The Argosy, Vol. 90 No. 1 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

VICKY - VAN. 5 I promised to do all I could, and I really had a faint hope that I could get what she wanted by hook or crook. Thens as she heard a favorite fox-trot being dashed off on the piano down-stairs, Vicky Van sprang from her seat and, kick- ing the satin cushion aside, asked me to dance. In a moment we were whirling around the music-room to the zipping music, followed by Mrs. Reeves and Garri- son. Vicky danced with a natural talent that is quite unlike anything acquired by les- sons. I had no need to guide her; she divined my lead and swayed in any direc- tion, even as I was about to indicate it. I had nevek danced with any one who danced so weil, and I was profuse in my thanks and praise. ‘T love it,” she said simply as she patted the gold fringes of her gown into place. “I adore dancing, and you are one of the best partners I have ever had. Come, let us go down and cut into a bridge game. We'll just about have time before supper.” Pirouetting before me, she led the way, and we went down the long, steep stairs. A shout greeted her appearance in the doorway. “Gh, Vicky, we’ve missed you! Come over here and listen to Ted’s latest old joke!” ‘No, come over here and hear this aw- ful gossip Ariadne is telling for solemn truth. It’s the worst taradiddle she ever got off!” “ Here’s a place, Vicky Van; a nice cozy corner ’tween Jim and me. Come on, lady- girl.” ‘“‘ No, thanks, everybody. I’m going to cut in at this table. May Ip AmITa nuisance?” “A Vicky-nuisance? They ain’t no such animal!” Bailey Mason rese to give her his chair. ‘““ No,” said she, ‘“‘ I want you to stay, Mr. Mason. ’Cause why? I want to play wiz you. Cassie, you give me your place, won’t you, Ducky-Daddles, and you go and flirt with Mr. Calhoun. He knows the very newest flirts! Go, give him a tryout.” Vicky Van settled herself into her seat with the happy little sigh of the bridge lover who sits down with three good players, and in another moment she was breathlessly looking over her hand. “Without,” she said triumphantly, and knowing she’d say no word more to me for the present, I walked away with Cassie Weldon. Cassie was good fun. She took me to the piano, and with ‘the soft pedal down, she showed me a new little tone-picture she had made up, which was both picturesque and funny. “You’d better go into vaudeville,” I ex- claimed as she finished. ‘“ Your talent is wasted on the concert platform.” “That’s what Vicky tells me,” she re- turned. ‘“‘ Sometimes I believe I will-try it, just for fun.” “You'll find it such fun, you’ll stay in for earnest,” I assured her, for she had shown a bit of inventive genius that I felt sure would make good in a little musical turn. CHAPTER II. MR. SOMERS. [= was nearly midnight when Steele came. With him was a man I had never seen before and whom I assumed to be the Mr. Somers I had heard about. it was. As Steele entered, he cast his eye around for Vicky and saw her at the bridge table down at the end of the room. Her back was toward us, and she was so absorbed in the game she did not look round, if, indeed, she heard the noise of their arrival. The two men stopped near the group I was with and Steele introduced Mr. Somers. A little curiously I looked at the stranger. I saw a large, self-satisfied man wearing an expansive smile and expensive apparel. Clothes the best procurable, jewelry just inside the limits of good taste—he bore him- self like a gentleman, yet there was an un- mistakable air of ostentatious wealth that repelled me. A second look made me think Mr. Som- ers had dined either late or twice, but his greetings were courteous and genial and his manner sociable, if a little patronizing. He seemed a stranger to all present, and oO comicbooks CO