CHOOSING THE GUESTS
Those who must go went quickly. By trains and boats, the various
guests who had gathered at Deerhurst to welcome Dorothy's home-coming
had departed, and at nightfall the great house seemed strangely empty
and deserted. Even Ma Babcock had relinquished her post as temporary
housekeeper and had hurried across the river to nurse a seriously ill
neighbor.
"I may be back tomorrer and I may not be back till the day after
never! I declare I'm all of a fluster, what with Mis' Calvert goin'
away sort of leavin' me in charge--though them old colored folks o'
her'n didn't like that none too well!--and me havin' to turn my back
on duty this way. But sickness don't wait for time nor tide and
typhoid's got to be tended mighty sharp; and I couldn't nohow refuse
to go to one Mis' Judge Satterlee's nieces, she that's been as
friendly with me as if I was a regular 'ristocratic like herself. No,
when a body's earned a repitation for fetchin' folks through typhoid
you got to live up to it. Sorry, Dolly C.; but I'll stow the girls,
Barry and Clarry and the rest, 'round amongst the neighbors
somewhere, 'fore I start. As for you, Alfy----"
"Oh, Mrs. Babcock! Don't take Alfy away! Please, please don't!" cried
Dorothy, fairly clutching at the matron's flying skirts, already
disappearing through the doorway.
Mrs. Babcock switched herself free and answered through the opening:
"All right. Alfy can do as she likes. She can go down help tend store
to Liza Jane's, t'other village, where she's been asked to go more'n
once, or finish her visit to you. Ary one suits me so long as you
don't let nor hender me no more."
Not all of this reply was distinct, for it was finished on the floor
above, whither the energetic farm-wife had sped to "pack her duds";
but enough was heard to set Alfaretta skipping around the room in an
ecstasy of delight, exclaiming:
"I'm to be to the House Party! Oh! I'm to be to the Party!"
But this little episode had been by daylight, and now the dusk had
fallen. The great parlors were shut and dark. Prudent old Ephraim had
declared:
"I ain't gwine see my Miss Betty's substance wasted, now she's outer
de way he'se'f. One lamp in de hall's ernuf fo' seein' an' doan' none
yo chillen's go foolin' to ast mo'."
So the long halls were dim and full of shadows; the wind had risen and
howled about the windows, which were being carefully shuttered by the
servants against the coming storm which Dinah prophesied would prove
the "ekernoctial" and a "turr'ble one"; and to banish the loneliness
which now tormented her, Dorothy proposed:
"Let's go into the library. There's a fine fire on the hearth and the
big lamp is stationary. Ephraim can't find fault with us for using
that. We'll make out a list of the folks to ask. You, Alfy, shall do
the writing, you do write such a fine, big hand. Come on, Molly girl!
I'm so glad you begged to stay behind your Auntie Lu. Aren't you?"
"Ye-es, I reckon so!" answered the little Southerner, with
unflattering hesitation. "But it's mighty lonesome in this big house
without her and West Point's just--just heavenly!"
"Any place would be 'heavenly' to you, Molly Breckenridge, that was
full of boys!" retorted Dolly. "But don't fancy you'd be allowed to
see any of those cadets even if you were there. Beg pardon, girlie, I
don't want to be cross, but how can I have a decent party if you don't
help? Besides, there's Monty and Jim left. They ought to count for
something."
"Count for mighty little, seems if, the way they sneak off by
themselves and leave us alone. Gentlemen, _Southern_ gentlemen,
wouldn't act that way!"
"Oh, sillies! What's the use of spoiling a splendid time? It's just
like a cow givin' a pailful of milk then turnin' round and kickin' it
over!" cried good-natured Alfy, throwing an arm around each girl's
shoulders and playfully forcing her into the cheery library and into a
great, soft chair. Of course, they all laughed and hugged one another
and acknowledged that they had been "sillies" indeed; and a moment
later three girlish heads were bending together above the roomy table,
whereon was set such wonderful writing materials as fairly dazzled
Alfaretta's eyes. So impressed was she that she exclaimed as if to
herself:
"After all, I guess I won't be a trained nurse nor a opera singer.
