Early the following morning, the two large cars were in front of Osgood
House, ready for the start. Jimmy managed to get Ruth to occupy the
front seat beside him, as he preferred her company to that of the other
girls. His car was to lead the way, because he knew the roads quite
well; the second car would follow with Mr. Alexander driving it.
They drove through the suburbs of London to Guildford, and then
southward. As they went, the English Channel could be glimpsed from the
knolls, every now and then, with the lovely rolling country on all sides
except in front.
“Jimmy,” called Mr. Fabian at one of the stops made to allow the girls
to admire the view, “if it will not take us too far out of the way, I’d
like to visit Hastings where the historical ruins can be seen. My
students will there see several unique lines of architecture that can
never be found elsewhere in these modern days.”
“All right, Prof.; and after that I can take you to see Pevensky Castle,
another historic ruin,” returned Jimmy.
So they turned off, just before coming to Brighton, and visited the
ruins of the castle said to have been built by William the Conqueror.
Cameras were brought forth and pictures taken of the place, and then
they all climbed back into the automobiles.
“Now for Pevensky Castle, near which William is said to have landed in
1066,” announced Jimmy, starting his car.
Fortunately, this day happened to be one of the visiting days at the old
ruins, and they had no trouble in securing an entrance. Mr. Fabian and
his interested friends found much to rejoice their hearts, in this old
place; but Jimmy had persuaded Ruth to remain in the car with him, so
that he could have her companionship to himself.
As Mrs. Alexander was the last adult to leave her new car, she saw Jimmy
hold to Ruth’s hand and beg her to stay with him. This was contrary to
her scheme of things, but she had to follow the rest of the party at the
time. While she went, she planned how to get back immediately and
frustrate any tête-à-tête of Jimmy’s, unless Dodo was the girl.
Mr. Alexander had settled himself down in his car for a nice little
smoke with his pipe, as per agreement with his spouse, so he was not
interested in the lover-like scene Jimmy was acting in the other car.
But all this was changed when Mrs. Alexander suddenly returned from the
ruins, and joined the two young people in Jimmy’s car.
“It’s so very tiresome to climb over tumbled down walls and try to take
an interest in mouldy interiors,” sighed she, seating herself on the
running-board of Jimmy’s car.
That ended Jimmy’s dreams of love for the time being, but in his heart
the youthful admirer heartily cursed Dodo’s mother. She sat
unconcernedly dressing her face with powder and rouge, then she lined up
her eye-brows, and finally touched up her lips with the red stick. When
the toilet outfit was put away in her bag, she sat waiting for the
others to reappear from the castle, feeling that she had done her duty
by her family.
At Chichester, the next stopping place on the route, Mr. Fabian led his
friends to the old cathedral; as before, Jimmy had Ruth wait with him
while the others went to inspect the old place. This time, Mrs.
Alexander made no pretence of leaving, but remained on guard beside the
young people. Jimmy gritted his teeth in baffled rage, but he could say
nothing to the wily chaperone.
After the tourists got back in the motor-cars, Portsmouth, Porchester,
Southampton and Christ Church were reeled off speedily. At Christ Church
they stopped long enough to see the carved Gothic door at the north
entrance, and the Norman architecture of the interior of the Priory—a
famous place for lovers of the antique and ancient.
Ruth jumped out and went with her friends when they visited the Priory,
and Jimmy had to console himself with a cigarette. Mrs. Alexander
endeavored to enter into conversation with him, but he was too surly for
anything.
That evening they reached Exeter, and stopped for the night at the New
London Inn, a veritable paradise for the decorators of the party. Its
public-room and bed-rooms were furnished with genuine old mahogany
pieces centuries old. Settles, cupboards, and refectory tables stood in
the main room downstairs, while old Sheraton tables, Chippendale chairs,
ancient, carved four-posters, and highboys or lowboys, furnished the
guest-chambers.
“Nolla, did you ever see so many lovely old things!” exclaimed Polly, as
they admired one thing after another.
“I wish we could steal some of them,” ventured Eleanor, laughingly.
“Maybe the owner will sell some,” suggested Polly.
But Mr. Fabian learned later, that the inn-keeper was as great an
enthusiast and collector of antiques as the Americans, and would not
part for love or money, with any piece in his collection.
In the morning Mr. Fabian escorted his friends to the cathedral of
Exeter, explaining everything worth while, as he went.
Jimmy had ascertained, the night previous, that Ruth purposed going with
her friends, so he refused to get up in the morning, sending down word
instead, that he felt bad. He hoped this might induce Ruth to remain and
comfort him, but he learned later that she had gone gayly with the
others, when they started out for the old edifice.
