"I don't doubt it at all," said Mrs. Brewster. She left the room and Mabel continued the train of pleasant thought. She made no move to help about supper, and Mrs. Brewster did not call her. Remembering that the girl she had read about was accustomed to sit at her piano and compose most beautiful melodies whenever she was disturbed or wanted to soothe herself, Mabel went to the piano and, putting a firm foot on the forbidden loud pedal, broke into what she fondly told herself were crashing chords palpitating with the suppressed passion of her breaking heart. The sounds thrilled her, and she continued until interrupted by a roar from Frank who was doing his algebra at the kitchen table.
"Aw, Mabe, have a heart and quit that noise, will you?" he begged.
His rudeness broke the spell. Mabel rose and started to sweep haughtily toward the stairs. She would retire to the sanctuary of her own room and brood! But before she reached the door she heard her mother call, "Supper is ready!"
Mabel did not hesitate. She remembered the Parker House rolls and hurried into the dining-room. The rolls were there, and it was well worth postponing a "brood" for them. Mrs. Brewster was unusually silent and Frank watched her anxiously until, catching her eye, she nodded and flashed a quick look toward her abstracted daughter. At the close of the meal Mabel said with what sounded to Frank perilously like kindly meant condescension, "That was a delicious little supper, mamma," and receiving a meek but fervent, "Thank you so much, dear," from her mother Mabel went straightway to her own room and closed the door between herself and her unappreciative family.
The sound of that door was a signal for Frank to explode.
But Mrs. Brewster laid a soft hand over his rebellious mouth.
"Softly, softly, dear!" she begged. "I want you to be as patient as you can. If _you_ were on the wrong path somehow or other, you would be glad to be turned back where there was safer going, wouldn't you? Well, Mabel must work this thing out for her own good. You and I cannot tell how she will come out of it, because after all her soul is her own, and she knows it better than we do. But we have faith in her, sonny dear, don't forget that, and we believe she is a dear daughter and sister, who really loves us with all her heart."
"Yah, she acts it!" scoffed Frank, the unbeliever.
"Give her time, dear," said Mrs. Brewster. "Please be patient. I am going to do some telephoning now, and if you hurry with your algebra and finish that history lesson, we will go to the movies. There is a good play at the Strand tonight."
"I can do that all right," said Frank, and after his mother had gone to the telephone he rushed the dishes out into the kitchen, stacked them neatly, and was buried in his book when his mother returned, a look of amusement rather mixed with worry on her pleasant, wholesome face.
The result of the telephone talk was an astounding offer from Mrs.
Brewster to meet Mabel when that young lady left school next day. Mrs.
Brewster was waiting for her daughter at the door of the High School, and as they started slowly down the street, Mrs. Brewster said, "You know the girl you were telling me about last night? I mean the one who broke away and lived by herself and freed her soul and all that?"
Mabel nodded. Was her mother going to lecture her?
"I don't want to stand in your light, Mabel, and some day suffer all kinds of remorse when I remember that I was the one who held you back just because I am old-fashioned and happen to think that home is the place for a young girl to grow up in, a place where she can have her mother's care and guidance and all that. No, I just can't do it! I want to give you a good start if you still feel that you want to take it.
Something came up today that looked exactly like what you wanted, and I snatched at the chance. At least until you decide. Of course I could not decide for you."
"What is it?" asked Mabel cautiously.
"It seems quite wonderful," said Mrs. Brewster. "You know that ducky little apartment the Kents have right under Grandmother Brewster's? They are going away for the next six months, and want someone to live there and take care of it."
"And we are going to live there?" cried Mabel delightedly. "Oh, I am so glad! I am so sick of our house, it is so out of date, mamma, and on such a side street! What will you do--shut it up or rent it?"
"Don't go so fast, Mabel. You say yourself you can't expand your soul when Frank and I are around. I should think not! We will live just where we are, and if you like _you_ can have the flat all to yourself. I was there this morning. There is the sweetest kitchenette, with everything in it, and the dearest living-room and dining-room combined and, Mabel, _wait_ until you see the bed-room! It will be a lot to keep clean. I certainly was lucky this morning. Just as I was coming home I met Marian Gere, who does society for the _Times-Leader_, and she is looking for an assistant, and simply snapped at the chance of having your help. I said you could help her after school hours until the end of this term, and after that you could give all your time, because I did not feel that I could ask any girl to stay in school who was as talented as you feel you are. And she said I was very sensible to let you try your wings. _Try your wings._ Don't you think that a sweet expression? I remembered it because I thought perhaps you could use it in your writing some time."
Mrs. Brewster paused for breath.
