Polly in New York Read online

  CHAPTER VII--MRS. WELLINGTON'S THANKSGIVING

  The moment Polly was given a skirt, she donned it gratefully and said toMrs. Ashby, her hostess: "Now I must find Elizabeth and have her caredfor. I left her with Anne."

  "Where--where is she? I'll send James for them. But I want you to keepquiet, or you'll be prostrated, dear child."

  Polly smiled--she prostrated! But she explained: "Anne is sitting on thegrass on the side street around the corner, taking care of the girl whofainted in the back-room of the theatre."

  James was summoned from the front window where he had been watching thefight against the fire, and now took his orders eagerly. Polly pointedout the corner where she had left her friends and, in another moment,the butler was gone.

  "I s'pose I ought to go and hunt up my friends who escaped over theroofs," ventured Polly.

  "You'll rest here upon this divan, or your parents will sue me!"retorted Mrs. Ashby, trying to compel, with gentle hands, obedience toher command.

  Polly laughed softly. "My parents would sue you if you prevented me fromdoing my duty to others. Why, you-all make such a fuss over thatpipe-climbing, and it is next to nothing for a Rocky Mountain girl. Aday in a blizzard on the cliffs is ten times more hazardous."

  Mrs. Ashby was consumed with curiosity to ask this handsome girl who shewas, and all about herself, but she controlled herself admirably, forshe knew her guest ought to keep quiet.

  The door-bell rang and its echo pealed through the house, but theservants were out watching the exciting events of the fire, and Jameshad been sent for the other girls. So Mrs. Ashby opened the door.

  "I just heard that Polly Brewster was here--oh! is she all right!" criedthe excited voice of Mrs. Wellington.

  "Right as a trivet, dear Mrs. Wellington!" called Polly springing fromthe couch to greet the lady.

  "Oh--oh! Thank God! I've worried and cried over you three precious girlsuntil my eyes are blinded! They told me that everyone was out of theplace but you three!"

  "Did everyone manage to escape safely?" asked Polly, anxiously.

  "Everyone got out, but oh! such a panic! Some are torn, and batteredblack and blue, from the stampede down through those front stairs andhall. I don't believe a single soul got out with a whole gown! They tellme it was all the fault of that 'Pool Club' on the second floor; theygave a 'smoker' to-night, and when the fire was discovered on theirfloor, they caused the dreadful block in the front halls."

  "Gowns are of no account if everyone escaped with life," said Mrs.Ashby.

  "But it is most unfortunate for me, just now. The story getting into thenewspapers, will ruin my reputation as a school principal. Folks willask, 'Why did she ever choose such a place for an entertainment;' butthey will never know that I tried everywhere else, first, and foundeverything engaged for this week. I begged the girl who started the ideato postpone the play until the week after Thanksgiving holiday, but shestubbornly refused. So I took what I could get. I dare not tell thereporters that it was merely to _please_ Elizabeth Dalken, and becauseElizabeth's father pays strictly in advance and has his daughter takeall 'extras.'

  "You have no idea what it means to me. I am paying off the mortgages onthat house where the school is located, so that I might be able to takea deep breath before I am too old to work. But this unhappy accidentwill ruin my reputation as a careful superintendent."

  "Elizabeth Dalken! I know her father very well, and we think he is oneof the finest of men. We seldom meet Mrs. Dalken or the daughter, as wedo not belong to the same set. Since Mr. Dalken separated from his wife,we have not seen her at all, but he was here and dined with us, thisvery evening," said Mrs. Ashby.

  "If I could only explain to him just how this happened, he might notblame me for his daughter's injury."

  "Was she hurt?" exclaimed Mrs. Ashby. Then James came in, followed bythree girls, and the adults who had escaped over the roofs.

  "Here we are, Polly--safe and sound," Mr. Maynard's cheery voice greetedthe girl who jumped up at sight of them.

  Excited cries, and hugs, and happy laughs now followed as each one foundthe others without a hurt, Elizabeth Dalken being the only one who hadreceived an injury, and that was merely a flesh-wound cut by the edge ofthe door as her head struck it.

  Mrs. Ashby took charge of Elizabeth, and washed her face; then placed astrip of court plaster over the cut to keep it clean.

