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Dorothy Dale In The City

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<h2 id="c17">CHAPTER XVII TAVIA’S RESOLVE</h2> Tavia was preoccupied at breakfast. Ned slily guessed that she was yearning for a certain someone left behind in Dalton, but Tavia just smiled, and insisted that she was paying strict attention to other matters. “Then why,” demanded Ned, “have you poured maple syrup into your coffee?” “I didn’t!” declared Tavia, but there was little use denying it when she carefully stirred her cup. Dorothy shook her forefinger at Tavia. “This morning you had your ribbons in your hair, and yet you asked me to find them for you; and then you said you were a ‘stupid’ when I located them for you—on top of your head.” “But I still deny that I am preoccupied, or dreaming,” declared Tavia. “In fact, I’m too wideawake. It hurts to be as fully awake as I am!” “Look out!” warned Ned, “there, you almost put sugar in your egg cup!” <div class="pb" id="Page_163">[163]</div> “Please stop noticing me,” said poor Tavia, chagrined at last into pleading with her teasers. “Suppose I admit that I am deeply absorbed?” “Don’t do anything of the sort,” said Aunt Winnie, “just put all the maple syrup in your coffee that you wish; you may like coffee that way, if Ned does not.” It was noticeable to all that Tavia’s attention was not given to her immediate surroundings, and while the others were still at breakfast, the girl stole noiselessly to her room, dressed for the street, and quietly opened the door leading into their private hall. She listened, and caught the sound of merry voices from the breakfast room. She tiptoed down the hall, opened the outer door, and reached the elevator in safety. She rang, and it seemed almost an hour before the car came up. Elevators are such slow things when one is on an errand that must be done in haste! Tavia watched Mrs. White’s door, afraid every moment that Dorothy or Aunt Winnie would pop out. But the elevator did finally arrive, and bidding the boy “good morning” Tavia at last felt safe. To what they would say when they discovered that she had gone out alone through the streets of New York city, Tavia gave only a momentary thought. It could all be explained so nicely when she returned. <div class="pb" id="Page_164">[164]</div> She hastened to a corner drug-store, asked permission to use the pay telephone, and entered the booth. Not until then did Tavia know fear! How to telephone, what to say—she couldn’t think connectedly. After finding the number, she took off the receiver with more confidence than she really felt. Her heart beat so fast that she thought the girl at the central office would ask what that thumping noise was on the wire! “Hello!” she called, timidly. A boy’s voice at the other end of the line answered. “I would like to speak with Mr. Akerson, if you please,” said Tavia, and felt braver now that she had really started on her adventure. “Is this Mr. Akerson? No?” Someone had answered, but evidently it was not the right man. After a long wait another voice floated into Tavia’s ear—a woman’s voice. Tavia said, becoming impatient: “I simply want to talk with Mr. Akerson. Is that impossible?” She was assured by the voice at the other end that it was not, but Mr. Akerson was always busy, and must have the name of the party. This was not what Tavia had expected, and for a moment she was confused and felt like hanging up the receiver and running away. “Well?” asked the young lady. “Tell him—oh, just tell him, a young lady; he doesn’t know me.” <div class="pb" id="Page_165">[165]</div> “I must have your name, or I cannot call him to the ’phone.” “How aggravating!” exclaimed Tavia to the empty air, “I didn’t expect I would have to publish my name broadcast.” Then she spoke into the receiver: “I want to see Mr. Akerson on very special, important business that only concerns myself; kindly tell him that, please,” she said, with great dignity. Not a sound came from the other end and Tavia began to wonder whether this would end her mission, when a loud, hearty voice yelled right in her ear: “Hello-o-o!” It only startled Tavia. At that moment she couldn’t have remembered her own name. “Hello-o!” called the impatient voice again. “Might I have an interview with you this morning?” Tavia at last managed to gasp. “Who is this?” asked the voice in a more gentle tone. “I’m a young lady who wants a private interview with you,” she answered, trying to be very impressive. “Why certainly,” said the man’s voice. “When do you wish to see me?” Tavia caught a hint of amusement in the tone, so she answered quickly, trying to throw into her accent the commanding tones of grown-up women: “I must see you immediately, and just as soon as I can get down to your office.” <div class="pb" id="Page_166">[166]</div> “Very well,” said the voice, “but won’t you tell me your name?” “Not now,” answered Tavia, still maintaining great dignity of voice, “and please, will you tell me just how to reach your office—and—and, oh, all