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The Bluebird Books
Mary Louise At Dorfield
[Illustration: “A pretty snug place,” said Felix.]
Mary Louise At Dorfield
By
Edith Van Dyne
Author of
“Mary Louise,” “Mary Louise in the Country,” “Mary
Louise Solves a Mystery,” “Mary Louise and
the Liberty Girls,” “Mary Louise
Adopts a Soldier.”
Frontispiece by
Maude Martin Evers
[Illustration]
The Reilly & Lee Co.
Chicago
Copyright, 1920
by
The Reilly & Lee Co.
All Rights Reserved
_Made in U. S. A._
_Mary Louise at Dorfield_
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I THE SEWING BEE 7
II A ROSE AND A SONG 19
III MATRON OF HONOR 29
IV JOSIE O’GORMAN 36
V THE WRIGHT FAMILY 49
VI THE HIGGLEDY-PIGGLEDY SHOP 58
VII THE CAPTAIN OF HER SOUL 70
VIII THE ORCHID BROOCH 84
IX THE BOOK OF CRIMINALS 96
X CHIEF CHARLEY LONSDALE 106
XI A SKELETON KEY 115
XII BILLY MAKES A CALL 123
XIII BUSINESS COMING ON 132
XIV ANOTHER CLUE 144
XV SIMPKINS & MARKLE 157
XVI A DINNER PARTY 169
XVII ANOTHER VISIT TO THE CHIEF 179
XVIII BOB DULANEY RETURNS THE NOTEBOOK 187
XIX THE WEDDING 195
XX THE RIDE TO SOMERVILLE 205
XXI THE SURPRISING STRENGTH OF AUNTIE 215
Mary Louise At Dorfield
CHAPTER I
THE SEWING BEE
Dorfield was trying to settle down into its prewar quiet, but no matter
how conservative and sleepy a town has been, when once it is shaken
up with war activities it finds it difficult to go to sleep again. It
may pull the bedclothes over its head and bury its ears in the downy
pillows of memories of what it used to be but the echoes of marching
troops, shouting crowds, martial music, newsboys crying extras, powder
mills and so forth will reach it no matter how soft the pillows or
thick the bedclothes.
The girls of Dorfield found it more difficult to settle down than
anybody else. Fathers had always been busy, so had mothers. The
returning soldiers had dropped into their old places and were at work
almost as though there had been no amazing interlude of A. E. F. Only
the girls seemed to be left out of the scheme of things. Many of them
kept on working, although before the war the idea of making a living
had been undreamed. The girls who, for purely patriotic reasons, had
taken positions left empty by enlisted men, were loath to go back to
the old state of dependence now that the men had returned.
“I am tired of being an unproductive consumer and I don’t intend to
stand it any longer,” declared Elizabeth Wright.
“What are you going to do about it?” asked Lucile Neal.
“Do! I’m going to get a good job and hold it. I did the work in the
bank just as well as Price Middleton, although I got only about half
as much pay for it. I can type better than he can and write a business
letter all around him. When he came back from the war, I stepped out as
gracefully as you please and gave up my job. Nobody seems to be much
worried about my future, that is, nobody but me, but I’ve been thinking
a lot about what is going to become of me, not only because of money
but because I am simply bored to death at the prospect of having no
regular occupation.”
“I feel that way too,” said Laura Hilton. “I do wish Dorfield wasn’t
so poky about its girls. Father says young women ought to stay at home
and preserve fruit, unless it is necessary for the family finances that
they should go out and work.”
“Always for the good of the family where the girl is concerned!”
exclaimed Elizabeth, “and never the good of the girl! Suppose there
isn’t any fruit! Suppose there is no sugar to preserve with! Suppose
the beloved family is not fond of jam! Suppose there are more girls in
the household than there are paring knives! Suppose one’s mother is so
capable and industrious that there is no work left for the girls to do!
Suppose a million things!”
