The Carter Girls' Mysterious Neighbors

CHAPTER XII

HERZ

Herz was in such strong contrast to his employer, the count, that he gave Helen and Douglas quite a shock when they first met him. They had walked over to Weston with their father, who had been prevailed upon to take the order for the restoration of the old mansion. Dr. Wright had been consulted as to the advisability of his trying to do this work and had approved of it as being something to occupy his patient without making him nervous. It meant many trips to Weston on the part of Mr. Carter and equally many to Valhalla on the part of the count.

De Lestis had done very little talking about Herz, mentioning him usually rather in the tone of one speaking of a servant, but Helen came to the opinion the moment she looked at him that there was nothing servile about him; on the contrary, he was evidently the more intellectual of the two men. He was a little younger than the count, much taller, with broad spare shoulders and a back as straight as a board. His blue eyes were very near sighted, necessitating the wearing of very thick lenses in his large gold-rimmed spectacles. His hair was yellow and grew straight up on his head like wheat stubble. His brow was broad and high and well shaped. He really was a handsome man except that his mouth was too full lipped and so very red. His English was perfect with no touch of accent as with the count. He said he had been born in Cincinnati and his father was a naturalized American, so even Douglas, the strong pro ally, had to accept him as German in name only.

Weston was a good three miles from Grantly by the road, but much closer if one took a path through the woods, skirting Paradise and approaching the old house from the rear. Truly it had been a grand estate in its day and de Lestis was determined to restore it to its pristine glory. He had owned the place about a year and had accomplished much in that time. The fences and gates were in perfect repair; the fields showed that good farming theories had already been put into practice; the woods, that some knowledge of forestry had been applied, as the undergrowth had been cleared away and useless timber been cut down to give room to valuable trees.

“What a lot of money must have been spent here,” said Douglas, noting the new fencing and well-built barns as they approached the house.

“Yes, de Lestis seems to have unlimited supplies of cash. I fancy he is a man of great wealth,” said Mr. Carter. “I have ordered a Delco light to be installed in his house. He spares no expense in restoring the old place. I was rather opposed to having the new lighting system. It seems such an anomaly in a colonial mansion.”

“But, Daddy, you wouldn’t want the count to grope his way around with tallow dips,” laughed Helen. “I fancy that was what was used when Weston was first built.”

“I’d have him do it rather than ruin the architectural effect of such a wonderful old house; but de Lestis has his own ideas about things and all he wants of me, after all, is to do the work of a contractor. As for Herz, – he has better taste than de Lestis, I believe.”

“Tell us about Herz, Daddy. You never have told us what he is like,” demanded Helen.

“You judge for yourselves,” answered the father.

The truth was that Mr. Carter had not known just what to make of Herz. Clever he was certainly and no underling, as they had gathered from de Lestis.

This was the girls’ first visit to Weston although the count had urged their coming many times. Douglas’s school was dismissed for the Christmas holidays and she felt like a bird out of the cage: two whole weeks of delightful freedom ahead of her!

Teaching had come easy to her and she had conquered Bobby and the other unruly pupils and felt that she was in a way getting on top of her work. The days passed rapidly and her school was in a fine condition, enthusiastic pupils and eager students. Nevertheless it was great to be having a holiday and she meant to make the most of it. She and Helen were planning a trip to Richmond after Christmas to visit Cousin Elizabeth Somerville. Lewis was stationed there with his company and his duties not being so very arduous, he hoped to spend much time with his favorite cousin. Valhalla was very lovely and the girls had grown very fond of it. Their plans for their father were working out and they knew they had done right in taking the place and moving the family to the country, but nevertheless they were looking forward with pleasure to the visit to Richmond and release from all of their duties for a few days.

