APPLE BLOSSOM MAGIC
Two long, dreary days had passed. Dorothy was well again, but, acting
upon the advice of Miss Ellis, she remained away from school, to grow
strong and take a little rest in the fresh air; to be out of doors as
much as possible, the teacher said.
Alice had been to see Dorothy, and had assured her that "every thing
was all right," even the misconduct of Alice in "talking back" had been
forgiven, the girl herself declared.
But there was no explanation offered as to the accident to Sarah Ford.
That was still a mystery to the school girls. Neither had Tavia
returned to Dalton. She was visiting her aunt in Rochester Mrs. Travers
announced.
Major Dale was at his office again, and the boys were not yet home from
school, although the dismissal hour had passed.
There was a rush through the vines at the side of the porch--the next
moment Tavia had Dorothy in her arms.
"You poor dear!" she exclaimed between her kisses. "To think that you
have been sick all alone--without me!"
Dorothy leaned back in her chair--happy.
Tavia was not so much larger or older than she, but just at that moment
she came like one all powerful; Tavia had such a way of being and doing.
"And all on my account," went on Tavia. "I declare you have gotten
thin," and she spanned the bare wrist of Dorothy lovingly. "You never
wrote, of course, as I asked you to."
The lost note! Perhaps other important matters had been overlooked in
its disappearance.
"Is Sarah able to play leap-frog yet?" went on Tavia facetiously. "I
hear Squire Sanders has been inquiring for me--just me, Tavia Travers.
Ahem! Also my goodness me! Sakes alive! If I had only known the worthy
squire wished to hold converse with this--me, you know, I certainly
should have postponed my vacation. Who knows what I have missed?"
Dorothy's face showed how pleased she was; it was so good to hear Tavia
rattle on that way. As Ralph Willoby had said, her heart was right, and
so she made few mistakes where love could be counted on as her guide.
Tavia was stroking Dorothy's head affectionately. The two girls sat on
the rustic bench, Dorothy with her head resting upon the other's
shoulder.
"I made a discovery in Rochester," said Tavia, when she had exhausted
every possible point, covering the sickness of her friend, the fainting
in school and all that preceded and followed that occurrence. "Yes, I
found out that a woman there, who did washing for my aunt, is named
Burlock, and that she has been deserted by her husband--"
"Has she a daughter?" interrupted Dorothy.
"I don't know about that. Aunt Mary said she was such a strange woman,
all the time moving, and no one ever could find out just where her
rooms were. The way one had to do, to get her to do washing, was to
apply to the Charity Bureau."
"But the Bureau must have her address," said Dorothy much interested in
the story.
"Well, Aunt Mary said they could not keep track of her either. They
know she is a good honest woman, who seems always to be in some
trouble--looking for her husband, of course. I made up my mind that the
man she is looking for is your friend Miles. Have you seen him lately?"
"No," replied Dorothy, thoughtfully.
"And I've got more news," went on Tavia, "Miss Ellis has planned a
picnic for Monday. She is going to take our class to Glen Haven Falls.
Do get strong and come, if you don't go I will not."
"Oh, I am sure I will be all right by that time," answered Dorothy, "in
fact I am well now. I am only staying out of school because Miss Ellis
thought it best. I wonder, Tavia, how we could ever think her unfair.
She is the nicest woman--why, when she called she brought me jelly, and
one of her splendid roses that she prizes so much. I felt almost guilty
to have spoken of her, as I did, about the procession on Memorial Day."
"Well, she has not brought me jelly or roses yet," replied Tavia, "and
I hardly think she would, even had I the good fortune to be sick in
bed. Yes, I mean it! I would like to see what would happen if I took
sick. But no danger. Aunt Mary said she would rather feed two men than
give me what I call enough. It is not really enough, you know, but I
call it that," and she stretched out on the bench to show how
"deliciously lazy" common health makes a girl.
"You certainly do your appetite justice," said Dorothy laughing. "Aunt
Libby says it's one thing to eat, and another thing to make your eating
'tell.' Now, you make your food--"
"'Tell.' Certainly I do, and make it 'tell' out loud too. I weigh--how
much do you think?"
