CHAPTER XI
THE SAMPLER
Vanity Fair was all that its name implied. By good fortune, the weatherwas perfect,--ideally pleasant and sunshiny, yet not too warm. WistariaPorch was transformed into a veritable Fairyland, and it was abewildering vision of flowers, flags and frivolity by day, and a blazeof illuminated gaiety by night.
It was to last but two days, for, Patty said, they might hope for fairweather for that long but hardly for three days.
It was to open at noon, and all the morning everybody was running about,doing last minute errands or attending to belated decorations.
Azalea had the Indian booth. It was a wigwam, in effect, but it was sobedecked and ornamented that it is doubtful if a real Indian would haverecognised it as one. However, it was filled with real Indian wares, andthe beautiful baskets and pottery were sure to prove best sellers.Azalea received a large consignment from some place she had sent to inArizona, and other people had donated appropriate gifts, until thelittle tent was overflowing.
Azalea herself, the attendant on the booth, was in the garb of an Indianprincess, a friend of Patty's having lent the costume for the occasion.It was becoming to the girl, and she looked really handsome in thepicturesque trappings, and elaborate head-dress.
Just before time for the Fair to be opened, Azalea went over to Elise'sbooth. As she had planned, Elise had a log cabin, and in it she hadarranged a motley collection of antiques and heirlooms that were quaintand valuable. It was the design of the Fair to sell really worthwhilethings at their full value; and as they expected many wealthy patrons,the committees felt pretty sure of a grand success.
"Elise," said Azalea, as she appeared at the door of the cabin, "here'smy contribution to your department. I haven't had a chance to give it toyou before." She handed out a parcel, which Elise opened eagerly.
It proved to be a sampler,--old, but in fine condition. It was anelaborate one, with many rows of letters, some lines of verse, andseveral little pictured shapes. There was a beautiful border, and thesignature was _Isabel Cutler, 1636!_
"Oh!" exclaimed Elise, "what a gem! Where _did_ you get it? Why, Azalea,this is a museum piece! 1636! It's worth hundreds of dollars!"
"Oh, no," said Azalea, "it can't be worth all that! But I thought you'dlike an old one."
"But I don't understand! Where did you get it?"
"It was my grandmother's."
"But your grandmother didn't live in 1636!"
"N--n--no,--I s'pose not. Well,--you see, she had it from _her_grandmother and great-grandmother,--clear back,--you know."
"I see," said Elise, scrutinising the sampler. "It's a marvel, Azalea.You mustn't sell it at this Fair. It ought to go to a museum. 1636!That's one of the earliest sampler dates! I can't see how it's lainunknown all these years. Who had it before you did?"
"Mother."
"Oh, yes,--of course. Well, I'm not going to take it from you--"
"Yes, you are, Elise. I want to give it to you. I've wanted all alongto give you something nice,--you've been so good to me--"
"Rubbish! don't talk like that, Zaly! If you want to make Patty apresent, now,--give it to her. That would be a worth-while return forher kindness to you."
"Oh, I don't think so much of the old thing as you do. I don't eventhink it's pretty."
"It isn't a question of prettiness, or even of a well worked piece. It'sthe date. And this is genuine,--I can see that. But I can't understandit! Why,--I think this border wasn't used until--I must look it up in mybook. That's home in New York. But, there's one thing sure and certain!This doesn't get put in with my bunch of wares! Mr. Greatorex may comethis afternoon. He's an expert on these things. He'll know just whatit's worth."
"Oh, Elise," Azalea looked troubled, "don't take it so seriously. It'sjust an old thing. You've others here that are far handsomer."
"As I told you, Zaly, it's the age that counts,--not the beauty. Runalong to your own booth. I'll lay this aside until I can find out aboutit. But if it's as valuable as I think it is, you mustn't give it toVanity Fair,--or to anybody. 1636! My!"
Azalea looked a little crestfallen. Instead of being glad at theunexpected value ascribed to her gift, she seemed decidedly put outabout it. She strolled round by Patty's booth. That enterprising youngmatron had caused to be built for her use a little child's playhouse. Itwas just large enough for half a dozen children, and would perhaps holdnearly as many grown people. But it had a good-sized verandah and onthis were tables piled with the loveliest fairy-like gossamer garmentsand comforts for tiny mites of humanity. Such exquisite blankets andafghans and tufted silk coverlets and such dainty frocks and caps andlittle coats and everything an infant could possibly use, from basketsto bibs and from pillows to porringers.
And dolls,--soft, cotton or woolly dolls for little babies to play with,and soft, cuddly bears and lambs. Rattles, of course, and bath-tub toys,and all sorts of infants' novelties.
Patty, happy as a butterfly, hovered over her treasures. She wore theimmaculate white linen garb of a nurse, and very sweet and fair shelooked. Later, Fleurette was to grace the booth and attract allobservers by her marvellous baby charm.
At high noon the bazaar was opened with a flourish of trumpets and afanfaronade by the band. Farnsworth had given the services of a firstclass band as his donation, and the musicians made good.
The scene was one of varied attractions. The place itself was lovelywith its wealth of flower gardens and shrubbery and the unique andelaborate booths here and there among the trees made a striking picture.
