DOROTHY ENTERTAINS
Dorothy's punishment for her unwise purchase was to wear the white shoes
continually. This was only possible by slitting their tops in various
places, which not only spoiled their beauty but was a constant "lecture"
to their wearer; who remarked:
"One thing, mother Martha, I've learned by 'shopping'--the vanity of
vanity! I've always longed for pretty things, but--call _them_ pretty?
Doesn't matter though, does it? if we're really going to move and
everything to be so changed. When we live in the country may I have all
the flowers I want?"
"Yes," answered the matron, absently. Although this was Sunday, a day on
which she faithfully tried to keep her mind free from weekday cares, she
could not banish them now. Instead of going to church she was to visit
the hospital and spend the morning with her husband. Dorothy was to
attend Sunday school, as usual, wearing the slitted shoes, for the
simple reason that she now possessed no others. Afterward, she might
invite Mabel Bruce to stay with her, and they were to keep house till
its mistress's return.
"I hope you'll have a very happy day, dear. After I leave John, though I
shall stay with him as long as I am allowed, I must go to see Aunt
Chloe. There'll be no time for visits during the week, and besides,
she'll want to hear about everything at first hand. Poor old creature!
It'll be hard for her to part with her 'boy' and I mustn't neglect her.
You needn't cook any dinner, for there's a good, cold lunch. I made a
nice custard pie for you, last night, after you were asleep. There's
plenty of bread and butter, an extra bottle of milk, and you may cut a
few thin slices of the boiled ham. Be sure to do it carefully, for we
will have to live upon it for as long as possible. If you tell Mrs.
Bruce that the invitation is from me I think she'll let Mabel come.
Don't leave the house without locking up tight, and after you come back
from Sunday school don't leave it at all. Have you learned your lesson?
Already? My! but you are quick at your books! Good-bye. I hope you'll
have a happy day, and you may expect me sometime in the afternoon."
"But, mother, wait! There's a cluster of my fairy-roses out in bloom and
I want to send them to father. A deep red sort that hasn't blossomed
before and that we've been watching so long. I'll fill it with kisses,
tell him, and almost want to get half-sick again, myself, to be back in
hospital with him. Aren't you going to take him any of that nice ham?
You know he loves it so."
"No, dear. I was specially told not to bring food. The nurses will give
him all he needs and that's better for him than anything we outside
folks could fix. Afterwards--Well, let us hope we shall still have
decent stuff to eat! Now I'm off. Good-bye. Be careful and don't get
into any sort of foolishness. Good-bye."
Dorothy gazed after her mother as she disappeared and felt a strange
desire to call her back, or beg to go with her. The house was so empty
and desolate without the cheerful presence of the postman. Their Sunday
mornings had used to be so happy. Then he was at liberty to walk with
her in the park near-by, if it were cold weather; or if the lovely
season for gardening, as now they repaired to the little back yard which
their united labors had made to "blossom like the rose."
John Chester had bought No. 77 Brown Street. It was not yet much more
than half paid for, but he considered it his. Martha was the most
prudent of housekeepers and could make a little money go a long way; so
that, even though his salary was small, they managed each month to lay
aside a few dollars toward reducing the mortgage which still remained on
the property. But he had not waited to be wholly out of debt to begin
his improvements, and the first of these had been to turn the bare
ground behind the house into a charming garden. Not an inch of the
space, save that required for paths and a tiny shed for ash and garbage
cans, was left untilled; and as Baltimore markets afford most beautiful
plants at low rates he had gathered a fine collection. Better than
that, there were stables at the rear, instead of the negro-alleys which
intersect so many of the city blocks, and from these he not only
obtained extra soil but stirred his stable friends to emulate his
industry. Vines and ivies had been planted on the stable walls as well
as on his own back fence, so that, instead of looking out upon ugly
brick and whitewash, the neighbors felt that they possessed a sort of
private park behind their dwellings, and all considered father John a
public benefactor and rejoiced in the results of his efforts. Many of
them, too, were stirred--like the stable-men--to attempt some gardening
on their own account, and this was not only good for them but made the
one-hundred-block of Brown Street quite famous in the town.
Dorothy had visited the garden that morning before breakfast and had
found the new roses which were the latest addition to their stock. She
had also shed a few tears over them, realizing that he who had planted
them would watch them no more.
