The Poor Little Rich Girl Read online

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  THIS WAS A NOVEL EXPERIENCE, THIS HAVING BOTH FATHERAND MOTHER IN THE NURSERY AT THE SAME TIME]

  ThePOOR LITTLE RICH GIRL

  byELEANOR GATES

  GROSSET & DUNLAP Publishers NEW YORK

  The Poor Little Rich Girl

  CHAPTER I

  Halfway up the shining surface of the gilt-framed pier glass was amark--a tiny ink-line that had been carefully drawn across the outeredge of the wide bevel. As Gwendolyn stared at the line, the reflectionof her small face in the mirror grew suddenly all white, as if some rudehand had reached out and brushed away the pink from cheeks and lips.Arms rigid at her sides, and open palms pressed hard against the flaringskirts of her riding-coat, she shrank back from the glass.

  "Oo-oo!" she breathed, aghast. The gray eyes swam.

  After a moment, however, she blinked resolutely to clear her sight,stepped forward again, and, straightening her slender little figure toits utmost height, measured herself a second time against the mirror.

  But--as before--the top of her yellow head did not reach above theink-mark--not by the smallest part of an inch! So there was no longerany reason to hope! The worst was true! She had drawn the tiny lineacross the edge of the bevel the evening before, when she was only sixyears old; now it was mid-morning of another day, and she wasseven--_yet she was not a whit taller!_

  The tears began to overflow. She pressed her embroidered handkerchief toher eyes. Then, stifling a sob, she crossed the nursery, stumbling onceor twice as she made toward the long cushioned seat that stretched thewhole width of the front window. There, among the down-filled pillows,with her loose hair falling about her wet cheeks and screening them, shelay down.

  For months she had looked forward with secret longing to this seventhanniversary. Every morning she had taken down the rose-embossed calendarthat stood on the top of her gold-and-white writing-desk and tallied offanother of the days that intervened before her birthday. And theprevious evening she had measured herself against the pier glass withouteven a single misgiving.

  She rose at an early hour. Her waking look was toward the pier glass.Her one thought was to gauge her new height. But the morning was theusual busy one. When Jane finished bathing and dressing her, Miss Roylesummoned her to breakfast. An hour in the school-room followed--an hourof quiet study, but under the watchful eye of the governess. Next,Gwendolyn changed her dressing-gown for a riding-habit, and with Janeholding her by one small hand, and with Thomas following, stepped intothe bronze cage that dropped down so noiselessly from nursery floor towide entrance-hall. Outside, the limousine was waiting. She and Janeentered it. Thomas took his seat beside the chauffeur. And in a momentthe motor was speeding away.

  At the riding-school, her master gave her the customary lesson: Shecircled the tanbark on her fat brown pony--now to the right, at a walk;now to the left, at a trot; now back to the right again at a rattlingcanter, with her yellow hair whipping her shoulders, and herthree-cornered hat working farther and farther back on her bobbing head,and tugging hard at the elastic under her dimpled chin. After nearly anhour of this walk, trot and canter she was very rosy, and quite out ofbreath. Then she was put back into the limousine and driven swiftlyhome. And it was not until after her arrival that she had a momententirely to herself, and the first opportunity of comparing her heightwith the tiny ink-line on the edge of the mirror's bevel.

  Now as she lay, face down, on the window-seat, she know how vain hadbeen all the longing of months. The realization, so sudden andunexpected, was a blow. The slender little figure among the cushionsquivered under it.

  But all at once she sat up. And disappointment and grief gave place toapprehension. "I wonder what's the matter with me," she faltered aloud."Oh, something awful, I guess."

  The next moment caution succeeded fear. She sprang to her feet and ranacross the room. That tell-tale mark was still on the mirror, for nurseor governess to see and question. And it was advisable that no oneshould learn the unhappy truth. Her handkerchief was damp with tears.She gathered the tiny square of linen into a tight ball and rubbed atthe ink-line industriously.

  She was not a moment too soon. Scarcely had she regained thewindow-seat, when the hall door opened and Thomas appeared on the sill,almost filling the opening with his tall figure. As a rule he wore hisvery splendid footman's livery of dark blue coat with dull-gold buttons,blue trousers, and striped buff waistcoat. Now he wore street clothes,and he had a leash in his hand.

  "Is Jane about, Miss Gwendolyn?" he inquired. Then, seeing thatGwendolyn was alone, "Would you mind tellin' her when she comes that I'mout takin' the Madam's dogs for a walk?"

  Gwendolyn had a new thought. "A--a walk?" she repeated. And stood up.

