CHAPTER VI
AT THE STUDIO
"Good-bye, good-bye!" they cried to Lester, "and thank you, oh thank you, but we must hurry!"
Lester waved his cap to them, and then raced down the avenue.
Then, treading softly, they ran along the little path, past the holly-hocks, and—the little green door was closed.
"Oh, Rose!" gasped Polly, but Rose had grasped the knob, and found that while the door looked to be closed, it had only been swung to with the breeze.
She pushed it open, and noiselessly they entered.
Softly they crept across the floor, Polly clinging to Rose's hand, and when they had reached the little divan, they sat down, and for a moment, neither spoke.
They still clasped hands, and when Polly looked toward the doorway that led into the large studio, Rose looked that way too.
From where they sat, they could not see either the painter or his model.
Polly leaned toward Rose.
"Doesn't he EVER talk when he's painting?" she whispered.
Rose shook her head.
"I 'most always bring a book with me, and while Aunt Lois is posing, I read stories," she whispered in reply.
Then for a time neither spoke.
The old clock out in that other room ticked to prove that all was not silent, but it made the waiting children more lonely.
They could not see its face, but after what seemed a long time, it chimed a single note.
"Oh, dear! That's only a half hour. I thought it was going to strike," whispered Rose, "and then we'd have known what time it was."
"Don't you dare to go in there, just a little way, and peep at the clock? It's just around the corner," whispered Polly.
"I promised we wouldn't disturb him while he was painting," whispered Rose, "but I do b'lieve I'll have to soon. I'm just wild to see if he's beginning to put away his paints."
"There isn't the least sound as if he was putting away ANYTHING," said
Polly.
"I'll just HAVE to look," said Rose, whispering as softly as before. "We're awfully tired waiting, and keeping so still. It will help some to know what time it is, and if he sees me looking at the clock, perhaps he'll say he's 'MOST ready to stop painting."
She slipped from the divan, and tip-toed to the doorway, pushed the heavy hanging aside just enough to permit her to pass through. The portiere dropped heavily behind her, and Polly listened—listened.
"Oh, I hope he won't be angry. He ought not to after we've waited so long, but he's a great artist, and I s'pose Rose is disturbing him. I hope he won't scold. I didn't really tell her to go in and look at the clock, but I didn't tell her NOT to," thought Polly.
"Why DOESN'T she come back?" she whispered, a second after, when, as if in answer, the portiere was pushed aside, and Rose, a very frightened little Rose, hurried to Polly, her eyes startled, and her cheeks pale.
"He isn't there! Aunt Lois isn't there! We're alone in this studio, and I'd rather be alone ANYWHERE than here!" she cried, and they shuddered when the vacant rooms echoed her voice.
"But we don't have to STAY here!" cried Polly, "come! It's getting late, and we must hurry, or we'll be afraid to go down the streets alone."
"We CAN'T go!" cried Rose, "that's just the horrid part of it!"
"WHY can't we?"
As she asked the question Polly sprang to her feet, and clasping Rose's hand, drew her toward the door.
"It's no use, Polly," said Rose, "We CAN'T go home, because I don't know the way!"
Polly stared at her for a second in surprise.
"Why you've been here before with your Aunt Lois," she said.
"I know I have," Rose replied, "but I haven't noticed just how we came. It's a long walk, and don't you remember how many different streets we turned into, before we got here? I tell you truly, Polly, I don't know the FIRST THING about going home!"
"Then we must wait here 'til they come for us," said Polly, "Oh hark!
What was that?"
Together they sank upon the little divan, and now they spoke only in whispers.
"I don't know what the noise was, but it was in that other room. When I had looked at the clock, and I turned to come back, I HAD to pass the big suit of armor. Polly, I knew there wasn't anyone in it, but all the same I thought its eyeholes looked at me!"
"Oh—o—o! Didn't that sound as if his iron glove rattled against his shield?" was Polly's startled whisper.
"It's that, or—he's—WALKING!" gasped Rose.
The two terrified children clung to each other. They stared toward the large doorway, and their breath came faster.
Did the portiere sway?
No, it hung straight from its pole, but beyond, in that other room; was anyone moving about in there?
They hardly dared breathe.
At last Rose whispered, turning that her words might reach Polly's ear.
"It's still in there now," she said, "and don't you think—"
She did not finish the question, for, at that moment, something creaked, and slipped to the floor, rolling evidently until it must have met another object that stopped it.
"There wasn't a single sound here when it was bright daylight, and Mr. Kirtland was busy painting. Why DO the things in his studio ACT so when he's away?" said Polly.
"It's as if they knew we were here, and just wanted to scare us," whispered Rose.
