What Will People Say? - The Original Classic Edition. Hughes Rupert

and about--the bison and deer, the fumbling polar bears. The lions and tigers were already pacing their eternal

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       sentry-posts; the hyenas and wolves were peering about for the loophole that must be found next time; the quizzical little raccoons

       were bustling to and fro, putting forth grotesque little hands.

       Forbes crossed bridges and followed winding paths that led him leagues from city life, though the cliffs of the big hotels and apartment-houses were visible wherever he turned. On one arch he paused to watch a cavalcade of pupils from a riding-school. He was surprised to see them out so early. Other single equestrians came along the bridle-path, rising and falling from their park saddles in the park manner.

       There were few women riding, and few of these rode sidewise. He was used to seeing women astride in the West; but here they did

       not wear divided skirts and sombreros; they wore smart derby hats, long-tailed coats, riding-trousers, and puttees.

       Coming toward him he noted what he supposed to be[Pg 64] an elderly man and his son. They were dressed almost exactly alike. As they approached, he saw that the son was a daughter. The breeze blew back the skirts of her coat, and as far as garb was concerned she was as much a man as the white-mustached cavalier alongside.

       He clutched the rail hard. The girl was Persis, different, yet the same. There was a quaintly attractive boyishness about her now, an unsuspected athleticism. Her hair was gathered under her hat, her throat was clasped by a white stock. Her cutaway coat was buttoned tightly over a manly bosom, and her waist was not waspish. Her legs were strong, and gripped the horse well.

       He could hardly believe that the lusciously beautiful siren he had seen with bare shoulders and bosom, and clinging skirts, the night

       before, was this trimly buttoned-up youth in breeches and boots. Could an orchid and a hollyhock be one and the same?

       He had felt sure that at this hour, and on till noon, she would be stretched out in a stupor of slumber under a silken coverlet in a dark room.

       The night had been almost ended when he had left her heavy-eyed with fatigue, yet the morning was hardly begun when he saw her

       here with face as bright and heart as brisk as if she had fallen asleep at sunset.

       Her eyes were turned full upon him when she looked up before she passed under the bridge.

       A salvo of greeting leaped into Forbes' eyes, and his hand went to his hat; but before he could lift it she had lowered her eyes. She vanished from sight beneath him, without recognition.

       He hurried to the other side of the bridge, to catch her glance when she turned her head. But she did not look. She was talking to

       the elderly man at her side. She was singing out heartily:

       "Wake up, old boy, I'll beat you to the next policeman."

       The old boy put spurs to his horse, and they dwindled at a gallop.[Pg 65]

       Forbes watched her till the trees at the turn in the bridle-path quenched her from his sight. The light went out of his sky with her. She had looked at him and not remembered him! He would have known it if she had meant to snub him. He had not even that

       distinction. He was merely one of the starers always gazing at her.

       He had held her in his arms. But then so many men had held her in their arms when she danced. Even his daring had not impressed her memory. So many men must have pressed her too daringly. It was part of the routine of her life, to rebuff men who made advances to her.

       Forbes left the bridge and left the park, humbled to nausea. His cheeks were so scarlet that the conductor on the Seventh Avenue car stared at him. He could not bear to walk back to his hotel. When he reached there he went to his room, dejected. There was nothing in the town to interest him. New York was as cold and heartless as report had made it.

       He realized that he was very tired. He lay down on his bed. A mercy of sleep blotted out his woes. It seemed to be only a moment later, but it was high noon when his telephone woke him. He thought it an alarm-clock, and sat up bewildered to find himself where he was and with all his clothes on.

       From the telephone, when he reached it, came the voice of Ten Eyck.

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       "That you, Forbesy? Did I get you out of bed? Sorry! I have an invitation for you. You made a hell of a hit with Miss Cabot last

       night. I know it, because Little Willie is disgusted with you. Winifred says she is thinking of marrying you herself, and Mrs. Neff

       says you can be her third husband, if you will. Meanwhile, they want you to have tea with us somewhere, and more dancings. Wish I could ask you to take breakfast with me at the Club, but I was booked up before I met you.[Pg 66] Save to-morrow for me though, eh? I'll call for you this afternoon about four, eh? Right-o! 'By!"

       Forbes wanted to ask a dozen questions about what Persis had said, but a click showed that Ten Eyck had hung up his receiver. Forbes clung to the wall to keep the building from falling on him.

       She had not forgotten him! She had been impressed by him! It was small wonder that she had not known him this morning. Had he not thought her a young man at first? Besides, she had had only a glance of him, and he was not dressed as she had seen him first.

       The main thing was that she wanted to see him again, she wanted to dance with him again. She had betrayed such a liking for him that the miserable runt of a Little Willie had been jealous.

       What a splendid city New York was! How hospitable, how ready to welcome the worthy stranger to her splendid privileges![Pg 67]

       CHAPTER XII

       FORBES had planned to visit the Army and Navy Club, in which he held a membership, but now he preferred to lunch alone--yet not alone, for he was entertaining a guest.

       The head waiter could not see her when Forbes presented himself at the door of the Knickerbocker cafe. And when he pulled out the little table to admit Forbes to a seat on the long wall-divan that encircles the room, the head waiter thought that only Forbes squeezed through and sat down. The procession of servitors brought one plate, one napkin, silver for one, ice and water for one, brown bread and toast for one; and the waiter heard but one portion ordered from the hors d'oeuvres varies, from the plat du jour in the roulante, and from the patisseries.

       But Forbes had a guest. She sat on the seat beside him and nibbled fascinatingly at the banquet he ordered for her.

       The vivacious throng that crowds this corner room at noon paid Forbes little attention. Many would have paid him more had they understood that the ghost of Persis Cabot was nestling at his elbow, and conspiring with him to devise a still newer thing than the dancing tea or the tango luncheon--a before-breakfast one-step. In fancy he was now thridding the maze between the tables with her.

       But he paid for only one luncheon. The bill, however, shocked him into a realization that he could not long afford such fodder as he

       had been buying for himself. He decided to get his savings deposited somewhere before they had slipped through his fingers.[Pg 68]

       On his way to New York he had asked advice on the important question of a bank, and had been recommended to an institution of fabulous strength. It did not pay interest on its deposits, but neither did it quiver when panics rocked the country and shook down other walls.

       When Forbes computed the annual interest on his savings, the sum was almost negligible. But the thought of losing the principal in

       a bank-wreck was appalling. He chose safety for the hundred per cent. rather than a risky interest of four. Especially as he had heard

       that Wall Street was in the depths of the blues, and New York in a doldrums of uncertainty.

       To Forbes, indeed, nearly everybody looked as if he had just got money from home and expected more, and the talk of hard times was ludicrous in view of these opulent mobs and these shop-windows like glimpses of Golconda. But perhaps this was but the last flare of a sunset before nightfall.

       In any case, he was likely to have his funds tempted away