The Story of the Big Front Door Part 8

"Good-by, Dora," said Louise when the happy evening was over and they were starting home. "I think we ought to be friends because you found Carie; don't you, Bess?"

Bess certainly thought so, for she had taken a desperate fancy to this new acquaintance.

"You must come to see me; Helen and all of you," Dora said cordially.

"Mamma, I have had a beautiful time, I am glad I went," she exclaimed, standing beside her mother's couch a few minutes later. "Does your head ache? Then I'll wait till to-morrow to tell you about it;" and she went to bed to dream pleasant dreams.

CHAPTER V.

UNCLE WILLIAM.

When the children reached home that evening they found Aunt Marcia and Uncle William in the library.

Carie, too, was there, bent on an investigation of her uncle's pocket, from which she had just brought to light in triumph a chocolate mouse.

"Now, baby dear, you must go to bed, mammy is waiting for you," said Aunt Zelie.

"Let me find one uzzer one," pleaded Carie, depositing her prize on her uncle's knee, and continuing the search.

"Of course you have had a 'perfectly lovely' time," said Uncle William as the party-goers entered.

"Indeed we have," answered Louise, establis.h.i.+ng herself on an arm of her father's chair. "And we've found the nicest girl," she added.

"I found her," said Carl.

"She is the girl who brought Carie home yesterday, and we like her very much," explained Bess.

"Annie May hasn't any politeness; she didn't introduce her to more than one or two people. Think of being at a big party like that and not knowing anyone!"

"That is not a proper way in which to speak of your hostess, my son,"

said Mr. Hazeltine.

"How did you happen to get acquainted with her?" asked Aunt Zelie, smiling at Carl's vehemence.

"Auntie, it was the funniest thing you ever heard of!" Louise exclaimed. "She tripped him up with a croquet mallet!"

"She must have been desperate," remarked her father, pulling one of the long braids that hung over her shoulder.

"She did not mean to do it--it was when I was running after Aleck--and she was very sorry. Then I found she didn't know anybody, so I went for Bess, and she had a good time after that," Carl explained briefly.

"She has lived in London, and different places abroad," Bess added.

"May we go to see her, auntie? We told her we would if you'd let us."

"Louise, you should never promise to visit people till you know something about them," said Aunt Marcia reprovingly.

"Her name is Dora Warner, and she boards with her mother at Mrs.

West's on Chestnut street, and her father is dead. I think we know a good deal about her, Aunt Marcia," Bess said demurely.

"I am going to see her, and take her a chocolate mouse," Carie suddenly announced, having been a silent listener while she captured a handful of mice.

"I want to know what it is you like so much about your new friend,"

said Uncle William.

"What do you think of her, Helen?" his wife asked of the little girl, sitting so quietly beside her.

"Oh, I like her, Aunt Marcia, ever so much. She asked _me_ to come to see her, and she is older than Bess."

"There is no nonsense about her," said Carl.

"I think it is hard to tell why you like people." Bess twisted her handkerchief meditatively. "She isn't exactly pretty, but she is pleasant and polite--"

"Yes, and she is ready to do anything, and doesn't think about her clothes," Carl interposed.

"Boys think about their clothes as well as girls," said Louise. "I know lots of girls who don't think about their clothes."

"So do I--some who have no regard whatever for them," said Aunt Zelie, laughing.

"Do you know I like the description they give of Dora," remarked Mr.

William Hazeltine, after the children had left the room.

"I never knew Carl to be so warm in the praise of a new acquaintance,"

said his brother. "You will have to let them go to see her, Zelie."

"Pray, do not be rash; find out who they are first," begged Mrs.

Hazeltine.

"I can't help thinking," said her husband, "that this little girl may be the daughter of my old friend d.i.c.k Warner; you remember him, Frank?

He died about a year ago, somewhere abroad. As bright and sweet-tempered a fellow as ever lived! I must look into it."

Uncle William usually had his own way about things, for the reason that no other way was so pleasant. No one could resist his bright face and cordial manner. He carried around with him an atmosphere of such hearty goodwill that it was next to impossible to be cross or gloomy in his presence. People sometimes wondered how he happened to marry Mrs. Hazeltine, but the reason was plain enough to him. He regarded her with the greatest admiration, feeling that a harum-scarum fellow like himself was most fortunate in having such a wife to keep him straight. He was very proud and fond of her, and quite blind to what others called her managing propensities. Sometimes, indeed, he wondered how she could be so severe in her judgment of the children, but then someone must be firm. And though she was often annoyed by his friendliness with all sorts of odd people, and wished William would draw the line somewhere, she always ended by saying leniently that he would never be anything but a boy.

He had a warm love for children. No matter how ragged and forlorn they might be, they interested him. The newsboys and bootblacks felt that he was their friend, and many were the treats they received at his hand. By his young relatives and their many friends he was looked upon as a sort of every-day Santa Claus. One of his peculiarities was a love for surprising people. He sent mysterious parcels, left candy about in unexpected places, or took the children out for a walk, and then whisked them off on some delightful excursion.

Promptness was another of Uncle William's good qualities. Having determined to make inquiries about his old friend, he did it at once, and so it happened that Dora and her mother were called down to the parlor one day to see a tall gentleman with kindly dark eyes and iron-gray hair, who won them at once by his simple, cordial manner.

Mrs. Warner was a thoroughly saddened woman since the death of her husband, but even she could not resist his friendliness, and Dora was altogether captivated.

The children were surprised and delighted when they heard that their uncle had been to see the Warners, and that Dora was really the daughter of his old friend.

"So of course we _ought_ to be friends with her," Bess remarked, as though it was a solemn duty rather than a pleasure.

Aunt Zelie allowed them to go to see her at once, and invite her to spend the next day with them.

"Don't things happen beautifully, Mamma?" Dora said gayly, as she dressed that morning. "To think that I really know Bess and Louise, and am going to see them!"