  "But tell Jane, if you please," continued he, "that I'll be back in timeto go--well, _she_ knows where." This was said significantly. He turned.

  "Thomas!" Gwendolyn hastened across to him. "Wait till I put on my hat.I'm--I'm going with you." Her riding-hat lay among the daintypink-and-white articles on her crystal-topped dressing-table. She caughtit up.

  "Miss Gwendolyn!" exclaimed Thomas, astonished.

  "I'm seven," declared Gwendolyn, struggling with the hat-elastic. "I'ma whole year older than I was yesterday. And--and I'm grown-up."

  An exasperating smile lifted Thomas's lip. "Oh, _are_ you!" he observed.

  The hat settled, she met his look squarely. (Did he suspicion anything?)"_Yes_. And you take the dogs out to walk. So"--she started to passhim--"_I'm_ going to walk."

  His hair was black and straight. Now it seemed fairly to bristle withamazement. "I couldn't take you if you _was_ grown-up," he assertedfirmly, blocking her advance; "--leastways not without Miss Royle orJane'd say Yes. It'd be worth my job."

  Gwendolyn lowered her eyes, stood a moment in indecision, then pulledoff the hat, tossed it aside, went back to the window, and sat down.

  At one end of the seat, swung high on its gilded spring, danced thedome-topped cage of her canary. Presently she raised her face to him. Hewas traveling tirelessly from perch to cage-floor, from floor to trapezeagain. His wings were half lifted from his little body--the brightyellow of her own hair. It was as if he were ready for flight. His roundblack eyes were constantly turned toward the world beyond the window. Heperked his head inquiringly, and cheeped. Now and then, with a wildbeating of his pinions, he sprang sidewise to the shining bars of thecage, and hung there, panting.

  She watched him for a time; made a slow survey of the nursery next,--andsighed.

  "Poor thing!" she murmured.

  She heard the rustle of silk skirts from the direction of theschool-room. Hastily she shook out the embroidered handkerchief and putit against her eyes.

  A door opened. "There will be no lessons this afternoon, Gwendolyn." Itwas Miss Royle's voice.

  Gwendolyn did not speak. But she lowered the handkerchief a trifle--andnoted that the governess was dressed for going out--in a glisteningblack silk plentifully ornamented with jet _paillettes_.

  Miss Royle rustled her way to the pier-glass to have a last look at herbonnet. It was a poke, with a quilted ribbon circling its brim, and somelace arranged fluffily. It did not reach many inches above the spotwhere Gwendolyn had drawn the ink-line, for Miss Royle was small. Whenshe had given the poke a pat here and a touch there, she leaned forwardto get a better view of her face. She had a pale, thin face and thinfaded hair. On either side of a high bony nose were set her pale-blueeyes. Shutting them in, and perched on the thinnest part of her nose,were silver-circled spectacles.

  "I'm very glad I can give you a half-holiday, dear," she went on. Buther tone was somewhat sorrowful. She detached a sma
ll leaf of paper froma tiny book in her hand-bag and rubbed it across her forehead. "For myneuralgia is _much_ worse to-day." She coughed once or twice behind alisle-gloved hand, snapped the clasp of her hand-bag and started towardthe hall door.

  It was now that for the first time she looked at Gwendolyn--and caughtsight of the bowed head, the grief-flushed cheeks, the suspendedhandkerchief. She stopped short.

  "Gwendolyn!" she exclaimed, annoyed. "I _hope_ you're not going to becross and troublesome, and make it impossible for me to have a couple ofhours to myself this afternoon--especially when I'm suffering." Then,coaxingly, "You can amuse yourself with one of your nice pretend-games,dear."

  From under long up-curling lashes Gwendolyn regarded her in silence.

  "I've planned to lunch out," went on Miss Royle. "But you won't mind,_will_ you, dear Gwendolyn?" plaintively. "For I'll be back at tea-time.And besides"--growing brighter--"you're to have--what do you think!--thebirthday cake Cook has made."

  "I _hate_ cake!" burst out Gwendolyn; and covered her eyes once more.

  "_Gwen-do-lyn!_" breathed Miss Royle.

  Gwendolyn sat very still.

  "How _can_ you be so naughty! Oh, it's really wicked and ungrateful ofyou to be fretting and complaining--you who have _so_ many blessings!But you don't appreciate them because you've always had them.Well,"--mournfully solicitous--"I trust they'll never be taken from you,my child. Ah, _I_ know how bitter such a loss is! I haven't _always_been in my present circumstances, compelled to go out among strangers toearn a scant living. Once--"

  Here she was interrupted. The door from the school-room swung wide witha bang. Gwendolyn, looking up, saw her nurse.

