DORA'S BRIGHT IDEA.
One thing troubled Carl. It was that Dora knew all about it. She came
to lunch that dreadful Saturday to go with the others to see Hermann,
and of course Helen's bruises and his own absence had to be accounted
for.
On his way home from school one morning he saw her and her mother
coming towards him on the other side of the street. When they were
within speaking distance, Mrs. Warner bowed, but Dora looked in
another direction as if she wished not to see him.
Carl was hurt and mortified, for he was sure he knew the reason.
"I don't care, it is mean to be so hard on a fellow. Aunt Zelie
isn't," he said to himself.
He did care, however, and was silent and gloomy at lunch. As he left
the room on his way upstairs to study he heard Bess say, "Dora had
such an accident to-day." But he did not wait to hear what it was.
An hour later, having an errand to do up town, he went off alone
instead of asking Ikey to go with him as usual.
The clear, cold air was making him cheerful in spite of himself, when,
as he drew near home after a long walk, he saw two familiar figures in
front of him. His spirits immediately fell, for they were Ikey and
Dora chatting together most sociably. Carl suddenly felt jealous.
He knew they were great friends, and he never had dreamed of objecting
till now that he was himself out of favor. He began to walk slowly
that he might not overtake them, his pride keeping him from turning
back and going home some other way.
They paused a moment when they reached the corner; then Ikey, with his
politest bow, left her and crossed the street. Dora stood waiting.
Carl advanced, trying to look unconscious and indifferent.
Her smile changed to a puzzled look, and then became positive
astonishment when he was passing without a word.
Always straightforward, she exclaimed, "Why, Carl! Aren't you going to
speak to me? I am on my way to your house."
"I thought you would not care to speak to me, you didn't this
morning," he answered somewhat loftily.
"Not speak to you? I don't know what you mean."
"You would not this morning," he persisted.
"Oh, I know now! How absurd! Didn't the girls tell you about my
glasses getting broken? It must have been when I was going to have
them mended. You know I am so near-sighted I can't see across the
street without them."
Carl looked rather foolish. Dora had worn glasses only a short time,
and he had not noticed their absence.
"You knew I would not do such a thing; how could you be so silly?" She
was decidedly vexed with him.
"I thought perhaps you really did not care to have anything to do with
me after--"
"You thought I would stop speaking to you for that!" she exclaimed.
"Why Bess told me how sorry you were, and at any rate it would have
been acting as if I never did wrong myself."
"You wouldn't do anything so horrid."
"I _was_ a little surprised at you," Dora, acknowledged, "but it is so
disagreeable not to be friends with people. I am glad you and Ikey
have made up; he was telling me about it."
By this time they had reached the gate, and Carl said, "I don't think
the girls are at home; they were going out with Aunt Zelie, but you
might come in and wait, if you don't mind talking to me while I look
over some books for father."
"I don't mind talking to you," she answered, laughing, "but I can't
stay long. I want 'Water Babies.' Louise said I could have it to
read."
"Come in, then, and I'll find it for you."
They went up to the star chamber together, and Dora sat down in the
west window, where a little wintry sunshine still lingered, while Carl
looked for the book.
"I can't see how you could be such a goose as to think I would not
speak to you," she said presently.
"I suppose I knew I deserved it." Carl laid "Water Babies" on her lap,
and, kneeling on the floor with his elbows on the window-sill and his
chin in his hands, looked thoughtfully out at the bare branches of the
maples.
"I'll tell you what it is," he said after a minute's silence, "Aunt
Zelie is a trump."
"I know that, only I'd call her a prettier name," said Dora, smiling.
"You can't know really till you have been very had. She was so good to
me. It makes a fellow feel awfully when somebody like her cares a lot
for him and he goes and disappoints her."
"But you won't again, I'm sure."
"You see," Carl went on, "she cares for me particularly because I am
named for Uncle Carl. Has Bess or Louise ever told you about him?"
Dora shook her head.
"He was Mamma's brother, you know, and he was splendid. I thought
there was nobody like him when I was a little fellow. He used to be
here a great deal, and we were glad when he married Aunt Zelie because
we were so fond of them both. The only thing we did not like about it
was that Aunt Zelie went away to live, but they came to see us very
often. Then Uncle Carl died. He was skating with some people, and a
friend of his went where the ice wouldn't hold, and broke through.
