Barbara smiled doubtfully. She debated whether she would take a taxi to Ethel’s, or wait a little longer. Then she espied Ethel coming toward her swiftly. She wore a yellow frock, and had a yellow rose in her hair.
“Hello, darling,” Ethel gasped. “I’ve had the most awful time getting through the mob. I’ve got a car outside.” She kissed Barbara fleetingly and picked up her suitcase.
Barbara followed her with glowing face. Her heart was leaping gladly in response to the spirit of abandon all about. This was what she had dreamed of. She had given up Robert to seek this.
Ethel led her to a glittering sedan outside the station. “The family bus,” she said briefly. “We’ll go straight home and grab a bite to eat. Then you can change if you wish, but you’ll have to make it snappy for we’ve a date at nine.”
“A date?” Barbara gasped.
“Of course,” Ethel returned calmly. “I’m going to see that you don’t regret this trip. You’re going to have such a good time you won’t have any chance for regrets.”
She opened the door of the sedan and Barbara started to get in. Then she saw Mr. Simpson and Boots and Buddie. They were surrounded by a pile of worn bags, and Mr. Simpson’s face looked worried as he looked about for a taxi. All of the available cabs seemed to be busy taking on passengers.
Barbara was inexplicably touched. Somehow, the Simpsons seemed her problem. She touched Ethel on the arm impulsively.
“Would you mind giving that man and his two children a lift?” she asked”. “They were on the train with me... and they’re so pathetic.”
“Sure,” Ethel responded. “Where?”
Barbara pointed them out, and Ethel wheeled the sedan about to stop by them.
“Hello,” Barbara called gayly. She opened the back door as Mr. Simpson recognized her. “Pile in,” she ordered. “We’ll take you to your hotel.”
“That’s sure nice, miss,” Mr. Simpson acknowledged gratefully. He piled the children and bags in the back seat and got in.
“Where to?” Ethel asked over her shoulder.
“Why... to some hotel,” he said doubtfully. “Don’ matter which one jes’ so it’s not too highfalutin’.”
“You haven’t a reservation?” Ethel asked as she skillfully backed away from the curb and drove out to the street.
“No’m. We sure ain’t,” Mr. Simpson said regretfully.
“You haven’t a Chinaman’s chance of finding a room at a hotel,” Ethel told him decisively. “But I happen to know of a family out near my home that have a spare room empty. They’ll take you in if you like.”
“That sho’ is fine,” Mr. Simpson breathed gratefully. “I don’ know what I’d uh done...”
“That’s oke,” Ethel cut him off shortly as she eased through the crowded traffic.
Barbara leaned back with a sigh and relaxed. This was New Orleans. She was in the midst of the greatest festival in the world. She wondered, fleetingly, what her date would be like.
Chapter Four
“Hurry up with your primping,” Ethel called as she sauntered in to Barbara’s room. “You going to wear that green dress?” she asked judicially as her eyes went from Barbara’s lissome figure to the green frock laid out carefully on the bed.
“Yes, I thought so.” Clad in a sheer white slip, Barbara turned questioningly. “Don’t you like it?”
“I think it’s darling. And you’re a darling.” Ethel stepped close to her and touched her shoulder lightly. “Find everything you needed?” she asked.
“Oh, yes. Everything.” Barbara turned to the bed and took up the frock in question. “It’s not so new,” she said regretfully. “But it does look nice on me.”
“You’ll look swell,” Ethel assured her. She sat in the rocking chair and crossed her slim legs. “Frank won’t pay much attention to what you have on anyway,” she said composedly.
“Frank?” Barbara slipped the gown over her shoulders and her face emerged questioningly as she shook the green folds down to cling to her body.
“That’s your date,” Ethel said. “Frank Dupree. He’s swell. You’ll be crazy about him.”
“Tell me about him.” Barbara peered in the mirror as she patted her hair in place.
“He’s a bachelor. Handsome as the devil. His father left him enough money so he doesn’t have to work... but he writes a little when he’s bored with everything else.”
“He writes?” Barbara turned with quickened interest. “How old is he?”
“Old enough to know his way around... and young enough to enjoy showing the way to a child like you.”
“Oh.” Barbara dropped to the bed and regarded Ethel broodingly. “He sounds interesting,” she said.
“I hope he’ll prove interesting enough to take your mind off the plowboy you left behind you,” Ethel said tartly.
“My mind is practically free of all burdensome memories,” Barbara assured her.
“Come on.” Ethel arose and moved toward the door. “It’s time for them to come for us. I don’t suppose we’ll do anything but ride around and get acquainted,” she added. “This being Sunday night... we’re all saving up for making whoopee tomorrow and Tuesday.”
“I’m glad we’re not going to do anything to-night,” Barbara admitted as she followed her down the stairs and out to the front porch of the Brinkley home. “I feel all relaxed... just want to sit quietly and enjoy the sensation of knowing I’m really here.”
“Frank will love you if you’re a good listener,” Ethel assured her as they found seats on the shaded porch.
“That’s all I want to do... just look and listen.” Barbara sat up ecstatically and peered out into the New Orleans night.
The Brinkley home was on a quiet street near Taylor Park, not more than twenty blocks from the heart of the city. The clatter of traffic came to them faintly, bringing the muted sound of automobile sirens and the sharp voice of the bells on the street cars on Canal Street.
Barbara was outwardly calm, though an inner chord seemed to vibrate ceaselessly as she sensed the nearness of the city. It seemed to speak to her from out of the night as she sat quietly waiting for the man whom Ethel had selected to entertain her this first night.
Home, her life upon the farm, Robert, all the sheltered existence which was her past seemed strangely nonexistent. It was as though all that had been a dream... this the awakening.
She shivered a little as an automobile swung up the street to stop in front of the house.
“There they are now,” Ethel said. She arose and ran down the steps.
Barbara followed her more slowly. She was surprised to find that her heart was thumping madly and she seemed queerly suffocated.
Two masculine figures stood by the car when she arrived. Ethel introduced her composedly to “Joe” and “Frank,” but all she could distinguish in the darkness was that Frank was tall and Joe was short.
Then Ethel and Joe clambered into the back seat of the car, and Frank was gravely assisting her into the front seat. She sat quietly while he went around to the other side and slipped into the driver’s seat.
He twisted and spoke to Etheclass="underline" “Have you any particular desires?”
“I thought we’d just ride,” Ethel said. “How about driving out Gentilly Road? And maybe cut up to the lake and find a place to park.”
“At your command.” Frank’s voice was strong and gently whimsical. Barbara relaxed against the cushion as he put the heavy car in gear and drove northward.