A TRANSFORMED CINDERELLA
Mrs. Marsh did not appear at the breakfast table the next morning. She
had a bad headache, Annie told Gretel, and was having her coffee in
bed. Gretel had nearly finished her own breakfast, when Ada, still in
wrapper and curling-pins, came sauntering into the dining-room.
“Where’s Mamma?” she inquired, with a yawn, as she took her place at
the table.
“She has a headache,” Gretel explained; “Annie took her some coffee and
toast on a tray.”
Ada looked more interested.
“Something’s up,” she remarked, helping herself to an orange. “Do you
know what it is, Gretel?”
“No,” said Gretel, looking very much surprised; “she didn’t say there
was anything the matter last night. Oh, Ada, I had such a perfectly
beautiful time. Percy came for me to go for a motor-ride with him.
He says I must call him Percy, though I don’t think it sounds quite
polite, when he’s so much older than I am. We had a wonderful ride, and
then we went to Sherry’s and--”
“I felt sure there was something wrong when I came home last night,”
Ada went on, without paying the slightest attention to Gretel’s news.
“Mamma was in her room, and wouldn’t open the door when I spoke to her.
I thought her voice sounded queer, and she seemed very cross. I do
hope it isn’t any more bother about money; we’re poor enough already,
goodness knows. I’ll go in and get it out of her, whatever it is, as
soon as I’ve finished my breakfast.”
As Ada had not proved a sympathetic listener, Gretel refrained from any
further information about her own affairs, and in a few minutes she
went away to make her bed, leaving Miss Marsh to finish her breakfast
alone.
Bed-making is not an easy task for a girl of eleven, especially when
there is a heavy mattress, which one has had strict injunctions to turn
every morning. Gretel had only this duty to perform since the arrival
of Annie, who had pronounced the work much too hard, and insisted
on having help. But Gretel was an orderly little soul, who rather
enjoyed housework, and when she made her own bed she had at least the
satisfaction of getting her room in order in the morning, instead of
waiting till afternoon, which had sometimes been the case during Dora’s
reign. She had just finished her dusting when her door--which she had
closed--was flung suddenly open, and Ada, looking both flushed and
excited, appeared on the threshold.
“Well, you’ve done it!” remarked that young lady in a tone of such
exasperation, that innocent Gretel regarded her in amazement.
“Done what?” she inquired, stupidly.
“Oh, I guess you know well enough. It’s all very well to pretend you
don’t, but I don’t believe you’re quite such a baby as you appear to
be, after all.”
“But I don’t know, indeed I don’t,” protested Gretel. “I didn’t think I
had done anything wrong, except--oh!” And Gretel stopped short, with a
little frightened gasp, and some of the color went out of her face.
“Oh, no, you haven’t done anything wrong; of course not,” said Ada,
sarcastically. “It wasn’t wrong to tell wicked stories to that brother
of yours, and prejudice him against Mamma. You’re a mean little
tell-tale, and you deserve to be severely punished.”
The color had all flown back into Gretel’s cheeks by this time, and
though very much distressed, she was no longer frightened. Ada’s words
had at least assured her that her first great fear was groundless.
“I didn’t tell my brother wicked stories,” she protested, indignantly.
“I don’t know what you mean, Ada, I truly don’t.”
There was such a ring of truth in Gretel’s voice that Ada--who was not
really an unkind girl at heart--was somewhat mollified.
“Well, you’ve made a lot of trouble, whether you meant to or not,” she
said, with a sigh. “Mamma hasn’t closed her eyes all night, and she’s
in an awful state this morning. Don’t you know it’s very mean to tell
people’s private affairs to any one, even if he is your brother?”
“But I didn’t tell Mrs. Marsh’s private affairs to Percy,” cried
Gretel, her voice beginning to tremble. “I don’t know her private
affairs, so I couldn’t tell them, even if I wanted to. I didn’t tell
Percy about anybody but just myself.”
Before Ada could answer Mrs. Marsh’s voice sounded down the hall.
“Ada, come here, I want to speak to you. Can’t you leave that child
alone? I should think mischief enough had been done already.” And
without another word, Ada turned away, slamming the door behind her.
