"Oh! Cordie? Was she in danger?" the lady exclaimed excitedly. "Where is she? I must go to her at once!"
"Here! Here I am, Auntie!" cried an excited and tremulous young voice.
The next moment little Cordie was enfolded in the arms of the Mystery Lady, Spirit of Christmas. And this lady was also Miss Diurno, the great virtuoso, and Cordie had called her Auntie!
At exactly a half hour before midnight on this most exciting Christmas Eve, four people sat at a round table in the Butler House. There was a distinguished looking lady, a young man with a b.u.mp on his head that made his hair stand up in a circle, a young lady of college age, and a girl in her teens. They were the Mystery Lady, Laurie Seymour, Lucile and Cordie.
Ice cream and cakes had been served; coffee was on the way. Laurie had finished explaining to Miss Diurno the ancient custom of some long forgotten land, that of answering, truthfully, three questions round.
"But Laurie, old dear," she protested, "why should I ask three questions of you? I already know far too much about you for my own good peace of mind; and as for Cordie, I fancy I know more about her than she knows about herself. I move we amend the custom a little. How would it do to allow our friend Lucile to ask all the questions--three around for each of us?"
"Oh! That would be darling!" exclaimed Lucile, fairly leaping from her chair. "You are all so very, very mysterious. There are so many, many things I"d like to know."
"Agreed!" exclaimed Laurie.
"I don"t mind," smiled Cordie.
"Good. That"s settled," said Miss Diurno, whose very greatness as a musician so affected Lucile that she found it very difficult to be her usual frank and friendly self. "Miss Lucile, you may have ten minutes for thinking up questions. Then, over our coffee, we will answer them. But remember, only three questions, three around."
"Only three," Lucile whispered to herself. "And there is so much I want to know! So much I just _must_ know!"
As she sat there, with her head all in a whirl, trying in vain to form the questions she wished to ask, one conviction was borne in upon her.
She had been the center of a plot, a very friendly plot, she was sure of that, and one that had been entered into the truest of Christmas spirit.
Cordie had known Miss Diurno all the time, in fact had only a short time ago called her Auntie. Miss Diurno had called Laurie by a familiar name--she had said "Old dear." She must have known him a long time. Then surely, to be a friend to such an one, he must be something rather great himself. And Cordie? She could scarcely be the simple little country girl she had thought her. Lucile"s mind was in such a daze that when the great pianist tapped her wrist watch and said: "Time"s up. Who"s the first?"
she had not formed one question.
"Age before beauty," laughed Cordie.
"Well, that"s me?" smiled Miss Diurno. "I am ready to be questioned."
"Why--er--" stammered Lucile. "Why did you, who are such a very great musician, undertake the humble task of a.s.sisting in a newspaper stunt?"
"Dear little girl," said Miss Diurno, a very mellow note of kindness creeping into her voice, "there are no great people in the world, and there are no truly humble tasks. All people who are truly great are also very humble. Tasks called humble by men may be truly great.
"But you have asked me a question. The reason I accepted that newspaper task was this: Marie Caruthers, my very best school chum and lifetime friend, went in for newspaper work. She was to have done the stunt, but just when the time came she was taken to the hospital. So I volunteered to take her place. And it was fun, heaps of it! Just imagine having the whole city looking for you and yet to be walking in and out among the people every day and not a single one of them recognizing you at all.
"But there were times enough when I got into plenty of trouble. That night in the department store was a scream!"
"Not so much of a scream for me," grumbled Laurie. "I gave you my pa.s.s-out. Then after knocking nearly all the skin off my hand going down the bundle chute, I had to sleep in the bas.e.m.e.nt, with corrugated paper for mattress and covers."
"Poor old Laurie!" smiled Miss Diurno. "But you deserved all you got.
Think of the role you have been playing! Think! Just think!" laughed the pianist.
"You see," she said, turning to Lucile to explain her presence in the store that night, "I had promised to be in the store six hours that day.
Then I allowed myself to become absorbed in some new music, and the first thing I knew it was getting late in the afternoon and my six hours not yet begun. Of course there was nothing for it but to remain in the store after closing hours. I hid in that long narrow place, wedged myself between book shelves and stands, then stuck there until the clock struck ten.
"I hadn"t realized that it would be hard to get out. When I did think of it I was terror-stricken. To think of remaining in that great vault of a store all night! Ugh! It gives me the shivers to think of it, even now. I haven"t the least notion what I would have done if I hadn"t come upon good old Laurie. He gave me his pa.s.s-out. You saw him do it. I knew this at the time, and I think you were a great little sport not to raise a big rumpus, especially after I took your coat."
"Why did you take my coat?" asked Lucile.
"I was afraid I couldn"t get out in that fur cape. And besides, I wanted just such a coat as yours for the next day"s stunt. So I traded with you.
That was fair enough, wasn"t it?"
"Traded? What do you mean?"
"Just what I said, just traded, and thanked you for the opportunity. And now, my dear, that makes three questions."
"Three," Lucile cried excitedly. "Why no, I"ve only asked one."
"Leave it to the crowd," beamed the great little lady.
"Three! Three!" agreed Laurie and Cordie with one voice.
"Why--why then I shall be obliged to take up someone else."
"Heads I"m next, tails I"m not," said Laurie, tossing a coin in air.
"Heads! I"m it. Do your worst."
"Who is Jefrey Farnsworth?" Lucile asked.
"See!" exclaimed Laurie. "See what I get into right away! Well, since it is Christmas Eve, I dare not tell a lie. I am forced to inform you that the only gentleman at this table was given that name at his birth."
"You--you are Jefrey Farnsworth?"
"Quite right."
"Be careful," warned Cordie, "You"ve used up two questions already."
Lucile was silent for a moment, then with a smile she said:
"Why did you take an a.s.sumed name, and who was Sam, and did he have anything to do with your selling books, and why were you afraid of him?"
"That business of hanging your question on a string is great stuff,"
laughed Laurie. "I recommend that you try it out on Cordie."
Then in a more sober tone, he said:
"You see it was this way: My publishers saw that my book was going to go across rather big and, since I was to benefit financially in its success, they thought it would be nice for me to have a part in making it a still greater--um--um, triumph. So they cooked up that idea about my speaking to ladies" clubs. I knew I couldn"t do it, but I knew also that Sam would make me do it if I stuck around. Everyone does what Sam wants them to do; that is, they do if they stay where he is.
"So I said to myself, "If I must help sell my books, I"ll do it in a straightforward way right over the counter. I"ll get a job." I did. And just so Sam couldn"t find me and drag me away, I came to this city and took an a.s.sumed name.
"Sam"s a sort of salesman for my publishers; that is, he sells books when he isn"t promoting authors. When I saw him in the store that time I just naturally had to disappear.
"I think, though," he added, "that even Sam is satisfied. We sold two thousand copies of "Blue Flames," you and Donnie and Rennie and all the rest.
"As for my knowing the lady of the hour," he smiled, touching the arm of Miss Diurno, "I"ve known her for some time. And on some future lovely day in June, when my income has come to be half as much as hers, we"re going to move into a certain lovely little vine covered cottage I know about and set up a nest all for ourselves."
"Good!" exclaimed Lucile. "Can"t I come to see you?"