Two Little Women on a Holiday - Carolyn Wells (top romance novels txt) 📗
- Author: Carolyn Wells
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Dotty took the question seriously. “I shouldn’t call her that,” she said; “but she isn’t very mischievous, and she’s as honest as the day is long. She positively abhors deceit. And, somehow, Alicia, all the things that you think are fun, are the sort of things she doesn’t stand for. That’s all. Doll isn’t a prig,—is she, Bernice?”
“No; she’s as fond of fun as anybody. But Alicia rubs her the wrong way.”
“I don’t mean to. Only I don’t see any harm in pranks that SHE thinks are fearful.”
“Well, you ought to bless her for getting the Coriell matter fixed up. I don’t believe Mrs. Berry would have done it for any of us. But when Dolly asked her, I s’pose she made it seem all right.”
“It IS all right,” defended Alicia.
“Oh, I don’t know,” and Bernice looked doubtful, “I don’t think the Fayres or Roses would like it much; I doubt if my dad would approve. But what Mrs. Berry says, goes.” “It does SO!” assented Alicia, and then they all said goodnight.
Alicia’s letter was mailed next morning and to her surprise a reply arrived about noon, brought by a messenger. It said:
My dear Miss Steele:
Your welcome invitation is here. I cannot accept for tomorrow as I have an important engagement then, but I will do myself the pleasure of calling upon you TO-DAY at four o’clock, and trust I may find you at home.
Sincerely yours, BAYNE CORIELL.
“Oh, isn’t it wonderful!” sighed Alicia. “A letter from HIM! Oh, girls, I’m so happy! How CAN I wait for four o’clock!”
She ran away to tell Mrs. Berry of the letter.
“Very well,” said the kind-hearted woman, “it’s just as well to have him come to-day. Suppose we have tea in the small reception room, it’s cosier than the drawing-room.”
“All right,” said Alicia. “Will Uncle Jeff come down, do you think?”
“I doubt it. However, I’ll tell him you expect Mr. Coriell, and he can do as he likes.” Mrs. Berry had a peculiar twinkle in her eye, and Alicia noted it, and wondered what it meant. The whole affair seemed mysterious, for she had not supposed Mrs. Berry would be so ready to receive this strange young man.
“You think it’s all right for us to receive him, don’t you, Mrs. Berry?” she asked, for she began to fear lest she had been too unconventional.
“I daresay it’s all right, my dear. Of course, such things weren’t done in my day, but young folks are different now. And Mr. Forbes said you girls were to do pretty much as you like.”
“Were you surprised at our asking for this?” Alicia persisted.
“Well, yes, since you ask me, I must say I was surprised. Especially when I found Dolly Fayre was the ringleader.”
“Oh,—well,—she DID ask you, didn’t she? Maybe Dolly isn’t such a quiet little mouse as she seems.”
“Dolly’s all right,” and Mrs. Berry spoke with some asperity. “Now, I’ll send tea in at quarter past four, is that your idea?”
“Oh, Mrs. Berry, won’t you be present?”
“No; I have my duties, and I observe them properly, but to preside at tea is not one of them. Your uncle expressly ordered that.”
“Do you mean Uncle Jeff ordered that we should receive Mr. Coriell alone?”
“Well, he didn’t direct that I should be there. If he wants to come down, he will.”
“Very well,” and Alicia suddenly became dignified, “we can manage. I suppose it will be proper to dress up a good deal?”
Again that amused smile flitted over Mrs. Berry’s face.
“As you like,” she said, indifferently. “All your frocks are pretty.”
Alicia returned to the others, and told them all the conversation.
“I hope Uncle Forbes does come down,” said Dolly, “I think it would be nicer to have him there.”
“Come, now, old mother Prim, don’t throw cold water on our little party,” said Alicia. “You know how the conversation would run, with uncle at the helm!”
“It wouldn’t run at all,” laughed Bernice, “it would stagnate!”
When the girls began to dress for the tea, there was a wide diversity of opinion as to appropriate costumes.
“Our very best,” said Alicia decidedly. “Nothing’s too good for Bayne!”
“You’d better be careful,” warned Dotty, “you’ll call him Bayne to his face! You use it so much!”
“Don’t care if I do!” returned Alicia, pertly. “I say, Doll, is THAT your best frock?”
“Yes, except an evening one.”
“Let’s see your evening one. I’ll bet it’s just about right for this afternoon.”
Dolly produced a pretty light blue affair of chiffon, and Alicia exclaimed, “Wear that, of course. It’s really no evening dress at all, but it’s a very nice afternoon thing.”
Dolly looked dubious. “What are you going to wear, Dots?” she said.
“Oh, I s’pose we might as well wear our best ones. As Alicia says, they’re all right for afternoon here, though they wouldn’t be in Berwick.”
“All right,” and Dolly put on her pretty fluffy dress. Very lovely she looked, her golden curls twisted up high on her head, and held by a bandeau of blue ribbon.
Dotty’s dress was yellow, and very becoming. She wore a black velvet headband, and Alicia cried out in approval when she saw the two D’s ready for inspection.
“My!” she said, “you look better than I do! Now, I am mad!”
But her rage was only simulated, and she didn’t really think what she said.
She herself wore a most elaborate embroidered dress of rich pink silk. It was trimmed, too, with pearl bead fringe, and to Dolly’s simple taste it was too fussy. But Dotty admired it, and Bernice thought it wonderful.
