With the worry of house-hunting gone, the young friends felt at liberty
to be deliberate while apportioning their time. Anne took Polly and
Eleanor to the West End School, the morning following their meeting with
Mr. Fabian, and introduced them to the proprietress as the two young
ladies she had written about.
Polly thought the elegant mansion that looked more like a prince's
residence than a school, would keep her from concentrating upon her
lessons. While Anne and the principal of the select school talked
business, Polly glanced about the reception room.
The rugs were beautiful, most of them having the faded soft colors of
the antique Persian and Turkish. But the furniture was too gorgeous in
upholstering for the type of room. Then there were heavy boxed oil
paintings in rich gilt frames, hanging on the walls; and teakwood
pedestals holding statuettes and busts; and onyx stands with palms. The
mantel was loaded with bric-a-brac of all sorts. Many other minor items
showed bad taste in whoever furnished the room.
Polly felt all this, but could not explain just why she resented such a
conglomeration of color and furnishings. But Eleanor, having had the
results of a decorator's judgment displayed in her home, in Chicago,
felt inclined to smile at what she saw about her. It was sure evidence
of Polly's improvement in artistic interiors since the day she thought
the green window-shades quite the thing, to this time when the
indiscriminate mixing of colors offended her eyes.
"I really am relieved to hear that you will not be resident here, Miss
Stewart, as I need your room for two boarders. I had planned to enlarge
the dormitory this year, but everything costs so much that I postponed
it. Now this extra room will come in very nicely for me," Mrs.
Wellington was saying when Polly and Eleanor had finished a survey of
the room, and rejoined Anne.
"Girls, Mrs. Wellington says we may have a look at the class-rooms.
Would you like to go with me?" said Anne.
Without demur they followed the lady of the house. They passed through
the formal parlor where guests of distinction were entertained. Here the
two girls also saw the lack of taste in furnishing. Gilded furniture
with delicate satin upholstery, fought with wallpaper of heavy
Spanish-leather design. Curtains and portières were of velour, heavily
edged with fringe. Valances of velour were over the windows, and on the
mantel. Instead of having a delicate French carpet on the floor, there
were thick napped dark-toned Beloochistan rugs.
The long library opened out from the parlor, and here there was an
atmosphere of rest, because the entire wall spaces were lined with dark
cabinets whose shelves were well filled with volumes in bindings made to
harmonize with the rich paper that showed above the book-cases. The
window-seats were built in and upholstered in tapestry to match the
paper. The tables and leather armchairs were not so glaringly out of
keeping with the room as the furniture in the first two rooms had been.
Mrs. Wellington waved her hand carelessly at this room: "When I bought
this house, all the books went with it, just as you see them now. The
window-seats are still covered as they were, but I hope soon to spend
some money in making this library more cheerful for the girls. I like
bright colors, but that dun wall paper and that dull tapestry on the
window cushions gives me the blues. If the books had not been such a
bargain--the executor of the estate was most anxious to dispose of
them--I never would have taken them. Their dull green morocco bindings
make the room seem heavy, don't you think?"
"Oh, no! I was just thinking how lovely the glint of the gold lettering
on each dark book makes the room seem. If only there was a dark polished
floor to reflect the chair and table legs, the room would be wonderful!
But this large carpet spoils that effect!" Nolla exclaimed impetuously.
Mrs. Wellington straightened her spine and looked in hurt amazement at
this inexperienced miss who babbled like an expert decorator. No one had
ever criticised that carpet rug before!
Anne saw the look and comprehended at once, so she dropped oil on the
troubled waters. "Oh, Nolla! you are so carried away with your hobby of
studying decorating that you needs must practise it and criticise
everywhere. Now, I'm sure, Mrs. Wellington never would have dreamed of
your ambition had you not showed it so plainly in your words just now."
Eleanor understood Anne's motive in speaking thus, and smiled benignly.
Polly was still trying to grasp the handle to Anne's remark when the
lady of the house led them forth again.
"Here are a number of smaller rooms where girls may sit and read or
study in the evening. And now we will go up to the class rooms."
