Polly in New York

CHAPTER X – CHRISTMAS AND WHAT IT BROUGHT

Anne never suspected that Polly and Eleanor had had a “hold-up” at any time, but she wondered why Mr. Dalken should be so kind as to loan his car to the girls on school-nights. Polly explained simply. “Why, he never forgot what we did for Elizabeth, and when he learned we were trudging back and forth alone, he just wouldn’t have it.”

“He said he couldn’t bear the thought of our even having to travel in the subway, alone, late at night,” added Eleanor.

So Anne, although she read about the two ruffians who had tried to rob a wealthy broker, one night, never dreamed that her two girls were victimized before Mr. Dalken appeared to rescue them.

Madam Wellington’s school prospered splendidly from the publicity given it in the papers directly after the fire. And later, when it was learned that Mr. Ashby, Mr. Dalken, and two other wealthy men had purchased the corner which had always been disfigured by the old four-story amusement hall, and proposed erecting a twelve-story high-class apartment house on the land, the mention of the fire and the bravery of the Wellington School girls again appeared in the papers.

Letters between Pebbly Pit and New York passed twice a week, and the last news from home was: “How we should love to have you spend Christmas with us, Polly dearest. It will not seem like a real Christmas with both my children away from home.”

The letter made Polly feel home-sick and she wrote to her mother immediately, saying: “I feel that I shall have to come home even if it takes a month out of school and delays me in my art studies, unless you can plan some other way that we might see each other this Christmas.”

Polly had a very clever plan that suddenly came to her, as she read her mother’s words, and her reply was the first step in working out her plan successfully.

The second step was to go downtown and call upon Mr. Latimer at his office. She was welcomed there and asked what good wind blew her downtown.

Polly laughed. “It’s a blizzard from the Rockies – that is why I’m here.” Then she told him about her mother’s home-sick words. “And this is what we must do, Mr. Latimer, or I’ll have to leave school and go back home.”

“Dear me, I will do anything rather than lose you from New York, Polly,” Mr. Latimer laughingly replied.

“You must find some excuse on the mining or jewel business, that needs Daddy’s personal presence here in New York. Make it necessary for him to be here just before, or after Christmas. Then I will write and let them know that you told me about it, and insist upon having mother come East with father, for her Christmas. Why, even John and Paul might join us here without much expense or trouble.”

Mr. Latimer smiled. “There is no harm in trying the plan, even if your father won’t leave his ranch while it is under six feet of snow.”

Polly laughed at that. “Exactly! Dad doesn’t have to stick there in winter-time, any more than I do. Especially with Jeb on hand to take care of everything.”

Then remembering a warning, she said: “But you’ve got to find a real worthy reason for his coming East, because I know my Dad!”

“I’ll have you approve the reason before I send it West – how will that do?”

“I think you will do well. Because I may be able to make a suggestion – knowing my father as I do.”

Mr. Latimer laughed and patted Polly on the head. “Well, now that that is settled, let us talk about Jim and Ken. You know, do you not, that we expect them home in a few days?”

“I didn’t know, but I took for granted that they would soon be home for the Holidays. Although it seems like yesterday that they were home for Thanksgiving Week.”

“Not to Jim’s mother and me. We miss him very much, as he always was such a lively boy at home.”

“I’m afraid we won’t see much of him this time. He never even called us on the ’phone when he came from New Haven to see Ruth Ashby, two weeks ago Sunday,” said Polly, never dreaming that his father was ignorant of the visit.

“He didn’t! Then Ken should have called on you. He did not come to see a girl, too, did he?”

“Oh, Ken never knew Jim was coming – so Ruth told us. Jim telephoned her early Sunday morning and found she would be home, so he ran in Town on the noon train and stayed until the nine o’clock.”

“I’ll see that Jim does not go back on his first loves quite so suddenly,” laughed Mr. Latimer, thinking of the teasing he would give Jim.

“But we are not ‘loves’ at all – Nolla and I are only good pals for the boys,” corrected Polly, anxiously.

“Whatever you call it, Jim ought to be well advised on such matters, as long as legal advice costs him nothing.”

Polly failed to follow Mr. Latimer, and he immediately changed the subject. “Now that you are here and it is lunch-hour, why not come with me. I promised to take you to the Café Savarin or the Lawyer’s Club, some day, and this is the day.”

