CHAPTER IX – POLLY’S MUSCLE
Mr. Maynard was delighted with Eleanor’s evident improvement in health, and all fears of the New York climate vanished entirely, before he finished his visit in New York. He remained a week and then said good-by, reminding Mrs. Stewart that she had invited him for the Christmas Holidays. They all laughed because he was welcome, at all times, to remain as long as he could.
Regular studies began again after the Thanksgiving Holiday and, with the reopening of the classes, the girls started in on a new line of art at Cooper Union. Anne Stewart used to escort the girls to and from the school on class-nights, but it was such a tiresome trip for her to make, after a hard day at school, and with lessons to go over at home, that the girls insisted upon her staying home.
Mr. Fabian generally conducted them home after class, and then went on to his own rooms. As it was hardly dark by seven-thirty, in October and early November, it was no more hazardous for the two girls to walk or ride down to the Square than it would be in the daytime.
But the days were becoming so much shorter after Thanksgiving, that it was quite dark by six o’clock. Hence Anne worried about their going downtown, alone, even though it was but a few blocks.
The second week of class in December, found Mr. Fabian absent. He had taken a severe cold and thought better of risking his health in the bitter wind and Scotch mist that night.
Polly and Eleanor did not speak of it to Anne, as she, too, felt wretched that day; and they would rather have stayed at home than have had her accompany them to night school in her state of health.
“You’re not to worry about us, Anne, if we do not come in as early as usual,” said Eleanor, upon opening the door to go out.
“Why – where will you be?” asked Anne, instantly.
“Exams. Some of the teachers are testing us in all the work we did this last term, and we have to write our answers. We may be a full hour later than usual; but we’ll come uptown, together, so there’s nothing to worry about,” explained Polly.
Anne thought she meant Mr. Fabian by “we-all” but Polly meant several of the students who lived a few blocks north of the Square.
Both girls were well bundled up in heavy storm coats, mufflers, and close-fitting woollen caps pulled down over their ears. Besides their books and other materials, they had umbrellas to carry but it was too windy to open them.
The examination questions proved to be most interesting; and the answers required a great deal of careful thought, before describing the various types, methods and ideals of architecture and decoration.
Polly described at large such questions as: “Can you describe the different types that go to make up the Egyptian people?” or the question: “How does plant-life affect Egyptian ornament – sketch two such plants.”
“What is a torus molding? Where is echinus molding used? Sketch the cyma recta.”
When Polly found the questions: “Describe a scarabæus,” and “Why did ancient Egyptians prepare their dead as they did, and describe a mummy and the methods used for its preservation,” she was elated, for she had made a particular study of these subjects at the Metropolitan Museum where the collection of Egyptian antiques is unsurpassed.
There were many other interesting questions, all of which Polly was eager to answer, but time was too limited for her to say all she wished to. For instance, she wanted to describe, at length, Greek art and the Greek nation that was characteristic for its own type of art and ornament.
She was anxious to tell what she knew about color and its importance in art. Of polychromy and what it was. In fact, she needed hours in which to speak fully of the difference between Greek, Egyptian and Assyrian art and ornament.
Eleanor on her part, wrote graphically of the difference between the Arabs and Persians, and how their modes and habits had a corresponding effect on art. She liked to describe the style of Romanesque art and how it governed all Eastern Europe at one time.
Eleanor leaned to the Moorish classics and had a weakness for Turkish designs; she loved the warm coloring used by the Moors in their work, and the harsh bright colors employed by the Turks. She had no hesitation in selecting from samples shown, the Mohammedan designs, the Chinese, the Byzantine, or Arabian patterns. She was expert in stating why the fall of Rome affected all art in Eastern and Western Europe, and what was its highest development and its period of all architecture.
It was more than an hour later than usual, when the two girls put away their work and started out for home. The scholars who lived on streets uptown, had gone long before, and Polly and Eleanor found that the high wind made it impossible for them to open their umbrellas.
“It’s so icy we will have to use them as props,” laughed Polly.
“My! But this sleet in one’s face is cold, isn’t it?” gasped Eleanor.
“Let’s take a short cut across the Plaza,” suggested Polly, breaking into a run across the diamond that separates the streets at Third and Fourth avenues, and Eighth street.
Having reached the small oasis about the subway station, Eleanor said: “Why not take the subway, here, to Twenty-eighth street, Poll?”
“Oh, I hate those subways! This wonderful sleet and the quiet hissing of the ice on the windows and walks makes me feel as if I were home. No clatter of wheels, no shouting of burly men, no nothing that makes a city so horrid. Let’s walk all the way home.”
