Dorothy Dale in the City Part 34

"Well," said Tavia relaxing, "that's her suit-case."

"Who is she?" asked Dorothy, "and why bring her bag here?"

"She's a society girl," replied Tavia, peering out between the palm leaves, "and she arrived at four o'clock this afternoon with a maid and a suit-case."

"Auntie said nothing about week-end guests," said Dorothy.

"Of course she didn't, and this isn't a week-end guest, this is a society girl! She couldn't play cards at four, and have dinner at seven, and a dance at eight-thirty, without a suit-case and a maid; could she? How unreasonable you are, Dorothy," exclaimed Tavia, with scorn.

"Did she wear something different for each occasion?" whispered Dorothy.

"Yes," replied Tavia. "Dorothy, doesn't it make you dizzy to think of keeping up an appearance in that way-packing one's suit-case every morning to attend an evening function!"

"And she doesn't seem to be having an awfully good time either,"

commented Dorothy.

"Everyone is afraid of her-she's too wonderful!" laughed Tavia.

"How perfectly ridiculous!" murmured Dorothy, thinking at that moment of Tommy's mother, dressed in a faded, worn wrapper every hour of each day throughout all the months of the year.

"And that isn't all," declared Tavia. "See that perfectly honest-looking person in purple?"

"Very broad and stout and homely?" asked Dorothy.

"Yes. Well, she appropriated one of our cups!"

"You're just making these things up!" declared Dorothy, rising to leave the secluded corner.

"Really I'm not," said Tavia earnestly, "the purple person took a cup!"

"But why should she do so?" Dorothy asked, not quite believing such a thing possible.

"That's what we don't know, but Aunt Winnie says it's possibly just a fad, or a hobby, and not to notice it-but, I'm going to find out."

"There is so much that is not real, perhaps her royal purple velvet gown is no clue to her wealth," said Dorothy.

"No, I don't think her dress is. I've decided that she needs the cup for breakfast to-morrow morning. Anyhow, her maid is in the small bedroom, that we're using for the wraps, and we must question her," declared Tavia.

"It's too perfectly horrid to even think such a thing of one of our guests. We must forget the matter," Dorothy said rather sternly.

"And you who are so anxious to help the poor and needy, forget your own home!" said Tavia reproachfully. "Suppose that poor lady has no cup for her coffee? Won't it be an act of human kindness to ascertain that?"

"Well, I don't understand why it should happen," said Dorothy, perplexed, "but I feel, Tavia, that you are not in earnest."

Coming out from behind the palm, the girls were just in time to catch a glimpse of Nat, bowing and sliding gracefully away from his partner. Ned had successfully gotten over the slippery floor and stood aimlessly staring into s.p.a.ce; and his aimless stare touched Dorothy more than his tears would have done. Bob met Tavia in the slipperiest part of the floor and Tavia, for once in her acquaintance with Bob, did not feel disdainful of his masterly physical strength, for Bob couldn't manage to cross a waxed floor with as much dexterity as could Tavia and actually touched her elbow for a.s.sistance in guiding him wall-ward.

"How much longer does this gaiety continue?" asked Bob.

"I fear you're a sad failure, Bob," cried Tavia, as she led him through the hall to the small room at the end of the hall. "You can't dance, and you won't sing, and you're perfectly miserable dressed in civilized, evening clothes. You're just hopeless, I'm afraid," Tavia sighed.

Their sudden entrance into the cloakroom surprised the various maids who were yawning and sleepy-eyed. The French maid was the only one who seemed alert, and she was bending attentively over something, with her back toward the others. Tavia whispered to Bob:

"Saunter carelessly past that maid, and tell me what she's doing," Tavia meanwhile diligently looking through a pile of furs and wraps.

"She seems to be fingering a cup," reported Bob, as he looked at Tavia, questioningly.

"Walk past her again and find out more," commanded Tavia. To herself she murmured: "Men are so slow, I'd know in an instant what she's doing with that cup, were it possible for me to peer about; which it isn't."

"Haven't an idea what she's doing," reported Bob again, "she's just holding the cup in her hand."

"Nonsense," declared Tavia, "she must be doing something. Go right straight back and stand around until you find out. I can't pull these furs and wraps about much longer, they're too heavy!"

When Bob returned again he whispered to Tavia, and Tavia's straight eyebrows flew up toward her hair with a decidedly "Ah! I told you!"

expression.

She rushed to Aunt Winnie and informed her.

"You know," explained Aunt Winnie, "the cup is the one Miss Mingle's sister painted and sent to Dorothy the other day. It was such an odd, exquisite pattern I valued it above all my antiques and my pottery!"

"Well, that's just what's she doing," declared Tavia, "she's copying the pattern or borrowing it."

"It must indeed be unique when one of our guests is driven to such extremes to get a copy of it," said Aunt Winnie.

The dancers were becoming weary, even the lights and decorations began to show signs of wis.h.i.+ng to go out, and most of the guests had bidden the hostesses adieu when the stout person in royal purple calmly approached Aunt Winnie and Dorothy, holding a cup in her hand:

"You'll pardon the impudence of my maid, I know, she has a mania for peculiar patterns on china, and she copied one on this cup. You don't mind at all?" she asked sweetly.

"It was painted for my niece by a very feeble lady," explained Mrs.

White. "We value it highly."

"You should value it highly," purred the stout person. "So far as I know there are only three cups of that pattern in the world to-day. One is in an English museum, and the other two have been lost. Those two cups would be worth a fortune to the holder, the collectors would pay almost any price for them." She was plainly an enthusiast on the subject of old china. "But your cup is not original, it is merely a copy, but we knew it instantly. You'll forgive me, won't you?" she asked, sweetly.

"Miss Mingle's sister is the owner of the other two cups, Auntie," gasped Dorothy, as the stout person in purple departed. "Mrs. Bergham's husband was an artist and collector, and he left Mrs. Bergham all his pictures and art treasures. I just raved with delight over those two cups, the day we called, and she very amiably sent me an exact duplicate."

"Then there may be a fortune awaiting little Miss Mingle," exclaimed Tavia. "I thought her home was terribly crowded with artistic-looking objects and unusual adornments for folk in moderate circ.u.mstances."

"Doubtlessly, the sentimental nature of Mrs. Bergham would not entertain such an idea as disposing of her treasures for mere lucre," said Mrs.

White, laughingly.

"Perhaps they do not know their value," reasoned Dorothy, as the guests prepared to leave.

"We'll find out more from the stout person, and bring an art collector to call upon Mrs. Bergham, and thus give those two struggling women some chance to enjoy a little comfort," said Major Dale.

CHAPTER XXVI A NEW COLLECTOR