CHAPTER VII
TAVIA'S DANGER
"Whatever can that girl mean?" exclaimed Dorothy, when Alice and Viola had passed down the walk.
"Mean! The meanest thing I ever met! Did you see her refuse my hand?" asked Tavia. "Well, it's a good thing to be able to size up a girl like that at the first meeting; it saves complications. But who cares for green violets? What I want to know is, are you really going away, Doro?" and the look on Tavia's face could not be mistaken. She would be dreadfully grieved if compelled to part with Dorothy's companionship.
"Aunt Winnie thinks I should go, and father has decided it is best. Of course I shall hate to leave you, Tavia," and Dorothy wound her arm affectionately around her friend. "In fact I shall never, never, find any girl to take your place in my heart," and something very like tears came into Dorothy's voice.
"I knew it! I just knew you would go away when you got that hateful Indian money. And what in the world will I ever do in Dalton? Now I have learned how much pleasure I could have, visiting your friends and riding in automobiles, and then, just when I get to realizing what a good time we could have, you up and leave me! I might have know better than to go out of my own limits!" and here Tavia actually burst into tears, a most remarkable thing for her to do.
"I am so sorry," said Dorothy with a sigh, putting her arm around the weeping girl.
"There! What a goose I am! Of course I would not have done differently if I could do it all over again. The good times we have had are the most precious spots in all my life. And, Doro dear, you did not drag me out of my shell – I was always running after you for that matter, so you need not think the loneliness will be any fault of yours – except that you are such a dreadfully dear girl that no one could help loving you. You really should try to curb that fault."
Tavia had dried her tears. She was that sort of girl who is both too proud and too brave to show "the white feather" as she often expressed the failing of giving away to emotion that might distress others.
"I do wish you could go along," said Dorothy.
"Well, I don't believe I would really like to go, Doro," Tavia surprised her by saying. "I should probably get into all kinds of scrapes with that Green Violet, and the scrapes would likely make it unpleasant for you. Besides I have been thinking I ought to go to work. I am old enough to do something – fifteen next month you know – and I would just like to get right out into the world – go with the tide."
"Tavia!" exclaimed Dorothy in alarm, for these rash sentiments had of late been strangely common with Tavia. "You do not know what you are talking about. Go with the tide – "
"Yes, I just mean take my chances with other girls. I had a letter from a girl in Rochester the other day. She had got work and she is no older than I am."
"At what?" asked Dorothy.
"On the stage. She is going to take part in some chorus work – "
"Tavia, dear!" cried Dorothy. "You must not get letters from such girls. On the stage! Why, that is the most dangerous work any girl could possibly get into."
"Now, Doro, I have not got the place, worse luck. And you must not take on so just because I happened to mention the matter. But you must realize there is a vast difference between poor girls like me, and those of your station in life!"
What had come over Tavia lately? Why did she so dwell upon the difference between Dorothy's means and her own? Was it a natural pride or a peculiar unrest – that unrest, perhaps, that so often leads others, who are older, stronger and wiser than Tavia Travers, into paths not the most elevating? And then they may urge the excuse that the world had been hard on them; that they could not find their place in life, when in reality they scorn to take the place offered them, and instead of trying for a better or higher mark they deliberately refuse the prospects held out, and turn backward – then they blame the world!
This condition is called "Social Unrest," and Tavia Travers, though young and inexperienced, was having a taste of its bitter moral poison.
"Promise me you will never write another letter to that girl," begged Dorothy, solemnly. "I know your father would not permit it Tavia, and I know such influence is dangerous."
"Why the idea! You should have read her letter, Doro. She says the killingest things – But mercy, I must go. I have to go to the Green before tea," and, with a reassuring kiss, Tavia darted off.
Dorothy looked after her friend as she skipped down the path, and a sense of dread, of strange misgivings, took possession of her. What if Tavia should actually run away as she had often threatened in jest! Then Dorothy remembered how well Tavia danced, how she had practiced the "stage fall" after seeing the play in Rochester, and how little Johnnie Travers had barely escaped the falling ceiling that came down with Tavia's attempt at tragedy. Then, too, Dorothy thought of the day Tavia had painted her cheeks with mullin leaves and how Dorothy then remarked in alarm: "Tavia, you look like an actress!"
