IV

One day, it was just after Thanksgiving, the Marchioness discovered her

opposite neighbors. It was warm and sunny, a summer day that had strayed

from its place in the Year's procession. The maid was putting the Angora

cat out on the balcony among the dwarf evergreens. The Marchioness was

trying to help her when, happening to look across the street, she saw

the two faces at the opposite window. She stared for a moment, then

taking the cat from the window sill held her up for the two little girls

to see. Flibbertigibbet and her mate nodded vigorously and smiled,

making motions with their hands as if stroking the fur.

The Marchioness dropped the cat and waved her hand to them; the maid

drew her back from the window; the two girls saw her ladyship twitch

away from the detaining hand and stamp her foot.

"Gee!" said Flibbertigibbet under her breath, "she's just like us."

"Oh, wot's she up ter now?" Freckles whispered.

Truly, any sane person would have asked that question. The Marchioness,

having gained her point, was standing on the window seat by the open

window, which was protected by an iron grating, and making curious

motions with her fingers and hands.

"Is she a luny?" Freckles asked in an awed voice.

Flibbertigibbet was gazing fixedly at this apparition and made no reply.

After watching this pantomime a few minutes, she spoke slowly:

"She's one of the dumb uns; I've seen 'em."

The Marchioness was now making frantic gestures towards the top of their

window. She was laughing too.

"She's a lively one if she is a dumber," said Freckles approvingly.

Flibbertigibbet jumped to her feet and likewise stood on the window

sill.

"Gee! She wants us to git the window open at the top. Here--pull!" The

two children hung their combined weight by the tips of their fingers

from the upper sash, and the great window opened slowly a few inches;

then it stuck fast. But they both heard the gleeful voice of their

opposite neighbor and welcomed the sound.

"I'm talking to you--it's the only way I can--the deaf and dumb--"

The maid lifted her down, struggling, from the window seat, and they

heard the childish voice scolding in a tongue unknown to them.

Flibbertigibbet set immediately about earning the right to learn the

deaf-and-dumb alphabet; she hung out all monitor Number Twelve's

washing--dish towels, stockings, handkerchiefs--every other day for two

weeks in the bitter December weather. She knew that this special monitor

had a small brother in the Asylum for Deaf Mutes; this girl taught her

the strange language in compensation for the child's time and labor. It

was mostly "give and take" in the Asylum.

"That child has been angelic lately; I don't know what's going to

happen." Long-suffering Sister Agatha heaved a sigh of relief.

"Oh, there is a storm brewing you may be sure; this calm is unnatural,"

Sister Angelica replied, smiling at sight of the little figure in the

yard dancing in the midst of an admiring circle of blue-nosed girls. "I

believe they would rather stand and watch her than to run about and get

warm. She is as much fun for them as a circus, and she learns so

quickly! Have you noticed her voice in chapel lately?"

"Yes, I have"; said Sister Agatha grumpily, "and I confess I can't bear

to hear her sing like an angel when she is such a little fiend."

Sister Angelica smiled. "Oh, I'm sure she'll come out all right; there's

nothing vicious about her, and she's a loyal little soul, you can't deny

that."

"Yes, to those she loves," Sister Agatha answered with some bitterness.

She knew she was no favorite with the subject under discussion. "See her

now! I shouldn't think she would have a whole bone left in her body."

They were playing "Snap-the-whip". Flibbertigibbet was the snapper for a

line of twenty or more girls. As she swung the circle her legs flew so

fast they fairly twinkled, and her hops and skips were a marvel to

onlookers. But she landed right side up at last, although breathless,

her long braid unloosened, hair tossing on the wind, cheeks red as

American beauty roses, and gray eyes black with excitement of the game.

Then the bell rang its warning, the children formed in line and marched

in to lessons.

The two weeks in December in which Flibbertigibbet had given herself to

the acquisition of the new language, proved long for the Marchioness.

