CHAPTER VIA TRANSFORMED CINDERELLA
MRS. MARSH did not appear at the breakfast table the next morning. She had a bad headache, Annie told Gretel, and was having her coffee in bed. Gretel had nearly finished her own breakfast, when Ada, still in wrapper and curling-pins, came sauntering into the dining-room.
“Where’s Mamma?” she inquired, with a yawn, as she took her place at the table.
“She has a headache,” Gretel explained; “Annie took her some coffee and toast on a tray.”
Ada looked more interested.
“Something’s up,” she remarked, helping herself to an orange. “Do you know what it is, Gretel?”
“No,” said Gretel, looking very much surprised; “she didn’t say there was anything the matter last night. Oh, Ada, I had such a perfectly beautiful time. Percy came for me to go for a motor-ride with him. He says I must callhim Percy, though I don’t think it sounds quite polite, when he’s so much older than I am. We had a wonderful ride, and then we went to Sherry’s and—”
“I felt sure there was something wrong when I came home last night,” Ada went on, without paying the slightest attention to Gretel’s news. “Mamma was in her room, and wouldn’t open the door when I spoke to her. I thought her voice sounded queer, and she seemed very cross. I do hope it isn’t any more bother about money; we’re poor enough already, goodness knows. I’ll go in and get it out of her, whatever it is, as soon as I’ve finished my breakfast.”
As Ada had not proved a sympathetic listener, Gretel refrained from any further information about her own affairs, and in a few minutes she went away to make her bed, leaving Miss Marsh to finish her breakfast alone.
Bed-making is not an easy task for a girl of eleven, especially when there is a heavy mattress, which one has had strict injunctions to turn every morning. Gretel had only this duty to perform since the arrival of Annie, who had pronounced the work much too hard, and insisted on having help. But Gretel was an orderly little soul, who rather enjoyed housework, and when she madeher own bed she had at least the satisfaction of getting her room in order in the morning, instead of waiting till afternoon, which had sometimes been the case during Dora’s reign. She had just finished her dusting when her door—which she had closed—was flung suddenly open, and Ada, looking both flushed and excited, appeared on the threshold.
“Well, you’ve done it!” remarked that young lady in a tone of such exasperation, that innocent Gretel regarded her in amazement.
“Done what?” she inquired, stupidly.
“Oh, I guess you know well enough. It’s all very well to pretend you don’t, but I don’t believe you’re quite such a baby as you appear to be, after all.”
“But I don’t know, indeed I don’t,” protested Gretel. “I didn’t think I had done anything wrong, except—oh!” And Gretel stopped short, with a little frightened gasp, and some of the color went out of her face.
“Oh, no, you haven’t done anything wrong; of course not,” said Ada, sarcastically. “It wasn’t wrong to tell wicked stories to that brother of yours, and prejudice him against Mamma. You’re a mean little tell-tale, and you deserve to be severely punished.”
The color had all flown back into Gretel’s cheeks by this time, and though very much distressed, she was no longer frightened. Ada’s words had at least assured her that her first great fear was groundless.
“I didn’t tell my brother wicked stories,” she protested, indignantly. “I don’t know what you mean, Ada, I truly don’t.”
There was such a ring of truth in Gretel’s voice that Ada—who was not really an unkind girl at heart—was somewhat mollified.
“Well, you’ve made a lot of trouble, whether you meant to or not,” she said, with a sigh. “Mamma hasn’t closed her eyes all night, and she’s in an awful state this morning. Don’t you know it’s very mean to tell people’s private affairs to any one, even if he is your brother?”
“But I didn’t tell Mrs. Marsh’s private affairs to Percy,” cried Gretel, her voice beginning to tremble. “I don’t know her private affairs, so I couldn’t tell them, even if I wanted to. I didn’t tell Percy about anybody but just myself.”
Before Ada could answer Mrs. Marsh’s voice sounded down the hall.
“Ada, come here, I want to speak to you. Can’t you leave that child alone? I should think mischief enough had been done already.” Andwithout another word, Ada turned away, slamming the door behind her.
