Polly and Her Friends Abroad Part 21

"What happened when you learned about the t.i.tle, Maggie?" asked Mr.

Alexander, unusually gay over the information.

"Why, I just told Jimmy Osgood that I wouldn't _take_ him to Paris in my new car, if that was the case. I think they might have told me how such matters were conducted in England, then I might have spared all my time in planning as I did." Mrs. Alexander's voice plainly expressed the disapproval she felt at keeping her in ignorance of the methods of Burke.

Her hearers managed to keep straight faces, however, and waited until the Count said good-day. Then they all went upstairs to plan about the tour in Europe.

"I invited Count Chalmys to accept the empty seat beside me in my new roadster," ventured Mrs. Alexander.

"You did!" gasped Dodo, unbelievingly.

"But he refused, didn't he?" said Nancy, confidently.

"Oh no! he said he'd be delighted. He planned to go home to his castle, soon, and he said you-all were going to visit him there; so he felt he might accept my invitation to tour with me, as long as we were to be all in one party," explained Mrs. Alexander, greatly pleased with the outcome of her meeting with the Count.

Dodo groaned, and her friends smiled in sympathy, for they understood the reason of Mrs. Alexander's sudden interest in an Italian Count.

"When do you propose to start on this tour?" asked the lady, after a few moments of silence.

"Right away-tomorrow!" declared Dodo, angrily.

"Oh! surely not before we buy some nice gowns and things to wear?" cried her mother, tragically.

"Yes, at once! _I_ don't want any new clothes!" snapped Dodo.

"But, my child! What about that trooso chest. It ought to be filled, you know, to be ready to send home," reminded the mother.

"Oh, I gave that chest away for a birthday gift," said Dodo, indifferently.

"Gave it away! Why-what for?" gasped Mrs. Alexander.

"I didn't want it, and it was my very own-you said so."

As that was true, nothing more was said about the chest, at the time, but nothing could stop Mrs. Alexander from planning and scheming about her daughter's future. As the other girls and Mrs. Fabian said nothing about shopping, but preferred waiting until they returned to Paris again, it was decided that they would start on the trip the following day. That evening was devoted to studying a road-map and selecting an itinerary.

Mr. Alexander had but one desire in the matter, and that began and ended with the first lap of the drive. "I want to see the war-zone, where our boys fit them Germans. I hear 'em tell in the hotel lobby, that the roads are fair all through them battle fields like Verdun, on the Somme, and others. So I want to drive there, and then, afterwards, you can do what you-all like on this tour with me as chauffeur."

"Oh, we _all_ want to pa.s.s through those famous places, too, so that is settled," exclaimed Nancy Fabian, glancing at her friends for approval of this plan.

"All right. Put that down on your paper, Professor," advised Mr.

Alexander; then he leaned back and sighed as if he had done all that was expected of him.

After several hours of planning and writing, the route was mapped out, and the group felt that it was as good as any ever made by a number of tourists.

It was noon the next day before the party really started on its way, as the Count failed to appear on time, and an hour was lost in trying to get him on a telephone. When he did appear, he had a gorgeous bouquet of hothouse flowers for Mrs. Alexander, and a huge box of bon-bons for the girls.

That afternoon they drove over the famous sector where millions fought and fell for a Principle, in the greatest mortal combat the world has ever witnessed. After seeing the ruins the war made of Verdun, as well as of other villages, Mr. Alexander drove to Reims. Here they found quarters for the night, and waited to visit the cathedral in the morning.

From Reims they went through St. Quentin, and on to Boulogne. That night they stopped at a quaint inn in Normandy. The ancient hostelry was but two stories high, with upper windows overlooking a wonderful garden. The high stone wall that enclosed this garden had niches, every so often, in the thick wall.

Mr. Fabian spoke excellent French, and the other members in the party understood everything that was said, so all enjoyed the conversation that now took place.

"Have you been owner of this Inn very long?" asked Mr. Fabian, courteously.

