Detective and mystery stories; Stone, Fleming (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
In the Embury home, breakfast was a pleasant send-off for the day. Both
Sanford and Eunice were of the sort who wake up wide-awake, and their
appearance in the dining-room was always an occasion of merry banter and
a leisurely enjoyment of the meal. Aunt Abby, too, was at her best in
the morning, and breakfast was served sufficiently early to do away with
any need for hurry on Sanford’s part.
The morning paper, save for its headlines, was not a component part of
the routine, and it was an exceptionally interesting topic that caused
it to be unfolded.
This morning, however, Miss Ames reached the dining-room before the
others and eagerly scanned the pages for some further notes of the
affair in Newark.
But with the total depravity of inanimate things and with the invariable
disappointingness of a newspaper, the columns offered no other
information than a mere announcement of the coming event.
“Hunting for details of your wild-goose chase?” asked Embury, as he
paused on the way to his own chair to lean over Aunt Abby’s shoulder.
“Yes, and there’s almost nothing! Why do you take this paper?”
“You’ll see it all to-day, so why do you want to read about it?”
laughed a gay voice, and Eunice came in, all fluttering chiffon and
ribbon ends.
She took the chair Ferdinand placed for her, and picked up a spoon as
the attentive man set grapefruit at her plate. The waitress was allowed
to serve the others, but Ferdinand reserved to himself the privilege of
waiting on his beloved mistress.
“Still of a mind to go?” she said, smiling at her aunt.
“More than ever! It’s a perfectly heavenly day, and we’ll have a
good ride, if nothing more.”
“Good ride!” chaffed Embury. “Don’t you fool yourself, Aunt
Abby! The ride from this burg to Newark, N.J., is just about the most
Godforsaken bit of scenery you ever passed through!”
“I don’t mind that. Al Hendricks is good company, and, any way,
I’d go through fire and water to see that Hanlon show. Eunice, can’t
you and Mr. Hendricks pick me up? I want to go to my Psychic Class this
morning, and there’s no use coming way back here again.”
“Yes, certainly; we’re going about noon, you know, and have lunch in
Newark.”
“In Newark!” and Embury looked his amazement.
“Yes; Alvord said so last night. He says that new hotel there is quite
all right. We’ll only have time for a bite, anyway.”
“Well, bite where you like. By the way, my Tiger girl, you didn’t
get that information from our friend last evening.”
“No, San, I couldn’t, without making it too pointed. I thought I
could bring it in more casually to-day--say, at luncheon.”
“Yes; that’s good. But find out, Eunice, just where the Merediths
stand. They may swing the whole vote.”
“What vote?” asked Aunt Abby, who was interested in everything.
“Our club, Auntie,” and Embury explained. “You know Hendricks is
president--has been for years--and we’re trying to oust him in favor
of yours truly.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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