about getting there. You see, I really don’t know where Nassau Street is.” The man laughed, and Tavia quickly jotted down the directions and left the telephone a bit perplexed. How amused the man had been! Perhaps it wasn’t customary for young girls to make appointments thus. Tavia quailed, she did so detest doing anything that a born and bred New York girl would not do. The mere matter of taking a surface car and reaching lower Broadway was a bit nerve-racking, but simple in the extreme. Tavia felt that, for a country girl, she could travel through the city like a veteran. Mr. Akerson had specifically told her not to take the subway, as it might be puzzling, but, finding the office building was not as simple as finding the proper car to get there had been. There were numerous large buildings on the block, and such crowds of heedless men rushing passed her! There were as many people in the middle of the street as there were on the walks. Everyone was in a tremendous hurry, and could not wait for his neighbor. <div class="pb" id="Page_167">[167]</div> Lower New York presented to Tavia the most bewildering, impossible place she had ever imagined! In the shopping districts, New York is enchanting, but this section, with its forbidding-looking, sunless, narrow streets, and the wind blowing constantly, piercing and sharp, made Tavia shiver under her furs. Each building seemed equipped with whirling doors that were perpetually in motion, and to enter one of these doors caused Tavia to shrink back and wish heartily that Dorothy or Ned was with her. She stood waiting an opportune moment to slip into the rapidly-swinging doors, and should have turned away in despair of ever entering, when a young man stopped, and holding the circular portal still, with one strong arm, he bowed to Tavia to pass through. She plunged into the compartment and was whirled into a white marble hall directly in front of a row of elevators. Again she read the address of Mr. Akerson. “Room 1409.” Entering an elevator she wondered in a misty, dizzy way how one knew where to get off to find room Number 1409. <div class="pb" id="Page_168">[168]</div> “Eighteenth floor!” yelled the elevator operator, looking askance at Tavia. Then before Tavia could think, he called, “Going down!” and the elevator filled up for the downward trip. Tavia gasped. How stupid she had been! How she wished Dorothy was with her! Then she left the elevator on the ground floor and pulling together all her courage, she asked an important looking man in uniform, how she could reach Room 1409. “Fourteenth floor, to your right,” explained the man, taking the bewildered Tavia by the arm and putting her on an elevator. “So that’s the system,” thought Tavia, and she could have laughed aloud. And marveling at the perfect simplicity of so many things that at first glance seemed complicated, Tavia found herself at the fourteen floor. “Room Fourteen Hundred and Nine to your right,” said the elevator boy, without Tavia having asked him anything about it. “To your right,” sounded simple, but as Tavia surveyed the various halls, running in numerous directions, she grew weary of her first business trip and so tired that she almost lost sight of the reason for the journey. Under the guidance of a flippant young person, Tavia finally located “to the right.” She opened the door and entered. She fairly rushed into the office because she felt that Mr. Akerson must be tired waiting for her arrival. A small boy sat at a telephone switchboard. “Who d’yer wanta see?” asked the boy, with utter indifference. <div class="pb" id="Page_169">[169]</div> “Mr. Akerson,” said Tavia. The boy telephoned to somewhere, and presently a young girl appeared, and without a word, conducted Tavia through a long suite of offices, with crowds of clerks, desks and bookcases in every conceivable corner. The young miss poked her head into a door and called out: “Mr. A.” “A’s not in,” called back another young voice. “Back in half an hour.” Tavia sat down and looked about her. So this was the way business men kept important appointments! Back in half an hour! It seemed ages since Tavia left Mrs. White’s breakfast room, but the ticking clock on the wall announced that it was just ten-thirty. She must return for lunch, or the family would be frightened. She quietly looked about her, and in one quick glance decided that after all, the various eyes that were looking her way, might be kindly eyes, and with a great deal of courage, for it really takes courage to face a long line of clerks in a business office, Tavia smiled at the entire force. Soon she became interested in the clicking typewriting machines, and the adding apparatus, and forgot all about herself, which seemed the best thing in the world to do. The most comfortable and happy people of all are those who can become so interested in others that they forget themselves. <div class="pb" id="Page_170">[170]</div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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