THE FIRE SPIRIT
DOLLY glanced round to see if any one else had noticed Dotty’s speech.
Apparently, no one had.
So, deeming it best to ignore it, Dolly said, “Come on, Bernice,” and
laughingly drew the half-unwilling Elf along with her.
“Here you are!” said Mr. Rawlins, gaily. “One nice clean blank paper for
each of you. Who’ll go first? You, Dolly?”
“No; Bernice, you try it.”
So taking the paper carefully in the tongs, Bernice held it to the blaze
of the logs.
“Spirit of the Fire,” said Mr. Rawlins, in a dramatic voice, “tell us,
pray, whose is this Fortune I have here, folded in my hand.”
And then appeared on the paper, the name of Maisie May.
“Ah, our Maisie,” and Mr. Rawlins read:
“Ere you are so very old,
You will marry wealth untold.
Now your Knight is far away,
But he’ll come to you some day.
Congratulations, Maisie, dear. May you be very happy, in your future
life, rolling in gold and living in palaces.”
“I can’t feel positively sure it will come true,” laughed Maisie; “is it
guaranteed?”
“Wait till ‘Some day’ and see,” returned Mr. Rawlins. “Now, Dolly.”
Dolly was most anxious to know how the writing appeared on the papers.
She didn’t for a moment believe in the Fire Spirit, but she was curious
to know the trick. She scrutinised her paper, but saw only blank
whiteness. Then she carefully put it in the tongs, and held it to the
fire. Sure enough, there came the writing at once, and it said, Clayton
Rawlins.
“This is interesting,” exclaimed Clayton’s father. “I’m glad to know the
future of my children. Listen, Clay:
“In years to come, in some far distant land,
You’ll run a fine and prosperous peanut stand!
Well, my boy, as you are assured of earning an honest living, I’ve no
fault to find, have you?”
“No,” returned Clayton; “I love peanuts!”
Dolly gave it up. She couldn’t see how the trick was accomplished. Mr.
Rawlins let her try again, and this time she read the name of Dolly
Fayre, herself.
“Read me my fortune,” she cried. “What is my fate?”
“You will visit distant scenes,
You will meet with Kings and Queens.
But the one who’ll be your mate
Lives already in this State.”
Mr. Rawlins handed her the fortune paper, saying, “You are to be envied
indeed! Meeting with royalty! Oh, my!”
“Oh, my! I should say so! Well, I’ll like it all right. I love
adventure, and this sounds fine. Only I wish I knew when the king and
queen visits would begin.”
“That’s the worst of fortunes,” observed Mrs. Rawlins; “they leave so
much to the imagination.”
Then others wanted to try holding the papers. But none could guess how a
blank paper could be written on by the fire, whether a spirit did it or
not.
“Great, isn’t it?” cried Tad Brown, as he watched the writing appear.
“Joe Collins! Hullo, Joe, what you s’pose your fortune will be?
Something desperate, ’ll bet. Joe’s a terror, you know!”
“We’ll see;” and Mr. Rawlins read:
“Your wit is keen, your humour fine,
To you they’ll prove a real gold mine!
For you will move from Berwick Town,
And be a famous Circus Clown!
Good, Joe! I’d go to the circus twice a day to see you perform.”
“I can do it!” and Joe capered around with the antics of a clown. “Here
you are, ladies and gentlemen! The funniest living clown in captivity!
Come one, come all! Pink lemonade free. Get your peanuts from Old Clay
Rawlins! Hip! Hip! Hooray!”
When Joe stopped prancing about and the others stopped laughing at him,
Mr. Rawlins read next “Tadema Brown.”
“Hardly know myself by my Sunday name,” and Tad listened for his fate.
“You care but naught for this world’s goods,
You love the fields and flowers and woods;
To you the note of singing birds
Is sweeter far than human words.”
“Well, that’s true, anyway,” said Tad, heartily. He was a born
naturalist, and often spent his Saturdays wandering alone through the
woods and fields, looking for new wild flowers or birds’ eggs to add to
his collections.
“Poky old fortune, I call it,” declared Dotty. “Whose is next?”
“Ethel’s!” said her father. “Well, my child, here you are:
“You shall travel many a land
Seeing wonders great and grand.
But for home your heart will yearn,
Back to Berwick you’ll return!”
“Indeed I will,” said Ethel; “I’m the homesickest thing ever, if I’m
away from mother.”
“Ned Hillman,” announced Dolly, who was holding the tongs again. “Read
it, Mr. Rawlins.”
