In the Onyx Lobby

  CHAPTER II

  A Tricky Game

  The Prall apartment was on the eighth floor, but Richard Bates passed bythe elevator and went down the stairs. Only one flight, however, and onthe seventh floor, he walked along the hall, whistling in a subdued key.The air was an old song, a one-time favorite, "Won't you come out andplay wiz me?" and the faint notes grew stronger as he passed a certaindoor. Then he went on, but soon turned, retraced his steps, and went upagain the one flight of stairs. Pausing at the elevator, he pushed thedown button and was soon in the car and smiling on the demure youngwoman in uniform who ran it.

  "This car of yours, Daisy," he remarked, "is like the church of SaintPeter at Rome, it has an atmosphere of its own. But if the church hadthis atmosphere there'd be mighty few worshipers! How can you stand it?Doesn't it make you ill?"

  "Ill?" and the girl rolled weary eyes at him; "I'm dead! You can bringthe flowers when you're ready, Gridley!"

  "Poor child," and Bates looked compassionately at the white face, thateven a vanity case failed to keep in blooming condition, so moisty warmwas the stuffy elevator. "It's wicked to shut you up in such a cage----"

  "Oh, I'm all right," she responded, hurriedly, as her bell sounded asharp, impatient ring. "I'm not complaining. But people are so trying ona day like this. That's Mr. Binney's ring."

  "How do you know. Do you know everybody's touch?"

  "Not everybody's,--but lots of them. Mr. Binney, he hates elevatorgirls----"

  "Oh, come now,--my uncle is a great admirer of all women----"

  "Not if they work. He talks a good deal, you know,--talks all thetime,--and he's everlastingly knocking girls who do the work he thinksmen ought to do."

  "But it's none of his business,--in this house!"

  "Mr. Binney is particularly and especially interested in what's none ofhis business!"

  The girl spoke so bitterly that Bates looked at her in surprise.

  But he was at the ground floor, and as he left the elevator he forgotall else in anticipation of a certain coming delight.

  He strolled the length of the great onyx lobby, its sides a successionof broad mirrors between enormous onyx columns with massive gildedcapitals. Tall palms were at intervals, alternating with crimson velvetsofas and on one of these, near the vestibule, Bates sat down to waitfor the delight.

  And in the course of time, she came, tripping along the black and whitediamonds of the marble floor, her high heels tapping quickly, her lithegracefulness hurrying to keep the tryst.

  Dorcas Everett was of the type oftenest seen among the well-to-do younggirls of New York, but she was one of the best examples of that type.

  Wise, sparkling eyes, soft, rounded chin held alertly up, dark, curlyhair arranged in a pleasant modification of the latest fashion, herattire was of the most careful tailor-made variety, and her littlefeathered toque was put on at just the right angle and was mostengagingly becoming.

  She said no word but gave a happy smile as Bates rose and eagerly joinedher and together they passed out through the imposing portal.

  "It's awful," she murmured, as they walked across to Fifth Avenue. "Isaid I wouldn't do it again, you know, and then--when I heard yourwhistle,--I just couldn't help it! But don't do it any more--will you?You promised you wouldn't."

  "Oh, I didn't promise, dear; I said I'd _try_ not to. And I did try,but--it seems I failed."

  "Bad boy! Very bad Rikki-tikki-tavi. But what are we going to do?"

  "First of all, where are we going? Tea Room? Some place where I can talkto you."

  "No; it's too stuffy to-day to be indoors. Let's walk up to the Park andgo in."

  "All right. Now, Dorrie, we trust face this thing. We can't go onmeeting secretly,--neither of us likes it,----"

  "I should say not! I hate it a thousand times worse'n you do. But Rick,mother is more obstinate than ever. She says if I see you again, orspeak to you, she'll pack up and move out of New York. Think of that!"

  "I can't think of it! It is unthinkable! Now, Dorcas, darling, there'sonly one thing to do. You must marry me----"

  "Hush that nonsense! I don't propose----"

  "Naturally not! I'm doing the proposing----"

  "Don't think because you make me laugh you're going to bamboozle me intoconsent! I decline, refuse and renounce you, if you're going to takethat tack. I shall never marry you without the consent of my mother andyour aunt, and you know it!"

  "I do know it, Dork, and that's what breaks me all up. Confound that oldFeud! But, I say, Uncle Binney is on our side. I sounded him and heapproves of my marrying at once,--doesn't care who the girl is,--andwill make me his heir and all that,----"

  "If you give up your inventing and go into his Bunny business."

  "Yes; that's his game. Shall I do it?"

  "No! A thousand times no. I don't want to marry a bakery!"

