<h2 id="c9">CHAPTER IX <br/><span class="small">JUST DALES</span></h2>
<p>It was three days after Christmas, and what
was left of the white crystals was fast becoming
brown mud, and the puddles and rivulets of melted
snow, very tempting to the small boy, made
walking almost impossible for the small boy’s
elders. The air was soft, and as balmy as the first
days of Spring. One almost expected to hear the
twittering of a bluebird and the chirp of the robins,
but nevertheless a grate fire burned brightly in
Dorothy’s room, with the windows thrown open
admitting the crisp air and sunlight.</p>
<p>“Shall I take my messaline dress, Tavia?”
Dorothy asked, holding the garment in mid-air.</p>
<p>“If we go to the opera you’ll want it; I packed
my only evening gown, that ancient affair in pink,”
said Tavia, laughing a bit wistfully.</p>
<p>“You’re simply stunning in that dress, Tavia,”
said Dorothy. “Isn’t she, Nat?” she appealed to
her cousin.</p>
<p>“That flowery, pinkish one, with the sash?”
asked the boy.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_77">[77]</div>
<p>“Yes,” said Tavia, “the one that I’ve been
wearing so long that if I put it out on the front
steps some evening, it would walk off alone to any
party or dance in Dalton.”</p>
<p>“You know,” said Nat, looking at Tavia with
pride, “when you have that dress on you look like
a—er—a well, like pictures I’ve seen of—red-haired
girls,” the color mounted Nat’s brow and
he looked confused. Dorothy smiled as she turned
her back and folded the messaline dress, placing it
carefully in her trunk. Nat was so clumsy at compliments!
But Tavia did not seem to notice the
clumsiness, a lovely light leaped to her clear brown
eyes, and the wistfulness of a moment before vanished
as she laughed.</p>
<p>“I was warned by everyone in school not to buy
pink!” declared Tavia.</p>
<p>“So, of course,” said Dorothy laughing, “you
straightway decided on a pink dress. But, seriously,
Tavia, pink is your color, the old idea of auburn
locks and greens and browns is completely
smashed to nothingness, when you wear pink! Oh
dear,” continued Dorothy, perplexed, “where shall
I pack this wrap? Not another thing will go into
my trunk.”</p>
<p>“Are you taking two evening wraps?” asked
Tavia.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_78">[78]</div>
<p>“Surely, one for you and the other for me. You
see this is pink too,” Dorothy held up a soft, silk-lined
cape, with a collar of fur. Quick tears
sprang to Tavia’s eyes, and impulsively she threw
her arms about Dorothy.</p>
<p>“Don’t strangle Dorothy,” objected Nat.</p>
<p>“You always make me so happy, Doro,” said
Tavia, releasing her chum, who looked happier
even than Tavia, her fair face flushed. The hugging
Tavia had given had loosened Dorothy’s
stray wisps of golden hair, that fell about her
eyes and ears in a most bewitching way.</p>
<p>“Girls,” called Aunt Winnie, from below stairs,
“aren’t you nearly finished?”</p>
<p>“All finished but Nat’s part,” answered Dorothy.