If Eleanor and Polly had been able to find flaws with the lack of taste
shown in the furnishings of the first-floor, they could not detect the
slightest item missing in the equipment and furnishing of the different
school rooms. Every known modern device and object for the comfort,
health and help of scholars, were in evidence. Anne smiled with pleasure
as she looked around.
"It will be a delight to teach in such a room as this, Mrs. Wellington;
and I'm sure the scholars appreciate all you do for them."
"No, that is the strange part of it, Miss Stewart. The girls who come
here seldom think of all I do for them in providing these rooms. They
take it as a matter of course that I should spend so much money in
keeping everything as I do, while my competitors ask higher rates and
spend less;" the lady looked troubled over it.
"Now I have a friend down on Seventy-second street, who has conducted a
most exclusive school for years; but she will not spend a cent in these
ideal accommodations yet she gets higher prices than I do. And her
waiting list of well-known names is endless. I only have a list of about
a dozen applicants and they are not daughters of millionaires, either."
"Perhaps," Anne remarked kindly, "the girls _you_ graduate make
something of themselves in life, whereas those other society girls
merely skim over lessons and never know how to spell their own names."
"Yes, that is true; I secure the very best teachers and try to instill
knowledge wisely. And I am sure, my girls, upon leaving here, can
compete with anyone."
"I should say that was a great comfort. To look back some day and be
able to say: 'I taught that girl how to combat ignorance.' And the girls
who sincerely admit what you have done, will rise up and call you
blessed--for giving them these expensive modern helps to acquire
wisdom."
Madam seemed pleased with this point of view, and said: "You will stop
and have luncheon with me, won't you, dears?"
"We really cannot, Mrs. Wellington. You see we have to furnish the home
that we just leased, yesterday. We are most anxious to have everything
in order before starting with our school work on the first," Anne
explained, politely.
"Oh, of course, that is wise. Then I will look for you Monday
morning--the first of October. If there is anything you wish to know,
you can call me up any time during the mornings. And if you are in this
neighborhood before the first, do come in and have tea."
After the girls had gone, Madam smiled and thought to herself: "I
certainly made no mistake in engaging _that_ young teacher. She seems to
be the best one I have ever interviewed. And the girls will take to her,
I'm sure."
Anne led the way to a Broadway trolley, and soon they were at the hotel.
Mrs. Stewart was impatiently awaiting them, so they had an early
luncheon and then hurried downtown to the "Art Galleries" on Fourth
avenue.
The sale had just opened, and they were able to secure front chairs. A
list had been made of pieces of furniture they really needed to start
house-keeping with, and now they hoped to be able to find just the
things they had pictured for the Studio.
A solid mahogany gate-leg table was knocked down to Anne for fourteen
dollars and a half. Then a wing-chair with quaint lines, upholstered in
orchid blue velour, was sold to Eleanor for nineteen dollars.
"Dear me, that was a lovely chair, Nolla. I wish I had one like it,"
sighed Polly.
"Isn't my table a dear!" whispered Anne, eagerly.
"But it has as many legs as a centipede," replied Polly.
The others laughed gaily at her criticism but at that moment, a
comfortable Turkish arm-chair was placed upon the dais. It was
upholstered in a rich tapestry, and looked oh! so luxurious.
Polly watched the bidders anxiously. She had a sudden desire for that
chair, but she couldn't manage to get in at the bidding, at all. But
when she saw a woman opposite, hold up a hand above her head, and so
learned that that was one way to catch the auctioneer's attention, she,
too, followed suit.
She instantly held up her hand, and just saved the chair from being sold
to a man at the back. So it was knocked down to her at seventeen-fifty.
"There! That is Mrs. Stewart's chair. I saw the look in her eye when it
was placed upon the dais; and I know just how she will enjoy it when she
has done preparing our dinners. That chair, out before the open
fire-place giving rest to a tired house-keeper, will make one feel like
new!" Polly said.
"But, Polly, child! you must not spend your money buying _me_ such
things!" exclaimed Mrs. Stewart.
"I will if I want to! This is the first stick you've got for your room.
