* * * * *
On the wings of a twelvemonth, spring had come around again and the
taste of summer was like poppy-leaves between the teeth, and the
perennial open shirtwaists and open street-cars bloomed, even as the
distant larkspur in the distant field. At six o'clock with darkness
came a spattering of rain, heavy single drops that fell each with its
splotch, exuding from the asphalt the warming smell of thaw. Then came
wind, right high-tempered, too, slanting the rain and scudding it and
blowing pedestrians' skirts forward and their umbrellas inside outward.
Mr. Alphonse Michelson fitted his hand like a vizor over his eyes and
peered out into the wet dusk. Lights gleamed and were reflected in the
dark pool of rain-swept asphalt. Passers-by hurried for shelter and bent
into the wind.
In Madam Moores's establishment, enlarged during the twelvemonth to
twice its floor space, the business day waned and died; in the workrooms
the whir of machines sank into the quiet maw of darkness; in the
showrooms the shower lights, all but a single cluster, blinked out.
Alphonse Michelson slid into a tan, rain-proof coat, turning up the
collar and buttoning across the flap, then fell to pacing the thick-nap
carpet.
From a mauve-colored telephone-booth emerged Miss Gertie Dobriner,
flushed from bad service and from bad air.
"Whew!"
"Get her?"
"Sure I got her. Is it such a stunt to get an address from a customer?"
"Good!"
"I says to her, I says, 'I seen it standing on the sidewalk next to your
French maid and I wanted to buy one like it for my little niece.'"
"Can we get it to-night?"
"Yes, proud papa! But listen; I wrote it down, 'Hinshaw, 2227 Casset
Street, Brooklyn.'"
"Brooklyn!"
"Yes, two blocks from the Bridge, and for a henpecked husband you got
a large fat job on your hands if you want to make another getaway
to-night. This man Hinshaw shows 'em right in his house."
"Brooklyn, of all places!"
"Right-oh!"
He snapped his fingers in a series of rapid clicks. "Ain't that the
limit? If I'd only mentioned it to you this afternoon earlier, we could
have been over and back by now."
"Wait until Monday then, Phonzie."
"Yes, but you ought to have heard her this morning, Gert; it's not often
she gets her heart so set. To-morrow being Sunday, all of a sudden she
gets a-wishing for one of the glass-top ones like she's seen around in
the parks, to take him out in for the first time."
"Oh, I'm game! I'll go, but can you beat it! A trip to Brooklyn when I
got a friend from Carson City waiting at his hotel to buy out Rector's
for me to-night."
"You go on with him, Gert. What's the use you dragging over there, too,
now that you got the address for me. I would never have mentioned it to
you at all if I'd have known you couldn't just go buy the kind she wants
in any department store. I'll go over there alone, Gert."
"Yes, and get stung on the shape and the hood and all. I bought just an
ordinary one for my little niece once, and you got to get them shallow.
Anyways, I'm going to chip in half on this. I want to get the little
devil something, anyways."
"Aw no, Gert, this is my surprise."
"I guess I can chip in on a present for the kid's month-old birthday."
"Well, then, say I meet you in the Eighty-sixth Street Subway at seven,
so we can catch a Brooklyn express and make it over in thirty minutes."
"Yes."
"But it's raining, Gert. Look out. Honest, I don't like to ask you to
break your date to hike over there in the rain with me."
"Raining! Aw, then let's cut it, Phonzie. I got a new marcel and a
cold on my chest that weighs a ton. She can't roll it on a wet Sunday,
nohow."
"Paper says clear and warm to-morrow, Gert; but, honest, you don't need
to go."
"You're a nice boy, Phonzie, and a proud father, but you can't spend my
money for me. What you bet I get ten per cent. off for cash? Subway at
seven. I'll be there."
"I may be a bit late, Gert. She ain't so strong yet, and after last
night I don't want to get her nervous."
"I told you she'd be sore at me for taking you to the Ritz ball
last night, and God knows it wasn't no pleasure in my life to go
model-hunting with you, when I might have been joy-riding with my friend
from Carson City."
"It's just because she ain't herself yet. I'm off, Gert. Till seven in
the Subway!"
"Yes, till seven!"
