The Spectacle Man Part 2

"How do you do, Frances.-- Very well, Gladys, but I don't want you to worry me. You must play in the other room." Mrs. Bowen spoke in a languid tone, and returned to her book, but she looked up again to say, "That is a pretty dress you have on, Frances."

The child looked down at the red challis she wore, not knowing what reply to make.

"But you are stylish, as Gladys is, I am thankful to say," the lady continued. "You look well together, you are dark and she so fair."

"Come on," Gladys called impatiently from the door, and Frances followed, feeling that she ought to have said something to Mrs. Bowen.

"I'll show you Marguerite first; she's my handsomest doll. Uncle Jo gave her to me, and she cost twenty-five dollars."

Frances caught her breath at the idea of such a doll, but was a little disappointed when her hostess took from a drawer a fine lady, whose hair was done up in a French twist, and whose silk gown was made with a train. She was certainly very elegant, however, and her m.u.f.f and collar were _sure enough_ sealskin, as Gladys explained.

"She is beautiful, but I believe I like little girl dolls best," Frances said.

Gladys brought out others of all varieties and sizes, and while her visitor examined them, she herself talked on without a pause.

"Where did you get your name?" she asked.

Frances, who was adjusting a baby's cap, replied that she was named for her great-grandmother.

"Are you? How funny! Mamma named me for a lady in a book--Gladys Isabel. She doesn't like common names."

Frances wondered if Gladys thought her name common, and for a moment she wished she had been called something more romantic.

"There is a girl who lives here in the winter," continued the chatterbox, "whose name is Mathilde. Isn't that funny? It's French--and she has the loveliest clothes! I wish you could see her--she hasn't come yet. And just think! she has diamond earrings. Have you any diamonds?"

Frances shook her head, feeling very insignificant beside a girl with a French name and diamond earrings.

"I have a diamond ring, but mamma won't let me wear it all the time for fear I'll lose it," said Gladys. "Haven't you any rings?" and she glanced at the plump little hands of her guest.

"I have one, but it is too small for me now. I don't care very much for rings," was the reply.

"Don't you? I do. Mamma has ever so many. If you won't tell I'll tell you something," Gladys went on; "Uncle Jo is going to give me a party at Christmas, and if you are here I'll invite you. It is to be just like a grown-up party."

"Do you go to school?" Frances asked.

"Everyday school? Yes; but I don't like it. I haven't started yet."

"I think I'll have to go now," said Frances, rising; "I hope you will come to see me, Gladys. I have only one doll with me, but I have some games and books."

"I don't care for books, but I'll come; and if Mathilde is here maybe I'll bring her."

Frances went downstairs with a sober face. She had intended to tell Gladys the story of The Golden Doorway, and about the Spectacle Man, but she had not had a chance, and now she felt that these things would probably seem tame and uninteresting to a young person of such varied experience.

"Has my little girl had a good time?" Mrs. Morrison asked.

"Y-es, mother, Gladys has some of the prettiest dolls you ever saw, but they are too dressed up to have much fun with, and she didn't seem to want to play."

"Perhaps she doesn't know how to have a really good time, Wink; some persons don't."

"I know one thing; she hasn't a darling mother like you!" and Frances emphasized her words with an ardent hug.

"Very few have, Wink," remarked her father, coming in with his hands full of papers.

"Thank you both for your kind appreciation," said Mrs. Morrison, laughing. "What do you expect to find in those papers, Jack?"

"I am going to look up advertis.e.m.e.nts."

"What for, daddy?" Frances asked, dancing about on tiptoe.

"A place for you and mother while I run off and leave you. Listen to this: 'Wanted: Occupants for a small, partially furnished flat. All conveniences, terms reasonable. Apply at 432 Walnut Street.'"

"The Spectacle Man's! the Spectacle Man's!" cried Frances, clapping her hands. "Let's go there, it's lovely!"

"How do you know?" asked her father and mother in the same breath, and then she explained how he had written the advertis.e.m.e.nt while she was waiting for the storm to be over.

"Partially furnished--it might do. I mean, of course, if it is nice,"

said Mrs. Morrison.

"It is too far down town," objected her husband.

"Oh, father, no, it isn't! It is just a beautiful place, and the Spectacle Man will show me his Toby jugs and things, and there's the cat,--please let's go!"

"Of course if there is a Toby jug and a cat, there's nothing else to be desired," said Mr. Morrison, gravely, pinching the cheek of his enthusiastic daughter. However, he promised that bright and early next day they would go to look at this flat.

CHAPTER FOURTH

THEY LOOK AT A FLAT.

The house occupied by Mr. Clark the optician was old-fas.h.i.+oned and roomy; built in the days when ground was cheap and s.p.a.ce need not be economized. It belonged to his nephew, whose guardian he was, and some day, when the hard times were over, it was likely to be a valuable piece of property. At present it could be rented for little or nothing as a residence, and for this reason he had decided to live in it himself, taking the first floor and turning the second and third into flats.

The dignified old mansion had the air of having stepped back in disdain from the hurry and bustle of the street, preserving in its seclusion between the tall buildings on either side something of the leisurely atmosphere of other days.

The optician himself was quite in keeping with the house. He loved old things and old ways; his business methods were those of thirty years ago, and so perhaps were most of his patrons. There were still many persons who could remember the time when he had been joint proprietor of the largest jewellery store in the city, but times had changed. In some way he had been crowded out and half forgotten, much as the old house had been.

He kept the place in the best of order; the bit of lawn that lay between the house and the street was as thrifty and green as care could make it, and was a pleasant surprise when one came upon it unexpectedly, an oasis in the desert of brick pavement.

Frances' bright eyes had noticed, in pa.s.sing, the mammoth pair of spectacles swinging above the veranda, and so when she found Mrs. Gray, an old lady who had a room near theirs in the hotel, lamenting over her broken gla.s.ses, she had known where to take them.

The clock struck eleven as the Morrisons entered the shop next morning.

The sun shone cheerily in on the Spectacle Man, who was waiting upon a customer; and Peterkin, who had selected the brightest spot to be found, was making his toilet in an absorbed manner.

Mr. Clark bowed and smiled and asked them to be seated for a few minutes; but Frances, all impatience, could not think of keeping still, and, seeing the cat, was presently down on the floor beside him.

"Do you know, puss," she whispered, stroking him gently, "that maybe we are coming here to live?"