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Updated: June 24, 2025
There were moments when even Frederic Morganstein was conscious of the indefinable barrier beyond which lay intrenched, an untried and repelling force. He straightened and, following her gaze, saw Lucky Banks enter the door. Involuntarily Elizabeth started, and Mrs. Feversham caught a quick breath. "At the eleventh hour," she said then, and her eyes met her brother's.
"It will take more security than the Aurora to open a bank account in Washington, D.C. I ain't saying anything against Dave Weatherbee's strike," he added quickly, "but, when you talk Alaska to those fellows off there in the east, they get cold feet." Morganstein looked off, chuckling his appreciation.
"I had given you up, Mr. Banks," she said not quite steadily. Then Morganstein said: "How do, Banks," and offered his hand. "Just in time to join us. Ordered saddle of Yakima lamb, first on the market, dressing of fine herbs, for the crowd. Suits you, doesn't it?" To which the little prospector responded: "My, yes, first class, but I don't want to put you out."
"Imagine a splendid polar-bear rug here," she said, "with a yellowish lynx at the foot of the stairs, and one of those fine Kodiak skins in front of the hearth. A couch there in the chimney corner, with a Navajo blanket and pillows would be color enough." Morganstein, watching her from his invalid chair, grasped the idea with satisfaction. "Cut out those Wilton carpets, Marcia," he said.
If you hadn't been at Vivian Court to write up the decorations for that bridge-luncheon and happened to make that snap-shot of the Morganstein party, my leading lady would have gone to the paper as Miss Armitage straight, and I guess that would have queered me with the chief. But that headline you introduced about Mrs. Weatherbee's incognito struck him right.
"And you believed, as I did, that it was a direct loan to cover personal expenses. After I came home, I found out she borrowed the money originally of Miss Morganstein, to endow a bed in the children's hospital. Think of it! And Mrs. Feversham, who took it off her sister's hands, transferred the note to Morganstein."
She paused, then, for a woman who had been so schooled to hold herself in hand as Elizabeth Morganstein, went on uncertainly: "He is just a plain business man, used to going straight to a point, but not many men care so much for a woman as he does for you. You could mold him like wax. He says all he wants now if he did make a mistake is a chance to wipe it out; start with a clean slate." Mrs.
"I'd give fifty dollars to see her face when she gets to that east room," Morganstein said abruptly. "But go up, Mr. Tisdale; go up. Needn't bother to stay with me." "There's a good deal to see here," Tisdale responded genially. "A man who is accustomed to spend his time as I do, gathering accurate detail, is slower than others, I suppose, and this all seems very fine to me."
The illustrations were unusually clear, and Daniels' cuts were supplemented by another labelled: "The Morganstein party leaving Vivian Court," which also designated the group. Feversham, wife of the special delegate from Alaska, in the tonneau. Her sister, Miss Morganstein, on her right. Mrs. Weatherbee seated in front. And under the central picture Hollis read: "Mrs.
Greatest Carmen ever sung in this theater, isn't it? Now, keep your seat. I find it easier to stand. Just came for a minute to be presented to your wife." His venture carried. The little man, rising, said with conscious pride: "Mrs. Banks, allow me to make you acquainted with Mr. Morganstein. He's the man that holds the option on the Annabel. And this is Miss Purdy, Mr.
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