  "And anyway, it wouldn't help the Feud----"

  "No; nothing will help that. It would seem that we could move the heartsof those two women, but my mother is hard as adamant."

  "And my aunt is hard as nails. After all these years they're not goingto be moved by a pair of broken young hearts."

  "No; mother says that because I'm so young, my heart will heal up inplenty of time to break over somebody else."

  "Pleasant thought!"

  "Oh, mother doesn't try to be pleasant about it. She makes my life aburden by harping on my undutifulness and all that,--and when she isn'tbally-ragging me, Kate is."

  "Kate! A servant!"

  "But Kate doesn't look upon herself as a servant, exactly. She's lady'smaid now,--to mother and me,--but she was my nurse, you know, and shethinks she sort of owns me. Anyway, she acts so."

  "And she stands for the feud?"

  "Rath-er! She believes in the feud and all its works. And she's a spy,too. If she hadn't believed my yarn that I was headed for Janet'sto-day, she'd been downstairs trailing me!"

  "Clever Dork, to outwit her!"

  "That's nothing--I'm clever enough to hoodwink her and mother, too, butI don't want to. I hate it, Rick; I hate anything underhanded ordeceitful. Only my love for you made me come out here to-day."

  The big, dark eyes looked wistfully into Bates' blue ones. The troubledlook on Dorcas' dear little face stirred the depths of his soul, and hisheart struggled between his appreciation of her high-mindedness and hisyearning love.

  "I want you, Dorrie," he said, simply; "I want youterribly,--desperately,--and I--I admit it--would be willing to take youon any terms. I'd run away with you in a minute, if you'd go! To besure, I honor your truthfulness and all that,--but, oh, little girl,can't you put me ahead of your mother?"

  "I don't know,----"

  "You're hesitating! You've thought about it! Oh, Dork, will you?"

  "There, there, don't go so fast! No, I won't! But, tell me this: Wouldyour uncle stand for it,--and let you go on with your own work?"

  "Oh, no! It's Buns or nothing with him and me. But I'm his heir, if heshould drop off suddenly, I'd have his whole fortune----"

  "Dead men's shoes! Oh, Ricky, for shame?"

  "Not at all. If he can make a will, I can talk about it. And he told mehe has made a will in my favor,--but he's going to change it if I don'tadopt his Buns."

  "What nonsense,--even to think about it. Let him change it, then, foryou'll never be a Bun man!"

  "I wonder if it would help matters if you met Uncle Binney?"

  "Let's try it. Though I'm sure I should call him Uncle Bunny! Does helike girls?"

  "Adores them,--that is, some sorts. He likes nice girls properly. Helikes naughty girls,--perhaps improperly. But the girls in thehouse,--the elevator kids and the telephone girls, he just hates."

  "Hates?"

  "They irritate him somehow. He thinks all such positions should befilled by men or boys. He says the war is over, and he wants all thegirls taken off those jobs."

  "How unjust and unreasonable."

  "Uncle Herbert has both of those admirable qualities. But he'
d adoreyou,--unless he found out you disapprove of the Buns, and then he'd turnand rend you!"

  "I don't disapprove of them,--except for you."

  "That's what I mean,--for me."

  "Then I guess I'd better not meet Friend Bunny."

  "Oh, Dorcas, I don't know what to do! There's no light from anydirection. There's no hope from your mother, my aunt or Sir Herbert. Ifyou won't cut and run with me,--and if you're in earnest about notmeeting me secretly any more,--what _can_ we do?"

  "Nothing, Rick,--nothing at all."

  Dorcas spoke very seriously,--even sadly, and Bates realized how much inearnest she was. They were in the Park now, and by tacit consent theysat down on a bench near the Mall.

  Their eyes met dumbly. Though Bates was only twenty-five and Dorcastwenty-two, they were both older than their years, and were of finetemper and innate strength of character.

  They had known one another as children in their little home town, andlater, as the feud developed and gained strength, the young people hadbeen sent away to schools. Later, the war took Richard from home, andonly very recently had propinquity brought about the interest that soonripened to love. And a deeper, more lasting love than is often foundbetween two young hearts. Both took it very seriously, and eachthoroughly realized the tragedy of the attitude of their respectiveguardians.

  "Good gracious, Richard, I shall go straight home and tell your aunt!"

  This speech was from the stern-faced woman who paused in front of thepair on the bench.

  "Good gracious, Eliza, go straight ahead and do so!"

  Bates' eyes shot fire and his face flushed with anger.

  Eliza Gurney was his aunt's companion, indeed, her tame cat, herchattel, and partly from charity, partly because of need of herservices, Miss Prall kept Eliza with her constantly.

