Part 2 (1/2)

Money, as she had truthfully told Billy, meant nothing to her. Her aunt, living and giving generously, had furnished her with a background of comfortable, unostentatious well being, against which the rather vivid elements that went to make up her intimate social circle--she was a creature of intimates--stood out in alluring relief.

She had literally never wanted for anything. Her tastes, to be sure, were modest, but the wherewithal to gratify them had always been almost stultifyingly near at hand. The excitement and adventure of an income to which there was attached some uncertainty had never been hers, and she was too much her father's daughter to be interested in the playing of any game in which she could not lose. With all she possessed staked against her untried business ac.u.men she was for the first time in her life concerned with her financial situation, and quite honestly resentful of any interruption of her experiment. Her life was closely a.s.sociated with her mother's family. Her father's people had at no time entered into her scheme of living,--her uncle Elijah less than any member of it, and she found his post-obit intervention in her affairs embarra.s.sing in a dozen different connections.

The best friend she had in the world, before he had made the tactical error of asking her to marry him, was Richard Thornd.y.k.e. He was still, thanks to his immediate skill in trying to retrieve that error, a very good friend indeed. Nancy would normally have told him everything that happened to her in the exact order of its occurrence; but partly because she did not wish to exaggerate her eccentricity in eyes that looked upon her so kindly, and partly because she had the instinct to spare him the realization that there was no way in which he might come to her rescue in the event of disaster,--she did not inform him of her legacy. She knew that he was shrewdly calculating to stand behind her venture, morally and practically, and that the chief incentive of his encouragement and helpfulness was the hidden hope that through her experiment and its probable unfortunate termination she would learn to depend on _him_. Nancy was so sure of herself that this att.i.tude of d.i.c.k's roused her tenderness instead of her ire.

The two girls who were closest to her, Caroline Eustace and Betty Pope, had been actively enlisted in the service of Outside Inn and the ideals that it represented. Betty, a dimpling, dynamic little being, who took a sporting interest in any project that interested her, irrespective of its merits, was to be a.s.sociated with Nancy in the actual management of the restaurant. Caroline, who took herself more seriously, and was busy with a dozen enterprises that had to do with the welfare of the race, was concerned chiefly with the humanitarian side of the undertaking and willing to deflect to it only such energy as she felt to be essential to its scientific betterment. She was tentatively engaged to Billy Boynton,--for what reason no one--not even Billy--had been able to determine; since she systematically disregarded him in relation to all the interests and activities that went to make up her life.

The affairs of the Inn progressed rapidly. It was in the first week of May that Nancy and Billy had their memorable discussion of her situation. By the latter part of June, when she could be reasonably sure of a succession of propitious days and nights, for she had set her heart on balmy weather conditions, Nancy expected to have her formal opening,--a dinner which not only initiated her establishment, but submitted it to the approval of her own group of intimate friends, who were to be her guests on that occasion.

Meantime, the most extensive and discriminating preparations were going forward. Billy and d.i.c.k were present one afternoon by special request when Betty and Nancy were interviewing a contingent of waitresses.

”We've got three perfectly charming girls already,” Nancy said, ”that is, girls that look perfectly charming to me, but a man's point of view on a woman's looks is so different that I thought it would be a good plan to have you boys look over this lot. They are all very high-cla.s.s and competent girls. The Manning Agency doesn't send any other kind.”

”Trot 'em along,” Billy said; ”where are they anyway?”

”In the room in front.” They were in the smallest of the nest of attic rooms that Nancy planned to make her winter quarters. ”Michael receives them, and shows them in here one by one.”

”You like Michael then?” d.i.c.k asked. ”I always said his talents were hidden at our place. He has a soul above the job of handy man on a Long Island farm.”

”He's certainly a handy man here,” Nancy said; ”I couldn't live without him.”

”The lucky dog,” Billy said, with a side glance at d.i.c.k.

”You see,” Betty explained, ”the girl comes in, and we ask her questions. Then if I don't like her I take my pencil from behind my ear, and rap against my palm with it. If Nancy doesn't like her she says, 'You're losing a hairpin, Betty.' If we like her we rub our hands together.”

”It's a good system,” Billy said, ”but I don't see why Nancy doesn't take her pencil from behind her ear, or why you don't say to her--”

”I wouldn't put a pencil behind my ear,” Nancy said scathingly.

”And she never loses a hairpin,” Betty cut in. ”If I approve this system of signals I don't see what you have to complain of. Nancy couldn't get a pencil behind her ear even if she wanted to. It's only a criminal ear like mine that accommodates a pencil.”

”Speaking of ears,” d.i.c.k said, looking at his watch, ”let's get on with the beauty show. I have to take my mother to see _Boris_ to-night, and she has an odd notion of being on time.”

”Aw right,” Betty said. ”Here's Michael. Bring in the first one immediately, Michael.”

”Sure an' I will that, Miss Pope.” The old family servitor of the Thornd.y.k.es pulled a deliberate lid over a twinkling left eye by way of acknowledging the presence of his young master. ”There's quite a display of thim this time.”

The first applicant, guided thus by Michael, appeared on the threshold and stood for a moment framed in the low doorway. Seeing two gentlemen present she carefully arranged her expression to meet that contingency. She was a blonde girl with ma.s.ses of doubtfully tinted hair and no chin, but her eyes were very blue and matched a chain of turquoise beads about her throat, and she radiated a peculiar vitality.

Betty took her pencil from behind her ear.

”You're losing a hair--” Nancy began, but d.i.c.k and Billy exchanged glances and began rubbing their hands together energetically and enthusiastically.

”I'm sorry,” Nancy said crisply, ”but you're a little too tall for our purpose.”

”And too blonde,” Betty added with a bland dismissing smile. ”We're looking for a special type of girl.”

”I understood you were looking for a waitress,” the girl said pertly, with her eyes on Billy.

”I was,” Billy answered, ”but I'm not now. My--my wife won't let me.”