Author: Sewell Ford
Category: Humorous
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CHAPTER VIII
BREAKING ODD WITH MYRA
Next time I'll pay attention. For Vee must have mentioned how thisCousin Myra of hers was comin'. Yes, I remember now. Said somethingabout her being an old-maid niece of Auntie's who was due to drift infrom Bermuda or California or somewhere, and that she might stay over afew days.
But it was no solemn warning as it had a right to be. So, by the time Igets this sudden hunch the other night about runnin' up for a littleunlisted chat with Vee, I must have forgotten. Not one of my regularevenin's, you understand, nor any special date: I was just takin' achance. And when the maid tells me Miss Vee and Auntie have gone out foran after-dinner stroll on the Drive, I chucks my new felt-rim straw onthe hall table and remarks careless that, as Auntie ain't likely to doany Marathon before bedtime, I guess I'll wait.
Helma grins. "Mees Burr, she in bookrary, yes," says she.
"Oh!" says I. "The cousin? That'll be all the better. Good chance forme to be gettin' in right with her. Tell her what to expect, Helma."
That's the sort of social plunger I am--regular drawing-room daredevil,facin' all comers, passin' out the improvised stuff to strangers, andbackin' myself strong for any common indoor event. That is, I was untilabout 8:13 that evenin'. Then I got in range of them quick-firin' dartthrowers belongin' to Miss Myra Burr.
Say, there's some people that shouldn't be allowed at large withoutblinders on. Myra's one. Her eyes are the stabby kind, worse than longhatpins. Honest, after one glance I felt like I was bein' held up on afork.
"Ouch!" says I, under my breath. But she must have heard.
"I beg pardon," says she. "Did you say something?"
"Side remark to my elbow," says I. "Must have caught the decreasing as Icame through. Excuse it."
"Oh!" says she. "You are the young man who dances such constantattendance on Verona, are you?"
"That's a swell way of puttin' it," says I. "And I suppose you'rethe--er--"
"I am Miss Burr," says she. "Verona is my cousin."
"Well, well!" says I. "Think of that!"
"Please don't reflect on it too hard," says she, "if you find the factunpleasant."
"Why--er--" I begins, "I only meant--ah-- Don't let me crash in on yourreadin', though."
Her thin lips flatten into a straight line--the best imitation of a smileshe can work up, I expect--and she turns down a leaf in her magazine.Then she shifts sudden to another chair, where she has me under theelectrolier, facin' her, and I knows that I'm let in for something. Icould almost hear the clerk callin', "Hats off in the courtroom."
Odd, ain't it, how you can get sensations like that just from a look ortwo? And with dimmers on them lamps of hers Myra wouldn't have scaredanybody. Course, her nose does have sort of a thin edge to it, and hernarrow mouth and pointed chin sort of hints at a barbed-wire disposition;but nothing real dangerous.
Still, Myra ain't one you'd snuggle up to casual, or expect to do anyhand-holdin' with. She ain't costumed for the part, for one thing. No,hardly. Her idea of an evenin' gown seems to be to kick off herridin'-boots and pin on a skirt. She still sticks to the whiteneck-stock; and, the way her hair is parted in the middle and drawn backtight over her ears, she's all fixed to weather a gale. Yes, Myra hasall the points of a plain, common-sense female party just taggin'thirty-five good-by.
Not that I puts any of them comments on the record, or works 'em in asrepartee. Nothing like that. I may look foolish, but there are timeswhen I know enough not to rock the boat. Besides, this was Myra's turnat the bat; and, believe me, she's no bush-leaguer.
"H-m-m-m!" says she, givin' me the up-and-down inventory. "No wonderyou're called Torchy. One seldom sees hair quite so vivid."
"I know," says I. "No use tryin' to play it for old rose, is there? AllI'm touchy about is havin' it called red."
"For goodness' sake!" says she. "What shade would you call it?"
"Why," says I, "I think it sounds more refined to speak of it as pinkplus."
But Myra seems to be josh-proof.
"That, I presume," says she, "is a specimen of what Aunt Cornelia refersto as your unquenchable impertinence."
"Oh!" says I. "If you've been gettin' Auntie's opinion of me--"
"I have," says Myra; "and, as a near relative of Verona's, I trust you'llpardon me if I seem a bit critical on my own part."
"Don't mind me at all," says I. "You don't like the way I talk or thecolor of my hair. Go on."
