A STARTLING DISCOVERY
"How funny!" exclaimed Tavia, as she and Dorothy began to ascend the
stairs in the deep, dark hallway of the apartment house that Aunt Winnie
owned, and in which Miss Mingle and her sister lived. It was six stories
high and had two apartments on each floor. A porter, with the unconcern
of long habit, carelessly carried a rosy, cooing baby on his shoulder up
the long flights of stairs, his destination being an apartment on the
sixth floor. The mother of the child climbed up after him deep in
thought, probably as to what to have for dinner that day.
"No, there are no elevators," explained Dorothy. "This house is one of
the early apartments, built before the people knew the necessity for such
luxuries as elevators."
"Luxuries!" said Tavia, stopping to catch her breath, "if elevators are
luxuries in a six-story house, I'll vote for luxuries!"
"Just one more flight," said Dorothy, "it's the fifth floor, the left
apartment, I believe," she consulted a card as they paused on a landing.
"I don't wonder now at Miss Mingle looking haggard," said Tavia, "if she
must face this climb every time she comes back. Imagine doing this
several times a day!"
"At least, one would get all the necessary exercising, and in wet, cold
weather, could have both amusement and exercise, sliding down the
banisters and climbing back," Dorothy said, determined to see the bright
side of it.
Tavia slipped in a heap on a step and gasped: "Yes, indeed, I'll admit
there may be advantages in the way of exercise."
"Courage," said Dorothy laughing, "we have only ten steps more!"
While Dorothy resolutely dragged Tavia up the last ten steps, Miss Mingle
appeared in the hall.
"I heard your cheerful laughter," she said with a smile, "and I said to
sister, prepare the pillows for the girls to fall on, after their awful
climb. But I didn't say," she added, playfully, "feather pillows to fall
on the girls!"
"We really enjoyed the climb," said Dorothy.
"It was lots of fun," agreed Tavia.
They entered a room which at first glance seemed a confused jumble of
beautiful furniture, magazines, newspapers and books, grocer and butcher
and gas bills, and a gentle-faced woman reclining languidly in an easy
chair. Her smooth black hair fell gracefully over her ears; she had large
gray eyes, whose sweet patience was the most marked characteristic of her
face.
"My sister, Mrs. Bergham, has been quite ill," explained Miss Mingle, as
she rushed about trying to clear off two chairs for the girls to sit on.
Every chair in the room seemed to be littered with what Dorothy thought
was a unique collection of various sorts of jars, tea pots, and cups; and
last week's laundry seemed to cover the radiators and tables. The room,
however, for all the confusion, was quaint and artistic, and had odd
little corners fixed up here and there.
"I'm so ill and I'm afraid I've been quite selfish, demanding so much of
sister's time!" Mrs. Bergham said, extending a long white hand to the
girls, and with her other removing a scarf from her shoulders, allowing
it to drop to the floor. Miss Mingle immediately picked it up, folded it
neatly, and laid it on the window seat.
"I've had rather a sad Christmas," she went on. "Sister, it's getting too
warm in this room," and, removing a pillow from under her head, she
permitted that also to drop to the floor. Miss Mingle stooped and picked
it up.
"There, there, dear," said the latter, "I can't let you talk about it.
The girls will tell you all about their trip and you'll forget the
miserable aches and pains." She puffed and patted the pillows on which
her sister was resting.
Mrs. Bergham smiled languidly. "It's so fine to be young and strong," she
said. "I have two small sons, and it made my Christmas so hard not to
have them with me. But I couldn't take care of them. They are such robust
little fellows! Sister decided, and I suppose she's right--she always
is--that it would be best for me not to have the care of them while I am
so ill." She sighed and smiled patiently at Miss Mingle. "So we sent them
away to school. I did so count on having them with me this holiday, but
sister thought it would only be a worry; didn't you, dear?"
Miss Mingle hesitated just the fraction of a second, then she answered
cheerfully: "Mrs. Bergham is so nervous, and the boys are such lively
little crickets, we didn't have them home for Christmas."
"Children are sometimes such perfect cares," declared Tavia, feeling that
something should be said.
"Then, too," continued Mrs. Bergham, evidently greatly enjoying the
opportunity to talk about herself to the helpless callers, "I've tried
hard to add a little to our income. I paint," she arched her straight,
black eyebrows slightly. "Everything was going along so beautifully,
although it is an expensive apartment to keep up, and I cared nothing for
myself, I like to keep a home for my sister, and I worked and worked, and
was so worried. Don't you like this apartment? I've grown very fond of
it." She talked in a rambling way, but her voice was pleasing and her
manner quite tranquil, so that Dorothy wondered how she said so much with
apparently little exertion.