Betty was queen of the soda fountain. A really, truly soda fountain hadbeen procured, and it was attended by white uniformed servitors who weretrained to the work, but Betty was the presiding genius and invited hercustomers to sample her beverages, with free advice as to which flavoursand combinations she thought the best.
Raymond Gale was a general supervisor of several of the enterprises.
He had in charge the moving-picture men who had expressed a desire toget some scenes of the gay throngs and were willing to pay well for theprivilege.
"You like the 'movies,'" he called out to Azalea, "come over here andget into the game."
"Can't," she called back. "I have to be on duty at my wigwam."
"Oh, come along; the wigwam won't run away. At least promenade up anddown once with me."
So Azalea came, laughingly, and the two walked grandiloquently into thefocus of the camera.
"And there is a man making phonograph records," young Gale went on."Come over there, Zaly, and we'll have a joust of words, and record iton the sands of time!"
"What do you mean?" asked Azalea, interestedly, for she had no knowledgeof some of the performances going on.
She went with Raymond and found a crowd waiting at the booth where thephonograph man was doing business. His plan was to make a record for anycustomer who cared to sing, recite or soliloquise for him. Mothersgladly brought their infant prodigies to "speak pieces" and went awayproudly carrying the records that could be played in their homes foryears to come. Aspiring young singers made records of their favouritesongs. One young girl played the violin for a record.
Taking their turn, Raymond and Azalea had what he called an impromptuscrap. A few words of instruction were enough for Azalea's dramaticinstinct to grasp his meaning, and they had a lively tiff followed by asentimental "making-up" that was good enough for a vaudevilleperformance, and which Azalea knew would greatly amuse Patty and Billwhen they should hear the record.
"Oh, what fun!" Azalea cried, "I never heard of such a thing. I want tomake a lot of records. I'm going to make one of Baby!"
She ran into the house and up to the nursery where Winnie was justgiving the child her dinner. "Goody!" cried Azalea, "now she'll begood-natured! Let me take her, Winnie."
Not entirely with Winnie's sanction, but in spite of her half-expresseddisapproval, Azalea took the laughing child and ran back to thephonograph booth.
"Let me go in ahead of you people, won't y
ou, please?" she begged, andthe waiting line fell back to accommodate her.
But alas for her hopes. She wanted the baby to coo and gurgle in thedelightful little way that Fleurette had in her happiest moments.
Instead, frightened by the strangeness of the scene and the noise andlaughter of the people all about, Fleurette set up a wail of woe whichdeveloped rapidly into a storm of screams and sobs,--indeed, it was afirst-class crying spell,--a thing which the good-natured child rarelyindulged in.
Not willing to wait for a better-tempered moment, the man took therecord and poor little Fleurette was immortalised by a squall insteadof a sunny burst of laughter.
But there was no help for it, and Azalea, greatly chagrined, took thebaby back to Nurse.
"Here's your naughty little kiddy," she cried ruefully, handingFleurette over, but giving the child a loving caress, even as she spoke.
"Thank you, Miss Thorpe, I'm glad to get her back so soon."
And then Azalea ran away to her Indian booth, where she found herassistant doing a rushing business with the Indian wares.
Indeed, everybody seemed anxious to buy the baubles of Vanity Fair. Thecause was a worthy one, the patrons were wealthy and generous, and thevendors were charming and wheedlesome.
So the coin fairly flowed into their coffers and as the afternoon woreon they began to fear they wouldn't have enough goods to sell the secondday.
Azalea was a favourite among the young people. She looked a picture inher Indian dress and she was in rare good humour. She tried, too, to begracious and gentle, and committed no _gaucheries_ and made no ignoranterrors.
"You've simply made that girl over," Elise said to Patty, as the twospoke of Azalea's growing popularity.
Patty sighed. "I don't know," she said, thoughtfully. "There's somethingqueer about Azalea. Little Billee has said so from the first, and now Ibegin to see it, too."
"She _is_ queer," assented Elise, "but she's so much nicer than she wasat first. Ray Gale is very devoted to her."
"I know it. I like Ray, too, but sometimes,--think,--he knows somethingabout her that he won't tell us."
"For mercy's sake,--what do you mean? knows something about your owncousin that you don't know!"
"Oh, Zaly isn't our own cousin, you know. But--well, never mind now,Elise. This isn't a good time to talk confidentially."
Crowds of people were constantly arriving, and among them were many ofPatty's old friends. Many, too, of her newer acquaintances, who lived inArden and also in the nearby towns.
Patty was charming and delightful to everybody, remembering that she wasin a way hostess as well as a sales-lady.
Fleurette graced her mother's booth with her presence, later in theafternoon, and quite redeemed her reputation for good nature, by smilingimpartially on everybody, and gurgling a welcome to all who looked ather.
The little garments and toys of Patty's booth were soon sold out, forthey were choice bits of needlework and found ready buyers.
And then one enthusiastic young father wanted to buy the playhouseitself, in which Patty had displayed her wares.
"But I meant to keep this for my own baby!" she cried.
