Polly and Her Friends Abroad

Mrs. Alexander tip-toed in and immediately began to condole with him. “Poor Jimmy! I feel so concerned over you. Just let me mother you, if you are ill!”

Jimmy growled: “I’m not ill – just sleepy!”

“All the same, you dear boy, something must be troubling you to make you feel so ill-natured,” said she, pointedly.

“I should think it would!” snapped he, the patch-work quilt drawn up close about his chin so that only his face showed.

“Then do tell me if I can help in any way. My purse and heart are both wide open for you to help yourself, whenever you like.”

Jimmy was young, and had not yet realized that independence was a great privilege. But he had learned that poverty was not the virtue people called it. It meant doing without pleasant things, and constantly sacrificing what seemed most desirable. He knew Mrs. Alexander would buy her way into his good graces if she could, and he was just angry enough, and sulky at fate, to tempt him to take advantage of her offer. Even though he might regret it shortly after.

“Well, to confess – as I would to my own mother – I’m broke! And it’s no pleasant state of affairs on a long trip like this one, with a lot of pretty girls wanting to be treated to candy, and other things,” growled Jimmy.

“Poor dear boy!” sighed Mrs. Alexander, seating herself on the edge of the great antique bed, and patting his head. “Don’t I understand? Now let me be your other mother, for a while, and give you a little spending money. When it is gone, just wink at me and I will know you need more. If there were a number of young men to assume the expenses of treating the crowd of girls with you, I wouldn’t think of suggesting this. But I remember that you are but one with a galaxy of beauties who look for entertainment from you.”

Thus Mrs. Alexander cleverly managed to induce Jimmy to believe he was justified in taking her money, and as she got up to go out, she said: “I’ll leave a little roll on the dresser. If you feel able to get up and come out, you will see that you will feel better for the effort and the air.”

So saying, she left a packet under the military brushes on the dresser and, smiling reassuringly at the youth, went out. But she did not leave the closed door at once; she waited, just outside, until she heard him spring from the bed and rush over to the place where the money had been left. Then she nodded her head satisfactorily, and crept downstairs.

Jimmy counted out the notes left for him, and gasped. He hadn’t seen so much money at one time, since the war began! And he felt a sense of gratitude, then repulsion, to the ingratiating person who thus paid him for his good-will.

Mr. Fabian and his party were examining the old cathedral, with its two Norman towers and the western front rich with carvings, without a thought of the two they had left at the Inn. Having completed the visit to the edifice, they all returned to see the old inn known as “Moll’s Coffee-house.”

“It was at this famous place that many of England’s noted people used to gather,” said Mr. Fabian, as they crossed the green. “Sir Walter Raleigh was a frequent visitor here, as well as many historical men.”

As they came to the place, they found Mrs. Alexander and Jimmy seated on a worm-eaten bench, chatting pleasantly about the ancient room they were in. But no one knew that the conversation had been suddenly switched from a personal topic, the moment the sight-seers appeared to interrupt the tête-à-tête.

Mrs. Alexander got up and crossed the room to meet the other members in the party, saying as she came: “I hear how folks used to come here and drink coffee – and a record is kept of who they were. It must be nice to have folks remember you after you are gone. I wish someone would say, years after I am dead, ‘Mrs. Alexander was in this house, once’.”

“A lot of good that would do you, then!” laughed Dodo.

“I was just telling Jimmy that it would be a lot of satisfaction to us all if he became famous and this trip of ours was spoken of in years to come. He’s got a title in the family, you know, and the English think so much of that! The inn-keeper across the green might be glad to remember how Sir Jimmy stopped here when he toured England with his friends from America.”

Everyone laughed at the silly words but Mrs. Alexander was really in earnest. Her imagination had jumped many of the obstacles placed in her way, and she saw herself as Jimmy’s mother-in-law and revered as such by the English public.

During their tête-à-tête at Old Moll’s Coffee-house, she had impressed it upon Jimmy’s mind, that not a soul was to know about the money. And she extracted a promise that he would call upon her for more if he needed it. Feeling like a cad, still he promised, for he was in dire need of money to be able to appear like a liberal host.

“Well, Jimmy – are you ready to start along the road?” asked Angela, suspicious of this sudden change of front in Jimmy for the obnoxious rich woman.

“Yes, if Mrs. Alex and everyone else is,” agreed he.

“Mrs. Alex?” queried his sister, pointedly.

