CHAPTER I – THE PERFECTED PLANS

“Well, now, that’s settled!” declared Polly Brewster, as she leaned back in a comfortable arm-chair and scanned her friend who sat hunched over the papers scattered upon the table.

“Settled – but only between us. It remains to be seen how our suggestions will be received by Dalky and Mrs. Courtney,” returned Eleanor Maynard, the young lady just addressed.

“To tell the truth, Nolla,” began Polly in a lowered tone, “I’d much rather sail the seas with Dalky, in his yacht, than venture in a rented craft supervised by Mrs. Courtney – even though she is the dearest thing I ever had for a chaperone!”

Nolla was the nickname given Eleanor, and Dalky was the pet name bestowed upon Mr. Dalken by these two girls – his staunch admirers. As yet they had not discovered an appropriate title to use for their first customer and intimate friend Mrs. Courtney.

“Well, Nolla, seeing we’ve used up carloads of good paper in outlining this itinerary, and worn out the patience of all the clerks in the various Tour Offices, let us act upon our last decision: Propose the plans for our ocean picnic at the general meeting of our friends to-night.”

“It is such a radical change from the trip suggested by Mrs. Courtney, and the outlined voyage desired by Dalky, that I fear we’ll be vetoed in the final ballot,” ventured Eleanor.

“They can only say no to us!” exclaimed Polly, getting up from her chair and gathering in all the now useless sheets of paper which showed where arduous ideas had been expressed upon their white surfaces. But one sheet was left safely at the end of the table. This single sheet was picked up by Eleanor and carefully placed within her script case. The discarded sheets were torn up and thrown into the waste basket.

“We may as well go home and try out the plans on the Fabians,” said Polly, after rearranging the desk-table.

“And see that we look our best for the conquest to-night,” laughed Eleanor, looking about for her hat and coat.

Are you acquainted with Polly and Eleanor? If not, you should be. They are the two friends who were introduced to us several years ago at Pebbly Pit Ranch. Remember? At our first meeting with them these two girls were barely past fourteen; but we founded a firm friendship with them and their immediate companions, at the great Colorado ranch, and this friendship has lasted all through the interesting, and many times thrilling, adventures these girls experienced. To you, who have been denied this friendship, we will introduce our girls.

Polly Brewster, born and reared on her home ranch in the Rockies of Colorado, first met and established a friendship with Eleanor Maynard of Chicago, when Eleanor, attended by her elder sister Barbara and Anne Stewart, spent the summer with the Brewsters at Pebbly Pit Ranch. During that visit the girls, while on a mountain ride, discovered the vein of gold which later developed such amazing phases of interest and trouble for all concerned in its products.

The summer ending, the two young girls, now firm friends, won the consent of their parents to allow them to accompany Anne Stewart to New York City, where Anne was engaged to teach a very high-grade, young ladies’ school. Polly and Eleanor planned to enter this school, and take up interior decorating as an extra study.

Having been admitted to a course at Cooper Union Night Classes, the two girl friends found Mr. Fabian, the lecturer, a most valuable friend. Through Mr. Fabian the girls were enabled to attend many private exhibitions of art goods and antiques, also to go to lectures, visit gatherings where interior decorating was the subject of discussion, and in other ways reap the benefit of the many years’ experience of this gentleman.

During their school years in New York Polly and Eleanor became acquainted with a staunch friend, a Mr. Dalken; and met and became intimate friends with the Ashbys – the Ashby of the famous Ashby Shops on Fifth Avenue, where one may find any rare or antique object known to home-makers or decorators.

Through the acquaintances thus formed the two girls were invited to join the touring party about to start for Europe the year that Polly and Eleanor finished their schooling. After a summer abroad visiting interesting places and seeing all that was worth viewing, the group of Americans returned home.

That fall the two girls decided to enter business in an humble way. They secured desk-room in Mr. Ashby’s business house and ventured forth to find and purchase antiques, in order to sell them again at a reasonable profit. The amusing incidents experienced while in search of odd and old objects constitute several chapters of the book called “Polly’s Business Venture.” At the ending of that book the reader is introduced to Mrs. Courtney, who interested herself in the two young business girls and eventually invited them to accompany her on a cruise to the Southern Seas. Before any plan could be perfected, however, Mr. Dalken hinted at his plan to go on an extended yachting cruise to the Orient. Naturally, he wished a party of his old friends to accompany him; and Polly and Eleanor considered themselves part of that group.

Thus it happened that about the time the present story opens Polly and Eleanor had been planning various itineraries to place before their friends – Mr. Dalken and Mrs. Courtney. It mattered not so much to the girls whether they sailed to the Orient as the guests of Mr. Dalken, or went on a long cruise to the South Sea Islands with Mrs. Courtney, as long as they went somewhere! From this state of mind the reader can gather that the Wanderlust had implanted its germ in the consciousness of each of these girls.