Nobody knew just what to do, it was so hard to get to him on the
broken ice, and the man couldn't swim. Uncle Carl saw that he would
drown before help came, so he went right into the freezing water and
held up his head till they brought ropes."
"He wasn't drowned, was he?" Dora asked in an awestruck voice.
"No, but he was in the water so long that it made him ill. The other
man got well. It happened not long before Mamma died. Then, you know,
Aunt Zelie came back to us."
"You must be glad you are named for him."
"Yes, I am, only I am not good enough. I am afraid I shall never do
anything brave like that."
"I think, perhaps, little things have to come first," said Dora
wisely, adding, "He was helping, wasn't he?"
"I had not thought of that," said Carl.
As she walked home an idea came into Dora's head, which interested her
so much that "Water Babies" lay unopened on her lap for half an hour
that night. Next day she confided it to Bess and Louise, who highly
approved.
"Why, Dora, you are very clever. When you are grown up you will be as
good at thinking of things as Aunt Zelie," said Bess.
"You think of pretty good things yourself, Bess," added Louise.
"And so do you, for you first thought of trying to help the harp man,"
said Dora merrily.
"The G.N. Club meets to-night, and we'll ask the boys to let us in.
You come over to dinner," Louise suggested.
"They won't do it," said her sister positively.
"Oh, perhaps they will if we are very polite; we will try."
The weekly meetings of the G.N. Club had begun again with great
interest. No one enjoyed them more than Aunt Zelie, and nothing was
allowed to interfere with this engagement with the boys if she could
help it. However, it happened this evening that some old friends of
the family who were passing through the city on their way south
called, and it was impossible to excuse herself, so the boys were left
to their own devices.
Though the star chamber looked as cheerful as usual and Carl did his
best as host, it was not quite the same without her.
Jim recalled with wonder that first evening when he hoped she would
not come. The rehearsals for the harp man's benefit had made them all
feel very well acquainted with her and one another.
They were beginning work on some screens for the Children's Hospital
when there came a knock at the door. Ikey opened it and Carie walked
in.
"I came to bring you a letter," she announced, handing Carl a folded
paper, and shyly surveying the rest of the company from behind him.
He read it aloud.
To the G.N.C.:
We should like to come to your meeting this evening, if you will
let us. We have a splendid plan to tell you. Dora thought of it.
Send reply by bearer.
Yours truly,
$1$2.
"Shall we let them come?" he asked.
"Of course," said Jim, and as nobody was actively opposed, Carl
scribbled, "Come on," on the back of their elegant note.
Within five minutes the girls were established in their midst, quite
as if they belonged there.
When the screens were duly admired and their offers of help politely
declined, Bess explained the object of their visit.
"We think it would be nice, now that we haven't secrets any more, and
because you helped us with the harp man's benefit, for our clubs to be
friends and meet together sometimes. Dora has thought of a beautiful
plan. Won't you tell about it yourself, Dora?"
"It is nothing very great," she began modestly. "You know in the days
of chivalry how all the knights belonged always to some order,--like
the Knights Templars in 'Ivanhoe,'--and perhaps there are some now; I
don't know."
"There is the Independent Order of Odd Fellows," suggested Will, and
Carl added, "Joanna's young man belongs to the Ancient Order of
something."
"Then I don't see why we shouldn't have one," Dora went on, laughing.
"My idea was to unite our two clubs in an order, and call it the Order
of the Big Front Door. We both have the same motto and are trying to
help, so it would not be anything really new, except that we could
have a badge to remind us, and have meetings together sometimes. The
story of the Magic Door put it into my head."
"Good for you, Dora! I'm for it!" cried Ikey.
The funny name took the boys' fancy, and the plan of having joint
meetings was not altogether objectionable. The story of the Magic Door
had to be explained to some of them, and while Bess was doing this
Aunt Zelie came in. She was surprised and delighted to see the
visitors, and when the new project was told again for her benefit, she
thought it a very good one.
"I was trying myself to think of some way of keeping our motto in
mind, and now you must let me furnish the badges. The name, Order of
the Big Front Door, has given me an idea about them."
"What, Aunt Zelie?" asked Louise. "I am sure it is lovely."
Her aunt only laughed, and would not tell.
"Just as soon as I can get them," she said, "I'll call a meeting of
the Order."