The Gorgeous Girl.

by Nalbro Bartley.

CHAPTER I

"Before long two bank accounts will beat as one," Trudy said to Mary Faithful. "Tra-la-la-la-la," humming the wedding march while the office force of the O'Valley Leather Company listened with expressions ranging from grins to frowns.

"Sh-h-h! Mr. O'Valley has just opened his door." As she was private secretary and general guardian to Steve O'Valley, president of the concern, Miss Faithful's word usually had a decisive effect.

But Trudy was irrepressible. Besides boarding at the Faithful home and thus enjoying a certain intimacy with Mary, she was one of those young persons who holds a position merely as a means to an end--the sort who dresses to impress everyone, from the president of the concern if he is in the matrimonial or romantic market to the elevator boy if said elevator boy happens to have a bank account capable of taking one to all the musical shows and to supper afterward. Having been by turns a milliner's apprentice, a.s.sistant in a beauty parlour, and cashier in a business men's restaurant, Truletta Burrows had acquired a certain chicness enabling her to twist a remnant of chiffon or straw into a creation and wear it in impressive contrast with her baby-blue eyes and t.i.tian-red hair. In the majority of cases where a girl has neither family nor finances she must seek a business situation in order to win a husband. Trudy went after her game in no hesitating manner.

She had no intention of becoming one of the mult.i.tude of commercial nuns who inhabit the United States of America this day--quiet women with quick eyes, a trifle cold or pensive if a.n.a.lyzed, severely combed hair, trim tailor suits and mannish blouses with dazzling neckties as their bit of vanity--the type that often shoulders half the responsibility of the firm. Whether achieving a private office and a nervous stenographer who is disappointed at having a lady boss is to be preferred to a house-and-garden career is, like all vital issues, a question for debate.

Neither did Trudy propose to shrivel into a timid, slave-like type of person kept on the pay roll from pity or by reason of the fact that initiating a novice would be troublesome. Such a one was Miss Nellie Lunk, who sat in a corner of the hall making out requisition slips and taking care of unwelcome visitors--a pathetic figure with faded eyes and scraggly hair, always keeping a posy on her old-style desk and crocheting whenever there was a lull in work. Thirty years in business was Miss Lunk's record, twenty-five in Mark Constantine's office and five in the employ of Mr. O'Valley, that lovable, piratical Irishman who achieved his success by being a brilliant opportunist and who, it would seem, ran a shoestring into a fortune by a wink of his blue eyes.

Trudy knew that Miss Lunk lived alone--the third story back, where she cooked most of her meals, while a forlorn canary cheeped a welcome.

She possessed a little talking machine with sentimental records, and on Sundays she went to a cafeteria for a good, hearty meal unless cousins asked her to their establishment. Some day Miss Lunk would find herself in a home with other no longer useful old people and here she would stay with her few keepsakes, of which the world knew nothing and cared less, the cousins dropping in at intervals to impress upon her how carefree and fortunate she was!

In conclusion Trudy had decided not to accept the third choice of the modern business woman, which, she decided, was Mary Faithful's fate--to give your heart to a man who never had thought of you and never would think of you as other than a reliable and agreeable machine; as someone--should Florida and a certain Gorgeous Girl named Beatrice Constantine beckon--who would say:

"Yes, Mr. O'Valley, I understand what to do. I arranged the New Haven sale this morning. You were at the jewellery store to see about Miss Constantine's ring. So I long-distanced Martin & Newman and put it through. If the ring is sent in your absence I know what you have ordered and can return it if it does not comply with instructions--platinum set with diamonds, three large stones of a carat each and the twenty smaller stones surrounding them. And a king's-blue velvet case with her initials in platinum. And you want me to discharge Dundee and divide up his work. Yes, I gave the janitor the gold piece for finding your pet cane. I'll wire you every day."

And Steve O'Valley had swung jauntily out of the office, secure in his secretary's ability to meet any crisis, to have to work alone in the almost garish office apparently quite content that she was not going to Florida, too. Trudy's imagination pictured there a someone petulant, spoiled, and altogether irresistible in the laciest of white frocks and a leghorn hat with pink streamers, at whose feet Steve O'Valley offered some surprise gift worth months of Mary Faithful's salary while he said: "I ran away from work to play with you, Gorgeous Girl! See how you demoralize me? Even your father frowned when I said I was coming. How are you, darling? I don't give a hang if I make poor Miss Faithful run the shop for a year as long as you want me to play with you."

