Polly and Her Friends Abroad

Having seen the best examples of old furniture on exhibition in the Museum, Mr. Fabian prepared to go. As they walked quietly through the corridor to the main entrance, he said impressively: “I consider you girls have seen some of the best products to be found in the world today. The results of many ideals and hard work.

“You must know, that a good ideal thought plans a perfect chair or table; and that thought eventually expresses itself in the object it sees in mind. If the object is a thing of beauty and a joy forever, it elevates the whole world just that much. If it falls short of the artist’s ideals and hopes, he must do it over again, sooner or later, to reach the perfect model in mind. Thus he expresses God (good) in his ideals. If he refuses to try again to perfect his work, he knows he has failed utterly and he has nothing but the result of lowering his ideal – failure and deformity.”

As he ceased speaking, Mr. Fabian found the girls were intensely interested in his little lecture, and he smiled as Polly cried: “Oh, tell us some more along that line, please!”

“Well, I wish to impress upon you that in your work you must express the highest ideal or be a failure. Now God, Good, is Mind, and this Mind must be expressed in countless manifestations to be seen by us. Unexpressed it is a non-entity, and does not exist. Art and beauty are forms of ideal manifestation, and this manifestation objectifies itself in divan, lamp, rug or ornament, for you.

“To be a perfect thing, it must have God, or Mind, as its Creator, but this God uses you, His child, as the channel through which He works. If you obey that idealistic desire and work the best you know how, God sends added understanding and assistance to help you perfect the object, thus it becomes good and true. Now evil works, too, but just in the opposite directions; hence, if you give in to greed, avarice, dishonesty, envy, or the multitude of weapons evil always has on hand to tempt you with, you inevitably must produce an inharmonious result, and the repelling effects that go to cause criticism and dissatisfaction with all who thereafter look at the object.

“That is why that roistering armchair displeases a true and idealistic artist. It was not produced by a true and high-minded individual who hoped to bring forth a model of line and color, but who had only in mind, at the time, the production of a stout piece of furniture that would withstand the tests and offer a seat to the drunkards of that time; and would also resist the fierce quarrels and fights so common between gamblers who frequented the taverns of that day.”

“I wish to goodness I knew as much as you do about all these interesting things, Mr. Fabian!” declared Polly, yearningly.

“That is the sweetest praise a man can have, Polly dear; to wish to stand in my shoes in experience,” smiled Mr. Fabian. “But the very desire when truly entertained, will bring about the thing you so earnestly desire. For you know, ‘Desire is prayer.’”

Mrs. Fabian smiling at her husband, now said, “Why not add a benediction to this little sermonette, dear?” Then turning to the girls, she quoted: “‘Give up imperfect models and illusive ideals; and so let us have one God (Good), One Mind, and that one perfect, producing His own models of excellence.’”

That evening, the clerk at the hotel office handed Mr. Fabian a card.

“Why, how strange!” remarked he, glancing again, at the pasteboard in his hand.

“What is it?” asked Nancy, trying to look over his shoulder.

“The Alexanders were here. As we were out they left a card saying that they were going on to Paris, at once, and would see us at the hotel where we said we would stop.”

“How very strange!” exclaimed Mrs. Fabian, while the girls wondered what had happened to so suddenly change the minds of their friends.

“I never heard of anything like that. One day Mrs. Alexander was crazy to visit the Osgoods, and now they run away and are as crazy to reach Paris,” said Eleanor.

“I’m glad for Dodo’s sake. The poor girl didn’t want to go to Osgood Hall, at all, and I know how she felt about Jimmy,” said Polly.

“Maybe that’s what caused all the fuss. Dodo put down her foot and refused him outright, and that made his folks too angry to forgive her,” said Eleanor, romancing.

“Well, now she can go along with us, can’t she Daddy, and get all the information she wants, from visiting the places we go to.”

“With her parents’ consent, I should like to help Dodo to a higher plane for herself,” returned Mr. Fabian.

As they started again for their rooms, Polly laughed at a sudden memory. “Oh, maybe Ebeneezer’s poisonous black pipe played such havoc at the first dinner at Osgood Hall, that the guests couldn’t stand it, and he was sent away with his friend.”

Everyone laughed merrily at Polly’s picture of Mr. Alexander and his old friend pipe.

