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!"