CHAPTER II – DODO MEETS POLLY’S FRIENDS

Dorothy Alexander was a good type of the healthy western girl. She was tall, well-built, and the picture of splendid health. Her hair was of a ruddy hue, with copper glints in it. Her complexion was like “peaches and cream,” and needed no cosmetic to enhance its charm. Her form was lithe and supple, and her features were good. Her bright eyes sparkled with good-humor, and her smile was contagious in its sweetness. When she was well-dressed, she would be a beauty, thought Eleanor, but her present overdressing depreciated her genuine good looks.

“Prof., we bring you a new convert,” laughed Eleanor, as the three girls approached Mr. Fabian.

“Dorothy Alexander, Mr. Fabian,” added Polly.

The two acknowledged the introduction and the girl thought: “What a fine face he has! Such wonderful expression and forehead.”

And Mr. Fabian thought: “There’s a great deal under all that sham.”

Shortly after the introduction, Mr. Fabian spoke of the flaunting mistakes some so-called decorator had made in the selection and furnishings of the salon. So they turned their attention to that interesting subject. Dodo stood by and listened to it all, as she wondered what these two good-looking girls could find to interest them in such a dry subject? But she confessed that both girls seemed more beautiful and attractive, when they were thoroughly interested and animated with the ideas they were exchanging with Mr. Fabian.

As they left the room, Mr. Fabian turned his attention to Dodo, particularly. And soon she was telling him freely, all about her life in Denver, and how hard her father had worked and suffered at Cripple Creek, to amass the fortune they now enjoyed. When Dodo described her father’s character and how simple and blunt he was in everything, her hearers fell in love with the unknown. She told how generous he was to every one, and how no one was left in need if he could help it.

“But he has one awful sin that Ma can’t forgive him,” added Dodo, glancing covertly around to make sure no one could hear.

Mr. Fabian shivered at what she was about to say, and he wished Dodo was not quite so frank as to reveal family skeletons. But she was launched and nothing could check her.

“Pa has a pet old pipe that’s as black as ink. He just won’t smoke any of the imported cigars Ma buys for him, and he won’t let her throw the old pipe away. He gets away by himself and smokes it until he feels happy – no matter what Ma says or does.”

All three of her audience bent double in merriment at what they just heard. Mr. Fabian was so relieved at the “sin” he feared to hear about, that he laughed louder than the two girls.

“S-sh!” warned Dodo, hurriedly. “Here comes Pa, now!”

Instantly they hushed and turned to watch the “grand being” they had just heard about. The shock of beholding the actual man who was the opposite of what Dodo had pictured him caused them to mumble confusedly when Mr. Alexander was introduced.

He was a little wiry man of about fifty years. The top of his head was bald, with a fringe of grey all about the crown. Right in front, on top, grew a stiff lock of stubborn hair that generally stood upright. This gave him the funny appearance that is often portrayed in the comic section of the Sunday papers. His hands were knotted with hard work, and his legs were bowed just enough to make him walk awkwardly. His eyes were small and merry, and his ears large and fan-like. But his mouth was the feature that attracted instant attention and held it wonderingly. It was a wide, good-natured mouth, and when he smiled he literally demonstrated that saying: “His head opened from ear to ear.” He wore a huge ulster of checks and a tourist cap with ear-tabs tied on top.

“Hello, Dodo! Who’s your friends?” called he cheerily, as he came up to them.

He was introduced, and Dodo followed up the introduction by saying: “I was just talking about you – telling my friends what a fine man you are.”

Mr. Alexander smiled happily. “It ain’t every man what has a gal that says that, eh?”

“You’re right there, Mr. Alexander,” agreed Mr. Fabian, glad to speak and express something worthy of himself.

“And Dodo is sure one fine gal, too. I wonder why she ain’t sp’iled like other gals I see.”

“Perhaps her father’s example is before her,” ventured Eleanor. And forever after that, Dodo swore allegiance to Eleanor.

“I’m right glad you-all met Dodo, ’cause I was fearin’ the missus might get her to give in to them foolish notions about gettin’ a furriner. Did you tell ’em, Dodo?” said her father.

“Yes, Pa, and the girls are going to help me cure Ma of that fad.”

“That’s the best news, yet! I hope you kin do it!” said he, slapping his knee. “You must be real gals, too, like mine, here.”

Polly laughed, and Eleanor said: “We like to ride and hike, and have good times, but we’re not out hunting for husbands. If we ever reach that place where we want to marry, we’ll take a man we know by heart, and not one who is buying a doll made up at a hair-dresser and beauty-doctor’s.”

“You’re the right sort, all right!” chuckled the little man, transferring the slap from his knee to Eleanor’s back.

Eleanor gasped for breath but she considered the sharp commendation a compliment that any man might be glad to get. Mr. Fabian had to smile at Eleanor’s sudden gasp and instant recovery, but Polly laughed outright, for she was accustomed to such pleasantries from the ranchers at home.