“All right,” laughed Eleanor. “I’m game!”
So they started up Fourth avenue, past Wanamakers, and were soon lost to their surroundings in their discussion of the examinations.
“What answer did you give to the question ‘Tell the basis of religions existing with the Persians and the Arabs: describe the differences,’ Polly?”
“I was not quite sure of that, Nolla, but I did make a good thing of that question ‘Why did Egyptians use bright colors in art?’ And also that question that read: ‘When colors of the pattern contrast with the colors of the back-ground, what general rule must govern?’ You know, I just love to ferret out these ideas.”
“So do I. But I never dreamed there was so much wonderful knowledge to be obtained in a course of this kind,” said Eleanor, holding her arm before her face in order to speak distinctly.
They had now reached Eleventh street, and were passing a saloon still brightly lighted, in spite of Prohibition Laws. In the doorway lounged three tough-looking young men; but the red-cheeked girls scarcely saw them – they were too interested in their conversation. An empty auto stood by the curb, but no other vehicle or person was in sight.
When the girls came under the arc of light that reflected from the globes in the saloon-window, one of the flippant young men said, quite loud enough for Polly and Eleanor to hear: “I say! Ain’t them two goils peaches, though!”
His two companions laughed rudely, but the girls hastened on without a word or look. Another of the trio then said: “Betcha they’d be glad of comp’ny. I’ll try it.”
Eleanor whispered anxiously to Polly: “What time do you think it is?”
“It was almost eleven when we stopped writing. It must be nearly eleven-thirty now.”
“Pretty late for such a bad night. We’ll take the subway at Fourteenth street, Polly.”
“Reckon we’d better. Are there no policemen about these corners?”
“Not when you need one. On fine summer nights you will see them strolling about, maybe.”
The girls tittered, but instantly hushed when they heard voices directly behind them.
“Pretty evenin’ fer a walk, goils.”
No reply was vouchsafed to this remark but the girls kept right on with their customary swift gait.
“Ain’t che hankerin’ fer comp’ny?” chuckled another tough.
“Ah, come on back, fellers. What’s th’ use foolin’ wid a coupla high-brows on such a nasty night!” argued one of the three.
Polly and Eleanor fervently hoped they would go back, but the other fellow replied: “G’wan back, if yeh wants. Bill and me er goin’ to have some fun. Come on, Bill.”
Polly now glanced at Eleanor and said in a low tone: “Get a good grip on your umbrella. Thank heavens we haven’t any books or papers to carry, as we usually have.”
Then the fellow called Bill, said: “You amble up to the peacherino on the outside, whiles I take to the inside one, Andy.”
“There’s the boss’s car waiting fer nuttin. We kin give them a ride – a joy ride fer us,” harshly laughed Andy.
Bill joined in the suggestive laugh, and both girls unconsciously hastened their steps.
“No hurry, my pretties. There ain’t a cop twixt here an’ the saloon on Fourteenth street. Don’t we’se know this districk? Ha-ha!”
“Ready for a fight, Nolla!” hissed Polly, suddenly wheeling and facing the accosters.
Eleanor also turned, a second later, and both men were taken by surprise. Polly’s eyes blazed and she gave the roughs such a scornful look that it should have withered them as they stood there.
“Now you two out-laws turn-about-face and march downtown as fast as you know how!” commanded she.
“Ah, ha, Bill! I envy you your choice! She turns out to be a regerler sport. See them eyes shoot fire? Let me have a kiss, me pritty, afore Bill gits them all!” As the fellow Andy spoke insinuatingly, he stepped forward to take hold of Polly.
At the same moment her umbrella swung back over her head and the muscular young arm instantly brought down the heavy metal knob upon the soft cap that covered the head of the ruffian. The blow was so unexpected, and forceful as well, that it staggered Polly’s assailant.
Both men cursed fluently, then, and Bill threatened: “Jus’ fer dat, you’se is goin’ to get what’s comin’ to yeh!”
Eleanor wanted to turn and run, but she would not have deserted Polly for all the world, so she screamed “Help! Help!” with all her lung-power – and she had plenty of it.
Bill hesitated to attack Eleanor as she yelled and screamed for help, but Andy was raging and tried to close in with Polly. The umbrella was flung aside, and in another minute Polly launched at his face with a closed fist. It struck him between the eyes and caused a howl of pain.