“Oh, it would be lovely, but I just couldn’t leave Nolla out of the treat, you know!” exclaimed Polly, eagerly.

“If Nolla is at home, we will have her down in twenty minutes. We’ll wait for her, and meanwhile I’ll dictate a letter to your father for you to O.K.”

Eleanor was moping around the house, wondering where Polly could be, when the telephone rang and she was invited to join her friends at luncheon. So in less than half-an-hour the trio were having a merry time in the sumptuous private restaurant on lower Broadway.

The letter that Polly approved, reached Sam Brewster, and he showed it to his wife. “Ah have been thinking, dear, that we-all might surprise Polly by dropping in on her just about Christmas time, eh?”

“Rather than let her come West and lose all that time from classes, I should say ‘yes,’ Sam.”

“We really have nothing to tie us down at the ranch for a few weeks, unless the snow buries us for the winter.”

“Sary would be in her glory could she keep house alone with Jeb for a time. Ever since they returned from their honeymoon in Denver, she has been sighing to run the house,” said Mrs. Brewster, “feeding the fire” carefully.

“Let’s go! By the Great Horned Spoon, I feel like taking a vacation to some other part of the world – so New York will do!”

Then it was quickly decided that they would start on Monday, and this being Friday, there was no time to lose.

Sary and Jeb accepted the amazing news with smiles and exchange of knowing looks. But they were relieved when Mrs. Brewster herself suggested to Sary: “Have all the good times you want, Sary, while we are gone. Invite your friends, and neighbors, if they can get through the drifts, and have apple-parties, corn-poppers, Virginia Reels, and anything on earth you like!”

“Would you-all keer if we-all ast as much as twenty to a time?” asked Sary, fearfully.

“Ask forty, if you like – and if you can find them,” laughed Mrs. Brewster, recklessly.

“Only see to it that they leave the roof, Sary,” ha-hawed Sam Brewster. “And that the sky-larkin’ is all over when we return.”

Sary nodded understandingly. She had instantly planned how to create envy in the souls of her old friends at Yellow Jacket Pass, by asking them all to her parties.

The Brewsters sent John a wire to say that they would spend a few hours in Chicago, and would like him to keep that time open. But when they reached Chicago, John was standing on the platform holding a suit-case in his hand. Tom Latimer and Paul Stewart stood beside him.

John explained: “Paul and Tom are going, too. Some good fairy sent us round-trip tickets, but we don’t know who it was. Not a line came with the tickets. So here we are – ready to help in the surprise.”

John then introduced Paul, and Mrs. Brewster took his hand as she looked into his face. “You are the image of our Anne, Paul; I would have known you anywhere.”

“That he is,” added Sam Brewster, shaking Paul’s hand heartily. So the party of five continued on the journey, smiling as they pictured the glad surprise to be given the family at the Studio. Little did they dream that the Studio family were busy preparing for a gladsome Christmas for them all. For Mr. Latimer had told them about the telegram from Pebbly Pit, and that he had heard from Tom that he and John and Paul were going to join the party coming East. But he did not say that he, incognito, had mailed the tickets.

The Twentieth Century had a long line of Pullmans to take to New York that trip, and it was small wonder that passengers having berths in the last coach, should fail to meet anyone traveling in the first one. So it was with speechless amazement, that the Brewsters met the Maynards at Grand Central Station when both parties were waiting to get taxi-cabs.

“Well, well, Ah believe it’s Mr. Maynard!” exclaimed Sam Brewster, in his deep western thunder.

“Brewster? so it is! Indeed I am glad to see you here. Come to cheer up the little girl, eh?” and Eleanor’s father grasped the ranchman’s big hands.

Mrs. Brewster and her two young male companions (Tom had gone to telephone) were now introduced to Barbara and Mrs. Maynard. The latter had never met the Brewster family, and Barbara, thinking it wiser to assume indifference, smiled coldly.

“We’re stopping at the Park Hotel, Brewster – what about you folks? Might as well go where we do,” suggested Mr. Maynard.

“I wired there for accommodations; Polly mentioned it in several of her letters as being quite near the Studio.”

“Fine! Then we will go right along. Here Taxi! eight of us and baggage.”

“You mean seven, Mr. Maynard?” ventured John, politely.

“No – didn’t you know Pete was here with us? He came on another coach with some chums who were coming East.”

“I haven’t seen much of Pete, this term. I’ve been cramming every moment, so as to finish and be ready to help in the mine, you see,” explained John, hesitatingly.