Having the advantage of studying Mary Faithful's position both from the business and family aspects Trudy had long ago decided that she was not going to be like her. In no way did she envy Mary's position.

Since her dreamer of a father had died and left dependent upon her her four-year-old brother and a mother whose chief concern in life was to have the smartest-looking window curtains in the neighbourhood, Mary went to work at thirteen with a remnant of an education. Possessions spelled happiness to Mrs. Faithful; poetical dreams had been Mr.

Faithful's chief concern, and as an unexpected consequence their first child had been endowed with common sense. With Mary at the wheel there had been just enough to get along with, so they stayed on in the old-fashioned house while Mrs. Faithful bewailed Mary's having to work for a living and not be a lady, as she could have been if her father had had any judgment.

Mrs. Faithful had become quite happy in her martyrdom as she was still able to maintain the starched window curtains. After a conventional period of mourning she began to relive the past, her husband's mistakes, her own girlhood and offers of marriage--such incidents as these sufficed to keep her from enjoying the present, while Mary rose from errand girl to grocery clerk, with night school as a recreation, from grocery clerk to filing clerk, a.s.sistant bookkeeper, bookkeeper, stenographer, and finally private secretary to Steve O'Valley, one of the war-fortune kings. And she had given her heart to him in the same loyal way she had always given her services.

At home Trudy noted that Mary worked round the house because she liked the change from office routine, deaf to the complaining maternal voice reciting past glories in which Mary had no part. If the parlour furniture with its tidies and a Rogers group in the front window sometimes got on her nerves she forced herself to laugh over it and say: "It's mother's house, and all she has." She concerned herself far more with Luke, an active, fair-to-middling American boy somewhat inclined to be spoiled. Mary had taken Luke into the office after school hours to keep a weather eye on him and make him contribute a stipend to the expenses.

"If a man won't work he should not eat," she informed him as she proportioned his wage.

Recalling Mary's position at home--though Trudy rejoiced in her own front room and the comforts of the household--she shrugged her shoulders in disapproval. Certainly she could never endure the same lot in life. For if one man will not love you why waste time bewailing the fact? Find another. Mary could have had other suitors. Mr.

Tompkins, the city salesman, and young Elias, of Elias & Son, had both made brave attempts to plead their cause, only to be treated in the same firm manner that Luke was treated when he hinted of making off to sea.

"She'll spend her life loving Steve O'Valley and slaving for him,"

Trudy had confided to her dozen intimate friends, who never repeated anything told them. "And he will spend his life being trampled on by Beatrice Constantine, and after they are married she will be meaner than ever to him. But he will love her all the more. Honest, business men make the grandest husbands! College professors are lots harder to get along with--but business men are as cross as two sticks in their offices and at home they're so sweet it would melt pig iron."

The first plank in Trudy's platform was to marry a business man as nearly like Steve O'Valley as possible. The second was--whether or not she had a stunning home with brick fireplaces--never to spend her days hanging round them. Her most envied friend lived in New York, and her life was just one roof garden after another. She had everything heart could desire--Oriental rugs, a grandfather's clock, a mechanical piano, bird-of-paradise sprays for her hat, a sealskin ulster, and plenty of alimony. And in case said business man proved unsatisfactory Trudy had resolved to exchange him for unlimited legal support at the earliest possible opportunity.

But she would not trespa.s.s upon Mary's platform, which consisted of loving Steve O'Valley yet knowing of his love for the Gorgeous Girl, as Mark Constantine had named his daughter. And of course Mary must have realized that though she might earn three thousand a year as private secretary she would eternally lock her desk at six o'clock and trudge home to her mother and the starched window curtains, watch Luke fall in love and scorn her advice, wash her hemst.i.tched ruffles and black her boots, and keep her secret as she grew older and plainer of face!

Trudy often tried to decide just how handsome and how plain Mary was; it was a matter for argument because the expression of Mary Faithful's eyes largely determined her charm. She was a sober young person with thick braids of brown hair and surprising niceties of dress, sensible shoes, a frill of real lace on her serge dress, no hint of perfume, no attempt at wearing party attire for business as the rest of the staff not only attempted but unfortunately achieved. She had honest gray eyes, the prophecy of true greatness in her face with its flexible mouth and prominent cheek bones, the sort of woman who would be the mother of great men, tall and angular in build and walking with an athletic stride offset by a feminine cry-baby chin and the usual mediocre allotment of freckles on the usual mediocre nose! Mary Faithful was not pretty; she was a "good-looking thing," Trudy would usually conclude, glancing in a near-by mirror to approve of the way her fluff of pink tulle harmonized with her pink camisole under the tissue-paper bodice.

