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ROLLO IN SOCIETY
A GUIDE FOR YOUTH
BY
GEORGE S. CHAPPELL
EMBELLISHED WITH CUTS BY
WM. HOGARTH, JR.
_A NEW EDITION, REVISED BY THE AUTHOR_
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
The Knickerbocker Press
1922
Copyright, 1922
by
George S. Chappell
Made in the United States of America
[Illustration: ROLLO]
NOTICE TO PARENTS
Although this little book is primarily intended for the entertainment
of youthful readers, it is hoped by the writer that it may also aid in
accomplishing a number of useful purposes and may prove to be, in the
hands of parents, a guide for the modern child through the devious
paths which his or her feet must inevitably tread.
It is now many years since our little friend Rollo has appeared
between the covers of a book. Readers of an earlier generation will
recall that Rollo's environment in their day was that of the farm,
the woods, the fields, the brooks, and, at proper intervals and always
under the care of Jonas, the village. Inevitably time has wrought
changes with these simple elements of our social background and it was
to be expected that Rollo's family would, at some period, be swept by
the current of events into closer contact with the life of the great
cities which were growing up about them. Thus it is with no surprise
that parents should see the little fellow in situations far removed
from the woodshed and the hay-barn.
Rollo has much to learn in the City, much of cleverness, of
politeness, and of knowledge of seemly behaviour amid surroundings to
which he has been a stranger.
But it is the belief of the author that while Rollo may learn much, he
too may teach. He, too, brings with him lessons which the writer feels
may be studied to advantage by both children and adults in the City.
Among certain useful purposes they may accomplish the following.
1. A cultivation of the _amiable and gentle qualities of the
heart_. Wherever the scenes of this book are laid, Rollo's
character and conduct described are generally--with the
exception of some of the ordinary exhibitions of childish
folly--of a kind to be imitated; for it is far better in
dealing with children, to allure them to what is right by
agreeable pictures of it, than to attempt to drive them to it
by repulsive delineations of what is wrong.
2. The instruction, especially of parents, in the
_temptations_ to which _childhood_ is often thoughtlessly
exposed, which in the guise of narrative are here explained
and set forth so that the reader may be both improved and
entertained.
3. The imparting of _useful rules of conduct_ by which all
ages may profit. It will be seen, for instance, how Rollo's
Parents are constantly endeavouring to teach him habits of
thrift, honesty, and order. He is urged to take care of his
things, his books, his pencils, his toys. Here is a lesson
all may learn. Consider only the subject of books--let us say
_this_ book. It is your book because you have bought it with
your own money. How wrong, then, to injure or deface it, to
lose it or even to lend it. Nay, it is more unfortunate to
lend it than to lose it for if you lose it you may easily buy
another but if you lend it you not only deprive someone of
the pleasure they might have had in making a purchase for
themselves but you also take from the author's pocket the few
pennies he might have received from the printer had you not
acted so thoughtlessly.
If my readers but learn any of these lessons, particularly the last,
the Author will be content.
G. S. C.
CONTENTS
PAGE
ROLLO IN SOCIETY 3
ROLLO'S DAY WITH A DEBUTANTE 21
ROLLO'S WEEK-END IN THE COUNTRY 42
ROLLO'S EVENING WITH UNCLE GEORGE 63
ROLLO AMONG THE ARTISTS 89
ROLLO'S ROMANCE 115
ROLLO GOES A-SHOPPING 138
THE END OF LITTLE ROLLO 154
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
Rollo _Frontispiece_
"He was playing with some bright shells" 7
Rollo's Father 13
Rollo's Mother 17
"At everything Rollo said Stella and
Anabelle laughed very loud" 27
"I have been angling in the fountain" 37
"A gentleman in a dress suit took his lunch-box" 49
"Mr. Robbins turned and said something I can not print" 59
"Rollo never dreamed that ladies could be so beautiful" 69
"Rollo, catching the spirit of the evening, joined merrily
in the conversation" 77
"It was but the work of a moment to undress and leap into
bed" 85
"How would you like to visit Greenwich Village?" 95
"Never in his life had Rollo seen such a strange woman" 109
"Round about the great arena stretched thousands of
people" 119
"--it seemed to him that he kissed her" 131
"Everything within was very grand and gloomy" 143
"Can you not imagine Anabelle's joy when she opened all
these presents?" 149
"Gentlemen, with your kind permission I will read a
poem" 161
"--what a happy ending it is!" 169
ROLLO IN SOCIETY
When Rollo was between ten and eleven years old he was seated one day
in the little arbor which Jonas had built for him. He was playing with
some bright stones and shells which his Uncle George had brought him
from the seashore, setting them in rows on the edge of his comfortable
bench or, again, marching them in columns as he had seen the soldiers
go during training-week. One shell in particular, Rollo admired
greatly. It was a large clam-shell in which was a beautiful picture of
a light-house and a ship in the distance and below were the words
"Souvenir of Atlantic City."
"How pretty," thought Rollo, "and how clever of a clam to decorate his
home so! But I did not know that they could also write."
While he was absorbed in these reflections he heard his mother's voice
calling, "Rol-lo, Rol-lo."
At first, Rollo had a great mind not to go for he disliked being
disturbed while he was busy with his shells. However, he finally
decided it would be best to obey, so, gathering up his stones and
placing the clam-shell in his pocket, he ran toward the house. In the
entry he found his father, his mother, and Jonas awaiting him. It was
evident from their expression that something of importance had
happened.
"What do you think, Rollo?" his mother inquired. "We are going to move
to the city."
