Produced by Al Haines
[Illustration: Cover art]
[Frontispiece: "PROCEED!" COMMANDED THE RANGER, AND DOROTHY BEGAN THE
THIMBLE CHASE--_Page_ 150]
DOROTHY DALE AT GLENWOOD SCHOOL
BY
MARGARET PENROSE
AUTHOR OF "DOROTHY DALE: A GIRL OF TO-DAY."
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
THE DOROTHY DALE SERIES
BY MARGARET PENROSE
Cloth. Illustrated.
DOROTHY DALE: A GIRL OF TO-DAY
DOROTHY DALE AT GLENWOOD SCHOOL
(Other volumes in preparation)
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY NEW YORK
Copyright, 1908, by
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
DOROTHY DALE AT GLENWOOD SCHOOL
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. TWO YOUNG GIRLS
II. THE FIRE-BIRD
III. A QUEER SPRING SUIT
IV. A DAY OF DANGERS
V. THE POLICE PATROL
VI. A RIDE AND ITS CONSEQUENCES
VII. TAVIA'S DANGER
VIII. AN INVERTED JOKE
IX. COMMITTEE OF ARRANGEMENTS
X. A LAWN PARTY "WITH BOYS!"
XI. OFF FOR GLENWOOD
XII. VIOLA'S MOTHER
XIII. THE CATEGORY
XIV. THE INITIATION
XV. LOST ON MOUNT GABRIEL
XVI. WHAT VIOLA DID
XVII. THE STRIKE OF THE REBS
XVIII. DOROTHY'S SACRIFICE
XIX. THE TANGLED WEB
XX. SUSPICIONS
XXI. SUNSHINE AGAIN
XXII. MISS CRANE AND VIOLA
XXIII. THE REAL STORY
DOROTHY DALE AT GLENWOOD SCHOOL
CHAPTER I
TWO YOUNG GIRLS
"And you are quite sure, daddy, I am not dreaming? That I am sitting
right here with my arms around your neck, and you have just told me it
is all perfectly true?" And, to make still more certain that the whole
matter was one of unquestionable reality, the girl gave her parent such
a flesh and blood hug that a physical answer came to her question in
the shape of a protest from the very wideawake man.
"Now, see here, Little Captain," he remarked, "it is all very well to
make sure we are not dreaming, and that all the good news is real, but
please remember I have put on a clean collar and--your tactics are
quite military. You are acquiring muscle."
Major Dale kissed his daughter fondly as she relinquished her hold on
him, and smoothed back a stray lock of his silvery hair.
"I'm so glad for you, daddy," she went on. "You do so need a real
rest, and now we will not have to plan every day what we may spend
to-morrow. I fancy I will still keep the note-book going with pounds
and prices of things, and an occasional orange, and even some foreign
fruit now and then. Dear me! I feel the good of that money already.
We can have so many luxuries--no more scrimping and patching--"
"But, daughter dear," interrupted the major, "you must not imagine that
mere money can bring happiness. It depends entirely upon the proper
use of that commodity--we must always exercise good judgment, whether
one dollar or one hundred dollars are involved."
"Oh, of course, I know we are not so very rich, we cannot just exactly
live sumptuously, but we may live comfortably. And really, daddy, now
that it is over, I may as well own up, I have longed with the longest
kind of longing for a brand-new hat. May I really have one? Ribbons
and all?"
"Two, one for Sunday and one for every day," promptly responded the
major, laughing. "But your hats always look new--"
"They do say I have talent for hats, and that one must have originality
to trim and keep old head-gear up to date. So, daddy dear, perhaps,
some day, that hint of talent may develop--I may be an artist or
something. Then I will bless the days when I had to make over hats to
discover myself," and Dorothy promptly clapped upon her blond head such
a confusion of straw and flowers, to say nothing of the dangling blue
ribbons, that even the major, with his limited appreciation of "keeping
old head-gear up-to-date" was forced to acknowledge that his daughter
did know how to trim a hat.
"When will the money come?" she asked, tilting her head to one side to
get a look in the small oval mirror, that was sufficiently large for
the major's neckties, but was plainly too short for hats.
"We won't get it by the pound, like butter, you know, daughter. Nor is
it a matter of so many blank checks to be filled out as we progress
with penmanship--like copy-book work. As a matter of fact, I have just
received the legal information that my dear old soldier uncle
Ned--otherwise known as Captain Edward Dale on the retired list,
resident of India, subject of Great Britain, has answered the last roll
call--and left what he had to me. Uncle Ned was the hero of our
family, daughter dear, and some day I will tell you why you are my
Little Captain--his own successor," and the major laid his hand upon
Dorothy's shoulder in a way he had of making a promise that he intended
to keep.
A commotion on the side porch interrupted their confidences, and the
major took advantage of it to make his escape. He kissed Dorothy
good-bye, and left her to the "commotion" that presently made its way
in at the door in the shape of Tavia Travers, Dorothy's warmest friend
in every thing.
"Hurrah for the good news!" shouted Tavia, flinging her sailor hat up
to the ceiling and catching it as promptly.