The next day after the Fabian party returned from the last sight-seeing in London, a wire was handed the man of the group. He opened it hastily, and read aloud: “Send word when you leave for Paris. Will meet you at train with car. Alexander.”

“Now that is really nice of the little man, I say,” added Mr. Fabian, as he handed the message to his wife.

“Then you’d better wire him at once, for we plan to go tomorrow,” advised Mrs. Fabian.

Everything had been attended to in London, and the girls took a farewell look at the city as they sped away to Dover where they expected to take the Channel Boat for Havre.

Much has been said about the rough crossing of this little strip of water, but the girls found it as quiet as a mill-pond, and the steamer skimmed the waves like a sea-gull. The ride in the dusty train, from Havre to Paris, was the most unpleasant part of the trip. But upon leaving the train at Paris, they saw Dodo and her father anxiously scanning the faces that passed by.

“Here we are, Dodo!” called Polly, eagerly, as she jumped forward and caught her friend’s hand.

“Dear me! I’m as glad to see you-all as I can be,” cried Dodo, shaking everyone eagerly by the hand.

“Yeh, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” remarked her father.

“We’ve only been in Paris a day and night, but Pa hasn’t any French with him, and I’ve only got a few words that I am always using mistakenly, so we’re happy to have someone who can speak and understand the lingo” laughed Dodo, happily.

They all got into the luxurious car that had carried them so many miles over England, and as they sank down upon the soft cushions, Polly said: “An automobile really is nicer than a hard old steam-tram.”

Mrs. Fabian, always polite, asked: “How is your mother, Dodo?”

“Last time we saw her she was first class, thank you.”

“She may be having high-sterics now, however,” added Mr. Alexander, chucklingly.

“What do you mean? Isn’t she well?” asked Mrs. Fabian.

“We hope she is well, Mrs. Fabian, but we left her at Osgood Hall, while we eloped to Paris,” laughed Dodo.

“Eloped! What are you talking about, child?” demanded Mrs. Fabian, while the girls sat up, eager to hear a story.

“Pa and I just had to elope, you know, to save our lives. We waited until Ma got nicely settled with the family, then we got in the car and ran away. We haven’t heard, yet, in answer to our telegram from here, so we’re frightened to pieces lest Ma packs up and comes after us,” explained Dodo.

But this fear was quieted when they all went into the hotel and the clerk handed Mr. Alexander a message. He opened it with trembling fingers, and suddenly sat down in a great chair.

“Goodness me, Pa! What is it? Is she coming for us?” cried Dodo, in an agony of suspense.

“No – that’s why I caved in, Dodo. The relief was so turrible!” sighed the little man.

Everyone felt sorry for these two, but the situation was so funny that they laughed in spite of their trying not to.

“Yes, laugh,” giggled Dodo, “that’s just what Pa and I did when we got well away on the road to London. When I think of how they must have looked when they read the note I pinned on my cushion for Ma, I have to laugh myself.”

“What was in the note, Do?” asked Eleanor, curiously.

“I said I was eloping with the man I loved best on earth – which was true, you know. And I knew I could never be happy with a title, as long as I loved this everyday man. That was true, too. So I was fleeing with him, to Paris, where I hoped to meet her some day and ask her forgiveness.”

The girls laughed heartily at Dodo’s note, and Polly said she was awfully clever to think it out that way.

“Oh, but it was Pa who planned it all. And when we got to Paris, he wired back to Ma, saying: ‘Got Dodo in time. Never laid eyes on that young man, but will keep her safe with me. Better not try to join us yet, she may not want to be reminded of the good home and young man she ran away from.’”

“And this is what Ma wired back,” said Mr. Alexander, sitting up to read the message. “Just read Dodo’s note about her elopement. Glad you are after her, Eben. Don’t let her marry any man, while there is a chance of Jimmy. Maggie.”

“So now, folks, Ma is safe at Osgood Hall, and we are here, with our car, with you. What’s to hinder us from taking you all over Europe in the old machine, eh?” eagerly asked Mr. Alexander.

“Your offer is very attractive, Mr. Alex,” returned Mr. Fabian, “but I am not in a position to accept it without consulting further with my wife and the girls.”

“Why not? Here’s a car and a fine chauffeur for you-all to use as you like, and you admit that you’re going to visit the big cities of Europe, and that means travel in some sort of way.”

