CHRISTMAS
It was shortly after this that a miniature riot broke out in the tiny
apartment where Violet Manning and her two friends made a home; and it
was on the subject of Christmas, too.
The year before, Violet had spent the holidays with Mrs. Wright in
Boston; but this year the loving letter which she now held in her hand
invited her cordially not to come to the island.
"I want to see my little girl," wrote Mrs. Wright, "but I would rather
risk the sort of days you will spend among the many pupils who are sure
to ask you than to let you take the expensive journey to the island, so
bleak and cold as it is, and with nothing to repay you at this end but
a hug from Aunt Amy."
Violet read this aloud, and her two friends listened attentively.
"I told you," said Roxana, the teacher and the eldest, "that Mrs.
Wright wouldn't let you come. I shall stay here with you." She spoke
firmly. Her face had the lines of one who always spoke firmly.
"Then I shall stay, too", said Regina, the art-student.
"Then you'll make me miserable, girls!" ejaculated Violet
energetically, folding her letter back in its envelope. She was sitting
on the table, a favorite perch not to be despised in that box of a room
where she often said one must either be under the table or on it. She
swung both her slippered feet and her blonde head. "Roxy--Rex--" she
added beseechingly, "do you want to ruin my holidays?"
"Rex can go, it's very foolish for her to talk about staying, when she
can go sleighing in the country and study the shadows on the snow,"
said Roxana.
"What's the use of being a bachelor girl if you can't have any
independence?" inquired Violet, her blue eyes, and full, pretty lips
looking stormy.
"The baby bachelor can't have everything she wants," said Roxana.
"You're the baby bachelor. Rex may do approximately as she pleases,
but I am the only one entirely independent. Rex still waves her hair.
I stopped a year ago; just forgot it. That was the rubicon. Have you
heard of the old colored mammy who deplored the failure of her dear but
mature miss to marry? She said to her consolingly: 'Never mine, honey,
I'se known some old maids who settled down right happy and contented
when they stopped strugglin'.' I knew when I forgot to wave my hair
that I'd stopped 'strugglin'." Roxana rocked gently. It was the only
safe way to rock in that apartment. "So when that time comes, Violet,
you will see that you have earned independence."
"Oh, Rox, don't be so unkind," pleaded Violet. "I've had ever so many
invitations for Christmas dinner from parents. I knew my small admirers
slapped them into it, so I refused; but I give you my word that if you
will go ahead with your Christmas plans, I will write to one of the
most ardent, and Cinderella's coach will be nothing compared to the
limousine that will be sent for me Christmas morning, and nothing will
be lacking but the prince to make the story complete. If you don't
promise, I'll sulk all the holidays, and I won't stay with you either.
I'll go skating in the park."
Roxana smiled meditatively.
"Prince!" repeated Regina ecstatically. "That reminds me of mine
again."
"Oh, help!" exclaimed Violet. "I've reminded her of Mr.
What's-his-name. Rex, if you'll promise to go ahead with your holiday
doings, I'll let you tell us again how He came into the class-room
first, and how He chose the best light, and how His sketches were
always stunning, and how hard it was for you not to sketch Him instead
of the model, and I'll let you show me the head you did of Him on the
sly, and you shall tell us again how you plotted for an introduction
and how you didn't get it, and--"
"Oh, hush up," said Regina good-naturedly. "How about that Mr. Fabian
you met at the island? How about the careless elegance of his manners?
How about that wonderful, heartrending, angelic voice in which he sang
on moonlight sails?"
"Dear me!" said Violet, swinging her feet and smiling with mischievous
eyes, "what a wonderful memory you have! I had forgotten all about him."
"It shows what a superior being he considers himself that he has
allowed you to," retorted Regina, with curling lip; "after the way he
behaved at the island--"
"I never said he behaved," interrupted Violet mildly.
"Well, he kept on asking you to go, every time they sailed, and gave
you every reason to think he was friendly."