Mr. Maynard saw the expression and said nothing, but he determined to find out why Pete had not seen much of Paul and John and Tom, that term. Three young men who could be of great advantage to a wild young student should be cultivated, he thought.

When Sam Brewster did anything, he never did it by halves; consequently when he wired the Park Hotel for rooms, the day he left Denver, he engaged a whole suite. No better accommodations than he had, were to be found in the building, and the Maynards had to accept second-best.

When Mr. Maynard found the ranchman had the very finest the hotel afforded, he chuckled delightedly to himself, for he had silently watched the manner in which Barbara received the greetings of the people who were so kind to her that Summer.

Mrs. Maynard was furious with her husband. “My dear! what possessed you to come to this horrid place. Don’t you know that Bob’s position must be catered to? Even the best hotels here are rather too ordinary. She should be stopping at the newest and most exclusive one uptown.”

“When she marries that little numb-skull you’ve tagged to her skirts, she can stop where she likes. But her Dad is running this show. I’m here to visit Nolla, and I stop where I can call and see her, or she can run in to see us, without wasting time traveling on the streets.”

“You always did spoil Nolla – while poor Bob has to take third place in your affections,” complained Mrs. Maynard.

“Bob’s mother makes up for any lack in me. That’s why I have to give double love to Nolla and Pete – Bob has all of yours.”

The usual ending to similar scenes might have resulted, had not Mr. Maynard gone out to hurry over to the Studio. But his wife and Barbara sulkily unpacked their trunks and made very fine toilets before they thought of calling at the Studio.

Mr. Maynard rang at the front door of the Studio, but he had to wait a few moments before the door opened. From within, merry laughter and joyous shouting could be heard. Then in another moment, Eleanor was in her father’s arms and was dragging him into the happy circle.

The Brewsters, and Paul and Pete were already there, so that the newcomer’s appearance added another reason for Polly and Eleanor’s happiness.

“I haven’t enough china to go around for such a family!” Mrs. Stewart said plaintively; as she came into the room with her arms dusted with flour.

“And only half of us here, too!” laughed Mr. Maynard.

“What – more on the way?” exclaimed Anne.

“Nolla’s mother and Bob will be, shortly.”

“Mother – and Bob!” cried Eleanor, eagerly, happy that her mother and sister cared enough for her to come and visit her.

“Now that adds to all my troubles,” Mrs. Stewart declared as she dropped into a nearby chair.

“But why – the more the merrier,” laughed Mrs. Brewster.

“Why – because there are only seven straight chairs in this stable. All the others are great cushiony things that won’t do in a small dining-room such as ours.”

“Motherkins!” said Paul, laughingly picking his mother up and seating her upon his strong knees, “Did her think we-all would permit her to cook a great supper for such a mob?”

“Of course – I like it, dear, but I am staggered at the limitations – china and chairs.”

“Mrs. Stewart, we are not going to eat a crumb in this house during the Holidays, unless it be a theatre supper or afternoon tea! That is all settled beforehand. Run upstairs and put on your evening dress. We propose making a party of it this first night,” called Mr. Maynard, trying to make himself heard above the general din.

“Is it your party, Dad?” asked Eleanor, gayly.

“Yes, and to please Bob it is to be at the Ritz. To-morrow it will be Brewster’s turn, and that’s up to him to say where we go.”

“Oh, Daddy – I know a place!” exclaimed Polly, eagerly. “Eleanor and I have never been, but we’ve heard lots about it and this is the chance. We’ll all go down to Chinatown, to-morrow!”

A wild chorus of laughter greeted this proposal, and Polly looked surprised. To make matters worse, she added explanatorily: “Why, the girls say chop-suey is great! And at Christmas time the Chinks’ stores are beautiful! The lovely things one can buy then are the best that are imported from the Orient.”

“We’ll do Chinatown, thoroughly, Poll, but it may not be to-morrow night,” promised John, who had hitherto been completely engaged with Anne’s whispers and looks.

Thereafter followed delight upon delight, each day filled with new plans and exciting fulfillments. Ken and his parents, the four Latimers, the Ashbys, Mr. Fabian, and even Mr. Dalken, were included in the gay whirl of these pleasure-seekers. Mrs. Maynard and Barbara actually enjoyed the wholesome fun and almost forgot to be affected or snobbish. To associate intimately with Mr. Dalken, whose social standing was well-known in Chicago, as well as in other large cities, was excuse enough to accept all the other friends. But added to that pleasure, the friendship and evident intimacy the Ashbys and Latimers entertained for Polly and Eleanor, made Mrs. Maynard feel there might be hope for Nolla in the future.

