BOOMING BERNICE
DOLLY hesitated about telling Bert of her plans. She wanted him to know
the importance of the matter, and yet, she feared he would disapprove of
the whole idea. So she put off telling him, and now the very day had
arrived, and she had a feeling that he must know before he went to the
party.
Dolly was dressed early. She had on her new frock, and a dainty, pretty
affair it was. Made of white net, it was frilled with many little
outstanding ruffles, edged with blue silk. Tiny garlands of blue
forget-me-nots headed the flounces, and edged the round neck of the
bodice. Her golden curls were caught back by a pearl barrette and a
delicate wreath of forget-me-nots encircled her head. Dotty’s dress was
just like Dolly’s, with pink rosebuds in place of the blue flowers.
Of course the quartette were to go together, but there was yet nearly
half an hour before time to start. Dolly sat in her room, thinking it
out, and at last decided to tell Bert.
She went to his room, and found him deeply absorbed in tying his
necktie. She sat down and waited, silently, being too wise to interrupt
the engrossing performance.
At last the bow was completed to the young man’s satisfaction.
“Hello, Dolls,” he said, to her reflection in his mirror. “Here for
criticism or commendation?” and he looked leniently on the pretty new
frock.
“Neither. And we’ve only a few minutes, so, listen, Bert, I want to tell
you something.”
“Fire away,” and the preoccupied boy looked over a pile of
handkerchiefs.
Dolly spoke quickly and to the point. She told him of her bargain with
Bernice and all she hoped from it.
“You see, I couldn’t,—I just _couldn’t_ leave Berwick and Dot, so I
tried this plan, and I hope,—oh,—I most _know_ it will succeed!”
“Dorinda Fayre, you’re a hummer!” was Bert’s comment, and he sat down on
the edge of his bed, and looked at his sister. “What _do_ you s’pose dad
would say if he knew?”
“He _mustn’t_ know. But, it isn’t wrong, is it?”
“Why, no, I don’t say it’s wrong, exactly, but it’s—why, Doll, it’s
crazy! That’s what it is, crazy!”
“I don’t care how crazy it is, if it works. Why, Bert, anybody can go to
Buffalo as well as for us to go. And probably the other man wants to go,
and father doesn’t. And I don’t, and Trudy doesn’t—”
“Does Trudy know of your stroke of state?”
“No, indeed. She’d tell, and dad and mother might put a stop to it. Now,
Bert, _you’ll_ help me, _won’t_ you?”
Dolly had the whip hand, and she knew it. Bert was very proud of his
pretty sister, and as she smiled winsomely, in all the bravery of her
party array, he hadn’t the heart to refuse her. Moreover, though he was
amazed at her daring project, it seemed to him possible, owing to Mr.
Forbes’ indulgence of his daughter’s whims.
“Why, of course, Dollops, I’ll do whatever I can—”
“Oh, you _dear_ old Bert! I was _so_ afraid you wouldn’t! You can do
such heaps, you know! Now, let’s start, and you must just remember every
minute at the party, that you’re booming Bernice. Get the boys to show
her attentions, but _don’t_ for goodness’ sake, let them know what
you’re up to!”
“Dollydoodle! Do you think I’m a ninny! Don’t tell _me_ how to conduct
this publicity campaign! Give me credit for a grain of sense,—and leave
all to me!”
Bert waved his hand with a lordly air, and Dolly felt a great weight
lifted from her shoulders. If Bert took the initiative like that, he was
sure to succeed.
“Does Bob know?” he asked.
“No, I don’t want to tell Bob, if we can help it. Dotty promised not to
tell anybody. Can’t we manage without letting any more know, than do
know?”
“I ’spect so, Kiddy. Run along, and get your bonnet and shawl and let’s
get at this world-beating game.”
Dolly ran away for her wraps with a light heart. What a _dear_ Bert was,
to be sure!
Trudy helped her on with her pretty party cape, and adjusted a chiffon
scarf over the curly head. Then she kissed her good-bye, and the brother
and sister started forth. They stopped next door for the Roses, and all
went to the Forbes house together.
They were the first arrivals, which suited Dolly’s plans.
The house looked very beautiful, decorated as it was with flowers and
palms. In the music room they could hear a harp and violin being tuned,
and then Bernice herself came smiling, to greet them, arrayed in a
stunning gown of gold-coloured crêpe, embroidered with poppies.
It was over elaborate for so young a girl, but it suited Bernice’s dark
hair and clear, olive skin.
Mr. Forbes stood by, pleasant and amiable, but with a natural stiffness
of manner, which he found it hard to overcome. Mrs. Forbes had been dead
for many years, and Bernice had had little, if any company, so that Mr.
