CHAPTER XIV--ANOTHER YEAR AT SCHOOL
The summer vacation passed quickly for Polly and Eleanor, and Septembercame in with wonderful Autumn weather, when riding and mountain-climbingwere just the thing. However, all such outings ended to plan for thereturn to New York.
A letter had arrived from Mr. Fabian, in which he spoke of hisdelightful visit with his wife and daughter. They had gone to variousplaces in Europe and England, inspecting and studying all the famous oldworks of art, and the ancient buildings that made fitting caskets forthese rare curios.
"When I read this letter, of all Mr. Fabian has done with his Summer, Ifeel guilty," said Polly to her friend, Nolla.
"Why should you? We had to rest and drop all idea of study so's to befresh for this year's work. Didn't we do it?"
"Yes, we rested, all right, Nolla; but it seems we might have done someof the work we planned to do, before we left New York. There is thatchest with our colors, paper and other things--we never as much asunlocked it."
"Polly, I can paint any sort of drapery you want, and in any light orshadow. I can paint a vase, a chair or a lamp; I can draw a hall, or aroom, or a window. What more do you want? Why should we sit down andmake loads of these things all summer, when we know how to do the work,already?"
"I don't know, Nolla, except that we ought to practise!"
"Pooh! I'm ready for all the work they want to pile up on me, now andI'm glad I've been so lazy all summer."
"To tell the truth, Nolla, _I_ am more than ready to work with all myheart. I feel as if I would dry up if I played any more," admittedPolly, laughingly.
With this desire to again take up their studies in New York, the girlsleft Pebbly Pit the second week in September. By the last of the month,they were eagerly planning with Mr. Fabian for the new year's schoolwork in art and decoration.
"I have a pleasant surprise for you, girls," announced Mr. Fabian, aftergreetings were exchanged. They all sat under the locust tree in thelittle yard of the Studio.
"'On with the dance,'" laughed Eleanor.
"As you know, I landed in New York the first week of September, andfound most of my friends still away in the country. But Mr. Dalken wasin evidence, as ever, eager to offer me his hospitality, until I locatedfor the Winter.
"We sat in the medieval library of his apartment, and I remarked,casually, at the unusual size of his rooms.
"'Yes,' replied he. 'That's the advantage of leasing one of theold-fashioned apartments not so far uptown. One gets the benefit ofbeing near the center of activities in the city, and at the same timeone can have the great rooms once occupied by the old gentry of thetown.'
"'What a splendid room for gatherings,' I said, never dreaming of hisinspiration.
"'Seeing that you are looking for a suitable room in which to conductyour little private class of art decorators, why not use this library? Ihave all kinds of reference books in the cases and I am so seldom athome in the early part of the evening that you will be undisturbed.'
"I was astonished, as you may imagine, and I said, 'But, Mr. Dalken, wecouldn't think of using this room and the apartment, without some returnfor your kindness.'
"He laughed. 'What do I want of rent or its equivalent? I am only tooglad to do you and those charming students of yours a good turn. Yousee, I still owe Polly and Eleanor a great balance which can never bepaid. Were it not for those two girls I would not have a child--eventhough I seldom see my little one.'
"I felt that he was so earnest about the offer that I said we would talkit over with Mr. Ashby and let him judge. Not that I did not see theadvantage of using the rooms, but I wanted an impartial friend of Mr.Dalken's to decide whether or no he might regret the generous offer,later; and then not care to tell us that we bothered him with ourregular classes three nights a week.
"So we visited the Ashbys the following evening, and to my amazement,Mr. Ashby was enthusiastic over the plan. He said: 'Now you've startedout right, Dalk, and to prove how much I think of your offer, I am goingto have Ruth join the class this year--if Mr. Fabian will take her. Itmight be rather nice to have Elizabeth join the class, also, even thoughshe may not show any talent for the work.'
"'Now, Ashby, you must pardon me if I speak frankly,' Mr. Dalken thensaid. 'One of the main reasons for Mr. Fabian's resignation from Cooper,and giving all his valuable time to a small class, is to urge thosetalented ones forward. If my little girl, who detests application tostudy of any sort, were to join this class, the basic idea would beruined. The class would be held back by one delinquent. But I appreciateyour motive in suggesting a way that I might enjoy the companionship ofElizabeth so often, without the tyranny and incompatibility of hermother's temper.'
"Mr. Ashby colored, as he thought he had been diplomatic in his hint,"concluded Mr. Fabian. "So now it is settled that Ruth Ashby joins ourart class, this year, and we will meet at Mr. Dalken's rooms for ourwork. That is nice for you girls, as it is only a short walk of a fewblocks from the Studio."
"_Nice_ for us--why, it is just scrumptious!" exclaimed Eleanor.
"And such a wonderful environment as that library, will give usinspiration, too," added Polly. "I never _did_ see such a kind man asMr. Dalken! If I had my way to accomplish it, I'd shower all the joysand successes in heaven or earth upon his generous heart."
