From the Improvement Era, 1933-34 –

The Beloved Cinderella

By Mary Imlay Taylor

Chapter 1

It was in the evening, after the shop was closed, that Star liked to walk down to the millpond with Pap Binney. There was a beautiful fellowship between these two; Star knew when to talk and when to be silent. She had found out almost at once that the kindly old man was a little stunned by the sudden business competition. For forty years he had been the only shopkeeper “out on Fishkill Point Road;” he had been “Pap” Binney to two generations of youngsters and he had prospered modestly. But the war — well, it had changed all the world; no wonder it had elbowed Pap out a little.

“I’d love to help him, but they treat me like a princess in disguise!” she thought with a rueful laugh, “and I’m only a foundling left at their back door.”

Which was true. Pap had found her out by the barn one morning, and, no one claiming her, they had taken her into their home and hearts. They had even treated her more tenderly than a daughter, as if they held her in trust. But she knew when the mortgage on the place was pressing, after the chain store opened opposite. This evening Star slipped her hand through Pap’s arm as they wandered down the beaten path together, and she kept her eyes on the strip of water shining in the dusk.

“What did you say was the name of your last customer, Pap,” she asked, her cheeks pink, “the one in the roadster?”

“Nelson — seems to me that was it.” Pap pretended to forget, then he chuckled, “Wants to buy a black mule, Stargrass.”

She looked startled. “What?”

Mr. Binney enjoyed his joke enormously. “Asked who th’ gal was on that black mule. Seemed to be mighty keen about th’ mule!”

Star averted her eyes. “Look. The waterlilies are in bloom. Pap!” she exclaimed irrelevantly.

“I don’t know as he can get along without that black mule,”

Star started violently and looked around into the eyes of the young man who had seen her riding MacDonald’s old black mule. For a moment she was vexed, then she laughed softly. “I wish you would — I was going to steal it, anyway!”

Mr. Binney went on slyly. “Say, Star, do you think MacDonald would sell Tex?”

Star, catching his eye unwillingly, began to laugh her catching, girlish laugh. “Mother’s right,” she said; “I’ve no business to ride mules bare-back — like a tom-boy!”

The old man patted her hand fondly. “Honey, I wish I could give you th’ finest horse in the world to ride!” he said wistfully.

The girl gave him a swift upward glance.

“It’s odd, isn’t it? You and mother keep talking of giving me fine things. She’s worse than you are lately. Pap, she keeps saying, ‘Wouldn’t you like to be rich, Star?’”

“She never had a child to grow up — of her own,” said Pap quietly; “it makes her that way. You’re like her own to her now. She wants to give you everything, Stargrass.”

The girl laughed softly, a name you gave me. Pap! look— like grass?”

The old man chuckled, were mighty little an’ you had th’ yellowest head. Star. It was your first hair — yellow like those little stars on blooming grass, stargrass they call it.”

They had come to the edge of the pond and stood looking at the darting blue-winged gadflies and the lily-pads which lay thick at the edges.

“Kinder peaceful, ain’t it Star?” Pap observed.

The girl’s hand tightened on his arm. She felt suddenly a mysterious thrill; the soft dusk seemed to lap up all the light except that shimmer in the pool. She pressed her cheek against the old man’s shoulder.

“I feel as if something was going to happen!” she whispered.

Mr. Binney, looking down at the lovely head and the shadowy gray eyes, smiled. “It ain’t anything to do with a black mule, has it, honey?”

She flushed, shaking her head vigorously. “You’re laughing at me. Pap!” she reproached him.

“No, I ain’t,” he assured her. “I was only thinkin’ of old Zeb Jessup. Zeb was ridin’ down Lord’s Hill on his bicycle, an’ he said to himself: ‘Somethin’s goin’ to happen!’ he felt that way. Maybe he was goin’ to fall off an’ bump his head. He kinder scrunched up on his wheel an’ shivered like he had an ague. Sure enough, some- thin’ did happen! He got down t’ th’ foot of th’ hill, met Widow Lookum an’ popped th’ question. He told me afterwards he hadn’t any more idea of doin’ it than th’ next one. She took him in to th’ soda fountain an’ he swore afterwards she hypnotized him. He come out an’ walked right over to Parson Jacobs — he lived across th’ street then — an’ got married. Presentiments ain’t safe, honey.” Mr. Binney was shaking now with silent laughter. “When you get to thinkin’ somethin’s goin’ to happen an’ that black mule —”

He did not finish. Star had clapped a soft hand over his mouth.