Before he could collect himself, the daring girl had struck him another fearful blow under the chin. This sent him back flat upon his back, and while he was trying to crawl up on his knees, the amateur pugilist turned and sent a blow at Bill. But he had stood gaping at the amazing encounter with his pal, and he now dodged his own undoing.
Eleanor saw her opportunity. She had no time to lift her umbrella for a blow, and it had no solid handle like Polly’s, but she fiercely rammed the steel-capped end of the rod into the pit of the rascal’s stomach, so that, instantly, he buckled up. He sank down groaning while he struggled to get his breath.
Andy was up on his feet again by this time, but Bill was out of the fight, so both girls gave full attention to the second villain. He fought now, as slum ruffians will, but he was no match for the hard knuckles, steel muscles and lithe movements, of the Rocky Mountain maid who had grappled with wild animals and had won out.
The groveling Bill now managed to reach out a hand, planning to catch Eleanor by the ankle and trip her. But at that moment a silent-running automobile slid up to the curb and, at the instant of its stopping, the door flew open and a gentleman leaped out. In his hand he pointed a revolver, and Andy immediately threw up both hands.
“W-h-y – Mr. Dalken. Oh, thank goodness you came!” cried Eleanor, trembling nervously.
The chauffeur was standing guard over Bill at the same time, so Mr. Dalken asked frowningly: “What are you girls doing down here at this hour? – all alone, too!”
By this time the truant officer ran over to the group and wanted to know what was wrong. Mr. Dalken turned on him in just anger. “Wrong – why, you were not on the beat! That’s what’s wrong.”
“But I was – I got a beat bigger than any Fift’ avenoo cop what only has to parade in front of a swell’s house.”
“You needn’t try to bull-doze me, my man. Evidently you fail to recognise me, but we will talk this over at the City Hall, in the morning. Now arrest these two foot-pads.” As the officer snapped hand-cuffs on his prisoners, Dalken added, “By the way, why is a saloon open at this hour – to sell soft drinks?”
The scorn in Mr. Dalken’s tone silenced the policeman. “Now, girls, jump into the car and I will take you home,” offered their rescuer. But the officer interfered when they would have stepped inside the car.
“Your names, please, and addresses. And how do I know that you will take these young ladies to their home?” The tone of the man was insulting.
“If it were not for the fact that I want to hurry these children to their family as quickly as possible, I’d take the keenest pleasure in answering you in a manner that you’d understand and respect. Now you go about your tardy business and I will see to mine. Here’s my card. The girls do not appear in this matter at all. I am the man who caused the ruffians’ arrest, and I will answer in Court.”
Mr. Dalken followed the girls into the car and the driver instantly shot away; in a short time the car stopped in front of the Studio. As Polly and Eleanor gratefully took Mr. Dalken’s hand, he advised them. “Better not speak of this affair to anyone – leave it to me to settle. But, hereafter, do not dream of going about so late at night, unattended. One never can tell!”
“But we can’t expect Anne to trot about with us when she is tired out at night,” explained Eleanor.
“Then use my car on the nights you have to go to school. I’ll send down my Sedan, after this, because the butler understands its tricks thoroughly. He seldom has anything to do on those evenings you go to school, and he can oblige us by driving that car should I need Henri for this car.”
The girls thanked him again, and then hurried indoors.
“Where have you been so late, dears?” cried Anne, anxiously, as they came in.
“We told you we would be late,” began Polly.
“But it is past twelve, now; I was about to call up the police-station at Ninth street, and find out if anything had happened.”
The two girls laughed and Eleanor pulled Anne’s ear playfully, as she said: “Now, silly, what could happen to us!”
CHAPTER X – CHRISTMAS AND WHAT IT BROUGHT
Anne never suspected that Polly and Eleanor had had a “hold-up” at any time, but she wondered why Mr. Dalken should be so kind as to loan his car to the girls on school-nights. Polly explained simply. “Why, he never forgot what we did for Elizabeth, and when he learned we were trudging back and forth alone, he just wouldn’t have it.”
“He said he couldn’t bear the thought of our even having to travel in the subway, alone, late at night,” added Eleanor.
So Anne, although she read about the two ruffians who had tried to rob a wealthy broker, one night, never dreamed that her two girls were victimized before Mr. Dalken appeared to rescue them.
Madam Wellington’s school prospered splendidly from the publicity given it in the papers directly after the fire. And later, when it was learned that Mr. Ashby, Mr. Dalken, and two other wealthy men had purchased the corner which had always been disfigured by the old four-story amusement hall, and proposed erecting a twelve-story high-class apartment house on the land, the mention of the fire and the bravery of the Wellington School girls again appeared in the papers.
