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Then the four delighted tenants left the office, and on the walk back to the corner where they wished to board the car they eagerly planned how they would furnish their home.
CHAPTER III – FURNISHING THE STABLE
“Anne, if we hurry and get the furniture, we can settle our home before school starts,” suggested Eleanor, eagerly.
“If you-all had only let me ship my stuff from Denver you wouldn’t have to buy a stick!” declared Mrs. Stewart.
They were standing on the corner waiting for an uptown car but not one was in sight. Anne showed signs of impatience but exclaimed at her mother’s remark:
“Mother, you know very well what the crating and freight would have cost, and you sold your stuff for more than it was worth. I think you are most fortunate to have that little roll of money on hand, when you consider the wear and tear your furniture has had in the last thirty years.”
“Anyway, Mrs. Stewart, I don’t want Victorian period in our house. Polly and I want to furnish and decorate our own rooms as we like. This is to be our first experiment in real artistic work,” said Eleanor, comfortingly.
Polly nodded her head at these words; but standing with her back to the curb, her face was opposite a large show-window in the corner building. Now, as if by some magnet, her eyes were attracted to what that window contained.
“Why, just see there! Right near our street is a furniture shop!” With this exclamation, Polly ran over to inspect the objects displayed in the window. A carved four-poster, and other rare antiques, drew the attention of the little group.
Polly glanced around to see what furniture shop it was that was so near their new home.
“Why! It’s an auction place. Surely, it cannot be that such wonderful things are sold in a junk room,” exclaimed Mrs. Stewart.
That made the other three look also, and Eleanor added: “It doesn’t follow that just because this is an auction house, that it must be a junk room.”
“Well, I never saw anything but awful junk in the second-hand place in Oak Creek,” explained Polly.
“Even the Denver dealers sell only junk, Nolla. But it may be different in New York. Everything seems to be different,” said Anne.
“Of course it is! Why wouldn’t it be when you stop to think of it. In the first place, no one in Oak Creek ever had anything but junk to sell. And in Denver, where everyone hangs on to every stick they have, simply because it is so difficult to get anything worth while, the poor second-hand dealer starves for want of trade. But here, as well as in Chicago, folks send stuff to places like this for sale, when they can’t find a place to move into. I just bet there will be thousands of families that will have to sell out this year just because there are not enough homes for all of them.” Eleanor’s logic was sound, and Polly ventured a suggestion.
“I’d love to go in there and see what they do with such pieces. There are lots of well-dressed people going in – come on.”
Nothing loath to see the interior of a New York second-hand shop, the westerners went to the front door. There a colored porter stood and bowed politely.
“Sale goin’ on in third room, right, ladies; have a catalogue?”
As the uniformed attendant offered Anne a pamphlet of about twenty pages, he waved them inside out of the doorway. Then he repeated his directions to the next couple who followed directly after Mrs. Stewart’s party.
To say the four friends were astonished at the size and quality of the auction-rooms is speaking mildly. Not a piece of furniture but looked rare and expensive. It seemed improbable that it all was for sale.
A second attendant now came up and said: “Sale now going on in south gallery, ladies.”
Then Anne took her courage in her hands. “We have never visited a sale before, so you will confer a favor by showing us where to go, or what to do. We are about to furnish a house.”
The man sensed a good customer, and gallantly showed them through several well-stocked rooms until they reached the last, where a smiling smooth-tongued individual sat behind a raised desk and spoke conversationally to the crowd which sat in rows before him.
“Jake, find me four chairs, in a hurry,” whispered the man who was conducting Anne’s party.
Without confusion and in a moment’s time, Jake carried over four wonderful Jacobean chairs, two in each hand, their backs to each other, and handled as recklessly as if the fine carving was made of unbreakable metal.
“Now, ladies, enjoy yourselves,” the smiling attendant said; then he stopped for a moment at the desk to say a word to the auctioneer who continued his selling as if no new victims had been introduced.
