Part 14

“Shows how little you know that baby.” Mame tried her best to dissemble a rising excitement. “Elmer P. takes life that serious he might be Abraham Lincoln at the age of twenty-nine.”

“One wishes he would express himself less cryptically.”

“You’ll be wise in time, honey,” drawled Mame slowly. Wild horses were inclined to tear her, but she had a will.

And a will was wanted, sure, to wait six long and weary days for the promised letter of Elmer P.

* * * * *

The six days of waiting were not so long and weary as they might have been. To begin with, they were full of the joys of anticipation. The anticipation, moreover, took more forms than one. As if to show how little Miss Du Rance and her sponsor had to fear in the way of displeasure in high places, there came by post, within an hour of the cable from New York, a real gilt-edged command to the second Royal garden party to be held at Buckingham Palace on the fifth of July.

The “command” tried the democratic spirit of Miss Du Rance severely. Even in the most vaulting moments of her optimism she had not seen herself moving in Royal circles quite so soon as all that. She was nearly betrayed into a whoop of elation. Cuckoo, yes, but somehow it expressed her oddly democratic feeling. However, she was able to pull herself up just in time. What were kings and queens, anyway? Still she could not help giving her amused friend a tentative hug.

“Please don’t put the bear-cat act over on me,” expostulated Lady Violet, who had devoted a good deal of the last four weeks to a study of Mame’s idiom.

“It’s a long way to the fifth of July, any old how,” said Maine with stern self-control. “And I’ll bet our noo ambassaderess don’t invite me to the carol singing and the fireworks on the Fourth at the Embassy. Even if good Queen Mary ain’t scared of me, _she_’ll be, I guess.”

“It ought to be easy to wangle a card for an American citizeness. How much will you bet?”

“I don’t approve betting.” Mame had too much respect for her friend’s astonishing powers of “wangling.” “But if you can get me an invite for the Fourth among all the doughnuts and the high-fliers and the hundred-per-cents I’ll be that set up I’ll not know where to hide my simple face.”

Lady Violet promised modestly to see if anything could be done in the matter.

One way and another Mame contrived to get through those intervening days pretty well; yet it seemed that the eagerly awaited letter from New York would never arrive. Her imagination could not help playing around it. The cable had excited great hopes.

In such a world as the present, however, things seldom pan out as they should. Mame had visions of a contract that would astonish Fleet Street; but Elmer’s offer, when it came, was considerably less than she expected. But in Lady Violet’s opinion it was distinctly good.

However, Lady Violet did not know the precise circumstances in which the offer had been made. She was still in the dark as to the brilliant coup Mame had illicitly brought off. Therefore Mame had no hesitation in turning it down.

“No, honey, we are out for something bigger. I think I’ll cable Elmer our rock-bottom terms.”

“Pray what do you consider they ought to be?”

“We must have a two-year contract to cable six columns every Friday at six hundred dollars a week.”

Lady Violet was frankly astonished. “Surely, we can’t hope to get that?”

“Oh, we’ll get it, or I should worry.” Mame sounded wonderfully cheerful. “I’ll go right along now and send that cable.”

“But suppose we kill the nice goose that is going to lay the golden eggs?”

Mame was prepared to risk that. “We are worth every dime of the money. And they know it just as well as we do.”

Her friend did a sum in her head. “Do you realise that you are demanding thirty thousand dollars a year?”

“So much as all that,” laughed Mame. But she was not to be dissuaded. “Audacity, audacity, always audacity,” had been among the mottoes of the office calendar. Besides, had they not exclusive news to offer and had not New York just had dramatic evidence of its value?

That, of course, was the crux of the whole matter. And it was a point upon which Lady Violet was very much in the dark. In Mame’s judgment the time had not yet come to enlighten her. She would have to know presently, but this was not the moment for a certain rather awkward disclosure.

XXIX

Celimene prophesied disaster when the enterprising partner showed her the cable she proposed to send.

“Leave this to me, honey.” Mame sounded absurdly full of confidence. “I know New York better than you. If New York wants a thing it wants it. And if it thinks a thing worth while it don’t mind what it pays.”

“But are we so worth while as all that?”

Mame appeared to have not the least doubt on the point. She clapped on her hat, sallied forth and sent the cable.

In four and twenty hours, less forty-five minutes, came the answer. Four hundred dollars a week were offered with a contract for one year.

Mame was triumphant. “What did I tell you, honey? They sure want us bad.”

Lady Violet marvelled. “Let us make haste and accept it, before they change their minds,” was her advice.

But Mame did not agree. “Those boobs are going up. They know we are the goods, else they wouldn’t have been so free with their cables at the onset.”

