Читать книгу Polly in New York - Roy Lillian Elizabeth - Страница 2

Before the westerners awake to the new day, let us renew our acquaintance with them.

Polly Brewster, of Pebbly Pit, born and reared on that wonderful ranch in Colorado where the lava-jewels were found, is for the first time in her fourteen years, away from home. As she is at the most impressionable age, her wise mother authorized Anne Stewart, the young teacher who had spent the summer with the Brewsters and who was engaged to John Brewster, to spare no money when fitting Polly out for her life in New York. Mrs. Brewster wished Polly to feel herself the equal of anyone she met, if it pertained to dress. And style was about the only thing that Polly lacked, having all fine qualities in her character.

Eleanor Maynard, of Chicago, now Polly’s dearest friend, never had to count the cost of anything, as her father was the best known and richest banker of that great city. But because of her ill health, being a protegée of Anne Stewart for the past two years, this association had taught Eleanor to think twice before she wasted her allowance.

And Anne Stewart, just past twenty-one, was experienced for her age, because of her mother’s dependence on her for most things, since the father died many years before this story opens. And Paul, her younger brother now at college in Chicago (where the other boys also studied), was there because his sister earned the money with which to pay his expenses. Now that Anne would participate in the shares of the gold mine that had been discovered the day of the escape on Grizzly Slide, the Stewarts had no need to practise such strict economy as hitherto.

In the morning Polly was awakened by a knock at her door. “Poll, someone wants to speak to you over the ’phone,” said Anne.

“Me? Why, who can it be? I never talked into one of those funny little black horns in my life, Anne. Wait, and help me.”

In another moment Polly, in a pretty negligée – one of the purchases of the previous afternoon – ran out of her room. Anne sat her upon a stool before the small stand and showed her how to hold the instrument.

“Hello!” whispered Polly, half afraid that something would pop out at her.

Eleanor had crept out of her room by this time, and stood back of Polly, grinning at her friend’s nervousness.

“Speak louder,” admonished Anne in Polly’s ear.

“Hello!” shouted Polly, trying to adjust her senses to the unfamiliar method of conversing with an unseen individual.

Then a merry laugh and a familiar voice sounded in her ear. Her face expressed amazement, then pleased surprise, and then excitement. She glanced up at Eleanor as the voice continued speaking.

“Oh, we’re so glad to hear you are in the city. Now we shall have lovely times!” exclaimed Polly, finally.

A joyous boy’s voice continued talking but suddenly it ceased, and Polly looked at Anne for an explanation. The telephone receiver began clicking strangely in her ear, and she held it at arm’s length in fear of what might be going to explode inside that queer tube.

Eleanor laughed and said, “Let me do the talking – it sounds like Jim Latimer – is it?”

“Yes, Ken and he landed from the West at midnight, and they are going to the Mardi Gras with us to-night.”

Eleanor now took the telephone, and by the time the operator managed to connect the interrupted wires, she was ready to chat as if she had nothing else to do. After ten minutes of silly boy and girl talk, Anne whispered: “Oh, do stop, Nolla! It is eight o’clock and we want to fill a good day with work.”

“I’ve got to ring off, now, Jim, but we’ll see you to-night. Good-by!” Then Eleanor turned to her companions, and said:

“Well, that’s good news, Polly! To have the boys in the city to show us a good time before we start school.”

Without saying anything to cause the girls to object because this “good time” with the boys might be indefinitely postponed, Anne made up her mind that a home would and must be secured before anyone planned for pleasure or fun.

That day, they sought in buildings on every block uptown that had been left uninspected by Mrs. Latimer and Mrs. Evans, but with no success. If an apartment of five to seven rooms was found, it would be found to be dark, dirty, or in an objectionable neighborhood. They were ready to pay a high rent for six or seven rooms, but nothing suitable could be found.

When they returned to the hotel, at five o’clock, to wash and dress for the outing that evening, everyone felt discouraged. “And these poor deluded New Yorkers call the band-boxes we saw to-day, apartment rooms?” said Polly, sneering at the homes but not at the poor inmates.