"Dear little 'fairies'! seems if you just blossom for nothing, now!"
she had said to them, then had resolved that they should go to him since
he could not come to them; and, having cut them, she fled the garden,
missing him more there than anywhere.
Once Dorothy C. would have been ashamed to appear among her classmates,
in their Sunday attire, wearing her slitted shoes; but to-day her mind
was full of other, far more important, matters. So she bore their
raillery with good nature, laughed by way of answer, and was so
impatient to be at home, where she could discuss all with her chum, that
she could hardly wait to obtain Mrs. Bruce's consent to the visit. So,
as soon as the two girls were cozily settled in the little parlor, she
exclaimed:
"Mabel Bruce! I've something perfectly wonderful to tell you. Do you
know--_I'm an_--_heiress_!"
"No. I don't know, nor you either," returned Mabel, coolly; rocking her
plump body to and fro in the postman's own chair, and complacently
smoothing her ruffles. Then she leaned forward, glanced from her own
feet to Dorothy's, and carefully dusted her white shoes with her
handkerchief.
The little hostess laughed, but remarked, a trifle tartly:
"That's what I call nasty-nice. Next time you'll be wiping your nose on
that same thing and I'd rather have the dust on my shoes than in my
nostrils. But no matter. I've so many things to tell you I don't know
where to begin!"
"Don't you? Well, then, you're such a terrible talker when you get
started, s'pose we have our dinner first. I'm terrible hungry."
"Hungry, Mabel Bruce? Already? Didn't you have your breakfast?"
"Course, I did. But a girl can't eat once and make it last all day, can
she?"
"I reckon _you_ can't. You're the greatest eater I ever did see. All the
girls say so. That's why you're always put on the refreshment committee
at our picnics. Even Miss Georgia says: 'If you want to be sure of
enough provision make Mabel chairman.' A chairman is the boss of any
particular thing, if you don't know:" instructed this extremely frank
hostess.
"Oh! course I know. You just said I was one and folks most gen'ally know
what they are themselves, I guess," answered the plumber's daughter,
without resentment. What anybody _said_ didn't matter to phlegmatic
Mabel so long as their _doing_ agreed with her desires. She was fond of
Dorothy C. Oh! yes, she was sincerely fond as well as proud! The
Chesters were bringing up their daughter very nicely, her mother
declared, and that Dorothy had the prettiest manners of all the girls
who came to their house. Mabel had her own opinion of those manners, of
which she had just had a specimen, but she never contradicted her mother
and not often her playmates. As a rule she was too lazy, and was only
moved to dispute a statement when it was really beyond belief--like that
of her chum's having suddenly become an "heiress." Heiresses were rich.
Mabel wasn't very wise but she knew that, and witness Dorothy's ragged
shoes. Heiress? Huh! It was more sensible to return to the subject of
dinner, for the visitor had sampled Mrs. Chester's cooking before now
and knew it to be excellent. So she rose and started for the kitchen,
and with an exclamation of regret the hostess followed the guest, though
cautioning her:
"If we eat our lunch now, at a little after eleven o'clock, you mustn't
expect another dinner at one. My mother didn't say I could have two
meals, so you better eat dreadful slow and make it last."
"All right. I will. Maybe, too, I'll go home by our own dinner time.
Sundays, that isn't till after two o'clock, 'cause my mother goes to
church and has to cook it afterward. Sunday is the only day my father is
home to dinner, so he wants a big one and mother gets it for him. Your
father's home Sundays, too, isn't he?"
"He--he was--He used----" began Dorothy, then with a sudden burst of
tears turned away and hid her face in her hands.
Warm-hearted, if always-hungry, Mabel instantly threw her arms about her
friend's waist and tried to comfort her with loving kisses and the
assurance:
"He will be again, girlie. Don't you worry. Folks go to hospitals all
the time and come back out of them. My father, he had the typhoid fever,
last year, and he went. Don't you remember? and how nice all the
neighbors were to me and ma. And now he's as strong--as strong! So'll
your father be, too, and go whistling round the block just like he used
to did. Don't cry, Dorothy C. It makes your eyes all funny and--and
besides, if you don't stop I'll be crying myself, in a minute, and I
don't want to. _I_ look perfectly horrid when I cry, I get so red and
puffy, and I shouldn't like to cry on this dress. It's just been done up
and ma says I've got to keep it clean enough to wear four Sundays, it's
such a job to iron all the ruffles."
