THE SAMPLER
Vanity Fair was all that its name implied. By good fortune, the weather
was perfect,--ideally pleasant and sunshiny, yet not too warm. Wistaria
Porch was transformed into a veritable Fairyland, and it was a
bewildering vision of flowers, flags and frivolity by day, and a blaze
of illuminated gaiety by night.
It was to last but two days, for, Patty said, they might hope for fair
weather for that long but hardly for three days.
It was to open at noon, and all the morning everybody was running about,
doing last minute errands or attending to belated decorations.
Azalea had the Indian booth. It was a wigwam, in effect, but it was so
bedecked and ornamented that it is doubtful if a real Indian would have
recognised it as one. However, it was filled with real Indian wares, and
the beautiful baskets and pottery were sure to prove best sellers.
Azalea received a large consignment from some place she had sent to in
Arizona, and other people had donated appropriate gifts, until the
little tent was overflowing.
Azalea herself, the attendant on the booth, was in the garb of an Indian
princess, a friend of Patty's having lent the costume for the occasion.
It was becoming to the girl, and she looked really handsome in the
picturesque trappings, and elaborate head-dress.
Just before time for the Fair to be opened, Azalea went over to Elise's
booth. As she had planned, Elise had a log cabin, and in it she had
arranged a motley collection of antiques and heirlooms that were quaint
and valuable. It was the design of the Fair to sell really worthwhile
things at their full value; and as they expected many wealthy patrons,
the committees felt pretty sure of a grand success.
"Elise," said Azalea, as she appeared at the door of the cabin, "here's
my contribution to your department. I haven't had a chance to give it to
you before." She handed out a parcel, which Elise opened eagerly.
It proved to be a sampler,--old, but in fine condition. It was an
elaborate one, with many rows of letters, some lines of verse, and
several little pictured shapes. There was a beautiful border, and the
signature was _Isabel Cutler, 1636!_
"Oh!" exclaimed Elise, "what a gem! Where _did_ you get it? Why, Azalea,
this is a museum piece! 1636! It's worth hundreds of dollars!"
"Oh, no," said Azalea, "it can't be worth all that! But I thought you'd
like an old one."
"But I don't understand! Where did you get it?"
"It was my grandmother's."
"But your grandmother didn't live in 1636!"
"N--n--no,--I s'pose not. Well,--you see, she had it from _her_
grandmother and great-grandmother,--clear back,--you know."
"I see," said Elise, scrutinising the sampler. "It's a marvel, Azalea.
You mustn't sell it at this Fair. It ought to go to a museum. 1636!
That's one of the earliest sampler dates! I can't see how it's lain
unknown all these years. Who had it before you did?"
"Mother."
"Oh, yes,--of course. Well, I'm not going to take it from you--"
"Yes, you are, Elise. I want to give it to you. I've wanted all along
to give you something nice,--you've been so good to me--"
"Rubbish! don't talk like that, Zaly! If you want to make Patty a
present, now,--give it to her. That would be a worth-while return for
her kindness to you."
"Oh, I don't think so much of the old thing as you do. I don't even
think it's pretty."
"It isn't a question of prettiness, or even of a well worked piece. It's
the date. And this is genuine,--I can see that. But I can't understand
it! Why,--I think this border wasn't used until--I must look it up in my
book. That's home in New York. But, there's one thing sure and certain!
This doesn't get put in with my bunch of wares! Mr. Greatorex may come
this afternoon. He's an expert on these things. He'll know just what
it's worth."
"Oh, Elise," Azalea looked troubled, "don't take it so seriously. It's
just an old thing. You've others here that are far handsomer."
"As I told you, Zaly, it's the age that counts,--not the beauty. Run
along to your own booth. I'll lay this aside until I can find out about
it. But if it's as valuable as I think it is, you mustn't give it to
Vanity Fair,--or to anybody. 1636! My!"
Azalea looked a little crestfallen. Instead of being glad at the
unexpected value ascribed to her gift, she seemed decidedly put out
about it. She strolled round by Patty's booth. That enterprising young
matron had caused to be built for her use a little child's playhouse. It
was just large enough for half a dozen children, and would perhaps hold
nearly as many grown people. But it had a good-sized verandah and on
this were tables piled with the loveliest fairy-like gossamer garments
and comforts for tiny mites of humanity. Such exquisite blankets and
afghans and tufted silk coverlets and such dainty frocks and caps and
little coats and everything an infant could possibly use, from baskets
to bibs and from pillows to porringers.
And dolls,--soft, cotton or woolly dolls for little babies to play with,
and soft, cuddly bears and lambs. Rattles, of course, and bath-tub toys,
and all sorts of infants' novelties.
Patty, happy as a butterfly, hovered over her treasures. She wore the
immaculate white linen garb of a nurse, and very sweet and fair she
looked. Later, Fleurette was to grace the booth and attract all
observers by her marvellous baby charm.
At high noon the bazaar was opened with a flourish of trumpets and a
fanfaronade by the band. Farnsworth had given the services of a first
class band as his donation, and the musicians made good.
The scene was one of varied attractions. The place itself was lovely
with its wealth of flower gardens and shrubbery and the unique and
elaborate booths here and there among the trees made a striking picture.