Letters between Pebbly Pit and New York passed twice a week, and the last news from home was: “How we should love to have you spend Christmas with us, Polly dearest. It will not seem like a real Christmas with both my children away from home.”
The letter made Polly feel home-sick and she wrote to her mother immediately, saying: “I feel that I shall have to come home even if it takes a month out of school and delays me in my art studies, unless you can plan some other way that we might see each other this Christmas.”
Polly had a very clever plan that suddenly came to her, as she read her mother’s words, and her reply was the first step in working out her plan successfully.
The second step was to go downtown and call upon Mr. Latimer at his office. She was welcomed there and asked what good wind blew her downtown.
Polly laughed. “It’s a blizzard from the Rockies – that is why I’m here.” Then she told him about her mother’s home-sick words. “And this is what we must do, Mr. Latimer, or I’ll have to leave school and go back home.”
“Dear me, I will do anything rather than lose you from New York, Polly,” Mr. Latimer laughingly replied.
“You must find some excuse on the mining or jewel business, that needs Daddy’s personal presence here in New York. Make it necessary for him to be here just before, or after Christmas. Then I will write and let them know that you told me about it, and insist upon having mother come East with father, for her Christmas. Why, even John and Paul might join us here without much expense or trouble.”
Mr. Latimer smiled. “There is no harm in trying the plan, even if your father won’t leave his ranch while it is under six feet of snow.”
Polly laughed at that. “Exactly! Dad doesn’t have to stick there in winter-time, any more than I do. Especially with Jeb on hand to take care of everything.”
Then remembering a warning, she said: “But you’ve got to find a real worthy reason for his coming East, because I know my Dad!”
“I’ll have you approve the reason before I send it West – how will that do?”
“I think you will do well. Because I may be able to make a suggestion – knowing my father as I do.”
Mr. Latimer laughed and patted Polly on the head. “Well, now that that is settled, let us talk about Jim and Ken. You know, do you not, that we expect them home in a few days?”
“I didn’t know, but I took for granted that they would soon be home for the Holidays. Although it seems like yesterday that they were home for Thanksgiving Week.”
“Not to Jim’s mother and me. We miss him very much, as he always was such a lively boy at home.”
“I’m afraid we won’t see much of him this time. He never even called us on the ’phone when he came from New Haven to see Ruth Ashby, two weeks ago Sunday,” said Polly, never dreaming that his father was ignorant of the visit.
“He didn’t! Then Ken should have called on you. He did not come to see a girl, too, did he?”
“Oh, Ken never knew Jim was coming – so Ruth told us. Jim telephoned her early Sunday morning and found she would be home, so he ran in Town on the noon train and stayed until the nine o’clock.”
“I’ll see that Jim does not go back on his first loves quite so suddenly,” laughed Mr. Latimer, thinking of the teasing he would give Jim.
“But we are not ‘loves’ at all – Nolla and I are only good pals for the boys,” corrected Polly, anxiously.
“Whatever you call it, Jim ought to be well advised on such matters, as long as legal advice costs him nothing.”
Polly failed to follow Mr. Latimer, and he immediately changed the subject. “Now that you are here and it is lunch-hour, why not come with me. I promised to take you to the Café Savarin or the Lawyer’s Club, some day, and this is the day.”
“Oh, it would be lovely, but I just couldn’t leave Nolla out of the treat, you know!” exclaimed Polly, eagerly.
“If Nolla is at home, we will have her down in twenty minutes. We’ll wait for her, and meanwhile I’ll dictate a letter to your father for you to O.K.”
Eleanor was moping around the house, wondering where Polly could be, when the telephone rang and she was invited to join her friends at luncheon. So in less than half-an-hour the trio were having a merry time in the sumptuous private restaurant on lower Broadway.
The letter that Polly approved, reached Sam Brewster, and he showed it to his wife. “Ah have been thinking, dear, that we-all might surprise Polly by dropping in on her just about Christmas time, eh?”
“Rather than let her come West and lose all that time from classes, I should say ‘yes,’ Sam.”
“We really have nothing to tie us down at the ranch for a few weeks, unless the snow buries us for the winter.”
“Sary would be in her glory could she keep house alone with Jeb for a time. Ever since they returned from their honeymoon in Denver, she has been sighing to run the house,” said Mrs. Brewster, “feeding the fire” carefully.
“Let’s go! By the Great Horned Spoon, I feel like taking a vacation to some other part of the world – so New York will do!”
