SOME RECORDS
"_Sur le pont
D'Avignon,
On y dansait, on y dansait,
Sur le pont
D'Avignon,
On y dansait tout le rond_!"
Patty's sweet, clear soprano notes rang out gaily as she trilled the
little song she had picked up in France.
"What a pretty thing," cried Elise, "teach it to me, do, Patty."
"All right, I will. But there's a record of it,--my singing,--for the
phonograph. You'll learn it better from that."
"All right; Chick, come and find the record for me."
The two went into the library, leaving the others on the porch.
It was Sunday afternoon, and everybody was idle and happy. Patty was a
good hostess and did not bother her guests by over-entertaining them.
But at Wistaria Porch there was always enough to do, if any one wanted
to do it,--and delightful lounging places, if one were indolently
inclined.
Searching among the catalogued records, Chick easily found the one Elise
wanted.
"What a lot of records they have of the baby's voice!" he exclaimed.
"Yes," Elise assented, "they make them on all occasions. Patty's keeping
them for her, when she grows up. Clever idea."
"Yes, but she'll have to build a town hall to keep them in! The child
hasn't begun to talk yet, but here are dozens--"
"Oh, well, they'll weed them out. Some of them are awful cunning,--and
one is a first-class crying spell! They never could get but one of
Fleurette crying, she's such a good-natured kiddy. All right,
Chick,--start it off."
They listened to the pretty little _chanson_, and repeated it until
Elise felt satisfied she had added it to her repertory.
Just as she finished Betty Gale came flying in.
"Skip into your togs, Elise, and come for a drive with us," she said.
"I've corralled Bill and Patty,--and Ray wants you,--and I," she looked
saucily at Channing, "I want Mr. Chick."
"We're with you to the last ditch!" Channing replied and Elise went off
for her hat.
"Shall I put away these records?" Chick asked looking at several they
had been using.
"No," said Betty, carelessly, "Patty has hordes of minions who do such
things. Leave them, and get your duster on. We're off,--_pronto_!"
"Where's Azalea?" Raymond Gale inquired, as, a few moments later, he had
his merry party in his car, and took hold of the wheel.
"She and Van Reypen went for a long walk," Farnsworth replied. "And the
married Farringtons have gone back to town, so this is all our
party--for the moment."
"All right; here we go, then." And the big car rolled down the driveway.
"I hesitated about going," Patty demurred, "for it's Winnie's Sunday
out, and I had to leave baby with Janet. I've never done it before."
"Oh, well," Betty laughed, "she'll probably sleep till you get back.
Don't babies always sleep all the afternoon?"
"Not always, but Fleurette often does. Oh, of course, she'll be all
right"
"And Azalea isn't there," she added, in a low tone to her husband.
And indeed, just then, Azalea was far away from there.
She and Phil had gone for the sort of walk they both loved,--along
woodland paths, cross-lots, now and then back on the highroad, and if
they got too far to walk back, prepared to return by train or trolley.
The two were congenial spirits, which fact had rather surprised Van
Reypen's friends. For he was a conservative, fastidious aristocrat, and
though Azalea's rough edges had been rubbed down a bit by Patty's
training, she was still of a very different type from the Van Reypen
stock.
But they both loved the open, and they strode along, chatting or silent
as fitted their mood.
"What's in your mind just now, Brownie?" he asked, as Azalea looked
thoughtful.
"Why,--a queer sort of a notion. Did you ever have a premonition,--a
sort of feeling that you ought to do something--"
"A hunch?"
"Yes; a presentiment that unless you do what you're told to do, there'll
be trouble--"
"Who told you?"
"That's just it. Nobody,--except a--oh, a mysterious force, a--just
an impulse, you know."
"Obey it if you like. May I go, too?"
"Well, it's this. Just before we turned that last corner a motor passed
us, you know."
"Yes, I saw it. One of Farnsworth's,--with some of the servants in it."
"It was. Patty gives them rides in turn. Now, Winnie the nurse was in,
and so it must be her Sunday out. And, of course, Patty is home there
with the baby,--she never leaves her if Winnie's away, but still--I feel
as if I must go home to look after that child!"
"Is that all? Let's go, then. We can walk back as well as to go on."
"But,--don't laugh, now,--I feel we ought to hurry. Let's take the
trolley-car,--it isn't far to the line."
"You sure have got a hunch! But your will is my law. Wish we were near a
garage,--I'm not a bit fond of Sunday trolley riding!"
"I'm not either,--but, Phil, you're awful good not to laugh at me."
"Bless your soul, I've no notion of laughing at you! Your presentiment
may be the real thing,--for all I know. Anyway, if you want to go home,
you're going."
So go they did, and, by the trolley-car route, arrived at the house in
half an hour.
As they passed the Gales' place, on their way from the car-line to the
house, Van Reypen said, "Guess I'll stop here a minute if you don't
mind. I left my pet pipe here yesterday. Skip along home, and I'll
follow."
