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diff --git a/38555-0.txt b/38555-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b9ca0d0 --- /dev/null +++ b/38555-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7248 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Dorothy Dale in the City, by Margaret Penrose + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Dorothy Dale in the City + +Author: Margaret Penrose + +Release Date: January 12, 2012 [EBook #38555] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DOROTHY DALE IN THE CITY *** + + + + +Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Dave Morgan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + DOROTHY DALE IN + THE CITY + + + BY + MARGARET PENROSE + + AUTHOR OF “DOROTHY DALE: A GIRL OF TO-DAY,” “DOROTHY DALE AND + HER CHUMS,” “DOROTHY DALE’S CAMPING DAYS,” “THE MOTOR GIRLS,” + “THE MOTOR GIRLS THROUGH NEW ENGLAND,” ETC. + + + ILLUSTRATED + + NEW YORK + CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY + + + + + BOOKS BY MARGARET PENROSE + + + THE DOROTHY DALE SERIES + + 12mo. Illustrated. Price, per volume, 60 Cents, postpaid + + DOROTHY DALE: A GIRL OF TO-DAY + DOROTHY DALE AT GLENWOOD SCHOOL + DOROTHY DALE’S GREAT SECRET + DOROTHY DALE AND HER CHUMS + DOROTHY DALE’S QUEER HOLIDAYS + DOROTHY DALE’S CAMPING DAYS + DOROTHY DALE’S SCHOOL RIVALS + DOROTHY DALE IN THE CITY + + + THE MOTOR GIRLS SERIES + + 12mo. Illustrated. Price, per volume, 60 Cents, postpaid + + THE MOTOR GIRLS + THE MOTOR GIRLS ON A TOUR + THE MOTOR GIRLS AT LOOKOUT BEACH + THE MOTOR GIRLS THROUGH NEW ENGLAND + THE MOTOR GIRLS ON CEDAR LAKE + THE MOTOR GIRLS ON THE COAST + + _Cupples & Leon Co., Publishers, New York_ + + + Copyright, 1913, by + CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY + + DOROTHY DALE IN THE CITY + + + + + CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + I. Almost Christmas 1 + II. Going Home 10 + III. “Get a Horse!” 24 + IV. A Real Beauty Bath 35 + V. Dorothy’s Protege 41 + VI. The Night Before Christmas 52 + VII. Real Ghosts 61 + VIII. The Aftermath 68 + IX. Just Dales 76 + X. Sixty Miles an Hour 85 + XI. A Hold-On in New York 100 + XII. Human Freight on the Dummy 108 + XIII. The Shopping Tour 118 + XIV. The Dress Parade 132 + XV. Tea in a Stable 138 + XVI. A Startling Discovery 149 + XVII. Tavia’s Resolve 162 + XVIII. Dangerous Ground 170 + XIX. Thick Ice and Thin 179 + XX. A Thickened Plot 187 + XXI. Fright and Courage 192 + XXII. Captured By Two Girls 204 + XXIII. Pathos and Poverty 213 + XXIV. A Young Reformer 222 + XXV. The Loving Cup 233 + XXVI. A New Collector 242 + + + + + DOROTHY DALE IN THE CITY + + + + + CHAPTER I + ALMOST CHRISTMAS + + +Neither books, papers nor pencils were to be seen in the confused mass of +articles, piled high, if not dry, in the rooms of the pupils of Glenwood +Hall, who were now packing up to leave the boarding school for the +Christmas holidays. + +“Going home is so very different from leaving home,” remarked Dorothy +Dale, as she plunged a knot of unfolded ribbons into the tray of her +trunk. “I’m always ashamed to face my things when I unpack.” + +“Don’t,” advised Tavia. “I never look at mine until they have been +scattered on the floor for a few days. Then they all look like a fire +sale,” and she wound her tennis shoes inside a perfectly helpless +lingerie waist. + +“I don’t see why we bring parasols in September to take them back in +Christmas snows,” went on Dorothy. “I have a mind to give this to Betty,” +and she raised the flowery canopy over her head. + +“Oh, don’t!” begged Tavia. “Listen! That’s bad luck!” + +“Which?” asked Dorothy, “the parasol or Betty?” + +“Neither,” replied Tavia. “But the fact that I hear Ned’s voice. Also the +clatter of Cologne’s heavy feet. That means the plunge—our very last +racket.” + +“I hope you take the racket out of this room,” said Dorothy, “for I have +some Christmas cards to get off.” + +“Let us in!” called a voice on the outer side of the door. “We’ve got +good news.” + +“Only news?” asked Tavia. “We have lots of that ourselves. Make it +something more substantial.” + +“Hurry!” begged the voice of Edna Black, otherwise known as Ned Ebony. +“We’ll be caught!” + +Tavia brought herself to her feet from the Turkish mat as if she were on +springs. Then she opened the door cautiously. + +“What is it?” she demanded. “Is it alive?” + +“It was once,” replied Edna, “but it isn’t now.” + +The giggling at the door was punctuated with a struggle. + +“Oh, let us in!” insisted Cologne, and pushed past Tavia. + +“Mercy!” exclaimed Dorothy. “Whatever is this?” + +The two newcomers were now in a heap on the floor, or rather were in a +heap on a feather bed they had dragged into the room with them. Quick to +scent fun, Tavia turned the key in the door. + +“The old darling!” she murmured. “Where did the naughty girls get you?” +and she attempted to caress the feather tick in which Edna and Cologne +nestled. + +“That’s Miss Mingle’s feather bed!” declared Dorothy. “Wherever did you +get it?” + +“Mingling with other things getting packed!” replied Edna, “and I haven’t +seen a little bundle of the really fluffy-duffy kind since they sent me +to grandma’s when I had the measles. Isn’t it lovely?” + +“No wonder she sleeps well,” remarked Tavia, trying to push Cologne off +the heap. “I could take an eternal rest on this.” + +“But why was it out in the hall?” questioned Dorothy. “I know Miss Mingle +has a weak hip and has to sleep on a soft bed, always.” + +“Her room was being made over, and she wanted to see it all alone before +she left. She is going to-morrow,” said Edna. + +“And to-night?” asked Dorothy. + +“She must have a change,” declared Edna, innocently, “and we thought an +ordinary mattress would be—more sanitary.” + +“You cannot hide her bed in here,” objected Dorothy. “You must take it +back.” + +“Take back the bed that thou gavest!” sang Tavia, gaily. “How could I +part with thee so soon!” + +“We did not intend to hide it here, Doro,” said Cologne. “We had no idea +of incriminating you. There is a closet in the hall. But just now there +are also tittle-tattles in the hall. We are only biding a-wee.” + +“Oh, it’s leaking!” exclaimed Edna, as she blew a bunch of feathery down +at Dorothy. “What shall we do?” + +“Get it back as soon as you can,” advised Dorothy. “Let me peek out!” + +Silence fell as Dorothy cautiously put her head out of the door. “No one +in sight,” she whispered. “Now is your time.” + +Quietly the girls gathered themselves up. Tavia took the end of the bed +where the “leak” was. Out in the hall they paused. + + “The old feather be—ed! + The de—ar feather be—ed! + The rust-covered be—ed that hung in the hall!” + +It was Tavia who sang. Then with one jerk she pushed the bed over the +banister! + +“Oh!” gasped Edna and Cologne, simultaneously. + +“Mercy!” came a cry from below. “Whatever is——” + +They heard no more. Inside the room again the girls scampered. + +“Right on the very head of Miss Mingle!” whispered Edna, horror-stricken. +“Now we are in for it!” + +“But she needed it,” said Tavia, in her absurd way of turning a joke into +kindness. “I was afraid she wouldn’t find it.” + +“Better be afraid she does not find you,” said Dorothy. “Miss Mingle is a +dear, but she won’t like leaky feather beds dropped on her.” + +“Well, I suppose we will all have to stand for it,” sighed Edna, “though +land knows we never intended to decapitate the little music teacher. And +she has a weak spine! Tavia Travers, how could you?” + +“You saw how simple it was,” replied Tavia, purposely misunderstanding +the other. “But do you suppose we have killed her? I don’t hear a sound!” + +“Sounds are always smothered in feathers,” said Cologne. “Dorothy, can’t +you get the story ready? How did the accident happen?” + +“Too busy,” answered Dorothy. “Besides, I warned you.” + +“Now, Doro! And this the last day!” + +“Oh, please!” chimed in the others. + +“I absolutely refuse to fix it up,” declared Dorothy. “I begged you to +relent, and now——” + +“Hush! It came to! I hear it coming further to!” exclaimed Cologne. +“Doro, hide me!” + +A rush in the outer hall described the approach of more than one girl. In +fact there must have been at least five in the dash that banged the door +of Number Nineteen. + +“Come on!” + +“Hide!” + +“Face it!” + +“Feathers!” + +“Mingle!” + +Some of the words were evidently intended to mean more. Snow was +scattered about from out of door things, rubbers were thrust off hastily, +and the girls, delighted with the prospect of a real row, were radiant +with a mental steam that threatened every human safety valve. + +“Girls, do be quiet!” begged Dorothy, “and tell us what happened to that +feather bed.” + +“Nothing,” replied Nita, “it happened to Mingle. She is just now busy +trying to get the quills out of her throat with a bottle brush. Betty +suggested the brush.” + +“And the hall looks like a feather foundry,” imparted Genevieve. “Mrs. +Pangborn is looking for someone’s scalp.” + +“There! I hear the court martial summons!” exclaimed Edna. “Tavia! You +did it.” + +The footfall in the hall this time was decided and not clattery. It +betokened the coming of a teacher. + +A tap at the door came next. Dorothy scrambled over the excited girls, +and finally reached the portal. + +“The principal would like to have the young ladies from this room report +in the office at once,” said the strident voice of Miss Higley, the +English teacher. “She is very much annoyed at the misconduct that +appeared to come from Room Nineteen.” + +“Yes,” faltered Dorothy, for no one else seemed to know how to find her +tongue. “There was—an accident. The girls will go to the office.” + +After the teacher left the girls gave full vent to their choking +sensations. Tavia rolled off the couch, Edna covered her own head in +Dorothy’s best sofa cushion, Cologne drank a glass of water that Tavia +intended to drink, and altogether things were brisk in Number Nineteen. + +“We might as well have it over with,” Edna said, patting the sofa cushion +into shape. “I’ll confess to the finding of the plaguey thing.” + +“Come on then,” ordered Dorothy, and the others meekly followed her into +the hall. + +They were but one flight up, and as they looked over the banister they +saw below Miss Mingle, Mrs. Pangborn and several others. + +“Oh!” gasped Tavia, “they are sprouting pin feathers!” + +“Young ladies!” cried Mrs. Pangborn. “What does this mean?” + +They trooped down. But before they reached the actual scene of the +befeathered hall, a messenger was standing beside Miss Mingle, and the +music teacher was reading a telegram. + +“I must leave at once!” she said. “Please, Mrs. Pangborn, excuse the +young ladies! Come with me to the office! I must arrange everything at +once! I have to get the evening train!” + +“You must go at once?” queried the head of the school, in some surprise. + +“Yes! yes! instantly! Oh, this is awful!” groaned the music teacher. +“Come, please do!” And she hurried off, and Mrs. Pangborn went after her. + +“Just luck!” whispered Tavia, as she scampered after the others, who +quickly hurried to more comfortable quarters. “But what do you suppose +ails Mingle?” + +“Maybe someone proposed to her,” suggested Edna, “and she was afraid he +might relent.” + +But little did Dorothy and her chums think how important the message to +the teacher would prove to be to themselves, before the close of the +Christmas holidays. + + + + + CHAPTER II + GOING HOME + + +“Did you ever see anything so dandy?” asked Tavia. “I think we girls +should subscribe to the telegraph company. There is nothing like a quick +call to get us out of a scrape.” + +“Don’t boast, we are not away yet,” returned Dorothy. + +“But I would like to see anything stop me now,” argued Tavia. “There’s +the trunk and there’s the grip. Now a railroad ticket to Dalton—dear old +Dalton! Doro, I wish you were coming to see the snow on Lenty Lane. It +makes the place look grand.” + +“Lenty Lane was always pretty,” corrected Dorothy. “I have very pleasant +remembrances of the place.” + +The girls were at the railroad station, waiting for the train that was to +take them away from school for the holidays. There were laughter and +merry shouts, promises to write, to send cards, and to do no end of +“remembering.” + +And, while this is going on, and while the girls are so occupied in this +that they are not likely to do anything else, I will take just a few +moments to tell my new readers something about the characters in this +story. + +The first book of this series was called “Dorothy Dale; A Girl of +To-Day,” and in that, Dorothy, of course, made her bow. She was the +daughter of Major Dale, of Dalton, and, though without a mother, she had +two loving brothers, Joe and Roger. Besides these she had a very dear +friend in Tavia Travers, and Tavia, when she was not doing or saying one +thing, was doing or saying another—in brief, Tavia was a character. + +In the tale is told how Dorothy learned of the unlawful detention of a +poor little girl, and how she and Tavia took Nellie away from a life of +misery. + +“Dorothy Dale at Glenwood School,” my second volume, told how our heroine +made her appearance at boarding school, where she spent so many happy +days, and where she still is when the present story opens. And as for +Tavia, she went, too, thanks to the good offices of some of her chum’s +friends. + +Glenwood School was a peculiar place in many ways, and for a time Dorothy +was not happy there, owing to the many cliques and mutual jealousies. But +the good sense of Dorothy, and some of the madcap pranks of Tavia, worked +out to a good end. + +There is really a mystery in my third volume—that entitled “Dorothy +Dale’s Great Secret.” It was almost more than Dorothy could bear, at +first, especially as it concerned her friend Tavia. For Tavia acted very +rashly, to say the least. But Dorothy did not desert her, and how she +saved Tavia from herself is fully related. + +When Dorothy got on the trail of the gypsies, in the fourth book of the +series, called “Dorothy Dale and Her Chums,” she little dreamed where the +matter would end. Startling, and almost weird, were her experiences when +she met the strange “Queen,” who seemed so sad, and yet who held such +power over her wandering people. Here again Dorothy’s good sense came to +her aid, and she was able to find a way out of her trouble. + +One naturally imagined holidays are times of gladness and joy, but in +“Dorothy Dale’s Queer Holidays,” which is the fifth book of this line, +her vacation was “queer” indeed. How she and her friends, the boys as +well as the girls, solved the mystery of the old “castle”, and how they +saved an unfortunate man from danger and despair, is fully set forth. +And, as a matter of fact, before the adventure in the “castle” came to an +end, Dorothy and her friends themselves were very glad to be rescued. + +Mistaken identity is the main theme of the sixth volume, called “Dorothy +Dale’s Camping Days.” To be taken for a demented girl, forced to go to a +sanitarium, to escape, and to find the same girl for whom she was +mistaken, was part of what Dorothy endured. + +And yet, with all her troubles, which were not small, Dorothy did not +regret them at the end, for they were the means of bringing good to many +people. The joyous conclusion, when the girl recovered her reason, more +than made up for all Dorothy suffered. + +Certainly, after all she had gone through, our heroine might be expected +to be entitled to some rest. But events crowded thick and fast on +Dorothy. On her return to Glenwood, after a vacation, she found two +factions in the school. + +Just who was on each side, and the part Dorothy played, may be learned by +reading the seventh book of this series, called “Dorothy Dale’s School +Rivals.” There was rivalry, none the less bitter because “sweet girl +graduates” were the personages involved. But, in the end, all came out +well, though at one time it looked as though there would be serious +difficulties. + +Of course many more characters than Dorothy and Tavia played their parts +in the stories. There were Ned and Nat, the sons of Mrs. White, Dorothy’s +aunt, with whom, after some years spent in Dalton, Dorothy and her father +and brothers went to live, in North Birchlands. Tavia was a frequent +visitor there, and Tavia and the good-looking boy cousins—well, perhaps +you had better find out that part for yourself. + +Dorothy was always making friends, and, once she had made them she never +lost them. Not that Tavia did not do the same, but she was a girl so fond +of doing the unexpected, so ready to cause a laugh, even if at herself, +that many persons did not quite know how to take her. + +With Dorothy it was different. Her sweet winsomeness was a charm never +absent. Yet she could strike fire, too, when the occasion called for it. + +And so now, in beginning this new book, we find our friends ready to +leave the “Glen”, as they called it; leave the school and the teachers +under whose charge they had been for some time. + +Leaving Glenwood was, as Dorothy said, very different from going there. +One week before Christmas the place was placed in the hands of the +house-cleaners, and the pupils were scattered about over the earth. + +Dorothy and Tavia were together in the chair car of the train; and +Dorothy, having gathered up her mail without opening it as she left the +hall, now used her nail file to cut the envelopes, and then proceeded to +see what was the news. + +“Oh, Tavia!” she exclaimed, as she looked at the lavender paper that +indicated a note from her Aunt Winnie, otherwise Mrs. White. “Listen to +this. Aunt Winnie has taken a city house. Of course it will be an +apartment——” she looked keenly at the missive, “and it will be on +Riverside Drive.” + +“Oh, the double-deckers!” exclaimed Tavia. “I can feel the air smart my +cheeks,” and she shifted about expectantly. “Let’s take the auto bus—I +always did love that word bus. It seems to mean a London night in a fog.” + +“Well, I am sure it will mean good times, and I assure you, Tavia, Aunt +Winnie has not forgotten you. You are to come.” + +“There is only one Aunt Winnie in the world,” declared Tavia, “and she is +the Aunty Winnie of Dorothy Dale.” Tavia was never demonstrative, but +just now she squeezed Dorothy’s hand almost white. “How can I manage to +get through with Dalton? I have to give home at least three snowstorms.” + +“We are getting them right now,” said Dorothy. “I am afraid we will be +snowbound when we reach the next stop.” + +Wheeling about in her chair, Tavia flattened her face against the window +as the train smoke tried to hide the snowflakes from her gaze. Dorothy +was still occupied with her mail. + +“It does come down,” admitted Tavia, “but that will mean a ride for me in +old Daddy Brennen’s sleigh. He calls it a sleigh, but you remember, Doro, +it is nothing more than the fence rails he took from Brady’s, buckled on +the runners he got from Tim, the ragman. And you cannot have forgotten +the rubber boot he once used for a spring.” + +“It was a funny rig, sure enough,” answered Dorothy, “but Daddy Brennen +has a famous reputation for economy.” + +“I hope he does not take it into his head to economize on my spinal cord +by going over Evergreen Hill,” replied Tavia. “I tried that once in his +rattletrap, and we had to walk over to Jordan, and from there I rode home +on a pair of milk cans. But Doro,” she continued, “I cannot get over the +sudden taking away of Mingle Dingle. Surely the gods sent that telegram +to save me.” + +“I hope nothing serious has happened at her home,” Dorothy mused. “I +never heard anything about her family.” + +“You don’t suppose a little mouse of a thing, like that born music +teacher, has any family,” replied Tavia irreverently. “I shall ever after +this have a respect for the proverbial feather bed.” + +“Here is Stony Junction,” Dorothy remarked, as the trainman let in a gust +of wind from the vestibuled door to shout out the name of that station. +“Madeline Maher gets off here. There, she is waving to us! We should have +spoken to her.” + +“Never too late,” declared Tavia, and she actually shouted a good-bye and +a merry Christmas almost the full length of the car. Dorothy waved her +hand and “blew” a kiss, to which the pretty girl who, with the porter +close at her heels, was leaving the train for her home, responded. Chairs +swung around simultaneously to allow their occupants a glimpse of the +girl who had startled them with her shout. Some of the passengers +smiled—especially did one young man, whose bag showed the wear usually +given in college sports. He dropped his paper, and, not too rudely, +smiled straight at Tavia. + +“There!” exclaimed she. “See what a good turn does. Just for wishing +Maddie a hilarious time I got that smile.” + +“Don’t,” cautioned Dorothy, to whom Tavia’s recklessness was ever a +source of anxiety. “We have many miles to go yet.” + +“‘So much the better,’ as the old Wolfie, in Little Red Riding Hood, +said,” Tavia retorted. “I think I shall require a drink of water +directly,” and she straightened up as if to make her way to the end of +the car, in order to pass the chair of the young man with the +scratched-up suitcase. + +Dorothy sighed, but at the same time she smiled. Tavia could not be +repressed, and Dorothy had given up hope of keeping her subdued. + +“Come to think of it,” reflected Tavia, “I never had any permanent luck +with the drinking water trick. He looks so nice—I might try being sweet +and refined,” and she turned away, making the most absurd effort to look +the part. + +“Getting sense,” commented Dorothy. “We may now expect a snowslide.” + +“And have my hero dig me out,” added the irrepressible one. “Wouldn’t +that be delicious! There! Look at that! It is coming down in snowballs!” + +“My!” exclaimed Dorothy, “it is awful! I hope the boys do not fail to +meet me.” + +“Oh, if they didn’t, you would be all right,” said Tavia. “They serve +coffee and rolls at North Birchland Station on stormy nights.” + +“I declare!” exclaimed Dorothy, “that young man is a friend of Ned’s! I +met him last Summer, now I remember.” + +“I knew I would have good luck when I played the sweet-girl part,” said +Tavia, with unhidden delight. “Go right over and claim him.” + +“Nonsense,” replied Dorothy, while a slight blush crept up her forehead +into her hair. “We must be more careful than ever. Boys may pretend to +like girls who want a good time, but my cousins would never tolerate +anything like forwardness.” + +“Only where they are the forwarders,” persisted Tavia. “Did not the +selfsame Nat, brother to the aforesaid Ned——” + +As if the young man in front had at the same time remembered Dorothy, he +left his seat and crossed the aisle to where the girls sat. His head was +uncovered, of course, but his very polite manner and bow amply made up +for the usual hat raising. + +“Is not this Miss Dale?” he began, simply. + +“Yes,” answered Dorothy, “and this Mr. Niles?” + +“Same chap,” he admitted, while Tavia was wondering why he had not looked +at her. “Perhaps,” she thought, “he will prove too nice.” + +“I was just saying to my friend,” faltered Dorothy, “that I hope nothing +will prevent Ned and Nat from meeting me. This is quite a storm.” + +“But it makes Christmas pretty,” he replied, and now he did deign to look +at Tavia. Dorothy, quick to realize his friendliness, immediately +introduced the two. + +It was Tavia’s turn to blush—a failing she very rarely gave in to. +Perhaps some generous impulse prompted the gentleman who occupied the +chair ahead to leave it and make his way toward the smoking room. This +gave Mr. Niles a chance to sit near the girls. + +“We expect a big time at Birchland this holiday,” he said. “Your cousins +mentioned you would be with us.” + +“Yes, they cannot get rid of me,” Dorothy replied, in that peculiar way +girls have of saying meaningless things. “I am always anxious to get to +the Cedars—to see father and our boys, and Aunt Winnie, of course. I only +wish Tavia were coming along,” and she made a desperate attempt to get +Tavia into the conversation. + +“Home is one of the Christmas tyrannies,” the young man said. “If it were +not Christmas some of us might forget all about home.” + +Still Tavia said not a single word. She now felt hurt. He need not have +imagined she cared for his preaching, she thought. And besides, his tie +needed pressing, and his vest lacked the top button. Perhaps he had good +reasons for wanting to get home to his “Ma,” she was secretly arguing. + +“You live in Wildwind—not far from the Cedars; do you not?” Dorothy +asked. + +“I did live there until last Fall,” he replied. “But mother lost her +health, and has gone out in the country, away from the lake. We are +stopping near Dalton.” + +Tavia fairly gasped at the word “Dalton.” + +“Then why don’t you go home for Christmas?” she blurted out. + +“I am going to mother’s place to get her first,” he said. “Then, if she +feels well enough, we will come back to the Birchlands.” + +“My friend lives at Dalton,” Dorothy exclaimed, casting a look of +admiration at the flushing Tavia. + +“Indeed?” he replied. “That’s my station. I ride back from there. I am +glad to have met someone who knows the place. I was fearful of being +snowbound or station-bound, as I scarcely know the locality.” + +“I expect to ride in Daddy Brennen’s sleigh,” said Tavia, with an effort. +“He is the only one to know on a snowy night at Dalton.” + +“Then perhaps you will take pity on a stranger, and introduce him to +Daddy and his sleigh,” the youth replied. “Even a bad snowstorm may have +its compensations.” + +Tavia hated herself for thinking he really was nice. She was not +accustomed to being ignored, and did not intend to forget that he had +slighted her. + +“I almost envy you both,” said Dorothy, good humoredly. “Just see it +snow! I can see you under Daddy’s horse blanket.” + +“It’s surely a horse blanket,” replied Tavia. “We cannot count on his +having a steamer rug.” + +“I suppose,” said Mr. Niles, “the sleigh answers all stage-coach purposes +out that way?” + +“As well as freight and express,” returned Dorothy. “Dear old Dalton! I +have had some good times out there!” + +“Why don’t you come out now, Doro?” asked Tavia, mischievously. “There +may be some good times left.” + +The gentleman who had vacated the seat taken by Mr. Niles was now coming +back. This, of course, was the signal for the latter to leave. + +“We are almost at the Birchlands!” he said, “I hope, Miss Dale, that +those boy cousins of yours do not get buried in the snow, and leave you +in distress. I remember that auto of theirs had a faculty for doing wild +things.” + +“Oh, yes. We had more than one adventure with the _Fire Bird_. But I do +not anticipate any trouble to-night,” said Dorothy. “I heard from Aunt +Winnie this morning.” + +With a word about seeing them before the end of their journey, he took +his chair, while Tavia sat perfectly still and silent, for, it seemed to +Dorothy, the first time in her life. + +“What is it?” she asked. “Don’t you feel well, Tavia?” + +“I feel like bolting. I have a mind to get off at Bridgeton. Fancy me +riding with that angel!” + +“I’m sure he is very nice,” Dorothy said, in a tone of reproof. “I should +think you would be glad to have such pleasant company.” + +“Tickled to death!” replied Tavia, mockingly. + +“I’m sure you will have some adventure,” declared Dorothy. “They always +begin that way.” + +“Do they? Well, if I fall in love with him, Doro, I’ll telegraph to you,” +and Tavia helped her friend on with hat and coat, for the Birchlands had +already been announced. + + + + + CHAPTER III + “GET A HORSE!” + + +“Hello there, Coz!” shouted Nat White, as Dorothy stepped from the train. +“And there’s Tavia—and well! If it isn’t Bob Niles!” + +“Yes,” said Dorothy, postponing further greetings until the train should +pull out, and Tavia’s last hand-wave be returned. “We met him coming up, +and he goes to Dalton.” + +“Well I’ll be jiggered! And he has Tavia for company!” exclaimed the +young man, who for years had regarded Tavia as his particular property, +as far as solid friendship was concerned. + +“And Tavia has already vowed to be mean to him,” said Dorothy, as she now +pressed her warm cheek against that of her cousin, the latter’s being +briskly red from the snowy air. “She would scarcely speak to him on the +train.” + +“A bad sign,” said Nat, as he helped Dorothy with her bag. “There are the +Blakes. May as well ask them up; their machine does not seem to be +around.” + +The pretty little country station was gay with holiday arrivals, and +among them were many known to Dorothy and her popular cousin. The Blakes +gladly accepted the invitation to ride over in the _Fire Bird_, their +auto having somehow missed them. + +“You look—lovely,” Mabel Blake complimented Dorothy. + +“Doesn’t she?” chimed in Mabel’s brother, at which Dorothy buried her +face deeper in her furs. Nat cranked up; and soon the _Fire Bird_ was on +its way toward the Cedars, the country home of Mrs. Nathaniel White, and +her two sons, Nat and Ned. Mrs. White was the only sister of Major Dale, +Dorothy’s father, and the Dale family, Dorothy and her brothers, Joe and +little Roger, had lately made their home with her. + +It lacked but a few days of Christmas, and the snowstorm added much to +the beauty of the scene, while the cold was not so severe as to make the +weather unpleasant. All sorts of happy remembrances were recalled between +the occupants of the automobile, as it bravely made its way through +drifts and small banks. + +“Oh, there’s old Peter!” exclaimed Dorothy, as a man, his stooped +shoulders hidden under a load of evergreens, trudged along. + +“And such a heavy burden,” added Mabel. “Couldn’t we give him a lift?” + +Nat slowed up a little to give the old man more room in the roadway. +“Those Christmas trees are poor company in a machine,” he said. “I have +tried them before.” + +“But it is so hard for him to travel all the way to the village?” pleaded +Dorothy. “We could put his trees on back, and he could——” + +“Sit with you and Mabel?” and Ted Blake laughed at the idea. + +“No, you could do that?” retorted Dorothy, “and Peter could ride with +Nat. Please, Nat——” + +“Oh, all right, Coz, if it will make you happy. I wish, sometimes, I were +lame, halt and old enough—to know.” Whereat he stopped the machine and +insisted on old Peter doing as the girls had suggested. + +It was no easy matter to get the trees, and the bunches of greens, +securely fastened to the back of the auto, but it was finally +accomplished. Peter was profuse in his thanks, for the greens had been +specially ordered, he said, and he was already late in delivering them. + +“Which way do you go?” asked Nat. + +“Out to the Squire’s,” replied Peter. “But that road is soft, I wouldn’t +ask you take it.” + +“Oh, I guess we can make it,” proposed Nat. “The _Fire Bird_ is not quite +a locomotive.” + +“She goes like a bird, sure enough,” affirmed Peter. “But that road is +full of ditches.” + +“We will try them, at any rate,” insisted Nat, as he turned from the main +road to a narrow stretch of white track that cut through woods and farm +lands. + +“If we are fortunate enough not to meet anything,” said Dorothy. “But I +have always been afraid of a single road, bound with ditches.” + +“Of course,” growled Nat, “there comes Terry with his confounded cows.” + +Plowing along, his head down and his whip in hand came Terry, the +half-witted boy who, Winter and Summer, drove the cows from their field +or barn to the slaughter house. He never raised his head as Nat tooted +the horn, and by the time the machine was abreast of the drove of cattle, +Nat was obliged to make a quick swerve to avoid striking the animals. + +“Oh!” gasped both Dorothy and Mabel. The car lunged, then came to a +sudden stop, while the engine still pounded to get ahead. + +“Hang the luck!” groaned Nat, vainly trying to start the car, which was +plainly stalled. + +“I told you,” commented Peter, inappropriately. “This here road——” + +“Oh, hang the road!” interrupted Nat. “It was that loon—Terry.” + +As the young man spoke Terry passed along as mutely as if nothing had +happened. + +“I’d like to try that whip on him, to see if I could wake him up,” said +Ted, as he leaped out after Nat to see what could be done to get the car +back on the road. + +But it was an impossible task. Pushing, pulling, prying with fence +rails—all efforts left the big, red car stuck just where it had +floundered. + +“I know,” spoke Peter, suddenly. “I’ll get Sanders’s horse.” + +“Sanders wouldn’t lend his horse to pull a man out of a ditch,” said Nat. +“I’ve asked him before.” + +“That’s where you made a mistake,” replied Peter. “I won’t ask him,” and +he awkwardly managed to get out of the car, and was soon out on the road +and making his way across the snow-covered fields. + +“We may be tried for horse-stealing next,” remarked Ted, grimly. “Girls, +are you perishing?” + +“Not a bit of it,” declared Dorothy. “This snow is warm rather than +cold.” + +“My face is burning,” insisted Mabel. “But I do hope old Sanders does not +set his dogs on us.” + +“He’s as deaf as a post,” Ted said. “That’s a blessing—this time, at +least.” + +“There goes Peter in the barn,” Dorothy remarked. “He has got that far +safely, at any rate.” + +A strained silence followed this announcement. Yes, Peter had gone into +the barn. It seemed night would come before he could possibly secure the +old horse, and get to the roadway to give the necessary pull to the +stalled _Fire Bird_. They waited, eagerly watching the barn door. Finally +it opened. Yes, Peter was coming, leading the horse. + +“Now!” said Peter, standing with an emergency rope ready, “if only he +gets past the house——” + +He stopped. The door of the snow-covered cottage opened, and there stood +the unapproachable Sanders. + +“Oh!” gasped Mabel. “Now we are in for it!” + +“Then,” said Dorothy, “let us be ready for it. I’ll prepare the defence,” +and before they realized what she was about to do she had selected one of +the very choicest Christmas trees, and with it on her fur-covered +shoulder, actually started up the box-wood lined walk to where the +much-dreaded Sanders was standing, ready to mete out vengeance on the man +who had dared to enter his barn, and take from it his horse. + +“Oh Mr. Sanders!” called Dorothy. “Have you that dear little +grand-daughter with you? The pretty one we had at the church affair last +year?” + +“You mean Emily?” he drawled. “Yep, she’s here, but——” + +“Then, you wonder why we have taken your horse? And why we were stalled +here?” The others could hear her from the roadway. They could see, also, +that Sanders had stopped to listen. “Now we want Emily to have a +Christmas tree, all her own,” went on Dorothy, “and Peter is good enough +to donate it. But our machine—those cars are not like horses,” she almost +shouted, as Sanders being deaf, and watching the inexorable Peter leading +his horse away, had cause to be aroused from his natural surprise. “After +all,” persisted Dorothy, “a horse is the best.” + +By this time Peter was outside the big gate. Sanders made a move as if to +follow, when Dorothy almost dropped the clumsy tree. + +“Oh, please take it!” she begged. “I want to see Emily while they are +towing the machine out. It’s a lucky thing it happened just here, and +that you are kind enough to let us have your horse.” + +“Well what do you think of that!” exclaimed Ted, in a voice loud enough +for those near him to hear. “Of all the clever tricks!” + +“Oh, depend on Doro for cleverness,” replied Nat, proudly. “You just do +your part, Ted, and make this rope fast.” + +Mabel stood looking on in speechless surprise. She saw now that Dorothy +and old Sanders were entering the cottage. Dorothy was first, and the +man, with the Christmas tree, followed close behind her. The boys with +Peter were busy with rope, horse and auto. Soon they had the necessary +connection made, with Nat at the wheel, and all were tugging with might +and main to get the _Fire Bird_ free from the ditch. + +If there is anything more nerve-racking than such an attempt, it must be +some other attempt at a balking auto. Would it move, or would it sink +deeper into the mud that lay hidden beneath the newly-fallen snow? + +Nat turned the wheel first this way and then that. Ted had his weight +pressed against the rear wheel of the machine, while Peter coaxed and led +the horse. Suddenly the old horse, as if desperate, gave a jerk and +pulled the _Fire Bird_ clear out into the roadway! + +“Hurrah!” yelled Ted, bounding through the snow. + +“Great stunt!” corroborated Nat. “Peter, you are all right!” + +“Peter did some,” replied the old man, freeing the horse from the rope +that held him to the machine; “but that young lady—if she hadn’t kept +Sanders busy—we might all have been arrested for horse-stealing.” + +“She knew his