“They are, indeed! I’ve been surprised the people who have everything will gather up their cards and trumpery boxes after a luncheon! And your thoughtfulness is lovely, Mona. We’ll each give them our own place-card and box, too.”
“Yes; and then, you see, they’ll have quite a few little things for their own Christmas, and that will make them remember the ‘bright spot’ all the more.”
“Of course it will! Mona, you’re a perfect darling!” And Patty grasped Mona’s shoulders and swung her about in a mad dance of jubilation.
“And, Patty,” Mona went on, “Mr. Lansing wants to help us with our Happy Saturdays Club. He says he could go with us some afternoon, to take a lot of newsboys to the circus.”
“Why, Mona Galbraith!” and Patty stared at her friend in astonishment. “Have you been telling him about our club?”
“Yes; of course, I have. It’s no secret society, is it?”
“No; but we don’t want men for members.”
“But, Patty, he would be a help. I’d love to give some of those poor little newsboys a good time, and we couldn’t do it, just by ourselves.”
Suddenly, Patty thought of “Rosy,” and her idea of including him in some of their plans. To be sure, it would be better to have a man to help manage such a project. But not Mr. Lansing!
“No, Mona,” she said; “our club is made up of just us four girls, and we can find plenty to do among girls or women. At least, for this winter. If it’s all a success, we can do more next winter, and perhaps get some men to help us then. If we want to take newsboys to the circus, father will go with us. Don’t be everlastingly dragging in that Mr. Lansing.”
“I’m not dragging him in! He kindly offered to help. But of course,—if you don’t want him–”
“Well, I don’t! And, look here, Mona, I wish you’d let him alone, yourself. He’s not like the men of our set, and I want you to realise that. Roger says he’s a bounder,—if you know what that is.”
“Pooh! Roger is jealous.”
“Yes, I think he is. But, aside from that, he’s right about Mr. Lansing not being the right kind of a friend for you. Philip Van Reypen says the same thing.”
“Oh, pshaw! Mr. Van Reypen is an old stuck-up! He thinks nobody is any good if they don’t begin their names with a Van.”
“Now, Mona, don’t be silly. I’m sure I don’t know what you see so admirable in Mr. Lansing, but I do think you ought to be advised by others who know better than you. Why, your own father doesn’t like him.”
“I know dad doesn’t; but—well, all the same, I do! Why, Patty, he’s awfully interesting, and he brings me flowers and candy and books–”
“Now, stop, Mona. You know you don’t care for those things! You can have all you want, without Mr. Lansing’s gifts. You like him, because he flatters you, and—well, I must admit that he has a way with him.”
“Oh, yes, Patty, he has! Why, when you know him, he’s really fascinating!”
“Well, don’t let him fascinate you. He’s loud, Mona. He’s not our sort. Now, do promise me to see less of him, won’t you? He seems to be calling on you very often.”
“Yes, he does. But how can I stop that? I can’t be rude to him.”
“Well, you can be cool. Every girl can discourage a man’s attentions, if she wants to.”
“H’m; you seem to know a great deal about it.”
“I only know what my common sense tells me. Mona, dear, do drop that man! Why, Roger is worth a dozen of him!”
“Roger’s all right,—but Mr. Lansing is so,—so,—well, he’s different.”
“He is, indeed! And that’s the trouble. The difference is all in Roger’s favour, if you only could see it.”
“Well, I can’t! Now, look here, Patty. You know how much I care for you, but I won’t have you talking to me like a Dutch Aunt. I made father bring me to New York this winter, so I could be near you, and we could have fun together. But, if you’re going to scold me all the time, we won’t have any fun at all.”
Patty began to realise that, though Mona might be coaxed, she could never be driven. So she concluded to drop the subject, and use more thought and tact in her endeavours to break up Mona’s new friendship.
And then Clementine Morse came, so the matter had to be laid aside.
“Is Jenny here?” asked Clementine, as she tossed off her furs.
“Jenny who?”
“My guest, Jenny Bisbee. She’s the ribbon girl I told you about. I had the greatest time to get her off for the afternoon. I had to go to Walker’s, you know, and see all sorts of Heads of Departments. My! they acted like Crowned Heads! They said it wouldn’t do at all,—it would establish a precedent,—and all sorts of things like that. But, somehow or other, I wheedled them into it, and at last they said Jenny might come. She was just crazy about it. She said, she never has any fun in her life, except looking at the new ribbons when they come in! Oh, girls, isn’t it awful never to have any fun? I expect Jenny will be embarrassed, but I’m sure she’ll enjoy it all. Oh, how lovely the table looks! Mona, you are a wonder! I never should have thought of all those Christmas fixings.”
“I’m glad you like them. Say, Clementine, don’t you think it would be nice to have men members in our club?”
“Why, I don’t know. No, I guess not, though my brother Clifford says it’s a great game, and he’d like to help us.”
“Yes, and I know another man who wants to help,” said Mona, eagerly, when Clementine interrupted her.
“I hope it isn’t that strange being you brought to Patty’s party! Wherever did you pick up that freak, Mona?”