One marvelous article after another was brought forth and placed for exhibition upon the Persian rug that covered the platform in front of the audience. And one after another, the objects of art and beauty were sold to different buyers at a preposterously low figure.
But the wily auctioneer took notice that not a member of the newly arrived party was bidding on anything. He decided that this must not be, so he stood up to address the assembly.
“Friends, I know that you are here to buy and not to waste your time in mere curiosity. If there is any particular article you need, or have seen on the premises, speak out and I will oblige you by introducing it in this sale.”
He glanced over the crowd and finally allowed his gaze to rest upon the four who sat in the front row. They all felt guilty of using his time and room when they had no idea of buying any particular thing. Mrs. Stewart was about to whisper to Anne that they had better go when Eleanor spoke up fearlessly.
“I saw a four-poster in the show-window before I came in. Is it for sale?”
Her three companions felt the shock that is experienced when one does an unusual or unexpected thing. But they each felt thrilled, too, at the courage of that one.
“I regret exceedingly, my dear young lady, that that particular set of antique mahogany cannot be sold until day after to-morrow. In fact, only the contents of this vast room is for sale to-day. We take them in turn, you see. To-morrow the adjoining room goes, and the day following that everything is sold and cleared out of the third room – where the bed is.”
“But we have a four-poster in this sale, Mr. Winters,” quickly said one of the floor-men.
“Ah, indeed! Perhaps the young lady will like it as well as the other one. Bring it forward, Joe.”
Without the slightest delay, the floor-men then pulled and pushed a very elaborately carved four-posted bed out upon the dais. It was similar to the one in the window but it was smaller, this one being four feet wide while the one on exhibition for Friday’s sale was full sized.
The auctioneer spoke of all the points about this particular piece of furniture, and then began to offer it for sale. The four visitors in the front row sat as if hypnotized at his manner.
“What, no one here to appreciate this marvelous work of other days, now to be sold for three hundred dollars?”
Not a sound encouraged him, so he sighed and said: “Well, is there anyone who will give two hundred for it?”
Eleanor’s heart thumped. She was willing to give it but she found her tongue cleave to the roof of her mouth at the very idea of securing the bed at such a price.
“Too bad! Then I shall have to ask if anyone will pay me one hundred dollars? Is this bed not worth that to you, young lady – or perhaps you need a full-sized bed?” The auctioneer looked at Eleanor but failed to see the dazzling glint that shot into her eyes when he offered the bed for one hundred. He really had no hope of starting it at that figure so he over-did it that time.
“All right, friends, I am perfectly willing to have you set your own price on this magnificent piece of carving that is no less than a hundred and fifty years old. Now what is your pleasure? Fifty, forty, thirty – what? did I hear a bargain-hunter say twenty-five? Oh, impossible?”
Eleanor almost fainted at such a dreadful sacrifice, and would have stood up to offer him the hundred, had not a man in the rear called out “Fifty.”
“Ah, that is better – thank you. Now, fifty, fifty, fifty – who says seventy-five? I want seventy-five – fifty, fifty, fifty, fif – fif-tee, tee, t-e-e – what, no one here willing to pay more than fifty dollars for this bee-u – utiful bit of antique mahogany? Fif-fif-fif – Ah!”
Eleanor swallowed hard, half-stood up, and the auctioneer caught her eye at last. He smiled, acknowledged her expression, and now called:
“Seventy-five! I now have seventy-five, seven, seven, sev-sev-seventy – seventy-fi-ifvvve! I have seventy-five dollars for this wonderful mahogany bed that is really worth seven hundred dollars in any store to-day. And I only have seventy-five dollars bid. Seven-tee – ”
Again Eleanor half-stood up and this time she managed to say “One hundred, please!”
“Thank you, young lady – you certainly understand fine furniture. I am now offered one hundred dollars by one who knows the value of this bed – one hundred, one hundred – hundred – one, h-u-ndred dollars offered – who will give a hundred and ten – only ten more gets it?”
