CHAPTER VII
The Butterfly
One bad feature of having passed one's earlier days in the remotefastnesses of New England, in the era before the automobile and thetelephone came to complicate life, is that one's ideas of womanhood arelikely to be definite and rooted.
Part of Anthony's boyhood had been spent in a Massachusetts hamlet ninemiles from the nearest railroad, and at forty-five he had not fullyrecovered from some of the effects.
Even after decades of New York, Anthony's notion of woman embodied aprim creature, rather given to talking of her sorrows, able to faintprettily on occasion, and, unless born to the coarser form life, alittle fatigued after dusting the parlor.
She was a creature, lovely and delicate, who played croquet as theextreme of exercise and never even watched more violent sports. She didnot golf; she did not swim or shoot. She was, in a word, one hundred percent. feminine--and about the most scandalous thing that could besuggested about her was that she savored, even one per cent., of themasculine.
So, while another type of citizen, possessed of all the facts, mighthave thrown up his hands in glee and laughed merrily at the sight ofJohnson Boller sitting there on the floor, Anthony Fry merely stoodfrozen.
Minute by minute, he was understanding more fully just what manner ofindividual his insistence had inducted into his chaste home. She was afemale in sex only! She was no timid little thing, swooning and weepingat her terrible predicament; she was the sort that dons trousers andgoes to prize-fights--but what was infinitely worse, if one judged bythat resounding whack, she was herself a prize-fighter!
Anthony, you see, was a mild enthusiast about the fighting game; when hesaw a genuine short-arm jab he recognized it instantly.
And going further--for he could not help doing that--what was to be theend of the mess? Last night, could his addled head but have permittedit, she would have gone away gladly as a boy. Now that the truth wasout, she was making no effort to escape; far worse, just at this minute,she seemed bent on continuing the fistic battle, for she stood andfairly glared down at Johnson Boller.
Ten seconds had passed since the resounding thump which proclaimed thatheavy gentleman's meeting with the floor, and still he had not risen.Five of them he spent in staring blankly up at David; three he spent ingathering a scowl; the final two found his plump countenance turning toan angry red--and Johnson Boller was struggling to his feet, breathinghard.
"Say, kid----" he began gustily and threateningly.
Anthony Fry came to life and, with a bound, was between them.
"Let this thing stop right here, Johnson!" he said ringingly. "No moreof it--do you understand? No more!"
"No more, your eye!" panted Johnson Boller. "Get out of the way before Iknock you out!"
"Johnson, I refuse to permit you----" Anthony cried, and with both leanhands pushed back on Mr. Boller's heaving chest.
"Look here, Anthony," said Johnson Boller, with plainly forced calm;"when a dirty little guttersnipe like that hits me a foul blow,something happens!"
"There wasn't anything foul about that blow," David said calmly. "Thatwas a nice clean jab, and nothing like the one you gave me withoutwarning and while I was sitting down."
"That's enough, David!" Anthony said.
"He started it," David submitted.
Anthony pushed on. Johnson Boller was against the bureau now--had beenthere for some seconds, indeed--and his expression was changing. YoungDavid, to be sure, had rendered him slightly ridiculous for a bit, butgetting mad about it was not likely to help in eliminating David.
"It's all right, Anthony," Mr. Boller said with a sudden grim smile."Don't shove me through the wall. I won't hurt the kid."
"You'll not lay hands on him?"
"No."
"That's a promise?"
"Why, of course it is!" Johnson Boller said heartily.
Anthony Fry heaved a great, shaky sigh and stood back. It had nothappened that time. David's wig was still in place, and David was stillDavid. Yet, all other things apart, what if David's wig had slipped?What if, during the thirty or forty years he still had to live, Anthonymust have cut out Johnson Boller's really stimulating friendship, orhave listened, day in and day out, night in and night out, at everymeeting and on every sly occasion, to a recital of what had happenedthis morning?
The strain was really growing too much. Johnson Boller would have to getout of here now and--although why was Johnson Boller smiling so sweetly?
"Quite a little boxer, kid, aren't you?" he was asking in the mostfriendly fashion.
"I've boxed with my brother," David said.
"Made a study of it, eh?"
"So-so," said David.
