DOROTHY AS A COMFORTER
Roland Scott and Tom Jennings were on hand that evening, when the young
folks at The Cedars "put their heads together" for the selection of Mother
Goose characters.
Mrs. White "presided," and in the matter of reading rhymes and
impersonating the characters, it must be admitted the young gentlemen had
the advantage.
It was decided that the tableaux, or charades, would be presented "without
labels," and the audience would be permitted to guess what they stood for
in nursery lore.
"They won't need another guess on Dorothy's 'Bo Peep,'" said Tom. "That
crook is more famous in history than that of the original shepherds. 'Bo
Peep' is always a winner."
"I am sure," retaliated Dorothy, "they will know yours instantly. But it
is a pity we have to make them living pictures. You will hardly be able
to refrain from actually putting in your thumb if we provide one of
Norah's pies."
"And what a perfectly darling 'Little Jack Horner!'" added Tavia, for the
characters were being selected with a view to making them as ridiculous as
possible, and Tom would make a very funny "Jack Horner." Tom surveyed his
thumb in anticipation.
Roland and Tavia were assigned "Jack Spratt and His Wife." Roland could be
made up to look very lean, indeed, and Tavia was just stout enough to be
"practical for building purposes." Her face was of the broad, good-natured
type, and so her figure could readily be built up to correspond.
Nat insisted on being "Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater," and wanted to have
the privilege of selecting the pretty Eva Brownlie to put in the pumpkin
shell, "for," argued Nat, "that is the only way any fellow will ever be
able to keep the wily Eva."
The character of "Old King Cole" was assigned to Ned, with the
instructions that he should get his "fiddlers three."
"Also the pipe and bowl," insisted Nat; "and see to it that you don't take
my pipe or the 'bumper' I brought from the doings the other night. You
wouldn't carry one home yourself."
"I'll tell you a tableau hard to guess," suggested Dorothy. "'The Beggars
Coming to Town.' We could have half a dozen ragged people in that, and Nat
could bark behind the scenes."
"And we could have 'Mary, Mary, quite contrary,'" proposed Tavia. "Make
Lily Bently take that."
"Lily is a real sweet girl," spoke Mrs. White. "I hardly think she would
like such a character."
"She would make a dear 'Miss Muffet,'" said Dorothy, "and I'm sure Nat can
make up a wonderful spider--all strung by electrical wire, squirming
and--"
"Wiggling," added Tom. "That ought to make a hit."
And so they went on, selecting from the familiar rhymes and their
illustrations. There was some discussion as to just what this part of the
entertainment should be called. Living pictures seemed to the young folks
rather too ordinary, and it was finally decided to call it "Mother Goose
illustrated." A large frame was to be built, and Mrs. White offered to go
to town to procure what costumes could be found appropriate to assist the
young people's auxiliary.
In order to give a dozen illustrations the same persons had to impersonate
more than one character. When the last were being decided upon, Roland
took "Jack Be Nimble," and to show how well he understood the part he
jumped over the piano stool for the "candlestick." It was not a difficult
matter at all, but Roland landed wrong and strained his ankle painfully.
At first he pretended it was nothing, and tried to laugh it off, saying if
that was the only accident they encountered during the "show" they would
indeed be fortunate.
But a strained ankle has the faculty of getting more painful as the victim
begins to realize that something hurts. In about an hour it becomes almost
like a very bad toothache.
This was how it was with Roland, and on account of the trifling accident
the party was obliged to break up before all the arrangements had been
completed, and Tom had to assist Roland back to The Elms.
"How unfortunate!" sighed Mrs. White. "Do you think it will be very bad,
Ned?"
"Oh, nothing at all, mother," answered Ned. "We often do that at school,
and it is all gone in twenty-four hours."
"I do hope his will be," she added in concern.
"Don't let it worry you the least bit," continued Ned. "Roland will be
around for rehearsal as spry and as pretty as ever to-morrow evening."
From that time on "the play was the thing" at The Cedars, and, indeed, the
whole little village of North Birchland seemed deeply interested in the
affair to be held for the Hillside Hospital benefit. Naturally, there was
considerable rivalry when the parts were assigned, but Mrs. White, with
the other ladies on the board of managers, understood and expected this,
so they were ready to meet the objections of some and the requests of
others.
"We have decided upon these pictures," said Mrs. White at the first
rehearsal, "and if any one is unwilling to take the part assigned we must
simply look for substitutes."
Roland was there, as Ned had promised, "spry and as pretty as ever." He
appeared to "hang around Dorothy," but she was too busy to notice the
attention. Tavia, however, did not miss observing the young man's attempts
to attract Dorothy, and she also noted that the same matter seemed
distasteful to Ned.
Tom had a way of helping every one. He laughed with all the girls, and had
plenty of jollity left for the boys--he was considered an "all-around good
fellow." Naturally, Dorothy felt at ease with him, but Edith Brownlie made
no pretense of hiding her intentions--she wanted to be in a picture with
Tom.
Agnes Sinclair, considered the richest girl in Ferndale, proposed "doing a
picture" with Ned--"The Maiden All Forlorn!"
To this Ned readily agreed, with the result that the rehearsal of the part
caused no end of merriment. Agnes was a jolly girl, and showed a decided
preference for the White boys--those from Ferndale never appeared to
interest the wealthy Agnes.
When the rehearsal was finally over Dorothy was very tired, for she felt a
personal interest in the affair, as it was almost entirely in Mrs. White's
hands. The others had all congregated about Mrs. Brownlie's tea-table,
where that lady was dispensing the refreshing beverage, but Dorothy sank
down for a few moments in a secluded corner of the parlor where the
practice had been held.
Presently she thought she heard something stir near her, then she
distinctly heard a sob. Brushing aside the heavy portière, Dorothy found
little Mary Manning, her face hidden in her hands, and her whole slender
form shaking convulsively.
"What is the matter, Mary dear?" asked Dorothy, her arms instantly about
the little sufferer.
"Oh, I'm so unhappy!" sobbed Mary. "I wanted a part and nobody thought of
me."
It then occurred to Dorothy that surely enough no one had thought of Mary,
for from the time when the parts were given out until all the rehearsal
was over Mary had never once either been seen or heard from. She was poor,
not pretty, and not popular, but since she belonged to the auxiliary it
was certainly too bad to have overlooked her.
"Why, I guess no one saw you," faltered Dorothy. "You surely would have
been given a part had auntie seen you."
"Well, the girls looked--so queer at me," sobbed the miserable Mary. "I
felt I had to keep back. But I do know how to play. My own mother was a
real actress."
Dorothy looked down at the child in wonderment. Mary's mother an actress!
No one seemed to know who the child's mother was, as she had always lived
with the Mannings, an elderly couple.
"Well, we must give you a pretty part," promised Dorothy. "And I tell you,
just come over to The Cedars to-morrow and Aunt Winnie--Mrs. White--will
have it all made out for you. There, now, don't cry another tear. Come out
to the tea-room with me and forget all your troubles. No, your eyes are
not red. Come along," and she slipped her arm through that of little
Mary, while she led the child out to the party of gay young folks, there
to entertain her and bring to the queer little girl that sort of enjoyment
which often follows acute grief--a reaction as uncontrollable as had been
the bitterness which had caused the sorrow.