The country was beautiful with its rugged hills and heather-clothed fields. The road to Bangor ran through the most picturesque section of all this scenic beauty, and the girls took many snapshots of the artistic views.
The route planned led to Bangor, where the tourists stayed over-night. No one cared to cross St. George’s Channel and arrive in Dublin at night, for they had been hearing too much about the Irish riots, to deliberately choose to stay at any hotel where bricks and shot might strike innocent heads at any time.
It was during the evening spent at Bangor, that Jimmy beheld Eleanor Maynard with different eyes. Ruth had suddenly palled on him, and his heart grew cold towards her charm and beauty. But Ruth paid no attention to his change of tactics. She had smilingly accepted homage, and she as smilingly waived it again. Jimmy’s ardent protests of enduring faith and love were empty words to her. The candy and tokens were tangible delights.
What opened Jimmy’s “love-eyes” to Eleanor’s apparent value was her remark about butterfly lovers.
“I never could stand a man who buzzed about from one blossom to another like a butterfly,” commented Eleanor.
“Nor I. But then, you and I, Nolla, always knew real men,” added Polly.
“If other girls had the advantages we western girls have, of knowing great big heroes of the plains, they’d soon sicken of society idiots,” declared Dodo.
Ruth and Nancy were the audience to these remarks, but Angela was having a tête-à-tête with Mrs. Alexander. Jimmy stood eagerly watching the five girls, comparing notes on each other.
“Well, I never was west, so I only know the kind of a beau that Jimmy Osgood represents,” giggled Ruth. “As long as they are not serious, and are useful in giving you candy and flowers, they answer a certain purpose.”
Ruth had been so cloyingly sweet and responsive to all his (Jimmy’s) advances, that this speech from her suddenly broke the spell he had been under. From that moment on, Jimmy had no eyes for a girl who could be so unkind.
“Poor Jimmy! Ruth, you will break his heart if he ever hears of what you said,” remarked Eleanor, and that sympathetic rejoinder to Ruth’s heartless chatter drew Jimmy to a new star in the firmament of his hopes.
No one knew that Jimmy had been accidentally eaves-dropping, so when they began to climb into the cars the next morning, to go to Dublin, everyone was surprised to find how carefully Jimmy assisted Eleanor to the front seat—the place he considered a seat of honor.
Quite unabashed, and giggling at the incident, Ruth took a back seat with Polly and Dodo. But Polly felt jealous of Jimmy’s demands on Eleanor’s time. She felt that her chum and dear friend should divide her thoughts and attentions with others, and not sit in front listening to a boy’s foolishness, all day long!
The road from Dublin, northwards, was rutty, and with wild vines over-growing the steep banks on both sides. But the blossoms seemed paler than those in England, and their perfume much less sweet. Even in size, they appeared poorly-nourished, when compared to their large robust English brethren.
The cottages they passed on this ride bore all the marks of neglect, poverty and dirt. Pigs were as much at home inside the house, as were the tenants, while troops of dirty children rolled around in front of the houses, mingling with the chickens, dogs, pigs and other domestic live-stock, in cases where the owner could afford them.
“Oh, let’s get away from this part of Ireland,” cried Angela, with disgust.
“It seems a waste of valuable time to have come here at all,” declared Polly, holding a handkerchief to her nose as they passed a dreadful hovel where unkempt children played and fought.
The roads were so bad, however, that the cars could not speed very fast, so they had to stop at Belfast, that night, and resume the journey in the morning. The second day in Ireland they managed to travel as far as Port Rush, merely going aside before reaching that place, in order to see the “Giant’s Causeway” and its rugged cliffs along the coast-line.
Another night was spent in Port Rush, as the boat for Scotland had left before the tourists reached the port. Jimmy had gone headlong into the new affair with Eleanor, and apparently had continued his love-making where he had suddenly terminated it with Ruth. There were no romantic beginnings for Eleanor, in his approaches to a declaration. So that when they were crossing from Ireland to Androssan, in Scotland, the infatuated lover managed to get Eleanor away from the others and hide her in a steamer-chair, found in a nook, where he could give full expression to his gift of romance.
