(which I've never been to, but only heard about) with switchbacks and
all sorts of shows, I said that Mother would consider it a chapter in
the liberal education of a respectable British tourist; and it was
decided that we should dine there. Mrs. Ess Kay had to do a lot of
things before she could go on to Newport, so we were to shop all the
morning, lunch at Sherry's, rest in the afternoon, and spend the
evening at Coney Island. Next day we were to go to West Point, where
Mr. Parker is stationed and stay there all night for a cadet ball.
Just as we had got this programme settled, and were making up our minds
to go out early, "while it was cool" (we should all have been lying
about with wet handkerchiefs on our foreheads at home, and there would
have been special prayers in church, if it had ever been what New
Yorkers seem to think cool) the butler came in leading by a leash a
perfect angel of a dog, a little French bull, with skin satiny as a
ripe chestnut, and eyes like rosettes of brown velvet, with diamonds
shining through them. He had on a spikey silver collar, fringed on each
edge with white horsehair, and he came trotting into the room with a
high action of his paws, dainty and proud, like a horse that knows he's
on show; and his tiny head was cocked on one side as if he were asking
us to please admire him and be his friends.
I supposed that the little fellow belonged to Mrs. Ess Kay, and that he
was being brought in to bid his mistress good morning, but she said
quite sharply, "What dog is that?"
"He's a parcel, ma'am," said the butler, "addressed to Lady Betty
Bulkeley. He was left at the door by a messenger boy, and the label's
on his collar."
In another instant that little live, warm bundle of brindled satin
sewed on to steel wires was in my lap, and it did seem as if he knew
that he was mine. The queerest thing was that he had no note with him.
On the label--just a luggage label tied on his collar--was my name, in
a strange, but very interesting looking hand, and these words besides:
"The Dog is now found. His name is Vivace."
"Who _has_ sent it to you, Betty?" asked Mrs. Ess Kay; and I could see
by her eyes that she was very curious.
I had just answered, "I don't know from Adam," when some words of my
own jumped into my head. I could hear myself saying, "I must first find
the dog," and then I knew that the giver of Vivace wasn't Adam. But
luckily I hadn't thought before I spoke, so it was no harm to let it
rest at that; and I just sat and played with my new toy while Mrs. Ess
Kay and her brother jabbered about him excitedly.
"It must be Tom Doremus," said she. "He's the only man I let you know
well enough on board to take such a liberty."
I thought of another man she hadn't wanted to let me know; but I rubbed
my chin on Vivace's ear, which felt like a wall-flower, and kept quiet.
"Cheek of Doremus," remarked Mr. Parker. "He's a Josher from wayback.
How does he know Lady Betty likes dogs? I should send the little brute
off to the Dogs' Home."
"If Mrs. Stuyvesant-Knox makes me do that, I shall have to go with
him--and stop with him, too," said I. And I almost hated Mr. Parker for
a minute in spite of the walking-stick roses and the snowstorm of
gardenias upstairs.
"Of course, you shall keep the dog, if you want to," said Mrs. Ess Kay,
"unless we find out that he's been sent by someone undesirable, and
then of course the Duchess would expect me to see that you gave him
back."
"I _feel_ somehow that we shall never find out," I said, and I hugged
Vivace so hard, without meaning to, that he gave a tiny grunt. But he
didn't mind a bit, and licked my hand with a tongue that was like a
sweet little sample of pink plush.
I was suddenly so happy with my surprise-present that I forgave America
for having imaginative reporters, and wasn't homesick for the pony or
for Berengaria and her puppies, or anything.
Vivace went out with us in the electric carriage, and even Mrs. Ess Kay
had to admire him as he sat straight up in my lap, like a bronze statue
of a dog. "He's a thoroughbred, anyhow," she remarked. "He can't have
cost a penny less than five hundred dollars, so whoever the anonymous
giver is, he must be a rich man."
