The Way of the Strong Part 58

The conductor realized his mistake, and tried to glide over the fence.

"If you were to tell me the part of Grand Avenoo you're needing, maybe I could give you the right surface car to take."

"That would be very kind," Phyllis said earnestly. Then her dark brows drew together perplexedly. "It's rather difficult," she went on. "You see, I don't really know just whereabouts Mrs. Hendrie lives."

"Mrs. Hendrie, d'you say, miss? Mrs. Alexander Hendrie?"

"Yes, yes. That's the lady," Phyllis cried eagerly. "Do you know where her house is?"

"Gee!"

"What did you say? I didn't----"

"Beg pardon, miss--I--I just said 'Gee!'" The man rose from his seat rather hurriedly. "You see, I didn't just figure you were goin' to Mrs.

Alexander Hendrie. You see, Mr. Hendrie is just about the biggest man in the country, and--well----"

Phyllis laughed.

"And it seemed queer me going to see them. Of course it does," she went on, to help the man's confusion. "But if you'll tell me best how to find Grand Avenue, why, you'll be doing me a real kindness, just one more."

The girl's tact had prompt effect.

"I'll sure be most pleased miss," the conductor said, with some emphasis on the last word. "You just go right out of the booking hall at the depot, and get on to the first Main Street car you see. It'll take you along up to Grand. Just give word to the ticket man, an' he'll see you get off right. We'll be in in less than two hours. We're plumb on time."

He moved away quickly, and Phyllis vaguely understood that his going had something to do with the fact that she was going to see the wife of one of the biggest men in the country. But she quite missed the necessity for the railroader's exchange of att.i.tude.

Grand Avenue was bathed in sunlight when Phyllis stepped off the car and looked about her. Automobiles and pair-horse carriages sped upon their dazzling ways down the great wide road with a speed and frequency that, for some moments, left the country girl almost dazed. Her unaccustomed eyes were wide and wondering, and she clung to her cane suit case as though for support against the overwhelming tide of traffic.

After a while, either the stream slackened, or her nerves became more accustomed, for she made a dash for the sidewalk, and reached safety once more. Then further dismay attacked her. She gazed along at the great detached mansions, which lined the avenue, and the sight gave her understanding of the train conductor's suggestion that she was about to enter domestic service. It was in one of these splendid palaces, she thought, that Mrs. Hendrie lived, and probably one of the biggest. For a moment she looked down at her suit case as though she hated it.

Her weakness, however, was quickly pa.s.sed. She remembered the object of her visit, and clenched her small white teeth. All she cared for in the world was at stake in this desperate visit, and nothing should daunt her.

A large policeman was pa.s.sing. Noting the girl's evident hesitation he slackened his pace. He was a genially rubicund specimen of the force, and inspired confidence. Phyllis promptly set her suit case down, drew a letter from her pocket-book and went up to him.

"Will you tell me in which direction that number is, sir?" she inquired, awed by the man's authority as she held up the address for his inspection.

The officer's bulging eyes surveyed her from head to foot. That "sir"

had tickled his vanity, and he approved of her.

"One thousand and one?" he said. "Why, that's Alexander Hendrie's house. Right here behind you--er--miss. That's Mr. Hendrie's house."

Phyllis thanked him warmly. Then she went back to her suit case, picked it up, and made for the house with a rapidly beating heart. It was almost as if everything had been made especially easy for her, and, in spite of her growing nervousness, she was very thankful.

The house was well back from the road. It was approached by a short, unenclosed carriage sweep, lined on each side by smooth turf, dotted with shrubs and young trees. The air of wealth was conveyed in the splendidly kept condition of everything rather than any ostentatious display. The house itself was a modern production of decorative architecture, built of ma.s.sive, beautifully cut gray stone. The entrance door was beneath a gla.s.s and wrought-iron shelter, which stretched out across the drive and was supported on ma.s.sive wrought-iron columns of exquisite design.

It was not without many heart quakings that Phyllis ascended the white marble steps and pressed the great b.u.t.ton of the electric bell. Nor were these lessened when the door was opened with magical abruptness, and she found herself gazing up at the liveried footman in wonder and dismay.

The man's cold survey of her was disheartening. Plainly as looks could speak, he regarded her visit as an impertinent intrusion, while he waited for her to speak.

It was a critical moment, and Phyllis knew it. The situation demanded all her courage. a.s.suming a decision which quite belied her real feelings, she endeavored to overawe the man, quite forgetful of the strange hat and stranger costume she was arrayed in; to say nothing of the deplorable suit case.

"I want to see Mrs. Hendrie," she demanded shortly.

The man's reply was slow in coming. He devoured her with eyes which plainly conveyed a definite and contemptuous refusal.

"Can't be done," he said at last, and prepared to close the door.

But Phyllis had not traveled all these hundreds of miles to be defeated by a mere footman.

"Oh, yes, it can," she declared tartly. "And you'll do best if you remember that you're speaking to a lady. Mrs. Hendrie is expecting me.

Please to tell her Miss Phyllis Raysun is here--from Gleber."

The absurd dignity of this quaint figure was not without its effect.

The man's manner underwent a slight change, but he still remained barring the way. At his sign a boy in uniform stepped forward from some dark corner where he had been lurking unseen by Phyllis. He stood ready with a silver tray in his hand.

"Inquire if Mrs. Hendrie is at home," said the footman loftily. "If she is, will she receive Miss--er--Phyllis Raysun?"

The boy remained with his tray held out. Phyllis was at a loss. Then she nodded.

"Yes. That's right," she said, failing to understand the silent demand for a card.

With a smile, which somehow added further to the girl's angry feelings, the youth hurried away. But the man still kept her waiting on the step.

Without knowing what she ought to have expected, Phyllis felt that she was being treated shamefully. She knew that these liveried underlings were treating her as if she were some undesirable tramp. It was quite infuriating. But with so much at stake she felt it safest not to display too much resentment, so she choked back her indignation and accepted the affront.

Then quite suddenly a wonderful change came upon the scene. A change that was evidently utterly unexpected by the churlish man-servant.

There was a sound of rustling skirts hurrying downstairs. Then some one brushed the man aside and seized Phyllis's two ungloved hands, one of which still held the deplorable suit case.

"My dear, my dear, however did you get here?"

It was Monica. Then she turned angrily upon the discomforted footman as she drew the girl into the house.

"How dare you keep this lady standing out on the door-step? How dare you? It's an outrage. It is an outrage I won't permit in my house. I never heard of such a thing."

Then she turned upon the scared-faced boy, waiting just behind her.

"Tell the housekeeper I wish to see her in the library in an hour's time." Then, in a moment, she was back again to Phyllis. "Come along, dear. Come up to my room, and get your things off. Henson will see to your grip."

But Phyllis clung to the suit case, which she was growing to hate more and more every moment. She was sure now that it had had something to do with the rude treatment she had been subjected to.

"But I--I can carry it, M--Mrs. Hendrie," she cried, the inevitable "mam" nearly slipping out in spite of her best efforts.

Monica laughed. She remembered how she, herself, had felt once upon a time facing an army of servants.

"Very well, dear," she said gently, "but come along."