What glowing girls they were! Robert Carter looked at them with pardonable pride as they tramped through the woods, their cheeks crimson with the exercise in the cold air. How they had shown the “mettle of their pasture” when the time came for them to take hold! He had always known that Douglas had a certain bulldog tenacity that would make her keep her grip no matter what happened, but Helen had astonished him. When something had snapped in his tired brain he had instinctively turned to Douglas as the person to decide for the family welfare, but Helen had shown herself capable far beyond his hopes. He well knew that her part of the work was most difficult, and he saw with wonder her patience with her mother and with the seemingly impossible Chloe.

“I’ll make it all up to them,” he said to himself.

The doctor’s prescription of country life and freedom from care with plenty of occupation for his hands was working wonders. This work he had been doing for de Lestis was not taxing his mind at all, and he suddenly realized that it was not because it was so easy but because his mind was in working order again. He felt his old power coming back to him, the power of concentration, of initiative. Sometimes he would try to lie awake at night just for the pleasure of feeling himself to be well.

His illness had been a blessing in disguise since it had brought out all this latent fineness in his girls. It had somehow made them more beautiful, too, at least they seemed so in the eyes of their doting father.

Approaching Weston from the rear, no one was in sight. Smoke arising from the kitchen chimney gave evidence of a servant’s being somewhere. The yard was in perfect order, with no unsightly ash pile or tin cans to offend the eye. To one side Mr. Carter pointed out the rose garden that the count had taken much care of, spending hundreds of dollars on every known variety that would flourish in that latitude. Beyond were greenhouses and hot beds that furnished lettuce and cauliflower and spinach through the winter for the master’s delicate palate.

“Isn’t it lovely?” gasped Helen. “It must be splendid to be rich.”

Mounting the broad steps leading to the pillared gallery they heard voices speaking in some foreign language, they could not tell whether it was German or not, and then a loud laugh and “Ach Gott!” in the count’s unmistakable baritone. Through the window they saw the two men, de Lestis and Herz, bending over a table spread with papers. Herz was pointing out something to his employer which seemed to delight him, as he was laughing heartily. This was gathered only by one glance, as immediately the Carters passed beyond the angle through which they could view the interior of the room and Mr. Carter knocked on the front door.

The door was not opened for several minutes. Evidently the count employed servants for such tasks and did not believe in opening doors with his own august hands. Helen gave an impatient rat tat again. She was not fond of waiting. The door was opened suddenly and by the count.

“Ah! My good friends!” he exclaimed enthusiastically. “I did not expect you until tomorrow, my dear Mr. Carter.”

“I came a day sooner because my daughters could come with me.”

“And what an honor!”

He ushered them into the room where they had viewed him for the moment in passing. There were no papers on the table now and everything was in perfect order. The secretary was standing at attention, awaiting an introduction to the ladies.

He bowed from his waist up, shutting up like a jack-knife. He had not the easy, graceful manners of the count, but seemed much blunter and less polished. One could not fancy his kissing the hand of a lady as the count was famous for doing.

Love at first sight is supposed to happen only in books but it does happen sometimes in real life, and on that frosty day in December it came to pass in the library at Weston, came like a flash of lightning, came without warning and without being wanted. Certainly the secretary had not wanted to stop the work he was engaged in that seemed to be so engrossing; he did not even want to meet these Carter girls but had been forced into it by his employer. What good would it do him to fall in love? He cared not a whit for women, anyhow, despised them in fact. But the little blind god, Cupid, took none of these things into consideration. He simply let fly his dart and as Adolph Herz straightened himself up after making his stiff, jack-knife bow, the arrow hit him square in his heart.

It was a toss of the penny which sister it should be; both of them were lovely, both of them rosy and charming. He looked at Douglas first, however, and never saw Helen at all, at least, seemed not to. He did not take his eyes from Douglas’s face during the entire call.

“Has the lighting system come yet?” asked Mr. Carter. “It should have been here by now.”

“Did you order one?” asked the count. “I understood I was to send the order and have done so. You sent it off, did you not, Herz?”

“Certainly! A week ago!”

“But you told me to order it,” insisted Mr. Carter. “I am sure you did.”

“Why, that is all right, my dear fellow,” said the count very kindly. “If both of them come it will make no difference. I can install one of them in the barn and garage.”

