They had reached the dark corner at the far end of the porch, illumined only by the subdued light which came from a half-hidden window, and now they sat down. Sam fished in the little armpit pocket of his dress coat and dragged forth two tiny samples of pulp and two tiny samples of paper.
"These two," he stated, "were samples sent me to-day by my kid brother."
Mr. Stevens took the samples and examined them with interest. He felt their texture. He twisted them and crumpled them and bent them backward and forward and tore them. Then, the light at this window being too weak, he went to one of the broad windows where a stronger stream of light came out, and examined them anew. Sam, still sitting in his chair, nodded in satisfied approval. He liked that kind of inspection. Mr. Stevens brought the samples back.
"They are excellent, so far as I am able to judge," he announced.
"These are samples made by yourselves from marsh products?"
"Yes," Sam a.s.sured him. "Made from marsh-grown material by our new process, which is much cheaper than the wood-pulp process. Do you know Mr. Creamer of the Eureka Paper Mills?"
"Not very well. I"ve met him once or twice at dinners, but I"m not intimately acquainted with him. I hear, however, that he is an authority."
"Here"s a letter from him, and some samples made by him under our process," said Sam with secret satisfaction. "I just received them this morning." From the same pocket he took the letter without its envelope, and with it handed over the two other small samples.
"That"s a fine showing," Stevens commented when he had examined doc.u.ment and samples and brought them back, and he sat down, edging about so that he and Sam sat side by side but facing each other, as in a tete-a-tete chair. "Now tell me all about it."
On and on went the music in the ball-room, on went the shuffling of feet, the swish of garments, the gay talk and laughter of the young people; and on and on talked Mr. Stevens and Mr. Turner, until one familiar strain of music penetrated into Sam"s inner consciousness; the _Home Sweet Home_ waltz!
"By George!" he exclaimed, jumping up. "That can"t be the last."
"Sounds like it," commented Mr. Stevens, also rising. "It is the last if they make up programs as they did in my young days. I don"t remember of many dances where the _Home Sweet Home_ waltz didn"t end it up. It"s late enough anyhow. It"s eleven-thirty."
"Then I have done it again!" said Sam ruefully. "I had the number ten dance with your daughter."
Mr. Stevens closed his eyes to laugh.
"You certainly have put your foot in it," he admitted. "Oh, well, Jo"s sensible," he added with a father"s fond ignorance. "She"ll understand."
"That"s what I"m afraid of," replied Mr. Turner ruefully. "You"ll have to intercede for me. Explain to her about it and soften the case as much as you can. Frankly, Mr. Stevens, I"d be tremendously cut up to be on the outs with Miss Josephine."
"There are shoals of young men who feel that way about it, Sam," said Mr. Stevens with large and commendable pride. "However, I am glad that you have added yourself to the list," and he gazed after Sam with considerable approbation, as that young man hurried away to display his abjectness to the young lady in question.
Three times, on the arm of Princeman, she whirled past the open doorway where Sam stood, but somehow or other he found it impossible to catch her eye. The dance ended when she was on the other side of the room, and immediately, with the last strains, the floor was in confusion.
Sam tried desperately to hurry across to where she was, but he lost her in the crowd. He did not see her again until all of the Meadow Brook folk, including himself, were seated in the carryalls, at which time the Hollis Creek folk were at the edge of the porte-cochere and both parties were exchanging a gabbling pandemonium of good-bys. He saw her then, standing back among the crowd, and shouting her adieus as vociferously as any of them. He caught her eye and she nodded to him as pleasantly as to anybody, which was really worse than if she had refused to acknowledge him at all!
CHAPTER VIII
NOT SAM"S FAULT THIS TIME
No, Miss Stevens was sorry that she could not go walking with him that morning, which was the morning after the dance. She was very polite about it, too; almost too polite. Her voice over the telephone was as suave and as limpid as could possibly be, but there was a sort of metallic glitter behind it, as it were.
No, she could not see him that afternoon either. She had made a series of engagements, in fact, covering the entire day. Also, she regretted to say, upon further solicitation, that she had made engagements covering the entire following day.
No, she was not piqued about his last night"s forgetfulness; by no means; certainly not; how absurd!
She quite understood. He had been talking business with her father, and naturally such a trifling detail as a dance with frivolous young people would not occur to him.