Betty was queen of the soda fountain. A really, truly soda fountain had
been procured, and it was attended by white uniformed servitors who were
trained to the work, but Betty was the presiding genius and invited her
customers to sample her beverages, with free advice as to which flavours
and combinations she thought the best.
Raymond Gale was a general supervisor of several of the enterprises.
He had in charge the moving-picture men who had expressed a desire to
get some scenes of the gay throngs and were willing to pay well for the
privilege.
"You like the 'movies,'" he called out to Azalea, "come over here and
get into the game."
"Can't," she called back. "I have to be on duty at my wigwam."
"Oh, come along; the wigwam won't run away. At least promenade up and
down once with me."
So Azalea came, laughingly, and the two walked grandiloquently into the
focus of the camera.
"And there is a man making phonograph records," young Gale went on.
"Come over there, Zaly, and we'll have a joust of words, and record it
on the sands of time!"
"What do you mean?" asked Azalea, interestedly, for she had no knowledge
of some of the performances going on.
She went with Raymond and found a crowd waiting at the booth where the
phonograph man was doing business. His plan was to make a record for any
customer who cared to sing, recite or soliloquise for him. Mothers
gladly brought their infant prodigies to "speak pieces" and went away
proudly carrying the records that could be played in their homes for
years to come. Aspiring young singers made records of their favourite
songs. One young girl played the violin for a record.
Taking their turn, Raymond and Azalea had what he called an impromptu
scrap. A few words of instruction were enough for Azalea's dramatic
instinct to grasp his meaning, and they had a lively tiff followed by a
sentimental "making-up" that was good enough for a vaudeville
performance, and which Azalea knew would greatly amuse Patty and Bill
when they should hear the record.
"Oh, what fun!" Azalea cried, "I never heard of such a thing. I want to
make a lot of records. I'm going to make one of Baby!"
She ran into the house and up to the nursery where Winnie was just
giving the child her dinner. "Goody!" cried Azalea, "now she'll be
good-natured! Let me take her, Winnie."
Not entirely with Winnie's sanction, but in spite of her half-expressed
disapproval, Azalea took the laughing child and ran back to the
phonograph booth.
"Let me go in ahead of you people, won't you, please?" she begged, and
the waiting line fell back to accommodate her.
But alas for her hopes. She wanted the baby to coo and gurgle in the
delightful little way that Fleurette had in her happiest moments.
Instead, frightened by the strangeness of the scene and the noise and
laughter of the people all about, Fleurette set up a wail of woe which
developed rapidly into a storm of screams and sobs,--indeed, it was a
first-class crying spell,--a thing which the good-natured child rarely
indulged in.
Not willing to wait for a better-tempered moment, the man took the
record and poor little Fleurette was immortalised by a squall instead
of a sunny burst of laughter.
But there was no help for it, and Azalea, greatly chagrined, took the
baby back to Nurse.
"Here's your naughty little kiddy," she cried ruefully, handing
Fleurette over, but giving the child a loving caress, even as she spoke.
"Thank you, Miss Thorpe, I'm glad to get her back so soon."
And then Azalea ran away to her Indian booth, where she found her
assistant doing a rushing business with the Indian wares.
Indeed, everybody seemed anxious to buy the baubles of Vanity Fair. The
cause was a worthy one, the patrons were wealthy and generous, and the
vendors were charming and wheedlesome.
So the coin fairly flowed into their coffers and as the afternoon wore
on they began to fear they wouldn't have enough goods to sell the second
day.
Azalea was a favourite among the young people. She looked a picture in
her Indian dress and she was in rare good humour. She tried, too, to be
gracious and gentle, and committed no _gaucheries_ and made no ignorant
errors.
"You've simply made that girl over," Elise said to Patty, as the two
spoke of Azalea's growing popularity.
Patty sighed. "I don't know," she said, thoughtfully. "There's something
queer about Azalea. Little Billee has said so from the first, and now I
begin to see it, too."
"She _is_ queer," assented Elise, "but she's so much nicer than she was
at first. Ray Gale is very devoted to her."
"I know it. I like Ray, too, but sometimes,--think,--he knows something
about her that he won't tell us."
"For mercy's sake,--what do you mean? knows something about your own
cousin that you don't know!"
"Oh, Zaly isn't our own cousin, you know. But--well, never mind now,
Elise. This isn't a good time to talk confidentially."
Crowds of people were constantly arriving, and among them were many of
Patty's old friends. Many, too, of her newer acquaintances, who lived in
Arden and also in the nearby towns.
Patty was charming and delightful to everybody, remembering that she was
in a way hostess as well as a sales-lady.
Fleurette graced her mother's booth with her presence, later in the
afternoon, and quite redeemed her reputation for good nature, by smiling
impartially on everybody, and gurgling a welcome to all who looked at
her.
The little garments and toys of Patty's booth were soon sold out, for
they were choice bits of needlework and found ready buyers.
And then one enthusiastic young father wanted to buy the playhouse
itself, in which Patty had displayed her wares.
"But I meant to keep this for my own baby!" she cried.
