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.