Having gathered their papers together the girls left the pretty private office where they were supposed to attend to their business affairs, and started homeward to the Fabian’s domicile where they lived. It was too late, upon their arrival at the house, to discuss the tour with either Mr. or Mrs. Fabian, hence they went directly to their rooms and dressed as becomingly as possible, knowing, as they well did, that appearances play an important part in any business, be it pleasure, financial, political or just simple family matters.

Just as Polly had added a huge velvet rose to the girdle of the Parisian dress she had chosen to wear, Nancy Fabian called from the hallway:

“Girls! Are you almost ready? Daddy has been cooling his impatience in the library for the last ten minutes; and mother and I are ready to go down.”

“Coming, Nan!” called Polly in answer. “Find out if Nolla is ready, please.”

“I’m here – no need to call me,” laughed Eleanor, coming from her room as she spoke.

“Dear me!” exclaimed Nancy Fabian. “Why all the fine feathers on our bird, Nolla?”

Mrs. Fabian and Nancy looked at Eleanor’s handsome dinner dress with admiration, and Eleanor laughed as she replied to Nancy’s query:

“As long as this bird has no wish to be plucked at the argument that is certain to be started on the subject of the sea-trip, she donned her finest feathers to help her win out with Dalky.”

At this moment Polly appeared at her room door. She, too, caused Nancy to catch her breath. “Goodness me! I didn’t stop to floss up as if we were going to a Court Reception! Why didn’t you girls tell me you were going to put on your best?”

“Nancy, dear, don’t worry,” was Polly’s consoling reply. “You haven’t the diplomatic work cut out for yourself that Nolla and I have. We have to win Dalky over to a very important agreement to-night, hence these fine togs!”

Mrs. Fabian had been descending the stairs, but she heard what had just been said and she laughed lightly. Soon all four had reached the front hall where Mr. Fabian paced the floor.

“My dear girls! You know how I dislike being late to a host’s dinner party! Here it is ten minutes past the time we were to present ourselves at Dalky’s apartment.” As he spoke Mr. Fabian took his watch from his pocket and displayed its face to the tardy young ladies. But they never stopped to glance at it.

“Daddy, dear, stop scolding, and hurry out to the car,” said Nancy, giving her father a loving push towards the front door.

“There’s one consolation in knowing we won’t be the last guests at Dalky’s dinner to-night,” remarked Eleanor, as they settled themselves in the limousine which Mr. Dalken had sent for their use that evening.

“Why – what do you mean?” asked Mrs. Fabian, wonderingly.

“Mrs. Courtney! She’ll be ten minutes later than this unit,” replied Eleanor.

“How do you know that?” asked Nancy.

“Just before we left the office she called us on the telephone to ask if we had decided upon a plan for our cruise, and we replied that we had it all outlined. Then she told us she might be detained downtown where she was then, and that we were to tell Mr. Dalken not to wait dinner for her. She would come in as soon as she could, but even at that she might be half an hour after the time he mentioned in his note to her.”

As Mr. Dalken’s bachelor apartment was but a short drive from the Fabian’s residence, the chauffeur soon stopped before the door and the girls prepared to get out. A few minutes later they were being welcomed by their smiling host. Then he scolded.

“Late as usual! Not that I would include Mr. Fabian in that rebuke, because a man is never late – especially when it is a dinner. But the ladies! Ah me! So many valuable hours wasted before a mirror, and who for – tell me that! For a number of old fogies like Ashby, Fabian and myself.”

But the ladies laughed his scolding to silence. They knew their host! He was the pink of neatness himself, and he always noticed the gowns and general appearances of his lady guests.

“Who’s coming to-night, Dalky?” asked Polly, not waiting to answer his rebuke about being late.

“Oh, the Ashbys are already here; then there will be Mrs. Courtney, who will be late, of course, and my daughter Elizabeth. She ought to have been here before this.”

As he spoke he threw open the door of the guestroom and ushered his friends in; but taking Mr. Fabian by the arm to show him into his own suite of rooms.

As soon as the door of the guestroom was closed Polly glanced at her three companions who were silently exchanging looks with each other. Then Eleanor whispered her opinion:

“Elizabeth! Of all the world she is the last I should have expected here to-night. I just know her mother sent her to pry into Dalky’s plans for this cruise. Naturally, such a woman would have heard about her ex-husband’s plans for the next few months.”

Polly frowned at this declaration, but Mrs. Fabian, always anxious to give a person the benefit of a doubt, remarked kindly: “We must remember that Elizabeth is her father’s only child. Perhaps she is dining here this evening by accident – not by planning.”

But Eleanor flared up in defence of her friend Dalky. “If you knew that girl as well as Polly and I understand her from school days, you’d not take this generous view of her and her mother’s schemes. I only hope Dalky hasn’t any idea of inviting her to go with us on his yachting cruise. She’d just spoil all the fun for me!”

“With Elizabeth present at the table I’d feel embarrassed in speaking of our plan, Nolla; or of saying a word about any cruise,” added Polly, seriously.

“Yes, that’s just it: Elizabeth is a kill-joy for every one wherever she goes,” was Eleanor’s angry retort.