Left alone, Gretel stood quite still in the middle of the room, staring at the closed door. She had not the least idea what all the trouble was about, but one thing was painfully clear; in some way, quite unintentionally on her part, she had offended Mrs. Marsh, and made her very angry. She was not fond of Mrs. Marsh, but she did not want any one to be angry with her. She was quite sure she had not told her brother any wicked stories, but if he thought she had, and had told Mrs. Marsh so, what could she do? She was only a little girl, and nobody could be expected to believe her word against the word of a grown-up person, but why, oh, why, had Percy—her beloved Percy—said such cruel, untrue things about her? He had been so kind, and had really seemed to like her, but if he said she told wicked stories he could not possibly like her. It must have been all a mistake on her part. Suddenly a great wave of disappointment and loneliness swept over the poor little girl, and with a sob, she flung herself face downward on the bed, just as she had done on the day when she came back from fairy-land, and began to cry as if her heart would break.
Again it was Annie who disturbed her by opening the door, and putting in her head, with almost the very same words she had used on that other occasion: “You’re wanted in the parlor.” And having delivered this curt message, went away again, leaving the door open.
Gretel rose slowly, and pushed the tumbled hair back from her face. She had been crying so hard that her head ached, and she felt rather giddy and confused. But this time she did not wait to bathe her face before answering the summons. If Mrs. Marsh wanted to scold her, it might be as well to let her get through with it as soon as possible, and that lady did not like to be kept waiting.
Gretel did not look up when she entered the parlor. She was such a forlorn little figure, in her shabby frock, her face all tear-stained and swollen from crying that the young man standing on the rug by the mantelpiece, was conscious of a momentary feeling of something very like dismay. But when Gretel saw who was the sole occupant of the room, and ran to him with a little cry, his face softened, and it was with real tenderness that he put his arm round her, saying gently:
“What’s the matter, Gretel? Tell me all about it.”
But, to Mr. Douane’s surprise, Gretel did not respond to his caress; she even drew a little away from him, and the big brown eyes were full of a mute reproach.
“What made you say it?” she asked in a voice that was not much above a whisper.
“Say what?” her brother inquired, curiously.
“Tell Mrs. Marsh I told wicked stories, and that I was a—a tell-tale?” finished Gretel, with a sob.
Percy Douane’s face grew very stern, and his eyes flashed ominously.
“Who said I told her any such things?” he demanded in a voice that fairly made Gretel tremble.
“Ada said so; she said I told you her mother’s private affairs, but I didn’t; you know I didn’t. I only told you about myself. Oh, Percy dear, won’t you please tell them you made a mistake? Mrs. Marsh is so very angry, and Ada’s angry too.”
“Gretel,” said her brother, and he made a great effort to speak quietly, “go and put on your hat and jacket; I want you to come out with me.”
Gretel was very much surprised, but she waspleased as well. It was a great relief to know that she would not have to encounter Mrs. Marsh’s wrath just yet, and even if her brother did accuse her of telling people’s private affairs, his society was infinitely preferable to that of either Ada or the maid Annie.
“Where are we going?” she inquired, regarding her brother’s grave face, wonderingly.
“Never mind; I’ll tell you later. Run and put on your things.”
“But oughtn’t I to ask Mrs. Marsh first? She doesn’t like to have people go out without letting her know.”
“Mrs. Marsh knows all about it; I told her last night. Now hurry, like a good child; I want to get away from here as soon as possible.”
Gretel was very much puzzled. She felt sure that something unusual had happened, but what it was she had not the slightest idea. Without another word she turned, and went back to her room; put on her hat and jacket, and in less than five minutes was back at her brother’s side again. Mrs. Marsh’s door was closed, and neither she nor her daughter was to be seen. Gretel paused for a moment outside the closed door, on her way back to the parlor. She could hear the sound of low, agitated voices from within but she dared notlinger for fear of making her brother more angry than he appeared to be already.
Mr. Douane was standing by the parlor table, hastily writing a note, when Gretel rejoined him.