Every day she watched at the window for the reappearance of the two

children at the bare upper window opposite; but thus far in vain.

However, on the second Saturday after their first across-street meeting,

she saw to her great joy the two little girls curled up on the window

sill and frantically waving to attract her attention. The Marchioness

nodded and smiled, clapped her hands, and mounted upon her own broad

window seat in order to have an unobstructed view over the iron grating.

"She sees us, she sees us!" Freckles cried excitedly, but under her

breath; "now let's begin."

Flibbertigibbet chose one of the panes that was cleaner than the others

and putting her two hands close to it began operations. The Marchioness

fairly hopped up and down with delight when she saw the familiar symbols

of the deaf-and-dumb alphabet, and immediately set her own small white

hands to work on her first sentence:

"Go slow."

Flibbertigibbet nodded emphatically; the conversation was begun again

and continued for half an hour. It was in truth a labor as well as a

work of love. The spelling in both cases was far from perfect and, at

times, puzzling to both parties; but little by little they became used

to each other's erratic symbols together with the queer things for which

they stood, and no conversation throughout the length and breadth of New

York--yes, even of our United States--was ever more enjoyed than by

these three girls. Flibbertigibbet and the Marchioness did the

finger-talking, and Freckles helped with the interpretation. In the

following translation of this first important exchange of social

courtesies, the extremely peculiar spelling, and wild combinations of

vowels in particular, are omitted: but the questions and answers are

given exactly as they were constructed by the opposite neighbors.

"Go slow." This as a word of warning from the Marchioness.

"You bet."

"Isn't this fun?"

"Beats the band."

"What is your name?"

Flibbertigibbet and her chum looked at each other; should it be nickname

or real name? As they were at present in society and much on their

dignity they decided to give their real names.

"Aileen Armagh." Thereupon Flibbertigibbet beat upon her breast to

indicate first person singular possessive. The Marchioness stared at her

for a minute, then spelled rather quickly:

"It's lovely. We call you something else."

"Who's we?"

"Aunt Ruth and I."

"What do you call me?"

"Flibbertigibbet."

"Git off!" cried Flibbertigibbet, recklessly shoving Freckles on to the

floor. "Gee, how'd she know!" And thereupon she jumped to her feet and,

having the broad window sill to herself, started upon a rather

restricted coon dance in order to prove to her opposite neighbor that

the nickname belonged to her by good right. Oh, but it was fun for the

Marchioness! She clapped her hands to show her approval and catching up

the skirt of her dainty white frock, slowly raised one leg at a right

angle to her body and stood so for a moment, to the intense admiration

of the other girls.

"That's what they call me here," said Flibbertigibbet when they got down

to conversation again.

"What is hers?" asked the Marchioness, pointing to Freckles.

"Margaret O'Dowd, but we call her Freckles."

How the Marchioness laughed! So hard, indeed, that she apparently

tumbled off the seat, for she disappeared entirely for several minutes,

much to the girls' amazement as well as chagrin.

"It's like she broke somethin'," whimpered Freckles; "a bone yer

know--her nose fallin' that way when she went over forrard."

"She ain't chany, I tell yer; she's jest Injy rubber," said

Flibbertigibbet scornfully but with a note of anxiety in her voice. At

this critical moment the Marchioness reappeared and jumped upon the

seat. She had a curious affair in her hand; after placing it to her

eyes, she signalled her answer:

"I can see them."

"See what?"

"The freckles."

"Wot's she givin' us?" Freckles asked in a perplexed voice.

"She's all right," said Flibbertigibbet with the confidence of superior

knowledge; "it's a tel'scope; yer can see the moon through, an' yer

freckles look to her as big as pie-plates."

Freckles crossed herself; it sounded like witches and it had a queer

look.

"Ask her wot's her name," she suggested.

"What's your name?" Flibbertigibbet repeated on her fingers.

"Alice Maud Mary Van Ostend."

"Gee whiz, ain't that a corker!" Flibbertigibbet exclaimed delightedly.