"Oh, you can build another by the time that little mite needs one," theyoung man replied. "And my youngster is four years old,--just ready toinhabit a ready made home of this kind,"
So the pretty little house was sold, and plans were made to remove itto the purchaser's estate.
So it went. Azalea had many offers for her wigwam, if she would sell itafter the fair. She agreed to let it go to the highest bidder, andfinally received a fine price.
Archery was one of the pretty diversions, and at this Azalea excelled.To the surprise of all, she proved exceedingly skilful with the bow andarrow and easily won the prize offered. But she magnanimously refused toaccept it, and returned it to be competed for over again.
Mr. Greatorex, the expert connoisseur in the matter of antiques, arrivedat Elise's log cabin and expressed delight in its construction andfurnishing.
The cabin was not for sale, Elise laughingly informed him, as Mr.Farnsworth intended to keep it a permanent fixture on his own grounds.Also, Elise went on, very few things of value were left on hertables,--but she still had one piece on which she wished to ask hisopinion.
From a drawer she brought out the sampler that Azalea had given her andpassed it over to Mr. Greatorex, without comment.
He looked at it, at first casually and then more closely.
His face expressed mystification, and suddenly he examined the dateminutely and then smiled.
"Very clever, my dear,--very cleverly done, indeed. Did you do it?"
"Oh, no; it is the property of a friend of mine,--it was done by anancestor of hers. You see it's signed and dated."
"I see! Oh, yes, I _see_! But you mustn't try to impose on me,--myeyesight is not yet entirely gone!"
"What do you mean, Mr. Greatorex?" Elise was puzzled. "I'm not trying toimpose on you!"
"I hope not, my girl, for I wouldn't want to believe such a thing ofyou. But you have been imposed upon."
"How?"
"This sampler was worked in 1836, not 1636."
"How do you know?"
"Very easily. Here, you can see for yourself. You see how the figuresare made,--ordinary cross stitch. Well, as you know, an eight is workedalmost exactly the same as a six, except that it has two more stitcheson the upper right-hand side. If those two stitches are picked out of aneight, it turns into a six! Now, I'm sure your young eyes can see thattwo stitches _have_ been picked out in this instance. See the slightmark where the canvas is the least bit drawn? And see, on the back afresh stitch was necessary to keep the ends from ravelling. It wouldpass to a careless observer, but to one accustomed to these things thefraud is plainly evident."
"Oh, Mr. Greatorex," and Elise looked sorrowful, "I don't care so muchabout the sampler being less valuable than I thought, as I do abouthaving to think the friend who gave it to me would cheat me!"
"Perhaps she didn't. Perhaps somebody cheated her."
"No; she told me her mother gave her this, and that she had had it fromher mother and grandmother--and so forth."
"Then I fear your friend knew of the fraud,--though perhaps her mothergave it to her as it is now."
"Can you judge if the stitches were picked out recently?"
"I should say very recently. The canvas is faded, of course, but, as yousee, the threads beneath where the missing stitches were is quite ashade lighter. Had the picking been done years ago, the canvas wouldhave assumed a uniform tinge,--or nearly so."
"Of course it would,--I can see that for myself. Oh, dear!--Well, Mr.Greatorex, don't say anything about this, will you?"
"Certainly not. But that's a good sampler, as it stands,--I mean as aspecimen of 1836 work."
"Yes, I know it is. And yet, oughtn't the stitches to be put back?"
"Probably not,--for they could not be matched exactly--"
"But if it remains like this, everybody will think it two hundred yearsolder than it really is."
Mr. Greatorex smiled. "Scarcely," he said. "You see, my dear, theearliest known dated sampler is one of 1643 which is in the Victoria andAlbert Museum, in England. There are but six or seven known in thatcentury at all. It would be remarkable, therefore, to find a work of artthat would antedate all collections, and yet show the patterns and styleof work common less than a hundred years ago!"
"Oh, I understand,--I've read up on the matter somewhat,--but I'm _so_sorry--oh, I _am_ so sorry!"
Elise looked woe-begone indeed, for she realised that Azalea had, inall probability committed the fraud herself, and with a deliberateintention of deceiving her.
Azalea's own ignorance of the whole matter was so great, that it was notsurprising that she thought the mere alteration of the date would makethe sampler of greater value. But what broke Elise's heart was theknowledge of Azalea's wilful deception.
She thanked Mr. Greatorex for his explanations and, again asking hi
m notto mention the matter to any one at all, she put the sampler back in thedrawer and locked it up.
"Sold my sampler yet, Elise?" Azalea asked, when next they met.
"Yes; I bought it in myself," Elise replied. "I wanted it, so I boughtit. I haven't paid for it yet, for I want to know what you consider afair price?"
Elise looked Azalea straight in the eyes, and was not surprised to notethe rising colour in the cheeks of the Indian maiden.
"Why--why," Azalea stammered, "you said it was worth hundreds ofdollars--you said that yourself, Elise."
"That was before I knew of your own handiwork on the sampler."
"What do you mean?" cried Azalea, angrily.
"Just what I say. To the work on the sampler, you added a bit more,--orrather, you subtracted some!"