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Dorothy Dale At Glenwood School

<h3> CHAPTER IX </h3> <h4> COMMITTEE OF ARRANGEMENTS </h4> "Isn't it too delicious," exclaimed Tavia, excitedly. "Delightful," answered Dorothy. "I hope hereafter you will never doubt the goodness of your fairy godmother." "Or that of my fairy godsister," added Tavia. "And Aunt Winnie is to do all your shopping. Your mother asked her to get everything you will need. The money you received from the railroad company for the loss of your hair in the accident has been put aside by your father for your education. So you cannot longer boast of that romantic poverty you have been holding over my poor, innocent head," and Dorothy gave her friend a "knowing squeeze," that kind of embrace that only girl friends understand fully. "I can scarcely realize it," pondered Tavia, "not to have you leave me here all alone! Why, Doro, I could not sleep nights, worrying about what would become of me in this hamlet without you." "And I was equally tortured with worries about what would become of me, when I could not tell you all my troubles. Especially when I thought of having to—" "Fight the Green Violet alone! I don't blame you. But I am just dying to know what use she will make of the muskmelon story. I met Alice yesterday and she felt dreadfully about the way Viola acted. She is coming over to apologize to you as soon as she can do so without carting the vegetable along. Pity they did not name her cucumber instead of violet—the green would match her better. I am going to call her 'Cuke' hereafter! Short for cucumber, you know." "Oh, that would be unkind," objected Dorothy. "Unkind nothing," replied the impulsive one. "I wish I could think of a good rhyme for her new name. I would pass it around—" "Now, Tavia, you must not keep me worrying about the mischievous things you intend to do at Glenwood. Remember that is one of the stipulations—you are to be very, very good." "I feel a sore spot under my shoulder blade now," declared Tavia, putting her hand back. "Wings as sure as you live, just feel!" "But do you realize it, we have only this week? We must be in Glenwood next Monday." "All the better. I cannot wait. Won't it be too gloriotious?" and Tavia again indulged in "steps," her favorite outlet for pent-up sentiment. "The boys are coming over to-morrow afternoon," announced Dorothy, "I had a note from Ned this morning." "Goody," exclaimed Tavia, coming to a full stop with a twirl that stood for the pedal period. "Another ride?" "No, I'm afraid not. Ned said he and Nat were going to spend the afternoon with us." "Well, it will be fun anyway. It always is when the boys get jollying. I am afraid I do love boys—next to you, Doro, I think a real nice boy is the very nicest human possible." "Next to me? On the other side you mean?" "No, on the second side, the boy is on the outside of the argument. You are always first, Doro." Meanwhile the news, that Dorothy and Tavia were to leave Dalton for a school in New England, had spread among their former school companions. Alice MacAllister, Sarah Ford, May Egner and a number of others had held a little consultation over the matter and decided that some sort of testimonial should be arranged to give their friends a parting acknowledgment of the regard and esteem in which Dalton school girls held Tavia Travers and Dorothy Dale. Of course Tavia was never as popular as Dorothy had always been—she was too antagonistic, and insisted upon having too much fun at the expense of others. But, now that she was leaving them, the girls admitted she had been a "jolly good fellow," and they would surely miss her mischief if nothing more. May Egner wanted the committee of arrangements to make the affair a "Linen Shower" such as brides are given. "Because," argued the practical May, "it will be so nice to have a lovely lot of handkerchiefs and collars. No one can have too many." "Well, we can include the shower if you like," said Alice, who was chairman, "but I vote for a lawn party, with boys invited." "A lawn party with boys!" chorused the majority, in enthusiastic approval. "I think it would be a charity to let the Dalton boys come to something," declared Sarah Ford. "If we leave them out all the time, by and by, when we want someone to take us home on a dark night—" "When you stay chinning too long with Roberta," interrupted a girl who knew Sarah's weakness for "dragging along the way." "Well, you may be out in the dark some time yourself, Nettie, and it is very nice to have—" "A very nice boy—" "Order! Order!" called the chairman. "We have voted to invite them and—" "It's up to them," persisted Nettie Niles, who, next to Tavia Travers, had the reputation and privilege of using more slang than any other well-bred girl in Dalton. "It is to be a lawn party then," declared the chairman, with befitting dignity. "And we have only one day to arrange the whole thing." "I'll collect the boys," volunteered the irrepressible Nettie. "Then you are appointed a committee of one to invite all the nice boys in the first class," said Alice, much to the surprise of the joker. "And not any other?" pouted Nettie. "If I should run across a real nice little fellow, with light curly hair, and pale pink cheeks, and—and—" "New tennis suit," suggested someone, who had seen Nettie walking home with a boy of the tennis-suit description. "Oh, yes," agreed the chairman, "I forgot to include Charlie. He is not now at Dalton school, but of course, Nettie, you may invite Charlie." "Thanks," said Nettie, determined not to be abashed by the teasing. "We will have cake and lemonade," proposed May Egner. "I'm glad I only have to bring boys," said Nettie aside, "I couldn't bake a cake to save me." "And I'll bring a whole pan of fresh taffy," volunteered Sarah. "Put me down for two dozen lemons," offered May Egner, who seemed to think the entire success of a lawn party depended upon the refreshing lemonade. "Where shall we have it?" asked Alice. The girls glanced around at the splendid lawn upon which the little meeting was being held. It was the MacAllister