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Dorothy's Travels
BY
EVELYN RAYMOND
Illustrations by S. Schneider
A. L. CHATTERTON COMPANY
NEW YORK, N. Y.
COPYRIGHT 1908
BY
CHATTERTON-PECK CO.
[Illustration: "ALLOW ME! AND HELPED MOLLY UP."
_Dorothy's Travels._]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. SAILING DOWN THE HUDSON 9
II. A RACE AND ITS ENDING 24
III. ADRIFT IN THE GREAT CITY 40
IV. ON BOARD THE "PRINCE" 57
V. MOONLIGHT AND MIST ON THE SEA 73
VI. SAFE ON SHORE 89
VII. FINNAN HADDIE IN A GARDEN 106
VIII. DOROTHY AND THE BASHFUL BUGLER 124
IX. AN OX-OMOBILE AND A SAILBOAT 142
X. WHAT BEFELL A "DIGBY CHICKEN" 158
XI. IN EVANGELINE LAND 171
XII. SIGHT SEEING UNDER DIFFICULTIES 187
XIII. A MESSAGE FOR THE CAMP 202
XIV. HOW MOLLY CAME TO CAMP 217
XV. MRS. CALVERT PLANS AN INFAIR 234
XVI. WHEN JOURNEYS END IN WELCOME 249
DOROTHY'S TRAVELS
CHAPTER I
SAILING DOWN THE HUDSON
"All aboard--what's goin'! All ashore--what ain't!"
The stentorian shout of the colored steward, so close to Dorothy's ear,
made her jump aside with a little scream. Then as she saw that the boat
hands were about to draw the gang plank back to the steamer's deck, she
gave another little cry and fairly pushed Alfaretta toward it.
"Never mind hugging me now, girlie, you must go or you'll be left!"
But the lassie from the mountain only smiled and answered:
"I don't mind if I am. Look a-here!" and with that she pulled a shabby
purse from the front of her blouse and triumphantly displayed its
contents.
"Oh! Alfy! How'll you ever get back?"
"Easy as preachin'. I--"
But Dorothy had no further time to waste in argument. Here were Jim
Barlow and Monty Stark shaking either hand and bidding a hasty good-by,
while Molly Breckenridge was fairly dancing up and down in her anxiety
lest the lads should also be left on board, as Alfaretta was likely to
be.
But they were not. Another second they had bounded down the stairs from
the saloon to the lower deck, a workman had obligingly caught Monty by
his coat collar and laughingly flung him over the plank to the dock
beyond, while Jim's long legs strode after and made their last leap
across a little chasm of water.
"Good-by, good-by, good-by!"
Handkerchiefs waved, kisses were tossed across the widening water, the
bell rang, the whistle tooted, and Dorothy's travels had begun. Then as
the group of schoolmates watching this departure from the shore grew
more indistinct she turned upon her old mountain friend with the
astonished question:
"But Alfaretta! Whatever made you do this? What will become of you,
alone in that great city of New York?"
"I didn't say anything about Ne' York, did I? Should think you'd be glad
to have me go along with you a little bit o' way. Course, I shall get
off the boat when it stops to Cornwall landing. And I thought--I
thought--Seems if I _couldn't_ have you go so far away, Dolly. It's
terrible lonesome up-mounting now-a-days. And I--I don't see why some
folks has everything and some hasn't nothin'!"
There was more grief than grammar in this speech and a few tears sprang
to the girl's eyes. But Alfy boasted that she was not a "crier" and as
she heard the stewardess announcing: "Tickets, ladies and gentlemen,"
she dashed the moisture away and stared at the woman.
After her usual custom, "Fanny" was collecting money from the various
passengers and would obligingly procure their tickets for those not
already provided. As she made her way through the throng, which on that
summer morning crowded the upper deck of the pretty "Mary Powell," the
three young friends watched her with surprised interest.
Apparently she took no note of the amount anybody gave her, carrying
bills of all dimensions between her fingers and piles of specie on her
broad palm.
"How can she tell how much she's taken from anybody? How can she give
them their right change?" wondered Dorothy.
"I give it up! She must be a deal better at arithmetic than I am. I
should make the mixedest mess of that business;" answered Molly, equally
curious.
"Yet you will see that she makes no mistakes. I've been traveling up and
down the river on this same boat for many years and I've given her all
sorts of sums, at times, on purpose to try her. But her memory never
fails," said Miss Greatorex who was in charge of the party. She sat
quite calmly with the amount of three fares in her hand but with a most
forbidding gaze at Alfaretta.
