# Cupid En Route/Chapter 4
### IV

BY nine o'clock the next morning Wade was in possession of all the information to be obtained at the opera house. The box was rented by Miss M. F. Pearse, who lived a few doors from the Avenue on West Fifty-third Street. Wade made a note of the name and the house number, thanked his informant and went back to the hotel to consider his next step. Dave had intrusted himself to a hansom and had gone off down town to buy presents for Minnie and the children. So Wade had opportunity for undisturbed reflection. By noon he had smoked up a good deal of tobacco but had evolved no method of discovering the identity of the young lady save that of applying to Miss Pearse, and this morning, with the white light of a Winter day flooding the room, he realized the preposterousness of such a ​course. It occurred to him, now that it was too late, that what he should have done was to have noted the number of the electric brougham in which the party had left the opera house, discovered the chauffeur and obtained his information from him. But that chance was lost to him and it really seemed that he would have to call at the house on West Fifty-third Street and, on one pretext or another, find out what he wanted from Miss Pearse. It was possible that the elderly lady and the girl were relations, although he couldn't recall any resemblance of features, in which case it might be further possible that they lived together. On the whole, however, he was inclined to think that one of the other women was the girl's mother and that she and Miss Pearse were merely friends.
He tried to think of a plausible story to tell Miss Pearse. It would hardly do to hand her his card and say "Madam, I am in love with a young lady who sat in your box at the opera Thursday night, and I shall be ​greatly obliged if you will inform me of her name and address." He strove to recall the few detective stories he had read and wondered what Sherlock Holmes would do under like circumstances. He might, he supposed, proclaim himself a census taker or the agent for a directory, but if the girl didn't live at the Fifty-third Street residence that wouldn't answer. He was still cudgeling his brains when Dave returned, followed by a page with his arms full of packages.
"Boy," he said when the page had littered table and chairs with the parcels and taken his departure, "I've been havin' one great time! Reckon I'll have to go back this afternoon an' buy me a new trunk. Just look a' here, Wade." He began to pull the wrappings off and display his treasures. "That's for the Missis," he explained, shaking a crimson flannel wrapper at Wade. "Warm! Feel of it! An' just throw your optics on this, boy. Sewin' set, scissors, two pair of 'em, big an' little, thread, all ​sorts an' colors; darnin' cotton; thimble, solid silver; needle-case; darnin' ball to stick in the toe of a stockin', you know; that handle's silver, too; forget what the gal called them things, bubkins, I think it was. Feel that plush! Ain't that great? Reckon that's goin' some for Lone Mesa! An' wait till I show you the toys for the kids; I got enough to stock a toy-store; paint-box for Mollie, doll—see the darn cute little thing open it's eyes, will you? Listen! Hear that? 'Mommer,' just as plain! Stick your finger there and see. Ain't that foxy? That's a box of dishes no bigger 'n your thumb. An' here's a knife for Davy an' a soldier suit cap an' all. What they don't think of for kids ain't much, I'm tellin' you, partner. Why, blame me if I wasn't most wishin' I was a kid myseff when I got up there with all them toys! An' look here! What do you think o' that, eh? Ain't that cunnin'? An' here—" He fished around in his pockets and finally brought out a tiny package which he thrust ​in Wade's hand. "I got that for you, boy. It ain't much; just a pin for your tie. Reckon you might's well have it now."
It was rather atrocious, but Wade thanked him very sincerely and tried the effect then and there, Dave standing off and viewing the result critically.
"That ain't so bad, is it? I see it in a window down on that Sixth Avenue an' I says to myself 'That's just the pin for Wade, kind o' tony an' swell.' The feller swore them was real diamonds, partner, but I got my doubts about 'em. It's a real handsome pin, though, ain't it?"
"It's stunning, Dave," answered Wade. "And if they're not real diamonds they look like them. Much obliged, old man. I'm going to put it aside until Christmas, though. I never liked to-wear my presents beforehand."
"Course not. Well, say, I'm so darned hungry I could eat raw dog. Reckon the dining room's open?"
"It's always open, Dave."
​"It is? Think o' that! Eat whenever you like, can you? Well, how you feelin' about it now? Ready to feed?"