“Owners dare not build the rooms larger, Polly, because real estate in this city is so valuable and taxable. Every inch of property has to be made the most of. You know, that is why a builder, in large cities, runs his structures up in the sky – the sky doesn’t charge taxes on so much per foot, but the ground the building stands on does.”

“Oh, I never thought of that! So that is why New York houses go up twenty and thirty stories, eh? The owner has to get his rents out of the air and sky, and pay it over to the land-assessor,” Polly exclaimed, in a tone of understanding.

Her friends laughed. “You are an apt pupil, Poll,” said Anne.

When their hosts for the evening called for Anne and her party, they were all ready and eager to start. So they were soon seated in the two cars; Jim driving one, with Polly seated beside him, and Ken, Eleanor and Anne in the back seat. Mrs. Stewart was welcomed with the two ladies and the two men in the other car.

“Now, Jim,” called Mr. Latimer, “you be sure and trail me. I’ll go first, as I know every foot of the road to Coney Island.”

Polly had never been in an automobile before, and at first she felt frightened; but Jim chatted as he drove, and seemed to take it all so naturally, that she soon overcame the desire to clutch hold on the side of the car.

There were hundreds of other automobiles all going in the same direction, and when our two cars reached the Boulevard, there was such a gay stream of machines and people as the girls never dreamed of before. Confetti, paper ribbons, horns and what-not, were used by the passengers on trolleys and in automobiles along the road until the lighted spires of The Park, and other pleasure-giving resorts of Coney Island were seen.

Polly looked so different in her smart clothes that Jim Latimer wondered what had happened to turn this pretty ranch girl into such a stunning city girl in so short a time.

He kept glancing at her oval face, rounded with health and vigor; at her straight little nose, her wide-open, deep, soulful eyes that seemed to weigh all things wisely; the heavy wavy hair that was becomingly looped back from her face, and above all, the rich glow in her cheeks, and the creamy complexion and fine texture of her skin. “Nothing made-up there!” thought Jim.

But Polly was happily unaware of Jim’s wondering approval, for she was too completely absorbed in the sights about her. She could not have told anyone what Jim looked like in his city clothes. In fact, after the first hasty glance at Ken and him, and the realization that they had doffed their mountain outfits, she gave no second thought to their clothes.

At Coney Island, that night, the girls enjoyed one continual lark. Even Mrs. Stewart was urged to go with the elder Latimers and the Evans upon the chutes, the merry-go-rounds, the Twister, the Winsome Waves, and what-not. Such a reckless spirit of fun seemed to possess everyone in the place, that it was contagious.

When the evening was almost over, and Polly sighed with very surfeit of so much fun, the boys managed to “lose” the elders and took the two girls to the beach.

“Oh, how wonderful! I never thought of the ocean. There was so much to see and to do that I forgot Coney Island was right on the sea,” exclaimed Eleanor.

But Polly said not a word. She was suddenly confronted with the restless mighty ocean that she had always longed to see. The sense of frivolity that had filled her for the last few hours vanished, and she gave herself up to the power of that calm, never-ceasing roll of water. A few minutes before and she had been weary from so much laughter and sport, but now a wonderful peace and rest pervaded her being.

The boys understood this unusual effect of the ocean upon one who had never seen anything like it, and finally Polly heaved a sigh.

“Well, this is better than all else. It’s worth coming so far east to see. It’s the only decent thing of which New York can boast.”

Her companions laughed; after digging in the soft sand for a short time, and exchanging youthful view-points about everything in the universe, they all sauntered back to the place where the two cars had been parked.

A shout greeted them. “There, I knew you boys had dodged us on purpose. But Miss Stewart thought you were lost in this crowd.”

As everyone felt tired before the cars reached New York City again, the conversation was intermittent. But just before Mr. Latimer drove his car up to the hotel, Mrs. Stewart learned how Dr. and Mrs. Evans, Mrs. Latimer, and the two boys, Jim and Ken, had spent that entire day home-hunting for the westerners with no success.

“It seems very strange that in such a vast city one is not able to find a decent apartment,” complained Mrs. Stewart.