weak spot,” agreed Nat. “That little Emily seems to be the +one weak and soft spot in old Sanders’s life.” + +“I had better go up and see what’s going on,” suggested Mabel, as +everything seemed about in readiness to start off again. + +“Good idea,” assented her brother, “he might be eating her up.” + +Mabel rather timidly found her way up to the cottage. It was already +dusk, but the light of a dim lamp showed her the way, as it gleamed +through a gloomy window, onto the glistening snow. + +“Won’t it be perfectly lovely, Emily?” she heard Doro saying, as she saw +her with her arms about a little red-haired girl, both sitting on a sofa, +while Sanders attempted to prop the Christmas tree up in a corner, +bracing it with a wooden chair. Mabel raised the latch without going +through the formality of knocking. As she entered the room, all but +Dorothy started in surprise. + +“This is my friend,” Dorothy hurried to explain, “it is she who is going +to help me trim the tree up for Emily. We will come to-morrow,” and she +rose to leave. “Mabel will fetch the doll, Emily. That is, of course, if +we can persuade Santa Claus to give us just the kind we want,” she tried +to correct. + +“A baby dolly—with long hair and a white dress,” Emily ordered. “And I +want eyelashes.” + +“Perticular,” said Sanders, with a proud look at the child, who, as the +boys had said, made up the one tender spot in his life. “If her ma’s cold +is better, she is coming up herself.” + +“Is she sick?” Emily ventured, glad to be able to say something +intelligent. + +“Yep,” replied the old man, sadly. “She’s been sick a long time. I +fetched Emily over this afternoon in the sleigh.” + +“Well, we are so much obliged,” remarked Dorothy. “And good-bye, Emily. +You’ll have everything ready for Santa Claus; won’t you?” + +“I’ve got my parlor set from last year,” said the child, “and mamma says +Santa Claus always likes to see the other things, to know we took care of +them.” + +“Thanks, Sanders,” called Peter, at the window. “The horse is as good as +ever. Don’t sell him without giving me a chance. I could do something if +I owned a mare like that.” + +“All right,” called back Sanders, whose pride was being played upon. “He +might be worse. Did you put her in the far stall?” + +“Just where I got her. And I tell you, Sanders, even a horse can play at +Christmas. Only for him I never could get those trees to town.” + +“And only for Peter,” put in Dorothy, “we could not have gotten Emily her +tree. Now that’s how a horse can turn Santa Claus. Good-bye, Mr. Sanders, +you may expect us before Christmas.” + +And then the two girls followed the chuckling Peter back to the _Fire +Bird_, where the boys impatiently awaited them, to complete the delayed +party bound for home, and for the Christmas holidays. + + + + + CHAPTER IV + A REAL BEAUTY BATH + + +“This is some,” remarked Bob Niles, before he knew what he was talking +about. They had just been ensconsed in Daddy Brennen’s sleigh. Tavia was +beside him—that is, she was as close beside him as she was beside Daddy +Brennen, but the real fact was, that in this sleigh, no one could be +beside anyone else—it was ever a game of toss and catch. But that was not +Daddy’s fault. He never stopped calling to his horse, or pulling at the +reins. It must have been the roads, yet everyone paid taxes in Dalton +Township. + +“Don’t boast,” Tavia answered, adjusting herself anew to the last jolt, +“this never was a sleigh to boast of, and it seems to be worse than ever +now. There!” she gasped, as she almost fell over the low board that +outlined the edge, “one more like that, and I will be mixed up with the +gutter.” + +“Perhaps this is a safer place,” Bob ventured. “I seem to stay put pretty +well. Won’t you change with me?” + +“No, thanks,” Tavia answered, good-humoredly. “When Daddy assigns one to +a seat one must keep it.” + +“Nice clean storm,” Daddy called back from the front. “I always like a +white Christmas.” + +“Yes,” Tavia said, “looks as if this is going to be white enough. But +what are you turning into the lane for, Daddy?” + +“Promised Neil Blair I’d take his milk in for him. He can’t get out much +in storms—rheumatism.” + +“Oh,” Tavia ejaculated. Then to Bob: “How we are going to ride with milk +cans is more than I can see.” + +“The more the merrier,” Bob replied, laughing. “I never had a better time +in my life. This beats a straw ride.” + +“Oh, we have had them too, with Daddy,” she told him. “Doro and our crowd +used to have good times when she lived in Dalton.” + +“No doubt. This is the farmhouse, I guess,” Bob added, as the sleigh +pulled up to a hill. + +“Yes, this is Neil’s place,” Tavia said. “And there comes Mrs. Blair with +a heavy milk can.” + +“Oh, I must help her with that,” offered the young man. “I suppose our +driver has to take care of his speedy horse.” + +Disentangling himself from the heavy blankets, Bob managed to alight in +time to take the milk can from the woman, who stood with it at the top of +the hill. + +“Oh, thank you, sir!” she panted. “The cans seem to get heavier, else I +am getting lazy. But Neil had such a twinge, from this storm, that I +wouldn’t let him out.” + +“And did you do all the milking?” Tavia asked, as Bob managed to place +the can in the spot seemingly made for it, beside Daddy. + +“Certainly. Oh, how do you do, Tavia? How fine you look; I’m glad to see +you home for Christmas,” Mrs. Blair assured the girl. + +“Thank you. I’m glad to get home.” + +“Fetchin’ company?” with a glance at young Niles. + +“No, he’s going farther on,” and Tavia wondered why it was so difficult +for her to make such a trifling remark. + +“Well, I’m glad he came this way, at any rate,” the woman continued. “But +Daddy will be goin’ without the other can,” and she turned off again in +the direction of the barn. + +“Are there more?” Bob asked Tavia, cautiously. + +“I’m afraid so,” she replied. “But I guess she can manage them.” + +“My mother would disown me if she knew I let her,” Bob asserted, bravely. +“This is an experience not in the itinerary,” and he scampered up the +hill, and made for the barn after Mrs. Blair. + +Tavia could not help but admire him. After all, she thought, a +good-looking lad could be useful, if only for carrying milk cans. + +“And has that young gent gone after the can?” asked Daddy, as if just +awaking from some dream. + +“Yes,” Tavia replied, rather sharply. “He wouldn’t let Mrs. Blair carry +such a heavy thing.” + +“Well, she’s used to it,” Daddy declared. At the same time he did disturb +himself sufficiently to get out and prepare to put the second can in its +place. + +A college boy, in a travelling suit, carrying a huge milk can through the +snow, Tavia thought rather a novel sight, but Bob showed his training, +and managed it admirably. + +“I’ll put her in,” offered Daddy, “I didn’t know you went after it.” + +“So kind of him,” remarked Mrs. Blair, “but he would have it. Thank you, +Daddy, for stopping. Neil’ll make it all right with you.” + +Daddy was standing up in the sleigh, the can in his hands, “I think,” he +faltered, “I’ll have to set this down by you, Miss Travers,” he decided. + +“All right,” Tavia agreed, making room at her feet. + +He lifted the can high enough to get it over the back of the seat. It was +heavy, and awkward, and he leaned on the rickety seat trying to support +himself. The weight was too much for the board, and before Bob could get +in to help him, and before Tavia could get herself out of the way, the +can tilted and the milk poured from it in a torrent over the head, neck +and shoulders of Tavia! + +“Oh, mercy!” she yelled. “My new furs!” + +“Save the milk,” growled Daddy. + +“Jump up!” Bob commanded Tavia. “Let it run off if it will.” + +But Tavia was either too disgusted, or too surprised, to “jump up.” +Instead she sat there, fixing a frozen look at the unfortunate Daddy. + +“My milk!” screamed Mrs. Blair. “A whole can full!” + +“Was it ordered?” Bob asked, who by this time had gotten Tavia from under +the shower. + +“No,” she said hesitatingly, “but someone would have took it for +Christmas bakin’.” + +“Then let us have it,” offered Bob, generously. “If I had kept my seat +perhaps it would not have happened.” + +“Nonsense,” objected Tavia, “it was entirely Daddy’s fault.” + +But Daddy did not hear—he was busy trying to save the dregs in the milk +can. + +“What’s it worth?” persisted Bob. + +“Two dollars,” replied Mrs. Blair, promptly. + +Bob put his hand in his pocket and took out two bills. He handed them to +the woman. + +“There,” he said, “it will be partly a Christmas present. I only hope +my—friend’s furs will not be ruined.” + +“Milk don’t hurt,” Mrs. Blair said, without reason. “Thank you, sir,” she +added to Bob. “This is better than ten that’s comin’. And land knows we +needed it to-night.” + +“I’ve lost time enough,” growled Daddy. “And that robe is spoiled. Next +time I carry milk cans I’ll get a freight car.” + +“And the next time I take a milk beauty bath,” said Tavia, “I’ll wear old +clothes.” But as Bob climbed in again, and Tavia assured him her furs +were not injured, she thought of Dorothy’s prediction that she, Tavia, +was about to have an adventure when she met Bob Niles. + +“I’ll have something to tell Dorothy,” she remarked aloud. + +“And I’ll have news for Nat,” slily said Bob. + + + + + CHAPTER V + DOROTHY’S PROTEGE + + +“Well, what do you think of that!” + +“Well, what do you think of this!” + +It was Nat who spoke first, and Dorothy who echoed. They were both +looking at letters—from Tavia and from Bob. + +“I knew Bob would find her interesting,” said Nat, with some irony in his +tone. + +“And I knew she would finally like him,” said Dorothy, significantly. + +“Bob has a way with girls,” went on Nat, “he always takes them +slowly—it’s the surest way.” + +“But don’t you think Tavia is very pretty? Everyone at school raves about +her,” Dorothy declared with unstinted pride, for Tavia’s golden brown +hair, and matchless complexion, were ever a source of pride to her chum. + +“Of course she’s pretty,” Nat agreed. “Wasn’t it I who discovered her?” + +Dorothy laughed, and gave a lock of her cousin’s own brown hair a twist. +She, as well as all their mutual friends, knew that Nat and Tavia were +the sort of chums who grow up together and cement their friendship with +the test of time. + +“Come to think of it,” she replied, “you always did like red-headed +girls.” + +“Now there’s Mabel,” he digressed, “Mabel has hair that seems a +misfit—she has blue eyes and black hair. Isn’t that an error?” + +“Indeed,” replied Dorothy, “that is considered one of the very best +combinations. Rare beauty, in fact.” + +“Well, I hope she is on time for the Christmas-tree affair out at +Sanders’s, whatever shade her hair. I don’t see, Doro, why you insist on +going away out there to put things on that tree. Why not ask the Sunday +School people to trim it? We gave the tree.” + +“Because I promised, Nat,” replied Dorothy, firmly, “and because I just +like to do it for little Emily. I got the very doll she ordered, and Aunt +Winnie got me a lot of pretty things this morning.” + +“Wish momsey would devote her charity to her poor little son,” said the +young man, drily. “He is the one who needs it most!” + +“Never mind, dear,” and Dorothy put her arms around him, “you shall have +a dolly, too.” + +“Here’s Ned,” he interrupted, “I wonder if he got my skates sharpened? I +asked him, but I’ll wager he forgot.” + +The other brother, a few years Nat’s senior, pulled off his furlined +coat, and entered the library, where the cousins were chatting. + +“Getting colder every minute,” he declared. “We had better take the +cutter out to Sanders’s—that is, if Doro insists upon going.” + +“Of course I do,” Dorothy cried. “I wouldn’t disappoint little Emily for +anything. Funny how you boys have suddenly taken a dislike to going out +there.” + +“Now don’t get peevish,” teased Ned. “We will take you, Coz, if we freeze +by the wayside.” + +“Did you get my skates?” Nat asked. + +“Not done,” the brother replied. “Old Tom is busy enough for ten +grinders. Expect we will have a fine race.” + +“And I can’t get in shape. Well, I wish I had taken them out to +Wakefield’s. He would have had them done days ago. But if we are going to +Sanders’s, better get started. I’ll call William to put the cutter up.” + +“Here come Ted and Mabel now. They’re sleighing, too,” exclaimed Dorothy. +“Won’t we have a jolly party!” + +“That’s a neat little cutter,” remarked Ned, glancing out of the window. +“And Mabel does look pretty in a red—what do you call that Scotch cap?” + +“Tam o’Shanter,” Dorothy helped out. “Yes, it is very becoming. But +Neddie, dear?” and her voice questioned. + +“Oh, I don’t know,” he replied indifferently. “Mabel was always kind +of—witchy. I like that type.” + +“And Ted is—so considerate,” Dorothy added with a mock sigh. “I do wonder +how Bob and Tavia are getting along?” + +“Probably planning suicide by this time—I say planning, you know, not +executing. It would be so nice for a boy as good as Bob to be coerced +into some wild prank by the wily Tavia.” + +“She did not happen, however, to lead you into any,” retorted Dorothy, +“and I take it you are a ‘good boy’.” + +“Oh, but how hard she tried,” and he feigned regret. “Tavia would have +taught me to feed out of her hand, had I not been—so well brought up.” + +This bantering occupied the moments between the time Ted’s sleigh glided +into view, and its arrival at the door of the Cedars. + +“’Lo, ’lo!” exclaimed Mabel, her cheeks matching the scarlet of her Tam +o’Shanter. + +“Low, low! Sweet and Low!” responded Nat. “Also so low!” + +“No—but Milo!” said Ned, with a complimentary look at Mabel. “The Venus +mended.” + +“‘High low,’” went on Ted. “That’s what it is. A high—low and the game! +To go out there to-night in this freeze!” + +“Strange thing,” Dorothy murmured, “how young men freeze up—sort of +antagonistic convulsion.” + +“Oh, come on,” drawled Ned, “when a girl wills, she will—and there’s an +end on it.” + +It did not take the girls long to comply—Dorothy was out with Ted, Mabel, +Nat and Ned before the boys had a chance to relent. + +“Those bundles?” questioned Ted, as Dorothy surrounded herself with the +things for Emily. + +“Now did you ever!” exclaimed Dorothy. “It seems to me everything is +displeasing to-day.” + +“No offence, I’m sure,” Ted hastened to correct, “but the fact is—we boys +had a sort of good time framed up for this afternoon. Not but what we are +delighted to be of service——” + +“Why didn’t you say so?” Dorothy asked. + +It seemed for the moment that the girls and boys were not to get along in +their usual pleasant manner. But the wonderful sleighing, and the +delightful afternoon, soon obliterated the threatening difficulties, and +a happy, laughing party in each cutter glided over the road, now evenly +packed with mid-winter snow. + +The small boys along the way occasionally stole a ride on the back +runners of the sleighs, or “got a hitch” with sled or bob, thus saving +the walk up hill or the jaunt to the ice pond. + +“Oh, there’s Dr. Gray!” Dorothy exclaimed suddenly as a gentleman in fur +coat and cap was seen hurrying along. “I wonder why he is walking?” + +“For his health, likely,” Ted answered. “Doctors know the sort of +medicine to take for their own constitutions.” + +By this time they were abreast of the physician. Dorothy called out to +him: + +“Where’s your horse, Doctor?” + +“Laid up,” replied the medical man, with a polite greeting. “He slipped +yesterday——” + +“Going far?” Ted interrupted, drawing his horse up. + +“Out to Sanders’s,” replied the doctor. + +“Sanders’s!” repeated Dorothy. “That’s where we’re going. Who’s sick?” + +“The baby,” replied the doctor, “and they asked me to hurry.” + +“Get in with us,” Ted invited, while Dorothy almost gasped. Little Emily +sick! She could scarcely believe it. + +Dr. Gray gladly accepted the invitation to ride, and the next cutter with +Ned, Nat and Mabel, pulled up along side of Ted’s. + +“You may as well turn back,” Dorothy told them. Then she explained that +little Emily was sick, and likely would not want her Christmas tree +trimmed. + +“But I’ll go along,” she said, “I may be able to help, for her mother is +sick, even if she is with her.” + +After all her preparations, it was a great disappointment to think the +child could not enjoy the gifts. Dr. Gray told her, however, that Emily +was subject to croup, and that perhaps the spell would not last. + +At the house they found everything in confusion. Emily’s sick mother +coughed harder at every attempt she made to help the little one, while +Mr. Sanders, the child’s grandfather, tried vainly to get water hot on a +lukewarm stove. + +“Pretty bad, Doc,” he said with a groan, “thought she’d choke to death +last night.” + +Without waiting to be directed, Dorothy threw aside her heavy coat, drew +off her gloves, and was breaking bits of wood in her hands, to hurry the +kettle that, being watched, had absolutely refused to boil. + +“You can just put that oil on to heat, Miss Dale,” Dr. Gray said, he +having bidden the sick woman to keep away from Emily. “We’ll rub her up +well with warm oil, and see if we can loosen up that congestion.” + +Emily lay on the uneven sofa, her cheeks burning, and her breath jerking +in struggles and coughs. + +Dorothy found a pan and had the oil hot before the doctor was ready to +use it. + +“Quite a nurse,” he said, in that pleasant way the country doctor is +accustomed to use. “Glad I happened to meet you.” + +“I’m glad, too,” Dorothy replied sincerely. “Never mind, Emily, you will +have your Christmas tree, as soon as we get the naughty cold cured,” she +told the child. + +Emily’s eyes brightened a little. The tree still stood in a corner of the +room. Outside, Ted was driving up and down the road in evident +impatience, but Dorothy was too busy to notice him. + +Soon the hot applications took effect, and Emily breathed more freely and +regularly. Then the doctor attended to the other patient—the mother. It +was a sad Christmas time, and had a depressing effect even on the young +spirits of Dorothy. She tried to speak to Emily, but her eyes wandered +around at the almost bare room, and noted its untidy appearance. Dishes +were piled up on the table, pans stood upon the floor, papers were +littered about. How could people live that way? she wondered. + +Mrs. Tripp, Emily’s mother, must be a widow, Dorothy thought, and she +knew old Mrs. Sanders had died the Winter before. + +The doctor had finished with Mrs. Tripp. He glanced anxiously about him. +To whom would he give instructions? Mr. Sanders seemed scarcely capable +of giving the sick ones the proper care. + +Dorothy saw the look of concern on the doctor’s face and she rightly +interpreted it. + +“If we only could take them to some other place,” she whispered to him. +Then she stopped, as a sudden thought seized her. + +“Doesn’t Mr. Wolters always make a Christmas gift to the sanitarium?” she +asked Dr. Gray. + +“Always,” replied the doctor. + +“Then why can’t we ask him to have little Emily and her mother taken to +the sanitarium? They surely need just such care,” she said quickly. + +The doctor slapped one hand on the other, showing that the suggestion had +solved the problem. Then he motioned Dorothy out into the room across the +small hall. She shivered as she entered it, for it was without stove, or +other means of heating. + +“If I only had my horse,” he said, “I would go right over to Wolters’s. +He would do a great deal for me, and I want that child cared for +to-night.” + +“I’ll ask Ted to let us take his sleigh,” Dorothy offered, promptly. “He +could go with us to the Corners, and then you could drive.” + +“And take you?” asked Dr. Gray. “I am sure you young folks have a lot to +do this afternoon.” + +“No matter about that,” persisted Dorothy. “If I can help, I am only too +glad to do it. And Mr. Wolters is on Aunt Winnie’s executive board. He +might listen to my appeal.” + +There was neither time nor opportunity for further conversation, so +Dorothy hastily got into her things, and soon she was in Ted’s sleigh +again, huddled close to Dr. Gray in his big, fur coat. + +The plan was unfolded to Ted, and he, anxious to get back to his friends, +willingly agreed to walk from the Corners, and there turn the cutter over +to the charity workers. + +“But Dorothy,” he objected, “I know they will all claim I should have +insisted on your coming back with me. They will say you will kill +yourself with charity, and all that sort of thing.” + +“Then say I will be home within an hour,” Dorothy directed, as Ted jumped +on the bob that a number of boys were dragging up the hill. “Good-bye, +and thank you for the rig.” + +“One hour, mind,” Ted called back. “You can drive Bess, I know.” + +“Of course,” Dorothy shouted. Then Bess was headed for The Briars, the +country home of the millionaire Wolters. + +“Suppose he has already made his gift,” Dorothy demurred, as she wrapped +the fur robe closely about her feet, “and says he can’t guarantee any +more.” + +“Then I guess he will have to make another,” said the doctor. “I would +not be responsible for the life of that child out there in that shack.” + +“If he agrees, how will you get Mrs. Tripp and Emily out to the +sanitarium?” Dorothy asked. + +“Have to ’phone to Lakeside, and see if we can get the ambulance,” he +replied. “That’s the only way to move them safely.” + +It seemed to Dorothy that her plan was more complicated than she had +imagined it would be, but it was Christmas time, and doing good for +others was in the very atmosphere. + +“It will be a new kind of Christmas tree,” observed the doctor. “But +she’s a cunning little one—she deserves to be kept alive.” + +“Indeed she does,” Dorothy said, “and I’m glad if I can help any.” + +“Why I never would have thought of the plan,” said the doctor. “I had +been thinking all the time we ought to do something, but Wolters’s +Christmas gift never crossed my mind. Here we are. My, but this is a +great place!” he finished. And the next moment Dorothy had jumped out of +the cutter and was at the door of Mr. Ferdinand Wolters. + + + + + CHAPTER VI + THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS + + +Dorothy was scolded. There her own family—father, Joe and Roger, to say +nothing of dear Aunt Winnie, and the cousins Ned and Nat—were waiting for +her important advice about a lot of Christmas things, and she had ridden +off with Dr. Gray, attending to the gloomy task of having a sick child +and her mother placed in a sanitarium. + +But she succeeded, and when on the following day she visited Emily and +her mother, she found the nurses busy in an outer hall, fixing up the +Christmas tree that Mr. Sanders had insisted upon bringing all the way +from the farmhouse where Dorothy had left it for little Emily. + +The very gifts that Dorothy left unopened out there, when she found the +child sick, the nurses were placing on the tree, waiting to surprise +Emily when she would open her eyes on the real Christmas day. + +And there had been added to these a big surprise indeed, for Mr. Wolters +was so pleased with the result of his charity, that he added to the +hospital donation a personal check for Mrs. Tripp and her daughter. The +check was placed in a tiny feed bag, from which a miniature horse +(Emily’s pet variety of toy) was to eat his breakfast on Christmas +morning. + +Major Dale did not often interfere with his daughter’s affairs, but this +time his sister, Mrs. White, had importuned him, declaring that Dorothy +would take up charity work altogether if they did not insist upon her +taking her proper position in the social world. It must be admitted that +the kind old major believed that more pleasure could be gotten out of +Dorothy’s choice than that of his well-meaning, and fashionable, sister. +But Winnie, he reflected, had been a mother to Dorothy for a number of +years, and women, after all, knew best about such things. + +It was only when Dorothy found the major alone in his little den off his +sleeping rooms that the loving daughter stole up to the footstool, and, +in her own childish way, told him all about it. He listened with +pardonable pride, and then told Dorothy that too much charity is bad for +the health of growing girls. The reprimand was so absurd that Dorothy +hugged his neck until he reminded her that even the breath of a war +veteran has its limitations. + +So Emily was left to her surprises, and now, on the afternoon of the +night before Christmas, we find Dorothy and Mabel, with Ned, Nat and Ted, +busy with the decorations of the Cedars. Step ladders knocked each other +down, as the enthusiastic boys tried to shift more than one to exactly +the same spot in the long library. Kitchen chairs toppled over just as +Dorothy or Mabel jumped to save their slippered feet, and the long +strings of evergreens, with which all hands were struggling, made the +room a thing of terror for Mrs. White and Major Dale. + +The scheme was to run the greens in a perfect network across the beamed +ceiling, not in the usual “chandelier-corner” fashion, but latticed after +the style of the Spanish serenade legend. + +At intervals little red paper bells dangled, and a prettier idea for +decoration could scarcely be conceived. To say that Dorothy had invented +it would not do justice to Mabel, but however that may be, all credit, +except stepladder episodes, was accorded the girls. + +“Let me hang the big bell,” begged Ted, “if there is one thing I have +longed for all my life it was that—to hang a big ‘belle’.” + +He aimed his stepladder for the middle of the room, but Nat held the +bell. + +“She’s my belle,” insisted Nat, “and she’s not going to be hanged—she’ll +be hung first,” and he caressed the paper ornament. + +“If you boys do not hurry we will never get done,” Dorothy reminded them. +“It’s almost dark now.” + +“Almost, but not quite,” teased Ted. “Dorothy, between this and dark, +there are more things to happen than would fill a hundred stockings. By +the way, where do we hang the hose?” + +“We don’t,” she replied. “Stockings are picturesque in a kitchen, but +absurd in such a bower as this.” + +“Right, Coz,” agreed Ned, deliberately sitting down with a wreath of +greens about his neck. “Cut out the laundry, ma would not pay my little +red chop-suey menu last week, and I may have to wear a kerchief on Yule +day.” + +“Oh, don’t you think that—sweet!” exulted Mabel, making a true lover’s +knot of the end of her long rope of green that Nat had succeeded in +intertwining with Dorothy’s ‘cross town line’. + +“Delicious,” declared Ned, jumping up and placing his arms about her +neck. + +“Stop,” she cried. “I meant the bow.” + +“Who’s running this show, any way?” asked Ted. “Do you see the time, +Frats?” + +The mantle clock chimed six. Ned and Nat jumped up, and shook themselves +loose from the stickery holly leaves as if they had been so many +feathers. + +“We must eat,” declared Ned, dramatically, “for to-morrow we die!” + +“We cannot have tea until everything is finished,” Dorothy objected. “Do +you think we girls can clean up this room?” + +“Call the maids in,” Ned advised, foolishly, for the housemaids at the +Cedars were not expected to clean up after the “festooners.” + +Dorothy frowned her reply, and continued to gather up the ends of +everything. Mabel did not desert either, but before the girls realized +it, the boys had run off—to the dining room where a hasty meal, none the +less enjoyable, was ready to be eaten. + +“What do you suppose they are up to?” Mabel asked. + +“There is something going on when they are in such a hurry. What do you +say if we follow them? It is not dark, and they can’t be going far,” +answered Dorothy. + +Mabel gladly agreed, and, a half hour later, the two girls cautiously +made their way along the white road, almost in the shadow of three jolly +youths. Occasionally they could hear the remarks that the boys made. + +“They are going to the wedding!” Dorothy exclaimed. “The seven o’clock +wedding at Winter’s!” + +Mabel did not reply. The boys had turned around, and she clutched +Dorothy’s arm nervously. Instinctively both girls slowed their pace. + +“They did not see us,” Dorothy whispered, presently. “But they are +turning into Sodden’s!” + +Sodden’s was the home of one of the boys’ chums—Gus Sodden by name. He +was younger than the others, and had the reputation of being the most +reckless chap in North Birchland. + +“But,” mused Mabel, “the wedding is to be at the haunted house! I should +be afraid——” + +“Mabel!” Dorothy exclaimed, “you do not mean to say that you believe in +ghosts!” + +“Oh—no,” breathed Mabel, “but you know the idea is so creepy.” + +“That is why,” Dorothy said with a light laugh, “we have to creep along +now. Look at Ned. He must feel our presence near.” + +The boys now were well along the path to the Sodden home. It was situated +far down in a grove, to which led a path through the hemlock trees. These +trees were heavy with the snow that they seemed to love, for other sorts +of foliage had days before shed the fall that had so gently stolen upon +them—like a caress from a white world of love. + +“My, it is dark!” demurred Mabel, again. + +“Mabel Blake!” accused Dorothy. “I do believe you are a coward!” + +It was lonely along the way. Everyone being busy with Christmas at home, +left the roads deserted. + +“What do you suppose they are going in there for?” Mabel finally +whispered. + +“We will have to wait and find out,” replied Dorothy. “When one starts +out spying on boys she must be prepared for all sorts of surprises.” + +“Oh, there comes Gus! Look!” Mabel pointed to a figure making tracks +through the snow along the path. + +“And—there are the others. It did not take them long to make up. They +are—Christmas—Imps. Such make-ups!” Dorothy finished, as she beheld the +boys, in something that might have been taken, or mistaken, for stray +circus baggage. + +Even in their disguise it was easy to recognize the boys. Ned wore a +kimono—bright red. On his head was the tall sort of cap that clowns and +the old-fashioned school dunce wore. Nat was “cute” in somebody’s short +skirt and a shorter jacket. He wore also a worsted cap that was really, +in the dim light, almost becoming. Ted matched up Nat, the inference +being that they were to be Christmas attendants on Santa Claus. + +The girls stepped safely behind the hedge as the procession passed. The +boys seemed too involved in their purpose to talk. + +“Now,” said Dorothy, “we may follow. I knew they were up to something +big.” + +“Aren’t they too funny!” said Mabel, who had almost giggled disastrously +as the boys passed. “I thought I would die!” + +There was no time to spare now, for the boys were walking very quickly, +and it was not so easy for the girls to keep up with them and at the same +time to keep away from them. + +Straight they went for what was locally called the “haunted” house. This +was a fine old mansion, with big rooms and broad chimneys, which had once +been the home of a family of wealth. But there had been a sad tragedy +there, and after that it had been said that ghosts held sway at the +place. It had been deserted for two years, but now, with the former owner +dead, a niece of the family, fresh from college, had insisted upon being +married there, and the house had been accordingly put into shape for the +ceremony. + +It was to be a fashionable wedding, at the hour of six, and people had +kept the station agent busy all day inquiring how to reach the scene of +the wedding. + +Lights already burned brightly in the rooms, that could be seen to be +decorated in holiday style. People fluttered around and through the long +French windows; the young folks, boys and girls, being hidden in +different quarters, could alike see something of what was going on in the +haunted house. + +“They’re coming!” Dorothy heard Nat exclaim, just as he ducked in by the +big outside chimney. The broad flue was at the extreme end of the house, +forming the southern part of the library, just off the wide hall that ran +through the middle of the place. Dorothy and Mabel had taken refuge in +one of the many odd corners of the big, old fashioned porch, which partly +encircled this wing, and commanding a wonderful view of the interior of +the house, the halls and library, and long, narrow drawing room. + +There was a smothered laugh at the corner of the porch where the boys had +ducked, and the girls watched in wonder. The latter saw Nat boost Ned up +the side of the porch column, and Ted followed nimbly. In tense silence +the girls listened to their footsteps cross the porch roof, then as +scraping and slipping and much suppressed mirth floated down. + +“They’re going down the chimney!” declared Dorothy, in astonishment. + +“They surely are!” affirmed Mabel, leaning far over the porch rail. + +“But, Doro, what of the fire?” + +“They don’t use that chimney. They use the one on the other side of the +house, and the one in the kitchen.” + + + + + CHAPTER VII + REAL GHOSTS + + +“That explains the basket!” exclaimed Dorothy, suddenly. + +“How can they do it!” Mabel giggled excitedly. + +“They can’t,” Dorothy replied, calmly, “they’ll simply get in a mess—soot +and things, you know.” + +“Let’s run. I’m too excited to breathe! I know something dreadful is +bound to happen!” And Mabel clutched Dorothy’s arm. + +“And leave the boys to their fate? No, indeed, we’ll see the prank +through, since we walked into it,” Dorothy said, determinedly. + +Mabel laughed nervously, and looked at Dorothy in puzzled impatience. “I +always believe in running while there’s time,” she explained. + +Music, sweet and low, floated out on the still, cold air of the night, +and the wedding guests, in trailing gowns of silver and lace and soft +satins, stood in laughing groups, all eyes turned toward the broad +staircase. + +“How quiet it’s become; everyone has stopped talking,” whispered Mabel, +in Dorothy’s ear. + +“How peculiarly they are all staring! But of course it must be exciting +just before the bride appears,” murmured Dorothy, in answer. + +“Oh, there comes the bride!” cried Mabel. “Isn’t she sweet!” + +“It’s a stunt to trail downstairs that way—like a summer breeze. How +beautifully gauzy she looks!” sighed Dorothy. + +The eyes of the guests were turned half in wonder toward the old chimney +place, and half smilingly toward the bride. On came the bride, tall and +slender and leaning gracefully on her father’s arm, straight toward the +tall mantel in the chimney place, which was lavishly banked with palms +and flowers, and the minister began reading the ceremony. + +“Hey! Let go there!” Ned’s muffled voice floated above the heads of the +wedding guests, who stood aghast. + +“You’re stuck all right, old chap,” came the consoling voice of Nat in a +ghostly whisper. + +Sounds of half-smothered, weird laughter—or so the laughter seemed to the +guests—filled the air. The bridegroom flushed and looked quickly at his +bride, who clung to her father’s arm, pale with fright. The minister +alone was calm. + +As the bridegroom’s clear answer: “I will” came to the ears of Dorothy +and Mabel out on the porch, a creepy sound issued from the great +fireplace. The newly-made husband kissed his bride, and the guests moved +back. + +Dorothy leaned eagerly forward to catch a glimpse of the radiantly +smiling bride. Just then a tall palm wavered, fell to the floor with a +crash, and in falling, carried vases and jars of flowers with it, and the +ghostly laughter could be plainly heard by all. + +All the tales that had been told of the haunted house came vividly before +each guest. There were feminine screams, a confused rush for the hallway, +and in two seconds the wedding festivities were in an uproar. The bride +sank to the floor, and with white, upturned face, lay unconscious. + +The men of the party with one thought jumped to the fireplace, and Ned +was dragged, by way of the chimney, into the room. Completely dazed, +utterly chagrined, and looking altogether foolish, he sat in a round, +high basket, his knees crushed under his chin, the clown’s cap rakishly +hanging over one ear, his face unrecognizable in its thick coating of +cobwebs and soot. + +“Oh, we’re so sorry,” Dorothy’s eager young voice broke upon the hushed +crowd, as she ran into the room, with Mabel behind her. + +Ned stared open-mouthed at the gaily-dressed people. It had happened so +suddenly, and was so far from what he had planned, that he could not get +himself in hand. + +“Good gracious!” exclaimed the bride’s father, pacing up and down, “can’t +someone get order out of this chaos?” + +The bridegroom was chafing the small white hands of his bride, and the +guests stepped away to give her air. The wedding finery lay limp and +draggled. Dorothy stifled a moan as she looked. Quickly jumping out of +the crowd she left the room. Mabel stood still, uncertain as to what to +do. At the long French windows