AZALEA'S CHANCE
"What do you mean by subtracted some?"
"Now, Azalea, there's no use in your acting like that! You know
perfectly well you can't fool _me_! If you really want to know what I
mean, I'll tell you. I mean that you picked out two stitches from the
eight to make it look like a six. Didn't you, now?"
"Oh, well, if you've discovered that, I may as well own up. Yes, I did."
"And aren't you ashamed of yourself? Don't you think such a deception a
wrong and contemptible thing to do?"
"Oh, pshaw, it was only for a joke. Can't you take a joke, Elise?"
"It _wasn't_ only for a joke. You hoped you would make me think the
sampler two hundred years older than it really is! And you thought that
would make it much more valuable. Well, you overreached yourself! There
were no samplers made--so far as is known--in 1636. So your trick
wouldn't fool anybody!"
"All right. There's no harm done, that I can see. My little joke fizzled
out,--that's all."
"No, that isn't all. It has proved you are a deceitful girl! You don't
mind telling a falsehood!"
"I didn't tell any!"
"Yes, you did! It's an untruth to pretend something is what you know it
isn't! If I had sold that to some unsuspecting buyer, for a large price,
you wouldn't have said a word! You'd have let it go!"
"Of course; all's fair at a Fair!"
"Oh, don't try to be funny, Azalea; I'm really angry about this matter."
"Huffy, eh? Well, get over it, then! I don't care! _Some_ people like
me! Don't they?"
The last question was asked of Raymond Gale, who came walking by.
"Sure; I do!" was the hearty reply. "Who doesn't?"
"Elise," and Azalea pouted at the girl.
"Fiddlesticks!" said Elise, gaily. "Never mind, Azalea, I'll take your
joke in good part."
For Elise had suddenly decided that she didn't want to spoil Patty's
Fair by having a quarrel with her guest. So, though a good deal
perturbed by the sampler incident, she preferred to drop the subject.
Azalea understood, and was glad to be let off so easily, though she felt
sure Elise would tell Patty all about it later.
With Azalea, however, out of sight was out of mind, and she walked away
with young Gale in a merry mood.
As they strolled along, a man stepped toward them, and raising his cap
in a respectful way, asked Azalea if he might have a few words with her,
alone.
He had a business-like air, and though polite, was, quite evidently, not
a man of social position.
Gale stared at him, and Azalea grew very red and confused.
"I--well--not just now," she said, hesitatingly. "I'll see you some
other time."
"No, miss, that won't do," The man was courteous, but decided,--and had
a manner that bespoke authority.
"If I'm in the way, I'll vanish," Raymond said, laughing a little.
"Well--if you will--" Azalea looked at him beseechingly. "I'll explain
later."
So Gale walked off by himself and Azalea turned a troubled face to the
man.
"Mr. Merritt," she said, "I can't have anything more to do with the
whole affair. I'm quite sure my relatives here wouldn't approve of it,
and I can't keep the matter secret any longer."
"But you _must_ come, Miss Thorpe. By a strange coincidence you are
greatly needed. Miss Frawley has broken her ankle--"
"She has!" Azalea's eyes sparkled, "Oh,--I don't mean I'm not sorry for
her,--I am, indeed! But--"
"But it gives you a chance! A wonderful chance,--and if you can make
good--"
"Oh, I can! I will! Shall I come now?"
"No; but you must come to-morrow morning at nine, sharp. Will you?"
"Indeed I will! I'll be there on time."
"And tell your people about it,--don't you think you'd better?"
"Oh," Azalea's face fell. "I don't know. Suppose they refuse to let me
go!"
"How can they? They have no real control over you."
"No,--but I'd hate to go against their expressed disapproval."
"Nonsense! This is your first chance at a career. Don't muff it, now!
Why, just your skill at archery is enough to put you over! It's the very
place for you! Western doings, riding, shooting, lassoing, all sorts of
bareback, daredevil stunts--"
"I know--I know. Yes, I'll be there to-morrow. You go, now,--here comes
my cousin."
With a quick glance at Farnsworth, who was approaching, the man walked
swiftly away.
"Who is he?" Bill asked, as he came up to Azalea.
"Friend of mine," she answered, gaily.
"What's his name?"
"That's telling!"
"I know it is, and I expect to be told."
"People don't always get all they expect."
"Don't trifle with me, Azalea; I'm not in a trifling mood. Who was that
man?"
"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies. Now, now, Cousin
William, you know yourself, it's very rude to insist on prying into
other folks' secrets!"
"Why _is_ it a secret? What possible business can a man like that have
with you,--that I can't know about?"
"Why do you say 'a man like that'? He's all right."
"All right is a vague term. He's not one of our sort."
"Don't be a snob! Remember you were born and brought up in the West,
just as much as I was. And although you've now got to living high and
mighty, you needn't look down on me or my friends!"