Christmas fell on the Thursday after the Westerners had arrived in New York; and considering all the fun and gadding that had been indulged in, on the days preceding the twenty-fifth, that day passed quietly for all. Each family enjoyed its own gathering and gifts, and all assembled at the Ashbys in the evening, to enjoy music and dancing, and everyone declared it had been a fine day!

Friday started anew the excitement of planning and enjoying whatever came in the way of the party. But Saturday night had been set aside for Mr. Dalken’s Christmas party. Elizabeth was invited to bring her friends, and everyone in Polly’s and Eleanor’s friendship ring were included.

Mr. Dalken lived in modest but very large rooms of a bachelor apartment house, downtown, and here he had an enormous tree fixed in the center of the living-room. No one was allowed to see that room until all had assembled, but when the doors were opened, there were “ahs” and “ohs” from everyone.

The tree was so beautifully trimmed that it seemed a pity that it should ever be dismantled. But soon, the attractive white packages tied with red ribbons, filled the guests with curiosity; and once Eleanor had peeped at the name written on one box, there was no peace but her host must distribute the gifts.

Mr. Dalken never spared time or money when he did anything for his friends, and his Christmas Party was to be one all would remember. The gifts were carefully selected for each individual and those for the four girls – Elizabeth, Ruth Ashby, Polly and Eleanor, were exquisite and costly. Elizabeth had craved a ring. She had it. Ruth, Polly, and Eleanor each had a long barpin of platinum daintily jewelled.

With her usual impetuosity, Eleanor suddenly sprang up and hugged Mr. Dalken gratefully for her gift. Polly smiled and shyly shook hands, while Ruth said he must have read her thoughts, for she had asked Dad for a pin and had been refused. Now she had it, anyway, and from her second-best Dad. Elizabeth was pleased, too, but merely murmured “Thanks, Papa.”

“How do you like the jewels in the pins, girls?” asked Mr. Latimer, quizzically, as no one had mentioned the gems.

Suddenly Polly looked up at him. She caught the twinkle in his eyes, and instantly wheeled to look at the other men. Each one was smiling as if there was a fine secret here.

“I just know these are Rainbow Cliff jewels!” exclaimed Polly, joyously.

“No – are they?” demanded Eleanor, holding the pin aloft to let the light flash over and through them.

“Now I am deeply offended! I want the girls to see that I got the very best and finest stones in New York, and someone dares suggest that they may be lava!” grumbled Mr. Dalken, trying to be peevish.

“I can find out by taking mine to Tiffany’s, to-morrow,” said Ruth, wisely.

“No, you won’t – Tiffany says his store is to be closed all day to-morrow,” laughed Mr. Ashby.

“Why – some one in his family dead?” asked Elizabeth.

“No – but it is Sunday, and he is a church member.”

Every one laughed, as it had been forgotten the Sabbath was so near at hand. Then Eleanor had an idea.

“Why wait for Tiffany? Maybe the box will give us a clue.” So she found her box and examined it. Inside the silk-padded lid were the words in gold ink: “Rainbow Cliffs’ Jewel Company.”

“Oh, oh! It is our lava! Polly, now you can carry a little of Pebbly Pit about with you!” cried Eleanor, dancing about.

“Yes, it is a bit of Polly’s own dear heath. These are the very first jewels the company perfected. And as I am one of the corporation, I wheedled the cutter into giving me his first output. So, girls, you not only have pretty pins, but also you have what may be considered a curiosity,” explained Mr. Dalken.

“Are you one of our company?” Polly asked, eagerly.

“Yes, Mr. Ashby and I took stock soon after the fire, because we said this was going to be a big thing, some day.”

“I’m so glad, Mr. Dalken,” said Polly simply, and in a voice that only he could hear. “I like you so much, and I’m happy to know that you and I are members, together, in something.”

“Polly, dear, that is the very best Christmas gift I have had in years,” murmured Mr. Dalken, feelingly.

CHAPTER XI – THE VALENTINES

With the passing of this gay Holiday Season, the two girls began to feel that it would be a relief to sit down once more and spend a quiet evening at school. Two weeks of constant going and dissipation had become tiresome.