"About ninety?"
"One hundred and five," declared the girl. "I wish you could go away
for a week. I am sure you would pick up and get the peaches back in
your cheeks."
"We will go away in vacation time," replied Dorothy. "This month will
not be long going around."
"Now I must run back home. I have not had a chance to tell mother a bit
of news. You know it was the luckiest thing, ma wanted me to go to
Rochester, and when the fuss came all I had to do was clear out. Ma had
been waiting for me to get a new dress and she was so tickled when I
said I would go in my old one. You see, Dorothy, Aunt Mary gives us
lots of things, and no one had been out this spring. Nannie, that's my
cousin, is just a little larger than I am, and oh, you should see the
scrumbunctious dress I am going to wear to the picnic! It is
perfectly--glorious!" and Tavia wheeled around on her toe, threatening
her boasted one hundred and five pounds avoirdupois with disaster.
With a promise to be back again in the evening Tavia left Dorothy and
hurried across the fields to her home.
"Things seem to be straightening out," thought Dorothy. "Every thing is
all right at school, Tavia is back, now if Sarah would only tell--I
have a good mind to run over to see her."
It was a warm afternoon and Dorothy had no need to bother with wraps.
Aunt Libby was at the side porch so that in passing Dorothy called to
her she would be back in a short time, then she crossed through the
orchard, going under the very tree in the shade of which Sarah had been
found suffering. Dorothy stopped and looked up into the branches. They
were very low, some of them, so low that in fruit time girls could pick
the apples without climbing for them.
The blossoms were almost gone. Small sprays lay faded on the grass
where careless hands had scattered them.
Somehow, it seemed to Dorothy that the tree knew all about the
accident; if trees could only talk, she thought. Then, picking up a
spray of the freshest blossoms, she hurried on.
To Dorothy's surprise Mrs. Ford was very cordial in her welcome.
Dorothy had feared the mother of the injured girl might not be so
pleased to see her.
"Walk right in," said Mrs. Ford, opening the door. "I am sure it will
do Sarah good to talk with you. She is so lonesome and talks in her
sleep about the girls," and she led the way to her daughter's room.
The girl was now sitting up; her injured foot rested on a cushioned
chair, while her face still showed signs of suffering.
"Sarah, dear," began Dorothy with an affectionate embrace, "I am so
glad to see you up."
"Are you?" asked the other mechanically.
"Yes, indeed," ignoring her cold manner, "we have been so worried about
you."
"We? Who?" and Sarah toyed nervously with the coverlet that was thrown
over her knees.
"Why all of us; the girls at school. We hope you will soon be able to
come back."
"I will never go back. I have had all I want of Dalton School," and
Sarah tossed her head defiantly.
"Here is a spray of apple blossoms. I brought them from the orchard.
They are so sweet," said Dorothy, "I thought they might make you think
you were out of doors, when you shut your eyes and smell of them."
She offered the spray to Sarah, but the girl made no sign of accepting
it. Dorothy was disappointed. She did not mind the sick girl being
fretful, but she had not expected her to be rude.
A rather awkward silence followed. Dorothy had determined if possible,
to reach the heart of this queer girl, but her best efforts seemed
unsuccessful.
"Well, I had better go," said Dorothy at length, still holding the
blossoms in her hand, and standing beside Sarah's chair.
She turned to leave.
"Good-bye," she said. "I hope you will be better soon."
But Sarah caught her dress. "Oh, Dorothy, do not leave me," she wailed.
"I am so miserable, so unhappy! Throw the apple blossoms out of the
window and come back to me. I need someone! Oh, I feel as if I shall
die, all alone here!"
Sobs choked her words, and she seemed struggling for breath.
"Shall I call your mother?" Dorothy asked anxiously.
"No! no!" cried the sick girl. "I only want you. Dorothy Dale help
me--you must help me or I shall die," and again Sarah broke into
hysterical sobbing.