Frightened, hungry, weary, and nervously staring into that shadowy doorway, they waited—waited hoping that someone might come before anything happened to make their terror greater.
At the great house on the avenue, there was wild excitement. At the end of the sitting, Aunt Lois had gone to the little room, expecting to find two tired children who would be eager to go home. The sitting had been longer than usual, and she would reward them for their patience by stopping at the confectioner's on the way home and purchasing some fine candy for them.
"I am to come to you again on Thursday," she said. "Very well, I will try to be prompt. The children must be tired of waiting. If you are willing, I'll bid you 'Good afternoon' here, and go out by the side door with them."
Without waiting for him to reply, she had hastened to the smaller room, only to find that it was empty.
She was not at all frightened.
Her first thought was that the long afternoon had been tedious, and they had gone home.
"I shall find them on the piazza waiting for me," she said. "Rose would have asked if she might go, but I had told her not to interrupt while he was painting."
Gentle Aunt Lois had no thought of being angry. Instead, she was sorry that the hours had dragged so heavily for Rose and Polly.
She purchased two fine boxes of candy, smiling as she walked along with her parcel, that was to be a surprise.
She walked slowly because she was very tired. She wondered that Rose did not run to greet her.
"Where are the children?" she asked, as the maid opened the door.
"Sure, they've not been home since they went out with you," said the maid.
Aunt Lois sank on the great hall chair, and the frightened maid thought that she was ill.
"Are ye faint, mum?" she asked, "an' will I be gettin' ye a glass o' water?"
"Call the coachman," said Aunt Lois.
"Sure, I don't want to be bold with advice, but I'd not like ter see ye goin' out fer a ride feelin' like ye do now. I'd think—"
"GET the coachman!" said Aunt Lois, and the girl, now thoroughly frightened, did as she was bid.
Nora ran at top speed to the stable, crying, as she reached the door:
"Oh, John, John! Miss Lois is come home, an' she's talkin' o' goin' right out ter ride, an' her sick, an' she wants ye ter come to her in the hall now, an' me not knowin' what ter do, at all!"
"Hi! Now calm down like a good lass, and tell a man what you need. I can't make sense out of what you said. Now, then?"
"Oh, come in, come in!" cried Nora, and turning, she ran toward the house, the coachman following, muttering something about girls never having their wits about them.
But when he reached the house, and heard that Rose and charming little Princess Polly were missing, his kindly face looked very serious, and he promised to get help and make a thorough search of the town.
He called the gardener and a boy who had been helping him, and then came the question as to where to look first.
In the street some boys were playing ball, among them, Lester Jenks.
"It might be that they were around the neighborhood, but haven't yet come home," ventured the gardener.
"That's not likely," said the coachman, "but we might ask a few questions of those boys.
"Hi, there, boys! Have you seen Rose, or her friend Polly around here this afternoon?'
"They went down town with Rose's aunt to Mr. Kirtland's studio," shouted
Lester. "Here, Jack, pitch decently, will you?"
"Look here, young feller! This ain't no joke. Quit playin' ball long 'nough ter hear what I say. They're lost, those two little girls are. They haven't come home!"
"I saw 'em down there, when I was there, and I left them there, in the little yard when I came home."
"When was that?" said John.
"Oh, 'bout six, I guess," said Lester. "I don't know exactly."
The coachman hurried to the house.
"If ye please, 'm, the Jenks boy says he saw them out in the little garden that joins the studio at about six. It's about half past six, or so, now, 'm, an' ye've just reached home. I can't make out how ye missed them, but I think I'll go over ter Mr. Kirtland's house, and if he isn't out ter some reception, like he often is, I'll ask the loan of his key, and with the gardener, I'll hunt there first. I believe they're there."
Aunt Lois, now really wild with anxiety, could only say: "Go, at once.
Go somewhere, do something, to find them. See! It is getting dusky.
Wherever they are, they are frightened, I know, and surely I am almost
sick with fear for their safety."
Mr. Kirtland was at home, and while he could not believe the children were in his studio, he felt that no place should be neglected in the effort to find them, and he insisted upon joining the searching party.
Meanwhile, in the studio the dusky shadows had grown deeper. The two terrified little girls had begun to wonder if anyone would ever come for them.
They still clung to each other, and for some time not a sound had broken the stillness. Naught save the ticking of the clock, and that did not startle them, but, rather, by its monotonous tune, seemed like a friend that sought to cheer them.
Not even a team passed, and no footstep upon the sidewalk told of a pedestrian who walked by the building.
"If you heard someone walk past this place would you wish he'd stop, or would you wish he wouldn't?" whispered Rose.
