Having met Colonel Maslin in the hotel lobby, Mabel found herself riding
home in the beautiful Maslin limousine. She sat exactly in the center of
the softly cushioned seat and stared haughtily at the passersby. She
inclined her head a trifle in condescending acknowledgment of the
traffic police who waved them on as they turned from Broadway into Third
Street. Mabel was sorry that he did not seem to notice her. He lived
three doors from Mabel on the side street and it seemed a pity not to
impress him, especially as he was forever bringing home the Brewster dog
when he ran away without his tag.
But luck was with Mabel when the big car rolled noiselessly up to the
curb before her home, for her mother was standing at the window, and her
brother and three other boys were having a last confab before separating
for the night. Mabel crossed the sidewalk and went up the steps in her
most stately manner. She did not notice the boys at all.
"Well," said her mother as she entered the house, "did you get a ride
home? How do you like the Maslin girl?
"She is a rare soul," said Mabel. Then descending to earth, "I wish you
could see the rooms they live in. You never _did_ see such lovely
things. And she has a maid, and a Chinese house-servant, and her father
is a perfect dear and sent us up a big box of candy."
"A rare soul, is she?" said Mrs. Brewster. "How do you mean?"
"Oh, I can't explain," said Mabel. "She is so understanding, and we
seemed to think and feel just alike on so many subjects. I expect to see
a great deal of her. We have so much in common."
"Does she object to dusting and making beds and things of that sort?"
asked Mrs. Brewster in a mild tone.
"I don't know," said Mabel, flushing.
"Ummm," said Mrs. Brewster. To Mabel the smile was
maddening,--infuriating.
"I don't see why you take it like that," she burst out harshly. "Just
because I have a mind above the average and want to live my own life and
set my soul free! I am reading every little while about some girl who
does it. But I never get a chance. Nothing for _me_ but school and
practice and that old dusting and helping around the house!"
Mrs. Brewster sat down and looked quizzically at her excited elder
child. She was in no hurry to break the silence, while Mabel stared out
of the window and drummed on the pane with nervous finger tips. Finally
she said gently, "Just what do you think you would like to do?"
"Oh, I want to break away, and have a chance to expand! I feel choked
the way things go now. I read about one girl about my age who left home
and took an apartment and lived her own life. It was wonderful. She went
to work too, and made lots and lots of money."
"Lucky girl," said Mrs. Brewster. "What a help she must have been to her
family! Oh, I forgot; the trick was that she _didn't_ help her family at
all, did she? Was she a rare soul too?"
Mabel registered what she fondly hoped was a look of scorn. She did not
speak, and after a moment Mrs. Brewster continued:
"What was her chosen field of endeavor? In other words, what job did she
get?"
"She became a newspaper woman," said Mabel.
"But what did she do in the meantime? What did she do while she was
learning to do newspaper work? Didn't you say she was a girl about your
age?"
Mabel answered patiently.
"She became a newspaper writer at once," she said. "Don't you see,
mamma, that is just the point? She went away from all the worries of her
own home, where she never had time to think things out for herself, and
it gave her a chance to _expand_. While she was at home her time was so
broken."
"I see," said Mrs. Brewster. "I suppose her cruel parents expected her
to dust and wash dishes and mend her clothes and practice, and all
that. It was a great pity. I suppose there are a great many parents
like that--so thoughtless."
"Indeed there are!" said Mabel with feeling. For the moment, hearing her
mother agree with her, she forgot to whom she was talking. "If mothers
and fathers only could understand that girls want to be _free_, that
they want to expand and be themselves, everything would be different."
"I don't doubt it at all," said Mrs. Brewster. She left the room and
Mabel continued the train of pleasant thought. She made no move to help
about supper, and Mrs. Brewster did not call her. Remembering that the
girl she had read about was accustomed to sit at her piano and compose
most beautiful melodies whenever she was disturbed or wanted to soothe
herself, Mabel went to the piano and, putting a firm foot on the
forbidden loud pedal, broke into what she fondly told herself were
crashing chords palpitating with the suppressed passion of her breaking
heart. The sounds thrilled her, and she continued until interrupted by a
roar from Frank who was doing his algebra at the kitchen table.