  Jane was in sharp contrast to Miss Royle--taller and stocky, with broadshoulders and big arms. As she halted against the open school-room door,her hair was as ruddy as the panel that made a background for it. Andshe had reddish eyes, and a full round face. In the midst of her face,and all out of proportion to it, was her short turned-up nose, which wasplentifully sprinkled with freckles.

  "So you're goin' out?" she began angrily, addressing the governess.

  Miss Royle retreated a step. "Just for a--a couple of hours," sheexplained.

  Jane's face grew almost as red as her hair. Slamming the school-roomdoor behind her, she advanced. "I suppose it's the neuralgia again," shesuggested with quiet heat.

  The color stole into Miss Royle's pale cheeks. She coughed. "It _is_ alittle worse than usual this afternoon," she admitted.

  "I thought so," said Jane. "It's always worse--_on bargain-days_."

  "How _dare_ you!"

  "You ask me that, do you?--you old snake-in-the-grass!" Now Jane grewpallid with anger.

  Gwendolyn, listening, contemplated her governess thoughtfully. She hadoften heard her pronounced a snake-in-the-grass.

  Miss Royle was also pale. "That will do!" she declared. "I shall reportyou to Madam."

  "Report!" echoed Jane, giving a loud, harsh laugh, and shaking herhair--the huge pompadour in front, the pug behind. "Well, go ahead. AndI'll report _you_--and your handy neuralgia."

  "It's your duty to look after Gwendolyn when there are no lessons,"reminded Miss Royle, but weakening noticeably.

  "On _week_-days?" shrilled Jane. "Oh, don't try to fool me with any ofyour schemin'! _I_ see. And I just laugh in my sleeve!"

  Gwendolyn fixed inquiring gray eyes upon that sleeve of Jane's dresswhich was the nearer. It was of black sateen. It fitted the stout armsleekly.

  "This is the dear child's birthday, and I wish her to have the afternoonfree."

  "A-a-ah! Then why don't you take her out with you? You like theauto_mo_bile nice enough,"--this sneeringly.

  Miss Royle tossed her head. "I thought perhaps _you'd_ be using thecar," she answered, with fine sarcasm.

  Jane began to argue, throwing out both hands: "How was _I_ to knowto-day was her birthday? You might've told me about it; instead, justall of a sudden, you shove her off on my hands."

  Gwendolyn's eyes narrowed resentfully.

  Miss Royle gave a quick look toward the window-seat. "You mean you'vemade plans?" she asked, concern supplanting anger in her voice.

  To all appearances Jane was near to tears. She did not answer. Shenodded dejectedly.

  "Well, Jane, you shall have to-morrow afternoon," declared Miss Royle,soothingly. "Is _that_ fair? I didn't know you'd counted on to-day.So--" Here another glance shot window-ward. Then she beckoned Jane. Theywent into the hall. And Gwendolyn heard them whispering together.

  When Jane came back into the nursery she looked almost cheerful. "Nowoff with that habit," she called to Gwendolyn briskly. "And intosomething for your dinner."

  "I want to wear a plaid dress," announced Gwendolyn, getting down fromher seat slowly.

  Jane was selecting a white muslin from a tall wardrobe. "Little girlsain't wearin' plaids this year," she declared shortly. "Come."

  "Well, then, I want a dress that's got a pocket," went on Gwendolyn,"--a pocket 'way down on this side." She touched the right skirt of herriding-coat.

  "They ain't makin' pockets in little girls' dresses this year," saidJane, "Come! Come!"

  "'They,'" repeated Gwendolyn. "Who are 'They'? I'd like to know; 'causeI could telephone 'em and--"

  "Hush your nonsense!" bade Jane. Then, catching at the delicate squareof linen in Gwendolyn's hand, "How'd you git ink smeared over yourhandkerchief? What do you suppose your mamma'd say if she was to comeupon it? _I'd_ be blamed--_as_ usual!"

  "Who are They'?" persisted Gwendolyn. "'They' do so _many_ things. And Iwant to tell 'em that I like pockets in _all_ my dresses."

  Jane ignored the question.

  "Yesterday you said 'They' would send us soda-water," went onGwendolyn--talking to herself now, rather than to the nurse. "And I'dlike to know where 'They' _find_ soda-water." Whereupon she fell topondering the question. Evidently this, like many another propounded toJane or Miss Royle; to Thomas; to her music-teacher, Miss Brown; toMademoiselle Du Bois, her French teacher; and to her teacher of German,was one that was meant to remain a secret of the grown-ups.