"HURRAH! HURRAH!" cried Rollo, and then once more, "HURRAH for
Atlantic City."
"Atlantic City?" said his father. "What ever put that idea into your
head? We are not going to Atlantic City; we are going to New York."
"Oh, bother," said Rollo, crossly, adding, "but if there are
light-houses and ships there I shall not mind."
Now this was very wrong of Rollo, for he should have known that it
spoilt the pleasure which his parents had hoped to find in surprising
him. Children often behave so by acting natural when they should know
better. Rollo's father was considerably vexed, but, realizing that
Rollo was still young, he said kindly, "You have many things to learn,
my son, but fortunately you still have time in which to learn them,
and New York will do very well to begin with. Atlantic City may come
later. But come, we must be off to the photographer's studio. Hurry,
Rollo, and put on your Sunday suit. Uncle George and James and Lucy
will be waiting for us."
[Illustration: "He was playing with some bright shells"]
While Rollo, a very excited little boy you may be sure, was putting on
his blue round-about and his white collar, his mother explained to him
that, since they were going to the City to live for a while, they
would be expected at certain times to go out in Society.
"What is Society, Mother?" asked Rollo. Rollo's mother was silent for
a while before she replied. "That is a difficult question to answer,
Rollo, but I will try to explain. You know that here at home you see a
few people very often whom you know very well. You play every day with
your cousin Lucy and your cousin James, and Jonas instructs you in
piling wood and digging potatoes. But that is not Society. In a great
city like New York you will occasionally see a great many people whom
you hardly know at all. That is Society."
"And will I not be instructed in digging potatoes?"
"No," said his mother, "I think not."
"Oh goody! goody!" cried Rollo,--"I am sure I shall like it. But why
do we go to the photographer's studio?"
"That is my idea," said his mother. "You may not realize it, but we go
to the city and will meet a number of strangers."
"I can readily understand that," said Rollo, who was a bright little
chap thoroughly interested.
"Therefore," continued his mother, "it is more than likely that when
the news of our arrival begins to be spread about through the city
there will be an immediate demand for our photographs."
"Yes," said Rollo, rather peevishly, "but I do not see why Uncle
George, and Lucy and James have to be in the picture. And Jonas, is he
important? O-ho!" Rollo laughed at the very idea.
"Rollo," said his mother quietly, "you do wrong to laugh so. Your
Uncle George and Lucy and James are going with us to the City. They
are to share our new home, for we have rented our farms to two New
York gentlemen for a great deal of money, much more than it will cost
us to live in New York if we all live together."
"But Jonas is the hired-man," objected Rollo.
"From now," said his mother, "he is not the hired-man. He is your
father's secretary."
"His secretary!" cried Rollo. "I do not understand?"
"You do not _have_ to," said his mother. "Come along; the chaise is
waiting."
Rollo was so delighted to hear of something that he did not _have_
to understand that he was quite the happiest of the family whose
parental heads embellish this chapter. Indeed it was necessary for the
photographer to ask Rollo to please not look so pleasant before the
picture could be taken. Mr. Bishop, the photographer, was anxious
to take separate pictures of each, even including Jonas, who looked
surprisingly well in his other suit, but Rollo's father said kindly
but firmly, "No, Mr. Bishop, that would be putting me to unnecessary
expense, which would be _wrong_. You have said your price is three and
one-half dollars a dozen. I will purchase a dozen of the pictures if
they are satisfactory, and cut one up if the occasion requires. Should
an enlargement of the central figure be demanded, I presume it can be
arranged."
[Illustration: ROLLO'S FATHER]
As the family were driving home from Mr. Bishop's studio, Rollo who
sat on the front seat with Jonas said, "Jonas, why did Mr. Bishop tell
Lucy and James and me to watch for the little bird in the hole in his
camera when there was no little bird?"
Jonas, with the butt of his whip, humanely removed a large horse-fly
from the flank of Old Trumpeter before he said, "Mr. Bishop spoke
of the little bird merely to attract the attention of you and your
cousin James. While it is true that there was no little bird--or at
least, I saw none--it is equally true that you and James were
exceedingly restive."
[Illustration: ROLLO'S MOTHER]
"But, Jonas," continued Rollo, "if there was no little bird, did not
Mr. Bishop tell a lie?"
While Jonas was thoughtfully removing another horse-fly from Old
Trumpeter Rollo's father leaned over his son's shoulder and said
kindly, "My son, you must not disturb Jonas while he is driving, or we
shall soon all be in the ditch. It is only reasonable to suppose that
Mr. Bishop was mistaken in thinking that there was a little bird in
the studio. Or there may have been one under his black cloth. Did you
look under the black cloth?"
"No sir," replied Rollo.
"And did you look in Mr. Bishop's dark-room?"
"No sir," again replied Rollo.
"Then you see, Rollo," said his father, "you may well have been
mistaken. Let us say no more about it."
Rollo's family now felt themselves thoroughly equipped to receive and
to mingle with society. How they did so will be described in the next
chapter.
ROLLO'S DAY WITH A
DEBUTANTE
HOW OUR INNOCENT LITTLE HERO APPEARED
AT THE RITZ WITH HIS VERY MODERN COUSIN
One day Rollo was sitting on the little green cricket, which Jonas had
made for him, in a very discontented frame of mind. He was staring at
the open fireplace, in which were three birch logs; or rather he had
at first _thought_ they were logs, until Jonas pointed out to him that
they were only clever imitations made of iron, full of tiny holes,
through which flowed an evil-smelling odour called gas when Jonas
turned a small faucet. Rollo was at first mightily amused at these
logs, and admired especially the life-like way in which the bark was
shown to be covered with moss on one side.