“Oh yes, that part of the plan is as you say,” admitted Mr. Fabian, “but there is more to it than mere travelling. You must understand that Mrs. Alexander has a claim on that car, too, and I don’t see how we can tour away from Paris in her car without her knowledge and willing consent.”

“Oh, as for that!” retorted the little husband, “she’d be only too glad to hear Dodo was safe with you folks on a tour. Diden’ I tell you-all that she’s happy where she is, and nothin’ can tear her away from the Osgoods, at present?”

“Besides that, I want to stay with you-all,” added Dodo, plaintively. “So that I can get more knowledge of decorating, because I’ve made up my mind, once and for all time, to go into a business as you girls propose doing.”

Mr. Fabian yearned to encourage the girl in her ambition, but he was adamant when it came to using the Alexander car under the circumstances. All the persuasions of father and daughter could not move him from what he considered to be a just decision.

There the matter was left for the time being, but Mr. Fabian was not so narrow-minded that he refused to drive about Paris with the little man, on the different occasions when he and his party were invited to go.

The day after their arrival at the hotel in Paris, Polly said to Dodo: “Did your wedding-chest arrive here safely?”

“Yes, it came, and it’s gone again.”

“Gone again! Where?” said surprised Polly.

“Gone to Ruth – for her birthday gift,” giggled Dodo.

“Not really! Why how wonderful for Ruth,” exclaimed the girls in a chorus.

Dodo smiled. “Don’t you remember what I said to Ruth about a little gift, the day we drove away from that old shop?”

“I remember, but no one dreamed you meant that chest,” replied Polly.

“I made up my mind about it, the moment I found how Ma got it from under Ruth’s nose. That’s why I made Ma say the chest was my very own – so she could not come back at me and say I had no right to give it away.”

“Dodo, you are splendid in your generous way of giving. If only everyone was like you!” cried Polly, giving her a hug.

“There! That hug means more to me than a wedding-chest,” laughed Dodo, pink with pleasure.

When Mrs. Fabian heard of the gift to Ruth she caught the girl’s hand and said: “Dodo, Ruth will be so happy, I know.”

“Dear me, you-all make as much fuss over that chest as if I had to earn the money for it. I can’t forget that we have more cash than we can ever spend honestly,” declared Dodo.

When Mrs. Fabian told her husband about the gift and Dodo’s point of view about wealth, it had more influence with him than anyone could have thought for. He felt that Dodo and her father were really worth-while characters, but there was a roughness about them that needed some polishing before the purity and beauty of their souls would shine forth resplendently and make others appreciate them.

The streets of Paris were anything but good for motoring because of the broken cobbles, and deep ruts in the roads. The disagreeable odors, too, created by poor sanitation in the city, caused Polly and her chums to cover their noses many a time.

“I like the wonders of Paris, but I can’t say that I like the people and the everyday annoyances,” remarked Polly, one day.

“The shops are beautiful!” said Eleanor.

“And the signs – they are marvellous,” added Dodo.

Mr. Fabian laughed at the individual tastes, and Mrs. Fabian said: “Well, we can’t get away any too soon to please me.”

“‘Them’s our sentiments, too,’” laughed Polly.

“I’ll hate to leave the Bohemian Restaurants,” sighed Nancy. “I always did like to sit under a tall palm and watch the people parade by, so near me that I could reach out a hand and catch hold of them.”

“Now that all but Mr. Alex and I have had a say I’ll add, that I like Paris because of the marvellous collections for artists to visit, and profit by,” remarked Mr. Fabian.

“An’ I like the gay town because no one bothers you. You can smoke a pipe, or do any durn thing without someone’s kickin’,” added little Mr. Alexander.

His opinion drew a general laughter from the group.

From the first day of the arrival of Mr. Fabian and his party, little Mr. Alexander had daily exchanged messages with his wife, hoping in that way, to receive one that would convince Mr. Fabian that he must make use of the car for the tour of the Continent. But he could not read his wife’s confused statements and feel that the right one had yet arrived for him to use in this need.

The day the girls started for the Louvre, Mr. Alexander and his car had been refused because, they said, they would be busy in the Galleries all day and could not ask him to sit outside waiting for their appearance.

So they left him sitting at a writing table in the hotel, and started for the Louvre. As they approached the grounds of the famous museum, they were thrilled with the magnificence of the place.