"Three cheers for the money,
When will it come?
Give a feller some
Tiddle-umtum-tum
I have to say bunny,
To make a rhyme with money!"
And Tavia swung around like a pin-wheel to bring her "verse" to an
effective full stop--a way she had of punctuating her impromptu
productions.
Dorothy made a comical "squat" to add more finish, and then the two
girls, feeling better for having opened the safety valve of physical
exertion to "let off" mental exuberance, sat down to talk it over
quietly.
"Are you perfectly positive, certain, sure, that it's just you, Dorothy
Dale, and no fairy or mermaid," began Tavia, settling herself among the
cushions on Major Dale's sofa. "Of all the delicious, delectable
things! To have a rich, old uncle die 'way off in India, where you
don't even have to make your nose red at his funeral. And to leave you
a million dollars--"
"Oh, not quite a million," interrupted Dorothy. "Something
considerable less than that, I believe."
"But it's all kinds of money I know," went on the other. "Dear me! I
do wish some kind of money would run in our family even with red noses
thrown in. But no such luck! When we have a funeral we always have to
pay for the coach."
"Tavia Travers! How dare you talk so, of such serious things!"
"How else would you have me talk of serious things? The most serious
thing in my life is money--its scarcity. Funerals, of course, take
time, and are unpleasant in many respects, but, for right at home
trouble, it's money."
"It is nice to think that the dear old captain should be so good to
father," said Dorothy. "Father was always his favorite relative, and
he particularly liked him on account of his military honors."
"Well, he ought to, of course," put in Tavia, "for your father keeps
the name Dale up for military honors. But what in the world are you
going to do with all the money? Don't, for goodness' sake, go away for
your health, and other things, and leave poor me to die here without
nobody nor nuthin'," and the girl burst into make-believe tears.
"Indeed," said Dorothy. "We can enjoy the good fortune in no place
better than in dear old Dalton, and among our own good friends," and
she put her arms affectionately about Tavia. "But one thing has been
definitely decided upon--"
"You are going to buy the Harvy mansion?"
"No, a new hat. Father has just this minute given his consent."
"Make it a tiara and save the expense of hat-pins," suggested Tavia.
"No, I have a hankering for a Gainsborough, the kind the lady hanging
over Aunt Winnie's stairs wears--the picture queen, you know."
"Oh, yes, she looks very nice in a picture over the stairs," remarked
Tavia, "but my advice to you would be to wear elastic under your chin
with a thing like that--or else try Gulliver's Glue. One breeze of the
Dalton kind would be enough for a Gainsborough."
"You shall help me pick it out," agreed Dorothy. "In the meantime
don't sit on the only one I have. I just left it on the sofa as you
came in--"
"And if it isn't the dearest, sweetest thing now," exclaimed Tavia,
rescuing the mass of perishables she had unwittingly pressed into
something like a funeral piece.
"Oh!" exclaimed Dorothy. "I did like that hat!"
"And so did I!" declared Tavia. "That hat was a stunner, and I deeply
regret it's untimely taking away--it went to pieces without a groan.
That comes of having a real Leghorn. I could sit all over my poor
straw pancake and it would not as much as bend--couldn't. It would
have no place to bend to."
"You could never wear anything that would become you more than a simple
sailor," said Dorothy, with the air of one in authority, "and if I had
your short locks I would just sport a jaunty little felt sailor all
summer. But with my head--"
"Jaunty doesn't go. I quite agree with you, picture lady, your head is
cut out for picture hats. Another positive evidence of money running
in your family--my head was cut out for an economical pattern--lucky
thing for me!" and Tavia clapped her aforesaid sailor on her bronze
head at a decidedly rakish angle, while Dorothy busied herself with a
thorough investigation of the wreck of her own headpiece.
As told in "Dorothy Dale: A Girl of To-Day," the first book of this
series, these two girls, Dorothy Dale and Octavia Travers, were school
friends, home friends and all kinds of friends, both about the same
age, and both living in a little interesting town called Dalton, in New
York state. Dorothy was the daughter of Major Dale, a prominent
citizen of the place, while Tavia's father was Squire Travers, a man
who was largely indebted to Dorothy for the office he held, inasmuch as
she had managed, in a girl's way, to bring about his election.
Tavia had a brother Johnnie, quite an ordinary boy, while Dorothy had
two brothers, Joe, aged nine and Roger, aged seven years.
There was one other member of the Dale household, Mrs. Martin, the
housekeeper, who had cared for the children since their mother had been
called away. She was that sort of responsible aged woman who seems to
grow more and more particular with years, and perhaps her only fault,
if it might be termed such, was her excessive care of Roger--her baby,
she insisted,--for to her his seven years by no means constituted a
length of time sufficient to make a boy of him. The children called
Mrs. Martin, Aunt Libby, and to them she was indeed as kind and loving
as any aunt could be.
