Dorothy Dale: A Girl of To-Day Part 25

Dorothy entered the room with Tavia.

"These are the young ladies," said Mr. French, introducing them. "This one was shut in the room with the fire."

Tavia felt her face flush, and her nerves throb painfully. It was so embara.s.sing to be the object of such scrutiny.

Then began a fire of questions, Mr. French in every instance indicating how Tavia should answer. The railroad lawyer, Mr. Banks, trying of course, to trip Tavia into admitting that the lamp exploded first, and the bottle blew up after. But Tavia was positive in declaring that the blaze came from the far corner of the room, whereas the stove was directly at her side. This was also indicated by a map which Mr. French produced, and upon which Tavia marked the various spots where the bench stood, where the marble slab with the stove was situated, and where the bottle appeared to come from--a far corner of the slab.

"Will you let down your hair, please," said Mr. French, and Dorothy promptly drew the pins from Tavia's tresses, allowing the unscorched braid to fall below her waist, while the burnt ends were charred almost to her neck, the red scar showing how close to her head the flames had really crept.

"That is a loss, of course," said Mr. French, taking the long waves in his hand, "but it shows the great danger her life was in. Also, Mr.

Banks, notice this scar. That was dressed on the train by Dr. Brown, of Fairview."

Both lawyers examined the scar. Tavia felt as if she would run from the room, the very moment they took their hands off her, but Dorothy smiled encouragingly, and Mrs. White rang for a maid to fetch a gla.s.s of water. This had the effect of distracting Tavia, who now stood there being cross-examined like an expert witness.

Finally Mr. French said:

"That will do, thank you."

Tavia had barely tasted the water, and as she crossed the room to reach her chair, she felt dizzy. The next moment she was in Mrs. White's arms, unconscious.

"I saw she was pale," exclaimed the lady, while the gentlemen opened the windows and Dorothy ran for some restoratives. "But I did not think she would go off like that."

It did not take long, however, to revive the fainting girl, and when she had been helped to her room the lawyers held a conference with Mrs.

White and then left the Cedars.

"Wasn't that dreadfully stupid!" sighed Tavia, as she lay stretched out on the soft, white bed.

"Not at all, my dear," replied Mrs. White, who at that moment appeared at the door. "You could not have done better had you been coached, for it shows how the shock has unnerved you. And you may as well know that the company has offered to settle for five hundred dollars."

"Five hundred dollars!" echoed Tavia.

"Yes, my dear. For my part I should count a braid of hair such as you lost worth twice that sum, but even at that price I could not obtain it. No one ever values a fine head of hair until it is gone--like the dry well, you know. But you are young enough to grow another braid, and that is the beauty of it. Mr. French said your father gave him full power to act, and so he will accept the company's offer. And the fine thing about it is he does not want a commission--only his expenses, which are nominal."

"Isn't that perfectly splendid!" exclaimed Dorothy, throwing her arms about Tavia.

"Some people are born lucky, and others have luck thrust upon them,"

said Tavia pleasantly. "In this case it was as usual. I did the mischief and Dorothy did the rest. That lawyer would never have noticed me if Dorothy hadn't shown her pluck--why, she had my flaming hair wrapped up in a brakeman's coat before he had decided whether to throw it out of the window or over the ice cooler. He seemed to be worried about the ice, for it was directly in the path of the fire."

"Nonsense," said Dorothy, blus.h.i.+ng. "He very politely pulled off his coat when I asked him to, and of course, he did not know just what to do with it."

"Lucky thing it was a railroad coat," went on Tavia, "or we might have had to pay damages."

"Lucky thing Dorothy had such presence of mind, at any rate," remarked Mrs. White, "for another touch of that flame and your face, Tavia, might have had a different bill against the railroad company. However, as it ends like a love story, we will live happily ever after," and she gave Tavia such an affectionate kiss, that the girl felt a strange nearness to her new-found friend as if she had been suddenly adopted, socially at least, into Dorothy's family.

"And now, my dears," went on their hostess, "I expect the boys out from camp this afternoon, so you must rest up, and look your prettiest."

Tavia sat up and looked about her.

"Did you ever hear that story about why a widower was like a baby?" she asked Dorothy. "Well, I feel just like him. They say he cried for the first six months, then sat up and looked around and it was hard to pull him through the second summer. Now I am looking around, but when I get my five hundred I am afraid I will hardly last through the second summer."

"I know you will like the boys," remarked Dorothy.

"But who will cut my poor old hair?" sang Tavia to the meerschaum pipe tune.

"We will have to put it up in the folded fire escape fas.h.i.+on," said Dorothy, "until we can drive out to a barber's. It is too late this afternoon."

"Whatever will momsey say?" thought Tavia aloud.

"That you would have made a very good-looking boy," replied Dorothy. "I am sure I never saw a girl to whom short hair was so becoming."

"It must look well with a five hundred-dollar note for a background. I tell you, Doro, money covers a mult.i.tude of crimes. I wonder if little Lily of the fire room has cooled off yet."

"But you haven't seen the new clothes auntie had brought us--yes us, for she has not forgotten you. You are well able to pay bills now, you know," and Dorothy gave a mischievous little tug at Tavia's elbow. "But wait, wait till you see what you are to wear this very evening. The box has just come up, and I will open it."

Whereupon Dorothy pulled in from the hall door a great purple box labeled "robes." Tavia was on her knees beside it before Dorothy had a chance to untie the strings. What girl does not like to see brand, new, pretty dresses come out of their original box?

Layers of tissue paper were first unwrapped, then a glow of brilliant red shown through the last covering.

"Whew!" exclaimed Tavia, "a rainbow gown, I'll bet. Then she gave her usual text, as Dorothy called her spontaneous rhymes:

"Breathes there a girl with soul so dead, Who never to herself has said, I love to wear a dress bright red!"

"And I love red better than b.u.t.ter, and I love b.u.t.ter better than ice cream--so there! Dorothy Dale, that dress on top I claim."

The "bright red" was in full view now, and it was really a beautiful gown. Not extravagantly so, but as Dorothy said "exquisitely so."

The material was of dimity, over muslin, and tiny rows of "val." lace formed a yoke and edgings. A broad sash of flowered ribbon--all in shades of red, with bows of the same in narrow width finished the shoulders.

"Yes, it is for you," said Dorothy, "Auntie said red would suit you."

"I have always loved it, but folks said my hair was red."

"Indeed it never was. And don't you know how great dressmakers insist upon sandy haired girls wearing red? The real red in material contrasts with hair red, so as to make the brown red browner. There now, is a new puzzle. When is brown red?"

"When a sa.s.sy boy calls it red," promptly answered Tavia, remembering how she always feared the "red-head" epithet.

"Isn't it sweet?" exclaimed Dorothy, holding the new gown up for inspection.

"Oh, a perfect love!" declared Tavia. "I thought my Rochester creation--doesn't that sound well--simply 'gloriotious,' but this is beatific!"

"Like a sunset," suggested Dorothy. "But I must get acquainted with mine."

Another layer of paper and a pale blue robe was extracted.

"Oh, I know," cried Tavia, clapping her hands like a delighted child, "It's morning and evening. I'm sunrise and you are evening. Or I'm sunset and you are evening."

"Oh!" exclaimed Dorothy, too enraptured to say more.