She ain't one to be led anywhere, though.
"I understand," says Myra, "that you come here two or three evenings aweek."
"That's about the schedule," says I.
"And just why?" demands Myra.
"It's more or less of a secret," says I; "but there's always a chance,you know, of my havin' a cozy little fam'ly chat like this. And whenthat don't happen--well, then I can talk with Vee."
Miss Burr's mouth puckers until it looks like a slit in a lemon.
"To be perfectly frank," says she, "I think it unutterably silly of AuntCornelia to allow it."
"I can see where you're goin' to be a great help," says I. "Stayin' sometime, are you?"
"That depends," says Myra--and the way she snaps at me is almost assaultwith intent to maim. "I suppose," she goes on, "that you and Verona arequite as insufferable as young people usually are. Tell me; do you sitin corners and giggle?"
"Not as a rule," says I, "but it looks like we would."
"At me, I presume?" says Myra. "Very well; I accept the challenge."
And say, she's no prune-fed pacifist, Cousin Myra. Course, she don'tswing the hammer quite so open when the folks get back, for Vee ain't oneyou can walk on with hobnails and get away with it. I guess Myrasuspicioned that. But, when it comes to sly jabs and spicy little sideremarks shot in casual, Miss Burr lives up to her last name.
"Oh, yes!" says she, when they tries to introduce us reg'lar. "We havebecome well acquainted--very."
"How nice!" says Vee, sort of innocent.
"I am glad you think so," says Myra.
And for the rest of the evenin' she confines her remarks to Auntie,cuttin' loose with the sarcasm at every openin' and now and then tossin'an explosive gas bomb at us over Auntie's shoulder. Nothing anyone couldgrab up and hurl back at her, you know. It's all shootin' from ambush.Some keen tongue she has, take it from me. At 9:30 I backed out underfire, leavin' Vee with her ears pinked up and a smolderin' glow in themgray eyes of hers.
If it hadn't been for puttin' myself in the quitter class I'd laid offSunday night. But I just couldn't do that. So we stands another siege.No use tryin' to describe it. Cousin Myra's tactics are too sleuthy.Just one jab after another, with them darnin'-needle eyes addin' the finetouches.
But this time Vee only smiles back at her and never answers once. Why,even Auntie takes up a couple of Myra's little slams and debates thepoint with her enthusiastic. Nothing from Vee, though. I don'tunderstand it a bit until it's all over, and Vee follows me out into thehall and helps me find my hat. Quite careless, she shuts the door behindus.
"Whew!" says I. "Some grouch, Cousin Myra! What is it--shootin' painsin the disposition?"
Vee snickers. "Did you mind very much, Torchy?" she asks.
"Me?" says I. "Oh, I was brought up on roasts--never knew much else.But, I must say, I was gettin' a bit hot on your account."
"Don't," says she. "You see, I know all about Cousin Myra--why she'slike that, I mean."
"On a diet of mixed pickles and sour milk, is she?" says I--"or what?"
No, it wasn't anything so simple as that. It was a case of a romancethat got ditched. Seems that Myra'd been engaged once. No idle seashoresnap runnin' from Fourth of July to Labor Day, but a long-winded,year-to-year affair. The party of the second part was one Hinckley, ayoung highbrow who knew so much that it took the college faculty a longtime to discover that he was worth more'n an assistant bartender andalmost as much as a fourth-rate movie act
or. Then, too, Myra's fatherhad something lingerin' the matter with him, and wouldn't let anybodymanage him but her. Hymen hobbled by both hind feet, as you might say.
They was keepin' at it well, though, each bearin' up patient and waitin'for the happy day, when Myra's younger sister came home fromboardin'-school and begun her campaign by practisin' on the Professor,just because he happened to be handy. She was a sweet young thing withcheek dimples and a trilly laugh, and--well, you can guess the rest.Only, when little sister has made a complete hash of things, she skipsmerrily off and marries a prominent 'varsity quarter-back who has wateron the knee and the promise of a nine-dollar-a-week job in uncle's stoveworks.
Course, Myra really should have made it up when Professor Hinckleyfinally does come crabbin' around with another ring and a sad-eyed alibi.But she wouldn't--not her. Besides, father had begun takin' mud bathsand experimentin' with climates.
