Polly and Her Friends Abroad

CHAPTER I – THE ALEXANDERS

Eleanor Maynard left her friend, Polly Brewster, in the stateroom, cutting the stems of the gorgeous American Beauty roses, and arranging them anew in the tall glass of fresh water. As she was about to close the door behind her, she turned and said:

“Be sure and come up on deck, Polly, as soon as you are done with the roses.”

“All right, run along and I’ll be with you in a jiffy,” returned Polly, her thoughts engaged with the flowers.

So Eleanor strolled to the upper deck and tried to find an interest with which to amuse herself until Polly joined her.

Of course, you remember Polly Brewster of Pebbly Pit, and her chum, Eleanor Maynard, of Chicago? Mr. Fabian, their teacher in interior decorating, and the Ashbys from New York City, were escorting the two girls on this trip abroad, with the idea of visiting famous European museums and places where antiques of all kinds could be seen and studied.

Eleanor walked part way around the promenade deck before she was accosted by a decidedly plump woman of about forty, with decidedly blondine hair, and flashing —most decidedly – too many large diamonds from ears, fingers and neck.

“Excuse me, but aren’t you one of the young ladies I met at the Denver railway station last year when Anne Stewart and her friends were about to leave for New York?” questioned the lady.

Eleanor turned, glanced at the living representative of the newly-rich, and smiled delightedly – not with recognition but at the possibility of having fun with someone arrayed like a peacock.

“Oh yes, I was there! Do you know Anne Stewart?” said she.

“I should think I did! Didn’t we live next door to the Stewarts when Anne and Paul were little tots?”

“How nice to meet you, now,” returned Eleanor, noting the quality of the apparel and the approximate value of the gems adorning the lady.

“But that was before Ebeneezer struck ‘pay dirt’ down in Cripple Creek. After that, we moved from the little house and bought a swell mansion in the fashionable part of Denver,” explained the lady, with pride.

“Did you say you met us last summer?” ventured Eleanor.

“Yes, don’t you remember me? I got off the train coming in from Colorado Springs, just as you-all stood waiting for the East-bound Express.”

“I have a faint recollection of Anne shaking hands with someone, and introducing Polly and me, but there were so many in our party that you must pardon me if I do not recall you now.”

“Oh sure! I know how it is,” giggled the lady, affably. “You did have a crowd waiting to see you off, I remember.”

“And now we meet again on the steamer bound for Europe! Well, it goes to show how small a place this world is,” remarked Eleanor, not knowing what else to say, but feeling amused at the hackneyed phrase she had to make use of.

“How comes it that you are sailing across? Is your Ma and family with you?”

“No, but Polly Brewster – she’s the girl you saw that day with Anne – and I are going to tour Europe with some friends, to study more of our profession.”

“Profession! Good gracious – didn’t that gold mine I read about pan out anything?” exclaimed the lady, astonished.

Eleanor laughed. “Oh yes, I believe it is going to pay even richer than we at first thought possible; so Polly and I can use our own money to improve our education.”

“And what are you going to take up?”

“We have taken it up – Polly and I have been studying Interior Decorating for two years, now.”

“Interior Decorating! Good gracious – isn’t that the sort of work the upholsterers and painters have to do for you?” gasped the lady.

Eleanor laughed again. Here was fun indeed! So she carefully fed the fuel now beginning to take fire in her companion’s brain. “I am afraid it has been their work in the past. But Polly and I plan to try and uplift the work, and by investing our money in a first-rate business, we will try to create a real profession out of what is merely a paint-brush and a tack-hammer job, nowadays.”

Eleanor glanced about to make sure her friends were not within hearing of the remarks she had just made to her new acquaintance. The expression on the lady’s face, as the young aspirant for a new ideal explained her plans, sufficed Eleanor for the story she had just told.

“And what did you say your name was, dearie?” asked the lady, finally.

“Eleanor Maynard – of the Chicago Maynards, you know.”

“Yes, yes, I know of them,” replied the lady, glibly. “I am Mrs. Ebeneezer Alexander, of Denver. P’raps you’ve heard how Eben made a million in a night?”

Mrs. Alexander’s puckered forehead led Eleanor to understand what was expected of her in reply, so she fibbed as glibly as her companion had. “Oh yes! who has not heard of the Alexanders of Denver?”

The lady smoothed out her steamer-rug and smiled happily. Then the remembrance of this banker’s daughter going into a common trade, to better the conditions and reputation of the work, rose uppermost in her shallow mind again.