At luncheon Wade confided his perplexities to Dave and they talked the matter over from soup to coffee without finding a solution. Afterwards Dave insisted that Wade should go down town with him and assist in the purchase of a gown for Minnie that should be as near as possible like the one which Dave had admired the evening before at the opera. "One o' them genuine red ones, boy, that there ain't no mistakin'. Minnie's almighty fond o' red. I don't mind buyin toys and such things, but women's things is different. Them gals in the stores is as haughty as biscuit-shooters; all dressed in black silk, with about a million dollars worth o' hair on their heads. They got a way o' lookin' at you, sort o' high an' mighty, that makes you feel like a hunk o' 'dobe; leastwise, that's the way it makes me feel, partner. I reckon you've had more experience with 'em. Anyhow, you can be ​just as haughty as they can. Me, I want to kiss 'em or slap 'em, I don't know which. Them stores ain't no proper place for a weak an' defenceless male man.
So Wade, with a regretful thought for his real mission in life, which was the discovery of the girl in the blue gown, consented, and they climbed into a hansom and set off down Broadway.
It was four days to Christmas, and New York's shopping district was a seething cauldron of breathless, frantic, maddened humanity. Christmas was in the air; the cross-town thoroughfares were lined with hawkers of mechanical toys, wreaths and greens; the shop windows would have tempted a miser to extravagance; the flower stores mingled holly and mistletoe with priceless orchids and semi-priceless roses; Santa Claus rang his bell on almost every corner; in short the Spirit of the Holidays had the great city in its grasp. There was a frosty nip in the air and the leaden sky threatened snow.
​To follow Wade and Dave in their search for the red gown would be amusing but unnecessary. They found it at last after several defeats. When Dave learned the price he gasped with amazement. But he was game, and after the subject of size had been threshed out, the gown was paid for and the saleswoman was instructed to send it to the hotel. They decided to return uptown on foot, and so crossed to the Avenue and turned northward with the throng. Dave was out of cigars and when he spied a tiny tobacco shop sandwiched in between a florist's and a big marble-fronted jewelry emporium he made for it. Wade remained outside and sauntered along to the big plate-glass show window behind which was displayed a gold-plated dinner service. Dave rejoined him in a moment, stuffing big black cigars into his pocket. Wade accepted one and lighted it. Then they turned to resume their northward progress. And at that moment Fate took a hand again.
"Wait!" exclaimed Wade. He pulled ​Dave back against the window. A taxicab had stopped in front of the entrance and the carriage man, a gorgeous, dignitary, was helping the single passenger to alight. Wade's grasp on his companion's arm tightened until the latter squirmed.
"What's the matter, boy?" he growled.
"Look! There she is now! See, Dave?"
She had paused to give a direction to the driver. A long coat of black fur and a hat of the same somber material relieved by a single gold aigrette was too much of a disguise for Dave to penetrate at first. But when the chauffeur had touched his cap sketchilly and the girl had turned toward the store he recognized her. The clear face showed forth from its dark setting like a blush rose and the deep violet eyes sparkled with the excitement of Christmas shopping. As she passed the two men at a distance of a half-dozen feet her glance lifted and swept them. A little flash of recognition lighted her face. Then with something that just escaped being a smile she turned her gaze ​and passed through the revolving doors. Wade drew the deep breath of a man regaining conciousness.
"That's her, boy!" whispered Dave hoarsely. "Now's your chance!"
But Wade didn't move. He was watching the taxi turn and cross the street to take its place in the waiting line at the opposite curb.
"Ain't you goin' to chase after her?" demanded Dave disappointedly.
"I'm going to talk to that taxicab driver first," was the reply. "You stay here and watch for her." He hurried away, dodged across the Avenue at the risk of his life and accosted the driver.
"You just left a lady at the jeweler's. Where did you get her?" He pulled a roll of bills from his pocket and peeled off the bottom one without glancing at it. The chauffeur, however, was more particular. He read its denomination at a glance, removed his cap and read from the yellow slip inside. The address he gave was the Pearse residence.
​"Do you know who she is?" asked Wade eagerly. "Do you know her name?"