"He _is_ great and good, and it seems as if justice must be sleeping,when such a man must suffer alone because of a silly moth of a wife. Ifhe would only hearken to his friends and seek freedom from such gallingbonds! but he doesn't think divorce ever righted a wrong, and he stillhopes he can bring Mrs. Dalken to a sense of her family-obligations andgratitude, for all she has been so unselfishly given. Poor fellow!" Mr.Fabian shook his head despondently over their benefactor's future.
"Polly and I never knew what was the trouble in the Dalken family, Mr.Fabian, but what we have seen and known of our dear friend, I'm surethat _he_ was never to blame for it," said Eleanor, defensively.
"I never care to gossip or to repeat a story, children, but now I thinkyou ought to know why Mr. Dalken lives alone so much as he does. If weare to use his rooms, you must know what a magnificent character he is,and then should you hear any disagreeable gossip that can be traced tohis wife, you will understand the situation."
"Whatever you say, Mr. Fabian, will never be repeated by either Nolla orme," promised Polly, solemnly.
"I know it, that is why I feel I ought to tell you.
"Mr. Dalken, as you know, is a descendant of one of the oldest DutchSettlers in America. His family, from olden times down to the presentday, were patriotic and loyal Americans. He is as staunch an American asyou will find, anywhere.
"Mrs. Dalken was a poor girl, and not over-brilliant. But Mr. Dalkenadmired her prettiness when she was a young miss, and when he was but aslip of a youth. They went to entertainments together in the small townwhere they both lived, and enjoyed each other's company for two or threeyears.
"Then the young man went to college and saw the world. He realized howsuperficial Amy Lathrop was, and as time went by, he would haveforgotten her completely, had she not kept up her side of thecorrespondence. And gradually a suggestive note crept into her letters.
"When his college days were over, young Dalken returned to hisbirth-place to settle the country estate that was his. Then he met Amyagain, and she found him so chivalrous that it was an easy matter togive him to understand that she had waited for him these fiveyears--that she had been the soul of faithfulness.
"Without consulting his friends, or mentioning the matter to others inthe town, he became engaged to her on the claim from her, that it had sobeen understood before he went to college.
"Well, they were married, one day, and then our poor friend's martyrdombegan. Amy Dalken was of no use in anything or in any way. True, she hadtwo children, but it may have been much better had she never become amother. She had no affection for them or the father, and only thought ofspending money and enjoying herself to the utmost.
"Dalken
was wealthy before he married Amy, and his alert mind coupledwith his unusual foresightedness in finance soon rolled up fortunes forhim. His wife spent money like water, and was sought after by thevultures of society--those who fawn and fondle as long as they can getsomething out of the victim.
"Mrs. Dalken's balls and bridge-parties were famous--I might say,notorious--for at the former the extravagance was a matter of newspapercomment, and at the latter, the stakes were so high that others liftedtheir eyebrows at the losses and gains.
"Little Billie Dalken was eighteen months old, and the joy of our goodfriend's life, when a dreadful thing happened. Billie was a chubby,handsome little chap exactly like his father--the same intelligent browneyes, the same fine features, and he was unusually clever and large forhis age.
"Mr. Dalken had been called to Washington on business one day, and thatsame day his wife was about to give a grand dinner and bridge, later.There were plenty of servants in the household, but on such an occasioneveryone was busy with the extra work. Billie's own nurse gave him hissupper and was about to put him to bed when she discovered a wheezingsound in his throat. She feared another attack of croup. She was aboutto apply the remedies she knew of, when Mrs. Dalken's maid came to thenursery.
"'The mistress says you are to go to her at once and I am to sit withthe baby for a while. She wants her head massaged because it aches so!'
"And the nurse answered as she thought proper, 'Go and tell yourmistress that Billie has a bad cold and I must remain to take care ofhim.'
"The maid tossed her head and left the room. She hadn't any desire toremain with a baby, especially if it was wheezing and beginning tocough. So she may have exaggerated the reply somewhat. However, that didnot excuse Mrs. Dalken from her next act. She was furious and sent thebutler to the nursery to pay off the nurse and see that she left thehouse at once!
"Then she sent the parlor-maid to sit in the nursery with the child.That dinner was a great success, but just before the card-party began,the maid sent down word that Mrs. Dalken was to come up to the nurseryat once, and see what ailed the baby--he was so red in the face and hada fever, she said.
"Mrs. Dalken whispered a reply: 'I'll be up as soon as I can get thetables started.' Then she never gave it another thought.
"Three times during that evening the frightened parlor-maid sent downfor the mother to come up. And three times the hostess smiled and noddedand then forgot all about the call. Before midnight, the boy beganchoking and gagging and the hysterical maid ran back and forth hoping tofind the butler, or someone, who would help in this extremity.
"Every servant in the house was busy serving drinks, cards, orcigarettes, and none had time to call up a doctor. Then the daring maidtelephoned for a doctor she knew. But he lived so far uptown that ittook half an hour to arrive at the house.
"Before he got there, little Billie Dalken was sleeping in the last longrest. No one was with him but the parlor-maid when he strangled todeath; but the awful contortions of his face and body showed thesuffering he endured during the convulsions.