"That's summer friendship," returned Violet, but her cheeks took a
deeper rose. The shoe pinched.
"Well, it's settled," said Roxana. "Rex proceeds to the farm and
studies snow shadows. I stay here, and sleep as late as I wish in the
morning. Now, be calm, Violet. It isn't as if I had a home to go to.
It wouldn't be all holiday to visit, and be on my best behavior, and
not be sure which fork to use nor how large tips I ought to give the
servants, nor--"
"Nonsense!" interrupted Violet. "It will do you all the good in the
world to sit down in the lap of luxury for a while; to live in large
rooms, and drive in large motors, and eat large dinners, and lounge on
large divans, and sleep in large beds; and you're going, Rex, you're
going."
There was something like tears in the stormy blue eyes, and Regina
heard with relief the postman's whistle.
"Go down and see if we have anything, will you, Violet? I'm fixed so
comfortably, and it's nothing to hop off the table."
Violet obeyed, and the other bachelors saw her press a very small
handkerchief to her eyes as she went.
"You'd better go, Rox," said Regina in a low tone. "I know just how she
feels."
"If it weren't for Christmas day I would; but I am sure Violet won't
accept a pupil's hospitality for more than an hour, just so she can
tell us she went; and the baby shan't spend Christmas eve and Christmas
night alone. Even if she won't speak to me, I shall stay. It's the
lesser of two evils. Honestly, I would enjoy a lazy time at home here
with no papers to correct. The trouble is to get her to believe it."
Here Violet returned; her face and bearing so laden with dignity that
Roxana coughed lest she laugh. The baby bachelor handed a postcard to
Regina, then took a very straight-backed chair. To sit on either of her
customary thrones, the table or the floor, would be too much concession
to her mutinous companions. She opened the letter in her hand, and
as she read, a curious change altered her countenance. The wintry
stiffness of her expression began to thaw. A springtime warmth appeared
in her eyes, and, spreading to her lips, relaxed their corners. At last
she looked up. The sparkle of summer seas shone in her glance.
"You can go, girls," she said; "it is all right. Mrs. Fabian has asked
me to dinner on Christmas, with a dance afterward and to spend the
night. Now, then!" She challenged Roxana triumphantly.
"How about Christmas eve?" inquired the latter inflexibly.
"You tiresome old dear, the Settlement has a tree and I'll attend it,
and spend the night with one of my class who is interested there."
"Then I'll go," agreed Roxana mildly. "Fled is the rosy dream of
sleeping till noon and watching you skate in the afternoons; and I will
ask Mrs. McCabe across the hall to keep an eye on you."
The invitation came as a welcome event to Philip Sidney as well. Aunt
Isabel had been uniformly kind and motherly to him. The thought of a
solitary Christmas, or one spent in a glittering restaurant, made him
wince even with all the allurements of his easel and his books; so at
last Mrs. Fabian received a grateful reply to a dinner invitation.
The roses that came with his card on Christmas morning pleased her
also, more than her extravagant gifts. While Phil was dressing he
thought again of Kathleen. He had never seen her since the Sunday
afternoon visit. He felt he could put up with Edgar's airs and graces
through a dinner for the sake of seeing Kathleen again.
"I wonder if she'll smoke a cigarette to-night," he thought, while he
adjusted the dress tie he had bought for the occasion: adjusted it very
carefully, for the tie was a unique possession. If he made a botch
of it he could not go to the dinner. The girl never came to his mind
except when her mother spoke of her; but now that he was to be her
guest he recalled agreeably how womanly and sweet had been her manner
to Eliza on that autumn day before the stable had turned into a studio.
It was Kathleen who suggested sending the car for Violet. It was not
the traditional Christmas of dry sparkling snow under a radiant moon,
but a day of slush and clouds, and Kathleen was not of those owners of
motors who believe that every one else has one, too. Her acquaintance
with Violet was slight, but she knew she was a teacher and a very young
one. She fancied that dollars were precious with her as yet.
