THE CABINET.
[Illustration]
Winnie's queer toboggan ride was innocent enough in itself but it
brought in its train many unforeseen circumstances, chief among which
was the affair of the old oak cabinet.
This cabinet stood in our study parlor, in the corner diagonally
opposite the door leading into the new studio, and was used as a
depository of the funds of all the occupants of the Amen Corner.
The cabinet was always left locked and there was but one key to it,
which was kept in the match-box, well covered with matches. Only we
five knew its hiding place, or the fact that the cabinet was used as
a bank. We had agreed that it was best to keep this a secret among
ourselves--and it was so kept until the day after the robbery, weeks
after Winnie's escapade. We intended to follow Professor Waite's advice
and buy a bolt for the door, but what was everybody's business was
nobody's business, and whenever we went shopping there were so many
errands that we forgot it, or some other girl, or one of the teachers
was with us, and it would have been embarrassing to explain why the
bolt was needed.
The door, as has been explained, opened outward from our parlor into the
studio. Professor Waite had placed a heavy carved chest against it on
his side, so that there was no danger of its flying open, and we had
uncorded the knob and rolled Adelaide's trunk back to her bedroom. No
one occupied the studio at night, and, though I spent several hours
there during the day, I always entered the room by its corridor door,
and we never thought when we locked our own corridor door at night how
easily any one so minded could push aside the chest and enter our
apartment from the studio.
That the contents of the old oak cabinet on the night of the robbery may
be understood, an explanation of the finances of the different occupants
of the Amen Corner is possibly now in order.
Adelaide's father and mother had gone West for the winter. Mr. Armstrong
was an able financier, and he wished to make Adelaide a thorough
business woman. She was eighteen years old and she might be a great
heiress some day, if his wealth continued to accumulate, and he wished
to accustom her to the management of money.
He had given her the year before a model tenement house, built after the
most approved principles, on the site of Richetts' Court, previously
occupied by one of the worst tenement houses in the city. The new
building contained accommodations for ten families; the sanitation was
perfect; there were no dark rooms, but bath rooms, fire escapes, and
provision for every necessity. A good janitor, Stephen Trimble, occupied
the lower apartment and looked after the order and comfort of the
building, and every month Adelaide, attended by one of the teachers,
went down and personally collected her rents, and listened to the
complaints and requests of her tenants. There were few of either, and as
a general rule the pay was prompt, for the rent was low, and Adelaide
did all she could to oblige her tenants, having a small drying room
built for the laundress, Mrs. McCarthy, who had contracted rheumatic
fever from hanging out her wash on the roof and so exposing herself to
the icy winds, when over-heated from the steaming tubs. Adelaide had no
stringent rules against pets. She caused kennels to be built in the
court for several pet dogs, and added some blossoming plants to Mrs.
Blumenthal's small conservatory in the sunny south window. Noticing that
the Morettis were fond of art, and had pasted cigarette pictures on
their walls and driven nails to suspend some gaudy prints of the virgin
and saints, she had a narrow moulding with picture hooks placed just
under the ceiling in every sitting-room. She patronized all their small
industries as far as it was in her power, and interested her friends in
them; having her boots made by the little shoemaker on the top floor,
who was really a good workman, but had been turned away from a prominent
firm, as they had cut down their list of employees. Her underclothing
was made by the little seamstress on the third floor back. She gave each
of her tenants a Thanksgiving dinner and a substantial present on
Christmas Day, and only allowed those to be evicted whose flagrant
misbehaviour showed that nothing could be done for them.
From the income of this building her father had insisted that Adelaide
must pay all her expenses. As Madame's boarding school was a fashionable
one, the margin left, after the payment of tuition, to be divided
between dress and charity, was not very large.
Mr. Armstrong knew that Adelaide's weakness was a love for beautiful
clothing; that she delighted in sumptuous velvets, in the sheen of
satin, and the shimmer of gauze. Her regal beauty would not have been
over-powered by a queen's toilette, but she adorned the simplest
costume, and set the fashion in hats for the school season.
Mr. Armstrong also knew that Adelaide was very tender of heart, and that
if left entirely to herself she would gladly have opened the doors of
her tenement house freely to unscrupulous and undeserving people; that
she would have easily credited every woeful story, and have remitted
rents when it would have been no real kindness to do so. He therefore
pitted these two weaknesses against each other. "We will see what comes
of it at the close of the year," he said. "She may become a grinding,
close-fisted proprietress, screwing the last possible dollar out of the
poor to lavish it on her own personal adornment, but I hope better
things of Adelaide than that. It would be more like her, I think, to go
to the opposite extreme--dress like an Ursuline nun and take nothing
from her tenants; but let us hope that she may be able to strike the
golden mean."