“But--!” persisted Lady Violet.

Mame took paper and pen. She spent a tense five minutes on a piece of careful if rather syncopated prose.

Original terms rock bottom. Sorrow. DU RANCE.

Lady Violet was constrained to laugh rather wryly over the fruit of her labours. “Ours, I fancy, will be the sorrow.”

The undefeated little go-getter laughed, too, but for a different reason. Once more she rose and crammed on her hat. Again she sallied forth to the convenient post office round the corner in Dover Street, while her friend was left wondering how she dared!

* * * * *

A further twenty-four hours went by. Plus twenty-five minutes on this occasion, to be exact. And then appeared the stern Davis with cablegram number three.

A Napoleon-at-Austerlitz look came upon Mame. “Keep the messenger,” she instructed Davis before opening the envelope. Full of will as she was, there could be no denying that her hand trembled and that her face was pale. Suddenly she gave a whoop of triumph. “There, honey, what did I tell you?” She tossed the cablegram to Celimene. “Seems to me that old office calendar is right every time.”

Lady Violet read amazedly:

Terms accepted. Cable confirmation. DOBREE.

Napoleon-at-Austerlitz poised a majestic pencil and then dashed grandly:

Mail two years contract instanter. DU RANCE.

The pregnant words were duly submitted to Celimene.

“Now then, honey, what about it?”

Lady Violet acknowledged her defeat with a cheerful grace. These Americans were wonderful!

Mame produced a pound note and gave it to Davis along with the cable. “For the messenger,” she said. But just as the emissary was passing out of the door she changed her mind. “Come to think of it, I’ll send that cable myself.”

The paper was handed back; and the redoubtable Davis went to dismiss the messenger, while yet again Miss Du Rance proceeded to clap on her hat. She had called to mind that an Anonymous highbrow had laid it down in the office calendar that if you want a thing done well you must do it yourself.

The office calendar had a sure trick of being infallible. Hence the quick but firm steps of Mame along Half Moon Street, towards that so conveniently near-at-hand post office.

XXX

Mame had hardly committed half a dozen pregnant words to the efficient care of the ladylike girl at the post office, when suddenly she came to an important decision. Let her regularise the situation then and now. She would go straight home and clear up Lady Violet’s perplexities. Success had amply crowned her audacity, but there was still the uncomfortable feeling that she had played not quite fair. An explanation was overdue. Now was the time to make it.

The job was not easy to tackle. If it were done at all it must be done quickly. And so, immediately she got back from her errand, she plunged right in. Briefly and lightly as possible she made the confession.

“Do I understand you reopened the packet and put in what we had decided to leave out?” Lady Violet’s eyes grew wide and round. The change of tone was perceptible.

“I sure did. And there’s no call to be sorry.”

“Perhaps not, but there might have been.” Lady Violet’s slow voice deepened rather ominously while it made that comment.

“We took our chance and here we are.” Mame’s air of triumph was a shade uneasy; it sounded a trifle forced. “Now we’re in solid with New York. We’ve pulled the big stuff, you can tell the world.”

Lady Violet could not resist a laugh. But at the back of everything she was not laughing at all. She was rather sore. And she was rather angry. No use disguising it, there the feeling was. They had brought off a scoop of which they had every right to be proud. But somehow the whole thing was against her code. One could not help liking and admiring this girl, but the line would have to be drawn somewhere!

She looked at her ingenious partner with narrowing eyes. The note in her voice disconcerted Mame considerably, when she said, “I don’t quite think I can be in this.”

Mame had a pang, sharp and odd. She did not like the sound of that voice. Much less did she like the sound of the words. Lady Violet was absolutely indispensable to her now. Without her loyal help the contract could never be put through. And if she should cut loose and decide to turn her out of doors, as a girl with that look on her face conceivably might, the entire house of cards would collapse. Miss Du Rance was not yet established in anything. She would lose all she had gained. Society, at one word from Lady Violet, would fire her. Even her syndicate work would be lost. She would be back where she began.

Alarmed by that tone and that look Mame felt the cold touch of panic. She had made a hideous blunder. By a foolish miscalculation of human nature it seemed as if she had just spoiled everything. In the flush of success she had been over-confident. She ought to have remembered that high-grade folks differed in certain ways from the common run. Yes, she had been a little fool.

XXXI

They went to the club, round the corner, for luncheon. But as they walked towards it together, for the first time since they had come to know one another they found themselves at a loss for words. For Mame it was a new experience and a decidedly bitter one. Lady Violet was now coldly polite. The touch of ice was an omen. Her companion did not like this new aspect at all.