"The night the telegram came," said Miss Mingle, "I thought she was
dying, and I must say," she laughed, "that that alone saved you naughty
girls from receiving some horrible punishment." They all laughed at the
remembrance of that last night at Glenwood. "But when I got here,"
continued Miss Mingle, "my sister was much better, and I was so relieved
to find her just like her own dear self, when I had expected to find
her--very ill--that I forgot everything, even having the boys home, so
that sister's fatherless sons had no Santa Claus this year."
Tavia was curious. The furnishings of the room were good, almost
elaborate, but the carelessness of it all at first hid the good points.
Surely Mrs. Bergham did not keep it up on her painting. Tavia judged
that, by the long, slender, almost helpless hand and the whole poise of
the woman. And the two little boys at school! Could it be possible, she
thought, that Miss Mingle supported the family?
"I'm sorry I am not well enough to arrange to have you meet some of my
young friends," said Mrs. Bergham. "We entertain a little, sister and I.
I know so many interesting young people. Bohemians, sister calls them!"
Miss Mingle was arranging the books on top of a bookcase and they fell
with a clatter. If she made any answer, it was lost in the noise.
At the name of "Bohemians" Dorothy brightened. "I've never seen a real,
live Bohemian!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands together with ecstasy.
"But we met an actress yesterday," Tavia said, hesitatingly.
Mrs. Bergham waved her hand in space. "I mean real artists, people who
have genius, who are doing wonderful things for the world! We count those
among our friends," she said.
"My!" thought Dorothy, "did Miss Mingle belong to that society? Did she
know the geniuses of the world, and yet had never mentioned it to the
girls at school?" But Miss Mingle had little to say. She finished
arranging the books, and moving swiftly, nervously about, she tried to
bring some kind of order out of the confusion in the room.
"Do sit down, sister, this can all wait. I'm sure the girls don't mind if
we are not in perfect order," said Mrs. Bergham.
Dorothy and Tavia, in one breath, assured the ladies that they didn't
mind a bit, and Tavia even added, with the intention of making Miss
Mingle feel at ease, that it was "more home-like."
"I never could sit up perfectly straight nor stay comfortably near
anything that was just where it should be," explained Mrs. Bergham. "My
husband loved that streak of disorder that was part of my nature, but
sister was always the most precise and careful little creature." She
looked at Miss Mingle with limpid, loving eyes. "Sister was always the
greatest girl for taking all the responsibility, she was so hopelessly in
love with work in her girlhood! What a lovely time our girlhood was!
Isn't it time for my broth?" she asked, as she glanced at a small watch
on her wrist.
"Forgive me, dear," said Miss Mingle, "I forgot. I'll prepare it
immediately," and she dropped what she was doing and hurried to the
kitchen.
Mrs. Bergham arose and walked to the window seat, resting her elbows on
some pillows. She wore a light blue dressing gown, made on simple lines,
but so perfectly pretty that Dorothy and Tavia decided at once to make
one like it immediately, on reaching home. The light blue shade brought
out the clear blue-grey of her eyes, and her heavy dark lashes shaded the
soft, white skin. She sighed, and asked the girls to sit with her in the
window seat. In her presence Tavia felt very awkward, young and
inexperienced, and she sat rather rigidly. Dorothy was more at ease and,
too, more critical of their hostess. She listened to the quick, nervous
steps of Miss Mingle as she hurried about the kitchen, preparing
nourishment for her languid sister.
"There isn't much view from this window," said Tavia bluntly, more
because she felt ill at ease than because she had expected to see
something besides the tall, brown buildings across the street. The
buildings were high, no sky could be seen from the window, and the sun
did not seem to penetrate the long line of stone buildings across the
way.
"Oh, there are disadvantages here, I know, but I'm so fond of just this
one room. The house is in that part of the city most convenient to
everything--that is, everything worth while, of course. So, sister
decided it was best to stay here. However, the rent is enormous. It was
that mostly which caused my breakdown. In six months time our rent has
been doubled by the landlord. I got ill thinking about it, and I just had
to send for sister. Sister's salary isn't so large, and the constant
increase in our rent is a burden too great to bear."
"I'd move," said Tavia, promptly.
"But where would we find another place that meets all the requirements as
this place does? If sister were always with me, we might come across
something suitable some time, but alone, I am of little use in a business
manner. Sister is so clever! She can do everything so much better than I.
My illness is keeping me at home at present, and as my sister will return
to school directly, there is really no time to look about for other
quarters." The sufferer said this quite decidedly.
"Who raises the rents?" Dorothy tried to ask the question naturally, but
a lump seized her throat, and she felt the blood rushing to her cheeks.