Azalea went on and was surprised to find the house deserted.
She went straight to the nursery, and found Fleurette in the care of
Janet, who was substitute nurse in Winnie's absence.
"Everything all right, Janet?" said Azalea.
"Yes, Miss Thorpe. Baby's had her milk, and I think she'll soon go to
sleep."
"She doesn't look much like it now," and Azalea smiled at the gurgling,
laughing child, who was wide awake and in frolicsome mood.
"Where's Mrs. Farnsworth?" Azalea asked.
"She went motoring with Miss Gale. They all went,--and all the help have
gone too. I'm alone in the house with the baby."
"Glad I came home, then. Mr. Van Reypen is here too, and I think I'll
take Fleurette down on the porch for half an hour. When she gets sleepy
I'll bring her up here."
"Very well, Miss Thorpe. I'll be here."
Janet busied herself about the nursery and Azalea went downstairs with
the baby in her arms.
On the vine-shaded porch they sat, and as Van Reypen stayed chatting
with some of the Gale family, Azalea and the baby were each other's sole
companions.
Their conversation was a little one-sided, but Azalea's remarks were
mostly eulogies and compliments and Fleurette's engaging smiles seemed
to betoken appreciation if not acknowledgment.
A footstep approaching made Azalea look up.
Before her stood Mr. Merritt, the assistant director of the film
company.
"Good afternoon, Miss Thorpe," he said, politely; "I see the little one
is in a sunshiny mood."
"Yes;" Azalea returned, but her very soul quaked with fear. Well she
knew what was in this man's mind.
"And so, I'm going to ask you to run over to the studio just a few
minutes and give us one more chance at a good picture of that scene."
"And I'm going to refuse," Azalea returned with spirit. "You know very
well, Mr. Merritt, that I'm not going to let you pose this child again."
"I know you _are_,--and mighty quick, too," he retorted, in a low voice,
but tones of great determination. "I know everybody is out,--you are
practically alone in the house, and I know you're coming with
me,--willing or not! It won't hurt the baby a mite,--I've my little car
out in the road,--and if you _don't_ consent,--I'll--"
He voiced no threat, but Azalea felt pretty sure he meant to take the
baby himself if she refused to go with them.
She thought quickly, but no avenue of escape could she see. It would be
utterly useless to call Janet, for she was a nervous, timid girl, and
would probably run away at sight of this strange man.
The nursery, too, was on the other side of the house, and she couldn't
make Janet hear if she tried.
The Gale house also was on the other side of the Farnsworth house, and
so, indeed, if Azalea chose to call for help, it would do no good.
Doubtless Phil would be along shortly, but there was no telling, for
there was always a merry crowd on the Gale's piazza and he would stay
there talking for a time.
But Merritt was impatient, and he finally broke out with; "Make up your
mind, please, and quickly. Will you bring the baby quietly, or shall I
just--take her along."
He held out his arms to Fleurette, who, always ready to make friends
with strangers, smiled and leaned toward him.
Azalea had wild thoughts of running away,--anywhere,--but she knew the
futility of such a plan. Merritt was a big and strong man, and though
Azalea was a swift runner, she could not get a start without his
intervening.
She tried pleading. She appealed to his manliness, his kindness, his
generosity,--all with no success.
"Don't talk rubbish," he said, shortly; "you know as well as I do, it
won't hurt the child. In fact, I came to get her to-day, myself, because
I knew her nurse was out,--and I saw you go off,--and later, all the
rest of the bunch. If _you_ hadn't come back,--confound you! I'd have
had that child over there by this time!"
Azalea gasped. So her premonition had been a true one after all! Had
she not returned, Merritt would have easily overcome Janet and taken the
baby off with him. She knew they would not harm Fleurette,--indeed,
would be most careful of her. Unless, perhaps, they should give her
soothing-sirup again. Well they'd get no chance, for Azalea was
determined the baby should not be taken from her, and she most certainly
was not going herself.
"You know what it will mean to you," Merritt threatened; "if I so advise
Bixby, he'll throw you over. How'd you like to lose your job now that
you've just begun to make good?"
"That's nothing to do with it," Azalea said, trying to speak calmly and
not show how frightened she was.
But Merritt discerned it.
"All right," he said, "sorry you won't listen to reason,--but since you
won't,--guess I'll have to use force."
He took hold of Fleurette's little arm, to lift her from Azalea's lap,
and the touch roused the girl's wrath to boiling point.
"Don't you dare!" she cried, holding the baby tightly. "Leave,--leave at
once! or I'll call for help!"
She rose, as if to make good her threat, though she knew there was no
help within call.
Merritt knew it too, and he laughed at her.
"Stop this nonsense, now," he commanded roughly. "I'm going to
accomplish what I came here for, so you may as well take it quietly. I
can take the child without a whimper from her,--and you know it! So, why
not be sensible and come along too, and look out for her yourself?"