“I am leaving this for Mrs. Marsh,” he said; “she will understand everything when she reads it. Are you ready?”
Gretel nodded.
“Come along, then; I have a taxi waiting at the door.”
Gretel’s heart was beating very fast as she followed her brother into the elevator, but she did not ask any questions until they had left the apartment-house, and were rattling away in a taxi. Percy had given the chauffeur an address, but Gretel was too much astonished and bewildered by this sudden turn of affairs to notice what it was. But when her brother suddenly began to laugh his pleasant, jolly laugh, and put his arm round her again, she began to realize that this was a most exciting adventure, and, moreover, that she was not at all frightened.
“Well, that’s over!” exclaimed Mr. Douane, in a tone of unmistakable relief. “We actually succeeded in getting away without encountering the ogress. How do you like being carried off in this sudden fashion, Gretel?”
“I think I’m beginning to like it,” said Gretel, whose spirits were rising rapidly, “but where are we going, and who is the ogress?”
“We are going first to the ‘Gotham’—the hotel where I am putting up for the present. Later we are going to Virginia.”
“Virginia!” repeated Gretel, staring at her brother in blank amazement. “You said last night that you were going to Virginia, but—but I never thought I was going with you.”
“Well, you are—that is unless you have any very serious objections. I have got to look after some property of my grandfather’s, and have decided to take you along with me. We will stay at Old Point Comfort; you will like it there, and it is only a few miles from my old home. You know I lived in Virginia with my grandfather for some years before I went to China. It will be fine to get away from these cold March winds; I’m not accustomed to cold weather in Hong-Kong. What do you think of my plan?”
“It’s the most exciting thing that ever happened to me,” declared Gretel, who was still both looking and feeling decidedly bewildered. “I feel as if I must be dreaming, but—but I’m afraid I can’t go without some more clothes. I didn’t even bring a tooth-brush.”
“We’ll attend to the clothes all right, so don’t worry about that. We are not starting till to-morrow afternoon, and there will be plenty of time to fit you out before then. I’ve had a talk with the housekeeper at my hotel. She seems a good soul, and thinks she knows of a suitable maid to look after you.”
“A maid to look after me!” Gretel felt more convinced than ever that she must be dreaming. “Why, I thought only rich people had maids; I never even had a nurse after I was five. Father did everything for me himself. Oh, Percy dear, I really don’t think I need a maid; it would cost so much, and I can do everything for myself now. Even Mrs. Marsh says I’m not much trouble.”
But Mr. Douane only laughed.
“You’ll have a lot of things to learn, Pussy,” he said, pinching her cheek. “I presume it is something of a shock just at first, but I’ve had a rather severe shock myself. If any one had told me at this hour yesterday, that I should be carrying you off with me to Old Point, I should have been inclined to think it a rather poor joke. But I’ve had my eyes opened since then. Mrs. Marsh hasn’t been playing fair. She and I had a settling-up of accounts last night, and I gaveher a piece of my mind that I don’t believe she will forget in a hurry.”
Gretel was beginning to understand.
“Is that why Ada was so cross?” she asked. “And why she said those horrid things about my being a tell-tale and talking about Mrs. Marsh’s private affairs? But I didn’t really tell you anything I ought not; did I, Percy?”
“You certainly did not. You told me nothing but the simple truth, but that was quite enough. I never knew Mrs. Marsh well, but her husband was a fine man, and a great friend of my father’s, and I thought I could trust her to do what was right by you. I have found out my mistake, and for the future I shall steer clear of that charming lady and her daughter.”
“Do you mean I’m not to go back to Mrs. Marsh’s at all?” questioned Gretel.
“Do you want to go back?”
“N—no, not at all, but if I don’t live with Mrs. Marsh, who is going to take care of me?”
“I am, for the present, until I can make some other arrangement for you. Don’t look so distressed, little woman; are you afraid I won’t be able to look after you properly?”
“No, oh, no,” cried Gretel, eagerly. “Ishould love to live with you, only—only it’s all been so very sudden, and if I had known I wasn’t coming back I could have taken my things.”
