PATHS DIVIDING
But the happenings in the woods were quickly forgotten, at least so far
as the scout girls were concerned, by the unexpected development in the
case of the two girls, Dagmar and Tessie, who had stolen out of
Flosston.
In that section of the town where the girls lived, the Americanized
foreigners had little in common with such families as those of the
girls of True Tred Troop. In fact, few happenings in the mill community
ever reached the ears of the so-called "swells," that inappropriate
term being applied to those whose fathers held some executive position
in the great silk industries of Flosston.
Thus it was easy to understand why the scouts had heard nothing next
day of the mysterious disappearance of Dagmar and Tessie.
A contrary situation existed in Millville, however. Here the families
of both girls were causing a search to be made in that peculiar fashion
of confusion and excitement, usually ending in making the condition
more complicated, and giving rise to absolutely no clues worthy of
attention.
Mrs. Brodix, Dagmar's mother, good, kind mother that she was, spent her
time wringing her hands and rolling her big black eyes, otherwise in
extolling the hitherto undiscovered virtues of the lost daughter.
In her distress she forsook the English tongue, and lapsed into a
conglomeration of Polish and Yiddish made intelligible only through the
plentiful interpretation of dramatic gesticulation.
"Oh, my beautiful Dagmar!" she wailed. "It is that vile street runner
Theresa, who has carried her away!" was the burden of her lamentations.
"The smartest girl in all Millville was my Tessie," insisted Mrs.
Wartliz. "It was that baby-faced kitten, Dagmar Brodix, who coaxed her
off. She would earn as much money as me" (good enough English for Mrs.
Wartliz), "and she had money in the bank, too."
It was probably this last fact that really led the girls to seek what
they considered was a broader field for their talent. If Tessie's money
in the bank had been a joint account with her mother's name, she would
not have been able to draw out the funds for her escapade, but what did
Mrs. Wartliz know about such supervision for a daughter, who was
absorbing America at one end--the attractions--and ignoring America at
the other--honorable conduct?
What actually happened was this. When Dagmar ran after Tessie, who was
threatening to leave her to her own resources, that dark night when
both had planned to shake the dust of Millville from their well worn
shoes, the older girl finally agreed to take Dagmar along if "she would
quit her babying, and act decent."
"Now the train is gone," scolded Tessie, "and we have to take that
horrid old jitney out to the junction. Like as not we will meet some
one who will squeal on us."
"Tessie," pleaded Dagmar, afraid to speak, and fearful of the
consequences if she did not make her appeal. "Why can't we go to
Franklin? There is a fine mill there and it is nearer home--"
"Say kid" exclaimed the rougher girl, "if you want to go home you have
a swell chance right now, but if you want to come with me quit simping
and come," and she picked up her own bag in bad temper, gave her
brilliant scarf a twist and started off for the jitney, leaving Dagmar
to take the unattractive choice she had just mentioned.
Dagmar was too frightened to notice the grimy mill hands who were
crowded into the old bus, making their way to another settlement in
search of an evening's recreation, but Tessie slunk deep down in her
corner, burying her face in her scarf and hiding her eyes with her tam.
She knew better than to run the risk of having her cross father
discover her in flight. After she had succeeded in getting away Lonzo
Wartliz would not spend time to go after her, but while she was "on the
wing," so to speak, he would have no trouble in bringing her back. A
day's time from the mill would be too costly a sacrifice to make, while
a police call to "fetch back my girl" would cost him nothing. Also
there was the thought that Tessie might fix it at home by sending a
letter filled with glowing promises of good money--but she would
require at least one day to mail her promise to Flosston.
So Dagmar sat with a melancholy expression on her face while Tessie hid
her silent chuckles in her wearing apparel.
"Here we are," whispered the latter, as the jitney jolted to a
standstill. "Don't forget your Saratoga."
Dagmar dragged the hated "telescope" after her, as she dropped down
from the rickety high steps of the old motor wagon. It was very dark
now, and she was more frightened than she had any idea of betraying to
her companion. "Come on, kid," called the other. "We have got to hunt
up something. We may not get out of this great white way to-night."
"Oh, Tessie! How could we stay in a place like this?"
"Just like the other folks. Do you think they are goin' to spread out a
wedding canopy for you? Oh, be a sport, Daggie. Tomorrow is yet to
come."
The training this young girl had received in the local movies was now
developing in a rather dangerous way. She was breathing heavily in her
new found adventure, she was out alone, or as good as alone, in a
strange place on a dark night, and perhaps she would be kidnapped? In
spite of the danger Tessie fairly thrilled with the possibility, and it
was with a very pronounced degree of scorn that she regarded her weaker
companion.
