Complete Works of L. Frank Baum

by L. Frank Baum

  Of course the fair vendors were ignorant of the value of their wares, for Uncle John refused to tell them how extravagant he had been; so they were obliged to guess at the sums to be demanded and in consequence sold priceless orchids and rare hothouse flora at such ridiculous rates that Mr. Merrick chuckled with amusement until he nearly choked.

  The public being “cordially invited” Uncle John was present on that first important evening, and — wonder of wonders — was arrayed in an immaculate full-dress suit that fitted his chubby form like the skin of a banana. Mayor Doyle, likewise disguised, locked arms with his brother-in-law and stalked gravely among the throng; but neither ever got to a point in the big room where the flower booth was not in plain sight. The Major’s pride in “our Patsy” was something superb; Uncle John was proud of all three of his nieces. As the sale of wares was for the benefit of charity these old fellows purchased liberally — mostly flowers and had enough parcels sent home to fill a delivery wagon.

  One disagreeable incident, only, marred this otherwise successful evening — successful especially for the three cousins, whose beauty and grace won the hearts of all.

  Diana Von Taer was stationed in the “Hindoo Booth,” and the oriental costume she wore exactly fitted her sensuous style of beauty. To enhance its effect she had worn around her neck the famous string of Von Taer pearls, a collection said to be unmatched in beauty and unequaled in value in all New York.

  The “Hindoo Booth” was near enough to the “Flower Booth” for Diana to watch the cousins, and the triumph of her late protégées was very bitter for her to endure. Especially annoying was it to find Arthur Weldon devoting himself assiduously to Louise, who looked charming in her rose gown and favored Arthur in a marked way, although Charlie Mershone, refusing to be ignored, also leaned over the counter of the booth and chatted continually, striving to draw Miss Merrick’s attention to himself.

  Forced to observe all this, Diana soon lost her accustomed coolness. The sight of the happy faces of Arthur and Louise aroused all the rancor and subtile wit that she possessed, and she resolved upon an act that she would not before have believed herself capable of. Leaning down, she released the catch of the famous pearls and unobserved concealed them in a handkerchief. Then, leaving her booth, she sauntered slowly over to the floral display, which was surrounded for the moment by a crowd of eager customers. Many of the vases and pottery jars which had contained flowers now stood empty, and just before the station of Louise Merrick the stock was sadly depleted. This was, of course, offset by the store of money in the little drawer beside the fair sales-lady, and Louise, having greeted Diana with a smile and nod, turned to renew her conversation with the young men besieging her.

  Diana leaned gracefully over the counter, resting the hand containing the handkerchief over the mouth of an empty Doulton vase — empty save for the water which had nourished the flowers. At the same time she caught Louise’s eye and with a gesture brought the girl to her side.

  “Those young men are wealthy,” she said, carelessly, her head close to that of Louise. “Make them pay well for their purchases, my dear.”

  “I can’t rob them, Diana,” was the laughing rejoinder.

  “But it is your duty to rob, at a Kermess, and in the interests of charity,” persisted Diana, maintaining her voice at a whisper.

  Louise was annoyed.

  “Thank you,” she said, and went back to the group awaiting her.

  The floral booth was triangular, Beth officiated at one of the three sides, Patsy at another, and Louise at the third. Diana now passed softly around the booth, interchanging a word with the other two girls, after which she returned to her own station.

  Presently, while chatting with a group of acquaintances, she suddenly clasped her throat and assuming an expression of horror exclaimed:

  “My pearls!”

  “What, the Von Taer pearls?” cried one.

  “The Von Taer pearls,” said Diana, as if dazed by her misfortune.

  “And you’ve lost them, dear?”

  “They’re lost!” she echoed.

  Well, there was excitement then, you may be sure. One man hurried to notify the door-keeper and the private detective employed oh all such occasions, while others hastily searched the booth — of course in vain. Diana seemed distracted and the news spread quickly through the assemblage.

