“Morrison Grey.”
FOOD FOR THOUGHT
By Harriet Lummis Smith
Forbes had bribed his way past the gateman and stood on the station platform at the foot of the stairs, his manner drearily resigned. He had come to meet a girl and he did not fancy the job.
“Hang it, man,” he had protested, when Keith Chandler, his partner, summoned to New York by a telegram, had deputed Forbes to meet the four o’clock train, and incidentally, his sister-in-law. “I shouldn’t know the girl.”
“I’ve never seen her myself,” his friend reminded him. “She was in Japan when Agnes and I were married, studying decorative art. Cabled she’d come home for the wedding if we’d postpone it three months.” Chandler indulged himself in a smile of reminiscent scorn.
“If Mrs. Chandler would accompany me,” said Forbes, brightening. He really liked his partner’s wife, partly because her devotion to her husband made unnecessary those defenses he was accustomed to erect about himself in the society of women under sixty. Chandler’s answer shattered his hopes.
“If Agnes could leave the baby it wouldn’t be necessary to trouble you. But the little thing’s under the weather. Nothing serious, but you couldn’t bribe Agnes out of the house till the child’s herself again. And you won’t have any trouble picking Diantha out of the crowd. She looks like Agnes,” Chandler ended complacently. “There won’t be two of that kind on any one train, my boy.”
Forbes, immaculate in his gray business suit, frowningly scanned the crowd hurrying past, the rabble of men with suit-cases on ahead, the women following more deliberately. Heavens, what a swarm of women! Forbes saw himself addressing the wrong girl and snubbed for his pains.
Then all in a moment a figure took on distinction, a girl splendidly tall, who carried herself as if proud of every inch, who walked the station platform in a fashion suggesting that she could dance all night, and go horseback riding in the morning. Yes, she was like Mrs. Chandler, only larger, handsomer, more stunning in a word. Hat in hand he approached her.