AN EMERGENCY CASE
"There's a special messenger," exclaimed Dorothy, with a little
flutter. "I hope there's nothing the matter--"
The boy with the bag strapped over his shoulder had dismounted from his
muddy bicycle, and was now at the door of the Cedar mansion.
Tavia slipped through the hedge after Dorothy. It seemed the message
must be from Dalton, somehow, and she too, like Dorothy, felt a trifle
agitated.
The maid had answered the ring, and now the boy was wandering along the
path, content that his time-mark allowed a few moments for such
recreation.
Mrs. White appeared on the piazza presently. Dorothy and Tavia were
within its portals, waiting to be summoned.
"My dear," began the hostess, "I have just received a message from
Major Dale. He wants you to come home--at once. He is called to
Rochester on important business, and as he says Mrs. Martin is not
well, so he cannot leave without having his little housekeeper in
charge of things--Dorothy, you are a real Dale, able at your age to
keep house."
"Aunt Libby sick," was Dorothy's first thought and exclamation.
"The Rochester case," declared Tavia. "That means the Burlock mystery
is going to be cleared up."
"The major did not, of course, hint at the nature of his business, but
I am really so sorry to lose you just now. And the boys at camp--they
will be painfully disappointed," said Mrs. White.
"We have had a perfectly splendid time," declared Dorothy, "and I am
sure we can hardly thank you for your--attention. You have so many
calls upon your time and you did all that shopping for us."
"My dear," and the aunt tilted Dorothy's chin to kiss it, "that was a
real dissipation. To shop for my own girls. Why, it made me feel like a
youngster, myself. And besides, I had orders from Dalton."
"Even so," insisted Dorothy, showing some surprise at the word
"orders." "It took a lot of time and it was such a warm day. But you
did a great deal more than that for us, Aunt Winnie, you must remember
how much I can do, too, and give me a chance some day, when you want a
rest."
"Bless the baby's heart! Hear her talk!" and the woman in the soft gray
robe threw her arms about Dorothy. "All the same, when my heart gets
unconquerably lonely for my daughter, I shall command her to come to
me."
Tavia was "standing afar off." Her burning cheeks grew more scarlet
every moment, and were plainly a matter of great embarrassment to her.
She did want to offer her thanks with those of Dorothy, but somehow,
her words were scorched when they reached her lips, and they "stuck
there."
"My dear," exclaimed Mrs. White, presently noticing Tavia's confusion.
"Have you been in poison ivy? Your cheeks show a poison!"
"Only mullen leaves," answered Tavia promptly, relieved to have made
the confession without further parleying.
"Mullen leaves," in a surprised voice, then adding quickly, "Oh, of
course, we all used to do that. You were painting to go out to camp,"
said Mrs. White.
"Tavia was going to help play a joke on Rosabel," interrupted Dorothy,
anxious to make the matter as light as possible, and help Tavia with
her honesty.
"Why, that would be too bad," said Mrs. White, "Poor Rosabel has
trouble with her skin. It is always flaming red, and it seems almost
impossible to cool down the sudden flashes. It is caused by a nervous
condition."
Tavia dropped her eyes. What if Dorothy had not spoken against the
joke, and if they had really gone to camp?
"Your train leaves shortly after lunch," continued Mrs. White, "so you
had better be getting ready. I am sorry the boys are not here to see
you off, but I will drive you over myself and see that you are safely
en route for Dalton. I almost wish I were going myself. It seems an age
since I have seen the dear major."
"Oh, do come!" exclaimed Dorothy joyously, "Wouldn't it be splendid."
"If I only could, my dear, but I cannot this time. I will surprise you
some day. Then I will see whether you or Tavia is the better
housekeeper."
"Please do not surprise me," begged Tavia, "although I should be so
very glad to see you--give me notice, so that you may be able to get
in. Whenever I take to sweeping and bar up the doors with furniture my
Sunday school teacher calls."
"I always was considered a good player at hopscotch," joked Mrs. White,
"so you need not worry about that, Tavia, dear."
The dress suit cases were to be packed. They had been full enough
coming, but it was soon found impossible to get all the new things in
them for the journey back. Tavia discovered this first, and called it
in to Dorothy's room.
"I can't get my things in either," answered Dorothy back, through the
summer draperies that divided the apartments. "We will have to send a
box."
This seemed a real luxury to the girls--to come home with an express
box.
Mrs. White had given Dorothy a fine bracelet as a good-bye present, and
to Tavia a small gold heart and dainty gold chain.
Tavia could not speak she was so surprised and pleased at first.
Dorothy had a locket and chain, but Tavia had hardly ever expected to
own such a costly trinket. The maid had brought the gifts up. Mrs.
White was busy dressing.
"I'll have to hug her," declared Tavia, kissing the heart set with a
garnet.
"Just do," agreed Dorothy, "she would be so pleased."
Down the stairs flew Tavia. Lightly she touched the mahogany paneled
door at Mrs. White's boudoir.
"Come," answered the pleasant voice.
"I came to thank you," faltered Tavia, glancing with misgivings at the
handsome bared arms and throat before the gilt framed mirror.
