Polly and her friends had moved into the Studio and were recovering from
the orgy of the house-warming given them by the Evans and Latimers the
previous evening, when the two boys came to say good-by.
"Ah, come on, Nolla--bring Polly and see us to the train," coaxed Jim,
watching the clock on the mantel.
"But, Jim, we honestly haven't the time! If you _knew_ all we had to do
this week!" sighed Eleanor.
"Why, we could have _been_ there in the time you have taken to explain
how busy you are," grumbled Jim.
"Then get out! If I have wasted so much precious time it is because you
stand there and make me. Good-by, old pal, now scat!" Eleanor held out
her hand and laughed. But Jim was not so easily daunted.
"Where's Ken all this time? Oh, I say, Ken! Come on!"
"I think Ken and Polly went down the street while you two were out in
the garden hunting for the grass," said Mrs. Stewart, without a smile.
Jim laughed. And Eleanor caught up her hat from the divan and ran to the
door. "If they go away like that, then you and I will, too."
Having reached the corner, however, Jim and Eleanor saw Ken and Polly
intently studying something held in the latter's palm.
"Come on--we will see what it is they caught?" said Eleanor.
"Oh, Nolla, see what Ken gave me for a keep-sake. We found it over at
Old Izaac's," exclaimed Polly, holding out the strange trinket for her
friend to admire.
"Why, it's a real scarab. Isn't it a beauty," said Eleanor, then
suddenly wishing Jim had thought of giving her a keep-sake.
"That's why I wanted you to come out with me. I told Ken you girls'd
forget about us the minute we were out of sight, unless you had
something to remind you of us," explained Jim.
"Come on, then, and let Nolla pick out what she wants," added Ken,
laughingly.
"I'll take the queen's pearl necklace!" and young hearts made merry of
the pearls that had cost so many lives and so much misery.
Eleanor selected a peculiar seal set in a strange stone. "There, I will
use it on the first letter I write you," she said.
"Now that you are here, you may as well jump on the car and take us to
the train," begged Jim.
And this time he had his way. But they did not catch the four o'clock
express to New Haven, as it was four-ten when they reached the gates and
found them closed.
"Now we'll have to sit and talk until five," laughed Jim, exultantly.
"We'll do nothing of the sort! I told you we had no time to waste on you
boys, and we only came thus far to be polite in exchange for the
keep-sakes. But you can have them back if you think it gives you the
right to order me around."
Eleanor held out the seal, but Jim looked forlorn. Then she laughed
because he felt bad at her teasing.
"Come now, Jimmy, say good-by like an old dear, and tell Polly and me to
run home."
"I wish you were my sister!" sighed Jim.
"Your sister? What good would that do you?" asked Eleanor.
"Because you'd let me kiss you good-by!" retorted he.
They all laughed merrily, and Polly said: "You'd never want to kiss her
if she was a sister. You wouldn't even have asked her to come to the
station with you."
"You're right, Poll! Now I'm going--good-by, boys!" and Eleanor held
forth both hands--one to each boy.
After many repeated good-bys, the girls left and slowly walked down the
avenue. When they had reached the parkway that runs over the car-tunnel,
and is known by the name of Madison avenue, Polly said: "Why wouldn't
you wait for the train, Nolla?"
"Because, Polly, I like both those boys and I don't want to lose them so
soon. If a male thinks we females will run at beck and call for them,
they quickly weary of such a game. It is the one who refuses to be wound
about a finger, that always keeps the beaux on a string."
Polly laughed. "You are too worldly-wise for me. Now I never should have
dreamed of such a thing."
"Well, I'm right! One reason Bob never has a beau is just because she
shows how anxious she is for one."
"Oh, no, Nolla! The reason Bob hasn't any beaux is on account of her
disposition--you know that!"
"That, too, Polly. But mostly, because she throws herself at the head of
any eligible man. I tell you, a man won't have it so!"
"Never mind, Nolla. You and I are never going to have beaux, so we
should worry! We will marry our profession!" said Polly.
The following Monday, Anne escorted her two charges to the school on
West End avenue. It was a wonderful Autumn day and the girls pictured
how beautiful the mountains about Pebbly Pit must look on such a clear
day.
As the Fifth avenue bus was most convenient for Polly and her
companions, boarding it at Thirtieth street and leaving it at the corner
of Seventy-second street where West End avenue started northward, they
had but a short walk to reach the school.
Eleanor had been most particular with Polly's, and her own appearance,
that morning. "For," said she, "first impressions are lasting. We must
be sure and make a favorable dent in these girls."
"But we don't know one of them, Nolla," argued Polly.
"All the more reason why we should take the head of the line!" retorted
Eleanor, tossing her head.
