The Story of Glass Part 14

Accordingly they went on into the next room, where Jean became so fascinated by the whirring wheels and the men whose steady hands guided them that it was with difficulty she could be persuaded to leave and start for home.

"Do you think, little lady, that when you get back to Boston you can mix up some gla.s.s for us and bake it in Hannah's oven?" questioned Uncle Bob of her when they were at last in the car.

"I am not sure," replied the girl with a bright smile. "But certainly I have a much clearer idea how to do it than I had before I went out to the factory. In future when you and Giusippe talk gla.s.s-making I can at least be a bit more intelligent. I think, too, I appreciate now how wonderful it was that the Egyptians, Persians, and Syrians discovered in those far-off days how to make gla.s.s. I am not at all sure, Giusippe, that when we go to Pittsburgh I shall not steal your trade and apply to Uncle Tom for a place in his factory."

Mr. Cabot pinched her cheek playfully.

"I guess you'd better stick to dressing dolls," he said.

CHAPTER IX

A REUNION

At length all too soon for Uncle Bob and Hannah, and indeed far sooner than Jean and Giusippe had realized, October came, and the time for starting for Pittsburgh was at hand. To the young people their departure was not without its antic.i.p.ations. Jean longed to see Beacon and Uncle Tom, and Giusippe burned with eagerness to take up the position his uncle had secured for him at Mr. Curtis's factory.

"How odd it is, Giusippe," Jean mused one day, "that we each have an uncle waiting for us. And besides that you have an aunt, too, haven't you? I wish I had. I'd love to have an aunt! As it is I have only Beacon."

"Maybe you'll have one some day," was Giusippe's vaguely consoling answer. "But anyway I shouldn't think you would care much. You have Miss Cartright, and she is almost as good as an aunt."

"I suppose she is something like one," admitted Jean, "only, you see, she doesn't live where I do, so I can't see her very often. Of course she has sent me nice letters since she got home to New York and sometimes she writes Uncle Bob, too; but it isn't really like seeing her. When I think that the day after to-morrow she is to meet us in New York it seems too good to be true. Won't it be fun? I love Miss Cartright! Do you suppose she looks just the same as she did when she was with us on the steamer?"

"I suppose so. Your uncle said she did when he saw her in New York."

"I know it. He has had lots of chances to see her because he has been over there so many times on business trips. I wish we had. But we shall see her now, anyway. Oh, I am so glad!" Jean whirled enthusiastically round the room. "I think we are to have a pretty nice visit in New York if we do all the things Uncle Bob is planning to. He says he is going to take us to the studio of one of his friends and show us how stained gla.s.s windows are made. I shall like to see that, sha'n't you?"

So the boy and girl chattered on little dreaming, in the delight of the pleasures in store for them, how lonely at heart were Mr. Cabot and poor Hannah.

"If it wasn't that Jean is coming back in the spring I should be completely inconsolable," lamented Hannah. "I cannot bear to part with the child. But she will surely be back again, won't she, Mr. Bob? There won't be any other plan made? You'll certainly insist that Mr. Curtis send her home to us in May, won't you?"

"There, there, Hannah, dry your eyes. Of course Jean will be back. I have no more mind to lose her than you have. No one knows how I love that child! I'd no more let her leave my home than I would cut off my right hand," was Mr. Cabot's vehement reply.

"The boy is a splendid fellow, too," Hannah went on. "He has the makings of a fine man, Mr. Bob."

"Yes. Giusippe is a very unusual lad. As time goes on I am more and more convinced that we made no mistake in bringing him to America. I am sure that we are adding a good citizen to the country. I have a feeling that Mr. Curtis will be much interested in him."

"I wish he'd be sufficiently interested to adopt him and send Jean home to us," suggested Hannah, smoothing out the edge of an ap.r.o.n she was hemming.

"I am afraid such a scheme as that would be too good to be true,"

laughed Mr. Cabot. "If, however, he helps place Giusippe in a fine business position I shall be satisfied. That is all I shall ask."

Nevertheless, brave as Uncle Bob tried to be, he was very solemn the morning he saw the trunks brought down-stairs and strapped on the back of the waiting cab.

"Cheer up, Hannah!" he called from the sidewalk. "Why, bless my soul, if you're not crying! Come, come, this will never do! May will be here before you know it, and the child will be back again. She is only going on a visit--remember that. Her home is here. Say good-bye to Hannah, you young scamps. She somehow seems to have the notion you are never to return. Tell her she is not to get off so easily. Before many moons she will find you two in the pantry raiding the cookie jar just as you robbed it yesterday--you bandits!"

And so with a gaiety he did not feel Mr. Cabot hustled his charges into the carriage and slammed the door.