“It is considered the finest museum in the world, and contains rarest national collections of art and antiquity that date back as far as Philippe Auguste, in 1180,” explained Mr. Fabian. “Philippe Auguste built a fortress here to protect the walls of his hunting-box where it touched the river. This old foundation can be seen by visitors on certain days, and I arranged so that we would come on one of the days.”

So the girls followed their escort down to the cellars, where the old walls were seen. But they were not deeply interested in foundations with no claim to beauty or value for the world, so they soon returned to the Halls where the antiques were on exhibition.

To reach the Rotonde D’ Apollon, Mr. Fabian led the girls past Galleries filled with paintings, sculptures, ivories and other art treasures. Then having seen these collections, they passed through a seventh century iron gateway brought from the Chateau de Maisons, and entered the magnificent room which was sixty-one metres long and was built in the time of Henri IV. In this galerie, as in others following it, there were shown such placques, vases, dishes, and other objects of art, that the beholders were silent with admiration.

Beyond the Salle des Bronzes Antiques, where very fine examples of bronzes were to be seen, the girls visited five rooms containing 17th and early 18th century furniture. Here they also found several exquisite Gobelin and Mortlake tapestries.

That evening the hotel clerk handed Mr. Fabian a legal looking envelope, which, upon being opened, proved to contain the passes necessary for visitors to enter and see the famous tapestries woven by the Gobelin Society.

“Ah! Now you girls will see something worth while,” remarked Mr. Fabian, holding the slips of paper above his head. “I have here the ‘open sesame’ to the National Manufactory of the Gobelins which still is housed in the grounds of Louis the XVIth. There we may feast our eyes on some of the examples of weaving that has made this Society so famous.”

“When will we go?” asked Polly, eagerly.

“Tomorrow, the passes say.”

Everyone expressed an eagerness to see these looms and the method of making the tapestries, so it was planned that the entire party should go, excepting Mr. Alexander who preferred a drive in his car after leaving his friends at their destination.

CHAPTER VIII – DODO MEETS ANOTHER “TITLE”

The next day they visited the Gobelin Tapestries. There was but one word to express the wonderful work exhibited – and that was “Exquisite.” Some of these tapestries are “worth a crown.”

“It doesn’t seem possible that anyone could weave such delicate lace-like patterns with mere threads and human hands,” said Polly.

“And such colorings, too! Did you ever see such green velvety lichen as seems growing on those old grey monoliths?” added Eleanor.

“See the tiny dash of red that is necessary, given by the pigeon berry growing in that lichen,” remarked Polly.

The others said nothing, because they were so impressed by the beauty of the complete picture that the details failed to reach them. Then Mr. Fabian told the history of the Gobelins.

“In its foundation year there were two hundred and fifty weavers engaged in weaving these marvellous tapestries. But that number has dwindled, today, to sixty. And there used to be an annual appropriation of two hundred thousand francs that today has dwindled, also; to fifty thousand francs.

“The famous old Gobelins owned by the State, and exhibited at the Museums and at public buildings in Paris, are today worth fortunes. Few are owned by the Trade and such as are are the more modern pieces that date back to Napoleon III.

“Many pieces of rare Gobelins were sold because of royal vicissitudes previous to 1870, but since then no tapestries have been available to the public. This enhances the value of any Gobelin that was sold to assist the Treasury in 1852.

“One of the most famous series ever produced, known as ‘Portières of the Gods,’ consists of eight pieces, representing the four seasons and the four elements. Each design is personified by one of the gods or goddesses of Olympus. This series has been repeated until there are two hundred and thirty-seven sets that left the looms.

“When one of these portières of the gods appear in a sale there is most lively bidding for it, and prices soar higher than any other Gobelin usually brings.

“The ‘Don Quixote’ series of five pieces, is perhaps the most famous of all Gobelins recently sold. To show the keen appreciation of such tapestry, the price paid at a sale of such was six hundred thousand francs.”

As Mr. Fabian concluded, Polly laughingly remarked: “I wonder if Nolla and I will ever reach that degree in decorating where a customer will commission us to go and buy such a tapestry.”

“Of course you will! As soon as I marry that title that Ma is hunting up for me, I’ll give you the order for the whole set,” laughed Dodo.

“Let’s hope we may have to wait forever, then, if the commission depends on your misery,” retorted Eleanor.

After leaving the Gobelins, Mr. Fabian took his party to some of the old curio shops in Paris, where one can spend many interesting hours – if one likes antiques.