"They are much prettier than real logs," said he, and thought he
should never tire of turning them on and off and making them sparkle
and blaze and smell.
In spite of all this, Rollo was dull and despondent. He was just
beginning to wonder whether he should go out in the hall and push the
elevator-buttons, or remove the telephone receiver from the hook, or
what he should do to amuse himself when his mother looked up from a
letter she was reading and said, "Rollo, how should you like to go to
luncheon to-morrow with your Cousin Stella?"
"Splendid," said Rollo, "anything for a change. But I did not know I
had a cousin Stella. Who is she?"
"She is not really your cousin," said his mother, "but the daughter of
an old friend of mine, Mrs. Bradley. We have always spoken of her as
Aunt Estelle. Stella is about your age. She lives in the city and
would like to have you lunch with her to-morrow at the Ritz. She is a
debutante or what I prefer to call 'a bud.'"
"What is that?" asked Rollo eagerly.
Rollo's mother explained that "a bud" was the term used to describe an
innocent young lady who is just beginning to go about to sociables and
lectures by herself.
So pleased was Rollo with his plans for the morrow that he played
quite contentedly until bedtime and was not surprised to hear his
father say, "Our little Rollo is so good to-day!... there must be
something the matter with him."
Rollo at first thought he should take his luncheon with him in a
basket, but his mother explained that she did not think Mr. Ritz would
like that, and that in the city "luncheon" meant the noon-day meal.
"Remember, my son," said his father, "this is to be your dinner, so
eat heartily and enjoy yourself. Here is a dime for pocket-money, but
be sure not to spend it."
Rollo had no difficulty whatsoever in finding the Ritz, but, once
there and safely through the strange doors which revolved like a great
mill-wheel, it was quite another matter to find his Cousin Stella.
Rollo decided to solve his own difficulty in the simplest way.
Standing in the center of the hall-way, he shouted lustily, "Cousin
Stel-la! Cousin Stel-la!" It was not long before he heard an
answering voice cry, "Rollo," and saw a beautiful young lady waving
and beckoning to him from a table in the corner. Walking toward it,
Rollo said, "Is this Cousin Stella?" It was even so, and Rollo, after
bowing very low and presenting his cousin with a large, bright orange
which he had brought for her, took his place by her side and the
famous luncheon began.
Besides his Cousin Stella there were at the table two others, a young
lady named Anabelle Litchfield and a lad about Rollo's age whose name
was Rupert Hogan. Rollo made his best bow to each and said, "I am very
pleased indeed to make your acquaintance," just as his mother had
taught him from the deportment book which Jonas had purchased. Soon
the young folk were chatting merrily. Indeed there were so many
strange and wonderful things to see and hear, that Rollo could scarce
taste the delicious food that was set before him, though, taste it or
not, he remembered his father's warning to eat as heartily as
possible.
[Illustration: "At everything Rollo said Stella and Anabelle laughed
very loud"]
First of all there was a band of music, the like of which Rollo had
never heard before. There was also the prettiest little fountain.
"Do you suppose they would let me angle in the fountain, Cousin
Stella?" asked Rollo, thinking of his little line and bobbin at home,
and keeping time to the music with his fork.
"Yes, indeed, Rollo, old Kid," said his cousin.
When Rollo was not engaged in looking about the room, he was occupied
in watching his Cousin Stella, who did many things which surprised
him. To begin with, she always talked when her mouth was full, and she
was never still a moment, what with pointing, gesticulating, and
jumping from her chair to greet other friends who passed their table.
At everything Rollo said, Stella and Anabelle and Rupie laughed very
loud, and Rupie surprised Rollo several times by slapping him sharply
on the back, on one occasion causing him to spill several drops of
water on the corner of his lace collar. This vexed Rollo very much,
and at first he was inclined to be in a pet.
All the while the music was playing gaily, and you may be sure Rollo
was enjoying himself thoroughly.
"Would you like to dance?" asked Stella with a merry smile.
"Would I not, indeed!" cried Rollo.
"Let me see," said Stella, "what o'clock is it? Three o'clock. Let us
meet here again at five when there is dancing. I have to go to the
hairdresser's. Will you come, Rollo?"
"No, thank you," said Rollo politely. "I must go to my apartment and
tell my mother what I propose to do."
"Very well!" said Stella, "we will meet here at five." And so it was
arranged.
Rollo was not sorry when he reached the apartment to find that no one
was at home. The very first thing he did was to look in his box for
his fish-line and bobbin. There it was, just where he had put it when
he left home. Rollo put it in his pocket and walked slowly back to the
Ritz. In the hall-way he met Stella and the others and they were soon
at a table in another room where the music was playing pleasantly.
"Who will dance with us?" asked Rollo presently.
"Why, I will dance with you, and Rupie will dance with Anabelle," said
his Cousin Stella.
It embarrassed him very much when Stella placed his arm about her
waist and led him into the middle of the room, where many other young
people were dancing and bumping each other and laughing rudely.
"It is a Toddle," said Stella, tickling Rollo's ear with her hair.
Rollo did not know what this meant, but he did his best and managed to
keep a-going until the music stopped, when they went back to their
table.
"I dance very ill," said Rollo, completely out of breath. "Indeed, I
stumble as much as Old Trumpeter, our horse, going over a rough spot
in the road."
Rollo danced several more dances, doing a little better each time.
