“You little cur, you little—” he blustered, drawing his face down so that he could glare into Pollock’s eyes.
“Yes,” said Pollock, calmly; “I have been called little before; so that your statement lacks novelty. As I was saying,”—and he leaned against the stair-rail with the tips of the fingers of his gloved hand thrust into his trousers pocket, and holding the other glove in his right hand,—“I haven’t time now to go into the matter further, but I am always at your service. It will give me great pleasure to make your excuses to Miss Merriam, or to any other friends you may be leaving behind you—owing to an illness that made it necessary for you to leave—suddenly. Now you will oblige me by continuing on down to the coat room—unattended. There are probably some gentlemen below there that I should very much dislike having to explain matters to.”
Balcomb leaped lightly forward as though to make a rush for the door of the assembly-room.
“Try that again,” said Pollock, seizing him by the collar, and throwing him back, “and I’ll drop you over the banister.”
“You damned little—”
“You have said that before, Mr. Balcomb, without the damn; but the addition isn’t important. Run along now, like a good boy. I advise you to turn around and go down in a becoming manner,—that’s the idea!”
Some men had entered the lower hall from the smoking-room, and Balcomb greeted them cheerily as he turned and went below as though to join them. Pollock stood above waiting for Balcomb to reappear, and as he waited he resumed his glove and buttoned it with care. The waltz was nearly over, but he stood there leaning against the stair-rail and beating time to the music with his foot, until he saw Balcomb come out of the coat room clad for the street. When Balcomb looked up, Pollock waved his hand to him graciously, and turned and went back into the hall.
“Miss Merriam,” he said, bowing before Olive, “I very much regret to present Mr. Balcomb’s compliments and to say that he has been unexpectedly called away—pressing business—and he asked me to do myself the honor to see that you don’t get lost. This is our dance.”
CHAPTER XVI
IN OLIVE’S KITCHEN
Olive went from the kitchen to the front door and received Zelda, all aglow from a rapid walk through the cold crisp November air.