“We are told ‘because of the war.’ The war is blamed for everything these days, but the real excuse for owners not building now is because of the high cost of material and labor. They are all waiting for better times; meantime people must take what can be had, or go without,” said Mr. Latimer.

“After hunting the way we have for more than a week, and not having found a suitable place, Mrs. Stewart, I would suggest your finding a nice boarding-house for the winter. If you put it off too long, even those places will be filled,” advised Mrs. Latimer.

“Dear me!” sighed Mrs. Stewart. “That was suggested this morning, but I said it seemed dreadful, when I came East just to make a home and keep house for the three girls.”

“Yes, it would be much pleasanter for everyone to have a home, but in cases like this Fall’s shortage of apartments, one must do what is most expedient,” returned Mrs. Latimer.

Mrs. Stewart told the girls, that night, what had been said, but they all felt sure something must turn up in the next day or two. So the next morning before starting out, they laid out a regular plan of work.

“Mother and Eleanor will start where we left off, yesterday, and weave a search back and forth downtown until they reach the hotel. I will take Polly and, beginning at Washington Square, work uptown until we finish. If either of us find anything at all decent, and in an agreeable neighborhood, pay down a deposit to hold it and be sure to get a receipt as a binder – Mr. Latimer told me that much. Then we will all go for the second inspection and decide. Dr. Evans said we’d better pay down several deposits rather than lose a place, as we can quickly sell out any option we have for more than we paid down.”

Having instructed her friends, Anne added one last bit of advice: “We will go as high as $3,000 a year for seven rooms, or $1,500 for four to five rooms – no more, as that is all shelter is worth. If we can’t find a place at that price, we’ll stay in a hotel!”

So the second day of house-hunting went forward by two divisions instead of one, and all that day Mrs. Stewart and Eleanor experienced the same snubs, weariness, and failures, as thousands of other home-hunters in New York had. And at evening they returned wearily to the hotel to hear what Anne had accomplished.

“Polly and she have not yet arrived,” announced Eleanor, as Mrs. Stewart and she entered their suite.

“I hope she has had better luck than we can brag about,” added Mrs. Stewart, dropping into an easy chair.

A long time after the “first division” had returned, baffled, to the hotel, Anne and Polly burst into the room with happy faces.

“Oh, we just found the most wonderful place! Polly and I actually discovered it. We were giving up all hope of ever finding a decent apartment at any reasonable figure, and had started for the subway when we saw this one. The flower-boxes caught Polly’s eye, so we are really indebted to her for having secured our home.”

Anne’s enthusiasm was contagious, and instantly Mrs. Stewart and Eleanor wanted to know where it was located.

Anne and Polly exchanged smiling glances, as if the secret was too precious to impart to others.

“I suppose you two did up the entire upper sections, to-day, eh?” asked Anne, countering their eager queries.

“Did we? I should say we did! I got a taxi for the day and we flew from one pile of stone and marble to the next, and so many rides up and down in gorgeous elevators all day has kept my head still spinning. But we had the same results as yesterday. When you inspect one of these modern honey-combs you see them all. The only difference being that a few owners manage to retain the elevator and telephone operators, while the majority of superintendents apologise by saying, ‘My help went on a strike, to-day.’

“It really looks, Anne, as if these poor New Yorkers will have to move out to the country if they want to live this year,” remarked Mrs. Stewart, earnestly.

Her companions laughed and Anne said: “Mother, you are too precocious. But now listen to our ‘find’!

“As I planned, you two went uptown while Polly and I went downtown from here. We covered all the lower sections by criss-crossing back and forth, but we came away from the Gramercy Park section, late this afternoon, with an utter sense of failure. In fact, I was silently planning to inquire about good boarding-houses, when we hailed a Lexington avenue car, going north.

“Being woolly westerners, we failed to ascertain how far northwards the car went, and having paid our fares, sat down. I remember turning to Polly and saying, ‘This is actually the first car in New York that I have been on that wasn’t crowded to the platforms.’”

Polly laughed at the remembrance, and Anne smiled. “But it was our salvation, Anne,” ventured the former.