Forbes had drawn more and more into himself, and had become a sort of
hermit. But this evening, he tried to be sociable, even jovial, and he
succeeded fairly well.
The two lived alone, save for a small army of servants. It was Mr.
Forbes’ theory that an American girl is capable of looking after
herself, and he desired no governess or companion for his daughter.
So Bernice had grown up, with no other mentor than her own sweet will,
for her father never interfered or advised in household matters. There
was a housekeeper, but she merely ordered the kitchen department, and
had no supervision over Bernice.
The party would have been far more elaborate, had Bernice had her own
way. But Dolly, not wanting her protégée to be criticised by the mothers
of the Berwick young people, had persuaded her to keep it simpler in
details than she wanted to.
“What’s the use of having plenty of money if you don’t spend it?”
Bernice had demanded.
And Dolly had not attempted to answer her, but had merely reminded her
that she had promised to do her part to reach their mutual goal, and
that to abide by Dolly’s decisions would favour their cause.
So there were only three pieces of music instead of a full orchestra.
Only a simple, though fine and bountiful supper, instead of the gorgeous
repast Bernice would have preferred. And only a proper amount of floral
decoration, instead of a city florist’s extreme effort.
But the house looked lovely, and the dining-room, as Dolly flew out to
snatch a glance at it, was tastefully arranged.
“Awfully good of you, Mr. Forbes,” said Dolly, smiling at the rather
bewildered-looking man, “to let us have this pleasure.”
“Not at all, not at all,” said the railroad magnate, rubbing his hands.
“Might just as well have had more. More music, more people, more
fal-lals. I said to Bernie, ‘If you’re doing it, why not do it up
brown?’ But she said—”
“She said, ‘This _is_ brown,’” said Dolly, laughing. “And it is, Mr.
Forbes. You know yourself, Bernie is too young for a real live ball, and
that’s what it would be, if she had it much more grand than this. How
beautiful your house is,” and Dolly looked around admiringly.
“Glad you think so. Hasn’t been re-decorated or fixed up since my wife
died. Guess I’ll have to furbish it up a little if Bernie is going to be
in gay society.”
“She surely is. You can’t keep such a pretty girl all to yourself
always, Mr. Forbes.”
“No, I s’pose not—I s’pose not. Well, I want her to enjoy herself.
She’s like her mother. Her mother was a great one for gaiety. Run along,
now, Miss Dolly, and join your young friends. You mustn’t be wasting
time on an old man like me.”
Dolly smiled at him, and then went over to the group already forming
around Bernice.
But she had a new bee in her bonnet. Nothing more nor less than to make
friends with Mr. Forbes himself, and if need be, plead with him for her
father’s stay in Berwick. Dolly’s was a single-minded nature. She had
set her heart and mind to this plan of hers and she bent everything
toward her aim. Buoyed up with hope, she came laughingly toward the
young people.
“Ah, there, Dolly Fayre,” sang out Tad Brown, “thought you had deserted
us.”
“No, indeed! I’m helping Bernice receive,—that’s why I spend my time
talking to her father,” and Dolly laughed whimsically.
Gay as a butterfly, she smiled and chatted with everybody, but also kept
a strict watch over her helpers in the game. Nor was she disappointed.
In a moment, she heard Bert and Bob both pleading with Bernice for the
first dance.
“You _must_ give it to me,” said Bert, “’cause I’m Dolly’s pet brother.”
“But I’m Dotty’s ditto,” urged Bob. “And besides, I’m a much better
dancer than Bert Fayre.”
“Then give it to me out of charity,” said Bert. “Have pity on a poor
hobble-de-hoy!”
Unaccustomed to this flattering style of conversation, Bernice blushed
with pleasure, and grew coquettish.
“Maybe I won’t give it to either of you,” she smiled. “Maybe it’s
already engaged.”
“Oh, say not so!” and Bert assumed a tragic pose. “But if it be, tell me
the miscreant who dares aspire, and let me at him!”
“Me too,” chimed in Bob. “Oh, surely, certainly me, too! Let us _both_
at him!”
The boys were so ridiculous that Bernice burst into laughter, and Mr.
Forbes drew nearer to see what it was all about. Others did too, and the
result was that Bernice was the centre of a jolly group.
She finally settled the matter by dividing the first dance and giving
half to each of her suppliants.
And each claimed two more dances later on; and others flocked around
asking Bernice for her dance card, until very shortly, her card was
filled, with several down for extras.
Bernice was supremely happy. Only a girl who has been a wall-flower
frequently, can appreciate the pleasure she felt in being besought for
dances.
