Miss Primrose Part 32

"You do not understand," he replied, anxiously. "You do not understand, Dr. Weatherby. A magazine requires great preparation--great preparation, sir--and particularly a scientific magazine, Dr. Weatherby."

"Ah," I said. "I see."

"_Great_ preparation, sir," the little man went on, leaning forward and tapping me on the knee. "There must be subscribers, sir."

"To be sure," I a.s.sented. "They are quite essential, I believe."

"Very," said Hiram Ptolemy. "Very, sir. We must have fifty at the fewest before we go to press. My publisher is obdurate--fifty, he says, or he will not invest a penny--not a penny, sir."

"And you have already--?" I inquired. I was sorry afterwards to have asked the question. It was not delicate. I asked it thoughtlessly, intending only to evince my interest in the cause. Coloring slightly, he wet his lips and cleared his throat before replying.

"One, sir; only one, as yet."

"Then put me down number two," I said, eager to retrieve my blunder.

His face lighted, but only for a moment, and turning an embarra.s.sed countenance upon Let.i.tia, and then on me, he stammered:

"But I--"

"Oh, by all means, Bertram," said Let.i.tia, "we must subscribe."

The Egyptologist swallowed hard.

"I think--" he began.

"Bertram Weatherby is the name, Mr. Percival," said Let.i.tia, in a clear, insistent tone, and at her bidding the little man scrawled it down, but so tremulously at first that he tore up the sheet and tried again.

"And the subscription price?" I inquired, opening my pocket-book.

"You--you needn't pay now, doctor," he replied.

"Is one dollar a year," said Let.i.tia, promptly, and I laid the bill upon the desk.

Hiram Ptolemy touched it gingerly, fumbled it, dropped it by his chair, and, still preserving his embarra.s.sed silence, fished it up again from the cluttered floor. Ten minutes later, when we said farewell to him, he still held it in his hand.

"What was the matter with him?" I asked Let.i.tia, as we drove away, glancing back at that odd and shamefaced figure standing wistfully in the doorway.

"The other subscriber," she replied. "Didn't you guess?"

"What!" I said. "You, Let.i.tia?"

She smiled sadly.

"Poor little man!"

VII

SUZANNE

It was evening when we set out, not without trepidation, to find Peggy Neal. We had dined--over-dined--in a room of gilt and mirrors and s.h.i.+ning silver, watching the other tables with their smiling groups or puzzling pairs; some so ill-a.s.sorted that we strove vainly to solve their mystery, others so oddly mannered for a public place, we thought--the men so brazen in their attentions, the women so prinked and absurdly gowned and unabashed, Let.i.tia at first was not quite sure we were rightly there.

"Still," she said, "there _are_ nice people here--why, even children!"

"The place is famous," I protested.

"I suppose it must be respectable," she replied, "but I never saw such a _mixture_!"

She gazed wonderingly about her.

"I suppose it must be New York," she said.

It was half-past eight when we entered the street again. We drove at once to the number Mrs. Neal had given, riding silently and a little nervously, but still marvelling at the scene we had left behind us, a strange setting for two such elder village-folk as we, making us wonder if we had missed much or little by living our lives so greenly and far away.

"I hope she will be at home," said Let.i.tia. "Every one seemed to be going to the theatre."

"For my part," I confessed, "I rather hope we shall not find her."

"But why, Bertram?"

I could not say. The cab stopped. There were lights in the house, and, leaving Let.i.tia, I went up the steps and pulled the bell. The household was at home, apparently, for I heard voices and the music of a piano as I stood waiting at the door. It was one of the older streets, ill-lighted and lined monotonously by those red-brick fronts so fas.h.i.+onable in a former day.

The door was opened by a colored maid, and there was a gush of laughter and the voices of men and women, with the tinkling undercurrent of a waltz.

"Is Miss Neal at home?" I asked.

"Miss who?"

"Miss Neal."

"Miss Neal?"

"Miss Peggy Neal."

She hesitated. "I'll see," she said. "Will you come in, suh?"

"No," I replied. "I'll wait out here."

She returned presently.

"Did you say Miss Peggy Neal, suh?"

"Yes," I replied, "Miss Peggy Neal."

"Don't any such lady live heah, suh."