During the last dance which was what is called a fox-trot, he was
somewhat surprised to find that Stella's cheek was pressed close to
his. This caused Rollo to blush furiously. He could not help thinking
of his mother's words, "She is not really your cousin"--but "after
all," thought Rollo, "she is nearly so." Thus the dance was concluded
very pleasantly and Rollo was quite disappointed when several other
boys came to their table and invited Stella and Anabelle for the next
dance and for the one after that. Rupie had disappeared, so that Rollo
was left quite alone. The others danced nicely for several dances,
until it began to be quite late.
"What has become of Rollo?" said Stella. "Wherever can he be?"
Just then they saw him approaching. With him was a tall man in
uniform. It was evident from Rollo's expression that he was in some
sort of trouble.
"What is the matter, Rollo?" cried Stella and Anabelle and Rupie, in
one breath.
"Matter enough," said Rollo, endeavouring to control his voice.
"While you were dancing I have been angling in the fountain."
"But you did not catch anything," said Stella.
"Did I not?" said Rollo. "Look," and he held up a string on which hung
three bright golden fish. "I caught these three in no time at all, and
had I not been interrupted, I should have caught them all, I dare
say."
Then there was a great hub-bub you may be sure. Stella and Anabelle
and Rupie laughed a great deal, and even the tall man in the uniform
smiled a little, especially when Rupie slipped something into his
hand. Shortly after the tall man went away.
[Illustration: "I have been angling in the fountain"]
It was now six o'clock and time for Rollo to go home to his supper.
While he was getting his cap which he had left with a young lady in a
small room near the door he saw that most of the gentlemen, when they
took their hats, placed a coin in a saucer that stood near-by. This
reminded Rollo that he had paid for nothing and that he still had the
dime which his father had given him.
"Surely," thought Rollo, "if I should give my dime to this young lady
it would not be spending it." After some reflection he placed the dime
in the saucer, for which he was rewarded by a kind smile, and
gathering up his cap and his fish he joined his companions in the
hall-way.
"Good-bye, Stella, Good-bye, Anabelle, Good-bye, Rupie!" cried Rollo,
waving his fish at them, and they all cried "Good-bye," and promised
Rollo they should have another holiday together soon.
As he walked homeward Rollo realized that perhaps he ought not to have
angled in the little fountain. But here were his fish and what was he
to do with them? Just then he saw a lady putting a letter in an iron
box which was fastened to a post on a corner of the street. "Just the
place for my fish!" thought Rollo and suiting the action to the word
he popped the little fish in the box and went on his way.
ROLLO'S WEEK-END IN THE
COUNTRY
HOW OUR LITTLE HERO BECAME ACQUAINTED WITH AN OUTDOOR
GAME AND ALSO ONE PLAYED INDOORS
One bright morning, as Rollo stood by the window of the handsome city
apartment to which his family had moved, his mother entered the room
and said:
"Rollo, how should you like to spend a week-end in the country?"
"Ho, ho," laughed Rollo. "That is a droll idea! Here we are in the
city, whither we have but just come, and you propose that I should
return to the country. Ho ho! ho ho!"
It was very wrong of Rollo to laugh at his mother so, but his mother
realized that he was a little boy and did not know all there was to be
known in the world. She therefore answered him gently.
"My son, you do not understand. The country I speak of differs from
the country where we formerly lived."
"In what way?" asked Rollo.
"That you will soon see," replied his mother. "But let me ask you a
question; what used you to do in the country?"
"Well," answered Rollo, "let me see; first I used to carry the
milk-pails up from the cow-barn for Jonas; then I would sweep the
steps and well-kerb and draw a fresh pail of water from the well.
During the day I would pile wood, gather potatoes, rake up after the
hay-wagon, or weed the garden. Then in the evening I often did my sums
or helped with the churning."
"Very good," said his mother. "Now in the country I speak of, you will
do none of these things."
"Hurrah!" cried Rollo.
"Be silent," said his mother. "You must not interrupt. Your Cousin
Stella's mother has written to me asking if you could not come to
them in the country to spend a week-end."
"Which end of the week should I spend?" asked Rollo.
"Both," said his mother. "Or rather, the end of one week and the
beginning of another, for you are to go on Friday and stay over Lord's
Day. Should you like to go?"
"Indeed, yes," said Rollo pleasantly.
"Very well, I shall speak to your father about it this evening, for we
must first have his consent."
"Oh, dear," said Rollo.
"I do not see why Rollo should be sent to the country when we have
just moved to the city," said Rollo's father when the expedition was
explained to him. "It seems very strange to me that city-folk with
magnificent palaces to live in should, at this time of year, seal up
their doors and windows and go to the expense of living in another
place."
"But there will be no expense in connection with this journey," said
Rollo's mother. "Cousin Stella is to send her automobile."
"Very well," said Rollo's father, "since you are all so set on Rollo's
going I will agree to it. And now I must go to bed, for I have had a
busy day at the grain-market. Good-night to all."
"Good-night," said Rollo's mother and Jonas, and Rollo added
"Good-_night_" more loudly than any.
You may be sure that little Rollo was up at day-dawn, his luncheon
ready in a box, his travelling satchel neatly packed. Presently the
largest automobile he had ever seen rolled up to the door, and to his
delight, there was his Cousin Stella sitting on the back seat.
"Shall I sit with you, or with the gentleman on the front seat?" asked
Rollo.
"With me," cried his Cousin Stella, laughing gaily. "Alley, Jong, a
Sootomtom."
"What was that you said?" questioned Rollo when the journey had
really begun.
