Dorothy Dale: A Girl of To-Day Part 13

"Did he really? I had not heard that. But Tavia was not to blame. Sarah has admitted it was all a misunderstanding."

"Evidently she has not told her father that," the major replied, "for only this morning he a.s.sured me he would give the doctor's bill into the hands of a collector."

"Oh, that would be too bad! Tavia's folks are so poor. I must see Sarah."

"Do you have to straighten that matter out also? Well, Little Captain, I am afraid you have a busy time of it. When one is willing to help others it is perfectly surprising how much they can find to do."

"But you see, daddy, someone has to do it,"

"Exactly. I have no objections to you mixing up in school girl affairs; in fact I think that line of work quite as important as book learning.

It is the best kind of education, for it fits one for their place in life: but I think, daughter, it might be best for you to give up helping in the crusade. I would rather not have you risk--perhaps insults in that work."

"Of course, if you wish it father," answered Dorothy in a disappointed tone, "but if I could just help out in what Ralph had planned for the girls--a sort of auxiliary work--I would like it. The meetings would be held in the afternoon, and we would have little benefit affairs, to help defray the expenses of the League."

"Oh, that sort of thing," agreed the major, "that would be all right and strictly in a girl's line. Everybody should show sympathy with the movement, for it means more to Dalton than we can estimate. Children, particularly, will be benefited, so that there can be no objection to them helping in their own way."

Dorothy felt greatly relieved now that her father had spoken on this subject, for she had feared he would ask her to give up, entirely, the temperance work she had become so interested in. The most prominent women in Dalton were identified with the movement, and with such leaders surely no girl need be afraid to follow. Besides, as Major Dale said, children would be those most benefited, therefore children should do what they could to help the work along.

"I am so glad you do not object to the Auxiliary, father," she said, as he arose to bid her good night. "Of course I shall never meet another Miles Burlock, and therefore I shall not have to make a personal appeal to any one again," and she looked sadly into her father's face. "Do you think we will ever find little Nellie?"

"Yes, daughter, I feel certain we will soon hear something of the heirs of Miles Burlock. But there now," and he kissed her again, "run along to bed. Your brothers are snoring by this time."

"Good night, daddy dear," she said, pressing his cheek lovingly to her own, "I never forget that I am the daughter of a soldier, and that thought, more than anything else--earthly, takes care of me--guides me aright, and makes me proud of being Dorothy Dale!"

CHAPTER XII

AN UNPROVOKED ATTACK

The beautiful month of June was jotting down her days with sweetest floral mottoes--each in its turn paying tribute to the Queen of Months.

Roses had come, daisies were weaving the fields into a cloth of white and gold, the side roads of Dalton were framed with clouds of snowy dogwood, and that "rarest of days" the perfect day in June had come.

And this was to be the picnic day for the girls of Dalton school.

Tavia was over to Dorothy's house very early. She wanted to borrow a lunch box, and, incidentally, to hear Dorothy's opinion of the "glorious dress" from Rochester.

"Isn't it sweet?" she began pirouetting on the board walk, at the side door of the Dale house, while waiting for Joe to find an empty cracker box for her lunch.

"It is pretty," agreed Dorothy, examining the dress critically. "Those pink ribbons are so becoming to you."

"Cousin Nannie had it made for a party, so it ought to do for a picnic," Tavia said. "How do you feel to-day Doro? I have been thinking you look--sort of 'peaked' as Aunt Libby would say. Have you been worrying about the explanation business? Because if you feel sensitive about it, just leave it to me. I am not the least bit bashful, you know."

"I feel well enough," Dorothy a.s.sured her, "and I haven't been worrying--about that any way," and Dorothy smiled to convince her friend that nothing serious was disturbing her peace of mind.

"Well, we a.s.semble at nine you know; check our dinner pails. Thanks Joe, that will do nicely, and if I have any left I will leave it in the box when I return it. After a bluff at study, and an exchange of compliments, for my dress particularly (no one else will have anything like this) we will expect to hear something from you, Doro. Really, this business of making speeches in school is quite an accomplishment.

Had I known that Alice was going to 'spout' the way she did that day I left for my vacation--ahem! you noticed Joe, how I said that? Well, I should have postponed the trip had I any idea there would be such stunts going on in lady-like society. But Doro, how is Sarah? Did you see her yesterday?"

"Yes, I saw her just for a moment," and Dorothy looked the other way to hide the serious thoughts that the meeting with Sarah recalled.

"And she has forgiven me for that push into the clouds? Now she is not so bad after all. I feel as if I should bring her some flowers or something; as a peace offering, you know."

"Well, I would not go over just to-day," said Dorothy, "for the doctor is to take the splints off her ankle--"

"Splints? Was it as bad as that? The poor girl, no wonder she--fibbed.

I would too, if I had to stand for splints."

"Why don't you say 'stand splints,' and not use that horrid slang,"

corrected Dorothy.

"But she didn't stand them, she stood for them, with the other foot.

You see, Doro, sometimes the much despised slang is--the real thing,"

and with a tantalizing swish of her skirts, and a most frivolous toss of her head Tavia called "Ta-ta!" and dashed across the fields with the lunch box under her arm.

"She's the kind of girl!" commented Joe, who had been busy making a bow and arrow for Roger. "If her brother Jack had a little of her s.p.u.n.k he would not be where he is."

"Why?" asked Dorothy, "doesn't Johnnie get along well at school?"

"At school?" echoed Joe, "he is never there to get along at all. I think it is clothes that keeps him home. I was going to ask Aunt Libby if any of mine might be spared--"

"Why, of course, you have some that are too small. I will see about them myself. It is too bad those children have no one to manage for them."

"What's the matter with their mother?"

"I don't know--that is--of course they have their mother, but she does not seem to know how to manage."

"And we have you and you do seem to know," responded the boy, trying the bow to make sure it would not shoot backwards. "Well, sis, you're a brick and Tavia, well, she is brick-dust, at any rate, but Jack--well he is Jack, and that is all there is to it. I'm going to ask father to let him carry Bugles next week. What little he could earn would do something for him."

"Mr. Travers is such a nice man," went on Dorothy, "I think Tavia is exactly like him."

"And Jack is like his mother. But we musn't back-bite," seeing the look of reproach on Dorothy's face. "I hope you have a jolly good time at the picnic."

One hour later the girls of Dalton school were crowded around Dorothy, asking all kinds of well-meant questions concerning her health. Tavia, too, came in for her share of the queries, although hers did not relate to health, but to other interesting little confidences, least of which was, by no means, the new dress.

But the fact that her own cousin Nannie gave it to her put Tavia at ease and questions that might otherwise seem impertinent were considered compliments--showing what a "stir" the dress created.

Dorothy looked a trifle pale, and the light blue muslin gown she wore brought out a mere gleam of the pink flush that usually shown in her cheeks. Her blonde curls--the delight of all her friends, fell in a ma.s.s about her shoulders, so that even Tavia in the famous pink and white dress did not outdo Dorothy in pretty looks.

Alice wore a buff linen that suited her "golf style" admirably. She had the air of the well-trained college girl, the result, perhaps, of annual trips to the seash.o.r.e, where she was allowed to indulge in boating, swimming, and other "manly sports" as she termed the exercise.

Belle Miller, otherwise known as "Tinkle," was as "dear and dainty" as ever, in a creamy white swiss, and May Egner wore lavender, although fully conscious of the disastrous effects of picnic sun on that perishable shade. It was a "last year's" gown, so May decided she might better get a few more turns out of it and this, she thought, would be one of the rare occasions, when a lavender might be worn, "with impunity."

All the girls wore appropriate costumes, and, when the cla.s.ses a.s.sembled, the room presented a veritable holiday look. Study seemed the last thing to be thought of amid such gaiety.

Even Miss Ellis wore a white collar and cuffs, a relief from her usual somber black, and as she touched the bell she smiled pleasantly to her pupils, plainly bidding them a happy holiday.

"Young ladies," she began, "we will take a brief review of last Friday's work. It is so near closing time we must not waste an entire day."