The others in the party saw the Giant’s Causeway and the famous cliffs, from the sea, as they passed by in the steamer, but Eleanor never saw the least bit of them, because of Jimmy’s screening form and his refusal to permit her to leave him.
Angela was delighted to find her brother had finally appreciated the recklessness of his attachment to Ruth, when there were far richer girls in the party. She would have selected Dodo or Polly, had he asked her to decide for him, but Eleanor was better than Ruth. So she seconded all her brother’s attempts to kidnap Eleanor whenever the entire party wished to go anywhere or do a thing.
“It’s a wonder your brother did not fall in love with these four pretty girls at one time—and save trouble,” said Nancy Fabian, laughingly to Angela.
“Now, Nancy, don’t show your jealousy,” returned Angela.
“Me—jealous! Why, Angie, you know I refused Jimmy three or four times before these girls ever put in an appearance. To accuse me of jealousy when I hail the deliverance from his attentions is ridiculous of you.”
Polly overheard these remarks and determined that she would spare her friend any further annoyances from Jimmy. “Here Nolla was losing all the wonderful sights they came expressly to Europe to see, and a foolish boy was using that time for a flirtation.” Polly mentioned this to Eleanor the first time she got her away from Jimmy.
“Oh, but he heaps such good candies on one, Poll,” laughed Eleanor, apologetically. “Let his love die a natural death, and then there will be no danger of its ghost ever bobbing up to frighten me.”
“But you’re giving this precious time to a bally fool, and missing Mr. Fabian’s rare lessons on information you’ll need to know,” declared Polly, angrily.
“I can’t help it, Poll. You’ll see how it is when your turn comes with Jimmy,” laughed Eleanor, teasingly.
Polly’s eyes snapped fire. Then she threatened something that had been alluded to before, between Eleanor and herself. “I plan to write letters home tonight when we stop at Glasgow. I’m going to tell Paul Stewart what a dreadful flirt you have turned out to be!”
Eleanor gasped, but was brave. “Oh yes, and also tell him what a wonderful girl his old playmate, Dodo Alexander, is, and how, with all her money, he can easily win her and live in ease the rest of his life!”
Eleanor turned away shortly after that, and Polly felt like crying. This was the first time, in years, that Eleanor and she had had words, and that horrid little fop was the cause of it!
But Polly’s threat, although vain, served to startle Eleanor in her passive acceptance of Jimmy’s attentions. She sat in the same seat on the road to Edinburgh, it is true, but she was a dull companion and never as much as glanced at her admirer.
Polly and she had not spoken to each other since the words they had had, but both girls revenged themselves on Jimmy—the cause of their quarrel. And he, unaware of what had caused the sudden change in Eleanor’s feelings for him, tried all the more to win her back to that former sweet companionship with him.
At Edinburgh, Mr. Fabian conducted his party through the fifteen famous castles and numerous other places of interest to lovers of the antique, and Eleanor was a member of the group in every instance. In order to be near his heart’s desire, Jimmy had to trail along, too, sighing in anguish and rolling his eyes in desperation, when Eleanor ignored him completely.
“He acts and looks like a comedian in the Movies,” said Nancy, impatiently.
Angela smiled wisely and tossed her head when she heard the remark. Nancy cared naught for that, but turned her attention to Polly who was flushing and fuming to herself.
“What’s the matter, Poll dear?” asked Nancy, softly.
“Oh, he makes me so mad! I could just slap his face for him! There’s your father giving us all this wonderful information on architecture and antiques, and poor Nolla not hearing a word of it, because of that fortune-hunting fool!”
“S-sh! Not so loud, dear! I feel as you do about him, but I have learned that it is best not to interfere in the matter. Let Jimmy and his sister ‘have rope enough.’ You know the rest.”
“Why, Nancy! I thought you were devoted to Angela?” gasped Polly.
