A real Cinderella

IT was Sunday afternoon, and Gretel was at home alone. Mrs. Marsh had gone to church, and Ada was spending the afternoon with friends. It was the maid’s day out, and Mrs. Marsh had told Gretel that she intended calling on a friend after church, and if invited, might remain to supper. Ada did not expect to return until late in the evening.

“So if neither of us comes home, you can get your own supper and go to bed early,” the good lady had added. “You are not afraid to stay by yourself, are you?”

“Oh, no,” Gretel had answered cheerfully; “I don’t mind a bit. I’ll read, and—and—do you think that perhaps my brother might come again to-day, Mrs. Marsh?”

“I am sure he will not,” said Mrs. Marsh, with decision. “He must have a good many friends in New York, and we cannot expect to see much of him. When he does come again, however, I sincerely hope you will try to make a better impression than you did yesterday.”

Gretel really did not mind being alone. She was not a timid child, and the life she had led with her father had made her unusually independent for her age. But when Mrs. Marsh had gone out this afternoon she did not as usual rush to the piano. Somehow she did not feel quite like playing to-day. Music reminded her of yesterday, and it was not a comfortable recollection. So she went to her room in search of one of her precious books, and had just settled herself comfortably with “Little Women” when she was startled by the sound of the door-bell, and in spite of Mrs. Marsh’s assurances, her heart began to beat fast again.

“Hello, Gretel! anybody at home?”

Yes, there he was, her tall handsome brother, looking down at her with his pleasant smile, and this time Gretel was not afraid to speak.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, regretfully, “but Mrs. Marsh and Ada have both gone out. Mrs. Marsh said she was sure you wouldn’t come to-day; she thought you would have so many other friends to see.”

She stood holding the door, expecting that the visitor would go at once, as people usually did when told the ladies were not at home, but to her surprise, he did not move.

“Aren’t you going to let me in?” he asked, smiling.

Gretel was covered with confusion.

“Yes, oh, yes, indeed,” she protested eagerly; “I’d love to have you, but I didn’t think you’d want to come in when you knew everybody was out.”

“How about you? Don’t you count yourself as anybody?” her brother inquired, with a laugh, as he stepped into the hall, and Gretel closed the door.

Mr. Douane’s laugh was so pleasant that Gretel suddenly found herself laughing, too, though perhaps more from nervousness than enjoyment.

“I’m only a little girl,” she explained, “and people never come to see me.”

“Well, I have come to see you, at any rate, and to tell the truth, I am very glad Mrs. Marsh and the fascinating Ada are out. Would you like to come with me for a motor-ride?”

“A motor-ride?” repeated Gretel, looking puzzled. “Oh, you don’t mean to go to ride in an automobile! I should love it better than anything else in the world, but—but do you really think I could?”

“I don’t see anything to prevent. Do you like motoring?”

“I have only been in an automobile once,” Gretel explained. “Father was going to play at a gentleman’s house in New Rochelle, and the gentleman sent his car for him, and Father said I might go, too, and sit outside while he played. So I did, and we had a lovely ride, but it was rather cold waiting so long for Father. The car went so fast I was a little frightened at first, but I got used to it after a while, and then it was splendid. But I’m afraid Mrs. Marsh wouldn’t let me go. You see, the maid is out, too, and she doesn’t like to have the apartment left with nobody in it.”

Some of the amusement faded from the visitor’s face; he even looked a little annoyed.

“So they leave you alone to look after the house,” he said dryly. “Well, you are not to stay at home this time, whether Mrs. Marsh objects or not. I have hired a car for the afternoon, and I want to take you out with me; it’s a glorious day. I am your guardian, so it is your duty to do as I say, and it’s quite time we began to get acquainted with each other. So run and get on your warmest things, and I will write a note explaining matters to Mrs. Marsh. The apartment will be safe enough; we’ll get the janitor to look after it.”