appeared Nat, Ted and Gus, grotesque in +their make-ups and trying in vain to appear as serious as the situation +demanded. + +“Step in here!” commanded the father, and the boys meekly stepped in. A +brother of the bride held Ned firmly by the arm. “Now, young scallywags, +explain yourselves!” + +It was an easy thing for the irate father to demand, but it completely +upset the boys. They couldn’t explain themselves. + +In an awed whisper, Ned ventured an explanation: “We only wanted to keep +up the reputation of the house.” + +“And the basket stuck,” eagerly helped out Ted. “We just thought we would +whisper mysteriously and—and cough—or something,” and Ned tried to free +himself from the grip on his arm. + +“It was wider than we thought and the basket kept going down——” Nat’s +voice was hoarse, but he couldn’t control his mirth. + +“The rope slipped some—and the basket stuck——” Ted’s voice was brimming +over with apologies. + +“Naturally, we would have entered by the front door,” politely explained +Gus, “had we foreseen this.” + +“You see it stuck,” persisted Ted, apparently unable to remember anything +but that awful fact. + +“Then it really wasn’t spooks,” asked a tall, dark-haired girl, as she +joined the group. + +One by one the guests gingerly returned to the room and stood about, +staring in amusement at the boys. The cool, though severe stares of the +ladies were harder to bear than any rough treatment that might be +accorded them by the men. Against the latter they could defend +themselves, but, as Ned suddenly realized, there is no defence for mere +man against the amused stare of a lady. + +“It certainly could be slated at police headquarters as ‘entering’,” +calmly said a stout man, taking in every detail of the boys’ costumes. +“Disturbing the peace and several other things.” + +“With intent to do malicious mischief,” the man who spoke balanced +himself on his heels and swung a chrysanthemum to and fro by the stem. + +The minister was walking uneasily about. The bride was on a sofa where +she had been lifted to come out of her faint. + +In a burst of impatience Ted whispered to Mabel, whom, for some reason, +he did not appear at all surprised to see there: “Where’s Dorothy?” + +Mabel, scared and perplexed, shook her head solemnly. But, as if in +answer to the question, Dorothy rushed into the room, her cheeks aglow, +her hair flying wildly about, and behind her walked Dr. Gray. + +Dr. Gray’s kindly smile beamed on the little bride, and he soon brought +her around. Sitting up, she burst into a peal of merry laughter. + +“What, pray tell me, are they?” she demanded, pointing at the boys. She +was still white, but her eyes danced, and her small white teeth gleamed +between red lips. + +“My cousins,” bravely answered Dorothy. Everyone laughed, and the boys, +in evident relief, shouted. + +“You’ve come to my wedding!” exclaimed the bride. + +“Kind of ’em; wasn’t it?” said the bridegroom, sneeringly. + +“But we’re going now,” quickly replied Dorothy, with great dignity. + +“Why?” asked the bride with wide open eyes. “Since you are not really +spooky creatures, stay for the dancing.” + +“We’re terribly thankful you are not ghosts,” chirped a fluffy +bridesmaid. + +“You see if you had really been spooks,” laughed the bride, “everyone +would have shrieked at me that horrible phrase, ‘I told you so,’ because +you know I insisted upon being married in this house, just to defy +superstition.” + +“Just think what you’ve saved us!” said the tall, dark-haired girl. + +“Of course if it will be any accommodation,” awkwardly put in Ned, “we’ll +dance.” He thought he had said the perfectly polite thing. + +“He’s going to dance for us!” cried the tall girl, to the others in the +hall, and everyone crowded in. + +An hour later, trudging home in the bright moonlight, Dorothy sighed: +“Weren’t they wonderful!” + +“It was decent of them to let us stay and have such fun,” commented Ned. + +“And such eats!” mused Nat. And Nat and Ned, with a strangle hold on each +other, waltzed down the road. + +Happy, but completely tired, the boys and girls plowed through the snow, +homeward bound. + + + + + CHAPTER VIII + THE AFTERMATH + + +Christmas day, at dusk, the boys were stretched lazily before the huge +fire in the grate, when Dorothy jumped up excitedly: + +“Boys, here’s Tavia! And I declare, Bob Niles is with her!” + +“Good for Bob!” sang out Ned. + +“’Rah! ’Rah!” whooped Ted, and all rushed for the door. + +Gaily Tavia hugged them all. Bob stood discreetly aside. + +“Father was called away, and it was so dreary—I just ran over to see +everyone,” gushed Tavia. + +“Well, we’re glad to see you,” welcomed Aunt Winnie. + +“Oh, Tavia,” whispered Dorothy, “how did you manage to get Bob?” + +“Get whom?” Tavia tried to look blank. Dorothy spoiled the blankness by +stuffing a large chocolate cream right into Tavia’s mouth before her chum +could close it. + +“Thought you’d find Tavia interesting,” grinned Ned, helping Bob take off +his great ulster, at which words the lad addressed flushed to his +temples. + +“Say, fellows, that yarn about the hose——” began Nat. + +“Nat no longer believes in Santa and the stockings,” chimed in Ned, “he +hung up all his socks last night and——” + +Nat glared at Ned, then calmly proceeded: “About the hose, as I was +saying, is nonsense! I own some pretty decent-looking socks, as you’ve +noticed—I hung ’em all up and nary a sock remained on the line this +morning. Santa stole them!” + +“It’s the funniest thing about Nat’s socks,” explained Dorothy, hastily, +“he thought one pair would not hold enough, and so strung them all over +the fireplace, and this morning they were gone!” + +Ted hummed a dreamy tune, and stared at the beamed ceiling, with a +faraway look in his eyes. Nat, with sudden suspicion, grabbed Ted’s leg, +and there, sure enough, was one pair of his highly-prized, and +highly-colored, socks, snugly covering Ted’s ankles. + +A rough and tumble fight followed, and Tavia, with high glee, jumped into +it. Finally, breathless and panting, they stopped, and demurely Tavia, +for all the world like a prim little girl in Sunday School, sank to a low +stool, with Bob at her feet. Nothing could be quieter than Tavia, when +Tavia decided on quietness. + +“We came over in the biggest sleigh we could find,” said Bob, “so that +all could take a drive—Mrs. White and Major Dale too, you know.” + +“Oh, no, the young folks don’t want an old fellow like me,” protested +Major Dale. + +“We just do!” Dorothy replied, resting her head against her father’s arm +affectionately. “We simply won’t go unless you and Aunt Winnie come.” + +“Why, of course, dear, we’ll go,” answered Aunt Winnie, who was never +known to stay at home when she could go on a trip. As she spoke she +sniffed the air. “What is that smell, boys?” + +“Something’s burning,” yawned Ted, indifferently, just as if things +burning in one’s home was a commonplace diversion from the daily routine. + +Noses tilted, the boys and girls sniffed the air. + +Suddenly Bob and Nat sprang to Tavia’s side and quickly beat out, with +their fists, a tiny flame that was slowly licking its way along the hem +of her woollen dress. With her reckless disregard of consequences, Tavia +had joined in the rough and tumble fight with the boys, and, exhausted, +had rested too near the grate. A flying spark had ignited the dress, +which smouldered, and only the quick work of the boys saved Tavia from +possible burns. For once she was subdued. Mrs. White soothed her with +motherly compassion. She was always in dread lest Tavia’s reckless spirit +would cause the girl needless suffering. + +“You see,” said Bob, smiling at Tavia, as they piled into the sleigh and +he carefully tucked blankets about the girls, “you can’t entirely take +care of yourself—some time you’ll rush into the fire, as you did just +now.” + +For an instant Tavia’s cheeks flamed. He was so masterful! She yearned to +slap him, but considering the fire escapade, she couldn’t, quite. + +The major was driving, with Dorothy snuggled closely to his side, and Ted +curled up on the floor. Nat took care of Aunt Winnie on the next seat and +Bob and Tavia were in the rear. + +On they sped over snow and ice, the bitter wind sharply cutting their +faces, until all glowed and sparkled at the touch of it. + +“Did you hear from the girls?” asked Dorothy, turning to Tavia. + +“Just got Christmas cards,” answered Tavia. + +“I fared better than that. Cologne wrote a fourteen page letter——” + +“All the news that’s worth printing, as it were,” laughed Tavia. + +“Underlined, Cologne asked whether I had heard the news about Mingle, and +provokingly ended the letter there. I’m still wondering. Her departure at +such an opportune moment was a blessing, but we never stopped to think +what might have caused it,” said Dorothy, thoughtfully. + +“Well, whatever it was, it saved us,” contentedly responded Tavia. “By +the way, Maddie sent me the cutest card—painted it herself!” + +“Who wants to ride across the lake?” demanded Major Dale, slowing up the +horses, “that will save us climbing the hill, you know, and the ice is +plenty thick enough; don’t you think so, Winnie?” + +“Yes, indeed,” Aunt Winnie answered, ready for anything that meant +adventure, and as they all chorused their assent joyfully, away they +drove over the snow-covered ice. + +The horses galloped straight across the lake, up the bank, and then came +a smash! The steeds ran into a drift, dumped over the sleigh; and a +shivering, laughing mass of humanity lay on the new, white snow. + +“Such luck!” cried Tavia, “out of the fire into the snow!” + +While Major Dale and the boys righted the overturned sleigh, Bob took +care of the ladies. + +“You and the girls leave for New York to-morrow, Tavia tells me,” said +Bob. + +“Yes,” replied Aunt Winnie, with a sigh, “a little pleasure trip, and +some business.” + +“Business?” cried Dorothy, closely scrutinizing her aunt’s worried face. + +Quick to scent something that sounded very much like “family matters,” +Tavia turned with Bob, and deliberately started pelting with snow the +hard-working youths at the sleigh. + +“Aw! Quit!” scolded Ted. + +“There, you’ve done it! That one landed in my ear! Now, quit it!” Nat +stopped working long enough to wipe the wet snow from his face. + +But Tavia’s young spirits were not to be squelched by mere words; Bob +made the snow balls for Tavia to throw, which she continued to do with +unceasing ardor. + +“Why, yes, Dorothy,” Aunt Winnie replied, watching Tavia. “I’m afraid +there will be quite a bit of business mixed with our New York trip. I’m +having some trouble. It’s the agent who has charge of the apartment house +I am interested in—you remember, the man whom I did not like.” + +“The apartment you’ve taken for the Winter?” questioned Dorothy, +shivering. + +“You’re cold, dear.” Aunt Winnie, too, shivered. “Run over with Tavia and +jump around, it’s too chilly to stand still like this. How unfortunate we +are! The sun will soon dip behind those hilltops, and the air be almost +too frosty for comfort.” + +“Tell me,” persisted Dorothy, “what is it that’s worrying you, Aunt +Winnie? I’ve noticed it since I came home. I want to be all the +assistance I can, you know.” + +“You couldn’t help me, Dorothy, in fact, I do not even know that I am +right about the matter. I do not trust the agent, but he had the rent +collecting before I took the place, so I allowed him to continue under +me. I can only say, Dorothy, that something evidently is wrong. My income +is not what it should be.” + +“Oh, I’m so sorry! But, I’m glad you told me. Wait until we reach New +York—we’ll solve it,” and Dorothy pressed her lips together firmly. + +Aunt Winnie laughed. “Don’t talk foolishly, dear. It takes a man of wide +experience and cunning to deal with any real estate person, I guess; and +most of all a New York agent. My dear, let us forget the matter. There, +the sleigh seems to be right side up once more.” + +“Tavia,” whispered Dorothy, as she held her friend back, “we’re in for +it! Aunt Winnie has a mystery on her hands! In New York City! Let us see +if you and I and the boys can solve it!” + +“Good! We’ll certainly do it, if you think it can be done,” said Tavia. +“Oh, good old New York town! It makes me dizzy just to think of the +whirling mass of rushing people and the autos and ’buses, and shops and +tea-rooms! Doro, you must promise that you won’t drag me into more than +ten tea-rooms in one afternoon!” + +“I solemnly promise,” returned Dorothy, “if you’ll promise me to keep out +of shops one whole half-hour in each day!” + + + + + CHAPTER IX + JUST DALES + + +It was three days after Christmas, and what was left of the white +crystals was fast becoming brown mud, and the puddles and rivulets of +melted snow, very tempting to the small boy, made walking almost +impossible for the small boy’s elders. The air was soft, and as balmy as +the first days of Spring. One almost expected to hear the twittering of a +bluebird and the chirp of the robins, but nevertheless a grate fire +burned brightly in Dorothy’s room, with the windows thrown open admitting +the crisp air and sunlight. + +“Shall I take my messaline dress, Tavia?” Dorothy asked, holding the +garment in mid-air. + +“If we go to the opera you’ll want it; I packed my only evening gown, +that ancient affair in pink,” said Tavia, laughing a bit wistfully. + +“You’re simply stunning in that dress, Tavia,” said Dorothy. “Isn’t she, +Nat?” she appealed to her cousin. + +“That flowery, pinkish one, with the sash?” asked the boy. + +“Yes,” said Tavia, “the one that I’ve been wearing so long that if I put +it out on the front steps some evening, it would walk off alone to any +party or dance in Dalton.” + +“You know,” said Nat, looking at Tavia with pride, “when you have that +dress on you look like a—er—a well, like pictures I’ve seen of—red-haired +girls,” the color mounted Nat’s brow and he looked confused. Dorothy +smiled as she turned her back and folded the messaline dress, placing it +carefully in her trunk. Nat was so clumsy at compliments! But Tavia did +not seem to notice the clumsiness, a lovely light leaped to her clear +brown eyes, and the wistfulness of a moment before vanished as she +laughed. + +“I was warned by everyone in school not to buy pink!” declared Tavia. + +“So, of course,” said Dorothy laughing, “you straightway decided on a +pink dress. But, seriously, Tavia, pink is your color, the old idea of +auburn locks and greens and browns is completely smashed to nothingness, +when you wear pink! Oh dear,” continued Dorothy, perplexed, “where shall +I pack this wrap? Not another thing will go into my trunk.” + +“Are you taking two evening wraps?” asked Tavia. + +“Surely, one for you and the other for me. You see this is pink too,” +Dorothy held up a soft, silk-lined cape, with a collar of fur. Quick +tears sprang to Tavia’s eyes, and impulsively she threw her arms about +Dorothy. + +“Don’t strangle Dorothy,” objected Nat. + +“You always make me so happy, Doro,” said Tavia, releasing her chum, who +looked happier even than Tavia, her fair face flushed. The hugging Tavia +had given had loosened Dorothy’s stray wisps of golden hair, that fell +about her eyes and ears in a most bewitching way. + +“Girls,” called Aunt Winnie, from below stairs, “aren’t you nearly +finished?” + +“All finished but Nat’s part,” answered Dorothy. Then to Nat she said: +“Now, cousin, sit hard on this trunk, and perhaps we’ll be able to close +it.” + +Nat solemnly perched on the lid of the trunk, but it would not close. + +“Something will have to come out,” he declared. + +“There is nothing, absolutely nothing, in my trunk that I can leave +behind,” said Dorothy. + +“My trunk closed very easily,” said Tavia, “I’ll get it up from the +station and we’ll pack the surplus gowns in it,” she turned triumphantly +to Dorothy. “Too bad I sent it on so early. But we can get it.” + +“The very thing!” Dorothy laughed. “Run, Nat, and fetch Tavia’s trunk +from the station.” + +“Dorothy,” called Aunt Winnie again, “we only have a few hours before +train time. Your trunk should be ready for the expressman now, dear.” + +“Hurry, Nat,” begged Dorothy, “you must get Tavia’s trunk here in two +minutes. Coming,” she called down to Aunt Winnie, as she and Tavia rushed +down the stairs. + +“The trunk won’t close because the gowns won’t fit,” dramatically cried +Tavia. + +“So the boys have gone for Tavia’s, and we’ll pack things in it,” +hurriedly explained Dorothy. + +“What is all this about gowns?” asked Major Dale, drawing Dorothy to the +arm of the great chair in which he was sitting. + +“I’m packing, father, we’re going to leave you for a while,” said +Dorothy, nestling close to his broad shoulders. + +“But not for very long,” Aunt Winnie said. “You and the boys must arrange +so that you can follow in at least one week.” + +“Well, it all depends on my rheumatism,” answered the major. “You won’t +want an old limpy soldier trying to keep pace with you in New York City. +Mrs. Martin, the tried and true, will take fine care of us while you are +gone.” + +“No, that won’t do,” declared Dorothy, “we know how well cared for you +will be under Mrs. Martin’s wing, but we want you with us. In fact,” she +glanced hastily at Aunt Winnie, “we may even need you.” + +“Perhaps the best way,” said Aunt Winnie, thoughtfully, “would be to send +you a telegram when to come, and by that time, you will no doubt be all +over this attack of rheumatism.” + +“Ned and Nat are as anxious as are you girlies to get there,” replied +Major Dale, “so I’ll make a good fight to arrive in New York City.” + +“Who is going to tell me stories at bed-time, when Dorothy’s gone?” asked +little Roger. “I don’t want Doro to go away, ’cause she’s the best sister +that any feller ever had.” + +Roger was leaning against the Major’s knee, and Dorothy drew him close to +her. + +“Sister will have to send you a story in a letter every day. How will +that do?” she asked, as she pressed her cheek against his soft hair. + +“Aw, no,” pouted Roger, “tell them all to me now, before you go away.” + +“I’ll tell you one and then father will tell one; father will tell one +about the soldier boys,” murmured Dorothy in Roger’s ear. + +“Oh, goody,” Roger clapped his hands; “and Aunt Winnie and Tavia and Ned +and Nat and everybody can tell me one story to-night and that will fill +up for all the nights while you are away!” + +“Dorothy!” screamed Tavia, bursting into the room in wild excitement, +“the boys have gone without my trunk check! They can’t get it!” + +“And the gowns will have to be left behind!” + +“Never!” laughed Tavia, “I’ll run all the way to the station and catch +them!” + +“They’ve taken the _Fire Bird_, maybe you’ll meet them coming back.” + +Tavia dashed, hatless, from the house. They watched her as she fairly +flew along the road, in a short walking skirt, heavy sweater pulled high +around her throat, and her red hair gleaming in the sun. + +Major Dale had always greatly admired Tavia; he liked her fearless +honesty and the sincerity of her affections. Aunt Winnie, too, loved her +almost as much as she loved Dorothy. + +“I’ve wondered so much,” said Dorothy, “what trouble Miss Mingle is in. +She left school so suddenly that last day, and Cologne was so provoking +in her letter.” + +“An illness, probably,” said Aunt Winnie, kindly. + +“It can’t be anything so commonplace as illness,” said Dorothy. “Cologne +would have gone into details about illness. The telegram, and her +departure, were almost tragic in their suddenness. I feel so selfish when +I think of our treatment of that meek little woman. No one ever was +interested in her, that I remember. Her great fault was a too-meek +spirit. She literally erased herself and her name from the minds of +everyone.” + +Major Dale and Aunt Winnie listened without much enthusiasm. Aunt Winnie +was worried about Dorothy, who showed so little inclination to enter the +whirl of society in North Birchland. She had looked forward with much +pleasure to presenting her niece to her social world. + +But Dorothy had little love for the society life of North Birchland. She +loved her cousins and her small brothers, and seemed perfectly happy and +contented in her home life, and attending to the small charities +connected with the town. She seemed to prefer a hospital to a house +party, a romp with the boys to a fashionable dance, and she bubbled with +glee in the company of Tavia, ignoring the girls of the first families in +her neighborhood. + +“Your trip to New York, daughter,” began Major Dale, slily smiling at +Aunt Winnie, “will be your _debut_, so to speak, in the world.” + +Dorothy answered nothing, but continued to smooth away the hair from +Roger’s brow. + +“What are you thinking of?” her father asked musingly, not having +received an answer to his first remark. + +“Oh, nothing in particular,” sighed Dorothy, “except that I don’t see why +I should make a _debut_ anywhere. I don’t want to meet the world,—that +is, socially. I want to know people for themselves, not for what they’re +worth financially or because of the entertaining they do. I just like to +know people—and poorer people best of all. They are interesting and +real.” + +“As are persons of wealth and social position,” answered Aunt Winnie, +gently. + +“I’m going to be a soldier, like father,” said Joe, “and Dorothy can +nurse me when I fall in battle.” + +“Me, too,” chirped little Roger, “I want to be a soldier and limp like +father!” + +“Oh, boys!” cried Dorothy, in horror, “you’ll never, never be trained for +war.” + +“What’s that?” asked Major Dale. “Don’t you want the boys to receive +honor and glory in the army?” + +“No,” said Dorothy decidedly, “I’ll never permit it. Of course,” she +hastened to add, “if Joe must wear a uniform, he might go to a military +school, if that will please him.” + +The major scoffed at the idea. Joe straightened his shoulders, and +marched about the room, little Roger following in his wake, while the +major whistled “Yankee Doodle.” + +The sound of the _Fire Bird_ was heard coming up the driveway, and in +another second Nat, Ned and Ted rushed into the room. + +“We can’t have the trunk without the check,” explained Nat, breathlessly, +“where is it?” + +“Tavia discovered the check after you left, and she followed you down to +the station,” explained Aunt Winnie. + +“We took a short cut back and missed her, of course,” said Nat, +dejectedly. + +“We won’t have any time to spare,” declared Aunt Winnie, walking to the +window, “the train leaves at seven-thirty, and it is after six now,” +Dorothy followed her to the window. They both stood still in +astonishment. + +“Boys!” cried Dorothy, “come quick!” + +The boys scrambled to the window. There was Tavia, coming up the drive, +serenely seated on top of her trunk, in the back part of a small buggy, +enjoying immensely the wind that brushed her hair wildly about her face, +while the driver, the stoutest man in North Birchland, occupied the +entire front seat. + +“I found it,” she cried lightly jumping to the ground, “and this was the +only available rig!” + +“Never mind,” said Dorothy, “nothing counts but a place to pack the +gowns!” + +“And catch the train for New York City,” cried Tavia, from the top +landing of the first flight of stairs. “Everybody hurry! We have just +time enough to catch the train!” + + + + + CHAPTER X + SIXTY MILES AN HOUR + + +The station at North Birchland was just a brown stone building, and a +small platform, surrounded by a garden, like all country town stations. +But a more animated crowd of young people had rarely gathered anywhere. +Dorothy, Tavia and Aunt Winnie were noticeable among the crowd, their +smart travelling suits and happy smiling faces being good to look upon. +Ned, who was to accompany his mother, stood guard over the bags, while +they were being checked by the station master. Nat, Ted and Bob, who had +come to see them off, pranced about, impatient for the train, and +altogether they were making such a racket that an elderly lady picked up +her bag and shawls, and quickly searched for a quieter part of the +station. It was such a long time since the elderly lady had been young +and going on a journey, that she completely forgot all about the way it +feels, and how necessary it is to laugh and chatter noisily on such +occasions. + +Nat looked in Tavia’s direction constantly, and at last succeeded in +attracting her attention. He appeared so utterly miserable that +instinctively Tavia slipped away from the others, and walked with him +toward the end of the station. But this did not make Bob any happier. He +devoted himself to Dorothy and Aunt Winnie, casting longing glances at +Nat and Tavia. Dorothy was charming in a travelling coat of blue, and a +small blue hat and veil gracefully tilted on her bright blond hair, a +coquettish quill encircling her hat and peeping over her ear. Tavia was +dressed in a brown tailored suit, and a lacy dotted brown veil +accentuated the pink in her cheeks and the brightness of her eyes. + +A light far down the track told of the approaching train. Joe and Roger +were having an argument as to who saw the gleam first and Major Dale had +to come to the rescue and be umpire. As the rumble and roar grew nearer, +and the light became bigger, the excitement of the little group became +intense. With a great, loud roar and hissing, the train stopped and the +coach on which they had engaged berths was just in front of them. + +“The _Yellow Flyer_,” read Joe, carefully, “is that where you will +sleep?” he asked, looking in wonder at the car. + +“Yes, indeed, Joey,” said Dorothy, kissing him good-bye, “in cunning +little beds, hanging from the sides of the coach.” + +Dorothy held out her hand to Bob. “Good-bye,” she said. Tavia, just +behind Dorothy, glancing quickly up at Bob, blushed as she placed her +slim hand in his large brown one. + +“You’re coming to New York, too, with the boys?” she asked, demurely. + +Bob held her hand in his strong grip and it hurt her, as he said very +stiffly: “I don’t know that I shall.” With a toss of her head, Tavia +started up the steps of the coach, but Bob following, still held her hand +tightly, and she stopped. All the others were on the train. She looked +straight into his eyes and said: “We’re going to have no end of fun, you +know.” Bob released her hand. Standing in the vestibule, Tavia turned +once more: “Please come,” she called to him, then rushed into the train +and joined the others. + +When the cars pulled out, the last thing Tavia saw was Bob’s uncovered +head and Nat’s waving handkerchief, and she smiled at both very sweetly. +Then they waved their handkerchiefs until darkness swallowed up the +little station. + +The girls looked about them. A sleeping car! Tavia thrilled with pleasant +anticipation. It was all so very luxurious! Aunt Winnie almost +immediately discovered an old acquaintance sitting directly opposite. The +lady, very foreign in manner and attire, held a tiny white basket under +her huge sable muff. She gushed prettily at the unexpected pleasure of +having Aunt Winnie for a travelling companion. Tavia thought she must be +the most beautiful lady in all the world, and both she and Dorothy found +it most disconcerting to be ushered into a sleeping car filled with +staring people, and be introduced to so lovely a creature as Aunt +Winnie’s friend. The beautiful lady whispered mysteriously to Aunt +Winnie, and pointed to the hidden basket and instantly a saucy growl came +from it. + +“A dog,” gasped Dorothy, “why, they don’t permit dogs on a Pullman!” + +“Let’s get a peep at him,” said Tavia, “the little darling, to go +travelling just like real people!” + +Immediately following the growl, the lady and Aunt Winnie sat in +dignified silence, and stared blankly at the entire car. + +“They’re making believe,” whispered Tavia, “pretending there isn’t any +dog, and that no one heard a growl!” + +“I’m simply dying to see the little fellow!” said Dorothy, unaware that +the future held an opportunity to see the dog that now reposed in the +basket. + +“Well, Dorothy,” said Tavia, “according to the looks across the aisle +‘there ain’t no dog,’” Tavia loved an expressive phrase, regardless of +grammatical rules. + +“Did Ned get on?” suddenly asked Dorothy. “I don’t see him.” + +“He’s on,” answered Tavia, disdainfully, “in the smoker. Didn’t you hear +him beg our permission?” + +After an hour had passed Aunt Winnie came toward them and said: + +“Don’t you think it best to retire now, girls? You have a strenuous week +before you.” + +Dorothy and Tavia readily agreed, as neither had found much to keep them +awake. Many of the passengers had already retired, some of them +immediately after the last stop was made. Tavia could not remain quiet, +and happy too, where there was no excitement. She preferred to sleep +peacefully—and strangely, the Pullman sleeper offered no fun even to an +inventive mind like Tavia’s. + +“Ned might have stayed with us,” sighed Dorothy. “Boys are so selfish.” + +“Wouldn’t you like to go into the smoker too?” suggested Tavia. + +“What! Tavia Travers, you’re simply too awful!” cried Dorothy. + +“Oh, just to keep awake. After all, I find I have a yearning to stay up. +All in favor of the smoker say ‘Aye.’” And a lone “Aye” came from Tavia. + +“Besides,” said Dorothy, “the porter wouldn’t permit it.” + +“Unless we carried something in our hands that looked like a pipe,” mused +Tavia. + +“We might take Ned some matches,” rejoined Dorothy, seeing that the +subject offered a little variety. + +“When the porter takes down our berths, we’ll quietly suggest it, and see +how it takes,” said Tavia. “Along with feeling like storming the smoker, +I’m simply dying for a weeny bit of ice-cream.” + +“Tavia,” said Dorothy, trying to speak severely, “I think you must be +having a nightmare, such unreasonable desires!” + +“So,” yawned Tavia, “I’ll have to go to bed hungry, I suppose.” + +“Do you really want ice-cream as badly as that?” + +“I never yearned so much for anything.” + +Dorothy was rather yearning for ice-cream herself, since it had been +suggested, but she knew it was an utter impossibility. The dining car was +closed, and how to secure it, Dorothy could not think. However, she +called the porter, and, while he was taking down their berths, she and +Tavia went over to say good-night to Aunt Winnie and her friend. + +“I’ll try not to awaken you, girls, when I retire,” said Aunt Winnie. +“Ned’s berth, by a strange coincidence, is the upper one in Mrs. +Sanderson’s section. Years ago, Mrs. Sanderson and myself occupied the +same section in a Pullman for an entire week, and it was the beginning of +a delightful friendship.” + +Mrs. Sanderson told the girls about her present trip, but Tavia was so +hungry for the ice-cream, and Dorothy so busy trying to devise some means +to procure it, that they missed a very interesting story from the +beautiful lady. + +Then, returning to their berths, Tavia climbed the ladder, and everything +was quiet. + +“Dorothy,” she whispered, her head dangling over the side of the berth, +“peep out and find the porter. I must have ice-cream.” + +“Why, Tavia?” asked Dorothy. + +“Just because,” answered Tavia in the most positive way. + +Dorothy and Tavia both looked out from behind their curtains. Every other +one was drawn tightly, save two, for Aunt Winnie and her friend and Ned, +who had come back, were the only passengers still out of their berths. +Ned winked at the girls when their heads appeared. + +Holding up a warning finger at Ned, who faced them, the girls stole out +of their section and crept silently toward the porter. In hurried +whispers they consulted him, but the porter stood firm and unyielding. +They could not be served with anything after the dining car closed. + +So they then descended to coaxing. Just one girl pleading for ice-cream +might have been resisted, but when two sleep-eyed young creatures, begged +so pitifully to be served with it at once, the porter threw up his hands +and said: + +“Ah’ll see if it can be got, but Ah ain’t got no right fo’ to git it +tho!” + +Soon he reappeared with two plates of ice-cream. Tavia took one plate in +both hands hungrily, and Dorothy took the other. When they looked at Aunt +Winnie’s back, Ned stared, but Aunt Winnie was too deeply interested in +her old friend to care what Ned was staring at. + +“Duck!” cautioned Tavia, who was ahead of Dorothy, as she saw Aunt Winnie +suddenly turn her head. They slipped into the folds of a nearby curtain, +but sprang instantly back into the centre of the aisle. Snoring, deep and +musical, sounded directly into their ears from behind the curtain, and +even Tavia’s love of adventure quailed at the awful nearness of the +sound. One little lurch and they would have landed in the arms of the +snoring one! + +Just to make the ice-cream taste better, Aunt Winnie again turned partly. +Dorothy and Tavia stood still, unable to decide whether it was wise to +retreat or advance, Ned solved it for them by rising and waiting for the +girls. Aunt Winnie, of course, turned all the way around and discovered +the two girls hugging each other, in silent mirth. + +“Tavia would have cream,” explained Dorothy. + +“But it would have tasted so much better had we eaten it without being +found out,” said Tavia, woefully. + +“Just look at this,” said Ned, “and maybe the flavor of the cream will be +good enough,” and he handed the girls a check marked in neat, small +print, which the porter had handed him: “Two plates of ice-cream, at 75 +cents each, $1.50.” + +“How outrageous!” cried Dorothy. + +“We’ll return it immediately,” said Tavia, indignantly. + +“I paid it,” explained Ned, drily. “You wanted something outside of meal +hours, and you might have expected to have the price raised.” + +“At that cost each spoonful will taste abominable,” moaned Tavia. + +Said Dorothy sagely: “It won’t taste at all if we don’t eat it instantly. +It’s all but melted now.” + +“Yes, pray eat it,” said the gruff voice of a man behind closed curtains, +“so the rest of us can get to sleep.” + +Another voice, with a faint suggestion of stifling laughter, said: “I’m +in no hurry to sleep, understand; still I engaged the berth for that +purpose——” + +But Dorothy and Tavia had fled, and heard no more comments. Aunt Winnie +followed. + +“How ridiculous to want ice-cream at such an hour, and in such a place!” +she said. + +“Old melted stuff,” complained Tavia, “it tastes like the nearest thing +to nothing I’ve ever attempted to eat!” + +“And, Auntie,” giggled Dorothy, “we paid seventy-five cents per plate! +I’m drinking mine; it’s nothing but milk!” + +Soon the soft breathing of Aunt Winnie denoted the fact that she had +slipped silently into the land of dreams. Dorothy, too, was asleep, and +Tavia alone remained wide-awake, listening to the noise of the cars as +the train sped over the country. Tavia sighed. She had so much to be +thankful for, she was so much happier than she deserved to be, she +thought. One fact stood out clearly in her mind. Sometime, somehow, she +would show Dorothy how deeply she loved and admired her, above everyone +else in the world. After all, a sincere, unselfish love is the best one +can give in return for unselfish kindness. + +The next thing Tavia knew, although it seemed as if she had only just +finished thinking how much she loved Dorothy, a tiny streak of sunlight +shone across her face. She sat bolt upright, confused and mystified, in +her narrow bed so near the roof. The sleepy mist left her eyes, and with +a bound she landed on the edge of her berth, her feet dangling down over +the side of it. The train was not moving, and peeping out of the +ventilator, she saw that they were in a station, and an endless row of +other trains met her gaze. + +“Good morning!” she sang out to Dorothy, but the only answer was the echo +of her own voice. Some few seconds passed, and Tavia was musing on what +hour of the morning it might be, when a perfectly modulated voice said: +“Anything yo’-all wants, Miss?” + +“Gracious, no! Oh, yes I do. What time is it?” she asked. + +“Near on to seven o’clock,” said the porter. + +“Thank you,” demurely answered Tavia, and started to dress. All went well +until she climbed down the ladder for her shoes and picked up a +beautifully-polished, but enormous number eleven! She looked again, Aunt +Winnie’s very French heeled kid shoes and Dorothy’s stout walking boots +and one of her own shoes were there, but her right shoe was gone! + +She held up the number eleven boot and contemplated it severely. To be +sure both her feet would have fitted snugly into the one big shoe, but +that wasn’t the way Tavia had intended making her _debut_ in New York +City. She looked down the aisle and saw shoes peeping from under every +curtain, and some stood boldly in the aisle. The porter at the end of the +car dozed again, and Tavia, the number eleven in hand, started on a still +hunt for her