“I was—once, dear, but don’t speak of it to anyone else. I thought Angie the most wonderful girl in the world until these past few days when I found that her entire heart and mind is set on getting wealth by some means or other. Her art, her friends, and her very self-respect, are being sacrificed to that one ambition. Hence I have had to crucify my friendship, too, and try to feel indifferent to the past.”
“Dear Nancy!” condoled Polly. “I know just how I would feel if Nolla proved to be unworthy of my love and friendship.”
“But she won’t—she is a true American, Polly, and that makes a difference. Much depends on the way you have been trained to think, and poor Angie thinks society and wealth mean heaven.”
Having visited the principal points of interest in Edinburgh, Mr. Fabian took his party to Abbotsford, the home of Sir Walter Scott. Here the collection of wonderful objects and the interest created in them by the names of the donors to the famous novelist, gave the tourists much pleasure.
Polly saw that Jimmy still tormented Eleanor and kept her from enjoying the visit to Abbotsford as she should have done. So she waylaid the young man, as he followed Eleanor from the place.
“James Osgood! What do you suppose Nolla Maynard came to Europe for? To amuse you with silly-mush, or to study art and try to become experienced against the time we go into business?” fumed Polly, striding in front of Jimmy and facing him so that he had to stop short.
Eleanor was surprised at first, then she began to enjoy the encounter. Jimmy was too amazed to answer, but he stared at Polly and her blazing eyes, as if she were an apparition.
“Well, I’ll tell you something that ought to do you good!” continued Polly, cracking her fingers under Jimmy’s nose. “There isn’t a man outside of Colorado, who can ever touch Eleanor Maynard’s heart, because she left it out there long ago! And what’s more—there isn’t a man like you, that can get one cent of American money from any girl who has sense to know what you’re after! Now take yourself and your love-making off, to a girl who doesn’t know better!”
The cutting scorn and fire with which Polly drove home her speech, caused Jimmy to shrink momentarily, but he also saw the glorious beauty of the girl with the flushed face, blazing eyes, and quivering form, and his impressionable heart took fire.
Polly had left him speechless, and Eleanor had hurried away to the other girls, lest she burst out laughing in sheer enjoyment of the bout between the two. But Jimmy stood lost in thought. He had never in his life, had anyone speak so to him, and never had he seen such marvellous beauty as that which Polly scintillated as she fired her sparks of fury at him.
Then he suddenly recovered and shot ahead to reach his car. He waited at the side, where one who would sit beside him, had to enter. He waved Nancy, Ruth, and Eleanor on to the back, and bowed low when Polly came up.
“Humph!” was all she granted him, and flounced along to the other seats. Thus it happened that Angela had to sit beside her brother that day, much to the annoyance of both of them.
“What’s the matter with Nolla?” whispered she, as the car started.
“Nothing. She’s nice enough, but I’m going to get Polly Brewster if I have to kidnap her!” he hissed through his teeth. Meantime he made the car tear along at such a rate that the girls could hardly breathe.
“D-o—n’t kill—us—in—the—me-an—time!” gasped Angela.
“Better all dead, than let her get away!”
“I al-wa-ys kn-ew you—had co-ot-tton wh-ere br-rains ought—to—be-e——” Angela managed to jerk forth.
Jimmy made no reply to this stigma but tore along the road until a constable arrested him. That calmed him somewhat, for he had to pay a fine, and it took all the money Mrs. Alexander had recently given him.
When the second car caught up with Jimmy’s, Mr. Alexander shouted gleefully: “That was some race, Jimmy, old boy! I used to eat up the road that way, in Colorado, but they won’t stand for it over here, will they?”
As Jimmy had just transferred his little roll of bills from his pocket, to the constable’s hand, he grunted and started on slowly.
Mr. Fabian called out, however: “You rushed past all the towns I had planned to stop at and explore. Now shall we go back!”
“No, never mind, Prof! let’s get back to London and end this awful trip!” shouted Polly, anxiously.
Her friends laughed, but the tourists in the second car could not understand why the drive was so awful to Polly.