“Oh yes, folks! Dodo’s mother says ‘Alexander’ is such a lot to say, that she prefers us to cut it to Mrs. Alex. Every one else has nicknames, so why not nick Alexander?” said Jimmy.

The others laughed, and Mr. Alexander said quaintly: “I always liked that name Alexander ’cause it made me feel sort of worth while. I might be no account in looks, but ‘Alexander’ gives me back-bone, ’cause I only have to remember ‘Alexander the Great’!”

His friends laughed heartily and Mr. Fabian said: “What’s in a name, when you yourself are such a good friend?”

“Mebbe so, but all the same, I’ll miss that name. ‘Alex’ looks too much like a tight fit for my size. But I s’pose it’s got to be as the missus says!”

Now the cars sped through the charming country of rural England, with its ever-changing scenes, than which there is nothing more beautiful and peaceful. Cattle browsed upon the hillocks, tiny hamlets were spotlessly neat and orderly, the roads were edged with trimmed hedges, and even in the woods, where wild-plants grew, there was no débris to be found. It was all a picture of neatness.

On this drive, the girls were made happy by being able to buy several pieces of old Wedgwood from the country people. Polly also secured a chubby little bowl with wonderful medallions upon its sides, and Eleanor found a “salt-glaze” pitcher.

“I believe lots of the people in the country, here, will gladly sell odd bits if we only have time to stop and bargain,” said Polly, hugging her bowl.

“And lots of them will swear their furniture is genuine antique even if they bought it a year ago from an installment firm,” laughed Jimmy.

“Oh, they wouldn’t do that!” gasped Polly.

“Wouldn’t they! Just try it, and see how they rook your pocket-book,” retorted Jimmy.

“Why James Osgood! Where ever did you learn such words – ‘rook’ and the like?” gasped his sister.

“Oh, I’m going to be a thorough American, now,” laughed Jimmy, recklessly. “Mrs. Alex has agreed to take me West with her on her return, and let me run a ranch in Colorado.”

“What will mother say to that?” wailed Angela, as this was not what she had hoped for.

“Don’t worry, Angela dear,” quickly said Mrs. Alexander, soothingly. “Jimmy is only joking. I told him about our ranches but I have no idea of taking him away from England.” Neither had she.

At Glastonbury the tourists stopped to see the “Inne of ye Pilgrims” which proved to be very old and most interesting. Here King Henry the VIII and Abbot Whiting’s rooms are maintained with the old furnishings as in that long-past day.

Pictures were taken of the quaint Gothic carving on the front of the building, and then Mr. Fabian led them to inspect the ruined abbey which King Arthur favored above all other spots.

As the cars sped over the good hard roads, past little cottages with the most attractive thatched-roofs whose dormer windows were set deep back in the thatch, the tourists were delighted.

“Such lovely little places,” sighed Ruth, as she admired the rose-vines climbing high upon the roof of a place.

“Just big enough for two!” whispered Jimmy, for his “heart’s desire” was beside him on the front seat, once more.

“I wonder why American architects do not copy these lovely thatched roofs for us, more generally,” wondered Polly.

“Our climate would not permit them,” explained Mr. Fabian. “In England, the damp warm climate seldom changes to bitter cold, and the inmates of these cottages live in comparative comfort in the winter. In the States, they’d be frozen out in no time.”

Bath was the next stop, and Mr. Fabian sought out the famous Abbey, at once. But Ruth had come under the spell of Jimmy’s ardor again, and remained with him when the others walked away. Mrs. Alexander sensed the plot and also remained behind. But Mr. Alexander called to her when she would have joined the two young ones.

“See here – don’t you go interferin’ there. If them two want to keep comp’ny why should you care?” whispered he.

“They won’t, that’s all. That young man is for Dodo!”

“Huh! Is that so? Well, don’t you think I got something to say in that case? Dodo takes who she wants, and no one else!”

“Don’t say a word! All you’ve got to do is to pay the bills! I’m doing this match-making and you needn’t help!” snapped his wife.

As she walked away, the little man nodded his head briskly and muttered: “We’ll see! We’ll see, missus!”

Mrs. Alexander found she could not beguile the two young folks into doing anything that included her, so she went towards the Abbey to meet Dodo upon her return. When they all came out, Dodo was with Polly and Eleanor, but her mother drew her away to one side and had her say.

