Polly in New York
Page 12
CHAPTER XII--MR. FABIAN PLOTS FOR FACTS
The roses kept for more than two weeks, filling the Studio rooms withfragrance, but keeping their secret as to who had sent them to Polly.She had gone to everyone she knew and tried to find out who had giventhem to her. Then she beguiled Mr. Ashby into finding out if Mr. Dalkenwas the guilty one. And when he was found innocent, she bribed Mr.Dalken to find out if the Latimers or the Evans sent them--but she couldnot see why anyone should spend so much money on her, and try to hidethe fact.
When Mr. Fabian was satisfied that it was not one of their old friendswho had sent the roses, he thought of a way to find out. The box had hadthe name on its cover, of one of Fifth avenue's most fashionableflorists, so he went there and tried to learn what he wanted to know, byasking the proprietor.
But the man smiled and shook his head. "We are never allowed to divulgestate secrets, Mr. Fabian."
"Not even when that secret concerns a protegee of mine? I do not wish touse the knowledge, but merely to relieve my mind."
"If I were to tell you, Mr. Fabian, I should have to also tell the sixother individuals who begged me to tell them confidentially who orderedthe roses."
"Six others! Have others been here to ask this same question?" asked Mr.Fabian, amazed.
The florist laughed. "Yes, that pretty miss seems to be very popular.Who is she, anyway?"
"A little girl that attends my art class, and I am bound to keep hermind free from nonsense until her education is finished."
"Can you keep a secret--on your oath?" asked the florist.
"Yes, yes!" eagerly agreed Mr. Fabian, thinking he was now going to hearwho sent the roses.
"Well, then, this much I may tell you--just to ease your fears: theindividual who sent those roses is as anxious as you can be, to keep thegirl's heart and mind free from nonsense and to allow her to completeher art education without thoughts of beaux."
"Is that all you've got to say?"
"My goodness, don't you appreciate that much! You only wanted to knowsomething to ease your mind, and now I have told you."
"How do _you_ know what the gentleman thinks or wants?"
"I was told so by the one who ordered the roses. But I did not tell youit was a gentleman."
This was still more disconcerting to Mr. Fabian, but he never told asoul that he had visited the florist. He did wonder, however, if the manhad given the others the same confidence he had imparted confidentiallyto him.
Polly, the cause of all this secret concern of her friends, hadforgotten all about the valentine, and was devoting her entire time andattention to the absorbing lessons at art school.
Easter Week came early, and the term beginning immediately after theEaster Holidays, would start a course on mural decorations, and thestudy of tapestries. So interesting had their night-classes become, thatPolly and Eleanor neglected their studies at day-school. Anne noticedtheir daily marks and worried over it. At last she consulted with Mr.Fabian.
"You must realize, Mr. Fabian, that the girls are still young. Even ifthey were prepared to enter the profession they are proposing to followthey would be too young in years to make a success of it. People are notapt to turn over contracts for art or decorating, to girls under twenty.Therefore I advise you to make them drop their night school until afterthey have caught up in their day classes."
Mr. Fabian was secretly pleased at the news that his two pet scholarspreferred _his_ teachings to the dry high-school lessons. But he darednot express his satisfaction to Anne.
"All you say is true, but there is no need for my girls to give up theirart class. The night school closes for a two weeks' holiday at Easter,and then, as warm weather comes on apace, I find my pupils begin to losezeal in their constant attendance at class. You will see that Polly andEleanor will turn more to their day studies, then. But I would notadvise you to cut off their pursuit in art work, now. It will onlycreate deeper zest for it, and turn their thoughts completely fromday-studies."
Anne replied that this was logical, and so the girls never knew thatthey had been standing upon the danger-line of having to suspend theirfavorite studies.
Mr. Fabian was roused to a more temperate art "diet" for the two girls,thereafter. And Polly and Eleanor found, as Spring advanced, thatlessons in night school were simpler and not quite so absorbing to theirtime, as those of the recent weeks had been.
In the mural decoration study that began with the new Spring term, thepupils found that, beginning with the order of antiquity, Egyptianfirst, and then Greek, Roman, Medieval, Moresque and Persianstyles--much of their work done in the other classes now proved useful.In fact, the historical studies of these races of people and theirperiods of time, proved valuable in review, for the further perfectionof mural art.
