"THE HANDSOME MISS ANGELA KEY-STONE"
ELSIE BARKER'S party was a source of discomfort all around.
Gretta found out the reason why none of the Scollards accepted the
invitation which at first had given Happie so much pleasure, and was
distressed. She would not have gone for anything, she protested, then
why should Happie be a martyr to Elsie's refusal to invite the country
girl?
Laura was sulky because she was kept from a party. She had opportunity
for too few parties at best. Happie herself was uncomfortable because
she had found one of her "three E's" behaving with what she considered
unkind snobbishness, and also because her old friendly relations with
Elsie were impaired.
The holiday week dragged. It rained and was warm, for one thing, and
that unkeys people for the Christmas enjoyment. For another, attendance
at the tea room was a daily necessity, but hardly any one visited it,
and the days were long for the three on duty. They were not always the
same three, for Margery, Gretta and Happie took turns in going and
staying at home, and sometimes it was Laura and sometimes Polly who
accompanied the older two whose day in the tea room it was.
On New Year's afternoon Happie slipped down to the Charlefords' for an
hour or so, to hear about Elsie's party of the night before and to talk
over her difference with Elsie. Edith Charleford was always a comfort,
not to mention her mother, if "Auntie Cam" were available.
Happie ran up the wide, padded stairs to Edith's room when the maid
admitted her. She found her beginning the New Year with a Christmas
book, yet unread, in her hand, a box of candy open at her side, and
her kimono-clad form stretched luxuriously across the foot of the bed,
padded around with down pillows of all sizes and cover shades.
Edith hailed Happie joyously; the three E's had mourned over the rarity
of their glimpses of Happie Scollard, and Edith pounced on her at once
as if she were afraid of her escaping now that she had come.
"Happy New Year!" "Happy New Year," they cried together, and Edith
tugged at Happie's coat buttons with one hand as she tried to take off
her hat with the other.
"Now, Edith, wait! I came to stay a while," Happie protested,
protecting her hair from being forcibly removed with the hat pins. "I
want to hear all about the party, and talk to you when you're through."
"It was a nice party to begin with," said Edith, passing the candy box
to Happie established in the low rocker. "Here, take some; no, take a
lot, then I can lie down and talk, as I love to."
"Yes, and have them melt all over my hands while I listen! Put some in
the cover where I can reach them, if you must loaf," returned Happie.
"Now! Many there?"
"Fifty, about," said Edith. "But Elsie was short of boys. It was a
lucky thing it was a frolic, games and those things, not dancing, for
then it would have mattered more. We did all sorts of pleasant tricks,
most of them borrowed from Twelfth Night customs. I had a good time. We
were grouped for a tableau when midnight struck. It was cleverly done.
We had been marching to music, and fell into positions at the sound
of chords. But there weren't enough boys to set off the girls' pretty
gowns."
"Elsie wanted to meet the Gordons, so she could ask them, and there
would have been Bob," observed Happie.
"Elsie told me about it," said Edith with a quiet smile. "I was
dreadfully disappointed not to have you all there,--it's so long since
we had anything with the Scollards in it, but you did right. I told
Elsie I thought you were right. You couldn't possibly have accepted an
invitation that slighted a guest, and we all understood that you had
taken this Gretta for your friend, not as a charity girl. And it really
seemed like that for Elsie to refuse to ask her. There are always
plenty of ways of dropping an acquaintance, if you don't want to keep
it up, but, as I told Elsie, we could trust you not to like a girl we
wouldn't like."
"Oh, Edith, you duck!" cried Happie. "I haven't been one bit a happy
Happie this week. I know I acted right, but I'm not very sure I was
perfectly amiable on Christmas afternoon to Elsie. She has a right
to choose her acquaintances, as mother says, but I do hate, _hate_
anything like airs! I knew you'd ask Gretta to your party, but the
worst of it is I told Elsie the Charlefords could afford to ask any
one."
"Oh, Happie!" Edith remonstrated. "But of course you wouldn't have said
that if you hadn't been irritated. Still, do you know I think it is
nice to be sure your finish won't rub off! It is such fun to see you
with Elsie! She's so very rich, and you're so perfectly unconscious of
loss of money, and being poor--it's lovely!" Edith paused to laugh.
"That comes of having such a fine lady for a mother as Auntie Charlotte
Scollard."
"Or Auntie Camilla Charleford!" added Happie. "Listen to me, Edith!
Couldn't we get Elsie to meet Gretta without her knowing it is Gretta?
She's the handsomest girl you ever saw; dress her in fine clothes and
she'd be such a beauty as you read about--Beatrix Esmond, or some one
like that."
