“Julie! you’re mad! quite mad! What the devil can he do with our house?”
“He’ll make a fortune out of it, if he follows my advice; the first floor will be a fine Colonial tea room; the old furniture and our kitchen coppers will be just the thing; the second floor, a beauty parlor; and above, in your father’s workshop, a Turkish bath.”
And she could sit there calmly and say such things.
The Colonel came in early, poured out a volley of compliments which put her in good humor. She whispered to him.
“I’ve won; he’s getting used to it.”
The dinner was delayed until past ten, waiting for Maud and Tom who arrived with profuse apologies. Tom had been running all day from one shop to another trying to find a string of beads for Maud.
“Costly things, those glass beads,” said Tom. “Reminds me of the squaws up in the Reservation, when I was travelling with whiskey; they had them around the waist, neck, legs, through the ears and nose, and by God! they thought they were in full dress.”
When the dancing commenced, Julie was surrounded; she was the prettiest woman in the room, and a wonderful dancer. Floyd, in the next room among some loose fellows, was drinking heavily. The sedans were not ordered back; chauffeurs gossip among themselves, and after twelve, the guests were going “slumming.” Taxis were engaged—Masks and dominos were put on in the hall, one not knowing who the other was; Maud had done the pairing—she saw to it that husband and wife did not meet. Tom was to have Julie, Maud selected Floyd; he wouldn’t make love to her.
The masked figures in dominos slipped past the sentinel at the door; he was the devil who was sending souls to Hell that night.
Floyd wanted to fight everybody, then broke down and blubbered; Tom had a fellow feeling, put him in a chair, and told the haughty Swede to look after him. At the door he got mixed up in the crowd, found himself with someone in a taxi. A pair of soft lips met his, he shouted for joy.