A Real Cinderella

Nina Rhoades

CHAPTER ICINDERELLA AT HOME

The slippers were small, and Miss Ada’s feet were large, so that the task of getting them on was a more difficult one than might have been at first supposed.

“Aren’t they’aren’t they just a little tight? — gasped Gretel, when several unsuccessful attempts had failed to produce the desired result.

“There, I believe I’m ready now, except my gloves. You can button them for me, and then just run and see if Mamma needs any help. It’s ten minutes to eight, and they always begin those long German operas promptly. —

“Oh, you mustn’t be late. It would be terrible to miss any of it, — said Gretel, anxiously. She was drawing a long white kid glove up over Miss Marsh’s plump arm.

Ada shrugged her shoulders indifferently.

“All the Wagner operas are so long and so heavy. I wish Mr. Pendleton had asked us to go to the theater instead. There’s the door-bell; it must be Mr. Pendleton. My goodness! these slippers do need stretching. I’m thankful the opera house is just across the street; do hurry and finish Mamma. That Dora is so stupid about hooking her up. We mustn’t keep Mr. Pendleton waiting. — Gretel hurried away wondering. It seemed very strange that any one could talk about going to fairy-land as Ada did, but then she was only eleven, and there were a great many things in the world that she did not understand. As she was crossing the narrow hall of the apartment to Mrs.

“Good evening, little Miss Gretchen, — he said, with a smile. “Are your cousins ready? Your name is Gretchen, isn’t it? —

“My name is Margareta Schiller, — said Gretel, drawing herself up with the little air of dignity that always amused grown-up people. “They call me Gretel, not Gretchen. Ada’s nearly ready, and I’m going to see if I can help Mrs. Marsh with the hooks; but they’re not my cousins. —

“Ah, Mr. Pendleton, just in time, — she said, smiling, and speaking in what Gretel always called —her company voice. — “Gretel, darling, run and tell Ada, Mr. Pendleton is here. We must not lose a moment; it would be too sad to miss that beautiful overture. —

As Gretel turned away to do as she was told, Mr. Pendleton followed her rather curiously with his eyes.

“What a pretty child, — he remarked in a low voice to Mrs. Marsh. “I supposed she was a relative of yours, but she says she is not. —

Mrs. Marsh sighed, and Mr. Pendleton looked sympathetic, and murmured something about being sure the little girl had a very happy home, but just then Gretel reappeared, followed by Ada, who was still struggling with the last button of her glove.

“Ada wants me to sit up till she comes home, — began Gretel, but on receiving a warning glance from Miss Marsh, she grew suddenly pink and did not finish her sentence.

“Good night, Miss Margareta, — said Mr. Pendleton, pleasantly, as he followed the others into the elevator. “Your time will come, too, some day, and we shall have you going to the opera before we know it. —

Gretel was still smiling when she pushed aside the window-curtains, and flattened her face against the pane. To watch the people going into fairy-land was one of her favorite amusements.

It was very interesting to watch the long line of carriages and motor-cars depositing their occupants at the doors of fairy-land. Gretel watched them eagerly, but for the first time a little doubt had crept into her mind.

“I used to think they must all be so happy, — she said, reflectively, —but Ada didn’t seem to care much, and I don’t believe Mrs. Marsh did, either, though she pretended to. Father said a person must have a soul to love music, and I don’t believe Mrs. Marsh or Ada have souls’or at least not the kind he meant. —