Then to Nat she said: “Now, cousin, sit
hard on this trunk, and perhaps we’ll be able to
close it.”</p>
<p>Nat solemnly perched on the lid of the trunk,
but it would not close.</p>
<p>“Something will have to come out,” he declared.</p>
<p>“There is nothing, absolutely nothing, in my
trunk that I can leave behind,” said Dorothy.</p>
<p>“My trunk closed very easily,” said Tavia,
“I’ll get it up from the station and we’ll pack the
surplus gowns in it,” she turned triumphantly to
Dorothy. “Too bad I sent it on so early. But
we can get it.”</p>
<p>“The very thing!” Dorothy laughed. “Run,
Nat, and fetch Tavia’s trunk from the station.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_79">[79]</div>
<p>“Dorothy,” called Aunt Winnie again, “we
only have a few hours before train time. Your
trunk should be ready for the expressman now,
dear.”</p>
<p>“Hurry, Nat,” begged Dorothy, “you must get
Tavia’s trunk here in two minutes. Coming,” she
called down to Aunt Winnie, as she and Tavia
rushed down the stairs.</p>
<p>“The trunk won’t close because the gowns won’t
fit,” dramatically cried Tavia.</p>
<p>“So the boys have gone for Tavia’s, and we’ll
pack things in it,” hurriedly explained Dorothy.</p>
<p>“What is all this about gowns?” asked Major
Dale, drawing Dorothy to the arm of the great
chair in which he was sitting.</p>
<p>“I’m packing, father, we’re going to leave you
for a while,” said Dorothy, nestling close to his
broad shoulders.</p>
<p>“But not for very long,” Aunt Winnie said.
“You and the boys must arrange so that you can
follow in at least one week.”</p>
<p>“Well, it all depends on my rheumatism,” answered
the major. “You won’t want an old
limpy soldier trying to keep pace with you in New
York City. Mrs. Martin, the tried and true, will
take fine care of us while you are gone.”</p>
<p>“No, that won’t do,” declared Dorothy, “we
know how well cared for you will be under Mrs.
Martin’s wing, but we want you with us. In fact,”
she glanced hastily at Aunt Winnie, “we may even
need you.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_80">[80]</div>
<p>“Perhaps the best way,” said Aunt Winnie,
thoughtfully, “would be to send you a telegram
when to come, and by that time, you will no doubt
be all over this attack of rheumatism.”</p>
<p>“Ned and Nat are as anxious as are you girlies
to get there,” replied Major Dale, “so I’ll make
a good fight to arrive in New York City.”</p>
<p>“Who is going to tell me stories at bed-time,
when Dorothy’s gone?” asked little Roger. “I
don’t want Doro to go away, ’cause she’s the best
sister that any feller ever had.”</p>
<p>Roger was leaning against the Major’s knee,
and Dorothy drew him close to her.</p>
<p>“Sister will have to send you a story in a letter
every day. How will that do?” she asked, as
she pressed her cheek against his soft hair.</p>
<p>“Aw, no,” pouted Roger, “tell them all to me
now, before you go away.”</p>
<p>“I’ll tell you one and then father will tell one;
father will tell one about the soldier boys,” murmured
Dorothy in Roger’s ear.</p>
<p>“Oh, goody,” Roger clapped his hands; “and
Aunt Winnie and Tavia and Ned and Nat and
everybody can tell me one story to-night and that
will fill up for all the nights while you are away!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_81">[81]</div>
<p>“Dorothy!” screamed Tavia, bursting into the
room in wild excitement, “the boys have gone
without my trunk check! They can’t get it!”</p>
<p>“And the gowns will have to be left behind!”</p>
<p>“Never!” laughed Tavia, “I’ll run all the way
to the station and catch them!”</p>
<p>“They’ve taken the <i>Fire Bird</i>, maybe you’ll
meet them coming back.”</p>
<p>Tavia dashed, hatless, from the house. They
watched her as she fairly flew along the road, in a
short walking skirt, heavy sweater pulled high
around her throat, and her red hair gleaming in
the sun.</p>
<p>Major Dale had always greatly admired Tavia;
he liked her fearless honesty and the sincerity of
her affections. Aunt Winnie, too, loved her almost
as much as she loved Dorothy.</p>
<p>“I’ve wondered so much,” said Dorothy, “what
trouble Miss Mingle is in. She left school so suddenly
that last day, and Cologne was so provoking
in her letter.”</p>
<p>“An illness, probably,” said Aunt Winnie,
kindly.</p>
<p>“It can’t be anything so commonplace as illness,”
said Dorothy. “Cologne would have gone
into details about illness. The telegram, and her
departure, were almost tragic in their suddenness.