So Violet rolled up to the brown-stone house on Christmas evening in
state, arrayed in her best and full of anticipation. Mrs. Wright's
gift to her had been a small gold pendant holding a turquoise matrix,
and this she wore on a slender chain around her throat, where it shone
between the deep blue of her eyes and the pale blue of her gown.
Kathleen's greeting to her had a ring of friendliness through its
gentle formality. Violet's involuntary thought was that she might have
been less formal, for, although there was nothing chilling in her
manner, it seemed to suggest the difference between the bachelor maid
doing light housekeeping in a hemmed-in apartment and the heiress of
this stately mansion.
Mrs. Fabian was kindly patronizing, and held Violet at her side that
she might meet the other dinner guests.
Edgar Fabian was one of the last to enter the drawing-room. Violet
noted that he was not alone, but although his companion dwarfed him she
saw no one but the well-set-up, exquisite youth with the shining hair
who had been the companion of her moonlight sails. Her heart quickened
and her color deepened.
"I'm behaving exactly like Rex," she thought impatiently. Really there
had been no reason why Edgar Fabian should take pains to find her in
the city or show her any courtesy, after the return from the island,
but in her heart of hearts she had expected he would; and it showed no
proper pride in this same heart to give an undignified bound at the
present juncture. What was the idiotic thing bounding for anyway?
This query she put to it as Edgar approached his mother; and now Violet
saw that his companion was a tall man whose evening clothes could not
lessen the breadth of his shoulders, and whose poetic face was lighted
with alert, observant eyes.
Mrs. Fabian greeted the stranger warmly, and presented him to Violet as
her nephew, Mr. Sidney; while Edgar's cool eyes swept the girl's face
for a brief moment without recognition.
"You remember Miss Manning, Edgar," said his mother; and then the
sudden gleeful smile relieved the youth's face of its superciliousness.
"What a difference feathers make to the bird, Miss Manning!" he
ejaculated. "Upon my word, I think I must have believed you always wore
a jolly little red sweater and hat. Weren't those corking sails we
had? Awfully glad to see you again." And he bore Phil off to meet his
friends.
"I think, Miss Manning," said Mrs. Fabian impressively, "that in
meeting my nephew you have seen a future celebrity. He is wonderfully
talented."
"How pleasant," murmured Violet, the idiot heart having given one
record-breaking bound and then retired into its usual self-effacement.
"Yes, he is a painter. Only a student as yet, of course. I think he has
the sort of originality that longs to spread its wings and fly; but he
holds himself down to foundation work in the most level-headed way."
Violet's eyes followed the easy movements of the athletic figure.
"Studying art, did you say?"
"Yes."
"I didn't quite get his name?"
"Sidney. Philip Sidney."
Stars began to twinkle in Violet's eyes at her sudden enlightenment.
What would Rex say?
Kathleen Fabian's observing eyes found time to follow Phil, too. He
wore his dress clothes more like one accustomed to inhabit palaces than
stables. She saw girlish eyes brighten as Edgar personally conducted
the Westerner about the room. When she planned to sit next him at
dinner, it had been with a thought of protection; as Edgar had been
lavish of prophecies of the probable _gaucherie_ of the cowboy. She
also had believed it quite likely that the mining engineer did not
possess a dress suit; and Edgar had drawn cheerful pictures of the way
his arms and legs would probably protrude from any which he might rent;
but it was quite evident now that Phil had a good tailor and had not
spent all his evenings in a mountain cabin.
Kathleen had suggested to her brother that he be seated beside Violet
Manning, as there would be no other man present whom she had ever seen,
but Edgar vetoed that plan.
"Let the two derelicts go in together," he had said. "I never did see
any sense in this business of social philanthropy. Let the lonely
people take care of each other. They will if you only have the
cleverness to bring them together. Then you're spared all the boredom
yourself, and kill two birds with one stone."
