Housekeeping, however irksome when a positive duty, is always a delight
when “tried on” in miniature.
So it was when the Wellington girls installed themselves in Miss
Jordan’s apartment, they had no idea of the novelty in store for them.
The house was one of the old mansions now falling into the shadow of
the Village. The Village, we recall, is that part of New York City
where artists of various sorts congregate, and live the life they term
Bohemian. Incidentally, there are many within the village who will
never have any claim to the title artist—other than to have possessed
the ambition to be so classified, but like half the aspirants for
honors, they may aspire, but not conspire, as they do not work honestly
to achieve the place they pretend to appropriate. But our girls did not
go within the village limits; they were just at its “gates” and so had
an opportunity of observing the interesting types of girls and young
women passing in and out, affecting the Bohemian.
Long-haired men and short-haired women. Velvet-jacketed men and
cloth-upholstered women—such persistent contradictions lending a
peculiar picturesqueness to the otherwise prosaic Metropolis.
A kitchenette and two sleeping rooms had been assigned to the
Wellingtons by Miss Jordan, the larger dining room being shared by two
groups. Miss Jordan explained she had found the individual kitchen
indispensable, for all girls had their own ideas about kitchen work,
while a dining room might be made communal, many persons having similar
table habits, obviously. The living room was delightful. A long, high
ceiled drawing room originally. Miss Jordan had preserved the splendor
of the crystal chandelier, and the glory of the hand carved marble
mantel. Here all the girls were wont to congregate in their evenings,
and those of them who had the opportunity came together around the
square piano or curled themselves up with books in the bay window’s
cushions in the late afternoons.
The clientele was sufficiently varied to be interesting, at the same
time Miss Jordan personally vouched for the general standing of each of
her paying guests. In fact, the rendezvous for young girls who might be
in New York temporarily, and without personal chaperons, was a real
innovation, and it did fill a perfectly legitimate long-felt want.
“Home was never like this,” declared Judith, passing the chocolates to
a little dark-haired art student, who had just come in from a morning’s
work in a co-operative studio. The art student called herself Anaa
Kole, and just why she insisted on the second “a” to her otherwise
plain Ana had not yet been discovered by Judith. It looked to her like
a waste of type, that could not be vocally made use of.
“Miss Jordan is so motherly,” admitted Anaa. “I sometimes wonder what I
should have done if I had not found her apartment. I came here because
my college directed me to.”
“That is just what happened to me,” Judith declared. “I came here
because Wellington actually toted me to the doorstep. Have some more
chocolates, do!”
“Oh, thank you, I do like sweets when I am tired. What are you
studying?”
“Here? Nothing especially. We are just getting ready for our junior
year. All but Miss Podonsky. She is just beginning.”
“Isn’t she dear? But why does she run every time the bell rings?”
“Does she? I hadn’t noticed,” prevaricated Judith. “She is a little
shy, being a stranger, I suppose.”
“And she never practices when anyone is around. I have so wished to
hear her play her violin. I am sure she is a wonder at it. But every
time I do have the good luck to come in while she is playing she stops
instantly as I enter.”
“Don’t you think most geniuses are peculiar?” parried Judith. “Helen
will not play for us unless—well, unless Miss Allen especially requests
it. She adores Jane.”
“I don’t blame her,” admitted Anaa. “I am charmed with her myself. She
is one of the girls with rare character who is not forever advertising
it. When I came in with wet feet the other night she did not insist on
me draining her chocolate pot. Most girls do, and I abhor hot drinks
for wet feet.”
Judith laughed. Anaa was naive, if a trifle conspicuous with her bobbed
hair. Of course bobbed hair was so comfy, and so becoming, too bad it
was not the general style, mused Judith, patting her own heavy coil,
that would slip down her neck every time she attempted to relax outside
of bed quilts.
“I shall almost hate to leave for school,” Judith supplied. “It has
been so jolly here.”
“I do not find New York exactly a playground,” Miss Kole followed,
“but, then, I am studying.”