  Of a fawning, parasitic nature, the companion made the best of heropportunities, and, without being an avowed spy, she kept watch onRichard's movements as far as she conveniently could. And in thisinstance, suspecting his intent, she had followed the young couple at adiscreet distance, and now faced them with an accusing eye.

  "No, don't," pleaded Dorcas, as Miss Gurney turned to follow upRichard's suggestion. "Oh, dear Miss Gurney, help us, won't you? We'rein such a hopeless tangle. You were young once, and----"

  Dorrie could scarcely have chosen a worse argument,--for that her youthhad slipped away from her, was Miss Gurney's worst fear.

  "I am forbidden to speak to this girl, Richard," Miss Gurney said, withpursed lips and heightened color. She addressed herself carefully toBates and ignored the presence of Dorcas. "You are, too, as you wellknow, and though you have so far forgotten yourself as to disobey youraunt, I've no intention of committing a like sin."

  "Fudge, Eliza, don't go back on me like that. You used to be myfriend,--have you forsaken me entirely?"

  "If you've forsaken your aunt,--not unless. Leave this girl instantlyand go home with me, and there'll be no question of 'forsaking.'"

  "Forsake Miss Everett! Not while this machine is to me! Go homeyourself, Eliza; be a tattletale, if you want to, but get out of here!"

  Bates became furious because of a malevolent gleam in Miss Gurney's eyeas she looked at Dorcas.

  "I'll go, Richard,--and I shall not only tell your aunt what I haveseen, but I shall feel it my duty to acquaint Mrs Everett with thefacts."

  "Don't you dare!" cried Dorcas, springing up, and facing the unpleasantfaced one with uncontrollable indignation. "What I do, I tell my mothermyself,--I don't have the news carried to her by her enemy's spy!"

  "Hoity-toity, miss, you're a chip off the old block, I see!"

  "And you're a trustworthy soul, to be talking to me when you'reforbidden to do so!"

  The triumph in Dorcas' tone was quite as galling to Eliza Gurney as herown chagrin at having broken her word. But, once in the moil, she saw noreason for backing out, and proceeded to pick an open quarrel.

  "I can explain my speech with you to Miss Prall's satisfaction," shewent on, acidly, "and I'll inform you, Miss Everett, that you've spoiledMr. Bates' life by this clandestine affair of yours. I happen to knowthat his uncle, Sir Herbert Binney, was just about to make him his heir,but he will change his mind when he hears of this escapade."

  "Oh, clear out, Eliza," stormed Bates; "you've given us enough of thatdrivel, now hook it! Hear me?"

  Miss Gurney stared at him. "Your companionship with this young woman hascorrupted your good manners," she began, quite undeterred by his wrath.

  Whereupon Bates took her firmly by the shoulder, spun her round, andsaid, "Go!" in such a tone that she fairly scurried away.

  "I vanquished her," he said, a little ruefully, "but I'm afraid it's afrying pan and fire arrangement. She'll tell Aunt Letitia, and eitheraunt or Eliza herself will go at once to your mother with the tale,----"

  "Well, I'd really rather they'd be told. I had to tell mother,--fortruly, Rick, I can't live in an atmosphere of deceit. I may be a crankor a craven, but much as I love you, I can't stand keeping it a secret."

  "I know it, dear, and I don't like it a bit better than you do, only totell is to be separated,--at once, and maybe, forever."

  "No!" cried Dorcas, looking at his serious face. "Not forever!"

  "Yes; even you don't realize the lengths to which those two women willgo. I hate to speak so of your mother, I hate to speak so of myaunt,--but I know they'll move out of town, one or both, and they'll goto the ends of the earth to keep us apart."

  "But they've always lived near each other,--for years, in the samebuilding."

  "Yes; that was so they could quarrel and annoy and tantalize each other.But now the necessity of separating us two will be their paramountmotive, and you'll see;--they'll do it!"

  "Then--then----"

  "Then let's get married, and go off by ourselves? Darling, if we onlycould! And I'll go into the Buns, in a minute, if you say so. Much as Ihate to give up my own work, I'd not hesitate, except for your sake----"

  "No, I don't want to marry a bakery man! And, I've too much ambition foryou to let you throw your talent away! Yet, we couldn't live on nothinga year! And, until your inventions are farther along, you can't realizeanything on them."

  "Bless me, what a little business woman it is! Well, we've both commonsense enough not to make fools of ourselves,--but oh, Dork, I do wantyou so! And if it were not for that foolish, ridiculous feud, we couldbe so happy!"

  "It isn't exactly the feud,--I mean, of course it is that, but it's backof that,--it's the determined, never-give-up _natures_ of the two women.I don't know which is more obstinate, mother or Miss Prall, but Iknow,--oh, Ricky, I know neither of them will ever surrender!"