Then it was quickly decided that they would start on Monday, and this being Friday, there was no time to lose.
Sary and Jeb accepted the amazing news with smiles and exchange of knowing looks. But they were relieved when Mrs. Brewster herself suggested to Sary: “Have all the good times you want, Sary, while we are gone. Invite your friends, and neighbors, if they can get through the drifts, and have apple-parties, corn-poppers, Virginia Reels, and anything on earth you like!”
“Would you-all keer if we-all ast as much as twenty to a time?” asked Sary, fearfully.
“Ask forty, if you like – and if you can find them,” laughed Mrs. Brewster, recklessly.
“Only see to it that they leave the roof, Sary,” ha-hawed Sam Brewster. “And that the sky-larkin’ is all over when we return.”
Sary nodded understandingly. She had instantly planned how to create envy in the souls of her old friends at Yellow Jacket Pass, by asking them all to her parties.
The Brewsters sent John a wire to say that they would spend a few hours in Chicago, and would like him to keep that time open. But when they reached Chicago, John was standing on the platform holding a suit-case in his hand. Tom Latimer and Paul Stewart stood beside him.
John explained: “Paul and Tom are going, too. Some good fairy sent us round-trip tickets, but we don’t know who it was. Not a line came with the tickets. So here we are – ready to help in the surprise.”
John then introduced Paul, and Mrs. Brewster took his hand as she looked into his face. “You are the image of our Anne, Paul; I would have known you anywhere.”
“That he is,” added Sam Brewster, shaking Paul’s hand heartily. So the party of five continued on the journey, smiling as they pictured the glad surprise to be given the family at the Studio. Little did they dream that the Studio family were busy preparing for a gladsome Christmas for them all. For Mr. Latimer had told them about the telegram from Pebbly Pit, and that he had heard from Tom that he and John and Paul were going to join the party coming East. But he did not say that he, incognito, had mailed the tickets.
The Twentieth Century had a long line of Pullmans to take to New York that trip, and it was small wonder that passengers having berths in the last coach, should fail to meet anyone traveling in the first one. So it was with speechless amazement, that the Brewsters met the Maynards at Grand Central Station when both parties were waiting to get taxi-cabs.
“Well, well, Ah believe it’s Mr. Maynard!” exclaimed Sam Brewster, in his deep western thunder.
“Brewster? so it is! Indeed I am glad to see you here. Come to cheer up the little girl, eh?” and Eleanor’s father grasped the ranchman’s big hands.
Mrs. Brewster and her two young male companions (Tom had gone to telephone) were now introduced to Barbara and Mrs. Maynard. The latter had never met the Brewster family, and Barbara, thinking it wiser to assume indifference, smiled coldly.
“We’re stopping at the Park Hotel, Brewster – what about you folks? Might as well go where we do,” suggested Mr. Maynard.
“I wired there for accommodations; Polly mentioned it in several of her letters as being quite near the Studio.”
“Fine! Then we will go right along. Here Taxi! eight of us and baggage.”
“You mean seven, Mr. Maynard?” ventured John, politely.
“No – didn’t you know Pete was here with us? He came on another coach with some chums who were coming East.”
“I haven’t seen much of Pete, this term. I’ve been cramming every moment, so as to finish and be ready to help in the mine, you see,” explained John, hesitatingly.
Mr. Maynard saw the expression and said nothing, but he determined to find out why Pete had not seen much of Paul and John and Tom, that term. Three young men who could be of great advantage to a wild young student should be cultivated, he thought.
When Sam Brewster did anything, he never did it by halves; consequently when he wired the Park Hotel for rooms, the day he left Denver, he engaged a whole suite. No better accommodations than he had, were to be found in the building, and the Maynards had to accept second-best.
When Mr. Maynard found the ranchman had the very finest the hotel afforded, he chuckled delightedly to himself, for he had silently watched the manner in which Barbara received the greetings of the people who were so kind to her that Summer.
Mrs. Maynard was furious with her husband. “My dear! what possessed you to come to this horrid place. Don’t you know that Bob’s position must be catered to? Even the best hotels here are rather too ordinary. She should be stopping at the newest and most exclusive one uptown.”
“When she marries that little numb-skull you’ve tagged to her skirts, she can stop where she likes. But her Dad is running this show. I’m here to visit Nolla, and I stop where I can call and see her, or she can run in to see us, without wasting time traveling on the streets.”
“You always did spoil Nolla – while poor Bob has to take third place in your affections,” complained Mrs. Maynard.