“Well, girls, let us not excite ourselves before we know why Elizabeth is present to-night. Plenty of time to talk over her lack of amiability when we discover she will be a member of Dalky’s party,” advised Mrs. Fabian, moving towards the door of the dressing room.

As she opened it the four friends who were ready to leave fell back because the object of their criticism stood upon the threshold.

“Oh, dear!” cried the girl with a pretty pretence of feeling surprise, as she quickly placed her hands over her heart. “I was told to leave my wraps in Daddy’s guestroom, but I was not aware that it was occupied. I’m sorry if I startled you as I have been.”

Elizabeth Dalken was the fashionable product of New York’s ultra society – at least she and her mother liked to believe they were embraced upon that clannish upper-plane. But it is doubtful if one of the Four Hundred even dreamed of there being such aspirants to recognition.

The girl was very pretty, in an appealing ingenue way, her type being of the clinging order. Her features were regular enough, but lacked all signs of confidence or character. Her hair was beautiful, being of the wavy, fluffy, gold shade of blonde. Were it not for her stylish apparel, and the lines produced by the highest-priced tailor and mantua-maker in the country, Elizabeth’s figure might have been termed awkward, and her natural carriage ungainly. But style hides a multitude of short-comings!

The Fabians, as well as Polly and Eleanor, were acquainted with Elizabeth Dalken, so, after a few words of greeting, they left the room to the new guest. Needless to add that Elizabeth found it necessary to remain in the room for four times the length of time the other four guests had occupied it. But they had not felt the need of touching up their lips, or relining their brows with a pencil, nor, indeed, to add a rosy hue to their healthy complexions. Elizabeth was about to send a last glance at the long mirror to see that her gown was faultless, when the bell summoned Mr. Dalken to his entrance door. This time the new comer called forth a chorus of merry welcomes from the group of guests in the living room, the archway of which offered a good view of the front door and the reception hall.

“Welcome, Mrs. Courtney! Glad you found it possible to get here before dinner is announced,” said Mr. Dalken, smiling upon his guest.

“Oh! I am glad, too! I thought you would be through the first course, as it is really half an hour past the time you said,” remarked Mrs. Courtney, releasing her small gloved hand from the unconscious hold of her host’s warm clasp. He had been appraising her beauty and appearance and forgot he held her hand.

“Come to the guestroom, Mrs. Courtney. My little girl Elizabeth is still there, and she will be delighted to meet you and render any little service you may need. You see, a confirmed bachelor as I am, fails to provide a maid or other necessities for ladies when they deign to dine at his rooms.” As he spoke, Mr. Dalken ushered Mrs. Courtney to the guestroom door. Then he paused and knocked upon the panel.

Elizabeth threw the door open, appearing as a radiant vision to her father, who said: “Ah, Tots! Here is a friend of mine. In the absence of a maid, I know you will be happy to assist in any way. Mrs. Courtney, my daughter Elizabeth; Totty, Mrs. Courtney.”

Without waiting to see if this meeting proved to be harmonious, Mr. Dalken closed the door upon Mrs. Courtney, and hurried to his valet-cook to say that the last guest expected had just arrived. Karl nodded his head silently, and proceeded to instruct the Japanese servant to turn up the lights in the diningroom.

At the closing of the guestroom door Elizabeth turned and purred sweetly upon the lady to whom she had just been introduced. She seemed over-eager to assist in removing the handsome evening wrap, and she stood hovering near while Mrs. Courtney stood before the dressing mirror to arrange her crushed hair. The girl babbled of many things, but with all her babbling she never lost sight of one detail of the lady’s costume and make-up, and of the possible valuation of the magnificent diamonds and pearls which adorned her person. The jewelry caused pangs of envy in Elizabeth’s soul, for she was mad over jewels.

Out in the living-room, the waiting guests amused themselves.

“Before we prepare any further arguments to win our case before the tribunal of the higher authorities, we’d better sit back and watch whether this will be a proper evening to throw the bomb,” remarked Polly, dryly, to her chum Eleanor.

“But this is the reason we are all assembled at dinner to-night!” exclaimed Eleanor, impatiently. “Dalky wants to get away from New York without further delay, you know.”

“Well, I don’t know! Only do be circumspect, Nolla, in the presence of Elizabeth. We know her, and we do not know what she might say or do to make trouble for our dear Dalky, if she once finds that he plans to take us all on a long cruise.”

“She can’t say or make any trouble for him, that I can see!” retorted Eleanor. “That woman got her divorce, all right, and is married hard and fast to that awful suitor, so what other trouble can be started after that?”

Polly did not reply, but she shook her head sympathetically. The sympathy, Eleanor understood, was all for “Poor Dalky!”

Mrs. Courtney and Elizabeth now came from the guest-room, Elizabeth smiling sweetly, and Mrs. Courtney with her well-set head held a trifle higher than was her wont, and with two bright spots of crimson touching her cheeks with the hue of restrained blood which must be dancing in her veins. Her eyes, when she looked at Polly, were shooting sparks, but these soon disappeared after she shook hands with her friends who were glad to see her.