At Penrith the travellers stopped, as they planned to go cross country to visit some fine old places located at Ripon. And they also wished to visit York, which was a few miles from Penrith.
That night, the moment Jimmy was washed and brushed, he took up his post at the foot of the stairs where the girls would have to come down. One after another of the party descended but Polly failed to appear. Eleanor smiled and took his arm to lure him away, but he shook off her hand just as a petulant child might.
Still smiling, Eleanor walked away and joined her friends in the parlor. Soon after that, they went to the dining-room for dinner, leaving Jimmy still on guard waiting for Polly.
It was a merry party that enjoyed dinner that evening, but Jimmy took no interest in it, as he still watched for the coming of his lady—as he called her to himself. During a lull in the conversation in the dining-room, Jimmy distinctly heard a voice telling of exploits in the Rocky Mountains, when Eleanor spent the Summer at Pebbly Pit.
Jimmy started! It was Polly’s own voice! But how did she get down while he stood watching so carefully?
He hurried to the door of the room and looked in. There she sat, entertaining the whole assembly, with her stories—and he had been left out in the hall all that time! He could have wept!
When he took a seat at the table, everyone expressed the deepest concern for him. “Was he ill?” “Did he feel badly about the fine for speeding?” and many other questions to which he gave no reply.
When they left the room, Jimmy jumped up also, and just as Polly was leaving, he caught her hand.
“Won’t you let me see you alone this evening—please?”
Polly lifted her head a bit higher—if that were possible—and deigned to glance at him. “What for?” snapped she.
“I—I want to tell you—oh, just give me a moment!”
“Very well—one moment right here! Let the others leave.”
“No—no, not in this public room. Somewhere where I can speak——” begged Jimmy.
“Here or nowhere!”
“Oh, Polly, Polly! Why are you so cruel?” began Jimmy, as he forced a look of agony into his eyes.
“Come now—that will do from you, little boy! If that is what you have to say, then just keep it. I’ve no time to throw away,” said Polly, in a voice like steel, and then she drew aside her dress and walked away.
Jimmy stood disconsolate, wishing he dared commit suicide before her eyes, and make her repent those unkind words. But he was awfully hungry, and he thought better of suicide so he went back to finish his late dinner.
Eleanor saw him, later, as he left the dining-room and, with the imp of mischief uppermost in her mind, waylaid him and spent the evening talking of nothing but Polly—her beauty, her accomplishments, and her tremendous wealth that no one as yet, had been able to compute.
Had Jimmy any doubt of who his soul-mate was, before, that talk settled it. He was now determined to have Polly, even if he had to steal her and keep her locked up until she consented to his offer of marriage.
The farce now amused everyone but Angela and Mrs. Alexander. Jimmy was so openly wild about Polly that he acted like a possessed idiot rather than a young man with a grain of sense. If Polly had fawned upon him, he might have wearied of her company, but because she scorned him so heartily and showed it plainly, he felt all the more attracted to her.
Mrs. Alexander snubbed Polly whenever she scorned Jimmy; and Angela made much of the lady because she showed her partisanship for the young man, so openly. Thus the two, Angela and Mrs. Alexander came closer together because of the common bond—Jimmy.
When Mr. Fabian suggested that all go to see the Minster of York, Angela and Mrs. Alexander refused. Jimmy saw the look Polly cast at him, and murmured something about drowning his sorrow. But he failed to say whether it would be in the river or in home-brew.
They viewed the ancient place and Mr. Fabian remarked: “It was here that the greatest disaster that ever befell man occurred in 306 A.D.”
“Why, I never heard of it—what was it?” asked Mr. Ashby.
“Perhaps you, like many others, never thought of it as a disaster,” replied Mr. Fabian. “Because I speak of the proclamation issued here by the Romans, that made Constantine an Emperor in 306. This emperor, understanding the tremendous advantages of a political nature, if he could gain full power and control of the religion that was gaining such an ascendancy with the people—the Christ Truth that healed the sick, cured sin, and raised the very dead, as it did until three hundred years after Jesus ascended—bribed a few of the disloyal Christians to act in concord with him.