I'll be a writin' woman and have just such pens and things as these."
"Oh, Alfy, you funny dear! You change your mind just as often as I
used to!"
"Don't you change it no more, then, Dorothy C.?" demanded the other,
quickly.
"No. I don't think I shall ever change it again. I shall do everything
the best I can, my music and lessons and all that, but it'll be just
for one thing. I lay awake last night wondering how best I could prove
grateful for all that's come to me and I reckon I've found out, and
it's so--so simple, too."
"Ha! Let's hear this fine and simple thing, darling Dolly Doodles, and
maybe we'll both follow your illustrious example!" cried Molly,
smiling.
"To--to make everybody I know as--as happy as I can;" answered the
other slowly.
"Huh! That's nothing! And you can begin right now, on ME!" declared
Miss Alfaretta Babcock, with emphasis.
"How?"
"Help me to tell who's to be invited."
"All right. Head the list with Alfaretta Babcock."
"Cor-rect! I've got her down already. Next?"
"Molly Breckenridge."
"Good enough. Down she goes. Wait till I get her wrote before you say
any more."
They waited while Alfy laboriously inscribed the name and finished
with the exclamation:
"That's the crookedest back-name I ever wrote."
"You acted as if it hurt you, girlie! You wriggled your tongue like
they do in the funny pictures;" teased Molly, but the writer paid no
heed.
"Next?"
"Dorothy Calvert."
"So far so good. But them three's all girls. To a party there ought to
be as many boys. That's the way we did to our last winter's school
treat," declared Alfaretta.
"Well, there's Jim Barlow. He's a boy."
"He's no _party_ kind of a boy," objected Molly, "and he's only--_us_.
She hasn't anybody down that isn't us, so far. We few can't make a
whole party."
But Dolly and Alfy were wholly serious.
"Montmorency Vavasour-Stark," suggested the former, and the writer
essayed that formidable name. Then she threw down the pen in dismay,
exclaiming:
"You'll have to indite that yourself or spell it out to me letter by
letter. He'll take more'n a whole line if I write him to match the
others."
"Oh! he doesn't take up much room, he's so little," reassured idle
Molly, with a mischievous glance toward the doorway which the other
girls did not observe; while by dint of considerable assistance Alfy
"got him down" and "all on one line!" as she triumphantly remarked.
"That's two boys and three girls. Who's your next boy?"
"Melvin Cook. He's easy to write," said Dolly.
"But he's gone."
"Yes, Alfy, but he can come back. They'll all have to 'come' except we
who don't have to."
A giggle from behind the portieres commented upon this remark and
speeding to part them Dolly revealed the hiding figures of their two
boy house-mates.
"That's not nice of young gentlemen, to peep and listen," remarked
Molly, severely; "but since you've done it, come and take your
punishment. You'll have to help. James Barlow, you are appointed the
committee of 'ways and means.' I haven't an idea what that 'means,'
but I know they always have such a committee."
"What 'they,' Miss Molly?"
"I don't know, Mister Barlow, but you're--it."
"Monty, you'll furnish the entertainment," she continued.
The recipient of this honor bowed profoundly, then lifted his head
with a sudden interest as Dorothy suggested the next name:
"Molly Martin."
Even Alfy looked up in surprise. "Do you mean it, Dorothy C.?"
"Surely. After her put Jane Potter."
James was listening now and inquired:
"What you raking up old times for, Dorothy? Inviting them south-siders
that made such a lot of trouble when you lived 'up-mounting' afore
your folks leased their farm?"
"Whose 'Party' is this?" asked the young hostess, calmly, yet with a
twinkle in her eye.
"All of our'n," answered Alfaretta, complacently.
