"Certainly," replied Dorothy coolly. "Why not?"
"Oh, nothing, of course," returned Viola, "Only after yesterday folks might think--oh, you know country folks can never understand the trick of deciding things quickly. You had not thought of it--of going away before, had you?"
Dorothy was too indignant to speak. What ever could the girl mean by such insinuations? Even Alice seemed dumbfounded, and Tavia positively dangerous. She walked straight up to the chair Viola occupied.
"Miss Green," she called. ""After yesterday," as you express it, is precisely the same as before yesterday, to all concerned. The experiences were unusual--"
"I should think so--" the stranger had the temerity to remark, but Alice had risen to go, while Viola stepped down from the porch, without offering a word of apology or explanation. "And where are you going, Dorothy dear?" asked Alice tenderly, trying to undo the harm that her visitor had been so successful in creating.
"To the Glenwood School, in the mountains of New England, I believe,"
answered Dorothy.
"Indeed?" spoke up Miss Green again. "That is where I attend. How strange we should meet just before the term opens," and she smiled that same unpleasant smile that had chilled Dorothy when Alice introduced them.
"You do!" exclaimed Tavia rather rudely. Then she added: "Dorothy Dale, who told you you could go away to school? You have not asked my permission yet. To the mountains of New England! I would like to see you run away and leave me!"
"It would be unpleasant indeed!" called back Viola. "You had better come to Glenwood too!"
"Maybe I will," snapped Tavia. "One thing is certain. Dorothy Dale will have friends whereever she goes and if I could go, I would be most happy to look on while she reaps her new conquests. Dorothy is a regular winner, Miss Green. You will have to look out if she goes to Glenwood. She will cut you out with your best friends. She always makes one fell swoop of the entire outfit!"
A look of deep scorn was the answer Viola made to Tavia"s attempt at raillery. Evidently she had made up her mind that Dorothy Dale would never "cut her out" at Glenwood.
And Mrs. White had remarked to her brother, Major Dale, that a jealous girl was a dangerous enemy!
CHAPTER VII
TAVIA"S DANGER
"Whatever can that girl mean?" exclaimed Dorothy, when Alice and Viola had pa.s.sed down the walk.
"Mean! The meanest thing I ever met! Did you see her refuse my hand?"
asked Tavia. "Well, it"s a good thing to be able to size up a girl like that at the first meeting; it saves complications. But who cares for green violets? What I want to know is, are you really going away, Doro?" and the look on Tavia"s face could not be mistaken. She would be dreadfully grieved if compelled to part with Dorothy"s companionship.
"Aunt Winnie thinks I should go, and father has decided it is best. Of course I shall hate to leave you, Tavia," and Dorothy wound her arm affectionately around her friend. "In fact I shall never, never, find any girl to take your place in my heart," and something very like tears came into Dorothy"s voice.
"I knew it! I just knew you would go away when you got that hateful Indian money. And what in the world will I ever do in Dalton? Now I have learned how much pleasure I could have, visiting your friends and riding in automobiles, and then, just when I get to realizing what a good time we could have, you up and leave me! I might have know better than to go out of my own limits!" and here Tavia actually burst into tears, a most remarkable thing for her to do.
"I am so sorry," said Dorothy with a sigh, putting her arm around the weeping girl.
"There! What a goose I am! Of course I would not have done differently if I could do it all over again. The good times we have had are the most precious spots in all my life. And, Doro dear, you did not drag me out of my sh.e.l.l--I was always running after you for that matter, so you need not think the loneliness will be any fault of yours--except that you are such a dreadfully dear girl that no one could help loving you. You really should try to curb that fault."
Tavia had dried her tears. She was that sort of girl who is both too proud and too brave to show "the white feather" as she often expressed the failing of giving away to emotion that might distress others.
"I do wish you could go along," said Dorothy.
"Well, I don"t believe I would really like to go, Doro," Tavia surprised her by saying. "I should probably get into all kinds of sc.r.a.pes with that Green Violet, and the sc.r.a.pes would likely make it unpleasant for you. Besides I have been thinking I ought to go to work. I am old enough to do something--fifteen next month you know--and I would just like to get right out into the world--go with the tide."
"Tavia!" exclaimed Dorothy in alarm, for these rash sentiments had of late been strangely common with Tavia. "You do not know what you are talking about. Go with the tide--"
"Yes, I just mean take my chances with other girls. I had a letter from a girl in Rochester the other day. She had got work and she is no older than I am."
"At what?" asked Dorothy.
"On the stage. She is going to take part in some chorus work--"
"Tavia, dear!" cried Dorothy. "You must not get letters from such girls. On the stage! Why, that is the most dangerous work any girl could possibly get into."
