“Never. And Mr. Black is responsible for the first inspiration about the lighting. He has taken such an interest. Did you know he got all these Raemakers cartoons down at the end for me? They just came to-day—he had to wire and wire to have them here in time. They’re so splendid—and so terrible—I’ve put them all by themselves.”
Red strode down the room. Nobody joined him while he stared with intense concentration at the merciless arraignment of a merciless foe which was in each Raemakers stroke. He came back with a fresh fire in his eye.
“What can I say that will sell those? People will turn away in holy horror, and say the Dutchman lies. He hasn’t told half the truth—it can’t be told. I want that one last on the line myself. I can’t hang it, but I can put it away—and get it out, now and then, when my pity slackens. Oh, lord—how long! Two years and more those people have been bleeding, and still we stand on the outside and look on, like gamins at a curbstone fight! Shame on us!” And Red ran his hand through his thick, coppery locks again and again, till they stood on end above his frowning brows.
“Hush, dear! Here come the first people—and you are one of the receiving hosts. You mustn’t look so savage. Smooth down your hair—and smile again!” His wife spoke warningly.
“All right—I’ll try. Where’s the minister? I thought he was going to stand by to-night? He has a better grip on his feelings than I have. He keeps his hair where it belongs. I’m too Irish for that.”
“I’m here.” And Black came up to shake hands, ahead of the guests who were alighting from a big car outside. “I was after just one more poster—and got it out of the express office at the last minute. No, I’m not going to show it yet. I think it comes later.”
“Now we’re all six here—I’m so glad,” whispered Nan Lockhart. “Do you know, somehow, I was never so proud in my life of being one of a receiving group. Nothing ever seemed so worth while. Mr. Black, it’s fine of you to give so much time to this.”
“Fine! It’s just an escape valve for me, Miss Lockhart. Besides, what could be better worth doing than this, just now?”
“Nothing that I can think of. But it took Jane Ray to conceive it. Isn’t she looking beautifully distinguished to-night, in that perfectly ripping smoke-blue gown, and her hair so shiningly smooth and close?”
“Ripping?” repeated Black, his eyes following Miss Ray as she went forward to welcome her first guests. “It’s very plain—and unobtrusive. I shouldn’t have noticed it. She does look distinguished, as you say, but it isn’t the dress, is it?”