Frivolous young people! This was the exact point of the conversation at which Sam, with his ear glued to the receiver of the telephone and no necessity for concealing the concerned expression on his countenance, thought, in more or less of a panic, that he must really be getting old, which was a good joke, inasmuch as n.o.body ever took him to be over twenty-five. Heretofore his boyish appearance had worried him because it rather stood in the way of business, but now he began to fear that he was losing it; for he was nearing thirty!
Well, pleading was of no avail. He had to give it up. Reluctantly he went out and took a solitary walk, then came in and religiously played his two hours of tennis with Miss Westlake and Miss Hastings and Tilloughby. Was he not on vacation, and must he not enjoy himself?
Just before he went in to luncheon, however, there was a telephone call for him.
Miss Stevens was perplexed to know what divine intuition had told him her obsession for maraschino chocolates. She had one in her fingers at the very moment she was telephoning, and she was going to pop it into her mouth while he talked. Being a mere man he could not realize how delightfully refreshing was a maraschino chocolate.
Sam had a lively picture of that dainty confection between the tips of her dainty fingers; he could see the white hand and the graceful wrist, and then he could see those exquisitely curved red lips parting with a flash of white teeth to receive the delicacy; and he had an impulse to climb through the telephone.
A little bird had told him about her preference, he stated. He had that little bird regularly in his employ to find out other preferences.
"I had those sent just to show you that I am not altogether absorbed in business," he went on; "that I can think of other things. Have another chocolate."
"I am," she laughingly said; "but I"m not going to eat them all. I"m going to save one or two for you."
"Good," returned Sam in huge delight and relief. "I"ll come over to get them any time you say."
"All right," she gaily agreed. "As I told you this morning, I have an engagement for this afternoon, but if you"ll come over after luncheon I"ll try to find a half-hour or so for you anyhow."
Great blotches of perspiration sprang out on his forehead.
"Jinks!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "You know, right after you telephoned me this morning I made an engagement with Mr. Blackrock and Mr. Cuthbert and Mr. Westlake, to go over some proposed incorporation papers."
"Oh, by all means, then, keep your engagement," she told him, and he could feel the instant frigidity which returned to her tone. A zero-like wave seemed to come right through the transmitter of the telephone and chill the perspiration of his brow into a cold trickle.
"No, I"ll see if I can not set that engagement off for a couple of hours," he hastily informed her.
"By no means," she protested, more frigidly than before. "Come to think of it, I don"t believe I"d have time anyhow. In fact, I"m sure that I would not. Mr. Hollis is calling me now. Good-by."
"Wait a minute," he called desperately into the telephone, but it was dead, and there is nothing in this world so dead as the telephone from which connection has been suddenly shut off.
Sam strode into the dining-room and went straight over to Blackrock"s table.
"I find I have some pressing business right after luncheon," he said, bending over that gentleman"s chair. "I can"t possibly meet you at two o"clock. Will four do you?"
"Why, certainly," Mr. Blackrock was kind enough to say, and he furthermore agreed, with equal graciousness, to inform the others.
Sam ate his luncheon in worried silence, replying only in monosyllables to the remarks of McComas, who sat at his table, and of Mrs. McComas, who had taken quite a young-motherly fancy to him; and the amount that he ate was so much at variance with his usual hearty appet.i.te that even the maid who waited on his table, a tall, gangling girl with a vinegar face and a kind heart, worried for fear he might be sick, and added unordered delicacies to his American plan meal. He went over to Hollis Creek in the swiftest conveyance he could obtain, which was naturally an auto, but he did not have "Ennery for his chauffeur, of which he was heartily glad, for "Ennery might have wanted to talk.
On the porch of Hollis Creek Inn he found Princeman and Mr. Stevens in earnest conversation. He knew what that meant. Princeman was already discussing with Mr. Stevens the matter of control of the Marsh Pulp Company. Princeman rose when Sam stepped up on the porch, and strolled away from Mr. Stevens. He nodded pleasantly to Turner, and the latter, returning the nod fully as pleasantly, was about to hurry on in search of Miss Josephine, when Mr. Stevens checked him.
"h.e.l.lo, Sam," he called. "I"ve just been waiting to see you."
"All right," said Sam. "I"ll be around presently."
"No, but come here," insisted Mr. Stevens.
Sam cast a nervous glance about the grounds and along the side porch; Miss Josephine most certainly was not among those present. He still hesitated, impatient to get away.