So for eight or ten years she went driftin' around here and there,battlin' with room clerks and head waiters, hirin' and firin' nurses,packin' trunks every month or so, and generally enjoyin' the life of ahealth hunter, with her punctured romance trailin' further and furtherbehind her. Even after father had his final spell and the last doctor'sbill was paid off, Myra kept on knockin' around, claimin' there wouldn'tbe any fun makin' a home just for herself. Why not? Her income was bigenough, so she didn't have to worry about rates. All she asked was aroom and bath somewhere, and when the season changed she moved on. She'dgot so she could tell you the bad points about every high-priced resorthotel from Catalina to Bar Harbor, and she knew so many veranda bores bysight that she could never shake all of 'em for more'n a day or so at atime.
"No wonder she's grown waspy, living a life like that," says Vee.
"Ain't there any way of our duckin' this continuous stingfest, though?"says I.
"There is something I'd like to try," says Vee, "if you'll promise tohelp."
"If it's a plan to put anything over on Miss Burr," says I, "you cancount on me."
"Suppose it sounds silly?" says Vee.
"Comin' from you," says I, "it couldn't."
"Blarney!" says Vee. "But you've said you'd help, so listen; we'll givea Myra day."
"A which?" says I.
"Come here while I whisper," says she.
I expect that's why it don't sound more'n half nutty, too, delivered thatway. For with Vee's chin on my shoulder, and some of that silkystraw-colored hair brushin' my face, and a slim, smooth arm hooked chummythrough one of mine--well, say; she could make a tabulated bank statementlisten like one of Grantland Rice's baseball lyrics. Do I fall for herproposition? It's almost a jump.
"All right," says I. "Not that I can figure how it's goin' to work out,but if that's your idea of throwin' the switch on her, I'm right behindyou. Just give me the proper cues, that's all."
"Wait until I hear from my telegram," says Vee. "I'll let you know."
I didn't get the word until Tuesday afternoon, when she 'phones down.
"He's coming," says Vee. "Isn't he the dear, though? So we'll make itto-morrow. Everything you can possibly think of, remember."
As a starter I'd spotted the elevator-boy up at Auntie's. Andrew Zink ishis full name, and he's a straight-haired smoke from the West Indies.We'd exchanged a few confidential comments on Miss Burr, and I'ddiscovered she was just about as popular with him as she was with therest of us.
"But for to-morrow, Andy," says I, slippin' him a whole half dollar,"we're goin' to forget it. See? It'll be, 'Oh, yes, Miss Burr.' and'Certainly, Miss Burr,' all day long, not omitting the little posieyou're goin' to offer her first thing' in the mornin'."
Andy tucks away the half and grins.
"Very well, sir," says he. "It'll be quite a lark, sir."
Next I fixed it up with Mike, the doorman. He'd had a little run-in withMyra about not gettin' a taxi quite quick enough for her, so I had todouble the ante and explain how this was a scheme Vee was workin'.
"Sure!" says he. "Anything Miss Verona says goes with me. I'll do mybest."
The hard part came, though, when I has to invite Myra to this littledinner-party I'm supposed to be givin'. Course, it's Auntie's blow, butshe's been primed by Vee to insist that I do the honors. First off, Iwas goin' to run up durin' lunch hour and pass it to Cousin Myra inperson; but about eleven o'clock I decides it would be safer to use the'phone.
"Oh!" says she. "I am to be utilized as a chaperon, am I?"
"Couldn't think of anybody who'd do it better," says I; "but, as a matterof fact, that ain't the idea. Auntie's going, you see, and I thoughtmaybe I could induce you to come along, too."
"But I detest hotel dinners," says she.
"Ah, come on! Be a sport!" says I. "Lemme show you what I can pick fromthe menu. For one item, there'll be _tripe a la mode de Caen_."
"Then I'll come," says Myra. "But how on earth, young man, did you knowthat--"
"Just wait!" says I. "You got a lot of guessin' besides that. I'll callfor you at seven sharp."
So I spent most of my noon hour rustlin' through florist shops to get theparticular kind of red roses I'd been tipped off to find. I located 'em,though, and bought up the whole stock, sendin' part to the house andluggin' the rest to the head waiter. While I was at the hotel, too, Igot next to the orchestra leader and gave him the names of some pieces hewas to spring durin' dinner.