The group of girls gathered on Colonel Hathaway’s porch laughed at
the vehemence of Elizabeth Wright’s harangue. Elizabeth had always
been different from the rest of her family, who were old-fashioned and
conservative in their ideas. She was one of five sisters. The other
four were quite content to live the life of “unproductive consumers” on
the not very large income which was derived from an estate inherited
by their father. Mr. Wright’s sole occupation consisted in writing
letters demanding catalogues of rare books. These he pored over from
morning until night. Sometimes, enticed by the extreme rarity and
desirability of a book, he would decide he must have it in his fine
collection but he usually took so long to decide and put off so long
writing his order that, in nine cases out of ten, the desired book was
sold before he sent for it.
Mrs. Wright was one of those thoroughly practical souls who glory in
their activity and efficiency. She did everything so easily that she
had never seen the necessity of teaching her daughters to do anything.
“They will learn soon enough!” she always declared. “Nobody taught me!
They will marry and then they will learn.”
Elizabeth always winced when her mother announced so confidently that
her daughters would marry. Perhaps they would but, on the other hand,
perhaps they wouldn’t. She for one was sure she would not. Certainly it
was not her aim in life as it seemed to be of her sisters. Marriage was
all right if it was built on true love, as she was sure this marriage
of Mary Louise’s was to be. In her heart of hearts Elizabeth wanted to
write but she thought she had not lived long enough to have anything to
write about.
Dear Mary Louise Burrows! How happy she looked with her friends
gathered around her on her grandfather’s piazza! That piazza was a
favorite place for the girls to assemble and now that Mary Louise was
so soon to marry Danny Dexter it was almost a daily occurrence for
them to meet there. Irene MacFarlane was there in her wheel chair,
her countenance as calm and peaceful as ever, while her busy fingers
embroidered a wonderfully dainty bit of lingerie for her friend’s
trousseau. Alora Jones was there, not looking much happier than she had
formerly, although her three millions had been almost doubled in the
last few years, thanks to the war activities that wealth had indulged
in. Poor Alora found it difficult to let herself go. Her wealth made
her suspicious. Because she had been imposed upon once, she was ever
looking out for similar experiences. She was happier with this band of
friends, tried and true, than with anybody else in the world. Certainly
they wanted nothing from her but friendship and that her shy heart was
eager to give. Her artist father encouraged her in seeking out these
wholesome, normal girls, hoping through them his daughter would begin
to value life for what it was worth.
“We are cursed with money, Alora,” he would say, “but for Heaven’s
sake, let’s forget it. In the meantime we must give and give!”
Pretty Laura Hilton was there, as small and bird-like as ever. By
her sat Lucile Neal, who had inherited an executive ability from her
father, the owner of the Neal Automobile Factory, and whose clear
judgment was ever in demand when Mary Louise and her friends had any
project on foot. Edna Barlow, the only poor girl in the group, was in
the hammock with Jane Donovan, the daughter of Dorfield’s mayor.
All of the girls were sewing on Mary Louise’s trousseau. It was Irene’s
idea that they should meet together in this way and busy themselves
with this labor of love.
“To return to jobs,” said Elizabeth. “I’m going to find out what pays
best and learn how to do it and then bust loose from my family. If they
don’t like it, they can lump it. I want a latchkey and a bank account
of my own. As it is, if I’m not in the house at a certain time, there
is a hue and cry and father begins on what young ladies did in his day
and Gertrude and Annabel look shocked and Pauline and Margaret say they
would never be guilty of such unladylike behavior and they all agree
that men don’t like independent girls and I’ll never get a suspicion of
a beau if I don’t mend my ways--as though I wanted one if I’d have to
make myself over to get him!”
“And what does your mother say?” laughed Mary Louise.
“Oh, Mother doesn’t say anything. She is always so busy she doesn’t
even know I’m not there. With two servants in the house Mother still
manages never to be idle one moment in the day. She is always baking
and brewing, sewing and dusting, cleaning out closets or bureau
drawers, airing beds, rubbing furniture, cleaning silver, doing a
million and one things that the maids could do just as well as she.
The truth of the matter is Mother should have had a profession outside
of being a wife and mother. She has too much energy and efficiency to
waste on a mere home.”
“But a mere home is the greatest thing in the world,” said Mary Louise,
softly.
“Oh, yes, it is a good enough place, but it can be pretty uncomfortable
with somebody always making you move to sweep under you. Why, my mother
could run a big hotel and still have time to spare to keep the church
sewing circle going.”