“Oh, but I cannot let you have the expense of both if I was at fault,” and Mr. Carter looked distressed. Was his head not behaving as it should, after all?

“Why, my dear Mr. Carter, it might easily have been my mistake and I cannot have you bothered about it. The expense is trifling. Miss Helen, help me to persuade your father that it is nothing.”

The count’s manner was so kindly and he seemed so anxious to make Mr. Carter feel that if any mistake had been made he, the count, had made it that Helen was deeply grateful. How much she liked this foreign nobleman, anyhow. He was always so gracious, so suave, so elegant. His heart must be tender, his disposition good, or how could he make all of the poor colored people like him so much? Helen was fully aware of the fact that the count was attracted by her, but there had been times when she was sure he was equally taken with Douglas, and certainly his manner to Nan on several occasions had been one of devotion. He always seemed to be coming out on the train with Nan and Lucy, and Lucy had intimated that he had caused Billy Sutton many sad hours by “hogging” the seat by Nan. Could he be a flirt? Helen put the thought from her. She hated a male flirt. Nevertheless she was conscious of the fact that she had a little tiny twinge of jealousy, so tiny that it was only a speck, but it was there.

“It’s Douglas’s hair and Nan’s eyes,” she thought. “I believe he thinks I’m more interesting than they are, though,” and then she took herself to task for a foolish, vain girl. “What difference does it make to me, anyhow? What do we know of this stranger and what is he to us?”

Now the girls gave their attention to the estate, for they were naturally interested in the work their father had undertaken. The workmen were through, carpenters, plasterers and painters, and the place had been turned over to Count de Lestis. Very beautiful it was and one for any owner to be proud of. The spacious hall, with its waxed floor and beautiful stairway with mahogany treads and bannisters, was as fine an example of southern colonial as one could find in the whole of Virginia. The furnishings were in keeping with the general plan of the house, as at Mr. Carter’s suggestion an antique dealer and decorator from Richmond had had his finger in the pie. Much of the furniture had been bought with the house, being old mahogany that had been at Weston for more than a century.

“How lovely it is!” gasped Helen as the doors to the great dining-room were thrown open.

“I am so glad you like it,” whispered the count in a very meaning tone. “I have your father to thank for its being so complete. Never have I seen work carried on so rapidly. I was afraid I would be living in the discomfort of shavings and mortar beds for months to come.”

“Daddy is always like that,” said Helen smiling. Nothing pleased Helen so much as praise of her father. “He can always make workmen work. They say in Richmond that not even plumbers disappoint him. He always turns over his houses on time unless there is something absolutely unforeseen, like a strike or something.”

“I am indeed fortunate in having prevailed upon him to do this for me.”

“But he has enjoyed doing it so much. You see Daddy has not been able to work for so long and I think he had begun to feel that maybe he had lost out, and this proves that he hasn’t. He does not know how to be idle. Why last summer when he was supposed to do nothing but rest he drew the plans and built bird houses for Bobby.”

“Ah, indeed! I am so glad you reminded me of something. Mr. Carter,” he called to that gentleman who was critically examining some electric wiring recently put in ready for the Delco batteries which were on the way, “I want now some plans for bird houses if such trivial work is not beneath you. I want bird houses for every kind of feathered songster that can be attracted and persuaded to live at Weston.”

“How wonderful!” cried Helen and Douglas in chorus. Douglas had been engaged in conversation by the secretary, who was limbering up in an amazing manner. He was most attentive, showing her into every nook and cranny of the old house. He opened sideboards and cabinets to reveal the exquisite finish of the satinwood drawers and shelves; he took down bits of rare old china from the plate rack in the dining-room, explaining the marks on the bottoms. He was so kind that Douglas almost liked him, but not quite.

“Adolph Herz is too German in sound,” the Anglo-Saxon in her cried out. “And then his mouth! It is so red!”

“Certainly I’ll enjoy drawing plans for bird houses,” laughed Mr. Carter. “I shall even take pleasure in carpentering them. They are really lots of fun to make.”