Left alone, Gretel stood quite still in the middle of the room, staring
at the closed door. She had not the least idea what all the trouble
was about, but one thing was painfully clear; in some way, quite
unintentionally on her part, she had offended Mrs. Marsh, and made
her very angry. She was not fond of Mrs. Marsh, but she did not want
any one to be angry with her. She was quite sure she had not told her
brother any wicked stories, but if he thought she had, and had told
Mrs. Marsh so, what could she do? She was only a little girl, and
nobody could be expected to believe her word against the word of a
grown-up person, but why, oh, why, had Percy--her beloved Percy--said
such cruel, untrue things about her? He had been so kind, and had
really seemed to like her, but if he said she told wicked stories he
could not possibly like her. It must have been all a mistake on her
part. Suddenly a great wave of disappointment and loneliness swept over
the poor little girl, and with a sob, she flung herself face downward
on the bed, just as she had done on the day when she came back from
fairy-land, and began to cry as if her heart would break.
Again it was Annie who disturbed her by opening the door, and putting
in her head, with almost the very same words she had used on that other
occasion: “You’re wanted in the parlor.” And having delivered this curt
message, went away again, leaving the door open.
Gretel rose slowly, and pushed the tumbled hair back from her face. She
had been crying so hard that her head ached, and she felt rather giddy
and confused. But this time she did not wait to bathe her face before
answering the summons. If Mrs. Marsh wanted to scold her, it might be
as well to let her get through with it as soon as possible, and that
lady did not like to be kept waiting.
Gretel did not look up when she entered the parlor. She was such a
forlorn little figure, in her shabby frock, her face all tear-stained
and swollen from crying that the young man standing on the rug by the
mantelpiece, was conscious of a momentary feeling of something very
like dismay. But when Gretel saw who was the sole occupant of the room,
and ran to him with a little cry, his face softened, and it was with
real tenderness that he put his arm round her, saying gently:
“What’s the matter, Gretel? Tell me all about it.”
But, to Mr. Douane’s surprise, Gretel did not respond to his caress;
she even drew a little away from him, and the big brown eyes were full
of a mute reproach.
“What made you say it?” she asked in a voice that was not much above a
whisper.
“Say what?” her brother inquired, curiously.
“Tell Mrs. Marsh I told wicked stories, and that I was a--a tell-tale?”
finished Gretel, with a sob.
Percy Douane’s face grew very stern, and his eyes flashed ominously.
“Who said I told her any such things?” he demanded in a voice that
fairly made Gretel tremble.
“Ada said so; she said I told you her mother’s private affairs, but
I didn’t; you know I didn’t. I only told you about myself. Oh, Percy
dear, won’t you please tell them you made a mistake? Mrs. Marsh is so
very angry, and Ada’s angry too.”
“Gretel,” said her brother, and he made a great effort to speak
quietly, “go and put on your hat and jacket; I want you to come out
with me.”
Gretel was very much surprised, but she was pleased as well. It was a
great relief to know that she would not have to encounter Mrs. Marsh’s
wrath just yet, and even if her brother did accuse her of telling
people’s private affairs, his society was infinitely preferable to that
of either Ada or the maid Annie.
“Where are we going?” she inquired, regarding her brother’s grave face,
wonderingly.
“Never mind; I’ll tell you later. Run and put on your things.”
“But oughtn’t I to ask Mrs. Marsh first? She doesn’t like to have
people go out without letting her know.”
“Mrs. Marsh knows all about it; I told her last night. Now hurry, like
a good child; I want to get away from here as soon as possible.”
Gretel was very much puzzled. She felt sure that something unusual
had happened, but what it was she had not the slightest idea. Without
another word she turned, and went back to her room; put on her hat and
jacket, and in less than five minutes was back at her brother’s side
again. Mrs. Marsh’s door was closed, and neither she nor her daughter
was to be seen. Gretel paused for a moment outside the closed door, on
her way back to the parlor. She could hear the sound of low, agitated
voices from within but she dared not linger for fear of making her
brother more angry than he appeared to be already.
Mr. Douane was standing by the parlor table, hastily writing a note,
when Gretel rejoined him.