“It IS a good thing,” said Alicia, carelessly. “It’s imported. I’ve never had it on before.”
Bernice had a lovely dress of white tulle, with white satin ribbons;— lovely, that is, for evening, but too dressy for daytime. However, as the winter dusk fell early, the lights were on, and it seemed almost like evening.
The four girls, in the reception room, waited the coming of their guest. To their surprise, Mr. Forbes came in, and looked them over with a chuckle.
“Well, you ARE ready for the fray, aren’t you?” he said, taking in their dressy finery and their important, self-conscious airs.
“Yes, Uncle Jeff,” responded Alicia; “will you stay and see our young man?”
For some unexplained reason, Uncle Jeff laughed heartily. But he checked his merriment, and said, “No, Alicia, I fear I might intrude; I know you want to flirt with this young actor, and I’d be a spoilsport. But let me warn you to be very gentle with him. You see, he may be so overcome by this galaxy of youth and beauty that he’ll be embarrassed and run away!”
“Nonsense, uncle,” said Bernice, “actors are not easily embarrassed. More likely we girls will be struck dumb at his splendour and importance.”
“Well, tell me all about it afterward,” and still chuckling, Mr. Forbes went off.
“What ails Uncle?” said Alicia, pettishly. “Anybody’d think he had a joke on us.”
“No,” Dotty rejoined, “only he’s sort of old, you know, and he doesn’t see the fun in this, as we do.”
“Well, I wish the fun would hurry up! It’s after four now.”
“Such people are never on time,” said Alicia, with a great air of experience. “He’s sure to be late. Oh, there’s the bell now!”
The girls, with hearts beating high, grouped themselves in a picturesque pose, which they had practised beforehand, and breathlessly watched the doorway.
Through it came, in a moment, a jolly-faced man, with an informal manner and pleasant smile.
“Hullo, girlies,” he said, “what’s up? Expecting a party? Well, I won’t keep you a minute. Where’s Mr. Forbes?”
“Why, you’re the party, Mr. Coriell,” said Alicia, stepping forward to greet him, and looking very coquettish as she smiled up into his face.
“Oh, am I! all right, have it your own way, kiddies. But I can’t give you more than ten minutes of my valuable time. What do you want? Autographs? Or tickets for a box? Speak up, now.”
“Oh, no!” exclaimed Bernice, for Alicia was speechless with disappointment at this prosaic attitude on the part of the visitor. “We just want to—to talk to you.”
“You see,” said Dolly, frankly, “we thought you’d be—different.”
“Oh, of course you did! They always do! You wanted to see the Lascar, not plain James Brown!”
“What!” cried Alicia, hope rising in her breast that this was not the great actor after all, “aren’t you Bayne Coriell?”
“Sure! That’s my stage name, but in private life I’m James Brown, at your service.”
“You don’t even look like the Lascar!” wailed Dotty, dismayed at the turn things had taken.
“Of course, I don’t, little one. Actors on and off, are two different persons. Oh, I begin to see through this performance. Your uncle didn’t tell you anything about me! Eh?”
“No, sir,” said Dolly, as the others were silent. “We saw you in your play, and we admired your work so much, that we—we—”
“Oh, the matinee idol business! Well, well! I didn’t expect that. Why, kiddies, outside the theatre, I’m just a plain United States citizen. I have a daughter about the age of you girls. My Muriel is fourteen, nearly fifteen, but she’s taller than any of you. Your uncle is a great friend of mine. He was my father’s chum, and he has been more than kind to me all my life. I supposed he knew all about the letter from Miss Alicia, and ran around here expecting to see you and him both.”
“That’s why he chuckled at us!” and Dolly’s eyes twinkled at the joke. Somehow, she seemed more at ease with the actor than the other girls. “You see, Mr. Brown, we thought you’d be more like you are on the stage. Of course we didn’t expect you’d be dressed like the Lascar, or—or—made up,—isn’t that what you call it? but we thought you’d be stagy and actory—”
James Brown laughed. “Everybody thinks that, or something like it,” he said. “Few people realise that an actor’s profession is MERELY a profession,—a business; and that we discard it out of business hours.”
“But don’t you get lots of notes from—from your audiences?” asked Dotty.
“Indeed I do. My wife looks after ‘em, and most of ‘em go into the trash basket. But of course a note from Jefferson Forbes’ home was welcome, and I was glad to call on his nieces. Are you all his nieces?”
“No,” said Alicia, who had recovered her poise, and she introduced the other girls by name. “I wrote the note, because I thought you were—”
“Because you thought I was a gay young sport,” laughed James Brown; “well, I’m sorry, for your sake, that I’m merely an uninteresting, middle-aged man, but, I doubt if your uncle would have let you send that note, if I had been a stranger to him. Take my advice, girls, for I know what I’m talking about, never write to an actor with whom you are not acquainted. It can never lead to any good result and might lead to great harm.”
“Are they all bad?” asked Dolly, innocently.
“No, indeed, far from it. But many of them are thoughtless; and, too, if a girl so far forgets the conventions as to write to a stranger, an actor often thinks he is justified in meeting her half way. And nice girls don’t write to men they don’t know. The fact that a man is an actor, is no more reason to treat him informally than if he were a broker or a merchant. It is the glamour of the stage that blinds you to the proprieties. That’s only natural, I know, and that’s
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