"How many girls now, Alfy?" questioned Molly, who longed to suggest
some of her schoolmates but didn't like a similar reproof to that
which fell so harmlessly from Alfaretta's mind.
"Five," said the secretary, counting upon her fingers. "Me, and you,
and her, and----five. Correct."
"Mabel Bruce."
"Who's she? I never heard of her," wondered Molly, while Jim answered:
"She's a girl 'way down in Baltimore. Why, Dorothy C., you know she
can't come here!"
"Why not? Listen, all of you. This is to be _my_ House Party. It's to
be the very nicest ever was. One that everyone who is in it will
never, never forget. My darling Aunt Betty gave me permission to ask
anybody I chose and to do anything I wanted. She said I had learned
some of the lessons of poverty and now I had to begin the harder ones
of having more money than most girls have. She said that I mustn't
feel badly if the money brought me enemies and some folks got
envious."
Here, all unseen by the speaker, honest Alfaretta winced and put her
hand to her face; but she quickly dropped it, to listen more closely.
"Mabel was a dear friend even when I was that 'squalling baby' Alfy
wrote about. I am to telegraph for her and to send her a telegraphic
order for her expenses, though Aunt Betty wasn't sure _that_ would be
acceptable to Mr. and Mrs. Bruce. To prevent any misunderstanding on
that point, you are to make the telegram real long and explicit. I
reckon that's what it means to be that committee Molly named. She'll
make six girls and that's enough. Six boys--how many yet Alfy?"
"Three. Them two that are and the one that isn't."
"Mike Martin."
Both Jim and Alfy exclaimed in mutual protest:
"Why Dorothy! That fellow? you must be crazy."
"No, indeed! I'm the sanest one here. That boy is doing the noblest
work anybody ever did on this dear old mountain; he's making and
keeping the peace between south-side and north-side."
"How do you know, Dorothy?" asked Jim, seriously.
"No matter how I know but I do know. Why, I wouldn't leave him out of
my Party for anything. I'd almost rather be out of it myself!"
Then both he and Alfaretta remembered that winter day on the mountain
when Dorothy had been the means of saving Mike Martin from an
accidental death and the quiet conference afterward of the two, in
that inner room of the old forge under the Great Balm Tree. Probably
something had happened then and there to make Dolly so sure of Mike's
worthiness. But she was already passing on to "next," nodding toward
Alfy, with the words:
"The two Smith boys, Littlejohn and Danny."
Jim Barlow laughed but did not object. The sons of farmer Smith were
jolly lads and deserved a good time, once in their hard-worked lives;
yet he did stare when Dorothy concluded her list of lads with the
name:
"Frazer Moore."
"You don't know him very well, Dolly girl. Beside that, he'll make an
odd number. He's the seventh----"
"Son of the seventh son--fact!" interrupted Alfaretta; "and now we'll
have to find another girl to match him."
"I've found the girl, Dolly, but she won't match. Helena Montaigne
came up on the train by which your Father John left for the north. You
could hardly leave her out from your House Party, or from givin' her
the bid to it, any way."
"Helena home? Oh! I am so glad, I am so glad! Of course, she'll get
the 'bid'; I'll take it to her myself the first thing to-morrow
morning. But you didn't mention Herbert. Hasn't he come, too?"
James Barlow nodded assent but grudgingly. He had never in his heart
quite forgiven Herbert Montaigne for their difference in life; as if
it were the fault of the one that he had been born the son of the
wealthy owner of The Towers and of the other that he was a penniless
almshouse child. Second thoughts, however, always brought nobler
feeling into the honest heart of Jim and a flush of shame rose to his
face as he forced himself to answer.
"Yes, course. The hull fambly's here."
Dorothy checked the teasing words which rose to her lips, for when
ambitious Jim relapsed so hopelessly into incorrect speech it was a
sign that he was deeply moved; and it was a relief to see Alfaretta
once more diligently count upon her fingers and to hear her declare:
"We'll never'll get this here list straight and even, never in this
endurin' world. First there's a girl too many and now there's a girl
too short!"