"You're talking rubbish, Azalea. That man is not your friend,--he was
talking to you on some business matter."
"I'm not a business woman!"
"You're not a woman at all! You're a young girl, and a very silly
one,--to have secret dealings with a common-looking man. Now, as your
temporary guardian, I insist you tell me all about it"
"'Temporary guardian' is good! Who appointed you?"
"I'm that by reason of your being a guest in my house, and too in view
of the fact that you have, apparently, nobody to look after you. Your
father has mysteriously disappeared. You've had no word from him since
you've been here! So far as I know, you have no other relatives, and
so, as your nearest of kin, I propose to look after you,--if you will
let me. Don't be foolish, Azalea, dear," Farnsworth's voice took on a
tender tone, "_don't_ be antagonistic. I want to help you, not annoy
you. Why not look on me as a friend, and let me know all you're about?
There can be _no_ reason why I shouldn't."
"You might not approve," and Azalea looked at him uncertainly.
"Why? Are you up to anything wrong?"
"No," but she spoke hesitatingly, "not wrong, Cousin, but--all the same,
you might not approve."
"Tell me, and let me see. If it isn't wrong, I'll promise not to censure
you, even if I don't entirely approve."
Azalea's attention was attracted by the man who had lately left her. He
stood behind Farnsworth and made gestures that informed Azalea she was
not to let his presence be known. So she continued to talk to Bill, but
also kept the other man in view.
His procedure was somewhat strange. He pretended to be holding a baby,
cuddling an imaginary child in his arms. Then he tossed the
non-existent little one up in the air, and pretended to catch it again.
Then he nodded to Azalea. She shook her head negatively and very
vigorously.
He nodded peremptorily and insistently. Again she shook her head, and as
she did so Farnsworth wheeled suddenly and saw the man.
Angrily, he made a dash for him, but the stranger was agile and alert,
and ran swiftly away and out of the grounds to the street.
Farnsworth looked at Azalea coldly. "So you were holding communication
with him, over my shoulder! This is a little too much, Azalea, and now
the crisis has been reached. Either you give me a full explanation of
your business with him, or you bring your visit here to an end. I cannot
have you in my house, if you are deceitful and insincere. I stand by my
offer; I will listen willingly to your story, and judge you most
leniently. I don't really believe you _are_ up to anything wrong. But a
secret is always mysterious and I hold that you are too young and
inexperienced to have secrets from your elders."
"I have nothing to confess or confide, Cousin William," said Azalea,
putting on a haughty air. "I refuse to be accused of wrong-doing, when
I am not guilty of it,--and I will bring my visit here to an end at
once! I will leave to-morrow!"
"Oh, pshaw, Zaly, don't go off so suddenly!" Farnsworth laughed lightly,
for he had said a little more than he meant to, and he realised, too,
that this was neither the time nor the place to have such a serious talk
with the girl.
"Come along now, and have tea with us all in the tea-house," he said.
"Forget your bad, cruel cousin's scoldy ways, and as to the mysterious
man, I'll trust your word that he's all right."
"Oh, thank you, Cousin!" Azalea fairly beamed now. "How good you are!
I'll tell you all about it,--some day!"
So the matter rested for the moment, and the two went to join the merry
group around the tea-table.
The Fair drew to a brilliant close. The second evening was even more gay
and festive than the first. Everything was sold out,--or, if not, it was
disposed of by auction after the time-honoured method of Fairs.
Much money had been accumulated for the good cause, and though tired,
the workers were jubilant over the success of Vanity Fair.
"I shall sleep late to-morrow morning," declared Patty, as, after all
the guests were gone, the house party started for bed.
"Me, too," agreed Elise. "I'm glad you haven't anybody staying here but
us. No house guests, I mean, but just Zaly and me."
"I'm glad, too," said Patty. "You see, I expected Father and Nan, but
they've changed their plans and will remain in California another
month."
"They're having a gorgeous trip, aren't they?"
"Yes, indeed, but I wish they'd ever get home! Just think, Father has
never seen Fleurette!"
"She'll be a big girl when they do see her. She's growing like a little
weed."
"Like a little flower, you mean! Don't you just love her name, Elise?"
"Fleurette? Little Flower? Of course I do. The sweetest ever. Does Bill
still call you Patty Blossom?"
"Yes, at times. Oh, he calls me 'most any old thing! He makes up new
names for both of us every day! Come along, Zaly, you're dropping from
sheer weariness. Time for little girls like you to go beddy!"
Affectionately Patty put her arm round the girl, and led her away
upstairs.
"Sleep well," she said, as she left Azalea in her own room. "And don't
come downstairs in the morning before ten or eleven. I'm sure I shan't.
The servants will clear everything up, and Bill will oversee it. I hate
the aftermath of a Fair,--don't you?"
Azalea nodded agreement, and Patty kissed her good-night and went off.