"Oh, some agent. Several dozens of persons have bought and sold this
house, according to Mr. Akerson, since we moved in." The subject was
evidently beginning to bore Mrs. Bergham, for she yawned. "What pretty
hair you have, Miss Dale," she exclaimed, "so much like the gold the
poets sing about."
Dorothy brushed back the tiny locks that persisted in hanging about her
ears, and she smiled shyly.
"Can't you refuse to pay the increases in the rent?" asked Dorothy.
"Oh, these is always some good reason for the increases," answered Mrs.
Bergham. "Some new improvements, or some big expense attached to
maintaining a studio apartment, in fact, according to Mr. Akerson, the
reasons for raising our rent are endless."
Dorothy's eyes met Tavia's in a quick flash, as she noted the name of the
agent.
Then Miss Mingle came into the room with a neatly-arranged tray for her
sister. Mrs. Bergham thanked her and waited patiently while little Miss
Mingle drew up a table to the window seat and placed the things on it.
Mrs. Bergham held up a napkin. "I don't want to trouble, dear, but really
I've used this napkin several times. Just hand me any kind; I know things
haven't been ironed or cared for as they should be, but I don't mind.
There, that one is all right. I'm an awful care; am I not?"
Miss Mingle squeezed her hand. "Just get well and be your old, happy self
again, that's all I ask." She turned to the girls. "My sister and her
boys are all I have in the world to work and live for," she finished.
"I'm really so sorry, sister, that you did not speak about the girls
spending their holiday in town. We could have a nice little dinner before
you all return to Glenwood," suggested Mrs. Bergham.
"Don't think of it," said Dorothy, shocked at the idea of little Miss
Mingle being burdened with the additional care of trying to give a dinner
for Tavia and herself. Indeed, it would have been more to Dorothy's mind
to have taken Miss Mingle with her, and have her sit in Aunt Winnie's
luxurious apartment, and be waited on for just one day, as the little
teacher was waiting on her languid sister.
Tavia, too, thought, since the idea of increasing any of Miss Mingle's
responsibilities was apt to be brought up, it was the right moment to
depart.
Dorothy held Miss Mingle's hand as they were leaving and said: "Mrs.
Bergham told us of your difficulty about the rent. I'm so sorry."
"We are absolutely helpless," said Miss Mingle. "We are paying three
times what the apartment was originally rented for and there is no
logical reason why it should be so. The agent says it's the landlord's
commands, and if we don't like it we can move. It seems that this
particular landlord is money mad!"
"Oh," cried Dorothy, "something must be done!"
"The only thing that I can think of," said Mrs. Bergham, wiping two tears
from her eyes, "is to forget the whole tiresome business. It was horrid
of me to say anything at all, but it's so much on our minds that I cannot
help talking about it."
"I'm very glad indeed," said Dorothy, "that you did."
"We were not bored by that story," Tavia said, "and we surely are very
pleased to have had this pleasure of becoming acquainted with Miss
Mingle's sister."
In another moment the girls began the weary climb down the four flights
of stairs.
Reaching the street Dorothy started off at a mad pace.
"I'm so thoroughly provoked," she said to Tavia, who was a yard behind,
"that I must walk quickly or I'll explode."
"Well, I'm disgusted too, Dorothy, but I'll take a chance on exploding,
I'm not used to six-day walking races, however much you may be. And
incidentally, I must say I should have liked very much to have shaken a
certain person until all the languidness was shaken out of her bones!"
"Shaken her!" cried Dorothy, "I should have liked to spank her!"
"If that is an artistic temperament," said Tavia, "I never wish to meet
another. Of all the lackadaisical clinging vines; of all the sentimental,
selfish people that ever existed!"
"To think of that poor little woman teaching school, and going without
ordinary comforts, to help support her sister in ease and relieve her of
the responsibility of bringing up her two children!" Dorothy had
slackened her pace and the girls walked together, although still swinging
along rapidly.
"A person without a temperament would have moved instantly, but that
creature stayed on and on, paying every increase, getting the extra money
of course from Miss Mingle, just because she was so fond of that one
room!" Tavia mimicked Mrs. Bergham's voice and manner.
"Too languid to look for another," said Dorothy, her eyes aglow with
indignation. "But, Tavia, there is one thing certain. Dear Aunt Winnie
shall now know where the leak in her income is," said Dorothy.
Tavia did not reply, because a sudden idea had leaped to her brain. She
listened quietly while Dorothy talked about Aunt Winnie's business
affairs, her brain awhirl with the excitement of this thing that had
suddenly come to her; come as a means of repaying Dorothy and Aunt Winnie
for all their loving kindness to her. To keep the idea tucked away in the
innermost regions of her mind, she bit her tongue, so afraid was she that
once her lips opened the idea would burst forth. So Dorothy talked on and
on and Tavia only listened.