“Honey-Babe,” declaimed Peter. “Well, Mr. Mason, if we can come to terms, I’m your man.”
Mason took him aside then, and whispered a few words.
“All right,” Peter told him, shaking hands. “That listens pretty. See you tomorrow, say at four. Good night folks. You coming too, Maggie?”
Downstairs he stopped at the landing. “Maggie, you jewel! How well you’ve managed! No, I won’t come in. You see what was worrying me most was my operating set. The price of those little steel knives and forceps is going to touch the sky pretty soon. Wow! This confounded war is taking everything across seas. Fellow told me to get my order in before Christmas even if I didn’t pay for them till next year. But where was I going to raise all that money? Now the way looks clearer.”
“I’m so glad, Peter.”
“It’s me that’s glad, Maggie. Best thing in the world for me that I met you today. Such a piece of fortune! Cheer up, child! Perhaps we’ll bring each other luck!”
XVI
The house on South Fifteenth Street saw Peter often after that. Mason could have given him work every night if he had wanted it. As it was he gave him enough to cause him to come for rehearsals three and four times a week. Usually Peter terminated his practice with a visit to Maggie, who got home regularly at five-thirty when she was in town.
She appreciated Peter’s company, for she had been very lonely in this big city with its impregnable social fortresses. “It’s a wonder you come to see me so often, Peter,” she told him wistfully. “Being a Bye gives you the entrance everywhere among the oldest of these ‘old Philadelphians.’ ”
“Yes,” said Peter cheerfully, “but home-folks are best. And then you make it so pleasant for me, Maggie. Why, I’ve never eaten in my life anything so wonderful as that dinner Sunday. You certainly have the knack of making a fellow feel comfortable.”
She was proud to have him there, he was so handsome and charming, but much more than that, so clearly a personage. She enjoyed being seen with him. He took her out occasionally to the park, to the theaters on Broad Street, once to a bazaar given by some fine ladies at the Y.M.C.A. on Christian Street. She recognized some of the women as among those whom she had seen at Atlantic City. The startled stare of Alice Talbert, who happened to be there that evening, afforded her endless satisfaction. Maggie realized she spoke to her with a sort of wondering respect.
“Wonder what she thought,” she said to herself. “Well, she can think anything she pleases.” She had not forgotten Miss Talbert’s cool reception when she called at Lawyer Talbert’s office on the corner of Fifteenth and Lombard. Alice was her father’s secretary. She was quite remote on seeing Maggie, until she learned that the latter’s business was with the lawyer.
Peter was making money these days, real money he told Maggie.
“I’m better off financially than I’ve ever been in my life. Why, I could make a real living at this sort of thing. Mason’s got a wonderful clientele!” As usual he was lounging in Maggie’s little living-room, smoking, watching her move about in her sober house-dress, arranging her accounts and orders. She had bought a little typewriter and had learned to use it. Peter was surprised to find her so methodical. He realized that she would have been a great help to Philip.
He felt a little guilty about coming to Maggie’s so often. “But it’s so confoundedly uncomfortable in my room. Of course I could do better now, but it’s a lot of trouble to move. It’s way up at the top of the house, clean enough, but with just a few sticks of furniture in it, a green iron-bed—ugh!-some books and the Bye family Bible. Don’t know why I lugged that along with me. I never look in it. Well, so long, Maggie, see you tomorrow or next day.”
“All right, Peter. You’re sure you won’t have me fix a cup of cocoa for you before you go? You poor, neglected boy! Two buttons off that overcoat. Bring it in the next time you come and I’ll put them on for you. I’ll find some that will match up here on South Street.” He said he could attend to it himself, but she told him no, that wasn’t a man’s job.
“You certainly are some girl!” He took her hand in his for a moment. “I’ll bring it with bells. Here, turn me out. I’ve got to get up at six tomorrow morning. Haven’t put my nose inside of Carter’s classes this week. Playing out so late with Mason puts me out of commission, you bet.”
“Carter, Carter, that’s the Professor of Surgery, isn’t it?”
“No! no! That’s Davenant. I never miss one of his classes. Eat it up in gobs. The old boy’s fond of me. Says I’m his pet carver. Wanted to take me to see an operation in a private hospital last week—white of course—but Carter interfered. ‘Not the place for Bye, Dr. Davenant,’ he said. I hate him with his confounded hypocritical patronage. I’d like to chuck him in a minute.”
Her sympathy was instant.
“Well, why don’t you, Peter? After all, your music really is in good shape. All this steady practice these long years must count for something. Tom says you’re a wonder. He’d like to go into partnership with you, I’m sure. He says there’s heaps of money in it.”
“Oodles! Absolutely! But nothing doing, Maggie. Too mediocre for Miss Joanna Marshall. But she deserves
