The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 1 — page 163: what you’re looking at

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

REINDEER ON man staterooms, stalking ahead of a reti- nue of heavily laden porters. A tall, majestic man, muffled to the nose in a rich fur coat, moved serenely through the gate, and Flora recognized him, with a start. But she was proud of the family savoir-faire, and a little cry of surprise was checked before it reached her lips. She turned abruptly and de- voted herself to an eager study of the painting of the constellations upon the ceiling. When she ventured another look at the floor level, she caught a fleeting glimpse of her statuesque parent as he darted nimbly through the exit to the subway at the expense of his habitual dignity and deliberation. Flora was laughing almost audibly when Spencer came back to her. “ Father just came in from Montreal,” she said breathlessly; “ close on the heels of his telegram.” “ Didn’t he see you?” inquired Spencer uneasily, “ Evidently he did,” she said, “ for he ran like a deer, and I was kind enough not to let him know that I saw him.” She started for the Vanderbilt Avenue exit, but Spencer checked her suddenly. “ Let your chauffeur wait for a while,” he said, ‘‘ and we’ll go out the other way and take a taxi; I want to do a lot of talking, if you don’t mind.” IV. OLMSTEAD joined Colonel Crofton at his office late in the afternoon. The door was locked, and the colonel let in the visitor cautiously. “Have you seen any one you know— any one that would tell Flora?” Olmstead inquired anxiously. “ No, but I nearly bumped into Flora at the station,” was the answer. “ By a lucky chance she was looking another way, so I escaped by running—literally running! I have sneaked around town like a fugitive from justice, and now I have to sneak into a room at the club and stay there until to-morrow night— ‘a single day,” said Olmstead. THE ROOF, 153 Fancy! just to avoid the danger of hav- ing a serious talk with my adorable daughter.” ‘“She’s still in the best of humor,” Olmstead informed him, ‘“ and she’s been very gracious and friendly to me while you’ve been gone.” ‘Nothing reassuring about that!’ de- clared the colonel. Olmstead glanced at a pile of parcels, large and small, at the end of the desk, and smiled. ‘Don’t be afraid to laugh, if you want to!” snapped the colonel. ‘‘I never felt such a fool! I came into the building here with that camel-load of truck in my arms. Santa Claus! I ought to be wear- ing a red coat trimmed with cotton, and some white wool whiskers. Now, I have to tote the whole beastly cargo to the club, to be laughed at by the servants. “T brought her a coat from Montreal —TI’ve really been there, you know—and it’s rather a fine one: Russian sable with ermine stuck around it in places. Then, as soon as I struck: town, I gave up the rest of the forty-five thousand for that string of glass beads. I have it here, in that flat box, inviting murder and rob- bery. “T have a lot of other. gewgaws and trumpery, too, you see,” he went on bit- terly. “I lost my head on this Santa Claus business. I even took on a five- pound box of chocolates and bonbons, just to seem Christmassy—Fudge!” “I suppose Flora thinks nothing of re- ceiving ten or twelve pounds of sweets in “You might have spared yourself that item.” ‘“Spared myself nothing!” snorted the colonel. “I am Santa Claus for the first and last time. Don’t forget that!” ‘“T think [’ll run up and take tea with Flora,” announced Olmstead, beginning to tire of the colonel’s ill-humor. ‘If I can keep her mind occupied and cheerful till to-morrow night, I think everything will be all right.” ‘Everything certainly ought to be right .after what I’ve been through!” as- CORNICLOOKS (E)