Alison's Uncle
Not very long after the events narrated in the last chapter, Alison
entered the train one morning in quite a state of excitement, and could
scarcely wait to greet Dorothy before she began to pour out her news.
"Mother had a letter yesterday by the afternoon post. It was from Uncle
David, and he's actually on his way home to England. He's not going back
to India at all; he wants to settle down near Latchworth. He'll get here
before Easter, and he's coming straight to stay with us. Isn't it
lovely?"
"Are you fond of him?" enquired Dorothy.
"Oh, he's just ripping! He's so jolly, you know, always having jokes and
fun with me. He's the only uncle I possess, so of course I make the most
of him; but he's as good as a dozen."
"And I don't possess even one," thought Dorothy. "Have you any cousins?"
she added aloud.
"Only seconds and thirds once removed. They're so distant, I can
scarcely count them as relations. My one first cousin died when she was
a baby, and Aunt Madeleine died too--out in India--so poor Uncle David
has been alone ever since. But he's always fearfully busy; he goes about
superintending railways and building bridges. He has a whole army of
coolies under him sometimes, and they have to take the lines through
jungles where there are tigers, and snakes, and things. He writes us the
most tremendously interesting letters. Oh, I'm just longing to hear all
his stories! When I can get him in the right mood and he starts, he
yarns on for hours, and it's so fascinating, I never want him to stop."
"So he is to stay at your house?"
"Rather! We'd be fearfully cross with him if he didn't. He's coming to
us first, and then he and Mother and I are all going away somewhere for
the Easter holidays. It will be such fun! I wish the time would fly
quicker."
"It's only a fortnight to the end of the term now," said Dorothy.
"I know, but a fortnight is fourteen days, my dear. Mother says Uncle
David will probably arrive at the end of next week, though; she thinks
he may come overland from Marseilles. She wants to arrange to go away on
the Wednesday before Easter at latest. I don't expect I shall come to
school for the last day--perhaps not in the last week at all. Mother
can't bear travelling when the trains are crowded, so we may start on
the Monday or Tuesday."
"What place are you going to?"
"I don't know. We're leaving that for Uncle David to decide."
It must be delightful, thought Dorothy, to have the anticipation of such
a pleasant holiday. Alison was much to be envied, not only for the
possession of so desirable an uncle, but because he seemed disposed to
spend his time in the company of his niece, and to entertain her with
tales of adventure.
"I don't suppose I shall see him," she said to herself. "They won't ask
me to Lindenlea; but I should like to hear some of the stories about
India. Well, luck never comes my way. Nobody's going to take me away
from home this Easter."
Sometimes when we are railing our hardest at Fate, and calling her by
opprobrious names, she astonishes us by twisting round her mystic wheel
and sending us an unwonted piece of good fortune. Dorothy had often
bemoaned the fact that nobody ever asked her away; yet only a week
afterwards she received an invitation, and that from a most unexpected
quarter. She had always been rather a favourite with Dr. Longton, who
had attended her in measles, bronchitis, and the few other ailments in
which she had indulged; and also with Mrs. Longton, a kind-hearted,
elderly lady, whose daughters were all married and living in
Coleminster. On the Saturday before Easter Mrs. Longton called on Miss
Sherbourne, mentioned that she and the doctor were going to the Dales
for a little holiday, and asked if Dorothy might be allowed to accompany
them.
"We had arranged to take my niece," she explained, "but her mother is
unwell, and she cannot leave home at present. We had engaged a bedroom
for her at the Hydro., so we shall be delighted if Dorothy will occupy
it instead. We are both fond of young people, and it will be a pleasure
to have her with us. Would you care to come, my dear?"
Dorothy's face was such a beaming advertisement of joy that her instant
acquiescence seemed superfluous. Aunt Barbara readily agreed, and in a
few minutes the whole plan was discussed and fixed.
"Isn't it too lovely!" cried Dorothy, exulting over her invitation when
Mrs. Longton had gone. "I've never in my life stayed at a hydro. And to
go to Clevedale, too! I suppose it's splendid. Bertha Warren was at
Ringborough last summer, and she raved over it. Auntie, don't you think
for once I'm in luck's way? I believe it's because I bought a swastika
at the bazaar, and have worn it ever since, though you told me I was
silly to spend my sixpence on it."
Aunt Barbara laughed.
"I don't believe in charms. I remember I found a horseshoe on the very
day I sprained my ankle, long ago, and the biggest cheque I ever
received came immediately after I had spilt a whole salt-cellar full of
salt. But I certainly agree that you're a lucky girl. It's extremely
kind of the Longtons to take you."
