and displayed its face to the tardy young ladies. But they never stopped to glance at it.
“Daddy, dear, stop scolding, and hurry out to the car,” said Nancy, giving her father a loving push towards the front door.
“There’s one consolation in knowing we won’t be the last guests at Dalky’s dinner to-night,” remarked Eleanor, as they settled themselves in the limousine which Mr. Dalken had sent for their use that evening.
“Why – what do you mean?” asked Mrs. Fabian, wonderingly.
“Mrs. Courtney! She’ll be ten minutes later than this unit,” replied Eleanor.
“How do you know that?” asked Nancy.
“Just before we left the office she called us on the telephone to ask if we had decided upon a plan for our cruise, and we replied that we had it all outlined. Then she told us she might be detained downtown where she was then, and that we were to tell Mr. Dalken not to wait dinner for her. She would come in as soon as she could, but even at that she might be half an hour after the time he mentioned in his note to her.”
As Mr. Dalken’s bachelor apartment was but a short drive from the Fabian’s residence, the chauffeur soon stopped before the door and the girls prepared to get out. A few minutes later they were being welcomed by their smiling host. Then he scolded.
“Late as usual! Not that I would include Mr. Fabian in that rebuke, because a man is never late – especially when it is a dinner. But the ladies! Ah me! So many valuable hours wasted before a mirror, and who for – tell me that! For a number of old fogies like Ashby, Fabian and myself.”
But the ladies laughed his scolding to silence. They knew their host! He was the pink of neatness himself, and he always noticed the gowns and general appearances of his lady guests.
“Who’s coming to-night, Dalky?” asked Polly, not waiting to answer his rebuke about being late.
“Oh, the Ashbys are already here; then there will be Mrs. Courtney, who will be late, of course, and my daughter Elizabeth. She ought to have been here before this.”
As he spoke he threw open the door of the guestroom and ushered his friends in; but taking Mr. Fabian by the arm to show him into his own suite of rooms.
As soon as the door of the guestroom was closed Polly glanced at her three companions who were silently exchanging looks with each other. Then Eleanor whispered her opinion:
“Elizabeth! Of all the world she is the last I should have expected here to-night. I just know her mother sent her to pry into Dalky’s plans for this cruise. Naturally, such a woman would have heard about her ex-husband’s plans for the next few months.”
Polly frowned at this declaration, but Mrs. Fabian, always anxious to give a person the benefit of a doubt, remarked kindly: “We must remember that Elizabeth is her father’s only child. Perhaps she is dining here this evening by accident – not by planning.”
But Eleanor flared up in defence of her friend Dalky. “If you knew that girl as well as Polly and I understand her from school days, you’d not take this generous view of her and her mother’s schemes. I only hope Dalky hasn’t any idea of inviting her to go with us on his yachting cruise. She’d just spoil all the fun for me!”
“With Elizabeth present at the table I’d feel embarrassed in speaking of our plan, Nolla; or of saying a word about any cruise,” added Polly, seriously.
“Yes, that’s just it: Elizabeth is a kill-joy for every one wherever she goes,” was Eleanor’s angry retort.
“Well, girls, let us not excite ourselves before we know why Elizabeth is present to-night. Plenty of time to talk over her lack of amiability when we discover she will be a member of Dalky’s party,” advised Mrs. Fabian, moving towards the door of the dressing room.
As she opened it the four friends who were ready to leave fell back because the object of their criticism stood upon the threshold.
“Oh, dear!” cried the girl with a pretty pretence of feeling surprise, as she quickly placed her hands over her heart. “I was told to leave my wraps in Daddy’s guestroom, but I was not aware that it was occupied. I’m sorry if I startled you as I have been.”
Elizabeth Dalken was the fashionable product of New York’s ultra society – at least she and her mother liked to believe they were embraced upon that clannish upper-plane. But it is doubtful if one of the Four Hundred even dreamed of there being such aspirants to recognition.
The girl was very pretty, in an appealing ingenue way, her type being of the clinging order. Her features were regular enough, but lacked all signs of confidence or character. Her hair was beautiful, being of the wavy, fluffy, gold shade of blonde. Were it not for her stylish apparel, and the lines produced by the highest-priced tailor and mantua-maker in the country, Elizabeth’s figure might have been termed awkward, and her natural carriage ungainly. But style hides a multitude of short-comings!
The Fabians, as well as Polly and Eleanor, were acquainted with Elizabeth Dalken, so, after a few words of greeting, they left the room to the new guest. Needless to add that Elizabeth found it necessary to remain in the room for four times the length of time the other four guests had occupied it. But they had not felt the need of touching up their lips, or relining their brows with a pencil, nor, indeed, to add a rosy hue to their healthy complexions. Elizabeth was about to send a last glance at the long mirror to see that her gown was faultless, when the bell summoned Mr. Dalken to his entrance door. This time the new comer called forth a chorus of merry welcomes from the group of guests in the living room, the archway of which offered a good view of the front door and the reception hall.
“Welcome, Mrs. Courtney! Glad you found it possible to get here before dinner is announced,” said Mr. Dalken, smiling upon his guest.
“Oh! I am glad, too! I thought you would be through the first course, as it is really half an hour past the time you said,” remarked Mrs. Courtney, releasing her small gloved hand from the unconscious hold of her host’s warm clasp. He had been appraising her beauty and appearance and forgot he held her hand.
“Come to the guestroom, Mrs. Courtney. My little girl Elizabeth is still there, and she will be delighted to meet you and render any little service you may need. You see, a confirmed bachelor as I am, fails to provide a maid or other necessities for ladies when they deign to dine at his rooms.” As he spoke, Mr. Dalken ushered Mrs. Courtney to the guestroom door. Then he paused and knocked upon the panel.
Elizabeth threw the door open, appearing as a radiant vision to her father, who said: “Ah, Tots! Here is a friend of mine. In the absence of a maid, I know you will be happy to assist in any way. Mrs. Courtney, my daughter Elizabeth; Totty, Mrs. Courtney.”
Without waiting to see if this meeting proved to be harmonious, Mr. Dalken closed the door upon Mrs. Courtney, and hurried to his valet-cook to say that the last guest expected had just arrived. Karl nodded his head silently, and proceeded to instruct the Japanese servant to turn up the lights in the diningroom.
At the closing of the guestroom door Elizabeth turned and purred sweetly upon the lady to whom she had just been introduced. She seemed over-eager to assist in removing the handsome evening wrap, and she stood hovering near while Mrs. Courtney stood before the dressing mirror to arrange her crushed hair. The girl babbled of many things, but with all her babbling she never lost sight of one detail of the lady’s costume and make-up, and of the possible valuation of the magnificent diamonds and pearls which adorned her person. The jewelry caused pangs of envy in Elizabeth’s soul, for she was mad