And without you, I'd like to know what kind of a home we'd have. So
don't you say another word if I want to buy other things for you."
Anne objected. "Maybe this one chair is all right, Polly, but no more,
please."
"Anne, just see all the money we're saving on buying our furniture, this
way. Why can't I use the surplus as I want to? I say I _will_--if I see
anything I want very much to give you or your mother."
Anne knew when Polly was determined to have her way, and believed the
best plan now would be to buy what was needed for herself and her
mother, so as to forestall Polly or Eleanor.
So that afternoon Anne got two single brass beds with brand new springs
and mattresses. The auctioneer explained that the bedding was sent in by
the Manhattan Factory, because of an order that had been cancelled
before delivery of goods. So Anne secured the bedding at half price.
Neither of the girls suspected Anne of any secret plot when she bought
other articles at that sale for the two bedrooms she needed to furnish;
but when Eleanor eagerly bid on a Priscilla work-table of mahogany and
got it for Mrs. Stewart, Anne felt annoyed.
"My goodness, Anne, it was only five-fifty. Who ever saw a work-table as
cheap as that, before? I know your mother will love to darn stockings
for us all, now--with a nice place in which to keep her wools," argued
Eleanor, laughingly.
"Maybe mother would rather not darn stockings but let you keep the
table, yourself," suggested Anne.
Before they left the Art Gallery that day, they found they had really
bought enough articles to start in with if they liked. They could add
rugs, bric-a-brac, and different luxurious chairs, at any time.
"But we need dishes and utensils, girls," said Mrs. Stewart.
"We'll get them in a department store, and have them delivered at once,"
replied Anne.
"Let's run over and see if the painters have done anything," suggested
Polly.
"Might as well, Anne--we are right here, you see," added Eleanor.
So they turned the corner and walked down the street to reach the Studio
in time to see the painters finish the work on the ground floor.
"How nice and fresh it looks. But the wallpaper looks dusty," said Mrs.
Stewart.
"It is dusty, madam. I was just sayin' to my friend here you ought to
have someone clean it all off with bread crumbs. It is a swell paper if
it is clean," remarked the painter.
"Bread-crumbs?" ejaculated Anne.
"Yes'm. Best thing known to clean fine paper. I'll get a man to do it if
you say so. He knows his job."
"I wish you would. And ask him to supply the bread, too, as we are
stopping at a hotel where it is hard to get such things."
"An' I was goin' to mention--the porcelain tubs and basins oughta be
cleaned fer you'se. When we finish painting I will scour and polish 'em,
if you say so."
"Yes, please do! And the floors ought to be polished, too."
"We'll take care of all that, if you just tell us to go ahead and clean
up as we see fit," said the painter.
"All right; but don't make us wait too long before we can move in. We
are going to have a house-warming, here, next week," explained Eleanor,
anxiously.
"I've got an extra man comin' on to-morrow, and we'll be out of here by
Saturday. Especially if we work Sat'aday afternoon--but that means
double pay, you know."
"Never mind that; finish the job as soon as possible, for we will save
that much extra money in hotel bills," said Anne.
"All right! We'll turn it over for you Sat'aday night!"
Everything seemed to be going so well, not only with their Studio-home,
but with furnishings and decorators, that the girls felt elated.
The next day they again met Mr. Fabian at the Art Galleries, and he
proved a very welcome member to their party, as he knew all about rugs,
porcelains, and antiques. Having shown them and explained all about the
few rare pieces still for sale in the auction rooms, he said:
"Some day you must go with me to some of the other places. There are
dozens of these shops in New York, and each one seems to incline to some
particular line of furnishing. Then, too, one can see more wonderful
antiques in these shabby little shops along the avenue, than one would
believe possible.
"I often pick up rare things in these places. They are run, mostly, by
Hebrews who merely know when an object is antique, or in demand. But
they seldom can tell you the period or name of many of their most
valuable items. It was in this way that a friend of mine once discovered
a treasure.
"His wife wanted a necklace for Christmas--something odd and different
than any that her friends had. So he came to me and said: 'Fabian, I
can't afford Tiffany prices, but I wish I could find something unusual.