It was a hard thing to do, and Adelaide went without a new winter cloak
until nearly Christmas time, waiting for the Morettis to pay up an
arrearage; and only consented to the turning out of a shiftless family
who occupied the best apartment, and were three months behind hand,
because the tuition for the first term at Madame's would be due in a
few days, and a respectable wood engraver offered to pay two months in
advance. It was hard, because she did not wish to spend all the money on
herself. She was as interested as any of us in the Home of the Elder
Brother, and longed to contribute more generously to it; but since these
poor people were her tenants, they were in some sense her own family,
and she felt that charity began at home. Often I know that Adelaide
denied herself as really, in not being more lenient, as her tenants did
to scrape together their monthly rental. She was a generous girl to her
friends, and before her father had made this arrangement she deluged
us all with her presents. Milly, who had unlimited credit at several
stores, kept up this pernicious custom of lavishly giving presents of
flowers and candies. It was hard for Winnie and me, who were in moderate
circumstances, not to return them, but doubly so for Adelaide--who
entreated her to desist, as we all did, but without avail. Milly was
incorrigible. "You don't seem to understand," Winnie said to her at
Christmas time, "that the receipt of a gift which one cannot return in
kind is a bitter pill to a sensitive nature."
"No," replied Milly, "I don't understand anything of the sort. Adelaide
always translates my Caesar for me. You help me with my algebra, and Tib
as good as writes my compositions. I couldn't return any of those favors
'_in kind_,' and they are pills that are not the least bit bitter to
me----"
"It's of no use, Adelaide," laughed Winnie, "we must let Milly have her
own way. It is such a pleasure to Milly to give that we will sacrifice
our own feelings and bear the infliction."
Mr. Armstrong had given Adelaide an old oak cabinet, beautifully carved
in the style of the Italian Renaissance of the fifteenth century, with
architectural columns, caryatides, scroll work, and arabesques. The
upper cupboard of this cabinet was used as a strong box to hold the
funds of our little circle. The interior was divided into pigeon holes
and shelves, and the door was provided with a curious key with a
delicate wrought-iron handle.
Adelaide had given each of us a compartment in this little safe, but
when its entire contents were counted there was rarely much money kept
here, for Adelaide had a bank account, and after collecting her rents
usually deposited them at the bank before returning to school, paying
all her debts by cheque. Milly, as before explained, had her running
accounts charged to her father,--a book at Arnold's, at the florist's,
the confectioner's, the dressmaker's, stationer's, etc.,--but her supply
of ready cash was never equal to demand, and though she could telephone
for a messenger and order a coupe at any time, she was always in debt to
the other girls, and I have frequently lent her postage stamps and paid
her car fare.
Mr. Roseveldt had a horror of entrusting funds to young girls with no
limitation of the way in which they were to be spent; he felt that in
looking over the shop-keeper's accounts he knew exactly how much Milly
expended, and for what the money went. But his plan was a mistaken one;
and the perfect freedom which Adelaide enjoyed was training her in a
sense of responsibility, while Milly was becoming unscrupulous as to
waste, where waste was encouraged, and frequently ordered a coupe when
the street car would have done just as well, or rang for a messenger to
save a postage stamp.
Winnie and I, the two poorer girls, were the ones who usually had money
in the safe. Winnie received a moderate allowance from her father
outside of her tuition, which he sent directly to Madame. As soon as
the cheque arrived, she cashed it and placed the new, crisp bills in
separate envelopes labelled, "Personal expenses," "Charity." She was
very generous, but she had a horror of debt, and she never expended the
funds in the latter envelope until she had received another remittance.
As Winnie abhorred sweets, and would rather any day have gone to the
dentist's than the dressmaker's, and as she had a supreme contempt for
display of any kind, the charity envelope was always full, and she had
usually a comfortable margin in personal expenditure to lend or bestow
on others. Winnie had always been generous, but this quality of
foresight had only come to her during the past year in her work as a
member of the finance committee of the Home of the Elder Brother.
My own case was different from that of the others. My father was a
Long Island farmer, and my allowance, though meagre as related to my
necessities, was liberal when compared with his own income. Miss
Sartoris, Madame's former drawing teacher, had boarded with us one
summer, during which I had sketched with her, and she had persuaded
father that I possessed a talent for art and had taken me back with
her to Madame's. So far I had easily led all the art students, and my
studies, although abounding in faults, presumptuous and immature, were
considered by the school as something quite remarkable. During the past
summer a young man of engaging address, and otherwise irreproachable
honesty, had stolen our beloved teacher, and Miss Sartoris, now Mrs.
Stillman, was known to Madame's no more. When the school reorganized
in the fall, Madame engaged me to take charge of the art department,
temporarily, until she could provide herself with a more competent
instructor. We had a small, crowded studio, with a poor light, but the
class was large. I did the best I could, but we sorely needed ampler
accommodations, and a head whose ability in his profession should be
unquestioned. Both were now provided. Carrington Waite was a young
artist fresh from the _Ecole des Beaux Arts_ at Paris, and he brought to
us the training traditions of the schools, and the latest European ideas
in art.