So when they were given a design to do in "wave ornament" it was at oncerecognised as Egyptian art. Or should a wall decoration be requiredwhere geometrical forms were the principle, the pupils remembered thereligion of the Arabs and Moors which restricted them to the use ofnatural forms which would not conflict with their worship.
Thus Polly and Eleanor began to understand how important their previouslessons had been, and how necessary it was for every earnest student ofart to be present at each class, that no connecting link in instructionmight be dropped and lost.
As the weeks went by, and the end of the term drew near, the nightclasses thinned out perceptibly, many of the less enthusiastic pupilspreferring outdoor sports to close application to art pursuits. ButPolly and Eleanor found their pleasure in hearing all Mr. Fabian had tosay to them on various subjects.
Perhaps the girls might not have been so keen for school during the warmevenings, had not Mr. Fabian's knowledge and fascinating descriptions ofanything pertaining to his profession, been so freely given them at alltimes. He continued to discover exhibits, lectures, and othereducational pastimes, to which he conducted his favorite pupils, so thatthere was no dearth of material to aid and demonstrate his teachings.
As June came in, Polly found New York not nearly as cool and pleasant anabode as Pebbly Pit with its altitude upon the crests of the Rockies.And she longed for a breath of the mountain air that would renew jadedsenses. Both Eleanor and Polly began to show the strain of the closeapplication to study that they had had since October, so Anne wasthankful that the schools would soon close for the Summer.
Then the last class in Cooper Union ended, and Mr. Fabian escorted hisgirls to their home. Already, they were planning for the coming year ofwork, but their instructor smiled and interrupted.
"I have refused an offer to continue my classes in the school, so I willnot be there next year."
"What!" gasped Polly.
"Not teach us!" cried Eleanor.
"Not teach at Cooper--no. I feel that I am not strong enough to keep upsuch arduous labors; and so many there do not seem to appreciate what Iam sacrificing for them. I find there are some people who think that,because a thing is free, it is not as valuable as if they had to pay forit. You can see, for yourselves, how many scholars dropped out of theclasses when other diversions offered themselves. They join an art classand attend it when nothing else can be had. They take my thought andtime, and when they weary of the routine, they fail to appear. It isvery disheartening. But it is so every year, and I am tired of trying tokeep up the interest of such lazy leeches."
Polly and Eleanor heard their dear professor's words in sorry silence.What would night school be without him?
"But I have planned a far different school beginning with next October.I have chosen the faithful few who really mean business, and to these Ishall offer my services for a small return. I feel sure that this willmean greater benefit to individuals in a small class, as I can devotemuch more time to each student and give better advice wherever it isneeded. I have thought of seven scholars for my little school."
"Oh, Mr. Fabian--I do hope Polly and I are among them!" exclaimedEleanor, anxiously.
Mr. Fabian smiled. "Perhaps it was because of Polly
and you that Ithought of this idea. You two girls really should have personalinstruction, instead of having to waste hours in a general class waitingfor delinquents to catch up with you.
"That has always been the weak spot in any large class; there are thosewho forge ahead eagerly, and the lazy ones who miss a class every fewnights, causing the whole body to delay and wait while they work tocatch up on what they have missed.
"When the few ambitious workers can be grouped together and not hamperedby the leeches, one can readily see how much better it is for allconcerned. This is what I propose doing."
"Oh, it will be splendid! and I am glad, for one, to be able to lookforward to such teachings. To know that we can ask all the questionsfreely, and not have to wait to have the easiest lesson explained to thethick-headed, will be a great relief," said Polly, gratefully.
At the door of the Studio, Mr. Fabian said good-by. "I am planning tosail for Europe very soon, my dears, and I am looking forward to a goodtime with my little family. We intend visiting all the famous places ofinterest to an artist, and when I return in the Fall, I will be able totell you about the great cathedrals, the wonderful collections ofantiques, and other sights."
"As for Polly and me--we won't be able to give you any such tales, as weare going to spend our vacation at Pebbly Pit, again. But we will bringback plenty of health and renewed zeal," laughed Eleanor.