"That was French," explained his cousin. "'Alley a Sootomtom' means
'Go to Southampton.' 'Jong' is French for John."
"Well, I declare!" cried Rollo. "Really Cousin, you amaze me. But tell
me, where are we, and whither are we going?"
"This is Long Island," said Stella, pointing to level fields which
bordered the highway.
"It seems to be mainly cabbages," said Rollo, "but I do not see any
water."
"You will presently," said Stella. And sure enough, after they had
travelled at a very rapid pace for a short time, Rollo began to
catch glimpses of blue water dotted with tiny white sails. Coming as
he did from an inland community, this excited Rollo very much and he
kept shouting "Hurrah! Hurrah!" and asking John to go faster.
[Illustration: "A gentleman in a dress suit took his lunch-box"]
To this John only shook his head and smiled.
"He is going as fast as he can," said Cousin Stella. "But I will tell
the world, Rollo, you are a good sport."
"I thank you very much," said Rollo politely.
Shortly after this they drove through winding hills and stopped
before a large house where, to Rollo's surprise, a gentleman in a
dress-suit took his lunch-box and satchel from him and walked away
with them as rapidly as possible.
Then another neatly dressed gentleman guided Rollo through many long
hall-ways and up a flight of stairs to a beautiful chamber.
"This is your room, sir," he said.
"Is it so?" said Rollo. "Thank you, sir."
The gentleman smiled pleasantly, and went out, leaving Rollo alone.
Looking at the handsome three-dollar watch which his father had given
him, he saw to his surprise that it was long past his supper-hour.
"Very evidently I am too late for supper," thought Rollo. Fortunately
he still had his lunch-box which he had not thought to open during the
journey, so that from this he supped very well indeed, slipped off his
garments, said his evening prayer by the side of a very grand bed and
was soon asleep.
"Well, Rollo," said Stella's mother, who was his hostess next morning,
"we missed you last night at dinner. Where were you?"
"You must mean supper, do you not?" answered Rollo, and then explained
how he had supped in his room the evening before, at which all the
company laughed merrily.
"You are a dear boy, Rollo," said his hostess, "but you must remember
that we have dinner at eight o'clock."
Rollo laughed heartily at this idea and said, "Then, according to
that, you must have supper at midnight!"
"You are quite right," answered Stella's mother.
"And breakfast at noon next day."
"Very often, I admit. But Saturday and Sunday are holidays and we
are always up betimes. Come, what shall we do? Rollo, you propose
something."
All the company, of which there was about a score of folk of
various ages, looked at Rollo expectantly, causing him to feel
much embarrassed, but he spoke up bravely and said, "Since it is
a holiday I suppose we may as well play games. Shall we play at
catch-as-catch-can or blindman's buff,--or should you prefer an
indoor-game such as pillows-and-keys or post-office? The latter,
I think I ought to say, are kissing games."
"O fie! for shame!" they all cried. "It is too early in the day."
"Come, Rollo," said a very pretty young lady whose name was Miss Lois.
"Monty and I are going to play tennis."
"Alas! I fear I cannot," said Rollo sadly. "It is like battledore and
shuttlecock, is it not? I think, if you do not mind, I will watch Mr.
Bradley and his friend Mr. Robbins play at golf, which is a game I
have never witnessed, though I have often seen gentlemen falling over
their golf-sticks in the city train-cars."
"Right you are," said Monty as Rollo strolled after Mr. Bradley, who
was Stella's father, and his friend, Mr. Robbins.
"Such larks!" thought Rollo, as he watched the two gentlemen place the
small white balls on mounds like mole-hills, and then knock them far
away.
"We are aiming at that little red flag," said Mr. Robbins, whom Rollo
had secretly nicknamed Robin-Redface.
"Thank you, sir," said Rollo, "I should never have guessed it."
For a time all went well. The two gentlemen hit the ball with great
skill and seemed well pleased with their success. Rollo, too,
delighted in the velvety lawns about him, and marvelled to see all the
hay in so early in the season.
Thus the morning passed very quickly, but toward noon things began to
turn out not so agreeably. First Mr. Bradley, and then Mr. Robbins,
knocked their golf-balls into places where it was impossible to find
them, search as they might. This was great fun for Rollo, who thought
it was like looking for field-sparrows' nests, and he kept fooling
the two gentlemen, crying, "Oh, here it is!--No, it is only a stone!
Oh, here it is!--No, it is only a mushroom," until Mr. Bradley took
him by the shoulder and spoke to him very roughly.
Then they came to a pretty little pond where Rollo longed to stop and
fish. Mr. Robbins placed his ball on a little mound and very skilfully
hit the pond right in the middle.
"Bravo!" cried Rollo.
To his surprise Mr. Robbins turned and said something which I cannot
print, but which caused Rollo's cheeks to turn a deep crimson. In fact
he called Rollo a very bad name.
Then Mr. Bradley, as if imitating Mr. Robbins, hit the pond in almost
the same spot. It was then Mr. Robbins' turn to cry "bravo," which he
did, and, to Rollo's dismay, Stella's father twice, at least, took the
name of his Maker in vain.
[Illustration: "Mr. Robbins turned and said something which I cannot
print"]
You may be sure it was in vain, for, from then on, things went from
bad to worse, until Rollo could stand it no longer. He turned and
walked quietly back toward the house.
The gentlemen did not notice his departure; they were too busy digging
holes in the ground and throwing sand out of a ditch which, to Rollo,
seemed deep enough already.