“Bob’s mother makes up for any lack in me. That’s why I have to give double love to Nolla and Pete – Bob has all of yours.”
The usual ending to similar scenes might have resulted, had not Mr. Maynard gone out to hurry over to the Studio. But his wife and Barbara sulkily unpacked their trunks and made very fine toilets before they thought of calling at the Studio.
Mr. Maynard rang at the front door of the Studio, but he had to wait a few moments before the door opened. From within, merry laughter and joyous shouting could be heard. Then in another moment, Eleanor was in her father’s arms and was dragging him into the happy circle.
The Brewsters, and Paul and Pete were already there, so that the newcomer’s appearance added another reason for Polly and Eleanor’s happiness.
“I haven’t enough china to go around for such a family!” Mrs. Stewart said plaintively; as she came into the room with her arms dusted with flour.
“And only half of us here, too!” laughed Mr. Maynard.
“What – more on the way?” exclaimed Anne.
“Nolla’s mother and Bob will be, shortly.”
“Mother – and Bob!” cried Eleanor, eagerly, happy that her mother and sister cared enough for her to come and visit her.
“Now that adds to all my troubles,” Mrs. Stewart declared as she dropped into a nearby chair.
“But why – the more the merrier,” laughed Mrs. Brewster.
“Why – because there are only seven straight chairs in this stable. All the others are great cushiony things that won’t do in a small dining-room such as ours.”
“Motherkins!” said Paul, laughingly picking his mother up and seating her upon his strong knees, “Did her think we-all would permit her to cook a great supper for such a mob?”
“Of course – I like it, dear, but I am staggered at the limitations – china and chairs.”
“Mrs. Stewart, we are not going to eat a crumb in this house during the Holidays, unless it be a theatre supper or afternoon tea! That is all settled beforehand. Run upstairs and put on your evening dress. We propose making a party of it this first night,” called Mr. Maynard, trying to make himself heard above the general din.
“Is it your party, Dad?” asked Eleanor, gayly.
“Yes, and to please Bob it is to be at the Ritz. To-morrow it will be Brewster’s turn, and that’s up to him to say where we go.”
“Oh, Daddy – I know a place!” exclaimed Polly, eagerly. “Eleanor and I have never been, but we’ve heard lots about it and this is the chance. We’ll all go down to Chinatown, to-morrow!”
A wild chorus of laughter greeted this proposal, and Polly looked surprised. To make matters worse, she added explanatorily: “Why, the girls say chop-suey is great! And at Christmas time the Chinks’ stores are beautiful! The lovely things one can buy then are the best that are imported from the Orient.”
“We’ll do Chinatown, thoroughly, Poll, but it may not be to-morrow night,” promised John, who had hitherto been completely engaged with Anne’s whispers and looks.
Thereafter followed delight upon delight, each day filled with new plans and exciting fulfillments. Ken and his parents, the four Latimers, the Ashbys, Mr. Fabian, and even Mr. Dalken, were included in the gay whirl of these pleasure-seekers. Mrs. Maynard and Barbara actually enjoyed the wholesome fun and almost forgot to be affected or snobbish. To associate intimately with Mr. Dalken, whose social standing was well-known in Chicago, as well as in other large cities, was excuse enough to accept all the other friends. But added to that pleasure, the friendship and evident intimacy the Ashbys and Latimers entertained for Polly and Eleanor, made Mrs. Maynard feel there might be hope for Nolla in the future.
Christmas fell on the Thursday after the Westerners had arrived in New York; and considering all the fun and gadding that had been indulged in, on the days preceding the twenty-fifth, that day passed quietly for all. Each family enjoyed its own gathering and gifts, and all assembled at the Ashbys in the evening, to enjoy music and dancing, and everyone declared it had been a fine day!
Friday started anew the excitement of planning and enjoying whatever came in the way of the party. But Saturday night had been set aside for Mr. Dalken’s Christmas party. Elizabeth was invited to bring her friends, and everyone in Polly’s and Eleanor’s friendship ring were included.
Mr. Dalken lived in modest but very large rooms of a bachelor apartment house, downtown, and here he had an enormous tree fixed in the center of the living-room. No one was allowed to see that room until all had assembled, but when the doors were opened, there were “ahs” and “ohs” from everyone.
The tree was so beautifully trimmed that it seemed a pity that it should ever be dismantled. But soon, the attractive white packages tied with red ribbons, filled the guests with curiosity; and once Eleanor had peeped at the name written on one box, there was no peace but her host must distribute the gifts.