Anne laughed, and thought to herself, "They will surely take the head in
everything, for I never saw two such live girls."
But to Eleanor's chagrin the examinations classed Polly with girls of
fifteen to sixteen, while she was placed with girls of fourteen years.
This caused the temperamental girl to feel discouraged and she began to
blame her ill-health for her backwardness.
In every other way, Polly and she ranked equal; and not a girl in the
whole exclusive school could boast of better or more fashionable dresses
than these two western scholars. Eleanor was most talkative, describing
her home in Chicago and the people the Maynards knew. Then she
whispered, covertly, how rich Polly Brewster was--she owned a great gold
mine all in her own rights. She spoke thrillingly of Rainbow Cliffs and
the tons upon tons of rare stones to be found there, until every girl
sighed in envy. But Eleanor failed to mention that the stones would have
to be cut and polished before they would be of any use to anyone.
A few stray sentences of these conversations reached Anne's ears, and
she felt puzzled to know what was best to do. Eleanor was not bragging
because she needed place or power in the group, but the teacher
understood that she was exaggerating for Polly's sake. She wanted all
the girls to look up to Polly as a subject would to a queen. She knew
how Barbara had felt toward the simple ranch people, and these girls
were of the same ilk--society's pets. And they could make life unhappy
for Polly, or a dream of joy.
That afternoon, as school closed, Anne overheard one of the girls
repeating Eleanor's words, but they had not lost in the repetition. In
fact, Anne was sure Eleanor did not say quite all that she was credited
with. On the way to the Studio, therefore, she determined to speak to
Eleanor about the matter.
"Eleanor, you seemed to make a bushel of friends without any trouble,"
said Anne.
"I always do. It's best to have done with it, and then you can sift out
those you don't like, afterward," laughed Eleanor.
"How about you, Polly?" questioned Anne.
"I was too busy with my lessons to bother about anyone, but I thought
the girls acted rather queer this afternoon. I caught some of them
whispering about me, and some were casting envious glances my way. I
can't understand why they should?"
Eleanor gasped. Here was a danger she had not thought of. She wouldn't
risk Polly's peace or popularity for anything in the world, but she may
have unconsciously done just that very thing!
"I heard some of the girls talking of your gold mine and Rainbow Cliffs,
and I wondered if you had made such close friends, so soon," ventured
Anne, guilefully.
"Oh, _I_ did that! Nothing like putting on a lot of 'dog' if you want to
make a splash in the puddle," hastily explained Eleanor.
Anne felt like laughing but she hid her face, and Polly turned pale with
annoyance.
"Why, Nolla! How could you? You know I'd rather be considered a nobody
than stand in a false light. Now what can I do to clear this up?"
"It isn't false light at all, Polly. You can't do anything now without
making me out a fibber," retorted Eleanor.
"You are acting just like your sister Bob might have done! That's the
worst thing I can say to _you_," scorned Polly.
"And I did it all for you, too!" whimpered Eleanor.
"Didn't I tell you, back at Pebbly Pit, that I wanted to cut my own
cloth? For goodness' sake, don't interfere in my private life again!"
"But you've got to let folks know you're someone, or you will never
climb to the top of the heap," argued Eleanor, stubbornly.
"I have my own method of reaching the top, Eleanor, and it is not _that_
way. I was Polly Brewster before you ever knew me and I am that same
Polly Brewster even after having a gold mine and a mile of lava-jewels
thrust down my throat. Don't say another word!"
Polly turned her back and went to the end seat on the bus, leaving Anne
to console poor Eleanor.
"Look'a here, Anne--did I do anything so awful?"
"You made a serious mistake, Nolla, when you talked to those strange
girls about Polly. You tried to make her appear as if she approved of
your method of bragging about the mine and money."
"W-h-y, I never dreamed of such a thing! I only wanted these New York
girls to get it straight from the start that our Polly of Pebbly Pit was
'some punkins';" Eleanor tried to laugh.
"And you succeeded in not only humiliating Polly, but me also, because I
am responsible for both of you, to a certain degree."
"Humiliate Polly and you!" gasped Eleanor.
"Exactly what you did. I have been placed in command of this little
family, and the first day at school, you deliberately thrust yourself
forward--take my place, so to speak--and tell all the strangers there
who Polly is, and who you and I are. In fact, you give out information
that should come only from me."
"I'm sorry, but for goodness' sake let's drop it, now."
"We'd better settle the matter once for all, Nolla, before we drop it.
If Polly and you are to continue the wonderful friendship begun this
Summer at the ranch, you must never again say, or do anything, that
trespasses on her rights. Remember that each one of us has an individual
right to impart what we like about our private affairs--be it family or
fortune. But the moment another speaks for us, then it becomes gossip
and scandal on the part of that impertinent one.