"For your heart?" and Mrs. White smiled so kindly.
"Yes," said Tavia simply, and the next moment she had both arms around
that beautiful neck.
The woman held the girl to her breast for a moment. Tavia's heart was
beating wildly.
"My dear," said Mrs. White, "I do hope you have enjoyed yourself," and
she kissed her again. "But you must promise me not to paint with mullen
leaves any more. Sometimes such jokes lead to habits--one looks pale
you know when the blaze dies away."
Tavia felt as if her blaze never would die away. Why had she been so
foolish? She would have given anything now to rub those horrid, prickly
leaves off forever.
"I never will paint--" she stammered.
"I hope you will not, dear, you should be grateful for such coloring as
you have. But let me warn you in all kindness. It is usually pretty
girls who make such mistakes--they want to be more and more attractive
and so spoil it all. Think right, and of pleasant things, and the glory
of happiness will be all the cosmetic you will ever need," and again
she pressed her own white cheek to the burning face of the girl she
still held in her arms.
Later, when Tavia was thinking it all over, she pondered seriously upon
those words. No one had ever spoken to her just that way before--at
home it was taken for granted she knew so much more than those around
her, that such counsel as she needed was withheld. Alas, how many girls
lose valuable advice by appearing to be over-smart for their years! And
then the awakening is always doubly sad. So it was with this mistake of
Tavia's, trivial enough, yet for her--it appeared like a crime to have
put those mullen leaves to her cheeks; to be thought vain; to have Mrs.
White warn her about other girls!
It seemed a very short time indeed, from the arrival of the special
message at the Cedars until the train was speeding back toward Dalton.
And the journey had lost all its novelty, for Dorothy and Tavia were so
intent upon the possible happenings when they should reach home, that
the wait, even on a flying train, seemed tiresome.
"Do you suppose," ventured Tavia, as she laid her book down, after a
number of unsuccessful efforts to become interested in the story, "they
have captured that Anderson?"
"I am sure I cannot guess," answered Dorothy, "but I feel certain it is
about that affair that we are called home in such a hurry. I wish I
could soon keep the promise I made to poor Mr. Burlock. I said I would
some day find his daughter Nellie, and it does seem the detectives have
been a long time in finding any tangible clew. Father hired two of the
best he could get to trace the child--that was her mother who died, the
one you told me of, you know. I did not talk about it because father
thought it was best to say nothing that might possibly give Anderson a
hint that they were on his track."
"And have they tracked him?" asked Tavia.
"Yes, they know he left Mr. Burlock in Rochester. He cashed a check
there that Mr. Burlock gave him for what the poor man thought would be
a possible clew to little Nellie's whereabouts, and to think that the
disappointment killed the disheartened father!"
"Well, I only hope they have him now," said Tavia, "I would like to
have another chance at his--hat."
Then the conversation drifted back to North Birchland. Both girls
looked much benefited by their visit, and even Tavia's short hair and
unnatural red cheeks did not detract from the noticeable improvement.
Dorothy's face had rounded some too, and the Lake air had given a
ruddiness to her naturally delicate tinting, that was most becoming to
her as a summer girl.
"I never saw such nice boys," remarked Tavia, "I think, after all, it
takes money to polish people."
"Not at all," insisted Dorothy. "It is not money but good breeding.
There are plenty of poor persons who are just as polished as you call
it. Father often told us about a family he visited when he was abroad.
They were so poor in clothes--pathetically shabby, and yet they went in
the very best society. Father used to make us laugh by his funny
descriptions of the ladies at dinners. At the same affairs would be
Thomas Carlyle, and just think, these poor people--he was a parson,
lived on the very ground that was once part of the garden of Sir Thomas
Moore. Father saw the famous mulberry trees there, that so much has
been written about. I hope I may be able to go there some time--we have
relatives in England."
"I would not care to travel," said Tavia impatiently. "This seems a
long enough trip for me."
"Only two more stops," said Dorothy as the train rattled past the
stations. "Oh, I shall be so glad to see them all."
"And lonesome for the Cedars after you have seen them all," Tavia
hinted. "That's the worst of it, home is always with us--"
"Get your hat box down," Dorothy interrupted. "We are slackening up
now."
"Dalton! Dalton!" called the brakeman at the door, and the next minute
the girls were being kissed heartily by Joe, Roger and Johnnie, "the
committee on arrival," as Tavia said. The lads were fully qualified to
carry off the honors in the way of boxes and small bundles.
"How is Aunt Libby?" asked Dorothy as soon as she could say anything
relevant.
"Better," said Joe, "but father does not feel well--you are not to
worry--" seeing how her face clouded, "he is only tired out. He has
been working at the office and writing so many letters--"
"That I should have written. Poor dear father! I hope he is not going
to have another spell," and Dorothy sighed.
"No, the doctor said he would be all right if he would only stay quiet,
but he is about as quiet as my squirrel in its new cage," said Joe.
"Home again," called Dorothy, waving her hand to the major who now
appeared on the piazza. "Here we are, bag and baggage," and then it
seemed all the "pain of separation" was made up for in that loving
embrace--the major had the Little Captain in his arms again.