Who that young person was or why she had thrust herself into their
company she did not understand. She had herself but known of this trip
on the day before, when Miss Penelope Rhinelander had been obliged to
give it up, on account of the extreme illness of a near relative.
However, here she was with her two pupils, whom she taught at the
Rhinelander Academy, bound for a summer's outing in--to her and
them--unknown lands. Also, as there may be some who have not hitherto
followed the fortunes of Dorothy, it may be well to explain that she was
a foundling, left upon the doorstep of a man and wife, in a quiet street
in Baltimore. That he had lost his health and his position as a
letter-carrier in that city and had removed to his wife's small farm in
the Hudson Highlands. That among their friends there was somebody who
had taken an interest in the orphan girl and had burdened himself--or
herself--with the charge of her education. That she had passed the last
school year at the Academy and had been in some most exciting episodes
detailed in "Dorothy's Schooling;" and that now, at the beginning of the
long vacation, she was traveling with her closest school friend and a
teacher, whose life she had been the means of saving at the time of the
Academy fire, toward New York; and from thence to Nova Scotia--there to
grow strong for another year of study.
Alfaretta Babcock's home was near to her home upon the mountain; and
though unlike, there was a sincere affection between this untaught
country girl and the dainty Dorothy, and Alfy had begged a ride in a
neighbor's wagon going to Newburgh, that she might bid her friend good
by and watch her set sail on what seemed must be the most wonderful of
journeys.
She was to have returned home as she had come; but when the steamer was
on the point of leaving an impulse had seized her to travel thus
herself, if only for the brief distance between this landing and the one
nearer her own home. She had a few cents in her purse and hoped they
would be enough to pay her fare; and now when they were already moving
down the stream and her familiar mountain-top came into view, she made a
wild dart toward the stewardess, shouting:
"Ma'am, please, ma'am, take mine! I've got to get off the next place
and--and--I mustn't be left!"
Fanny picked up the camp-chair Alfy had stumbled over, remarked in a
soothing voice, "Plenty of time, little gal, oceans of time, oceans of
time," and glanced at the money so suddenly thrust into her already
crowded palm.
"Four cents, little gal? Hardly enough. Fifteen is the regular fare. All
you got, sissy? Look and see."
The tone was kind but the statement sounded like a knell in poor
Alfaretta's ears. Thousands of times she had watched the many boats pass
up and down the river, but only once had she been upon any and that was
a row-boat. It had been the dream of her life to voyage, as she was
doing now, far and away beyond those Highlands, that seemed to meet and
clasp hands across the mighty stream, and see the wonderful world that
lay beyond. For the boats always disappeared around that projecting
point of rock and forest, and so she knew that the mountains did not
meet but merely seemed so to do. Well, of course, she wasn't to find out
about them to-day. She knew that quite well, because her own landing was
on this side the "Point" and she could go no further. Indeed, could she
now go even so far?
"Fifteen cents! My heart!--I--I--What can I do? Will the captain drop
me--in the--river? Will--"
The stewardess was very busy. People were watching her a little
anxiously because of her indifferent handling of her money and the
tickets she had not hurried to bring; and the sudden terrified clutch at
her skirts which Alfy gave set her tripping among the crowded chairs and
made her answer, crossly:
"For goodness sake, girl, keep out from under foot! If you haven't the
money go to your friends and get it!"
"Friends! I haven't got any!" cried Alfaretta, and flung her skirt over
her face and herself down upon the nearest seat.
From their own place Molly and Dolly watched this little by-play for a
moment, then darted forward themselves to see what was the matter.
"Why, Alfy dear, what's happened? Won't the woman get your ticket for
you? Never mind. I'll ask her. Maybe she will for me."
"You needn't, Dolly girl! There ain't enough and I'm afraid they'll drop
me off into the water! She--she--"
"Alfy! How silly! Nobody would do such a thing. It would be murder. But
you shouldn't have come unless you had the money and I'll go ask Miss
Greatorex for some. She has our purses in her satchel, taking care of
them for us. Wait a minute. You stay with her, Molly, while I go get it.
How much, Alfy?"