“I should think your Ma’d go wild to think that one of her girls wanted to work instead of getting married to a rich young man,” remarked she.

“Maybe my mother would object if I gave her time to think about it,” Eleanor said, smilingly. “But she’s too busy getting my sister Bob ready to marry, to bother about me.”

“Well, by the time your sister is settled down and having a family, you’ll be ready to turn your back on work and do as your Ma thinks best,” declared Mrs. Alexander, knowingly.

The very suggestion of Barbara’s having a family so amused Eleanor that she laughed uncontrollably, to the perplexity of her companion.

“Don’t you believe you will grow tired of work?” asked Mrs. Alexander, thinking her remarks on that subject had sounded preposterous to Eleanor.

“No indeed! Polly and I are tremendously interested in the study, and as we go into it deeper, the more absorbing it grows,” replied Eleanor.

“I didn’t know you had anything to study, except how to handle a paint-brush, or tuck in the furniture covering, before you tack the guimpe along the edges.”

“Oh yes, there’s a little more than that to learn first, before you can hang out a sign to tell folks you are a decorator, and wish to solicit their trade,” smiled Eleanor.

“Who are these Ashbys you spoke of? Are they New York trade people, or do they travel in society?” now asked Mrs. Alexander, as she remembered the escort Eleanor had mentioned.

“Mr. and Mrs. Ashby, and their daughter Ruth, are very nice people who know just the sort of folks Polly and I need to meet to help us in our business, later on. Mr. Ashby has a large upholstery and decorating business in New York City, but his wife goes into society, somewhat,” explained Eleanor, a twinkle in her eyes that would have warned one who understood her mischievous inclinations. But her companion did not understand.

“Oh – I see! Just a tradesman who’s made some money, I s’pose, and now his wife wants to climb. Did you ever read that novel about some ‘climbers’?”

“No, but I’ve heard of it. The Ashbys are not that sort.”

“But not the sort that can help me with Dodo, either, I see,” said Mrs. Alexander, thoughtfully for her.

“Dodo?”

“Yes, she’s my daughter. It’s because of her that I’m going over to the other side. I’ve heard say there are titles going begging for American millionaires since the war. And Dodo isn’t bad looking, even if she isn’t as prepossessing as I used to be – and am yet, I can say.”

Eleanor could hardly believe she had heard aright. An American mother from Denver going to exchange her child for a title! And the absolute egotism with which she mentioned her own looks and behavior!

“Well!” thought Eleanor to herself, “I was looking for entertainment, and here I have more of it than I dreamed of.”

“Does your daughter agree with you about marrying a title?” Eleanor could not help asking.

“She doesn’t say anything about it, one way or another. I told her what she had to do, and that settles it.”

“How old is she?” wondered Eleanor aloud.

“Past sixteen, but she looks more like twenty. If it wasn’t that it would make me look so old, I’d dress her like twenty-one ’cause I hear the Europeans prefer a woman of age, and over there she can’t be her own lawful self ’til twenty-one.”

“Sixteen! Why – she isn’t much older than Polly or I!” gasped Eleanor.

“No, but I said – she seemed older.”

“Nancy Fabian is nineteen and she never thinks of getting married – not yet. Everyone thinks, nowadays, that twenty-five is plenty young enough for a girl to think of marriage. That gives her a chance to see the world and men, and then make a wise choice.”

“Nancy Fabian – who is she?” asked Mrs. Alexander.

“Nancy is the daughter of Mr. Fabian who taught Polly and me interior decorating thus far. He is a wonderful teacher, and Nancy, his only child, has been studying art in Paris. Her mother went over with her to chaperone her, while there, and now we are going to meet them. Nancy managed to have several of her watercolors exhibited at the Academy this year, and one of them took a prize.” Eleanor’s tone conveyed the delight and pride she felt in Nancy Fabian’s achievement, even though she had not met her.

“And this teacher is traveling with you?” was Mrs. Alexander’s rejoinder.

Eleanor felt the condescension in Mrs. Alexander’s tone and resented it. So she decided to answer with a sharp thrust.

“Yes; Mr. Fabian promised Anne and my mother to take good care of Polly and me, until he turns us over to his wife and Nancy, who are visiting Sir James Osgood, of London.”

“Visiting a Sir James!” gasped Mrs. Alexander, sitting bolt upright for the first time since the interview began.