After all, though, it was Auntie who turned the cleverest trick. She'dgot real enthusiastic by Wednesday mornin', and what does she do but dashdown to the Maison Felice, pick out a two-hundred-dollar evenin' gown,and have it sent up with a fitter. Vee says Myra simply wouldn't openthe box for half an hour; but then she softened up, and after she'd beenbuckled into this pink creation with the rosebud shoulder straps sheconsents to take one squint at the glass. Then it develops that Myra isstill human. From that to allowin' a hairdresser to be called in wasonly a step, which explains the whole miracle of how Myra blossomed out.
And say, for a late bloomin' it was a wonder. Honest, when I gets myfirst glimpse of her standin' under the hall light with Hilda holdin' heropera wrap, I lets out a gurgle. Had I wandered into the wrongapartment? Was I disturbin' some leadin' lady just goin' on for thefirst act? No, there was Cousin Myra's thin nose and pointed chin. But,with her hair loosened up and her cheeks tinted a bit from excitement,she looks like a different party. Almost stunnin', you know.
Vee nudges me to quit the gawp act.
"Gosh!" I whispers. "Who'd have thought it?"
"S-s-s-sh!" says Vee. "We don't want her to suspect a thing."
I don't know whether she did or not, but when we're towed into thedinin'-room she spots the table decorations right off, and whirls on me.
"Here's plotting, young man," says she. "But if you will tell me how youdiscovered I was so fond of Louis Philippe roses I'll forgive you."
"Looks like I was a good guesser, don't it?" says I.
"You're good at something, anyway," says Cousin Myra; "but--but why fiveplaces?"
She's noticed the extra plate and is glancin' around inquirin'.
"Oh!" says I, offhand, "odd numbers for luck, so I took a chance onaskin' in an old friend of yours. He ought to be in the cloak-room bynow. I'll go fetch him."
You should have seen the look on her face, too, when I shows up withProfessor Hinckley. He's a perfectly good highbrow, understand--pointedface whiskers, shaggy forelock, wide black ribbon on his eyeglasses, andall--sort of a mild-eyed, modest appearin' gent, but kind ofdistinguished-lookin', at that. And you'd never guess how nervous hereally was.
"Well, Myra?"' says he, beamin' friendly through his glasses.
"Lester!" she gasps.
They didn't exactly go to a clinch, but they shook hands so long thewaiter had to slide the caviar canape between 'em, and even after we got'em to sit down they couldn't seem to break off gazin' at each other. Asa fond reunion it was a success from the first tap of the bell. Theywent to it strong.
As for the Profess., he seemed to be knocked clear off his pins. Honest,I don't believe he knew whether he was eatin' dinner or steerin' anairship. I caught him once tryin' to butter an olive with a bread stick,and he sopped up a pink cocktail without even lookin' at it. The samething happened to the one Vee pushed over near his absent-minded hand.And the deeper he got into the dinner the livelier grew the twinkle inthem mild eyes of his.
Cousin Myra, too, was mellowin' fast. The first time she let loose witha laugh, I near fell off my chair; but before long I got used to it.Next thing I knew, she was smilin' across at me real roguish, and beatin'time with her finger-tips to the music.
"Ah, ha!" says she. "More of your tricks. I thought the 'Nocturne' wasjust an accident, but now the 'Blue Danube'--that is your work, youngman. Or is it Verona's! Come now, what are you up to, you two overthere?"
"Ask Torchy," says Vee, shakin' her head.
"Don't you believe her," says I. "She's the one that planned most ofthis."
"But what is it?" demands Cousin Myra. "What do you call it?"
"Why," says I, grinnin' more or less foolish, "we're just givin' a Myraday, that's all."
"Splendid!" says she. "And the fact that I don't in the least deserve itmakes it seem all the nicer. I suppose your being here, Lester, is partof the plot, too?"
"I hope so," says the Professor.
"Do you know," says Myra, liftin' her glass and glancin' kittenish overthe brim at him, "I mean to try to live up to this day. I don't mindsaying, though, that for a while it's going to be an awful strain."
"Anyway," says I to Vee, after it's all over and the Professor hasfinally said good night, "she's got a good start."
"Yes," says Vee, "and perhaps Lester will help some. I didn't quite lookfor that. It's been fun, though, hasn't it?"
"For an indoor sport," says I, "givin' a Myra day is a lot merrier thanit sounds. It beats bein' good to yourself nine up and six to go."