Shortly after the party left, a knock came upon Jimmy’s door and he
gruffly called out: “Come in!”
Mrs. Alexander tip-toed in and immediately began to condole with him.
“Poor Jimmy! I feel so concerned over you. Just let me mother you, if
you are ill!”
Jimmy growled: “I’m not ill—just sleepy!”
“All the same, you dear boy, something must be troubling you to make you
feel so ill-natured,” said she, pointedly.
“I should think it would!” snapped he, the patch-work quilt drawn up
close about his chin so that only his face showed.
“Then do tell me if I can help in any way. My purse and heart are both
wide open for you to help yourself, whenever you like.”
Jimmy was young, and had not yet realized that independence was a great
privilege. But he had learned that poverty was not the virtue people
called it. It meant doing without pleasant things, and constantly
sacrificing what seemed most desirable. He knew Mrs. Alexander would buy
her way into his good graces if she could, and he was just angry enough,
and sulky at fate, to tempt him to take advantage of her offer. Even
though he might regret it shortly after.
“Well, to confess—as I would to my own mother—I’m broke! And it’s no
pleasant state of affairs on a long trip like this one, with a lot of
pretty girls wanting to be treated to candy, and other things,” growled
Jimmy.
“Poor dear boy!” sighed Mrs. Alexander, seating herself on the edge of
the great antique bed, and patting his head. “Don’t I understand? Now
let me be your other mother, for a while, and give you a little spending
money. When it is gone, just wink at me and I will know you need more.
If there were a _number_ of young men to assume the expenses of treating
the crowd of girls with you, I wouldn’t think of suggesting this. But I
remember that you are but one with a galaxy of beauties who look for
entertainment from you.”
Thus Mrs. Alexander cleverly managed to induce Jimmy to believe he was
justified in taking her money, and as she got up to go out, she said:
“I’ll leave a little roll on the dresser. If you feel able to get up and
come out, you will see that you will feel better for the effort and the
air.”
So saying, she left a packet under the military brushes on the dresser
and, smiling reassuringly at the youth, went out. But she did not leave
the closed door at once; she waited, just outside, until she heard him
spring from the bed and rush over to the place where the money had been
left. Then she nodded her head satisfactorily, and crept downstairs.
Jimmy counted out the notes left for him, and gasped. He hadn’t seen so
much money at one time, since the war began! And he felt a sense of
gratitude, then repulsion, to the ingratiating person who thus paid him
for his good-will.
Mr. Fabian and his party were examining the old cathedral, with its two
Norman towers and the western front rich with carvings, without a
thought of the two they had left at the Inn. Having completed the visit
to the edifice, they all returned to see the old inn known as “Moll’s
Coffee-house.”
“It was at this famous place that many of England’s noted people used to
gather,” said Mr. Fabian, as they crossed the green. “Sir Walter Raleigh
was a frequent visitor here, as well as many historical men.”
As they came to the place, they found Mrs. Alexander and Jimmy seated on
a worm-eaten bench, chatting pleasantly about the ancient room they were
in. But no one knew that the conversation had been suddenly switched
from a personal topic, the moment the sight-seers appeared to interrupt
the tête-à-tête.
Mrs. Alexander got up and crossed the room to meet the other members in
the party, saying as she came: “I hear how folks used to come here and
drink coffee—and a record is kept of who they were. It must be nice to
have folks remember you after you are gone. I wish someone would say,
years after I am dead, ‘Mrs. Alexander was in this house, once’.”
“A lot of good that would do you, then!” laughed Dodo.
“I was just telling Jimmy that it would be a lot of satisfaction to us
all if he became famous and this trip of ours was spoken of in years to
come. He’s got a title in the family, you know, and the English think so
much of that! The inn-keeper across the green might be glad to remember
how Sir Jimmy stopped here when he toured England with his friends from
America.”
Everyone laughed at the silly words but Mrs. Alexander was really in
earnest. Her imagination had jumped many of the obstacles placed in her
way, and she saw herself as Jimmy’s mother-in-law and revered as such by
the English public.
During their tête-à-tête at Old Moll’s Coffee-house, she had impressed
it upon Jimmy’s mind, that not a soul was to know about the money. And
she extracted a promise that he would call upon her for more if he
needed it. Feeling like a cad, still he promised, for he was in dire
need of money to be able to appear like a liberal host.
“Well, Jimmy—are you ready to start along the road?” asked Angela,
suspicious of this sudden change of front in Jimmy for the obnoxious
rich woman.
“Yes, if Mrs. Alex and everyone else is,” agreed he.
“Mrs. Alex?” queried his sister, pointedly.
“Oh yes, folks! Dodo’s mother says ‘Alexander’ is such a lot to say,
that she prefers us to cut it to Mrs. Alex. Every one else has
nicknames, so why not nick Alexander?” said Jimmy.
The others laughed, and Mr. Alexander said quaintly: “I always liked
that name Alexander ’cause it made me feel sort of worth while. I might
be no account in looks, but ‘Alexander’ gives me back-bone, ’cause I
only have to remember ‘Alexander the Great’!”
His friends laughed heartily and Mr. Fabian said: “What’s in a name,
when you yourself are such a good friend?”
“Mebbe so, but all the same, I’ll miss that name. ‘Alex’ looks too much
like a tight fit for my size. But I s’pose it’s got to be as the missus
says!”
Now the cars sped through the charming country of rural England, with
its ever-changing scenes, than which there is nothing more beautiful and
peaceful. Cattle browsed upon the hillocks, tiny hamlets were spotlessly
neat and orderly, the roads were edged with trimmed hedges, and even in
the woods, where wild-plants grew, there was no débris to be found. It
was all a picture of neatness.
On this drive, the girls were made happy by being able to buy several
pieces of old Wedgwood from the country people. Polly also secured a
chubby little bowl with wonderful medallions upon its sides, and Eleanor
found a “salt-glaze” pitcher.
“I believe lots of the people in the country, here, will gladly sell odd
bits if we only have time to stop and bargain,” said Polly, hugging her
bowl.
“And lots of them will swear their furniture is genuine antique even if
they bought it a year ago from an installment firm,” laughed Jimmy.
“Oh, they wouldn’t do that!” gasped Polly.
“Wouldn’t they! Just try it, and see how they rook your pocket-book,”
retorted Jimmy.
“Why James Osgood! Where ever did you learn such words—‘rook’ and the
like?” gasped his sister.
“Oh, I’m going to be a thorough American, now,” laughed Jimmy,
recklessly. “Mrs. Alex has agreed to take me West with her on her
return, and let me run a ranch in Colorado.”
“What will mother say to that?” wailed Angela, as this was not what she
had hoped for.
“Don’t worry, Angela dear,” quickly said Mrs. Alexander, soothingly.
“Jimmy is only joking. I told him about our ranches but I have no idea
of taking him away from England.” Neither had she.
At Glastonbury the tourists stopped to see the “Inne of ye Pilgrims”
which proved to be very old and most interesting. Here King Henry the
VIII and Abbot Whiting’s rooms are maintained with the old furnishings
as in that long-past day.
Pictures were taken of the quaint Gothic carving on the front of the
building, and then Mr. Fabian led them to inspect the ruined abbey which
King Arthur favored above all other spots.
As the cars sped over the good hard roads, past little cottages with the
most attractive thatched-roofs whose dormer windows were set deep back
in the thatch, the tourists were delighted.
“Such lovely little places,” sighed Ruth, as she admired the rose-vines
climbing high upon the roof of a place.
“Just big enough for two!” whispered Jimmy, for his “heart’s desire” was
beside him on the front seat, once more.
“I wonder why American architects do not copy these lovely thatched
roofs for us, more generally,” wondered Polly.
“Our climate would not permit them,” explained Mr. Fabian. “In England,
the damp warm climate seldom changes to bitter cold, and the inmates of
these cottages live in comparative comfort in the winter. In the States,
they’d be frozen out in no time.”
Bath was the next stop, and Mr. Fabian sought out the famous Abbey, at
once. But Ruth had come under the spell of Jimmy’s ardor again, and
remained with him when the others walked away. Mrs. Alexander sensed the
plot and also remained behind. But Mr. Alexander called to her when she
would have joined the two young ones.
“See here—don’t you go interferin’ there. If them two want to keep
comp’ny why should you care?” whispered he.
“They won’t, that’s all. That young man is for Dodo!”
“Huh! Is that so? Well, don’t you think _I_ got something to say in that
case? Dodo takes who she wants, and no one else!”
“Don’t say a word! All you’ve got to do is to pay the bills! I’m doing
this match-making and you needn’t help!” snapped his wife.
As she walked away, the little man nodded his head briskly and muttered:
“We’ll see! We’ll see, missus!”
Mrs. Alexander found she could not beguile the two young folks into
doing anything that included her, so she went towards the Abbey to meet
Dodo upon her return. When they all came out, Dodo was with Polly and
Eleanor, but her mother drew her away to one side and had her say.
“What do you s’pose I brought you over here for, Dodo? Not to gaze at
tumbled down churches or to go nosing about musty old places where queer
things are stuck up for folks to admire. No sir! I brought you here to
find a peer, and now, with the one all ready-made and at hand, you leave
him to Ruth Ashby—a girl not half as good-looking, or rich, as you!”
“See here, Ma,” retorted Dodo angrily; “I told you, before, that I
didn’t want to marry anyone. Now that I’ve met Polly and Eleanor, and I
know how fine a career will be, I am going to go in business, too.”
“Not if I know it! And your Pa worth a million dollars!” exclaimed the
irate woman.
“Polly and Eleanor are worth a lot of money, too, but that makes work
all the pleasanter. You don’t have to worry about bread and butter; and
you can travel, or do all the things necessary to perfect yourself in
your profession,” explained Dodo.
At that, the mother threw up her hands despairingly, and wailed: “To
think I should live to see this day! An only child turning against her
fond mother!”
“Pooh! You’re angry because I won’t toddle about and do exactly as you
say about Jimmy and his title,” Dodo said, scornfully.
“But he loves you, Dodo, and you are breaking his heart.”
Dodo laughed. “He acts like it, doesn’t he? Now if you go on this way,
Ma, I’ll run away and go back to the States. Once I am in New York, I’ll
stay there and earn my own living.”
That silenced her mother. “Oh, Dodo! I never meant you to feel like
that. I’ll never mention Jimmy again, if you’ll promise me you won’t
speak of business in front of anyone else?”
“I’ll only promise to do what any sensible girl would do under the same
circumstances, so there!” agreed Dodo. And her mother had to be content
with that crumb of comfort.
After a good dinner at Bristol, Mr. Fabian sat poring over a road-map,
deciding where next to go. While the elders in the party listened to
him, the young folks followed Jimmy’s beckoning hand and crept away.
They all jumped into the car and he drove off to celebrate the runaway.
That evening Jimmy spent money lavishly, and Angela’s suspicions were
convinced: he had borrowed or taken it from Mrs. Alexander at one of
their tête-à-têtes. But the girl said nothing; she was sorry for herself
and James, and felt that these despicable rich westerners could easily
part with some of their wealth.
It was past midnight when the merry party returned to the hotel, where
mothers sat up to scold their daughters for such an escapade. Youth
laughed at all such corrections, however, and then ran off to bed.
In the morning, no young member of the party was willing to get up and
start on the road. Hence it was quite late when they got into the cars
preparatory to touring again. Just as the signal was given for Jimmy to
lead off, an old man ran up, wildly gesticulating.
“E’en hear’n say you folks like odd bits of old stuff. Coom with me and
see my shaup daown in the lane.”
Mr. Fabian conversed with the old man for a few moments, and then asked
the others if they cared to stop at the shop as they drove past.
Everyone agreed, and the old man was asked to step up on the car and
direct them where to go.
Finally they drew up before a place in the outskirts of Bristol—a
veritable picture of a place. The one-story structure had its walls
panelled in sections and the plaster of these sections was white-washed.
The usual thatched roof and dormer windows topped the building, but the
roses rambled so riotously up over the thatch, and greenish moss grew in
spots, that the old place had a beautiful appearance.
Mr. Maxton rubbed his hands in delight, as he stood by and heard the
cries of admiration from his visitors. He loved the old place and took a
great pride in keeping it looking well.
Then they went indoors, leaving Jimmy and Mr. Alexander in the cars. The
front room was crowded full of old china, lamps, silver and other
curios, but Mr. Maxton led them directly to the rear room where the
furniture was kept.
“Here be a rale Windsor chair you’ll like,” said he, moving forward a
piece of furniture.
“My, Fabian! It must date back as early as 1690 to 1700,” whispered Mr.
Ashby, as he examined the crown center of the flat head-rest that
finished the comb-top at the back.
“It has the twisted upright rails at the back, and the turned rungs that
go with that period,” admitted Mr. Fabian, down upon his knees to
examine the chair.
“Girls, see that seat—scooped out to fit the body, but it is worn thin
with age along its front edge; and even the arms and legs are splintered
down from centuries of hard usage,” remarked Mr. Ashby.
While the two men and the dealer were bargaining over the chair, Mrs.
Alexander wandered back to the front room. There she found Ruth upon her
knees examining a wonderful, old carved chest.
“Isn’t this a darling, Mrs. Alex?” exclaimed the girl.
“What is it?” asked the woman, hardly interested.