“I am leaving this for Mrs. Marsh,” he said; “she will understand
everything when she reads it. Are you ready?”
Gretel nodded.
“Come along, then; I have a taxi waiting at the door.”
Gretel’s heart was beating very fast as she followed her brother into
the elevator, but she did not ask any questions until they had left the
apartment-house, and were rattling away in a taxi. Percy had given the
chauffeur an address, but Gretel was too much astonished and bewildered
by this sudden turn of affairs to notice what it was. But when her
brother suddenly began to laugh his pleasant, jolly laugh, and put his
arm round her again, she began to realize that this was a most exciting
adventure, and, moreover, that she was not at all frightened.
“Well, that’s over!” exclaimed Mr. Douane, in a tone of unmistakable
relief. “We actually succeeded in getting away without encountering
the ogress. How do you like being carried off in this sudden fashion,
Gretel?”
“I think I’m beginning to like it,” said Gretel, whose spirits were
rising rapidly, “but where are we going, and who is the ogress?”
“We are going first to the ‘Gotham’--the hotel where I am putting up
for the present. Later we are going to Virginia.”
“Virginia!” repeated Gretel, staring at her brother in blank amazement.
“You said last night that you were going to Virginia, but--but I never
thought I was going with you.”
“Well, you are--that is unless you have any very serious objections.
I have got to look after some property of my grandfather’s, and have
decided to take you along with me. We will stay at Old Point Comfort;
you will like it there, and it is only a few miles from my old home.
You know I lived in Virginia with my grandfather for some years before
I went to China. It will be fine to get away from these cold March
winds; I’m not accustomed to cold weather in Hong-Kong. What do you
think of my plan?”
“It’s the most exciting thing that ever happened to me,” declared
Gretel, who was still both looking and feeling decidedly bewildered. “I
feel as if I must be dreaming, but--but I’m afraid I can’t go without
some more clothes. I didn’t even bring a tooth-brush.”
“We’ll attend to the clothes all right, so don’t worry about that. We
are not starting till to-morrow afternoon, and there will be plenty of
time to fit you out before then. I’ve had a talk with the housekeeper
at my hotel. She seems a good soul, and thinks she knows of a suitable
maid to look after you.”
“A maid to look after me!” Gretel felt more convinced than ever that
she must be dreaming. “Why, I thought only rich people had maids; I
never even had a nurse after I was five. Father did everything for me
himself. Oh, Percy dear, I really don’t think I need a maid; it would
cost so much, and I can do everything for myself now. Even Mrs. Marsh
says I’m not much trouble.”
But Mr. Douane only laughed.
“You’ll have a lot of things to learn, Pussy,” he said, pinching her
cheek. “I presume it is something of a shock just at first, but I’ve
had a rather severe shock myself. If any one had told me at this hour
yesterday, that I should be carrying you off with me to Old Point, I
should have been inclined to think it a rather poor joke. But I’ve had
my eyes opened since then. Mrs. Marsh hasn’t been playing fair. She and
I had a settling-up of accounts last night, and I gave her a piece of
my mind that I don’t believe she will forget in a hurry.”
Gretel was beginning to understand.
“Is that why Ada was so cross?” she asked. “And why she said those
horrid things about my being a tell-tale and talking about Mrs. Marsh’s
private affairs? But I didn’t really tell you anything I ought not; did
I, Percy?”
“You certainly did not. You told me nothing but the simple truth, but
that was quite enough. I never knew Mrs. Marsh well, but her husband
was a fine man, and a great friend of my father’s, and I thought I
could trust her to do what was right by you. I have found out my
mistake, and for the future I shall steer clear of that charming lady
and her daughter.”
“Do you mean I’m not to go back to Mrs. Marsh’s at all?” questioned
Gretel.
“Do you want to go back?”
“N--no, not at all, but if I don’t live with Mrs. Marsh, who is going
to take care of me?”
“I am, for the present, until I can make some other arrangement for
you. Don’t look so distressed, little woman; are you afraid I won’t be
able to look after you properly?”
“No, oh, no,” cried Gretel, eagerly. “I should love to live with you,
only--only it’s all been so very sudden, and if I had known I wasn’t
coming back I could have taken my things.”