"Oh, you can build another by the time that little mite needs one," the
young man replied. "And my youngster is four years old,--just ready to
inhabit a ready made home of this kind,"
So the pretty little house was sold, and plans were made to remove it
to the purchaser's estate.
So it went. Azalea had many offers for her wigwam, if she would sell it
after the fair. She agreed to let it go to the highest bidder, and
finally received a fine price.
Archery was one of the pretty diversions, and at this Azalea excelled.
To the surprise of all, she proved exceedingly skilful with the bow and
arrow and easily won the prize offered. But she magnanimously refused to
accept it, and returned it to be competed for over again.
Mr. Greatorex, the expert connoisseur in the matter of antiques, arrived
at Elise's log cabin and expressed delight in its construction and
furnishing.
The cabin was not for sale, Elise laughingly informed him, as Mr.
Farnsworth intended to keep it a permanent fixture on his own grounds.
Also, Elise went on, very few things of value were left on her
tables,--but she still had one piece on which she wished to ask his
opinion.
From a drawer she brought out the sampler that Azalea had given her and
passed it over to Mr. Greatorex, without comment.
He looked at it, at first casually and then more closely.
His face expressed mystification, and suddenly he examined the date
minutely and then smiled.
"Very clever, my dear,--very cleverly done, indeed. Did you do it?"
"Oh, no; it is the property of a friend of mine,--it was done by an
ancestor of hers. You see it's signed and dated."
"I see! Oh, yes, I _see_! But you mustn't try to impose on me,--my
eyesight is not yet entirely gone!"
"What do you mean, Mr. Greatorex?" Elise was puzzled. "I'm not trying to
impose on you!"
"I hope not, my girl, for I wouldn't want to believe such a thing of
you. But you have been imposed upon."
"How?"
"This sampler was worked in 1836, not 1636."
"How do you know?"
"Very easily. Here, you can see for yourself. You see how the figures
are made,--ordinary cross stitch. Well, as you know, an eight is worked
almost exactly the same as a six, except that it has two more stitches
on the upper right-hand side. If those two stitches are picked out of an
eight, it turns into a six! Now, I'm sure your young eyes can see that
two stitches _have_ been picked out in this instance. See the slight
mark where the canvas is the least bit drawn? And see, on the back a
fresh stitch was necessary to keep the ends from ravelling. It would
pass to a careless observer, but to one accustomed to these things the
fraud is plainly evident."
"Oh, Mr. Greatorex," and Elise looked sorrowful, "I don't care so much
about the sampler being less valuable than I thought, as I do about
having to think the friend who gave it to me would cheat me!"
"Perhaps she didn't. Perhaps somebody cheated her."
"No; she told me her mother gave her this, and that she had had it from
her mother and grandmother--and so forth."
"Then I fear your friend knew of the fraud,--though perhaps her mother
gave it to her as it is now."
"Can you judge if the stitches were picked out recently?"
"I should say very recently. The canvas is faded, of course, but, as you
see, the threads beneath where the missing stitches were is quite a
shade lighter. Had the picking been done years ago, the canvas would
have assumed a uniform tinge,--or nearly so."
"Of course it would,--I can see that for myself. Oh, dear!--Well, Mr.
Greatorex, don't say anything about this, will you?"
"Certainly not. But that's a good sampler, as it stands,--I mean as a
specimen of 1836 work."
"Yes, I know it is. And yet, oughtn't the stitches to be put back?"
"Probably not,--for they could not be matched exactly--"
"But if it remains like this, everybody will think it two hundred years
older than it really is."
Mr. Greatorex smiled. "Scarcely," he said. "You see, my dear, the
earliest known dated sampler is one of 1643 which is in the Victoria and
Albert Museum, in England. There are but six or seven known in that
century at all. It would be remarkable, therefore, to find a work of art
that would antedate all collections, and yet show the patterns and style
of work common less than a hundred years ago!"
"Oh, I understand,--I've read up on the matter somewhat,--but I'm _so_
sorry--oh, I _am_ so sorry!"
Elise looked woe-begone indeed, for she realised that Azalea had, in
all probability committed the fraud herself, and with a deliberate
intention of deceiving her.
Azalea's own ignorance of the whole matter was so great, that it was not
surprising that she thought the mere alteration of the date would make
the sampler of greater value. But what broke Elise's heart was the
knowledge of Azalea's wilful deception.
She thanked Mr. Greatorex for his explanations and, again asking him not
to mention the matter to any one at all, she put the sampler back in the
drawer and locked it up.
"Sold my sampler yet, Elise?" Azalea asked, when next they met.
"Yes; I bought it in myself," Elise replied. "I wanted it, so I bought
it. I haven't paid for it yet, for I want to know what you consider a
fair price?"
Elise looked Azalea straight in the eyes, and was not surprised to note
the rising colour in the cheeks of the Indian maiden.
"Why--why," Azalea stammered, "you said it was worth hundreds of
dollars--you said that yourself, Elise."
"That was before I knew of your own handiwork on the sampler."
"What do you mean?" cried Azalea, angrily.
"Just what I say. To the work on the sampler, you added a bit more,--or
rather, you subtracted some!"