Everything had changed since Mame had tripped along to the post office, half an hour ago. The sky was different or what London is pleased to call the sky; the sound of traffic; the look of the passers-by; the shadows cast by the houses and by the trees across the road, all were different. A severe attack of cold feet had overtaken Miss Du Rance.

She felt like throwing herself under a bus. Her vein of fatalism mockingly assured her that such luck as she had had could not possibly last. There was bound to be a break. The dream was too good to be true. Yet it was maddening to feel that she had held every card in the game less than half an hour ago and that by an act of sheer folly she had simply cast them to the winds.

This was a bad moment. Back swung the pendulum. Her mood reacted from triumph to despair. After crabbing such luck as no girl of her sort ever had, she might find herself curled up on a County Council bench among the poor stiffs who slept nightly on the Thames Embankment. Instead of having the ball at her feet she had now a vision of ending up in the river.

In the course of a miserable luncheon these horrid thoughts tormented her. She couldn’t go back to poverty and inferior people. But all that she had, depended on the coldly polite girl opposite. And if, as now seemed almost certain, she was forced to cancel the contract she had just made with New York, Elmer Dobree would be furious. He, too, would never forgive her for being made to look a fool. Big interests stood behind him in this scheme, and if by her default he failed to put it through, his own position would be jeopardised. He might even lose his new job.

“Excuse me, honey.” Mame glanced at her friend across the private table. “I don’t want food just now. I think I’ll get out into the air.”

“Aren’t you well?” The detached tone was like a knife to Mame.

“No,” she gasped. “I’m feeling pretty low. I--I--” Not trusting herself to say more she got up abruptly and quitted the dining room.

XXXII

Foodless and miserable Mame left the precincts of the Ladies Imperium and crossed over to the Green Park. The sun had a real touch of warmth in it. Flowers, bird music, the gentle breath of spring were all around. But Mame subsided in the first seat she came to beyond the railings and had desperately to fight a threat of tears.

What a mess she had made of things! In one brief hour she had been cast down from the heights. She felt that all was lost. Yes, all, including honour. There was no excuse for what she had done. She had been tempted and she had fallen.

For about twenty minutes she sat there in despair. And then a diversion came. It was the sort of diversion that in this dark hour she would have given much to avoid. But it seemed there was no escape. It had to be met.

Right in the midst of her painful reflections her eye was caught by a tall, free-striding, oncoming figure. Moreover, the recognition was mutual and it was simultaneous. Bill had seen her in the very moment that she had seen him. He had a bulldog on a lead, a large, ugly, yet most amiable beast. Both Bill and his dog seemed on very good terms with life. Bill in particular looked pleased with his luck in finding little Miss Chicago sitting alone on a seat in the Green Park, at one thirty-five in the afternoon.

He as good as said so.

Mame was not much given to tears. Her life had always been too hard for luxuries of that kind. But seldom had she been nearer shedding them. Bill, however, must not guess that anything was wrong. Yet, for all her powers of dissimulation, which were not inconsiderable, he was not wholly deceived.

“You want some lunch,” he said in the casual manner that belonged to his sister and yet with a half-humorous directness peculiarly his own. Mame liked that directness exceedingly. And never more than now. There was something very masculine about it, something genuine, something protective. It was not the least of the penalties she had incurred that she would have to forego the society of Bill. And of the likes of Bill.

“Well, what about it?” he broke in upon the distinct pause that had followed his statement. “Let’s nip across to the Berkeley and have a bite. Or the Ritz--if you prefer it?”

Mame did not feel like the Berkeley, nor yet like the Ritz.

“I’m not hungry,” she said with a lack of nuance for which she despised herself.

“Well, I am. About this hour I often get like that. Come and have a small lobster. It’ll do you good, I’m sure.”

The invitation was declined. Conversationally he could not knock any sparks out of the pretty and clever little American, whom he liked as much as any girl he had come across lately.

Bill was concerned. She looked as if she would be all the better for a good cry. Something had happened, something pretty serious, but there was no means of knowing what. And such a pretty little puss! There was a touching look about her. Bill was a chivalrous young man; and at that moment he felt he could ask nothing better than to stand between this attractive little girl and the rubs of a hard world.

Notwithstanding an honest need of luncheon Bill could not deny any solace it might be his to afford. He took a seat by the side of Miss Du Rance and prattled charmingly on.

“You’re goin’, of course, to that dance on the second at Clanborough House?”

Miss Du Rance said rather miserably that she didn’t know.

“Don’t know.” Consternation was in the tone. “I understood from Vi that you were going with her.”

Mame shivered slightly in her thin spring suit. But the winds of Britain cannot be trusted right up till the end of June.

