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Dorothy Dale's Queer Holidays

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<h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> <h3>THE DAY BEFORE CHRISTMAS</h3> "Well, I never expected to forgive him—he was so mean and obstinate——" The unpleasant, treble voice of Miss Jane Pumfret was interrupted by the lower tones of Major Dale. "But, my dear woman," he said, "Captain Mayberry is not responsible—he is sick, mentally and physically." "Well, I'll see," and she arose to go, "I am not much of a hand at making up, anyway." "But if you could have seen how he begged me to send for you. He seemed to fear you would be angry with him for leaving the old place." "Angry? More likely to be scared to death. I could not believe the old stage driver that you had really brought him to a hospital. Well, I must be going." She was almost at the door. "Don't mention my name to him, if you please." Major Dale was at his wits' end. He feared the old captain would be beyond consolation if he did not do as he had promised—send Miss Pumfret to him at once. Dorothy was just on the stairs. At a glance she understood that her father had failed to bring about a reconciliation between Captain Mayberry and his sister. She approached them. "You are Miss Pumfret, I know," she began, without waiting for her father's introduction. "Isn't it perfectly splendid?—the news from Captain Mayberry, I mean. He seemed as pleased as a child when I promised him a merry Christmas, and to-morrow morning I am going into the hospital to make sure he gets it. Won't you come with me? He will be delighted to see you, I am sure." Miss Pumfret looked at the impetuous girl who was going to make sure her brother had a merry Christmas. "You see," hurried on Dorothy, taking advantage of the moment to further press her request, "we just had the place ready for him. We gave a play, and had a new bed at our disposal." "My brother a charity patient!" exclaimed the woman. "Why, there's plenty of money in the property, but I won't touch pen to paper to sign——" "Of course, we can take care of him," interrupted Dorothy; "but I thought maybe you would like to make him a little Christmas present—it is visiting day to-morrow and the day before Christmas." Little Miss Pumfret glared at Dorothy. Then she stepped back and sank down on the hall seat. "Well," she exclaimed finally, "I'm an old-fashioned woman. Never was used to youngsters' interference, but I like your cheek (this was said with evident sincerity and no idea of being frivolous). I've just a good mind——" "Oh, do, do, Miss Pumfret! Come with me to-morrow and tell him you will sell Tanglewood Park and—fix it all up——" "How you do race on! But it's getting late. Perhaps——" "I'll meet you at the ten o'clock train," went on Dorothy, while even Major Dale was forced to smile at her impetuosity. "I have so many places to go, but I am going to the hospital first." Miss Pumfret put out her hand—it shook visibly. "Little girl," she said, "you are right. You have said it all for me. Come to-morrow and say it all over again to—Nick." Tears fell down the old pinched cheeks, but Dorothy kissed them away. She had found the path to Jane Pumfret's affection—it was cheek, just plain cheek, sometimes called courage. Yes, it was late, but Dorothy still had Tavia to console—if only she could insist upon Tavia spending Christmas at The Cedars—Dorothy had unlimited faith in the magic of the day before Christmas. Nat called to her as she started up to Tavia's room. "I say, Doro, maybe I—could help. I'd like to tell her it's all right. I was mean about it. You know, Tavia and I went—in it—together." "Oh," replied Dorothy vaguely, "I really don't know what you mean." Nat saw that he was about to betray a secret. He thought, naturally, that Tavia had confided fully in Dorothy. "Oh, I just meant," he stammered, "that if I can say anything to make Tavia feel—more at home, you know—don't hesitate to ask me." Tavia was at the head of the stairs looking straight at him. "Thanks!" she spoke up, all the tears evidently gone. "But if it's all the same to both of you, I would prefer that you keep your pretty saying for Christmas. I'm just dead tired, and fully expect to be asleep in exactly ten minutes." Dorothy saw that the sudden burst of gloom had been overcome, and knew that Tavia would actually be as good as her word and asleep in ten minutes. "Good-night, then," called Nat, "and don't forget that to-morrow is the day before Christmas." "Good-night," added Dorothy, "and don't forget you are to attend to everything to-morrow while I am in the city. See what it is to be on a charity committee! I'll have to have a substitute help with all the most important things—there's heaps to be done yet." "Good—nig-h-t!" drawled Tavia with a forced yawn. "I am not sure that I will wake up until the day after Christmas." "To bed! To bed, every one!" called Mrs. White, and then both troubles and pleasant anticipations for a happy ending to the queer holiday became hopelessly tangled in the dreams of the young folks at The Cedars. Dorothy's last clear thought was: "To-morrow something must happen to make it all right, for to-morrow is the day before Christmas." The sun was streaming