“What do you s’pose I brought you over here for, Dodo? Not to gaze at tumbled down churches or to go nosing about musty old places where queer things are stuck up for folks to admire. No sir! I brought you here to find a peer, and now, with the one all ready-made and at hand, you leave him to Ruth Ashby – a girl not half as good-looking, or rich, as you!”

“See here, Ma,” retorted Dodo angrily; “I told you, before, that I didn’t want to marry anyone. Now that I’ve met Polly and Eleanor, and I know how fine a career will be, I am going to go in business, too.”

“Not if I know it! And your Pa worth a million dollars!” exclaimed the irate woman.

“Polly and Eleanor are worth a lot of money, too, but that makes work all the pleasanter. You don’t have to worry about bread and butter; and you can travel, or do all the things necessary to perfect yourself in your profession,” explained Dodo.

At that, the mother threw up her hands despairingly, and wailed: “To think I should live to see this day! An only child turning against her fond mother!”

“Pooh! You’re angry because I won’t toddle about and do exactly as you say about Jimmy and his title,” Dodo said, scornfully.

“But he loves you, Dodo, and you are breaking his heart.”

Dodo laughed. “He acts like it, doesn’t he? Now if you go on this way, Ma, I’ll run away and go back to the States. Once I am in New York, I’ll stay there and earn my own living.”

That silenced her mother. “Oh, Dodo! I never meant you to feel like that. I’ll never mention Jimmy again, if you’ll promise me you won’t speak of business in front of anyone else?”

“I’ll only promise to do what any sensible girl would do under the same circumstances, so there!” agreed Dodo. And her mother had to be content with that crumb of comfort.

After a good dinner at Bristol, Mr. Fabian sat poring over a road-map, deciding where next to go. While the elders in the party listened to him, the young folks followed Jimmy’s beckoning hand and crept away. They all jumped into the car and he drove off to celebrate the runaway.

That evening Jimmy spent money lavishly, and Angela’s suspicions were convinced: he had borrowed or taken it from Mrs. Alexander at one of their tête-à-têtes. But the girl said nothing; she was sorry for herself and James, and felt that these despicable rich westerners could easily part with some of their wealth.

It was past midnight when the merry party returned to the hotel, where mothers sat up to scold their daughters for such an escapade. Youth laughed at all such corrections, however, and then ran off to bed.

In the morning, no young member of the party was willing to get up and start on the road. Hence it was quite late when they got into the cars preparatory to touring again. Just as the signal was given for Jimmy to lead off, an old man ran up, wildly gesticulating.

“E’en hear’n say you folks like odd bits of old stuff. Coom with me and see my shaup daown in the lane.”

Mr. Fabian conversed with the old man for a few moments, and then asked the others if they cared to stop at the shop as they drove past. Everyone agreed, and the old man was asked to step up on the car and direct them where to go.

Finally they drew up before a place in the outskirts of Bristol – a veritable picture of a place. The one-story structure had its walls panelled in sections and the plaster of these sections was white-washed. The usual thatched roof and dormer windows topped the building, but the roses rambled so riotously up over the thatch, and greenish moss grew in spots, that the old place had a beautiful appearance.

Mr. Maxton rubbed his hands in delight, as he stood by and heard the cries of admiration from his visitors. He loved the old place and took a great pride in keeping it looking well.

Then they went indoors, leaving Jimmy and Mr. Alexander in the cars. The front room was crowded full of old china, lamps, silver and other curios, but Mr. Maxton led them directly to the rear room where the furniture was kept.

“Here be a rale Windsor chair you’ll like,” said he, moving forward a piece of furniture.

“My, Fabian! It must date back as early as 1690 to 1700,” whispered Mr. Ashby, as he examined the crown center of the flat head-rest that finished the comb-top at the back.

“It has the twisted upright rails at the back, and the turned rungs that go with that period,” admitted Mr. Fabian, down upon his knees to examine the chair.

“Girls, see that seat – scooped out to fit the body, but it is worn thin with age along its front edge; and even the arms and legs are splintered down from centuries of hard usage,” remarked Mr. Ashby.

While the two men and the dealer were bargaining over the chair, Mrs. Alexander wandered back to the front room. There she found Ruth upon her knees examining a wonderful, old carved chest.

“Isn’t this a darling, Mrs. Alex?” exclaimed the girl.

“What is it?” asked the woman, hardly interested.

“Why, it’s a fine old wedding-chest with exquisite panels on its front and sides. The carving, alone, is unusual.”