The girl began to count upon her fingers:
"Four--that's what I have and it was meant for candy for the
children--five, six--How many more'n four does it take to make
fifteen I wonder? I'm so scared I can't think. And I wish,
I--wish--to--goodness--knows I'd ha' said good-by back there to the dock
and not let myself get carried off down river to nobody knows where. If
they dassent to drop me off the boat they might keep me here till I
paid--"
"Alfaretta Babcock! I certainly am ashamed of you. That's a hard thing
to say, just at parting, but it's the truth. The idea! First you fancy a
decent human being will drown you because you haven't a little money,
and then you can't reckon fifteen! What would dear Mr. Seth say, after
teaching you so faithfully? Never mind. Don't act so foolish any more
and I'll go get the money."
This was not so easy as she fancied. The boat was already nearing the
next landing where Alfaretta must go ashore, or be carried on to a much
greater distance from her home, but it seemed difficult to make Miss
Greatorex understand what was wanted and why. The poor lady's deafness
had increased since her fright and exposure at the time of the fire and,
now that she had been put into a position of greater trust than ever
before, her sense of responsibility weighed heavily upon her. At
parting, her principal, Miss Rhinelander, had enjoined:
"Take particular care of the girls' finances, Cousin Isobel. It is
important that they should learn to be wise in their small expenditures
so that they may be equally prudent when they come to have the handling
of larger sums--if that should ever be. Make them give a strict account
of everything and check any foolishness at the beginning."
The subordinate promised. She was a "poor relation" and knew that she
was an unpopular teacher with many of the pupils of the fine school,
though she had modified her sternness altogether in the case of Dorothy
who had saved her from the fire. But the mandate of her superior was
fresh in her mind. She had been touched by the rarely familiar "Cousin
Isobel," and determined to do her duty to the utmost. Yet here was
Dorothy already screaming into her deafest ear:
"My purse, please, Miss Greatorex! I want some money right away! Quick,
quick, please, or it'll be too late!"
The girl's voice was so highly pitched that people around began to stare
and some of them to smile. Like most afflicted persons the lady was
sensitive to the observation of others and now held up her hand in
protest against the attention they were attracting.
"Softly, Dorothy. Better write what you wish if you cannot speak more
distinctly;" and a small pad with pencil was extended.
But Dorothy did not take them. The satchel upon Miss Greatorex's lap was
open, her own and Molly's purses lay within. To snatch them both up and
rush away was her impulsive act and to scamper back across the deck,
wherever she could find a passage, took but a moment longer. But she was
none too soon.
Down below the steward was again crying:
"All aboard what's goin'! All ashore what ain't! All who hasn't got deir
tickets, please step right down to de Cap'n's office and settle."
While another loud voice ordered:
"Aft gangway for Cornwall! All ashore--all ashore! Aft gangway--all
ashore!"
Some were hurrying down the stairs to that "aft gangway," others
speeding up them in equal haste with that excitement which always marks
the infrequent traveler, and poor Alfaretta caught the same fever of
haste. Without a word of real farewell, now that she had come thus far
at so much risk to speak it, she dashed ahead, slipped on the
brass-tipped stair and plunged headlong into the space below.
For an instant there was silence even in that busy scene, people halting
in their ascent and porters turning their skids aside with angry
exclamations, lest the trunks they wheeled should fall upon her as she
seemed bent to fall upon them.
Yet only one thought now possessed the terrified girl--escape! She had
bumped her head till she was dizzy, but she mustn't stop for that.
Yonder yawned that open space in the deck-rail which they called the
"aft gangway" and toward that point she propelled herself regardless of
all that impeded her way.
Down the plank, out upon the boards of the board dock, into the medley
of stages and yelling drivers she hurried, very much as James Barlow and
Montmorency Stark had done at that other, upper landing. But when she
felt the solid quay beneath her feet she paused, clapped her hands to
her dizzy head and--felt herself grasped in a wild and fierce embrace.
Then both upon that dock and the deck of the outgoing steamer rang a
shout of merriment, which made anger take the place of fear as she
whirled about in the arms of whoever held her and shook her fist at the
boat and its passengers.
"Well! That was a short trip but it was full of incident!" remarked one
passenger, near to Molly and Dorothy. They had run to the rail to see
what followed Alfy's disappearance, and if she were carried away
injured. "I saw her come aboard and depart and she managed to get a deal
of action into those few minutes. Friend of yours, young ladies?"
They faced about, wondering why this man should speak to them. He looked
like a gentleman though a rather shabby one. Montmorency would have
termed him "seedy." His coat had seen better days and his hat, lying on
the bench beside him, was worn and discolored, and his thin white hair
told that he, also, was old. This made the girls regard him kindly, for
both of them had a reverence for age.