Indulging in one of these reveries Trudy suddenly realized that she had not added the checks on her desk. She went to work disdainfully, first feeling of her skirt and waist at the back, slipping a caramel in her mouth, and making eyes at a clerk who pa.s.sed her desk.

Mary came out of her office and stopped before Trudy accusingly. "I've been waiting for these," she said.

"It's so grand out to-day--look at that sunshine! May's the hardest month of the year to work; you just can't help planning your summer clothes."

"Miss Constantine is coming to call for Mr. O'Valley and I want his O.

K. on those before he gets away."

"Listen, don't you think the diamonds he is buying her are vulgar? A bunch of electric bulbs is what I call it, I certainly would not permit----"

Mary's pencil tapped authoritatively on the desk, then she signed an order someone brought her.

"Are they going to be married at high noon in church?"

"Yes--June the first."

"Lucky girl! She's older than me; everyone says so. It's only her money and clothes that has built her up. I don't think she's so much.

Her nose is as flat as a pancake and she rouges something fierce. I saw them at the theatre and I certainly was----"

Mary took the checks out of Trudy's hand and walked away. Undecided as to her course of action Trudy hummed a few bars of "Moving Man, Don't Take My Baby Grand" and then followed Mary into her office.

Mary added up the checks without glancing at her caller. Then she said sharply: "I cannot pay out someone else's money for work that is not done."

"Don't get a grouch on; it will spread through the whole plant. When you're cross everybody's cross."

"Then do your work--for it isn't much." She could not help adding: "You think I can smooth over everything just because you board with me."

Trudy giggled. "It's the wedding in the air, and spring, and those diamonds! She never works, she never does anything but spend the money we make for her. All she has is a good time, and what's the use of living if you don't have a good time? I'll have it if I have to steal it. Oh, you needn't look so horrified. Steve O'Valley almost stole his fortune just because he had to be a rich man before Constantine would let him marry his daughter. Anyway, I'd rather have a good time for a few years and then die than to live to be a hundred and never have an honest-to-goodness party. Wouldn't you?"

"You're foolish to-day. If you only wouldn't wear such low-cut waists and talk to the men! Mr. O'Valley has noticed it."

"I can get another job and another boarding house," Trudy began, defiantly.

"You wouldn't last out at either. You need this sort of a place and our sort of house, you ridiculous little thing. Besides, you have g.a.y.l.o.r.d at your beck and call"--Trudy blushed--"and you seem to manage to have a pretty good time when all is said and done. I do feel responsible for you because at twenty-three you are more scatterbrained than----"

"Finish it--than you were at thirteen! Well, what of it? I'm out for a good time and you are always talking about the right time, I suppose.

I'll take your lecture without weeping and promise to reform. But don't be surprised at anything I may do regarding tra-la-la-la-la."

She burst into the wedding march again and vanished, Mary shaking her head as she prepared to sign off some letters.

Steve O'Valley opened the door connecting their offices, displaying a face as happy as a schoolboy's on a Christmas holiday. "Miss Constantine is downstairs, I'm going to escort her up," he announced, shutting the door as abruptly as he had opened it.

Presently there came into Steve's office someone who was saying in a light, gay voice: "Perfectly awful old place, Stevuns--as bad as papa's. I hate business offices; make my head ache. It was Red Cross to-day, and after that I had to rush to cooking school----"

Steve answered in rapt fashion: "I'll have to talk to Miss Faithful for half a jiffy and then I'm free for the rest of the day----"

opening the door of Mary's office and beckoning to her.

Coming into his office Mary nodded pleasantly at the Gorgeous Girl, who nodded pleasantly in return and settled herself in an easy-chair while Steve rehea.r.s.ed the things to be attended to the following day since he was not to be at the office.

"I'm getting Miss Faithful ready to run the shop single-handed," he explained, telling Mary details which she already knew better than he but to which she listened patiently, her twilight eyes glancing now at Beatrice and back again at Steve.