own shoe. + +She passed several pairs of shoes, but none were hers. At the end of the +car, she jumped joyfully on a pair, only to lay them down in +disappointment. They were exactly like hers, but her feet had developed +somewhat since her baby days, whereas the owner of these shoes still +retained her baby feet, little tiny number one shoes! On she went, +bending low over each pair. At last! Tavia dropped the shoe she was +carrying beside its mate! At least that was some relief, she would not +now have to face the owner in her shoeless condition and return to his +outstretched hand his number eleven. + +Tavia thought anyone with such a foot would naturally feel embarrassed to +be found out. Now for her own. She stooped cautiously, deeply interested +in her mission, under the curtain and a heavy hand was laid on her +shoulder. She looked up in dazed astonishment into the dark face of the +porter. Mercy! did he think she was trying to enter the berth? She +realized, instantly, how suspicious her actions must have appeared. + +“Please find my shoe!” she commanded, haughtily, “it is not in my berth.” + +The porter released her. “Yo’ done leave ’em fo’ me to be polished?” he +inquired, respectfully. + +“No, indeed,” replied Tavia, trying to maintain her haughty air, “it has +simply disappeared, and I must have two shoes, you know.” + +“O’ course,” solemnly answered the porter. + +“Tavia,” called Dorothy’s voice, “what is the trouble?” + +“Nothing at all,” calmly answered Tavia, “I’ve lost a shoe; a mere +nothing, dear.” + +One by one the curtains moved, indicating persons of bulk on the other +side, trying to dress within the narrow limits, and the murmur of voices +rose higher. Shoes were drawn within the curtains and soon there were +none left, and Tavia stood in dismay. Aunt Winnie, Dorothy and Ned and +lovely Mrs. Sanderson joined Tavia, others stood attentively and +sympathetically looking on while they searched all over the car, dodging +under seats, pulling out suit-cases and poking into the most impossible +places, in an endeavor to locate Tavia’s lost shoe. + +A sharp, sudden bark and Mrs. Sanderson returned in confusion to her +section and smothered the protests of her dog. She called Ned to help her +put him into his little white basket, at which doggie loudly rebelled. He +had had his freedom for an entire night, running up and down the aisle, +playing with the good-natured porter. + +Doggie played hide-and-seek under the berths and dragged various +peculiar-looking black things back and forth in his playful scampering +and he did not intend to return to any silk-lined basket after such a +wild night of fun! So he barked again, saucy, snappy barks, then he +growled fiercely at everyone who came near him. In fact, one of the +peculiar-looking black things at that very moment was lying in wait for +him, expecting him back to play with it, and just as soon as he could +dodge his mistress, doggie expected to rejoin it, reposing in a dark +corner of the car. At last he saw his opportunity, and with a mad dash, +the terrier ran down the aisle, determination marking every feature, as +pretty Mrs. Sanderson started after him, and Ned followed. Tavia sat +disconsolately in her seat, wondering what anyone, even the most +resourceful, could do with but one shoe! + +A sudden howl of mirth from Ned, and an amused, light laugh from Mrs. +Sanderson, and, back they came, Ned gingerly holding the little terrier +and Mrs. Sanderson triumphantly holding forth Tavia’s shoe. By this time +every passenger had left the car, and the cleaning corps stood waiting +for Aunt Winnie’s party to vacate the vehicle. + +Tavia put on the shoe, but first she shook the terrier and scolded him. +He barked and danced up and down, as though he were the hero of the hour. + +“We must get out of here, double-quick,” said Ned. + +“Oh, dear me!” exclaimed Dorothy, “where is everything! I never can grab +my belongings together in time to get off a train.” + +“I’m not half dressed,” chirped Tavia, cheerfully, “and they will simply +have to stand there with the mops and brooms, until I’m ready.” + +Aunt Winnie sat patiently waiting. “Do you want to go uptown in the +subway or the ’bus,” she asked. + +“Both!” promptly answered the young people. + + + + + CHAPTER XI + A HOLD-ON IN NEW YORK + + +“My! Isn’t it hard to hang on!” breathed Tavia, clinging to Dorothy, as +the subway train swung rapidly around the curves. As usual the morning +express was crowded to overflowing, and the “overflowers” were squeezed +tightly together on the platforms. Ned held Aunt Winnie by the arm and +looked daggers at the complacent New Yorkers who sat behind the morning +papers, unable to see any persons who might want their seats. + +“Such unbearable air! It always makes me faint,” said Aunt Winnie, +weakly. + +“Let’s get out as quickly as possible,” said Dorothy, “the top of a ’bus +for mine!” + +“So this is a subway train,” exclaimed Tavia, as she was lurched with +much force against an athletic youth, who simply braced himself on his +feet, and saved Tavia from falling. + +“The agony will be over in a second,” exclaimed Ned, as the guard yelled +in a most bewildering way, “next stop umphgetoughly!” and another in the +middle of the train, screamed in a perfectly unintelligent manner, “next +stop fothburgedinskt!” + +“What did he say?” said Tavia, wonderingly. + +“He must have said Forty-second Street,” said Aunt Winnie, “that I know +is the next stop.” + +“I would have to ride on indefinitely,” said Tavia, “I could never +understand such eloquence.” + +“There,” said Dorothy, readjusting herself, “I expected to be hurled into +someone’s lap sooner or later, but I didn’t expect it so soon.” + +“You surely landed in his lap,” laughed Tavia, “see how he’s blushing. +Why don’t you hang onto Ned, as we are doing.” + +“Poor Ned,” said Dorothy, but she, too, grasped a portion of his arm, and +like grim death the three women clung to Ned for protection against the +merciless swaying of the subway train. + +Reaching Forty-second Street, up the steps they dashed with the rest of +the madly rushing crowd of people and out into the open street. Tavia +tried to keep her mouth closed, because all the cartoons she had ever +seen of a country person’s first glimpse of New York pictured them +open-mouthed, and staring. She clung to Dorothy and Dorothy hung on Aunt +Winnie, who had Ned’s arm in a firm grip. + +Such crowds of human beings! Neither Dorothy nor Tavia had ever before +seen so many people at one glance! So many people were not in Dalton in +an entire year. + +“This isn’t anything,” said Ned, out of his superior knowledge of a +previous trip to New York. “This is only a handful—the business crowd.” + +“Oh, let’s stay in front of the Grand Central Terminal,” said Dorothy, “I +want to finish counting the taxicabs, I was only up to thirty.” + +“I only had time to count five stories in that big hotel building,” cried +Tavia, “and I want to count ’em right up into the clouds.” + +“They’re not tall buildings,” said Ned, just bursting with information. +“Wait until you see the downtown skyscrapers!” + +“Ned throws cold water on all our little enthusiasms,” pouted Dorothy. + +“Never mind,” said Aunt Winnie, “you and Tavia can come down town +to-morrow and spend the day counting people and things.” + +Arriving at the corner of Fifth Avenue, and successfully dodging many +vehicles, they got safely on the opposite corner just in time to catch a +speeding auto ’bus. Up to the roof they climbed. + +“Isn’t it too delightful!” sighed Tavia, blissfully. + +“We’ll come down town on a ’bus every day,” declared Dorothy. + +They passed all the millionaires’ palatial residences in blissful +ignorance of whom the palaces sheltered. They didn’t care which rich man +occupied one mansion or another, they were happy enough riding on top of +a ’bus. + +Tavia simply gushed when they reached the Drive and a cutting sharp +breeze blew across the Hudson river. + +“I never imagined New York City had anything so lovely as this; I thought +it was all tall buildings and smoky atmosphere and—lights!” declared +Tavia. + +Along the river all was quiet and luxurious and wonderful. The auto ’bus +stopped before a small apartment house—that is, it was small +comparatively. The front was entirely latticed glass and white marble. A +bell boy rushed forward to relieve them of their bags, another took their +wraps and a third respectfully held open the reception hall door. Down +this hall, lined on two sides with growing plants, Aunt Winnie’s party +marched in haughty silence. They were afraid to utter an unseemly word. +Tavia’s little chin went up into the air—the bell boys were very +appalling—but they shouldn’t know of the visitors’ suburban origin if +Tavia could help it. They were assisted on the elevator by a dignified +liveried man, and up into the air they shot, landing, breathless, in a +perfectly equipped tiny hall. At home, of course, one would call it a +tiny hall, but in a New York apartment house it was spacious and roomy. + +Still another person, this time a woman, in spotless white, opened the +door and into the door Aunt Winnie disappeared, and the others followed, +although they were not at all sure it was the proper thing to do. + +Then Tavia gasped. In her loveliest dreams of a home, she had never +dreamed of anything as perfectly beautiful as this. Little bowers of pink +and white, melted into other little rooms of gold and green and blue, and +then a velvety stretch of something, which Tavia afterward discovered was +a hall, led them into a kitchenette. + +“Do people eat here?” said the dazed Tavia. + +“One must eat, be the furnishings ever so luxurious,” sang Ned. + +Dorothy rushed immediately to the tiny cupboard, and examined the Mother +Goose pattern breakfast dishes, while Tavia gazed critically at the +numerous mysterious doors leading hither and thither through the +apartment. + +They gathered together, finally, in the living room, which faced the +river. The heavy draperies subdued the strong sunlight. + +Mrs. White sighed the happy sigh that betokens rest, as she sank into a +Turkish chair. Dorothy and Tavia were not ready to sit down yet—there was +too much to explore. From their high place, there above the crowds, and +seemingly in the clouds, they could see something akin to human beings +moving about everywhere, even, it seemed, out along the river drive. For +a brief time no one spoke; then Ned “proverbially” broke the silence. + +“Well, Mom,” he emitted, “what is it all about? Did you just come into +upholstered storage to have new looking glasses? Or is there a system in +this insanity?” + +Mrs. White smiled indulgently. Ned was beginning to take an interest in +things. He must surmise that her trip to New York was not one of mere +pleasure. + +The girls, unconsciously discreet, had left the room. + +“My dear son,” said the lady, now in a soft robe, just rescued from her +suit-case, “I am glad to see that you are trying to help me. You know the +Court Apartments, the one I hold purposely for you and Nat?” He nodded. +“Well, the agent has been acting queerly. In fact, I have reason to +question his honesty. He is constantly refusing to make reports. Says +that rents have come down, when everyone else says they have gone up. He +also declares some of the tenants are in arrears. Now, if we are to have +so much trouble with the investment, we shall have to get rid of it.” + +The remark was in the note of query. Nat brushed his fingers through his +heavy hair. + +“Well, Mom,” he said impressively, “we must look it over carefully, but I +have always heard that New York real estate men—of a certain type—observe +the certain and remember the type—are not always to be trusted. I +wouldn’t ask better sport than going in for detective work on the +half-shell. But say, this is some apartment! I suppose I may have it some +evening for a little round-up of my New York friends? You know so many of +the fellows seem to blow this way.” + +“Of course you may, Ned. I shall be glad to help you.” + +“Oh, you couldn’t possibly do that, mother,” he objected. “There is only +one way to let boys have a good time and that is to let them have it. If +one interferes it’s ‘good-night’,” and he paused to let the pardonable +slang take effect. + +“Just as you like, of course,” said the mother, without the least hint of +offence. “I know I can depend upon you not to—eat the rugs or chairs. +They are only hired, you know.” + +“Never cared for that sort of food. In fact I don’t even like the feel of +some of these,” and he rubbed his hand over the side of a plush chair. +“Nothing like the home stuffs, Mom.” + +“You are not disappointed?” + +“Oh, no, not that. Only trying to remember what home is like. It kind of +upsets one’s memory to take a trip and get here. I wonder what the girls +are up to? You stay here while I inspect.” + +Mrs. White was not sorry of the respite. She looked out over the broad +drive. It was some years since her husband had taken her to a pretty +little apartment in this city. The thought was absorbing. But it was +splendid that she had two such fine boys. Yes, she must not complain, for +both boys were in many ways like their father, upright to the point of +peril, daring to the point of personal risk. + +The maid, she who had come in advance from North Birchland, stepped in +with the soft tread of the professional nurse to close the doors. +Something must be going on in the kitchenette. Well, let the children +play, thought Mrs. White. + +Suddenly she heard something like a shriek! Even then she did not move. +If there were danger to any one in the apartment she would soon know +it—the old reliable adage—no news is good news, when someone shrieks. + + + + + CHAPTER XII + HUMAN FREIGHT ON THE DUMMY + + +Tavia almost fell over Ned. Dorothy grasped the door. The maid ruffled up +her nice white apron! + +They all scrambled into the living room and there was more, for with +them, in fact, in Ned’s strong arms, was a child, a boy with blazing +cheeks and defiant eyes. + +“Look, mother! He came up on the dumb waiter!” said Ned, as soon as he +could speak. + +“Yes, and I nearly killed him,” blurted Tavia. “I thought the place was +haunted!” + +“On the dumb waiter?” repeated Dorothy. + +The maid nodded her head decidedly. + +“Why!” ejaculated Mrs. White, sitting up very straight. + +“I didn’t mean anything,” said the boy, reflecting good breeding in +choice of language, if not in manner of transportation. “I was just +coming up to fly kites.” + +“But on the dummy!” queried Ned. + +“Well, we wouldn’t dare come up any other way. This apartment was not +rented before and we had to sneak in on the janitor. This is the best +lobby for kites,” and his eyes danced at the thought. + +“But where’s the kite?” questioned Ned. + +“Talent’s got it.” + +“Talent?” repeated Dorothy. + +“Yes, he’s the other fellow—the smartest fellow around. His real name—” +he paused to laugh. + +“Is what?” begged Tavia, coming over to the little fellow, with no hidden +show of admiration. + +“It’s too silly, but he didn’t choose it,” apologized the boy. “It’s +C-l-a-u-d!” + +“That’s a pretty name,” interposed Mrs. White, feeling obliged to say +something agreeable. + +“But he can’t bear it,” declared the boy. “My name is worse. Mother +brought it from Rome.” + +“Catacombs?” suggested Tavia, foolishly. + +“No,” the lad lowered his voice in disgust. “But it’s Raphael.” + +“That was the name of a great painter,” said Mrs. White, again feeling +how difficult it was to talk to a small and enterprising New York boy. + +“Maybe,” admitted the little one, “but I have Raffle from the boys, and +that’s all right. Means going off all the time.” + +Everyone laughed. Raffle looked uneasily at the door. + +“But where’s that kite?” questioned Ned. + +“Talent was waiting until I got up. Then I was to pull him up. He has the +kites.” + +“As long as I didn’t kill you, Raffle,” said Tavia, “I guess we won’t +have to have you arrested for false entering.” + +“Dorothy caught the rope just in time,” Ned explained, in answer to his +mother’s look of inquiry. “Tavia was so scared she was going to let it +drop.” + +“We had ordered things,” Tavia explained further, “and thought they were +coming up. I was just crazy to have something to do with all the machines +in the place, so went to get the things. Imagine me seeing something +squirm in the dark!” + +“But you weren’t afraid,” said Raffle to Dorothy. “You just hauled me +out.” + +“Your coat got torn,” Dorothy remarked to divert attention. “What will +your mother say?” + +“She will never see it,” declared the little fellow. “She goes to +rehearsal all day and sings all night. Tillie—she’s the girl—she likes +me. She won’t mind mending it,” and he bunched together in his small hand +the hole in the short coat. + +“I’ll tell you,” interposed Ned, “they say dark haired people fetch good +luck, and you are our first caller. Suppose we get Talent, and bring him +up properly, kites and all. Then perhaps, when I get something to eat, +you may show me how to fly a kite over the Hudson.” + +“Bully!” exclaimed Raffle. “I’ll get him right away. If John—the +janitor—catches him waiting with the kites—” + +But he was gone with the rest of the sentence. + +Ned slapped his knees in glee. Tavia stretched out full length, shoes and +all, on the rose-colored divan, Dorothy shook with merry laughter, but +Martha, the maid with the ruffled-up apron, turned to the kitchenette to +hide her emotion. + +“New York is certainly a busy place,” said Ned, finally. “We may get a +wireless from home on the clothes line. Tavia, I warn you not to hang +handkerchiefs on the roof. It’s tabooed, for—country girls.” + +Tavia groaned in disagreement. The fact was she had made her way to the +roof before she had explored her own and Dorothy’s rooms, and even Ned +did not relish the idea of her sight-seeing from that dangerous height. +But New York was actually fascinating Tavia. She would likely be looking +for “bulls and bears” on Wall Street next, thought Ned. + +“Aunty, we are going to have the nicest lunch,” interrupted Dorothy. “We +all helped Martha; it was hard to find things, and get the right dishes, +you know. I guess the last folks who had this apartment must have had a +Chinese cook, for everything is put away backwards.” + +“Yes, the pans were on the top shelves and the cups on the bottom,” Tavia +agreed. “I took to the pans—I love to climb on those queer ladders that +roll along!” + +“Like silvery moonlight,” Ned helped out, “only the clouds won’t +develop.” + +“Wouldn’t I give a lot to have had all the boys share this fun,” said +Dorothy. Then, realizing the looks that followed the word “boys,” she +blushed peach-blow. + +A Japanese gong sounded gently in the place called hall. + +“There’s the lunch bell,” declared Dorothy. “And isn’t that little +Aeolian harp on the sitting room door too sweet!” + +“The sitting room is a private room in an apartment,” explained Ned, +mischievously, “and it’s a great idea to have an alarm clock on the +door.” + +“There comes the boy with the kite,” Tavia exclaimed. “I don’t believe I +care for lunch.” + +“Oh, yes you do, my dear,” objected Mrs. White. “There are two boys and +we will have to trust them on the balcony with their kites. The rail is +quite high, and they look rather well able to take care of themselves.” + +Tavia looked longingly at the boys, who now were making their way to what +Dorothy had termed the Dove Cote. Ned insisted upon postponing his lunch +until they got their strings both untied and tied again—first from the +stick then to the rail. Martha said things would be cold, but Ned was +obdurate. + +At last Mrs. White and her guests were seated at the polished table in +the green and white room. She glanced about approvingly, while Martha +brought in the dishes. + +“I made the pudding,” Dorothy confessed. “I remember our old housekeeper +used to make that Brown Betty out of stale cake, and as Martha could get +no other kind of cake handy I thought it would do.” + +“A cross between pudding, cake and pie,” remarked Tavia, “but mostly +sweet gravy. It smells good, however. And I—cleaned the lettuce. If you +get any little black bugs—lizards or snails—” + +“Oh, Tavia, don’t!” protested Dorothy, who at that moment was in the act +of putting a lettuce leaf between her lips. + +“But I was only going to say that these reptiles had been properly bathed +and are perfectly wholesome. In fact they have been sterilized,” Tavia +said, calmly. + +“At any rate,” put in Mrs. White, “you all have succeeded in getting a +very nice luncheon together. I had no idea you and Dorothy could be so +useful. We might have gotten along with one more maid to help Martha. +Then we would have had more house room.” + +“I should think you could get the janitor to do odd jobs,” suggested +Tavia, over a mouthful of broiled steak. + +“Janitor!” exclaimed Mrs. White. “My dear, you do not know New York +janitors! They are a set of aristocrats all by themselves. We will have +to look out that we please the janitor, or we may go without service a +day or two just for punishment.” + +“Then I will have to be awfully nice to ours,” went on Tavia, in the way +she had of always inviting trouble of one kind if not exactly the kind +under discussion. “I saw him. He has the loveliest red cheeks. Looks like +a Baldwin apple left over from last year.” + +A rush through the apartment revealed Ned and the two kite boys. + +“Anything left?” asked Ned. “These two youngsters have to wait until two +o’clock for a bite to eat, and I thought—” + +“Of course,” interrupted his mother, pleasantly, as she touched the bell +for Martha. “We will set plates for them at once. Glad to have our +neighbors so friendly.” + +The little fellows did not look one bit abashed—another sign of New York, +Dorothy noted mentally. Talent, or Tal, as they called him, managed to +get on the same chair with Raffle, as they waited for the extra places to +be made at the table. + +Tavia gazed at them with eyes that showed no wonder. She expected so many +things of New York that each surprise seemed to have its own niche in her +delighted sentiments. + +“You see,” said Raffle, “Tillie goes out for a walk about noon time, then +mother gets in sometimes at two, and sometimes later. A feller always has +to wait for someone.” + +“Does Tillie take—a baby out?” ventured Dorothy. + +“Baby!” repeated the boy. “I’m the baby. She never takes me out,” at +which assertion the two boys laughed merrily. + +“She just takes a complexion walk,” Ned helped out. + +Martha did not smile very sweetly when told to make two more places at +the table, but she did not frown either. In a short time Ned, Raffle and +Talent, with Tavia for company, and Dorothy assisting Martha, were left +by Mrs. White to their own pleasure, while she excused herself and went +off to write some notes. She remembered even then what Ned had said about +boys liking to have things to themselves, and was not sorry of the +excuse. + +But Tavia held to her chair. She knew the strangers would say something +interesting, and her “bump” of curiosity was not yet reduced. + +“My big brother goes to the university,” Raffle said. “But he eats at the +Grill. He never has to wait.” + +“Your brother?” repeated Tavia, as if that was the very remark she had +been waiting for. + +“Now Tavia,” cautioned Ned. + +“Now Ned,” said Tavia, in a tone of defiance. + +“I only wanted to say,” continued Ned, “that this big brother is probably +studying law, and he may know a lot about—well, the number of persons in +whom one person may be legitimately interested.” + +The small boys were too much absorbed in their meal to pay attention to +such a technical discussion. Tavia only turned her eyes up, then rolled +them down quickly, in a sort of scorn, for answer to Ned. + +“Now for your pudding,” announced Dorothy, who came from the kitchenette +with three large dishes of the Brown Betty on a small tray. + +“Um-m-m!” breathed the boys, drawing deep breaths so as to fully inhale +the delicious aroma. + +“What’s that?” asked Ned, as the outside door bell rang vigorously. + +In reply Martha announced that the janitor wanted to know if anyone had +tied a kite to the lobby rail. + +“The janitor!” exclaimed both small boys in one breath. Then, without +further warning, they simultaneously ducked under the table. + + + + + CHAPTER XIII + THE SHOPPING TOUR + + +“I guess I’ll wear my skating cap, the wind blows so on top of those +’buses,” remarked Tavia, as she and Dorothy prepared to go downtown to +see the shops. It was their second day in New York. + +“And I’ll wear my fur cap,” Dorothy announced, “as that sticks on so +well. It is windy to-day.” + +“Wasn’t it too funny about the little boys? I do believe if that janitor +had caught them he would have punished them somehow. The idea of their +kite dropping around the neck of the old gentleman on the next floor! I +should have given anything to see the fun,” and Tavia laughed at the +thought. + +“The poor old gentleman,” Dorothy reflected. “To think he was not safe +taking the air on his own balcony. I was afraid that Ned would be blamed. +Then our apartment would be marked as something dangerous. But Aunt +Winnie fixed it all right. Janitors love small change.” + +“Most people do,” Tavia agreed. “I hope we find things cheap in New York. +I do want so many odds and ends.” + +“It will be quite an experience for us to go all alone,” Dorothy said. +“We will have to be careful not to—break any laws.” + +“Or any bric-a-brac,” added Tavia. “Some of those men we saw coming up +looked to me like statues. I wonder anyone could enjoy life and be so +stiff and statuesque.” + +“We will see some strange things, I am sure,” Dorothy said. “I’m ready. +Wait. I guess I’ll take my handbag. We may want to carry some little +things home.” + +“And I’ll take your silk bag if you don’t mind,” Tavia spoke. “I did not +bring any along.” + +So, after accepting all sorts of warnings from Ned and Mrs. White, each +declaring that young girls had to be very well behaved, and very careful +in such a large city, the two companions started off for their first +day’s shopping. + +Climbing up the little winding steps to the top of the Fifth Avenue ’bus +Tavia dropped her muff. Of course a young fellow, with a fuzzy-wuzzy sort +of a hat, caught it—on the hat. Tavia was plainly embarrassed, and +Dorothy blushed. But it must be said that the young man with the velvet +hat only looked at Tavia once and that was when he handed her muff up to +her. + +On top of the ’bus, away from the crowd (for they were alone up there), +Dorothy and Tavia gave in to the laughter that was stifling them. They +knew something would happen and it had, promptly. + +“Perhaps that is why they wear such broad-brimmed hats,” Dorothy +remarked, “to catch things.” + +Soon an elderly woman puffed up the steps. She was so done up in furs she +could not get her breath outside of them. Tavia and Dorothy took a double +seat nearer the front, to allow the lady room near the steps. + +“Oh, my! Thank you,” gasped the lady who had a little dog in her muff. +“It does do one up so to climb steps!” + +The country girls conversed in glances. They had read about dogs on +strings, but had never heard of dogs in muffs. + +“Lucky that muff did not drop,” Dorothy said, in a whisper. “I fancy the +little dog would not like it.” + +“I wish it had,” Tavia confessed. “The idea of a woman, who fairly has to +crawl, carrying a dog with her.” + +Once settled, the woman and the dog no longer interested our young +friends. There were the boys on the street corners with their trays of +violets; there were the wonderful mansions with so many sets of curtains +that one might wonder how daylight ever penetrated; there were the +taxicabs floating along like a new species of big bird; then the private +auto conveyances—with orchids in hanging glasses! No wonder that Dorothy +and Tavia scarcely spoke a word as they rode along. + +There is only one New York. And perhaps the most interesting part of it +is that which shows how real people live there. + +“I wonder who’s cooking there now,” misquoted Tavia, as she got a peek +into an open door that seemed to lead to nowhere in particular. + +“Can you imagine people living in such closed-in quarters?” Dorothy +remarked, “I should think they would become—canned.” + +“They don’t live there,—they only sleep there,” Tavia disclosed, with a +show of pride. “I do not believe a single person along here ever eats a +meal in his or her house. They all go out to hotels.” + +“But they can’t take the babies,” said Dorothy. “I often wonder what +becomes of the babies after dark, when the parks are not so attractive.” + +“Do you really suppose that people do live in those vaults?” musingly +asked Tavia. “I should think they would smother.” + +“We can’t see the back yards,” Dorothy suggested. + +“Perhaps New York is like ancient Rome—all walls and back yards.” + +“But the fountains,” exclaimed Tavia, “where are they?” + +“There are sunken gardens behind those walls, I imagine,” explained +Dorothy, “and they must be there.” + +For some moments neither spoke further. The ’bus rattled along and as +they neared Thirty-fourth Street stops were made more frequently. + +“We will get off at the next corner,” Dorothy told Tavia, “I know of one +big store up here.” + +They climbed down the narrow, winding stairs and with a bound were in the +midst of the Fifth Avenue shopping crowd. + +Dorothy shivered under her furs. “Where,” she asked, “do all the flowers +come from? No one in the country ever sees flowers in the winter, and +here they are blooming like spring time.” + +“Do you feel peculiar?” demanded Tavia, stopping suddenly. + +“Why, no,” answered Dorothy innocently; “do you?” + +“I feel just as if I needed a—nosegay,” said Tavia, laughing slily. +“We’re not at all as dashing as we might be!” + +They purchased from a thinly-clad little boy two bunches of violets, +sweetly scented, daintily tasseled—but made of silk! + +“The silkiness accounts for the always fresh and blooming violets,” +Dorothy said ruefully. “Now, we look just like real New Yorkers.” + +“Now where is that store?” said Dorothy, looking about with a puzzled +air. “I’m sure it was right over there.” + +“Isn’t that a store,” said Tavia, “where all those autos and carriages +are?” + +“Where?” asked Dorothy, still bewildered. + +“Where the brown-liveried man is helping ladies out of carriages and +things,” Tavia answered. + +“Oh,” said Dorothy meekly, “I thought that was a hotel!” + +If there was anything in the world more subduedly rich, or more quietly +lavish, than the shop that Dorothy and Tavia entered, the girls from the +country could not imagine it. The richest and most costly of all things +for which the feminine heart yearns, were displayed here. For the first +few moments the girls did not talk. They were silent with the wonder of +the costliness on every side. Then Tavia said timidly: “Nothing has a +price mark on!” + +“Hush!” whispered Dorothy, “they don’t have vulgar prices here. They only +sell to persons who never ask prices.” + +“Oh!” said Tavia, with quick understanding, “however, dare me to ask that +wonderful creature with the coiffure, the price of those finger bowls,” +murmured Tavia, a yearning entering her soul to possess a priceless +article. + +“What do you want with finger bowls?” asked Dorothy, mystified. + +“How do I know? I may yet need a finger bowl,” enigmatically responded +Tavia, “maybe to plant a little fern in.” She handled the finger bowl +tenderly. Dorothy, too, picked up a tiny brass horse, hammered in +exquisite lines. “Isn’t this lovely!” she exclaimed. + +“It’s a wonderful piece of work,” admired Tavia, while she clung with +intense yearning to the finger bowl. + +“How much are these, please?” Dorothy asked the saleswoman. + +The saleswoman carefully brushed back two stray locks that had escaped +from their net, and gazing into space said: “Five dollars and Six dollars +and ninety-seven cents.” Her attitude was slightly scornful at being +asked the very common “how much.” + +The scorn was too much for Tavia’s spirit. She lifted her chin: “I’ll +take two of each kind, if you please, send them C.O.D.,” and, giving her +Riverside Drive address, Tavia, followed by Dorothy, turned and +gracefully swayed from the counter, in grand imitation of an elegantly +gowned young girl who had just purchased some brass, and had it charged. + +“Tavia, how awful!” gasped Dorothy. “Whatever will you do with those +things!” + +“Send them back,” answered Tavia, with great recklessness, her chin still +held high. + +Dorothy admitted that of course it wasn’t at all possible to back away +from such a saleswoman, but she felt quite guilty about something. “We +shouldn’t have yielded to our feelings,” she said gently, “it would, at +best, have been only momentary humiliation.” + +“We’re in the wrong store,” said Tavia, decidedly, “I must see price +signs that can be read a block away. This place is too exquisite!” + +“Isn’t this the dearest!” Dorothy darted to the handkerchief counter, and +picked up a dainty bit of lace. + +Tavia gazed at the small lacy thing with rapt attention, cautiously +trying to see some hidden mark to indicate the cost, but there was none. + +“Something finer than this, please,” queried Tavia, of the saleswoman, +“it’s exquisite, Dorothy, but not just what I like, you see.” + +Dorothy kept a frightened pair of eyes downcast, as the saleswoman handed +Tavia another lace handkerchief saying, with a genial smile: “Eighteen +dollars.” Tavia held up the handkerchief critically: “And this one?” she +asked, pointing to another. + +“Twelve dollars,” replied the saleswoman, all attention. + +“We must hurry on,” interposed Dorothy, grasping Tavia’s arm in sheer +desperation, “there are so many other things, suppose we leave the +handkerchiefs until last?” + +Critically Tavia fingered the costly bits of lace, as if unable to +decide. Then she smiled artlessly at the saleswoman. “It’s hard to say, +of course, we’re so rushed for time, but we’ll look at them again.” +Together the girls hurried for the street door. + +“That was really New York style; wasn’t it?” triumphantly declared Tavia. +“Never again will I submit to superior airs when I want to know the +price.” + +“Hadn’t we better ask someone where stores are that sell goods with price +marks on them?” laughingly asked Dorothy. + +They followed the crowd toward Broadway and Sixth Avenue. Gaily Tavia +tripped along. She never had been happier in all her life. She loved the +whirl and the people, and the never-ending air of gaiety. Dorothy liked +it all, but it made her a bit weary; the festal air of the crowd did seem +so meaningless. + +When they reached Sixth Avenue it took but an instant for both girls to +pick out the most enticing shop and thither they hurried. It was +brilliantly lighted, the gorgeous splendor was Oriental in its beauty, +there was no quiet hidden loveliness about this store, it dazzled and +charmed and it had price signs! Just nice little white signs, with dull +red figures, not at all “screeching” at customers, but most useful to +persons of limited means. One could tell with the merest glance just what +counter to keep away from. + +A struggling mass of humanity, mostly women, were packed in tightly about +one counter. The girls could not get closer than five feet, but patiently +they stood waiting their turn to see what wonderful thing was on sale. It +was Tavia’s first bargain rush, and for every elbow that was jammed into +her ribs, she stepped on someone’s foot. Dorothy held her head high above +the crowd to breathe. At last they reached the counter, and the bargains +that all were frantically aiming to reach were saucepans at ten cents +each. + +“After that struggle, we must get one, just for a memento of the bargain +rush,” exclaimed Dorothy, crowding her muff under her arm. Something fell +to the floor with a crash at the movement of Dorothy’s arm. Immediately +there was great confusion, because, a little woman, flushed and greatly +excited had cried out, “My purse! I beg your pardon madam, that is my +purse you have!” + +The small, excited woman was clinging desperately to the arm of another +woman, who towered above the crowd. + +“Why, that’s Miss Mingle!” cried Tavia to Dorothy. + +“Oh, Miss Mingle!” called out Dorothy. + +“Girls,” cried the little Glenwood teacher, excitedly, “this woman +snatched my purse!” + +They were all too excited at the moment to find anything strange in thus +meeting with one another. + +The big woman calmly surveyed the girls: “She, the blond one, knocked +your purse down with her muff, I was goin’ to pick it up, that’s all. +It’s under your feet now.” + +The woman slowly backed into the crowd. + +Dorothy’s eyes opened wide with wonder! The thing that had fallen had +certainly made a crash! and the leather end sticking