"Now, Doro, I have not got the place, worse luck. And you must not take on so just because I happened to mention the matter. But you must realize there is a vast difference between poor girls like me, and those of your station in life!"
What had come over Tavia lately? Why did she so dwell upon the difference between Dorothy"s means and her own? Was it a natural pride or a peculiar unrest--that unrest, perhaps, that so often leads others, who are older, stronger and wiser than Tavia Travers, into paths not the most elevating? And then they may urge the excuse that the world had been hard on them; that they could not find their place in life, when in reality they scorn to take the place offered them, and instead of trying for a better or higher mark they deliberately refuse the prospects held out, and turn backward--then they blame the world!
This condition is called "Social Unrest," and Tavia Travers, though young and inexperienced, was having a taste of its bitter moral poison.
"Promise me you will never write another letter to that girl," begged Dorothy, solemnly. "I know your father would not permit it Tavia, and I know such influence is dangerous."
"Why the idea! You should have read her letter, Doro. She says the killingest things--But mercy, I must go. I have to go to the Green before tea," and, with a rea.s.suring kiss, Tavia darted off.
Dorothy looked after her friend as she skipped down the path, and a sense of dread, of strange misgivings, took possession of her. What if Tavia should actually run away as she had often threatened in jest!
Then Dorothy remembered how well Tavia danced, how she had practiced the "stage fall" after seeing the play in Rochester, and how little Johnnie Travers had barely escaped the falling ceiling that came down with Tavia"s attempt at tragedy. Then, too, Dorothy thought of the day Tavia had painted her cheeks with mullin leaves and how Dorothy then remarked in alarm: "Tavia, you look like an actress!"
How strangely bright Tavia"s eyes seemed that day! How wonderfully pretty her short bronze locks fell against her unnaturally red cheeks!
All this now flashed through Dorothy"s dazed brain.
How could she leave Tavia? And yet she would so soon have to go away--to that far-off school--
And that strange girl who had come with Alice. What could she have meant by those horrid insinuations about Dorothy so "suddenly making up her mind" to go to boarding school; and that it would be "too bad to leave Tavia alone in Dalton just then!" as if everyone did not know by this time just what had happened on the auto ride, and that Ned had actually been offered the reward for the capture of Anderson. Not only this but her two cousins, Ned and Nat, had received public praise for brave conduct, and the two girls, whose names were not mentioned (Major Dale had asked the reporter to omit them if possible from the report), were also spoken of as having taken part in the capture, inasmuch as they allowed Anderson to remain quietly in the car until the young owners of the machine arrived upon the scene.
Dorothy sat there thinking it all over. It was almost dusk and on the little vine-clad porch the shadows of the honey-suckle shifted idly from Dorothy"s chair to the block of sunshine that was trying so bravely to keep the lonely girl company--every other ray of sunlight had vanished, but that gleam seemed to stay with Dorothy. She did not fail to observe this, as she always noticed every kindness shown her, and she considered the "ray of light" as being very significant in the present rather gloomy situation.
"But I must not mope," Dorothy told herself presently. "I simply must talk the whole thing over with Aunt Winnie."
How much better for Tavia it would have been had she too determined to "talk the whole thing over" with someone of experience?
Dorothy found her aunt busy writing the boarding school letters, and when that task had been finished Mrs. White was entirely at the girl"s service. Dorothy tried to unfold to her the situation, without putting unnecessary blame on Tavia, who was such a jolly girl and so absolutely free from dread--never had been known to be afraid of anything, Dorothy declared, and of course there was therefore, all the more reason to be worried about her risks. To Tavia, a risk was synonymous with sport.
"I had no idea she would be interested in that sort of thing," said Mrs. White, referring to the matter of going on the stage, "and, perhaps, Dorothy--"
"But I am not at all sure that she is interested in it, auntie,"
Dorothy interrupted. "I am only afraid she may get more letters from that girl-- And besides, I will be so lonely without her, and I know she will miss me."
"Well, there, little girl," and the aunt kissed Dorothy"s cheek, "you take things too seriously. We will see what can be done. I, too, like Tavia, She is an impulsive girl, but as good as gold, and I will always be interested in her welfare."
"Thank you, auntie dear. You are so kind and so generous. It would seem enough to be bothered with me, but to give you further trouble with my friends--"
"Nonsense, my dear, it is no trouble whatever. I heartily enjoy having your confidences, and you may rest a.s.sured very little harm will come to the girl who chooses a wise woman for her adviser. And I do hope, Dorothy, I am wise in girls" ways if not in points of law, as your dear father always contends."