Children of the Whirlwind. Scott Leroy

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СКАЧАТЬ the present a closed subject. Hunt felt balked, for this lean, alert, much-talked-of adventurer piqued him greatly; but he switched to other subjects, and during the rest of the meal did most of the talking. The Duchess was silent, and seemingly was concerned only with her food. Larry got in a fair portion of speech, but for the most part his attention, except for that required for eating, was fixed upon Maggie.

      How she had sprung up since he had last seen her! Almost a woman now—and destined to be a beauty! And more than just a beauty: she was colorful, vital, high-strung. Before he had gone away he had regarded her with something akin to the negligent affection of an older brother. But this thing which was already beginning to surge up in him was altogether different, and he knew it.

      As for Maggie, when she looked at him, she flushed and her eyes grew bright. Larry was back!—the brilliant, daring Larry. She was aware that she had been successful in startling and gripping his attention. Yes, they would do great things together!

      When the dinner was finished and the dishes washed, Larry gave voice to this new urge that had so quickly grown up within him.

      “What do you say, Maggie, to a little walk?”

      “All right,” she replied eagerly.

      They went down the narrow stairway together. On the landing of the second floor, which contained only Maggie's bedroom and the Duchess's and a tiny kitchen, Maggie started to leave him to change into street clothes; but he caught her arm and said, “Come on.” They descended the next flight and came into the back room behind the pawnshop, which the Duchess used as a combination of sitting-room, office, and storeroom. About this musty museum hung or stood unredeemed seamen's jackets, men and women's evening wear, banjos, guitars, violins, umbrellas, and one huge green stuffed parrot sitting on top of the Duchess's safe.

      “I wanted to talk, not walk,” he said. “Let's stay here.”

      He took her hands and looked down on her steadily. Under the yellow gaslight her face gleamed excitedly up into his, her breath came quickly.

      “Well, sir, what do you think of me?” she demanded. “Have I changed much?”

      “Changed? Why, it's magic, Maggie! I left you a schoolgirl; you're a woman now. And a wonder!”

      “You think so?” She flushed with pride and pleasure, and a wildness of spirit possessed her and demanded expression in action. She freed her left hand and slipped it over Larry's shoulder. “Come on—let's two-step.”

      “But, Maggie, I've forgotten.”

      “Come on!”

      Instantly she was dragging him over the scanty floor space. But after a moment he halted, protesting.

      “These prison brogans were not intended by their builders for such work. If you've got to dance, you'll have to work it out of your system alone.”

      “All right!”

      At once, in the midst of the dingy room, humming the music, she was doing Carmen's dance—wild, provocative, alluring. It was not a remarkable performance in any professionally technical sense; but it had vivid personality; she was light, lithe, graceful, flashing with color and spirits.

      “Maggie!” he exclaimed, when she had finished and stood before him glowing and panting. “Good! Where did you learn that?”

      “In the chorus of a cabaret revue.”

      “Is that what you're doing now, working in a chorus?”

      “No. Barney and father said a chorus was no place for me.” She drew nearer. “Oh, Larry, I've such a lot to tell you.”

      “Go on.”

      “Well”—she cocked her head impishly—“I've been going to school.”

      “Going to school! Where?”

      “Lots of places. Just now I'm going to school at the Ritzmore Hotel.”

      “At the Ritzmore Hotel!” He stared at her bewildered. “What are you learning there?”

      “To be a lady.” She laughed at his increasing bewilderment. “A real lady, Larry,” she went on excitedly. “Oh, it's such a wonderful idea! Father had never seemed to think much of me till the night I went to a masquerade ball with Mr. Hunt, and he and Barney saw me in these clothes. They had never seen me really dressed up before; Barney said it was an eye-opener. They saw how I could be of big use to you all. But to be that, I've got to be a lady—a real lady, who knows how to behave and wear real clothes. That's what they're doing now: making me a lady.”

      “Making you a lady!” exclaimed Larry. “How?”

      “By putting me where I can watch real ladies, and study them. Barney cut short my being in a chorus; Barney said a chorus girl never learned to pass for a lady. So I've been working in places where the swellest women come. First in a milliner shop; then as dresser to a model in the shop of a swell modiste; always watching how the ladies behave. Now I'm at the Ritzmore, and I carry a tray of cigarettes around the tables at lunch and at tea-time and during dinner and during the after-theater supper. I'm supposed to be there to sell cigarettes, but I'm really there to watch how the ladies handle their knives and forks and behave toward the men. Isn't it all awfully clever?”

      “Why, Maggie!” he exclaimed.

      “And pretty soon, when I've learned more,” she continued rapidly, “I'm going to have swell clothes of my own—and be a lady—and get away from this dingy, stuffy, dead old place! I can't stand for being buried down here much longer. And, oh, Larry, I'm going to begin to work with you!”

      “What?” he blinked, not yet quite understanding.

      “You think I'm not clever enough? But I am!” she protested. “I tell you I've learned a lot. And Barney and father have let me help in a lot of things—nothing really big yet, of course. They think I'm going to be a wonder. Just to-day father was saying that you and I, teamed up—Why, what's the matter, Larry?”

      “You and I—teamed up,” he repeated slowly.

      “Yes. Don't you like the idea?”

      His hands suddenly gripped her bare shoulders.

      “There's nothing to it!” he exclaimed almost savagely.

      “What's that?” she cried, startled.

      “I tell you there's nothing to it!”

      “You—you think I can't put it over?”

      “You can't! And I'm not going to have it!”

      “Why—why—”

      Staring, she drew slowly away from him. His face, which a few moments before had been smiling, was now harsh and dominant with decision. She had heard him spoken of as “Laughing Larry”; and also as “Terrible Larry” whose aroused will none could brook. He looked this latter person now, and she could not understand.

      But though she could not understand, her own defiant spirit stormed up to fight СКАЧАТЬ