“What things?” her brother asked, kindly.
“Father’s picture, and his letters, and my books. Oh, do you think
Mrs. Marsh will let me have them? I should be so very unhappy without
Father’s letters.”
Mr. Douane assured her that all her possessions should be sent to her,
and he spoke in a tone of so much conviction, that Gretel’s spirits
began to rise very rapidly, and by the time the taxi drew up before
the big Fifth Avenue hotel, she was as happy, and as eager for new
adventures as any little girl starting on her first journey could
possibly be.
They went up a great many stories in an elevator, walked along a wide
corridor, with doors on both sides, and finally entered a sitting-room,
which was so high up that Gretel could see over the tops of the
neighboring houses, and even catch a glimpse of the boats on the river.
Here her brother told her to take off her jacket, and make herself
comfortable, while he rang the bell for the housekeeper.
In a few minutes the housekeeper appeared, accompanied by a stout
young woman, with very red hair, and a rather pleasant face.
“This is the maid I mentioned to you, sir,” the housekeeper explained.
“I telephoned to her at once, and found she was still out of a place.
She hasn’t been very long in this country, but I know her people at
home in England, and she can show you some excellent references from
our best families.”
The young woman then stepped forward with a courtesy, and Gretel
noticed that she looked kind, although she was not at all handsome.
“Is this the little girl, sir?” the housekeeper went on, glancing
rather curiously at Gretel’s shabby frock, and the hat that looked
decidedly the worse for wear.
“Yes, this is my little sister,” said Mr. Douane. “Would you mind
taking her to her room, Mrs. Ruggles?”
So while Mr. Douane questioned the maid, and examined her credentials,
Mrs. Ruggles, the housekeeper, took Gretel to an adjoining room, which
she told the little girl her brother had engaged for her. It was a
large bedroom, and there was a bath connecting with it, at sight
of which Gretel’s eyes opened wider than ever, but she had almost
reached the point where nothing further could surprise her. If her
brother had suddenly changed into a fairy prince, and she herself, been
transformed into an enchanted princess, she would have regarded it as
quite a natural state of affairs. The housekeeper was evidently very
much interested in her, and she asked a great many questions, which
Gretel was almost too much bewildered to answer. But in a few minutes
Mr. Douane appeared, smiling, and looking decidedly relieved. He was
accompanied by the maid, who was also looking very well pleased.
“Gretel,” he said, “this is Higgins; she is going to look after you,
and will go with us to Virginia.”
Gretel came forward, and held out her hand.
“How do you do?” she said politely; “are you Miss Higgins or Mrs.
Higgins?”
“Just ’Iggins, if you please, miss,” said the maid, smiling, and
beaming all over her plain, honest face. “I prefer being called by my
last name. It’s quite customary with hupper servants in Hengland, miss.”
Gretel thought it was very odd to call a lady by her last name, but
then there were so many odd things happening to her that morning, that
one surprise more or less did not seem to make much difference. So she
accepted the situation without any further argument.
“You are to go shopping with Higgins,” Mr. Douane went on to explain.
“You will need a good many things before we leave for Old Point
to-morrow afternoon. Mrs. Ruggles has kindly offered to go with you,
and show Higgins the best shops. I have explained what I want you to
have, and I think we may leave the selection to her.”
“That you may, sir,” put in Higgins, cheerfully. “I was lady’s maid for
two years in Lord Carresford’s family, and I think I know what’s proper
in the way of clothes for a young lady.”
“Very well,” said Mr. Douane; “I will leave everything to you and Mrs.
Ruggles. As I said before, you need not spare expense. I want my little
sister to be as well dressed as any child of her age should be. I don’t
know much about such things, but you women do, so I will leave her in
your hands for the day. I have some business to attend to downtown, but
I shall be back this afternoon. Is it all right, Gretel?”
Gretel nodded; speech did not come easily just then, and ten minutes
later, she, Mrs. Ruggles, and Higgins were rattling down Fifth Avenue
in a taxi, bound on a shopping expedition, the thought of which filled
the two women with delightful anticipation.