  “Have you left this booth at all?” asked a quiet voice, that of the official whose business it was to investigate.

  “I — I merely walked over to the floral booth opposite, and exchanged a word with Miss Merrick, and the others there,” she explained.

  The search was resumed, and Charlie Mershone sauntered over.

  “What’s this, Di? Lost the big pearls, I hear,” he said.

  She took him aside and whispered something to him. He nodded and returned at once to the flower booth, around which a crowd of searchers now gathered, much to the annoyance of Louise and her cousins.

  “It’s all foolishness, you know,” said Uncle John, to the Major, confidentially. “If the girl really dropped her pearls some one has picked them up, long ago.”

  Young Mershone seemed searching the floral booth as earnestly as the others, and awkwardly knocked the Doulton vase from the shelf with his elbow. It smashed to fragments and in the pool of water on the floor appeared the missing pearls.

  There was an awkward silence for a moment, while all eyes turned curiously upon Louise, who served this side of the triangle. The girl appeared turned to stone as she gazed down at the gems. Mershone laughed disagreeably and picked up the recovered treasure, which Diana ran forward and seized.

  “H-m-m!” said the detective, with a shrug; “this is a strange occurrence — a very strange occurrence, indeed. Miss Von Taer, do you wish — ”

  “No!” exclaimed Diana, haughtily. “I accuse no one. It is enough that an accident has restored to me the heirloom.”

  Stiffly she marched back to her own booth, and the crowd quietly dispersed, leaving only Arthur, Uncle John and the Major standing to support Louise and her astonished cousins.

  “Why, confound it!” cried the little millionaire, with a red face, “does the jade mean to insinuate — ”

  “Not at all, sor,” interrupted the Major, sternly; “her early education has been neglected, that’s all.”

  “Come dear,” pleaded Arthur to Louise; “let us go home.”

  “By no means!” announced Beth, positively; “let us stay where we belong. Why, we’re not half sold out yet!”

  CHAPTER X

  MISLED

  Arthur Weldon met Mershone at a club next afternoon. “You low scoundrel!” he exclaimed. “It was your trick to accuse Miss Merrick of a theft last night.”

  “Was she accused?” enquired the other, blandly. “I hadn’t heard, really.”

  “You did it yourself!”

  “Dear me!” said Mershone, deliberately lighting a cigarette.

  “You or your precious cousin — you’re both alike,” declared Arthur, bitterly. “But you have given us wisdom, Mershone. We’ll see you don’t trick us again.”

  The young man stared at him, between puffs of smoke.

  “It occurs to me, Weldon, that you’re becoming insolent. It won’t do, my boy. Unless you guard your tongue — ”

  “Bah! Resent it, if you dare; you coward.”

  “Coward?”

  “Yes. A man who attacks an innocent girl is a coward. And you’ve been a coward all your life, Mershone, for one reason or another. No one believes in your pretended reform. But I want to warn you to keep away from Miss Merrick, hereafter, or I’ll take a hand in your punishment myself.”

  For a moment the two eyed one another savagely. They were equally matched in physique; but Arthur was right, there was no fight in Mershone; that is, of the knock-down order. He would fight in his own way, doubtless, and this made him more dangerous than his antagonist supposed.

  “What right have you, sir, to speak for Miss Merrick?�
� he demanded.

  “The best right in the world,” replied Arthur. “She is my promised wife.”

  “Indeed! Since when?”

  “That is none of your affair, Mershone. As a matter of fact, however, that little excitement you created last night resulted in a perfect understanding between us.”

  “I created!”

  “You, of course. Miss Merrick does not care to meet you again. You will do well to avoid her in the future.”

  “I don’t believe you, Weldon. You’re bluffing.”

  “Am I? Then dare to annoy Miss Merrick again and I’ll soon convince you of my sincerity.”

  With this parting shot he walked away, leaving Mershone really at a loss to know whether he was in earnest or not. To solve the question he called a taxicab and in a few minutes gave his card to the Merrick butler with a request to see Miss Louise.

