The Dorrance Domain Part 14

What do you keep it so shut up for? Do you like to have it all musty and damp? I should think some of your newspaper clippings would tell you to throw open your windows and let in the fresh air and suns.h.i.+ne."

"Why they do say that," said Mrs. Hickox; "but of course I don't take it to mean the best room."

"We do," said Fairy, dancing around from window to window as she shut the blinds. "We have that great big parlor over at the Dorrance Domain flung wide open most of the time; and the little parlors, too, and the dining-room and all our bedrooms."

"Well, I _am_ surprised!" said Mrs. Hickox. "It must fade your carpets all out, doesn't it?"

"I don't know; we haven't been there three days yet, so of course they haven't faded very much. I guess I must go home now. Leicester went out fis.h.i.+ng this morning, and Dorothy and Lilian went to market, and I'm just crazy to see what they've acc.u.merated."

"Well, run along," said Mrs. Hickox; "and you can come again next Wednesday, but don't bring your kitten the next time. When you do come again, I wish you'd bring some of that white glue you were talking about; I would certainly like to try it. Here, wait a minute, I'll give you some gum-drops; then you'll remember the glue, won't you?"

"I'd remember it anyway, Mrs. Hickox; but I do love candy, per-tickle-uly gum-drops."

"Well, here's three; don't eat them all to-day."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hickox," said Fairy, taking the three precious bits of candy. Then saying good-bye, she danced away with her kitten tucked under her arm.

Shortly after Fairy's departure, Mr. Hickox came dawdling along towards his own home.

"I do declare, Hickory Hickox, if you haven't been and wasted the whole morning, fooling with those Dorrance young ones! Now what have you been doing?"

"Oh, nothin' in particular. Just helpin' 'em get settled a bit. Lookin'

after their boats and things, and buildin' a little house for them rabbits of theirs. That Leicester, he's a smart chap; handy with tools, and quick to catch on to anything."

"Well I _am_ surprised! Wasting a whole morning building a rabbit-coop!"

"For the land's sake, Susan, it ain't wasted time. They pay me for all I do for 'em, and they pay me well, too."

"They're extravagant people. They have no business to hire you to work around so much, when you've got plenty to do at home."

"Oh, don't worry; Hickox'll look after things. It'll be all right."

Though he spoke carelessly, Mr. Hickox was in reality much disturbed by his wife's sharp speeches. Long years of married life with her had not yet enabled his gentle, peace-loving nature to remain unruffled under her stormy outbursts of temper. He stood, unconsciously and nervously fumbling with a wisp of straw he had plucked from a near-by broom.

"You're s.h.i.+ftless and idle, Hickory, and you don't know what's good for yourself. Now do stop fiddling with that straw. First thing you know, you'll be poking it in your ear. I cut out a newspaper clipping only yesterday, about a man who poked a straw in his ear, and it killed him.

That's what you'll come to some day."

"No, I won't."

"Yes, you will! But just you remember this safe rule: never put anything in your ear, but your elbow. But you're so forgetful. I am surprised that a man _can_ be as forgetful as you are! Throw that straw away,--it's safer."

"Yes, it's safer, Susan," and Mr. Hickox threw his straw away. "And when you sit down to dinner, I hope you will tie yourself into your chair.

You may not fall off, but it's safer."

Mrs. Hickox gave her husband a scornful look, which was all the reply she usually vouchsafed to his occasional shafts of mild sarcasm.

"That big dog is a ridiculous extravagance," she went on. "He must eat as much as a man. I am surprised that people as poor as they are should keep such a raft of animals."

"Why the Dorrances aren't poor."

"Yes they are; and if they aren't they soon will be. Throwin' open that great big house for them few people, is enough to ruin a millionaire.

That little girl says they use nearly every room in it."

"So they do," said Mr. Hickox, chuckling; "when I went over there this morning, they was every one in a different room; happy as clams, and noisy as a bra.s.s band."

