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Dorothy Dale In The City

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<h2 id="c18">CHAPTER XVIII DANGEROUS GROUND</h2> “Miss——,” began a man with a ruddy face and heavy gray hair, as he stood in front of Tavia, almost an hour later, while a small boy relieved him of his great fur coat and cane. “I don’t believe I have your name. I’m Mr. Akerson.” “I’m Octavia Travers,” answered Tavia, looking straight into the brown eyes of Mr. Akerson. “Oh, yes, you are the lady who ’phoned me? Want to see me about something very important; don’t you?” he asked, looking at Tavia’s fresh young face with open admiration. Instinctively Tavia did not like Mr. Akerson. His brown eyes were large and bold, and his manners too free and easy. As she gazed straight at him she wondered how she, alone, could deal with such a man. But she followed him, nevertheless, into an office marked “Private” and the door closed behind them. <div class="pb" id="Page_171">[171]</div> “Wonderful weather; is it not?” he asked, pleasantly. “Such bracing air as this makes us old fellows young,” he rubbed his large hands together as he talked. “I suppose you’ve been skating in the Park, and enjoying the Winter pleasures, as girls do!” “No, indeed,” answered Tavia sedately, “we haven’t been skating yet, but we’re going to the Park to-morrow.” Then she could have bitten off her tongue for saying anything so foolish—for telling this stranger anything about her engagements. The man did not seem in a hurry to find out her business. She drew herself up and raising her chin, which was always a sign that Tavia was becoming determined, she said: “I wish to inquire about one of your apartments.” “I understood you to say that it was special business with me,” he laughed, and looked keenly at Tavia. “You could have asked any of the clerks about that.” “I thought that I would have to see you personally, of course.” “Oh, no, that was not necessary. My clerks are conversant with the renting of all our places.” Tavia was puzzled. She would not talk to the clerks, she wanted to find out from Mr. Akerson himself. She smiled sweetly. “I was told,” she said, “that in regard to this particular apartment, the Court Apartments, that I could only rent from you.” <div class="pb" id="Page_172">[172]</div> The man glanced up quickly, and closing his eyes shrewdly, asked Tavia, lowering his voice: “Who sent you to me?” “A friend of mine lives there and she mentioned your name as being renting agent, and not the company you represent.” Mr. Akerson sat back, evidently very much relieved. He toyed with a letter opener. “No,” he said slowly, “the Court Apartments do not belong to the company, and the clerks could not have given you the information about renting. We do not carry that place on the lists.” For one wild moment Tavia wanted to laugh. This shrewd man, of whom she had felt so much in awe, was calmly telling her just what she wanted to know! “I wish,” said Tavia, “to see about renting an apartment there.” “An apartment just for yourself?” he asked, and he looked so queerly at Tavia that she hesitated. “No,” hastily corrected Tavia, “that is, not alone. I expect to have—someone with me.” Which, as Tavia said to herself, was perfectly true, though she hesitated over it. “Lucky young chap!” murmured the man, and Tavia flushed hotly. “The rent, please,” demanded Tavia, trying to show the man how much he displeased her. <div class="pb" id="Page_173">[173]</div> “What can you afford to pay?” he asked. “The rents differ. But, I have no doubt, I could give you an apartment on very reasonable terms.” “I couldn’t afford to pay over fifty dollars per month,” answered Tavia smoothly, which was the price at which the apartments were supposed to be rented. “I’m willing to shave off a bit,” said Mr. Akerson, very generously. “Some of my tenants there are paying one hundred dollars for the same rooms that I’ll let you have for eighty dollars per month.” “Eighty dollars!” exclaimed Tavia, “I understood that the rents were only forty and fifty dollars!” “My dear young lady,” said the man soothingly, “in that section! And such beautifully arranged rooms! I ask eighty and one hundred dollars for those apartments, and I get it. But, as I said, if there are any particular rooms that you fancy,” the man smiled familiarly at Tavia, “maybe I could come to terms with you.” “I’m sure I am right about the rents being forty and fifty dollars,” Tavia insisted. “Oh, they were that a long time ago; in fact, the last time the apartment changed hands they could be rented for thirty-five dollars. But I built the place up, improved it, made it worth the price, and I can get that amount. Only, if you’ve set your little heart——” <div class="pb" id="Page_174">[174]</div> Tavia jumped up. The man had leaned so far over toward her, that she resented the familiarity implied. She drew herself