“He isn’t a freak! Mr. Lansing is not a rich man, but he’s very exclusive. He told me so himself.”
“Don’t you believe it!” and Clementine laughed merrily. “As a rule, people who say themselves that they’re exclusive, are not. And one glance at that man is enough to show his standing.”
“What is his standing, then?” said Mona, sulkily.
“Outside the pale of society, if not outside the pale of civilisation,” retorted Clementine, who was plain-spoken.
“Don’t let’s talk about Mr. Lansing now,” broke in Patty, who feared an unpleasant element in their pleasant occasion. “And, anyway, here comes Elise.”
CHAPTER V
HAPPY GUESTS
Elise came in, bringing her guest with her. The three girls waiting in the sitting-room were surprised to see the small, dainty person whom Elise introduced as Miss Anna Gorman. She had a sweet, sad little face, and wore a simple one-piece gown of dove-grey voile. Her hat was grey, also; a turban shape, with a small knot of pink roses at one side. Anna was not pretty, but she had a refined air, and a gentle manner. Though embarrassed, she strove not to show it, and tried to appear at ease.
Mona greeted her cordially: “How do you do, Anna?” she said, for they had agreed to call the girls informally, by their Christian names. “I am glad to see you. Come with me into the boudoir, and lay off your coat.” Mona herself assisted, for she thought it better not to have her maid about.
“I’m well, thank you,” said Anna, in response to Mona’s inquiry, and then she broke out, impulsively: “Oh, I’m so happy to be here! It was so heavenly kind of you young ladies to ask me. You don’t know what it means to me!”
“Why, I’m very glad,” said Mona, touched at the girl’s gratitude. “Now, I hope you’ll just have the time of your life!”
“Oh, I shall, indeed! I know it. I’m enjoying every minute, just being in these lovely rooms, and seeing you kind ladies.”
Then Mona’s manicure girl came. Her name was Celeste Arleson, and she was a tall, slender young woman, garbed all in black. It was the gown she always wore at her work, and, being of French descent, she had an air of charm that made her attractive.
“Good-morning, Celeste; come right in,” said Mona, and then she introduced her to Anna.
The two looked at each other a little shyly, and then Anna said, “Good-morning,” in a timid way.
Mona felt embarrassed, too, and began to wonder if their party would be a failure, after all.
But Patty came in then and, with her ever-ready tact, took the two visitors to the drawing-room, and began to show them some pictures and curios.
Then Jenny Bisbee came, the girl from the ribbon counter, whom Clementine had invited.
“My, isn’t this fine!” she exclaimed, as she met the others. “I just do think it’s fine!”
“I’m glad we could arrange for you to come,” said Clementine, cordially.
“Glad! My gracious, I guess I’m glad! Well! if you measured ribbon from morning till night, I guess you’d be glad to get away from it for once. Why, I measure ribbon in my dreams, from night till morning. I can’t seem to get away from that everlasting stretching out of thirty-six inches, over and over again.”
“But the ribbons are so pretty,” said Clementine, by way of being agreeable.
“Yes; when they first come in. But after a few weeks you get so tired of the patterns. My, I feel as if I could throw that Dresden sash ribbon on the floor and stamp on it, I’m so tired of seeing it! And there’s one piece of gay brocade that hits me in the eye every morning. I can’t stand that piece much longer.”
“I’ll come round some day, and buy it,” said Patty, laughing good-naturedly. “I didn’t know the ribbons were so individual to you.”
“Yes, they are. There’s one piece of light blue satin ribbon, plain and wide, that I just love. It’s a real comfort to me.”
Jenny gave a little sigh, as she thought of her favourite ribbon, and Patty looked at her in wonderment, that she should be so sensitive to colour and texture. But her taste in colours did not seem to extend to her clothes. Jenny was a pale little thing, with ashy blonde hair, and large, light blue eyes. She wore a nondescript tan-coloured dress, without tone or shape; and she had a weary, exhausted air, as if chronically tired.
Conversation was a little difficult. The four hostesses tried their best to be entertaining without being patronising, but it was not an easy task. At least, their advances were not easily received, and the guests seemed to be on the alert to resent anything that savoured of patronage. But help came from an unexpected quarter. Just at one o’clock Mrs. Greene arrived.
“My land!” she exclaimed, as she entered the room, “if this isn’t grand! I wouldn’t of missed it for a farm! You see, I waited out on the corner, till it was just one o’clock. I know enough to get to a party just on the minute. My bringin’ up was good, if I have fell off a little since. But my folks was always awful particular people,—wouldn’t even take their pie in their hands. My husband, now, he was different. He wasn’t a fool, nor he wasn’t much else. But I only had him a year, and then he up and got killed in a rolling mill. Nice man, John, but not very forth-putting. So I’ve shifted for myself ever since. Not that I’ve done so awful well. I’m slow, I am. I never was one o’ those to sew with a hot needle and a scorching thread, but I do my stent right along. But, my! how I do rattle on! You might think I don’t often go in good society. Well, I don’t! So I must make the most of this chance.”