"My dear," his mother had said, "Miss Manning is an orphan, alone in
the city, and you were quite friendly with her at the island--"
"Yes, but I don't want to talk about the island all the evening. There
are some widows I would consider; but when it comes to orphans--orphan
teachers--count me out."
He smiled the gleeful smile, and Kathleen sighed, and allotted him to
the maiden of his choice; one who knew and hated the enthralling Mrs.
Larrabee, and who, he averred, had enough "pep" not to bore him.
Violet had somehow expected to be placed with Edgar at dinner, and
argue with herself as she would, the surprise of finding herself with
a stranger instead gave her the sensation of a slight; but she was
cheery and natural, and her escort, a youth with long lashes and a
sallow complexion, found the sea-blue eyes intelligent and sympathetic
repositories for his mournful rhapsodies upon Kathleen Fabian's charms.
She was sitting across the table from them beside Philip Sidney.
Aqua-marines glistened water-blue about her bare throat, and filmy
lace clung to her satin shoulders. Her simple coiffure was in contrast
to the puffs and curls that danced airily on the other girlish heads.
Kathleen's was straight hair, but fine, thick, and lustrous. The
simplicity of her aspect gave one to know that with her "the colors
seen by candlelight" would look the same by day.
"It isn't every one who understands Miss Fabian," the long lashes
announced to Violet, with the implication that he was in the inner
circle. "She's what I call a subtle girl--a mysterious girl. Those
jewels suit her. That liquid, elusive play of light, as the moonlight
sparkles on the water, is like her moods, gentle, and--and remote. I
often think Miss Fabian lives in a world of her own. One can't always
be sure that she hears what one is saying."
"I know her very little," returned Violet, "but she does seem a very
thoughtful girl."
"Who is that chap with her?--the big fellow?"
"That is her cousin, Mr. Sidney."
"Her cousin? I never saw him before."
"I fancy he's not a New Yorker," said Violet. "He is here studying art."
"H'm," ejaculated Long-Lashes. "He doesn't look the part. He doesn't
wear artistic hair."
"No," agreed Violet. "There is no studied disorder in his appearance.
Miss Fabian seems to hear everything _he_ says," she added demurely;
"and why, if he is her cousin, does she call him Mr. Sidney?"
Long-Lashes, who had looked cheered at the information of relationship,
gloomed again.
"I'm sure I have it right," went on Violet. "Mrs. Fabian told me he was
her nephew."
"Oh," returned her companion, "but Mrs. Fabian is Kathleen's
step-mother." He looked across at the pair anxiously. "She has adopted
him, though, that's evident. Her wits haven't gone wool-gathering since
we sat down."
When the young people returned to the drawing-room they found a
charming transformation had taken place. The spacious floor was bare,
garlands of evergreen, holly, and mistletoe were wreathed in all
possible positions, and a majestic Christmas tree sparkling with the
tiny electric bulbs of these sophisticated days stood in a recess. Its
boughs were gay with favors for a german.
An orchestra, concealed behind palms in the hall, played a Christmas
carol as the couples entered.
"There are Christmas fairies even in Gotham," said Phil to Kathleen.
"Ah," he thought, "poverty may be no disgrace, but what a convenience
is money!" "Before we go any further," he added aloud, "I want to thank
you, Miss Fabian, for the honor you paid the stranger in a strange land
by allowing me to take you out to dinner. I want you to know that I
appreciate it in a gathering of your own friends."
Kathleen's calm eyes met his. She was glad he could not know that she
had expected to champion his crude appearance in a gathering where
clothes went far to make the man.
"I never thought of doing anything else," she returned; then added,
smiling, "You know I owed you hospitality."
"Brave girl," returned Phil, "to dare to refer to that ill-starred day.
I should never have had the courage."
"Do you ever hear from Eliza?" asked Kathleen.
