GRETEL’S SUNDAY OUT
It was Sunday afternoon, and Gretel was at home alone. Mrs. Marsh had
gone to church, and Ada was spending the afternoon with friends. It was
the maid’s day out, and Mrs. Marsh had told Gretel that she intended
calling on a friend after church, and if invited, might remain to
supper. Ada did not expect to return until late in the evening.
“So if neither of us comes home, you can get your own supper and go to
bed early,” the good lady had added. “You are not afraid to stay by
yourself, are you?”
“Oh, no,” Gretel had answered cheerfully; “I don’t mind a bit. I’ll
read, and--and--do you think that perhaps my brother might come again
to-day, Mrs. Marsh?”
“I am sure he will not,” said Mrs. Marsh, with decision. “He must have
a good many friends in New York, and we cannot expect to see much of
him. When he does come again, however, I sincerely hope you will try
to make a better impression than you did yesterday.”
Gretel really did not mind being alone. She was not a timid child, and
the life she had led with her father had made her unusually independent
for her age. But when Mrs. Marsh had gone out this afternoon she did
not as usual rush to the piano. Somehow she did not feel quite like
playing to-day. Music reminded her of yesterday, and it was not a
comfortable recollection. So she went to her room in search of one
of her precious books, and had just settled herself comfortably with
“Little Women” when she was startled by the sound of the door-bell, and
in spite of Mrs. Marsh’s assurances, her heart began to beat fast again.
“Hello, Gretel! anybody at home?”
Yes, there he was, her tall handsome brother, looking down at her with
his pleasant smile, and this time Gretel was not afraid to speak.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, regretfully, “but Mrs. Marsh and Ada have
both gone out. Mrs. Marsh said she was sure you wouldn’t come to-day;
she thought you would have so many other friends to see.”
She stood holding the door, expecting that the visitor would go at
once, as people usually did when told the ladies were not at home, but
to her surprise, he did not move.
“Aren’t you going to let me in?” he asked, smiling.
Gretel was covered with confusion.
“Yes, oh, yes, indeed,” she protested eagerly; “I’d love to have you,
but I didn’t think you’d want to come in when you knew everybody was
out.”
“How about you? Don’t you count yourself as anybody?” her brother
inquired, with a laugh, as he stepped into the hall, and Gretel closed
the door.
Mr. Douane’s laugh was so pleasant that Gretel suddenly found herself
laughing, too, though perhaps more from nervousness than enjoyment.
“I’m only a little girl,” she explained, “and people never come to see
me.”
“Well, I have come to see you, at any rate, and to tell the truth, I am
very glad Mrs. Marsh and the fascinating Ada are out. Would you like to
come with me for a motor-ride?”
“A motor-ride?” repeated Gretel, looking puzzled. “Oh, you don’t mean
to go to ride in an automobile! I should love it better than anything
else in the world, but--but do you really think I could?”
“I don’t see anything to prevent. Do you like motoring?”
“I have only been in an automobile once,” Gretel explained. “Father was
going to play at a gentleman’s house in New Rochelle, and the gentleman
sent his car for him, and Father said I might go, too, and sit outside
while he played. So I did, and we had a lovely ride, but it was rather
cold waiting so long for Father. The car went so fast I was a little
frightened at first, but I got used to it after a while, and then it
was splendid. But I’m afraid Mrs. Marsh wouldn’t let me go. You see,
the maid is out, too, and she doesn’t like to have the apartment left
with nobody in it.”
Some of the amusement faded from the visitor’s face; he even looked a
little annoyed.
“So they leave you alone to look after the house,” he said dryly.
“Well, you are not to stay at home this time, whether Mrs. Marsh
objects or not. I have hired a car for the afternoon, and I want to
take you out with me; it’s a glorious day. I am your guardian, so
it is your duty to do as I say, and it’s quite time we began to get
acquainted with each other. So run and get on your warmest things, and
I will write a note explaining matters to Mrs. Marsh. The apartment
will be safe enough; we’ll get the janitor to look after it.”