"Never," thought Rollo, "have I seen men dig up so much ground
without either putting anything in or taking anything out."
As Rollo neared the house he noticed that the tennis-ground was
deserted. Two rackets lay on the terrace-steps. He crossed the terrace
quietly and peered into the dim living-room within which he saw Monty
and Miss Lois sitting on a sofa.
"Hurrah," cried Rollo, bounding into the room, "may I join you?"
They were playing pillows-and-keys.
ROLLO'S EVENING WITH
UNCLE GEORGE
IN WHICH OUR HERO UNDER THE TUTELAGE OF AN EXPERT,
BECOMES A BOY-ABOUT-TOWN
One cool morning in the early autumn, Rollo was sitting on the red
velvet hassock which his mother had given him for his birthday, his
chin resting on the sill of the window which faced toward Park Avenue.
Below was a pleasant picture of green spaces and cheerful nursemaids
attentively watching the tall constable on the corner, while their
little charges darted nimbly amid the passing automobiles whose black
tops glittered like the backs of large beetles. This was a scene which
Rollo had often contemplated with much satisfaction, but to-day he
found no pleasure in it whatsoever. Suddenly he heard a light step
behind him and turning perceived that Jonas had entered the room,
silently, as was his custom.
"Jonas," said Rollo, crossly, "I wish you would not steal up behind me
as you do. Since we have moved to the city and you have become my
mother's social secretary, instead of the hired man, you wear shoes
which do not warn me of your approach by their squeaking. It is not
right to spy so."
Now this was very rude of Rollo, and it may be plainly seen that he
was in an ill-humour, but Jonas only smiled pleasantly, which made
Rollo more angry than ever.
"You are mistaken, Rollo," said Jonas. "I was not spying upon you. In
fact, quite the contrary, it was expressly to see you and deliver a
message that I came into the room."
"A message!" cried Rollo, "and from whom, pray?"
"From your Uncle George," answered Jonas. "He wishes to know if you
could dine with him to-night and go to the theatre."
Rollo's face lighted up with pleasure, but he replied seriously,
"To-night? Let me see; to-day is Thursday, is it not? I do not think I
have any engagement for this evening."
Of course Rollo knew very well that he had no engagement, but he had
learned that in the city it was not considered polite to accept any
invitation without a certain amount of hesitation. When Jonas had left
the room, however, Rollo leaped about with many a caper, and shouted
"Hurray!" to himself. He no longer felt gloomy and contrary, but was
quite satisfied with the world which had looked so dark to him a few
moments before. At exactly seven o'clock in the evening, Rollo was
ready and waiting, dressed in his best suit with a new tie which his
father had purchased for ten cents from a peddler in the lower part of
the city. Rollo's father once said to him, "My son, buy everything you
can from a cart. You get more for your penny."
Uncle George came promptly as he had promised and Rollo drove off with
him gaily in a bright yellow taxicab. Rollo's uncle has not lately
been mentioned in these stories. He was a younger brother of Rollo's
mother, and Rollo liked him very much, partly because he was always
gay and light-hearted, and partly because his father did not seem to
approve of Uncle George. Rollo's father frowned very severely when he
saw the yellow taxicab, but since he was not paying for it he said
nothing.
"I am going to take you to my club," said Uncle George.
"A club!" cried Rollo. "What is that?"
"I will tell you," said Uncle George. "A club is a place of refuge
from one's family. It is an organization where a man can order what
he likes for dinner, when he likes. It is a place where he can be
sure that his letters will not be opened by mistake."
[Illustration: "Rollo never dreamed that ladies could be so
beautiful"]
"Could my mother belong to this club?" asked Rollo.
"No; only gentlemen are admitted."
"But could my father join such an organization?"
"No, not the club I have in mind. I do not think even your father
could become a member."
"What a delightful place!" said Rollo.
"Indeed it is so," said his uncle. "But here we are."
Just then the taxicab stopped in front of a handsome building with a
large glass door, which was opened for Rollo and his Uncle George by
an old gentleman with white hair, whom Rollo thanked politely as he
entered.
"Will you excuse me for a moment," said Uncle George. "I have to go
upstairs to discuss a business matter with a friend of mine. He has
some stock he wishes to dispose of, and I often take a little of it
off his hands just before dinner."
"Quite so," said Rollo. "I will await your convenience."
During his uncle's absence Rollo strolled into a handsome room the
walls of which were covered with books. In large chairs sat a number
of gentlemen with books in their laps, as if they were reading, but
Rollo was surprised to see that they were all fast asleep.
"What a beautiful room," thought Rollo. "I understand now why I yawn
so over my lessons. All books must make people sleepy."
One old gentleman was snoring loudly, so Rollo took a large card
marked "Silence" and placed it on his stomach, after which he went
into another room to meet his uncle, who returned at that moment,
looking brighter and more good-natured than ever. He brought with him
the gentleman with whom he had been doing business.
"Rollo," he said, "this is my friend, Mr. Ross, who is going to dine
and go to the theatre with us. He is a member of the old Shaker
Colony."
"Is it so?" said Rollo. "There are a number of Shakers living near my
home in the country. One of them has made several comforters for my
mother."
"Yes," said Mr. Ross. "And I have made a number of comforters for your
uncle, have I not, George?"
"Indeed you have," said Rollo's uncle, and together they walked
upstairs to a splendid room, where they all dined together very
merrily. Rollo stood for a moment beside his chair expecting that his
Uncle George would ask a blessing, but Uncle George evidently forgot
to do so and bade Rollo sit down and fall to, which he did.