Polly was so amazed when Eleanor said “One hundred dollars” that she giggled hysterically; but not wishing to have her friend brag how “she bid at this auction and her friends were too shy,” Polly looked anxiously at the auctioneer. He saw that look and understood.
“Don’t hesitate, young lady. You know ‘he who hesitates is lost’ – in this case, loses a great bargain. If you wish to bid, never fear competing with a friend. In this business there are no friends – all men are strangers. Shall I say one hundred and ten for you?”
Polly nodded eagerly and smiled broadly at Eleanor. The two girls were so delighted with themselves at daring to speak out so bravely in a city like New York that they failed to realize the auctioneer had knocked down the bed to Polly.
“This young lady in front. I must say she appreciates fine furniture!” declared the suave auctioneer to everyone in general.
“W-h-y, Pol – le-ee! Is that your bed?” gasped Mrs. Stewart.
“I’m sure I don’t know. Is it, Nolla?” laughed Polly.
Just then a brusque voice said: “Name and address please – and twenty-five per cent deposit money.” The girls looked up in bewilderment. Who was the man?
He seemed to read their thoughts, for he smiled. “I am the cashier. Everyone has to pay down a cash deposit on their bids. Everything you buy has to be removed by Saturday, or we are not responsible for it after that.”
“Oh!” Polly and Eleanor looked at each other. They were trying to figure out how much money he wanted.
“Here – I’ll pay the deposit. About thirty dollars, isn’t it?” said Anne, in a business-like tone.
“Yes, thank you. Now name and address, please?”
“What’s the number of our stable, Anne?” laughed Eleanor.
When Anne gave the address the cashier looked surprised. “Oh, have you rented the Studio down the street?”
The girls bowed wonderingly, and he added: “The artist who lived there for a number of years, used to drop in here every week just for the entertainment of picking up curios. In fact, I saw him here a few minutes ago. He told me he would give fifty percent advance to the tenant who leased that place. Here’s a chance for you to make money if you want to give up the Studio.”
“We want a home more than money, mister!” declared Polly.
“You’ve said it, Poll! If we give up this studio we may have to go back and live in our gold mine, because New York hasn’t any homes left, this year,” laughed Eleanor.
The cashier had not missed the mention of “our gold mine” and determined to do his utmost to please these ladies. Hence he whispered: “I’ll look after everything you buy here, and don’t worry about moving it away on Saturday. Next week will do, if you are not ready to get things out this week.”
“Polly, Polly! There goes a high-boy that matches the bed you got!” cried Eleanor, at this moment.
“They are pieces of the same set. Strange to say, they came from the very place you rented. The artist has to sell out because he cannot find an apartment, and there is no storage room for his furniture,” explained the cashier.
So Polly secured the high-boy for sixty dollars and felt very proud of her purchases. Eleanor bought a pair of brass fire-dogs and irons, and Anne bid on a large etching. When it was knocked down to her, she turned to her mother and said: “I really do not want it. What under the sun did I get it for?”
And Mrs. Stewart laughed. “It’s always the way at these vendues. One gets all kinds of things one never needs.”
“Then let’s get out. Girls, I’m going now,” whispered Anne, rising to leave.
The cashier hurried over when he saw the four new customers about to go, and said, “The artist would like very much to meet his successors to the Studio.”
At the same moment, a grey-haired gentleman bowed and smiled, and the group waited expectantly. Anne and Polly smiled also.
“You are the kind friend who advised us, yesterday, when we had to leave the car,” Anne said, pleasantly.
“Yes, but I never dreamed I was directing you right to my front door,” rejoined the artist.
“Well, Mr. Fabian, as long as you’ve met before, I’ll go about my business,” and the cashier hurried away, leaving the five people in the adjoining room.
Anne proceeded to introduce her friends and then added: “It was providential that we went through that street. Now we have a home to our liking.”
“I am delighted that my successors will appreciate the place, but I am still seeking for quarters. Had I choked my anger and swallowed my pride, when the owner refused to keep his word about the stable-doors, I would still be enjoying my cozy Studio.”
