AN EXPOSURE
This phase of her life continued till Posey was nearly twelve. At first
in the spirit-manifestations she had simply followed the clairvoyant’s
directions, but as she became older she not only learned to make
herself up for the occasions, but to introduce little variations of her
own, which added not a little to the interest and popularity of the
_séances_. Gradually, too, she came to take a certain personal pride
in her rôle, of amusement at her own cleverness, and of elation at the
sensation she created. As for the moral question, that held no place;
she was simply a little actress playing well her part, with an under
thought of the profits.
In the earlier days when the “Madam” had both to dress her, and
teach her every detail, she had only been able to appear in one
“manifestation,” but now she could manage several, and frequently
appeared in succession as an Indian princess, a French girl, and
“little Nellie of the Golden Hair.” For the French girl, “Madam” had
her take French lessons so that her replies could be in that language,
and on occasions when all the “influences” were favorable she would
sing very softly and sadly a little French song, accompanying herself
on a “materialized” guitar.
For a long time she never ventured outside the cabinet, but gaining
boldness with practice she at last came into the room, hovering near
the circle gathered round the table, and answering any question put her
by the clairvoyant, who at such times was always in a trance.
Madam Sharpe was greatly elated by all this, and to her fancy new,
brilliant, and profitable successes seemed opening before her. Alas, in
this very increase of popularity, and with it of public attention, lay
her undoing, as it drew to her _séances_ not only the easily credulous,
and the sincere believers, but the doubting skeptics whose purpose was
investigation.
So it came one evening that several young men of the latter class,
including a newspaper reporter, were present, and after the lights
had been turned low and dim, and the thrill of hushed expectancy had
settled over the waiting circle, and out of the slowly opening door of
the cabinet a white, shadowy little figure had lightly floated, and as
the “spirit” passed near the newspaper reporter he adroitly threw a
pinch of snuff in its face.
A sneeze followed, a most decidedly human sneeze. Quick as thought he
seized it in a strong grasp, while another of the “investigators” as
quickly turned the gas high and bright, and then and there was revealed
to that astounded circle a plump, round-faced, very flesh-and-blood
little girl, with the white powder partly rubbed off her rosy face,
her wig of long, floating, yellow hair awry, and her white gauze dress
crumpled and torn; frightened, angry, and stoutly struggling to escape.
As soon as she saw that exposure had come Madam Sharpe hastily made her
escape, and a moment later Posey managed to free herself from the hand
of her captor and darted from the room.
[Illustration: OUT OF THE DOOR OF THE CABINET A WHITE, SHADOWY LITTLE
FIGURE HAD LIGHTLY FLOATED.—_Page 32._]
But evidence enough remained: the cabinet, that through a sliding panel
opened into an adjoining room, the guitar, the wigs, the costumes of
the different “materializations.”
A storm of indignation naturally followed these discoveries, a storm so
loud as to arouse the attention of all in the vicinity, and to bring a
policeman to the scene. An angry but fruitless search was made for the
clairvoyant, who was near enough to hear the threats expressed as she
cowered in her place of retreat.
A much duller comprehension than hers would have realized that her
career in that city was ended. Reporters, as she well knew, would catch
it up, and the morning papers spread the news of her exposure far and
wide, even should she escape the arrest she had heard threatened on the
ugly charge of obtaining money under false pretenses. While the crowd
was still surging through her rooms, she had decided that the sooner
she was away the better; and as soon as the neighborhood regaining
quiet had sunk into slumber, she secured, as hastily and secretly as
possible, the removal of her few personal effects, and, thanks to the
express speed of the railroad, was many miles distant when morning
dawned.
Angry though she was at Posey, the innocent cause of the trouble, yet
had the latter been at hand she would have taken her in her flight. But
Posey up in the attic, to which she had fled and from which she had
not dared to venture, had fallen asleep on a soft heap of rubbish, and
Madam Atheldena Sharpe, now as ever thoroughly selfish, abandoned with
hardly a thought the child who had so long shared her fortunes. And
when with the morning Posey, waking, crept cautiously down, her tumbled
finery looking tawdry enough in the daylight, it was to find only
empty, disordered rooms, from which the clairvoyant and all belonging
to her had vanished.
So for the second time, and with an increased keenness of apprehension
of all it implied, Posey was again thrown on the world. And now, for
the first time, in the person of the fat, good-natured policeman,
Society, that great factor of civilization, became aware of her
existence, took her under its charge, and in due time placed her in
the “Children’s Refuge,” an institution where the city was already
providing for some two or three hundred similar waifs and strays.
This was a new, strange home indeed, and at the same time a statelier
one than she had ever known—the tall brick building, with its great
wings, one the boys’ and the other the girls’ department, stretching
on either side. While accustomed as she had been all her life to a
haphazard, makeshift existence, the exquisite neatness, the perfect
order, and the regular system at first equally amazed and depressed.
Posey had brought with her a somewhat varied store of accomplishments,
but as she looked at the long rows of girls, with their neat uniforms
of blue dresses and checked aprons, and noticed the clock-work
regularity of their daily life she felt that she had much, very much,
to learn.