"Aw, Mabe, have a heart and quit that noise, will you?" he begged.
His rudeness broke the spell. Mabel rose and started to sweep haughtily
toward the stairs. She would retire to the sanctuary of her own room and
brood! But before she reached the door she heard her mother call,
"Supper is ready!"
Mabel did not hesitate. She remembered the Parker House rolls and
hurried into the dining-room. The rolls were there, and it was well
worth postponing a "brood" for them. Mrs. Brewster was unusually silent
and Frank watched her anxiously until, catching her eye, she nodded and
flashed a quick look toward her abstracted daughter. At the close of the
meal Mabel said with what sounded to Frank perilously like kindly meant
condescension, "That was a delicious little supper, mamma," and
receiving a meek but fervent, "Thank you so much, dear," from her mother
Mabel went straightway to her own room and closed the door between
herself and her unappreciative family.
The sound of that door was a signal for Frank to explode.
But Mrs. Brewster laid a soft hand over his rebellious mouth.
"Softly, softly, dear!" she begged. "I want you to be as patient as you
can. If _you_ were on the wrong path somehow or other, you would be glad
to be turned back where there was safer going, wouldn't you? Well, Mabel
must work this thing out for her own good. You and I cannot tell how she
will come out of it, because after all her soul is her own, and she
knows it better than we do. But we have faith in her, sonny dear, don't
forget that, and we believe she is a dear daughter and sister, who
really loves us with all her heart."
"Yah, she acts it!" scoffed Frank, the unbeliever.
"Give her time, dear," said Mrs. Brewster. "Please be patient. I am
going to do some telephoning now, and if you hurry with your algebra and
finish that history lesson, we will go to the movies. There is a good
play at the Strand tonight."
"I can do that all right," said Frank, and after his mother had gone to
the telephone he rushed the dishes out into the kitchen, stacked them
neatly, and was buried in his book when his mother returned, a look of
amusement rather mixed with worry on her pleasant, wholesome face.
The result of the telephone talk was an astounding offer from Mrs.
Brewster to meet Mabel when that young lady left school next day. Mrs.
Brewster was waiting for her daughter at the door of the High School,
and as they started slowly down the street, Mrs. Brewster said, "You
know the girl you were telling me about last night? I mean the one who
broke away and lived by herself and freed her soul and all that?"
Mabel nodded. Was her mother going to lecture her?
"I don't want to stand in your light, Mabel, and some day suffer all
kinds of remorse when I remember that I was the one who held you back
just because I am old-fashioned and happen to think that home is the
place for a young girl to grow up in, a place where she can have her
mother's care and guidance and all that. No, I just can't do it! I want
to give you a good start if you still feel that you want to take it.
Something came up today that looked exactly like what you wanted, and I
snatched at the chance. At least until you decide. Of course I could not
decide for you."
"What is it?" asked Mabel cautiously.
"It seems quite wonderful," said Mrs. Brewster. "You know that ducky
little apartment the Kents have right under Grandmother Brewster's? They
are going away for the next six months, and want someone to live there
and take care of it."
"And we are going to live there?" cried Mabel delightedly. "Oh, I am so
glad! I am so sick of our house, it is so out of date, mamma, and on
such a side street! What will you do--shut it up or rent it?"
"Don't go so fast, Mabel. You say yourself you can't expand your soul
when Frank and I are around. I should think not! We will live just where
we are, and if you like _you_ can have the flat all to yourself. I was
there this morning. There is the sweetest kitchenette, with everything
in it, and the dearest living-room and dining-room combined and, Mabel,
_wait_ until you see the bed-room! It will be a lot to keep clean. I
certainly was lucky this morning. Just as I was coming home I met Marian
Gere, who does society for the _Times-Leader_, and she is looking for an
assistant, and simply snapped at the chance of having your help. I said
you could help her after school hours until the end of this term, and
after that you could give all your time, because I did not feel that I
could ask any girl to stay in school who was as talented as you feel you
are. And she said I was very sensible to let you try your wings. _Try
your wings._ Don't you think that a sweet expression? I remembered it
because I thought perhaps you could use it in your writing some time."