“For the reward of place and power conceded to them, the unscrupulous Christians sold out their faith and brethren to this Emperor. He, wily and crafty in diplomacy and politics, sent out word, far and wide, that Christianity would thenceforth be protected by him.
“In this place, that proclamation was hailed with a great celebration, and Christianity became the ruling religion here. But the power of the Spirit, as used by Christ Jesus, vanished when pomp and politics supplanted it, and soon the gift of healing was lost until recent years.”
“That is very interesting, Fabian,” said Mr. Ashby, while the girls listened to this unusual information, eagerly. “I have sometimes wondered why it was that the power demonstrated by Christ Jesus could not have been used by his followers.”
“It was, you see, until Constantine misused the gift. All such who use it for place or power will lose it,” said Mr. Fabian, earnestly.
“How did you ever learn about it, Prof?” asked Eleanor eagerly.
“The records of the entire transaction and the courageous though fearful stand the Early Christians took to defend their religion, can be read in the books called ‘The Anti-Nicean Fathers.’ There one can learn how wonderful were the cures and the over-coming of death for all who accepted Christianity, up to the time when it became defiled by greed and avarice and earthly taint.
“But, to me, the saddest part of all that sad event, is the fact that mankind, today, believes it has the Truth as taught and practised by Christ Jesus. Whereas they only have the form and farce of it, as it was changed from the pure spiritual power to that counterfeit endorsed by Constantine. And for this subterfuge, the world honors that unscrupulous politician!”
Mr. Fabian was so incensed at the thought of all the act meant to the world, that he stalked out of the Minster and went on silently, followed almost as silently by the others. They were all thinking earnestly of what he had said, and everyone pondered on what might have been had Constantine never interfered with the Truth.
After leaving York, the cars went through Selby, and stopped at Doncast long enough to give the tourists time to visit the gargoyled church. Then they sped on to Sheffield where Mr. Fabian showed the girls how the famous Sheffield Plate was made.
The next stopping place was Haddon Hall, the home and burial spot of Dorothy Vernon. The country in this part of England is wild and ruggedly beautiful, with good roads for automobiles. So the cars sped smoothly along to Derby, where the collectors had dreams of old Crown Derby ware, but found nothing to materialize those visions.
Jimmy had been so annoying with his attentions to Polly, with his hang-dog expression, as he followed her everywhere, that the others began to feel impatient about it, instead of laughing as at a good joke as they had done. Finally Mr. Fabian spoke to him severely.
“See here, James, I can make allowances for a young man of your type, naturally, but when you make a beastly nuisance of yourself, I must interfere. Now leave Polly alone, and don’t annoy her further with your transitory love. Throw it away on some girl who wants it.”
But Mrs. Fabian felt that a better cure might have been applied. “If Polly would only hang on his arm and tell him how she loves him, he will drop her like an old shoe.”
“I don’t believe it! He has a double-edged axe to grind, and there’s no use getting Polly in wrong, in case he wanted to get her and what she owns,” returned Mr. Fabian, wisely.
Jimmy had not the character that would give perseverance and persistence for any problem, so he finally lost interest in the affair he had created for himself with Polly. Mrs. Alexander felt greatly elated when she saw him casting eyes at Dodo, oftener than he had in the past. And to show her appreciation of this, she quietly urged another roll of bills into his willing palm.
Perhaps it was the understanding that Polly and Dodo had had with each other that had caught Jimmy’s attention. To spare Polly any further annoyance, Dodo had offered to divert the silly affair to herself, if possible. So she dressed in her finest, and flirted with Jimmy, and tried in every way to attract his eyes to herself. And it was not difficult to do, either.
Before they started for London, having done the points of interest at Coventry, Kenilworth, and so on to Warwick and Stratford-on-Avon, Jimmy was recovering from his desire to die, and was taking notice of Dodo. By the time they reached Stratford he was able to act any lover’s part in the Shakespearian plays, provided Dodo was the lady-love in the scene.
