Eleanor clapped Polly on the back with approval, and both girls then put their heads together and romanced about the great match they would bring about.
A few days after this conversation, the much-desired package came by European post. It was the book of imported samples which had been ordered for Mr. Dalken’s inspection before he would place an order for the materials. The work at Mrs. Courtney’s residence had been delayed because the youthful decorators said they wished to look over the magnificent materials from Paris. When they were sure of Mr. Dalken’s visit to the Shops that morning, they also insisted upon Mrs. Courtney coming in to look over the materials.
The two plotters could hardly keep from hugging each other when they knew that both friends were coming, and the opportunity of having them meet and fall in love with each other was given at last.
But they did not allow for Fate.
There happened to be a socialistic parade of demonstration against work, or some such complaint, that noon; and just as the parade reached that section of Fifth Avenue where the Ashby Shops were located, the police held up all vehicular traffic. All cars were diverted from the Avenue to side streets, but those unfortunate cars caught just at the point of crossing the street, had to back and wait until those behind had backed out of the congestion, before they could slowly make their way out.
Mrs. Courtney’s chauffeur had just attempted to cross the Avenue in order to turn in front of the Ashby Shops, when the signal came and all traffic, up or down or cross-town, was held up until the parade should have passed. Mrs. Courtney was furious.
“Back out and we’ll go around a side street to get to my destination,” spoke she to the chauffeur.
The man glanced in the mirror to see if the way behind was open, and finding no car directly in his pathway, he began to quickly back out. In the moment he took his eye from the reflector, another car shot up close to Mrs. Courtney’s automobile; thus her driver backed suddenly into the newly arrived car behind.
There was a smash of lamps, a grinding of fenders and the interlocking of back and front bumpers. The passengers were rudely thrown from the luxurious cushioned seats, and Mrs. Courtney had her new imported hat crushed out of shape.
The two chauffeurs jumped down and began to blame each other for the accident; Mr. Dalken managed to pick himself up from the floor of his limousine and step stiffly out to learn who was to blame. Mrs. Courtney was sure she was in the right; and when the handsome gentleman came up to her car to tell her she had a stupid chauffeur, for he should have looked well before backing so recklessly into the congested tangle of cars behind him, she resented his charge.