I want to please my wife, because she has been such a good sport during
the time I was hanging over the edge of bankruptcy. Now what would you
suggest?'
"I offered to go with him. So we sauntered out of the Studio and walked
over here, to Fourth avenue. We stopped in every little collector's shop
along the street, but could not find just what appealed to him. Then we
entered that shop across the street--the one near the corner.
"I knew the old Hebrew well, having often looked over his trays filled
with every old thing conceivable. So I said upon entering: 'Got any odd
kind of necklace or chain, Moses? Something to go around a lady's neck,
you know?' I had to demonstrate my words as I spoke.
"'Ya, ya! Shure, I got a chain. I show him you?'
"It was a long antique-silver chain, the great flat links being
beautifully filigreed. But it was not what my friend wanted, so I bought
it for Nancy. Then the shop-keeper looked wistful.
"'Ain't I got it what you like? Tell me what for you want him?'
"My friend replied: 'For my wife. She goes to balls and like pearls, or
other stones, in a necklace.'
"'Ah, ha! I got yust what you like. A pearl necklace vot come in las'
veek wid a lot of odder fine tings.' Then the old man rooted around
under the counter until he found the tray he wanted. It was coated with
dust from the floor, but he blew this off and carelessly placed the
heaped-up tray before us.
"Such a tangle of all kinds of jewelry I never _did_ see! Finally I got
the string of pearls free from the snarls of ordinary glass beads and
other trash, and handed it over to my friend. He curled a lip in scorn
at the soiled trinket.
"'Avery, drive a bargain with him for this. I honestly think those
pearls are quite good. Let me rub one up on my sleeve, while you draw
the fellow's attention from what I am doing,' I whispered.
"While Avery tried to bargain, I cleaned up one of the gems and felt
sure they were unusually good even for artificial pearls.
"We actually bought the string for twelve dollars, but my friend feared
lest he had been taken in. So I smiled and said: 'Leave them with me and
I'll see that they are polished up like new by to-morrow night. I'll
take them to an old jeweler down the street and have them washed and the
gold links cleaned. Your wife won't know but that they came from
Tiffany's.
"Avery laughed and left them with me. So I hurried down to Union Square
and showed them to the old jeweler I knew, there.
"He puckered his brow at first, then ran for his magnifying glasses.
After an unusually keen inspection he called to his associate. Both of
them then examined the string most carefully, and the old man finally
looked up.
"'If I didn't know you to be an honest man I should say: "Where did you
steal them?"--but I will ask: "How came you by these?"
"I was astonished, as you may know, but I tried to appear wise, so I
laughingly replied: 'They are not mine, my dear, sir. I only wish they
were! I just got them from a friend to have someone, who is responsible,
clean them nicely. I must hand them back as soon as you have finished.'
"'Mr. Fabian, I can't undertake such a job. I have no bonded man to do
such work and I dare not send them out. They may be substituted, you
know.'
"Then I couldn't help saying: 'My good man! You don't value them so
highly as that, do you? Why, I carried them downtown in my pocket!'
"'Ha, ha!' he laughed, 'I never saw a better matched string of perfect
pearls in my life and I am nigh onto sixty. If I had to handle that
necklace, I should instantly insure it with a broker for a hundred
thousand dollars.'
"Fancy, my friends, how I felt! My knees gave way and I had to sit down.
I loosened my collar which seemed suddenly to grow too tight, but I
couldn't say a word."
Polly and Eleanor stood listening with eyes bulging and mouths
half-open. Anne and her mother were also deeply interested.
Mr. Fabian smiled to himself before he continued his tale, "Well, I took
the pearls and hailed a taxi. I was taken to Tiffany's, and asked for
the manager, at once. Of course they wanted to know why I wished to see
him, and I said, courageously: 'To turn over a valuable pearl necklace
and insure it for a hundred thousand.'
"That brought the manager running. We went to a small private room and I
placed the string of pearls before him. He took it carefully, examined
it casually, then more minutely. He seemed perturbed and got up. 'Don't
leave this room and do not allow anyone to come in and see it. I'll be
back in a moment with our expert.'
