JOSIE BUYS A DESK
The "Liberty Girls' Shop" was proving a veritable mint. Expenses were
practically nothing, so all the money received could be considered
clear profit. It was amusing to observe the people who frequented the
shop, critically examining the jumble of wares displayed, wondering who
had donated this or that and meantime searching for something that
could be secured at a "bargain." Most of the shrewd women had an idea
that these young girls would be quite ignorant of values and might mark
the articles at prices far below their worth, but the "values" of such
goods could only be conjectural, and therefore the judgment of the
older women was no more reliable than that of the girls. They might
think they were getting bargains, and perhaps were, but that was
problematic.
The one outstanding fact was that people were buying a lot of things
they had no use for, merely because they felt they were getting them
cheaply and that their money would be devoted to a good cause.
Mrs. Brown, who had given the Shop a lot of discarded articles,
purchased several discarded articles donated by Mrs. Smith, her
neighbor, while Mrs. Smith eagerly bought the cast-off wares of Mrs.
Brown. Either would have sneered at the bare idea of taking "truck"
which the other had abandoned, had the medium of exchange not been the
popular Liberty Girls' Shop. For it was a popular shop; the "best
families" patronized it; society women met there to chat and exchange
gossip; it was considered a mark of distinction and highly patriotic to
say: "Oh, yes; I've given the dear girls many really valuable things to
sell. They're doing such noble work, you know."
Even the eminent Mrs. Charleworth, premier aristocrat of Dorfield,
condescended to visit the Shop, not once but many times. She would sit
in one of the chairs in the rear of the long room and hold open court,
while her sycophants grouped around her, hanging on her words. For Mrs.
Charleworth's status was that of social leader; she was a middle-aged
widow, very handsome, wore wonderful creations in dress, was of
charming personality, was exceedingly wealthy and much traveled. When
she visited New York the metropolitan journals took care to relate the
interesting fact. Mrs. Charleworth was quite at home in London, Paris,
Berlin and Vienna; she was visiting friends in Dresden when the
European war began, and by advice of Herr Zimmerman, of the German
Foreign Office, who was in some way a relative, had come straight home
to avoid embarrassment. This much was generally known.
It had been a matter of public information in the little town for a
generation that Dick Charleworth had met the lady in Paris, when she
was at the height of her social glory, and had won the hand of the
beautiful girl and brought her to Dorfield as his wife. But the wealthy
young manufacturer did not long survive his marriage. On his death, his
widow inherited his fortune and continued to reside in the handsome
residence he had built, although, until the war disrupted European
society, she passed much time abroad.
The slight taint of German blood in Mrs. Charleworth's veins was not
regarded seriously in Dorfield. Her mother had been a Russian court
beauty; she spoke several languages fluently; she was discreet in
speech and negative in sympathy concerning the merits of the war. This
lasted, however, only while the United States preserved neutrality. As
soon as we cast our fortunes with the Allies, Mrs. Charleworth
organized the "Daughters of Helpfulness," an organization designed to
aid our national aims, but a society cult as well. Under its auspices
two private theatrical entertainments had been given at the Opera House
and the proceeds turned over to the Red Cross. A grand charity ball had
been announced for a future date.
It may easily be understood that when Mrs. Charleworth became a
patroness of the Liberty Girls' Shop, and was known to have made sundry
purchases there, the high standing of that unique enterprise was
assured. Some folks perhaps frequented the place to obtain a glimpse of
the great Mrs. Charleworth herself, but of course these were without
the pale of her aristocratic circle.
Their social triumph, however, was but one reason for the girls'
success; the youngsters were enticing in themselves, and they proved to
be clever in making sales. The first stock soon melted away and was
replaced by new contributions, which the girls took turns in
soliciting. The best residences in Dorfield were first canvassed, then
those of people in moderate circumstances. The merchants were not
overlooked and Mary Louise took the regular stores personally in
charge.
"Anything you have that you can't sell, we will take," was her slogan,
and most of the merchants found such articles and good-naturedly
contributed them to the Shop.
"Sooner or later we shall come to the end of our resources," predicted
Alora Jones. "We've ransacked about every house in town for
contributions."
"Let's make a second canvas then," suggested Lucile. "And especially,
let us make a second appeal to those who did not give us anything on
our first round. Our scheme wasn't thoroughly understood at first, you
know, but now folks regard it an honor to contribute to our stock."