from the cuff of the +woman’s fur coat sleeve surely looked like a purse! Dorothy gasped at the +horror of it! What could she do? The woman was moving slowly farther and +farther away. + +Miss Mingle stooped to the floor in search of the purse. As quick as a +flash the woman slipped out of the crowd, as Miss Mingle loosened her +hold. Amazed and horrified at the boldness of the theft, Dorothy for one +instant stood undecided, then she sprang after the woman and faced her +unflinchingly: + +“Give me that purse! It’s in the cuff of your coat sleeve!” + +The woman drew herself up indignantly, glared at Dorothy, and would have +made an effort to get away, scornfully ignoring the girl who barred her +path, when a store detective arrived on the spot. + +She, too, was a girl, modestly garbed in black. In a perfectly quiet +voice she spoke to the woman. + +“These matters can always be settled at our office, madam. Come with me.” + +“The idea!” screamed the woman. “I never was insulted like this before! +How dare you!” + +“There is nothing to scream about,” said the young detective, in her soft +voice, “I’ve merely asked you to come to the office and talk it over. +Isn’t that fair?” + +“Indeed, I’ll submit to nothing of the sort! A hard-working, honest woman +like I am!” She made another effort to elude her accusers by a quick +movement, but Dorothy kept close to one side and the store detective +followed at the other. The woman stared stubbornly at the detective. +Disgusted with the performance, Dorothy quietly reached for the +protruding purse and held it up. + +“Is this yours?” she asked, of Miss Mingle. + +“Yes, yes, my dear!” cried Miss Mingle, gratefully accepting the purse, +“I’m so thankful! I caught her hand as she slipped the purse away from my +arm. How can I thank you, Miss Dale?” + +Tavia led the way out of the crowd, and the store detective took charge +of the woman, who was an old offender and well known. + +“Dorothy Dale and Tavia Travers!” joyfully exclaimed Miss Mingle, when +the excitement was over. “Where did you come from, and at such an +opportune moment?” + +“We are as surprised as you,” exclaimed Dorothy, “and so glad to have +been able to be of assistance!” + +“We’ll hang the saucepan in the main hall at Glenwood in honor of the +bargain rush,” said Tavia, waving the parcel above her head. + +“Girls, I’m still picking feathers out of my hair!” said Miss Mingle, +laughing gaily. + +“Don’t you love New York?” burst from Tavia’s lips. “I’m dreading the +very thought of returning to Glenwood and school again!” + +But Miss Mingle sighed. “I’m counting the days until my return to +Glenwood, my dears. But, you don’t want to hear anything about that, +you’re young and happy, and without care. Come and see us—I’m with my +sister, and I would just love to have you.” At mention of her sister, +Miss Mingle’s lips involuntarily quivered and she partly turned away. “Do +come, girls, this is my address. I’m glad you’re enjoying New York; I +wish I could say as much.” + +As she said good-bye, Dorothy noticed how much more than ever the thin, +haggard face was drawn and lined with anxiety, and the timid dread in her +eyes enhanced by the bright red spots that burned in the hollows of her +cheeks. + +“We must call,” said Dorothy, when Miss Mingle had disappeared. “There is +some secret burden wearing that little woman to a shred.” + +“Her eyes have the look of a haunted creature,” said Tavia, seriously. +“We can’t call to-morrow; we have the matinee, you know.” + +“Yes, that’s always the way, one must do the pleasant things, and let +misery and sorrow take care of themselves,” sighed Dorothy. “Well, we can +the following day.” + + + + + CHAPTER XIV + THE DRESS PARADE + + +“Oh dear,” sighed Dorothy, falling limply into a handsomely upholstered +rocker in the comfortable resting-room of the shop, half an hour after +they had left Miss Mingle, “I’m completely exhausted!” She carried +several parcels, which she dropped listlessly on a nearby couch, on which +Tavia was resting. + +“How mildly you express it!” cried Tavia, “I’m just simply dead! Don’t +the crowds and the lights and confusion tire one, though! I’ll own up, +that for just one wee moment to-day, I thought of Dalton, and its +peaceful quiet and the blue sky and—those things, you know,” she hastily +ended, always afraid of being sentimental. + +“I shouldn’t want to think that all my days were destined to be spent in +New York. It makes a lovely holiday place, but I like the country,” said +Dorothy, as she watched a young girl, shabbily dressed, eating some fruit +from a bag. + +Tavia watched her too. “At least, the monotony of the country can always +be overcome by simple pleasures, but here there is no escape to the +peaceful—the temptations are too many. For instance,” Tavia jumped from +her restful position, and sat before a writing table, and the shabby +young girl who was eating an orange, stopped eating to stare at the +schoolgirl. “Who wouldn’t just write to one’s worst enemy, if there was +no one else, just to use these darling little desks!” + +“And the paper is monogramed,” exclaimed Dorothy, regaining an interest +in things. “What stunning paper!” She, too, drew up a chair to the dainty +mahogany table and grasping a pen said: “We simply must write to someone. +This is too alluring to pass by.” + +“Here goes one to Ned Ebony,” and Tavia dipped the pen into the ink and +wrote rapidly in a large scrawling hand. + +“Mine will be to—Aunt Winnie,” said Dorothy, laughing. + +The shabby girl finished her orange, and picking up a small bundle, took +one lingering look at the happy young girls at the writing desks and left +the resting room. + +“Aren’t we the frivolous things,” said Tavia, “writing the most perfect +nonsense to our friends merely because we found a dainty writing table!” + +“With the most generous supply of writing paper!” said Dorothy. “But the +couches and chairs in this room are too tempting to keep me at the +writing desk.” Dorothy sealed her letter and again curled up in the +spacious rocking chair. + +“And while we are resting, we can study art,” exclaimed Tavia, gazing at +the oil paintings and tapestry that adorned the walls. + +A woman, with a grand assortment of large bundles and small children, +tried to get them all into her arms at once, preparatory to leaving the +resting room, but found it so difficult that she sat down once more and +laughed good-naturedly, while the children scrambled about the place, +loath to leave such comfortable quarters. Dorothy watched with interest, +and wondered how any woman could ever venture out with so many small +children clinging to her for protection, to do a day’s shopping. Tavia +was more interested in art at that moment. + +“Why go to the art museums?” she asked, “we can do that part on our trip +right here and now; we only lack catalogues.” + +“And we can do nicely without them,” said Dorothy, dragging her wandering +attention back to Tavia. “I can enjoy all these pictures without knowing +who painted them. We can have just five minutes more in this palatial +room, and then we simply must go on.” + +And five minutes after the hour, Dorothy persuaded Tavia to leave the +ideal spot, and, entering the elevator, they were whirled upward to the +dress parade. + +Roped off from the velvet, carpeted sales floors, numerous statuesque +girls paraded about, dressed in garments to charm the eye of all +beholders—to lure the very short and stout person into purchasing a +garment that looked divine on a willowy six-foot model; or, a wee bit of +a lady into thinking that she can no longer exist, unless robed in a +cloak of sable. But neither Dorothy nor Tavia cared much for the lure of +the gorgeous garments, they were too awed at the moment to yearn for +anything. A frail, ethereal creature, with a face of such delicacy and +wistfulness, so dainty and graceful, with a little dimpled smile about +her lips, passed the country girls and after that the girls could see +nothing else in the room. They sat down and just watched her. A trailing +robe of black velvet seemed almost too heavy for her slender white +shoulders, and a large hat with snow white plume curling over the rim of +the hat and encircling her bare throat, like a serpent, framed her +flushed face. + +“There,” breathed Tavia, “is the prettiest face I’ve ever dreamed of +seeing.” + +“She’s more than pretty, she has a soul,” said Dorothy, reverently. +“There is something so wistful about her smile and the tired droop of her +shoulders. I feel that I could love her!” + +“She has put on an ermine wrap over the velvet gown,” said Tavia. +Shrinking behind Dorothy she said impulsively: “Dare we speak to her? It +must be the most wonderful thing in the world to have a face like that! +And to spend all her days just wearing beautiful gowns!” + +“She wears them so differently from the others here,” declared Dorothy. +“She’s strikingly cool, so far beyond her immediate surroundings.” + +“I think she must be a princess,” said Tavia, in a solemn voice, “no one +else could look like that and stroll about with such an air!” + +“I think she is someone who has been wealthy and is now very poor,” said +Dorothy, tenderly. “How she must detest being stared at all day long! +This work, no doubt, is all she is fitted for, having been reared to do +nothing but wear clothes charmingly.” + +“She’s changing her hat now,” said Tavia, watching the model as she was +arrayed in a different hat. “We might just walk past and smile. I shall +always feel unsatisfied if we cannot hear her voice.” + +Together they timidly stepped near the wistful-eyed girl with the flushed +face. + +“You must grow so very tired,” said Dorothy, sympathetically. + +A cool stare was the only reply. + +“Hurry with the boa, you poky thing,” came from the red, pouting lips of +the wistful-eyed girl, ignoring Dorothy and Tavia as though they were +part of the building’s masonry. “I ain’t got all day to wait! Gotta show +ten more hats before closing. Hurry up there, you girls, you make me mad! +Now you hurry, or I’ll report you!” and turning gracefully, she tilted +her chin to just the right angle, the shrinking, wistful smile appeared +on her lips, the tired droop slipped to her shoulders, all the air of +charm covered her like a mantle, and again she started down the strip of +carpet, leaving behind her two sadly disillusioned young girls. + +“Let us go right straight home,” said Dorothy. “One never knows what to +believe is real in this hub-bub place.” + +“We might have forgiven her anything,” said Tavia, “if she had been +wistfully angry, or charmingly bossy; but to think that ethereal creature +could turn into just a plain, everyday mortal!” + +“The flowers were mostly artificial, the bargain counters mere stopping +places for pickpockets, and the most beautiful girl was rude!” cried +Dorothy. + +“We must be tired; all things can’t be wrong,” said Tavia, +philosophically. + +“We’ll take a taxi home,” said Dorothy, “Come on.” + + + + + CHAPTER XV + TEA IN A STABLE + + +“Tavia!” exclaimed Dorothy, the next afternoon, as they prepared to go to +a matinee, “this address is Aunt Winnie’s apartment house—the one she +invested so much money in.” She handed Tavia Miss Mingle’s card. + +“How strange that the teacher should be Aunt Winnie’s tenant, and you +never knew it,” cried Tavia, as she arranged a bunch of orchids, real +hot-house orchids, that Ned had sent. + +“Won’t Aunt Winnie be surprised when she learns that our little Miss +Mingle is one of her tenants?” Dorothy said. She was pinning on a huge +bunch of roses. Ned had laughed at the girls’ tale of finding everything +on the shopping tour to be false, and to prove that there were real +things in New York City, had sent them these beautiful flowers to wear to +the matinee. + +“Indeed,” continued Dorothy, “I’m mighty glad we met Miss Mingle. Aunt +Winnie has had just about enough worry over that old apartment house! +Miss Mingle, no doubt, will relieve that anxiety to some extent. I do so +hope that everything will come out right. But come, dear, don’t look so +grave, we must be gay for the show!” + +Ned ran into the room. “Hurry, girls,” he said, bowing low, “the motor is +at the door.” + +“The car!” screamed the girls in delight, “where did the car come from?” + +“Oh, just the magic of New York,” said Ned, with a smile. + +“Not the _Fire Bird_?” asked Dorothy, hat pin suspended in mid-air. + +“Oh, no, just a car. Maybe you girls like being bumped along on top of +the ’bus, but little Neddie likes to have his hand on the wheel himself,” +said Ned. + +“Running a car in New York,” said Tavia, “is not North Birchland, you +know. Maybe we’ll get a worse bump in it than we ever dreamed of on top +of the ’bus.” + +“Oh, I know something about it,” said Ned confidently, “been downtown +twice to-day in the thickest part of the traffic, and I’m back, as you’ll +see, if you’ll stop fooling with those flowers long enough to look at +me.” + +Tavia turned and looked lingeringly at Ned. “To-be-sure,” she drawled, +“there’s Ned, Dorothy.” + +“I’m really afraid, Ned,” said Dorothy, “the traffic is so awful, you +know you aren’t accustomed to driving through such crowds.” + +“If you stand there arguing all afternoon, there won’t be any trouble +about getting through the crowd, of course,” gently reminded Ned. “It’s a +limousine and a dandy! Bigger than the _Fire Bird_ and a beautiful +yellow!” + +“Yellow!” cried Tavia in horror. “With my complexion! Couldn’t you engage +a car to match my hair?” + +“And my feathers are green!” exclaimed Dorothy. “Just like a man, engage +a car and never ask what shade we prefer!” + +Tavia sat down in mock dismay. “Our afternoon is spoiled! No +self-respecting person in this town ever rides in a car that doesn’t +match!” + +“Oh, tommyrot,” said Ned in deep disgust, listening in all seriousness to +the girls’ banter. “Who is going to look at us? Never heard of such +foolishness!” And he dug his hands into his pockets, and walked gloomily +about the room. + +“Ned, dear, you’re a darling,” enthused Dorothy, “you don’t really +believe we are so imbued with the spirit of New York as to demand that?” + +“Ned really has paid us the greatest compliment,” said Tavia, +complacently, “he believed it was all true, and only geniuses can produce +that effect.” + +Fifteen minutes later, after several near-collisions, Ned drove the +yellow car up to the entrance of the theatre, and while he was getting +his check from the lobby usher, the girls tripped into the playhouse. + +They had box seats. With intense interest the girls watched the +continuous throng pouring into their places. Few of the passing crowd, +however, returned the lavish interest that was centered on them from the +first floor box; no one in the vast audience knew or cared that two +country girls were having their first glimpse of a New York theatre +audience. They saw nothing unusual in the eager, smiling young faces, and +as Dorothy said to Tavia, only the striking, unique and frightfully +unusual would get more than a passing glance from those that journey +through New York town. + +But Dorothy and Tavia did not look at the crowd long. It was something to +be in a metropolitan theatre, witnessing one of the great successes of +the season. + +Soon the curtain rolled up on the first act, a beautiful parlor scene, +and Tavia gave a gasp. + +“Say, it beats when I went on the stage,” she whispered to Dorothy, +referring to a time already related in detail in “Dorothy Dale’s Great +Secret.” + +“Do you wish to go back?” asked Dorothy. + +“Never!” + +The play went on, and as it was something really worth while, the girls +enjoyed it greatly. + +“Isn’t he handsome?” whispered Tavia, referring to the leading man. + +“Look out, or you’ll fall in love with him,” returned Ned, with a grin. +“He’s one of the girls’ matinee idols, you know.” + +Between the acts Ned slipped out for a few minutes. He returned with a +box of bonbons and chocolates. + +“Oh, how nice!” murmured Dorothy and Tavia. + +Then came the great scene of the play, and the young folks were all but +spellbound. When Vice was exposed and Virtue triumphed Dorothy felt like +clapping her hands, and so did the others, and all applauded eagerly. + +There was a short, final act. Just before the curtain arose a step +sounded in the box and to the girls’ astonishment there stood Cologne. + +“I’ve been trying to attract your attention for ever so long,” she cried, +after embracing and kissing her friends enthusiastically. “I’m spending +the day with a chum. It’s such a joy to meet you like this!” + +“And yesterday we met Miss Mingle,” laughed Dorothy. They drew their +chairs up close, and told Cologne about the attempted theft. + +“I’m so sorry for Miss Mingle,” Cologne said, rather guardedly, “it seems +a pity that we never tried to know her better. She must have needed our +sympathy and friendship so much.” + +“All the time, she has been one of Aunt Winnie’s tenants,” explained +Dorothy. “But of course I did not know that.” + +“Then she must have told you about it,” said Cologne. + +“We’ve heard nothing,” said Dorothy, “but we expect to call there +to-morrow.” + +“Then,” said Cologne discreetly, “I can say no more.” + +Soon the last act was over, the orchestra struck up a popular tune, the +applause was deafening, and the audience rose to leave the theatre. + +“It’s all over,” said Ned, and then he greeted Cologne and her friend, +Helen Roycroft. + +“Didn’t you like it?” exclaimed Cologne’s friend, who was a New York +girl. “The critics just rave over it! Everyone must see it before +anything else! But I’m hungry; aren’t you?” she asked, including all +three. + +Ned slipped back, but Tavia grasped his arm. + +“There’s the most wonderful little tea-room just off Fifth Avenue,” said +Helen Roycroft, with perfect self-possession and calm, “and I should so +love to have you enjoy a cup of tea with me.” + +Tavia murmured in Ned’s ear: “Of course you’re crazy for a cup of tea.” + +Ned looked helplessly at Dorothy, and calculated the money in his +pockets. Four girls and all hungry! Helen Roycroft, meeting a new man, +lost little time in impressing him with the wonderful importance of +herself, and together she and Ned led the little party over Thirty-eighth +Street to Fifth Avenue, while good-natured Cologne, with Dorothy and +Tavia, followed behind. + +The tea-room they entered, as Helen explained, was the most popular place +in town for people of fashion, for artistic souls, and the moneyed, +leisure class. + +“Everyone likes to come here,” continued Helen, in a manner that plainly +suggested that she loved to show off her city, “mostly because the place +was once the stable of a member of the particular four hundred, and as +this is as near as most of its patrons will ever come to the four +hundred, they make it a rendezvous at this particular hour every +afternoon.” + +The “stable” still retained its original architecture, beamed ceiling and +quaint stalls, painted a modest gray and white, in which were placed +little tables to accommodate six persons, lighted with shaded candles. +Cushioned benches were built to the sides of the stalls for seats; dainty +waitresses, dressed also in demure gray and white, dispensed tea, and +crackers and salads. + +Hidden somewhere in the dim distance, musicians played soft, low music +and the whole effect was so charming that even Ned held his breath and +looked around him in wonder. This tea-room was something akin to a +woman’s club, where they could entertain their men friends with afternoon +tea, in seclusion within the stalls. + +Helen Roycroft mentioned the name of a well-known actress and, trying +hard to keep her enthusiasm within bounds, pointed her out to the party. +The actress was seated alone in a stall, dreaming apparently, over a cup +of tea. The waitress stood expectantly waiting for the young people to +select their stall. When Tavia saw the actress, with whose picture they +were all very familiar, she pinched Dorothy hard. + +“Surely we never can have such luck as to sit at the same tea table with +her,” indicating the matronly actress. + +“Should you like to?” asked the New York girl. + +And forthwith they were led to the stall. The matronly-looking woman +languidly raised blue, heavy-lashed eyes to the gushing young girls who +invaded her domain, then put one more lump of sugar in her tea and drank +it, and Tavia breathlessly watched! + +She was an actress of note, one of the finest in the world, and her +pictures had always shown her as tall and slender and beautifully young! +The woman Tavia gazed at had the face of the magazine pictures, but she +was decidedly matronly; there was neither romance nor tragedy written on +the smooth lines of her brow. She was so like, and yet so unlike her +pictures, that Tavia fell to studying wherein lay the difference. It was +rude, perhaps, but the lady in question, understood the eager brown eyes +turned on her, and she smiled. + +And that smile made everyone begin to talk. + +It was quite like a family party. Ned, as the only man present, came in +for the lion’s share of attention and it pleased him much. Just a whim of +the noted actress perhaps, made her join gaily in the tea-party, or +mayhap, it was a privilege she rarely enjoyed, this love of genuine +laughter, and bright, merry talk of the fresh young school girls. And it +was a moment in the lives of the girls that was never forgotten. + +The voices in the tea-room scarcely rose above a murmur; the music played +not a note above a dreamy, floating ripple; and the essence of the +freshly-made tea pervaded the air. + +At times Tavia could see the actress of the magazines, and again she was +just somebody’s mother, tired out and drinking tea, like every mother +Tavia had ever met. But the most thrilling moment of all was when she +said good-bye and asked the girls to call. And best of all, she meant +it—Dorothy knew that! There was no mistaking the sincerity of the voice, +the kindly light of her eyes, nor the simple words of the invitation to +call. + +“I must hurry now,” she had said, “I’m due at the theatre in another +hour; but I want to see you again. I want you to tell me more of your +impressions of this great city. I’ve really enjoyed this cup of tea more +than you know, my dears,” and she smiled at Tavia and Dorothy. + +Tavia and Dorothy had really talked so much that Helen Roycroft had +little chance to display her fine knowledge of city life. Cologne was +well content to sit and listen. + +When the actress was gone, Tavia said to Dorothy: “Must we really go? I +could stay here drinking tea for a week.” + +“I never want to see a cup of tea again,” declared Ned. “And say,” he +continued, “next time I’m dragged into a ladies’ tea-room, I want an end +seat! These stalls were never meant for fellows with knees where mine +come!” And he painfully unwound himself from a cramped position. + +“Ned does have so much trouble with those knees,” explained Dorothy. “He +never can have any but an end seat or box-seat at the theatre, because +there is no room for his knees elsewhere. Poor boy! How uncomfortable +will be your memory of this tea-room!” + +“It will be the loveliest memory of my trip,” Tavia declared. “We found +something real and true!” + +“I’d give the whole world to be able to stay over,” said Cologne, +plaintively. + +“Just one more cup of tea!” cried Dorothy, “then we’ll start for home in +the yellow car.” + +“I’m glad it’s dark,” said Tavia, mischievously glancing at Ned, “the +color combination is such wretched taste!” + +“I’m sorry, Cologne,” said Dorothy, “that you can’t stay and come with us +to-morrow to call on Miss Mingle.” + +Ned was cranking up the car, and the girls for a moment were just a +confused mass of muffs and feathers and kisses, then they jumped in, and +drove home to the Riverside apartment. + + + + + CHAPTER XVI + A STARTLING DISCOVERY + + +“How funny!” exclaimed Tavia, as she and Dorothy began to ascend the +stairs in the deep, dark hallway of the apartment house that Aunt Winnie +owned, and in which Miss Mingle and her sister lived. It was six stories +high and had two apartments on each floor. A porter, with the unconcern +of long habit, carelessly carried a rosy, cooing baby on his shoulder up +the long flights of stairs, his destination being an apartment on the +sixth floor. The mother of the child climbed up after him deep in +thought, probably as to what to have for dinner that day. + +“No, there are no elevators,” explained Dorothy. “This house is one of +the early apartments, built before the people knew the necessity for such +luxuries as elevators.” + +“Luxuries!” said Tavia, stopping to catch her breath, “if elevators are +luxuries in a six-story house, I’ll vote for luxuries!” + +“Just one more flight,” said Dorothy, “it’s the fifth floor, the left +apartment, I believe,” she consulted a card as they paused on a landing. + +“I don’t wonder now at Miss Mingle looking haggard,” said Tavia, “if she +must face this climb every time she comes back. Imagine doing this +several times a day!” + +“At least, one would get all the necessary exercising, and in wet, cold +weather, could have both amusement and exercise, sliding down the +banisters and climbing back,” Dorothy said, determined to see the bright +side of it. + +Tavia slipped in a heap on a step and gasped: “Yes, indeed, I’ll admit +there may be advantages in the way of exercise.” + +“Courage,” said Dorothy laughing, “we have only ten steps more!” + +While Dorothy resolutely dragged Tavia up the last ten steps, Miss Mingle +appeared in the hall. + +“I heard your cheerful laughter,” she said with a smile, “and I said to +sister, prepare the pillows for the girls to fall on, after their awful +climb. But I didn’t say,” she added, playfully, “feather pillows to fall +on the girls!” + +“We really enjoyed the climb,” said Dorothy. + +“It was lots of fun,” agreed Tavia. + +They entered a room which at first glance seemed a confused jumble of +beautiful furniture, magazines, newspapers and books, grocer and butcher +and gas bills, and a gentle-faced woman reclining languidly in an easy +chair. Her smooth black hair fell gracefully over her ears; she had large +gray eyes, whose sweet patience was the most marked characteristic of her +face. + +“My sister, Mrs. Bergham, has been quite ill,” explained Miss Mingle, as +she rushed about trying to clear off two chairs for the girls to sit on. +Every chair in the room seemed to be littered with what Dorothy thought +was a unique collection of various sorts of jars, tea pots, and cups; and +last week’s laundry seemed to cover the radiators and tables. The room, +however, for all the confusion, was quaint and artistic, and had odd +little corners fixed up here and there. + +“I’m so ill and I’m afraid I’ve been quite selfish, demanding so much of +sister’s time!” Mrs. Bergham said, extending a long white hand to the +girls, and with her other removing a scarf from her shoulders, allowing +it to drop to the floor. Miss Mingle immediately picked it up, folded it +neatly, and laid it on the window seat. + +“I’ve had rather a sad Christmas,” she went on. “Sister, it’s getting too +warm in this room,” and, removing a pillow from under her head, she +permitted that also to drop to the floor. Miss Mingle stooped and picked +it up. + +“There, there, dear,” said the latter, “I can’t let you talk about it. +The girls will tell you all about their trip and you’ll forget the +miserable aches and pains.” She puffed and patted the pillows on which +her sister was resting. + +Mrs. Bergham smiled languidly. “It’s so fine to be young and strong,” she +said. “I have two small sons, and it made my Christmas so hard not to +have them with me. But I couldn’t take care of them. They are such robust +little fellows! Sister decided, and I suppose she’s right—she always +is—that it would be best for me not to have the care of them while I am +so ill.” She sighed and smiled patiently at Miss Mingle. “So we sent them +away to school. I did so count on having them with me this holiday, but +sister thought it would only be a worry; didn’t you, dear?” + +Miss Mingle hesitated just the fraction of a second, then she answered +cheerfully: “Mrs. Bergham is so nervous, and the boys are such lively +little crickets, we didn’t have them home for Christmas.” + +“Children are sometimes such perfect cares,” declared Tavia, feeling that +something should be said. + +“Then, too,” continued Mrs. Bergham, evidently greatly enjoying the +opportunity to talk about herself to the helpless callers, “I’ve tried +hard to add a little to our income. I paint,” she arched her straight, +black eyebrows slightly. “Everything was going along so beautifully, +although it is an expensive apartment to keep up, and I cared nothing for +myself, I like to keep a home for my sister, and I worked and worked, and +was so worried. Don’t you like this apartment? I’ve grown very fond of +it.” She talked in a rambling way, but her voice was pleasing and her +manner quite tranquil, so that Dorothy wondered how she said so much with +apparently little exertion. + +“The night the telegram came,” said Miss Mingle, “I thought she was +dying, and I must say,” she laughed, “that that alone saved you naughty +girls from receiving some horrible punishment.” They all laughed at the +remembrance of that last night at Glenwood. “But when I got here,” +continued Miss Mingle, “my sister was much better, and I was so relieved +to find her just like her own dear self, when I had expected to find +her—very ill—that I forgot everything, even having the boys home, so that +sister’s fatherless sons had no Santa Claus this year.” + +Tavia was curious. The furnishings of the room were good, almost +elaborate, but the carelessness of it all at first hid the good points. +Surely Mrs. Bergham did not keep it up on her painting. Tavia judged +that, by the long, slender, almost helpless hand and the whole poise of +the woman. And the two little boys at school! Could it be possible, she +thought, that Miss Mingle supported the family? + +“I’m sorry I am not well enough to arrange to have you meet some of my +young friends,” said Mrs. Bergham. “We entertain a little, sister and I. +I know so many interesting young people. Bohemians, sister calls them!” + +Miss Mingle was arranging the books on top of a bookcase and they fell +with a clatter. If she made any answer, it was lost in the noise. + +At the name of “Bohemians” Dorothy brightened. “I’ve never seen a real, +live Bohemian!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands together with ecstasy. + +“But we met an actress yesterday,” Tavia said, hesitatingly. + +Mrs. Bergham waved her hand in space. “I mean real artists, people who +have genius, who are doing wonderful things for the world! We count those +among our friends,” she said. + +“My!” thought Dorothy, “did Miss Mingle belong to that society? Did she +know the geniuses of the world, and yet had never mentioned it to the +girls at school?” But Miss Mingle had little to say. She finished +arranging the books, and moving swiftly, nervously about, she tried to +bring some kind of order out of the confusion in the room. + +“Do sit down, sister, this can all wait. I’m sure the girls don’t mind if +we are not in perfect order,” said Mrs. Bergham. + +Dorothy and Tavia, in one breath, assured the ladies that they didn’t +mind a bit, and Tavia even added, with the intention of making Miss +Mingle feel at ease, that it was “more home-like.” + +“I never could sit up perfectly straight nor stay comfortably near +anything that was just where it should be,” explained Mrs. Bergham. “My +husband loved that streak of disorder that was part of my nature, but +sister was always the most precise and careful little creature.” She +looked at Miss Mingle with limpid, loving eyes. “Sister was always the +greatest girl for taking all the responsibility, she was so hopelessly in +love with work in her girlhood! What a lovely time our girlhood was! +Isn’t it time for my broth?” she asked, as she glanced at a small watch +on her wrist. + +“Forgive me, dear,” said Miss Mingle, “I forgot. I’ll prepare it +immediately,” and she dropped what she was doing and hurried to the +kitchen. + +Mrs. Bergham arose and walked to the window seat, resting her elbows on +some pillows. She wore a light blue dressing gown, made on simple lines, +but so perfectly pretty that Dorothy and Tavia decided at once to make +one like it immediately, on reaching home. The light blue shade brought +out the clear blue-grey of her eyes, and her heavy dark lashes shaded the +soft, white skin. She sighed, and asked the girls to sit with her in the +window seat. In her presence Tavia felt very awkward, young and +inexperienced, and she sat rather rigidly. Dorothy was more at ease and, +too, more critical of their hostess. She listened to the quick, nervous +steps of Miss Mingle as she hurried about the kitchen, preparing +nourishment for her languid sister. + +“There isn’t much view from this window,” said Tavia bluntly, more +because she felt ill at ease than because she had expected to see +something besides the tall, brown buildings across the street. The +buildings were high, no sky could be seen from the window, and the sun +did not seem to penetrate the long line of stone buildings across the +way. + +“Oh, there are disadvantages here, I know, but I’m so fond of just this +one room. The house is in that part of the city most convenient to +everything—that is, everything worth while, of course. So, sister decided +it was best to stay here. However, the rent is enormous. It was that +mostly which caused my breakdown. In six months time our rent has been +doubled by the landlord. I got ill thinking about it, and I just had to +send for sister. Sister’s salary isn’t so large, and the constant +increase in our rent is a burden too great to bear.” + +“I’d move,” said Tavia, promptly. + +“But where would we find another place that meets all the requirements as +this place does? If sister were always with me, we might come across +something suitable some time, but alone, I am of little use in a business +manner. Sister is so clever! She can do everything so much better than I. +My illness is keeping me at home at present, and as my sister will return +to school directly, there is really no time to look about for other +quarters.” The sufferer said this quite decidedly. + +“Who raises the rents?” Dorothy tried to ask the question naturally, but +a lump seized her throat, and she felt the blood rushing to her cheeks. + +“Oh, some agent. Several dozens of persons have bought and sold this +house, according to Mr. Akerson, since we moved in.” The subject was +evidently beginning to bore Mrs. Bergham, for she yawned. “What pretty +hair you have, Miss Dale,” she exclaimed, “so much like the gold the +poets sing about.” + +Dorothy brushed back the tiny locks that persisted in hanging about her +ears, and she smiled shyly. + +“Can’t you refuse to pay the increases in the rent?” asked Dorothy. + +“Oh, these is always some good reason for the increases,” answered Mrs. +Bergham. “Some new improvements, or some big expense attached to +maintaining a studio apartment, in fact, according to Mr. Akerson, the +reasons for raising our rent are endless.” + +Dorothy’s eyes met Tavia’s in a quick flash, as she noted the name of the +agent. + +Then Miss Mingle came into the room with a neatly-arranged tray for her +sister. Mrs. Bergham thanked her and waited patiently while little Miss +Mingle drew up a table to the window seat and placed the things on it. + +Mrs. Bergham held up a napkin. “I don’t want to trouble, dear, but really +I’ve used this napkin several times. Just hand me any kind; I know things +haven’t been ironed or cared for as they should be, but I don’t mind. +There, that one is all right. I’m an awful care; am I not?” + +Miss Mingle squeezed her hand. “Just get well and be your old, happy self +again, that’s all I ask.” She turned to the girls. “My sister and her +boys are all I have in the world to work and live for,” she finished. + +“I’m really so sorry, sister, that you did not speak about the girls +spending their holiday in town. We could have a nice little dinner before +you all return to Glenwood,” suggested Mrs. Bergham. + +“Don’t think of it,” said Dorothy, shocked at the idea of little Miss +Mingle being burdened with the additional care of trying to give a dinner +for Tavia and herself. Indeed, it would have been more to Dorothy’s mind +to have taken Miss Mingle with her, and have her sit in Aunt Winnie’s +luxurious apartment, and be waited on for just one day, as the little +teacher was waiting on her languid sister. + +Tavia, too, thought, since the idea of increasing any of Miss Mingle’s +responsibilities was apt to be brought up, it was the right moment to +depart. + +Dorothy held Miss Mingle’s hand as they were leaving and said: “Mrs. +Bergham told us of your difficulty about the rent. I’m so sorry.” + +“We are absolutely helpless,” said Miss Mingle. “We are paying three +times what the apartment was originally rented for and there is no +logical reason why it should be so. The agent says it’s the landlord’s +commands, and if we don’t like it we can move. It seems that this +particular landlord is money mad!” + +“Oh,” cried Dorothy, “something must be done!” + +“The only thing that I can think of,” said Mrs. Bergham, wiping two tears +from her eyes, “is to forget the whole tiresome business. It was horrid +of me to say anything at all, but it’s so much on our minds that I cannot +help talking about it.” + +“I’m very glad indeed,” said Dorothy, “that you did.” + +“We were not bored by that story,” Tavia said, “and we surely are very +pleased to have had this pleasure of becoming acquainted with Miss +Mingle’s sister.” + +In another moment the girls began the weary climb down the four flights +of stairs. + +Reaching the street Dorothy started off at a mad pace. + +“I’m so thoroughly provoked,” she said to Tavia, who was a yard behind, +“that I must walk quickly or I’ll explode.” + +“Well, I’m disgusted too, Dorothy, but I’ll take a chance on exploding, +I’m not used to six-day walking races, however much you may be. And +incidentally, I must say I should have liked very much to have shaken a +certain person until all the languidness was shaken out of her bones!” + +“Shaken her!” cried Dorothy, “I should have liked to spank her!” + +“If that is an artistic temperament,” said Tavia, “I never wish to meet +another. Of all the lackadaisical clinging vines; of all the sentimental, +selfish people that ever existed!” + +“To think of that poor little woman teaching school, and going without +ordinary comforts, to help support her sister in ease and relieve her of +the responsibility of bringing up her two children!” Dorothy had +slackened her pace and the girls walked together, although still swinging +along rapidly. + +“A person without a temperament would have moved instantly, but that +creature stayed on and on, paying every increase, getting the extra money +of course from Miss Mingle, just because she was so fond of that one +room!” Tavia mimicked Mrs. Bergham’s voice and manner. + +“Too languid to look for another,” said Dorothy, her eyes aglow with +indignation. “But, Tavia, there is one thing certain. Dear Aunt Winnie +shall now know where the leak in her income is,” said Dorothy. + +Tavia did not reply, because a sudden idea had leaped to her brain. She +listened quietly while Dorothy talked about Aunt Winnie’s business +affairs, her brain awhirl with the excitement of this thing that had +suddenly come to her; come as a means of repaying Dorothy and Aunt Winnie +for all their loving kindness to her. To keep the idea tucked away in the +innermost regions of her mind, she bit her tongue, so afraid was she that +once her lips opened the idea would burst forth. So Dorothy talked on and +on and Tavia only listened. + + + + + CHAPTER XVII + TAVIA’S RESOLVE + + +Tavia was preoccupied at breakfast. Ned slily guessed that she was +yearning for a certain someone left behind in Dalton, but Tavia just +smiled, and insisted that she was paying strict attention to other +matters. + +“Then why,” demanded Ned, “have you poured maple syrup into your coffee?” + +“I didn’t!” declared Tavia, but there was little use denying it when she +carefully stirred her cup. + +Dorothy shook her forefinger at Tavia. “This morning you had your ribbons +in your hair, and yet you asked me to find them for you; and then you +said you were a ‘stupid’ when I located them for you—on top of your +head.” + +“But I still deny that I am preoccupied, or dreaming,” declared Tavia. +“In fact, I’m too wideawake. It hurts to be as fully awake as I am!” + +“Look out!” warned Ned, “there, you almost put sugar in your egg cup!” + +“Please stop noticing me,” said poor Tavia, chagrined at last into +pleading with her teasers. “Suppose I admit that I am deeply absorbed?” + +“Don’t do anything of the sort,” said Aunt Winnie, “just put all the +maple syrup in your coffee that you wish; you may like coffee that way, +if Ned does not.” + +It was noticeable to all that Tavia’s attention was not given to her +immediate surroundings, and while the others were still at breakfast, the +girl stole noiselessly to her room, dressed for the street, and quietly +opened the door leading into their private hall. She listened, and caught +the sound of merry voices from the breakfast room. She tiptoed down the +hall, opened the outer door, and reached the elevator in safety. She +rang, and it seemed almost an hour before the car came up. Elevators are +such slow things when one is on an errand that must be done in haste! + +Tavia watched Mrs. White’s door, afraid every moment that Dorothy or Aunt +Winnie would pop out. But the elevator did finally arrive, and bidding +the boy “good morning” Tavia at last felt safe. To what they would say +when they discovered that she had gone out alone through the streets of +New York city, Tavia gave only a momentary thought. It could all be +explained so nicely when she returned. + +She hastened to a corner drug-store, asked permission to use the pay +telephone, and entered the booth. Not until then did Tavia know fear! How +to telephone, what to say—she couldn’t think connectedly. After finding +the number, she took off the receiver with more confidence than she +really felt. Her heart beat so fast that she thought the girl at the +central office would ask what that thumping noise was on the wire! + +“Hello!” she called, timidly. + +A boy’s voice at the other end of the line answered. + +“I would like to speak with Mr. Akerson, if you please,” said Tavia, and +felt braver now that she had really started on her adventure. + +“Is this Mr. Akerson? No?” Someone had answered, but evidently it was not +the right man. + +After a long wait another voice floated into Tavia’s ear—a woman’s voice. +Tavia said, becoming impatient: “I simply want to talk with Mr. Akerson. +Is that impossible?” + +She was assured by the voice at the other end that it was not, but Mr. +Akerson was always busy, and must have the name of the party. This was +not what Tavia had expected, and for a moment she was confused and felt +like hanging up the receiver and running away. + +“Well?” asked the young lady. + +“Tell him—oh, just tell him, a young lady; he doesn’t know me.” + +“I must have your name, or I cannot call him to the ’phone.” + +“How aggravating!” exclaimed Tavia to the empty air, “I didn’t expect I +would have to publish my name broadcast.” Then she spoke into the +receiver: + +“I want to see Mr. Akerson on very special, important business that only +concerns myself; kindly tell him that, please,” she said, with great +dignity. + +Not a sound came from the other end and Tavia began to wonder whether +this would end her mission, when a loud, hearty voice yelled right in her +ear: + +“Hello-o-o!” + +It only startled Tavia. At that moment she couldn’t have remembered her +own name. + +“Hello-o!” called the impatient voice again. + +“Might I have an interview with you this morning?” Tavia at last managed +to gasp. + +“Who is this?” asked the voice in a more gentle tone. + +“I’m a young lady who wants a private interview with you,” she answered, +trying to be very impressive. + +“Why certainly,” said the man’s voice. “When do you wish to see me?” +Tavia caught a hint of amusement in the tone, so she answered quickly, +trying to throw into her accent the commanding tones of grown-up women: +“I must see you immediately, and just as soon as I can get down to your +office.” + +“Very well,” said the voice, “but won’t you tell me your name?” + +“Not now,” answered Tavia, still maintaining great dignity of voice, “and +please, will you tell me just how to reach your office—and—and, oh, all +about getting there. You see, I really don’t know where Nassau Street +is.” + +The man laughed, and Tavia quickly jotted down the directions and left +the telephone a bit perplexed. How amused the man had been! Perhaps it +wasn’t customary for young girls to make appointments thus. Tavia +quailed, she did so detest doing anything that a born and bred New York +girl would not do. + +The mere matter of taking a surface car and reaching lower Broadway was a +bit nerve-racking, but simple in the extreme. Tavia felt that, for a +country girl, she could travel through the city like a veteran. Mr. +Akerson had specifically told her not to take the subway, as it might be +puzzling, but, finding the office building was not as simple as finding +the proper car to get there had been. There were numerous large buildings +on the block, and such crowds of heedless men rushing passed her! There +were as many people in the middle of the street as there were on the +walks. Everyone was in a tremendous hurry, and could not wait for his +neighbor. + +Lower New York presented to Tavia the most bewildering, impossible place +she had ever imagined! In the shopping districts, New York is enchanting, +but this section, with its forbidding-looking, sunless, narrow streets, +and the wind blowing constantly, piercing and sharp, made Tavia shiver +under her furs. Each building seemed equipped with whirling doors that +were perpetually in motion, and to enter one of these doors caused Tavia +to shrink back and wish heartily that Dorothy or Ned was with her. + +She stood waiting an opportune moment to slip into the rapidly-swinging +doors, and should have turned away in despair of ever entering, when a +young man stopped, and holding the circular portal still, with one strong +arm, he bowed to Tavia to pass through. She plunged into the compartment +and was whirled into a white marble hall directly in front of a row of +elevators. Again she read the address of Mr. Akerson. “Room 1409.” +Entering an elevator she wondered in a misty, dizzy way how one knew +where to get off to find room Number 1409. + +“Eighteenth floor!” yelled the elevator operator, looking askance at +Tavia. Then before Tavia could think, he called, “Going down!” and the +elevator filled up for the downward trip. Tavia gasped. How stupid she +had been! How she wished Dorothy was with her! Then she left the elevator +on the ground floor and pulling together all her courage, she asked an +important looking man in uniform, how she could reach Room 1409. + +“Fourteenth floor, to your right,” explained the man, taking the +bewildered Tavia by the arm and putting her on an elevator. + +“So that’s the system,” thought Tavia, and she could have laughed aloud. +And marveling at the perfect simplicity of so many things that at first +glance seemed complicated, Tavia found herself at the fourteen floor. + +“Room Fourteen Hundred and Nine to your right,” said the elevator boy, +without Tavia having asked him anything about it. + +“To your right,” sounded simple, but as Tavia surveyed the various halls, +running in numerous directions, she grew weary of her first business trip +and so tired that she almost lost sight of the reason for the journey. +Under the guidance of a flippant young person, Tavia finally located “to +the right.” + +She opened the door and entered. She fairly rushed into the office +because she felt that Mr. Akerson must be tired waiting for her arrival. +A small boy sat at a telephone switchboard. + +“Who d’yer wanta see?” asked the boy, with utter indifference. + +“Mr. Akerson,” said Tavia. + +The boy telephoned to somewhere, and presently a young girl appeared, and +without a word, conducted Tavia through a long suite of offices, with +crowds of clerks, desks and bookcases in every conceivable corner. The +young miss poked her head into a door and called out: + +“Mr. A.” + +“A’s not in,” called back another young voice. “Back in half an hour.” + +Tavia sat down and looked about her. So this was the way business men +kept important appointments! Back in half an hour! It seemed ages since +Tavia left Mrs. White’s breakfast room, but the ticking clock on the wall +announced that it was just ten-thirty. She must return for lunch, or the +family would be frightened. She quietly looked about her, and in one +quick glance decided that after all, the various eyes that were looking +her way, might be kindly eyes, and with a great deal of courage, for it +really takes courage to face a long line of clerks in a business office, +Tavia smiled at the entire force. Soon she became interested in the +clicking typewriting machines, and the adding apparatus, and forgot all +about herself, which seemed the best thing in the world to do. The most +comfortable and happy people of all are those who can become so +interested in others that they forget themselves. + + + + + CHAPTER XVIII + DANGEROUS GROUND + + +“Miss——,” began a man with a ruddy face and heavy gray hair, as he stood +in front of Tavia, almost an hour later, while a small boy relieved him +of his great fur coat and cane. “I don’t believe I have your name. I’m +Mr. Akerson.” + +“I’m Octavia Travers,” answered Tavia, looking straight into the brown +eyes of Mr. Akerson. + +“Oh, yes, you are the lady who ’phoned me? Want to see me about something +very important; don’t you?” he asked, looking at Tavia’s fresh young face +with open admiration. Instinctively Tavia did not like Mr. Akerson. His +brown eyes were large and bold, and his manners too free and easy. As she +gazed straight at him she wondered how she, alone, could deal with such a +man. But she followed him, nevertheless, into an office marked +“_Private_” and the door closed behind them. + +“Wonderful weather; is it not?” he asked, pleasantly. “Such bracing air +as this makes us old fellows young,” he rubbed his large hands together +as he talked. “I suppose you’ve been skating in the Park, and enjoying +the Winter pleasures, as girls do!” + +“No, indeed,” answered Tavia sedately, “we haven’t been skating yet, but +we’re going to the Park to-morrow.” Then she could have bitten off her +tongue for saying anything so foolish—for telling this stranger anything +about her engagements. + +The man did not seem in a hurry to find out her business. She drew +herself up and raising her chin, which was always a sign that Tavia was +becoming determined, she said: + +“I wish to inquire about one of your apartments.” + +“I understood you to say that it was special business with me,” he +laughed, and looked keenly at Tavia. “You could have asked any of the +clerks about that.” + +“I thought that I would have to see you personally, of course.” + +“Oh, no, that was not necessary. My clerks are conversant with the +renting of all our places.” + +Tavia was puzzled. She would not talk to the clerks, she wanted to find +out from Mr. Akerson himself. She smiled sweetly. + +“I was told,” she said, “that in regard to this particular apartment, the +Court Apartments, that I could only rent from you.” + +The man glanced up quickly, and closing his eyes shrewdly, asked Tavia, +lowering his voice: + +“Who sent you to me?” + +“A friend of mine lives there and she mentioned your name as being +renting agent, and not the company you represent.” + +Mr. Akerson sat back, evidently very much relieved. He toyed with a +letter opener. + +“No,” he said slowly, “the Court Apartments do not belong to the company, +and the clerks could not have given you the information about renting. We +do not carry that place on the lists.” + +For one wild moment Tavia wanted to laugh. This shrewd man, of whom she +had felt so much in awe, was calmly telling her just what she wanted to +know! + +“I wish,” said Tavia, “to see about renting an apartment there.” + +“An apartment just for yourself?” he asked, and he looked so queerly at +Tavia that she hesitated. + +“No,” hastily corrected Tavia, “that is, not alone. I expect to +have—someone with me.” Which, as Tavia said to herself, was perfectly +true, though she hesitated over it. + +“Lucky young chap!” murmured the man, and Tavia flushed hotly. + +“The rent, please,” demanded Tavia, trying to show the man how much he +displeased her. + +“What can you afford to pay?” he asked. “The rents differ. But, I have no +doubt, I could give you an apartment on very reasonable terms.” + +“I couldn’t afford to pay over fifty dollars per month,” answered Tavia +smoothly, which was the price at which the apartments were supposed to be +rented. + +“I’m willing to shave off a bit,” said Mr. Akerson, very generously. +“Some of my tenants there are paying one hundred dollars for the same +rooms that I’ll let you have for eighty dollars per month.” + +“Eighty dollars!” exclaimed Tavia, “I understood that the rents were only +forty and fifty dollars!” + +“My dear young lady,” said the man soothingly, “in that section! And such +beautifully arranged rooms! I ask eighty and one hundred dollars for +those apartments, and I get it. But, as I said, if there are any +particular rooms that you fancy,” the man smiled familiarly at Tavia, +“maybe I could come to terms with you.” + +“I’m sure I am right about the rents being forty and fifty dollars,” +Tavia insisted. + +“Oh, they were that a long time ago; in fact, the last time the apartment +changed hands they could be rented for thirty-five dollars. But I built +the place up, improved it, made it worth the price, and I can get that +amount. Only, if you’ve set your little heart——” + +Tavia jumped up. The man had leaned so far over toward her, that she +resented the familiarity implied. She drew herself up to her full height +and said coldly: + +“I do not care to pay more than the regular renting price for the Court +Apartments. If you will lease an apartment at fifty dollars, you shall +hear from me again.” + +“Done!” said the man, “but I can’t promise that the rent will go on +indefinitely at that figure. You can have it at that rental for three +months, but understand, the woman across the hall from you and the family +above, are paying one hundred dollars per month.” + +“I’m sure you’re very kind,” said Tavia, arranging her fur neck piece, +and pulling on her gloves, “I appreciate it very much.” + +“Don’t mention it,” said Mr. Akerson, grandly expanding his broad chest, +“I always aim to give a lady whatever she wants,” and he came nearer to +Tavia. + +With cool dignity she backed slowly to the door, ignoring Mr. Akerson’s +outstretched hand. + +A quick flush mounted the man’s brow, and he bowed Tavia out of his +private office. + +Once again in the open, she breathed freely. + +“What a perfectly horrid man,” she murmured. “To think that Mrs. White +receives but thirty-five dollars from each apartment and he actually gets +eighty and one hundred dollars! Poor Miss Mingle! It must take every +penny she earns just to pay the rent! And it takes all Aunt Winnie +receives to pay the expenses and taxes of the place! And with the +difference Mr. Akerson buys fur coats and things.” Tavia’s indignation +knew no bounds. + +On the trip home she thought quickly and clearly. + +Arriving there, she was met by an excited family. + +“Wherever have you been?” cried Dorothy. + +“My dear,” gasped Aunt Winnie, “you’ve given us an awful fright!” + +“I was just down to start out on a trip through the hospitals and police +stations,” said Ned. + +“And I’ve now spoiled the beautiful trip,” said Tavia, with a laugh. +“It’s just delightful to stay away long enough to be missed.” + +“Yes, I know it is,” said Dorothy. “But where have you been?” + +“Out,” was Tavia’s laconic answer. + +“Really!” said Ned, with broad sarcasm. + +Aunt Winnie smiled. “Don’t tell them your secret, Tavia; they only want +to find out so that they can tease you about it.” + +“Anyone who insists on hearing my secret,” said Tavia, striking a tragic +pose, “does so at his peril!” + +Ned decided that it was worth the risk, and rushed at Tavia to wrench the +secret bare, but she eluded him skillfully, leaping directly over a +couch. Ned was close at her heels, and out into the hall she ran, +shutting the door after her, keeping Ned on the other side. In a moment +it was opened. Desperate, Tavia sprang to the entrance into the main +hall, and Ned followed so closely that they reached the divan in the hall +at the same moment, Tavia sinking exhausted into its depths. She had won, +because Ned could do nothing now except stand gallantly by—he could not +smother Tavia in pillows in the public hall, and still maintain his +dignity—so Tavia’s secret remained her own. + +Dorothy appeared in the doorway. + +“Such perfectly foolish young people!” she scolded. “Come inside this +instant! It’s a good thing that father will arrive to-night, to balance +this frivolous family!” + +Tavia sat up astonished. “Major Dale coming to-night? I’m so glad. And +Nat and Joe and Roger! Won’t that be fine for the skating party?” + +Dorothy, too, sank into the comfortable divan. + +“Father’s rheumatism is all well again, and they will arrive in time for +dinner to-night,” she said. “The telegram came directly after breakfast.” + +“Dorothy told me about your visit to Miss Mingle in the apartment house,” +said Ned, suddenly becoming serious. But Tavia did not want to discuss +apartment houses just then, and she jumped lightly to her feet, just as +Aunt Winnie opened the door. + +“There’s someone on the ’phone asking for Miss Travers!” she said. + +Certainly mysterious things were happening to Tavia that day, thought +Dorothy, as she and Ned stood, frankly curious, while Tavia clung to the +receiver. + +“Hello!” she said, in a trembling voice. + +“Yes, this is Miss Travers!” + +“No, I do not know your voice.” + +“Really, I never heard your voice before!” + +“Yes, this is Mrs. White’s apartment.” + +“I’m from Dalton, yes, and my name is Travers, but I don’t know you.” + +“Ned? He’s here. You want to speak to him?” + +She stepped from the telephone and handed the receiver to Ned: “It’s a +man’s voice and he kept laughing, but I’m sure I never met him, and he +finally asked for you,” she explained. + +“How are you, old chum?” sang out Ned, heartily. “Yes, certainly, come +right upstairs. Get off at the third floor. The girls will be wild with +joy!” + +“Who is it?” demanded Dorothy and Tavia, in one voice. + +“He’ll be in the room in a minute,” answered Ned, mysteriously. + + + + + CHAPTER XIX + THICK ICE AND THIN + + +The owner of the voice on the telephone had appeared in less than a +minute in the person of Bob, and before greetings were over the Major, +with Nat, Roger and Joe, appeared, and there was a grand reunion. + +When the boys took Bob off to see New York, the girls retired. + +“Does it really seem possible that a few days ago we were country school +girls?” mused Dorothy, as she and Tavia lay wide awake the next morning, +waiting for the breakfast bell to ring. Tavia had succeeded in convincing +Dorothy that on a holiday trip, one should never get up until two minutes +before breakfast was served, and then to scramble madly to reach the +table in time. This, Tavia, contended, was the only real way of knowing +it was a holiday. + +“I feel as much a part of New York City as any of the natives might,” +answered Tavia. “And there are such stacks of places we must yet +explore.” + +“How different we will make Miss Mingle’s days, after we all return to +the Glen,” Dorothy said. “We’ll elect her one of our club, the noble +little thing!” + +“I feel like the most selfish of mortals in comparison,” replied Tavia. +“Such goodness as hers is not common, I’m sure.” + +A jingling of musical bells announced breakfast, and to further impress +the fact upon the family, every young person banged on the other one’s +bedroom door, and the noise for a few minutes was deafening. + +“Now, Tavia, please,” pleaded Dorothy, as she hurriedly dressed, “don’t +act so to Bob! You were so contrary last evening!” + +“Can’t help it,” declared Tavia. “He inspires contrariness! He’s so easy +to tease!” + +During the meal Tavia kept perfectly quiet, her eyes modestly downcast, +and Dorothy watched her with great misgivings. Tavia was beginning the +day entirely too modestly. + +Another hour found the whole party on the banks of the lake in Central +Park. The ice was in fine condition, and the lake as crowded as every +spot in New York always seemed to be. + +“Oh, I haven’t forgotten the figure eight,” said Major Dale, with a +laugh, as he struck out. Aunt Winnie watched him anxiously because she +had less confidence in his recovery than did the major. It was great fun +for Roger and Joe to skate with their father. + +“Girls,” said Aunt Winnie, as she tried bravely to balance herself, “I’m +really not as young as I think I am! I believe I’ll return to the car, +bundle up in the fur robes and just watch.” + +The girls begged her to remain. Nat and Bob, after a long run to the end +of the lake, had returned, and Nat grasped Aunt Winnie suddenly. Together +they started up the lake, Aunt Winnie skating as gracefully as any of the +young girls. Ned was tightening Dorothy’s skates as Bob approached Tavia. + +“Weren’t you surprised to see me yesterday?” Bob wanted to know. “You +didn’t think I would come; did you?” + +“I’ve been so busy, I don’t know what I really have been thinking,” was +Tavia’s non-committal answer. + +“But did you?” persisted Bob, anxious to know whether Tavia had thought +of him during her holiday. Tavia knew that he was anxious. + +“I hardly think I’ve thought much,” she answered, as she did some fancy +skating, just eluding Bob and Nat as they tried to catch her. + +Dorothy complained to Tavia: “Isn’t it horrid the way people gather +around just because two country girls can do a few fancy strokes on the +ice!” + +“It’s embarrassing to say the least,” replied Tavia, still dizzily +whirling about. “I’m glad, aren’t you, that the rules for city park lakes +forbid small gatherings on the ice? The guard has broken up each little +group that has threatened to intrude on our privacy.” + +“Let them watch!” said Ned. “We’ll give the city chaps some fine points +on how to get over the ice!” + +“Most of the girls seem to enjoy just standing still in the cold,” said +Bob, with a laugh. + +“I know that girl with the bright red skating cap just bought skates +because she had a skating cap; she can’t move on the ice,” said Dorothy. + +A tall man, with heavy gray hair and a fur overcoat, was skating near by, +and he watched Tavia constantly. Dorothy noticed him and wondered at his +persistence in keeping near their party. Tavia, however, was too deeply +enraptured with her own antics on the ice, to pay attention to the mere +onlookers. + +Nat and Dorothy challenged Bob and Tavia to a race to the end and back in +a given time, and a strong breeze carried them swiftly down the lake. As +they disappeared from sight, the tall stranger in the fur coat plainly +noticed Mrs. White and the major, who stood watching the young people +sail away down the lake. + +It was Mr. Akerson. + +“For once in my career I’ve made some kind of a mistake,” he muttered to +himself. “It was an inspiration to try to meet that pretty red-haired +girl again, and by Jove! the knowledge gained was worth the effort! Now +which one is she; the niece or the niece’s chum?” he mused as his car +sped through the park, for he had soon tired of the ice. + +“Well,” he said, with a laugh, “the little red-haired lass is not yet +through with Mr. Akerson.” + +Before his car had reached the park entrance, another car passed him, +containing Mrs. White and Major Dale homeward bound, the young people +having decided to remain on the ice until lunch. + +Tavia had kept Bob just dancing whither her will o’ the wisp mood might +lead. Finally it led the whole party up to the man who sold hot coffee +and sandwiches. + +“This is the first really sensible move Tavia’s made to-day,” commented +Nat, as his teeth sank into a sandwich. The steaming coffee trickled down +the throats of the party accompanied by various comments, but no one, +except Dorothy, noticed a little lad, followed by a yellow dog, who stood +hungrily watching the steaming cups. He was the typical urchin of the +streets of New York City, who had wandered from goodness knows where +among the East side tenements, to bask in the sunlight of Central Park. +His hands were dug deep into his ragged trousers, and his dirty little +face sank into the collar of a very large coat. + +“Is dat orful hot?” he asked with interest, as Dorothy daintily drained +her coffee cup. + +“Are you cold?” she asked, kindly. + +“Naw,” he answered, in great disgust, “I ain’t never cold, but the dawg +is. Say, lady, could yer guv the dawg a hot drink o’ dat stuff?” + +“Dogs can’t drink coffee,” said Dorothy with a smile, “but you must have +some.” + +The boy slipped behind the dog and smiled wistfully at the coffee urns. + +“Naw,” he said, “I don’t want none.” But the hunger in his eyes was not +to be denied by his brave little lips, and while Tavia and the boys made +merry at the lunch counter, Dorothy quietly ordered coffee and sandwiches +for the thin little boy. And he drank, and ate, every bit, insisting on +sharing many mouthfuls with the yellow dog. + +He stayed with the party, wandering up and down the banks of the lake, +until they were ready to depart, and then he followed at a respectful +distance as they walked across town to Riverside Drive. He had nothing +else to do, and the lady with the fluffy hair was kind and good to look +at, and as his whole life was spent on the streets, he carelessly +followed along until they reached home. Turning, Dorothy saw him, and +something in the little face went straight to her heart. He did not look +at all like her own little brothers, there was only the small boy +manliness about him that, somehow, reminded her of Joe, and smiling +encouragement for him to follow, he did so, until the porter stopped him +in the apartment hall. + +“It’s all right,” said Dorothy, in a low voice, “he’s with us.” + +“What are you going to do with him?” asked Tavia, as they piled on the +elevator. + +“Feed him all the things his little stomach has ever yearned for,” +declared Dorothy. “I’ve seen so many of him about the streets, and now +I’m going to try and make one happy, for just a day!” + +The little thin boy being enthroned in the kitchenette with the yellow +dog sprawled out on the floor, Dorothy returned to Tavia and the boys. + +“Why did not I see that little boy?” asked Tavia, soberly. + +“Because,” said Bob gently, “you were ministering to the enjoyment and +success of the skating party.” + +“Huh!” said Tavia, in disdain. “Dorothy is the most perfect darling! Who +else would have looked about for someone to bestow kindnesses upon? I’m +going right out to the little boy and—and help entertain him.” And in +deep repentance Tavia strode out to the kitchenette, to make up to the +thin boy whom she would have passed by if Dorothy had not been kind to +him. + +Soon the boys stood outside the door listening to Tavia patiently trying +to say the very nicest things! + +At Ned’s suggestion, that a little practice on Tavia’s part, in saying +nice things, should by no means be interrupted, they rushed to the +drawing room, and Dorothy played the piano while the boys sang. Dorothy +finally jumped up, with her fingers in her ears, and declared she was +becoming deaf, so Nat immediately sat down on the piano stool, and the +singing continued. + +Aunt Winnie looked in for a moment and begged the bass to try to sing +tenor! And even the very boyish major closed his door to shut out the +hideous sounds. But nothing disturbed Tavia, who was bent on making up to +little Tommy. + + + + + CHAPTER XX + A THICKENED PLOT + + +“This is becoming a habit,” said Dorothy to Tavia, as they climbed the +steps of the Fifth Avenue ’bus, homeward bound after a few morning hours +spent in the shopping district, the day after the skating party. + +“Everybody seems to have the habit too,” commented Tavia. “We can shop +steadily for two hours, and still not purchase anything. That’s what I +find so fascinating!” + +“To me the charm of shopping lies in being able to buy anything that +inspires one at the moment, and then calmly return it the next day. In +that way, we can really possess for a few hours almost anything we set +our hearts on,” said Dorothy gleefully. + +“Like returning the brass horses and finger bowls!” said Tavia. + +“Not to mention the rows of books and boxes of handkerchiefs,” Dorothy +opened a box of chocolates as she spoke, and the candy occupied their +attention for several minutes. + +The ’bus stopped for a man who had hastily crossed the street in front of +it. He climbed the steps and sat directly opposite the girls from the +country. Tavia was busy with her thoughts and did not see him. Dorothy, +however, noticed him, but said nothing to Tavia, because, for one +frightened moment, she remembered him as the stranger who had so closely +watched Tavia on the lake the morning before. To divert attention she +began to talk rapidly. + +“I’m so sorry Bob cannot stay after to-morrow morning,” she said. At +mention of Bob’s name Tavia turned her head toward the sidewalk, and away +from the stranger. “Do you recall the first time we met him, Tavia?” + +“I don’t recall much about Bob,” said Tavia, diffidently, “I think he is +too domineering. He is always preaching to me!” + +“He takes a brotherly interest in your welfare,” teased Dorothy, for Bob +was the one subject on which Tavia could really be teased. “Ned seems to +have lost his place of big brother to Tavia,” she continued, meanwhile +casting sidewise glances at the man opposite. He sat staring deliberately +at Tavia, and Dorothy was just about to suggest that they leave the ’bus +and rid themselves of the man’s distasteful glances, when Tavia glanced +across the aisle and recognized the real estate agent! + +For some reason that Tavia could not then fathom, she trembled, and +quickly jumped up, saying to Dorothy: + +“Let’s get off here! I’d rather walk the rest of the way; wouldn’t you?” + +As Dorothy had been about to suggest that very thing, she looked in +surprise from the man to Tavia and saw him raise his hat. + +“This is a very fortunate meeting,” said Mr. Akerson to Tavia, “I +couldn’t have asked for anything more timely. Mrs. White, your aunt, +expects to be at my office in twenty minutes and she expressed a desire, +over the telephone, to have you girls meet her there. How strangely +things happen! I am so fortunate as to be able to deliver the message, +and you will get there almost as soon as she will.” He spoke easily, and +with a slight smile about his lips. + +“My aunt?” repeated Tavia, mystified, “I haven’t an aunt!” + +“Isn’t Mrs. White your aunt,” he asked. + +“Mrs. White is my aunt,” interrupted Dorothy. “Who are you please?” + +“Mr. Akerson, Mrs. White’s real estate manager. Have I the pleasure of +addressing her niece?” + +Dorothy assented with a quick nod of her head. “But we were not informed +of her visit to your office,” she said quickly. + +“Do just as you like,” said Mr. Akerson, coolly, “I get off here. I only +thought it lucky to have had the pleasure of carrying out Mrs. White’s +wishes. Don’t misunderstand me,” he added, “I did not start out to hunt +through the New York shops for you, it was merely a happy coincidence +that we met. Mrs. White ’phoned me after you left and merely mentioned +that as she was coming down town she wished she could meet you. Well, +I’ve an engagement on this block for five minutes, and then I return to +meet Mrs. White in my office.” + +He left the ’bus and the girls just stared! + +“How did that man know us?” cried Dorothy, too astounded to think of any +answer to her own question. + +“I know how he knew me,” said Tavia, grimly. “But how did he know I knew? +Oh, dear me, it’s all knows and knews; what am I trying to say?” + +“Can people in New York sense relationship as folk pass by on top of +’buses?” questioned Dorothy, of the dazzling sunlight. + +“Why,” queried Tavia, “should Aunt Winnie tell him that she wanted us to +meet her at his office?” + +“Or how,” demanded Dorothy, “did he happen to be in just this section of +the city and jump on our very ’bus?” + +“But Mrs. White may even now be waiting for us, anxiously hoping for our +arrival,” exclaimed Tavia; “though of course she couldn’t guess he would +meet us. It must be a strange chance, as he says.” + +“Of course we start down town immediately,” declared Dorothy, “I know the +address.” + +“Well Dorothy,” said Tavia, mysteriously, “Mr. Akerson may be a shrewd +business man, and be playing a skillful game, but I am not one whit +afraid to go directly to his office, and see the whole thing through to +the end!” + +“It’s exactly what I intend to do,” said Dorothy, decidedly. “This, I +rather feel, may be our unexpected opportunity to quickly squelch the +well-laid plans of this man. But, Tavia, aren’t you just a little bit +dubious about going alone? Hadn’t we better return home first?” + +“No, we’ll take the next car downtown, and we must