Anne nodded and continued her story. “Then we soon learned why there were vacant seats on that car. A pleasant-faced, grey-haired man of about fifty, must have overheard my comment because he spoke to us after we were seated.

“‘Perhaps you did not know that this car goes no farther north than the next block? It is switched back downtown, from that point. Did not the conductor mention it to you?’

“I was furious, and I replied: ‘No! he never said a word when I paid the fares.’

“By this time the car stopped and the conductor called out: ‘All out – dis car goes no furder. We switch back next corner!’

“So Polly and I had to get off with the others. When we stepped down from the car, the nice man lifted his hat to us and said: ‘I judge you are strangers in the city. Can I direct you anywhere?’

“I thanked him and told him we were only going as far as Forty-second street to the hotel. Then I added, sarcastically: ‘But there may be no cars which run as far north as that street!’

“He laughed and said: ‘You had better walk over to Fourth avenue and get the car there. It takes you through the tunnel much quicker than the Lexington avenue car runs to Forty-second street. But be careful and do not board a car that stops at the car-house on Thirty-second street.’

“We all laughed at that, as it would have been just like me to do so; then we thanked him and started along Thirty-first street to reach the car. And there we found our Haven of Hope!”

“Where? Not on Thirty-first street, I trust!” exclaimed Mrs. Stewart. “Isn’t that section of the city dreadful?”

“Not the block where we found a home,” explained Anne. “It has several remodeled houses and several other flat houses on it.”

“But just wait until you see our house – it’s fine!” said Polly, eagerly.

“Polly caught hold of my arm and exclaimed: ‘Oh, Anne! see the lovely flower-boxes in that cute little house!’

“I saw three narrow windows on the second floor with green flower-boxes on the outside sills, but then my eyes dropped lower and I spied a swinging sign at a side-door. It merely said: ‘To Let’ inquire, etc. Polly saw it at the same moment, so we stood and gazed at each other.

“‘Let’s try and peep in at this window,’ suggested Polly.

“I agreed, and we did our best to see what was within; but the long iron-lattice that covered the four slits in the wide front doors, were covered from the inside. So we went to hunt up the agent.

“His office was only a few blocks down Fourth avenue, so Polly and I hurried there before it should be closed for the day. A boy was told to accompany us and we were soon inspecting the premises. Our escort offered all the information he had heard in the real estate office.

“‘This hain’t been on our books more’n a day. I just hung out the sign this morning. The last man what lived here was an artist and he fixed up everything like you see it now. But he wanted the owner to take out the stable doors and put in a studio-winder, and when the owner wouldn’t spend a cent, the artist up and moved. My boss said the next tenant would insist on having the doors taken out, so you might as well kick about them being here, and see if you’se kin get the winder in.’”

Anne’s mimicry of the office-boy was perfect and her hearers laughed, but Mrs. Stewart had caught the significant words: “Stable doors,” and now she looked deeply concerned. Anne hastened to end her narrative when she saw her mother’s expression.

“So Polly and I went back to the agent’s, heard the price of the place, and paid down half a month’s rent to hold it until you all can go with us to-morrow morning to approve of our selection.”

“Oh, Anne! how much was it a month?” exclaimed Eleanor, eagerly, while Mrs. Stewart looked dubious over such recklessness.

“One-fifty a month, and we can have a straight lease – no humbugging about clauses.”

“And how many rooms, did you say, dear?” gasped Mrs. Stewart.

“I didn’t say, mother, and I told Poll not to say more until after you see it in the morning.”

“But I like it, and it really does seem as if Providence sent us through that street,” added Polly, sighing with content.

“Eleanor, did you hear Anne say it had stable-doors?” now ventured Mrs. Stewart, fearfully.

“No! did you, Anne? Why would it have stable-doors?”

“Because in the days of horses and carriages, it was some rich man’s private stable,” laughed Anne, enjoying the horror on her mother’s face.

“A stable! Ha, ha, ha – for a Maynard of Chicago! Oh – ha, ha, ha!” laughed Eleanor, rocking back and forth.

Even Mrs. Stewart had to laugh at the picture Eleanor’s exclamation suggested – Mrs. Maynard and Barbara calling upon a member of their family who was living in an East Side stable!

