CHAPTER I – THE ALEXANDERS
Eleanor Maynard left her friend, Polly Brewster, in the stateroom, cutting the stems of the gorgeous American Beauty roses, and arranging them anew in the tall glass of fresh water. As she was about to close the door behind her, she turned and said:
“Be sure and come up on deck, Polly, as soon as you are done with the roses.”
“All right, run along and I’ll be with you in a jiffy,” returned Polly, her thoughts engaged with the flowers.
So Eleanor strolled to the upper deck and tried to find an interest with which to amuse herself until Polly joined her.
Of course, you remember Polly Brewster of Pebbly Pit, and her chum, Eleanor Maynard, of Chicago? Mr. Fabian, their teacher in interior decorating, and the Ashbys from New York City, were escorting the two girls on this trip abroad, with the idea of visiting famous European museums and places where antiques of all kinds could be seen and studied.
Eleanor walked part way around the promenade deck before she was accosted by a decidedly plump woman of about forty, with decidedly blondine hair, and flashing —most decidedly – too many large diamonds from ears, fingers and neck.
“Excuse me, but aren’t you one of the young ladies I met at the Denver railway station last year when Anne Stewart and her friends were about to leave for New York?” questioned the lady.
Eleanor turned, glanced at the living representative of the newly-rich, and smiled delightedly – not with recognition but at the possibility of having fun with someone arrayed like a peacock.
“Oh yes, I was there! Do you know Anne Stewart?” said she.
“I should think I did! Didn’t we live next door to the Stewarts when Anne and Paul were little tots?”
“How nice to meet you, now,” returned Eleanor, noting the quality of the apparel and the approximate value of the gems adorning the lady.
“But that was before Ebeneezer struck ‘pay dirt’ down in Cripple Creek. After that, we moved from the little house and bought a swell mansion in the fashionable part of Denver,” explained the lady, with pride.
“Did you say you met us last summer?” ventured Eleanor.
“Yes, don’t you remember me? I got off the train coming in from Colorado Springs, just as you-all stood waiting for the East-bound Express.”
“I have a faint recollection of Anne shaking hands with someone, and introducing Polly and me, but there were so many in our party that you must pardon me if I do not recall you now.”
“Oh sure! I know how it is,” giggled the lady, affably. “You did have a crowd waiting to see you off, I remember.”
“And now we meet again on the steamer bound for Europe! Well, it goes to show how small a place this world is,” remarked Eleanor, not knowing what else to say, but feeling amused at the hackneyed phrase she had to make use of.
“How comes it that you are sailing across? Is your Ma and family with you?”
“No, but Polly Brewster – she’s the girl you saw that day with Anne – and I are going to tour Europe with some friends, to study more of our profession.”
“Profession! Good gracious – didn’t that gold mine I read about pan out anything?” exclaimed the lady, astonished.
Eleanor laughed. “Oh yes, I believe it is going to pay even richer than we at first thought possible; so Polly and I can use our own money to improve our education.”
“And what are you going to take up?”
“We have taken it up – Polly and I have been studying Interior Decorating for two years, now.”
“Interior Decorating! Good gracious – isn’t that the sort of work the upholsterers and painters have to do for you?” gasped the lady.
Eleanor laughed again. Here was fun indeed! So she carefully fed the fuel now beginning to take fire in her companion’s brain. “I am afraid it has been their work in the past. But Polly and I plan to try and uplift the work, and by investing our money in a first-rate business, we will try to create a real profession out of what is merely a paint-brush and a tack-hammer job, nowadays.”
Eleanor glanced about to make sure her friends were not within hearing of the remarks she had just made to her new acquaintance. The expression on the lady’s face, as the young aspirant for a new ideal explained her plans, sufficed Eleanor for the story she had just told.
“And what did you say your name was, dearie?” asked the lady, finally.
“Eleanor Maynard – of the Chicago Maynards, you know.”
“Yes, yes, I know of them,” replied the lady, glibly. “I am Mrs. Ebeneezer Alexander, of Denver. P’raps you’ve heard how Eben made a million in a night?”
Mrs. Alexander’s puckered forehead led Eleanor to understand what was expected of her in reply, so she fibbed as glibly as her companion had. “Oh yes! who has not heard of the Alexanders of Denver?”
The lady smoothed out her steamer-rug and smiled happily. Then the remembrance of this banker’s daughter going into a common trade, to better the conditions and reputation of the work, rose uppermost in her shallow mind again.
“I should think your Ma’d go wild to think that one of her girls wanted to work instead of getting married to a rich young man,” remarked she.