“Uh-huh! The Fabians and the Osgoods are very close friends, I hear. Nancy Fabian and Angela Osgood studied in the same class, in Paris; and Mrs. Fabian chaperoned Angela when her mother, Lady Osgood, had to return to England for the London Season.” Eleanor had her revenge.

“Mercy! Then these Fabians must be somebody!”

“Why, of course! What made you think they were not?”

“From what you said,” stammered Mrs. Alexander, humbly. “You said he was a teacher and that he was an intimate friend of the Ashbys who were painters and upholsterers.”

“Oh no, I didn’t!” retorted Eleanor. “You said that. I said that Mr. Ashby was an interior decorator who helped Polly and me a lot, and that Mr. Fabian was our teacher. There is a vast difference between decorators and paint-slingers, you will learn, some day.”

Eleanor was about to walk away with that parting shot, when a very attractive girl came from a side-door of the Lounge and looked around. Catching sight of Mrs. Alexander, she started for her. She was over-dressed, and her face had been powdered and rouged as much as her mother’s was; her lips were scarlet as carmine could tinge them, and her hair was waved and dressed in the latest style for adults. As Mrs. Alexander had said, her daughter looked fully ten years older than she really was, because of her make-up.

She glanced casually at Eleanor, without expressing any interest in her, and turned to her mother. “Oh, Ma! I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Pa says he won’t come out and sit down, just to watch who goes by.”

Eleanor was severely tailored in her appearance, but her suit represented the best cut and fit that the most exclusive shop in New York could provide, and the broad-cloth was of the finest. Dodo, (whose real name was Dorothy but was cut to Dodo for a pet name) failed to recognize the lines and material of the gown, but she passed it over lightly because she saw no gorgeous trimmings to claim value for it.

“Dodo, dearie, do you remember those two girls we read about, out west? The ones who discovered that gold mine just below Grizzly Slide? Well, this is Eleanor Maynard from Chicago, who was with her chum Polly, when they sought refuge in that cave on the mountain-top. Isn’t it lovely for you to meet her, this way?”

At mention of the gold mine, and the unusual circumstances in connection with it, Dodo’s expression changed. She smiled politely at Eleanor and said: “So glad to meet you.”

“And Dodo being my only child, Miss Maynard, she is well worth knowing. She will inherit the million her father made,” added Mrs. Alexander.

Eleanor smiled cynically. “I’m sorry for you, Dodo. It spoils one’s life to be reminded of how much one has to live up to, when one is young and only wants to be carefree and happy.”

“Oh, do you feel that way, too! I thought it was only me who was queer. Ma says other girls would give their heads to be in my place,” exclaimed the girl, anxiously.

Eleanor now took a keener look at the speaker. It was evident from her words that she was not what she was dressed up to represent. “You have a chance to be yourself, in spite of every one, you know,” said Eleanor.

“Well, I wish to goodness you would show me how! I hate all this fluffy-ruffle stuff and I wish we could get back to that time when I could go with my hair twisted at the back of my neck; and a cold water wash to clean my face, instead of all this cold cream business, and then the paint and flour afterwards!” declared Dodo, bluntly.

“Oh deary! I beg of you – don’t display your ignorance before strangers like this!” wailed her mother, fluttering a lace handkerchief before her eyes. “Eleanor Maynard is one of the Maynards of Chicago.”

“Why not! If Eleanor Maynard is half the girl I think she is – from what I read, that time they were lost on the Flat Tops and from what she just said, then she’ll appreciate me the more for my honesty,” asserted the girl.

“I do, Dodo. I never had much use for make-up, but I know society condones the use of it all. So I’m glad to find a real girl who dislikes it as much as Polly and I do.”

“There now, Ma! And I bet these girls will look at your pet hobby much the same as I do.” Then Dodo turned to Eleanor and added: “Ma’s bound to palm me off on some little stick of a nobleman in Europe, just to brag about my name with a handle to it. But I say I don’t want a husband – especially a foreign one. If I have to marry, let me choose a westerner! The kind I’m used to.”

Eleanor could have hugged the girl for her frank honesty so different from what she had looked for from the daughter of the silly woman before her.

“If only we could persuade Ma to see that this going to Europe does not mean just buying Paris dresses and parading them to catch a lord, I’ll be happy,” concluded Dodo.

“Poor child! How she does find fault with her little mother!” sighed Mrs. Alexander, wiping her eyes in self-pity.