His companions, excepting Angela and Dodo’s mother, were out of all patience with him. He was such a weak-hearted lover who had no idea of the first principles of the game, that they had very little to say to him the last days of the trip.
Dodo bravely endured his soft speeches and smilingly accepted the bon-bons and blossoms her mother’s money enabled him to shower upon her, but when they reached London, and the time came when the association could be severed, she ruthlessly did so.
The Americans stopped at one of the best hotels, while Angela and Jimmy drove to their home to get the directions left there for them by Sir James.
Shortly after everyone had decided to rest at the hotel after the long ride that day, Jimmy came rushing in to see the men.
“We found these letters at the house, so Angela made me come right in with them. Of course, you will all accept!”
There was a special invitation for each family, inviting them down to Sir James’ country place for a week or two. When Mr. Alexander read and passed the letter on to his wife, she was so pleased that she could hardly wait to hear what the others would say.
“Very sorry, Jimmy, but I am booked for business interviews from now on until I sail for the States, again,” explained Mr. Ashby, answering for his family as well as for himself.
“And we plan to leave London very shortly, Jimmy, to tour the Continent, as you know,” added Mr. Fabian.
“But we will go down with you, Jimmy, and thank your dear father, again and again,” exclaimed Mrs. Alexander, sweetly.
“How do you know we will?” demanded Mr. Alexander; “I don’t want to be bothered with style and society when I can have a nice time in my car touring over Europe.”
“We’ll have to go for a week, at least,” said Mrs. Alexander, positively. “There are many reasons why.” Then turning to Jimmy she added: “So tell your dear parents that we will be pleased to accept, Jimmy.”
Dodo hurried from the parlor where this meeting took place, and Jimmy could not find her when he tried to have a few words with her, alone.
“Never mind, now, Jimmy,” whispered Mrs. Alexander as she followed him from the room. “You will have Dodo all to yourself when we get down to Osgood Hall.”
Rolling his eyes dramatically and sighing with joy as he shook the plump bejewelled hands of his expectant mother-in-law, Jimmy hurried away to rejoin his sister Angela in the car.
“Dodo, your mother says we got to go with her to visit the Osgoods,” Mr. Alexander informed his daughter, early the next morning at breakfast.
“Well, I won’t! so there! I’m going with Polly and her friends, to Paris. I just guess I can take up decorating if I want to, and Ma can’t stop me!” Dodo was really angry.
“I’ve been thinking, Dodo, that if we don’t go down with Ma, she can’t go there alone. Now she wants to go the worst way, but she won’t care so much whether we stay on or not—as long as she can hold on to the invitation.”
Dodo looked up quickly at her father’s tone. “What do you mean, Pa?”
“Well, you see, we plan to go down in the car. We can carry all the trunks and other traps, that way. But going down there doesn’t say we’ve got to stay, does it?”
“N-o-o,” agreed Dodo, beginning to see light.
“Well then, getting Ma down there, and you and I clearing out again, is all that I want to do. She will stay on and we will fly to Paris. How is that?”
Dodo laughed merrily at the plot, but she still had to hear further particulars. For instance, how did Pa expect to get away from the others without suspicion, and on what plea would he get back to London?
“Say now, Do—you don’t suspect me of telling to them people all I expect to do, do you? No, I’ll just wait for night, and then you and I will elope together.”
“Elope! Oh, Pa, how funny!” laughed Dodo, clapping her hands.
“Yeh, easy as pie, Do! Now listen to me. Ma gets all nicely settled the first night, and you have your little room by yourself. I go out for a smoke with my friend pipe—all by myself. I see you trying to steal away with your bundles, and a MAN! I hear a motor purr, and I see you and that man get in a car—and off you tear. I foller you to London, and keep right on your heels to Paris. There I catch you, and send word back to Ma to ease her mind.
