Brewster's Millions

by George Barr McCutcheon

  CHAPTER XIV

  MRS. DE MILLE ENTERTAINS

  Miss Drew's cotillon was not graced by the presence of MontgomeryBrewster. It is true he received an eleventh-hour invitation and a verycold and difficult little note of apology, but he maintained heroicallythe air of disdain that had succeeded the first sharp pangs ofdisappointment. Colonel Drew, in whose good graces Monty had firmlyestablished himself, was not quite guiltless of usurping the role ofdictator in the effort to patch up a truce. A few nights before thecotillon, when Barbara told him that Herbert Ailing was to lead, heexplosively expressed surprise. "Why not Monty Brewster, Babs?" hedemanded.

  "Mr. Brewster is not coming," she responded, calmly.

  "Going to be out of town?"

  "I'm sure I do not know," stiffly.

  "What's this?"

  "He has not been asked, father." Miss Drew was not in good humor.

  "Not asked?" said the Colonel in amazement. "It's ridiculous, Babs,send him an invitation at once."

  "This is my dance, father, and I don't want to ask Mr. Brewster."

  The Colonel sank back in his chair and struggled to overcome his anger.He knew that Barbara had inherited his willfulness, and had long sincediscovered that it was best to treat her with tact.

  "I thought you and he were--" but the Colonel's supply of tact wasexhausted.

  "We were"--in a moment of absent mindedness. "But it's all over," saidBarbara.

  "Why, child, there wouldn't have been a cotillon if it hadn't beenfor--" but the Colonel remembered his promise to Monty and checkedhimself just in time. "I--I mean there will not be any party, ifMontgomery Brewster is not asked. That is all I care to say on thesubject," and he stamped out of the room.

  Barbara wept copiously after her father had gone, but she realized thathis will was law and that Monty must be invited. "I will send aninvitation," she said to herself, "but if Mr. Brewster comes after hehas read it, I shall be surprised."

  Montgomery, however, did not receive the note in the spirit in which ithad been sent. He only saw in it a ray of hope that Barbara wasrelenting and was jubilant at the prospect of a reconciliation. Thenext Sunday he sought an interview with Miss Drew, but she received himwith icy reserve. If he had thought to punish her by staying away, itwas evident that she felt equally responsible for a great deal ofmisery on his part. Both had been more or less unhappy, and both wereresentfully obstinate. Brewster felt hurt and insulted, while she feltthat he had imposed upon her disgracefully. He was now ready to cryquits and it surprised him to find her obdurate. If he had expected todictate the terms of peace he was woefully disappointed when shetreated his advances with cool contempt.

  "Barbara, you know I care very much for you," he was pleading, fairlyon the road to submission. "I am sure you are not quite indifferent tome. This foolish misunderstanding must really be as disagreeable to youas it is to me."

  "Indeed," she replied, lifting her brows disdainfully. "You areassuming a good deal, Mr. Brewster."

  "I am merely recalling the fact that you once told me you cared. Youwould not promise anything, I know, but it meant much that you cared. Alittle difference could not have changed your feeling completely."

  "When you are ready to treat me with respect I may listen to yourpetition," she said, rising haughtily.

  "My petition?" He did not like the word and his tact quite desertedhim. "It's as much yours as mine. Don't throw the burden ofresponsibility on me, Miss Drew."

  "Have I suggested going back to the old relations? You will pardon meif I remind you of the fact that you came to-day on your own initiativeand certainly without my solicitation."

  "Now, look here, Barbara--" he began, dimly realizing that it was goingto be hard, very hard, to reason.

  "I am very sorry, Mr. Brewster, but you will have to excuse me. I amgoing out."

  "I regret exceedingly that I should have disturbed you to-day, MissDrew," he said, swallowing his pride. "Perhaps I may have the pleasureof seeing you again."

  As he was leaving the house, deep anger in his soul, he encountered theColonel. There was something about Monty's greeting, cordial as it was,that gave the older man a hint as to the situation.

  "Won't you stop for dinner, Monty?" he asked, in the hope that hissuspicion was groundless.

  "Thank you, Colonel, not to-night," and he was off before the Colonelcould hold him.

  Barbara was tearfully angry when her father came into the room, but ashe began to remonstrate with her the tears disappeared and left her atwhite heat.

  "Frankly, father, you don't understand matters," she said with slowemphasis; "I wish you to know now that if Montgomery Brewster callsagain, I shall not see him."