  Jane, having unbuttoned the riding-coat, pulled at the small blackboots. She was also talking to herself, for her lips moved.

  The moment Gwendolyn caught sight of her unshod feet, she had a newidea--the securing of a long-denied privilege by urging the occasion."Oh, Jane," she cried. "May I go barefoot?--just for a _little_ while. Iwant to." Jane stripped off the cobwebby stockings. Gwendolyn wriggledher ten pink toes. "May I, Jane?"

  "You can go barefoot to _bed_," said Jane.

  Gwendolyn's bed stood midway of the nursery, partly hidden by a hightapestried screen. It was a beautiful bed, carved and enamelled, andpanelled--head and foot--with woven cane. But to Gwendolyn it was, byday, a white instrument of torture. She gave it a glance of disfavornow, and refrained from pursuing her idea.

  When the muslin dress was donned, and a pink satin hair-bow replaced theblack one that bobbed on Gwendolyn's head when she rode, she returned tothe window and sat down. The seat was deep, and her shiny patent-leatherslippers stuck straight out in front of her. In one hand she held afresh handkerchief. She nibbled at it thoughtfully. She was stillwondering about "They."

  Thomas looked cross when he came in to serve her noon dinner. Hearranged the table with a jerk and a bang.

  "So old Royle up and outed, did she?" he said to Jane.

  "Hush!" counseled Jane, significantly, and rolled her eyes in thedirection of the window-seat.

  Gwendolyn stopped nibbling her handkerchief.

  "And our plans is spoiled," went on Thomas. "Well, ain't that our luck!And I suppose you couldn't manage to leave a certain party--"

  Gwendolyn had been watching Thomas. Now she fell to observing the silverbuckles on her slippers. She might not know who "They" were. But "acertain party"--

  "Leave?" repeated Jane, "Who with? Not alone, surely you don't mean. Forsomething's gone wrong already to-day, as you'll see if you'll use youreyes. And a fu
ss or a howl'd mean that somebody'd hear, and tattle tothe Madam, and--"

  Thomas said something under his breath.

  "So we can't go after all," resumed Jane; "--leastways not like we'dcounted on. And it's _too_ exasperatin'. Here I am, a person that likesmy freedom once in a while, and a glimpse at the shop-windows,--exactlyas much as old you-know-who does--and a bit of tea afterwards with a--afriend."

  At this point, Gwendolyn glanced up--just in time to see Thomasregarding Jane with a broad grin. And Jane was smiling back at him, herface so suffused with blushes that there was not a freckle to be seen.

  Now Jane sighed, and stood looking down with hands folded. "What gooddoes it do to talk, though," she observed sadly. "Day in and day out,day _in_ and day out, I have to dance attendance."

  It was Gwendolyn's turn to color. She got down quickly and came forward.

  "Sh!" warned Thomas. He busied himself with laying the silver.

  Gwendolyn halted in front of Jane, and lifted a puzzled face. "But--but,Jane," she began defensively, "you don't ever _dance_."

  "Now, whatever do you think I was talkin' about?" demanded Jane,roughly. "You dance, don't you, at Monsoor Tellegen's, of a Saturdayafternoon? Well, so do I when I get a' evenin' off,--which isn't often,as you well know, Miss. And now your dinner's ready. So eat it, withoutany more clackin'."

  Gwendolyn climbed upon the plump rounding seat of a white-and-goldchair.

  Jane settled down nearby, choosing an upholstered arm-chair--spacious,comfort-giving. She lolled in it, at ease but watchful.

  "You can't think how that old butler spies on me," said Thomas,addressing her. "He seen the tray when I put it on the dumb-waiter.And, 'Miss Royle is havin' her lunch out,' he says. Then would you_believe_ it, he took more'n half my dishes away!"

  Jane giggled. "Potter's a sharp one," she declared. "But, oh, youshould've been behind a door just now when you-know-who and I had alittle understandin'."

  "Eh?" he inquired, working his black brows excitedly. "How was that?"

  Gwendolyn went calmly on with her mutton-broth. She already knew eachdetail of the forth-coming recital.

  "Well," began Jane, "she played her usual trick of startin' off withoutso much as a word to me, and I just up and give her a tongue-lashin'."

  Gwendolyn's spoon paused half way to her expectant pink mouth. Shestared at Jane. "Oh, I didn't see that," she exclaimed regretfully."Jane, what is a tongue-lashing?"