Despite her loneliness Dorothy laughed. There was a deal of
consideration for herself in Mabel's remarks, yet her sympathy was
sincere as her affection long-proved. She had been the first playmate of
the little foundling, and it was her belief--gathered from that of her
parents--that the Chesters' adopted child would turn out to be of good
birth, if ever the truth were known. In any case, she was the prettiest
and cleverest girl in school, and Mabel was proud to be the one selected
this morning as a companion.
"O you funny Mabel!" cried Dorothy. "You're sorry for both of us, aren't
you! Well, come along. We started to get lunch and to talk. You go to
the ice-box and get the things, while I set the table. Wait! Put on my
tie-before, to keep your dress clean. Good thing your sleeves are short.
Arms'll wash easier than ruffles. Hurry up--you to eat and I to talk."
Very shortly they were engaged in these congenial matters, though Mabel
almost forgot that she was hungry in her astonishment at Dorothy's
opening statement:
"We're going to move. I guess this is about the last time you'll ever
come to this house to dinner."
"Going--to--move!" ejaculated Mabel, with her mouth so full of pie that
she could hardly speak.
"Yes. We've got to pack up this very week."
"Where to? Who's going to live here? Who told you? Why?" demanded Mabel,
hastening to get in as many questions as she could, during the interval
of arranging a sandwich for herself.
"I don't--know! Why I never thought to ask, but I know it's true because
it was my mother told me. 'Into the country,' she said, 'cause the
hospital folks say that's the only thing for my father to do if he wants
to get well. And of course he wants. We all want, more than anything
else in the world. So, that's why, and that's the first piece of news.
And say, Mabel, maybe your folks'll let you come and see me sometimes.
That is, if my folks ask you," she added, with cautious afterthought.
"Maybe! Wouldn't that be just lovely? We'd go driving in a little
T-cart, all by ourselves, with a dear little pony to haul us, and--and
peaches and plums and strawberries and blackberries--Um!" exclaimed the
prospective guest, compressing her lips as if she were already tasting
these delights.
"I--don't--know. Perhaps, we would. If we had the pony, and the cart,
and were let. That's a lot of 'ifs' to settle first."
"Why, of course. I was in the country once, two whole weeks. It was to a
big house where my father was putting the plumbing in order for the
family and the family had gone away while he was doing it. It was there
he got the typhoid fever, and they went away because they didn't want to
get it. They left some 'coons' to do the cooking and told my father he
could bring me and ma, and we could have a vacation in a cottage on the
place. So we did; and the man, the colored one, that took care of the
horses used to hitch the pony up to the T-cart and me and ma rode out
every day. Course, if you live in the country you'll have to have a
pony. How else'd you go around? There wasn't any street cars to that
country, 'at ever I saw, and folks can't walk all the roads there are.
Pooh! You see, I've been and you haven't, and that's the difference."
"Yes, you've been and I haven't, but, Mabel Bruce, I know more about
things that grow than you do, for I know--even in Lexington Market--you
don't get strawberries and peaches at the same time. So you needn't
expect all those good things when you come. You'll have to put up with
part at a time, with whatever happens to be in our garden. If we have a
garden! And as for ponies, our house in the country won't be a big one,
like yours was, that much I know, too. We haven't any money, hardly. My
mother Martha was crying about that yesterday, though she didn't know I
saw her till I asked and after I'd spent all those two dollars for these
silly shoes. Mabel Bruce, don't you ever go buy shoes too small for you.
Umm. I tell you if you do your feet'll hurt you worse than my head did
after I banged it--the dog banged it--on Mrs. Cecil's stoop. Isn't she a
funny old woman? My father thinks she is the wisest one he knows, but
I--I--Well, it doesn't count what I think. Only if I was as rich as she,
and I expect I will be sometime, I wouldn't keep Great Dane dogs to jump
on little girls like she does. Have some more ham, Mabel?"
The mere thought of her prospective wealth had increased Dorothy's
hospitality--at her mother's expense: but to her surprise her guest
replied:
"No--I guess--I guess I can't. Not 'less you've got some mustard mixed
somewhere, to eat on it. I've et----"
"Eaten," corrected her classmate, who was considered an expert in
grammar.
