Upton Sinclair - The Metropolis

Eorted pheasants — magnificent bronze-coloured irds with long, floating black tails. Just before the opening of the season they were dumped by thousands into the covers — fat, and almost tame enough to be fed by hand; and now came the "hunters."

First they drew lots, for they were to hunt in pairs, a man and a woman. Montague drew Miss Vincent — " Little Raindrop in the Mud-puddle." Then OUie, who was master of ceremonies, placed them in a long line, and gave them the direction; and at a signal they moved through the forest. Following each person were two attendants, to carry the extra guns and reload

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them; and out in front were men to beat the bushes and scare the birds into flight.

Now Montague's idea of hunting had been to steal through the bayou forests, and match his eyes against those of the wild turkey, and shoot off their heads with a rifle bullet. So, when one of these birds rose in front of him, he fired, and the bird dropped; and he could have done it forever, he judged — only it was stupid slaughter, and it sickened him. However, if the creatures were not shot, they must inevitably perish in the winter snows; and he had heard that Robbie sent the game to the hospitals. Also, the score was being kept, and Miss Vincent, who was something of a shot herself, was watching him with eager excitement, being wild with desire to beat out Billy Price and Chappie de Peyster, who were the champion shots of the company. Baby de MiUe, who was on his left, and who could not shoot at all, was blundering along, puffing for breath and eying him enviously; and the attendants at his back were trembling with delight and murmuring their applause. So he shot on, as long as the drive lasted, and again on their way back, over a new stretch of the country. Sometimes the birds would rise in pairs, and he would drop them both; and twice when a blundering flock took flight in his direction he seized a second gun and brought down a second pair. When the day's sport came to an end his score was fifteen better than his nearest competitor, and he and his partner had won the day.

They crowded round to congratulate him; first his partner, and then his rivals, and his host

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and hostess. Montague found that he had suddenly become a person of consequence. Some who had previously taken no notice of him now became aware of his existence; proud society belles condescended to make conversation with him, and Clarrie Mason, who hated de Peyster, made note of a way to annoy him. As for Oliver, he was radiant with delight. " When it came to horses and guns, I knew you'd make good," he whispered.

Leaving the game to be gathered up in carts, they made their way home, and there the two victors received their prizes. The man's consisted of a shaving set in a case of solid gold, set with diamonds. Montague was simply stunned, for the thing could not have cost less than one or two thousand dollars. He could not persuade himself that he had a right to accept of such hospitality, which he could never hope to return. He was to reaUse in time that Robbie lived for the pleasure of thus humiliating his fellow-men.

After luncheon, the party came to an end. Some set out to return as they had come; and others, who had dinner engagements, went back with their host in his private car, leaving their autos to be returned by the chauffeurs. Montague and his brother were among these; and about dusk, when the swarms of working people were pouring out of the city, they crossed the ferry and took a cab to their hotel.

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CHAPTER V

THEY found their apartments looking as if they had been struck by a snowstorm — a storm of red and green and yellow, and all the colours that lie between. AU day the wagons of fashionable milliners and costumers had been stopping at the door, and their contents had found their way to Alice's room. The floors were ankle-deep in tissue paper and tape, and beds and couches and chairs were covered with boxes, in which lay wonderful symphonies of colour, haK disclosed in their wrappings of gauze. In the midst of it all stood the girl, her eyes shining with excitement.

"Oh, Allan!" she cried, as they entered. "How am I ever to thank you ?"

"You're not to thank me," Montague replied. "This is all Oliver's doings."

"Oliver!" exclaimed the girl, and turned to him. "How in the world could you do it.?" she cried. " How will you ever get the money to pay for it all.?"

"That's my problem," said the man, laughing. "All you have to think about is to look beautiful."

"If I don't," was her reply, "it won't be for lack of clothes. I never saw so many wonderful thin^ in all my life as I've seen to-day."

"There's quite a show of them," admitted Oliver.

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"And Reggie Mann! It was so queer, Allan! I never went shopping with a man before. And he's so — so matter-of-fact. You know, he bought me — everything!"

"That was what he was told to do," said OUver. " Did you like him ? "

" I don't know," said the girl. " He's queer — I never met a man hke that before. But he was awfully kind; and the people just turned their stores inside out for us — half a dozen people hurrying about to wait on you at once!"

"You'll get used to such things," said Oliver; and then, stepping toward the bed, "Let's see what you got.'

"Most of the things haven't come," said Alice. "The gowns all have to be fitted. — That one is for to-night," she added, as he lifted up a beautiful object made of rose-coloured chiffon.

Oliver studied it, and glanced once or twice at the girl. "I guess you can carry it," he said. "What sort of a cloak are you to wear.?"

"Oh, the cloak!" cried Alice. "Oliver, I can't believe it's really to belong to me. I didn't know anyone but princesses wore such things."

The cloak was in Mrs. Montague's room, and one of the maids brought it in. It was an opera wrap of grey brocade, lined with unborn baby lamb — a thing of a gorgeousness that made Montague literally gasp for breath.

"Did you ever see anything like it in your life.P" cried Alice. "And Oliver, is it true that I have to have gloves and shoes and stockings — and a hat — to match every gown ?"

" Of course," said Oliver. " If you were doing

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things right, you ought to have a cloak to match each evening gown as well."

"It seems incredible," said the girl. "Can it be right to spend so much money for things to

But Oliver was not discussing questions of ethics; he was examining sets of tinted crepe de chine lingerie, and hand-woven hose of spun silk. There were boxes upon boxes, and bureau drawers and closet shelves already filled up with hand-embroidered and lace-trimmed creations — chemises and corset-covers, night-robes of "handkerchief linen" lawn, lace handkerchiefs and veils, corsets of French coutil, dressing-jackets of pale-coloured silks, and negligees of soft batistes, trimmed with Valenciennes lace, or even with fur.

"You must have put in a full day," he said.

"I never looked at so many things in my life," said Alice. "And Mr. Mann never stopped to ask the price of a thing."

"I didn't think to tell him to," said Oliver, laughing.

Then the girl went in to dress — and Oliver faced about to find his brother sitting and staring hard at him.

"Tell me!" Montague exclaimed. "In God's name, what is all this to cost ?"

"I don't know," said Oliver, impassively. "I haven't seen the bills. It'll be fifteen or twenty thousand, I guess."

Montague's hands clenched involuntarily, and he sat rigid. "How long will it all last her?" he asked.

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" Why," said the other, " when she gets enough, it'll last her until spring, of course — unless she goes South during the winter."