  Jane sat up. "A tongue-lashin'," said she, "is what _you_ need, younglady. Look at the way you've spilled your soup! Take it, Thomas, andserve the rest of the dinner, I ain't goin' to allow you to be at thetable _all_ day, Miss.... There, Thomas! That'll be all the mincedchicken she can have."

  "But I took just one little spoonful," protested Gwendolyn, earnestly."I wanted more, but Thomas held it 'way up, and--"

  "Do you want to be sick?" demanded Jane. "And have a doctor come?"

  Gwendolyn raised frightened eyes. A doctor had been called once in thedim past, when she was a baby, racked by colic and budding teeth. Shedid not remember him. But since the era of short clothes she had beenmercifully spared his visits. "N-n-no!" she faltered.

  "Well, you look out or I'll git one on the 'phone. And you'll be sorry_the rest of your life_.... Take the chicken away, Thomas. 'Out of sightis'--you know the sayin'. (It's a pity there ain't some way to keep ithot.)"

  "A bit of cold fowl don't go so bad," said Thomas, reassuringly. And toGwendolyn, "Here's more of the potatoes souffles, Miss Gwendolyn,--_very_tasty and fillin'."

  Gwendolyn put up a hand and pushed the proffered dish aside.

  "Now, no temper," warned Jane, rising. "Too much meat ain't good forchildren. Your mamma herself would say that. Come! See that nicepotatoes and cream gravy on your plate. And there you set cryin'!"

  Thomas had an idea. "Shall I fetch the cake?" he asked in a loudwhisper.

  Jane nodded.

  He disappeared--to reappear at once with a round frosted cake that had aborder of pink icing upon its glazed white top. And set within thecircle of the border were seven pink candles, all alight.

  "Oh, look! Look!" cried Jane, excitedly, pulling Gwendolyn's hand awayfrom her eyes. "Isn't it a beautiful cake! You shall have a bi-i-igpiece."

  Those seven small candles dispelled the gloom. With tears on her cheeks,but all eager and smiling once more, Gwendolyn blew the candles out. Andas she bent forward to puff at each tiny one, Jane held her bright hairback, for fear that a strand might get too near a flame.

  "Oh, Jane," cried Gwendolyn, "when I blow like that, _where_ do all thelittle lights go?"

  "Did you ever _hear_ such a question?" exclaimed Jane, appealing toThomas.

  He was cutting away at the cake. "Of course, Miss, you'd like _me_ tohave a bite of this," he said. "You know it was me that reminded Cookabout bakin'--"

  "Perhaps all the little lights go up under the big lamp-shade," went onGwendolyn, too absorbed to listen to Thomas. "And make a big light." Shestarted to get down from her chair to investigate.

  "Now look here," said Jane irritably, "you'll just finish your dinnerbefore you leave the table. Here's your cake. _Eat_ it!"

  Gwendolyn ate her slice daintily, using a fork.

  Jane also ate a slice--holding it in her fingers. "There's ways ofmanagin' a fairly jolly afternoon," she said from the depths of thearm-chair.

  "You're speakin' of--er--?" asked Thomas, picking up cake crumbs with adamp finger-tip.

  "Uh-huh."

  "A certain party would have to go along," he reminded.

  "_Of_ course. But a ride's better'n nothin'."

  "Shall I telephone for--?" Thomas brought a finger-bowl.

  Gwendolyn stood up. A ride meant the limousine, with its screening topand little windows. The limousine meant a long, tiresome run at goodspeed through streets that she longed to travel afoot, slowly, with astop here and a stop there, and a poke into things in general.

  Her crimson cheeks spoke rebellion. "I want a walk this afternoon," shedeclared emphatically.

  "Use your finger-bowl," said Jane. "Can't you _never_ remember yourmanners?"

  "I'm seven to-day," Gwendolyn went on, the tips of her fingers in thesmall basin of silver while her face was turned to Jane. "I'm sevenand--and I'm grown-up."

  "And you're splashin' water on the table-cloth. Look at you!"

  "So," went on Gwendolyn, "I'm going to walk. I haven't walked for awhole, whole week."

  "You can lean back in the car," began Jane enthusiastically, "andpretend you're a grand little Queen!"

  "I don't _want_ to be a Queen. I want to _walk_.

  "Rich little girls don't hike along the streets like common poor littlegirls," informed Jane.

  "I don't _want_ to be a rich little girl,"--voice shrill withdetermination.

  Jane went to shake her frilled apron into the gilded waste-basket besideGwendolyn's writing-desk. "You can telephone any time now, Thomas," shesaid calmly.