"Et-ten about all I can hold without--without mustard, to sort of season
it. Ma always has mustard to put on her ham; and yours is--is getting
sort of--bitter," replied Mabel, leaning back in her chair. She always
ate rapidly--"stuffed," as her father reproved her--and to-day she had
outdone herself. The food was delicious. Mrs. Chester was too thrifty a
housewife ever to "spoil" anything, no matter how inexpensive a dish,
and in her judgment, boiled ham was a luxury, to be partaken of
sparingly and with due appreciation, never "gobbled."
Therefore it was with positive consternation that Dorothy's thoughts
came back to practical things and to the joint which she had placed
before her guest, allowing her to carve. Though she had herself barely
tasted the morsel placed upon her own plate, being too much engaged in
talking, she now perceived that Mabel had done more than justice to her
lunch. So it was with a cry of real distress that she snatched the dish
from the table, exclaiming:
"Well, I guess you don't need mustard to sharpen your appetite, you
greedy thing! Beg pardon. That was a nasty thing to say to--to company,
and I'm sorry I said it. But mother told me we had to live on that ham
most the week, she'd be so much too busy to cook and--Why, Mabel Bruce!
You've eaten almost half that pie, too! Hmm. I guess you can stay
contented the rest the day. You won't need to go home to your
two-o'clock dinner!"
No offense was intended or received. These two small maids had been
accustomed, from infancy, to utter frankness with one another, and with
perfect amiability the guest replied:
"Maybe I do eat a little too much. Ma thinks I do, sometimes, and pa
says that's the reason I'm so fat. I'd rather not be fat. I'd like to be
as slim as you are, Dorothy C. Ma says you've got such a pretty figure
't you look nice in anything. Well, I guess since I've got to keep my
dress so clean for so long, I won't offer to help do the dishes. I'll go
sit in the parlor and take care of the front of the house."
With that Miss Mabel took off her friend's "tie-before," a big gingham
apron which covered all her skirts, and hung it on its nail, then
retreated to the postman's rocker, at perfect peace with herself and all
the world.
Not so Dorothy C. She looked after her chum with a contempt that was as
new as it was uncomfortable. She had promised herself a real treat in
discussing her own affairs--for the first time in her life become
important ones--with this reliable confidante, but now she was bitterly
disappointed. "Mabel is selfish, but Mabel is truthful. She never speaks
ill of another and she always keeps her word:" had been Miss Georgia's
decision once, when some class matters had gone wrong and the plumber's
daughter had been accused of "tattling." To this Dorothy now added: "And
Mabel is a regular, gluttonous simpleton. She isn't really interested
in anybody except--Mabel!"
With this uncharitable sentiment, the little hostess proceeded to clear
away; and did this with so much vim that she dropped a tumbler and broke
it. This was sufficient to calm her anger and turn what was left of it
against her own carelessness, anticipating her mother's reproof. She
finished her task very quietly, now, and then repaired to the parlor,
where she found Mabel had fallen asleep in the rocker.
Also, at that moment, there sauntered past the windows a man who peered
through them with considerable curiosity: and who at sight of Dorothy C.
stopped sauntering, lifted his eyebrows questioningly, and, turning
around, walked back to the steps.
Dorothy's heart almost choked her, it so suddenly began to beat
violently, while a chill ran through her whole body, and made her recall
a saying of old Aunt Chloe that "when a body turns all goose-flesh it's
a sign somebody is walking over her, or his, grave." Father John laughed
at this superstition as he did at many another of the dear old aunt who
had "raised" him, an orphan; and had he been present Dorothy would have
laughed with him. But she didn't laugh now; though she was presently
calm enough to review the situation and to decide that none could be
better. Also, that she must, at once, get rid of Mabel Bruce. For this
was the same man who had appeared before her, on the previous morning,
and had, at first startled, then profoundly interested her. He had
imposed secrecy upon her; at least secrecy as far as her parents were
concerned, though she had meant to tell Mabel all that he had told her.
She didn't like secrets. She hated them! Yet if they were to benefit
those whom she loved better than herself she was willing to keep
them--for a time.
In another moment she had roused her visitor by a strong shake of the
pretty, plump shoulder under the lace-trimmed frock, and had said,
rather loudly:
"Mabel, if you're going home to dinner, you'd better go now.
Because--because I have some business to attend to, and I shall have to
see the gentleman alone."
She felt that though her words might be rude--she wouldn't like to be
sent home, herself, from a visit--yet her manner was beautifully
grown-up and dignified; and, as Mabel obediently vanished, "Miss
Chester" bade the gentleman waiting outside to enter.