Dorothy Dainty's Gay Times Part 20

"That Chub's a regular little pig," Patricia said, as they rode off, but her words were not heard by Mandy or Chub, for the youthful driver was shouting a loud warning to Chub to throw no more s...o...b..a.l.l.s for fear of a sound thras.h.i.+ng followed by arrest, while Chub, afraid to throw the s...o...b..a.l.l.s, hurled after the pung the worst names that he could think of.

"That horthe ith thlow ath a old moolly cow! It'th an old thlow-poke!

What a thkinny nag! That horthe eath nothin' but newthpaper and thtring!" he yelled.

"That Chub is just a horrid-looking child," said Patricia, "an' he's the Jimmy boy's brother, but n.o.body'd ever think it."

"Who's the Jimmy boy?" Arabella asked.

"Why, don't you know the boy that we see sometimes at Dorothy Dainty's house?"

Arabella shook her head.

"I mean the one that wears a cap with a gold band on it, and a coat with bra.s.s b.u.t.tons, and tries to walk like a man when Mr. Dainty sends him out with parcels," explained Patricia.

"Oh, I know," said Arabella, "but _he's_ real _nice_ looking, and Dorothy says her father thinks he's smart. I shouldn't think he could be brother to that little pig or that Mandy girl."

"Well, he is, and one thing Dorothy said one day I couldn't understand.

She said that one reason why her father was so kind to Jimmy is because Jimmy helped to get Nancy Ferris home one time when she was stolen from them. Did you ever hear 'bout that? I don't see how just a boy could do that, do you?"

No, Arabella did not see, nor had she heard the story, but she had seen Jimmy, and she wondered that he belonged to such a family as that which produced Mandy and Chub.

"Ye're 'most home," declared the driver, "an' soon's I've landed ye I'll hev ter scoot."

"But you'll have to take Arabella home; she lives 'way over the other side of the town," insisted Patricia.

"Oh, no, no, he _won't_!" said Arabella. "I'd rather walk all the way than have Aunt Matilda know that I've been sleighing."

"Why, how funny!" and Patricia stared in surprise.

"It's funnier now than it would be when Aunt Matilda found it out."

"Why?" Patricia asked.

"Because," said Arabella, "whenever I've been out, and she thinks I've taken cold, she boils some old herb tea, and makes me drink it hot, and I have to be bundled in blankets, and she makes such a fuss that I wish I hadn't gone anywhere at all." "I guess you'd better not tell her,"

Patricia advised, to which Arabella replied:

"I just don't intend to."

And while Dorothy and Nancy were standing before a blazing fire in the sitting-room at the stone house, recounting the beauties of the sky, the branches fringed with glittering icicles, the squirrels that raced across the hard crust of snow, and indeed, every lovely bit of road or forest which they had seen, Arabella, s.h.i.+vering as she hurried along, saw the bright lights, and rushed past the great gate, across the avenue and in at her own driveway. She hoped that every one would be talking when she entered. She intended to join in the conversation, and she thought if she could manage to talk very, _very_ fast, Aunt Matilda might not ask where she had been. But she did. Arabella had removed her hat and cloak, and trying very hard to stop s.h.i.+vering, she pushed aside the portiere, and stood in the glow of the shaded lamp.

"Warmer weather to-morrow, the paper says, and I guess we shall all be glad to have it," Aunt Matilda was saying.

"It w-would be f-fine to h-h-have it w-w-warmer," said Arabella, her teeth chattering so that she thought every one must hear them rattle.

Over her paper Aunt Matilda's bright eyes peered at the little girl who s.h.i.+vered in spite of her effort to stand very still.

"Where have you been, Arabella? You're chilled through. I say, where have you been?"

"I've just taken quite a long walk," Arabella replied. "If you've taken a long walk as late as this in the afternoon, you've come some distance. Have you been spending this whole afternoon at that Lavine girl's house?"

"No'm," said Arabella, "I haven't been in her house _any_ of the afternoon; I've been out-of-doors."

Aunt Matilda threw up her hands in amazement, as if a number of hours in the open air ought to have actually killed Arabella, whereas, she really was alive, but exceedingly chilly.

Then the very thing happened which Arabella had told Patricia would happen.

Aunt Matilda had her old-fas.h.i.+oned notions regarding the care of children, and Arabella was sent to bed, packed in blankets, after having drank a pint bowl full of the worst-tasting herb tea which Aunt Matilda had ever brewed. She had thought that she might drink half of it, and then throw the rest away, but as if guessing her intention, Aunt Matilda stood close beside her to be sure that not a drop was wasted.

"It's no use to make such an outrageous face, Arabella," she remarked, "for the worse it tastes the more good it's _sure_ to do."

"But I'd 'most rather have a cold than take that stuff," wailed Arabella.

"That's the time you don't have your choice," was the dry reply.

And indeed she did not, for besides taking the despised herb tea, she awoke the next morning with a heavy cold that kept her away from school for the whole of the next week.

CHAPTER XI

AN UNEXPECTED TRIP

The next Sat.u.r.day proved to be warm and sunny, and Mrs. Dainty had taken an early train for the city, intending to spend the day in shopping.

It had been necessary that Dorothy should go with her, because there was a new cloak to be "tried on." Mrs. Dainty had wished to have Mrs.

Grayson with her, but both had thought that Nancy would be lonely.

"If I were to spend the day in the stores, Nancy, I would take you with me, because you always enjoy shopping," Aunt Charlotte said, "but I am to visit a friend who is ill, and that would be very dull for you, and if you go with Dorothy, you will think that the hours drag if you sit waiting while her cloak is being fitted."

"Oh, but I shall not mind being at home _this_ time," Nancy said, cheerfully; "I shall play with Flossie and Mollie all the forenoon,--"

"And the maid will serve your lunch at _my_ house at one," Dorothy said.

"And I'll ask them both to come over to the cottage to play with me this afternoon," Nancy continued, "and before we're done playing you'll return."

And the forenoon was quite as pleasant as she had thought it would be.

She had gone over to Mollie's, and found Flossie already there, and they had played tag and hide-and-seek just as if it had been a summer day.

The sunlight was warm, the breeze soft and sweet, and every bit of snow had vanished. It was like springtime, and they played without ceasing until the hour for lunch.

"Well come over to the cottage together this afternoon," called Mollie, as Nancy hurried away towards the stone house.

She knew that lunch was always served promptly as the hands upon the dining-room clock pointed to the hour of one.

She was rather afraid of the burly butler, because he stood so very erect, and never, _never_ smiled even when the jokes told at the table were very funny. But the maid's eyes often twinkled, and Nancy hoped that it would be the maid who would serve her.

She was surprised to find that lunching alone in the great dining-room was not very cheerful after all, and after a hasty meal, she slipped from her chair, refusing to taste any more of the dainties which the maid offered her.