Any doubt of this being just the place they wanted vanished in the morning when Anne and Polly proudly escorted Mrs. Stewart and Eleanor about their future domicile. True, it had all the ear-marks of a stable from the outside, but once you were within, there was only an artistic home to be seen. The ground-floor which had once held four stalls and a harness-room, with space for two carriages, was now partitioned off in a manner that made the most of the space. A large living-room across the front acted as entrance-hall and passageway to the rear rooms and second floor. In the corner of the living-room, where the small brick chimney had served as smoke-vent for the stove of former days, there now was a wide tiled fire-place which would hold great logs.

Double glass-paneled doors led from the front room to the dining-room with its two high-set square windows opening to the sunlight in the rear. Also a single door went to the kitchen, which also had two high windows like those in the adjoining room. From the kitchen, a back door opened upon a tiny grass-platted garden of about twenty feet square. A fine locust tree grew in one corner of the plot and gave shade in the afternoon.

Anne explained certain peculiar features regarding the windows of the back-rooms. “Don’t you see why they are so high? It is because they were once the ventilators to the stalls. Each horse had his own window for air. But I think they now make the rooms look quaint, don’t you?”

The others agreed with her, and Eleanor said: “If we had a shelf running along under the windows, it would look better.”

“And we can use it for china,” added Polly.

Anne now started to go upstairs, followed by the other three; they all examined the bedrooms and were delighted with them. There were two large front and two smaller rear rooms, with a fine tiled bathroom between the back rooms. Not one of the rooms was as small as the largest chambers seen in the modern apartments.

“And all for a hundred and fifty a month!” exclaimed Eleanor, joyously.

“I reckon we’d better take it at once, children,” said Mrs. Stewart, approvingly.

“But remember,” said Anne, on the way to the agent’s office, “we have to make all inside repairs, or redecorate as we want. There is no steam heat or hot water supplied, either, like the swell apartment houses, uptown, offer us.”

“I’d rather have it so, Anne dear,” replied Mrs. Stewart. “I’ve always been used to a coal range and those fandangled gas ideas worried me, but I didn’t say anything to you-all. I noticed what a fine little kitchen stove this one has, so you’ll always have hot water – never fear. As for heat! Well, a great open fire-place in the front room will help heat upstairs, and there is a register in the bathroom that comes from the kitchen stove-pipe.”

“We can use electric or gas radiators, Anne,” added Eleanor, eagerly, “in very cold weather.”

“I never knew what heated bedrooms were like, in Pebbly Pit, Anne,” Polly said, anxious to have a word.

“Besides we may have a very mild winter,” remarked Anne.

So the lease was signed and the first month’s rent paid. “We’ll give you any assistance you may need in getting the place in order, Mrs. Stewart,” said the agent, as he handed the papers to his new tenant.

“That will be very nice, and we will take advantage of your offer, at once. I want the kitchen range and stove pipe put in perfect working order, and please see that the radiator in the bathroom is not obstructed in any way,” said the lady.

Anne and the agent exchanged looks and laughed. “I can see where Mrs. Stewart expects to enjoy herself this winter. Well, I told my wife the other day, we were more comfortable when we had an old-fashioned flat with a kitchen range, than we now are with all the latest modern improvements,” returned the agent.

“Anne, Polly and I want our rooms repapered and painted,” whispered Eleanor, tugging at Anne’s sleeve.

“I was about to suggest that you have all the woodwork given one coat of nice fresh paint, but the paper now on the walls is very expensive and artistic, so I wouldn’t be in too great a hurry to have it done over. The last tenant imported his own paper at a great expense for that place,” explained the agent.

“I think you are very kind and sensible to advise us in this way. So we’ll have the men do the paint but not touch the paper until we have had time to look it over again,” said Anne.

“When can we move in?” questioned Polly.

“Any time you like; but I would advise having the painters out first. I will send two men to begin work in there to-morrow.”

Then the four delighted tenants left the office, and on the walk back to the corner where they wished to board the car they eagerly planned how they would furnish their home.