I'm rather hazy about dollars, still, but when I heard that, I felt
myself go red. I knew well enough that the giver--who wasn't Adam--was
very far from being a rich man, and I couldn't bear to think that he
had perhaps squandered some hard-earned savings on buying such an
extravagant present for me. But the more I thought of it--which I did
all the way down to the shops--the more I thought it impossible that a
man who had been obliged to cross the Atlantic in the steerage would
even have a hundred pounds in the world. Somebody had perhaps given him
the dog from a good kennel, when it was a wee puppy, I said to myself;
but this, though it eased my mind in one way, made the gift seem all
the more pathetic;--that that poor, handsome Jim Brett should part with
something he must have loved (for who could have Vivace and not love
him?) to please me. I should have liked to write a note to the
Manhattan Club, where he had told me he was employed, to thank him. But
he had sent the present anonymously, and I felt somehow as if he hadn't
meant or wished me to acknowledge it.
While I was wondering what I should do, the brougham stopped before a
shop even larger than Harrod's or the Army and Navy Stores. There were
lovely things in the windows, things that looked like American women,
and not like English or even French ones, though I couldn't define the
difference if I were ordered to with a revolver at my head.
The petticoats and stockings and belts and lace things and parasols,
and especially blouses, were so perfectly thrilling that my heart began
to beat quite fast at sight of them. I felt as if I must have some
immediately; and when Mrs. Ess Kay said that this was "quite a cheap
store," I said to myself that I would do something more interesting
than watch her shopping.
She had to buy handkerchiefs to begin with, for most of hers had
disappeared in the wash at foreign hotels; and Sally wanted veiling.
Those were not interesting to me, because they are necessary; and
necessaries, like your daily bread and such things, are so dull. I said
that I would just wander about a little, as they thought they would be
some time, and we made an appointment to meet in half an hour at what
they called the notion counter. I hadn't an idea what it was, and
didn't like to ask, because I had asked so many questions already; but
I knew that I could get someone to take me there when the half hour was
up.
When you want everything you see, but aren't sure which things you want
enough to buy and how many you can afford, it's less confusing to prowl
alone. Besides, there was an exciting feeling of independence in
strolling about unchaperoned in a shop as big as a village, in a
strange foreign city.
I really did need a sunshade to go with a blue dress of mine, because
my only light one (if I don't count rather a common white thing) is
pink. I saw some beauties, and I wanted to ask the price; but the
attendants,--who were girls, with lovely figures and their hair done in
exactly the same flop over their foreheads,--were so interested in
talking about a young man they all knew, that it seemed cruel to
interrupt them, especially as I mightn't buy the sunshade in the end.
However, I did venture to speak, in quite a humble voice, by and by,
but the girl couldn't understand a word until I'd repeated everything
twice. "A sunshade? Oh, you mean one of these parasawls," she said
then. "Excuse me, it's your English accent I didn't quite catch at
first. That one's ten dollars and forty-nine cents, and this is eight
dollars, eighty-nine."
While we were busy doing the dollars into pounds and shillings, we got
quite friendly, for she was a very obliging girl, and didn't bear me
any grudge for interrupting, though her friends were going on with
their conversation and telling such exciting things about the young man
that she must have been dying to listen.
However, my girl hardly paid any attention to them at all, except just
to get mixed up in her answers to me once or twice. She said it was
very difficult to understand English people on account of their not
opening their mouths much when they spoke, and their accent being so
strong. I found this odd, because we always feel as if, the English
language having been started by us, it is Americans who have an accent;
but it seems that a great many people in the States dislike the way we
talk, very much, and consider it extremely affected.
After all the trouble she had taken, I felt dreadfully not to buy
anything of her, but the sunshades were too expensive, though she said
they were marked down. I took a Japanese fan instead, which pops out at
you like a Jack-in-the-box, from a fat red stick; and even that was a
dollar and twenty-five cents when I thought it would be sixpence. On
the way to meet Mrs. Ess Kay and Sally at the notion counter, I
enquired the price of a good many other superlatively beautiful things,
but they were all superlatively high, as well; and by the time a very
dashing young man, who said he was a "floor-walker," had steered me to
the notions, I felt as if I were the only cheap thing in the whole
shop. To be sure, there were some embroidered collars and American
flag-headed hat-pins, and flowered muslin wrappers which I could have
had without ruining myself, if I had wanted them. But I didn't; and
what I should like to know is, what does a girl do, if she's poor and
has to live in New York? Mrs. Ess Kay had said the shop was a cheap
shop, so there must be others where even the flowered wrappers and
collars and hatpins are more. And besides, a girl couldn't go through
life dressed entirely in such things. However, judging from the girls I
have seen so far, they are all very rich, except the lower classes; and
of course, it's much simpler to do without things if you can just be
poor and give up to it comfortably, without thinking of appearances,
like us.
