“Surest thing you know,” replied the other promptly. “I’ve promised six or eight times, haven’t I? But he won’t, I guess. You see, since mother died, dad likes to have me around at Christmas and times like that. Still, he might. We’ll ask him to-night, eh?”
“All right. Isn’t this the tunnel? We’d better get our coats on, hadn’t we? Don’t you let me get lost when we get in there!”
CHAPTER III
THE MAN IN THE BROWN OVERCOAT
Arnold’s house was only a five-minute ride from the station, and Toby, to whom the city was unfamiliar and vastly entertaining, wished it had been farther. His enjoyment of the sights, however, was somewhat dampened by the seeming recklessness of the taxi-cab driver, and more than once he started to his feet to be ready to meet death standing. It kept Arnold quite busy pulling him back to the seat. Arnold’s Aunt Alice, who, since his mother’s death, had kept house for Mr. Deering, was the only one to welcome them, aside from the servants, for Arnold’s father did not return from his down town office until the middle of the afternoon. Toby was conducted by Arnold and a man-servant with a striped waistcoat and a maid-servant with apron and cap and Aunt Alice’s spaniel, San Toy, into an elevator, past two floors, along a hall and at last into a great wonderful room that quite took his breath away. It was all very exciting and confusing and jolly, and San Toy, entering into the spirit of the occasion, barked so hard that he lifted his front paws from the floor! And after the servants had deposited the bags and coats and gone away, Arnold pulled Toby through a door into his own room adjoining and they looked from the windows over a vast expanse of trees and lawn and winding paths and shimmering lakes which Arnold said was Central Park and which Toby accepted as such and vowed that he could never tire of looking at it. After luncheon they went for a walk there, but soon hurried back to the house to meet Mr. Deering who had telephoned that he would be home an hour earlier than usual.
Arnold’s father was so nice to Toby and seemed so glad to have him there that Toby forgot much of the embarrassment that had affected him on his arrival and actually found himself sitting down in a big velvet-cushioned chair without, for once, wondering whether he would damage it! Mr. Deering was rather stout, with grizzled hair and a most carefully trimmed mustache. Toby fancied that he could be very crisp and even stern in his office, but at home he was jovial and kindly and one might easily have concluded that for the time at least he had nothing in the world to do but invent and provide amusement for the two eager-eyed boys just out of school. The big limousine car was summoned, and every one, including Aunt Alice and San Toy, piled into it, and were whisked away northward over smooth pavements, along a blue-gray river, over a great bridge and into the country. Long before they turned back the sun had gone down behind sullen clouds and when they reached the town again the lights were twinkling down the long streets. And then, to Arnold’s loudly expressed delight, when they got out of the car at the house little flecks of snow were falling and the evening had grown quite cold. From that time until dinner was ready Arnold made frequent trips to the windows and always returned with the cheering news that “it was still at it.”
A wonderful dinner that! Toby, viewing so many forks and knives and spoons and plates with dire misgiving, felt extremely uneasy for the first few minutes for fear he might use the wrong utensil. But Aunt Alice came to his rescue. “It doesn’t matter, Toby,” she said, “which fork or spoon you use. I don’t think Arnold ever gets them just right himself.” And Mr. Deering laughingly suggested that Toby might follow the example of the man who, finding himself left with two unused spoons, saved the situation by dropping them in his pocket! After dinner the car rolled up again and they went off to the theater. To Arnold’s joy the play was the one he had decided he wanted most to see, and Mr. Deering gravely explained the coincidence by mental telepathy and got Toby very interested and astonished before the latter discovered that it was just a joke. But perhaps Toby didn’t enjoy that play! It was absolutely beautiful and astounding and thrilling from the rise of the first curtain to the lamentable fall of the last, and, although to prolong the gayety they stopped at a gorgeous restaurant and ate things, Toby couldn’t remember afterwards what he had had, or much of anything except the play. He would have stayed awake half the rest of the night—it was already well past midnight when they reached home again—talking it over with Arnold if that unfeeling brute hadn’t fallen to sleep almost immediately.
They awoke in the morning, frightfully and deliciously late, to find the world carpeted with a good inch of snow. From the windows of Arnold’s room on the front of the house the scene was like fairyland. Or so, at least, Toby declared. Every branch of every tree and shrub in the Park was frosted with snow and what had been grass yesterday was this morning an unsullied expanse of white. But to Arnold’s disgust the sun was out, shining brilliantly if frostily, and already the streets were almost bare. Toby, though, declined to be down-hearted, reminding his chum that it would probably snow again to-morrow, and Arnold, on that understanding, concluded that life still held a faint promise of happiness and decided to get dressed and have some breakfast.