"I'd love it!" cried Edith with a fervor that betrayed her own past
encounters with Elsie's airiness. "But--forgive me, Happie--wouldn't
Gretta talk differently? Being country bred, and not having had a
chance, as you wrote us----?" Edith paused suggestively.
"She might, if she had to talk a lot, or got excited," said Happie
honestly. "But Gretta is clever, and she has tried hard to catch ideas.
I don't think you'd find her tripping. She can act wonderfully, if
only she will let herself go. We dressed up ridiculously once in the
country and visited the school, and even the girl who was teaching
didn't discover Gretta, though she knew her well--perhaps I wrote you
about it. Oh, Edith, do listen to me!" she instantly cried, arresting
herself in the tale of the masquerade at the school. Edith was already
listening, so Happie proceeded: "Mother said I might give a party, a
theatre party or something to all of you girls some night in the tea
room. We never had room to ask you all to the Patty-Pans. But suppose
I do this: suppose I hire a three-seated sleigh, if this snow that is
beginning to fall amounts to anything, and ask you and Eleanor and
Elsie for a drive in the park. Maybe Auntie Cam would go as chaperon;
mamma can't. Do you suppose she would? And suppose we get up Gretta
in all the fine things we can borrow, beg or steal, and introduce her
to Elsie as a friend of yours from--say, well, Baltimore. That sounds
anciently settled and F. F. V-ified! And then we'll let Gretta drive!
She can drive better than almost any one. And she would look too
splendid for anything handling a pair of horses, with dark plumes and
a big hat, and furs, and we wouldn't tell Elsie a word about it until a
week afterwards. I know she'd be fearfully impressed with the swellness
of your friend! You wouldn't be afraid, would you?"
"Of a pair of horses in long plumes, big hat and furs? Well, I might
be," laughed Edith sitting up, her eyes sparkling with the fun of the
thing in prospect. "But you'd better believe I'll do it! It would be
more fun than all the theatres in New York! I'm sure mother will say
yes, and go with us, too; you know she's a few years younger than I am!
But, now you listen to me, Happie dear! All this is going to be very
expensive----"
"Edith, I won't listen! We are rather rich, for us, and motherums says
we girls have a right to use a little money for pleasure. This won't
cost more than a theatre party, or a party in the tea room," cried
Happie.
"Yes, but Happie! Take our horses, and hire the three-seated sleigh
only," said Edith. "Don't you see it will seem much more like Gretta's
being our guest, if we use our horses? And besides, it's safer. Yes,
honest! Our horses are young and sprightly, but they're not tricky, and
if Gretta were to drive it would be better to feel we knew the horses
than to risk getting steady ones from a livery stable. It isn't only
one's own horses that make trouble in the park; it may be some one
else's quite as likely, and it's everything to know your own horses
will behave if another cuts up. I'm sure mamma will want us to use our
horses, so make up your mind to giving in on that point, Happie."
"Well," assented Happie reluctantly. "Is Auntie Cam at home? Could we
find out about it now, Edith?"
"Yes, if you'll wait till I get into a gown. We have people staying
here, and I don't want to trail around the hall in my kimono," said
Edith, beginning to divest herself of her wrapper as she spoke.
Mrs. Charleford threw herself into the plan with all her heart. When
Happie started for home it was settled that, with Mrs. Scollard's
consent, and if the sleighing came, and above all if Gretta could be
persuaded to regard the plan as a frolic and to do her best to carry it
out, there was to be a sleighing party in the park to introduce Elsie
to Edith's friend, "Miss Angela Key-Stone of Baltimore," who was such
an accomplished horsewoman that she drove the party.
Gretta's to-be assumed name was an inspiration of Happie's: _Angela_
from her own sur-name, Engel; _Key-Stone_, after her native state.
"And the hyphen gives it the last touch of magnificence!" cried Happie
gleefully, looking back from the foot of the steps to wave another
good-night to Edith at the top, and to wish her again: "A Happy New
Year!"
At first Gretta rebelled against the plan, but gradually, seeing that
Happie's heart was set on it, she yielded, and at last threw herself
into it with as keen a sense of the fun of the thing as Happie and
Edith felt. In the first place it would have been difficult not to
enjoy the exceedingly fine feathers in which this young bird--"young
jay-bird," Gretta called it--was to be arrayed.
Mrs. Charleford had much beautiful clothing and put it all at the
girls' service. A long coat of finest broadcloth, a great hat with
six heavy drooping ostrich plumes, the softest and richest of furs,
turned Gretta into the beauty Happie had promised Edith, and not only
into the beauty, but into the elegant young creature who is rarer. For
Gretta's perfect muscles, free carriage and tall figure gave her an
air that needed but the fine garments to emphasize it into positive
style. Happie was in raptures to find Gretta making friends of the
Charlefords, mother and daughter, both of whom liked her as well as
Happie wanted them to.