work together to lay +bare the real facts!” declared Tavia as they ran for a downtown Broadway +car. + + + + + CHAPTER XXI + FRIGHT AND COURAGE + + +With unhesitating steps, Tavia led Dorothy, without any of the confusion +of her own first visit, directly to Mr. Akerson’s offices. + +The same switchboard operator sat sleepy-eyed at the telephone, and the +same young person conducted the girls through the office suite, the only +difference was that the hour was near twelve, and most of the desks were +empty, as the clerks had left the building for lunch. + +The offices seemed strangely quiet, as the girls sat, with their hearts +beating wildly, waiting for the door marked “_Private_” to open. When it +did, Mr. Akerson came forth with a genial smile. + +“I arrived a little ahead of you,” said he, and he led the girls into his +private office. + +“But where is Mrs. White?” demanded Dorothy. + +“Evidently delayed in reaching here,” answered Mr. Akerson, pulling his +watch from his pocket. “No doubt she’ll be here directly.” + +With this the girls had to be content. Dorothy watched the door, +expecting to see Aunt Winnie enter at every sound. + +“Well,” said the man, balancing himself on his heels, “and what is the +decision in regard to the apartment you wanted?” + +Tavia shot a meaning glance in Dorothy’s direction and Dorothy quickly +suppressed a start of surprise at the man’s words. She decided instantly +that she must watch Tavia’s every glance, if she were to follow the +hidden meaning. + +“Haven’t decided yet,” carelessly answered Tavia. “Besides, there’s +plenty of time.” + +“Are you sure it was an apartment you wanted, or”—the man wheeled about +his desk chair and arranged himself comfortably before continuing—“was it +just a woman’s curiosity?” He smiled broadly at the girls; his look was +that of a very kindly disposed gentleman. + +“My reasons were just as I stated—I may want an apartment—I liked the +arrangement of the Court Apartments, and was seeking information for my +own future use,” defiantly replied Tavia. + +“Of course, of course,” Mr. Akerson replied. “But why come to me? +Couldn’t—er—your friend here have secured the information from—well say, +from Mrs. White?” + +“Mrs. White, I regret to say, Mr. Akerson,” responded Dorothy, “seems to +be ill-informed about her own property.” + +“Mrs. White has access to my books,” he replied coldly, “whenever she +chooses to look them over. Everything is there in black and white.” + +“Except your verbal statements to me,” said Tavia, standing up and facing +Mr. Akerson. “Your statement that rents used to be thirty-five dollars, +and are now one hundred dollars.” + +Dorothy guessed instantly whither Tavia was leading. + +“And the difference between the thirty-five dollars and the one hundred +dollars,” she asked, “goes to whom? Some charitable institution perhaps?” + +“Ha! Ha!” laughed Mr. Akerson, “that’s rich! So you,” he turned to Tavia, +“took all my nonsense so seriously that you’re convinced I’m a +scoundrel.” His teeth gleamed wickedly through his stubby mustache, and +Dorothy wished that Aunt Winnie would hurry. She did not like this man. + +“By your own statements you’ve convicted yourself,” declared Tavia. “The +morning I interviewed you, you did not know me, and told me your prices.” + +“You’re wrong; I did know you,” declared the man bluntly. “I knew you to +be a friend of Mrs. Bergham’s, that you had listened to a rambling tale +of that feeble-minded woman, and came to me expecting to have it +confirmed—and, as you know, I fully confirmed it. By the way, Mrs. +Bergham moves to-day, but I suppose you are thoroughly conversant with +her affairs.” + +Like a shot the thought came to Dorothy and Tavia, as they exchanged +glances, could Mrs. Bergham, who certainly did not seem dependable, +misrepresent matters to gain sympathy for herself? But as quickly came +the picture of patient Miss Mingle, and all doubt vanished at once. + +“That’s true,” confessed Tavia, “the first inkling of absolute +wrong-doing came quite unexpectedly through Mrs. Bergham. I’m sorry, +though, that she has been ordered to move on account of it.” + +“Mrs. Bergham will not move,” said Dorothy, quietly. “We have sufficient +evidence, I should say, Mr. Akerson, to convince even you that your +wrong-doings have at last been found out.” + +Mr. Akerson jumped to his feet, a sudden rage seeming to possess him. + +He sprang to the door and locked it and turned on the girls. Tavia +slipped instinctively behind a chair, but Dorothy stood her ground, +facing the enraged man with courage and aloofness. + +“You can’t frighten me, Mr. Akerson,” she said to him. White with rage +the man approached nearer and nearer to Dorothy. + +“Just what do you mean?” he asked, and there was that in the cool, and +incisive quality of his tones that made both girls feel, if they had not +before, that they had rather undertaken too much in coming to the office. + +There was silence for a moment in the office, a silence that seemed yet +to echo to the rasping of the lock in the door, a sound that had a +sinister meaning. And yet it seemed to flash to Dorothy that, at the +worst, the man could only frighten them—force them, perhaps, to some +admission that would make his own case stand out in a better light, if it +came to law procedings. + +Too late, Dorothy realized, as perhaps did Tavia, that they had been +indiscreet, from a legal standpoint, in thus coming into the camp of an +enemy, unprotected by a lawyer’s advice. + +All sorts of complications might ensue from this hasty proceeding. Yet +Dorothy, even in that moment of trouble, realized that she must keep her +brain clear for whatever might transpire. Tavia, she felt, might do +something reckless—well meant, no doubt, but none the less something that +might put a weapon in the hands of the man against whom they hoped to +proceed for the sake of Aunt Winnie. + +“Just what do you mean?” snapped the man again, and he seemed master of +the situation, even though Dorothy thought she detected a gleam of—was it +fear? in his eyes. “I am not in the habit of being spoken to in that +manner,” he went on. + +“I am afraid I shall have to ask you to explain yourself. It is the first +time I have ever been accused of wrongdoing.” + +“I guess it isn’t the first time it has happened, though,” murmured +Tavia. + +“What’s that?” demanded the man, quickly turning toward her. Even bold +Tavia quailed, so menacing did his action seem. + +“There always has to be a first time,” she substituted in louder tones. + +“I don’t know whether you are aware of it, or not, young ladies,” the +agent proceeded, “but it is rather a dangerous proceeding to make +indiscriminate accusations, as you have just done to me.” + +“Danger—dangerous?” faltered Dorothy. + +“Exactly!” and the sleek fellow smiled in unctuous fashion. “There is +such a thing as criminal libel, you know.” + +“But we haven’t published anything!” retorted Tavia. “I—I thought a libel +had to be published.” + +“The publishing of a libel is not necessarily in a newspaper,” retorted +Mr. Akerson. “It may be done by word of mouth, as our courts have held in +several cases. I warn you to be careful of what you say.” + +“He seems to be well up on court matters,” thought Tavia, taking heart. +“I guess he isn’t so innocent as he would like to appear.” + +“I would like to know what you young ladies want here?” the agent blurted +out. + +“Information,” said Tavia, sharply. + +“What for?” + +“What is information generally for?” asked Tavia, verbally fencing with +the man. “We want to know where we stand.” + +“Do you mean you want to find out what sort of apartments they +are—whether they are of high class?” + +He was assuming a more and more defiant attitude, as he plainly saw that +the girls, as he thought, were weakening. + +“Something of that sort—yes,” answered Tavia. “You know we want to start +right. But then, of course,” and she actually smiled, “we would like to +know all the ins and outs. We are not at all business-like—I admit +that—and we certainly did not mean to libel you.” Crafty Tavia! Thus, she +thought she might minimize any unintentional indiscretion she had +committed. + +“Mrs. White doesn’t know much about business, either,” she went on. “She +would like to, though, wouldn’t she, Dorothy?” + +“Oh, yes—yes,” breathed Dorothy, scarcely knowing what she said. She was +trying to think of a way out of the dilemma in which she and Tavia found +themselves. + +“I will give Mrs. White any information she may need,” said Mr. Akerson, +coldly. + +“But about the apartments themselves,” said Tavia. “She wants to know +what income they bring in—about the new improvements—the class of +tenants—Oh, the thousand and one things that a woman ought to know about +her own property.” + +“Rather indefinite,” sneered the man. + +“I don’t mean to be so,” flashed Tavia. “I want to be very definite—as +very definite as it is possible for you to be,” and she looked meaningly +at the agent. “We want to know all you can tell us,” she went on, and, +growing bolder, added: “We want to know why there is not more money +coming from those apartments; don’t we, Dorothy?” and she moved over +nearer to her chum. + +“Yes—yes, of course,” murmured Dorothy, hardly knowing what she was +saying, and hoping Tavia was not going too far. + +“More money?” the agent cried. + +“Yes,” retorted Tavia. “What have you done that you should be entitled to +more than the legal rate?” + +“I brought those apartments up to their present fitness,” he snarled, +“and whatever I get over and above the regular rentals, is mine; do you +understand that? What do you know about real estate laws? I’ll keep you +both locked in this office, until I grind out of your heads the silliness +that led you to try and trap me. I’ll keep you here until——” + +“You will not,” said Dorothy. + +“Where did she go?” He suddenly missed Tavia, and Dorothy, turning, saw +too that Tavia had disappeared. + +“This is nothing but a scheme to get us down here,” cried Dorothy, after +several moments of anxiety, “Aunt Winnie was never expected, and now +Tavia has gone!” + +“Oh, no I haven’t,” cried Tavia, as she stepped from a sound-proof +private telephone booth. “I’ve just been looking about the office. It’s +an interesting place, and the melodrama of Mr. Akerson I found quite +wearisome.” + +“Also that my private ’phone isn’t connected; didn’t you?” he said. +Suddenly dropping the pose of the villain in a cheap melodrama, he smiled +again and rubbing his hands together said, as though there never had been +a disagreeable word uttered: + +“Seriously, girls, that Bergham woman is out of her head, that’s a fact. +You must know there is something queer about her.” + +On that point he certainly had Dorothy and Tavia puzzled. Mrs. Bergham +surely was not the kind of a person either Tavia or Dorothy would have +selected as a friend, and they looked at the man with hesitation. He +followed up the advantage he had gained quickly. + +“Here’s something you young ladies knew nothing about—that woman has +hallucinations! It has nearly driven her poor little sister, Miss Mingle, +distracted. Why, girls, she tells Miss Mingle such yarns, and the poor +little woman believes them and blames me.” He looked terribly hurt and +misunderstood. + +“To show your good faith,” demanded Dorothy, “unlock the door. Then we +will listen to all you have to say. But, first, I must command you to +talk to us with the doors wide open!” + +“With pleasure, it was stupid to have locked it at all,” he agreed +affably. “Now if you’ll just come with me to the bookkeeper’s department +I’ll prove everything to your entire satisfaction, and since Mrs. White +has not seen fit to keep her appointment, you may convey the intelligence +to her, just where you stand in this matter.” + +“About the apartment we might wish to rent,” said Tavia, serenely, “have +you the floor plan, that we might look over it?” + +Tavia was just behind Mr. Akerson, and Dorothy brought up the rear. + +“I’m not as much interested in the books as in the floor plan,” explained +Tavia. + +“The only one I have is hanging on the wall of my private office,” he +said slowly, looking Tavia over from head to foot. + +“If you’ll show me the books, so that I can explain matters to my aunt, +while Miss Travers is looking over the plan of the apartment she may wish +to take,” said Dorothy seriously, “we can bring this rather unpleasant +call to an end.” + +“I’m sure I am sorry for any unpleasantness,” said Mr. Akerson, “but +you’ll admit your manner of talking business is just a little crude. No +man wants to be almost called a scoundrel and a cheat.” + +“The books, I hope,” Dorothy answered bringing out her words slowly and +clearly, “will show where the error lies. By the way, do you collect +these rents in person, or do you employ a sub-agent?” + +“This, you understand, is not a company matter. It’s a little investment +of my own, and I take such pride in that house, that I allow no one to +interfere with it. Yes, I collect the rents and give my personal +attention to all repairing. If I do say it myself, it is the +best-cared-for apartments in this city to-day. And I’ll tell you this +confidently, Miss Dale, five per cent. for collecting doesn’t pay me for +my time. But I’m interested in the up-building of that house, you +understand.” + +Tavia strolled leisurely back to the private office, while Mr. Akerson +went into a smaller office just off the private one, and while he was +bending over the combination of the safe, quick as a flash, Dorothy took +off the receiver of the desk telephone from the hook, and, in almost a +whisper, asked central for their Riverside home number. + +“Ned,” she gasped, when she heard his voice, “quick, don’t waste a +moment! This is Dorothy. We are in Akerson’s office and are frightened! +Come downtown at once! I’m afraid we won’t be able to hold out much +longer! Quick, quick, Ned!” Then she softly put the receiver back and +turned just in time to see Mr. Akerson rising from before the safe with a +bundle of books in his arms. Dorothy to hide her confusion bent over a +blue print that had been hanging on the walls, but all she saw was a +confused bunch of white lines drawn on a blue background, and from the +outer room came the sound of Tavia’s voice, as she and Mr. Akerson went +over the pages of the ledger, the alert girl seizing the opportunity to +dip into the books as well as look at the floor plans in order to gain +more time. + + + + + CHAPTER XXII + CAPTURED BY TWO GIRLS + + +Dorothy pored over the blue print for a long time. She was growing so +nervous that all the little white lines on the paper began dancing about +and grinning at her, and Mr. Akerson’s voice and Tavia’s in the other +room became louder and louder. Every footstep as the clerks returned, one +by one, from lunch, set her heart palpitating, and she clenched her hands +nervously. She feared that Mr. Akerson would in some way evade them, +disappear before Ned and the boys could arrive! + +Tavia seemed so calm and self-possessed and examined the books so +critically that Dorothy marveled at her! Surely Tavia could not +understand so complicated a thing as a ledger! Off in the distance, at +the end of the suite, Dorothy suddenly saw a familiar brown head, and +behind a shaggy white head, and then a pair of great, braid shoulders, +and in back of them a modish bonnet framing the dignified face of Aunt +Winnie! + +“Dorothy,” she called, running forward. “Here they are!” + +Dorothy’s interest in the prints ceased instantly, and she sprang after +Tavia. + +Mr. Akerson’s face blanched and he withdrew to his private office. + +All the clerks returned discreetly to their work, typewriters clicking +merrily, as the family filed down through the offices and into Mr. +Akerson’s private room. He faced them all until he met the clear eyes of +Mrs. White, then he shifted uneasily and requested Bob, who came in last, +to close the door. + +“What’s it all about, Dorothy?” asked Bob in clear, cool tones, as he +looked with rather a contemptuous glance at the agent. “Has someone been +annoying you?” and he seemed to swell up his splendid muscles under his +coat-sleeves—muscles that had been hardened by a healthy, active +out-of-door life in camp. + +“If there has,” continued Bob, as he looked for a place in the +paper-littered office to place his hat, “if there has, I’d just like to +have a little talk with them—outside,” and the lad nodded significantly +toward the hall. + +“Oh, Bob!” began Dorothy. “You mustn’t—that is—Oh, I’m sure it’s all a +mistake,” she said, hastily. + +“That’s more like it,” said Mr. Akerson, and he seemed to smile in +relief. Somehow he looked rather apprehensively at Bob, Tavia thought. +She, herself, was admiring the lad’s manliness. + +“But you telephoned,” Bob continued. “We were quite alarmed over it. You +said——” + +“Young ladies aren’t always responsible for what they say over the +’phone,” put in Mr. Akerson, with what he meant to be a genial smile at +Bob. “I fancy—er—we men of the world realize that. If Miss Dale has any +complaint to make——” he paused suggestively. + +“Oh, I don’t know what to do!” cried Dorothy. “There certainly seems to +be some need of a complaint, and yet——” + +“Doro, dear, have you been trying to straighten out my business for me?” +demanded Mrs. White, with a gracious smile. + +“Aunt Winne—I don’t exactly know. Tavia here, she——” + +“We’re trying the straightening-out process,” put in Tavia. “We had just +started after being locked——” + +“Careful!” warned the agent. “I cautioned you about libel, you remember, +and that snapping shut of the lock on the door was an error, I tell you.” + +“Never mind about that part,” broke in Tavia. “Tell us about the business +end of it. About the rents, why they have fallen off, and all the rest.” + +“Have you really been going over the books with him, Dorothy?” asked Mrs. +White, in wonder. + +“Allow me to tell about matters,” interrupted Akerson. “I think I +understand it better.” + +“You ought to,” murmured Tavia. + +“I will listen to you, Mr. Akerson,” said Mrs. White, gravely. “You may +proceed.” + +“As I have just been saying to Miss Dale,” he went on, pointing to the +ledgers on his desks, “this matter can be explained in two minutes, if +you will just glance over these entries.” + +He pushed the books toward Aunt Winnie. + +“Don’t look at them, Aunt Winnie,” cried Dorothy. “The entries are false! +We have his own words to prove his wrong-doing! His statements to Tavia +and Miss Mingle’s word to us are different.” + +And by a peculiar net of circumstances, which invariably occur when one +thread tightens about a guilty man, Miss Mingle at that moment walked +into the room! She had come to demand justice from the man who had served +removal notice upon herself and her sister, Mrs. Bergham. She held the +notice in her hand. Major Dale took it, and tearing it in small pieces, +placed it in a waste paper basket. + +“He admitted to me, quite freely,” protested Tavia, “that every tenant in +the house paid eighty or one hundred dollars for his or her apartment!” + +Miss Mingle at first could not grasp the meaning of it, but as Dorothy +quickly explained that her aunt was the owner of the apartment, it dawned +on Miss Mingle just how, after all, the guilty are punished, even though +the road to justice be a long and crooked one. + +“You never spent a penny on that place,” growled Mr. Akerson, “I spent a +good pile of my own money, just to fix it up after my own ideas of a +studio apartment.” + +“I spent more than half of my income of thirty-five dollars per month +from each apartment, for constant repairs, and when I discussed with you, +as you well know, the advisability of advancing the rents a few dollars +to cover the outlay, you discouraged it, said it was impossible in that +section of the city to ask more than thirty-five dollars,” said Mrs. +White sternly. + +“What these books really show,” said Dorothy, “is the enormous amount +that is due Aunt Winnie from Mr. Akerson!” + +“The tenants are so dissatisfied,” explained Miss Mingle, “the constant +increases in the rent were so unreasonable! The porter in the house, so +we have found, was in league with Mr. Akerson, and kept him informed of +everything that happened.” + +“That’s how,” said Tavia, with a hysterical laugh, “he knew whom it was +we called on at the Court Apartments!” + +“Easy there,” said Bob to Tavia, “don’t start laughing that way, or +you’ll break down, and I’ll have to take care of you.” + +“It’s been so awful, Bob,” said Tavia, his name slipping naturally from +her lips. “We tried to carry it through all alone!” + +“Just as soon as you’re left to yourselves,” he said with a smile, “you +begin to get into all sorts of trouble!” + +“There is only one thing to say,” declared Major Dale, advancing toward +Mr. Akerson. “Nat will figure up what you owe to Mrs. White, you will sit +down and write out a check for the amount, and that will close further +transactions with you!” + +Mr. Akerson fingered his check book, and made one last effort to explain: + +“Miss Mingle is influenced by her sister, who has hallucinations,” but he +could say no more, for Major Dale and Bob came toward him threateningly. + +“Miss Mingle teaches my daughter in school, and we will hear nothing from +you about her family,” said Major Dale, decidedly. + +“I demand justice!” cried Mr. Akerson, jumping from his seat. + +“I call this justice,” calmly answered the major. + +“I shall not be coerced into signing a check and handing it to Mrs. +White. I’ll take this matter to the proper authorities,” the agent fumed, +as he walked rapidly to and fro. “It’s an injustice. I tell you I’m +innocent.” + +“Then prove your innocence!” answered Major Dale. + +The ladies were beginning to show signs of the nervous strain. Miss +Mingle and Tavia were almost in hysterics, while Dorothy clung to Mrs. +White’s arm. + +“You do not understand the laws in this State,” declared Mr. Akerson. +“There is no charge against me. I defy you to prove one!” + +“Very well, we will summon one who understands the laws, and decide the +matter at once,” said Major Dale; “meanwhile, you ladies leave these +disagreeable surroundings.” + +“After all,” said Miss Mingle, as they left the office building, “we +won’t have the awful bother of moving; will we, dear Mrs. White?” Her +voice was full of pleading. + +“No, indeed, and as soon as everything is settled, we must try to find an +honest agent to care for the place. I am convinced that Mr. Akerson is +not honest, in spite of all he said,” said Mrs. White. + +“My poor sister!” sighed Miss Mingle. “She almost collapsed at the mere +thought of having to leave that apartment.” + +“Never mind,” consoled Mrs. White, “everything will be all right now. And +you dear girls, how you ever had the courage to face that situation all +alone, I cannot understand!” + +“Oh, it was nothing!” said Tavia, really believing, since the worst part +of it was over, that it had been nothing at all. + +“I almost imagine we enjoyed it!” Dorothy exclaimed. + +“Oh, nonsense,” said Mrs. White, “you are both so nervous, you look as +though another week’s rest would be needed. You are pale, both of you.” + +“Well, I don’t feel one bit pale,” said Tavia, “Still I think I’ll lie +down, when we get home.” + +“So will I, but I’m not tired,” declared Dorothy. + +“They are too young; too high spirited,” said Mrs. White to Miss Mingle, +as they parted; “they won’t admit the awful strain they have been under +all day.” + +An hour later, when the boys and Major Dale returned to the apartment, +all was quiet, and they tiptoed about for fear of awakening the girls. +Aunt Winnie was waiting for them. + +“It’s all settled,” whispered Major Dale. “We have Akerson under bonds to +appear in three days to pay back all money due you.” + +“And to think that Dorothy and Tavia unraveled the mystery!” sighed Aunt +Winnie. + +“Hurrah!” said the boys, in a whisper. “Hurrah for the girls!” + +Which brought the girls into the room. + + + + + CHAPTER XXIII + PATHOS AND POVERTY + + +Dorothy roused the next morning with a sense of great relief after the +strenuous hours of the previous day. At last they were beginning to +accomplish something in the way of straightening out Aunt Winnie’s +complicated money matters. It was a decided rest to turn her thoughts to +the poor boy who had spent a little time in their kitchenette—the boy who +just ate what was offered him, and grinned good-naturedly at the family. + +He had evidently considered them all a part of the day’s routine, and +accepted the food, and the warmth, and kindness with a hardened +indifference that made Dorothy curious. He had grudgingly given Dorothy +his street and house number. He was so flint-like, and skeptical about +rich people helping poor people, his young life had had such varied +experience with the settlement workers, that he plainly did not wish to +see more of his hostess. + +It was an easy matter for Dorothy to just smile and declare she was +“going out.” Tavia was curled up in numerous pillows, surrounded by +magazines and boxes of candy, and the boys were going skating. City ice +did not “keep” as did the ice in the country, and the only way to enjoy +it while it lasted, as Ned explained, was to spend every moment skating +madly. + +Dorothy read the address, Rivington Street, and wondered as she started +forth what this, her first real glimpse into the life of New York City’s +poor, would reveal. She was a bit tremulous, and anxious to reach the +place. + +“Where is this number, little boy?” she inquired, of a street urchin. + +“Over there,” responded a voice buried in the depths of a turned-up +collar. “I know you,” it said impudently. One glance into the large, +heavily-lashed eyes made Dorothy smiled. Here was the very same thin boy +upon whom she was going to call. + +“Is your mother at home?” she asked. + +“Sure,” he replied, “so’s father.” Then he laughed impishly. + +“And have you brothers and sisters, too?” said Dorothy. + +“Sure.” He looked Dorothy over carefully, decided she could keep a +secret, and coming close to her he whispered: “We got the mostest big +family in de street; nobody’s got as many childrens as we got!” Then he +stood back proudly. + +“I want to see them all,” coaxed Dorothy. She hesitated about entering +the tenement to which the thin boy led her. It was tall and dirty and a +series of odors, unknown to Dorothy’s well-brought-up nose, rushed to +meet them as the hall door was pushed open. The fire escapes covering the +front of the house were used for back yards—ash heaps and garbage, +bedding and washes, all hung suspended, threatening to topple over on the +heads of the passersby, and the long, dark hall they entered was also +littered with garbage cans, and an accumulation of dirty rags and papers +and children. + +Such frowsy-headed, unkempt, ragged little babies! Dorothy’s heart went +out to them all—she wanted to take each one and wash the little face, and +smooth the suspicious, sullen brows. The advent of a well-dressed visitor +into the main hall meant the opening of many doors and a wonderfully +frank assortment of remarks as to whom the visitor might be. Little +Tommy, the thin boy, glad of the opportunity to “show off” grandly led +Dorothy up the stairs, making the most of the trip. + +“The other day when I was skatin’ with you in Central Park,” flippantly +fell from Tommy’s lips, loud enough for the words to enter bombastically +through the open doors, “I come home and said to the family, I sez,—” but +what Tommy had said to the family never was known, because the remainder +of Tommy’s family having heard in advance of Tommy’s coming, rushed +pell-mell to meet them, and with various smudgy fingers stuck into all +sizes of mouths, they stared, some through the railings, some over the +railing, more from the top step—the “mostest biggest family” exhibited no +tendency to hang back. + +“Come in out of that, you little ones,” said a soft, motherly voice, that +sounded clear and sweet in the midst of the tumult of the tenement house, +and Dorothy looked quickly in the direction from whence it came and +beheld Tommy’s mother. She was small and dark, and in garments of fashion +would have been dainty. She seemed little older than Tommy, who was nine, +and life in the poorest section of the city, trying to bring up a large +family in three rooms, had left no tragic marks on her smooth brow, and +when she smiled, she dimpled. Dorothy smiled back instantly, the +revelation of this mother was so unexpectedly different from anything +Dorothy had imagined. + +“They _will_ run out in the hall,” the mother explained, apologetically, +“and they’re only half-dressed, and it’s so cold that they’ll all be down +with sore throats, if they don’t mind me. Now come inside, every one of +you!” But not one of the children moved an inch until Dorothy reached the +top landing, then they all backed into the room, which at a glance +Dorothy was unable at first to name. There was a cot in one corner, a +stove, a large table, and sink in another, and one grand easy chair near +a window. Regular chairs there were none, but boxes aplenty, and opening +from this kitchen-bedroom-living-room was an uncarpeted, evil-looking +room, and in the doorway a giant of a man stood, looking in bleary-eyed +bewilderment at Dorothy. + +“You’ll get your rent when I get my pay,” he said, with an ill-natured +leer. “So he’s sending you around now? Afraid to come himself after the +scare I gave him the last time? D’ye remember the scare I gave him +Nellie?” he turned to the little woman. + +With a curious love and pride in this great, helpless giant, his wife +straightened his necktie, that hung limply about the neck of his blue +flannel shirt, and patting his hand said, caressingly: + +“Now stop your foolin’, she’s not from the rent-man, she’s a friend of +our Tommy’s,—the lady that went skatin’ with Tommy in the Park; don’t you +know, James?” + +James straightened himself against the panels of the door, and stared +down at Dorothy, but his first idea that she was after his week’s pay was +evident in his manner. + +“You wouldn’t of got it if you did come for it,” he declared, proudly, +“’cause it ain’t so far behind that you could make me pay it.” + +“It’s only when he’s gettin’ over a sleepless night,” explained Tommy’s +mother, pathetically, “that he worries so. When he’s well,” she whispered +to Dorothy, “he don’t worry about nothin’; but when his money’s all gone +and he ain’t well, the way he frets about me and the children is +somethin’ awful!” She looked at her husband with wonderful pride and +pleasure in possessing so complicated a man. + +Dorothy wondered, in a dazed way, what happened when the entire family +wished to sit down at the same time. She could count just four suitable +seating places, and there were nine members of the family. The smallest +member, a wan, blue-lipped baby in arms, had a look on its face of a wise +old man. + +How and where to begin to help, Dorothy could not think. That the baby +was almost starved for proper nourishment and should at once be taken +care of, Dorothy realized. Yet such an air of cheerfulness pervaded the +whole family, it was hard to believe that any of them was starving. The +cheerful poor! Dorothy’s heart beat high with hope. + +The head of the family made his way to the door opening into the main +hall, and taking his hat from a hook, pulled it over his eyes and put his +hand on the door knob. The little wife, forgetting all else—that Dorothy +was looking on, that her baby was crying, and that something was boiling +over on the stove—threw herself into the giant’s arms. + +“Don’t go out, James!” she cried, pitifully, “don’t go away in the cold. +You won’t, dearie; I know you won’t! Take off your hat, there’s a good +man. Don’t go, there’s no work now.” As the man opened the door, “don’t +you know how we love you, James? Stay home to-night, dearie, and rest for +to-morrow.” + +“I’m just goin’ down to the steps,” replied the man, releasing the +woman’s arms from about his neck, “I’ll be up in a jiffy. I didn’t say I +was goin’ out. Who heard me say a word about goin’ out?” he appealed to +the numerous children playing about. + +“You don’t have to,” said Tommy, bravely trying to keep his lips from +quivering, “you put on a hat; didn’t you? And you opened the door; didn’t +you?” and with such proof positive Tommy stood facing his father, but his +lips would quiver in spite of biting them hard with his teeth. + +“I’m just goin’ down for a breath of air,” he explained, as his wife +clung desperately to his arm, “just to get the sleep out o’ me eyes, and +I’ll run into the grocer’s, and come back with—cakes!” he ended, +triumphantly. + +Dorothy felt awkward and intrusive. This was a family scene that had +grown wearisome to the children, who took little interest in it, and the +mother of the brood at last fell away, and allowed the man to leave the +room. Then Dorothy saw the tragedy of the little woman’s life! Glistening +tears fell thick and fast, and she hugged her baby tightly to her breast, +murmuring softly in its little ears, oblivious to her surroundings. + +“I’ll buy you food,” said Dorothy, the weary voice of the woman bringing +tears to her eyes. “Tommy will come with me and we’ll buy everything you +need.” + +Tommy rushed for his hat, and together they started down the stairs. +Reaching the steps, Dorothy looked about for some sign of Tommy’s father, +but he must have been seated on another porch for the breath of air he +was after; the only thing on the front steps was Tommy’s yellow dog. + +“Did you see my father?” said the boy to the dog. The dog jumped about +madly, licking Tommy’s face and hands and barking short, joyful doggie +greetings. “He’s seen him, all right,” said Tommy. + +“Did he go to the grocer’s?” he asked of the dog. In answer the dog’s +ears and tail drooped sadly, and he licked Tommy’s hand with less +joyfulness. + +“No,” said little Tommy, “he ain’t gone to the grocer’s, he’s always +looking for work now, he says.” + +“I’ll see if I can bring him back,” volunteered Dorothy. + +The evening crowd on Rivington Street was pouring out of the doorways, +bitter cold did not seem to prevent social gatherings on the corners, and +the small shops were filled to overflowing with loungers. A mission +meeting was in progress on one of the corners, as Dorothy hurried on, and +a sweet, girlish voice was exhorting the shivering crowd to repent and +mend their ways. + + + + + CHAPTER XXIV + A YOUNG REFORMER + + +Close in the wake of Tommy’s father, now returning, came Dorothy. A large +automobile stood before one of the rickety buildings, and Dorothy just +caught sight of a great fur coat and gray hair, as the owner of the car +came from the building. It was Mr. Akerson! His chauffeur opened the door +of the car, touched his cap, and the auto made its way slowly through the +street. + +“There’s the rent collector,” she heard a small girl say, as she watched +the automobile out of sight. “Ain’t he grand!” + +Dorothy wondered, with a shudder, how any one could come among these +people and take their money from them, for housing them in such quarters! + +Tommy’s father turned off Rivington Street into a narrow lane, little +more than an alley, but it contained tall buildings nevertheless, with +the inevitable fire escape decorating the fronts. He paused in front of a +pawnbroker’s shop, which was some feet below the level of the sidewalk. +Dorothy, too, paused, leaning on the iron fence. The man was smiling an +irresponsible, foolish smile as he descended the steps to the pawnshop. +Dorothy peered down into the badly-lighted shop, and saw Tommy’s father +lay an ancient watch chain, the last remaining article of the glory of +his young manhood, on the counter. + +The clerk behind the counter threw it back in disgust. Again Tommy’s +father offered it, but the pawnbroker would not take it, for it was +evidently not worth space in his cases. The man stumbled up the steps, +and Dorothy met him face to face on the top one. + +“I need a watch chain,” she heard herself saying in desperation, “I’ll +buy it, please.” + +“You’re the woman as was collecting the rent; eh?” he said. + +“Oh, no,” said Dorothy, smiling brightly, “I came to see Tommy’s mother, +and his father. I wanted to know Tommy’s family.” + +“You wanted to help the boy, maybe?” he asked, his attention at last +arrested. + +“Yes,” replied Dorothy, eagerly, “I want to do something. I have money +with me now, and I’ll buy the chain.” + +The man suddenly turned and went on ahead. He wasn’t a really desperate +man, but Dorothy did not know just what state it could be called, he +simply seemed unable to think quite clearly, and after walking one block, +Dorothy decided he had forgotten her entirely. + +“I want to buy the groceries,” she said, stepping close to his elbow, +“but there will be