  The man returned with a message that Miss Merrick was engaged.

  “Please tell her it is important,” insisted Mershone.

  Again the butler departed, and soon returned.

  “Any message for Miss Merrick must be conveyed in writing, sir,” he said, “She declines to see you.”

  Mershone went away white with anger. We may credit him with loving Louise as intensely as a man of his caliber can love anyone. His sudden dismissal astounded him and made him frantic with disappointment. Louise’s treatment of the past few days might have warned him, but he had no intuition of the immediate catastrophe that had overtaken him. It wasn’t his self-pride that was injured; that had become so battered there was little of it left; but he had set his whole heart on winning this girl and felt that he could not give her up.

  Anger toward Weldon was prominent amongst his emotion. He declared between his set teeth that if Louise was lost to him she should never marry Weldon. Not on Diana’s account, but for his own vengeful satisfaction was this resolve made.

  He rode straight to his cousin and told her the news. The statement that Arthur was engaged to marry Louise Merrick drove her to a wild anger no less powerful because she restrained any appearance of it. Surveying her cousin steadily through her veiled lashes she asked:

  “Is there no way we can prevent this thing?”

  Mershone stalked up and down before her like a caged beast. His eyes were red and wicked; his lips were pressed tightly together.

  “Diana,” said he, “I’ve never wanted anything in this world as I want that girl. I can’t let that mollycoddle marry her!”

  She flushed, and then frowned. It was not pleasant to hear the man of her choice spoken of with such contempt, but after all their disappointment and desires were alike mutual and she could not break with Charlie at this juncture.

  Suddenly he paused and asked:

  “Do you still own that country home near East Orange?”

  “Yes; but we never occupy it now. Father does not care for the place.”

  “Is it deserted?”

  “Practically so. Madame Cerise is there in charge.”

  “Old Cerise? I was going to ask you what had become of that clever female.”

  “She was too clever, Charlie. She knew too much of our affairs, and was always prying into things that did not concern her. So father took an antipathy to the poor creature, and because she has served our family for so long sent her to care for the house at East Orange.”

  “Pensioned her, eh? Well, this is good news, Di; perhaps the best news in the world. I believe it will help clear up the situation. Old Cerise and I always understood each other.”

  “Will you explain?” asked Diana, coldly.

  “I think not, my fair cousin. I prefer to keep my own counsel. You made a bad mess of that little deal last night, and are responsible for the climax that faces us. Besides, a woman is never a good conspirator. I know what you want; and I know what I want. So I’ll work this plan alone, if you please. And I’ll win, Di; I’ll win as sure as fate — if you’ll help me.”

  “You ask me to help you and remain in the dark?”

  “Yes; it’s better so. Write me a note to Cerise and tell her to place the house and herself unreservedly at my disposal.”

  She stared at him fixedly, and he returned the look with an evil smile. So they sat in silence a moment. Then slowly she arose and moved to her escritoire, drawing a sheet of paper toward her and beginning to write.

  “Is there a telephone at the place?” enquired Mershone abruptly.

  “Yes.”

  “Then telephone Cerise after I’m gone. That will make it doubly sure. And give me the number, too, so I can jot it down. I may need it.”

  Diana quietly tore up the note.

  “The telephone is better,” she said. “Being in the dark, sir, I prefer not to commit myself in writing.”

  “You’re quite right, Di,” he exclaimed, admiringly. “But for heaven’s sake don’t forget to telephone Madame Cerise.”

  “I won’t Charlie. And, see here, keep your precious plans to yourself, now and always. I intend to know nothing of what you do.”

  “I’m merely the cats-paw, eh? Well, never mind. Is old Cerise to be depended upon, do you think?”

  “Why not?” replied the girl. “Cerise belongs to the Von Taers — body and soul!”

  CHAPTER XI

  THE BROWN LIMOUSINE

  The second evening of the society Kermess passed without unusual event and proved very successful in attracting throngs of fashionable people to participate in its pleasures.