“What things?” her brother asked, kindly.
“Father’s picture, and his letters, and my books. Oh, do you think Mrs. Marsh will let me have them? I should be so very unhappy without Father’s letters.”
Mr. Douane assured her that all her possessions should be sent to her, and he spoke in a tone of so much conviction, that Gretel’s spirits began to rise very rapidly, and by the time the taxi drew up before the big Fifth Avenue hotel, she was as happy, and as eager for new adventures as any little girl starting on her first journey could possibly be.
They went up a great many stories in an elevator, walked along a wide corridor, with doors on both sides, and finally entered a sitting-room, which was so high up that Gretel could see over the tops of the neighboring houses, and even catch a glimpse of the boats on the river. Here her brother told her to take off her jacket, and make herself comfortable, while he rang the bell for the housekeeper.
In a few minutes the housekeeper appeared,accompanied by a stout young woman, with very red hair, and a rather pleasant face.
“This is the maid I mentioned to you, sir,” the housekeeper explained. “I telephoned to her at once, and found she was still out of a place. She hasn’t been very long in this country, but I know her people at home in England, and she can show you some excellent references from our best families.”
The young woman then stepped forward with a courtesy, and Gretel noticed that she looked kind, although she was not at all handsome.
“Is this the little girl, sir?” the housekeeper went on, glancing rather curiously at Gretel’s shabby frock, and the hat that looked decidedly the worse for wear.
“Yes, this is my little sister,” said Mr. Douane. “Would you mind taking her to her room, Mrs. Ruggles?”
So while Mr. Douane questioned the maid, and examined her credentials, Mrs. Ruggles, the housekeeper, took Gretel to an adjoining room, which she told the little girl her brother had engaged for her. It was a large bedroom, and there was a bath connecting with it, at sight of which Gretel’s eyes opened wider than ever, but she hadalmost reached the point where nothing further could surprise her. If her brother had suddenly changed into a fairy prince, and she herself, been transformed into an enchanted princess, she would have regarded it as quite a natural state of affairs. The housekeeper was evidently very much interested in her, and she asked a great many questions, which Gretel was almost too much bewildered to answer. But in a few minutes Mr. Douane appeared, smiling, and looking decidedly relieved. He was accompanied by the maid, who was also looking very well pleased.
“Gretel,” he said, “this is Higgins; she is going to look after you, and will go with us to Virginia.”
Gretel came forward, and held out her hand.
“How do you do?” she said politely; “are you Miss Higgins or Mrs. Higgins?”
“Just ’Iggins, if you please, miss,” said the maid, smiling, and beaming all over her plain, honest face. “I prefer being called by my last name. It’s quite customary with hupper servants in Hengland, miss.”
Gretel thought it was very odd to call a lady by her last name, but then there were so many odd things happening to her that morning, that one surprise more or less did not seem to make muchdifference. So she accepted the situation without any further argument.
“You are to go shopping with Higgins,” Mr. Douane went on to explain. “You will need a good many things before we leave for Old Point to-morrow afternoon. Mrs. Ruggles has kindly offered to go with you, and show Higgins the best shops. I have explained what I want you to have, and I think we may leave the selection to her.”
“That you may, sir,” put in Higgins, cheerfully. “I was lady’s maid for two years in Lord Carresford’s family, and I think I know what’s proper in the way of clothes for a young lady.”
“Very well,” said Mr. Douane; “I will leave everything to you and Mrs. Ruggles. As I said before, you need not spare expense. I want my little sister to be as well dressed as any child of her age should be. I don’t know much about such things, but you women do, so I will leave her in your hands for the day. I have some business to attend to downtown, but I shall be back this afternoon. Is it all right, Gretel?”
Gretel nodded; speech did not come easily just then, and ten minutes later, she, Mrs. Ruggles, and Higgins were rattling down Fifth Avenue in a taxi, bound on a shopping expedition, thethought of which filled the two women with delightful anticipation.
It was nearly six o’clock before Mr. Douane returned to the hotel. As he entered his private sitting-room a little figure, which had been standing by the window, sprang forward to greet him.