How strangely bright Tavia's eyes seemed that day! How wonderfully pretty her short bronze locks fell against her unnaturally red cheeks! All this now flashed through Dorothy's dazed brain.
How could she leave Tavia? And yet she would so soon have to go away – to that far-off school —
And that strange girl who had come with Alice. What could she have meant by those horrid insinuations about Dorothy so "suddenly making up her mind" to go to boarding school; and that it would be "too bad to leave Tavia alone in Dalton just then!" as if everyone did not know by this time just what had happened on the auto ride, and that Ned had actually been offered the reward for the capture of Anderson. Not only this but her two cousins, Ned and Nat, had received public praise for brave conduct, and the two girls, whose names were not mentioned (Major Dale had asked the reporter to omit them if possible from the report), were also spoken of as having taken part in the capture, inasmuch as they allowed Anderson to remain quietly in the car until the young owners of the machine arrived upon the scene.
Dorothy sat there thinking it all over. It was almost dusk and on the little vine-clad porch the shadows of the honey-suckle shifted idly from Dorothy's chair to the block of sunshine that was trying so bravely to keep the lonely girl company – every other ray of sunlight had vanished, but that gleam seemed to stay with Dorothy. She did not fail to observe this, as she always noticed every kindness shown her, and she considered the "ray of light" as being very significant in the present rather gloomy situation.
"But I must not mope," Dorothy told herself presently. "I simply must talk the whole thing over with Aunt Winnie."
How much better for Tavia it would have been had she too determined to "talk the whole thing over" with someone of experience?
Dorothy found her aunt busy writing the boarding school letters, and when that task had been finished Mrs. White was entirely at the girl's service. Dorothy tried to unfold to her the situation, without putting unnecessary blame on Tavia, who was such a jolly girl and so absolutely free from dread – never had been known to be afraid of anything, Dorothy declared, and of course there was therefore, all the more reason to be worried about her risks. To Tavia, a risk was synonymous with sport.
"I had no idea she would be interested in that sort of thing," said Mrs. White, referring to the matter of going on the stage, "and, perhaps, Dorothy – "
"But I am not at all sure that she is interested in it, auntie," Dorothy interrupted. "I am only afraid she may get more letters from that girl – And besides, I will be so lonely without her, and I know she will miss me."
"Well, there, little girl," and the aunt kissed Dorothy's cheek, "you take things too seriously. We will see what can be done. I, too, like Tavia, She is an impulsive girl, but as good as gold, and I will always be interested in her welfare."
"Thank you, auntie dear. You are so kind and so generous. It would seem enough to be bothered with me, but to give you further trouble with my friends – "
"Nonsense, my dear, it is no trouble whatever. I heartily enjoy having your confidences, and you may rest assured very little harm will come to the girl who chooses a wise woman for her adviser. And I do hope, Dorothy, I am wise in girls' ways if not in points of law, as your dear father always contends."
"And auntie," went on Dorothy, rather timidly, "I want to tell you something else, Alice MacAllister brought a girl to visit me this afternoon, and she said such strange things about yesterday's accidents. She was positively disagreeable."
"You are too sensitive, child. Of course people will say strange things every time they get a chance – some people. But you must not bother your pretty head about such gossip. When you do what is right, good people will always think well of you and, after all, their opinion is all that we really care for, isn't it?"
"But why should she be so rude? She is a perfect stranger to me?"
"Some girls think it smart to be rude, Dorothy. What did she say that troubled you so?"
"That's precisely it, auntie, no one could repeat her remarks. They were merely insinuations and depended upon the entire conversation for their meaning."
"Insinuations? Perhaps that you had been arrested for stealing melons?" and the aunt laughed at the idea. "Well, my dear, I believe it will be well for you to be away from all this country gossip."
"But Viola Green goes to Glenwood School!" declared Dorothy.
"No! Really? Who is she?"
"A friend of Alice MacAllister, from Dunham. I was so surprised when she said she went to Glenwood."
"But, my dear, what will that matter? There are many girls at Glenwood. All you will have to do is to choose wisely in selecting your friends from among them."
"If Tavia were only with me I would not need other friends," demurred Dorothy.
"Does she want to go?" asked Mrs. White suddenly.
