Polly in New York

by Lillian Elizabeth Roy

  CHAPTER XI--THE VALENTINES

  With the passing of this gay Holiday Season, the two girls began to feelthat it would be a relief to sit down once more and spend a quietevening at school. Two weeks of constant going and dissipation hadbecome tiresome.

  The Westerners had gone home again; John, Tom, Paul and Pete back toChicago, and the two boys, Ken and Jim, back at Yale; and then Mrs.Wellington's school reopened. Lessons went on as if there never had beena vacation, and on Wednesday evening of that same week, the art schoolresumed classes.

  This term was to be devoted to Applied Design and its uses inarchitecture and decorations of interiors. After having had suchinteresting work as Egyptian ornament, art, and symbols, it seemedrather dry to start out the New Year with drawing straight lines an inchlong.

  Then to draw a dozen of these lines--next to connect them and make adesign of these dozen simple lines. But the next lesson was still morefoolish. They were told to draw a square. Then this large square oftwenty inches each side was divided into smaller squares. And in each ofthese squares the pupils were told to draw whatever they liked, but eachsquare must repeat the first one figure designed.

  Thus the scholars found that they had a pattern of the design. Thisbegan to look more promising, and Eleanor wished she had paid moreattention to the squares so that the design would have been neater.

  The next lesson was on grouping certain designs. The talk given by Mr.Fabian that evening was on eye-measurement and judgment in lines.

  "Unless one has a good eye for lines in anything, it is a waste of timeto study a profession that is based fundamentally on a true judgment oflines--whether of beauty, grace, or usefulness. Unless one has a truesense of 'line' one can never know where to build a window, a door, or afire-place.

  "Not only does 'line' govern the size of rooms and halls, but the entirebuilding is dependent upon true lines. Also, this basis line governsfurniture and decorations in an interior.

  "Can you picture a room where the portieres are all of differentlengths?--because the decorator had no sense of 'line value?' And whatwould one say if the chairs had legs of various lengths? Is not 'linevalue' to be used here, too? It is found necessary, everywhere."

  So the lessons and lectures continued until the girls took up the studyof colors. This was very interesting, and soon, both Polly and Eleanorknew that yellow, blue and red were primary colors and they could gliblytell you what that meant, and how important a part the knowledge played,in the progressive art of decorating.

  When the demonstration of these lessons began in the painting, the girlsrealized that they were actually going to be able to carry home samplesof their work. From that time on, they showed more zeal in doingeverything as correctly and perfectly as possible. And Mr. Fabian, athis next monthly report to Mr. Ashby (which were quite unknown to Pollyand Eleanor) said: "They're deeply interested in the actual art and notmerely for the fun of some day going into business."

  "I am glad to hear it. There is so much of this idea of taking upinterior decorating because it is comparatively a new field, but so fewreally ought to be in it. It should be made a matter of diplomas thesame as other professions. Then the restriction would soon clear awayall the quacks in the art. If these two girls but escape the snares ofmatrimony until they are finished artists, I shall be rejoiced towelcome them to our fold."

  Mr. Fabian nodded approvingly, and murmured: "I have faith in them. I'msure that both these girls are sensible and not to be easily influencedby a good looking beau."

  Mr. Ashby smiled. "They're much safer in New York than if they lived insmaller towns. Girls in this city haven't time to find beaux or think ofhusbands."

  "Don't be so sure, Mr. Ashby," retorted Mr. Fabian. "If the girls are aspretty as my two are, and clever and rich as well, they'd find it hardto escape."

  "But you are speaking of society girls, while these two students seldomgive that empty life a thought--I'm glad to say."

  Which conversation goes to show that more than one adult was watchingthe experiment these two girls were unconsciously making of their schooldays, with intense interest and a desire to aid.

  Polly and Eleanor were not aware of all that had been done to insurethem perfect freedom and liberty to continue their art classes. Had theyknown the arguments Mr. Latimer had had with Jim and Ken to keep thoseboys from usurping so much of the time the girls had to devote to study!Then Jim had blustered and boasted of all he would do once he was atcollege: His father wouldn't know how many letters he would write, northe visits to the girls, of an evening!

  And one reason Tom Latimer and John seldom wrote to Polly and Eleanor,was because of Anne's suggestion--to leave the girls to plan their sparetime for their very own work, and not be made to feel that they hadletters to answer, all the time.