"Ah! That is what I need of you now, children. See that you fill out thehollows in your cheeks, and gather ample strength and health for anotherstrenuous year in New York. I plan to put both of you on the firing-linenext school-year."
"We'll not fail you, Mr. Fabian," promised Polly, taking his hand asecond time and patting it fondly.
"Then I'll not fail _you_, dear students!" responded Mr. Fabian,stooping and kissing each girl affectionately on the forehead, thentaking his leave.
A few days after this the Studio was swathed in dust-covers, the windowslocked and shuttered, the burglar alarm attached, and at last the frontdoor was closed by a representative from the insurance company. The fourtenants were on their way to Grand Central where Jim Latimer and KennethEvans were to meet them. They then were going to take the TwentiethCentury Limited to Chicago.
Jim and Ken had been engaged by Carew, to join his camp of surveyors inthe mountains for this second season's work; and, as Polly and herfriends were to spend the summer vacation at Pebbly Pit, it was quitenatural that all six should journey westward, together.
Mr. Dalken and the Ashbys came to see the friends off, and as the parentLatimers and Evans were with their boys to the last, there was a largemerry party to accompany the travelers to the Pullman.
"Don't be surprised to see me bring the Ashbys to Pebbly Pit in mytouring car, some fine day, soon," announced Mr. Dalken.
"Oh, that would be lovely!" cried Polly, eagerly.
"And leave Ruth with us for the Summer?" added Eleanor.
"Yes, yes, Daddy--I'd love to spend my vacation with Polly and Eleanorat the ranch!" exclaimed Ruth Ashby.
"Where would you put us all--even if we did come?" asked Mrs. Ashby, whohad heard of the limitations of the ranch-house.
"Oh, you forget! John writes that we will be surprised to find themarvelous work that has gone on at the Cliffs. Not only is the greatroad down through the Devil's Causeway completed for heavy traffic, butrows and rows of buildings back of the Imps are ready for occupancy, themoment the machinery is set up for work on the lava. If the miners havenot yet taken possession of the barracks we could invite loads of peopleto visit the ranch."
Polly spoke eagerly, and her eyes shone as she beheld her friendsenjoying the Brewster hospitality.
Everyone laughed at her anxiety to have them visit her, and Mr. Dalkenpromised: "I'll do my best to bring my friends, Polly."
A quizzical look in his eyes suddenly caused Polly to remember thevalentine she had sent him. She smiled back at him, but as suddenlyanother thought flashed into her mind.
"Oh, Mr. Dalken, I've wanted to ask you for the _longest_ time! Now thatit is ancient history, you won't mind confessing, will you?"
Mr. Dalken shook his head as a concession to her eager look. And Pollycontinued: "_Did_ you send me those American Beauties' valentine?"
A roar greeted this question, as everyone of the grown-ups had asked thesame question of Mr. Dalken months before. And Mr. Dalken not onlyrepudiated any knowledge of the valentine but told how he had visitedthe florist and had not been able to ascertain who the Cupid really was.
"Polly, I will confess, as they say that open confession is good for thesoul. I was guilty of sending four boxes of flowers to the Studio onValentine Day, to four charming friends, but I showed no partiality, Ithink, in the bouquets. I would like to know, myself, who the Cupid waswho sent such gorgeous roses as you received."
"I wonder! I'm sure it wasn't Jim," here Polly looked searchingly at theyoung student, and he shook his head laughingly.
"I couldn't have, had I wanted to. My pocket money went for thatlove-sonnet that was so harshly condemned," said he.
"And I'm sure Ken never dreamed of doing it. Then there is Mr. Latimerand the doctor--they are both innocent, I know, as they never think ofanything other than the old patented jewel cutter."
As Polly explained thus in earnest tones, everyone laughed at the twomen so calmly criticised for their absorption in patents.
"So I am inclined to believe it was my _own_ Daddy. He always did sendme the cutest valentines each year, and I received no card from him thisyear--so that is who it was!" declared Polly.
"And the only kind of a Cupid to have, these days, Polly," approved Mr.Dalken.
But the happy circle standing on the platform of the train-shed were nownotified that the passengers must get on as the train would leave in afew moments.
Good-bys were said, hands shaken, kisses wafted from the girls to thegroup remaining in New York, and then the travelers were gone.