Although not feeling at all certain as to how Mrs. Marsh would regard
such an unheard-of proceeding, Gretel stood far too much in awe of this
big, decided young man to dare argue the point with him, so without
another word, she turned to do his bidding. She was just leaving the
room when her brother called her back.
“We may stop somewhere for dinner, and not get back until the evening,”
he remarked cheerfully, “so you may as well put on something pretty.”
He glanced rather disapprovingly as he spoke at Gretel’s shiny black
frock, with the big darn in the middle of the skirt.
Poor Gretel stopped short, and all the brightness of anticipation went
out of her face. Her voice even shook a little when she spoke.
“I’m very sorry,” she faltered, blushing, “but I’m really afraid I
won’t be able to go. You see, I haven’t got any pretty things to put
on, and I’m afraid you wouldn’t like to take me in this dress.”
There was a moment’s pause while Mr. Douane regarded his little sister
critically from top to toe. Then he gave vent to his feelings in a
long, low whistle. Gretel’s cheeks were crimson, and she was fighting
hard to keep back the rising tears. But when her brother spoke his
voice was as kind as ever.
“Well, never mind about the clothes,” he said; “you look very well just
as you are. How about a warm wrap, though? Have you a fur coat?”
Gretel was forced to admit that she had not, but she assured her
brother that her winter jacket was very warm indeed, and, moreover,
that she never felt cold. Mr. Douane smiled a rather peculiar smile,
but made no further remarks, and ten minutes later Gretel found herself
leaning back in a comfortable touring-car, while her brother and the
chauffeur wrapped a warm fur robe about her, tucking her in so snugly
that she felt sure she could not possibly feel cold even if it should
begin to snow.
It was such a wonderful experience that it took Gretel some time to
become accustomed to it. She scarcely spoke at all during the first
half hour, but it was a beautiful afternoon, and under the combined
effects of bright sunshine, crisp air, and delightful motion, the
little girl’s spirits soon began to rise, and by the time they had
crossed Seventy-second Street, and were bowling up the beautiful
Riverside Drive, she was chattering away to her companion as though she
had known him all her life.
“I’m not a bit frightened this time,” she declared. “This is something
else for me to be grateful to you for, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know about that,” said Mr. Douane, smiling down into the
eager, radiant little face; “why should you be particularly grateful to
me for a motor-ride?”
“Why, because I must be grateful to you for everything,” said Gretel,
innocently. “Mrs. Marsh says I ought to be even more grateful to you
than I am to her. She says if it wasn’t for the money you send I should
have to go to an orphan asylum. She would be glad to keep me, only she
is afraid she wouldn’t be able to afford it.”
“I see,” said Mr. Douane, quietly. “So that is how she explains
matters. Well, I must say I think she might have fitted you out a
little better as regards clothes. I suppose she is kind to you; you are
fond of her, are you not?”
“Oh, yes, she is very kind,” said loyal Gretel, “and--and I suppose I’m
fond of her. I try to be very grateful all the time; Ada is kind, too;
she gave me ten cents once. Of course it was pretty hard at first, I
missed Father so, but I’m getting used to it now.”
Gretel wondered why at that moment her brother suddenly took her hand
and patted it. He did not say anything, but there was a very kind look
in his eyes, and when he spoke next his voice was unusually gentle.
“Tell me about your school,” he said. “Do you like going to school and
what are your favorite lessons?”
And Gretel, delighted to find her brother really interested in her
affairs, told him all about the lessons with Miss Talcott; of that
lady’s going to California, and how Mrs. Marsh had advised her to try
to make herself useful about the house during her enforced holiday.
Mr. Douane listened very attentively, and although he did not say
much, Gretel felt sure that he was interested. By dint of a few more
questions she was led on to tell about her daily life and in less than
half an hour Mr. Douane had learned all, and more than he wanted to
know about his little sister’s life during the past year.
That was a wonderful afternoon, and Gretel enjoyed every moment. She
even told her brother about Dora, and the visit of Lillie and Peter,
ending with the story of the cream-puffs, over which Mr. Douane fairly
shouted with laughter.