Although not feeling at all certain as to how Mrs. Marsh would regard such an unheard-of proceeding, Gretel stood far too much in awe of this big, decided young man to dare argue the point with him, so without another word, she turned to do his bidding. She was just leaving the room when her brother called her back.

“We may stop somewhere for dinner, and not get back until the evening,” he remarked cheerfully, “so you may as well put on something pretty.” He glanced rather disapprovingly as he spoke at Gretel’s shiny black frock, with the big darn in the middle of the skirt.

Poor Gretel stopped short, and all the brightness of anticipation went out of her face. Her voice even shook a little when she spoke.

“I’m very sorry,” she faltered, blushing, “but I’m really afraid I won’t be able to go. You see, I haven’t got any pretty things to put on, and I’m afraid you wouldn’t like to take me in this dress.”

There was a moment’s pause while Mr. Douane regarded his little sister critically from top to toe. Then he gave vent to his feelings in a long, low whistle. Gretel’s cheeks were crimson, and she was fighting hard to keep back the rising tears. But when her brother spoke his voice was as kind as ever.

“Well, never mind about the clothes,” he said; “you look very well just as you are. How about a warm wrap, though? Have you a fur coat?”

Gretel was forced to admit that she had not, but she assured her brother that her winter jacket was very warm indeed, and, moreover, that she never felt cold. Mr. Douane smiled a rather peculiar smile, but made no further remarks, and ten minutes later Gretel found herself leaning back in a comfortable touring-car, while her brother and the chauffeur wrapped a warm fur robe about her, tucking her in so snugly that she felt sure she could not possibly feel cold even if it should begin to snow.

It was such a wonderful experience that it took Gretel some time to become accustomed to it. She scarcely spoke at all during the first half hour, but it was a beautiful afternoon, and under the combined effects of bright sunshine, crisp air, and delightful motion, the little girl’s spirits soon began to rise, and by the time they had crossed Seventy-second Street, and were bowling up the beautiful Riverside Drive, she was chattering away to her companion as though she had known him all her life.

“I’m not a bit frightened this time,” she declared. “This is something else for me to be grateful to you for, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know about that,” said Mr. Douane, smiling down into the eager, radiant little face; “why should you be particularly grateful to me for a motor-ride?”

“Why, because I must be grateful to you for everything,” said Gretel, innocently. “Mrs. Marsh says I ought to be even more grateful to you than I am to her. She says if it wasn’t for the money you send I should have to go to an orphan asylum. She would be glad to keep me, only she is afraid she wouldn’t be able to afford it.”

“I see,” said Mr. Douane, quietly. “So that is how she explains matters. Well, I must say I think she might have fitted you out a little better as regards clothes. I suppose she is kind to you; you are fond of her, are you not?”

“Oh, yes, she is very kind,” said loyal Gretel, “and—and I suppose I’m fond of her. I try to be very grateful all the time; Ada is kind, too; she gave me ten cents once. Of course it was pretty hard at first, I missed Father so, but I’m getting used to it now.”

Gretel wondered why at that moment her brother suddenly took her hand and patted it. He did not say anything, but there was a very kind look in his eyes, and when he spoke next his voice was unusually gentle.

“Tell me about your school,” he said. “Do you like going to school and what are your favorite lessons?”

And Gretel, delighted to find her brother really interested in her affairs, told him all about the lessons with Miss Talcott; of that lady’s going to California, and how Mrs. Marsh had advised her to try to make herself useful about the house during her enforced holiday. Mr. Douane listened very attentively, and although he did not say much, Gretel felt sure that he was interested. By dint of a few more questions she was led on to tell about her daily life and in less than half an hour Mr. Douane had learned all, and more than he wanted to know about his little sister’s life during the past year.

That was a wonderful afternoon, and Gretel enjoyed every moment. She even told her brother about Dora, and the visit of Lillie and Peter, ending with the story of the cream-puffs, over which Mr. Douane fairly shouted with laughter.