  Gwendolyn turned upon Thomas. "But I don't _want_ to be shut up in thecar this afternoon," she cried. "And I won't! I _won't!_ I WON'T!"

  Jane gave a gasp of smothered rage. The reddish eyes blazed. "Do youwant me to send for a great black bear?" she demanded.

  At that Gwendolyn quailed. "No-o-o!"

  Jane shot a glance toward Thomas. It invited suggestion.

  "Let her take something along," he said under his breath, noddingtoward a glass-fronted case of shelves that stood opposite Gwendolyn'sbed.

  Each shelf of the case was covered with toys. Along one sat a line ofdaintily clad dolls--black-haired dolls; golden-haired dolls; dolls fromChina, with slanted eyes and a queue; dolls from Japan, in gayly figuredkimonos; Dutch dolls--a boy and a girl; a French doll in an exquisitefrock; a Russian; an Indian; a Spaniard. A second shelf held a shinyred-and-black peg-top, a black wooden snake beside its lead-coloredpipe-like case; a tin soldier in an English uniform--red coat, andpill-box cap held on by a chin-strap; a second uniformed tin man whoturned some
rsaults, but in repose stood upon his head; a black dog onwheels, with great floppy ears; and a half-dozen downy ducklingsacquired at Easter.

  "Much good takin' anything'll do!" grumbled Jane. Then, plucking crosslyat a muslin sleeve, "Well, what do you want? Your French doll? Speakup!"

  "I don't want anything," asserted Gwendolyn, "--long as I can't have myPuffy Bear any more." There was a wide vacant place beside the dog withthe large ears.

  "The little beast got shabby," explained Thomas, "and I was compelled tothrow him away along with the old linen-hamper. Like as not some poorlittle child has him now."

  She considered the statement, gray eyes wistful. Then, "I liked him,"she said huskily. "He was old and squashy, and it wouldn't hurt him towalk up the Drive, right in the path where the horses go. The dirt isloose there, like it was in the road at Johnnie Blake's in the country.I could scuff it with my shoes."

  "You could scuff it and I could wear myself out cleanin', I suppose,"retorted Jane. "And like as not run the risk of gittin' some bad germson my hands, and dyin' of 'em. From what Rosa says, it was downright_shameful_ the way you muddied your clothes, and tore 'em, and messed inthe water after nasty tad-poles that week you was up country. _I_ won'tallow you to treat your beautiful dresses like that, or climb about, orlet the hot sun git at you."

  "I'm going to _walk_."

  Silence; but silence palpitant with thought. Then Jane threw up herhead--as if seized with an inspiration. "You're going to walk?" saidshe. "All right! _All_ right! Walk if you want to." She made as if toset out. "_Go_ ahead! But, my _dear_," (she dropped her voice in fear)"you'll no more'n git to the next corner when _somebody'll steal you!_"

  Gwendolyn was silent for a long moment. She glanced from Jane to Thomas,from Thomas to Jane, and crooked her fingers in and out of her twistedhandkerchief.

  "But, Jane," she said finally, "the dogs go out walking--and--and nobodysteals the dogs."

  "Hear the silly child!" cried Jane. "Nobody steals the dogs! Why, ifanybody was to steal the dogs what good would it do 'em? They're onlyPomeranians anyhow, and Madam could go straight out and buy more.Besides, like as not Pomeranians won't be stylish next year, and soMadam wouldn't care two snaps. She'd go buy the latest thing inpoodles, or else a fine collie, or a spaniel or a Spitz."

  "But other little girls walk all the time," insisted Gwendolyn, "andnobody steals _them_."

  Jane crossed her knees, pursed her mouth and folded her arms. "Well,Thomas," she said, shaking her head, "I guess after all that I'll haveto tell her."

  "Ah, yes, I suppose so," agreed Thomas. His tone was funereal.

  Gwendolyn looked from one to the other.

  "I haven't wanted to," continued Jane, dolefully. "_You_ know that. Butnow she forces me to do it. Though I'm as sorry as sorry can be."

  Thomas had just taken his portion of cake in one great mouthful. "Fo'mmy," he chimed in.

  Gwendolyn looked concerned. "But I'm seven," she reiterated.

  "Seven?" said Jane. "What has that got to do with it? _Age_ don'tmatter."

  Gwendolyn did not flinch.

  "You said nobody steals other little girls," went on Jane. "It ain'ttrue. Poor little girls and boys, _no_body steals. You can see 'emrunnin' around loose everywheres. But it's different when a littlegirl's papa is made of money."

