, murmuring the while a lame well-wishing for the festal morrow. Once on the street, his thoughts flew fast. What was the matter? Why had the glow of genuine cordiality faded into re- pressive dampness ? | Then came the awful realization! Maybe—oh, ye gods—maybe she, Bella Calvert, was the one who had sent that orchid to him! “ All over,” cried Ben. “ Everlast- ingly gone; queered forever! ** He fingered madly for a match, started a cigarette, and wandered aim- . lessly in the abandon of despair. But the very completeness of the wreck of his hopes of Bella seemed, somehow or other, to lend some comfort. Suddenly Ben stopped short. His right fist rose and slapped its way into his left palm in an emphasis to the startling of a stray cur. “1¢’s worth a trial!” cried Ben. will do it.” Aimlessness gone, he made straight for Hartley, the florist. Hartley himself was in. Ben wheedled, Ben cajoled, Ben whined for the name of the one who had bought the orchid and sent it to him. Ben must knew for sure in order to carry out his scheme. ee | NOOK 5} A (C@ (C@