“It really was rather funny,” said Gretel, who could not help laughing herself at the recollection of that dreadful night, “but Mrs. Marsh was very angry; she says the spots will never come out of her rug, and it was so sad about Dora’s having to go away. Dora was such a nice girl, and it was her first place. Mrs. Marsh wouldn’t even give her a reference.”

Gretel was beginning to look rather troubled, but her brother said he was sure Dora would soon find another place, and then changed the subject by asking her where she would like to dine.

“There’s a lovely restaurant on Seventh Avenue,” said Gretel. “Father took me there two or three times, but perhaps you might think it was too expensive. They charge seventy-five cents for the table d’hôte.”

Mr. Douane laughed, and looked so much amused that Gretel was considerably puzzled.

“I have no doubt it is a very fine restaurant,” he said, kindly, “but I don’t think we will dine there this evening. Suppose we try Sherry’s? I haven’t been there for some years, but it used to be rather good.”

“Do you mean that big place on Fifth Avenue?” inquired Gretel, her eyes opening wide in astonishment. “Mr. Pendleton took Mrs. Marsh and Ada there once, and Ada said the dinner cost fifteen dollars. Oh, do you really think we ought to go there?”

Mr. Douane laughed again, and assured her that he thought they might venture to be extravagant for once, so when they had made the tour of Van Cortlandt and The Bronx, the chauffeur was directed to take them back to the city, and at about seven o’clock the car drew up before the big Fifth Avenue restaurant.

“I’ve passed here a great many times, but I never thought I should be going in,” whispered Gretel to her brother, as they went up the steps, and she was conscious of a delightful little thrill of anticipation.

Fifteen minutes later they were sitting at a small table in the brilliantly lighted restaurant, and Mr. Douane was giving one of the waiters an order which fairly took away Gretel’s breath; it was all delightful and beyond her wildest dreams, but she was a little anxious, notwithstanding.

“What’s the matter, Gretel?” Mr. Douane asked, regarding her troubled face curiously, as the waiter disappeared with the order. “Are you afraid you are not going to get enough to eat?”

“Oh, no, indeed!” cried Gretel, reddening; “it’s all perfectly wonderful, only—only, are you quite sure you can afford it? It sounded so very expensive.”

“Quite sure,” laughed her brother. “You are an economical little person, Gretel.”

“That’s just what Father used to say,” said Gretel, her face brightening, “but you see, I had to be rather economical, because Father was so very extravagant. He didn’t care a bit about things for himself, but he wanted them to give to his friends. He used to tell me that if I didn’t warn him about not spending all his money, he wouldn’t have any at all left. He said Mother used to keep his money for him, but after she died there wasn’t anybody else to do it, and that was why he was always so poor.”

A shade of sadness passed over Percy Douane’s pleasant face.

“Poor Mother,” he said, with a sigh, and Gretel suddenly remembered that her mother was also his, and felt more intimate with this new brother of hers than she would have believed possible a few hours earlier.

What a dinner that was! Gretel had never in her life tasted such delicious things. It was rather too early for the usual crowd, but there were plenty of diners to watch, and what with the bright lights, the music, and the delicious food, the little girl felt very much as Cinderella must have felt when she first arrived at the ball. As for the prince, there could not possibly have been a more delightful prince than her brother. The night before at Mrs. Marsh’s, she had thought him rather quiet, but this evening he was the merriest of companions, and what was more, he seemed to be enjoying himself quite as much as Gretel was. Gretel had been accustomed to the society of grown-up people all her life, and was in many ways old for her age. She had been her father’s friend and companion at an age when most children are still in the nursery, and even the year spent under Mrs. Marsh’s stern discipline had failed to altogether suppress her love of talking. So she chattered away, and by the time dinner was over Mr. Douane had learned a good many things, some of which were of such a surprising nature that he found considerable difficulty in restraining his rising indignation.

“Do you mean to tell me that Mrs. Marsh never bought you a Christmas present with the money I sent?” he inquired once, in a tone of so much surprise that Gretel was a little startled.