"Yes," said Jane Donovan, "I had to laugh when Mrs. Charleworth asked
Mrs. Dyer yesterday what she had given us, and Mrs. Dyer stammered and
flushed and said that when we called on her the Dyers were only renting
the house and furniture, which belonged to the Dudley-Markhams, who are
in South America; but, Mrs. Dyer added, they have now bought the
place--old furniture and all--and perhaps she would yet find some items
she can spare."
"Very good," said Edna Barlow; "the Dyers are in my district and I'll
call upon them at once."
"Have the Dyers really bought the Dudley-Markham place?" asked Mary
Louise.
"So it seems," replied Jane.
"But--'it must have cost a lot of money."
"Isn't the Professor rich?" inquired Josie O'Gorman, who was present
and had listened quietly to the conversation.
"I-don't-know," answered Mary Louise, and the other girls forbore to
answer more definitely.
That evening, however, Josie approached the subject when she and Mary
Louise were sitting quietly at home and the conversation more
confidential.
"The Dyers," explained her friend, "were not very prosperous until the
Professor got the appointment as superintendent of schools. He was a
teacher in a boys' school for years, on a small salary, and everyone
was surprised when he secured the appointment."
"How did it happen?" asked Josie.
Mary Louise looked across at her grandfather.
"How did it happen, Gran'pa Jim?" she repeated.
The old colonel lowered his book.
"We haven't been residents of Dorfield many years," said he, "so I am
not well acquainted with the town's former history. But I remember to
have heard that the Herring political ring, which elected our Board of
Education, proposed John Dyer for the position of school
superintendent--and the Board promptly gave him the appointment."
"Was he properly qualified?" Josie asked.
"I think so. A superintendent is a sort of business manager. He doesn't
teach, you know. But I understand the Professor received his education
abroad--at Heidelburg--and is well versed in modern educational
methods. Our schools seem to be conducted very well."
Josie was thoughtful for a time, and after the colonel had resumed his
book, she asked Mary Louise:
"Who was Mrs. Dyer, before her marriage?"
"That is ancient history, as far as I am concerned, but I heard the
girls talking about her, just the other day. Her family, it seems, was
respectable but unimportant; yet Mrs. Dyer is very well liked. She's
not brilliant, but kindly. When we first came here, the Dyers lived in
a little cottage on Juniper street, and it is only lately that they
moved to the big house they've just bought. Mrs. Dyer is now trying
hard for social recognition, but seems to meet with little
encouragement. Mrs. Charleworth speaks to her, you know, but doesn't
invite Mrs. Dyer to her affairs."
Next day Edna Barlow, after a morning's quest of contributions,
returned to the Shop in triumph.
"There's almost a truck-load of stuff outside, to be unloaded," she
announced, "and a good half of it is from Mrs. Dyer--a lot of the old
Dudley-Markham rubbish, you know. It has class to it, girls, and when
it has been freshened up, we're sure to get good prices for the lot."
"I'm surprised that Mrs. Dyer was so liberal," said Mary Louise.
"Well, at first she said the Professor had gone to Chicago on business,
and so she couldn't do anything for us," replied Edna; "but I insisted
that we needed goods right now, so she finally said we could go up in
the attic, and rummage around, and take whatever we could find. My,
what a lot of useless stuff there was! That attic has more smashed and
battered and broken-legged furniture in it than would furnish six
houses--provided it was in shape. The accumulation of ages. But a lot
of it is antique, girls, and worth fixing up. I've made the best haul
of our career, I verily believe."
Then Laura Hilton, who had accompanied Edna, added:
"When Mrs. Dyer saw our men carrying all that stuff down, she looked as
if she regretted her act and would like to stop us. But she didn't--was
ashamed to, probably--so we lugged it off. Never having been used to
antique furniture, the poor woman couldn't realize the value of it."
"This seems to me almost like robbery," remarked Lucile, doubtfully.
"Do you think it right for us to take advantage of the woman's
ignorance?"
"Remember the Cause for which we fight!" admonished Irene, from her
chair. "If the things people are not using, and do not want, can
provide comforts for our soldier boys, we ought to secure them--if we
have to take them by force."