“She must be very unselfish,” said Laura Hilton, whose own mother was
noted for being the best dressed and most frivolous woman in Dorfield,
though very charming and kind-hearted withal.
“Oh, I don’t know about that!” answered Elizabeth. “She is never so
happy as when she is bustling around doing for people. She would let
all of us girls sleep all day and then cook breakfast herself and bring
it up to us and have the time of her life doing it. I think it would be
a great deal more unselfish if she would let us help and expend some of
her energy on making us be a little more efficient instead of being so
perfect herself.”
“Have you decided yet, Mary Louise, where and when you will be
married?” asked Irene, gently changing the subject. Irene had the
faculty of turning the conversation into smoother channels when
she saw breakers ahead. Criticism of one’s mother and home was not
conducive to smooth sailing for the ship of conversation.
“About decided,” blushed Mary Louise. “Danny and I think it would be
nice to be married right here at home with only our intimate friends
present. We haven’t any relations to speak of, neither one of us. Danny
has his Uncle Jim O’Hara and I have Grandpa Jim--a Jim apiece and
that is all. We have lots of intimate friends, though, when we begin
to count up. Of course Danny wants to ask every man in his regiment
besides all the friends he has made at the Neal Automobile Factory.”
“Father and the boys say he is the most popular man in the works in the
short time he has been with them,” said Lucile.
Mary Louise blushed again. She was frankly delighted at the praise
bestowed upon her fiancé. Danny’s popularity was very delightful to
the girl and indeed it spoke very well for Danny Dexter that Dorfield
was receiving him with open arms. He had come to the town unknown,
poor, friendless except for the men in his regiment who one and all
pronounced him a trump. All of his worldly possessions he could get
in his army kit. But on his battle scarred face was a smile that
was worth more than silver and gold and when he had won, right under
the noses of a host of admirers, the love of the prettiest and most
attractive girl in town, the rejected and dejected suitors of Mary
Louise Burrows bore him no grudge but were willing to come dance at his
wedding.
“Here comes Mrs. Markle!” exclaimed Mary Louise. “She has been so kind
to me and Mr. Markle is perfectly dear to Danny. Both of them are so
charming that we appreciate their seeing anything in us worth knowing.”
“Pooh!” cried Elizabeth Wright. “Everybody thinks you and Danny are
worth knowing. The Markles aren’t so much of a muchness.”
“Oh, but they are lovely! Don’t you think so, Irene?” asked Mary Louise.
“I don’t know them very well,” responded Irene. “If you like them so
much they must be worth knowing, however.”
Mary Louise looked at her friend, astonishment expressed in her
countenance. That did not sound like Irene MacFarlane. What faint
praise she gave the Markles! And her voice sounded so cold. What could
be the matter? Could she be jealous of these new friends? Hardly that!
Of course, Irene had been her first and only friend when Mary Louise
came to Dorfield and stayed with Irene’s uncle, Mr. Peter Conant and
his wife, dear Aunt Hannah. But since then she, Mary Louise, had made
acquaintance with almost everybody in town and it would take all her
fingers and toes to count her intimate girl friends. Irene had never
shown jealousy before but had been as eager to enlarge her acquaintance
as Mary Louise herself. Poor Irene was lame and had spent the whole of
her life either on her back or in the wheel chair. She had an intense
interest in humanity in general and girls in particular. Her friendship
with Mary Louise had opened up a new life for the poor girl, bringing
her more and more in touch with the outside world. But why this
coldness where the Markles were concerned?
Nobody could deny that the Markles were a delightful couple. Mrs.
Markle was a woman of about thirty, while her husband was nearer
fifty but he seemed to be as fond of young people as his wife. They
were strangers in Dorfield, having settled there since the war, but
already they had taken a place in the society of the town and were
looked upon as agreeable additions to the four hundred of Dorfield.
Mr. Markle was engaged in the real estate business, which seemed to be
thriving. To be sure, they lived in a small apartment, but it was in
one of the best houses in town and, while they were not classed with
the reckless spenders, they entertained frequently and in lavish style.
The soft Persian rugs and exquisite paintings and etchings filled their
apartment with harmony and beauty. There were cabinets of rare and
wonderful curios, bookcases of first editions and carved furniture that
looked as though it belonged in museums, so wonderful was it in design
and finish.