Mabel was looking rather wild-eyed. Things seemed to be happening rather rapidly. Was it possible that all her cherished dreams were to be realized, and at once?
Her mother had the key to the little playhouse apartment, the owner having departed, and Mabel looked it over and over with actual cold chills of delight coursing down her spine.
"I wouldn't tell Grandmother Brewster for a while about being here,"
suggested Mrs. Brewster. "She might think you needed looking after," and Mabel agreed.
"When will you come over?"
"Oh, today!" cried Mabel. "And I think I will go down right now and see Miss Gere."
"Very well, and I will go home and pack a few things for you. I think I would just take a hand-bag now, and later you will know exactly what you will need. There is not much closet space in the apartment. And of course Frank and I will hope to see you occasionally. But we will understand if you don't come home often, because you will be working pretty hard to earn your living, even with such a good start. It is lucky that you can get this lovely place to live in rent free. Later I suppose you will not care what you have to pay, but now it will be a help. And you will find that groceries are pretty high."
Mrs. Brewster nodded a gay good-bye as the car approached, and left Mabel walking down Third Street on her way to the _Times-Leader_. A few blocks on her way she overtook Jane and Estella arm in arm as usual.
Mabel gave her braid a flirt and unconsciously puffed out her chest.
"Where away, Mabel?" chirruped little Estella, twinkling. In a rush of words Mabel told her tale while the girls listened in speechless amazement.
"You don't mean to say that you have really _left home_?" demanded Estella. There was no chirp in her voice now, no twinkle in her face.
She looked absolutely shocked.
"I leave tonight," said Mabel, "soon as I settle my salary with Miss Gere. I am _wild_ to be free! It is going to be wonderful, perfectly wonderful! I expect to write something grand. Just think, no one to disturb me; no housework, no practicing! Oh, how my mind will soar!"
"Are you going to keep a maid?" asked Jane feebly. "You said no housework."
"Well, it won't be like the housework at home," declared Mabel. "That is the dustiest old place! It won't take me a minute to put everything in order at my apartment."
"But your mother!" almost wailed Estella. "How can you leave your mother? I can't bear to leave mine for all day even."
"Mothers are different," said Mabel sadly. "Mamma is sweet, of course, but she does not understand me. We are better apart; I feel it."
"Well, of all things!" said Jane slowly. "I am glad _my_ soul doesn't have to have things done for it. I don't remember much of the time that I have one, and you couldn't _hire_ me to leave home."
"You don't understand," said Mabel loftily. "One must do what seems right to one's own self. I am doing that, and I shall be rewarded. Come and see me sometimes, girls. I shall be very busy, but never too busy to receive my old Girl Scout friends."
She nodded, and struck into a quicker pace which carried her ahead of the two girls.
"Well, I think that is perfectly awful, don't you, Jane?" demanded little Estella, looking at the broad, retreating back.
"Simply dreadful!" murmured Jane, shocked and wondering.
"What do you suppose has got into Mabel? Do you suppose it is possible that her mother is actually letting her do it, or is she running away or something awful?"
"Oh, Jane, do you remember what the Captain told her to do at the last meeting? Oh, oh, what _will_ the Captain say when she hears about this?
She will feel awfully. Why, she never, never meant Mabel to actually leave her mother and go off and do dreadful things! I don't see how Mabel can bear it! And it will make our little Captain feel awfully!"
"Says she is going to live all alone, and work on the newspaper. Just like being an orphan. Get her own meals and everything. I couldn't stand it," said Jane.
They stared after the distant figure. They did not approve.
"But, of course," said Estella suddenly, "we must not be too hard on Mabel. You know she writes real poetry. Perhaps that is what ails her.
We mustn't forget that."
"No," said Jane pityingly, "we mustn't forget _that_."
CHAPTER V
Mabel, hunting for Miss Gere in the big newspaper building, nearly died of fright. Some repairs were being made, and the office force was huddled into a space about half large enough for it up on the fourth floor. When Mabel finally reached the room, she was told that Miss Gere was out but that she might wait at her desk. The desk was a small, disorderly table littered with papers swarming over, around and under a battered 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 on typewriters, or consulted earnestly with a tall, thin man in shirt sleeves, who glared ferociously at their papers from the safe shadow of his green eye-shade. To Mabel, watching with all her might, this tall thin man seemed to be the only one who was not in a hurry. He listened to everyone, sometimes to three or four at a time, answered questions, sent instructions down a telephone that Mabel rightly guessed connected with the printing rooms far below and seemed perfectly capable, as indeed he was, of keeping a thousand different lines of action going at once. Mabel wondered who he was.