Polly's Southern Cruise

“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.

“See that!” whispered Eleanor quickly to Polly. “That sweet little wasp has stung Mrs. Courtney with something she has said, or hinted at!”

“So it seems. I wish I knew what to do,” mused Polly.

“Just wait and keep your eyes and ears wide open. We’ll catch Elizabeth in any little plot she or her mother may have planned,” declared Eleanor.

At this moment the Japanese attendant came to the door and announced dinner. The friendly party, being so informal, grouped itself about Mr. Dalken and all moved slowly towards the dining-room – all but Elizabeth Dalken. While all her companions walked from the living-room to the diningroom, listening to her father’s account of a wonderful catch of fish in the Maine streams, she had managed to get away unseen and enter the guestroom. Behind the closed door of the room she found what she had planned to secure. Information.

Mr. Dalken designated their seats to his friends, and turning to Mrs. Courtney said, politely: “As you are a guest in my home for the first time I have assigned the seat of honor to you – at my right. Of course, I had to beg permission of Polly and Nolla before daring to trespass upon their rights, – they generally fight for this place.”

Polly smiled and tossed her head, but Eleanor vehemently denied any such weakness, while the adults in the party laughed at their host’s teasing ways. Mr. Dalken, meantime, had been searching for his daughter Elizabeth. She was not to be seen.

“Why! This is strange; did not Elizabeth come to the diningroom just now?” asked he in amazement of his guests.

The guests looked from one to another in surprise. They all believed the girl to have been present with them. Before Mr. Dalken had time to send the servant to find the missing daughter, however, she ran from the dressingroom and hurried to the diningroom.

“Pardon my absence, Daddy,” was her call before he had time to ask what was wrong. “I just had to dab my nose a bit, you know.” She laughed lightly as though it would be understood how important a deed was the powdering of a nose.

Mr. Dalken patted the fluffy yellow head as Elizabeth slid into her chair. Then the servant was signalled to serve. Polly prodded Eleanor, who sat next her at the table, with her foot under cover of the long damask cloth. And Eleanor glanced at her friend to see what she meant to convey to her.

In a very low voice Polly said: “Don’t you say a word, hear me, Nolla? Wait till we know what Elizabeth wants to know.”

Eleanor winked knowingly. At the same time Mr. Dalken tossed the conversational ball into the arena for all to catch.

“Friends and fellow-countrymen,” began he, clearing his throat impressively, “we are assembled together this evening in order that the important event of taking a trip around the world may be duly discussed. After the arguments for and against the cruise in my yacht are heard, the chairman – that is myself – will allow two minutes to the argument for or against the acceptance of Mrs. Courtney’s offer to sail to the South Seas in her craft. The meeting is now open for all members of this party.”

Mr. Dalken then rubbed his hands vigorously as if to say he was washing them of all trouble henceforth. If the members in the party came to blows over their debate it would be nothing to him! His guests, understanding his action, laughed at him and bade him sit down.

“At least, Mr. Chairman, you might tell us the names of the speakers we are supposed to hear from this evening,” laughed Mr. Fabian.

“The first speaker to be heard from this evening, is our capable globe-trotter Mr. Fabian,” retorted Mr. Dalken without hesitation. A laugh greeted this introduction, but the servant was placing the first course before the hungry guests and it was silently agreed to give the first attention to the most important matter of food.

During the next three courses there were many suggestions, and merry arguments from the friends about that board, but Elizabeth Dalken, never missing a word or look of those who were concerned in the cruise planned, kept silence. She felt that she could work better and safer by getting the viewpoints of others and not showing her cards.

With the fourth course, however, Mr. Dalken seemed to feel certain of his own cruise being the accepted one. He turned to gloat politely over Mrs. Courtney’s defeat, when Mr. Ashby spoke.

“The only reason I feel inclined to vote for the Orient in Dalken’s yacht, is a selfish one: I would like immensely to be one of the party on this merry voyage, but I would not dare go on board a yacht that is destined for the South Seas. I would have no jumping-off place, in order to get me back to New York for the busy season. Now, should you all choose Dalky’s plan to go to Japan, I can remain with you until we reach Hawaii, there I can catch a fast steamship back to San Francisco, thence speed home to New York. Them’s my sentiments, fren’s!” concluded Mr. Ashby.

By the time the salad was served every one but Polly, Eleanor and Elizabeth had been drawn into the discussion. It took great self-control for the two girl-partners to keep silence in this vital and interesting debate.

Finally, Mr. Dalken turned to Eleanor and said: “In all my experience, this is the first time I have not heard Nolla have a say after every other orator. Either she has nothing to say, or she is waiting to drop a bomb upon our heads when we have said all we know.”

Eleanor laughed. “That’s just it! When you all are through I’ll say my little piece, and I’m sure it will take away your breath.”

The friends laughed, for they understood Eleanor and liked to urge her to discuss her egotistical opinions – often they were well worth hearing, too. Polly could not help sending Elizabeth a glance. The girl kept her eyes fixed upon her plate, defying Polly’s scrutiny.

Mr. Dalken held up a hand as he commanded: “Silence in this Court. Our wise Judge will now render an opinion!”

Eleanor instantly took up his line of chaff, and, midst the laughter, bowing politely, said in a dignified manner: “I thank you, Mr. Sheriff. As the Honorable Judge of this trial at Court I wish to give my opinion, and possibly a verdict. Has the prisoner at the bar anything more to say in behalf of her plan to sail the South Seas?”

A condescending bow to Mrs. Courtney told those at the table that she must be the prisoner who committed the crime of planning an impossible voyage. Mrs. Courtney smiled and shook her head to signify she had had her say.

“Ahem!” began Eleanor; then remembering that Polly had the papers upon which they had outlined the cruise as they wished to have it, she turned and bowed in her direction. “Will the Counsel for the State kindly read the evidence in the case under argument?”

Polly laughed, but Mr. Dalken said: “What a pity I missed having such a wise judge at court in the days when I tried my cases. I am sure I might have won every case I argued.”

This brought forth a general laugh at Eleanor’s expense but little cared she, because she had an axe to grind and such an insignificant matter as a laugh cost her nothing.

Polly now opened the typewritten page she had taken from the girdle of her gown and glanced at the opening words. Then she explained: “This is a plan worked out by Nolla and myself. Before I mention the very good reasons for choosing this plan, I wish to outline the plan itself. Then Nolla will say why we selected this cruise, and tell you the points in favor of choosing it.”

Polly now read: “We decide upon Dalky’s yacht, because it is cheaper than leasing a craft; it is more luxurious than any hired boat could ever be; it is claimed to be absolutely safe to sail the most dangerous seas; and, best of all, Dalky is our sworn ally and gives Nolla and me our own way in almost everything. That’s that!”