"Mr. Dalken came home early in the morning, the Washington businesshaving been successfully consummated without any loss of time. It wasnot yet seven o'clock, but everyone in the house seemed astir. The heavyfumes of smoke and the aftermath of a riotous night's play were evidentthroughout the first floor rooms. He smiled sardonically at it all, thenrushed upstairs two steps at a time to peep at his beloved children.
"Elizabeth was weeping fearfully in her little crib that stood in theroom connecting with the nursery. The moment she saw her father shescreamed with relief.
"'Oh, Daddy! Billie's so twisted and queer--and he won't answer when Icall him.'
"Poor Dalken had a sudden premonition of catastrophe and rushed into thenursery. He almost collapsed at what he saw there. A strange woman wasabout to take up the stiff little form and do for it what a lovingmother should reverently insist upon doing.
"The father, with a broken heart, took his beloved boy and prepared himfor his last resting-place. All through the three days elapsing afterthe night of Billie's death, Mrs. Dalken remained locked in her boudoir,her maid seeing that the smelling salts were handy whenever her ladycalled for them. Between the visits of condolence from her intimates,and the fittings of the deep mourning, the mother was kept too busy tomeet her husband, or watch with the remains of her baby.
"But after the funeral (that also buried most of Dalken's joy in living)he insisted upon a serious talk with his butterfly wife. She promisedeverything, even to giving up her gambling games, if he would butrefrain from the publicity of the cause of Billie's death and thesubsequent separation. She used her sharpest weapon to gain herpoint--Elizabeth.
"So several more months went by, but the poor man was a meremoney-machine in his own home. Even his little daughter began to believethat society was everything, and love or home-ties only a necessity thatinterfered with one's pet pleasures and freedom.
"Without consulting her husband, Mrs. Dalken planned to visit Europewith a party of friends. To keep her grasp on her money-supplier shetook Elizabeth with her. A nurse looked after the girl. She remainedabroad for more than a year, and when she returned she went directly toa fashionable hotel instead of seeing that her home was reopened in NewYork.
"She had ordered everything swathed and packed for the time she wasabroad, and had left but two rooms livable for the owner and master ofthe magnificent dwelling.
"Dalken lived there in gloomy sorrow for a few months and finally hisfriends insisted upon his going to the Club where he could meet cheerfulcompanions and stop brooding over his irreparable loss.
"Mrs. Dalken was in no hurry to reopen her home, and all that Winter sheremained at the hotel, while her husband stopped at his club. Sheallowed him to call upon her two or three times a week, when others werepresent, and she not only accepted all the checks he offered her, butran up fearful debts everywhere. He was permitted to take Elizabeth outat certain times, but Mrs. Dalken was clever enough to keep hold on thegirl, as she knew it was her only hope of keeping her clutch on herprovider.
"Just after the Holidays, that season, she went to Palm Beach, but sheentered Elizabeth in a boarding school out of the city. Dalken tried, inmany ways, to learn where his child was, but he had no success in hissearch.
"Then he wired his wife that she must turn over the girl to him whileshe was running around, or he would instantly stop her income and sueher for desertion. Then she came back to New York and took Elizabeth outof school again, but matters got worse and worse for poor Dalken.Finally his dear friends, who loved him for what he was and is,persuaded him to sue for a legal separation. They hoped Mrs. Dalkenwould turn over the girl whom she had no natural love for, to thefather, as a hostage.
"But she was a wise woman, by this time. She accepted the separationwithout demur, but refused to give up Elizabeth. It was then agreed thatthe girl might choose which one of the parents she preferred to livewith. Having had so many years of life with her mother, the girl becamelike her--selfish, vain, and arrogant. No love or gratitude was found inher character.
"Just at this time, Mr. Dalken was taken very ill, and his mother (whois a dear, you will find, when you meet her) came from England to nursehim. He was ill for more than a year, so Elizabeth chose to remain withher mother for the time being.
"Mrs. Dalken, Senior, took her only child back to England with her, assoon as he could travel, and there she kept him well-nursed and caredfor, in her cousin's English country-house, until he had regained hisstrength and fairly good health. Then mother and son went to theContinent to visit the scenes of the famous battle-fields, and then onto the Riviera for a month.
"The wise mother knew that taking Mr. Dalken's thoughts from his ownmiserable state, and making him think of other's woes, would the soonerbrace him up to face his life-problem. And so it was.
"Elizabeth elected to remain with her frivolous mother but Mr. Dalkensupports her handsomely, and often bribes her to spend an afternoon ore
vening with him, by having a valuable gift awaiting her coming. Mr.Ashby, and other friends, have advised Dalken against this perniciousway of baiting the inclinations of the girl, but he says they do notknow his heart-hunger, and so cannot judge his actions."
"Oh, Mr. Fabian! Our poor, dear Mr. Dalken!" sobbed Polly, when thespeaker had ended his story.
"If I ever meet that horrid woman I shall tear her hair out, I know Ishall!" wept Eleanor, vehemently.
"If only we could do something, Nolla, to make up to our dear Dalk, forall his sorrow," sighed Polly, drying her eyes.
"You can love him the more for this story, girls, but do not refer toit, as he is still tender over his loss."
Polly in New York Page 14