They were going to have a little conversation now, which gave Anthony aminute or two for thought. First he would get Johnson Boller out of hereon the plea that it was time to dress; then he would have David'sman-clothes brought, and, in one way or another, he would persuade Davidto don them. It could be worked, the calmer Anthony assured himself, andthen--
"Well, if you're inclined that way, there's nothing like keeping inshape for it," Mr. Boller was saying as he fumbled at the knot of hisbathrobe. "I'll show you my back muscles and then show you how----"
"_Johnson!_" Anthony exploded.
"Well, what in the name of common sense is the matter with you?" Mr.Boller cried.
"I--that is to say, David--your confounded back muscles don't interesthim, Johnson. Not one particle! Do they, David?"
"Not a bit!" David said faintly from the corner toward which he wasbacking.
"So let this physical-training rot rest!" cried the master of theapartment. "Go and dress and----"
"My dear fellow," Johnson Boller broke in mildly, "you are, so far asphysical training goes, a nice old lady. But for Heaven's sake, ifyou're going to keep this boy, don't try to bring him up along similarlines. Go look over your bean-pole anatomy, and you'll need no furtherargument. This kid is young and supple, and fit to be whacked into areal man and--say, get out of here for fifteen minutes, Anthony, willyou?"
"Why?"
"I'm going to strip this youngster and look him over, and then start himon the right track," Mr. Boller said with an unconscious andaffectionate glance at his fist.
"Mr. Fry!" gasped David.
"Well, has this mollycoddle stuff in the air infected you, too?" JohnsonBoller asked tartly. "Don't you want to be a man?"
"No!"
Johnson Boller laughed scornfully.
"Anthony, I think your presence is a bad influence," he said. "Will youplease get out of here? Shed that bathrobe, kid, and let's see ifthere's anything to you but pulp!"
"No!" said David.
"Well, I say yes, and I say it for your own good!" Johnson Boller saidfirmly as he advanced. "I'm going to make a man of you!"
"You can't!" said David thinly.
"I can, boy! Believe me, I can!" Mr. Boller smiled. "Get out of thatrobe!"
He was advancing. Ten seconds more and he would lay violent hands onDavid, and Anthony Fry, with a wrench that racked his very soul, hurledback every emotion and contrived a really quiet smile. More, even; whenhe spoke it was in the tone of one merely amused and slightly tried inpatience.
"You mean well, old chap," he said, laying a firm hand on JohnsonBoller's arm, "but you're a crank on this gymnastic business. Don't beabsurd, please--you're fairly frightening the boy. Later on, perhaps,when he is more accustomed to you and the surroundings, and all thatsort of thing, you may take him in hand. Just now it is well past seveno'clock, and I'm hungry. Come to your senses and get dressed, Johnson,if only as a favor."
His eye was firm and steady; and having faced it for a moment, JohnsonBoller shrugged his shoulders again. And yet he had not inflicted evenone bruise on David, but pressing the matter now was likely to do nomore than excite Anthony, and there was still time.
As head of his particular woolen concern, Johnson Boller could wellspend the whole morning away from the office, so that it gained hi
m thechance of hammering the boy to a jelly and ousting him from JohnsonBoller's temporary home. Mr. Boller, therefore, sighed a little indisappointment as he said:
"If you insist. I'd rather put the kid through his first paces naked, ofcourse, because then one----"
"Yes, some other time, doubtless," Anthony said hastily. "Get along now,Johnson and dress."
They were alone again, Anthony and David.
David's color was decidedly higher, and his eyes burned with a mixtureof fright and indignation, while the bathrobe was clutched defensivelyabout his throat. Anthony himself had lost his pallor, and on his high,thoughtful forehead a glistening glaze had come into being. He dabbed itaway with his handkerchief and glanced fearfully toward the door.
"This is--er--most embarrassing!" he breathed.
"It is for me!" said the apparent David. "What's the matter with thatman?"
"He has his own ideas about most things," Anthony said with a shudder."However, he is out of the way now and--er--the next thing is to get youout, also."
"Well?"
"I am sorry, Miss Mary, truly sorry if it displeases you," Anthony wenton carefully; "but there is really only one way for you to leave quitesafely. This house, you see, is rather different from other houses. Itwould be possible to send for your--ah--proper clothing and have youleave as the doubtless prepossessing young woman that you are; but to dothat you would have to pass through the office downstairs, and theelevator men would know that you came from this apartment."
"Ah?" said Mary, without expression.