“Of course that’s different. We are shopping, shopping and after meals
shopping again. I wonder if there are any bargains left? I adore buying
pretty underlies, but I am not so keen on the practicals. But my friend
Jane has set up enough stuff to make a hope chest for all Wellington.”
“She is from the West, you said?”
“Yes, from Montana. But that does not mean that she has never seen
pretty things before and is overdoing it,” Judith hurried to qualify in
justice to Jane.
“Oh, of course not. I did not mean to infer that,” Miss Kole
apologized. “But I do think Westerners, as a rule, are so much more
generous, and so much more enthusiastic than the cold Easterners. I am
from New England, and all I can remember of holidays around home is
that the rag rugs were taken off the carpets, and the powdered sugar
sprinkled over the doughnuts. Life in my home was always a question of
rivalry in economy. When I came here I set out for days to buy every
imaginable sort of food I had been reading labels of all my life. Of
course at college I had all I wanted, but even there it was not on my
own initiative. I longed to find out how it felt to be free to buy
without a pencil, and paper and premium list.”
“Oh, don’t call your home town such hard names,” Judith put in kindly.
“I am quite sure it has made you very dependable. I wouldn’t wonder if
a term there would fit me for life with much better qualifications than
I can now boast of. But here come Jane and Helen.” (They had
Americanized the Helka.) “And now more bundles.”
“Oh, the darlingest tams,” announced Jane, dropping down on the big
sofa. “I just had to carry them home to show you. Couldn’t wait for
delivery. See Anaa,” to Miss Kole, “aren’t they perfectly dear?”
“Oh, this year’s tams are really classic,” contributed the art student.
Judith already had the hunter’s green, soft velvet tam on her frowsy
head. “Jane, which is mine?”
“Well, I did not know what you would like best with your riding habit.
It would have been too uncertain to guess at the green, and the brown
was rather dark, so I thought perhaps this burgundy would go.”
“Stunning, perfectly so!” exclaimed Judith. “I have always wanted wine
color and been afraid to try it. Isn’t it wonderful?” And the lovely
soft little cap was coaxed to a proper angle on the dark head.
“And this is Helen’s,” Jane shook from its wrappers another cap of a
deep violet hue. Helen blushed prettily as Judith insisted on trying it
on her curly head.
“Oh, look, girls!” Judith suddenly exclaimed, grasping Helen and
swinging her around unceremoniously. “Now I know the color of her eyes!
They are pure violet.”
The unexpected exclamation, and the energy of Judith’s swing gave Helen
a perceptible start. For a moment she seemed about to dash off. She
changed color from flush to pallor and was surely trembling. Then
realizing it was all a joke, she quickly regained her composure, but
not before the girls had noted her curious attitude and alarm. Even
Jane, slow to criticise, could not but admit Helen was frightened, and
at such a trifle!
Why was she always so fearful? What was there for her to be so markedly
nervous about?
That she had asked, and even insisted that the Polish name of Helka
Podonsky be changed to the American substitute, Helen Powderly, had
seemed reasonable enough to the girls, when just after their arrival in
New York Helen explained that name meant “power” and while the “sky”
stood for distinction in Poland, it would mean nothing but possible
ridicule in her school life. To this Jane and Judith had assented.
Perhaps it would be best, they agreed, not to antagonize the less
broadminded girls with the foreign title. Also, Helen had so earnestly
wished it. All this flashed before their minds now, when a simple
girlish exclamation caused a panic of fear. It must be nerves, of
course. Perhaps Helen had studied too hard in qualifying for the
scholarship!
Girls are often jumpy, but not often quite so easily overcome, Jane
thought.
“But what shall we do with so many hats?” asked Helen naïvely
recovering herself. “We shall be at school always.”
“Oh, not half of always,” replied Jane. “You see, Helen, we must ride,
I haven’t told you about your horse (the violet eyes widened with
pleasure) and then,” continued Jane, “we are going on all sorts of
hikes and hunts and outside jaunts. We are going to beg you in as a
junior. Sometimes the juniors, that’s Judith and me, are allowed to
have what we call pupils. It isn’t really catalogued but we
occasionally get a younger girl to go with us, so that we may try out
our knowledge on her.”
