Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 169: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

CAT EAT CAT. \ maid to be all that the references indicated. Her taste was excellent, and more than once Celeste relied upon it in the matter of dress when unable herself to reach a decision. Such advice seldom was volunteered nor was it requested. It seemed Just to come natural. Patience’s manner was invaluable to Ce- leste. She moved about so quietly that often her mistress did not know she was in the room. She never hummed to herself. Once before Celeste St. Cyr had employed a girl who nearly drove her frantic with undertone melodies. Patience Blow moved with catlike grace, and her eyes, like a cat’s, saw pretty much everything that went on about her. Early in their relations Celeste thought only once or twice about Patience Blow’s being “ scrupulously honest,” and half won- dered if she ought to put that virtue to an acid test. While she was debating it, the test itself came. : Each Saturday night she paid the girl. One Monday morning Patience surprised her by giving back a ten-dollar note. “Madam paid me too much Saturday, and I did not notice it until after I had left,” said the maid. Celeste had not been aware of the mis- take in her calculations, and thanked her for her honesty. Thereafter, she consid- ered Patience Blow fitted to occupy any post that the United States Treasury De- partment has to offer those in America who are still honest. She let the girl take care of her jewelry, and even wear it in the apartment on one or two occasions when both were in the humor for such drolleries. She warned her of the need of being careful about who was admitted to her quarters because of the large sum of cash she kept about her. ‘“‘T travel quite a bit to escape boredom, my dear,” she told Patience Blow, “ and banks are so messy and funny.” “Yes, madam, I shall be careful.” On a drowsy summer afternoon toward sunset, Celeste St. Cyr left the St. Regis for a stroll up and down the boulevard be- fore dinner. She frequently sunned her- self just very slightly on a bench here or there where she could watch the swans in 159 the park lagoons, the children with their toy balloons, or read an evening newspaper for its society gossip if she chose. This afternoon she chose to read the newspaper. Before she tossed it away, Celeste turned to the classified advertising columns as was her practice, and ran her eye up and down the “ Help Wanted, Female” list. She nearly cried out her joy at the discovery of the thing she had been waiting for so patiently. It was: : MAID—With only the best of references. Apply 11 A.M., Thursday, Mrs. Davison Wall, No. 7 Hillcrest Terraces. “tr A.M., Thursday,” meant to-morrow morning. Quickly she put the newspaper aside and arose with some of that catlike grace she had acquired by watching the slender Patience Blow. She would have to act quickly. Only one story seemed plausible enough to tell the maid as an excuse for her sudden dismissal. Celeste had decided on the spur of the moment to take a run out to California and play around a bit. That was her home, you see, and her mother, who lived in Pasa- dena, kept quite a household full of serv- ants, where another maid would hardly be required. She would pay Patience two weeks’ salary for the inconvenience caused her. It would be worth it, because Celeste had craftily kept the references that Pa- tience had brought, and it was those refer- ences that were going to get her a position with Mrs. Davison Wall. When she let herself in by her own key, Celeste St. Cyr found the apartment quiet, as it always was. She’d never have guessed the maid was present. She passed from one room into another. Patience was not there, either. Out in the corridor, perhaps, exchanging gossip with other maids or baa- tering with the men in service. Celeste went to her dressing table to dab at her face with powder. She observed that a tiny silhouette in a jeweled silver frame that usually hung be- side the mirror was absent. Celeste looked on the floor with the thought that it might have fallen from its perch. It was not there. Oh, well, she’d ask Patience about it. The thing wasn’t so awfully valuable. CoOImmicboooks (CO)