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.