“I agree with you,” said Herz. “Simply drawing a design is never so much pleasure as carrying it out. How a sculptor can be willing to do only the clay modeling of his statue and then let someone else carve the marble is more than I can understand. When I think of something to be done, I must do it myself – trust it to no one.”

“Well, I am a lazy bones myself and anyone can do my work,” laughed the count. “Now Adolph here has drawn the plan for a pigeon house and he wants to build it himself. I tell him it is absurd, that any carpenter can carry out his ideas, but he will not listen to me. Adolph is a very stubborn man, Miss Carter.” He addressed this remark to Douglas who smiled at the young secretary. He was frowning heavily and his full lips were drawn into a hard red line. The count caught his eye and gave him a bantering look in return.

“Come on, Adolph, and show Mr. Carter your plans for the pigeon house!”

“They are not completed,” he answered sullenly.

“I am quite a pigeon fancier,” went on the master of Weston. “They are charming birds to raise and one can make much money on squabs. We are going into pigeon raising quite seriously. I think we shall build a very large house. Eh, Adolph?”

“Where will you put the pigeon house?” asked Mr. Carter.

“Right there on the roof, about in the centre of the house,” said the count, pointing to the top of the mansion.

“Not there! Surely you would not do such a thing!” cried Helen incredulously.

“Why not?”

“It would ruin the architectural effect of Weston,” declared Mr. Carter.

“I think not!”

“Well, I know it would,” maintained the architect stoutly. “Why, de Lestis, all of my work would be as nothing if you should put a pigeon house there. I beg of you not to!”

“But, my dear Mr. Carter, I am a pigeon fancier and want my pigeons at a point where I can watch them twirling and dipping. I love their cooing, too.”

“All right! It is your house and you can do as you choose with it, but please do not mention me as the architect who restored the place. I cannot stand for such a piece of Philistinism.” Mr. Carter laughed as he made the above remark, but his daughters knew by a certain look in his eyes that he was angry.

“Are you to have carrier pigeons?” asked Douglas, hoping to relieve the company of an embarrassment that seemed to have fallen upon it.

The secretary still had his mouth drawn in a stern line although he had smoothed his frowning brow. Helen was plainly put out at the count’s daring to go against her father’s artistic taste, while Count de Lestis seemed to be taking a kind of delight in teasing everybody.

“If you will promise to send me a message, I will,” he answered gallantly.

“Oh, that would be great fun! I have never seen a carrier pigeon.”

The count then devoted himself to Douglas for the rest of the visit, showing her the pantry shelves that he had on one occasion expressed himself as desirous for Helen to pass on.

“All we need now is a lady of the manor,” he said in a low tone. “It is not meet for man to live alone.”

Douglas looked at him quite frankly, her blue eyes steady as she gazed into his black ones. “Can’t your mother come and keep house for you?” she asked quite simply.

There was no flirting in Douglas Carter’s make-up. Herz, who refused to go far from her in spite of the count’s sudden devoted attentions, relaxed his grim expression that he had held ever since the pigeon house had been the subject of conversation. His mouth broke into a smile and his easy manner returned.

The Carters soon took their departure, although the master of the house was insistent that they should stay to tea with them.

“We must get back to Valhalla,” declared Douglas.

“Valhalla! Is that the name of your place?” asked Herz.

“That is the name my sister Nan gave it. She says we are all more or less dead warriors when the day is over. I don’t like giving it such a German name myself, but Nan says poetry is universal and – Oh! I beg your pardon!” The girl had forgotten that her companion was of German birth.

“Do you dislike the Germans so much?” he asked.

“Not the German people – ” she stammered. “Just the Imperial Government!”

“But aren’t the people the Government?”

“I hope not.”

“Ah, so Miss Carter has opened fire on you, too, has she?” laughed de Lestis. “If there were more fighters like her among the Allies, poor Germany would have her banners trailing in the dust by now.”