"I felt sure, then, that Avery had actually found a _real_ bargain. But
I never dreamed of getting anything out of it for myself. The manager
returned with, not only the gem expert, but also with the president of
the company. He closed the door and locked it.
"The gem expert used all sorts of tests on the pearls and then said in a
trembling tone: 'M'sieur, I see like I nevair saw in my life! A string
of perfect match pearls, each one well worth a fortune. But I see more,
M'sieu! I will bring my acid to clean the engraved clasp set with
diamonds. Maybe we find interesting fack.'
"Everyone felt nervous during the intermission granted us, but we said
not a word to each other. Then the Frenchman returned. He was so
careful, almost reverent, I should say, in touching and cleaning the
clasp, that I laughed to myself at the memory of Old Izaacs shelving the
pearls with a heap of junk, on a tray that was shoved on the floor under
a counter.
"After many minutes of impatient waiting on our side, and as long in a
most delicate cleansing process of the pearls on the part of the expert,
he said: 'Ah! Now vee zee.'
"He adjusted his eyeglass and studied the lettering on the clasp. Then
he jerked forward and peered breathlessly at it again. Suddenly he
dropped the necklace upon the pad and leaned back in the chair. 'Mon
Dieu!' was all he could gasp.
"The president then caught up the pearls and adjusted the glass and
studied the clasp. He also gasped and turned pale. The manager took the
string from his superior and eagerly read the lettering aloud, 'To my
queen from Bonaparte.' And then followed the date and year in tiny
figures."
Mr. Fabian smiled as he saw the impression his story had made, and
waited to be asked questions concerning the pearls.
"Oh, do finish the story!" cried Eleanor.
"Were they really that famous pearl necklace?" asked Anne.
But Polly was too amazed to ask anything.
"It was the famous necklace of purest pearls that had been lost for the
past sixty years. It was worth about two hundred and fifty thousand
dollars, at the time it disappeared. To-day it would be worth much more.
But it belonged to the French Museum, and a reward of two hundred
thousand francs had been offered for trace of it, or its return. So long
ago had that reward been recorded in every civilized land, that the
present generation had never heard of it--except in history.
"Well, I took a receipt from Tiffany for its safe-keeping, and they
assured me that they would communicate with the French Ambassador,
without delay. Meanwhile I was to communicate with my friend Avery.
Naturally I withheld all information as to the manner in which the
necklace had been discovered.
"I went to Avery's office, immediately, and acted very sorry as I said:
'Avery, if I were to tell you that I lost that necklace, what would you
do to me?'
"He only laughed and said: 'I'd make you buy my wife one as good, or one
she _might_ prefer to that greasy one!'
"Then I said: 'Avery, I never had, nor do I expect to have as much money
as that necklace is worth! Man alive, it is now in Tiffany's safe,
insured for two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, against fire or
theft!'
"I thought Avery would faint, but when he had managed to collect his
wits, he whispered hoarsely, 'I don't understand--were they _genuine_
pearls?'
"So I told him the story and we both rushed away to hire a taxi and then
we drove madly to Tiffany's, again. I introduced Avery as the owner of
the pearls, and he was treated to a sight of his little twelve-dollar
bargain.
"Well, the upshot of it was, Avery received a 'present' of a hundred
thousand dollars from the French Government, and in return he signed a
release for himself, his wife, his heirs, friends, acquaintances, and,
in fact, every American citizen in the census. He was told that he would
be held responsible, thereafter, for all claims or lawsuits instituted
against France to recover the necklace. And he accepted the burden,
considering he had such a price paid for the job.
"One day Izaacs got a present through the mail, of a draft for a
thousand dollars and to this day he doesn't know who the signer 'William
Avery,' can be.
"My old jeweler on Union Square got another thousand, and I--well, I
refused everything, and Avery called me a numb-skull and an easy mark!
So he invested half of all he received in my wife and Nancy's name, and
that is how they went to Europe." Mr. Fabian smiled reminiscently at the
end of the story.