"Ammy is due in a few minutes," said the old gentleman, pulling out a wealthy gold watch, "and here I am sitting here! I am so overcome, you must excuse me. The five:three. I was to send 111 someone."
"Can I not go, sir?" Antony asked feverishly, "just get me somebody's trap--anybody's--and let me go to get him and save you any further trouble."
"Why, that is very kind, I am sure," said Gertrude's father, "I will call the first one I see."
There was a scurrying down the narrow stair and as the old gentleman turned to go, a neat and very pretty housemaid rushed towards him.
"O sir, excuse me, sir," she cried, blushing delightfully, "but Miss Gertrude said I was to ask you for five dollars, sir, to pay for the C. O. D, at the station, sir. She wants it immediately. If some one is going down, sir, could he take me?"
With a practiced hand the father of the bride reached into his pocket, lifted from it a thick, green bundle, and placed a bill in the pink trembling hand held out for it.
"This gentleman here will take you down directly, Mary--Delia--er, my dear," he said kindly, "I don't recall his name at the moment, but we are all very informal to-day, and I'm sure he won't object.-- Here, boy, call me a carriage--anybody's! I'll see you later, 112 my dear boy, and I am much obliged."
"Don't mention it, sir," Antony replied, and leaped nimbly into a gorgeous station-waggon, taking his seat beside the driver. The housemaid, displaying, as she mounted to the back seat, remarkable hosiery and footgear for one in her humble walk of life, followed quickly, and forth they drove.
The blood was tingling in his fingertips, his head reeled with a strange mixture of terror and delight--the intoxication of the artist in dangerous adventure--but Antony's voice was level as he inquired of the driver beside him: