While the cars were speeding over the long flat country that stretched
away after leaving Bristol, Dodo entered into a confidential chat with
Ruth who sat in the back seat beside her. Although it was against
Jimmy’s wishes, Angela managed to get in the front seat beside him, in
order to give him some sound advice about his future.
“I just heard, Ruth, that you would have a birthday, shortly,” began
Dodo.
“Yes, but who told you so?” returned Ruth.
“Polly mentioned it, and I said that I hoped we would all be with you to
help celebrate. When is it?”
“Not for three weeks yet, Dodo. And I expect to be at Uncle’s, then.
They’ll give me a party, I suppose,” said Ruth.
“Well, that’s too bad—that we won’t be together—as I have a little
gift for you and I hope you’ll like it.”
“Oh, Dodo! How nice of you. I really did not look for anything from
anyone, you know,” cried Ruth, delightedly.
“Maybe not, dearie; and this isn’t much—not what you deserve, but it is
a little remembrance, as you will find when you get it. I’m not going to
give it to you until the day arrives, but when you open it you’ll
understand everything that I can’t explain to you, now,” explained Dodo.
“Whatever it is, little or big, I will like it, Do, as coming from your
generous heart. Even a flower from my friends is more than a jewel from
someone who doesn’t mean it,” said Ruth.
“I know that, Ruth, and that’s why I want to give you something you’ll
like. You are true blue, and you deserve all the joy one can give you.”
“It’s awfully good of you, Dodo, to say that,” smiled Ruth, although
tears of pleasure welled up in her eyes.
The other girls had overheard the conversation and now they chimed in.
“Dodo’s right, Ruth. You’re just fine!”
Later in the afternoon, Jimmy stopped his car at a tiny farmhouse with
the spoken intention of getting a drink of water. But his subtle reason
was to get Angela _out_ of the front seat and Ruth _in_ it. “Who wants a
drink?” called he, as he jumped out and started for the cottage.
“I do!” cried Polly, getting out to go after him.
At the open door of the humble dwelling, the two looked in and saw the
house-wife bending over a cook-stove, turning some doughnuts in a pan of
hot fat. Jimmy waited until she had finished and then said: “May we have
a drink, if you please?”
His smile and manner were very pleasing, and Polly saw how people fell
before his winsome way. “Just a minute—I’ll draw some fresh cold water
for you,” said the woman.
“Oh, do let me help you!” exclaimed Jimmy, whipping off his cap as he
hurried through the room to carry the pail the woman had taken.
The two of them went out to the back-shed where the water ran, and
filled the pail. Meanwhile, Polly gazed about the interior of the little
house. She saw several objects which might be old pieces, so she
wondered how she could get Mr. Fabian there to judge.
As Jimmy came in, carrying the pail, and the woman held a tin dipper for
the tourists, he remarked as he passed the cook-stove: “My, how good
those doughnuts smell.” And he sniffed.
“You shall hov some!” declared the woman, laughingly.
“Oh no! I couldn’t think of it,” objected Jimmy, hoping all the time to
be persuaded into taking some.
“I knows what young boys’ appetites is like,” chaffed the woman, taking
a large platter from the corner cupboard and piling a heap of doughnuts
upon it.
Jimmy laughingly protested, but she waved him out and followed at his
heels. When they reached the cars, she proffered the platter to the
_gentlemen_ first. Polly tried to get Mr. Fabian’s eye to tell him about
the furniture in the cottage.
But his eyes were rivetted on the old Staffordshire platter that held
the refreshments. He nudged Mr. Ashby and both men eagerly took the
dish. As they gazed at it, and then passed it on to the ladies to help
themselves first, they exchanged opinions.
“It’s the rare old blue that seems etched on the ivory glaze,” whispered
Mr. Fabian.
“Where that came from, there may be more,” added Mr. Ashby, eagerly.
The platter had reached Mr. Alexander on its return trip to the men,
when the little man took two doughnuts, one in each hand.
“Ebeneezer Alexander! How can you? Don’t you know what your red book
says?” scolded his wife.
“I dun’t care, Maggie! I’m good and hongry and dunnits always was my
temptation. These smell like your’n ust to before we got too rich for
you to cook.”
Mrs. Alexander tried to hide the smile of satisfaction that tried to
creep up into her face. She reached out her hand for one of his
doughnuts, without saying a word. But Mr. Alexander moved away out of
her reach.
He hurriedly held at arm’s length the hand that held one doughnut, while
he took several great bites from the tidbit held in the other hand, lest
his wife compel him to give up his treasure trove. The others laughed at
him, and Mr. Ashby said:
“I don’t blame you, Mr. Alex. If our wives would cook, as once they did,
we wouldn’t have to act so childishly when we travel.”
The platter was emptied and when the farmer’s wife turned to go back to
her work, Mr. Fabian and Mr. Ashby insisted upon carrying the pail and
dipper, to the amazement of those in the car. Polly understood and
nudged Eleanor to follow, too.
“This is a very fine old dish, madam,” remarked Mr. Ashby.
“Oh yes, it’s a bit of old blue I’ve had in the kitchen for years. I
remember how mother used to heap up this same plate with scones, for us
chillern,” replied the woman, smiling at the platter.
“Are there many such pieces of blue in this section of the country?”
asked Mr. Fabian, while Polly and her companions listened eagerly for
the reply.
“Summat; but my gude mon stacked our’n up in the back-shed when us
wanted to use the front cupboard for my new chiny.”
“Would you like to sell it?” was Mr. Ashby’s tense query.
“D’ye think it would be wuth summat? I’ do be thinking of laying by a
few bits, this year, to buy us a wool carpet.”
“Perhaps we will buy some pieces and pay you as much as anyone else you
might meet,” suggested Mr. Fabian.
As they entered the low-ceiled room of the cottage, the woman said:
“Come out back and we won’t have to carry so far to the front room.”
She went through a tiny door that opened to the small lean-to, and then
began taking all sorts of old dishes from the corner cupboard that her
husband had constructed to hold the accumulation of generations. As the
collectors saw choice pieces so carelessly handled they held their
breaths in dread.
“Now this old blue belonged to my gran’faither afore it come down to us.
He, and my faither after him, lived on this same farm. Us had no son so
the home come to me as eldest of the family.”
As she spoke, the woman carried armfuls of dishes out to the table in
the middle of the room. Some was worthless trash, but there were several
pieces of rare Staffordshire, and some fine bits of old lustre-ware. In
the last armful she carried to the table, were some valuable Wedgwood
jugs and bowls.
“Us got an old pink set, in the front room, but us don’ use it now that
us got a fine new chiny set,” said the woman, turning to go for a sample
of the pink ware.
“You pick out what you want here, and I’ll go and see if the pink is
genuine pink Staffordshire,” whispered Mr. Ashby.
So Mr. Fabian soon set aside all the real good pieces on the table, and
in so doing noticed the table itself.
“Why!” gasped he to Polly, “I verily believe this is the real
Hepplewhite!”
Instantly he began a close examination of it, and smiled as he examined.
“With careful restoring you would have as fine a Hepplewhite as any in
America,” he said to Polly.
“Oh, then do let us take it!” exclaimed Polly, eagerly.
The table started them examining other broken down, or criminally
painted, objects of furniture in the shed, and when Mr. Ashby returned,
carrying a plate of pink Staffordshire, those who had remained behind in
the shed were greatly elated over something.
“Oh, Mr. Ashby! just see what we found!” cried Polly.
“While you were away I discovered a Hepplewhite table, Ashby,” explained
Mr. Fabian. “And Polly got the girls to help remove all the paint-pots
and trash from this bureau to make sure it was what she thought. Look!”
Mr. Ashby was taken over to the little bureau which had been used for a
catch-all for years. Its drawers were over-flowing with rags and
garden-tools, but nothing could hide the true lines of a genuine
Sheraton piece.
“Well I never! To think such a gem should be so treated!” murmured Mr.
Ashby.
The others laughed delightedly at his amazement. But the owner now
joined them again, and Mr. Fabian began bargaining.
“Are you satisfied with the prices paid you for the old china?” asked
he, as an introduction to further dealing.
“Oh my! Us begin to see that wool carpet,” laughed she.
“Would you sell this old table and bureau?” continued he.
“Them! I should say so!” retorted she, emphatically.
Instantly a price was offered and eagerly accepted between the two, and
the table and bureau became the property of Polly and Eleanor. As Mr.
Ashby said: “The basis of your business-to-come.”
Dodo had found some old brass candlesticks and a china group that proved
to be old Dresden. These she hugged tightly as they all left the cottage
followed by the blessings of the woman.
“My goodness! see what’s coming?” laughed Jimmy, as he watched the five
collectors file down the pathway, each one loaded with china.
“Where do you expect us to sit?” added Mrs. Fabian.
“On the running-board, to be sure,” retorted her husband.
“Yes, because this fine blue takes precedence over modern objects, even
though they be mortals,” chuckled Mr. Ashby.
“You-all just ought to see the pink set Mr. Ashby got!” exclaimed Dodo,
intensely interested in this quest of the antique.
Mrs. Alexander noted the bright eyes and flushed face, and determined to
keep Dodo away from such dangerous interests.
“And the old table and bureau that Nolla and I got for a song!” cried
Polly, also highly pleased with the purchases.
“Best of all, that good woman is so happy to know she is able to get the
‘wool carpet’ she has wanted for years, that her blessings will travel
with us for many a year to come,” added Mr. Fabian, turning to wave his
hand at the farmer’s wife as she stood in the doorway waving her apron
at the tourists.
After the dishes were safely stowed away, Angela was induced to give her
place, in the first car, to Mr. Fabian, so that he could talk to the
other girls about the relative values of china.
Angela took no interest in these matters, so she willingly climbed in
with the elders in the second car; and Mr. Fabian began a dissertation
on blue, pink and brown Staffordshire; gold, silver, and bronze, or
copper lustre-ware; Wedgwood, Derby, and Worcester ware, and
salt-glaze—which was finest of all when it was genuine antique.
Jimmy had grown very impatient while waiting at the farmhouse and when
Angela exchanged seats with Mr. Fabian to permit him to lecture the
girls on china, the young man frowned. Finally he became so irritated at
what he considered “bally mush,” and not being able to flirt with Ruth
who sat in the back seat, he ran the car through all the ruts and over
all the rocks he found in the way. This shook up the passengers
uncomfortably and interrupted the flow of eloquence from Mr. Fabian. But
he and his girls were so absorbed in the subject that they never dreamed
the roughness of the road could have been avoided by discontented Jimmy.
Angela, sitting beside Mrs. Alexander, made the most of her opportunity.
She managed to ferret out just how much money Dodo would inherit, and
what Mrs. Alexander might be persuaded to do for an acceptable husband
for the girl. So cleverly was this information secured that the informer
failed to realize she was being “put through the third degree.”
Angela was a sweet pretty girl but had experienced so many unpleasant
sacrifices since her father’s tremendous losses that she had grown
callous to all higher feelings. Her sole ambition, now, was to secure
_her_ future either by Jimmy’s marriage to money, or by her own escape
from the bondage of poverty by marriage.
She fully realized that most desirable young men in England were in the
same position as her father and brother, hence she had not much choice
of escape that way. But with Jimmy—upon him rested the salvation of the
family and its debts.
Mr. Fabian was still talking “antiques” when the cars reached
Gloucester, so Jimmy steered through, by way of side streets, and then
drove through the famous cotswolds, on the way to Worcester.
A few miles this side of Worcester, Polly spied a very old-looking house
standing under a group of giant trees which must have been hundreds of
years old.
“Oh, I just know there will be old pieces in that place!” exclaimed she,
leaning forward eagerly.
“Stop, Jimmy! Oh, do make him stop, Prof!” cried Eleanor.
“Do!” added Dodo. “We are almost in Worcester, anyway, so a few minutes
more won’t matter.”
“Everyone is so tired with the drive, I don’t see why we must halt
again,” complained Mrs. Alexander, impatiently.
“Suppose your car drives on, then, and we will stop to inquire if we can
secure any old things,” suggested Mr. Fabian.
But no one wanted to do this, so both cars stopped while the two men and
the girls went to the house. This time no subterfuge was used, but the
question was plainly asked:
“Do you happen to have any old dishes for sale?”
“And furniture?” added Polly, anxiously.
The surprised woman laughed at the unusual query, but she nodded and
said: “I got some black china, and several queer bowls and pots that I
might sell—if you make it wuth while.”
The collectors all filed into the cottage, then, and the impatient
travellers left in the cars had to cool their tempers well, before they
saw their friends appear again. When they did come forth, however, they
brought with them several old tobys, a few bowls, a number of pieces of
black Staffordshire, an old knife-box of fine inlaid work, a mahogany
dressing-mirror exquisitely stencilled and a knitted bed-coverlet with
raised roses and scalloped edges.