"Never mind; we'll make them come out even some way, and I'll find
another girl. I don't know who, yet, and we mustn't ask any more or
there'll be no places for them to sleep. Now we've settled the guests
let's settle the time. We'll have to put it off two or three days, to
let them get here. I wish your cousin Tom Hungerford could be asked to
join us but I don't suppose he could come," said Dolly to her friend
Molly.
"No, he couldn't. It was the greatest favor his getting off just for
those few hours. A boy might as well be in prison as at West Point!"
"What? At that 'heavenly' place? Let's see. This is Wednesday night.
Saturday would be a nice time to begin the Party, don't you all
think?"
"Fine. Week-end ones always do begin on Saturday but the trouble is
they break up on Monday after;" answered Molly.
"Then ours is to be a double week-ender. Aunt Betty said 'invite them
for a week.' That's seven days, and now Master Stark comes your task.
As a committee of entertainment you are to provide some new, some
different, fun for us every single one of those seven days; and it
must be something out of the common. I long, I just long to have my
home-finding House Party so perfectly beautiful that nobody in it will
ever, ever forget it!"
Looking into her glowing face the few who were gathered about her
inwardly echoed her wish, and each, in his or her own way, resolved to
aid in making it as "perfect" as their young hostess desired.
Monty heaved a prodigious sigh.
"You've given me the biggest task, Dolly Doodles! When a fellow's
brain is no better than mine----"
"Nonsense, Montmorency Vavasour-Stark! You know in your little insides
that you're ''nigh tickled to death' as Alfy would say. Aren't you the
one who always plans the entertainments--the social ones--at your
school, Brentnor Hall? You're as proud as Punch this minute, and you
know it, sir. Don't pretend otherwise!" reproved Molly, severely.
"Yes, but--that was different. I had money then. I hadn't announced my
decision to be independent of my father and he--he hadn't taken me too
literally at my word;" and with a whimsical expression the lad emptied
his pockets of the small sums they contained and spread the amount on
the table. "There it is, all of it, Lady of the Manor, at your
service! Getting up entertainments is a costly thing, but--as far as
it goes, I'll try my level best!"
They all laughed and Dorothy merrily heaped the coins again before
him.
"You forget, and so I have to remind you, that this is to be _my_
Party! I don't ask you to spend your money but just your brains in
this affair."
"Huh! Dorothy! I'm afraid they won't go much further than the cash!"
he returned, but nobody paid attention to this remark, they were so
closely watching Dorothy. She had opened a little leather bag which
lay upon the table and now drew from it a roll of bills. Crisp bank
notes, ten of them, and each of value ten dollars.
"Whew! Where did you get all that, Dorothy Calvert?" demanded Jim
Barlow, almost sternly. To him the money seemed a fortune, and that
his old companion of the truck-farm must still be as poor in purse as
he.
She was nearly as grave as he, as she spread the notes out one by one
in the place where Monty had displayed his meager sum.
"My Great-Aunt Betty gave them to me. It is her wish that I should use
this money for the pleasure of my friends. She says that it is a first
portion of my own personal inheritance, and that if I need more----"
"More!" they fairly gasped; for ten times ten is a hundred, and a
hundred dollars--Ah! What might not be done with a whole one hundred
dollars?
"'Twould be wicked," began James, in an awestruck tone, but was not
allowed to finish, for practical Alfaretta, her big eyes fairly
glittering, was rapidly counting upon her fingers and trying to do
that rather difficult "example" of "how many times will seven go into
one hundred and how much over?" "Seven into ten, once and three; seven
into thirty--Ouch!"
Her computation came to a sudden end. The storm had broken, all
unnoticed till then, and a mighty crash as if the whole house were
falling sent them startled to their feet.