“Your Fate has not tarried,
Your Future is bright;
And you will be married
Two years from to-night!
Well, well, Ned, so your bachelor days are numbered. Make the most of
your freedom before you settle down to housekeeping.”
“All right, Mr. Rawlins,” said Ned. “But I’ll have to hustle to get a
house to keep, in two years! Couldn’t old Fire Spirit give me a little
more time?”
“He might extend it, in case of good behaviour. What, Celia Ferris is
next? Here you are, Celia:
“Though you are a pretty creature,
You are doomed to be a Teacher,
For a year or two. And then,
You will wed the best of men.
H’m, seems to me Ned and Celia will step off at about the same time!”
This caused great hilarity, for Ned’s admiration for the pretty Celia
was not altogether a secret. Celia blushed, but did not look at all
offended.
“Huh!” said Joe Collins, “no fun teasing those two! They like it!”
“I _don’t_!” cried Celia, blushing, and then they all laughed harder.
“And beside,” went on Joe, “it said Celia would wed the best of men.
Now, though we all love our Neddie, we can’t pedestal him as the _best_
of men, can we? Or, can we?”
“We can! we can!” they all shouted in rollicking chorus.
“And now for the last fortune; may it prove the best,” said Mr. Rawlins,
holding up the last paper.
“Must be mine,” said Reggie Stuart. “I haven’t had any yet.”
It was his, and it said:
You never will have wealth,
You’ll keep no powdered flunkey;
But you’ll travel, for your health,
With a hand-organ and monkey!
“Fine!” and Reggie laughed with the rest of them. “I’m awfully fond of
music, and I couldn’t have chosen a better fortune myself. Think of
wandering about in the Spring—”
“With a monkey on a string!” chimed in Joe.
“Flowers a-bloom and birds a-wing,” from Tad.
“Catching coin like anything!” wound up Reggie. “Oh, it’s a great life!
I always envied the hand-organ man.”
The fortunes over, Dolly begged Mr. Rawlins to tell how the Fire Spirit
was induced to write on the blank papers.
“I have a contract with the Spirit,” he declared, “and if I order him,
he will write for me. No one else can command him.”
“Oh, now, I dunno ’bout that,” drawled Uncle Jim, who had been an
eager-eyed spectator of the fortune telling, though he had said little.
“S’pose, now, Dolly, you hold up this here piece of blank paper an’ see
if the Sperrit won’t write on it.”
Dolly took the sheet of paper offered her, and put it in the tongs.
Slowly some writing appeared. It said: “Mr. Rawlins is fooling you. Make
him tell, (signed, The Fire Spirit.)”
“I thought so,” cried Dolly, and going to him, she said, coaxingly:
“Now, Mr. Rawlins, you must tell us. The Fire Spirit commands you.”
“Then I shall have to, of course,” and Mr. Rawlins laughed
good-naturedly. “Well, since you will have the veil torn from the
mystery, I’ll own up. The way to produce that writing is simply to write
it on the papers beforehand, with milk—”
“With milk!”
“Yes, use a small paint brush dipped in milk. Write your message, let it
dry, and then when it is held to the fire the heat turns the milk brown
and the writing appears. But, when I let Uncle Jim into my secret, I
didn’t know he would turn it against myself.”
“You would have told us, anyway,” and Dolly nodded her head at him. “But
it’s a good trick. Does it always work?”
“Yes, if you do it properly. It’s well to go over the milk letters a
second time, while they are wet enough to see. Then the heat scorches
them better. Also, have a care not to let the papers be handled or
blurred before using.”
“Thank you, that’s a fine thing to know,” and Dolly tucked it away in
her noddle for future use. She already saw herself mystifying Bert and
Bob when they came home.
“Great, isn’t it, Dot?” she cried, her first thought, as always, to
share every idea with Dotty.
But again, Dotty gave her the cold shoulder. She heard, but, pretending
not to, she turned to Celia and chattered quickly.
Dolly gave her a hurt look, and then, as Dotty glanced at her without a
responding smile, Dolly went deliberately across the room to where
Bernice stood, alone and neglected.
Dolly was in defiant mood. She was full of wrath at Dotty’s attitude,
and she was angry, too, at the boys, because they would not be nice to
Bernice.
“Hello, Bernie,” she said. “How’d you like your fortune?”
“I don’t like anything,” returned Bernice, her eyes stormy with
discontent. “I want to go home.”
“We’re all going,” said Dolly, “after one dance. Uncle Jim wants to see
us do a Virginia Reel, and Mrs. Rawlins is going to play for us. Come
on.”
