CHAPTER V
Mabel, hunting for Miss Gere in the big newspaper building, nearly diedof fright. Some repairs were being made, and the office force washuddled into a space about half large enough for it up on the fourthfloor. When Mabel finally reached the room, she was told that Miss Gerewas out but that she might wait at her desk. The desk was a small,disorderly table littered with papers swarming over, around and under abattered typewriter. She sat down and looked about. Young men,unattractive, harried looking young men with steely eyes hurried in,dropped down before tables just like Miss Gere's, pounded furiously ontypewriters, or consulted earnestly with a tall, thin man in shirtsleeves, who glared ferociously at their papers from the safe shadow ofhis green eye-shade. To Mabel, watching with all her might, this tallthin man seemed to be the only one who was not in a hurry. He listenedto everyone, sometimes to three or four at a time, answered questions,sent instructions down a telephone that Mabel rightly guessed connectedwith the printing rooms far below and seemed perfectly capable, asindeed he was, of keeping a thousand different lines of action going atonce. Mabel wondered who he was.
He was the City Editor, and already he knew about Mabel and had judgedher with one of the lightning glances hidden under the shade. The roomwas overheated, and Mabel, waiting as patiently as she could, commencedto grow drowsy. In a half dream, she saw herself entering the magicrailing which surrounded the tall man's desk. _She_ did not leanhectically over the rail and talk rapidly from the outside as did theyoung men reporters. No, Mabel, grown tall and slender and surpassinglybeautiful, walked _into_ the charmed circle, greeting her chief with aslow, faint smile. Then opening her hand-bag, and drawing off her gloveswhile she lazily watched the great man through her long drooping lashes,she proceeded to present a sheaf of papers written over closely in herfine neat hand. The lines of her beautiful rajah silk sport suit clungto her lovely figure as she modestly drew the chief's attention to someparticular statement. Stubby Mabel, in her plain, serviceable schooldress, sitting unnoticed at Miss Gere's table, was thrilled at the sightof herself! As the dream-Mabel finished her interview with the CityEditor and rose, she said in response to his enthusiastic praise of herwork, "Thanks so much!"
The real Mabel was frozen with horror to hear herself actually speak thewords! For a moment she assured herself that she had imagined that too,but a wild-looking, oldish man banging furiously on the typewriter onthe next table turned and stared at her and said, "Huh?" in anabsent-minded way.
"Nothing, sir," said Mabel in a flustered voice, not at all the voice ofthe dream-Mabel who had wholly disappeared. The real Mabel sat verystill and red until Miss Gere came in.
Miss Gere was not at all what Mabel thought a Society Editor should be.The lady slouched in, a fedora hat pulled low over her eyes giving hervery much the general appearance of the City Editor. A long, full ulsterhung uncertainly from her thin shoulders, and its deep pockets bulgedwith scrap paper. Her beautiful, delicate hands were quite grubby on theknuckles. When she entered, she smiled a brilliant, transforming smilethat seemed to embrace everyone in the room. All the hurried young menfelt it and beamed in return; the City Editor turned his green eye-shadein her direction, and the frantic typist beside Mabel stopped longenough to flap a thin paw in her direction.
She threaded her way slowly across the room, shaking her head as Mabelrose and offered her the chair she was occupying, and sat down inanother. She pushed back her hat.
"You are prompt," she said. "I didn't expect you would come today,though your mother said you would. She says you are very anxious for anewspaper career. Well, you must be willing to do a good deal of hardwork." She turned first one and then the other grubby hand over andstudied her perfectly kept nails. Mabel, fascinated, watched her everymovement.
"I told your mother it was dollars to doughnuts that you wouldn't stickit out a month, but she seems to think you will. Of course if you haveactually gone to the length of leaving home and all that, why, you_must_ be in earnest. Do you know anything at all about reporting?"
"A little," said Mabel. "I have reported for the _High School Clarion_."
A smile flitted across Miss Gere's thin, eager face. She did not seem asdeeply impressed as she might have been. Mabel hastened on.
"I write a good deal by myself," she said. "I can bring you some poemsand sketches that I have done."
"It won't be necessary," said Miss Gere hastily, "although I am surethey are well worth reading. I will start you on something easy. You areto be my assistant, you know. All these men around here are reporterstoo, and that big man is our City Editor. Bring what you write to mebecause he doesn't want to know that you are on earth. I have a full daytomorrow and you may cover the business meeting at the Red Cross Rooms,and then you may call up the women on this list, and ask them to giveyou some details about the entertainments they are giving. Bring in anice little story about all this, and I will give you furtherdirections when I see you. You may call some of these ladies up tonight.Use all sorts of tact."
