Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 94: what you’re looking at

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

- HE AMERICAN SYNDICATE. that the pavement of the patio was cov- ered with great tubs in which grew lux- uriant tropical plants in full bloom. It was one of the many evidences of wealth and refinement which marked the home of the don. At the top of the stairs Don Octavio stood upon the balcony to receive his guest. This was a mark of especial distinction which Joe was not slow to recognize. Ordinarily, the servant would have conducted him across the balcony, and probably through a high French window into the lofty reception room. ‘“*‘ Charmed, charmed, Senor Barber,” exclaimed the don, bowing and scrap- ing, and holding out both hands in wel- come. In all that he did then and‘ there- after, Don Octavio mingled excessive formality with an attempt at cordiality which was well calculated to manifest his high consideration of the import- ance of his American guest. Joe, of course, responded in kind, and was, throughout, a dignified, well nigh impassive man of great affairs. One might have readily mistaken him for a diplomat of high rank, certainly not less than a Peace Commissioner, and it would have passed all bounds of fancy to think of him as considering for one moment the possibilities of profit in the ice cream business. “ Permit me,” said the don, offering his arm. Thus convoyed, Joe entered the re- ception room. In the elegance of its furnishing and its spacious extent, this would have done justice to the home of any Fifth Avenue millionaire. The walls pre- sented an unfamiliar appearance, in that they were almost wholly devoid of such cheerfyl ornaments in the way of pictures as Americans are accustomed to, but the atmosphere of splendor was more than made up by a plentiful dis- play of gilt on cornices and pillars. And there were long mirrors, in “"h “ manager of the American 85 Syndicate could look himself over at any time and be reminded that he must keep all anxiety from showing itself on that marble face which he assumed whenever matters of critical moment were under discussion. Joe was the last guest to arrive, and there was an ordeal of introductions to undergo. First came a formal pres- entation to the Senorita Sylvia, who smiled divinely as she gave him her hand in American fashion, and bade him welcome. “TI should have suffered eternal re- grets, Senor Barber,” ‘she said, “‘ if an unkind fate had decreed that I must pass my life without knowing who it was that came so gallantly to my res- cue.” “And I should have regarded fate as equally unkind,” Joe responded with ready gallantry, “ if I had not been per- mitted once again to meet the heroine of that interesting adventure.” Ice cream freezers and trolley lines were buzzing together in Joe’s cranium, but they did not cause such an over- whelming whirl there as entirely to pre- vent the formation of a distinct im- pression with regard to the senorita. “ She is certainly a stunner,” was the unpolished form in which the impres- sion took shape in Joe’s mind. There was but a moment’s pause, when he was led to the only other lady in the company. This was a portly, good humored looking dame, whose indolent manner plainly unfitted her for the duties of a severe duenna. ““My beloved sister, the Donna Anna, Senor Barber,” said the don. “ The charming interest of Don Oc- tavio’s household increases at every step,” remarked the American capital- ist, suavely. “ Entranced at the priv- ilege of greeting you, Donna Anna.” A faint flush crept to the puffy checks of the duenna, and into her indolent eyes there came a feeble gleam of in- terest. Possibly she was afflicted with vanity enough to take the American’s extravagance seriously. ("fay tye ovsto1<— eco oe |