Concerning Sally Part 62

Mr. Gilfeather looked at him doubtfully. "Don't you like 'em, Ev?" he asked. It was almost a challenge. Mr. Gilfeather was nettled and inclined to be hostile. If Everett was making fun of him--well, he had better look out.

"It's hardly up to your standard, Tom," he answered. He indicated the lady in the leopard skin--and in her own--who still smiled sweetly down at them. "After I have gone to the trouble of selecting paintings for you, it--er--would be natural to expect that you would consult me before adding a lot of cheap paper flowers to your decorations. I should have been happy to advise you."

"Nothing cheap about 'em," growled Mr. Gilfeather. "Had to have something in here."

"What's the matter with real palms and ferns?"

"What would they cost, I should like to know? And how would I keep 'em looking decent? Look at them bay trees out there."

"Those bay trees do look a little dejected," Everett agreed, smiling.

"I should employ a good gardener to care for them and for your real palms and ferns. Our gardener, I am sure, could--"

"I don't s'pose your gardener'd do it for me now, would he?"

Everett smiled again. "Hardly. But he's not the only one in town. It might cost more, Tom, but it would pay, believe me. Your bar, now, is the real thing and in good taste. You ought to have things in keeping."

Mr. Gilfeather emitted a growl and looked almost as dejected as his bay trees. Everett laughed and moved toward a door beside the bar.

"Anybody up there yet, Tom?" he asked.

Mr. Gilfeather shook his head. "I'll send 'em up." Everett opened the door and they heard his steps going up the stairs. "h.e.l.l!" said Mr.

Gilfeather.

Joe smiled sympathetically, but said nothing.

It was getting towards noon and customers began to straggle in singly or by twos and threes. Certain of these customers were warned by Mr.

Gilfeather's thumb, pointing directly upward, and vanished. The others had chosen their favorite tables and had been waited upon by two white-ap.r.o.ned and silent youths, who had appeared mysteriously from nowhere. The room gradually filled and gradually emptied again, but there was no sign of Everett and his friends. Mr. Gilfeather went to his dinner and came back a little after two o'clock. The high-toned and cla.s.sy place showed few customers present. It was a slack time.

Two men, at a table behind a mammoth paper fern, were drinking whiskey and water and talking earnestly; another, hidden by a friendly palm, was consuming, in a leisurely manner, a hot Tom and Jerry; another, tilting his chair back in the far corner, read the early afternoon paper and sipped his ale; and one of our white-ap.r.o.ned friends vanished through the door beside the bar with a tray containing five different mixtures of the most modern varieties, of which I do not know the names. Mr. Gilfeather looked about on his despised decorations and sighed; and the outer door opened again and admitted Miss Sally Ladue.

Mr. Gilfeather half turned, in response to a smothered exclamation from Joe, turned again, and cast a startled glance up at the smiling lady over the bar.

"Switch 'em off, Joe, quick!" and Joe switched 'em off, leaving the lady with her leopard skin in murky darkness, which, under the circ.u.mstances, was the best place for her. But he had not been quick enough.

Sally's color was rather high as she stood just inside the door.

Nothing but palms and ferns--very lifelike--met her eyes; nothing, that is, except a very chaste bar of San Domingo mahogany and the persons of Joe and Mr. Gilfeather. The lady in the leopard skin no longer met her eyes, for that lady had been plunged in gloom, as we are aware. Sally, too, was aware of it. Mr. Gilfeather had a guilty consciousness of it as he advanced.

"Good afternoon, Miss Ladue," he said, somewhat apprehensively. "I hope nothing is going wrong with my daughter?"

"No, Mr. Gilfeather," replied Sally, hastening to rea.s.sure him. "She is doing very well, and I expect that she will graduate well up in her cla.s.s."

Mr. Gilfeather was evidently relieved to hear it.

"I came to consult you," continued Sally; "to ask your advice." She looked about her. The room was very quiet, much quieter than her own room at school, for the two men drinking whiskey and water had stopped their talking, upon Sally's entrance. It had been no more than a low hum of voices, at most, and the man with his Tom and Jerry made no more noise than did the man sipping his ale and reading his paper.