"I believe she does, but she denies it. I think she does that because she does not want me to bother about her. She is such a generous girl, auntie, and dislikes any one fussing over her."
"There's a step on the porch," and both listened. "Yes," continued Mrs. White, "that's Tavia looking for you. Run down to her and I will speak with both of you before she leaves."
CHAPTER VIII
AN INVERTED JOKE
"Dorothy! Dorothy!" called Tavia. "Come here just a minute. I want to speak to you."
"Won't you come in?" asked Dorothy, making her way to the side porch.
"No, I can't, really. But I couldn't wait to tell you. I know what the Green Violet meant by her mean remarks. And it's too killing. I am just dead laughing over it."
"I'm glad it's funny," said Dorothy.
"The funniest ever," continued Tavia. "You know when we got out of the wagon Miss Green was standing a little way off from Alice. That dude, Tom Burbank, was with her (they say she always manages to get a beau), and she was watching us alight – you know how she can watch: like a cat. Well, Tom asked Nat what was the matter, and if he had been speeding. Everybody seemed to know we had gone off in the auto, for which blessing I am duly grateful. I don't often get a ride – "
"Tavia, will you tell me the story?" asked Dorothy with some impatience.
"Coming to it! Coming to it, my dear, but I never knew you to be so keen on a common, everyday story before," answered Tavia, with provoking delay.
"The remarks?"
"Oh, yes, as I was saying, Tom asked Nat were we speeding. And Nat said no. Then, looking down at his farmer clothes, he added: 'Not speeding, just melons.' And the dude believed him, – the goose! Then Viola took it all in and she too thinks we were arrested for stealing muskmelons."
The idea seemed so absurd to Tavia that she went off into a new set of laughs, knotted together with groans – she had laughed so long that the process became actually painful.
"Who told you?" asked Dorothy, as soon as Tavia had quieted herself sufficiently to hear anything.
"May Egner. She stood by and heard the whole thing. But you must not mention it to Alice," cautioned Tavia, "for she didn't hear it, and I just want the Green Violet to think it is true, every word. It's a positive charity to give that girl something definitely mean to think about. I can see her mental picture of you and Nat and myself standing in a police court pleading 'Guilty' to being caught in a melon patch. Wish we had thought of it: there were plenty along that road, and I have not tasted a fresh muskmelon since I stole the last one from the old Garrabrant place. Ummm! but that was good!"
"Well, I am glad it is no worse," remarked Dorothy. "I had a suspicion she was trying to insinuate something like that. And the idea of her not believing that Nat was my cousin!"
"Oh, yes, and that was more of it," went on Tavia. "Tom asked Nat if I was his cousin and he said yes. Wasn't Nat funny to tease so? But who could blame him? I wish I had a chance to get my say in, I would have given Greenie a story! Not only melons, but a whole farm for mine!"
"Lucky you were otherwise engaged then. I noticed you had your hands full answering the questions of that crowd of small boys," remarked Dorothy, smiling at the remembrance of Tavia's struggle with the curious ones.
"But, Doro, are you really going away?" and Tavia's voice assumed a very different tone – it was mournful indeed.
"Yes, I think it is quite decided. I would not mind it so much if you were coming."
"Me? Poor me! No boarding school for my share. They do not run in our family," and she sighed.
"But perhaps your fairy godmother might help you," went on Dorothy. "She has granted your wishes before."
"Yes, and I promised her that time I would never trouble her again. There is a limit, you know, even to fairy godmothers."
At that moment Mrs. White appeared on the porch.
"What was that I heard about godmothers?" she asked. "You know, Dorothy, I hold that sacred position towards you, and you must not let any one malign the title," she said, laughingly.
"Oh, this was the fairy kind," replied Dorothy. "Tavia was just saying she had promised to let hers off without further requests after the last was granted."
"When Doro goes away to school," interrupted Tavia, "I shall either become a nun or – "
"Go with her! How would that do?" asked Mrs. White, convinced that the parting of Dorothy and Tavia would mean a direct loss for both.
"If I worked this year and earned the money to go next? Or do they consider the wage-earning class debarred from boarding school society?" asked Tavia.