Scarcely had the train slowed up in the Chicago Terminal before John andTom Latimer were on board, pushing a way through the Pullmans, in searchof familiar faces.
"There they are--there comes John!" cried Polly, excitedly, jumping upand pointing to the other end of the coach.
"Oh--!" sighed Anne, flushing joyously as her glance rested upon herfiance.
But John had no eyes for anyone but Anne. Polly was left standing withhands out-stretched, her whole soul quivering with anticipation of herbeloved brother's greeting, and now he forgot she was alive! Then PaulStewart and Pete Maynard ran in.
Mrs. Stewart was embraced by Paul, and Pete hugged his sister Eleanor.Tom Latimer stood a pace apart, his features working desperately tocontrol his feelings as he saw John joyously scanning Anne's face, andPolly limply sitting down in the parlor chair. Then he quickly went overand greeted her.
"Polly, and you boys"--turning to Jim and Kenneth--"we sure are happy tosee you-all again. My, what a change New York has made in you. I seequite a wonderful young lady, where once I remember my little ranch palwith pigtails." Tom tried to laugh merrily.
Kenneth suddenly launched into a silly conversation to cheer Polly. ButPolly never could dissimulate, and she was too deeply hurt at herbrother's neglect to pretend to be merry. John, however, now turned toembrace and kiss his sister, and evidently had had no thought ofneglecting her.
"Come, children, we must get out or we'll be carried to theround-house," suggested Jim Latimer, taking up certain bags.
Once on the platform where Mr. Maynard welcomed them, Tom said: "When doKen and you go on to Denver?"
"On the next train, leaving here at two. That gives us an hour and ahalf with you."
"Anyone want dinner, or did you eat on the train?" now asked PaulStewart.
"All dined, but now waiting for someone to suggest a party for Ken andI, as we go on in a little while," said Jim.
"Here!" offered Mr. Maynard. "Pile into taxis and we'll be at the housein a jiffy. No place like home when there's no other place to go to."
Mr. Maynard, Paul and Mrs. Stewart got in another cab and Jim, Ken, andEleanor in another. That left Polly and Tom Latimer, with the remainingbags, to get in the last taxi. It was all done in such noisy confusion,that no one dreamed how one clever manager had so manipulated matters asto have Polly alone in the last cab.
"Well, Polly, I hear you are soaring in your ambition. Mr. Fabian wroteme how interested he was in Nolla and you."
"Oh, did the dear man write you? I didn't know he and you corresponded."
"I took a great fancy to the idealist, and having always loved art foritself, I told him I would consider it a great pleasure if he wouldexchange letters with me when he had the opportunity. He has done betterfor me than I had any right to expect. He writes the most interestingletters--just as clever as his talks on art."
Having found a willing listener in Tom, Polly expanded on her privateopinion of such a wonderful teacher as Mr. Fabian was, and before thetaxi drew up in front of the Maynard's brown-stone mansion, Tom had thecomforting assurance that Polly had quite forgotten her brother John'sunintentional neglect.
Jim and Ken enjoyed their hasty visit and then took their departure tocatch their train going west. When Mrs. Maynard and Barbara dispensedtea, the three young men, John, Tom and Paul, had to enter into servicefor the hostess; but they would greatly have preferred to enjoy theirtime as each inclined--John alone with Anne in the conservatory, Tom andPolly talking art, and Paul making merry with Eleanor.
Barbara, who a year ago would have resented oblivion for herself, nowsmiled contentedly and gazed upon a huge solitaire.
"Bob, shall we announce it?" whispered her mother.
"No, they do not know Percival, and, moreover, not one of these peopleappreciate his social standing."
So the young people now gathered about Mrs. Maynard's tea-table weredeprived (so Bob thought) of the greatest event of the past socialseason--her engagement to one of the most aristocratic and wealthiesteligibles on the market, Percival Weston.
Barbara twirled her solitaire smilingly, nor cared that her Percival wasbald and diminutive, past the prime in life, and not over-brilliant. Hadhe not been the catch at Newport the previous Summer? And had he notattached himself to her as soon as she appeared in the Adirondack Camppresided over by the famous society leader of New York?