  The fire was out and the crowd had dispersed before the firemen finishedtheir work in and about the house. The Chief came to Mrs. Ashby's doorand asked for the young lady who was such a marvellous climber. So hewas invited in to see for himself.

  "Young lady, I want to make a record of this deed, as I have to reporteverything to the police department, you know. And I am proud to say,our records are never kept in the dark when visitors come in to see ourengine house. It's seldom we can talk about, or show a page, with such abrave act as yours, written upon it."

  Polly smiled. "But it really wasn't anything to fuss over. It wasn'tdangerous, you know, and for anyone who can climb as well as I can, itwould have been cowardly to stand by and _not_ act. You needed a light,agile climber whose weight would not break that leader away from thewall; and I happened to be that one."

  The Chief and Mrs. Ashby exchanged glances, then laughed. "I guess it'sno use trying to make a heroine of her--she won't have it so!" said he.

  Then Eleanor spoke up. "That's because she's accustomed to doing suchgreat deeds out in the mountains where she comes from--walking on theheads of rattle-snakes, killing grizzlies and lions as if they wererabbits, saving a lot of tenderfeet from blizzards and landslides--theseare but a few of the _little_ things she does out there!"

  The New Yorkers gasped in astonishment; even James, the butler, stoodgaping with open mouth at a real live heroine--never seen before by himexcept on the movie screen. So intensely interested was he, that hefailed to hear his master enter by the front door, followed by agentleman. They both burst into the room and stood amazed.

  Then Mr. Ashby apologised for the abrupt entrance: "Dalken and I were atthe Club when we heard of the fire so near my place. And when Dalkenheard that it was Mrs. Wellington's school-girls who were entertainingon the third floor, he came with me to see if his daughter is safe. Doesanyone know where Elizabeth is?"

  "Here--right here, Mr. Dalken," Mrs. Ashby quickly assured the father.And she beckoned Mrs. Wellington to bring the girl from the alcove whereshe had been resting.

  "My poor little girl!" quavered the father, taking the meek andbroken-spirited Elizabeth in his arms. "Are you badly hurt?"

  She began to cry softly against his coat collar but Mrs. Ashby reassuredMr. Dalken. "Only a scratch. Her forehead may swell a bit and bediscolored for a few days, but that is all. Elizabeth owes her life tothese two girls here, Mr. Dalken. One carried her out of the buildingafter she had fainted, and the other went first and found a way down theback stairs."

  "Not really!" the amazed man gasped. "Tell me about it."

  But Polly was a poor narrator, so Anne decided to speak. She was boundthat Polly should not belittle this deed as she had the climbing to thefourth floor of the burning building.

  That Mr. Dalken was deeply moved, everyone could see, and when he shookhands with the two girls he said gravely, "I shall never forget how youkept me from being childless. My baby boy died three years ago to-night,and I could not have stood losing my little girl, too, on theanniversary of that sad experience."

  Elizabeth then remembered the date and hiding her face, ran back to thealcove to cry softly to herself. Mrs. Ashby and Mrs. Wellington knew thesad story, so they allowed her to weep alone. But Mr. Dalken,tender-hearted, would have gone to comfort the girl, had not Mrs. Ashbyplaced a detaining hand upon his arm and said: "No, dear friend--betterleave her to remember and realize everything."

  Polly and Eleanor saw and heard and could not understand, but theythought it was no concern of theirs, so they forgot it.

  Everyone had been introduced informally to ev
eryone else, and at lastMrs. Ashby said: "I have had a bit of refreshment served for you, in thedining room, before you go home. After such exposures and excitement, Ithink we all will need something."

  Mr. Fabian wished to excuse himself, but his friends would not hear ofit. Then Mr. Dalken came over and spoke to him. "Are you Mr. Fabian, theartist?"

  "They say I am an artist, but I doubt it, myself," replied Mr. Fabian,humbly, but smiling at the questioner.

  "Then I am delighted to have met you, for I have a niece studying inParis, and she writes me pages upon pages about Mrs. Fabian and thedaughter Nancy, and how lovely they have been to take her about withthem."