“Oh now! This is expecting too much of Job!” called Mrs. Ashby, when she
saw the consternation expressed on Jimmy and his sister’s faces.
“When we started on this tour you never said a word about founding a
second-hand business,” added Mrs. Fabian, secretly amused at the
collectors, and the chagrin so evident on the faces of their two
“English cousins.”
“One never can tell what will happen when you take fanatics on a trip,”
retorted Mr. Ashby, depositing his burden on the ground beside the car.
Then began another exodus of the passengers until a complete
readjustment of all the various purchases could be made. While the two
men were carefully packing away the precious objects, Polly said: “We
had to leave behind the best piece of all—a chair of satin-wood with
daintily turned legs and rungs. But they were splintered and the rush
seat was broken through.”
“Don’t forget, Polly, that the thing that counted most—the beautifully
stencilled back slats with their fruit and roses as clear as the day
they were done, was in good preservation,” added Eleanor.
“Then why didn’t you buy it?” snapped Angela, angrily.
“Oh, we did!” replied Dodo. “At least, I did. But I couldn’t carry it
out, so it will have to be shipped home when the other things go.”
“You got it?” cried her mother. “What for?”
“For my shop, of course. I’m going into decorating, too, and open a fine
place of business,” giggled Dodo, tantalizingly.
“Not on _my_ money! You’ve got to make a good match over here,”
commanded her mother.
Little Mr. Alexander had not had much chance to speak during the day, as
antiques and talks on such subjects were not in his line. But now he
scented battle on his own preserves, and he threw out his chest and
thrust his hands deep into his trouser pockets—a habit he had when he
wished to impress his wife.
“Well, now, mebbe Dodo can’t open shop on your money, Maggie, but she
can on _mine_! If she wants to do that ruther’n get spliced to a
furriner, who’s going to stop her, I’d like to know!”
That effectually ended the tirade for the time being, and when everybody
was seated again, Jimmy was made supremely happy to find Ruth beside
him, once more.
The only subject that interested the majority of the tourists that
evening, after dinner, was the discussion of the various pieces
purchased that day, and the examination of them. Mr. Ashby and Mr.
Fabian knew so much about collections of antiques that the stories they
told were most interesting to the girls.
But Jimmy and Mrs. Alexander were bored to death by the conversation, so
that they soon made their way out of the hotel, in search of
distraction. Not long after they had escaped from the company of the
others, another packet of bills passed from Mrs. Alexander’s hands to
the young man’s pockets. But it was a personal matter that concerned no
one but themselves, said she, and Jimmy anxiously agreed to the
condition.
“Of course you know, Mrs. Alex, that nothing on earth could make me
accept this gift from you, if matters with the Pater were not awfully
tangled, this year,” explained Jimmy, hurriedly.
“Don’t mention it, dear boy! I’m so glad I can give it to one I think so
highly of. Some day you will be able to do a good turn for me,” replied
Mrs. Alexander, affably.
Jimmy understood too well, both from Angela and Mrs. Alexander, what was
expected of him, but he hadn’t a thought for Dodo, because he was
infatuated with Ruth. And she, nice little girl, hadn’t a fortune to
bless him with. So he forced the future still further into the
background, and took the money that was offered him, the while he basked
in Ruth’s sunny smiles.
In the morning the cars started for Birmingham, which was on the road to
Lichfield. But the city was smoky and uninviting because of its
factories and filth, so they chose a side-road that would bring them to
the beautiful edifice that makes Lichfield a Mecca for lovers of the
ancient and rare.
The cathedral, from a distance, looks like a fret-work of finest lace.
And as one draws nearer, its patterns show up clearer, until one is
quite close, when the outlined designs on the front of the building
compel even the indifferent to stand and gaze in admiration.
Mr. Fabian pointed out the marvellous sculpturing of the arch, the tiers
of niches with their protected figures, the two spires and other
beauties, then he led his friends inside the cathedral. Here they saw
the ancient Bible with its illuminated and designed pages, and then they
visited the Chapter House.
Upon seeing the others follow Mr. Fabian indoors, Mr. Alexander remarked
jocularly: “I’m afraid of visitin’ so many churches, ’cause the good I
get will cure me smokin’ my old pipe. And I woulden’ go back on that old
pal for all the cathedrals in this wurrold.”
They left him sitting on the running-board, contentedly puffing at the
black “evil” aforementioned; but when they all came forth, again, Mr.
