The Early Bird A Business Man's Love Story   By: George Randolph Chester (1869-1924)

THE EARLY BIRD

A Business Man's Love Story

BY

GEORGE RANDOLPH CHESTER

Author of

THE MAKING OF BOBBY BURNIT

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY

ARTHUR WILLIAM BROWN

INDIANAPOLIS

THE BOBBS MERRILL COMPANY

PUBLISHERS

COPYRIGHT 1910

THE BOBBS MERRILL COMPANY

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I A VERY BUSY YOUNG MAN II MR. TURNER PLUNGES III A MATTER OF DELICACY IV GREEK MEETS GREEK V MISS JOSEPHINE'S FATHER VI MARASCHINO CHOCOLATES VII A DANCE NUMBER VIII NOT SAM'S FAULT THIS TIME IX A VIOLENT FLIRT X A PIANOLA TRAINING XI THE WESTLAKES INVEST XII ANOTHER MISSED APPOINTMENT XIII A RIDE WITH MISS STEVENS XIV MATRIMONIAL ELIGIBILITY XV THE HERO OF THE HOUR XVI AN INTERRUPTED PROPOSAL XVII SHE CALLS HIM SAM! XVIII A BUSINESS PARTNER

ILLUSTRATIONS

They stopped and had a drink of the cool water . . . Frontispiece

They waylaid him on the porch

Hepseba studied him from head to foot

Sam played again the plaintive little air

"I don't like to worry you, Sam"

"Excuse me!" stammered Mr. Stevens

THE EARLY BIRD

CHAPTER I

WHEREIN A VERY BUSY YOUNG MAN STARTS ON AN ABSOLUTE REST

The youngish looking man who so vigorously swung off the train at Restview, wore a pair of intensely dark blue eyes which immediately photographed everything within their range of vision flat green country, shaded farm houses, encircling wooded hills and all weighed it and sorted it and filed it away for future reference; and his clothes clung on him with almost that enviable fit found only in advertisements. Immediately he threw his luggage into the tonneau of the dingy automobile drawn up at the side of the lonely platform, and promptly climbed in after it. Spurred into purely mechanical action by this silent decisiveness, the driver, a grizzled graduate from a hay wagon, and a born grump, as promptly and as silently started his machine. The crisp and perfect start, however, was given check by a peremptory voice from the platform.

"Hey, you!" rasped the voice. "Come back here!"

As there were positively no other "Hey yous" in the landscape, the driver and the alert young man each acknowledged to the name, and turned to see an elderly gentleman, with a most aggressive beard and solid corpulency, gesticulating at them with much vigor and earnestness. Standing beside him was a slender sort of girl in a green outfit, with very large brown eyes and a smile of amusement which was just a shade mischievous. The driver turned upon his passenger a long and solemn accusation.

"Hollis Creek Inn?" he asked sternly.

"Meadow Brook," returned the passenger, not at all abashed, and he smiled with all the cheeriness imaginable.

"Oh," said the driver, and there was a world of disapprobation in his tone, as well as a subtle intonation of contempt. "You are not Mr. Stevens of Boston."

"No," confessed the passenger; "Mr. Turner of New York. I judge that to be Mr. Stevens on the platform," and he grinned.

The driver, still declining to see any humor whatsoever in the situation, sourly ran back to the platform. Jumping from his seat he opened the door of the tonneau, and waited with entirely artificial deference for Mr. Turner of New York to alight. Mr. Turner, however, did nothing of the sort. He merely stood up in the tonneau and bowed gravely.

"I seem to be a usurper," he said pleasantly to Mr. Stevens of Boston. "I was expected at Meadow Brook, and they were to send a conveyance for me. As this was the only conveyance in sight I naturally supposed it to be mine. I very much regret having discommoded you."