There lacked but the snow, and this came, came abundantly, and all
New York which could get on any sort of runners, seemed to turn out
for gala-day to enjoy the sleighing which was not too common in the
seaboard city.
When Elsie was invited--by Edith, to preserve the illusion of "Miss
Key-Stone's" being her guest--she asked if she might ride with the
party, instead of driving in the sleigh. She had a new saddle horse,
given her that Christmas, and nothing could tempt her to forego his
glossy back. It rather spoiled the plan to have Elsie ride instead
of sitting up beside the competent "Miss Key-Stone," as Happie and
Edith had intended her to do, but on the other hand it allowed Margery
to be of the party, which did away with Happie's one drawback to her
pleasure. In any case there was no alternative, for Elsie insisted on
riding her new "Trump." And in the end this choice of Elsie's gave
Gretta the opportunity to do more than play at being the heroine of the
occasion.
At half past two the sleigh was driven up to the Charleford door, the
Charleford perfectly matched young horses, gayly proud under their
plumes, pawing before it.
Elsie dismissed the groom who had accompanied her, and took her place
beside the big sleigh. Mrs. Charleford and Margery came down the steps,
Edith, Eleanor and Happie, and behind them a tall girl in long coat,
splendid furs, her dark, handsome face brilliantly lighted by the rich
color in her cheeks, her dark hair swept and shaded by her many long
plumes. She was drawing on her gauntlet gloves. She came slowly, with
great dignity, and glanced at Elsie with an indifference that, coupled
with her remarkable beauty, made that young lady long to know so
wonderful a princess.
"Angela, dear, pardon the difficulties of a mounted introduction," said
Edith. "This is my friend, Miss Elsie Barker; Miss Angela Key-Stone,
Elsie. Now, Angela, if you are still quite sure it won't bore you to
drive, we will start."
"There's no pleasure like driving," said "Miss Key-Stone," stepping
into the front seat and taking the reins from the coachman, who
relinquished them with a touch of his hat. "Yours is a good horse, Miss
Barker."
She said it so indifferently that it was scarcely praise of handsome
Trump, and Elsie was deeply impressed by visions of the horses to which
"Miss Key-Stone" must be accustomed if Trump did not arouse her to
greater enthusiasm.
Mrs. Charleford and Margery in the back seat, Eleanor Vernon on
the middle seat with Edith, Happie on the front with the handsome
girl-driver, and the party was off, up the avenue to the park, slowly,
provokingly pacing in the line of sleighs heading thither.
At Fifty-ninth Street their pace improved as they entered the gates
and began the upward course of the park on the east side. Elsie rode
well, and she loved horses; she was perfectly well able to appreciate
the manner in which the haughty "Baltimore girl" handled the reins, and
the cool clearness of judgment with which she saw her opportunity to
put her horses through a gap in the line, to let them out, or how quick
she was to pull them in, or to soothe them with a word when they grew
impatient of their pace. She was not slow to see the admiring glances
given the young driver of the Charleford sleigh by every one, and she
felt quite sure that Mrs. Charleford would be besieged with requests
for introductions to the girl who looked much older than she was, old
enough to be in social demand. Elsie, who was born with the instincts
of a society woman, resolved to use her advantage in meeting this
desirable creature before any of the other girls except Eleanor and
Happie Scollard. The latter did not count, for her misfortunes had put
her out of this world of wire-pulling. While Elsie was thus planning
Happie Scollard, quick to see, though she was a simple young girl, knew
pretty well what was passing in Elsie's mind, and was chuckling over
the success of her plot, as well as triumphing in Gretta's triumph. She
laughed out several times, anticipating the fun of revealing to Elsie
the identity of this impressive young lady, and an echoing giggle came
from Eleanor and Edith behind her--it certainly _was_ a delightful
trick they had played on Elsie!
Elsie rode up to "Miss Key-Stone's" side as she drove.
"Miss Key-Stone," she said in her very best manner, "I hope you won't
mind if I speak of your driving! You drive as well as my father, and he
is considered a fine horseman. You must have been used to driving from
your very earliest years."
Happie glanced over her shoulder at Edith, a glance that had all the
value of the wink forbidden a properly behaved girl. It was such
unspeakable joy to hear Elsie trying to impress Gretta.
"Yes, I have always been among horses," replied the distinguished
stranger briefly.
"I wish you would tell me something about your horses. I imagine they
were fine ones," said Elsie with a winning smile.
"I never talk when I'm driving in a crowd," said "Miss Key-Stone."
Elsie was more than ever awed. There are people who are won by a
cordial manner, and there are others who are won by a snub. Elsie
belonged to the people who feel a person must be well worth knowing who
does not particularly care to know them.