"And we're starting next Thursday! Hip, hip, hooray!" sang Dorothy,
hopping into the kitchen to tell Martha her good news.
It was really a very great event for Dorothy to go from home. Every
detail of her preparations and packing was interesting to her. It was
delightful to be able to take out the new nightdress-case, and the best
brush and comb, which had been lying for so long a time in her bottom
drawer, waiting for an occasion such as this; to put fresh notepaper in
her writing-case, and to replenish the sewing materials in her blue silk
"housewife". There were great debates over her clothing, for she was
still growing at such express speed that any garments which had been put
away were hopelessly short, particularly the white dress that was to do
duty for evening wear.
"I believe it has shrunk!" she exclaimed ruefully.
"No; it's you who have shot up so fast. I wish the clothes grew with
you! I must try if I can lengthen it."
Miss Sherbourne had clever fingers, and she contrived to make the
necessary alterations so skilfully that nobody would have detected them;
and Dorothy declared that, far from being spoilt, the dress was
improved.
"I've bought you some new hair ribbons, and you can wear your chain of
green Venetian beads," said Aunt Barbara. "Where are your Prayer Book
and hymn-book? And your stockings? Bring them here with the other
things; we'll pack in my bedroom."
The College broke up for the holidays on the Wednesday before Easter.
Alison did not appear at school all that week, so Dorothy supposed that
the uncle must have arrived, and that they had gone from home.
"Alison doesn't know I'm having a jaunt too," she thought. "We shall be
able to compare notes when we meet again."
On the longed-for Thursday Dorothy, feeling very important and grown-up,
met Dr. and Mrs. Longton at the station, and found herself "off and
away". The trains were crowded and late, but she enjoyed the journey
nevertheless. She had seen so little of the world that it was a delight
to her to watch the landscape from the carriage windows; and the bustle
of the busy station where they changed amused her, however it might
distract Dr. Longton, who was anxious about the luggage. Their
destination was Ringborough, a beautiful spot in Clevedale much
celebrated for its bracing air and its splendid mountain views. The
hydropathic establishment where they were to stay was situated on a
pine-clad hillside, and its extensive grounds sloped to a turbulent
northern river that swirled along, brown with peat from the moors.
Dr. Longton, who was an enthusiastic angler, and had come armed with a
variety of fishing tackle, looked at the condition of the water with a
critical eye as he passed.
"Well, when I can't fish I can golf," he remarked. "The links here are
among the best in the kingdom. Dorothy, do you feel inclined to act
caddy?"
"I'd rather carry your baskets of fish," laughed Dorothy.
"You little impudence! Do you mean to hint that my catches will prove
such a light weight? Just wait and see. I'll make you earn your salt,
young lady. Perhaps you'll be staggering under a creel like a Newhaven
fishwife before you return. Here we are at last. Now, I hope they've
really kept the rooms I asked for. I stipulated for a south aspect."
The hydropathic, it appeared, was very full, and the doctor, greatly to
his dissatisfaction, was not able to have the particular accommodation
for which he had written.
"We must put up with what we can get, I suppose," he grunted. "At this
season everybody swarms out of town for a breath of mountain air and a
try at the trout."
Dorothy, at any rate, was not disposed to grumble at the little bedroom
which fell to her share, though it was on the top story. She liked going
up and down in the lift, and her window looked directly out on to the
woods at the back. There was a delicious smell of pines in the air, and
when she leaned out she could catch a glimpse, round the corner, of a
piece of brown river. In the highest spirits she unpacked and changed
her dress, and Mrs. Longton came to take her downstairs.
The ways of a hydropathic were unknown to Dorothy; it seemed new and
strange to her to enter the large public drawing-room, full of people
waiting for the dinner gong to sound. She looked round with keen
interest at the other visitors. A large party of gentlemen stood near
the piano, discussing fishing prospects; some golfers, collected round
the fire, were comparing notes and relating experiences; a few of the
ladies were busy with fancy work, and some were reading. Standing by the
bookcase, turning over the volumes, was a familiar little figure with a
round, rosy face.
"By all that's marvellous, it's Alison!" gasped Dorothy.
The recognition between the two girls was a mutual astonishment. Alison
rushed to welcome her friend in great excitement.
"Dorothy, is it really you? Oh, how delightful! Mother, Dorothy's
actually staying here! Uncle David, this is my very greatest friend! Oh,
what a perfectly lovely surprise! When did you come? We've been here
since Monday."