  "If that is your point of view, Barbara, I wish you to know mine." TheColonel rose and stood over her, everything forgotten but the rage thatwent so deep that it left the surface calm. Throwing aside his promiseto Brewster, he told Barbara with dramatic simplicity the story of therescue of the bank. "You see," he added, "if it had not been for thatopen-hearted boy we would now be ruined. Instead of giving cotillons,you might be giving music lessons. Montgomery Brewster will always bewelcome in this house and you will see that my wishes are respected. Doyou understand?"

  "Perfectly," Barbara answered in a still voice. "As your friend I shalltry to be civil to him."

  The Colonel was not satisfied with so cold-blooded an acquiescence, buthe wisely retired from the field. He left the girl silent and crushed,but with a gleam in her eyes that was not altogether to be concealed.The story had touched her more deeply than she would willingly confess.It was something to know that Monty Brewster could do a thing likethat, and would do it for her. The exultant smile which it brought toher lips could only be made to disappear by reminding herself sharplyof his recent arrogance. Her anger, she found, was a plant which neededcareful cultivation.

  It was in a somewhat chastened mood that she started a few days laterfor a dinner at the DeMille's. As she entered in her sweeping goldengown the sight of Monty Brewster at the other end of the room gave hera flutter at the heart. But it was an agitation that was very carefullyconcealed. Brewster was certainly unconscious of it. To him theposition of guest was like a disguise and he was pleased at theprospect of letting himself go under the mask without responsibility.But it took on a different color when the butler handed him a cardwhich signified that he was to take Miss Drew in to dinner. Hastilyseeking out the hostess he endeavored to convey to her theimpossibility of the situation.

  "I hope you won't misunderstand me," he said. "But is it too late tochange my place at the table?"

  "It isn't conventional, I know, Monty. Society's chief aim is toseparate engaged couples at dinner," said Mrs. Dan with a laugh. "Itwould be positively compromising if a man and his wife sat together."

  Dinner was announced before Monty could utter another word, and as sheled him over to Barbara she said, "Behold a generous hostess who givesup the best man in the crowd so that he and some one else may have ahappy time. I leave it to you, Barbara, if that isn't the test offriendship."

  For a moment the two riveted their eyes on the floor. Then the humor ofthe situation came to Monty.

  "I did not know that we were supposed to do Gibson tableaux to-night,"he said drily as he proffered his arm.

  "I don't understand," and Barbara's curiosity overcame herdetermination not to speak.

  "Don't you remember the picture of the man who was called upon to takehis late fiancee out to dinner?"

  The awful silence with which this remark was received put an end tofurther efforts at humor.

  The dinner was probably the most painful experience in their lives.Barbara had come to it softened and ready to meet him half way. Theright kind of humility in Monty would have found her plastic. But shehad very definite and rigid ideas of his duty in the premises. AndMonty was too simple minded to seem to suffer, and much too flippant tounderstand. It was plain to each that the other did not expect to talk,but they both realized that they owed a duty to
appearances and totheir hostess. Through two courses, at least, there was dead silencebetween them. It seemed as though every eye in the room were on themand every mind were speculating. At last, in sheer desperation, Barbaraturned to him with the first smile he had seen on her face in days.There was no smile in her eyes, however, and Monty understood.

  "We might at least give out the impression that we are friends," shesaid quietly.

  "More easily said than done," he responded gloomily.

  "They are all looking at us and wondering."

  "I don't blame them."

  "We owe something to Mrs. Dan, I think."

  "I know."

  Barbara uttered some inanity whenever she caught any one looking intheir direction, but Brewster seemed not to hear. At length he cutshort some remark of hers about the weather.

  "What nonsense this is, Barbara," he said. "With any one else I wouldchuck the whole game, but with you it is different. I don't know what Ihave done, but I am sorry. I hope you'll forgive me."

  "Your assurance is amusing, to say the least."

  "But I am sure. I know this quarrel is something we'll laugh over. Youkeep forgetting that we are going to be married some day."

  A new light came into Barbara's eyes. "You forget that my consent maybe necessary," she said.

  "You will be perfectly willing when the time comes. I am still in thefight and eventually you will come to my way of thinking."

  "Oh! I see it now," said Barbara, and her blood was up. "You mean toforce me to it. What you did for father--"

  Brewster glowered at her, thinking that he had misunderstood. "What doyou mean?" he said.

  "He has told me all about that wretched bank business. But poor fatherthought you quite disinterested. He did not see the little game behindyour melodrama. He would have torn up your check on the instant if hehad suspected you were trying to buy his daughter."

  "Does your father believe that?" asked Brewster.

  "No, but I see it all now. His persistence and yours--you were not slowto grasp the opportunity offered."

  "Stop, Miss Drew," Monty commanded. His voice had changed and she hadnever before seen that look in his eyes. "You need have no fear that Iwill trouble you again."