  "Of course they won't,--I know that, too. So, must we give up?"

  "What choice have we? What alternative?"

  "None." Bates' face was blankly hopeless. "But, Dork, dear, I can't livewithout you! Can't you look ahead to--to something?"

  "Don't see anything to look ahead to. We might say we'll wait for eachother,--I'm willing,--and something tells me you are! But,--that's anunsatisfactory arrangement----"

  "It's all of that! Oh, hang it all, Dork, I'll go into some respectablebusiness and earn a living. I'll give up my plans and----"

  "If you do that, you may as well go in for Buns."

  "Buns! I thought you scorned the idea!"

  "Principally because I want you to be an inventor. But if you give upyour life work,--oh, Rick, what could you do?"

  "Nothing much at first. I'd have to take a clerk-ship or something andwork up."

  "I'm willing to share poverty with you,--in theory,--but you don'trealize what the reality would mean to us. Not only because we're bothaccustomed to having everything we want, but more especially because inthese days it's too dangerous. Suppose we lived on the tiniest possibleincome, and then you fell ill,--or I did,--or you lost yourposition,--or anything that interrupted our livelihood,--then, we'd haveto go back to mother or to your aunt,--and--dost like the pict
ure?"

  "I dost not! It's out of the question. I love you too much, and tootruly to take such desperate chances. I think, after all, Dork, the Bunsare our one best bet!"

  "Binny's Buns! 'Get a Bun!' Oh, Rikki, couldn't hold up my head!"

  "I know it,--you little inborn aristocrat! And I feel the same way aboutit. Well, we've got to go home and face the music, I suppose."

  "Yes, and we've got to go now. I'll get more and worse scolding forevery minute I stay here."

  "Also, if Eliza tells your mother, she'll be sending Kate for you."

  "Yes, or coming herself. Come along, let's start."

  The walk home was saddened by the thought that it was the last. Able toface the situation, both knew there was no hope that they should beallowed to continue their acquaintance, and knew that now it wasdiscovered, they would very soon be as widely separated as the effortsof their elders could arrange.

  Their pace slowed down as they neared The Campanile.

  "Dear old place," said Dorcas, as the house came into their ken.

  "Dear old nothing," returned Bates. "I think it's an eyesore, don't you?That bunch of Mexican onyx ought to be taken away to make kings'sarcophagi!"

  "What a thought! Yes, it's hideous,--but I didn't mean its appearance.Its dear to me because we've lived here together, and I've a premonitionthat before long widely separated roofs will cover our heads."

  "I'll conquer somehow!" Bates declared. "I haven't made manyprotestations, but I tell you, Dork, I'm coming out on top of thisheap!"

  "What are you going to do? Something desperate?"

  "Maybe so,--maybe only something queer. But get you, I shall and I will!You're intended for my mate by an Omniscient Fate, and I'm going to findsome way to help said Fate along. She seems to be sidetracked for themoment."

  "I wish I had more faith in your Fate helping. Oh, don't look like that!I've faith enough in _you_,--but helping Fate is a tricky game."

  "All right, I'm willing to play a tricky game, then!"

  "You are, son! Against whom?"

  And the pair entering the wide doorway, met Sir Herbert Binney comingout.

  "Oh, hello, Uncle," cried Bates, grasping the situation with both hands."Let me present you to Miss Everett; Dorcas, this is my uncle."

  "How do you do, Uncle Bunny?" said Dorcas, quite unwitting that, in hersurprised embarrassment, she had used the very word she had feared shewould utter!

  And an unfortunate mistake it proved. The smiling face of the Englishmangrew red and wrathful, assuming, as he did, and not without cause, thatthe young woman intended to guy him.

  "Daughter of your own mother, hey?" he said to her. "Ready with a sharptongue for any occasion!"

  Apology was useless, all that quick-witted Dorcas could think of was tocarry it off as a jest.

  "No, sir," she said, with an adorable glance of coquetry at the angryface, "but I have an unbreakable habit of using nicknames,--and as I'veheard of you from Ricky, and I almost feel as if I knew you,--I, why, Ijust naturally called you Bunny for a pet name."

  "Oho, you did! Well, I can't believe that. I think you're making fun ofmy trade! And that's the one thing I won't stand! Perhaps when yourprecious Ricky depends on those same buns for his daily food, you won'tfeel so scornful of them!"

  "I never dreamed you were ashamed of them, sir," and Dorcas gave up theidea of peacemaking and became irritating.

  "Nor am I!" he blazed. "You are an impertinent chit, and I bid yougood-day!"

  "Now you _have_ done it!" said Bates.