The Argosy, January 1906 — page 107: what you’re looking at

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

A SMALL PROFESSIONAL DINNER-PARTY. vaning and amusing the guests of the afternoon. They played circus horse to the irre- elaimable damage of their trouser knees, enacted with realistic growls and ca- perings every animal in the menagerie, took the réle of freaks, and generally comported themselves in a mannér which would have caused any commissioner of lunacy to commit them to Bloomingdale without delay. ; But it was reserved for Fred Saxby to propose the crowning effect of the evening. After the games had all been played, and the “ goodies ” devoured, and the mothers of the tots had arrived to take charge of their respective offsprings, he suggested that six automobile han- soms should be summoned, and the act- resses and their mothers escorted to the theater in proper style. “1 know how it should be done, you know,” he said boldly, winking signifi- eantly across the room to Charlie Hast- megs. “I have had some experience lately with a popular star.” Helen could not but consider this in bad taste, and when he murmured to her a moment later that he would return as soon as he had safely bestowed the child wnder his care at the theater, she was on the point of telling him that he need not trouble himself. She grudgingly consented, however, when he added that he wanted to see her alone, as he had something very impor- tant to tell her. No woman with ordi- nary curiosity could have been expected to deny a request like that. Then they started off, and never prob- ably did such a unique procession wend its way down Fifth Avenue. Charlie Hastings had snatched up a banjo as he left the house, and Ned Kramer pro- vided himself with a mandolin, and to the rollicking strains of these two instru- 289 ments the automobiles paraded down the wide thoroughfare in imposing file. But arrived at the theater, and re- lieved of his charge, Saxby turned to his chauffeur with a thrill of impa- tience in his voice. “Back to Mr. Brown’s again,” he ordered, “and it will be worth your while to get me there in a hurry.” “Ts there any need to tell you my secret, Helen?” he asked when he found her in the drawing-room all topsy- turvy from the games of the children. “] had been striving to screw up my courage for weeks to seek my fate at your hands; but it was not until to-night when I saw your heavenly kindness to those poor waifs that I could make up my mind to speak. I told myself that such a tender heart might even be merci- ful to me. “T think I have always loved you, dear,” he went on. “ Never for one mo- ment has my affection wavered, or 4 “Never?” she interrupted, her glance, which had been drooping under his ardent gaze, suddenly becoming hard and cold. mont?” “Lora Tremont?” he echoed bewil- deredly. “J never had any interest in her except as a business proposition. Bromwell, her manager, has been trying to get me to back a starring venture he has in view for her next year; but I frankly confess I have been unable to discern her wonderful talents, and from what your little friend Annie told’ me to-night, I don’t believe I eare to bank on a woman of her uncertain temper. But for heaven’s sake, Helen, you don’t mean to tell me that you have been im- agining i But Miss Brown’s answer to his un- finished question was sobbed out in her lover’s arms. SHE MIGHT BE. SHE might be queen or princess With that regal poise of head, Or she might be just the mistress Of three millions cold instead, Or she might be—but she isn’t ; Expectations I must crush When I say she’s just my model And she’s posing for my brush. R. D. McKay. “What about Miss Lora Tre- Eeom chook (ef e)