  Louise and her cousins were at their stations early, and the second installment of Uncle John’s flowers was even more splendid and profuse than the first. It was not at all difficult to make sales, and the little money drawer began to bulge with its generous receipts.

  Many a gracious smile or nod or word was bestowed upon Miss Merrick by the society folk; for these people had had time to consider the accusation against her implied by Diana Von Taer’s manner when the pearls were discovered in the empty flower vase. Being rather impartial judges — for Diana was not a popular favorite with her set — they decided it was absurd to suppose a niece of wealthy old John Merrick would descend to stealing any one’s jewelry. Miss Merrick might have anything her heart desired with-out pausing to count the cost, and moreover she was credited with sufficient common sense to realize that the Von Taer heirlooms might easily be recognized anywhere. So a little gossip concerning the queer incident had turned the tide of opinion in Louise’s favor, and as she was a recent debutante with a charming personality all vied to assure her she was held blameless.

  A vast coterie of the select hovered about the flower booth all the evening, and the cousins joyously realized they had scored one of the distinct successes of the Kermess. Arthur could not get very close to Louise this evening; but he enjoyed her popularity and from his modest retirement was able to exchange glances with her at intervals, and these glances assured him he was seldom absent from her thoughts.

  Aside from this, he had the pleasure of glowering ferociously upon Charlie Mershone, who, failing to obtain recognition from Miss Merrick, devoted himself to his cousin Diana, or at least lounged nonchalantly in the neighborhood of the Hindoo Booth. Mershone was very quiet. There was a speculative look upon his features that denoted an undercurrent of thought.

  Diana’s face was as expressionless as ever. She well knew her action of the previous evening had severed the cordial relations formerly existing between her and Mr. Merrick’s nieces, and determined to avoid the possibility of a snub by keeping aloof from them. She greeted whoever approached her station in her usual gracious and cultured manner, and refrained from even glancing toward Louise.

  Hedrik Von Taer appeared for an hour this evening. He quietly expressed his satisfaction at the complete arrangements of the Kermess, chatted a moment with his daughter, and then innocently marched over to the flower booth and made a liberal purchase from each of the three girls. Evidently the old gentleman had no inkling of the incident of the previous evening, or that Diana
was not still on good terms with the young ladies she had personally introduced to society. His action amused many who noted it, and Louise blushing but thoroughly self-possessed, exchanged her greetings with Diana’s father and thanked him heartily for his purchase. Mr. Von Taer stared stonily at Charlie Mershone, but did not speak to him.

  Going out he met John Merrick, and the two men engaged in conversation most cordially.

  “You did the trick all right, Von Taer,” said the little millionaire, “and I’m much obliged, as you may suppose. You’re not ashamed of my three nieces, I take it?”

  “Your nieces, Mr. Merrick, are very charming young women,” was the dignified reply. “They will grace any station in life to which they may be called.”

  When the evening’s entertainment came to an end Arthur Weldon took Louise home in his new brown limousine, leaving Patsy and her father, Uncle John and Beth to comfortably fill the Doyle motor car. Now that the engagement of the young people had been announced and accepted by their friends, it seemed very natural for them to prefer their own society.

  “What do you think of it, Uncle John, anyhow?” asked Patsy, as they rode home.

  “It’s all right, dear,” he announced, with a sigh. “I hate to see my girls take the matrimonial dive, but I guess they’ve got to come to it, sooner or later.”

  “Later, for me,” laughed Patsy.

  “As for young Weldon,” continued Mr. Merrick, reflectively, “he has some mighty good points, as I found out long ago. Also he has some points that need filing down. But I guess he’ll average up with most young men, and Louise seems to like him. So let’s try to encourage ‘em to be happy; eh, my dears?”

  “Louise,” said Beth, slowly, “is no more perfect than Arthur. They both have faults which time may eradicate, and as at present they are not disposed to be hypercritical they ought to get along nicely together.”