“Pap Binney, if you don’t stop, I’ll—“

“There’s your Ma callin’ you, honey.” The old man broke away, still laughing. “Ma’s all dressed up; I guess she’s goin’ to walk down by the millionaires’,” he added, one of his ancient jokes at Mrs. Binney’s expense.

Star hurled defiance back at him as she ran up the hill.

“What is it, Mother Binney? Pap and I were just looking at the pond — it’s prettier every time!” she panted.

Mrs. Binney, carefully arrayed in her Sunday best, stood waiting, holding a little flat package in tightly clutching fingers. There was something in her attitude and the strained expression on her round face that startled the girl. There was a little pink color in the wrinkled cheeks and the mouth was biting in — Mrs. Binney always bit in when she was excited.

“Where are you going. Mother?” Star asked quickly.

“Walkin’.” Mrs. Binney spoke sharply. She was not herself; her eyes blinked. “I ain’t set on duckponds — I like to see folks.”

Star laughed, looking down at her pink gingham. “I’m not ‘dressed up,’ Mother Binney. Where are you going?”

“Fishkill Point Road — shortest way.”

Star hung back. “That goes right down to Windymere Place,” she objected, “and — why. Mother, they’re terribly rich — the new people there; I saw them this afternoon. The girl — .”

“The — what?” Mrs. Binney stood still, her eyes popping. “There ain’t any girl there!”

“Yes, there is! A tall dark girl who dresses — “ Star drew a faint sigh — “oh, she has the loveliest clothes — and her hat!”

“Dark?” Mrs. Binney considered. “Must be a niece or something. Blanchard’s a widower, no children of his own there!”

“How do you know?” Star laughed at her, teasing.

Mrs. Binney nodded her head with a cryptic look. “I know! Anyhow, I’m gain’ down that way — want to sniff th’ salt air, I reckon. You come along. Star.”

“But there’s Pap down by the pond — let’s make him go, too.”

Mrs. Binney caught her arm. “No! You let Pap alone — I want to talk to you, child. Pap’s losin’ money right along; he’s all snarled up, an’ I’m goin’ to try an’ pick him out, make him put in a sody-fountain. Seems like everybody picks him; if a kid comes in for a penny’s worth of candy Pap gives him a nickel’s worth an’ pats his head! There won’t be a penny left if he keeps on goin’ th’ way he has. If I only could get some gumption into him, I’d—”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have him changed!” Star cried. “And you wouldn’t either, Mother Binney; you’re only pretending to find fault. Pap’s as good as gold!”

“That’s true as gospel, but it ain’t good business,” Mrs. Binney snapped, and then a strange mood came over her. “I’d never dare to tell Pap — not if I was goin’ to commit a crime, I wouldn’t!” she muttered.

Star’s sweet laughter made a little ripple of music in the dusk. “As if you could commit a crime. Mother Binney!”

“There ain’t no tellin’,” replied Mrs. Binney soberly, and stopped short, peering ahead of her with short-sighted eyes. “What’s that down th’ road there — those two tall white things?” she gasped.

Star laughed softly. “The two white stone pillars at the gate. Mother. It’s Windymere.”

“Humph!” Mrs. Binney peered over the wall. “A kind of nice place to live in, Star. How’d you like to live there an’ have all that — automobiles an’ yachts an’ lovely dresses?”

Star did not answer; she was looking intently at the lovely vista of an Italian garden.

Mrs. Binney peered anxiously into her absorbed young face.

“How’d you like it all, honey, for your very own?” she asked wistfully.