That evening Mr. Alexander insisted upon their going, as his guests, to one of the famous cafés. And as they sat at one of the way-side tables watching the stream of pleasure-seekers go past, Dodo suddenly drew the attention of her companions to a man who was strolling by.

“Now there’s what I call a really handsome Frenchman,” whispered she.

“Why, if it isn’t Count Chalmys!” exclaimed Nancy, jumping up to catch hold of the gentleman’s arm.

“What’s that! Anuther title?” asked Mr. Alexander with a frown.

“Yes, but don’t worry, Pa,” laughed Dodo, encouragingly. “If Ma’s not about there’s no danger for you and me.”

The others laughed at Mr. Alexander’s evident concern and Dodo’s instant rejoinder to his question. Then Nancy brought the gentleman over to meet her friends. He shook hands with Mrs. Fabian and then turned to acknowledge the introductions.

“This is Miss Polly Brewster and Miss Eleanor Maynard whom I told you about, when they discovered the gold mine on the mountains in Colorado – you remember?”

“Ah, to be sure!” responded the Count.

“And Miss Dorothy Alexander from Denver, Mr. Alexander her father, and my father, Mr. Fabian. This is Count Chalmys, of Northern Italy, friends.”

Everyone acknowledged the introduction, and the Count seemed over-joyed to meet so many of “Mees Nancy’s” friends. He sat down with the group and soon led the conversation. Mr. Alexander sat glowering at him but it was difficult to read the little man’s thoughts.

The Count seemed more attracted to Polly than to the other girls, but then he had heard of Rainbow Cliffs and that Gold Mine, thought Dodo. On the walk to the hotel, he mentioned a famous collector’s sale which would begin the following day at one of the Auction Galleries.

“Oh, are you interested in antiques, then?” asked Polly, eagerly.

“I like paintings – old masters and such things. I never lose an opportunity to secure one when it is offered for sale. My palace, near Venice, is a museum of paintings. You must visit it when you tour Italy,” responded the Count.

Mr. Fabian now asked: “Is it possible for us to secure an entrance to this sale, Count?”

“I can easily secure tickets and a catalogue for you, Monsieur Fabian. Will the young ladies be pleased to attend, also?”

“Oh yes, it is for their interests that I would like to attend, and explain various objects that might be found in the collection.”

“Then leave it to me, Monsieur. I will arrange everything for their convenience.”

The Count left the Americans at the hotel door, and said good-night. As they all walked laughingly through the main lobby, the clerk sent a page after them with a cablegram. It was for Mr. Alexander and he felt a tremor of apprehension as he took it.

He turned to the others and said (exactly as he had heard Mr. Fabian do) “Pardon me, whiles I read what the missus has to say now.” Then he quickly opened the envelope.

“Well, that settles my vacation!” exclaimed he.

“What’s the matter, Pa?” asked Dodo, anxiously.

“Ma’s gone and got that roadster for two – it is a Packard the same as our other car, but now she wants to tour around, and she thinks she will bring Jimmy over to Paris for a little jaunt.”

“Jimmy! Good gracious, why will she have to bring that child with her?” complained Dodo, poutingly.

“She wouldn’t bring him, Dodo, if she thought there were better ‘handles’ to be had on the Continent,” laughed Eleanor.

“That’s a good idea! Pa, we’ll wire Ma to leave Jimmy there, as she’ll have more fun selecting her future son-in-law from the crowd of titles she can have for the asking, over here,” eagerly suggested Dodo.

Mr. Alexander seemed to take the suggestion seriously, for he returned: “I’ll step over, now, and send a word that will keep that little Osgood boy at home with his folks.”

No one knew what Mr. Alexander said in his message, but the next day a reply came, saying: “I will do as you say, and not come over at once. Try and arrange everything satisfactorily for us.”

Even Dodo could not coax her father to tell what he had said, but it was evident that Mrs. Alexander felt satisfied to remain in England and leave other matters in the hands of her spouse.

The Count called on the tourists at the hotel, that morning, with the tickets of admission to the sale, and Mr. Alexander drove them to the Gallery, and left them there for the day.

They were given good seats in the front row of buyers, and the moment the sale began everyone was interested in the collection. That day, Polly secured a Gothic wedding-chest with ornamented and beautifully carved sides and lid. Mr. Fabian bought two panels from a XVI century door which he planned to use for two table-ends for his library table.