Again the sentiment Tavia had expressed to Dorothy: the difference in the classes. This was becoming a habit to Tavia, the habit of almost sneering at those who appeared better off than herself. And yet, as Mrs. White scrutinized her, she felt it was not a sentiment in any way allied to jealousy, but rather regret, or the sense of loss that the lot of Tavia Travers had been cast in a different mold to that of Dorothy Dale. It had to do entirely with Tavia's love for Dorothy.
"Now, my dear," began Mrs. White, addressing Tavia, "you really must not speak that way. You know there is a class of people, too prominent nowadays, who believe that the rights of others should be their rights. That there should be no distinction in the ownership of property – "
"Gloriotious!" exclaimed Tavia. "Do you suppose they would let me in their club?"
"I'll tell you, girls," said Mrs. White. "Squire Travers is going to call here this evening by appointment. And if you are both very, very good little girls, perhaps I will have some very important news to give you in the morning."
At this both Tavia and Dorothy "took steps," Tavia doing some original dance while Dorothy was content to join in the swing that her partner so violently insisted upon taking at every turn.
Mrs. White laughed merrily at seeing the girls dance there in the honeysuckle-lined porch, and she was now more positive than ever that their companionship should not be broken.
"All hands around!" called Tavia, at which invitation the stately society lady could not refrain from joining in the dance herself, and she went around and around until it was Dorothy who first had to give in and beg to be let out of the ring.
"Oh!" sighed Mrs. White, quite exhausted, "that is the best real dance I have had in years – quite like our dear old German."
"They call it the Virginia Reel in Dalton," said Tavia, not meaning to deprecate the value of the society dance mentioned.
"Yes, and that is the correct name, too," agreed Mrs. White, "for almost all the good figures of the German were taken from the old time country dance. But I am warm! I must go in at once or I may check this perspiration too quickly. Dorothy, don't walk too far with Tavia," she remarked, as both girls prepared to leave the porch, "I have some little things to talk over before tea."
"Only to the turn," replied Dorothy, with her arm wound lovingly around Tavia, "I just want to finish about something very important."
"She must go with Dorothy," said Mrs. White to herself, watching the two girls make their way through the soft autumn twilight.
CHAPTER IX
COMMITTEE OF ARRANGEMENTS
"Isn't it too delicious," exclaimed Tavia, excitedly.
"Delightful," answered Dorothy. "I hope hereafter you will never doubt the goodness of your fairy godmother."
"Or that of my fairy godsister," added Tavia.
"And Aunt Winnie is to do all your shopping. Your mother asked her to get everything you will need. The money you received from the railroad company for the loss of your hair in the accident has been put aside by your father for your education. So you cannot longer boast of that romantic poverty you have been holding over my poor, innocent head," and Dorothy gave her friend a "knowing squeeze," that kind of embrace that only girl friends understand fully.
"I can scarcely realize it," pondered Tavia, "not to have you leave me here all alone! Why, Doro, I could not sleep nights, worrying about what would become of me in this hamlet without you."
"And I was equally tortured with worries about what would become of me, when I could not tell you all my troubles. Especially when I thought of having to – "
"Fight the Green Violet alone! I don't blame you. But I am just dying to know what use she will make of the muskmelon story. I met Alice yesterday and she felt dreadfully about the way Viola acted. She is coming over to apologize to you as soon as she can do so without carting the vegetable along. Pity they did not name her cucumber instead of violet – the green would match her better. I am going to call her 'Cuke' hereafter! Short for cucumber, you know."
"Oh, that would be unkind," objected Dorothy.
"Unkind nothing," replied the impulsive one. "I wish I could think of a good rhyme for her new name. I would pass it around – "
"Now, Tavia, you must not keep me worrying about the mischievous things you intend to do at Glenwood. Remember that is one of the stipulations – you are to be very, very good."
"I feel a sore spot under my shoulder blade now," declared Tavia, putting her hand back. "Wings as sure as you live, just feel!"
"But do you realize it, we have only this week? We must be in Glenwood next Monday."
"All the better. I cannot wait. Won't it be too gloriotious?" and Tavia again indulged in "steps," her favorite outlet for pent-up sentiment.
"The boys are coming over to-morrow afternoon," announced Dorothy, "I had a note from Ned this morning."
"Goody," exclaimed Tavia, coming to a full stop with a twirl that stood for the pedal period. "Another ride?"