“Poor Pa. He’s so glad to meet some sensible folks, that he doesn’t stop to think how hard his hand is, with all the mining and picking at gold ore, out west,” added Dodo, smiling sympathetically at Eleanor, and then at her father.

“Right again! This traipsing to U-rope fer a title, isn’t my kind of work. But I jus’ couldn’t let Ma run off with Dodo and all my cash, when I knew Dodo diden’ want to. So I says, ‘Onless you lug me along wherever you go, my cash stays behind in America.’ You-all know, ‘cash makes the mare go,’ so I was included in the trip.”

The little man chuckled and caused the others to laugh at his amusing expression. Then he leaned forward and said confidentially: “But I’ll confess, all this tight-fittin’ clothes, and a boiled shirt with stiff collars and cuffs ain’t to my likin’! I have to pinch my feet into shiny tight shoes, and use a tie that has to be knotted every day, ’stead of a ready-made one that I can hook on to my collar-button.”

At that admission, the girls laughed merrily and Mr. Fabian simply roared, for he understood collar-buttons and the agony Mr. Alexander must endure.

The little man felt that he was making fine headway in his conversational powers, so he continued to practice the art.

“But say! let me tell you-all – when Ma carted me to Noo York and made me take dancing lessons to get graceful, I tried it twicet – then I balked! ‘No more of them monkey-shines for an old miner,’ says I. And I never did it again, did I, Dodo?”

Dodo laughed and shook her head, and the others renewed their mirth. Mr. Alexander was now encouraged to proceed.

“Ma went to a Madam Something-er-other fer to learn how to act in polite society and how to not do the wrong things at the right time, and vice versy, but she coulden get me to go there! I spent that time at the Movies or ridin’ on the Fifth Avenoo bus, and laughin’ at folks – the way they rushed around like ants.

“But here I am, mixin’ in as good comp’ny as I want, and it ain’t costin’ me a cent to sit in a little room and listen to a fat old woman who charges a dollar a throw.” As he concluded his speech, a group of people standing directly back of Mr. Fabian and the girls, joined the circle.

Mr. Alexander instantly froze up and felt uncomfortable lest they had heard him speak. Then Mr. Fabian eased his mind by saying: “Now you can meet the Ashbys, Mr. Alexander. Miss Dodo, this is Mrs. Ashby, and Ruth, and Mr. Ashby. And this is a new friend, Mr. Ashby, but an old acquaintance of Polly and Eleanor’s from Denver – Mr. Alexander and Miss Dodo.”

The introductions over, Mr. Ashby quickly smoothed the way for the nervous little man from the west; but Dodo wondered why her mother had the impression that these people were inferior because they were in business in New York. She had never met any one more refined, or who showed truer gentility than these people.

After an exchange of words, Mr. Alexander whispered to his daughter: “Dodo, do you think we’d better go out to Ma? She might get huffy, you know, when she finds out we’ve been meetin’ all the nice people and leavin’ her in the cold.”

“We’ll all go out, Mr. Alexander,” suggested Eleanor, seeing how much better it would be for the two culprits if Mrs. Alexander had to entertain a number of new-comers instead of her own people.

They started to go on deck, but Mr. Alexander hastily surveyed himself in a mirror as he passed. Then he pulled at Mr. Fabian’s sleeve.

“I reckon I’d better take off the ulster before the Missus sees me in it. She can’t bear it, ’cause she thinks it looks like a workin’-man’s coat.”

So saying, the wrap was slipped off and Mr. Alexander straightened the cap on his shiny head. He brushed a speck from his pale grey spats, and tugged at his tie to have it correctly placed. Then he hurried after the others. In that time, Mr. Fabian saw how hen-pecked the poor little man must be, and he resolved to stand by him in his troubles. Thus Dodo won two allies, and her father unconsciously acquired a splendid friend for times of need.

“Have you ever been abroad before?” asked Mr. Ashby, as Mr. Alexander caught up with him.

“Not on your life! The States is good enough for me, but Dodo had to be saved, you see, and I come along.”

Mr. Ashby knew nothing of Mrs. Alexander’s hopes and aspirations, and he was in the dark about the little man’s words.

“You have a great treat awaiting you, if you have never visited the famous old cities of Europe, before,” added Mr. Ashby.

“Most folks go over for other things than to see the fine towns,” remarked Mr. Alexander.

“I hear the women-folk mostly go to get clothes in Paris.”

Everyone laughed; then the group crossed the deck to the steamer-chair occupied by Mrs. Alexander. Dodo introduced her mother to the strangers; she smiled loftily at the Ashbys, but was very effusive over Mr. Fabian. So much so, that he wondered at it.

But in a few moments she unconsciously showed her reason for it. “I hear you are going to visit at an English Peer’s, in London, Mr. Fabian.”

“My wife and daughter are visiting at Sir James Osgood’s, I believe, but my visit there all depends on whether the Ashbys and my girls are included in the invitation. If they are not, of course I will have to decline, also.”