“Did you really send money to buy me a Christmas present?” she asked innocently. “How very kind you were. Mrs. Marsh didn’t tell me about it, but perhaps she forgot. I suppose she couldn’t spend the money that way, because—well, you see, she said she didn’t believe you had any idea how much things cost. I’m very glad you told me, though, for it makes another thing for me to be grateful about.”

“Don’t talk to me about being grateful, Gretel; I don’t like it.” Mr. Douane spoke so sharply that Gretel was very much embarrassed, but the next moment her brother was smiling again, and had said something to make her laugh.

She felt a little uneasy again when she saw the size of the bill her brother handed the waiter, and the small amount of change which was returned to him, but she was beginning to realize that Percy did not like being reproved for extravagance, so she wisely said nothing, although she could not help an uncomfortable fear that he might be obliged to go without breakfast the next morning, as her father had sometimes done.

There was just one subject that Gretel never mentioned once all that afternoon and evening, and that was “fairy-land.” When the orchestra played popular airs, and her brother asked her if she cared for music, she said “Yes” in a rather low voice, and instantly became very much absorbed in her ice-cream. Music was the one thing about which she did not want to talk, or even to think just then. The more she saw of her brother, and the more she loved and admired him, the less possible it seemed that she could ever tell him about the ticket to fairy-land.

It was not yet nine o’clock when Gretel reached home. She and her brother had walked the few blocks from Sherry’s to the apartment-house and the little girl had found the walk through the brightly-lighted city streets with her tall companion very pleasant. She had rather hoped to find the Marshes still out, but the elevator-boy informed them that Mrs. Marsh had already reached home.

“Her friend can’t have asked her to stay to supper, then,” said Gretel, regretfully. “I’m afraid she’ll scold a good deal, but you’ll explain about it all, won’t you, Percy?”

“I certainly will explain,” said Mr. Douane, and his tone sounded so determined that Gretel felt much relieved, even though her brother was looking rather stern, and not nearly as pleasant as he had looked at the restaurant.

It was Mrs. Marsh herself who opened the door, neither Ada nor the colored maid having as yet returned. She was smiling, and greeted Mr. Douane in her “company voice,” but there was something in the glance she gave Gretel, which caused the child’s heart to sink with a foreboding of trouble to come.

But Percy Douane did not waste much time in explanations or apologies.

“I took Gretel for a motor-ride, and afterwards we dined at Sherry’s,” he said, quite as if such unheard-of proceedings were matters of every-day occurrence. “I hope you found the note I left for you.”

“Oh, yes, thank you; the janitor gave it to me as soon as I came in. It was a great treat for the dear child. I am sure you have had a delightful time, Gretel.”

“It was beautiful,” said Gretel, with shining eyes. “I’m sorry you had to get supper all by yourself, though,” she added, regretfully. “I hoped that lady you went to see would ask you to stay. You said—”

“Oh, I managed quite comfortably,” interrupted Mrs. Marsh, frowning. “I am glad you have had such a happy day, but it is past your bedtime now, so bid your brother good night, and run off at once. I am afraid you don’t know much about children’s bedtime, Cousin Percy.”

“Perhaps not,” said Mr. Douane, rather grimly, “but Gretel and I have had a jolly evening, and we are going to have another very soon. Good night, little woman.” And he drew his little sister to him, and kissed her with more tenderness than he himself would have believed possible a few hours earlier.

“Good night,” said Gretel, returning her brother’s kiss heartily. “You said I mustn’t talk about being grateful, but I am just the same. I’ve had a perfectly wonderful time.” And then, warned by an impatient gesture from Mrs. Marsh, she hurried away to her own little room.

“And now, Mrs. Marsh, I wish to have a little talk with you,” said Mr. Douane, as Gretel’s door closed behind her, and there was that in his tone which caused that lady to tremble, and turn rather pale, as she silently led the way to the parlor.