“Nobody will ask me to dance. I want to go home.”
Just then, Tad came up to Dolly and asked her to dance with him.
“Not unless you find a partner for Bernice,” said Dolly. She spoke in a
low tone, and they turned away, so Bernice did not hear. But she
imagined what they were saying, and it did not tend to make her happier.
“Can’t do it,” said Tad, positively. “Nobody will dance with that lemon!
Why, look at her, Doll! She’s a human thunder-cloud. Who’d dance with
that?”
“Then I’ll dance with her, myself. I’d rather do that, than have her
left out.”
“Oh, fiddlesticks! Leave her alone, and let’s get our places. You can’t
scare me, saying you’ll dance with her! No, sir, not little Dolly Fayre.
She’s going to trip it with yours truly, and that’s all there is about
that!”
Then Dolly had an inspiration. “Wait a minute,” she said to Tad, and she
ran over to where Uncle Jim was smiling at his guests.
“Aren’t you going to dance, Uncle Jim?” she said.
“Well, now, I hadn’t thought on’t. But it’s right down nice of you to
ask me. I’d like to,—by gum, I’d like to! But which of all these perty
young misses would dance with me? I ask you that?”
“Why, any of them would be proud to dance with the host. I would myself,
only I’m engaged for it. But how do you like the Elf?”
“That perty one in green? I’d like her mighty well, if she’d honor me.”
“Let’s go and ask her,” and Dolly led the old man across to Bernice.
“Say, Bernie, you’re the belle of the ball! Uncle Jim wants you to dance
the Reel with him.”
“That I do, if you would give me the honor,” and Uncle Jim made an
old-fashioned bow, of deference and respect. He had the grace of an
old-time beau, and it appealed to Bernice’s pride to be chosen by the
host of the evening.
“Thank you,” she said, a little shyly, and took the arm of the old man,
as they found places in the line.
Dolly was beaming at her success. “It’s all right, no thanks to you,”
she said to Tad, as she returned to him.
“You’re a hummer, Dolly, and no mistake! That was a first-rate scheme.
You couldn’t have made any of the boys take her.”
“I know it,” and Dolly sighed. Then she changed the subject, for she had
no wish to discuss Bernice further just then.
As it turned out, Uncle Jim was a fine dancer, and he cut pigeon wings
and made old-fashioned bows, with his hand on his heart. Bernice, also a
good dancer, entered into the spirit of the quaint dance, and they were
by far the most effective couple on the floor.
As a grand finale, Uncle Jim balanced up and down the line with Bernice
in gay whirls, and then fairly swung her off her feet, in a wild
pirouette.
“Good!” cried Mr. Rawlins, clapping his hands. “Didn’t know you were
such a gay young buck, Uncle Jim! You’ll have to come to dancing class
and teach the youngsters the real thing!”
Flushed and smiling, Bernice said good-night to her host and partner,
and ran away to the cloakroom.
“You were splendid, Bernie,” said Dolly, as she put on her wrap. “Wasn’t
she, Dot?”
“Yes,” said Dotty, coldly. “But I don’t care for such boisterous dancing
myself.”
“Oh, you don’t!” said Dolly, mad clear through. “Well, keep your
preferences and opinions to yourself!” She turned her back on Dotty, and
adjusted her scarf before the mirror. Her pink cheeks were scarlet, and
her blue eyes flashed with indignation. It was the injustice of Dotty’s
attitude that hurt her. She had only tried to give Bernice a good time,
and she couldn’t see why that should make Dot so horribly snippy.
Then she heard exclamations and shouts out in the hall, and hurried out
to see what it meant.
At first she thought the house was on fire. A red glow showed through
the windows and from the open door. Then she discovered that it was a
glow of red fire in honour of the occasion. Uncle Jim had arranged it to
give them a gay and pleasant send-off. There were fires burning in all
directions, and the effect was a general red glow as bright as day.
“How beautiful!” cried everybody, for the scene was like fairyland. And
then they all thanked Uncle Jim over and over for the party, and for his
kindness and thoughtfulness, and the motors came, and the young people
were packed in and sent rolling homeward.
Dolly was a little silent, for she was deeply hurt at Dotty’s manner,
and had to think things over before she decided what to do about it all.
Dotty, on the other hand, was unusually gay. She proposed singing songs,
and herself started the tunes. She laughed and chattered with everybody
else, but said no word to Dolly.
When they reached their respective homes, the girls went into their
houses without a parting word of good-night to each other.