The Refuge was not an institution where appalling cruelties are hidden
under the surface of smoothness. The children were as well clothed,
well fed, well taught, and well cared for as is possible where such
gathered numbers make separate mothering almost impossible. As a
necessity, system, regularity, was the rule; from the rising in the
morning till the retiring at night the ringing of the great bell
ordered all; eating, play, work, study, was at its monition. And if any
tried rebellion, as Posey at the first sometimes felt inclined to do,
it was speedily to find that they but bruised themselves against the
strong force which controlled the whole.
Into this routine Posey soon settled; she had her little white bed in
one of the rows of the long dormitory, her desk in the schoolroom,
her place in the work-room, where at certain hours in the day the
girls worked at making paper boxes; and her group of friends in the
playground. After the lonely isolation of most of her previous life it
was a great change, this becoming one in such a multitude. But hardest
of all for her was it to become used to the pressure of discipline,
not severe but constant, the feeling that she was never free from the
watchful, overlooking eye.
In almost every respect she was much better off here than when in the
hands of Madam Sharpe, but though never alone, as in the old days, she
was often as lonely as when she sat secluded in the kitchen-bedroom of
the clairvoyant, lonely for the love, the tenderness, that her child
heart had longed for so long and so vainly.
After all that Posey had had to do when with the “Madam” it was not
hard for her to learn to make paper boxes quickly and well. In the
schoolroom, too, she was soon able to take a place near the head of
her class, something that gave her not a little pride. Rewards were
not offered to the scholars, but one day a reward came to her that
she never forgot, and that had not a little influence in shaping her
future. It was at the close of a session when she had acquitted herself
with even more than her usual credit, and Miss Grey, the teacher, in
passing her desk as she was putting her books in order, stopped with a
pleasant smile and said, “Posey, I am very glad to see you so ambitious
in your studies; if you will study and try I think you can one day make
a teacher.”
It was to Posey a new idea, and the stirring of her first real
ambition. Was it possible that she could become a teacher like Miss
Grey, and have pupils who should in like manner admire her, and,
best of all, make a place and earn a living for herself? Her heart
thrilled, first with the idea, and again with the determination that
it should be possible. And Miss Grey, busy with her many pupils and
manifold duties, went her way unconscious of the ray of promise she
had given, a ray that should shine as a day-star of hope through many
a long day. For that matter, she had no idea of the feeling she had
inspired in Posey’s heart, how she watched, admired, and imitated
her, absorbed her ideas, was influenced by her opinions, and when she
finally left, for a home of her own, missed her.
With all the teachers and matrons Posey was in the main a favorite. But
for the study of individual character there was scant time; when she
was good, little attention was paid to her, when she was naughty she
received the punishment she had incurred. For while Posey possessed a
certain intrepid strength of purpose that carried her over many a hard
place, as well as in her work and lessons, these were coupled with an
impulsiveness of action and warmth of temper that often brought her
into temporary disgrace.
Still, on the whole, the year and a half she passed at the Refuge was
as happy as any she had spent since her mother’s death. But one day a
summons came for her to the Superintendent’s office, where sat a stout
lady, with a face of hard, mottled red flesh, one whom she had noticed
a little while before making the rounds of the rooms.
“Yes,” she said, regarding Posey with a fixed gaze of her beady black
eyes, “I think I will try this one. I’ll take her home with me and keep
her for a while, anyway. No, I don’t care to ask her any questions. I
wouldn’t know much more if I did, and I can find out enough in short
order. So hurry and get yourself ready,” to Posey, “for I’ve no time to
lose.” And when Posey heard this she hardly knew whether she ought to
be glad or sorry.
The Refuge did not let its charges go out without providing as far as
possible for their welfare and future. As Mrs. Hagood had furnished
ample references as to her capability for such a charge; and as she
further promised to give Posey good care, moral instruction, and the
advantage of the school in her village, the Refuge authorities felt
that in this case they had amply done their duty. So in a very short
time Posey’s few belongings were packed, the parting words said, and
in company with Mrs. Hagood she had passed and left behind the tall
wrought-iron gates of the Refuge.
To live in the country had always been to Posey a dream of delight,
though her knowledge of the country was limited to fleeting views from
car windows. She had, too, a faint memory of stories her mother had
once told her of the happiness of a childhood spent among orchards and
meadows; and with all these in mind she had often looked at the dusty
trees bordering the stone-paved streets, and the swift-flowing streams
that filled the gutters after a rain, trying to cheat imagination into
the belief that they were real brooks and genuine woods.
So now when Mrs. Hagood told her that her new home was to be in a
little country village her heart beat high with anticipation, and she
decided that she was glad she was going. On their way to the train in
the street cars they skirted the Haymarket, and Posey looked out with
mingled feelings at the tall brick building, the scene of her memorable
misadventure. Not that she had any desire to return to Madam Sharpe.
With a child’s quick intuition for shams, the clairvoyant’s manifold
deceptions had inspired her with anything but a profound respect, nor
had she by any means forgotten the cruelty of her desertion. Besides,
was she not now going into the beautiful country, to be as free as a
bird among the birds and flowers?