"All my life, and my father and grandfather before me," was the unexpected reply.

"Then you can tell me if this is an old house, or only modelled after the old style."

"Ah!" breathed the old man, softly. "It ees so old that my grandfather knew not when it was built. It ees the gate-house of a convent that formerly was famous. When it was abandoned, because of the Order being abolished by law, my grandfather was left to supervise the work.

"He bought the property when it was sold, and since then his descendants have lived here. With the old stone gate-house this garden patch was included, but all the other buildings were razed and the land sold."

"How interesting," remarked Mr. Fabian. "Then that old garden was really part of the original convent grounds?"

"Yes, and those niches you see in the wall held statues and holy figures at one time. Some of them were carved by well-known men about here. I found several of them buried in the garden when I turned up the soil for my father. I was but a boy, then, and I remember he took them away and put them in the attic."

The old host then showed the guests to their various rooms and left them to wash and dress for the evening meal. Polly stood gazing from her window for a time, picturing the life of past days in that garden, when Eleanor exclaimed suddenly and called to her.

"Just look at this heavy walnut bed. It has the most marvellous carvings on its head and foot boards."

After examining the figures carved on the wood, Polly went to the toilet-stand and poured some water from a heavy ewer into the stoneware basin. As she was about to place the ewer on the tiled floor beside the stand, she saw the carved panels that formed the sides of the stand.

"Nolla! Do help me move this heavy stand out to the light-I verily believe it is an antique!" cried she.

Having satisfied themselves that the panels were genuine old pieces, they ran to Mr. Fabian's room and called him forth. He examined the stand and the bed, and some of the old stoneware pieces in the room, and sighed. "We've stumbled over a veritable Mecca of antiques, girls," said he.

That night after supper, Mr. Fabian led the host to tell of how he acquired the pieces of furniture. And the result of that talk was the purchase of the stand, the bed, and many smaller pieces of stoneware and odd furnishings that had been replevined from the convent building, generations before. Even the few statues that had been stored in the low attic of the Inn were sold to the Americans; and the old couple were made happy at the knowledge that, at last, they were provided for in old age, through the sale of the objects that they could readily do without.

The Count was made supremely happy with the purchase of a holy picture which he declared was from the brush of an old master. And Mrs.

Alexander smiled contentedly because the Count was so kind and chivalrous to her.

A group of humble peasants gathered, the following morning, to wish the tourists G.o.d-speed, for the entire village had heard of the good fortune that had come to their old friends at the Inn. When a few furlongs farther on from the Inn, Mr. Fabian read a sign that said "To Abbeville," he said aloud, "Well, of all things! We stopped at that famous old convent spot and never knew it, until this minute."

From Boulogne, where they wired Mr. Ashby about the bed and other articles they had secured, they drove to Ostend. Thence to Bruges, where Mr. Fabian showed the girls the famous Belfry that is three hundred and fifty feet high. The quaint irregular houses in the streets of the town were duly admired and snapshots taken of them by Dodo; then the two cars started for Antwerp.

Along the road, and in the villages they pa.s.sed through, most of the peasants wore wooden shoes. One woman was seen driving a tiny milk-cart that was drawn by a large dog. The tourists stopped for a drink of the rich milk, and Mrs. Fabian noticed the bit of priceless Flemish lace pinned upon the peasant's head.

"How much do you want for that piece of lace, my good woman?" asked she, eagerly.

But the woman shook her head and smiled, saying: "My family lace.

Gran'mudder make it."

Antwerp still displayed the scars left by the German occupation, so the tourists decided not to tarry there very long.

"When I see these things, I feel like I want to war all over again,"

exclaimed Mr. Alexander.

Late that night they entered Rotterdam, and there found a fine Inn and a hearty dinner awaiting them. Having replenished the inner being, they started out to see the town by night.

"I don't see much use in remaining for a day in Rotterdam, girls,"