Alexander was nowhere to be seen.
After shouting and searching for ten minutes, or more, he was still
absent and the natives could not say that they had even seen him about.
“I knew how it would be if Ebeneezer came to Europe!” exclaimed Mrs.
Alexander, impatiently.
“Pa is able to take care of himself, never worry,” added Dodo.
“But he is always cutting such capers,” complained his wife. “One minute
he’s here, and the next he isn’t!”
The remark caused a general smile and Mrs. Alexander thought she had
said something very clever, so she smiled, too. Perhaps the smile made
her feel better-natured, for she joined the men when they resumed their
search for the missing man.
Jimmy went to the authorities to question what had best be done about
the matter of finding Mr. Alexander; the other two men had gone in
opposite directions to ask natives if they had seen such a man as they
described and the women walked about, calling aloud or poking under
shrubs, and back of cottages, where he might have taken a nap.
Finally a little man sauntered from the cathedral and stood gazing about
in surprise at the ladies—they acted so queerly. He began loading his
pipe from the old tobacco pouch and as he called out to his friends who
were scattered far and wide, they looked up and started for him.
“Where _have_ you been? You’ve made the most trouble—losing yourself in
this ridiculous way!” scolded his wife.
“Why, I wasn’t lost! I kind’a thought it was wicked in me to sit with my
pipe when I oughter be seeing that church, so I tucked away my old
friend and follered you-all. I hunted most an hour for you-all, but I
diden’ see hide ner hair of anyone I knew. But I did see a lot of
figgers stuck up in the walls, and a lot of folks starin’ at ’em. So I
come along out again.”
His description made everyone, but his wife, laugh. She shook her head
despairingly at such behavior, and refused to look at her spouse for the
rest of the day. But that seemed not to dampen his feelings a whit.
Rather he felt relieved, he said.
From Lichfield the cars turned due west and drove to Wolverhampton.
While driving through Wales, the tourists found great entertainment in
trying to converse with the Welshmen they met along the road.
The country was beautiful with its rugged hills and heather-clothed
fields. The road to Bangor ran through the most picturesque section of
all this scenic beauty, and the girls took many snapshots of the
artistic views.
The route planned led to Bangor, where the tourists stayed over-night.
No one cared to cross St. George’s Channel and arrive in Dublin at
night, for they had been hearing too much about the Irish riots, to
deliberately choose to stay at any hotel where bricks and shot might
strike innocent heads at any time.
It was during the evening spent at Bangor, that Jimmy beheld Eleanor
Maynard with different eyes. Ruth had suddenly palled on him, and his
heart grew cold towards her charm and beauty. But Ruth paid no attention
to his change of tactics. She had smilingly accepted homage, and she as
smilingly waived it again. Jimmy’s ardent protests of enduring faith and
love were empty words to her. The candy and tokens were tangible
delights.
What opened Jimmy’s “love-eyes” to Eleanor’s apparent value was her
remark about butterfly lovers.
“I never could stand a man who buzzed about from one blossom to another
like a butterfly,” commented Eleanor.
“Nor I. But then, you and I, Nolla, always knew real _men_,” added
Polly.
“If other girls had the advantages we western girls have, of knowing
great big heroes of the plains, they’d soon sicken of society idiots,”
declared Dodo.
Ruth and Nancy were the audience to these remarks, but Angela was having
a tête-à-tête with Mrs. Alexander. Jimmy stood eagerly watching the five
girls, comparing notes on each other.
“Well, I never was west, so I only know the kind of a beau that Jimmy
Osgood represents,” giggled Ruth. “As long as they are not serious, and
are useful in giving you candy and flowers, they answer a certain
purpose.”
Ruth had been so cloyingly sweet and responsive to all his (Jimmy’s)
advances, that this speech from her suddenly broke the spell he had been
under. From that moment on, Jimmy had no eyes for a girl who could be so
unkind.
“Poor Jimmy! Ruth, you will break his heart if he ever hears of what you
said,” remarked Eleanor, and that sympathetic rejoinder to Ruth’s
heartless chatter drew Jimmy to a new star in the firmament of his
hopes.
No one knew that Jimmy had been accidentally eaves-dropping, so when
they began to climb into the cars the next morning, to go to Dublin,
everyone was surprised to find how carefully Jimmy assisted Eleanor to
the front seat—the place he considered a seat of honor.