The Milwaukee Leader

LOVE PREFERRED
BY EDNA ROBB WEBSTER
Author of "Dad's Girl," "Joretta," Etc.

READ THIS FIRST:

Mary Vaughn is private secretary to Ronald K. Foster, an investment banker of Wall Street. She supports her mother, twin brothers and sister, Bonnie, to whom she has always given the pet of everything until Bonnie wants the man she loves, debonair Dick Baldwin. Bonnie is the spoiled beauty of the family and makes it known that she does not intend to slave for a living all her days.

Mary and Dick have had an understanding that as soon as Dick reaches a certain goal in business they will make more definite plans. Martin Frazier is Foster's wealthiest client, who persists in trying to pay attention to Mary until her employer asks her to be nice to him on business principles, so she humors him by going out with him occasionally.

Frazier discovers that his attraction for Mary is quite different from that of his first analysis. He decides to go south for a month and think things out, for which Mary is glad, as she does not like to go about with him. Bonnie lets Dick know about Mary's attentions from Frazier and gradually gains favor with Dick with her insidious reports about Mary.

She attends a studio party in Greenwich Village with Mary and Dick, at the home of Willa and Ramon Duchon, and tries to vamp all the men of the party. During the events of the evening, Dick accidentally reveals that he has been carrying a note of Bonnie's in his pocket for a month.

Mary fails to find the way back to the old camaraderie with Dick. When she goes to the office next morning, she finds a huge box of flowers from Frazier and a note saying that he has left an order for flowers for her twice a week. Bonnie goes to New York to look for a position, "accidentally" meets Dick and has lunch with him.

(NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY)

Continued From Monday.

CHAPTER 26.

"And I don't care so much if she doesn't!" Mrs. Vaughn declared.

What was it they were discussing, Mary wondered—oh, yes, Bonnie's getting a position in New York. "I don't see the sense in her traipsin clear over to New York to work when she could get a place here just as easy, if she wants to work. You know, Bonnie, you can't get a job that would even pay you to commute."

"Oh, can't I? I suppose you think I'm not as clever as Mary. Well, you just watch me. Dick said he was going to get me in at his office, maybe. So there! Mary might say a good word for me at her place if she wanted to, but she probably is ashamed of her family, being so high and mighty herself, just because she is secretary to the president, himself."

"Why, Bonnie," Mary reproved her gently, "you never have wanted to commute until now, and I didn't even know you were in New York today."

"Oh yeah? Well, you know it now. So use your influence if you have any," her tone was a little more gracious. "The way things are now, I won't be able to get in anywhere without a pull, anyway."

So Dick was going to get Bonnie into his office, Mary thought dully. What doing, she wondered. Bonnie certainly couldn't be recommended for anything that would pay her to make that trip to New York every day. Transportation, lunches and the clothes she would require would more than absorb any salary she could command. However, Bonnie's finances always showed a deficit, whether or not she was working.

It made little difference in the family budget, whatever Bonnie did. Mary promised that she would do what she could to place her, but was not very optimistic.

The following day, Mary was almost paralyzed with surprise, relief and joy when she heard Dick's voice over the telephone. He talked quite as if nothing ever had been changed between them. Perhaps it never had been, she decided, in a dizzy ecstasy.

"Did Bonnie tell you we had lunch together yesterday?" he asked blithely. "I almost ran over her in my own dash for the hash, so I picked her up and took her along. I found the kid was out job-hunting, so I told her I would see what I could accomplish as an employment agency. Think she can stand the grind, Mary?"

"Why, she wants to try it. Might be good for her. She would either decide she didn't like it, or make good."

"Well, I could get her in here for private switchboard work and odd jobs in spare time. Do you think she would consider that? The salary wouldn't tempt the governor to resign, but she could get a start and be ready to jump into something better later on. I understand she hasn't had much experience."

"Not except at changing jobs." Mary laughed. "But she might like to try it."

"All right, then. Tell her to run in and see us tomorrow morning. She can ask for me and I'll vouch for her. She's a good kid."

Mary wondering when he was going to say something more personal. "I think Bonnie will be crazy to try it. Thank you, Dick, and I'll tell her."

"Glad to do anything I can. How are you—busy as a general?"

"As usual. You must be busy yourself. You haven't been in—or anything."

"That's right. I'll drop in tomorrow, sure."

Mary lived on the strength of that promise through the day and night. The routine of the work was effortless under its magic rhythm. She had the first good rest that night that she had had for a week.