The Westerners had gone home again; John, Tom, Paul and Pete back to Chicago, and the two boys, Ken and Jim, back at Yale; and then Mrs. Wellington’s school reopened. Lessons went on as if there never had been a vacation, and on Wednesday evening of that same week, the art school resumed classes.

This term was to be devoted to Applied Design and its uses in architecture and decorations of interiors. After having had such interesting work as Egyptian ornament, art, and symbols, it seemed rather dry to start out the New Year with drawing straight lines an inch long.

Then to draw a dozen of these lines – next to connect them and make a design of these dozen simple lines. But the next lesson was still more foolish. They were told to draw a square. Then this large square of twenty inches each side was divided into smaller squares. And in each of these squares the pupils were told to draw whatever they liked, but each square must repeat the first one figure designed.

Thus the scholars found that they had a pattern of the design. This began to look more promising, and Eleanor wished she had paid more attention to the squares so that the design would have been neater.

The next lesson was on grouping certain designs. The talk given by Mr. Fabian that evening was on eye-measurement and judgment in lines.

“Unless one has a good eye for lines in anything, it is a waste of time to study a profession that is based fundamentally on a true judgment of lines – whether of beauty, grace, or usefulness. Unless one has a true sense of ‘line’ one can never know where to build a window, a door, or a fire-place.

“Not only does ‘line’ govern the size of rooms and halls, but the entire building is dependent upon true lines. Also, this basis line governs furniture and decorations in an interior.

“Can you picture a room where the portières are all of different lengths? – because the decorator had no sense of ‘line value?’ And what would one say if the chairs had legs of various lengths? Is not ‘line value’ to be used here, too? It is found necessary, everywhere.”

So the lessons and lectures continued until the girls took up the study of colors. This was very interesting, and soon, both Polly and Eleanor knew that yellow, blue and red were primary colors and they could glibly tell you what that meant, and how important a part the knowledge played, in the progressive art of decorating.

When the demonstration of these lessons began in the painting, the girls realized that they were actually going to be able to carry home samples of their work. From that time on, they showed more zeal in doing everything as correctly and perfectly as possible. And Mr. Fabian, at his next monthly report to Mr. Ashby (which were quite unknown to Polly and Eleanor) said: “They’re deeply interested in the actual art and not merely for the fun of some day going into business.”

“I am glad to hear it. There is so much of this idea of taking up interior decorating because it is comparatively a new field, but so few really ought to be in it. It should be made a matter of diplomas the same as other professions. Then the restriction would soon clear away all the quacks in the art. If these two girls but escape the snares of matrimony until they are finished artists, I shall be rejoiced to welcome them to our fold.”

Mr. Fabian nodded approvingly, and murmured: “I have faith in them. I’m sure that both these girls are sensible and not to be easily influenced by a good looking beau.”

Mr. Ashby smiled. “They’re much safer in New York than if they lived in smaller towns. Girls in this city haven’t time to find beaux or think of husbands.”

“Don’t be so sure, Mr. Ashby,” retorted Mr. Fabian. “If the girls are as pretty as my two are, and clever and rich as well, they’d find it hard to escape.”

“But you are speaking of society girls, while these two students seldom give that empty life a thought – I’m glad to say.”

Which conversation goes to show that more than one adult was watching the experiment these two girls were unconsciously making of their school days, with intense interest and a desire to aid.

Polly and Eleanor were not aware of all that had been done to insure them perfect freedom and liberty to continue their art classes. Had they known the arguments Mr. Latimer had had with Jim and Ken to keep those boys from usurping so much of the time the girls had to devote to study! Then Jim had blustered and boasted of all he would do once he was at college: His father wouldn’t know how many letters he would write, nor the visits to the girls, of an evening!

And one reason Tom Latimer and John seldom wrote to Polly and Eleanor, was because of Anne’s suggestion – to leave the girls to plan their spare time for their very own work, and not be made to feel that they had letters to answer, all the time.

It was Tom who had begged Jim not to waste his own, or the girls’ time, in writing silly letters or in traveling back and forth from college to New York. And Tom, wise big brother that he was, took Jim into his confidence and explained how anxious John and he were to have Polly climb to the top of the ladder in her art. That she had to make good in New York those first two years or go back home and starve her artistic soul on a lonesome ranch.