CHAPTER VIII

  NOT SAM'S FAULT THIS TIME

  No, Miss Stevens was sorry that she could not go walking with him thatmorning, which was the morning after the dance. She was very politeabout it, too; almost too polite. Her voice over the telephone was assuave and as limpid as could possibly be, but there was a sort ofmetallic glitter behind it, as it were.

  No, she could not see him that afternoon either. She had made a seriesof engagements, in fact, covering the entire day. Also, she regrettedto say, upon further solicitation, that she had made engagementscovering the entire following day.

  No, she was not piqued about his last night's forgetfulness; by nomeans; certainly not; how absurd!

  She quite understood. He had been talking business with her father,and naturally such a trifling detail as a dance with frivolous youngpeople would not occur to him.

  Frivolous young people! This was the exact point of the conversationat which Sam, with his ear glued to the receiver of the telephone andno necessity for concealing the concerned expression on hiscountenance, thought, in more or less of a panic, that he must reallybe getting old, which was a good joke, inasmuch as nobody ever took himto be over twenty-five. Heretofore his boyish appearance had worriedhim because it rather stood in the way of business, but now he began tofear that he was losing it; for he was nearing thirty!

  Well, pleading was of no avail. He had to give it up. Reluctantly hewent out and took a solitary walk, then came in and religiously playedhis two hours of tennis with Miss Westlake and Miss Hastings andTilloughby. Was he not on vacation, and must he not enjoy himself?Just before he went in to luncheon, however, there was a telephone callfor him.

  Miss Stevens was perplexed to know what divine intuition had told himher obsession for maraschino chocolates. She had one in her fingers atthe very moment she was telephoning, and she was going to pop it intoher mouth while he talked. Being a mere man he could not realize howdelightfully refreshing was a maraschino chocolate.

  Sam had a lively picture of that dainty confection between the tips ofher dainty fingers; he could see the white hand and the graceful wrist,and then he could see those exquisitely curved red lips parting with aflash of white teeth to receive the delicacy; and he had an impulse toclimb through the telephone.

  A little bird had told him about her preference, he stated. He hadthat little bird regularly in his employ to find out other preferences.

  "I had those sent just to show you that I am not altogether absorbed inbusiness," he went on; "that I can think of other things. Have anotherchocolate."

  "I am," she laughingly said; "but I'm not going to eat them all. I'mgoing to save one or two for you."

  "Good," returned Sam in huge delight and relief. "I'll come over toget them any time you say."

  "All right," she gaily agreed. "As I told you this morning, I have anengagement for this afternoon, but if you'll come over after luncheonI'll try to find a half-hour or so for you anyhow."

  Great blotches of perspiration sprang out on his forehead.

  "Jinks!" he ejaculated. "You know, right after you telephoned me thismorning I made an engagement with Mr. Blackrock and Mr. Cuthbert andMr. Westlake, to go over some proposed incorporation papers."

  "Oh, by all means, then, keep your engagement," she told him, and hecould feel the instant frigidity which returned to her tone. Azero-like wave seemed to come right through the transmitter of thetelephone and chill the perspiration of his brow into a cold trickle.

  "No, I'll see if I can not set that engagement off for a couple ofhours," he hastily informed her.

  "By no means," she protested, more frigidly than before. "Come tothink of it, I don't believe I'd have time anyhow. In fact, I'm surethat I would not. Mr. Hollis is calling me now. Good-by."

  "Wait a minute," he called desperately into the telephone, but it wasdead, and there is nothing in this world so dead as the telephone fromwhich connection has been suddenly shut off.

  Sam strode into the dining-room and went straight over to Blackrock'stable.

  "I find I have some pressing business right after luncheon," he said,bending over that gentleman's chair. "I can't possibly meet you at twoo'clock. Will four do you?"

  "Why, certainly," Mr. Blackrock was kind enough to say, and hefurthermore agreed, with equal graciousness, to inform the others.

  Sam ate his luncheon in worried silence, replying only in monosyllablesto the remarks of McComas, who sat at his table, and of Mrs. McComas,who had taken quite a young-motherly fancy to him; and the amount thathe ate was so much at variance with his usual hearty appetite that eventhe maid who waited on his table, a tall, gangling girl with a vinegarface and a kind heart, worried for fear he might be sick, and addedunordered delicacies to his American plan meal. He went over to HollisCreek in the swiftest conveyance he could obtain, which was naturallyan auto, but he did not have 'Ennery for his chauffeur, of which he washeartily glad, for 'Ennery might have wanted to talk.