“Look at me,” cried Gretel; “oh, look at me!” And that was really all she could say.
And Mr. Douane did look at her, and the more he looked, the more surprised he became. Indeed it was hard to recognize the shabby, forlorn little girl of the morning, in the radiant, prettily dressed child before him. Gretel’s hair—which usually hung in two long pigtails, had been combed out, and now fell in soft ringlets over her shoulders; she wore a pretty, well-fitting white dress, and altogether, the change in her appearance was so astonishing, that for the first few moments her brother could do nothing but hold her off at arm’s length, and stare at her in silence.
“Why, Gretel,” he exclaimed, finding his voice at last, “I declare you are pretty,” and he looked so very much surprised that Gretel could not help thinking her brother must have considered her anything but pretty hitherto.
“Look at me; oh, look at me!”—Page126.
“Look at me; oh, look at me!”—Page126.
“Look at me; oh, look at me!”—Page126.
“I’m so glad you like me,” she said, blushing. “I think my dress is lovely, and I’ve got ever somany others besides. Oh, Percy, it has been such a wonderful day! Mrs. Ruggles and Higgins were so kind and we went to such beautiful stores, and bought such quantities of things. I was sure we must be spending too much money, but Higgins said you told her to get everything she thought I ought to have, and she seemed to think I needed a great many things, and so did Mrs. Ruggles.”
“They were quite right,” said her brother, smiling. “I want my little sister to be as well dressed as any other little girl we may meet on our travels. You really look very fit indeed, Gretel; I compliment Higgins on her good taste.”
“Oh, she has beautiful taste!” cried Gretel, enthusiastically. “You see, she lived in a castle in England, and used to dress the young ladies when they went to dinners and balls. I never had such beautiful clothes in my life, and I love them, only—only I don’t see how I can ever be quite grateful enough to you for giving me so many wonderful things.”
“Look here, Gretel,” said her brother, seriously, and he sat down, and lifted her on his knee. “You are not to think any more about being grateful to me, and all that rubbish. You are my own little sister, and what is mine is yours.I have far more money than I need for myself, and it is my pleasure, as well as my duty, to see that you have everything you ought to have. We are going to be chums, so I don’t want to hear any more about gratitude. Just be happy, and try to like your big brother a little, and it will be all right.”
“Oh, I do like you, indeed I do. I love you better than I ever loved anybody except Father,” cried Gretel, with her arms round her brother’s neck. “I’ll try to be good always, and do everything you want me to, and—and I think perhaps I’d better tell you something. It’s very dreadful, and you may not like me any more when you know about it, but I really think I ought to tell you.”
“What sort of a thing is it?” Mr. Douane asked, as he held his little sister close, and looked down smilingly into the child’s troubled face.
“It’s something I did that was very wicked,” whispered Gretel, hiding her crimson face on his shoulder. “It’s very hard to talk about it.”
“Then don’t talk about it,” said Percy, laughing and kissing her. “I really don’t think I care to know. Come, cheer up, and tell me some more about your shopping expedition. Where did you go for lunch?”
Gretel gave a great sigh of relief. Her brother would never know from what a humiliating confession his kind words had saved her.
“I’ll be so good all the rest of my life that perhaps it won’t matter so very much,” she said to herself when she had gone to bed that night. “Perhaps sometime when I’m grown up I shall be able to earn enough money to buy some poor person a ticket to fairy-land, and then I won’t feel quite so mean and ashamed whenever I think about last Saturday.”
So Gretel silenced conscience, which still persisted in whispering that it would have been better to have told her brother the whole story, and fell asleep, happier than she had ever been since the old days in the studio with her father. As for Mr. Douane himself, he had already forgotten all about the matter.
“She is a dear little thing,” he said to himself, as he sat smoking in the sitting-room after Gretel had left him for the night. “I didn’t quite know what I was in for this morning, but I needn’t have worried so much. I shall have to send the child to some good school before long, I suppose, but in the meantime I believe I am going to rather enjoy having her with me.”