The trip to New York was a blur of new impressions and the city itself, when they reached it, another blur--a confusion of madly rus.h.i.+ng throngs; giant sky-sc.r.a.pers; racing taxicabs; and clanging bells. To the children it seemed a maelstrom of horror. Their one thought was to get safely out of the crowd, have something to eat, and go to bed. But with the morning light New York took on quite a different aspect. It proved to be not such a bad place after all. The solitary fact that it harbored Miss Cartright was quite enough to redeem it in their eyes.

Then there was so much to see which was new and strange! Directly after breakfast Uncle Bob took them out for a stroll and after a walk in the brisk air he led them into Tiffany's.

"While we have time and are right here I want to show you one of the most wonderful gla.s.s products of America," said he. "It is called Favril gla.s.s and is made at Coronna, Long Island. Just how, I do not know. The process is a secret one. You remember, don't you, the marvelous iridescent colors of the ancient Egyptian gla.s.s we saw in the British Museum? And you recall how exquisite was the turquoise glaze on some of the old pieces? Well, the Tiffany people have tried to imitate that, and so well have they succeeded that they have received many medals in recognition of their skill. Museums all over the world from Tokio to Christiania have purchased collections of the gla.s.s that it may be exhibited and enjoyed by young and old. I am going to show you some of it now."

Up in an elevator they sped, and alighting at one of the upper floors Uncle Bob led the way into a room rich with silken hangings and rare oriental rugs; all about this room were vases, plates, lamp-shades, and ornaments of beautiful hues. There were great golden gla.s.s bowls glinting with elusive lights of violet, blue, and yellow; there were vases opalescent with burning flecks of orange and copper; there were green gla.s.s plates and globes which shaded into tones of blue as delicate as mother-of-pearl.

"Oh!" sighed Jean rapturously, "I never saw anything so lovely! Look at these plates, Uncle Bob, do look at them. How ever did they get the color? It is like a sunset."

"The Tiffanys, like Blaschka the flower modeler, are not telling the world how they get their results. Rest a.s.sured, however, many and many hours must have been spent in experiments before such artistic products could be obtained."

"Think of the struggles with color and with firing," Giusippe murmured.

"And the pieces that must have been spoiled!" put in Jean.

"But think of the triumph of at last taking from the lehrs such gems as these! The results which air, soil, and age have by chance produced in the ancient Egyptian and Graeco-Syrian gla.s.s the Tiffanys have created in a modern ware. It is a great achievement, and a royal contribution to the art of the world."

The children would have been glad to linger for a much longer time in the vast shop had not the chime of a clock warned them that the noon hour, when they were to meet Miss Cartright, was approaching. She had promised to lunch with them all at the Holland House.

Yes, she looked just the same, "only prettier," Jean whispered to Giusippe. Certainly there was an added glow of beauty on her cheek and a new sweetness in her smile. How glad she was to see them! And how glad, glad, glad they were to see her. Miraculously from somewhere Uncle Bob produced a great bunch of violets which she fastened in her gown and then amid a confusion of merry chatter and laughter they went in to luncheon.

It was indeed a royal luncheon!

Uncle Bob seemed inclined to order everything on the menu, and it was not until Miss Cartright protested that not only the young people but she herself would be ill, that he was to be stayed. And what a joke it was when the waiter bent down and asked her if both her son and daughter would take some of the hot chocolate!

Oh, it was a jolly luncheon!

And after it was finished and they all had declared that not until next Thanksgiving could they think of eating anything more, off they shot in a taxicab to the studio of Uncle Bob's friend, Mr. Norcross, who had promised over the telephone to show them the window he was making for a church in Chicago.

They found the studio at the top of one of New York's high buildings, and it was flooded with light from the west and south; on one side of the room was an open s.p.a.ce large enough to allow an immense stained gla.s.s window to be set up.

Mr. Norcross, who was an old college friend of Uncle Bob's, greeted them cordially and when Miss Cartright remarked on the airiness of his workshop he answered:

"Yes, I have plenty of air up here; of course I enjoy it, too. But air, after all, is not the important factor which I consider. My stock in trade is light. Without it I could do nothing. Through the medium of strong sunlight I must test my work, for stained gla.s.s is beautiful chiefly as the light plays through it. It is not a tapestry nor a picture--it is primarily a window. Its colors must be rich in the light but not glaring; and its design must be so thoughtfully executed that the telling figures will stand forth when there is a strong sunset, for instance, behind them."

"Of course, then, you must take care that the colors you use do not prove too powerful and overshadow your central figures," said Miss Cartright.

"Ah, you paint?"

"Yes, but not as I want to," was the wistful answer. "I do portraits.

So I can readily see that your problem is a unique, and far more difficult one than mine. I have only a changeless color scheme to consider, while your colors s.h.i.+ft with every cloud that pa.s.ses across the sky."

Mr. Norcross nodded with pleasure at her instant appreciation of his difficulties.

"Have you ever seen stained gla.s.s in the making?" he asked.

She shook her head.