  On the porch of Hollis Creek Inn he found Princeman and Mr. Stevens inearnest conversation. He knew what that meant. Princeman was alreadydiscussing with Mr. Stevens the matter of control of the Marsh PulpCompany. Princeman rose when Sam stepped up on the porch, and strolledaway from Mr. Stevens. He nodded pleasantly to Turner, and the latter,returning the nod fully as pleasantly, was about to hurry on in searchof Miss Josephine, when Mr. Stevens checked him.

  "Hello, Sam," he called. "I've just been waiting to see you."

  "All right," said Sam. "I'll be around presently."

  "No, but come here," insisted Mr. Stevens.

  Sam cast a nervous glance about the grounds and along the side porch;Miss Josephine most certainly was not among those present. He stillhesitated, impatient to get away.

  "Just a minute, Sam," insisted Stevens. "I want to talk to you rightnow."

  With unwilling feet Sam went over.

  "Sit down," directed Stevens, pushing forward a chair.

  "What is it?" asked Sam, still standing.

  "I have been talking with Princeman and Westlake about your Marsh PulpCompany."

  "Yes," inquired Sam nervously.

  "And everybody seems to be most enthusiastic about it. Fact of thematter is, my boy, I consider it a tremendous investment opportunity.The only drawback there seems to be is in the matter of stockdistribution and voting power. I want you to explain this very fullyto me."

  "I thought you were quite satisfied with our talk last night," returnedSam, glancing hastily over his shoulder.

  "I am, in so far as the investment goes, Sam. I've promised you thatI'd take a good block of stock, and you've promised to make room for mein the company. I expect to go through with that, but I want to knowabout this other phase of the matter before I get into anyentanglements with opposing factions. Now you sit right down there andtell me about it."

  Despairingly Sam sat down and proceeded briefly and concisely toexplain to him the various plans of incorporation which had beenproposed. Ten minutes later he almost groaned, as a trap, drawn by apair of handsome buckskin horses, driven by Princeman and containingMiss Josephine, crunched upon the gravel driveway in front of theporch. Miss Stevens greeted Mr. Turner very heartily indeed, Princemanstopping for that purpose. Sam ran down and shook hands with her. Oh,she was most cordial; just as cordial and polite as anybody he knew!

  "I did not expect you at all," she said, "but I knew you were here, forI saw you from the window as you came up the drive. Pleasant weather,isn't it? Oh, papa!"

  "Yes," answered Mr. Stevens ponderously from his place on the porch.

  "Up on my dresser you will find a box of candy which Mr. Turner waskind enough to have sent me, and he confesses that he has never tastedmaraschino chocolates. Won't you please run up and get them and letMr. Turner sample them?"

  "Huh!" grunted Mr. Stevens. "If Sam Turner insists upon running me uptwo flights of stairs on an errand of that sort, I suppose I'll have togo. But he won't."

&nb
sp; "You're lazy," she said to her father in affectionate banter, then,with a wave of her hand and a bright nod to Mr. Turner, she was gone!

  Sam trudged slowly up on the porch with the heart gone entirely out ofhim for business; and yet, as he approached Mr. Stevens he pulledhimself together with a jerk. After all, she was gone, and he couldnot bring her back, and in his talk with Stevens he had just approacheda grave and serious situation.

  "The fact of the matter is, Mr. Stevens," said he as he sat down again,"these people are the very people I want to get into my concern, butthey are old hands at the stock incorporation game, and even beforeI've organized the company they are planning to get it out of my hands.Now it is my scheme, mine and the kid brother's, and I don't propose toallow that."

  "Well, Sam," said Mr. Stevens slowly, "you know capital of late has hada lot of experience with corporate business, and it isn't thefashionable thing this year for the control and the capital to be inseparate hands--right at the very beginning."

  This was the signal for the struggle, and Sam plunged earnestly intothe conflict. At three-fifteen he suddenly rose and made his adieus.He would have liked to stay until Miss Josephine came back, so that hecould make one more desperate attempt to set himself right with her,but there was that deferred engagement with Blackrock, and reluctantlyhe whirled back to Meadow Brook.