"No, I'm afraid not. Ned said he and Nat were going to spend the afternoon with us."
"Well, it will be fun anyway. It always is when the boys get jollying. I am afraid I do love boys – next to you, Doro, I think a real nice boy is the very nicest human possible."
"Next to me? On the other side you mean?"
"No, on the second side, the boy is on the outside of the argument. You are always first, Doro."
Meanwhile the news, that Dorothy and Tavia were to leave Dalton for a school in New England, had spread among their former school companions. Alice MacAllister, Sarah Ford, May Egner and a number of others had held a little consultation over the matter and decided that some sort of testimonial should be arranged to give their friends a parting acknowledgment of the regard and esteem in which Dalton school girls held Tavia Travers and Dorothy Dale. Of course Tavia was never as popular as Dorothy had always been – she was too antagonistic, and insisted upon having too much fun at the expense of others. But, now that she was leaving them, the girls admitted she had been a "jolly good fellow," and they would surely miss her mischief if nothing more.
May Egner wanted the committee of arrangements to make the affair a "Linen Shower" such as brides are given.
"Because," argued the practical May, "it will be so nice to have a lovely lot of handkerchiefs and collars. No one can have too many."
"Well, we can include the shower if you like," said Alice, who was chairman, "but I vote for a lawn party, with boys invited."
"A lawn party with boys!" chorused the majority, in enthusiastic approval.
"I think it would be a charity to let the Dalton boys come to something," declared Sarah Ford. "If we leave them out all the time, by and by, when we want someone to take us home on a dark night – "
"When you stay chinning too long with Roberta," interrupted a girl who knew Sarah's weakness for "dragging along the way."
"Well, you may be out in the dark some time yourself, Nettie, and it is very nice to have – "
"A very nice boy – "
"Order! Order!" called the chairman. "We have voted to invite them and – "
"It's up to them," persisted Nettie Niles, who, next to Tavia Travers, had the reputation and privilege of using more slang than any other well-bred girl in Dalton.
"It is to be a lawn party then," declared the chairman, with befitting dignity. "And we have only one day to arrange the whole thing."
"I'll collect the boys," volunteered the irrepressible Nettie.
"Then you are appointed a committee of one to invite all the nice boys in the first class," said Alice, much to the surprise of the joker.
"And not any other?" pouted Nettie. "If I should run across a real nice little fellow, with light curly hair, and pale pink cheeks, and – and – "
"New tennis suit," suggested someone, who had seen Nettie walking home with a boy of the tennis-suit description.
"Oh, yes," agreed the chairman, "I forgot to include Charlie. He is not now at Dalton school, but of course, Nettie, you may invite Charlie."
"Thanks," said Nettie, determined not to be abashed by the teasing.
"We will have cake and lemonade," proposed May Egner.
"I'm glad I only have to bring boys," said Nettie aside, "I couldn't bake a cake to save me."
"And I'll bring a whole pan of fresh taffy," volunteered Sarah.
"Put me down for two dozen lemons," offered May Egner, who seemed to think the entire success of a lawn party depended upon the refreshing lemonade.
"Where shall we have it?" asked Alice.
The girls glanced around at the splendid lawn upon which the little meeting was being held. It was the MacAllister place, and had the reputation of being well-kept besides affording a recreation ground for the family – the secret of the combination lay in the extent of the grounds: they might be walked upon, but were never trampled upon. Mr. MacAllister made it a rule that games should be kept to their restricted provinces, as the tennis court and croquet grounds: other games should never be indulged in on the range close to the house or near the paths. "Plenty of room to play tag in the orchard," he would tell the children, and this plan kept the place in an enviable condition.
"The schoolyard is awfully dry and dusty," remarked Nettie in answer to the question of a site for the party.
"You are welcome to come here," said Alice, modestly.
"Oh, that would be splendid!" declared May, whereat all the others voiced similar sentiments.
It was promptly decided that the invitation to hold the affair on the MacAllister grounds should be accepted with thanks, and as there remained not many hours of the day to attend to arrangements, as the next afternoon would bring them to the test, the girls hastily scattered to begin their respective duties in the matter.
Viola Green was present at the meeting. Alice had told her of its purpose, and as only a few days remained of the time allotted Viola to remain at Dalton, Alice was not sorry when her visitor pleaded another engagement.
That engagement consisted of a promise to walk through the Green with Tom Burbank – he, too, was a stranger in Dalton, spending a week of his holiday with the Bennet family.
Viola could boast of a well-filled trunk of stylish clothes, and in no other place, of the many she had visited during her vacation, had this wardrobe shown to such advantage as in Dalton. Even the attractive linens that Alice was invariably gowned in (except on Sundays, when she wore a simple summer silk), seemed of "back date" compared with the showy dresses Viola exhibited. They were stylish in that acceptance of the term that made them popular, but were not distinctive, and would probably be entirely out of date by the following summer.
On this particular afternoon Viola wore a deep blue crepe with shaded ribbons, a dress, according to the feminine ethics of Dalton, "fit for a party."
Tom Burbank sported white flannels, a very good summer suit indeed, but a little out of the ordinary in Dalton. It was not to be wondered at, then, that the appearance of these two strangers attracted some attention on the Green. Neither could it be doubted that such attention was flattering to Viola, a stylishly dressed girl often enjoys being credited with her efforts.
"Wasn't that the greatest," Tom was drawling to Viola, "about those folks riding in the police wagon."
"Disgraceful, I should say," replied Viola, emphatically.
"And the fellow in the – farmer's duds. Wasn't he a sight?" and the young man chuckled at the thought of Nat in the overalls and jumper.
"And those two girls are going to Glenwood – the boarding school I attend!" and Viola's lip curled in hauteur.
"The dickens they are! I – beg your pardon, but I was so surprised," said Tom.
"I don't blame you. I was equally surprised myself. In fact, I guess everyone was – they made up their minds so suddenly. I suppose – " Then Viola stopped.
"Well, what do you suppose?"
"Perhaps I shouldn't say it – "
"Why not? Can't you trust me?"
"Oh, it wasn't that. But it might seem unkind."
"Nonsense," and the young man gave Viola a reassuring look. "A thing said in good faith is never unkind."
"I'm so glad you feel that way. Alice is so different, and I have been just dying to talk to somebody – somebody who would look at things as I do. Sometimes I am almost homesick."
"I suppose you are," said the youth, falling a victim to the girl's coquetry as readily as water runs down hill. "A fellow is never that way – homesick, I mean; but for a girl – "
"Oh, yes," sighed Viola, "this visiting is not all it is supposed to be. Alice is a lovely girl, of course, but – "
"A trifle high flown," said Tom, trying to help the faltering girl with her criticism.
"And so strangely fascinated with that Dorothy." Viola toyed evasively with the stick of her parasol. "Of course she is a pretty girl – "
"Too yellow – I mean too blondy," said Tom, feeling obliged to say something against Dorothy.
"Do you know her cousin, Nat White?"
"Not very well, I only met him the other night. But he seems like a decent fellow."
"I cannot imagine any boy allowing two girls to get in such a predicament," said Viola, "feeling her way" to further criticism.
"It was rough, but then you see he was not with them, he had gone to the blacksmith shop to get something fixed, I believe."
"Oh, they were alone!" and Viola had gained one point. "Was it really melons, do you suppose?"
"So he said, but he seemed to take the whole thing as a joke. Ginger! It was funny to go out in a red flyer and come back in a Black Maria," and Tom laughed at his own attempt at a pun.
"Then, when the cousin came back the girls were in the police patrol? That accounts for it. I could not possibly see how any young fellow could allow girls to get into such a scrape," persisted Viola.
"Yes," said Tom vaguely, not being at all particular as to what was the nature of the remark he had given acquiescence to.
"But to be arrested!" went on Viola.
"Were they arrested?" asked Tom in surprise.
"Why, of course," declared Viola. "Didn't Mr. White say so?"
"Oh, I suppose he did. That is – I really had not looked at it that way. I thought it was some kind of joke."
But Tom had said, "Yes," Nat told him they had been arrested! And Tom Burbank never intended to say anything of the kind! Viola Green with her pretty clothes and pretty looks had "put the words into his mouth and had taken them out again!"
"We must be going!" said Viola, leaving her seat beside the little fish pond in the park. "I suppose I shall see you at the lawn party?"
"If I am invited?"
"Then I invite you now. You need not say you got my invitation before the others were out – but be sure to come!"