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.