The attic of the old house had really turned out a number of
interesting articles. There were tables, stands, settees, chairs, and a
quaint old desk, set on a square pedestal with a base of carved lions'
feet. This last interested Josie as soon as it was carried into the
shop. The top part was somewhat dilapidated, the cover of the desk
being broken off and some of the "pigeonhole" compartments smashed. But
there was an odd lot of tiny drawers, located in every conceivable
place, all pretty well preserved, and the square pedestal and the base
were in excellent condition.
Josie open drawer after drawer and looked the old cabinet-desk over
thoroughly, quite unobserved because the others in the shop were
admiring a Chippendale chair or waiting upon their customers. Presently
Josie approached Mary Louise and asked:
"What will you take for the pedestal-desk--just as it stands?"
"Why, I'll let Irene put a price on it," was the reply. "She knows
values better than the rest of us."
"If it's fixed up, it will be worth twenty dollars," said Irene, after
wheeling her chair to the desk for a critical examination of it.
"Well, what will it cost to fix it up?" demanded Josie.
"Perhaps five dollars."
"Then I'll give you fifteen for it, just as it stands," proposed Josie.
"You? What could you do with the clumsy thing?"
"Ship it home to Washington," was the prompt reply. "It would tickle
Daddy immensely to own such an unusual article, so I want to make him a
present of it on his birthday."
"Hand over the fifteen dollars, please," decided Irene.
Josie paid the money. She caught the drayman who had unloaded the
furniture and hired him to take the desk at once to the Hathaway
residence. She even rode with the man, on the truck, and saw the
battered piece of furniture placed in her own room. Leaving it there,
she locked her door and went back to the Shop.
The girls were much amused when they learned they had made so important
a sale to one of themselves.
"If we had asked Mrs. Dyer to give us fifteen dollars, cold cash,"
remarked Laura, "she would have snubbed us properly; but the first
article from her attic which we sold has netted us that sum and I
really believe we will get from fifty to seventy-five dollars more out
of the rest of the stuff."
Mrs. Charleworth dropped in during the afternoon and immediately became
interested in the Dudley-Markham furniture. The family to whom it had
formerly belonged she knew had been one of the very oldest and most
important in Dorfield. The Dudley-Markhams had large interests in
Argentine and would make their future home there, but here were the
possessions of their grandmothers and great-grandmothers, rescued from
their ancient dust, and Mrs. Charleworth was a person who loved
antiques and knew their sentimental and intrinsic values.
"The Dyers were foolish to part with these things," she asserted. "Of
course, Mary Dyer isn't supposed to know antiques, but the professor
has lived abroad and is well educated."
"The professor wasn't at home," explained Edna. "Perhaps that was lucky
for us. He is in Chicago, and we pleaded so hard that Mrs. Dyer let us
go into the attic and help ourselves."
"Well, that proves she has a generous heart," said the grand lady, with
a peculiar, sphinx-like smile. "I will buy these two chairs, at your
price, when you are ready to sell them."
"We will hold them for you," replied Edna. "They're to be revarnished
and properly 'restored,' you know, and we've a man in our employ who
knows just how to do it."
When Mary Louise told Colonel Hathaway, jokingly, at dinner that
evening, of Josie's extravagant purchase, her girl friend accepted the
chaffing composedly and even with a twinkle in her baby-blue eyes. She
made no comment and led Mary Louise to discourse on other subjects.
That night Josie sat up late, locked in her own room, with only the
pedestal-desk for company. First she dropped to her knees, pushed up a
panel in the square base, and disclosed the fact that in this
inappropriate place were several cleverly constructed secret
compartments, two of which were well filled with papers. The papers
were not those of the Dudley-Markhams; they were not yellowed with age;
they were quite fresh.
"There!" whispered the girl, triumphantly; "the traitor is in my toils.
Is it just luck, I wonder, or has fate taken a hand in the game? How
the Kaiser would frown, if he knew what I am doing to-night; and how
Daddy would laugh! But--let's see!--perhaps this is just a wedge, and
I'll need a sledge-hammer to crack open the whole conspiracy."
The reason Josie stayed up so late was because she carefully examined
every paper and copied most of those she had found. But toward morning
she finished her self-imposed task, replaced the papers, slid the
secret panel into place and then dragged the rather heavy piece of
furniture into the far end of the deep closet that opened off her
bedroom. Before the desk she hung several dresses, quite masking it
from observation. Then she went to bed and was asleep in two minutes.