"You shall not take her!" Azalea looked like an angry tigress.
"Gee! Wish I had you on the screen like that! You're some picture!"
"Please, Mr. Merritt," Azalea tried coaxing again, "please believe
me,--I can't take Fleurette again. Her mother--why, Mr. Merritt, you
have children of your own--"
"Sure I have! That's how I know how to treat 'em so well. If mine were
only small enough, I wouldn't need this little cutie. Well, here goes,
then!"
This time he laid such a definite hold on the baby, that Azalea could
scarcely keep the child in her own arms.
In her utter desperation, a new idea struck her. She would try strategy.
"Oh, don't!" she cried, "rather than have you touch her, I'll go--I'll
take her. Let me get her cap and coat."
"Where are they?" he asked, suspiciously.
"Right here, in the library,--just across the hall."
"Go on, then,--I trust you, 'cause I think you're sensible. I'd go along
and keep you in sight, but I want to keep watch if anybody comes. But
you sing, or whistle or something, so's I'll know you're right there."
"All right," and Azalea's heart beat fast, for she had a splendid
scheme.
Into the library she carried Fleurette, singing as she went, and once in
the room, she put the baby on a chair and flew for the record rack.
Quickly she found the record of the baby's crying spell and put it in
place in the phonograph.
Then, picking up Fleurette, she set the needle going and hurried from
the room.
Merritt, hearing the cries, screams and sobs, scowled with anger at the
baby's fit of ill temper, but never dreamed that it was not really the
child crying at all.
So Azalea had ample chance to escape by a back door from the library,
and crossing the dining-room went out on a side porch that faced the
Gale place.
Looking carefully to see that Merritt had not followed her, and
listening a moment to learn how much longer the record,--of which she
knew every familiar sound,--would last, she ran with all the speed of
which she was capable over to the Gales'.
Van Reypen was just taking leave, and he, as well as the others present,
looked in amazement at the flying figure coming nearer and nearer until
Azalea reached the group.
"Take her," she said to Mrs. Gale, as she gave her the baby, "keep her
safe--_safe_!"
And then Azalea went flying back.
The record was finished,--and with the sudden stop of the child's crying
Merritt had started into the library to see what it meant.
There Azalea found him, and she faced him bravely.
"That baby is safe," she said, "where you can't get at her! And now I
will tell you what I think of _you_! You are a thief and a scoundrel!
You don't deserve to be allowed to carry on a reputable business! I
don't want any further connection with you or your company. I am proud
to be fired from such a lot of bandits as you people are!"
So angry was she, and so unguarded as to what she was saying that she
fairly flung the words at him.
For a moment he was stunned at her wild tirade, and then his artist
instinct was stirred,--for the picture she made was beautiful and
dramatic. She had no thought of this, for she was in earnest, and her
whole soul was up in arms at thought of the threatened abduction of
Fleurette. And, so, knowing that the child was safe with Mrs. Gale, she
let the vials of her wrath pour forth on the villain who had so aroused
it, and her voice was raised in scathing obloquy.
"All right!" Merritt said, as she paused from sheer want of breath,
"I'll take my beating, if you'll go over to the studio with me and
repeat this scene. Let me pose you while you're in this humour,--you'll
never reach such heights again!"
"Nor will I ever pose for you again! I'm through with you,--all of
you, and all the moving-picture business! I was warned to keep out of
it,--but I didn't know what wretches I would find in it! Go! Go at once!
and never let me see your face again!"
It was at this moment that the Gale motor party returned.
Patty and Bill, hearing Azalea's loud tones, rushed to the library and
found her there with Merritt.
"Where's Baby?" Patty cried, starting for the stairs.
"She's safe, Patty," Azalea said, stopping her. "She's all right,--she's
over to Mrs. Gale's."
"Mrs. Gale's!" and Patty flew off like the wind, caring for nothing but
the assurance of her own eyes that Fleurette was safe.
"Help me, Bill," said Azalea, going toward Farnsworth, "you said once,
you'd defend me."
"I will, dear. What's this all about? Who are _you_?" He addressed
Merritt quietly, but with a fire in his blue eyes that was disturbing.
"Merritt, of the Flicker Film Company, very much at your service," and
the man drew a card from his pocket and presented it.
"Well, Mr. Merritt, leave at once, and never return. I don't care for
your explanations or excuses. Simply _go_."
Merritt went.
"Is that right, Zaly?" Bill said, as the crestfallen visitor left them.
"I didn't want any words with him,--for I might have lost my temper. I'd
rather have the story from you."
"And I'll tell it to you,--all. But, oh, Bill, I'm so _glad_ Fleurette
is all right!"
"She is _so_!" and Patty came dancing on, with the smilingest child in
the world. Van Reypen followed, and then the whole crowd drew together
anxious to know what the commotion was all about.