Sally thought that she would like to have Patty glance in there for a minute.

"Well," said Mr. Gilfeather slowly, "perhaps I can find a place where we can talk without interruption. Will you--"

"Why can't we sit down behind some of these lovely palms?" asked Sally hastily.

Mr. Gilfeather looked at her quickly. He was sensitive on the subject of palms and ferns--everlasting ones, furnished by the Everlasting Decorating Company. But Sally seemed unconscious. His suspicions were unfounded. He nodded and led the way, and Sally followed, penetrating the seclusion of three of the customers, to a table in another corner.

Sally sat down and Mr. Gilfeather sat opposite.

He hesitated. "I suppose you wouldn't do me the honor to take something with me, now?" he asked. Sally smiled and shook her head. "A gla.s.s of lemonade or a cup of tea? I can have tea in a minute--good tea, too, Miss Ladue."

"Why, thank you, Mr. Gilfeather. I can't see any reason why I shouldn't take a cup of tea with you. I should like it very much."

He leaned back, crooked his finger at a white-ap.r.o.ned youth, and gave his order. One would not imagine, from any sign that the youth gave, that it was not quite the usual order. As Mr. Gilfeather had promised, in less than a minute it was on the table: tea and sugar and sliced lemon and cream.

"We have a good many orders for tea," remarked Mr. Gilfeather, in answer to Sally's look of surprise. "I try to have the best of every kind."

Sally helped herself to a lump of sugar and a slice of lemon. "I must confess that I didn't suppose you ever had an order for tea."

"Yes," he replied thoughtfully. "But we don't often have customers like you, Miss Ladue. It is an honor which I appreciate."

"But," Sally interposed, "you don't know, yet, what my errand is."

"It don't make no difference what your errand is," said Mr.

Gilfeather; "your visit honors me. Whatever you ask my advice about, I'll give you my best and thank you for coming to me."

Sally looked at him with a smile in her eyes. "What I wanted to see you about, Mr. Gilfeather, was gambling. Do--"

"What?" asked the astonished Mr. Gilfeather, with a penetrating look at Sally. "You ain't going to--"

Sally laughed outright, attracting to herself the attention of the two whiskey-and-waters. Tom and Jerry was consumed and had just gone out.

"No," she said merrily, "I'm not going to. I only meant that I wanted to see--to know whether you knew about it."

"Whether I knew about it!" exclaimed Mr. Gilfeather, more puzzled than ever. He glanced up fearfully as a slight noise came down to them from above. "I never play, if you mean that. Of course, I know something about it. Any man in my business can't help knowing something about it."

"Well," Sally resumed, "I wonder whether it would be possible for--for me, for instance, to get in; to see the inside of a place where it is going on. I don't know anything about it and I didn't know anybody to ask but you."

Mr. Gilfeather cast another apprehensive glance at the ceiling. Then he looked down again and gazed thoughtfully at Sally out of half-shut eyes.

"I should think," he observed slowly, "that it would be difficult; very difficult, indeed. I should say that it might be impossible. What particular place did you have in mind? That is, if it's a proper question."

"That's just the trouble," Sally replied, frowning. "I don't know, although I can find out. I didn't think of that. It's a place where college boys go, sometimes," she added, flus.h.i.+ng slowly.

"In Boston, eh?" Mr. Gilfeather's brow cleared and his eyes opened again. The color in Sally's face had not escaped him. "It's my advice, Miss Ladue, that you give it up. I don't know anything about them Boston places--I would say those places--or I'd offer to go for you.

Perhaps I can guess--"

"It's my brother," said Sally simply.

Mr. Gilfeather nodded. "I'd heard it or I shouldn't have spoken of it," he said gently. "I'm very sorry, Miss Ladue. n.o.body else shall hear of it from me."

"I'm afraid that will make very little difference," she remarked, "but I thank you."

Mr. Gilfeather was silent for some moments while Sally sipped her tea.

"Haven't you got any gentleman friend," he asked at last, "who would do your errand for you?"