"And inasmuch as every one here knows that I'm not married, and that Ihave no female relatives or even friends of your age, the--ah--verypainful inference----"
"I see," said Mary, as he paused and flushed. "Go on."
She was not exactly helpful, sitting there and staring at Anthony withher great, deep-blue eyes. They were very beautiful eyes, doubtless, butthey caused Anthony's mind to stagger as he labored on.
"There are the back stairs, of course, but to pass them it would benecessary to meet servants and employees of the house in half a dozenplaces; I believe there is even a gate-keeper of some sort belowand--oh, the back stairs would not be at all possible!" said Anthony ashe pushed the button for Wilkins. "I deplore the necessity of sendingyou out as you came, Miss Mary, but--er--Wilkins! Mr. Prentiss'sclothes, if you please."
"What of them, sir?" Wilkins asked blankly.
"Bring them here."
"But I can't do that, Mr. Fry."
"Why not?" Anthony asked crisply.
"You told me to dispose of them last night, sir. I've thrown them out!"
Anthony caught his breath.
"Where have you thrown them?"
"Out with the other refuse of the day, sir--on the dumbwaiter."
"Then--well, never mind. That is all, Wilkins," said Anthony Fry, hisvoice thickening somewhat.
The invaluable one retired, with a last disapproving glance at thefrowsy David, and Anthony's forehead wrinkled. David, the while, sathunched on the bed and seemed altogether unaffected by the disaster.
"Well, you'll have to make the best of some of my wardrobe, I fear," themaster of the apartment smiled.
"_Yours?_" Mary cried.
"They will be a trifle large, but you'll have to hitch them up in spotsand in in other spots and make the best of it," Anthony pursued firmly."It's too bad, of course, but it is unavoidable. Those togs of yourswere decidedly shabby and I had meant, while supposing you to be a boy,that to-day we'd have some shopping done for you. Just a moment,please."
He left the room with a nervous stride altogether unlike his usualdignified glide. He turned, wildly almost, into the nearest closet inthe corridor and switched on the light. There was the dark gray suit,which was too loose even for Anthony, and the dark brown suit, whichhappened to be too long for him; but the old blue suit--ah, that was theone!
Very earnestly, Anthony tried to assure himself that it had been bothfar too tight and far too short in every detail, at its last wearing;almost pathetically he sought to tell himself that David in the old bluesuit would look quite like a young man wearing his own clothes--and withthe old blue suit over his arm and a pair of shoes in the other hand, hetip-toed back to David.
"This is the next best thing to the clothes you wore, and I'm sureyou'll find them quite all right," said he.
"Me get into those?" Mary murmured with the same strange apathy.
"Most certainly, and I've thought out the rest of it--there while I waslocating this suit," Anthony pursued, with what was meant for areassuring smile and making his jerky way to the little desk in thecorner of the guest chamber. "I shall give you a note, David, addressedto a mythical person and unsealed."
"What for?"
"So that, on the remote chance of any one in this house questioning yourpresence, you can show that you're merely delivering a grip--yourown--for me!" smiled Fry, as he scribbled. "Rather clever, that, eh?"
"Horribly clever!" Mary said enigmatically.
Two long minutes the pen scratched on, while Mary watched his back withthe same inscrutable, almost unwinking stare. Then Anthony turned with asmile.
"This is to Mr. J. Thurston Phillips at the Astor Hotel," said he. "If Iwere you, I'd carry it rather conspicuously; it's quite possible thatthe clerk downstairs may want to know who you are. And, also if I wereyou, I'd explain that you're the son of an old friend of mine and astranger in the city and that I put you up overnight--something likethat. You understand?"
"I hear you say it," said Mary.
Anthony's countenance darkened a little as he rose.
"Then please pay strict attention to what I say!" he said. "I am doingmy best to undo an absurd piece of business. I'm quite ready to admitthat it is just that, but the blame isn't quite all my own. You shouldhave told me the truth. Now, when you're dressed and ready--simplyleave! Just walk down the corridor to the door, please, open it and go.There's no need of risking another inspection by Mr. Boller; you lookdecidedly less like a boy in daylight, believe me. Is everything clear?"
"I suppose it is," sighed Mary, with a significant glance at the door.
Anthony allowed himself a single sigh of relief.
"This, then, is our parting," he said, with a faint, Kindly smile. "Iask your pardon and the best thing I can wish you is a safe return home.Good-by."