“When she hears that you eloped with a man, and I went after, to catch you, before you married someone we don’t know about, she will be so glad that she’ll forgive me. And she won’t dare say a word to you, because that will spoil her little game for Jimmy, see?
“The Osgoods will make her stay on with them, if they really plan to land our million, because they will need some link by which to win you back, see? If they think more of their family than of our money, they’ll let Ma go and join us in Paris.
“Now, Dodo, what you think of your Pa’s little scheme?” laughed the little man, as he rubbed his hands together in glee.
“Say, Pa! It’s a shame such a wonder as you should be hidden to the world,” exclaimed Dodo, admiringly.
“As long as it hides you and me until the storm blows over, will be enough to satisfy me,” retorted Mr. Alexander.
At this moment, the Fabians and Ashbys entered the room, and Mr. Alexander winked at his daughter for secrecy on the subject they had been discussing. Soon after the others sat down at the breakfast table, Mrs. Alexander joined them, and the conversation turned to their parting.
“When do you plan to leave London, Mrs. Alexander?” asked Mr. Ashby, politely.
“Tomorrow, I hope. I want to fit Dodo up in some decent gowns before I take her to such a fine place as Osgood Hall.”
“When do you leave, Mr. Ashby?” asked Dodo.
“I expect to take Ruth and my wife down to my cousin’s, at Brighton, this afternoon. Then I have to go to different towns, you know, to collect things for my customers in the States.”
“And you, Polly?” Dodo turned to the girl she liked best of those she had met that summer.
“We are going to remain in London for a few days more, and see the Museums and galleries, then go on to Paris.”
“I wish I was going with you,” said Dodo. “Maybe we can meet in Paris, soon, and I can go on with you-all to learn more of antiques and decorating.”
“That must be as your father and mother say, Dodo,” Mr. Fabian now remarked.
“I always said Dodo could do as she liked,” quickly said Mr. Alexander.
“But my daughter will be with me down at Osgood Hall, so you won’t be likely to cross each other’s path again, in Europe,” declared Mrs. Alexander, smilingly, although her tone expressed her determination.
The Ashbys left that afternoon, and Mrs. Alexander took Dodo shopping for more clothes. Then, in the morning, the car was brought to the hotel, and the girls went with Dodo to see her off.
“I sure feel as if I want to cry,” whimpered Dodo, pretending to dab her eyes.
“We-all will miss you awfully, Dodo. You’re a good pal and we had such good times with you!” sighed Polly.
“Let’s hope we will meet soon, in spite of Ma’s sayin’ our paths wouldn’t cross each other again,” grinned Mr. Alexander.
“Ebeneezer, do get started, won’t you? Here we are sitting and holding up everyone else!” snapped Mrs. Alexander.
So the car drove off, with Dodo waving her hand as long as she could see her friends.
The Fabians and Polly and Eleanor visited the Victoria and Albert Museum that day, finding many wonderful pieces to admire. Among bronzes, ivories, tapestries and other art objects, Mr. Fabian pointed out various bits of costly and famous work.
There was a reading-desk of the 15th century; several Florentine coffers with fine carved panels; a beautiful cabinet decorated with Marquetry of the South German type, that hailed back to the 16th century. And in the Pavilion, Polly found a lovely dressing-table of satin-wood from the 18th century that reminded her of the piece she had bought down in Sussex.
The second day at the Museum—for it took several days to do it thoroughly—they visited the rooms where all kinds of furniture are exhibited, from stately William and Mary chairs down to the tiniest of foot-stools and ottomans.
They were passing an odd group of chairs when Eleanor laughingly drew their attention to two. “Just look at that fat old roistering chair conversing with the thin straight-laced prig of a side-chair, next to him.”
Her description was so true of the two chairs, that her companions laughed.
“Yes,” said Mr. Fabian, “the stiff-backed puritanical chair is telling the fat old rascal what a coarse bourgeois manner he shows in such good company.”
“Daddy, how could such a clumsy chair ever get into this famous museum?” asked Nancy.