  It was Tom who had begged Jim not to waste his own, or the girls' time,in writing silly letters or in traveling back and forth from college toNew York. And Tom, wise big brother that he was, took Jim into hisconfidence and explained how anxious John and he were to have Pollyclimb to the top of the ladder in her art. That she had to make good inNew York those first two years or go back home and starve her artisticsoul on a lonesome ranch.

  But Valentine's Day was coming, and Jim felt that on that day he wouldbe privileged to not only write to the girls, but to send each one afine valentine, describing his sentiments.

  Polly and Eleanor could not forget Valentine's Day was at hand, forevery shop-window they passed invited sentimental people to step in andsee the love cards.

  "I'd like to send a perfect dear to Mr. Dalken, Nolla," said Polly,reading the verse on a card.

  "To Mr. Dalken! Why, Poll, he is an old married man!"

  "But what of that! Can't I send him a card that states how much I likehim?"

  "Oh, ye-es--I suppose so; but valentines are really meant for lovers,you see."

  "It's nothing of the kind, Nolla. Dear old St. Valentine never meant allhis notes for lovers; but for everyone he _loved!_ and that is verydifferent, I think."

  "Well, send yours to anyone you like, but I am going to buy one forJim," said Eleanor, searching over the piles of cards on the tray, butnot finding what she sought.

  "Oh, Nolla," laughed Polly, teasingly. "Are you selecting Jim for yourfirst love?"

  "First love! I should say double no! I am hunting for a _comic_ one forhim--just because he is so sentimental and sits with moony eyes when heis near any pretty girl. I thought I would die with laughter that nighthe sat and gazed with soulful eyes at Ruth."

  Finally the girls found several very funny cards which had sarcasticlines under the pictures. These they were going to mail to Jim and Ken.Then Eleanor had an idea.

  "I just guess I'll mail one each to John, Tom, Pete and Paul, too. If Idared, I'd get Pete to re-mail one to Bob so she wouldn't know who sentit. Being postmarked 'Chicago' she'd break her head trying to think whosent it to her."

  "Oh, that will be fun, Nolla. Have them remailed so the boys won't knowwe sent them. Let's do that with all of ours."

  The need of secrecy, and the trouble of selecting appropriate lines foreach of their friends, took time. But Eleanor wired her father to keepthe secret and do the mailing for them, and he wired back his consent.So the valentines meant for the Chicago friends went to Mr. Maynard, andduly reached each one as had been intended.

  And those for Jim and Ken were handed to a porter on the train that ranto New Haven, with a liberal tip if he would drop them in a letter-boxwhen he jumped from the train. His wide grin showed he was ready to abetthe pranks such generous pretty young misses planned to tease theirbeaux.

  Elizabeth Dalken had taken a violent fancy to Jim Latimer when she methim at the different Christmas parties, and Valentine's Day being anopportunity for love-lorn misses and youths, she bought a very expensiveValentine, with sentiment as soft as down, and suggestive of heart-achesand sighs and what-not.

  But Elizabeth had no independence, whatever, and once she had theValentine boxed an
d ready to post, she wished she knew someone who wouldaddress it. She feared to have her own cramped writing seen on it.

  In Mrs. Wellington's school was a clever girl who could imitatehand-writing to perfection, and Elizabeth presented her with a box ofbon-bons a few days before Valentine's Day. Then the following day sheasked a favor. Would Myrtle address a box for her?

  Myrtle comprehended, but the candies had been delicious so she laughed:"Got a valentine to send?"

  "Yes, but it is a joke. I want the receiver to believe Eleanor Maynardsent it. Can you imitate her writing?"

  "Easy as pie. Get me her exercise from this noon's class."

  And in short order the box was addressed in Eleanor's hand-writing.Elizabeth mailed it, and the day following the 14th, Jim mailed, what heconsidered, a lover's work of art--such ardent lines and such sentimentseldom entered his thoughts, but the mushy words of the valentineexcused his letter.

  "W-e-ll--Jim's gone clean mad!" gasped Eleanor.

  "Is the thick letter from him?" asked Polly.

  "Yes, but read it, Poll, and tell me what ails him."

  Polly read, but not without giggles and many a lifted eyebrow when shecame to the extra fine phrases of love-making.

  "Nolla, he sure is daffy. Can you see through it?"

  "Not at all. I expected a comic from him--not this."

  "Nolla, do you think anyone we know would send him a soft valentine andpretend it came from you?"