Mrs. Brewster paused for breath.
Mabel was looking rather wild-eyed. Things seemed to be happening rather
rapidly. Was it possible that all her cherished dreams were to be
realized, and at once?
Her mother had the key to the little playhouse apartment, the owner
having departed, and Mabel looked it over and over with actual cold
chills of delight coursing down her spine.
"I wouldn't tell Grandmother Brewster for a while about being here,"
suggested Mrs. Brewster. "She might think you needed looking after," and
Mabel agreed.
"When will you come over?"
"Oh, today!" cried Mabel. "And I think I will go down right now and see
Miss Gere."
"Very well, and I will go home and pack a few things for you. I think I
would just take a hand-bag now, and later you will know exactly what you
will need. There is not much closet space in the apartment. And of
course Frank and I will hope to see you occasionally. But we will
understand if you don't come home often, because you will be working
pretty hard to earn your living, even with such a good start. It is
lucky that you can get this lovely place to live in rent free. Later I
suppose you will not care what you have to pay, but now it will be a
help. And you will find that groceries are pretty high."
Mrs. Brewster nodded a gay good-bye as the car approached, and left
Mabel walking down Third Street on her way to the _Times-Leader_. A few
blocks on her way she overtook Jane and Estella arm in arm as usual.
Mabel gave her braid a flirt and unconsciously puffed out her chest.
"Where away, Mabel?" chirruped little Estella, twinkling. In a rush of
words Mabel told her tale while the girls listened in speechless
amazement.
"You don't mean to say that you have really _left home_?" demanded
Estella. There was no chirp in her voice now, no twinkle in her face.
She looked absolutely shocked.
"I leave tonight," said Mabel, "soon as I settle my salary with Miss
Gere. I am _wild_ to be free! It is going to be wonderful, perfectly
wonderful! I expect to write something grand. Just think, no one to
disturb me; no housework, no practicing! Oh, how my mind will soar!"
"Are you going to keep a maid?" asked Jane feebly. "You said no
housework."
"Well, it won't be like the housework at home," declared Mabel. "That
is the dustiest old place! It won't take me a minute to put everything
in order at my apartment."
"But your mother!" almost wailed Estella. "How can you leave your
mother? I can't bear to leave mine for all day even."
"Mothers are different," said Mabel sadly. "Mamma is sweet, of course,
but she does not understand me. We are better apart; I feel it."
"Well, of all things!" said Jane slowly. "I am glad _my_ soul doesn't
have to have things done for it. I don't remember much of the time that
I have one, and you couldn't _hire_ me to leave home."
"You don't understand," said Mabel loftily. "One must do what seems
right to one's own self. I am doing that, and I shall be rewarded. Come
and see me sometimes, girls. I shall be very busy, but never too busy to
receive my old Girl Scout friends."
She nodded, and struck into a quicker pace which carried her ahead of
the two girls.
"Well, I think that is perfectly awful, don't you, Jane?" demanded
little Estella, looking at the broad, retreating back.
"Simply dreadful!" murmured Jane, shocked and wondering.
"What do you suppose has got into Mabel? Do you suppose it is possible
that her mother is actually letting her do it, or is she running away or
something awful?"
"Oh, Jane, do you remember what the Captain told her to do at the last
meeting? Oh, oh, what _will_ the Captain say when she hears about this?
She will feel awfully. Why, she never, never meant Mabel to actually
leave her mother and go off and do dreadful things! I don't see how
Mabel can bear it! And it will make our little Captain feel awfully!"
"Says she is going to live all alone, and work on the newspaper. Just
like being an orphan. Get her own meals and everything. I couldn't stand
it," said Jane.
They stared after the distant figure. They did not approve.
"But, of course," said Estella suddenly, "we must not be too hard on
Mabel. You know she writes real poetry. Perhaps that is what ails her.
We mustn't forget that."
"No," said Jane pityingly, "we mustn't forget _that_."