“I did not mean to be rude to Mr. Herz,” said Douglas. “I am too prejudiced in favor of France and England to remember my manners. If I have injured you, I beg your pardon,” and she gave the secretary her hand in good-by.

He blushed like a schoolgirl and stammered out some unintelligible something.

De Lestis renewed his attentions to Helen just as though he had not been hovering over her sister with tender nothings.

“He is a flirt!” thought Helen. “I think I can give him as good as he sends, but I am beginning to hate him.” She dimpled to his remarks, however, and as she bade him good-by at the door she smiled saucily into his eyes.

“To think of that man’s being willing to ruin his roof line,” sighed Mr. Carter as he and his daughters started on their homeward walk. “Just look how beautiful it is,” pointing to the old chimneys where the roof melted into the sky.

“It is a shame,” cried Helen. “But how cold it is! There now, I left my gloves on the library table.”

“Run back and get them, honey; Douglas and I will wait for you here by the stile.”

Helen ran back. Once more she glanced into the library where on their arrival they had caught a glimpse of the two men bending over the papers. Now what was her astonishment to see the secretary actually shaking the count, who was laughing heartily. The secretary’s eyes were flashing as he blurted out the words:

“Fool! Fool!”

The count opened the door quickly this time at her knock.

“Your gloves! I found them and almost hoped you would leave them with me, but the little hands would have been so cold. Indeed, they are so cold,” and he gallantly kissed them.

Helen seized her gloves and with glowing cheeks raced back to her father and sister. She gave her hands a vigorous rubbing on her grey corduroy skirt before she put on her gloves as though she might rub off the kiss. In the excitement over the dénouement of the visit she forgot for the time being that she had caught the secretary shaking his employer and calling him a fool.

CHAPTER XIII

GOOSE STEPPING

The winter wore on. Our warriors were fighting the good fight and each night as they gathered round the cheerful fire in the great chimney in the living-room at Valhalla they had tales to tell of difficulties overcome. Of course there were failures, many of them, but each failure meant a lesson learned and better luck next time.

Douglas had days when the little ideas refused to shoot and her pupils seemed to be just so many wooden dolls, but she learned the rare lesson, that teachers must learn if they are to be successful: when a class won’t learn, and can’t learn, and doesn’t want to learn, there is something the matter with the teacher. When she came to this realization she took herself to task, and the dark days came farther and farther apart.

The letter she had written Dr. Wright had had a most salutary effect on Bobby. That young physician had taken the naughty boy for a long ride and had given him a man to man talk, first temporarily dismissing him from his employ and sternly forbidding him to hold out his hand when they were going around corners. He was not allowed to blow the horn at dangerous curves and all of his honors were stripped from him.

“It nearly killed me to do it,” George Wright confessed to Helen. “I couldn’t look him in the eye for fear of weakening, but he took it like the little man he is. I fancy Douglas will have no more trouble with him for a while. I am glad she asked me to help her out. It is no joke to teach your own flesh and blood. Bobby says he thought that Douglas was just playing school and he didn’t know he was really bothering her. He knows now and is even prepared to lick any boy not twice his size who disturbs his sister.”

Count de Lestis seemed to have much business that took him away from Weston. Sometimes he was gone for several weeks at a time, but when he returned he would drop in at Valhalla as though he had not been away at all. He was always a welcome visitor. Mrs. Carter greeted him as a long lost friend. He seemed to be the incarnation of the social world to the poor little lady, destined to spend her days out of her element. Mr. Carter had almost forgiven him the pigeon house, but not quite.

“There is something lacking, somehow, in a man who would do such a thing,” he had declared to Helen.

The pigeon house was built by the secretary, according to his own plans and specifications, and placed on the roof, where it loomed an eyesore to the artistic. Truly they seemed to be going into pigeon raising in good earnest. It was a huge affair, large enough to accommodate many pigeons; and then, with the careless expenditure of money that seemed to characterize the master of Weston, crates of pigeons arrived and were installed in their new quarters.