  "Maybe--for a joke! Now who would do it?"

  They asked Anne, and showed her the letter. She laughed with them, butwhen they were not present, she sat down and wrote to Jim--a nicesisterly letter cuttingly blunt that told him that she had her handsfull with school and girls, and house, so that any extra care woulddrive her insane. Letters such as the one that came to Nolla, were theworst danger she had to ward off from the girls.

  By the last mail on the thirteenth and during the day of the fourteenthother valentines came for Polly and Eleanor; some of real merit astokens of friendship; some of beauty; and many with a little line oflove. But Polly received no vague or sentimental one during Valentine'sday.

  That evening, however, the bell rang, and Mrs. Stewart asked who wasthere. The girls were already upstairs.

  "Messenger with a box."

  "Mother--wait till I get there!" called Anne, anxiously.

  In another moment, Anne, in a negligee, ran downstairs and opened thestreet-door which opened into a vestibule.

  A large long box was handed in and Anne signed the book. It wasaddressed to "Miss Polly Brewster, Studio, 1003 East Thirtieth Street,New York."

  "Polly, here's a great box of flowers from someone," Anne called,standing at the foot of the stairs.

  "For me?"

  "Your name is on the tag," said Anne.

  Instantly, Polly and Eleanor scrambled downstairs and Polly tremblinglytried to untie the string about the box.

  "Dear me--it won't even break!" said she, trying to tear the cord bypulling at it.

  "Here--take the knife!" cried Eleanor, having dashed to the dining-roomto catch up a silver knife, and returning with it.

  The string was cut, the lid taken off, and several wrappers of oiledpaper removed. Then, there, upon a bed of lace-paper rested a dozen ofmagnificent American Beauties, with stems more than a yard long. And tothe cluster, about the middle of the stems, was attached a fine goldencord holding a papier mache heart. The heart had a golden arrowhalf-buried in its plump center.

  "What wonderful roses!" breathed Polly.

  "Isn't the heart cute!" giggled Eleanor.

  "No card, or sign, to say where they came from?" asked Anne, picking theheart up carefully.

  "Oh, there's another heart--see! On the point of the arrow at the back,"cried Eleanor. And there was another heart fastened to the first one bymeans of the sharp arrow.

  The girls sought carefully for some clue of the sender, but the sweetperfume wafted from the roses was all that rewarded their search.

  "Whoever it was, he is a dear!" said Polly, fondly touching the waxenstems.

  "And we'll try to keep them as long as possible so, whoever it was, willsee that we appreciate the flowers," said Anne, going for water.

  "At last I have found a use for that tall vase I bought that first weekof auctions," laughed Eleanor, taking the glass from under thewindow-seat.

  Scarcely were the roses arranged to satisfy the admiring group, when thebell rang again. Eleanor being nearest the door, ran out to the smallvestibule and peeped through the window in the street-door.

  "Well, of all things! Another messenger. Maybe he has a valentine forme."

  The door was opened, Eleanor said "yes" to his query if Mrs. Stewartlived there, and having signed the book, hurried in with a tier ofboxes. There were four in all.

  "Miss Anne Stewart the first on top," read Polly.

  The second was for Mrs. Stewart, and the third for Polly, the last beingEleanor's. Each box contained a beautiful spray of cut flowers but nocard. Not even a suggestion of the sender.

  "Well, it beats all. Why couldn't our admirers have sent our flowers inthe morning," laughed Anne.

  Again the bell pealed. "It surely can't be more flowers!" laughed Polly,running to the door. But it was. A card on the outside read: "Say itwith Flowers," to Miss Anne Stewart.

  By this time everyone was laughing and trying to guess who could havesent the blossoms. And had the bell sounded again, no one would havebeen surprised. But it didn't, and after guessing of all impossiblepersons who might be the senders of the flower-valentines, Anneventured: "Someone may have telegraphed to New York this morning, youknow, to send us these flowers, at once. I've heard said, the floristswere so rushed to-day with valentine orders that they couldn't secureenough flowers from the wholesale shops."

  "That's about it!" declared Eleanor. "John sent you this last box, andmaybe Daddy sent us each the smaller boxes. But _who_ could have sentPolly a hundred dollars' worth of American Beauties?"

  Finally they went to bed with the great question still unsolved; andPolly often wondered, thereafter, if Mr. Dalken could have sent herthose roses? Had she guessed the truth, would she have been content togo on so serenely with her studies of interior decorating?