“It’ll be the best rag of the season. All the folks will be there. You must come--you simply must. Best floor in London. Capital supper. Rippin’ band. Uncle J. and Aunt E. always do things top hole. Jolly sitting-out place in the small library downstairs. Everybody don’t know it, though, which makes it so much the jollier.”

But Miss Du Rance did not respond. There was something seriously wrong with the girl.

“I was hopin’ you’d dance two or three times with me. I know I’m a hod-carrier, but you’ll own that I’ve improved quite a bit since you took me in hand.”

Miss Du Rance did own that. But there was certainly room for improvement in Bill’s form on the parquet, even if she was too kind to say so. Besides, she really liked the boy. There was that about him no girl could help liking. He was so open, so genuine, so manly.

“If you’re not there it’ll be most disappointing.”

“There’ll be Miss Childwick to console you,” jumped to the tip of Mame’s tongue. Happily she was able to keep it from slipping off.

The abrupt and sharp thought of Miss Three Ply Flannelette of the glorious yet supercilious eyes somehow gave Mame a jolt. And that was exactly what she needed. It lent her a punch. The memory of Miss Three Ply Flannelette pulled her together as nothing else could have done.

Even if she had just had a heavy blow, she must not think of giving in. All was not lost yet, whatever line Lady Violet might adopt towards her. There was something about Bill’s manner that had set her agile and enterprising mind to work.

A week or so ago Lady Violet had been good enough to throw out a sort of gentle hint that little cats were not allowed to look at a certain Canary. There were other nice birds in the aviary. In fact at this season of the year the place was swarming with ’em good and plenty. The little Puss in question could take her pick, always provided she was clever enough to catch one. But let her please remember that a certain Canary was not on the menu.

Yes, that was all very well; but circumstances have a knack of altering cases. The heart of Puss began to harden at the thought. Such a simple, harmless, pretty bird! And actually perching, mark you, on one of her velvet forepaws.

The clocks of the neighbourhood chimed two.

“How the time does fly,” Bill observed.

“You don’t say,” remarked the little Puss.

The old note, the old quaint note at which the young marquis invariably chuckled. Such an Original, this girl. Everybody was beginning to say so--quite apart from her money! And Poppa’s hogs had kept poor old Europe for years.

Bill reluctantly rose. “Yes, two o’clock, by gad!” He really must see about a small lobster. At three he had to meet a girl at Hurlingham and watch the polo. “The Yanks, I fear, have got us beat to a frazzle.”

“Shouldn’t wonder at all.” The little Puss began circumspectly to lick her sly lips. And then with seeming carelessness: “Do I know the lady?”

“A Miss Childwick. You’ve barged into her once or twice at the Dance Club.”

“You mean she has barged into me.”

“That’s exactly what I do mean,” said Bill with candour. “Nice girl, but she can’t begin to move in the way that you do. You might be a professional.”

“Thank you,” said Miss Du Rance coldly. It was a two-edged compliment.

“What I mean to say is Gwendolen--”

“Her name’s Gwendolen!”

“And I are not exactly thistledown when we float around, while you are just as light as a feather. And if you don’t show up on the second, it’ll knock the bottom out of the jolliest dance of the year.”

“You get after that lobster or you’ll be late for the good old walloping America’s going to give you.”

“Sure you won’t come and share a humble crust at the Berkeley?”

Miss Chicago was quite sure.

“Well, so long. But if you don’t show up on the second it’ll be real mean.”

With every appearance of reluctance Bill and his dog moved slowly away in a northwesterly direction.

The eyes of Miss Du Rance followed them wistfully until they passed from view. Then she got up and took the opposite path, which led among other places to the Army and Navy Stores. Already a new fire had been kindled in her strong young heart.

XXXIII

It was rather late in the afternoon when Mame returned to Half Moon Street. She had powlered up and down a bit, had had a cup of tea at the Stores, and had given some time to examining various novelties with an eye to Celimene’s weekly letter. But she was still feeling decidedly miserable.

Lady Violet was out. She generally was at this hour of the day. Mame took off her hat and then sat doggedly down at the typewriter. There was plenty of work to be done; and she decided to go on doing it just as if nothing had happened.

It was not easy, however, to fix her mind on her job. Something had told her that she was going to be “fired”; and probably quite soon. She was really more occupied with what could be saved from the wreck than with the task in hand. But however she looked at the matter, there was no escaping the fact that it was in Lady Violet’s power to ruin her socially.

Unless!

It was also in Lady Violet’s power to ruin her professionally, unless Elmer P. was willing to forgive her for making him look a fool. In any case she would have earned the reputation of being a regular fly-up-the-creek; and she knew enough of her calling by this time to be aware that such a name was about the worst possible for a newspaper girl.