But it was only eight o'clock the next morning when Azalea crept softly
downstairs. She was neatly attired in a cloth suit, with a fresh white
shirtwaist and a pretty hat.
She was not at all sleepy or weary-looking and she went out through the
pantry to the kitchen.
"Please give me a cup of coffee," she said to the cook, who was just
beginning her day's work.
She looked in amazement at Azalea, for she had had no orders over night
to serve an early breakfast.
"I'll get you something as quick as I can," she said, good-naturedly. "I
didn't know you was going to town, Miss Thorpe."
"Just decided," said Azalea, carelessly; "and I don't want
breakfast,--only a cup of coffee and a bit of toast. There's a good
cookie."
Smiling at the cajolery, the cook bustled about and soon had an
appetising little repast ready. Azalea gratefully accepted the poached
egg and the marmalade in addition to what she had requested, and in a
short time had finished and prepared to depart.
But she did not ask for one of the Farnsworth motor-cars; instead, she
walked swiftly out of the gate and down the street toward the trolley
line.
She waited for a car and when it came she got aboard and settled down
for a long ride.
At last she got out and a short walk brought her to her destination.
This was nothing more nor less than a great moving-picture studio.
There were a number of people about, all very busy and intent on what
they were doing.
Azalea seemed to be known, for two or three nodded pleasantly to her as
she went swiftly along to the office.
There she presented herself, and was received by Mr. Bixby, the man who
had one day called on her at Wistaria Porch.
"Well, Miss Thorpe," he said, briskly, "I suppose you heard the news.
Miss Frawley has broken her ankle--"
"Yes, I heard that," said Azalea, with a sympathetic look.
"And we think we want to put you in her place,--at least, for a trial."
"I'm glad to try," Azalea said, earnestly. "I'll do my best to make
good. But I can't bring the baby again."
"Oh, pshaw, yes you can,--just once more, anyway. But never mind that
now. We must see about your own part. You know there's danger, Miss
Thorpe?"
"Miss Frawley braved the danger," Azalea said, quietly.
"Yes, and Miss Frawley broke her ankle."
"I know; and I may break mine, but I'll take the chance. I am not
afraid,--though I well know that accidents may happen. What was Miss
Frawley doing?"
"It was in that climbing scene. You know she climbs the sheer precipice
of rock. There are hidden spikes driven into the rock for her feet, of
course, but she missed one, and fell."
"I'll be as careful as I can, but I may miss it, too."
"In that case, we'll have to get some one else," said Mr. Bixby,
coolly. "Are you ready for work?"
"Oh, yes," and then Azalea was shown to the dressing-rooms.
This was her secret. For years she had wanted to be a moving-picture
actress, and she had hoped before she left Arizona for New York that she
might get an opportunity to take up the work. She had expected to begin
with minor parts, and hoped by her skill and earnest efforts to attain
eminence.
On the train, coming East, she had formed an acquaintance with Mr. Bixby
and his wife, who were in the business. As their studio was not far from
the Farnsworth home, Azalea had made plans with them to engage in the
work.
She had carried out these plans, and had been over to the studios
several times, taking parts in which they needed a substitute.
She had done so well and had shown such promise that Mr. Bixby urged her
to become a regular actress in his company.
But Azalea was so uncertain as to how Patty and Bill would regard such a
move on her part, that she had so far kept the matter to herself.
Then, when the star actress had met with an accident, and the management
had concluded to offer Azalea her place, it was a great chance for the
girl.
She had come over this morning to give it a trial, entirely at sea as to
her subsequent attitude toward the Farnsworths.
She thought she would be guided by circumstances as to whether she would
confide all to them, or whether she would continue her secrecy as to her
movements.
Mrs. Bixby attended to her in the dressing-room. All of Miss Frawley's
costumes, it was found, could be altered to fit Azalea.
As one in a dream, the girl stood to be fitted, while seamstresses and
modistes hovered about her.
Then she was informed that the work that day would be only rehearsing
and the pictures would not actually be taken until her costumes were
ready.
Submissively she did exactly as she was told, and so well did she act
the parts assigned her, that Mr. Bixby expressed hearty approval.
Azalea was there nearly all day, and when at last she turned her face
homeward, a great dismay seized her.
"What's the matter, child?" asked kindly Mrs. Bixby, who was saying
good-bye.
"Oh, I don't know what to do!" Azalea was tempted to tell the
director's wife all her troubles.
But Mrs. Bixby was a busy lady, and she said, "Not now, dearie. You
skittle home, and to-morrow maybe I can take a couple hours off to hear
your tale of woe. You know you've already told me your swagger relatives
would throw a fit if they knew what you were up to. Well, I guess it's
about fit time!"
Azalea disliked her style of speech, but Mrs. Bixby was kind hearted,
and she had hoped to have her for a confidante. However, there was no
chance then, for Mrs. Bixby hustled her off to the trolley-car, and
Azalea went home to Wistaria Porch.