Mrs. Greene’s chatter had been broken in upon by introductions and greetings, but that bothered her not at all. She nodded her head affably at the different ones, but kept right on talking.
So Mona was fairly obliged to interrupt her.
“Now, let us go out to luncheon,” she said, after the maid had announced it twice.
“Glad to,” said Mrs. Greene. “Oh, my land! what a pretty sight!”
She stood stock still in the doorway, and had to be urged forward, in order that the others might follow.
“Well, I didn’t know a table could look so handsome!” she went on. “My land! I s’pose it’s been thirty years since I’ve went to a real party feast, and then, I can tell you, it wasn’t much like this!”
Probably not, for Mona’s table, with the coloured electric lights blazing from the pretty Christmas tree, the soft radiance of the room, the fragrance of flowers, the exquisite table appointments, and the pretty, kindly hostesses, was a scene well worthy of praise.
Anna Gorman trembled a little as she took her seat, and sat, wide-eyed, looking almost as if in a trance of delight. Celeste Arleson was less embarrassed, as her profession took her into fine mansions and in presence of fashionable people every day.
Jenny Bisbee looked rapturous. “Oh,” she said, “Oh! I am so happy!”
The guests all looked a trifle awestruck when the first course appeared, of grapefruit, served in tall, slender ice-glasses, each with a red ribbon tied round its stem, and a sprig of holly in the bow.
“Well, did you ever!” exclaimed Mrs. Greene. “And is this the way they do things now? Well, well! It does look ’most too good to eat, but I’m ready to tackle it.”
Anna Gorman looked a little pained, as if this homely enthusiasm jarred upon her sense of fitness. But Mona said hospitably, “Yes, indeed, Mrs. Greene,—it’s here to be eaten.”
“Now, I’m free to confess, I don’t know what spoon to take,” Mrs. Greene acknowledged, looking blankly at the row of flat silver before her.
“I know,” spoke up Jenny Bisbee, eagerly; “I read it in a Sunday paper. You begin at the outside of the row, and eat in!”
“Land! are you sure to come out right, that way? S’pose you had a fork left for your ice cream!”
“We’ll risk it,” said Mona, smiling. “Let’s use this spoon at the outside, as Jenny suggests.”
The second course was clam bouillon, and after it was served, a maid passed a dish of whipped cream.
Mrs. Greene watched carefully as Mona placed a spoonful on the top of her soup, and then she exclaimed:
“Well, if that don’t beat all! What is that, might I ask?”
“Whipped cream,” said Mona. “Won’t you have some?”
“Well, I will,—as you took some. But if that ain’t the greatest! Now, just let me tell you. A friend of mine,—she has seen some high society,—she was telling me a little how to behave. And she told me of a country person she knew, who had some soup in a cup once. And he thought it was tea, and he ca’mly puts in milk and sugar! Well, he was just kerflum-mixed, that poor man, when he found it was soup! So, my friend says, says she: ‘Now, Almira, whatever you do, don’t put milk in your soup!’ And, I declare to goodness, here you’re doin’ just that very thing!”
“Well, we won’t put any sugar in,” said Mona, pleasantly; “but I think the cream improves it. You like it, don’t you, Jenny?”
“Heavenly!” said Jenny, rolling her eyes up with such a comically blissful expression that Elise nearly choked.
As Patty had agreed, the luncheon was good and substantial, rather than elaborate. The broiled chicken, dainty vegetables, and pretty salad all met the guests’ hearty approval and appreciation; and when the ice cream was served, Mrs. Greene discovered she had both a fork and a spoon at her disposal.
“Well, I never!” she observed. “Ain’t that handy, now? I s’pose you take whichever one you like.”
“Yes,” said Mona. “You see, there is strawberry sauce for the ice cream, and that makes it seem more like a pudding.”
“So it does, so it does,” agreed Mrs. Greene, “though, land knows, it ain’t much like the puddin’s I’m accustomed to. Cottage, rice, and bread is about the variety we get, in the puddin’ line. Not but what I’m mighty grateful to get those.”
“I like chocolate pudding,” said Jenny, in a low voice, and apparently with great effort. Patty knew she made the remark because she thought it her duty to join in the conversation; and she felt such heroism deserved recognition.
“So do I,” she said, smiling kindly at Jenny. “In fact, I like anything with chocolate in it.”
“So do I,” returned Jenny, a little bolder under this expressed sympathy of tastes. “Once I had a whole box of chocolate candies,—a pound box it was. I’ve got the box yet. I’m awful careful of the lace paper.”
“I often get boxes of candy,” said Celeste, unable to repress this bit of vanity. “My customers give them to me.”
“My,” said Jenny, “that must be fine. Is it grand to be a manicure?”
“I like it,” said Celeste, “because it takes me among nice people. They’re mostly good to me.”
“My ladies are nice to me, too,” observed Anna. “I only sew in nice houses. But I don’t see the ladies much. It’s different with you, Miss Arleson.”
“Well, I don’t see nice ladies,” broke in Jenny. “My, how those queens of society can snap at you! Seems ’if they blame me for everything: the stock, the price, the slow cash boys,—whatever bothers ’em, it’s all my fault.”