Dorothy had an aunt, Mrs. Winthrop White, of North Birchland in summer,
and of the city in winter, a woman of social importance, as well as
being a most lovable and charming lady personally. A visit of Dorothy
and Tavia to the Cedars, Mrs. White's country place, as related in
"Dorothy Dale," was full of incidents, and in the present volume we
shall become still better acquainted with the family, which included
Mrs. White's two sons, Ned and Nat, both young men well worth knowing.
Dorothy and Tavia might well rejoice in the good news that the major
had so lately been informed of, for the acquirement of means to Dorothy
would undoubtedly bring good times to Tavia, and both deserved the
prospects of sunshine and laughter, for alas--in all lives, even those
scarcely old enough to take upon their shoulders the burden of cares,
there comes some blot to mar the page: some speck to break the glorious
blue of the noonday sky.
Dorothy Dale was not without her sorrow. A wicked man, Andrew Anderson
by name, had come into her life in a mysterious way. Dorothy had
befriended, and in her own way, helped back to a day of happiness an
unfortunate man, Miles Burlock. This man had for years been in the
strange power of Anderson, but before it was too late Dorothy had
helped Burlock break the chains of strong drink that seemed to have
bound him to the evil companion, and for this interference she had
suffered--she was now the object of Anderson's hatred. Anderson was
after the money that Miles Burlock had to leave at his death, but
Dorothy and her father saved this for its rightful owner, a little
daughter of Miles Burlock, who had for some years been kept away from
her own father by Anderson.
The child, now an orphan, came into the care of Major Dale, her legal
guardian and so Anderson had new cause for his hatred for Dorothy--the
money and child having both been put out of his reach. So this was
Dorothy's sorrow: she had been persecuted because of her goodness.
No one who knew Tavia Travers would have considered her capable of
worry. She was as light-hearted as air, with a great faculty for
mischief and a "hankering" for fun. But she did have a worry, a fear
that some day Dorothy Dale might pass out of her life and end the
attachment that came in childhood and waxed strong with girlhood.
Dorothy was what might be considered a girl of the aristocratic class,
while Tavia belonged to those who consider it a privilege to work for a
living and have a keen appreciation of the opportunity--as Squire
Travers proved when he turned in to show himself the best official, in
the capacity of squire, of which Dalton ever boasted.
Now a new danger threatened Tavia: Dorothy would be almost rich. Would
that help to break the ties of love and friendship between the girls?
Not that Dorothy could ever change in her sincere love for Tavia, but
might not circumstances separate them, and then--?
Tavia had been first to congratulate Dorothy on the good news and the
smashed hat had furnished an incident sufficiently distracting to keep
Tavia from the lamentations that at first filled her heart. Hence it
has been necessary to take the reader through her sentiments in a very
much less interesting way than Tavia herself would have disclosed them.
She had a way of saying and doing things that was inimitable, and
amusing, if not entirely elevating.
"Then you think you will stay in Dalton?" asked Tavia, finally, as
Dorothy succeeded in pulling the smashed hat back into some kind of
shape, if not the right kind.
"Why not?" asked Dorothy. "Are there not plenty of good people in
Dalton?"
"Oh, a few, perhaps. There's me and Johnnie--but we are not 'out' yet,
and you will be looking for society friends. Well, here's good luck to
you with your Indian millions, and don't forget that in your poorest
days I used to lend you chewing gum," and at this Tavia threw her arms
around Dorothy in a warm embrace, as if striving to hold to her heart
and keep in her life the same old darling Dorothy--in spite of the new
circumstances.
"Say, Sis!" exclaimed Dorothy. "Do you realize that this is the very
day you are to go for an automobile ride with Nat White?"
"And that you are to go in the same machine with Ned White? Course I
do, you selfish girl. So taken up with common money that you never
noticed my get-up. Look at this," and Tavia drew from the folds of her
skirt a cloud of something. "Automobile veil," she explained, giving
the flimsy stuff a turn that sent it floating through the air like a
cloud of smoke.
"Splendid!" declared Dorothy.
"Gloriotious!" remarked Tavia, "the real thing. I found it in an old
trunk among dear old grandma Travers' things, and grandma loved it
dearly. I persuaded mother to let me inherit it, and smell," putting
the gray cloud of silk to Dorothy's face, "that perfume is lavender.
Grandma always used it."
"What a dear old lady she must have been," said Dorothy, looking over
the dainty article critically. "You are not really going to wear it,"
she faltered, realizing the value of such an heirloom.
"No, I am not, but--you are! There, Doro, darling, it is a gift for
you from--me. You will always keep it and--love it--"
"Indeed I will do no such thing as to take your dear grandma's things.
You must always keep this yourself--"
"But I want you to, Doro. It will make me happy to know I have given
you something good--something I have loved, and something you will love
for me. There," and she put the scarf over Dorothy's blond head, "you
look like an angel. Grandma herself will be proud all the way from
heaven, to see this fall upon the shoulders of one so worthy in face
and in heart," and the two stood there clasped in each other's arms,
the silvery veil of love falling about the shoulders of both, and
binding "all the way to heaven," in its folds of sweetest lavender the
hearts of two young girls.