"No, I never saw her before, sir. I never went to that address before. They telephoned to the garage and I was sent up there. The lady got in and told me to bring her here. That's all I know, sir."
"Thank you." Wade handed over the bill. "A Merry Christmas."
The chauffeur touched his cap. "Same to you, sir."
Wade hurried back to Dave.
"Seen her?" he asked.
"Nor hide nor hair," answered Dave. "What did you find out?"
"She came from that house on Fifty-third Street. She must live there, I guess. Maybe she's the old lady's niece."
"Well, what you goin' to do now?"
Wade frowned undecidedly, watching the store entrance.
"I don't know," he answered finally. "If I go in there and find her it won't do ​me any good, Dave. I—I couldn't just go up and speak to her."
"Why not?"
"I don't know her."
"Course you don't. But you never will if you don't begin, boy. Now you go an' find her an' speak right up. Tell her you like her looks an' if she ain't got no objection you'd like to call an' see her."
Wade laughed ruefully. "They don't do things that way here, old man. I've got to find a smoother way than that, I guess." His wandering gaze encountered the gorgeous window of the florist's shop.
"You stay here and watch, Dave. I'll be back in a minute."
He hurried into the florist's. "I want some roses, please, in a hurry; American Beauties, I guess."
"Yes, sir; twelve, fifteen and twenty a dozen, sir."
"Twenty."
"A dozen, sir?"
"Two—no, three. And hurry. Never ​mind a box. Just put 'em in a paper." He went to the door and watched the sidewalk in front of the jeweler's. The man was disgustingly slow, but finally the great bundle was ready and paid for and Wade was again dodging the traffic of the street. The taxicab was still in line. Wade opened the door and laid the yard-long bundle on the seat. The chauffeur watched with expressionless face.
"If the lady asks any questions you don't know a thing," said Wade. The chauffeur smiled the ghost of a smile as he touched his cap again.
"Not a thing, sir," he answered.
Wade returned to his post outside the door. "If you'd rather not wait, old man," he said, "you go on and I'll find you at the hotel." But Dave shook his head.
"Hell, I don't mind waitin'," he answered cheerfully. "There's plenty to see, boy. What you writin'?"
"Just making a note of that fellow's number and the number of the taxi," ​answered Wade, returning his book to his pocket. "I don't intend to slip up this time."
"Well, that ain't the way I'd do it," growled Dave. "I'd put it right up to her, I would."
"Yes, and as like as not she'd call the store detective and have me put out. I guess I've got to go sort of easy, Dave, or else I'll be queered at the start. She must be buying everything in there."
It was getting colder and the lights began to flash forth from the windows up and down the Avenue. And then, at last, she appeared, stepping lithefully through the entrance without a glance to left or right.
"Ain't she a winner!" whispered Dave wonderingly. "Boy, she certainly would make a hell of a splash back in Telluride! But, say, she didn't buy a darn thing!"
"THE ROSES NODDED AND BECKED AS HE STROVE TO TOUCH HIS CAP"
"Now's your chance," whispered Dave. "Butt in, partner!"
But Wade only looked while the taxi rolled to the curb and the attendant helped her in. Then the girl's face appeared at the door and the attendant bent forward. Something white moved into view. The attendant spoke to the chauffeur and the latter left his seat and went to the door. Wade saw him shake his head and look blank. A sheet of white paper fluttered out and blew along the curb. An impatient tooting from a big limousine behind recalled the carriage man to his duties. He waved the chauffeur back to his seat. Then from the depths of the cab appeared a great bunch of roses, its wrappings fluttering about it, and settled in the carriage man's arms. He moved back, the roses nodded and becked as he strove to touch his cap, the door banged shut and the taxicab sprang away from the curb with a warning toot. ​But as it moved forward the girl's face and the upper part of her body appeared for a moment at the glass. Her eyes swept the sidewalk hurriedly, met Wade's eyes startledly and comprehendingly and were quickly flashed away. But Wade had caught more than the glance. He had caught in that brief instant the carmine blur of a rose against the black fur of the coat!
What did he care that the carriage man was standing there foolishly clasping thirty-five American Beauties to his gold-trimmed uniform? The thirty-sixth was nestled under the chin of the girl he loved!