“Why, it’s a fine old wedding-chest with exquisite panels on its front
and sides. The carving, alone, is unusual.”
“A wedding chest, eh. What would you use it for?” asked Mrs. Alexander,
taking a deeper interest in the article since the girl explained what
the object was.
“Why, any girl would be glad to start a hope-chest with this,” laughed
Ruth. “I’m going to ask Daddy to buy it for me, if it isn’t too costly.”
Mrs. Alexander’s fears took fire at that suggestive word, “hope-chest,”
from Ruth, and she turned instantly to rejoin the dealer in the back
room. He had just finished writing the directions for the shipping of
the chair he had sold, when she hurried across the room.
“Mr. Maxton, you have a carved chest in the front room. I want to buy
it—how much is it?” As she spoke, Mrs. Alexander took a purse out of
her bag and displayed a roll of bills.
The clever dealer saw this opportunity to drive a good bargain, and he
named his figure. Without demur, the lady counted down the money and
asked for a receipt.
Meanwhile the others had gone to the front room to see the purchase Mrs.
Alexander was making. She had shown no interest in antiques before, so
this must be an exceptional piece to lure her money from her.
“Daddy, do come here and tell me if I may have this old chest?” called
Ruth, still waiting beside the carved piece.
Then it became apparent that Ruth had wanted it for herself, but that
Mrs. Alexander secured it. Everyone wondered why?
Well pleased with her purchase, the new owner of the chest came from the
rear room and smiled complacently. Then she spoke to her daughter:
“Dodo, when we go to Paris you can fill that old wedding chest with a
trooso.”
“Oh yes? Whose is it, Ma?” asked the girl.
“Why yours, of course! That’s why I got it.”
“My very own! for keeps? Or are you only _lending_ it to me?”
“Your very own, deary! I hope you’ll pass it along to the noble children
I long to call my grandchildren, some day,” said Mrs. Alexander,
sentimentally.
“I thank you, Ma, and I’ll put it to the best use I can think of. And
I’ll pass it along—oh yes! but I doubt if grandchildren of yours ever
see it,” laughed Dodo, with a queer look.
“I’m glad you got it, Dodo, because it is a lovely thing,” said Ruth to
the fortunate owner, trying to hide her disappointment behind a smile.
“But you paid an outrageous price for it, Mrs. Alex,” said Mr. Fabian.
“Twice as much as he would have taken,” added Mr. Ashby.
“I don’t care what it cost. I’d have given ten times the price to have
it for Dodo,” snapped Mrs. Alexander, not feeling the delight she had
anticipated in the purchase.
Just then Mr. Alexander poked his bald head in at the doorway and said:
“Ain’t you folks most ready to go on?”
“Come here, Ebeneezer! I want you to give that address of the hotel in
Paris to this Mr. Maxton. I bought a chest for Dodo and he is to ship it
there, so’s I can fill it when I arrive,” said Mrs. Alexander.
“Have I got the address?” stammered her husband.
“Of course! In that red-covered leather memorandum book.”
Mr. Alexander searched in his pockets and finally brought out a little
book from his inside coat-pocket. He fumbled the pages as he sought for
the needed address, and murmured so that the others could distinctly
hear.
“H—um, what’s this? ‘Go to the barber’s for a clean shave every
day—don’t forget.’ It ain’t that.” Then he turned to the next page, and
squinted at the writing.
“‘Ne—ver use a knife at table when you eat—only to cut.’ It ain’t that
page, nuther.”
His wife remonstrated, and he suddenly said: “Wait now—here it ’tis:
‘Don’t go in front of others unless you say ‘excuse me.’ Don’t sit down
with ladies standing.’ Wall now, it ain’t on that page, either,” he
remarked, but Mrs. Alexander grew annoyed when she saw the sympathetic
smiles of their companions.
They recognized the “teacher’s” rules for their friend, and they felt
sorry for his lot in life. Then she snapped out: “Can’t you find it in
there, Eben?”
“No, b’ gosh! It ain’t down. All’s I can find is ‘don’ts and do’s’ what
you told me.”
“Give me the book—I’ll find it,” demanded his wife. “You never _could_
read your own writing.” And she took the book and quickly turned to the
last page. Then she read off the address to the waiting dealer. This
done she thrust the book back at her meek spouse.
“Well now! I never thought to look backwards first! I begun in the front
of the book like I was taught at school,” said Mr. Alexander to his
companions, in apology for his blunder.
The tourists finally got away from Bristol but they were too late to
make Birmingham that night. So they planned to stop at Gloucester or
Worcester, which ever was most convenient.