She passed a slip of paper to Mabel bearing a typewritten list ofwell-known names. Mabel took it, and guessing from Miss Gere'spreoccupied manner that the interview was at an end reluctantly passedout.
Reaching the street, she dropped the humble air that she had worn in theoffice and, feeling like a conqueror, turned toward her new home. Herthoughts were all of Miss Gere. How gloriously, fascinatingly thin shewas! Mabel unfastened her coat. Perhaps she would look thinner if hercoat flopped.
Then she heard her name called.
A big car was crawling along the curb, and from the limousine ClaireMaslin and Rosanna Horton called her name again. The car stopped and inresponse to a word from his young mistress the Chinaman stepped down andopened the door.
"Let us take you home," said Claire in her deep, drawling voice. Mabelentered and seated herself, smiling.
"I have just been down making arrangements to begin my newspapercareer," she said. "I think every young writer should spend a certaintime on newspaper work. It is such good practice, and one learns so muchabout Life."
"Dear me!" said Rosanna. "What do you mean, Mabel? Is your mother goingto let you do newspaper reporting?"
"She is perfectly willing for me to do whatever I feel I ought to do,"said Mabel loftily. "Mother and I have had a good talk, and I find sheis a great deal broader than I feared she would be. The fact is I haveleft home and have started on a career. I have a charming little box ofa place where you must look me up."
"Splendid!" said Claire, clapping her gloved hands lightly. "I shalltell my father, and see what he says. I am always begging him to let mego away and live my life as I want to live it."
"But, Mabel!" gasped Rosanna in horror. "You can't do anything likethat. You are only a little girl! You _can't_ go off and live byyourself. Why, you just can't! And, besides, you know the loyalty andservice a Girl Scout owes to her mother. I don't see how you can _think_of such a thing. I am sure you must be joking."
Mabel's face flushed deeply. "You don't understand at all, Rosanna," shesaid stiffly. "What might be right for one is not right for another. Youknow the Captain herself told me to live for myself alone and see how itwould work out, and it is working out wonderfully. I shall reportSaturday night at the meeting that it is a great success."
"Oh, dear, _dear_!" cried Rosanna. "I know she did not mean to haveanything like this happen. Oh, Mabel, you _must_ go back home!"
"I think she is right," said Claire.
"Certainly I am right," Mabel declared. "My apartment is around the nextcorner, Claire, number 112, if you will drop me there."
The girls were quite silent as Mabel indicated the apartment house andsaid good-bye, asking them both to come to see her. As they drove off,Claire was smiling and Rosanna was very grave.
"I wonder how she will come out," said Claire, as they turned towardRosanna's house.
"It is perfectly _awful_!" exclaimed Rosanna.
"She says the Captain told her to," said Claire.
"I know she never meant her to go so far," wailed Rosanna. "Well, Ishall tell her when I go home, and she will know what to do. Cita nevermakes a mistake."
"Cita?" said Claire. "That is Spanish."
"Yes," said Rosanna, smiling. "When she married my Uncle Robert sheseemed so tiny and so dimply and young to be married to anyone that Itold her that I meant to call her Cita. Why, I couldn't say _Aunt_! Andshe _is_ Cita. She is dear. That is what it means."
"I know," said Claire. "She is a dear, I can agree with you there. Ilike her as well as I ever like anyone."
"Don't you _love_ your friends?" asked Rosanna wistfully. This strangegreen-eyed girl, so cold and so reserved, made her feel sad.
"I have no friends," replied Claire indifferently.
"Well, you will make a lot of friends here in Louisville," Rosannaassured her, smiling.
"No," said Claire. The car stopped before Rosanna's house.
"Oh, yes!" insisted Rosanna as she stood at the curb. "You see you willwant friends when you grow up. Every girl does."
"Not I," said Claire, shaking her head. "I shall need no friends. IndeedI shall _want_ no friends at the place I am going to when I grow up."
She dropped back against the cushions as though she was suddenly verytired and Rosanna, forgetting to move, watched the luxurious car bearits beautiful young owner away.