"Au revoir," Mary said, with another glance at the door.
She seemed to have accepted the situation, blue suit and all; she was asensible little thing, Anthony reflected almost comfortably, as hehurried back to his own room and his bath.
And now he would rush through the dressing process himself, as he hadnever rushed before, and by some means he would manage to keep JohnsonBoller in his own room and out of sight of the corridor, until thetelltale closing of the door assured him that one of his life's mostpainful episodes was over.
It had not been entirely without humor. Later on--much later on--Anthonyassured himself that he would have many a good laugh in private over theyouth upon whom he had tried to thrust opportunity--laughs that would bethe richer and more enjoyable because he alone possessed the key to thejoke. That would be after the shock had passed, of course; enough forthe present to sigh again and again and think gloriously that eachsecond brought David that much nearer to leaving.
Yet David had not departed, even when Anthony had given the last twitchto his morning coat and the last dab to his thin, rather prim hair. Helistened, as he entered the living-room, and then risked a quiet tripacross and looked down the corridor; David's door was closed tightlyand--yes, even though it caused Anthony's hair to rise and his cheek toflush angrily, David was singing a faint little snatch of song in aperfectly indubitable soprano!
The little fool should have had more sense; Anthony listened, starteddown to halt the song and turned back as quickly, to head for JohnsonBoller's room and engage that citizen in conversation, for that was theimportant thing just now. He turned the knob and would have enteredrather bre
ezily, but that Johnson Boller, fully groomed and ready forthe day, walked out suddenly and resistlessly and looked around with:
"Where's the kid?"
"Er--dressing," said Anthony.
"Where's breakfast?" Mr. Boller pursued.
Inspiration came swiftly to Anthony.
"I breakfast in here as a rule," said he, "but--just this morning, youknow--I thought we might go below. It's not so quiet down there andthere's more to see, Johnson, and----"
Johnson Boller sprawled comfortably in a chair near the corridor andgrinned.
"Nix!" said he, with a shake of the head. "We'll eat right here; I'm alldone with that noisy stuff, Anthony, and this is more homelike. Andthen, another thing," he added more seriously, "I want to cross-examinethat little shaver in private, as it were. This idea of settling him inthe house without knowing anything about him is downright crazy. I wantto ask him about that French doll and----."
He stopped. The window at the end of the corridor was open and the freshmorning breeze was blowing lightly past him. Also, he sniffed.
"Who's using perfume around here?" asked Johnson Boller.
"What?"
"Strong--rank!" said Anthony's guest. "Don't you smell it?"
"I smell nothing," Anthony said, as an expensive pungence tickled hisnostrils suddenly, "but I'll see----"
He started for the corridor and stopped short. David had left his roomand was coming down--and still, it did not sound like David! David, inAnthony's shoes, six or seven sizes too large, should have been thumpingclumsily; these footsteps were firm little pats, with the sharp rap of aheel once or twice on the polished floor beside the runner. More still,with no regard at all for caution, David, using his soprano voice, washumming the same little tune.
And just as pure premonition had sent Anthony's skin to crawling, justas his scalp was prickling and his eyes narrowing angrily, David waswith them.
By way of raiment, David, the grip emptied, wore the daintiest tailoredwalking-gown, short of skirt and displaying silken stockings and patentleathers, with high, slender French heels. David's slim, round,girl-throat suggested the faintest powdering; David's abundant hair wasdressed bewitchingly, with little reddish-blond curls straying downabout the temples--and had one spent a morning on Fifth Avenue it wouldreally have been rather difficult to find a more thoroughly attractiveor better gowned girl than David!
Yet, in spite of her charms, Johnson Boller, who had bouncedinstinctively from his chair, could do no more than stare at David withthe general expression of a fish new-snatched from water. Second aftersecond he gaped before his thick:
"Who's that?"
"That's David!" Anthony said weakly.
"The--the boy was a girl?"
"It would seem so."
"Then----" Johnson Boller stopped, teeth shutting suddenly. He stared atthe young woman and he stared at Anthony Fry, who smiled faintly andhopelessly. His face grew red and then purple and then black.
"Hah!" he cried savagely. "I've got it! I've got it, you--you----"
"Hey?" said Anthony.
"I see it now!" Mr. Boller vociferated surprisingly. "You framed thisthing up on _me_!"
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