Not that the "movies" were exerting any better influence on Dagmar. In
fact it had been their uncertain propaganda that first created in her
breast the feeling of unrest, that first told her Millville was mean,
shabby, and an unfit place for an ambitious girl to try to exist in.
Her very love for her mother and father, to say nothing of her
affection for the other members of her family, seemed a spur to her
ambition "to get away and be somebody."
But the getting away was by no means the pleasant dream she had
pictured it. Here they were, two young, inexperienced girls in a
strange town, without the slightest knowledge of how they might find a
safe place in which to stay for a single night, and even they, with
their minds open for adventure, realized how promptly trouble comes to
those who openly seek it.
"Let's go down this street and see what it runs into," suggested
Tessie. "Hope it doesn't flop off into a ditch."
"I think we ought to ask someone," put in Dagmar.
"Ask them what?" rudely demanded Tessie.
"Where we can go for the night? Are you sure we can't get a train? We
could sleep in the cars."
"Oh, say, you want a Pullman, you do, the kind we see go by the factory
with the coons all dolled up in dish towels," she sneered, now
seemingly set upon making things as unpleasant as possible for poor,
little, frightened Dagmar. But the latter was not altogether a coward,
and the blustering tone of Tessie was not too deep to penetrate. Dagmar
pulled herself together and dropped the "telescope."
"You may do as you please, Miss Wartliz," she exclaimed. "But I am not
going to tramp these streets all night. I don't want to end up in a
nice little rat-ridden police cell. We don't have rats over our way."
"And I suppose we do. Well, Miss Smarty, what do you propose to do?
Maybe you wouldn't mind letting your friend in on the game!"
"You know, Tessie, I don't mind slang, and I am not a goody-good, but I
am nervous, and I think we would get along better if we both dropped
that street stuff. It gets on my nerves."
"Oh, my sakes alive! Gettin' nerves!" and she dropped her voice into
the deepest tones of contempt. "I might-a known it. You would be apt to
have them with that face. Well, kid, what do you want to do? I don't
see no hospital for nerves out this way."
"Tessie! See that man!"
"Sure I do. He's a cop, too. Stop your whimpering and trot along. We're
goin' to grandma's," and Tessie grabbed the arm of the trembling Dagmar
as she started off with a determined step, indicating a particular
objective being sought for.
But the officer of the law could distinguish runaway girls without a
full confession from their painted lips. And he promptly started after
them.
"He's followin' us," whispered Dagmar.
"As if I thought he was playin' hop-scotch," scoffed the tantalizing
one. "Keep movin', we will give his legs a treat, even if he intends to
beat us out."
And they did walk very briskly indeed--all the more reason why the
officer should follow them!
"Makes me think of tryin' to get away from a strange dog," Tessie had
the temerity to interject. "The faster we ran the surer he is to keep
snappin'."
"He is sure to catch us," Dagmar said. "Why don't you stop and ask him
where we can go?"
"You poor simp. Want him to tell you?" and she almost laughed outright.
"Wait--a minute--wait--a minute!" came the summons. "What's your big
hurry?"
They both stopped. Each knew enough for that. The man of the law,
shaking that treacherous stick on its red cord, was now beside them. He
pushed his cap back to make sure nothing interfered with his gaze. This
he fixed scrutinizingly on the two girls. Dagmar flinched, but Tessie
smiled in a foolish attempt to gain his good will.
"Where are you two trottin' off to all alone?" he asked finally.
"We're goin' to grandma's," said Tessie, so ridiculously that she
almost burst out laughing. She had no idea the answer would sound so
silly.
"Oh! you be," he returned, his voice thick with irony. "Is the old lady
expectin' you?"
"Well, we didn't say we would be there tonight," Tessie had the
audacity to reply.
"No, I thought not," and he twirled that formidable stick almost into
Dagmar's scared face. "Well, shall we send her word?"
"Oh, we can find our way," put in Tessie again, attempting to start off.
"Maybe so. But here in Franklin we have a curfew law, and we don't
allow little girls out alone so late."
"No?" sneered Tessie. "Lovely town. We expect to take the rest cure
here."
"Now, my young lady," in severe tones, "I'll show you where we give
that self same cure. Come--along--with--me!"
Quick as a wink Tessie grabbed her bag, and started to run. The officer
was so surprised he required a moment to realize she was running away.
When he did he sounded his whistle.
And there stood Dagmar, alone, and as the "movies" say, "Forsaken!"
"Oh, Tessie," she called weakly. "Come back. You have my pocketbook!"
But the fleeing girl did not stop to listen to Dagmar's cry or to the
shrill whistle the officer again sent out into the night. She was
making tracks so successfully, the minion of the law knew very well his
whistle would never summon help--the only other officer in town being
"out of town" to his personal knowledge. So Tessie went, and with her
Dagmar's pocketbook and the Girl Scout Badge!