"Oh, dear!" sighed Rosanna finally, and with dragging feet went into thehouse to find Cita. But she was out, and Rosanna, puzzled anddistressed, went to her own pleasant room, and curling up on a big divantried to solve the new Scout's mysterious words. She forgot all aboutMiss Brewster, who at that moment, also curled up on a divan in her newapartment, had just happened to think that she was growing hungry andwould have to get her own supper. She hurried out to the ice-chest andfound it empty with the exception of three large, violent looking greenpickles on a plate. Mabel bit one. It was very, very sour. Grabbing herpocketbook, she hurried down to the nearest grocery and bought a loaf ofbread, a pound of butter, some cold boiled ham, a glass of orangemarmalade and a package of shredded wheat. With these packages in hand,she retraced her steps, the almost empty pocketbook swinging from herhand.
Supper was queer and not very cheerful, but Mabel knew that she wouldfind it strange at first and the thought that part of her work laybefore her that very night kept her spirits up. She had her telephoningto do.
She did not wash the cup and plate, but left them on the table to do inthe morning. She was on her way to the telephone when the ringing of thebell made her jump. She seized the receiver. Mrs. Horton, the ScoutCaptain, was speaking.
"I have just heard the news, Mabel," she said pleasantly. "Isn't itwonderful? And you are really going to try out my experiment? It iswonderful to be able to live for yourself alone, isn't it? Nearly alwayswe have duties that hold us back, and I know you are too good a Scout todisregard any of yours, but of course your mother has Frank, and he is_so_ devoted to her that it really leaves you free. She says he alwayshelps her as though he was a girl. I called you up to suggest that aslong as you are making such a real test that it would be well topostpone the report you were going to bring to the meeting."
"I think so too," Mabel agreed hastily. "I know it will be a success,and if I can prove that girls are able to do for themselves, withouthaving to do all sorts of other things like practicing and helping, atthe same time, it will be a great thing for girls. Don't you think so?"
"I do indeed," Mrs. Horton assured her. "And just _think_ what it willmean for mothers! They will be so free. As it is now, your mother, forinstance, feels as though she ought to look after you and see that youhave good clothes to wear to school and good food to eat, and she wantsto fix a pretty room for you, and because you are studying andpracticing she does a lot of darning for you and all that sort of thing,and probably she makes most of your dresses because they cost so much tobuy these hard times.
"Why, by the time she has done all this, and has looked after you whenyou are ill, she has no time for herself. I called your mother up to getyour address, and she seemed so pleased with everything. She said withFrank to help her, she was going to be able to do so much that she hasbeen wanting to do ever since you were a baby. She and Frank are goingto the theatre tonight, and tomorrow she is going to begin designing forthat big firm on Fourth Street. I suppose she told you about it?" sheadded.
"No, she didn't," said Mabel, rather embarrassed to hear in this way ofher own mother's plans.
"We were so busy today that we didn't get time to say much."
"Well, I am glad to be able to tell you good news," said the littleCaptain cheerily. "It will be so much off your mind to be able to go tosleep tonight and be sure that things are working out right. I think youare so brave, Mabel. I never would have the courage to do what you aredoing, even though I am quite grown up. And you are really only a littlegirl in years."
"But I feel old in experience," sighed Mabel. She thought she heard asoft giggle at the other end of the wire, but at once Mrs. Hortoncoughed rather loudly and Mabel knew she was mistaken.
"That makes such a difference," said the Captain. "For my part, I am a_perfect goose_. I would be so lonesome and afraid there where you are,and I would rather do any amount of mending and dishes rather than godown and work in a stuffy newspaper office and beg a lot of women foritems about their silly affairs. Yes, you are really very brave. Youmust call me once in awhile and let me know how you are progressing. Andyou need not come to the Scout meetings for awhile if you are busy. Iwill excuse you. I will explain to the girls just what you are doing tohelp them all. Good-night! Oh, your mother said for me to tell yougood-night for her too as she was rushing off to the theatre, so thereare two good-nights for you, Mabel dear. Good luck, and I hope you willfind time to ask me over to tea with you some afternoon."
"Indeed I will!" said Mabel. "Good-night!"
She turned from the receiver. Suddenly she felt very small and young,and the pretty rooms were stiller than the rooms at home somehow.
The subject for a poem flashed into her mind. And quick as a wink shemade up the first verse
"Alone, alone, the world before me. What is this I leave behind? Happiness and heat and mother; All to train my wondrous mind."
Somehow _heat_ did not sound very poetical, but the apartment wascertainly freezing cold.