“Oh!” Star drew a long breath, “I’d love it!”

There was a silence, as shadowless to Star as the twilight. Then she was startled by Mrs. Binney’ s hand on her arm.

“You wait here. Star, I’m goin’ in. I’ve — I’ve got a message to deliver.”

“Why not take me along?” Star began, but Mrs. Binney had already started down the driveway, walking fast.

“I wonder what in the world is the matter with her?” Star thought, “I never saw her so odd!”

Then she forgot Mrs. Binney. The sweetness of the roses filled the air ; there was a spell about the place and the hour. To Star it was a kind of fairyland. Her life had been so simple, a little adopted child in the old shop on Fishkill Point Road; she was not covetous of wealth, she was too simple and wholesome for that, but these roses — she stretched up on tiptoe, failed to reach one and jumped for it. Too high! She failed, coming down softly on her feet, laughing.

“Let me get it for you —“ the voice was at her elbow.

Star startled violently and looked around into the eyes of the young man who had seen her riding MacDonald’s old black mule. For a moment she was vexed, then she laughed softly.

“I wish you would — I was going to steal it, anyway!”

He reached it easily. How tall he was! She took it, blushing beautifully.

“Thank you!” She was demure now.

“I’ve come for you,” he said gravely; “Mr. Blanchard sent me. Mrs. Binney is with him now.”

Star raised startled eyes. “Mrs. Binney? Has — anything happened?” She thought Mrs. Binney must have been run over by an automobile in the grounds. “Is she hurt?” she cried.

“No, she’s quite well,” he assured her, “and she said you were to come at once. Mr. Blanchard wants to see you.”

Star looked perplexed. “He doesn’t know me!” she exclaimed. “Please — ^please, what is it?” Then something in young Nelson’s serious face frightened her. “Oh, please tell me!’‘

“Don’t be frightened; it isn’t anything to frighten you, it’s good news!” he drew her hand through his arm and led her between the two tall gate-posts.

It was almost dark now, but the little lights began to twinkle here and there, amidst the shadowing trees. Star did not know what it meant, or why she was going up the white marble steps and across the terrace, but she found herself in a big room, where soft circles of light from shaded lamps sent fantastic shadows upward on lofty ceilings. She stood still, she was surely in a dream! Then she saw a familiar stubby figure in an old brown wool dress and that funny hat that Mother Binney always wore on Sundays. Suddenly Star wanted to laugh. Poor dear Mrs. Binney, how she looked beside that big gray headed man who sat at the table opposite ! The man who was looking now, not at Mrs. Binney, but at Star herself. He spoke and his voice sounded harsh to the startled girl.

“Bring her here, Nelson,” he said imperatively.

Star drew back; her heart began to beat in her throat. Something was going to happen! She had felt it. She was frightened now; she dragged her hand from Nelson’s kind, reassuring grasp.

“Please come a little nearer,” he said gently, for her alone. “Don’t be afraid, it’s good news!”

She let him take her hand again and lead her into the circle of light where Mrs. Binney stood.

“Mother!” Star whispered.

But Mrs. Binney did not answer; she was biting in and her face was queer and white and blotched.

Mr. Blanchard rose from the table, tall, imposing, a little pompous.

“This — “ he glanced at Mrs. Binney — “this lady has just told me your story,” he said to Star, “and — “ he touched a package on the table with an unsteady hand — “she’s brought proofs. I’m glad to tell you,” his voice broke a little as he looked at the slim young creature with the shining hair, “you — the fact is, my dear, you’re my daughter.

“No — no!” Star gasped. Then she turned, bewildered, seeing only a blur in the beautiful room. “Mother Binney — what does he mean?” she cried.

“It’s — it’s what he says, dearie, it — .” Mrs. Binney choked and swallowed hard.

“Your daughter?” the girl looked up at him and whitened to her lips.

Blanchard, deeply touched, nodded. He could not speak, and the girl seemed to waver. She stretched out a helpless hand, and, just in time Nelson caught her in his arms. For the first time in her strong young life Star had fainted.

(To be continued)