Dorothy's Tour Part 14

Dorothy crossed over to the trunk and immediately found the desired bag, and opening it took out the gla.s.ses. "Here they are, Aunt Betty,"

she said, handing them to her.

Aunt Betty put the gla.s.ses on and proceeded carefully to examine the sampler.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "I have it now! The name is in this corner, and as far as I can make it out is 'Hannah.' 'Hannah' something. 'Morrow.'

Maybe that's it."

"Let me see," interrupted Dorothy, "maybe I can make it out. I think the first letter is 'W,' not 'M,'" and turning to Alfy, "what did Ma Babc.o.c.k say about the name?"

"Ma said that it was Hannah somebody, and that she was a poor sickly girl. She lived in Baltimore and married a man who did not treat her well, and died shortly after. I forget what she said her last name was. But she said she married a man whose name was 'Halley' or 'Haley,'" answered Alfy.

"Oh, Aunt Betty, I have it!" exclaimed Dorothy joyously. "I have it!

It's 'Woodrow,' 'W-o-o-d-r-o-w, Woodrow.'"

"Yes, that's it. I recollect, now, ma saying, 'Hannah Woodrow,'"

chimed in Alfy.

"I wonder," said Aunt Betty, slowly, for she had been thinking, "I wonder if it could be? You see, little Lem, Lem Haley, had no mother or father, and just lived with his uncle, who abused him terribly. It was he we found that night in the forest when we were camping. Do you think it could be possible that this sampler was made by his mother?

Poor, unfortunate woman."

"Maybe we have some clue to work on now," said Dorothy. "Wouldn't it be odd if it was his mother who made this sampler? She could sew well if it was, for there are many hard and difficult st.i.tches in that."

"And," added Alfy, "Ma said she was a rich girl; her folks had lots of money, 'cause she dressed so nicely. And they paid Grandma Brown good board, so ma said."

"May I have the sampler, Alfy?" asked Mrs. Calvert.

"Yes, indeed," answered Alfy. "Ma Babc.o.c.k said for me to give it to you, as maybe you would be interested in it."

"I am going to take it to my lawyer and see what he says about it. You say you think that Mrs. Haley, or Hannah Woodrow, is dead?" added Aunt Betty.

"Yes, ma said that she had not heard from her in so long that she was sure that the poor unfortunate lady was dead," answered Alfaretta.

"I have felt all along that there was some dreadful catastrophe or mystery about little Lem. His uncle was such a hard, cruel man, and little Lem knew very little or nothing about his early life or parents. All that he knew was that he was bound out to this harsh and cruel man whom he called uncle, and made to work very hard, too hard, indeed, for a child, for his board," remarked Aunt Betty.

"I do hope we can find out something about his people. He is such a good boy, and now he goes to school and he is such an apt pupil,"

added Dorothy.

"Come now, we must dress and arrange our things and see what we need.

You girls please dress as quickly as possible and each make out a list of what you have lost. In that way I can tell at a glance what is needed, and we can go shopping this afternoon. I will also send Jim to my lawyer with a note, and this sampler," remarked Aunt Betty. And they all hurried away to dress.

Aunt Betty, finis.h.i.+ng first, rang for Jim. Jim came to her and she said, "Jim, here is a sampler that Ma Babc.o.c.k had and let Alfy bring to me. It was made by a girl named Hannah Woodrow, who married a man named Haley, who was cruel to her. It is supposed that the unfortunate woman died. The girl was a Baltimore girl who spent a year with Mrs.

Babc.o.c.k's mother and attended school with Ma Babc.o.c.k. She is thought to have been rich. I wonder if in any way she could have been related to little Lem Haley. We must try to trace up all facts and get to the bottom of things. I have written a letter, and I thought you would not mind taking it and the sampler to my lawyer."

"Where is it?" asked Jim. "I will go gladly."

"You go to Mr. Van Zandt, at 115 Broadway," replied Mrs. Calvert.

"Give him the package and the letter and tell him I am going out of town to-morrow at noon to Was.h.i.+ngton, and that I will send him a complete route list later on as soon as all our plans are made."

"All right," answered Jim, taking the package and putting the letter into his coat pocket. "I will not be back directly, if that makes no difference to you. I have a little shopping I should like to do this afternoon." So saying, Jim left on his errand.

At Mrs. Calvert's suggestion the girls began making out a list of things that were missing so that they could replace them that afternoon if possible.

Suddenly Dorothy rushed into the room where Aunt Betty was quietly seated reading and trying to collect her nerves that she said had been shattered by the experiences of the night before.

"Aunt Betty, dear Aunt Betty, I can't find my locket!" she cried.

"Alfy and I have hunted all over. We searched everything before we came to you with the news. We didn't want to bother you till we were sure that we hadn't merely mislaid it."

"Are you sure, dear, you have looked all over everything you have?"

questioned Aunt Betty.

"Yes, and there is no trace of it anywhere," replied the girl. "And it's the only locket I have and has the pictures of mother and father in it. The only pictures we have of them."

"Well, dear, don't let's give up hope yet. Let me go with you and look," answered her aunt.

"Dear Aunt Betty, I am sure it isn't in there. I always wear it. You know I do. Ever since you gave it to me it has been my most cherished possession," bewailed Dorothy.

"No, it isn't anywhere in there," said Alfy, decidedly, walking into the room at that moment. "I, myself, have searched everywhere, and you know how thorough I am, Mrs. Calvert."

"Maybe it's upstairs in our old rooms," suggested Aunt Betty. "They might have mislaid it."

"I will ring for a maid and then Alfy and I will go up with her and look," answered Dorothy, immediately acting on the suggestion.

"It must be up there, dear, as everything else came down safely, and all my jewelry is intact," added Mrs. Calvert.

"I do hope it is. It has given me such a scare," rejoined Alfy.

"Come along, Alfy; we are going up now," said Dorothy, as the maid appeared in answer to her summons.

"We'll be right down, Aunt Betty." And with that the girls departed.

In a few moments they came back, and by just glancing at them Aunt Betty knew that the quest had failed.

"No, it is nowhere there," said Dorothy sadly, "nowhere there."

"Ring for the manager, dear, and I will see him and see what he suggests doing. The locket is of no value to anyone else. Its main value is in the pictures. I am very sorry I have no other copy of them. I have a picture of your father when he was younger, a mere boy at our Baltimore home, Bellevieu, but I never had another picture of your mother, dear," said Aunt Betty.

The manager came now in response to their call, and Aunt Betty told him of the loss of the locket, and wherein its value lay. He was very sorry indeed to hear of the loss, but felt hopeful that he could restore the locket to them in the course of an hour or two.

Dorothy turned to Aunt Betty as the manager left the room, and flung herself weeping into her lap.

"Dear, dear child," soothed Aunt Betty, "don't be foolish, dear. There are still hopes of its being found."

"But they are the only pictures I ever had of them," bemoaned the little girl. The dear old lady took the young girl in her arms and comforted her with hopeful suggestion and loving words of encouragement.

CHAPTER XI.