"What is it, Sarah dear?" pleaded Dorothy. "Tell me how I can help
you," and she bent down closer to the weeping girl.
"Oh, I do not know. I have--Oh, Dorothy have you ever tried to injure
another?"
"Why, no, dear, and I am sure you have not, either."
"Oh, but I have indeed! I can not bear the pain any longer. I must tell
someone--you. You will know how to help me."
A very sad face looked up into Dorothy's. The brown eyes that had
always been thought so proud and haughty were now "begging" for help,
for pity, and for counsel.
"Tell me about it," said Dorothy, taking a trembling white hand in her
own, which was scarcely more steady.
"Did--they--arrest Tavia?" asked Sarah, the words seeming to choke her
in their utterance.
"Why, no. Of course they did not," Dorothy replied. "I just left Tavia
a half hour ago, and she was as light hearted and happy as ever I have
seen her. That little trouble at school did not last long."
"Oh, I am so glad!" exclaimed Sarah. "The thought of it has
just--haunted me!"
"About the accident?" asked Dorothy, trying to help Sarah unburden her
mind.
"Yes. I really did not mean to do so wrong. But when I found you were
all gone, and I tried to jump--"
"Yes, of course it was very wrong of Tavia to send you up so high just
as the bell was going to ring," and Dorothy pressed the other's hand
encouragingly.
"Then when I saw my white dress, all black from the ashes, I ran away!"
"Now do not excite yourself, dear," cautioned Dorothy, for she saw how
Sarah's face had flushed, and did not like to hear her raise her voice
so.
"No, it will not hurt me. The pain of it has been killing me ever
since, but now it will go--with my confession!"
"Hush!" whispered Dorothy, "your mother is in the hall."
"Poor mother!" answered Sarah. "She has tried every way to help me, but
I could not tell her. It seemed so terrible!"
"But how did you hurt your ankle?" asked Dorothy bluntly.
"I fell out--of--the--tree! I did not mean to do it. I was up there
hiding from those who passed in the lane, and all at once the awful
thought came to me that I could slip and blame it on Tavia. But I did
not mean to do it that way. Oh, Dorothy, how dreadfully I have been
punished!" and the sick girl fell to weeping again.
"Never mind dear. We all do wrong sometimes--"
"No, Dorothy Dale, you never do. I have been jealous of your love for
Tavia. I have loved you from the first moment I saw you--that day
helping a poor drunken man to his feet. I said then I would make you
love me, but see how I have failed. You will hate me now."
"No, Sarah dear. You are better and nobler this minute than any other
girl in Dalton, for no other likely, has had to make the heroic effort
to do right that you have been obliged to go through with. You know the
joy there is over one lost lamb when it is returned to the fold?"
Sarah leaned back, and looked up full into Dorothy's face.
"I knew you would know just what to say to me;" she whispered. "Dorothy
Dale you are--an--angel," and the big, brown eyes sent out such a look
of love, admiration and, at last--happiness.
"It all seemed worse to you, thinking of it here, alone, with no one to
say a word to you," continued Dorothy, consolingly. "And then of
course, your father was angry. That only showed how fond he is of you."
"Yes. It seems every thing helps one to do wrong. I really never
accused Tavia of doing it, only that time when we came in, and then I
was so sick and frightened, I had no idea, then, that father would take
it all in earnest. But he rushed right off, and when I heard Squire
Sanders had been at the school--oh, Dorothy how can I tell you how I
felt!"
"But it is all over now," spoke Dorothy soothingly, "and I will take
care that every girl in school knows the greatest part of the trouble
came from a mistake."
"But I can never go back to that school again--"
"Why, of course you can. I have to make an explanation myself when I go
back. You know how hasty Alice is; well she got herself in trouble on
my account, and I feel I must say something about it. I was too sick
then to know just what to say. So, now that Tavia is back, she will
have to give an excuse. Then I can say how the whole trouble was more
of a mistake, than anything else, and how we were all really somewhat
to blame; perhaps one as much as another."