As soon as I saw the Notion Counter, I knew why they had named it that;
only it would be still more expressive if it were called the
Imagination counter. It was lovely, and looked like thousands of little
Christmas presents spread out for everyone.
There were a great many pretty people buying things at it, and in most
of the other departments where I went with Mrs. Ess Kay and Sally; but
when I admired them, and the sweet blouses they wore, and the way they
carried their shoulders and hips, Mrs. Ess Kay sniffed, and said there
was nobody in New York, now,--nobody at all who was worth looking at,
and wouldn't be till October, except those who were just in the city
for a day or two of shopping, like us. When I suggested that these
charming beings in white muslins and summer silks might be here in that
way, she did not think it at all probable.
"How can you tell?" I asked. "They look just as nice as we do."
Indeed, I thought some of them looked nicer, but I've been much too
well brought up to make such remarks as that.
"I can tell, because I don't know their Faces," said Mrs. Ess Kay,
decidedly, in a tone that gave a capital letter to her last word, and
yet intimated that the poor, unknown (by her) Things couldn't possibly
be worth a glance.
Now, Mother and Aunt Sophy are rather like that. It's almost terrible
when they say "Who _Is_ she?" But I shouldn't have expected it to be
the same in America, if Sally hadn't warned me. I suppose it's quite
easy to remember just Four Hundred faces, as you're sure there will
never be any more, even if they have children, because they're being
cut down instead of going up in number.
When we had been for about an hour and a half in the big shop, we'd
finished all we had to do there, and must motor to another farther up,
before meeting Mr. Parker, who was to give us lunch at a place called
Sherry's, at one o'clock. On the way, Sally suddenly exclaimed, "Oh,
Cousin Katherine, we must initiate this dear child into the mysteries
of ice cream soda water; and I'm just yearning for some myself,
anyhow."
"Huyler's," said Mrs. Ess Kay to her _mecanicien_, a very young man
with eyes that looked positively ill with intelligence, and a way of
snapping out "all right" when she spoke to him that would make Stan sit
up with surprise if his chauffeur did it.
Sally said that the nicest oasis in the desert of London was an
American place where you can get ice cream soda water; but I had never
had any, and in the burning heat of the New York morning--which flung
itself into the shop like a great wave in spite of fierce electric
fans--I could have purred in pure delight over the piled up, ice-cold
froth in that tall glass. It tasted like frozen velvet flavoured with
strawberries, and I should have loved to be an ostrich or an anaconda
so that the sensation might have lasted longer.
There were no men in the shop, only women, and so pretty that you
wondered if there were a notice posted up over the door forbidding
plain ladies to enter. Two or three had yellow hair, yellower than
mine, and Mrs. Ess Kay said they were actresses who always came back to
New York in summer to wait for Things to turn up, just as chickens come
home to roost; and that they were supposed to be Resting.
I had always thought that a banana made you feel more as if you had
eaten a large, elaborate dinner than any other one thing possibly
could; but I found that an ice cream soda is even more so; and it was
lucky for us that we had another hour's shopping to do (Mrs. Ess Kay
made it an hour and a half because Potter is only her brother) before
luncheon.
The next shop was even more wonderful than the first, and would have
been a great deal more solemn and dignified, and even conventional, if
the same kind of wooden balls hadn't gone tearing round like mad
squirrels in wire cages over the counters, with people's money shut up
inside them. There were very young youths sitting in tall pulpit
things, who caught the balls on the fly in a sporting way, and did
something to them, but I never could see what, and afterwards sent them
back, with the greenback bills inside turned miraculously into silver
and pretty miniature pennies.
