Little Miss By-The-Day

Little Miss By-The-Day

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Title: Little Miss By-The-Day
Author: Lucille Van Slyke
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LITTLE MISS BY-THE-DAY
BY LUCILLE VAN SLYKE
_Author of "Eve's Other Children"_
With A Frontispiece In Color By MABEL HATT 1919

TO GEORDIE

CONTENTS

CHAPTER
PROLOGUE I IN THE BARRED GARDEN II THE HOUSE IN THE
WOODS III LOST DREAMS IV THE UNFINISHED SONG V
"CERTAIN LEGAL MATTERS" VI THE LAST PRETENDING

PROLOGUE
The older I get the more convinced I become that the most fascinating
persons in this world are those elusive souls whom we know perfectly
well but whom we never, as children say, "get to meet." They slip out
of countries, or towns--_or rooms even,_--just before we arrive, leaving
us with an inexplicable feeling of having been cheated of something
that was rightfully and divinely ours. That's the way I still feel about
little Miss By-the-Day. Perhaps you, too, have been baffled by the
will-o'-the-wispishness of that whimsical young person. Perhaps you,
too, tried to find her but never did.
She sounded so casual and commonplace when I first began hearing
about her that I let her slip through my fingers. She was just a little

seamstress who had a "vairee" odd way of speaking; it was quite a long
time before I realized that everybody who spoke about her was
unconsciously trying to imitate her drawling voice. And then I noticed
that everybody who mentioned her smiled dreamily and wondered
where on earth she'd come from. I kept hearing, just as you probably
did, odd scraps of things she had said, droll adventures in which she
had figured, extraordinary and fantastic tales about the house in which
she lived. And presently, when it was too late, I found myself listening
to regretful murmurings of scores of baffled persons who couldn't find
out what had become of her. She suddenly vanished, leaving nothing
behind her save her delectable house.
If you'll lend me your pencil a minute I'll show you on the back of this
envelope just how that house was situated. You can understand the
whole amazing story better if you keep in mind how the church on the
corner and the rectory were tucked in beside that great house. For it is a
big house, so huge that the six prim brownstones across the street from
it look like toy houses. But I've been told that in Brooklyn's early days
there was no street, just a long terraced garden that sloped down to the
river.
For all that the streets have crowded so disrespectfully about it the
whole place still has a sort of "world-with-out-end-amen" air--perhaps
because of the impressive squareness of its structure, great blocks of
brownstone joined solidly; perhaps because of the enormous gnarled
wistaria vines that stretch above its massive cornices--but one does feel
as Felicia Day herself did when some one asked her how long she
thought it had been there. She said she thought it must have been there
"Much, much more than Always--it must have been jamais au grand
--forevaire and more than evaire!"
Maybe, like me, you've passed that house a dozen times and shuddered
at the filth of the little street.
[Illustration: Town map.]
I used to hold my breath as I hurried by that dismal old rookery. I
thought it the most hideous purgatory that ever sheltered a horde of
miserable humans. But you needn't be afraid to pass it now! The
immaculate sweetness and serenity of that wee street is like a miracle
and the old house is a