“A wedding chest, eh. What would you use it for?” asked Mrs. Alexander, taking a deeper interest in the article since the girl explained what the object was.

“Why, any girl would be glad to start a hope-chest with this,” laughed Ruth. “I’m going to ask Daddy to buy it for me, if it isn’t too costly.”

Mrs. Alexander’s fears took fire at that suggestive word, “hope-chest,” from Ruth, and she turned instantly to rejoin the dealer in the back room. He had just finished writing the directions for the shipping of the chair he had sold, when she hurried across the room.

“Mr. Maxton, you have a carved chest in the front room. I want to buy it – how much is it?” As she spoke, Mrs. Alexander took a purse out of her bag and displayed a roll of bills.

The clever dealer saw this opportunity to drive a good bargain, and he named his figure. Without demur, the lady counted down the money and asked for a receipt.

Meanwhile the others had gone to the front room to see the purchase Mrs. Alexander was making. She had shown no interest in antiques before, so this must be an exceptional piece to lure her money from her.

“Daddy, do come here and tell me if I may have this old chest?” called Ruth, still waiting beside the carved piece.

Then it became apparent that Ruth had wanted it for herself, but that Mrs. Alexander secured it. Everyone wondered why?

Well pleased with her purchase, the new owner of the chest came from the rear room and smiled complacently. Then she spoke to her daughter: “Dodo, when we go to Paris you can fill that old wedding chest with a trooso.”

“Oh yes? Whose is it, Ma?” asked the girl.

“Why yours, of course! That’s why I got it.”

“My very own! for keeps? Or are you only lending it to me?”

“Your very own, deary! I hope you’ll pass it along to the noble children I long to call my grandchildren, some day,” said Mrs. Alexander, sentimentally.

“I thank you, Ma, and I’ll put it to the best use I can think of. And I’ll pass it along – oh yes! but I doubt if grandchildren of yours ever see it,” laughed Dodo, with a queer look.

“I’m glad you got it, Dodo, because it is a lovely thing,” said Ruth to the fortunate owner, trying to hide her disappointment behind a smile.

“But you paid an outrageous price for it, Mrs. Alex,” said Mr. Fabian.

“Twice as much as he would have taken,” added Mr. Ashby.

“I don’t care what it cost. I’d have given ten times the price to have it for Dodo,” snapped Mrs. Alexander, not feeling the delight she had anticipated in the purchase.

Just then Mr. Alexander poked his bald head in at the doorway and said: “Ain’t you folks most ready to go on?”

“Come here, Ebeneezer! I want you to give that address of the hotel in Paris to this Mr. Maxton. I bought a chest for Dodo and he is to ship it there, so’s I can fill it when I arrive,” said Mrs. Alexander.

“Have I got the address?” stammered her husband.

“Of course! In that red-covered leather memorandum book.”

Mr. Alexander searched in his pockets and finally brought out a little book from his inside coat-pocket. He fumbled the pages as he sought for the needed address, and murmured so that the others could distinctly hear.

“H – um, what’s this? ‘Go to the barber’s for a clean shave every day – don’t forget.’ It ain’t that.” Then he turned to the next page, and squinted at the writing.

“‘Ne – ver use a knife at table when you eat – only to cut.’ It ain’t that page, nuther.”

His wife remonstrated, and he suddenly said: “Wait now – here it ’tis: ‘Don’t go in front of others unless you say ‘excuse me.’ Don’t sit down with ladies standing.’ Wall now, it ain’t on that page, either,” he remarked, but Mrs. Alexander grew annoyed when she saw the sympathetic smiles of their companions.

They recognized the “teacher’s” rules for their friend, and they felt sorry for his lot in life. Then she snapped out: “Can’t you find it in there, Eben?”

“No, b’ gosh! It ain’t down. All’s I can find is ‘don’ts and do’s’ what you told me.”

“Give me the book – I’ll find it,” demanded his wife. “You never could read your own writing.” And she took the book and quickly turned to the last page. Then she read off the address to the waiting dealer. This done she thrust the book back at her meek spouse.

“Well now! I never thought to look backwards first! I begun in the front of the book like I was taught at school,” said Mr. Alexander to his companions, in apology for his blunder.

The tourists finally got away from Bristol but they were too late to make Birmingham that night. So they planned to stop at Gloucester or Worcester, which ever was most convenient.

