Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 19, 1924 — page 48: what you’re looking at

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

518 can. He had a singularly pleasant voice and that almost superclean look of well- dressed American men: As I passed I heard what he was saying to his companion. “Tt’s just too bad about Miss Honesty leaving, Mrs. Groote. I’m afraid it’s go- ing to make a big difference to us. And that Miss Dobson not being able to come, and Mile. Delac getting married— Why, it’s just a chapter of accidents!” I stopped, hesitated a second, and then went up to them. “ Excuse me,” I said quietly, before my courage could evaporate. “I couldn’t help hearing what you said, Do you want an instructress?” I had gathered that they were the man- agers or proprietors of the Flower Garden Club. The woman stared at me in surprise, but the man looked at me with a gleam of rec- ognition. “7 say—this is the young lady I was watching—lI told you, Mrs. Groote. I was pretty certain she was a professional, only that she was a sight better than any pro- fessional I’ve ever seen. Do you want an engagement, Miss—”’ ‘““ Fane,” I put in. “What qualifications have you?” asked Mrs. Groote. I found out that she was the proprietress, and the man—a Mr. Anselm, her manager. Her husband, who had died three months previously, had started the club, and she was carrying it on, and Mr. Anselm, who had founded the famous Apple Tree dancing rooms in New York, was reorganizing it for her. “Well, I could show you, couldn’t 1?” I - answered. “Tye seen ’em,” commented Mr. An- selm. ‘I’ve kept my eyes peeled on the young lady the whole evening long. She and our young foreign Adonis made as good a pair as I’ve ever seen.” ““Were you dancing with M. Dorando, Miss Fane?” asked Mrs. Groote with sud- den interest. I admitted it, and she then asked me into her private room. My luck was phenomenal. They raised ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. no difficulty on the subject of references, on my telling them that I had never held a post in London, but had danced a good deal abroad. This was the strict truth. And then it turned out that Miss Honesty had only been engaged for three evenings a week. Not in the daytime at all. There were two other instructresses, who had been there since the foundation of the club. That was stupendous luck for me. I was deter- ‘mined to take on the job, if they would have me. It was better than anything I could have hoped for—the chance of meeting King Peter as a man, and myself in a perfectly regular position. It was going to take some doing; but I was going to do it. A mass of objections came crowding into my mind, but I put them away. I was to have five guineas for each eve- ning—Tuesday, Friday and Saturday. On very rare occasions I might be asked to give some exhibition dances, but it was not a regular feature. People came to the Flower Garden Club to dance, not merely to look on. T was to come to the club the following morning to be put through my paces. My head was in a whirl as I drove home. Bunch let me in, as arranged, by the little side door leading into the garden. From there I could get up to my rooms without using the main staircase. We hurried up like two conspirators, Bunch in front. ““ Well?” she asked as she shut my sitting room door. I took off my hat and laughed a little hysterically. “Not a hitch!” I said. And I told her everything—that is, all the facts, not the main thing: that I knew I was crazily in love with King Peter and that my heart was nearly bursting with joy because-he had seemed to take some interest in me. Poor Bunch was horrified. “It can’t be done, Liz,” she said. “‘ You can’t take on a job like that. To begin with, you can’t manage it. Think of the risk of getting found out! And then— think of the horrid men you might come up against. You’d have to dance with any- EOmMmIGcDooks:co