"I do not propose having my time and thoughts disturbed by any inharmony
rising between you two girls, and if another occasion comes up, when
Polly and you disagree as you have to-day, I'll wire to your father to
come and take you home. If Polly is to blame, then I'll send her home.
But, thus far, it is you who trespassed on Polly's rights.
"If you'll think this over quietly, and without prejudice, I'm sure
you'll agree that I am just and right in my stand."
That evening, Eleanor apologised to Anne and Polly for her thoughtless
impulse that day, and fervently prayed that she never be tempted to open
her lips again.
It was not Polly's nature to sulk or remember unpleasant episodes, so
everything went along smoothly after that first day at school.
Tuesday evening Mr. Fabian called, and was welcomed to his erstwhile
fireside. During that visit, it developed that he had accepted an offer
which several of his friends had urged upon him. He was to teach, three
times a week, a class in art designing at Cooper Union Institute. And
before he said good-night to the ladies, it had been suggested and
settled, that Polly and Eleanor were to join the evening classes on the
three nights a week that their friend taught at the school.
Mrs. Stewart worried lest the girls would be wearing themselves out with
too much study. But it was found that the work in the art classes under
Mr. Fabian's watchful eye, was a pleasure rather than a study or work.
Thus they started to build on a firm foundation, and by degrees they
mastered the rudiments of geometrical drawing, then went on to
ornamental designing, next taking up the study of architecture in so far
as it applied to interior decorating, and at the end of the year they
were drawing free hand and perspective sketches. But that was not until
the school term was almost over.
By the end of the first week at Mrs. Wellington's school, the girls had
chosen their friends for the term. It was most interesting to Anne to
note that a certain social element looked up to Eleanor as their natural
leader, while the quiet persistent sort silently fell in line with
Polly. Both girls were admired and heartily liked, by teachers as well
as scholars, but there was one disturbing young lady who resented the
usurping of her former undisputed sway in the school by the two
new-comers.
Elizabeth Dalken was the pretty, but vain daughter of a superficial
society woman who thought of nothing but self-indulgence, leaving the
training of her child to Fate. Hence, Elizabeth was the usual product:
selfish, proud, arrogant and hypocritical. She was but fifteen, yet she
could slyly cheat at bridge, smoke her mother's cigarettes, and flirt
with the men who frequented her home, as cleverly as her mother could.
For two previous years she had taken the reins of leadership at
Wellington's school and she had returned the third Fall fully expecting
to resume her authority.
To learn that a western ranch-girl without a record in "Who's Who," and
a mere _Chicago_ Miss, governed her former subjects, turned Elizabeth
white with rage. She could say nothing about it, however, without
starting her school friends' teasing and laughing at her downfall. And
she could not leave the school, because her mother had deserted her
husband. He was the cashier for all the luxuries Mrs. Dalken and her
daughter indulged themselves in, and he had selected Wellington's school
for the girl, and had paid the tuition fee in advance, so it stood to
reason that he would not consent to a change, now, on account of her
jealousy.
So on that first Friday evening, upon leaving school, Elizabeth promised
herself that she would "get square" with those "two nobodys" in short
order! She would show those other girls at Mrs. Wellington's just who
_she_ was, and why they should have kept her as their leader!
But the western girls were not shamming their lovable characters, and as
time went on, their companions appreciated, more and more, the sterling
qualities in their chosen leaders. Thus Elizabeth found it no easy task
to influence the girls against them.
October passed and November began, with the girls at Mrs. Wellington's
planning for a Thanksgiving entertainment to close their school for the
holiday. Here Polly was discounted, as she had never taken part in
amateur theatricals, and knew nothing about them. Had anyone asked her
to differentiate between the Tuscan, Doric, Ionic, Corinthian or
Composite order of classic periods of architecture, she could have
described either, or all of them, almost as well as Mr. Fabian himself
could do. But the scholars at Mrs. Wellington's never dreamed of Polly's
ambition and knowledge along such lines of study.
So Elizabeth found herself the one to whom everyone appealed about
costumes, parts, and the general management of affairs. Eleanor resented
the obvious fact that _she_ was completely ignored when the various
important parts were distributed, but Polly never gave it a thought.
"We couldn't accept a part, anyway, Nolla, with all the time we have
planned to give to exhibitions and lectures, this month," Polly reminded
her.
"And your Daddy will be visiting New York that last week, Nolla, and you
must devote your spare time to his entertainment--not be fussing with a
lot of girls over a silly poem," added Anne.