She slept sweetly with a smile on her lips and awoke to the joy of a new day.

For the first time that Mary ever could remember, Bonnie was awake and up by the time she had finished with her breakfast. When Mary had told her the news from Dick on the previous night, she had thrown her arms about her with wild, enthusiastic abandon.

"Whoopie, Mary dear! Think of it—to work in New York! Isn't Dick the berries, though, to do this for me?"

"He says it won't be much on salary, but you can get a start and wriggle your way in as opportunity opens the door."

"And how! Who cares about the little old salary, anyway?"

Mary looked surprised. "Why I supposed that was what you wanted to work for? I didn't know you were so keen about working in New York."

She thought, "She'll soon discover there is more to it than dolling up, making eyes at the men employes and knocking down dates, as she calls it."

"Oh, salary!" Bonnie snorted disdainfully. "I'm after bigger game than that. You might as well know that the chief and primary objective of my ambition is an income for life; be it allowance, alimony, annuity or whatnot."

"Bonnie!" her mother ejaculated scandalized.

"Well, that's what ninety per cent of the girls are in the business world for. Why not be frank and admit it? Trouble of it is, most of them aim for the president and fall for the office boy. But not this little baby—well, I should say not! The best is not too good for her. I'll look over the big guys in the place and see who is married, tottering or free, and take the pick of the lot."

She made an impudent moue that her family interpreted as being the finale of frivolous words.

Mary smiled indulgently. "Big guys" let Dick out of her program, anyway.

At eleven o'clock the next day, another huge florist's box was brought to Mary by the office boy.

He grinned, "Gee, Miss Vaughn, dat guy what's sendin' you flowers must buy out de shop."

Mary had quite forgotten that another installment of flowers from Frazier was due. With apathetic interest, she opened the box. But her love of beauty warmed to the glow of color and fragrance that greeted her. Strangely, too, she renewed happiness at Dick's promise, contributed to her pleasure in the flowers. Everything was more beautiful to her when all was right with the world—that is, when things were right with her and Dick.

Masses of bronze butterfly roses seemed almost to flutter their winged petals as she gathered them into her arms and hesitated a moment to look at the card that she found in their dewy depths.

It was so that Dick found her—her arms filled with a fortune in roses and her face all radiant with pleasure as she read on the back of Martin Frazier's handsomely engraved card, "In memory of memories."

She looked up with a humorous smile that quirked the corners of her lips, to see Dick gazing at her in utter amazement. He was almost gaping at her, and he hadn't closed the door.

"Oh, Dick—hello," she gasped weak with the joy of seeing him again. The flowers were instantly forgotten and the light in her face glowed incandescent.

He murmured, "Hello," closed the door and frowned. His eyes left her face and traveled to the mammoth jar of chrysanthemums on the table across the room,

"What's Foster doing, starting a greenhouse, or is this some special celebration? Who is to be congratulated, may I ask?"

She laughed, shaken, principally from seeing him suddenly. "Oh, no—they're mine—that is—Mr. Frazier—" Her face flushed miserably and she stopped rather foolishly.

"Oh,—" he said, "I see," as if he had suddenly been endowed with a superior vision.

"Oh, no—Dick—"

"Is Foster in?" he interrupted coldly. I'd like to see him for a minute."

Her face went white. Desperately, she said. "Dick—treat me like that. I—let me explain, please."

"What is there to explain?" he demanded with a careless lifting of his eyebrows and shoulders.

"I know you've been going out with Martin Frazier. Bonnie told me. You have time for him; but when I ask you to go with me, you have to work."

"Dick, that isn't true—I was so sorry—I did have to work Friday night"

"Oh, sure, but you didn't tell me about stepping out with Frazier, just the same. I thought you—oh, well, what's the use to argue? What's the use of anything? I can't compete with a fellow that spends more in a week for flowers for you than I can make. Swing high, wide and handsome, Mary, I'll not interfere. Good luck to you," he laughed ironically, bitterly.

Mary could have prostrated herself in humiliation and remorse, at his feet. At the same time, her inherent pride forbade her begging him to try to understand.

"Mr. Foster isn't in now," she told him with terrible, pitiful calm; holding the roses so closely in her arm that the thorns stung her flesh.

But she was oblivious of their temperate pain, as compared with the stabbing pain in her heart that drowned and submerged every other consciousness of her being.

Dick looked at her strangely, started as if to speak, with a gesture of his hand, almost an appeal; then stopped and said matter-of-factly, "All right. I may drop in later. Good-bye."