"How old are you?" She proceeded thus with her personal investigation

prompted thereto by Freckles.

"Most ten;--you?"

"Most twelve."

"And Freckles?" The Marchioness laughed as she spelled the name.

"Eleven."

"Ask her if she's an orphant," said Freckles.

"Are you an orphan, Freckles says."

"Half," came the answer. "What are you?"

"Whole," was the reply. "Which is your half?"

"I have only papa--I'll introduce him to you sometime when--"

This explanation took fully five minutes to decipher, and while they

were at work upon it the maid came up behind the Marchioness and,

without so much as saying "By your leave", took her down struggling from

the window seat and drew the shades. Whereupon Flibbertigibbet rose in

her wrath, shook her fist at the insulting personage, and vowed

vengeance upon her in her own forceful language:

"You're an old cat, and I'll rub your fur the wrong way till the sparks

fly."

At this awful threat Freckles looked alarmed, and suddenly realized that

she was shivering, the result of sitting so long against the cold

window. "Come on down," she pleaded with the enraged Flibbertigibbet;

and by dint of coaxing and the promise of a green woollen watch-chain,

which she had patiently woven, and so carefully, with four pins and an

empty spool till it looked like a green worm, she succeeded in getting

her away from the dormitory window.

V

If the _Marchioness of Isola Bella_ had filled many of Flibbertigibbet's

dreams during the last six months, the real Alice Maud Mary Van Ostend

now filled all her waking hours. Her sole thought was to contrive

opportunities for more of this fascinating conversation, and she and

Freckles practised daily on the sly in order to say more, and quickly,

to the real Marchioness across the way.

By good luck they were given a half-hour for themselves just before

Christmas, in reward for the conscientious manner in which they made

beds, washed dishes, and recited their lessons for an entire week. When

Sister Angelica, laying her hand on Flibbertigibbet's shoulder, had

asked her what favor she wanted for the good work of that week, the

little girl answered promptly enough that she would like to sit with

Freckles in the dormitory window and look out on the street, for maybe

there might be a hurdy-gurdy with a monkey passing through.

"Not this cold day, I'm sure," said Sister Angelica, smiling at the

request; "for no monkey could be out in this weather unless he had an

extra fur coat and a hot water bottle for his toes. Yes, you may go but

don't stay too long in the cold."

But what if the Marchioness were to fail to make her appearance! They

could not bear to think of this, and amused themselves for a little

while by blowing upon the cold panes and writing their names and the

Marchioness' in the vapor. But, at last--oh, at last, there she was! The

fingers began to talk almost before they knew it. In some respects it

proved to be a remarkable conversation, for it touched upon many and

various topics, all of which proved of equal interest to the parties

concerned. They lost no time in setting about the exchange of their

views.

"I'm going to a party," the Marchioness announced, smoothing her gown.

"What time?"

"Five o'clock, but I'm all ready. I am going to dance a minuet."

This was a poser; but Flibbertigibbet did not wish to be outdone,

although there was no party for her in prospect.

"I can dance too," she signalled.

"I know you can--lovely; that's why I told you."

"I wish I could see you dance the minute."

The Marchioness did not answer at once. Finally she spelled "Wait a

minute," jumped down from the broad sill and disappeared. In a short

time she was back again.

"I'm going to dance for you. Look downstairs--when it is dark--and

you'll see the drawing-room lighted--I'll dance near the windows."

The two girls clapped their hands and Flibbertigibbet jumped up and down

on the window sill to express her delight.

"When do you have to go to bed?" was the next pointed question from

Alice Maud Mary.

"A quarter to eight."

"Who puts you in?"

This was another poser for even Flibbertigibbet's quick wits.

"Wot does she mane?" Freckles demanded anxiously.

"I dunno; anyhow, I'll tell her the sisters."

"The sisters," was the word that went across the street.

"Oh, how nice! Do you say your prayers to them too?"