“Because it can claim antiquity,” replied her father. “In early English times, when Squires and over-lords ruled the land, they spent most of their time in drinking and gambling. This chair is a type of them, is it not?”
“It certainly is,” agreed the girls.
“So you will find almost every period of furniture. They tell, truer than one thinks at the time, of the type of people that makes and uses them. You will find effeminate pieces in the reign of the Louis’, and hard-looking furniture in German history. Our own American furniture tells, better than all else, of the mixing of nations in the ‘melting-pot.’ Our furniture has no type, or style, individually its own.
“The so-called sales advertised in department stores are symbolic of what Americans are satisfied with: hodge-podge ready-made factory pieces, quickly glued together, and badly finished. As long as it is showy, and can demand a high price, the average American is satisfied. And that is the great error we interior decorators have to correct—we have to educate the people away from confusion and into art and beauty.”
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.
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.
Eleanor and Dodo bought a few smaller trifles, but that day’s sale brought out such a conglomeration of beautiful objects, as well as dreadful imitations, that Mr. Fabian warned the girls about bidding injudiciously.
“This sale offers a fine opportunity of study for us, girls, but let me advise you before you bid on anything. I want you to look well at everything put up, and tell me why it is good, or what makes it impossible. In this way, you will learn a great deal, even though you may not care to buy the articles we criticise.”
Then he turned to Dodo and added: “One cannot train his eyes to recognize art and beauty at once, you see. Your eyes may criticise and your hands may accomplish art-work, but the inspiration that truly expresses art comes from Mind alone. Thus the finer and more harmonious the thoughts of the mentality that thinks, the more beautiful and perfect will be his achievement in any line of work.
“Take our own line, for instance—interior decorating. The genius is one who has sympathy, tact, good sense, and practicality, combined with his talent to select, assort, group and arrange the numerous objects necessary to create an atmosphere.
“Wall-coverings and hangings, floor-coverings, pictures, lighting-fixtures and trim of rooms, are fully as important a feature in an effect, as the furniture of the room, for it all goes to make the complete picture of a home.
“No novice can win laurels in this line, Dodo. But one who earnestly studies and conscientiously applies the valuable experiences of other successful artists of the past, will win. That is why I wanted my girls to see the collections in Europe—to benefit them by the successes and hard work of others, whose work of past times is still found to be the best of its kind, and now are on free exhibition in museums and chateaux of the Continent.”
Turning to the other girls who were listening to him, he added: “Now gaze about and remember. Tell me how not to decorate with impossible objects on view here and elsewhere; and how to use what is really good that will combine to present a perfect interior.”
Then the girls took a new interest in studying and criticising the different pieces that were placed on sale. Dodo showed an aptitude that astonished Mr. Fabian and his students, for no one had given her credit for having such a critical sense on works of art.
The first piece exhibited for sale was a secretaire. The other girls were still musing over its form and construction when Dodo exclaimed impetuously: “Oh what a monstrosity! even though it has a beautiful grain in the wood, it is so awfully clumsy.”
“Why do you say that?” asked Mr. Fabian, highly pleased, while the Count turned to notice the girl he had paid no attention to, before this.
“Why just look at it! With its heavy thick-set legs that belong to a rhinoceros, and its slender graceful body that looks like a fawn’s.”
Everyone within hearing of this remark, laughed softly. Loud speaking or disturbing sounds were forbidden, so Polly and Eleanor had to hush their merriment with their handkerchiefs.
The Count suddenly adjusted the monocle he affected and whispered to Polly: “You must be proud of your fellow-student.”
Polly instantly replied, without explaining the situation: “Oh yes, we are. Dodo is very remarkable in many ways.”
But Mr. Fabian said, as soon as he could control his sense of humor, “Dodo, you have a true eye for lines, and that criticism is worthy of a news-paper man—it is so graphic.”
Following the secretaire, were several pieces of nondescript furniture that was quickly bid upon and sold to people who wanted mere articles for use and not for beauty. Then a suite of furniture was placed upon the dais and the auctioneer began to point out its especial claims to beauty.