up to her full height and said coldly: “I do not care to pay more than the regular renting price for the Court Apartments. If you will lease an apartment at fifty dollars, you shall hear from me again.” “Done!” said the man, “but I can’t promise that the rent will go on indefinitely at that figure. You can have it at that rental for three months, but understand, the woman across the hall from you and the family above, are paying one hundred dollars per month.” “I’m sure you’re very kind,” said Tavia, arranging her fur neck piece, and pulling on her gloves, “I appreciate it very much.” “Don’t mention it,” said Mr. Akerson, grandly expanding his broad chest, “I always aim to give a lady whatever she wants,” and he came nearer to Tavia. With cool dignity she backed slowly to the door, ignoring Mr. Akerson’s outstretched hand. A quick flush mounted the man’s brow, and he bowed Tavia out of his private office. Once again in the open, she breathed freely. <div class="pb" id="Page_175">[175]</div> “What a perfectly horrid man,” she murmured. “To think that Mrs. White receives but thirty-five dollars from each apartment and he actually gets eighty and one hundred dollars! Poor Miss Mingle! It must take every penny she earns just to pay the rent! And it takes all Aunt Winnie receives to pay the expenses and taxes of the place! And with the difference Mr. Akerson buys fur coats and things.” Tavia’s indignation knew no bounds. On the trip home she thought quickly and clearly. Arriving there, she was met by an excited family. “Wherever have you been?” cried Dorothy. “My dear,” gasped Aunt Winnie, “you’ve given us an awful fright!” “I was just down to start out on a trip through the hospitals and police stations,” said Ned. “And I’ve now spoiled the beautiful trip,” said Tavia, with a laugh. “It’s just delightful to stay away long enough to be missed.” “Yes, I know it is,” said Dorothy. “But where have you been?” “Out,” was Tavia’s laconic answer. “Really!” said Ned, with broad sarcasm. Aunt Winnie smiled. “Don’t tell them your secret, Tavia; they only want to find out so that they can tease you about it.” <div class="pb" id="Page_176">[176]</div> “Anyone who insists on hearing my secret,” said Tavia, striking a tragic pose, “does so at his peril!” Ned decided that it was worth the risk, and rushed at Tavia to wrench the secret bare, but she eluded him skillfully, leaping directly over a couch. Ned was close at her heels, and out into the hall she ran, shutting the door after her, keeping Ned on the other side. In a moment it was opened. Desperate, Tavia sprang to the entrance into the main hall, and Ned followed so closely that they reached the divan in the hall at the same moment, Tavia sinking exhausted into its depths. She had won, because Ned could do nothing now except stand gallantly by—he could not smother Tavia in pillows in the public hall, and still maintain his dignity—so Tavia’s secret remained her own. Dorothy appeared in the doorway. “Such perfectly foolish young people!” she scolded. “Come inside this instant! It’s a good thing that father will arrive to-night, to balance this frivolous family!” Tavia sat up astonished. “Major Dale coming to-night? I’m so glad. And Nat and Joe and Roger! Won’t that be fine for the skating party?” Dorothy, too, sank into the comfortable divan. “Father’s rheumatism is all well again, and they will arrive in time for dinner to-night,” she said. “The telegram came directly after breakfast.” <div class="pb" id="Page_177">[177]</div> “Dorothy told me about your visit to Miss Mingle in the apartment house,” said Ned, suddenly becoming serious. But Tavia did not want to discuss apartment houses just then, and she jumped lightly to her feet, just as Aunt Winnie opened the door. “There’s someone on the ’phone asking for Miss Travers!” she said. Certainly mysterious things were happening to Tavia that day, thought Dorothy, as she and Ned stood, frankly curious, while Tavia clung to the receiver. “Hello!” she said, in a trembling voice. “Yes, this is Miss Travers!” “No, I do not know your voice.” “Really, I never heard your voice before!” “Yes, this is Mrs. White’s apartment.” “I’m from Dalton, yes, and my name is Travers, but I don’t know you.” “Ned? He’s here. You want to speak to him?” She stepped from the telephone and handed the receiver to Ned: “It’s a man’s voice and he kept laughing, but I’m sure I never met him, and he finally asked for you,” she explained. “How are you, old chum?” sang out Ned, heartily. “Yes, certainly, come right upstairs. Get off at the third floor. The girls will be wild with joy!” <div class="pb" id="Page_178">[178]</div> “Who is it?” demanded Dorothy and Tavia, in one voice. “He’ll be in the room in a minute,” answered Ned, mysteriously. <div class="pb" id="Page_179">[179]</div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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