Thus the sharp sting was withdrawn and Eleanor forgot all about her
injured feelings. But Elizabeth Dalken believed she was merely
pretending that she felt no grudge against the Director of the Play. And
it gave Elizabeth great satisfaction to believe she had actually
offended the two popular western girls.
During November afternoons, and on several evenings, Mr. Fabian took the
three friends to the Metropolitan Museum where wonderful exhibits of
private collections were given. Here every New Yorker was admitted free
to see genuine antiques of furniture, paintings, tapestries and rugs,
plate and ornaments. And with such a marvelous judge to escort them
about and explain details that might have escaped other than his knowing
eye, Anne and her two charges felt well repaid for their time. It proved
not only instructive but very absorbing--these personal talks with Mr.
Fabian about the rare and ancient articles.
Valuable volumes treating on subjects which most aspirants of art are
acquainted with, began to fill the shelves in the rooms on the first
floor of the stable-studio; and quite often, Mr. Fabian brought in a
"treasure" he had picked up at a second-hand book shop. He would read
aloud in a cultivated voice, such bits as he thought would interest
young and ambitious girls. Then, after he had bid his hostesses
good-night, he generally left the volume behind.
Perhaps the very fact that Polly and Eleanor seemed to be apart from the
other school-girls and their pastimes, made them all the more desirable
to court. Not but that the two western girls liked fun and frolic as
much as anyone, but they seemed always to have engagements with people
the school-girls had never met, nor heard of.
Now and then, Mrs. Wellington took her girls to a matinee, and then
Polly and Eleanor laughed and enjoyed the play as heartily as the
others. But while other school-girls were foolishly mincing up and down
the Peacock Allies of the large hotels, and sipping tea in company with
young men, the two girl chums were eagerly listening to a lecture given
at one of the art buildings, or admiring a private collection only open
to the public for a few afternoons.
A few days before Thanksgiving, Mr. Maynard arrived and then the routine
of the girls' daily life suddenly changed.
Eleanor insisted upon her father taking her room while she went to
Polly's chamber to sleep upon the day-bed there. Mr. Maynard wanted to
remain at the hotel to save the girls any inconvenience, but the girls
would not hear of his being away from Eleanor.
The school play was scheduled for the Tuesday evening before
Thanksgiving Day. But all the ball-rooms and other auditoriums, had been
engaged weeks before November, so Mrs. Wellington had to take what she
could get, or postpone the date of the play. Elizabeth Dalken was
determined to have it on the evening set, and so the poor lady started
again, to seek for some available hall, with Elizabeth accompanying her.
Finally they secured a small assembly hall near Central Park West, but
it was far from being desirable for the girls.
The dirty walls had to be hidden beneath flags and bunting, and the
tarnished gas chandeliers had to be covered with crepe paper. The crude
stage was decorated with pine branches and palms, and in places where
the doors or windows were located, (minus the doors,) the girls grouped
palms and evergreens, so that the hall looked quite inviting before
evening.
A bevy of happy girls superintended the decorations while butlers,
grooms, and even the chauffeurs, did the hard work. Polly and Eleanor
joined the merry group and instantly offered to work, but Elizabeth
Dalken scorned their assistance.
"People who live in a _stable_ can know nothing about decorating!" she
said, insultingly.
Polly sent her a glance of pity, but Eleanor retorted: "Stable! Well,
the richest and most respected banker of Chicago is visiting us in that
stable! And he is my very own father, too! If you were out there, now,
I'd hate to think of what we'd do to _you_!"
Elizabeth sneered and was about to reply, but Polly dragged her friend
away, forcibly, and they were soon leaving the room.
Mrs. Wellington had been thoroughly enjoying her conversation with the
pleasant banker from Chicago, and now she smilingly said: "I can readily
see where Eleanor gets her common sense and pleasing manners."
Mr. Maynard laughed and watched the two girls hurry over to join him. A
glance at his daughter's face, however, told him that something had gone
wrong, but Mrs. Wellington hoped to check the complaint at that moment.
She suddenly turned her head, seemed to hear someone call, and then
spoke to Polly.
"Come with me, dears, I believe we are wanted in the dressing rooms."
Once out of ear-shot of Mr. Maynard, she whispered: "Oh, do not allow
Eleanor to say one word to her father that will spoil everything. I will
look into this matter myself after to-night. But so much depends on this
play going smoothly, and how can it if some one causes an explosion?"
Polly felt sorry for poor Mrs. Wellington, for she really did have a
hard life of it, trying to keep peace continually where so many girls
were concerned. And she promised to try and calm Eleanor's fury and
determination to oust Elizabeth Dalken from the Wellington School for
Young Ladies.