It was nearly six o’clock before Mr. Douane returned to the hotel. As
he entered his private sitting-room a little figure, which had been
standing by the window, sprang forward to greet him.
“Look at me,” cried Gretel; “oh, look at me!” And that was really all
she could say.
And Mr. Douane did look at her, and the more he looked, the more
surprised he became. Indeed it was hard to recognize the shabby,
forlorn little girl of the morning, in the radiant, prettily dressed
child before him. Gretel’s hair--which usually hung in two long
pigtails, had been combed out, and now fell in soft ringlets over her
shoulders; she wore a pretty, well-fitting white dress, and altogether,
the change in her appearance was so astonishing, that for the first few
moments her brother could do nothing but hold her off at arm’s length,
and stare at her in silence.
“Why, Gretel,” he exclaimed, finding his voice at last, “I declare you
are pretty,” and he looked so very much surprised that Gretel could not
help thinking her brother must have considered her anything but pretty
hitherto.
[Illustration: “LOOK AT ME; OH, LOOK AT ME!”--_Page 126._]
“I’m so glad you like me,” she said, blushing. “I think my dress is
lovely, and I’ve got ever so many others besides. Oh, Percy, it has
been such a wonderful day! Mrs. Ruggles and Higgins were so kind and we
went to such beautiful stores, and bought such quantities of things. I
was sure we must be spending too much money, but Higgins said you told
her to get everything she thought I ought to have, and she seemed to
think I needed a great many things, and so did Mrs. Ruggles.”
“They were quite right,” said her brother, smiling. “I want my little
sister to be as well dressed as any other little girl we may meet on
our travels. You really look very fit indeed, Gretel; I compliment
Higgins on her good taste.”
“Oh, she has beautiful taste!” cried Gretel, enthusiastically. “You
see, she lived in a castle in England, and used to dress the young
ladies when they went to dinners and balls. I never had such beautiful
clothes in my life, and I love them, only--only I don’t see how I can
ever be quite grateful enough to you for giving me so many wonderful
things.”
“Look here, Gretel,” said her brother, seriously, and he sat down, and
lifted her on his knee. “You are not to think any more about being
grateful to me, and all that rubbish. You are my own little sister,
and what is mine is yours. I have far more money than I need for
myself, and it is my pleasure, as well as my duty, to see that you have
everything you ought to have. We are going to be chums, so I don’t want
to hear any more about gratitude. Just be happy, and try to like your
big brother a little, and it will be all right.”
“Oh, I do like you, indeed I do. I love you better than I ever loved
anybody except Father,” cried Gretel, with her arms round her brother’s
neck. “I’ll try to be good always, and do everything you want me to,
and--and I think perhaps I’d better tell you something. It’s very
dreadful, and you may not like me any more when you know about it, but
I really think I ought to tell you.”
“What sort of a thing is it?” Mr. Douane asked, as he held his little
sister close, and looked down smilingly into the child’s troubled face.
“It’s something I did that was very wicked,” whispered Gretel, hiding
her crimson face on his shoulder. “It’s very hard to talk about it.”
“Then don’t talk about it,” said Percy, laughing and kissing her. “I
really don’t think I care to know. Come, cheer up, and tell me some
more about your shopping expedition. Where did you go for lunch?”
Gretel gave a great sigh of relief. Her brother would never know from
what a humiliating confession his kind words had saved her.
“I’ll be so good all the rest of my life that perhaps it won’t matter
so very much,” she said to herself when she had gone to bed that night.
“Perhaps sometime when I’m grown up I shall be able to earn enough
money to buy some poor person a ticket to fairy-land, and then I won’t
feel quite so mean and ashamed whenever I think about last Saturday.”
So Gretel silenced conscience, which still persisted in whispering that
it would have been better to have told her brother the whole story,
and fell asleep, happier than she had ever been since the old days in
the studio with her father. As for Mr. Douane himself, he had already
forgotten all about the matter.
“She is a dear little thing,” he said to himself, as he sat smoking in
the sitting-room after Gretel had left him for the night. “I didn’t
quite know what I was in for this morning, but I needn’t have worried
so much. I shall have to send the child to some good school before
long, I suppose, but in the meantime I believe I am going to rather
enjoy having her with me.”