  His wife and daughter were Mr. Fabian's pet subject so now he seemed toexpand marvellously, and smiled benignly upon everyone present. On theway to the dining-room, Mr. Dalken and the artist exchangedheart-to-heart ideas and were soon fast friends.

  But scarcely had they seated themselves ere another mad peal of thedoor-bell took James from the pleasant task of serving an impromptusupper. He was heard arguing with someone in the hall, then Mrs. Ashbyturned to her husband and said: "You go and see what is the matter."

  After a short time, three re-entered the room--James, Mr. Ashby, and anambitious-looking young man with alert bright eyes.

  "Representative from the Press wants us to give him all the inside newsabout the fire," explained Mr. Ashby, looking at the circle about thetable.

  Mrs. Wellington turned pale and gazed beseechingly at Mr. Maynard,hoping he could help her out in the inevitable story that would bewritten up about her school. But Mr. Dalken saw the look andcomprehended immediately.

  "Hello, Dunlap! How'd you get this assignment from the night-editor?"

  "Oh--it's Mr. Dalken. I'm delighted to see you, sir," returned thereporter, very respectfully.

  "Yes, these are friends of mine. Some of them are the dearest friends Ihave, so I do not wish them to be annoyed by finding a garbled story inthe papers to-morrow morning. Consequently, I will, with the assistanceof these friends, give you the facts, simple and straightforward, butsee that you add nothing to them nor delete a line. Tell your boss thatI said so!"

  "I sure will, Mr. Dalken, and maybe I won't be the thankful guy if youtell me the story! Can I say it came from you?" was the eager reply ofthe man Dunlap.

  "No, sir! I am not in this at all, except as one who rushed here to helpfriends. Now this is the story for your paper."

  Mrs. Wellington had been anxiously whispering to Mr. Fabian, and thelatter now secured Mr. Dalken's attention. "May I have a word with you,in private, before the reporter takes down any notes?"

  Out of hearing of the others, Mr. Fabian then explained that Elizabethhad stubbornly refused to postpone the entertainment, and because of herinsistence, Mrs. Wellington had taken whatever hall she could find. Butshe did not want Elizabeth to be made to bear any of the blame, so shewants you to touch wisely on anything that has to do with thetheatricals.

  "I certainly appreciate Mrs. Wellington's thoughtfulness and I willremember this. I'll see what can be done with Dunlap."

  "Mr. Dalken is a born story-teller, Dunlap, and that is why he is sopopular, I think," remarked Mr. Ashby, just then.

  "Sit down there by Fabian, Dunlap, and join our circle," cordiallyinvited the story-teller, after he had frowned threateningly at hishost.

  "Give Dunlap some coffee and don't let him jot down a word until I'vedone talking. Then we will pick out the notes he is to have," added Mr.Dalken.

  "Oh, you can tell it so well, do let me write as you narrate?" beggedthe reporter.

  "No, sir! I can't read short-hand and you may get in a word I don't wantyou to take. Here, James, remove the pencil and pad from that youngman."

  Everyone laughed, and Dunlap meekly surrendered the articles mentioned.Directly Mr. Dalken began his story, the wily reporter had anotherpencil and pad before him. But Fabian stealthily took possession ofthese also, and the laugh went against the young man that time.

  While Mr. Dalken wove a veritable thriller out of the material providedby the fire, Mrs. Wellington wondered how it was possible to present thefacts so well and at the same time prove, beyond doubt, that the youngladies of Mrs. Wellington's school were so perfectly trained andeducated that they were a great factor in saving lives and property thatnight. At the end of the story, Mr. Dalken said that some brightinvestor might find a handsome revenue in building a fire-proof Hallwhere just such entertainments could be given--high-school girls wholoved to give parties but could not lease one of the hotel ball-rooms,weeks in advance and pay exorbitant prices, and then possibly changetheir plans before the event.

  "You can make a separate paragraph of what I said, if you like, andpreface it with the remark: 'When asked what he thought about the fire,Mr. Dalken, who viewed the blaze from a house opposite the scene, said':you know the rest," the famous financier saw that the reportercomprehended, and then he turned to the others seated about the table.

  "Anything to add to my story?"

  "It was very fine, especially about our dear Principal, but you didn'tsay enough about Polly carrying Elizabeth safely out," Eleanor said,eagerly.