“It really was rather funny,” said Gretel, who could not help laughing
herself at the recollection of that dreadful night, “but Mrs. Marsh
was very angry; she says the spots will never come out of her rug, and
it was so sad about Dora’s having to go away. Dora was such a nice
girl, and it was her first place. Mrs. Marsh wouldn’t even give her a
reference.”
Gretel was beginning to look rather troubled, but her brother said
he was sure Dora would soon find another place, and then changed the
subject by asking her where she would like to dine.
“There’s a lovely restaurant on Seventh Avenue,” said Gretel. “Father
took me there two or three times, but perhaps you might think it was
too expensive. They charge seventy-five cents for the table d’hôte.”
Mr. Douane laughed, and looked so much amused that Gretel was
considerably puzzled.
“I have no doubt it is a very fine restaurant,” he said, kindly, “but I
don’t think we will dine there this evening. Suppose we try Sherry’s? I
haven’t been there for some years, but it used to be rather good.”
“Do you mean that big place on Fifth Avenue?” inquired Gretel, her
eyes opening wide in astonishment. “Mr. Pendleton took Mrs. Marsh and
Ada there once, and Ada said the dinner cost fifteen dollars. Oh, do
you really think we ought to go there?”
Mr. Douane laughed again, and assured her that he thought they might
venture to be extravagant for once, so when they had made the tour of
Van Cortlandt and The Bronx, the chauffeur was directed to take them
back to the city, and at about seven o’clock the car drew up before the
big Fifth Avenue restaurant.
“I’ve passed here a great many times, but I never thought I should be
going in,” whispered Gretel to her brother, as they went up the steps,
and she was conscious of a delightful little thrill of anticipation.
Fifteen minutes later they were sitting at a small table in the
brilliantly lighted restaurant, and Mr. Douane was giving one of the
waiters an order which fairly took away Gretel’s breath; it was all
delightful and beyond her wildest dreams, but she was a little anxious,
notwithstanding.
“What’s the matter, Gretel?” Mr. Douane asked, regarding her troubled
face curiously, as the waiter disappeared with the order. “Are you
afraid you are not going to get enough to eat?”
“Oh, no, indeed!” cried Gretel, reddening; “it’s all perfectly
wonderful, only--only, are you quite sure you can afford it? It sounded
so very expensive.”
“Quite sure,” laughed her brother. “You are an economical little
person, Gretel.”
“That’s just what Father used to say,” said Gretel, her face
brightening, “but you see, I had to be rather economical, because
Father was so very extravagant. He didn’t care a bit about things for
himself, but he wanted them to give to his friends. He used to tell me
that if I didn’t warn him about not spending all his money, he wouldn’t
have any at all left. He said Mother used to keep his money for him,
but after she died there wasn’t anybody else to do it, and that was why
he was always so poor.”
A shade of sadness passed over Percy Douane’s pleasant face.
“Poor Mother,” he said, with a sigh, and Gretel suddenly remembered
that her mother was also his, and felt more intimate with this new
brother of hers than she would have believed possible a few hours
earlier.
What a dinner that was! Gretel had never in her life tasted such
delicious things. It was rather too early for the usual crowd, but
there were plenty of diners to watch, and what with the bright lights,
the music, and the delicious food, the little girl felt very much as
Cinderella must have felt when she first arrived at the ball. As for
the prince, there could not possibly have been a more delightful prince
than her brother. The night before at Mrs. Marsh’s, she had thought
him rather quiet, but this evening he was the merriest of companions,
and what was more, he seemed to be enjoying himself quite as much as
Gretel was. Gretel had been accustomed to the society of grown-up
people all her life, and was in many ways old for her age. She had
been her father’s friend and companion at an age when most children
are still in the nursery, and even the year spent under Mrs. Marsh’s
stern discipline had failed to altogether suppress her love of talking.
So she chattered away, and by the time dinner was over Mr. Douane had
learned a good many things, some of which were of such a surprising
nature that he found considerable difficulty in restraining his rising
indignation.
“Do you mean to tell me that Mrs. Marsh never bought you a Christmas
present with the money I sent?” he inquired once, in a tone of so much
surprise that Gretel was a little startled.