"I'd hate to hear him go right by without stopping, because I'd know he wasn't coming to take us home, but if he stopped I'd be scared!" whispered Polly.
"Hark!"
Rose grasped Polly's arm.
"It's in THERE! It's in THERE!" they shrieked, as if with one voice, then in a frightened little heap they slipped to the floor and tried to draw the rug over them to hide and shield them from they knew not what!
Suddenly both rooms were flooded with light, and a familiar voice spoke.
"They're not here, you see; I felt sure that they could not be in the studio. We must search elsewhere, and lose no time about it."
It was Arthur Kirtland's voice, and scrambling to their feet, they ran to greet him, all fear left behind.
"Oh, Mr. Kirtland, we ARE here," cried Rose.
"And we've been here just almost FOREVER," Polly added.
"And, oh, here's John!" cried Rose. "Now we can go home!"
"I think ye can, bein's yer Aunt Lois thinks ye're both lost, and no knowin' whether we'll find ye or not. Ye better be tellin' Mr. Kirtland how it is ye are here after he'd thought the place empty, and he'd locked it up, an' gone home."
Quickly they told the story of their trip to the ice cream parlor, and of their late return, finding entrance by the little green door.
Of the lonely waiting, of the noises that had frightened them.
"Oh, Mr. Kirtland! That armor is standing just as it did when it was daylight here, but truly we heard his sword rattle against his shield, and once—" Rose's voice faltered.
"Once," said Polly, taking up the story, "we thought he walked across the floor!"
"I have heard the same thing," was the quick reply, "and I am not at all surprised that you were terrified."
Rose and Polly were grateful that he did not laugh or even look amused.
"But he COULDN'T walk," said Rose; "it's only an iron suit."
"Oh, he surely doesn't move," Arthur Kirtland said, and he smiled kindly at the children, "but sometimes I think a tiny mouse mistakes it for a huge cage and runs around in it, and as to his walking, the cars on the railroad that runs back of the studio jar the building and shake the suit of armor. I think that may be what you heard."
"Well, it sounds harmless enough when ye know what made the noise," John said, with a laugh, "and now I guess ye'll be some willin' ter go home ter Aunt Lois. The carriage is at the door."
"Oh, yes, yes!" they cried.
"A studio is a lovely place in the day-time," said Polly, "and the pictures are beautiful then, but when it begins to be dark it's DIFFERENT."
"Different! I guess that's so," said the coachman; "and now, come! We'll drive home at a lively pace."
"Oh, doesn't it seem good to be safe!" cried Polly when, snugly seated in the carriage, they saw that they were on their own familiar avenue.
"Yes, and we always like to be GOING somewhere, and now we're glad that we're almost home," said Rose.
"I guess anybody would be glad to get away from that studio, if they'd ever been in there alone when it gets darker and darker every minute," said Polly.
"Do you b'lieve Mr. Kirtland would dare to be there at night?" questioned Rose.
"Why, he came there after us!" cried Polly, in surprise.
"Well, he had our coachman with him," Rose replied; "he didn't come alone!"
"That's so," agreed Polly; "he couldn't be afraid with the coachman for company!"
Aunt Lois was just beginning to think that she could not bear waiting to hear from the searching party, when she heard little feet upon the piazza, the music of merry voices, and when the maid opened the door, Rose ran in, followed by Polly.
"Oh, please may I stay, 'm, to hear what happened to the two dears?" pleaded Nora.
Aunt Lois smiled assent, and then Rose, with Polly's help, told the story of the afternoon, of their return to the studio, of the terror that seemed to fill shadowy corners when twilight came.
"And the noises! Oh, Aunt Lois, you don't know what strange sounds there were in that studio! I love the pictures, and it's beautiful there in the daylight, but I can't forget the fright we had, and I won't want to go there again for, oh, a LONG time!" said Rose.
"We've told you how dark and lonely it was," added Polly, "but you'd have to HEAR that armor clank to know how it sounded."
"I'm so deaf that some of the lesser noises would not have reached me, and really that is the only mercy I know of in being deaf," Aunt Lois said. "You've both been so completely frightened there, that I, too, think you would better not go there for some time. Indeed, I wish something very bright and cheery might occur that would turn your thoughts from the studio."
"Ye'll not let the children go there, but if I might make so bold as to advise ye, 'm, I'd ask ye ter let the portrait go an' stay away from there. The place is jist haunted, and the demons might get ye, even in daylight!" Nora had shrieked that Aunt Lois might hear.
"Nora! Nora! Not a word of demons or haunting! You well know that I do not approve of any such foolish notions," Aunt Lois replied.
Nora went back to the kitchen and there expressed her belief to the cook, that studio place was "just full of old spooks!"