Dodo turned her entire attention to her new acquaintance, at this. “Are you alone, or is your family with you?”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you, Dodo dear; Miss Maynard is going to study decorating in Europe; and her friend Polly, and their teacher, is with her. She just told me that the teacher’s wife and daughter are visiting a real English peer! Think of it – a teacher’s family stopping with a live lady of quality!” exclaimed Mrs. Alexander, eagerly.

“I hope they are nice English folks,” commented Dodo.

“Naturally they would be, if they belong to the peerage, Dodo,” returned her mother, innocent of a “Burke” and the difference between a baronet and a peer. “But I was thinking, that it would be quite easy for us to get acquainted with dukes and lords, if a mere teacher got his family invited to one’s house.”

Dodo’s lip curled sarcastically, and Eleanor learned that the daughter had nothing in common with these empty fads of her mother. Then Dodo said: “I hope the teacher’s family know enough to make the lord’s family appreciate a good old American!”

Eleanor laughed, and said: “If Nancy Fabian and her mother are anything like Mr. Fabian, you can rest assured that they’ll do full justice to the United States, and the Stars and Stripes.”

To change the subject from this dangerous ground that created more resistance for her to fight than she had to meet, recently, from Dodo, Mrs. Alexander hastily said: “Do you know, Dodo, Miss Maynard told me that Polly and she took up the study of Interior Decorating, in New York, in order to better the conditions of painters and upholsterers who work at that trade. Not to make money.”

Eleanor frowned. “I think you misunderstood me, Mrs. Alexander. I said we were studying the profession and that it took a great deal of application and perseverance to reach the high plane which was necessary for a good decorator to stand on. So few who call themselves interior decorators really know much about the art. And in order to increase our education and understanding of the profession, Polly and I are about to visit the great museums of Europe.”

“Well, it is the same thing, isn’t it?” pouted Mrs. Alexander.

“No, I think your idea of interior decorators is that any ‘paint-slinger or tack-driver’ is a professional. Whereas I see that that is the very error necessary to be reversed by us, before the public recognises the value of genuine decorators. In France and other European countries, an interior decorator has to have a certificate. And that is what we hope to do in the United States – put the real ones through a course of studies and have them examined and a diploma given, before one can claim title to being a decorator.” Eleanor spoke with emphasis and feeling.

“Well, I don’t know a fig about it, or anything else, for that matter,” laughed Dodo, cheerfully. “But I can understand how much more interesting it must be to trot around hunting up worm-eaten furniture, or examining ruined masonry, or admiring moth-holed fabrics, than to do as I have to – follow after Ma and sit with my hands idly folded waiting for some old fossil to pass by and say: ‘I choose her, because she’s got the most cash.’”

Eleanor laughed outright at the girl’s statement, but Mrs. Alexander showed her anger by twisting her shoulders and saying: “Dodo Alexander! If I didn’t know better, I’d believe you were trying to make Eleanor believe that you detested your opportunity!”

Dodo tossed her head and said: “Time will show!”

At that crisis in the conversation, another girl’s voice was heard across the deck. “Nolla! Are you there?”

Eleanor turned and called back: “No, I am not here!”

Then all three girls laughed. The newcomer, Polly Brewster, skipped lightly across the deck, and joined the group she had spied from the open doorway. Eleanor introduced Mrs. Alexander as an old friend of Anne’s, and Dodo her daughter, as an independent American who believed in suffrage and all the rights of American womanhood. At this latter explanation, Dodo grinned and her mother gasped in amazement at Eleanor.

Then Mrs. Alexander said politely: “How is Anne Stewart? I haven’t seen her for some time.”

“Anne is married to my brother John, now,” returned Polly. “And they are going to live home, with mother, while I am away. Anne’s mother is to live at the old home in Denver, and keep house for Paul.”

“It seems years and years since I lived next door to them,” remarked Dodo. “I always played with Paul Stewart.”

“Deary, it can’t be years and years, because I am not so old as you try to make me appear,” corrected Mrs. Alexander.

Polly, understanding from the words, saw how vain the woman was and stood looking at her in surprise. But Eleanor heard only Dodo’s speech.

“Did you say you always played with Paul Stewart when you were neighbors?”

“Yes indeed!” laughed Dodo, as she remembered various incidents of that childhood.

“We always played we were married, and Paul’s Irish Terrier and my kitten were our children. We dressed them up in old dust-cloths and tried to make them behave, but no parents ever had such trials with their children as we had when Terry and Kitty got to scrapping!”