But there was nothing for it except to defer closer acquaintance with
this haughty beauty whose whole attention was given to her horses, and
Elsie fell back a little to ride beside Edith and Eleanor.
"Mightn't we keep on up-town, mother?" suggested Edith as they reached
the gate of the park at One Hundred and Tenth Street, and the horses
obediently slackened for a decision.
"I am in no hurry to get home. It isn't often we get such sleighing
as this. Yes, I'd like to keep on. Suppose we drive up to Albany for
supper!" cried Mrs. Charleford.
The party turned up Seventh Avenue, and drove faster up the wide
street. There were still many sleighs jingling in both directions but
they made better time here than they could in the park.
A piece of paper fluttered across the road in the wind. The Charleford
horses saw it, but they justified Edith's commendation of them by
ignoring it. Not so Trump. It is the exceptional horse who has not his
own particular mental weakness, his own private and pet aversion at
which he considers himself warranted in shying, and many horses change
this aversion according to the mood, or the weather. Trump objected to
paper flying about, though at times he walked decorously over paper,
and shied at a stone. A good horse, he was a nervous one, and to nerves
nothing is certain always to look normal. To-day the fluttering paper
took on some shape of menace, and Trump shied, and bolted.
Elsie kept a firm seat. She was a good rider, self-confident, well
taught. She was not frightened, and as she did not lose control no one
interfered to stop Trump. Gretta touched the Charleford horses and they
followed her, keeping up.
Suddenly Elsie threw up her hands, and Gretta instantly knew what had
happened; her saddle was slipping and Elsie, riding in the side saddle,
could not free her foot. Already she was sliding down the horse's
side, and Trump was quivering with fright, but his speed slackened,
mercifully, as he made ready to bolt.
It was all so quick that no one noticed the girl's plight, but Gretta,
with her eyes on her, pursuing her, saw and recognized the danger.
"Take the reins," she said to Happie. "Don't be afraid. Whoa!"
The obedient horses slackened, stopped. Gretta sprang out over the
sleigh just ahead of Elsie's frightened horse, caught his bridle from
the side, and putting out one strong hand wrenched free the girl's
foot. Elsie fell, but she fell clear, and Trump stopped just as several
men rushed to Gretta's aid.
"Are you hurt?" Gretta asked, helping Elsie to the sidewalk where Trump
was led, and motioning Happie to drive up to them.
"No, not a bit," Elsie said, her voice shaking. "But it is only because
you were so quick. I am shaken up, frightened, I suppose, but I'm all
right. You saved my life probably, Miss Key-Stone."
"Don't! That was just for fun; I'm Gretta Engel," said Gretta. Somehow
she could not keep up the innocent farce after she had been brought
into such relations with Elsie as the past three minutes had held. "Of
course I didn't do anything; no one else saw, that was all."
"Gretta Engel!" gasped Elsie. Then she realized that the quicker they
all escaped from the gathering crowd the better it would be, and she
walked over to the sleigh, meeting Mrs. Charleford and Edith coming
towards her. Elsie was not a coward, nor was she hysterical. She proved
that she had sense and courage.
"We must get away from here; don't bother about me, Mrs. Charleford,"
she said. "I'm perfectly safe. I'll ride Trump back. They'll tighten
the saddle for me, and there's nothing to make a fuss about. Do jump
into the sleigh, people, and don't look so scared! They'll have our
pictures in the morning papers if we don't fly! Your Gretta saved my
life, Happie."
"You're quite sure you can ride, Elsie dear?" Mrs. Charleford anxiously
began, but Elsie had turned to Gretta. "Will you see if the saddle is
safe now? Thank you. Yes, your hand, please, and help me up," she added
to the policeman who offered his aid. She jumped into the saddle and
took the reins in a band that no longer trembled.
Gretta got up into her seat and the party started back down the avenue,
followed by a cheer from the crowd, which liked pluck, as all crowds do.
It was a silent party that hastened homeward down the west side of the
park. The little trick had not ended humorously, but Gretta had far
exceeded the rôle of fine lady assigned to her. Elsie rode confidently.
No harm was done, but, ah, how differently they might have been
returning home!
At Elsie's door the sleighing party left her. Elsie dismounted; her
groom was waiting her. She turned to the sleigh to say good-night to
her friends.
"Good-night. You played me a fine trick, girls, but I played you a
better one," she said. "You showed me a swell girl, but I showed you a
heroine. Gretta Engel, I can't thank you for what you did; it was too
big. But I beg your pardon, and we're friends?"
Gretta was so embarrassed that she relapsed into her early speech.
"Yes, I guess," she said.