  "So much money," added Thomas, "that it fairly makes me palm itch."Whereat he fell to rubbing one open hand against a corner of the piano.

  Gwendolyn reflected a moment. Then, "But my fath-er isn't made ofmoney,"--she lingered a little, tenderly, over the word father,pronouncing it as if it were two words. "I _know_ he isn't. When I wasat Johnnie Blake's cottage, we went fishing, and fath-er rolled up hissleeves. And his arms were strong; and red, like Jane's."

  Thomas sniggered.

  But Jane gestured impatiently. Then, making scared eyes, "What has that_got to do_," she demanded, "_with the wicked men that keep watch ofthis house?_"

  Gwendolyn swallowed. "What wicked men?" she questioned apprehensively.

  "Ah-ha!" triumphed Jane. "I _thought_ that'd catch you! Now just let meask you another question: _Why are there bars on the basement windows?_"

  Gwendolyn's lips parted to reply. But no words came.

  "You don't know," said Jane. "But I'll tell you something: There ain'tno bars on the windows where _poor_ little girls live. For the simplereason that nobody wants to steal _them_."

  Gwendolyn considered the statement, her fingers still busy knotting andunknotting.

  "I tell you," Jane launched forth again, "that if you run about on thestreet, like poor children do, you'll be grabbed up by a band ofkidnapers."

  "Are--are kidnapers worse than doctors?" asked Gwendolyn.

  "Worse than doctors!" scoffed Thomas, "_Heaps_ worse."

  "Worse than--than bears?" (The last trace of that rebellious red wasgone.)

  Up and down went Jane's head solemnly. "Kidnapers carry knives--bigcurved knives."

  Now Gwendolyn recalled a certain terror-inspiring man with a long beltedcoat and a cap with a shiny visor. It was not his height that made herfear him, for her father was fully as tall; and it was not hisbrass-buttoned coat, or the dark, piercing eyes under the visor. Shefeared him because Jane had often threatened her with his coming; and,secondly, because he wore, hanging from his belt, a cudgel--long andheavy and thick. How that cudgel glistened in the sunlight as it swungto and fro by a thong!

  "Worse than a--a p'liceman?" she faltered.

  "Policeman? _Yes!_"

  "Than the p'liceman that's--that's always hanging around here?"

  Now Jane giggled, and blushed as red as her hair. "Hush!" she chided.

  Thomas poked a teasing finger at her. "Haw! Haw!" he laughed. "There'sother people that's noticed a policeman hangin' round. _He's_ a dandy,he is!--_not_. He let that old hand organ man give him a black eye."

  "Pooh!" retorted Jane. "You know how much I care about that policeman!It's only that I like to have him handy for just such times as this."

  But Gwendolyn was dwelling on the newly discovered scourge of moneyedchildren. "What would the kidnapers do?" she inquired.

  "The kidnapers," promptly answered Jane, "would take you and shut you upin a nasty cellar, where there was rats and mice and things and--"

  Gwendolyn's mouth began to quiver.

  Hastily Jane put out a hand. "But we'll look sharp that nothin' of thekind happens," she declared stoutly; "for who can git you when you're inthe car--_especially_ when Thomas is along to watch out. So"--with agreat show of enthusiasm--"we'll go out, oh! for a _grand_ ride." Sherose. "And maybe when we git into the country a ways, we'll inviteThomas to take the inside seat opposite," (another wink) "and he'll tellyou about soldierin' in India, and camps, and marches, and shootin'elephants."

  "Aren't there kidnapers in the country, too?" asked Gwendolyn. "I--Iguess I'd rather stay home."

  "You won't see 'em in the country this time of day," explained Jane."They're all in town, huntin' rich little children. So on with the sweetnew hat and a pretty coat!" She opened the door of the wardrobe.

  Gwendolyn did not move. But as she watched Jane the gray eyes filledwith tears, which overflowed and trickled slowly down her cheeks."If--if Thomas walked along with us," she began, "could--could anybodysteal me then?"

  Jane was taking out coat, hat and gloves. "What would kidnapers careabout _Thomas?_" she demanded contemptuously. "_Sure_, they'd steal you,and then they'd say to your father, 'Give! me a million dollars in cashif you want Miss Gwendolyn back.' And if your father didn't give themoney on the spot, you'd be sold to gipsies, or--or _Chinamen_."

  But Gwendolyn persisted. "Thomas has killed el'phunts," she reminded."Are--are kidnapers worse than el'phunts?" She drew on her gloves.