in her window when she opened her eyes. She jumped up with a start, for she was to get an early train, go first to the hospital, then search out the wretched Miss Dearing. "I could never be happy on Christmas, and think perhaps she might be starving. When I find her I will—— But how can I tell what I may have to do?" Hurriedly she partook of breakfast and jumped into the depot cart that Nat had driven up to the door. "Take care that Tavia does not worry," Dorothy cautioned the young man. "I know she has a trouble, and I am sure somehow it will be all adjusted by to-night. I depend upon the witches of Christmas Eve." Nat laughed and assured her he "would keep track of Tavia." Then the train steamed in, and Dorothy was gone. "Suppose she fails to meet me," mused the girl, whose very red cheeks were the source of some remarks from a lady in the opposite seat. Dorothy always looked pretty, but she looked charming when the clear red blood rose to her cheeks and made her deep blue eyes flash like stars, actually ignited with the torch of anticipation. "But I am sure she will be there. Miss Pumfret is the sort of woman I should think would never break her word." Nor was she disappointed in her estimate; Jane Pumfret waited—even had a cab ready to drive with Dorothy to the hospital, there to see the new patient, Captain Nick Mayberry. "Perhaps I had better go first and prepare him," suggested Dorothy as they reached the door of the private room and saw the one spotless bed—the gift of the young ladies' auxiliary. "No need, dear," objected Miss Pumfret. "Now that I've made up my mind to it I actually can't wait." The next moment Dorothy drew back to allow brother and sister their own happy moment—Jane Pumfret had the old white-haired man in her arms, was embracing him like a child, and the nurse smiled in complete satisfaction as she, too, stepped aside with Dorothy. "That is all he wants," she said, "He has worried constantly, and I was so afraid she would not come—I know Miss Pumfret." Just then the telephone rang. The nurse picked up the receiver. She listened to the call from the office. Then she answered: "I'm awfully sorry, but I cannot see how we can take her. We haven't a single public bed unoccupied." She waited a moment, then resumed: "Poor thing. I hate to have you turn her away, but what can we do?" "A bed," thought Dorothy. "Why, of course, Miss Pumfret will provide a private one for her brother, and perhaps——" But she did not wait to think further. "Nurse," she interrupted, her voice carrying through the 'phone, "perhaps that patient could have our bed. Captain Mayberry is to go to the private wing." In a few words the nurse gathered Dorothy's meaning. Then she told the matron, speaking through the transmitter, to hold the applicant. "Would you like to come with me?" she asked Dorothy, as she prepared to interview the prospective patient. "Miss Pumfret will be here for some time yet." Down the broad marble steps, that seemed to exude everything antiseptic and sterilized, Dorothy hurried along after the head nurse. Into a large hall, then across this into a small waiting-room they passed. "The patient is only ill from neglect and nervous exhaustion," explained the nurse, "or I would not invite you down." A second white-capped and white-robed attendant opened the door. Dorothy stepped in first. A woman sat on a leather chair in the far corner of the room. "She is very weak," explained the second nurse to the first, "and I really was afraid to let her go." The woman raised her head. "Miss Dearing!" exclaimed Dorothy, too surprised to suppress her astonishment, "Why, I am so—glad I have found you!" The woman tried to open her lips, but a sudden movement of her head showed that she had fainted. "And you know her?" asked the nurses, quickly restoring the woman to consciousness with simple restoratives. "Slightly," replied Dorothy. "I will wait to see how she gets along." From the scene in the waiting-room Dorothy hurried back to the side of Captain Mayberry. She wanted to ask Miss Pumfret about the bed. "Oh, here you are!" exclaimed the little woman pleasantly. "I was just telling Nick what a girl you are. Perhaps you can tell us how to go about getting him into the private ward. He liked it first-rate here," she hurried to explain, "but there's no sense in keeping this bed from some one who may need it." Dorothy touched the button at the door to call an attendant. It was the head nurse who answered. "We can have this bed," stammered Dorothy, scarcely able to speak through her excitement. "Miss Pumfret wishes Captain Mayberry removed to the private wing." "That will do nicely," answered the nurse, smiling. "Your friend has been taken into the observation ward. She will remain there until her case is diagnosed. It was providential that you spoke when you did, or she might have fainted in the street if we had turned her away, and we are not allowed to take patients who apply as she did, unless they are vouched for. You see, it was well you happened to know her." "Could I speak with her?" asked Dorothy timidly. "That is precisely what I came up for. She wants very much to speak with you." <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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