Dolly was satisfied with the behaviour of her colleagues. Not only the
boys were doing their part nobly, but the girls were now and then
chatting cordially with Bernice, and acting as if she were one of them.
“All serene, Dolly?” asked Bob, as he came up to claim one of his dances
with her.
“Yes, indeed,” and Dolly’s eyes shone. “You’re a trump, Bob! I thank you
a thousand bushels.”
“Oh, it isn’t so hard. Bernie has improved a lot since last we met. She
isn’t nearly so pettish and stickery as she used to be. And she’s mighty
pretty, beside.”
“Yes, isn’t she! And that dress is stunning on her.”
“Rather grown-uppish, isn’t it? I like yours and Dot’s better. But I’m
not much on parties, anyhow. These dance affairs bore me stiff.”
“Why, I thought you liked them. A college boy ought to be crazy about
dances.”
“Oh, I s’pose they’re good enough, but I like better a rollicking
picnic, or something outdoorsy.”
“Silly! You can’t have picnics in winter!”
“Well, you can have outdoor sports. There ought to be skating to-morrow,
I think. It’s getting awfully cold.”
“I wish there would be, I love to skate.”
“So do I. If there is any to-morrow, will you go?”
“Will I! Well, I just guess I will!”
“But hold on. Say, Dolly, if we go skating, have we got to lug the
Bernice person along?”
“Bob, I’m ashamed of you! Just when I think I’ve got you well trained,
you act up like that! Why, of _course_ we have. She’s my chum; and what
you do for her, you do for me.”
“Oh, jiminetty! I do hate outsiders. You and Dot and Bert and Yours
Truly make such a jolly four. Why drag in others?”
“Got to be done. Now, don’t whine over it, just make up your mind to it.
Let’s make a skating party for to-morrow afternoon, of about eight, and
then afterward go back to Treasure House and make fudge or something
like that.”
“All right on the fudge. But instead of eight, say four.”
“No, sir! Eight it is, and _I’ll_ do the inviting!”
Dolly had found out that Bob’s bark was worse than his bite. He might
growl at the things she asked him to do, but he did them and did them
well. As for Bert, he was putting things through with a dash. He not
only danced with Bernice, but he sought her out between dances, and
joked and laughed as he passed her on the dancing floor, and many times
brought her to the attention of others in a way to win admiration for
her.
At supper time the “crowd” got together in a corner of the big
dining-room.
“_What_ a table!” exclaimed Tod Brown. “Oh, what a feast for the gods!”
“Make believe we’re little tin gods, and get us some of it,” suggested
Bert, who was seated by Bernice. “I daren’t leave my seat. It might be
snatched by a less worthy occupant. You do the foraging act, Tad,—and
get some little helpers.”
There were waiters, but the “crowd” often thought it preferable to have
some of their “own boys” secure viands for them.
So Tad and Clayton Rawlins and Lollie and Joe started, and soon returned
with what Joe called “the pick of the lot.”
“What gorgeous foods!” cried Dolly. “And I’m starving with hunger.”
“So’m I,” declared Grace. “May I have a tiny sandwich?”
“A tiny sandwich doesn’t seem to match Grace Rawlins!” chaffed Joe.
“Here’s a plateful, my girl!”
“None too many,” said Grace, good-naturedly. “Have some of mine,
Bernice?”
Almost beside herself with joy at being really in the crowd, Bernice
smiled and joked with the rest, and in their hearts most of them decided
she “wasn’t half-bad after all.”
Celia Ferris was not so willing as the others to accept Bernice as one
of them, and she stood a little aloof.
“I must go for Celia,” thought Dolly, as she looked the group over, and
found most of them acting in accordance with her orders.
So finding opportunity, she said to Celia, “Bernice makes a good
hostess, doesn’t she?”
“Good nothing!” exclaimed Celia, in a whisper. “What’s the matter with
everybody to rave over her, all of a sudden?”
“Well, I think she’s worth raving over,” Dolly defended. “Don’t you?”
“’Deed I don’t! And I, for one, won’t toady to her just ’cause she’s
rich and lives in a big house—”
“Oh, Celia,” and Dolly laughed outright; “how ridiculous! _Do_ you
s’pose, for a minute, that Bert and Bob are nice to Bernice for any such
reasons? You know better!”
“I don’t know as they are,—but you and Dotty Rose are.”
“No, we’re not. I like Bernice for far other reasons than that. And
you’d better, too, unless you want to be in the minority.”
And with this, Dolly turned on her heel and left the astonished Celia
with something to think about.