* * * * *
When Mr. Alphonse Michelson unlocked the door of his second-floor
five-room apartment, a lamp softly burning through a yellow silk
lamp-shade met him with the soft radiance of home. Beside the door he
divested himself of his rain-spotted mackintosh, inserted his dripping
umbrella in a tall china stand, shook a little rivulet from his hat and
hung it on a pair of wall antlers.
"That you, Phonzie?"
"Yes, hon, it's me."
'"Sh-h-h-h!"
He tiptoed down the aisle of hallway and into the soft-lighted front
room. From a mound of pillows and sleepy from their luxury Millie Moores
rose to his approach, her forefinger placed across her lips and a pale
mist of chiffon falling backward from her arms.
What a masseuse is Love! The lines had faded from Millie's face and in
their place the grace of tenderness and a roundness where the chin had
softened. Years had folded back like petals, revealing the heart and the
unwithered bosom of her.
He kissed her, pressing the finger of warning closer against her lips,
and she patted a place for him on the Mexican afghan beside her.
"Phonzie!"
"How you feelin', hon?"
"Strong! If it ain't raining to-morrow, I'm going to take him out if
I have to carry him in my arms. Say, wouldn't I like to feel myself
rolling him in one of them white-enamel, glass-top things like Van Ness
has for her last one. Ida May tried three places to get one for us."
"They're made special."
"All my life I've wanted to feel myself wheeling him, Phonzie. I used to
dream myself doing it in the old place down on Twenty-third Street,
when I used to sit at the sewing-table from eight until eight. Gee!
I--honest, I just can't wait to see if the sun is shining to-morrow."
He kissed her again on the back of each finger, and she let her hand,
pale and rather inert, rest on his hair.
"Is my boy hungry for his din-din?"
"Gee! yes! The noon appointments came so thick I had to send Eddie out
to bring me a bite."
"What kind of a day?"
"Everything smooth but the designing-room. Gert done her best, but they
don't take hold without you, hon. They can't even get in their heads
that gold charmeuse idea Gert and I swiped at the Ritz last night."
"Did you tell them I'll be back on the job next week, Phonzie?"
"Nothing doing. You're going to stay right here, snug in your rug,
another two weeks."
"Rave on, hon, but I got the nurse engaged for Monday. How's the Van
Norder wedding-dress coming?"
"Great! That box train you drew up will float down the aisle after her
like a white cobweb. It's a knock-out."
"Say, won't I be glad to get back in harness!"
"You got to take it slow, Mil."
"And ain't you glad it's all over, Phonzie?"
"Am I!"
"Four weeks old to-morrow, and Ida May was over to-day and says she
never seen a kid so big for his age."
"He takes after my grandfather--he was six feet two without shoes."
"You ought to seen him to-day laying next to me, Phonzie. He looked up
and squinted, dear, for all the world like you."
A bell tinkled. In the frame of a double doorway a seventeen-year-old
maid drew back the portières on brass rings that grated. In the room
adjoining and beneath a lighted dome of colored glass a table lay
spread, uncovered dishes exuding fragrant spirals of steam.
"Supper! Say, ain't it great to have you back at the table again, Mil?"
"Oh, I don't know, the way--the way you went hiking off last night
to--to a ball."
"Aw, now, hon, 'ain't you got that out of your system yet? For a girlie
with all your good sense, if you ain't the greatest little one to get a
silly gix and work it to death."
"I just made a civil remark."
"What was the use wasting that ten-dollar pair of tickets the guy from
Carson City gave her, when we could use them and get some tips on some
of the imports the women wore?"
"I never said to waste them."
"You know it don't hurt to get around and see what's being worn, hon.
That's our business."
Tears of weakness welled to her eyes and she stooped over her plate to
conceal them.
"I'm not saying anything, am I? Only--only it's right lucky she can fill
my place so--so well while I--I got to be away awhile."
Her barbed comment only pricked him to happy thought. He made a quick
foray into his side pocket. "I brought up one of these pink velvet roses
for you to look at, Mil. It's Gert's idea to festoon these underneath
the net tunic on McGrath's blue taffeta. See, like that. It's a neat
little idea, hon, and Gert had these roses made up in shaded effects
like this one. How you like it?"
The tiny bud lay on the table between them, nor did she take it up.
"All right."