Mrs. Clarke greeted Dorothy coldly, but the pleasant-faced,
brown-bearded gentleman addressed as Uncle David smiled as he shook
hands.
"So this is your school chum, Birdie? Well, it's a piece of luck for you
that she's turned up here. There'll be high jinks now, I expect."
"Rather!" declared Alison, with a beaming look. "It's the one thing that
will make the holiday complete."
Though Mrs. Clarke might not share her daughter's enthusiasm at the
meeting, she found it impossible to prevent the intimacy between the two
girls. She made a struggle at first to keep them apart, but Alison had
been spoilt too long not to know how to wheedle her mother and get her
own way.
"I can't be rude to Dorothy," she pleaded. "It will seem so
extraordinary if I mayn't speak to her."
"I don't forbid you to speak to her, only there is no need for you to
spend your whole time together. I don't wish you to be on such familiar
terms," replied Mrs. Clarke.
"Nonsense, Cecily!" put in Uncle David, interfering on behalf of his
niece. "You're quite absurd over Birdie. The poor child must have some
young friends; you can't expect her to be content with us middle-aged
people. I like this Dorothy What's-her-name. She has a bright, taking
little face. It can't possibly do Birdie any harm to associate with her.
You can't bring up the girl in cotton wool. You coddle her enough on the
subject of health, so at least let her enjoy herself in other ways. I'm
going fishing to-morrow with Dr. Longton--he's a bluff old Yorkshireman,
but he's capital company, and he's a member of the North Riding Anglers'
Club. He's promised to give me some hints."
With her uncle's influence on her side, Alison felt an official seal had
been placed on her friendship; and as Mrs. Longton was pleased for
Dorothy to have found a companion, the two girls were much together.
Ringborough Hydropathic was a favourite resort for Coleminster people,
and two other girls from the College happened to be staying there with
their families--Hope Lawson and Gabrielle Helm, who was in the Lower
Fifth. Hope did not look particularly pleased to meet her classmates;
she gave them each a cool little nod, and took no further notice of
them. She was much occupied with her own set of friends, and did not
seem disposed to trouble herself with her schoolfellows; nor were they
anxious to push themselves under her notice. Gabrielle Helm, on the
contrary, claimed acquaintance with Dorothy and Alison, and introduced
her brothers, Percy and Eric, who attended the Coleminster Boys'
College. The young people were keen on golf, and from them Dorothy
received her first lessons on the links, laughing very much over her
mistakes and false strokes, and enjoying every moment of the time. She
had never spent such holidays, or dreamed that they were even possible;
and the days did not seem half or a quarter long enough for all the
delightful things there were to do in them.
"It was good of you to bring me," she said sometimes to Mrs. Longton.
"It's a pleasure to see your bright face, my dear," replied her kind
chaperon. "You're so rosy, your aunt will hardly know you when you
return."
"Dorothy is growing quite pretty," said Gabrielle Helm to Alison. "I
used to think her rather a scrawny-looking girl, but she's suddenly
developed into almost a beauty. Percy said last night he thought her
ripping, and he's a fearful old 'hard-to-please'."
"Yes," said Alison contemplatively, "Dorothy has changed. Of course, her
eyes were always lovely, but her face has filled out lately, and she
does her hair more becomingly. That's made a difference. And that blue
dress suits her. I think she's prettier now than Hope Lawson."
"Hope wouldn't allow that."
"Rather not!" laughed Alison.
Dorothy was indeed having "the time of her life", and very great
happiness is often an aid to good looks. Though she found Mrs. Clarke
rather chilly and distant, she liked Alison's Uncle David immensely.
Sometimes the two girls would accompany him and the doctor on a fishing
expedition, or a walk through the pine woods, where he proved the
pleasantest and most humorous of companions; or, better still, they
would catch him in the half-hour before dinner, decoy him into one of
the small sitting-rooms generally empty at that time in the evening, and
then cajole him into telling some of his experiences in the jungle. To
Dorothy these Indian stories were thrilling; she was never tired of
hearing about tigers and elephants, ruined temples, fakirs, coolies, and
midnight adventures.
"Of course, Uncle David draws the long bow considerably," laughed
Alison. "He expects one to take ten per cent discount off all his
traveller's yarns. But they're very fascinating, even if they're not
true! He likes you, because you're a good listener. Dorothy, what shall
we do without you when the holiday's over?"
"Don't speak of it! I'm living in the present from hour to hour,"
declared Dorothy.