CHAPTER V – LOVE AFFAIRS AND ANTIQUES

While the cars were speeding over the long flat country that stretched away after leaving Bristol, Dodo entered into a confidential chat with Ruth who sat in the back seat beside her. Although it was against Jimmy’s wishes, Angela managed to get in the front seat beside him, in order to give him some sound advice about his future.

“I just heard, Ruth, that you would have a birthday, shortly,” began Dodo.

“Yes, but who told you so?” returned Ruth.

“Polly mentioned it, and I said that I hoped we would all be with you to help celebrate. When is it?”

“Not for three weeks yet, Dodo. And I expect to be at Uncle’s, then. They’ll give me a party, I suppose,” said Ruth.

“Well, that’s too bad – that we won’t be together – as I have a little gift for you and I hope you’ll like it.”

“Oh, Dodo! How nice of you. I really did not look for anything from anyone, you know,” cried Ruth, delightedly.

“Maybe not, dearie; and this isn’t much – not what you deserve, but it is a little remembrance, as you will find when you get it. I’m not going to give it to you until the day arrives, but when you open it you’ll understand everything that I can’t explain to you, now,” explained Dodo.

“Whatever it is, little or big, I will like it, Do, as coming from your generous heart. Even a flower from my friends is more than a jewel from someone who doesn’t mean it,” said Ruth.

“I know that, Ruth, and that’s why I want to give you something you’ll like. You are true blue, and you deserve all the joy one can give you.”

“It’s awfully good of you, Dodo, to say that,” smiled Ruth, although tears of pleasure welled up in her eyes.

The other girls had overheard the conversation and now they chimed in. “Dodo’s right, Ruth. You’re just fine!”

Later in the afternoon, Jimmy stopped his car at a tiny farmhouse with the spoken intention of getting a drink of water. But his subtle reason was to get Angela out of the front seat and Ruth in it. “Who wants a drink?” called he, as he jumped out and started for the cottage.

“I do!” cried Polly, getting out to go after him.

At the open door of the humble dwelling, the two looked in and saw the house-wife bending over a cook-stove, turning some doughnuts in a pan of hot fat. Jimmy waited until she had finished and then said: “May we have a drink, if you please?”

His smile and manner were very pleasing, and Polly saw how people fell before his winsome way. “Just a minute – I’ll draw some fresh cold water for you,” said the woman.

“Oh, do let me help you!” exclaimed Jimmy, whipping off his cap as he hurried through the room to carry the pail the woman had taken.

The two of them went out to the back-shed where the water ran, and filled the pail. Meanwhile, Polly gazed about the interior of the little house. She saw several objects which might be old pieces, so she wondered how she could get Mr. Fabian there to judge.

As Jimmy came in, carrying the pail, and the woman held a tin dipper for the tourists, he remarked as he passed the cook-stove: “My, how good those doughnuts smell.” And he sniffed.

“You shall hov some!” declared the woman, laughingly.

“Oh no! I couldn’t think of it,” objected Jimmy, hoping all the time to be persuaded into taking some.

“I knows what young boys’ appetites is like,” chaffed the woman, taking a large platter from the corner cupboard and piling a heap of doughnuts upon it.

Jimmy laughingly protested, but she waved him out and followed at his heels. When they reached the cars, she proffered the platter to the gentlemen first. Polly tried to get Mr. Fabian’s eye to tell him about the furniture in the cottage.

But his eyes were rivetted on the old Staffordshire platter that held the refreshments. He nudged Mr. Ashby and both men eagerly took the dish. As they gazed at it, and then passed it on to the ladies to help themselves first, they exchanged opinions.

“It’s the rare old blue that seems etched on the ivory glaze,” whispered Mr. Fabian.

“Where that came from, there may be more,” added Mr. Ashby, eagerly.

The platter had reached Mr. Alexander on its return trip to the men, when the little man took two doughnuts, one in each hand.

“Ebeneezer Alexander! How can you? Don’t you know what your red book says?” scolded his wife.

“I dun’t care, Maggie! I’m good and hongry and dunnits always was my temptation. These smell like your’n ust to before we got too rich for you to cook.”

Mrs. Alexander tried to hide the smile of satisfaction that tried to creep up into her face. She reached out her hand for one of his doughnuts, without saying a word. But Mr. Alexander moved away out of her reach.

He hurriedly held at arm’s length the hand that held one doughnut, while he took several great bites from the tidbit held in the other hand, lest his wife compel him to give up his treasure trove. The others laughed at him, and Mr. Ashby said: