"That's all right; you come home with me to-night," Mabel reassured her. And turning to the stenographer, told her to ask Mr. Braun to come to her flat for dinner. She dictated letters to half a dozen different people telling of the new plans and asking them to come to the League rooms on the morrow. It was nearly seven when she and Yetta and the two stenographers left the office.
All the last hour, Harry Klein had stood impatiently in the dark doorway, waiting for Yetta to pass. As the last of the ebb tide flowed by him, he went across the street and told his followers that there was nothing doing. For two more nights he marshalled them, but Yetta did not pass that way any more.
His luck had changed. It was not long before his retainers noticed it. In due time a new president was elected to the James B. O'Rourke Democratic Club. And so he passes out of this story.
CHAPTER XI MABEL'S FLAT
Yetta had no clear idea of what fairy-land should be like, but when she passed through the door of Mabel's flat, it seemed that she had entered it.
She had never dreamed of such beautiful rooms. Even a more sophisticated observer would have been impressed with Miss Mead's arrangements. Interior decoration was her profession, and she was more proud of her work in this humble apartment than of anything she had done elsewhere. Most of her commissions were for people who were foolishly rich, who were more anxious to have their rooms appear expensive than beautiful. There was nothing in the apartment simply because it had been high-priced. Nothing pleased Eleanor more than to tell how little it had all cost. She could talk by the hour on the absolute lack of relationship between pure æsthetics and money. One of her lectures was on this subject, and she used the apartment as a demonstration room. But to Yetta the forty dollar flat seemed a miracle of luxury.
The room which impressed her most with its appearance of opulence was the white enamelled, large-mirrored bath-room.
Eleanor herself was a vision of loveliness. Yetta had seen very few women with real blonde hair, and those few had not known how to wear it. There was a book she had seen as a child with a picture in it like Eleanor, but she had not thought that such women walked the earth. And her dress! It seemed to the little East-sider fit raiment for a queen. She could not imagine how it could shine so unless it was woven of spun gold. But it was not so costly as she imagined. The only real extravagance which Eleanor permitted herself in her quest for the Beautiful was the purchase of early daffodils.