"You"ll find me quite a fairy-G.o.dmother if you"re good. Besides," she added with calm audacity, "I wanted you to myself."
"Why?" he asked, amused and intrigued.
"Curiosity. My besetting sin. You"re a phenomenon."
"An ambiguous term. It may mean merely a freak."
"A new young man in Worthington," she informed him, "is a phenomenon, a social phenomenon. Of course he may be a freak, also," she added judicially.
"Newness is a charm that soon wears off."
"Then you"re going to settle down here?"
"Yes. I"ve joined the laboring cla.s.ses."
"What kind of labor?"
"Journalism. I"ve just started in, to-day."
"Really! Which paper?"
"The "Clarion.""
Her expressive face changed. "Oh," she said, a little blankly.
"You don"t like the "Clarion"?"
"I almost never see it. So I don"t know. And you"re going to begin at the bottom? That"s quite brave of you."
"No; I"m going to begin at the top. That"s braver. Anyway, it"s more reckless. I"ve bought the paper."
"Have you! I hadn"t heard of it."
"n.o.body"s heard of it yet. No outsider. You"re the first."
"How delightful!" She leaned closer and looked into his face with shining eyes. "Tell me more. What are you going to do with it?"
"Learn something about it, first."
"It"s rather yellow, isn"t it?"
"Putting it mildly, yes. That"s one of the things I want to change."
"Oh, I wish I owned a newspaper!"
"Do you? Why?"
"For the power of it. To say what you please and make thousands listen."
The pink in her cheeks deepened. "There"s nothing in the world like the thrill of that sense of power. It"s the one reason why I"d be almost willing to be a man."
"Perhaps you wouldn"t need to be. Couldn"t you exert the power without actually owning the newspaper?"
"How?"
"By exercising your potent influence upon the obliging proprietor," he suggested smiling.
There came a dancing light in her eyes. "Do you think I"d make a good G.o.ddess-Outside-the-Machine, to the "Daily Clarion"?"
"Charming! For a two-cent stamp--no, for a spray of your arbutus, I"ll sell you an editorial sphere of influence."
"Generous!" she cried. "What would my duties be?"
"To advise the editor and proprietor on all possible points," he laughed.
"And my privileges?"
"The right of a queen over a slave."
"We move fast," she said. Her fingers went to the cl.u.s.ter of delicate-hued bells in her bodice. But it was a false gesture. Esme Elliot was far too practiced in her chosen game to compromise herself to comment by allowing a man whom she had just met to display her favor in his coat.
"Am I to have my price?" His voice was eager now. She looked very lovely and childlike, with her head drooping, consideringly, above the flowers.
"Give me a little time," she said. "To undertake a partnership on five minutes" notice--that isn"t business, is it?"
"Nor is this--wholly," he said, quite low.
Esme straightened up. "I"m starved," she said lightly. "Are you not going to get me any supper?"
After his return she held the talk to more impersonal topics, advising him, with an adorable a.s.sumption of protectiveness, whom he was to meet and dance with, and what men were best worth his while. At parting, she gave him her hand.
"I will let you know," she said, "about the--the sphere of influence."
Hal danced several more numbers, with more politeness than enjoyment, then sought out his hostess to say good-night.
"I"ll see you to-morrow, then," she said: "and you shall tell me all your news."
"You"re awfully good to me, Lady Jeannette," said he gratefully.
"Without you I"d be a lost soul in this town."
"Most people are good to you, I fancy, Hal," said she, looking him over with approval. "As for being a lost soul, you don"t look it. In fact you look like a very well-found soul, indeed."
"It _is_ rather a cheerful world to live in," said Hal with apparent irrelevance.
"I hope they haven"t spoiled you," she said anxiously. "Are you vain, Hal? No: you don"t look it."
"What on earth should I be vain about? I"ve never done anything in the world."
"No? Yet you"ve improved. You"ve solidified. What have you been doing to yourself? Not falling in love?"