"Have you been to the theatre, often, Rollo?" asked Mr. Ross, while
they were eating dinner.
"No, not exactly," replied Rollo. "My mother took me to Boston two
years ago, and I saw a very wonderful panorama of the battle of
Gettysburg. But that is not exactly the theatre, is it?"
"Not exactly," said Mr. Ross, "though I am sure some of the plays in
New York are much worse than any battle."
"What play are we to see, Uncle George?" asked Rollo. "Is it to be
Shakespere?"
"No," answered Uncle George. "I hardly thought Shakespere would be
lively enough. You see, Rollo, the plays in New York are divided into
two groups. There are the very serious plays acted by great people
which all the critics say are great successes. But unfortunately, no
one goes to see them. Then there are the very silly comedies about
people in bath-tubs, which the critics say are very low and wicked and
which everyone flocks to see. That is the kind we are going to see."
"How delightful!" said Rollo. "I have never seen anyone in a bath-tub
but myself."
As soon as dinner was finished, Rollo and the two gentlemen drove
in another cab to the theatre, which was on the main street of New
York, called Broadway, because it is quite narrow and goes zigzag
through the city. But Rollo was entranced with the brilliant electric
lights, the flashing signs and great rush of traffic.
[Illustration: "Rollo, catching the spirit of the evening, joined
merrily in the conversation"]
"Is it a celebration?" he asked.
"Yes," said Uncle George. "Broadway is always a celebration. But come;
let us alight."
Rollo greatly admired the interior of the theatre, which was at least
five times larger than the Second Congregational Church, which he was
accustomed to attend when at home. Just then to his surprise all the
lights in the edifice went out.
"Oh dear," said Rollo. "Isn't that provoking."
"Hush," said the two gentlemen. "The play is about to begin."
At that moment an enormous curtain rose slowly, music filled the air
from some hidden and mysterious source, and Rollo saw before him a
picture more beautiful than anything he had ever seen before.
The name of the play which Uncle George had selected was "Shaking the
Shimmy."
It was in three acts. The first act was in the ladies' dressing-room
of a parlor car, the second was on the beach at Atlantic City, and
the third was in the dormitory of a young ladies' seminary in
Greenwich. A notice on the program explained that the last act enabled
the producers, two Jewish gentlemen, to have twenty beds on the stage
at one time, which broke all records.
Rollo never dreamed that young ladies could be so beautiful as those
who flitted about on the stage. Although he understood very little of
what was said on the stage, he was tingling with excitement and sat
far forward on the edge of his chair, resting his chin on the shoulder
of a lady in front of him, who smiled and patted his hand.
Rollo heaved a great sigh of disappointment when the play was over.
Then looking about at the audience he said, "Does it not seem strange,
Uncle George, to see all these people fully clothed? I vow I had
forgotten that there were such things as dresses."
"And how did you like the play?" asked Uncle George.
"It was superb, sir," said Rollo politely. "And much pleasanter than
the 'Battle of Gettysburg.'"
"Good," said his uncle, "and now we shall go to supper."
"Bless my soul!" cried Rollo. "Is not the evening over?"
"No indeed," replied Uncle George, "it is but just beginning."
"Hurray! Hurray!" shouted Rollo, tossing his cap in the air.
The place where Rollo and Uncle George and Mr. Ross went for supper
was high up on the top of a tall building. At the entrance a gentleman
held a red velvet rope across the door, but he smiled pleasantly when
he saw Uncle George and let them pass to the annoyance of a number of
people who were waiting. This of course pleased Rollo not a little.
"What is the name of this place?" asked Rollo.
"It is called the _Place Blanche_," explained Uncle George. "French is
the language spoken by the people who name New York restaurants. If a
restaurant should have a name which a taxi-driver could pronounce
correctly, it would not last a week!"
"It is very crowded," said Rollo, "and the space for dancing seems
quite small."
"That too is carefully arranged for," said his uncle. "People like to
eat in stuffy, uncomfortable places. As for dancing, it is much better
to dance when one is pressed hard against several other couples, for
if you do not happen to care particularly for your partner you can
close your eyes and imagine you are dancing with a number of other
ladies at the same time."
[Illustration: "It was but the work of a moment to undress and leap
into bed"]
"What strange music!" said Rollo.
"It is indeed so," agreed Mr. Ross. "We are gradually getting away
from the old-fashioned instruments such as violins and flutes. You
will notice, Rollo, that in the orchestra are two drums, a pair of
cymbals, a siren, and a pistol; also the pianist does not use his
fingers but his clenched fists."
Rollo fully expected that this time at least Uncle George would not
forget to ask the blessing, but lo! a second time he did so, perhaps
because he was at the time very much occupied trying to get the cork
out of a large bottle, which he had managed to conceal in his inside
pocket. As soon as this was open, Uncle George and Mr. Ross became
very gay indeed, and Rollo, catching the spirit of the evening, joined
merrily in the conversation. Later in the evening they met several
friends at other tables, with whom they danced and thoroughly enjoyed
themselves.
The sky in the east was a pale blue-green when Rollo entered the door
of the apartment. Jonas, who kept to his country hours, was just
rising.
"Good-morning," said Jonas.
"Good-night," said Rollo.
It was but the work of a moment to undress and leap into bed. But
before he did so Rollo knelt for a moment and asked a blessing--for
Uncle George.