Eleanor was deeply interested and Polly smiled at what she saw expressed in her friend’s face. Dodo continued her reminiscences.

“Paul used to draw me on his sled when we went to school, and he always saved a bite of his apple for me at noon-time. I gave him half of my cake in exchange. Oh, we had such fun – we two, in those days!” the girl sighed and looked out over the billowy sea.

“Then Pa struck that vein of gold down at Cripple Creek and everything changed. Ma got the social bug, so bad, we had to leave all our old friends, and move to a strange neighborhood where Pa never spoke to a soul and I felt out of place. But Ma said it had to be done to establish our position.

“The Stewarts rented their house and I heard that Paul went to Chicago to college, while Anne went to teach a school in New York. Then I never heard again, of any of them, until Ma met you-all at the Denver railroad station.” Dodo smiled at that crumb of comfort.

Polly and Eleanor were deeply touched at the girl’s tale, for they knew how lonely she must have been away from her old associations, in an atmosphere where she was not at home. And such a frivolous mother who could not understand the true blue of such an honest character as Dodo’s!

“Ma sent me to a swell seminary near our new house, but the girls snubbed me, and I never had a pal all the time I was there. When Ma ordered me to come to Europe with her to stock up with fine dresses and then try to make a match for me with some man with a title, I came, but goodness knows! I just hate the idea.”

“Oh, Dodo! You’ll break my heart, if you talk like that!” cried Mrs. Alexander, trying to impress the two other girls with her maternal sorrow.

“Nolla! I almost forgot what I came for,” laughed Polly, to change the subject. “Prof. says for you to come to the salon where they have used Adams period and Louis XIV furniture in the same room. He wants to show us a bad example of decoration.”

“May I come with you?” asked Dodo, eagerly.

“Of course! Come right along,” agreed Eleanor, thrusting her hand through the new friend’s arm and starting away with her.

The moment they were out of hearing, Eleanor said impressively to Dodo: “Don’t you ever give in to that idea of marrying a foreigner! Your mother will soon get over it if you just keep on making her see it’s no use. If you pretend to take up some study like we are doing, she will see you mean business.”

“That’s good advice, and I sure will follow it,” declared the eager girl.

“And Nolla and I will help along all we can,” promised Polly.

“Even if you have to make your mother believe you are in love with Paul Stewart and won’t marry anyone else – then do it!” declared Eleanor, in tones of brave self-sacrifice and renunciation.

“Oh, but I’m not! Paul is a dandy boy and we had good times when we were small, but I’ve seen other boys I like a heap better’n him, now! But I really don’t want to marry anyone, yet!”

“I shouldn’t think you would!” breathed Eleanor, in great relief. “So Polly and I will agree to help you out of all the plots your mother plans for you. Won’t we, Polly?”

“We sure will!” agreed Polly. And that is how Dodo came to travel about Europe with Polly and Eleanor. And why the two old friends felt it a duty to protect and save Dodo from the wily plans of her mother who wished to own a title in the Ebeneezer Alexander family.

CHAPTER II – DODO MEETS POLLY’S FRIENDS

Dorothy Alexander was a good type of the healthy western girl. She was tall, well-built, and the picture of splendid health. Her hair was of a ruddy hue, with copper glints in it. Her complexion was like “peaches and cream,” and needed no cosmetic to enhance its charm. Her form was lithe and supple, and her features were good. Her bright eyes sparkled with good-humor, and her smile was contagious in its sweetness. When she was well-dressed, she would be a beauty, thought Eleanor, but her present overdressing depreciated her genuine good looks.

“Prof., we bring you a new convert,” laughed Eleanor, as the three girls approached Mr. Fabian.

“Dorothy Alexander, Mr. Fabian,” added Polly.

The two acknowledged the introduction and the girl thought: “What a fine face he has! Such wonderful expression and forehead.”

And Mr. Fabian thought: “There’s a great deal under all that sham.”

Shortly after the introduction, Mr. Fabian spoke of the flaunting mistakes some so-called decorator had made in the selection and furnishings of the salon. So they turned their attention to that interesting subject. Dodo stood by and listened to it all, as she wondered what these two good-looking girls could find to interest them in such a dry subject? But she confessed that both girls seemed more beautiful and attractive, when they were thoroughly interested and animated with the ideas they were exchanging with Mr. Fabian.