  Jane sat down and held out the coat. It was of velvet. "Now be still!"she commanded roughly. "You'll go in the machine if you go at _all_. Doyou hear that?"--giving Gwendolyn a half-turn-about that nearly upsether. "Do you think I'm goin' to trapse over the
hard pavements on mypoor, tired feet just because _you_ take your notions?"

  Gwendolyn began to cry--softly. "Oh, I--I thought I wouldn't ever haveto ride again wh-when I was seven," she faltered, putting onewhite-gloved hand to her eyes.

  "Stop that!" commanded Jane, again, "Dirtyin' your gloves, you wastefullittle thing!"

  Now the big sobs came. Down went the yellow head.

  "Oh! Oh! Oh!" said Thomas. "Little _ladies_ never cry."

  "Walk! walk! walk!" scolded Jane, kneeling, and preparing to adjust thenew hat.

  The hat had wide ribbons that tied under the chin--new, stiff ribbons.

  "Johnnie Bu-Blake didn't fasten _his_ hat on like this," weptGwendolyn. She moved her chin from side to side. "He just had a--ash-shoe-string."

  Jane had finished. "Johnnie Blake! Johnnie Blake! Johnnie Blake!" shemocked. She gave Gwendolyn a little push toward the front window. "Now,no more of your nonsense. Go and be quiet for a few minutes. And keep a'eye out, will you, to see that there's nobody layin' in wait for us outin front?"

  Gwendolyn went forward to the window-seat and climbed up among itscushions. From there she looked down upon the Drive with its sloping,evenly-cut grass, its smooth, tawny road and soft brown bridle-path, andits curving walk, stone-walled on the outer side. Beyond park and roadand walk were tree-tops, bush-high above the wall. And beyond these wasthe broad, slow-flowing river, with boats going to and fro upon itsshimmering surface. The farther side of the river was walled like thewalk, only the wall was a cliff, sheer and dark and timber-edged. Andthrough this timber could be seen the roofs and chimneys of distanthouses.

  But Gwendolyn saw nothing of the beauty of the view. She did not evenglance down to where, on its pedestal, stood the great bronze war-horse,its mane and tail flying, its neck arched, its lips curved to neigh.Astride the horse was her friend, the General, soldierly, valorous, hishat doffed--as if in silent greeting to the double procession ofvehicles and pedestrians that was passing before him. Brave he might be,but what help was the General _now?_

  When Jane was ready for the drive, Gwendolyn took a firm hold of onethick thumb. And, with Thomas following, they were soon in the entrancehall. There, waiting as usual, was Potter, the butler. He smiled atGwendolyn.

  But Gwendolyn did not smile in return. As the cage had sunk swiftly downthe long shaft, her heart had sunk, too. And now she thought how oldPotter was; how thin and stooped. With kidnapers about, was _he_ a fitguardian for the front door? As Potter swung wide the heavy grille ofwrought iron, with its silk-hung back of plate-glass, Gwendolyn pulledhard at Jane's hand, and went down the granite steps and across thesidewalk as quickly as possible, with a timid glance to right and left.For, even as she entered the car, might not that band of knife-mensuddenly catch sight of her, and, rushing over walk and bridle-path androadway, seize her and carry her off?

  She sank, trembling, upon the seat of the limousine.

  Jane followed her. Then Thomas closed the windowed door of the motor andtook his place beside the chauffeur.

  Gwendolyn leaned forward for a swift glance at the lower windows, barredagainst intruders. The great house was of stone. On side and rear itstood flat against other houses. But it was built on a corner; and alongits front and outer side, the tops of the basement windows were set afoot or more above the level of the sidewalk. To Gwendolyn those windowswere huge eyes, peering out at her from under heavy lashes of iron.

  The automobile started. Jane arranged her skirts and leaned backluxuriously, her big hands folded on her lap.

  "My! but ain't this grand!" she exclaimed. Then to Gwendolyn: "Youdon't mind, do you, dearie, if Jane has a taste of gum as we go along?"

  Gwendolyn did not reply. She had not heard. She was leaning toward thelittle window on her side of the limousine. In front of Jane was thechauffeur, wide-backed and skillful, and crouched vigilantly over hiswheel. But in front of her was Thomas, sitting in the proudly erect,stiff position peculiar to him whenever he fared abroad. He lookedneither to right nor left. He seemed indifferent that danger lurked forher along the Drive.

  But she--! As the limousine joined others, all speeding forward merrily,her pale little face was pressed against the shield-shaped pane ofglass, her frightened eyes roved continually, searching the movingcrowds.