  "I followed a lead given me by Mr. Fabian. We all think it best not tomention names, but to make the incident impersonal," explained Mr.Dalken.

  Eleanor pouted, for she wanted to have Polly given all the credit forwhat she did. But a sly look from the reporter gave her an idea, and shesmiled back understandingly.

  Then the story was pieced out for Dunlap and when he had taken down allhis notes, he jumped up and said: "I know you will excuse me for rushingaway, but I want to get this in type at once. In case you have forgottensomething, or wish to send me a photograph of anyone, call 10000 Greeleyand I'll see to it, without fail."

  "That's all you'll get on this occasion," laughed Mr. Dalken as Jamesstarted to show the young man to the door. But in passing Eleanor,Dunlap sent her a mental telegram, and she closed one eye significantly.

  "Oh--he left his pencils and paper!" exclaimed Eleanor, jumping upinstantly and running with them to the front door.

  "Mr. Dunlap--here is your private property that Mr. Fabian had chargeof," was what the guests in the dining-room heard. But to Dunlap shehurriedly whispered: "I'll 'phone you after I leave here."

  Before the party broke up that night, Mrs. Ashby learned that Mrs.Maynard was an old schoolmate of hers, and expressed a wish that Pollyand Eleanor would visit her again and meet Ruth who was then visitingfriends for Thanksgiving week.

  "I really cannot voice my gratitude to all these kind friends," saidMrs. Wellington, as they stood in the reception hall saying good-night."Not only has dear Mr. Dalken turned harsh public condemnation from mydoors, but the story as he told it, actually brings glory to theschool."

  "And why should it not, my dear Madam? Have you not fought and struggledwith every girl in your charge, to perfect and express just thequalities I have given you credit for?" said Mr. Dalken.

  "Oh, yes, _I_ have tried so hard, but how many people, or even parents,would credit me with such endeavors? Once they read it in the papersthey will accept the statement, but it is so hard to impress folks byactual demonstration," sighed the thankful lady.

  "Thank heavens, Mrs. Wellington, that you have a whole day of peacebefore you, in which to remember that you have found a group of people,here, who not only appreciate your efforts but have tried to make othersapprove them," said Mrs. Ashby, earnestly.

  "Indeed I have! I expect to have the very best of Thanksgivings, due toall of you dear people. Some day I will be able to show my gratitude forthis." And the lady's voice quavered with emotion.

  "And you'll find the story in the papers will not only spare you anycriticism, but actually praise your school," added Mr. Ashby.

  "You may be overwhelmed with new scholars," suggested Polly, innocently.

  "That's so! I've always heard that discreet publicity is the finest kindof advertising," Eleanor declared. "This fine tale about your scholarsought
to bring back fifty percent returns."

  Everyone laughed heartily at hearing so young a girl talk sobusiness-like, and Mr. Dalken said: "I am interested to know just whereyou got that information?"

  "Isn't it true?" demanded Eleanor, turning her bright eyes on him. "Yousee, Polly and I are going into business together, pretty soon, and Ihave to take notice of all approved methods of winning success. I am tobe the business manager while Polly is the decorator."

  The new acquaintances were highly amused at such talk, and Mr. Ashbylaughingly inquired: "What profession have you chosen?"

  "Interior decorators. We have started, already; we go to Cooper Unionthree nights a week and Mr. Fabian takes us to all the lectures andexhibitions on any subject that will give us ideas and help."

  "Well!" exclaimed Mr. Dalken, finding the girls were really serious.Mrs. Ashby was deeply interested, but her husband took each of theprospective decorators by the hand and shaking them cordially, said:"Let us congratulate each other, for I am already established as adecorator. I want to help you onward in every possible way, my deargirls, so call on me whenever you want help. Just as Fabian takes you tothese valuable exhibitions and lectures, so the four of us pullingtogether ought to arrive somewhere."

  Mr. Fabian was as pleased at the news as either of his protegees, andthey left the Ashbys feeling very much at peace with the world andeverything in it.

  As Eleanor ran down the shallow brown-stone steps to the sidewalk, sheturned back and called to Mr. Ashby: "Who knows! We may end by goinginto partnership with you, some day!"

  He laughed, and said: "Who knows?"