“If there is one thing I like more than all the other things about a
long railway journey,” said Judith, as they alighted at the great
Metropolis terminal, “it is the end. I love to get off.”
“I rather agree with you,” Jane almost sighed, for the trip from
Montana, while pleasantly varied with incidents of interest, was really
all tuned and keyed up to the actual pleasure of reaching New York.
“How good it is to be back, after all,” pursued Judith. “I hope we will
have no trouble in finding Mrs. Weatherbee. She is so eminently
systematic, as our train was on time, she ought to be in sight now.”
“Oh, I am sure she will be here,” Jane added, as they edged along with
the throng, threading their way out into the open space under the great
glass canopy of the New York Central. The magnitude of the building
seemed to dwarf the lines and group of persons, filing in and out, and
coming and going—as the old man said, like people without any homes.
“There she is!” exclaimed Jane as she caught sight of the dignified
Mrs. Weatherbee, director of Wellington. “And she has a young girl with
her.”
“Our Helka!” exclaimed Judith, jamming into a haughty woman with the
perpetual poodle under her arm. “Oh, I am sure that is our little
artist,” as the slight young girl, in very dark costume advanced with
Mrs. Weatherbee.
There was no time for a reply from Jane, for the smiling Wellington
lady and her companion now caught sight of the girls, and were
advancing quickly.
“Just in time,” Mrs. Weatherbee exclaimed with more precision than
originality. “How splendidly you both look!”
Then the usual hand shaking, and exchange of courtesies included the
introduction to Miss Helka Podonsky.
So the girls at last beheld the object of their long outstanding
guesses and conjectures!
Yes, Helka was pretty—she was different, and she was surely attractive.
Her hair tangled around her ears and made the most adorable little
puffs. Its shade was dark, not black, but more dark than brown. All of
these details were easily observed, and the girls absorbed them, but
the color of her eyes—Jane thought they blue, Judith thought them
brown, and neither knew how to classify the flashes and “volts” the
little stranger shot out from under the long curly lashes. But that she
was lovely each silently agreed.
“This is our friend who is coming with us to Wellington,” Mrs.
Weatherbee explained, in that formal way “the faculty” always take to
say unnecessary things. “She is delighted with the prospect,” another
superfluous banality.
“Oh, yes, it will be very—nice,” spoke Helka, and her accent betrayed
the slightest foreign tinge. Her words seemed carefully chosen, but she
did not hiss her “s” nor choke her “e.” Jane was glad the voice and
accent would not excite undue prejudice.
“I am sure it will be perfectly jolly,” Judith hurried to add, and in
her effort to speak clearly she chose the very word a stranger might
not understand. “Jolly” was not included in the usual English phrases
given in foreign school text books.
“Yes?” Helka ventured to answer, and her rising inflection might easily
span a sea of doubt.
“Oh, it will be—delightful,” Jane took great pains to qualify. She had
no intention of confusing Helka, and wished above all things to impress
her with a sense of companionship.
Yet there was a certain strain apparent. Helka did not “fall on her
knees, or neck” after the manner of the proteges in children’s books,
neither did “her eyes fill with tears of silent appreciation.”
Nevertheless the three girls, with their college director, were going
through that process of self consciousness bordering on embarrassment.
“Can’t we go to the rest room for a few moments?” asked Jane. “I think
we will have a better chance to get acquainted sitting down,” she
declared.
Quick to catch the possible humor of this remark Helka smiled broadly,
and the set of teeth she exposed caused the girls again to exchange
knowing glances. Now, Judith had wonderful teeth. In fact, she might
claim championship in the tooth beauty contest, did Wellington carry
such a sport, but Helka’s! They were so small, so even and so white,
matched pearls indeed. Thoughts of the pure grain foods of Poland
filtered through Jane’s mind, while Judith wondered about Polish
dentifrice.
All this time it never occurred to either of the Wellington girls, that
the stranger might be having an equally interesting time analyzing and
cataloging them, and their characteristics. Egotism has various methods
of taking care of her own.
In the big, leathered rest room, a comfortable corner was available,
and here our quartette soon ensconced themselves. Mrs. Weatherbee
really looked quite human, Judith was deciding, her Oxford tailored
suit being sufficiently de luxe to be spelled “tailleur.” It was nobby,
to take up a word from the English allies, and not give all the credit
to the French.
“Now, my dears,” spoke the model, “I have a plan to unfold to you.
Helka wishes to stay in some private place, that is, she does not wish
to get into any very public place.”
She stopped, for Helka was silently inferring so much that her attitude
demanded attention. She was sort of shaking her head and biting her red
lips and flashing her unclassified eyes.
“Not a lovely hotel?” asked Jane in surprise. She had really counted on
showing this little stranger life in a big New York hotel.
“Oh, no, please not. No hotel. I would not like that. There are so
many—men and women.” Helka was almost shuddering, and Judith instantly
sensed the mystery promised about the Polish girl’s antecedents. Jane,
acting in the capacity of hostess, immediately agreed to shun all
hotels.
“I wanted to tell you,” said Mrs. Weatherbee, “that for the present I
have arranged with a former member of the staff of Wellington, a
retired chaperon, to take you young ladies in her charge in New York.
As Miss Allen had informed me she wished to stay in the city for some
days, I thought it my duty to see that you were all safely—chaperoned.”
She smiled humanly, Judith admitted, but visions of a retired chaperon
did not exactly forecast a very jolly good time. Even a working “nurse
maid,” as the attendants were sometimes facetiously styled, would be
better than one who was old enough to be retired. Jane was struggling
with similar fears.
“She has quite an apartment,” went on the matron. “In fact, she has
been entertaining some social service students who take care of
themselves in her apartment, and I thought that would be just the thing
for you three little girls.”
“I am sure it will be!” Jane exclaimed, now seeing light through the
clouds. “I have always longed to try housekeeping as the college
settlement girls do, and it may give us valuable experience.”
“Oh, glorious!” exclaimed Judith. “I vote to be—parlor maid.”
“It would be very nice,” ventured Helka, “if we could have a very small
house and our own—piano.”
“Oh, of course, Helka, dear,” Mrs. Weatherbee hurried to inject. “You
must have access to a piano. You cannot be deprived of your music.”
The luminous eyes flashed their appreciation at this, and Jane felt as
if even a rest room was quite inadequately furnished, with no piano, at
that moment, in sight. This little artist should have some sort of
pocket edition to carry around with her. She was different and artistic
and her moods should be humored. Of a certainty they would go at once
to the apartment with the home cured piano, as Judith called any
instrument not installed in a school room.
“Miss Jordan expects us,” said Mrs. Weatherbee, “I was sure a good cup
of real tea would refresh you both after your journey.” She picked up
the flat brief case Judith always carried in lieu of a suit case. Jane
adjusted her own club bag, preparatory for the start. Helka insisted on
taking the brace of umbrellas. So the little party wended their way to
the surface car, Jane naturally falling in step with Helka and Judith
trotting along with Mrs. Weatherbee.
“Adorable!” Judith at last had a chance to exclaim.
“I knew you would like her,” smiled Mrs. Weatherbee. “She is a
wonderful girl. And she has such an interesting history.”
Just as it had all been planned!
“Jane’s luck,” commented Judith. “Mrs. Weatherbee, we are going to make
Jane Allen, Center, this year. And we are going to make our team known
all over the college circuit. Basketball is an American sport, and we
are back from the war now with reconstruction energy.”
“I believe you,” assented the matron, and her tone implied
satisfaction.
Jane was meanwhile becoming agreeably acquainted with Helka.