There were very few girls in the school sufficiently advanced to
understand his instruction, but they flocked into the studio and
listened with undisguised admiration to words that might as well have
been uttered in an unknown tongue. Poor little Milly gazed at him in a
rapt, adoring way, without ever comprehending what he said. The tears
came to her eyes and rolled swiftly down her cheeks when he told her
that it was manifestly absurd to draw a full face seen from the front
with its nose in profile, but she smiled a brave little quiver of a
smile while he reviled her work, and thanked him as though he had
uttered the most fulsome compliments.
Even Winnie had felt the wave of influence and joined the class in spite
of her assertion that she had no taste for art and never wished to see
Professor Waite again. Only Adelaide held firmly out and would none of
him. Winnie was not at all afraid of the Professor, and seemed to devote
herself especially to making his life miserable. When he informed her
that she must join the "preparatory antique" section and draw in
charcoal, she calmly explained that she "perfectly loathed" casts, and
she had purchased an outfit of oil paints and intended to devote herself
at once to color. Strange to say, Professor Waite humored her and gave
her some of his landscape studies to copy. She was never contented with
reproducing these faithfully, but always "improved" upon them, as she
audaciously expressed it.
It was a common thing for Professor Waite to remark, when he sat down
before Winnie's easel, "Well, this is about the worst atrocity you have
yet committed."
Winnie, standing behind him, would make eyes at the rest of the girls,
and remark penitently, "I am very sorry."
"You look sorry," Professor Waite replied, on one occasion.
"I don't see how you can tell how I look," Winnie answered, "when you
are sitting with your back to me."
I do not know whether Milly's denseness or Winnie's impudence was the
more irritating to Professor Waite. Winnie resented his severity to
Milly and was always more provoking whenever he had grieved her pet and
left her sobbing in a mire of charcoal and tears.
"You give me more trouble than a three-week's-old baby," Professor Waite
had remarked to poor Milly, and Winnie had retorted spitefully, "I wish
you had to take care of one--I guess you would find a difference."
Winnie's sauciness and Milly's dulness, combined with that of many of
his other pupils, drove the Professor to despair after a week's trial.
He told Madame, as I learned later, that he must give up the position,
as her pupils were all "too hopelessly elementary."
Madame was disappointed. Her art department had always been an
attractive feature, and since the name of Professor Carrington Waite,
late of the _Academie des Beaux Arts_, had appeared in her circulars,
many had joined the school purely for the sake of the studio
instruction. Madame explained this to the young artist.
He ran his fingers through his hair in despair. "Of what manner of use
is it for me to remain?" he asked. "There is only one pupil sufficiently
advanced to gain anything from my instruction, and that is Miss Smith.
The others made as much advance, perhaps more, under her teaching as
they have under mine."
A happy thought came to Madame. "If I engage Miss Smith as your
assistant, Professor Waite, perhaps she can translate your ideas into
terms which will be intelligible by the students of lower intelligence
or advancement, and possibly she can so enlighten some of them that they
can profit later by your personal teaching."
This plan struck Professor Waite as practicable. He now only visited the
studio for an hour each morning, during which time he criticised the
work which had been done under my supervision during the previous day.
The new arrangement was an excellent one for me, for I profited by all
his remarks, listening to them with the keenest attention, and thus
received thirty lessons during the hour instead of one. As I had
but three other studies, and these were in the senior class, it was
possible for me to give the necessary time by preparing all of my
lessons in the evening. It was unremitting, incessant work, but my
health was excellent, and art was my supreme delight. Moreover, Madame
had offered me a salary of three hundred dollars beyond my school
expenses, and it was perfect joy to be able to relieve father of this
burden. I had a high ambition to go abroad some day and study art in
Paris, and I wished to save as much as possible of my salary toward this
purpose. I had the lower compartment in the safe, and here I laid away
every dollar that I could spare, limiting myself in everything but my
subscription to the Home of the Elder Brother; but for this outlet I
would have grown niggardly and avaricious. The same charity which made
Winnie prudently retrench her propensity to lavish expenditure, and take
thought carefully for the morrow, kept me from utter selfishness and
penuriousness by keeping one channel of generous giving open and pulsing
freely toward others.
Cynthia Vaughn's affairs were kept closely to herself. We sometimes
fancied that she pretended to greater wealth and consequence than she
really possessed. Certainly, if the sums of which she frequently spoke
of receiving were at her disposal she was a veritable miser; for her
subscription to the Home was the smallest of any girl in the King's
Daughters' Ten; the presents which she ostentatiously bestowed upon
Adelaide and Milly were cheap though showy, as was her own clothing.
The treasures which she committed to the cabinet safe were carefully
locked in a small japanned tin box, the key of which she kept in her
pocket-book, and she was the only one of us whose belongings within the
safe were so protected. We had perfect confidence in one another, and
our funds lay open to the observation or handling of any one possessing
the pass key in the match box. It is needless to say that up to the
night of the robbery our security had been inviolate.