so many, you’ll have to help carry them home to your +wife and Tommy.” + +He stared at her sullenly. “Who told you to buy groceries?” he demanded. + +“Your wife said there was nothing to eat in the house,” she answered, +“and I would love to buy everything you need, just for this once.” + +“I was just goin’ to get ’em, but there was no money. How’s a man goin’ +to help his family, when they takes his money right outer his pockets; +tell me that, will you?” he demanded of Dorothy. She shrank as the huge +form towered over her, but she answered steadily: + +“The children are at home, hungry, waiting for something to eat—the cakes +you promised them, you know,” she said with a brave smile. + +“Well, come along; what are you standin’ here for wastin’ time when the +children are hungry?” he said finally. + +Dorothy laughed quietly, and went along at his elbow. Such unreasonable +sort of humanity! At least, one thing was certain, he would not escape +from her now, since she was convinced that he had really been trying to +secure money enough to buy food; if she had to call on the rough-looking +element on the street to come to her aid she would help him. + +In the grocer’s Dorothy found great delight in ordering food for a +family, and they left the shop, loaded down with parcels. The grocer’s +clock chimed out the hour of seven as they left the store. + +“Aunt Winnie,” thought Dorothy suddenly, “she’ll be worried ill! I had +almost forgotten I had a family of my own to be anxious about. But +they’ll have to wait,” she decided, “they, at least, aren’t hungry. They +are only worried, and I know I’m safe,” she ended, philosophically. + +The yellow dog was in the hall, so were all the evil odors, even some of +the babies still played about, evidently knowing no bedtime, until with +utter weariness their small limbs refused to move another step. And the +dog being there meant that Tommy had gone ahead and was safe at home. + +The upper halls were noisy. The hours after supper were being turned into +the festive part of the day. At Tommy’s door there were no loud sounds of +mirth, and, opening it quietly, Dorothy entered, the man behind. A dim +light burned in the room, the mother sat asleep in the old velvet chair, +the smaller children curled up in her lap, and she was holding the baby +in her arms. Several of the children were stretched crosswise on the +kitchen cot, and Dorothy decided the remainder of the family were in the +dark room just off the kitchen, and later she discovered that the surplus +room of the three-room home was rented out, to help pay the rent. + +The children quickly scrambled from the cot and from the mother’s lap, +with wild haste to unwrap the paper parcels. There was little use trying +judiciously to serve the eatables to such hungry children. It mattered +not to Tommy that jelly and condensed milk and butter and cheese were not +all supposed to be eaten on one slice of bread. Tommy never before saw +these things all at one time, and, as far as Tommy knew, he might never +again have the chance to put so many different things on one slice. +Oranges and bananas were unknown luxuries in that family, and the little +boys eyed them suspiciously, but brave Tommy sampling them first, they +picked up courage, and soon there were neither oranges nor bananas, only +messy little heaps of peeling. + +Dorothy was busy instructing the mother how to prepare beef broth, and a +nourishing food for the baby, when the clock struck eight. + +“Tommy,” said Dorothy, as she busily stirred the baby’s food, “do you +know where there is a telephone? I must send a message to Aunt Winnie.” + +“Sure,” said the confident Tommy, “I know all about them things. I often +seen people ‘telphoning,’” thus Tommy called it. + +Soon it was agreed that Tommy and his father would go and inform +Dorothy’s aunt of her whereabouts, over the wire. + +It was an anxious fifteen minutes waiting for their return. The mother +let the steak broil to a crisp in her anxiety lest the father slip away +from Tommy’s grasp, and Dorothy, listening for the returning footsteps, +had visions of again running after Tommy’s father to bring him back to +the bosom of his family, and allowed the oatmeal to boil over. But all +was serene when the man returned safely with the information that: “some +old feller on the wire got excited, and a lot of people all talked at +once,” and the only thing he was sure of was that they demanded the +address of his home, which he had given them, not being ashamed, as he +proudly bragged, for anyone to know where he lived. + +“That was father!” said Dorothy. “What else did he say?” + +“Nothin’,” replied the man, “but the old feller was maddern a wet hen!” + +“Poor father!” thought Dorothy, as she handed an apple to one of the +small boys. “No doubt I’m very foolish to have done this thing. Father +will never forgive me for running away and staying until this late hour. +I really didn’t think about anything, though. It did seem so important to +bring home the things. I can’t bear to think that to-morrow night and the +next night and the next, Tommy and his mother will be here, worrying and +cold and hungry.” + +She served each of the children a steaming dish of oatmeal, floating in +milk, and was surprised to find how hungry she was herself. She looked +critically at the messy table, the cracked bowls, and tin spoons, and +democratic as she knew herself to be, she couldn’t—simply couldn’t—eat on +that kitchen-bedroom-living-room table. + +The creaking of the steps and a heavy footfall pausing before the door, +caused a moment’s hush. A knock on the portal and Tommy flew to open it. +On the threshold stood Major Dale, very soldierly and dignified, and he +stared into the room through the dim light until he discovered Dorothy. +She ran to him and threw her arms about his neck before he could utter a +word. + +“Dear daddy!” she murmured, so glad to see one of her own people, and she +realized in that instant a sense of comfort and ease to know she was well +cared for, and had a dear, old dignified father. + +“I forgot,” she said, repentantly, “I should have been home hours ago, I +know, but you must hear the whole story, before you scold me.” + +For Major Dale to ever scold Dorothy was among the impossible things, and +to have scolded her in this instance, the furthest thing from his mind. +The children stood about gazing at Major Dale in awed silence. + +“There are so many, father,” said Dorothy, “to have to live in these +close quarters. If they could just be transported to a farm, or some +place out in the open!” + +“Perhaps they could be,” answered Major Dale, “but first, I must take you +home. We’ll discuss the future of Tommy and his family, after you are +safely back with Aunt Winnie.” + +“Couldn’t James be placed somewhere in the country? I want to know now, +before I leave them, perhaps never to see them again,” pleaded Dorothy to +her father. “Say that you know some place for James to work that will +take the family away from this awful city.” + +“We’ll see, daughter,” said the major kindly. “I guess there is some +place for him and the little ones.” + +“He’s so willin’ to work for us,” explained the mother, “and we’d love to +be in the country. We both grew up in a country town, and I’ll go back +to-morrow morning. It’s nothin’ but struggling here from one year’s end +to the other, and we grow poorer each year.” + +“Many a hard day’s work I’ve done on the farm,” said the +six-feet-four-husband, “and I’m good for many more. I’ll work at anything +that’s steady, and that’ll help me keep a roof over the family.” + +“I’m so glad to hear you say so!” cried Dorothy, in delight. “I’m sure we +will find some work in the country for you, and before many weeks you can +leave this place, and find happiness in a busy, country life.” + +On the trip uptown, Dorothy asked about the family at home, feeling very +much as though she had been away on a long trip and anxious to see them +all once again. + +“We began to grow worried about an hour before the telephone message +came,” her father said, “Aunt Winnie had callers, and the arrangements +were to have them all for dinner and we, of course, waited dinner for +Dorothy.” He smiled at his daughter fondly. “When you did not appear, the +anxiety became intense, and the callers are still at the apartment +anxiously awaiting the return of the wanderer.” + +“Who are the callers,” queried Dorothy; “do I know them?” + +“No, just Aunt Winnie’s friends, but they are waiting to meet you,” said +Major Dale. + +“Won’t I be glad to get home!” exclaimed Dorothy, clinging to her +father’s arm as they left the subway. + +“Daughter,” said Major Dale, sternly, “have you really forgotten?” + +“Forgotten what, father?” asked Dorothy in surprise. + +“Forgotten the dinner and dance that is to be given in your honor this +evening?” Major Dale could just suppress a smile as he tried to ask the +question with great severity. + +“Oh, my dear!” cried Dorothy, “I forgot it completely!” + +“Well,” he said, “you’ll be late for the dinner, but they are waiting for +you to start the dance.” + +“You see, father,” exclaimed Dorothy, desperately, “I am not a girl for +society! To think I could have forgotten the most important event of our +whole holiday! But tell me now, daddy, don’t you think big James and his +family would do nicely for old Mr. Hill’s Summer home—they could care for +it in the Winter, and take charge of the farm in the Summer?” + +“That is just what I thought, but said nothing, because I did not care to +raise false hopes in the breast of such a pathetic little woman as +Tommy’s mother.” + +“Then, before I join the dancers, I can rest easily in my thoughts, that +you will take care of Tommy’s future, daddy?” Dorothy asked. + +“My daughter can join the party, and cease thinking of little Tommy and +the others, because I’ll take entire charge of them just as soon as we +return to North Birchland.” + +“I knew it, dear,” said Dorothy, as they entered the apartment, and she +hugged her father closely. “You’d rather be down on Rivington Street at +this moment, seeing the other side of the world, just as I would; +wouldn’t you, father?” + +But her father just pinched her pink cheeks and told her to run along and +be a giddy, charming debutante. + + + + + CHAPTER XXV + THE LOVING CUP + + +“Hurry, hurry!” cried Tavia, hugging Dorothy. “You awful girl! I’ve been +doing everything under the skies to help Aunt Winnie get through the +dinner, but I absolutely refuse to carry along the dance! How could you +place us all in such a predicament, you angel of mercy! And to leave me +to manage those boys in their evening dress! They’re too funny for words! +Nat positively looks weird in his; he insists on pulling down the tails, +he’s afraid they don’t hang gracefully! And Ned is as stiff and awkward +as a small boy at his first party!” + +“And Bob?” asked Dorothy, as she arranged a band of gold around her hair. + +“Well,” said Tavia meditatively, “there might be a more +uncomfortable-looking person than Bob is at this moment, but I never hope +to see one. Dorothy, I simply can’t look his way! He’s pathetic, he’s all +hands, and he’s trying to hide the fact, and you never saw anyone having +so much trouble! In short, I’ve been scrupulously evading those very much +dressed-up youths. They’ve been depending entirely on me to push them +forward; just at present, with other awkward youths, they are holding up +the fireplace in the little side room, casting fugitive glances toward +the drawing room, where we’re having the dance!” Tavia laughed and +pranced about as she talked. + +“Why will our boys always act so silly in the evening? I really believe +if dances were given in the morning, directly after breakfast, the girls +would be dull and listless and the men enchanting,” said Dorothy with a +laugh, as she stood forth, resplendent in her evening gown of pale blue, +ready to make a tardy appearance. + +The late arrival of the girl whom all these guests were invited to meet, +caused a stir of merriment, which Dorothy met with a certain charm and +grace, that was her direct inheritance from Aunt Winnie. + +The boys emerged from the side room and looked around the dancing room, +sheepishly. Now, in North Birchland and in Dalton, Ned and Nat enjoyed a +dance, or a party, even if they did show a decided tendency to hide +behind Dorothy and Aunt Winnie. But here in New York they were not +gallant enough to hide their misery, and the comfortable back of Aunt +Winnie was not at all at their disposal, and Tavia’s back they had given +up some hours since as hopeless, which left Dorothy as the last thin +straw! And Dorothy was too much of a wisp of straw to hide such broad +shoulders as Bob’s and Ned’s and entirely too short to hide tall Nat! So +they clung together in a corner until Tavia separated them, giving each +young man a charming girl to pilot over the slippery floor through the +maze of a two-step. + +Tavia was bubbling over with mirth. All this was as much to her +liking—the lovely gowns and the laughter, the easy wit and light chatter. + +“Did you notice that big suit-case in the hall?” whispered Tavia, +mysteriously to Dorothy. + +“Yes, indeed,” replied Dorothy. “Are some of these people staying over +the week-end?” + +“Sh-h-h!” warned Tavia, leading Dorothy to a secluded corner behind a +tall palm, “I’m really afraid to say it out loud!” + +“This isn’t a dark mystery, I hope. Tavia, I’m weary of sudden +surprises—tell me at once,” demanded Dorothy, laughing at Tavia’s very +dramatic manner of being securely hidden from view. + +With one slender finger, Tavia pointed between the leaves of the palm to +the dancing floor. + +“Do you see that very picturesque creature in green?” she whispered. + +“Yes,” said Dorothy breathlessly. + +“Well,” said Tavia relaxing, “that’s her suit-case.” + +“Who is she?” asked Dorothy, “and why bring her bag here?” + +“She’s a society girl,” replied Tavia, peering out between the palm +leaves, “and she arrived at four o’clock this afternoon with a maid and a +suit-case.” + +“Auntie said nothing about week-end guests,” said Dorothy. + +“Of course she didn’t, and this isn’t a week-end guest, this is a society +girl! She couldn’t play cards at four, and have dinner at seven, and a +dance at eight-thirty, without a suit-case and a maid; could she? How +unreasonable you are, Dorothy,” exclaimed Tavia, with scorn. + +“Did she wear something different for each occasion?” whispered Dorothy. + +“Yes,” replied Tavia. “Dorothy, doesn’t it make you dizzy to think of +keeping up an appearance in that way—packing one’s suit-case every +morning to attend an evening function!” + +“And she doesn’t seem to be having an awfully good time either,” +commented Dorothy. + +“Everyone is afraid of her—she’s too wonderful!” laughed Tavia. + +“How perfectly ridiculous!” murmured Dorothy, thinking at that moment of +Tommy’s mother, dressed in a faded, worn wrapper every hour of each day +throughout all the months of the year. + +“And that isn’t all,” declared Tavia. “See that perfectly honest-looking +person in purple?” + +“Very broad and stout and homely?” asked Dorothy. + +“Yes. Well, she appropriated one of our cups!” + +“You’re just making these things up!” declared Dorothy, rising to leave +the secluded corner. + +“Really I’m not,” said Tavia earnestly, “the purple person took a cup!” + +“But why should she do so?” Dorothy asked, not quite believing such a +thing possible. + +“That’s what we don’t know, but Aunt Winnie says it’s possibly just a +fad, or a hobby, and not to notice it—but, I’m going to find out.” + +“There is so much that is not real, perhaps her royal purple velvet gown +is no clue to her wealth,” said Dorothy. + +“No, I don’t think her dress is. I’ve decided that she needs the cup for +breakfast to-morrow morning. Anyhow, her maid is in the small bedroom, +that we’re using for the wraps, and we must question her,” declared +Tavia. + +“It’s too perfectly horrid to even think such a thing of one of our +guests. We must forget the matter,” Dorothy said rather sternly. + +“And you who are so anxious to help the poor and needy, forget your own +home!” said Tavia reproachfully. “Suppose that poor lady has no cup for +her coffee? Won’t it be an act of human kindness to ascertain that?” + +“Well, I don’t understand why it should happen,” said Dorothy, perplexed, +“but I feel, Tavia, that you are not in earnest.” + +Coming out from behind the palm, the girls were just in time to catch a +glimpse of Nat, bowing and sliding gracefully away from his partner. Ned +had successfully gotten over the slippery floor and stood aimlessly +staring into space; and his aimless stare touched Dorothy more than his +tears would have done. Bob met Tavia in the slipperiest part of the floor +and Tavia, for once in her acquaintance with Bob, did not feel disdainful +of his masterly physical strength, for Bob couldn’t manage to cross a +waxed floor with as much dexterity as could Tavia and actually touched +her elbow for assistance in guiding him wall-ward. + +“How much longer does this gaiety continue?” asked Bob. + +“I fear you’re a sad failure, Bob,” cried Tavia, as she led him through +the hall to the small room at the end of the hall. “You can’t dance, and +you won’t sing, and you’re perfectly miserable dressed in civilized, +evening clothes. You’re just hopeless, I’m afraid,” Tavia sighed. + +Their sudden entrance into the cloakroom surprised the various maids who +were yawning and sleepy-eyed. The French maid was the only one who seemed +alert, and she was bending attentively over something, with her back +toward the others. Tavia whispered to Bob: + +“Saunter carelessly past that maid, and tell me what she’s doing,” Tavia +meanwhile diligently looking through a pile of furs and wraps. + +“She seems to be fingering a cup,” reported Bob, as he looked at Tavia, +questioningly. + +“Walk past her again and find out more,” commanded Tavia. To herself she +murmured: “Men are so slow, I’d know in an instant what she’s doing with +that cup, were it possible for me to peer about; which it isn’t.” + +“Haven’t an idea what she’s doing,” reported Bob again, “she’s just +holding the cup in her hand.” + +“Nonsense,” declared Tavia, “she must be doing something. Go right +straight back and stand around until you find out. I can’t pull these +furs and wraps about much longer, they’re too heavy!” + +When Bob returned again he whispered to Tavia, and Tavia’s straight +eyebrows flew up toward her hair with a decidedly “Ah! I told you!” +expression. + +She rushed to Aunt Winnie and informed her. + +“You know,” explained Aunt Winnie, “the cup is the one Miss Mingle’s +sister painted and sent to Dorothy the other day. It was such an odd, +exquisite pattern I valued it above all my antiques and my pottery!” + +“Well, that’s just what’s she doing,” declared Tavia, “she’s copying the +pattern or borrowing it.” + +“It must indeed be unique when one of our guests is driven to such +extremes to get a copy of it,” said Aunt Winnie. + +The dancers were becoming weary, even the lights and decorations began to +show signs of wishing to go out, and most of the guests had bidden the +hostesses adieu when the stout person in royal purple calmly approached +Aunt Winnie and Dorothy, holding a cup in her hand: + +“You’ll pardon the impudence of my maid, I know, she has a mania for +peculiar patterns on china, and she copied one on this cup. You don’t +mind at all?” she asked sweetly. + +“It was painted for my niece by a very feeble lady,” explained Mrs. +White. “We value it highly.” + +“You should value it highly,” purred the stout person. “So far as I know +there are only three cups of that pattern in the world to-day. One is in +an English museum, and the other two have been lost. Those two cups would +be worth a fortune to the holder, the collectors would pay almost any +price for them.” She was plainly an enthusiast on the subject of old +china. “But your cup is not original, it is merely a copy, but we knew it +instantly. You’ll forgive me, won’t you?” she asked, sweetly. + +“Miss Mingle’s sister is the owner of the other two cups, Auntie,” gasped +Dorothy, as the stout person in purple departed. “Mrs. Bergham’s husband +was an artist and collector, and he left Mrs. Bergham all his pictures +and art treasures. I just raved with delight over those two cups, the day +we called, and she very amiably sent me an exact duplicate.” + +“Then there may be a fortune awaiting little Miss Mingle,” exclaimed +Tavia. “I thought her home was terribly crowded with artistic-looking +objects and unusual adornments for folk in moderate circumstances.” + +“Doubtlessly, the sentimental nature of Mrs. Bergham would not entertain +such an idea as disposing of her treasures for mere lucre,” said Mrs. +White, laughingly. + +“Perhaps they do not know their value,” reasoned Dorothy, as the guests +prepared to leave. + +“We’ll find out more from the stout person, and bring an art collector to +call upon Mrs. Bergham, and thus give those two struggling women some +chance to enjoy a little comfort,” said Major Dale. + + + + + CHAPTER XXVI + A NEW COLLECTOR + + +“My poor, dear husband,” sighed Mrs. Bergham, “he told me to never part +with those two cups, in fact, never to sell anything of his unless I +could get his catalogue price. But it was a hard struggle, and I did love +everything so much, that—well, I simply did not bother about selling.” + +“I can hardly believe those old cups can be so valuable,” Miss Mingle +exclaimed, as she handled them. + +“Well,” said Dorothy, as she and Mrs. White and Tavia prepared to leave +after their short call, “we will have a collector call to place a value +on all your antiques, if you wish. Of course, it will be hard to part +with them, but when the financial end is considered——” + +“My dear,” said Mrs. Bergham, with more animation than she had yet shown, +“you don’t know what it will mean to us to have enough money to go +’round! And to have my little boys with me again, and sister relieved of +the awful strain!” + +“Wasn’t it lovely for the stout guest in purple to kindly borrow the +cup!” exclaimed Tavia. + +“And for you to follow up the clue,” said Mrs. White, “when Dorothy and I +were too embarrassed to know what to do!” + +“Oh, by the way,” continued Mrs. White, “about an agent for this house, I +thought—don’t be offended dear Mrs. Bergham—but I thought you might like +to take charge of this property, with plenty of assistants of course, and +to have your commission, the same as paying a real estate agent. Don’t +say you won’t help me! I really need someone right on the premises.” + +“Certainly,” promptly replied Miss Mingle, “sister could take care of it. +You see, sister has lost all confidence in herself and her ability—we +have had such troublous times for five years past!” + +“This matter was even more serious than I dared say,” exclaimed Mrs. +White, referring to the apartment-house trouble. “You know the house +originally belonged to my husband’s ancestors, it was one of the old +Dutch mansions here in New York, and as the years passed, it was +remodeled several times, finally coming to me, with the proviso that it +be again remodeled into a good paying apartment house, as an investment +for the boys when they are of age. The income, as you know, has barely +kept the expenses covered, and I began to fear that my boys would come of +age without the money they should have.” + +“I did not know that,” exclaimed Dorothy. “So we really saved Nat and Ned +from financial disasters; didn’t we?” + +“Well, we don’t know yet, whether we will ever receive the money Mr. +Akerson took,” said Mrs. White, gravely. “But we will know just as soon +as we return home. At any rate, a future is assured the boys, now that we +have taken the collecting away from Mr. Akerson.” + +Arriving home, the girls found Major Dale and the boys anxiously waiting +for them. + +“Well, we’re safe at last,” cried Ned, “thanks to the courageous efforts +of two little girls!” + +“We bow before two small thoughtful heads,” said Major Dale, with a +laugh, “while we men were trying to think out a way, the girls rushed +ahead and beat us!” + +“So it’s settled?” said Aunt Winnie, anxiously. + +“Every penny,” exclaimed Major Dale. + +“When we are of age,” declared Ned, “the girls shall have all their +hearts desire; eh, Nat?” + +“Yes, because without Dorothy’s and Tavia’s courage and thoughtfulness +and quick wits, we boys would have had little to begin life with, in all +probability.” + +“And girls,” said Aunt Winnie, “the sweetest memories of your trip to New +York City will be that you not only had a lovely good time, but helped +wherever you saw that help was needed.” + +“So that,” cried Major Dale, “Dorothy in the city was as happy as +everywhere else!” + +“Happier, Daddy,” cried his daughter, with her arms around his neck. +“Much happier, for I helped someone.” + +“As you always do,” murmured Tavia. “I wonder whom you will help next; or +what you will do? Dorothy Dale! If only I could have the faculty of +falling into things, straightening them out, and making everybody live +happier ever after, as you do, I’m sure I would be the happiest person +alive.” + +“But you do help,” said Dorothy, with a sly look at Bob. + +“Indeed she——” began that well-built young man. + +“Let’s tell ghost stories!” proposed Tavia suddenly, with an obvious +desire to change the topic. “It’s nice of you to say that, Doro,” she +went on, “but you know I do make a horrible mess of everything I touch. +But I do wonder what you’ll do next?” + +And what Dorothy did may be learned by reading the next volume of this +series to be called, “Dorothy Dale’s Promise.” In that we will meet her +again, and Tavia also, for the two were too close friends now to let +ordinary matters separate them. + +“Come on, girls!” proposed Bob, a few days later, as he, with the other +boys, called at the apartment “We’ve got the best scheme ever!” + +“What is it?” asked Tavia suspiciously. + +“A sleighing party—a good old-fashioned one, like in the country. We’ll +go up to the Bronx, somewhere, have a supper and a dance, and——” + +“We really ought to be packing to go home,” said Dorothy, but not as if +she half meant it. + +“Fudge!” cried Nat. “You can pack in half an hour.” + +“Much you know about it,” declared Tavia. + +But the boys prevailed, and that night, with Mrs. White and the major, a +merry little party dashed over the white snow, to the accompaniment of +jingling bells, and under a silvery moon. And now, for a time, we will +take leave of Dorothy Dale. + + + THE END. + + + + + The Motor Girls Series + + + By Margaret Penrose + Author of the highly successful “Dorothy Dale Series” + Cloth. 12mo. Illustrated. Price per volume, 60 cents, postpaid. + + + The Motor Girls + or A Mystery of the Road + +When Cora Kimball got her touring car she did not imagine so many +adventures were in store for her. A fine tale that all wide awake girls +will appreciate. + + + The Motor Girls on a Tour + or Keeping a Strange Promise + +A great many things happen in this volume, starting with the running over +of a hamper of good things lying in the road. A precious heirloom is +missing, and how it was traced up is told with absorbing interest. + + + The Motor Girls at Lookout Beach + or In Quest of the Runaways + +There was great excitement when the Motor Girls decided to go to Lookout +Beach for the summer. + + + The Motor Girls Through New England + or Held by the Gypsies + +A strong story and one which will make this series more popular than +ever. The girls go on a motoring trip through New England. + + + The Motor Girls on Cedar Lake + or The Hermit of Fern Island + +How Cora and her chums went camping on the lake shore, how they took +trips in their motor boat, are told with a vim and vigor all girls will +enjoy. + + + The Motor Girls on the Coast + or The Waif from the Sea + +From a lake the scene is shifted to the sea coast where the girls pay a +visit. They have their motor boat with them and go out for many good +times. + + + CUPPLES & LEON CO., Publishers, NEW YORK + + + + + Ruth Fielding Series + + + By Alice B. Emerson + 12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Price per volume, 40 Cents, Postpaid + + Ruth Fielding is a character that will live in juvenile fiction. + + + Ruth Fielding of The Red Mill + Or Jaspar Parloe’s Secret + +Telling how Ruth, an orphan girl, came to live with her miserly uncle, +and how the girl’s sunny disposition melted the old miller’s heart. A +great flood, and the disappearance of the miser’s treasure box, add to +the interest of the volume. + + + Ruth Fielding at Briarwood Hall + or Solving the Campus Mystery + +Ruth was sent by her uncle to boarding school to get an education. She +made many friends and also one enemy, and the latter made much trouble +for her. The mystery of the school campus is a most unusual one. + + + Ruth Fielding at Snow Camp + or Lost in the Backwoods + +A thrilling tale of adventures in the backwoods in winter. How Ruth went +to the camp, and how she fell in with some very strange people, is told +in a manner to interest every girl. + + + Ruth Fielding at Lighthouse Point + or Nita, the Girl Runaway + +From boarding school the scene is shifted to the Atlantic Coast, where +Ruth goes for a summer vacation with some chums. There is a storm and a +wreck, and Ruth aids in rescuing a girl from the sea. + + + Ruth Fielding at Silver Ranch + or Schoolgirls Among the Cowboys + +A story with a western flavor—but one which is up-to-date and free from +mere sensationalism. How the girls came to the rescue of Bashful Ike, the +cowboy, and aided him and Sally, his “gal,” is told in a way that is most +absorbing. + + + CUPPLES & LEON CO., Publishers, NEW YORK + + + + + Alive, Patriotic, Elevating + The Banner Boy Scouts Series + + + By George A. Warren + Author of the Revolutionary Series, “The Musket Boys Series” +Handsomely bound in Cloth. Illustrated. Price per volume. $1.00 postpaid. + +The Boys Scouts movement has swept over our country like wildfire, and is +endorsed by many of our greatest men and leading educators. No author is +better qualified to write such a series as this than Professor Warren, +who has watched the movement closely since its inception in England some +years ago. + + + The Banner Boy Scouts + or The Struggle for Leadership + +This initial volume tells how the news of the scout movement reached the +boys and how they determined to act on it. They organized the Fox Patrol, +and some rivals organized another patrol. More patrols were formed in +neighboring towns and a prize was put up for the patrol scoring the most +points in a many-sided contest. + + + The Banner Boy Scouts a Tour + or The Mystery of Rattlesnake Mountain + +This story begins with a mystery that is most unusual. There is a good +deal of fun and adventure, camping, fishing, and swimming, and the young +heroes more than once prove their worth. + + + The Banner Boy Scouts Afloat + or The Secret of Cedar Island + +Here is another tale of life in the open, of jolly times on river and +lake and around the camp fire, told by one who has camped out for many +years. + + + CUPPLES & LEON CO., Publishers, NEW YORK + + + + + The College Sports Series + + + By Lester Chadwick + + Cloth. 12mo. Handsomely illustrated and beautifully bound in decorated + cover, stamped in gold and several colors. + Price per volume, $1.00, postpaid. + + + The Rival Pitchers + A Story of College Baseball + +A faithful picture of college life of to-day, with its hazings, its +grinds, its pretty girls and all. + + + A Quarter-back’s Pluck + A Story of College Football + +Of all college sports, football is undoubtedly king, and in this tale Mr. +Chadwick has risen to the occasion by giving us something that is bound +to grip the reader from start to finish. + + + Batting to Win + A Story of College Baseball + +As before, Tom, Phil and Sid are to the front. Sid, in particular, has +developed into a heavy hitter, and the nine depend upon him to bring in +the needed runs. + + + The Winning Touchdown + A Story of College Football + +There had been the loss of several old players at Randall, and then, +almost at the last moment, another good player had to be dropped. How, in +the end, they made that glorious touchdown that won the big game, is told +in a way that must be read to be appreciated. + + + For the Honor of Randall + A Story of College Athletics + +The readers of this series will welcome this volume for it covers a new +field in Mr. Chadwick’s best manner. A splendid story of college track +athletics with mystery and adventure in plenty. + + + The Eight-Oared Victors + A Story of College Water Sports + +Once more we meet the lads of Randall College. This time the scene is +shifted to boating and the rivalry on the river is intense. + + + CUPPLES & LEON CO., Publishers, NEW YORK + + + + + A New Line By the Author of the Ever-Popular + “Motor Boys Series” + The Racer Boys Series + + + by CLARENCE YOUNG + Author of “The Motor Boys Series”, “Jack Ranger Series”, etc. etc. + Fine cloth binding. Illustrated. Price per vol. 60 cts. postpaid. + +The announcement of a new series of stories by Mr. Clarence Young is +always hailed with delight by boys and girls throughout the country, and +we predict an even greater success for these new books, than that now +enjoyed by the “Motor Boys Series.” + + + The Racer Boys + or The Mystery of the Wreck + +This, the first volume of the new series, tells who the Racer Boys were +and how they chanced to be out on the ocean in a great storm. Adventures +follow each other in rapid succession in a manner that only our author, +Mr. Young, can describe. + + + The Racer Boys At Boarding School + or Striving for the Championship + +When the Racer Boys arrived at the school they found everything at a +stand-still. The school was going down rapidly and the students lacked +ambition and leadership. The Racers took hold with a will, and got their +father to aid the head of the school financially, and then reorganized +the football team. + + + The Racer Boys To The Rescue + or Stirring Days in a Winter Camp + +Here is a story filled with the spirit of good times in winter—skating, +ice-boating and hunting. + + + The Racer Boys On The Prairies + or The Treasure of Golden Peak + +From their boarding school the Racer Boys accept an invitation to visit a +ranch in the West. + + + The Racer Boys on Guard + or The Rebellion of Riverview Hall + +Once more the boys are back at boarding school, where they have many +frolics, and enter more than one athletic contest. + + + CUPPLES & LEON CO., Publishers, NEW YORK + + + + + Up-to-Date Baseball Stories + Baseball Joe Series + + + By Lester Chadwick + Author of “The College Sports Series” + Cloth. 12mo. Illustrated. Price per volume, 60 cents, postpaid. + +Ever since the success of Mr. Chadwick’s “College Sports Series” we have +been urged to get him to write a series dealing exclusively with +baseball, a subject in which he is unexcelled by any living American +author or coach. + + + Baseball Joe of the Silver Stars + or The Rivals of Riverside + +In this volume, the first of the series, Joe is introduced as an everyday +country boy who loves to play baseball and is particularly anxious to +make his mark as a pitcher. He finds it almost impossible to get on the +local nine, but, after a struggle, he succeeds, although much frowned +upon by the star pitcher of the club. A splendid picture of the great +national game in the smaller towns of our country. + + + Baseball Joe on the School Nine + or Pitching for the Blue Banner + +Joe’s great ambition was to go to boarding school and play on the school +team. He got to boarding school but found it harder making the team there +than it was getting on the nine at home. He fought his way along, +however, and at last saw his chance and took it, and made good. + + + Baseball Joe at Yale + or Pitching for the College Championship + +From a preparatory school Baseball Joe goes to Yale University. He makes +the freshman nine and in his second year becomes a varsity pitcher and +pitches in several big games. + + + CUPPLES & LEON CO., Publishers, NEW YORK + + + + + Transcriber’s Notes + + +--Illustrations, originally on unnumbered pages at random locations, were + relocated to relevant paragraphs. + +--A few palpable typos were corrected silently. Possibly intentional + inconsistent or nonstandard spellings were not changed. + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Dorothy Dale in the City, by Margaret Penrose + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DOROTHY DALE IN THE CITY *** + +***** This file should be named 38555-0.txt or 38555-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/5/5/38555/ + +Produced by Stephen Hutcheson, Dave Morgan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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