ROLLO AMONG THE ARTISTS
OUR LITTLE FRIEND VISITS GREENWICH VILLAGE AND MEETS
A SCULPTOR, A POETESS, AND A PAINTER
You will remember that I have spoken in a previous story of the
beautiful clam-shell which Rollo possessed, and which he admired very
much. It was a gift from his Uncle George, and on it was painted a
picture of a curving beach, a light-house, and a small yacht. Below
the picture was the title, "Souvenir of Atlantic City."
One day Rollo was sitting on his little cricket, holding up the shell
to the light, and marvelling at the change this made in the colours.
His mother was busily engaged knitting washcloths for the missionary
box which was to be sent to the natives of the Filbert Islands; for
though she had moved to the city, Rollo's mother did not forget her
duties toward Dr. Ordway, the minister at home, and through him, to
the heathen children in the Filbert Islands.
"Do you know, Mother," said Rollo, "I believe that the man who painted
this clam-shell was perhaps the greatest artist in the world. I have
looked all through the vast collection at the Metropolitan Museum, and
I do not find the mate to my clam anywhere."
"Is it so?" said his mother. "You seem very much interested in
artistic things. I remember that years ago I too enjoyed the fine
arts. You may recall the portrait of a kitten which I painted on the
red plush sofa-cushions at home."
"Indeed I do!" cried Rollo. "It was most artistic. Heigh-ho! I wish I
was an artist!"
Just as he said these words, as if in answer to his wish, his Uncle
George opened the door. "What is that?" he said. "You wish you were
an artist? What kind of an artist do you wish to be?"
Rollo was puzzled. "What kind?" he repeated. "What kinds are there?"
"Many," said his Uncle George. "But perhaps before you make up your
mind it would be well if you looked over the different kinds. How
would you like to visit Greenwich Village with me where all the
artists live?"
"Oh Goody-Gumpkins!" cried Rollo, for which his mother gently reproved
him.
"I should love it," said he. "You are so kind, and I am so glad you
are a broker, Uncle George, for you always seem to have plenty of
time."
"Nothing but," said Uncle George. "But come, if we are going, let us
be off at once."
"Hurrah," cried Rollo. "Good-bye, Mother!" and seizing his cap and
thrusting his clam-shell into his pocket, he ran to join his uncle in
the doorway.
"How do we go? Is it far?" he questioned when they had reached the
street.
"We may as well take the stage," said his uncle. "It goes directly to
the Village."
Rollo's uncle raised his hand and the stage stopped politely.
"Thank you," said Rollo as they climbed to the top. Soon the conductor
came to them and held out a little machine, which seemed to nibble
Rollo's fingers when he pushed the two dimes which his uncle had given
him into the slot.
"He cannot hoodwink me," said Rollo after the conductor had gone away.
"I saw the money drop through into his hand."
"You are a bright lad," said his uncle, which made Rollo very happy.
As they rode along Uncle George pointed out to him the eager faces of
the thousands of Lithuanians, Greeks, and Polaks who make New York
the greatest of American cities. Soon the stage rolled through a
majestic stone archway.
[Illustration: SKETCHES BY HOGARTH, JR.
"How would you like to visit Greenwich Village?"]
"We are now entering the Village," said Uncle George.
"Well, I will say it has a handsome front door," said Rollo, "but did
you say 'Village,' Uncle George? It appears to me mightily like a part
of the city."
"So it would seem," said his uncle, "but appearances are deceitful.
However, you will soon see that it is very different from the rest of
the city. We are first to visit a friend of mine, a Mr. Pryzik, the
great American sculptor. You know what a sculptor is, Rollo?"
"Yes, indeed, sir," said Rollo. "We have a beautiful group at home
done by Mr. Rogers. It is called 'Reading the Will.' The expression of
anxiety on the part of the relatives is most noteworthy."
"It is a noble subject," said his Uncle.
"But did you say Mr. Pryzik was an American?" asked Rollo.
"Practically," replied his uncle. "He was born in Prague, but he has
lived in this country for six years. True, he has not become a citizen
because of the income-tax, but he is very patriotic and much prefers
to sell his sculptures to Americans. But here we are at the
sculptor's."
While talking, Rollo and his uncle had turned into a narrow doorway
and mounted several flights of stairs. A tinkling bell was answered by
a very hairy man who flung open the door before which they stood,
crying, "Enter," in a great voice.
"This is Mr. Pryzik," said Uncle George, "and this is my nephew
Rollo."
The room was a large loft or storeroom lighted from above and while
Mr. Pryzik and Uncle George chatted amiably together, Rollo looked
about him eagerly noting many large groups of figures struggling and
writhing in every conceivable posture. Some were covered with grey
cloths which gave them a singularly ghost-like appearance.
"And what are you doing that is interesting?" asked Uncle George.
"Much," replied the great artist. "I have some magnificent things
under way, not completed, you understand, but well begun. Here, for
instance, is a fountain for Mr. Rockefeller's garden. It represents
the struggle between crude and refined oil."
"It is very exciting," said Rollo. "Does Mr. Rockefeller like it?"
"I do not know," said Mr. Pryzik. "I have written him seven letters on
the subject, but I think he must be away on his vacation. And here is
my masterpiece, the crowning group destined to be placed on the dome
of the Palace of the League of Nations."
"Oh!" said Rollo. "Where is it to be?"
"The site has not been decided," replied the artist. "A Swedish friend
of mine, Mr. Lundquist, has drawn some very noble plans for the
building, which he has sent to Washington. We need only ten million
dollars. You will note that the figures representing the various
nations are made in sections so that any one may be removed in case of
war. The bosom of Bulgaria has been much admired."
"I never have been to Bulgaria," said Rollo.