place, and had the reputation of being well-kept besides affording a recreation ground for the family—the secret of the combination lay in the extent of the grounds: they might be walked upon, but were never trampled upon. Mr. MacAllister made it a rule that games should be kept to their restricted provinces, as the tennis court and croquet grounds: other games should never be indulged in on the range close to the house or near the paths. "Plenty of room to play tag in the orchard," he would tell the children, and this plan kept the place in an enviable condition. "The schoolyard is awfully dry and dusty," remarked Nettie in answer to the question of a site for the party. "You are welcome to come here," said Alice, modestly. "Oh, that would be splendid!" declared May, whereat all the others voiced similar sentiments. It was promptly decided that the invitation to hold the affair on the MacAllister grounds should be accepted with thanks, and as there remained not many hours of the day to attend to arrangements, as the next afternoon would bring them to the test, the girls hastily scattered to begin their respective duties in the matter. Viola Green was present at the meeting. Alice had told her of its purpose, and as only a few days remained of the time allotted Viola to remain at Dalton, Alice was not sorry when her visitor pleaded another engagement. That engagement consisted of a promise to walk through the Green with Tom Burbank—he, too, was a stranger in Dalton, spending a week of his holiday with the Bennet family. Viola could boast of a well-filled trunk of stylish clothes, and in no other place, of the many she had visited during her vacation, had this wardrobe shown to such advantage as in Dalton. Even the attractive linens that Alice was invariably gowned in (except on Sundays, when she wore a simple summer silk), seemed of "back date" compared with the showy dresses Viola exhibited. They were stylish in that acceptance of the term that made them popular, but were not distinctive, and would probably be entirely out of date by the following summer. On this particular afternoon Viola wore a deep blue crepe with shaded ribbons, a dress, according to the feminine ethics of Dalton, "fit for a party." Tom Burbank sported white flannels, a very good summer suit indeed, but a little out of the ordinary in Dalton. It was not to be wondered at, then, that the appearance of these two strangers attracted some attention on the Green. Neither could it be doubted that such attention was flattering to Viola, a stylishly dressed girl often enjoys being credited with her efforts. "Wasn't that the greatest," Tom was drawling to Viola, "about those folks riding in the police wagon." "Disgraceful, I should say," replied Viola, emphatically. "And the fellow in the—farmer's duds. Wasn't he a sight?" and the young man chuckled at the thought of Nat in the overalls and jumper. "And those two girls are going to Glenwood—the boarding school I attend!" and Viola's lip curled in hauteur. "The dickens they are! I—beg your pardon, but I was so surprised," said Tom. "I don't blame you. I was equally surprised myself. In fact, I guess everyone was—they made up their minds so suddenly. I suppose—" Then Viola stopped. "Well, what do you suppose?" "Perhaps I shouldn't say it—" "Why not? Can't you trust me?" "Oh, it wasn't that. But it might seem unkind." "Nonsense," and the young man gave Viola a reassuring look. "A thing said in good faith is never unkind." "I'm so glad you feel that way. Alice is so different, and I have been just dying to talk to somebody—somebody who would look at things as I do. Sometimes I am almost homesick." "I suppose you are," said the youth, falling a victim to the girl's coquetry as readily as water runs down hill. "A fellow is never that way—homesick, I mean; but for a girl—" "Oh, yes," sighed Viola, "this visiting is not all it is supposed to be. Alice is a lovely girl, of course, but—" "A trifle high flown," said Tom, trying to help the faltering girl with her criticism. "And so strangely fascinated with that Dorothy." Viola toyed evasively with the stick of her parasol. "Of course she is a pretty girl—" "Too yellow—I mean too blondy," said Tom, feeling obliged to say something against Dorothy. "Do you know her cousin, Nat White?" "Not very well, I only met him the other night. But he seems like a decent fellow." "I cannot imagine any boy allowing two girls to get in such a predicament," said Viola, "feeling her way" to further criticism. "It was rough, but then you see he was not with them, he had gone to the blacksmith shop to get something fixed, I believe." "Oh, they were alone!" and Viola had gained one point. "Was it really melons, do you suppose?" "So he said, but he seemed to take the whole thing as a joke. Ginger! It was funny to go out in a red flyer and come back in a Black Maria," and Tom laughed at his own attempt at a pun. "Then, when the cousin came back the girls were in the police patrol? That accounts for it. I could not possibly see how any young fellow could allow girls to get into such a scrape," persisted Viola. "Yes," said Tom vaguely, not being at all particular as to what was the nature of the remark he had given acquiescence to. "But to be arrested!" went on Viola. "Were they arrested?" asked Tom in surprise. "Why, of course," declared Viola. "Didn't Mr. White say so?" "Oh, I suppose he did. That is—I really had not looked at it that way. I thought it was some kind of joke." But Tom had said, "Yes," Nat told him they had been arrested! And Tom Burbank never intended to say anything of the kind! Viola Green with her pretty clothes and pretty looks had "put the words into his mouth and had taken them out again!" "We must be going!" said Viola, leaving her seat beside the little fish pond in the park. "I suppose I shall see you at the lawn party?" "If I am invited?" "Then I invite you now. You need not say you got my invitation before the others were out—but be sure to come!" <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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