When we got to Sherry's Potter was waiting for us, and looking cross. I
think persons with turned up noses show crossness more easily than the
other kind, and Potter had the expression in his eyes that Vic has when
her shoes are tight and Mother is in a trying mood at the same time. I
shouldn't be surprised if he has a horrid temper, although he thinks of
so many funny things. And though he is so nice to me, he can't help
saying things sometimes which show that he has a prejudice against
England. That seems extraordinary, and shows one how conceited we
English really are; for one is quite accustomed to the idea that there
may be people who don't care for Americans, but it is odd that
Americans may not like us. I suppose it's on a par with the sentiments
in our National Anthem, which when one comes to analyse them, don't
exactly suggest a sense of give and take--or, for that matter, a sense
of humour.
"Confound _their_ politics, frustrate _their_ knavish tricks," but
naturally bless everything in which We are concerned, as We are certain
to be above reproach. I'm afraid that's quite of a piece with the calm
confidence we have in our own superiority, although I daresay I should
never have realised it if it weren't for Mr. Potter Parker and his
perky nose.
It began to be less perky when we were all settled at a table in a
perfectly charming restaurant, the most restful place to eat in that I
ever saw. I can't imagine even a fiend being ill-tempered in it for
long; and it was deliciously cool, as if we had come into a shadowy
green wood after the blazing, brassy glare of the streets.
The big room really was rather like a wood, so the simile isn't
far-fetched;--an open space in a wood, ringed round with tall trees
bending their branches low over a still pool. The soothing brown of the
wainscoted walls gave the tree-trunk effect; the great hanging baskets
of ferns and moss that swung from the ceiling were the tree-branches;
and the many round, snow-white tables, with green velvet chairs grouped
closely round them on the polished floor were the water-lilies with
green pads floating on the surface of the pond.
Nearly everything we had for lunch was in a more or less advanced state
of frozenness, from the bouillon, ever so far along to the ices in the
shape of different-coloured fruits, toward the end. Nevertheless, all
of us, except Potter, drank iced water instead of wine whenever we
stopped eating for an instant, or couldn't think of anything particular
to say; and the more we had the more we seemed to want. There was a
kind of iced-water curse upon us.
It has never occurred to Vic or me to lie down in the afternoon, though
she tries to sleep a little sometimes if she's going to a ball. But
when we got home, Mrs. Ess Kay and Sally took it quite as a matter of
course that we would lie down before going to Coney Island to dine and
see fireworks and other things. They were surprised when I didn't want
to, but Mrs. Ess Kay said in that case Potter would entertain me while
they rested. I told her it wasn't necessary, but Potter wanted me to
bet my sweet life that it was just the one Proposition on earth for
him, so he and Vivace and I sat in the fountain court while Mrs. Ess
Kay and Sally went upstairs.
Potter was suddenly a changed man, as soon as he and I were alone
together, becoming exactly what he had been yesterday when I first ran
downstairs, and he introduced himself.
He didn't chaff me about my country, and make fun of our government, or
hint that American men were the only men living who knew how to treat
women, as he seemed to delight in doing when his sister and cousin were
with us. He began by offering to teach me some of his best slang; but
as the lesson went on, it turned out to be rather more like a lesson in
flirtation.
I would have been even more startled than I was, if I hadn't already
had a little experience on board ship, with Mr. Doremus. At home I've
often thought it must be very pleasant to be out, and able to flirt;
but I never had a chance, because, as Vic said, it was her turn first,
and the only young man, not a relation, that I ever talked with alone
was the curate, who would as soon have tried to flirt with a Bishopess
as with one of Mother's daughters.
But I like Mr. Doremus' kind of flirtation almost better than Mr.
Parker's. Mr. Doremus makes you feel as if you were a beautiful young
heroine in a play, and you are almost sorry there is no audience to
applaud the witty things he says, and the smart answers he inspires you
to think of, just as if he were giving you a clue.
Potter is different, and instead of an audience you want a kind of
perpetual chaperon, not a Briareus creature with lots of hands to
applaud.
It is silly, I know, to blush and simper; but I couldn't think of
anything else to do, Potter was so alarming; and I wouldn't allow him
to tell my fortune by my hand, for it was much too hot. Even if it
hadn't been I shouldn't have wanted my hand held, for I do hate being
touched by anyone I'm not fond of. When I told him that, he said it was
very simple; what I had to do was to get fond of him, and then it would
be all right.
"I shan't have time," I said. "There'll be too much for me to think
about; and then I shall be going home."