More than that, a crutch rested against his knee and this made an
instant appeal to Dorothy's sympathy. She had seen nobody with a crutch
since she had said farewell to Father John; and now in pity for this
other cripple she lingered near answering his many questions most
politely.
"Yes, she is a friend. She--I guess she ran away to sail a short
distance with us. We shan't see each other again this summer. She forgot
her money. I mean she didn't have any to forget; and--Sir? What did you
ask me to find?"
"To buy a morning paper for me, my dear. You see, being lame--Did you
ever know anybody who was lame?" asked the old man, with a smile.
"Ah! yes. The dearest man in all the world; my father."
Thereupon Dorothy huddled down beside the stranger and gave a history
of her father's illness, his wonderful patience, and the last effort he
was making to regain his health.
She did not know that it is often unsafe to talk with unknown people
upon a journey; and in any case she would not have feared such a
benignant old gentleman as this. She ended her talk with the inquiry:
"Where will I find the paper, Mr.--Mr.--I mean, sir?"
"Smith my name is. John Smith of Smithville. You'll find all the papers
and books at a news-stand on the lower deck. There's a candy-stand
there, too, such as will interest you two more than the papers, likely;"
he answered with another smile.
They started down the stairs leading from the main saloon to the lower
part of the boat, and not until they had reached the news-stand did
either of them remember that she hadn't brought her purse nor asked
which paper their new acquaintance desired.
"Oh! dear! Wasn't that silly of us! And we're almost to West Point,
where my cousin Tom's a cadet! He promised to be on the lookout for us,
if he could get leave to go to the steamboat landing. I wrote and told
him about our trip and he answered right away. He's Aunt Lucretia's only
child and she adores him. Hasn't spoiled him though. Papa took care
about that! If I go back after our pocket-books I may lose the chance to
see him! So provoking! I wish now we hadn't bothered ourselves about
that old man. If he was able to come aboard the boat and go up those
stairs to the deck he was able to buy his own old papers. So there!"
cried Molly, stamping her little foot in her vexation.
West Point cadets are given few permissions to leave their Academy for
social visits, so that Tom had never been to the Rhinelander school
where rules were also so strict that Molly had been but once to see her
cousin in his own quarters. Until he went to the Point and she to school
in the hill-city a few miles further up the river, they had lived
together in her father's house and were like brother and sister. The
disappointment now was great to the loving girl and Dorothy hastened to
comfort, by saying:
"Never mind, Molly, you stay right here. See! they're fixing that
gang-plank again, at this very part of the deck. You stand right
outside, close against the rail but where you won't be in the men's way
and, if he's there, you'll surely see him.
"I'll go back and get the purses. Where did you lay them?"
"Hum. I don't know. I can't exactly think. You handed me yours, I
remember, when you stooped to pick up his crutch he'd knocked down. Ah!
Now I know. My hands got so warm and your pocketbook was red and I
thought it would stain my new gloves. So I just laid them down on the
bench beside him. You'll find them right there beside him. You can ask
him which paper, then, and I say, Dolly Doodles, what right had that
hindering old thing to expect us--us--to buy his papers for him? Why
didn't he give us the money, himself? Seems if we'd been sort of--sort
of goosies, doesn't it?"
"Oh! Molly! That's not nice of you to think about that dear, lame old
man! And why he didn't was, I suppose, because he didn't think. We don't
always think ourselves, dearie. Never mind. I'll hurry and be right
back."
"Yes, do--do hurry! I've said so much about you in my letters I'm just
suffering to have you two meet. Just suffering! Hark! They're whistling
and ringing the bell and we'll be there in a minute! Do, do hurry--for I
believe I see him now--that tall one at the end of the wharf--Hurry--or,
better still--Wait! Wait!"
But long before the excited Molly had finished speaking Dorothy had run
up the stairs, along the long passage to the aft deck where she had left
her lame acquaintance waiting for her to do his simple errand.
He was not in the spot where she had left him. He was not in the big
saloon, or parlor. He was not upon the forward deck; not yet amid the
crowd pressed to the deck's rail, to watch for whatever might be seen at
this historic landing place. Flying to the rail she scanned the few
departing passengers and he was not among them. She saw, but scarcely
realized that she did, a group of three cadets who had come as near the
steamer as the wharf permitted and were gaily chattering with her chum,
during the short stop that was made.
"Could he have fallen overboard? And if he did why did he take our
purses with him?" she wondered. Then reflected that it would be a
difficult thing to explain this affair to Miss Greatorex; and also that
the missing pocket-books contained a full month's "allowance" for both
Molly and herself.