Dorothy Dale: A Girl of To-Day Part 28

"Oh, there are plenty of them," declared Dorothy, at once up in arms for the Dalton boys. "But he is such a coward he never appears except when he is sure we are alone."

"The entire boys' school hunted for him that day in the woods," added Tavia, "but he got away."

"What on earth is he after?" went on Ned.

"The Burlock money," promptly replied Dorothy. "At first we did not know that, but there is no doubt of it now. When he grabbed me he hissed into my ear, 'Did Miles Burlock leave his money with your father?' Oh!" exclaimed Dorothy, "I can't bear to think of it yet."

"Excuse me, coz," spoke up Ned, "perhaps I should not have made you think of it."

"Indeed, I scarcely ever get it out of my mind. It just haunts me."

"That's why she left school," Tavia reminded them, "And I left to keep her company," she finished with a merry laugh at the idea, and its evident consequences.

"A blessing all around," said Nat. "What would we have done if neither of you left and we got left--for this good time. I hope mom will kidnap Dorothy."

"Indeed you cannot have her," declared Tavia. "I should pine away and die at Dalton without her."

"Then stay at Birchland," suggested Ned. "Plenty of room."

"But what does the fellow want with the Burlock money?" asked Nat, getting back to the interesting affair that still remained so much of a mystery.

"It's a long story," began Dorothy, "and it has not all been told yet.

Burlock was, in some way, in Anderson's power. I was with father when poor Mr. Burlock told us about it. He declared it was all the result of too much liberty in youth and bad company?"

"Be warned, Nat, my boy," interrupted Ned, jokingly. "I must have the mater cut you down. 'And he rambled till the mater cut him down,'"

hummed the brother, paraphrasing the butcher song.

"Spare the allowance and cut anything else down you like," answered Nat. "But please do not interrupt again."

"Then it seems," went on Dorothy, "Mr. Burlock had a lot of money left him. From that time on this Anderson followed Mr. Burlock and even succeeded in separating him from his family."

"But how did Burlock hold on to the cash all that time?" asked Ned.

"Oh, that was kept for him. He only had the interest of it. But lately a Mrs. Dougla.s.s, of Dalton, died; she had charge of the money because Mr. Burlock was not considered capable of taking care of it himself."

"And now," said Ned, "the major has it, and Anderson is trying to get it away by means of information he hopes to get from the major's daughter? Easy as a, b, c. But to whom is the money left?"

"To an unknown or unfound daughter," said Dorothy. "Her name is Nellie or Helen Burlock, and it was in hopes of locating her, upon a false clew which Anderson sent, that poor Mr. Burlock met his death."

"But Dorothy had him all fixed for heaven," said Tavia. "Yes, if ever a man died, hoping to be forgiven, it was Miles Burlock. Those who were with him said so, and it was all Dorothy's doings. I must admit I did joke her about it," Tavia said earnestly, "but she had done so many things girls never do, and she was not strong enough to keep it up, so we all had to try to discourage it. But you will have to come to Dalton to hear her praises sung. She is a regular home missionary--the kind they tell about in meetings, but who are too busy to come and talk about themselves."

"I am sure Dorothy is an angel," said Nat, putting his arm affectionately around his cousin. "I only hope she will save some of her goodness for me--I do need a mission."

"Indeed," answered Dorothy, "joking aside, you boys are very good and so attentive to your mother. She told me so herself."

"Oh," gasped Nat, "when did she say that? Is it too late to make a strike now? I am horribly short--sh.o.r.e dinner this week you know."

"And there's Nellie," resumed Ned, determined to get at the bottom of the Burlock story. "Now she's to have money. What do you say, Nat, if we get on the case? Nellie might make it all right, you know."

"Great scheme, boy," said Nat, "you do the finding and I will act as your attorney."

"Isn't there any clue?" asked Ned.

"Yes, father is working on one, and I am so anxious to hear the result," said Dorothy. "Of course he will not write about it. I expect there will be lots of news when we get back to Dalton."

Tavia had been silent for some time. The boys had failed to "wake up her jokes," as they expressed it.

"Look here," said Ned tipping her chair back in a perilous way. "You can't claim to be sleepy for your eyes are just like stars. Nor need you pretend to be weeping inwardly for the coil of taffy we all forgot to bring back from Mikes' (if anything happens to that hair I'll have his license revoked), so now own up, what are you moping about?"

Dorothy was at Tavia's side instantly.

"You are tired, dear," she said. "Perhaps you are weak from shock.

Let's go in."

"Indeed I'm all right--" stammered Tavia, but a hot tear fell on Dorothy's hand, and told a different story.

"Homesick!" whispered Ned as he kissed Dorothy good night. "She'll be all right to-morrow."

CHAPTER XXIV

THE PAINTED FACE

Human life seems so like that depicted in the elements about us; a patch of blue here, and a streak of blackness stealing up there to cover it. A glint of gold there and a flurry of smoke almost upon it.

So with life: brightness is so closely followed by shadows that gloom and glow become inseparable. Perhaps the contrasts save us from the blinding glare of extremes; it may be well to have even our joys tempered with moderation.

It had been such a happy day--Tavia felt she had never before known how to enjoy life. There had been many happy times of course, in Dalton, and Dorothy had often surprised her with entirely unexpected little treats; but somehow this was different, there was so much to be enjoyed at once.

Ah, Tavia! that is why reaction comes so suddenly. You left Nature behind you in Dalton--human wild flowers have a hard time of it when first thrust upon the pavements of social concrete.

Dorothy was with Tavia in the pretty bedroom. The moonlight made its way in at the curtained windows, and the two girls were clinging to each other there on the cus.h.i.+oned seat, trying to "think it out,"

Dorothy said.

"I had such a lovely time," sobbed Tavia, "and every one had been so good to me. But I could not help it Doro dear. When that Rosabel came I saw the difference--I saw I never could be your friend when we grew up.

And then I got to thinking about home--Dorothy, I must go. I must talk about that money with dear mother and father and even little Johnnie--he did seem to need me so much! And I have been so selfish--to leave them all."

"Now, Tavia, you make me feel badly. It is I who am selfish to take you away, but I am sure your mother particularly wanted you to come, and your father was so pleased. I tell you, dear it is all that money. You just feel you cannot wait to talk all about it, and I don't blame you at all. You shall go home just as soon as you want to."

"But you must stay," said Tavia, brightening up at the thought of going home. "I came to be company for you, but you do not need me."

Was there just a sign of jealousy in her words? Dorothy instantly detected a change--Tavia drew herself up so like other girls, but so unlike Tavia.

"Not need you! Why, Tavia, who in all this world could take your place," and her arms were wound around the neck of the weeping girl, while the fondest sister-kiss was pressed to the tear-stained cheek.

"My, what a goose I am!" suddenly exclaimed Tavia, springing up. "I never was homesick or had the real blues in all my life, and I do not propose to do the baby act now. So there," and she gave a hearty hug to Dorothy. "I'm done with blubbering, and I'm more ashamed of myself than I was the day I ran away after the row with Sarah. Now, I'll beat you to bed, and to sleep, too, for that matter. We will have to do some tall snoring to catch up with the rosy Rosabel--her cheeks will make ours look like putty."