“Did you really send money to buy me a Christmas present?” she asked
innocently. “How very kind you were. Mrs. Marsh didn’t tell me about
it, but perhaps she forgot. I suppose she couldn’t spend the money that
way, because--well, you see, she said she didn’t believe you had any
idea how much things cost. I’m very glad you told me, though, for it
makes another thing for me to be grateful about.”
“Don’t talk to me about being grateful, Gretel; I don’t like it.” Mr.
Douane spoke so sharply that Gretel was very much embarrassed, but the
next moment her brother was smiling again, and had said something to
make her laugh.
She felt a little uneasy again when she saw the size of the bill her
brother handed the waiter, and the small amount of change which was
returned to him, but she was beginning to realize that Percy did not
like being reproved for extravagance, so she wisely said nothing,
although she could not help an uncomfortable fear that he might be
obliged to go without breakfast the next morning, as her father had
sometimes done.
There was just one subject that Gretel never mentioned once all that
afternoon and evening, and that was “fairy-land.” When the orchestra
played popular airs, and her brother asked her if she cared for music,
she said “Yes” in a rather low voice, and instantly became very much
absorbed in her ice-cream. Music was the one thing about which she did
not want to talk, or even to think just then. The more she saw of her
brother, and the more she loved and admired him, the less possible it
seemed that she could ever tell him about the ticket to fairy-land.
It was not yet nine o’clock when Gretel reached home. She and her
brother had walked the few blocks from Sherry’s to the apartment-house
and the little girl had found the walk through the brightly-lighted
city streets with her tall companion very pleasant. She had rather
hoped to find the Marshes still out, but the elevator-boy informed them
that Mrs. Marsh had already reached home.
“Her friend can’t have asked her to stay to supper, then,” said Gretel,
regretfully. “I’m afraid she’ll scold a good deal, but you’ll explain
about it all, won’t you, Percy?”
“I certainly will explain,” said Mr. Douane, and his tone sounded so
determined that Gretel felt much relieved, even though her brother was
looking rather stern, and not nearly as pleasant as he had looked at
the restaurant.
It was Mrs. Marsh herself who opened the door, neither Ada nor the
colored maid having as yet returned. She was smiling, and greeted
Mr. Douane in her “company voice,” but there was something in the
glance she gave Gretel, which caused the child’s heart to sink with a
foreboding of trouble to come.
But Percy Douane did not waste much time in explanations or apologies.
“I took Gretel for a motor-ride, and afterwards we dined at Sherry’s,”
he said, quite as if such unheard-of proceedings were matters of
every-day occurrence. “I hope you found the note I left for you.”
“Oh, yes, thank you; the janitor gave it to me as soon as I came in.
It was a great treat for the dear child. I am sure you have had a
delightful time, Gretel.”
“It was beautiful,” said Gretel, with shining eyes. “I’m sorry you had
to get supper all by yourself, though,” she added, regretfully. “I
hoped that lady you went to see would ask you to stay. You said--”
“Oh, I managed quite comfortably,” interrupted Mrs. Marsh, frowning.
“I am glad you have had such a happy day, but it is past your bedtime
now, so bid your brother good night, and run off at once. I am afraid
you don’t know much about children’s bedtime, Cousin Percy.”
“Perhaps not,” said Mr. Douane, rather grimly, “but Gretel and I have
had a jolly evening, and we are going to have another very soon. Good
night, little woman.” And he drew his little sister to him, and kissed
her with more tenderness than he himself would have believed possible a
few hours earlier.
“Good night,” said Gretel, returning her brother’s kiss heartily. “You
said I mustn’t talk about being grateful, but I am just the same. I’ve
had a perfectly wonderful time.” And then, warned by an impatient
gesture from Mrs. Marsh, she hurried away to her own little room.
“And now, Mrs. Marsh, I wish to have a little talk with you,” said Mr.
Douane, as Gretel’s door closed behind her, and there was that in his
tone which caused that lady to tremble, and turn rather pale, as she
silently led the way to the parlor.