"I received one letter after her arrival. It was mostly about her cat,
Pluto. She said he acted like an imp of darkness."
"Why wouldn't he--saddled with that name?" returned Kathleen.
Phil watched the aqua-marines sparkle and dissolve on the whiteness of
her neck.
"Your mother did to my stable what the brownies have done here while we
were dining. Did she tell you?"
"She told me she bought you a few things."
"That is a modest way to put it. Will you come to tea with her some
day this week and see for yourself?"
"I shall be glad to. I've not been able to remember you as being very
comfortable."
The carol ceased. The odor of evergreen was fresh as the forest itself.
The orchestra began a waltz.
"I wonder if he can dance," thought Kathleen, in her ignorance of the
West. The evening clothes were promising but she had her doubts of
Terpsichore west of the Rockies. She little knew that in dress clothes
or sweater the cowboy leads the world in dancing.
The music was irresistible and in a moment she was floating away in the
waltz.
"Dear me!" she thought with a mixture of consternation and
satisfaction. "I've taken the best of everything!"
Edgar cast a glance after them. "A duck to the water," he thought.
A touch of nature makes the whole world kin; and when Phil arrived
to-night, that unique dress tie of his had suffered damage from his
overcoat. Edgar with lofty hospitality had supplied the lack. It had
given him a foretaste of self-satisfaction as patron of the arts, and
he now felt quite benevolently glad to find that Phil was not going
to entangle Kathleen's feet, as he sailed off with his own partner,
humming the waltz in her appreciative ear.
Long-Lashes danced as he talked, with poetic meditation. Violet had no
objection to him, but she was conscious of Edgar's every movement. If
he did not ask her for the next dance she would not give him any, even
if she had to sprain her ankle.
However, the catastrophe was averted, because he did ask her for the
second, and, joy of joys, she could not give it to him; for as she
and Long-Lashes crept near Kathleen and Phil during the waltz, Phil,
prompted by his partner, raised his eyebrows in a request.
"The next, Miss Manning?"
She nodded assent; and so it was that Edgar took the third; and as soon
as he joined her asked her opinion of Phil's dancing.
"Of course you're authority," he added tactfully, as they started.
"Oh, I quite forgot shop while I was with him," said Violet coolly;
"beside, I don't teach ballroom dancing."
Edgar suspected that he had, in his own language, put his foot in it;
so he used his universal panacea and sang the waltz in his partner's
ear.
"Pretty, isn't it? Say, you can dance, Miss Manning, if you don't know
how to teach it. Watch me favor you in the german."
"Mr. Sidney is a perfect dancer," she said.
"He looks it. I'm mighty glad he doesn't fall all over himself. He's a
trifle too big to make that safe; and being a wild Westerner I didn't
know just what he would do. Do you ever do a jig nowadays?"
"Occasionally--in the way of business."
"Say," exclaimed Edgar with enthusiasm, as he led her safely among the
thickening couples, "would you do one to-night if I clear the floor?"
"Certainly not," returned Violet, laughing.
"But you did at the island."
"I only jig on a vessel's deck," said the girl.
"And I have to wait till next summer?"
"Poor, poor fellow!" Violet's eyes looked up into his pathetically.
He had forgotten what very nice eyes they were, and what jolly little
stars danced in their depths.
"I'd like to clog, and I believe I'd be a good one. Do you teach it?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll enter the class!" declared Edgar with enthusiasm.
"You're just a tiny bit over-age," said Violet. "Fifteen's the limit."
"Then I'll come to your home, that's what I'll do. I'll take private
lessons."
"Impossible. There's no place to clog there except on the table."
"But that's what I should prefer to any other place."
"I'll teach you next summer," said Violet, "and take my pay in song."
"That's proverbially cheap," said Edgar.
"Yes, '_a_ song,' perhaps," returned Violet, "but I shall exact dozens."
Edgar tossed his head with the gleeful smile.
"It's a bargain," he declared.