"How long does it take an English girl to get fond of a man?" said he.
I told him I didn't know anything about that, as I wasn't out; but I
supposed it depended on the kind of girl.
"I guess it depends more on the man, in your climate, doesn't it?"
asked Potter. "But over here it's sometimes a question of hours, for
both sides. Why, a chum of mine went out to San Francisco on business
which was going to keep him just one day. He met a girl at dinner, fell
in love with her while she was eating her soup, and told her so before
dessert came along. She vacillated over the ice cream, but said yes
with the peaches and pears. Next day they got married and he brought
her back East for a wedding trip."
"What did they do about the Banns?"
"Oh, Americans have done away with Banns since the Revolution, I guess.
When we fellows fall in love we're in a hurry."
"Marry in haste, repent at leisure," I quoted primly.
"We don't repent. We just get a divorce. It saves worry.
Incompatibility of the affections, or fatty degeneration of the temper,
or something like that. But I don't need to talk of such things to you.
Nobody who got a prize-package like Lady Betty Bulkeley would part with
it while he had a button left on his coat."
"I don't see what buttons would have to do with it," I said, but as I
had always been sent out of the room at home directly anyone began even
to mention divorce, I thought I had better go upstairs and dress for
dinner at Coney Island. Mr. Parker begged me not, but I would; and
Vivace barked as if he were under the impression that he was a watch
dog; so thanks to him I got away without trouble.
V
ABOUT WEST POINT AND PROPOSALS
I could hardly have supposed that there were as many people in the
whole world put together, as at Coney Island; and most of them were in
pairs, like the animals on their way to the ark. They all seemed to be
engaged to each other, and delighted with each other's society, or else
married and dreadfully tired of it. Or else they had dyspepsia. Or else
they had brought too many of their children; for they had droves of
very small ones, who bellowed louder than any English children I ever
saw, and tyrannised over their parents in the most unbridled way.
But Coney Island was fun, and I felt more than ever that I was
dreaming; a long, long dream of sands, and huge hotels, and queer
little booths.
For dinner we ate nothing but fish, of so many different kinds and some
of them so strange, that I almost feared the dream might turn into a
nightmare afterwards. I found the clams rather like olives; you hate
the first, but when you have had three you feel you would like three
dozen; and they are not at all easy to forget.
We went down Under the Sea, and were introduced to horrific monsters,
sailed up and down on switchbacks, which made Mrs. Ess Kay ill, but she
nobly refused to desert me in such surroundings--a state of mind which
made her chin look incredibly square. Eventually, after many adventures
by the way, we arrived at the Moon, and not only got into the middle of
it, but made acquaintance with the inhabitants, none of whom appeared
to be over two feet high, or to have anything to speak of between their
chins and their toes. After that experience, minstrel shows and
concerts, and persons who told your fortunes with snakes, or ate glass,
were rather an anticlimax; still, I enjoyed them all so much that I was
incapable of extreme annoyance when we discovered that _The Evening
Bat_ had an "impressionist sketch" of me which made me look like an
elderly murderess.
We got back to New York almost indecently late, but in the meaner parts
through which we had to pass on the way to our gorgeousness the streets
swarmed with poor creatures, pallid with heat, evidently preparing to
camp out of doors till morning. It was a strange and interesting sight,
but made me feel guilty when I recalled it afterwards in my great cool
bedroom, with my five different kinds of baths.
Next morning I was waked early to find more presents of flowers in huge
stacks, and to get ready for West Point. I was a little tired from
yesterday, and the dry heat gave me rather the sensation of being a
scientist's field mouse in a vacuum, so that I should have dreaded even
a short journey if we hadn't been making it by water.
It was even better than if we had been ordinary tourists on one of the
big Hudson River boats I had heard about, for we were to travel
luxuriously in a little steam yacht of Potter's, which he calls "The
Poached Egg" because it can't be beaten. It is not a vulgar yacht, as
one might have thought from the name, but a dainty thing that ought to
have been "The Butterfly," "Ye White Ladye," or something of that sort.
When I said so, Mr. Parker insisted that he would at once re-christen
her "Lady Betty," which would have a prettier meaning than anything
else; and then I was sorry I'd spoken.