I feel so selfish when I think of our treatment of
that meek little woman. No one ever was interested
in her, that I remember. Her great fault
was a too-meek spirit. She literally erased herself
and her name from the minds of everyone.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_82">[82]</div>
<p>Major Dale and Aunt Winnie listened without
much enthusiasm. Aunt Winnie was worried
about Dorothy, who showed so little inclination
to enter the whirl of society in North Birchland.
She had looked forward with much pleasure to
presenting her niece to her social world.</p>
<p>But Dorothy had little love for the society life
of North Birchland. She loved her cousins and
her small brothers, and seemed perfectly happy
and contented in her home life, and attending to
the small charities connected with the town. She
seemed to prefer a hospital to a house party, a
romp with the boys to a fashionable dance, and she
bubbled with glee in the company of Tavia, ignoring
the girls of the first families in her neighborhood.</p>
<p>“Your trip to New York, daughter,” began
Major Dale, slily smiling at Aunt Winnie, “will
be your <i>debut</i>, so to speak, in the world.”</p>
<p>Dorothy answered nothing, but continued to
smooth away the hair from Roger’s brow.</p>
<p>“What are you thinking of?” her father asked
musingly, not having received an answer to his
first remark.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_83">[83]</div>
<p>“Oh, nothing in particular,” sighed Dorothy,
“except that I don’t see why I should make a <i>debut</i>
anywhere. I don’t want to meet the world,—that
is, socially. I want to know people for themselves,
not for what they’re worth financially or
because of the entertaining they do. I just like
to know people—and poorer people best of all.
They are interesting and real.”</p>
<p>“As are persons of wealth and social position,”
answered Aunt Winnie, gently.</p>
<p>“I’m going to be a soldier, like father,” said
Joe, “and Dorothy can nurse me when I fall in
battle.”</p>
<p>“Me, too,” chirped little Roger, “I want to be
a soldier and limp like father!”</p>
<p>“Oh, boys!” cried Dorothy, in horror, “you’ll
never, never be trained for war.”</p>
<p>“What’s that?” asked Major Dale. “Don’t
you want the boys to receive honor and glory in
the army?”</p>
<p>“No,” said Dorothy decidedly, “I’ll never permit
it. Of course,” she hastened to add, “if Joe
must wear a uniform, he might go to a military
school, if that will please him.”</p>
<p>The major scoffed at the idea. Joe straightened
his shoulders, and marched about the room,
little Roger following in his wake, while the major
whistled “Yankee Doodle.”</p>
<p>The sound of the <i>Fire Bird</i> was heard coming
up the driveway, and in another second Nat, Ned
and Ted rushed into the room.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_84">[84]</div>
<p>“We can’t have the trunk without the check,”
explained Nat, breathlessly, “where is it?”</p>
<p>“Tavia discovered the check after you left, and
she followed you down to the station,” explained
Aunt Winnie.</p>
<p>“We took a short cut back and missed her, of
course,” said Nat, dejectedly.</p>
<p>“We won’t have any time to spare,” declared
Aunt Winnie, walking to the window, “the train
leaves at seven-thirty, and it is after six now,”
Dorothy followed her to the window. They both
stood still in astonishment.</p>
<p>“Boys!” cried Dorothy, “come quick!”</p>
<p>The boys scrambled to the window. There was
Tavia, coming up the drive, serenely seated on
top of her trunk, in the back part of a small buggy,
enjoying immensely the wind that brushed her hair
wildly about her face, while the driver, the stoutest
man in North Birchland, occupied the entire
front seat.</p>
<p>“I found it,” she cried lightly jumping to the
ground, “and this was the only available rig!”</p>
<p>“Never mind,” said Dorothy, “nothing counts
but a place to pack the gowns!”</p>
<p>“And catch the train for New York City,” cried
Tavia, from the top landing of the first flight of
stairs. “Everybody hurry! We have just time
enough to catch the train!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_85">[85]</div>
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