Mr. Fabian then told the ladies how he had taken the stable in its raw state and turned it into the lovely dwelling it now was. He had paid for all the hardwood floors, for the partitions on the ground-floor, and for the kitchen plumbing.
“Why, it must have cost you a small fortune,” ventured Anne. “And now it seems too bad that you can’t enjoy it.”
“But I did enjoy it, my dear young lady – for five years. And I only paid sixty dollars a month, during that time, too. When the owner raised me, this year, to ninety I rebelled, because I had spent so much money on beautifying the rooms. I thought he would really relent and say I could have it for about seventy-five a month. I was mistaken.”
“We’re paying a hundred and fifty a month and make all repairs, ourselves,” Anne ventured.
“He took advantage of the unusual conditions. But you have a better bargain, even so, than if you had rented a seven-room apartment, uptown, for two or three thousand a year.”
By this time they were standing on the corner once more, and Mr. Fabian seemed ready to leave them. Then Polly remembered that the cashier had said the bed and high-boy she just bought had come from the Studio.
“Oh, Mr. Fabian, excuse me for speaking of it, but did you really own the four-poster I got at the sale just now?”
“Yes, my dear. It was in the room my little daughter occupied when she was home. She is now in Paris taking an art course.” The girls were deeply interested in this intimate information. “That box-spring with the mattress on the bed was made to order of the best material I could buy. You’ll find the silk-floss in that mattress is so soft you’ll never care to get up, once you rest upon it.”
“But I didn’t know the spring and mattress went with the bed,” Polly said, amazed.
“Oh, yes. That is the way they generally sell other folks’ goods. But I wish to say, that Nancy only used the bed a few weeks, as she had a splendid opportunity to enter a class in a friend’s school in Paris, so we started her across without delay. My wife went, too, to look after her; that is one reason I refused to pay the increased rent; I thought it was too much for one lone man to pay.”
“It almost makes me feel as if we ought to take you in to live with us,” said Mrs. Stewart, sympathetically. “If there only was one extra bedroom, now, we could make you a member of our family just as well as not.”
“But we haven’t that extra room!” laughed Anne, wondering what this stranger would think of her mother’s free western hospitality.
What he thought was soon expressed. “I certainly appreciate such unusual kindness and I see it is genuine. So I will dare to do this: I shall love to drop in, now and then, and see how you all are doing. Perhaps I can be of some assistance to you, in various ways.”
“I know you can!” declared Eleanor, eagerly. “Polly and I are taking up art and interior decorating and we need lots of ideas from grown-ups who have had experience. You can advise us that way.”
“Begin your regular home visits a week from Sunday, Mr. Fabian. We will be settled then and ready to welcome you to our house,” added Anne.
Then they parted and Mr. Fabian went downtown, while the four companions walked northwards to the hotel. As they walked, Anne said: “It certainly was queer how that gentleman sent us past his own home and we saw it. Now, he turns out to be just the kind of a friend Polly and Eleanor will need to advise them about art school.”
“Anne, what shall we do with the rest of the afternoon? We still have two hours before dinner-time,” said Eleanor, glancing at her wristwatch.
“We can go over to the nearest shop and get Polly an everyday hat. I can’t bear to see this lovely one hacked out at auction rooms. She needs complete outfits of underwear, too, but we may be too late at the shops, for that.”
“Anne, I saw in the paper this morning, when you were looking for apartments, that a fine Fifth avenue shop is having a sale of early fall models. Let’s go up and get Polly’s hat there,” advised Eleanor, eagerly.
Anne laughed. “You are willing to get one for yourself, too, eh?”
So both girls were supplied with chic hats before they returned to the hotel. There they found an invitation from the Latimers to come, informally, and dine with them that night. Dr. and Mrs. Evans would try to come in later.
“It’s now five-thirty. Can we get dressed and make it, in time?” asked Eleanor, anxiously.
“Oh, yes; we haven’t far to go, you know. A taxi will take us there in ten minutes,” replied Anne.