"They're a terrible lot! I never saw anything like them."

"That Dorothy is a smart one," declared Mr. Hickox, with an air of great conviction. "Some day she'll set Lake Ponetcong on fire!"

"I wouldn't be at all surprised," said Mrs. Hickox, which was, all things considered, a remarkable statement.

CHAPTER XI

SIX INVITATIONS

June came, and found the Dorrance Domain in full working order. The experiment seemed to be proving a complete success; and the six people who lived in the big hotel were collectively and individually happy.

Grandma Dorrance realized that all was well, and gave the children absolute liberty to do as they pleased from morning to night, feeling grateful that the circ.u.mstances permitted her to do this. Besides enjoying their happiness, the dear old lady was quite happy and contented on her own account. The delightful bracing air made her feel better and stronger; and the entire freedom from care or responsibility quieted her nerves.

Dorothy was complete mistress of the house. The responsibilities of this position had developed many latent capabilities of her nature, and she was daily proving herself a sensible, womanly girl, with a real talent for administration, and much executive ability. She was very kind to Tessie, realizing that the Irish, girl had no friends or companions of her own cla.s.s around her; but Dorothy also preserved a certain dignified att.i.tude, which became the relation of mistress and maid. She ordered the household affairs with good judgment, and was rapidly becoming an expert cook. This part of the domestic work specially appealed to her, and she thoroughly enjoyed concocting elaborate dishes for the delectation of her family. Sometimes these confections did not turn out quite right; but Dorothy was not discouraged, and cheerfully threw away the uneatable messes, and tried the same difficult recipes again, until she had conquered them.

The flaw in Dorothy's character was an over self-confidence; but this was offset by her sunny good-humored disposition, and she gaily accepted the situation, when the others teased her about her failures.

The days pa.s.sed like beautiful dreams. The family rose late, as there was no special reason why they should rise early. The children spent much time on the water in their rowboats, and also renewed their acquaintance with Captain Kane, who took them frequently for a little excursion in the _Mamie Mead_.

But perhaps best of all, Dorothy liked the hours she spent lying in a hammock, reading or day-dreaming.

She was fond of books, and had an ambition to write poetry herself. This was not a romantic tendency, but rather a desire to express in beautiful, happy language the joy of living that was in her heart.

She rarely spoke of this ambition to the others, for they did not sympathize with it, and frankly expressed very positive opinions that she was not a poet and never would be. Indeed, they said that Fairy had more imagination and poetic temperament then Dorothy.

Dorothy was willing to agree to this, for she in no way over-estimated her own talent,--she was merely acutely conscious of her great desire to write things.

So often for a whole afternoon she would lie in a hammock under the trees, looking across the lake at the hills and the sky, and a.s.similating the wonderful beauty of it all. This dreamy side of Dorothy's nature seemed to be in sharp contrast to her practical energetic power of work; it also seemed incongruous with her intense love of fun and her enjoyment of noisy, rollicking merriment.

But these different sides reacted on each other, and combined with Dorothy's natural frankness and honesty, made a sweet and wholesome combination. Had Dorothy been an only child, she might have been given too much to solitude and introspection; but by the counteracting influences of her diverting family, and her care of their welfare, she was saved from such a fate.

One day she was suddenly impressed with a conviction that Grandma Dorrance must often feel lonely, and that something ought to be done to give her some special pleasure.

"We all have each other," said Dorothy to the other children, "but grandma can't go chasing around with us, and she ought to have somebody to amuse her, at least for a time. So I think it would be nice to invite Mrs. Thurston up here to spend a week with us."

Mrs. Thurston was a lifelong friend of Mrs. Dorrance's, and moreover was a lady greatly liked by the Dorrance children.

"It would be very nice," said grandma, much gratified by Dorothy's thoughtfulness; "I don't really feel lonely, you know; it isn't that.

But I would enjoy having Mrs. Thurston here for a time, and I am sure she would enjoy it too."