CHAPTER VI
THE NEW YELLOW GOWN
In spite of the opportunity presented, a whole week passed by without asign of the handsome young author. Judy’s suggestion that Irene mighthelp in the office had been flatly ignored, but she was still hopingthat Emily Grimshaw would change her mind. In the meantime Ireneoccupied herself with Dale Meredith’s books and Pauline’s piano.
Little by little Judy became accustomed to her employer’seccentricities, and meeting unusual people was an everyday occurrence.Jasper Crosby, of all the people she met, was the only one who seemedto resent her presence in the office. He came in, bringing an old shoebox stuffed with more poetry by the author of _Golden Girl_. The boxwas poked full of tiny holes. Judy’s curiosity got the better of herand she asked the reason.
“So the verses can breathe, simpleton,” he replied. Then he turned toEmily Grimshaw, “What’s the idea of this upstart in your office?Getting old, eh? Work too much for you?”
“If you bring in any more of this stuff,” the agent retorted, “it willbe too much for both of us. This girl is clever. She’s the only personI ever met who can revise your sister’s poetry as well as I can.”
Now Jasper Crosby’s hawk eyes were fixed on Judy. He studied her for amoment while she met his gaze unflinchingly.
“Huh!” he grunted. “Watch your step, now. It takes queer people torevise queer poetry, and, mind you, this stuff has got to sell. Bringit out in book form. Jazz it up! Make it popular, and the public willeat it. That so, cutie?” He gave Judy’s cheek a playful pinch as heturned to leave.
“The nerve of him!” she expostulated. “He’s the most repulsive person Ihave ever seen.”
“Quite so,” the agent agreed. “Quite so and, strange to say, his sisterwas once the most charming. You can see it yet in some of her verses. Iwould be more enthusiastic about this book of her collected poems if Ihad any assurance that the royalties would go to her.”
“Why won’t they?” Judy asked.
“Because he tells me that her health is failing. Years ago I waswitness to her will, and the entire estate goes to that scoundrel,Jasper Crosby.”
As Judy busied herself typing and correcting the poetry this thoughtkept recurring to her mind. Nevertheless, the work itself fascinatedher. She conceived the idea of grouping the verses with a sub-title foreach group. Miss Grimshaw beamed her pleasure.
“A fine idea, Miss Bolton, a really constructive idea. It will takeconsiderable time but don’t try to hurry. Better keep the manuscriptson your own desk and have the thing done right.”
“Could I take them home?” Judy ventured the question and immediatelywished she had not asked it.
The agent’s eyes snapped. “Indeed not! Don’t you realize, young lady,that original manuscripts are sometimes very valuable? This poet iswell known, and plenty of people would be glad to buy them or, what’sworse, steal them.”
Judy had not considered this. It had simply occurred to her that Irenemight help arrange the poems. She liked to hear her read in her low,musical voice. She would make the poems live and catch hidden meaningsbetween the lines. Judy tried to explain all this to her employer. Shefelt that she must excuse her own thoughtlessness.
“Well, if you are so anxious to have your friend help you, bring herhere,” the old lady said with a sudden show of generosity.
Irene was thrilled when Judy told her.
“I feel as if this is a real occasion and I ought to dress up for it,”she declared. “A package came this morning from Farringdon, and I’vebeen suspecting all the time that it’s a new dress. My birthday isn’tfor another week, but do you think Dad would mind if I opened mypresent now?”
Without waiting for a reply, Irene ran to get the box her father hadlabeled, _For My Little Girl’s Seventeenth Birthday_. When she pulledoff the wrappings the folds of a shimmering yellow satin dress fellinto her hands. She stood up, holding it for Judy and Pauline to admire.
“Gorgeous!” Judy exclaimed. “Look at the puffed sleeves and highwaistline! Why, it’s the very newest thing!”
“But it’s a party dress,” Pauline objected. “Really, it’s not at allthe thing to wear in Emily Grimshaw’s office.”
“For once,” Irene announced, “I’m going to wear exactly what I want towear whether it’s proper or not.”
Judy smiled at her independence. She had often felt that way herself.After all, what difference did it make? And Irene was breathtakinglylovely in the new dress. She stood before the long mirror in Pauline’sroom while Judy pinned her hair in soft, bright curls at the back ofher neck. Then she walked back a little distance, surveying the effect.
“You’re beautiful!” Judy exclaimed. “That dress fits in with yourcomplexion as though you were part of a picture. You’re prettier thanLois or Honey or Lorraine. Don’t you think so, Pauline?”
She admitted it.
“Prettier than Lorraine?” Irene repeated wonderingly. Lorraine Lee hadalways considered herself the prettiest girl in Farringdon and dressedaccordingly, while Irene’s faded blues and browns had never flatteredher. But in the new yellow dress she was transformed. There was a tinyjacket to go with it, also of yellow but more delicately golden,matching slippers and, in the very bottom of the box, a gold locket.Irene, delighting in her own recklessness, wore them all the nextmorning.
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The Yellow Phantom Page 7