“Yes, and my particular stunt is,” Judith acclaimed, trying her tam at
another angle, “to get a girl who knows more than I do, and let her try
out her knowledge on me. Last year I found a perfect wizard in Meta
Noon. She knew more about bi-ology than I shall ever have a chance to
learn, and in the woods—what Meta didn’t tell me about queer bugs, and
buzzards and beetles and bombus and—well, I was buzzing for a week
after one hike.”
“After all,” sighed Anaa, “school days have a charm. But we never
realize it until it is gone.”
“Then of what value is the charm?” asked Jane.
“Exactly like cutting a tooth—only good after all the cutting is done,”
decided Judith.
“We take no note of time but from its loss, you know the poet says,”
followed Jane, “and I often think of the concise truth of that
statement. We do not even know it is the hour until the hour is past.
Oh, la-la! but we are getting philosophical. Personally, I am more
interested in the kitchenette at this moment. Judith, it is your turn
to do the K. P.”
“What ever branch of the A. E. F. instituted the Kitchen Police should
have been tried by court martial,” blurted Judith. “The K. P. is a duty
for the enemy, not for the home guard,” and she dove for the divan and
the chocolate crumbs.
“Oh, do let me get the dinner again,” begged Helen. “You know I love
to. The little place is like a—baby play house.”
“Oh, yes, Helen, do run along and play,” promptly agreed Judith. “As it
is my turn, I give you full permission——”
“Judy Stearns,” called Jane in mock severity. “You are an awful fraud.
Helen is too good to you. I shall make you do guard duty this evening
when we are out in the park. Besides, I am not going to give you your
surprise.”
She got no further. The tall girl bounced over the room after Jane, who
was ducking nimbly only to be finally enmeshed in cushions and
portieres.
“Will you give it to me?” commanded Judith. “Or shall I wrest it from
you! And what is it and where is it? Maybe a telegram, summoning me to
my jolly cowboys’ wedding or funeral. Oh, shall I ever be able to
forget my jolly cowboys?”
“Easy, girls, easy,” cautioned Anaa, “Miss Jordan is putty in our
hands, until we attempt football with her cushions. Then she turns
alabaster. Don’t, Judith, it is a lot better to ‘don’t’ than to ‘did.’
Take the advice of a good friend.”
At this the chase was halted. Jane was panting from the shaking and
choking Judith had administered, while Judith was looking for the ever
fractious hairpins, the same being the last of a precious set of shell
pins imported from the Western coast. Judith and hairpins were always
at painful odds.
“Judy,” said Jane seriously, “do you realize our days are flying and we
will be due at Wellington very soon?”
“Oh, Jane Allen! You horrid girl! Can’t I have a day’s peace here in
this wonderful New York without having Wellington poked at me?” and
Judith facetiously jabbed at her eyes. “I have a very good mind to play
hookey.”
Anaa had slipped out of the room, leaving Jane and Judith together.
“Jane,” whispered Judith, “whatever do you suppose makes Helen so
nervous about strangers? She is positively timid in crowds. And when a
man with queer whiskers, the Russian kind, brushed by us to-day on the
avenue I could feel her shiver. Now, Janie, you do not suppose we are
harboring a runaway, or anything like that?”
“Why, Judy, how foolish. You know Mrs. Weatherbee would not have agreed
that father’s scholarship be given Helen if she had not first carefully
examined all her credentials. You know Mrs. Weatherbee and care. A
regular text book. But I will admit, the child is afraid in public
places. Much as I like it here, I should have been glad of a week in a
big hotel just for the experience, if we could have induced her to go
with us. It is a little queer, still Helen is lovely, don’t you think
so?”
“Too sweet for classification. Look at her now doing my chores,” and
Judith laughed. “Oh, Janie, dear, it is fun to be here, and to have
your purse at the back of it. I never had so much spot cash in all my
life as I have seen you flourish since we located at the Jordan
apartment. It perfectly scares me.”