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Dorothy Dale's Queer Holidays

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<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> <h3>WHAT HAPPENED TO TAVIA</h3> It must not be understood that Nat was a very silly boy. Not at all. He did like Tavia, but he liked his own sweet cousin Dorothy, and would have been just as disappointed, if not more so, had it been Dorothy who had missed her train and not Tavia. But the fact that all seemed to need Tavia to finish up the holiday plans, and that now she had not come put Nat in a very restless mood, and when the dinner, which was served immediately upon the return from the depot, was over, Nat decided he would find something to do that would occupy his time until the eight o'clock train, when, of course, they would again go to the station. Electricity was this young man's "hobby," and he had already fitted up the cellar with all sorts of wires and attachments for regulating the household affairs, such as turning on the heat by touching a button in the stable where the hired man, John, had his quarters, and lighting the gas in the coal-cellar by touching a button at the cook's elbow; in fact, Nat really did arrange a number of most convenient contrivances, but the family, all except Joe and Roger, thought his talent misapplied. They insisted he ought to study "railroading." "Or laying pipes," Ned would tell him when Nat pointed out some improvement in the miniature telephone system. But Joe and Roger loved to watch their big cousin make the sparks and turn on the signals, the latter task always being assigned to Roger, who had a very small engine of his own to practice on. "Come on, boys," said Nat to the youngsters, when, dinner being over, Major Dale and his sister, Mrs. White, went to "figure out Christmas secrets," and Dorothy turned to the piano to put in her time until the hour for going out again, "come on, and we'll rig up something." Instantly both little fellows were at Nat's heels, through the back hall to the cellar-way, where Nat stopped to don his overalls, for he always insisted that the first principle of true mechanics was "good, stout overalls." Nor were the clothes protectors unbecoming to Nat. In fact, he looked the ideal workman, except he was not exactly of the muscular build, being decidedly tall, and having such a crop of light, bushy hair. "I'll show you how to make gas," said Nat as his two young cousins waited impatiently to hear the program announced. "We can produce a very superior article by the mere use of bark from a white birch tree, and a common clay pipe. You cut the bark up into little pieces with a pair of scissors, fill the bowl of the pipe, and then make a cover or plug for the bowl by using clay or a mixture of salt, ashes and water. Stick the bowl of the pipe in the stove or furnace like this," and he opened the door of the big heater; "the fire causes the birchbark to give off a gas, it comes up into the pipestem, and can be lighted at the end, thus——" "What was that?" interrupted Joe. "A wagon outside?" "Might be," admitted Nat, "but what's that got to do with making birchbark gas?" "I thought I heard some one call," apologized Joe, again taking his place in front of the heater. "There is some one calling," declared little Roger. "I just heard them." "Well, I guess we had better give up the gas business," said Nat impatiently, "and you kids might as well go out and interview the night air." And with this he threw down the long-stemmed pipe, which broke into a dozen pieces. Then, while the younger boys made their way back to the kitchen, Nat started for the yard. "My, it's cold!" he could not help exclaiming as he stepped out into the clear, frosty air. Then he brushed against something. "It's a wonder you wouldn't knock me down!" came a voice, struggling between cold and laughter. "Tavia!" he gasped, recognizing the tones in spite of the chattering teeth and the forced laughter. "Yes, it's yours truly, Nat. And for gracious' sake, do let me in. What isn't frozen is paralyzed." "Where in the world did you come from?" asked the astonished boy as he led the way to the side door. "From some place too dark for the earth and too cold for—any other place. I think, it must have been Mars," Tavia finished, "and Mrs. Mars forgot to light the lamps." "But there was no train," remarked Nat, waiting for some one from within to open the door in answer to his hasty knock. "As if I didn't know that, Mr. White," replied Tavia saucily. "Do you suppose I am the kind of girl who rides in a dump-cart in preference to taking a red plush seat in a train?" By this time the commotion had been heard, and the door was opened by almost the entire family. "Mercy sakes!" exclaimed Dorothy, dragging Tavia in bodily. "No mercy about it," objected Tavia, giving Dorothy a peremptory hug. "I'm simply dead and buried, without insurance. Frozen stiff, and disjointed in every limb. Why, I rode here in a dump-cart!" "Let the girl sit down," interrupted Major Dale, who left his armchair to welcome Tavia. "My, but you are cold! No, don't go too near the fire. Sit here on the couch. Children, run off and fetch a hot drink," he added, for he saw that Tavia was indeed too cold to be safe from possible harmful consequences. Tavia dropped into the offered seat, and then she saw Nat—in the light. "Glory be!" she exclaimed, staring at his costume, which he had entirely forgotten. "Is it the plumber?" "Gas man!" sang out Roger gleefully. "We had just turned the meter on when we heard your noise outside." Nat was not proud, but he had not calculated on being in overalls when he met Tavia. Ned nearly went in kinks at his brother's discomfiture. Dorothy and Mrs. White had hurried off to fetch warm drinks for Tavia. "You'll have to get up a 'visitor alarm,' I guess, Nat," said Joe, noting Tavia's plight and Nat's embarrassment. "If we had heard the dump-cart on the drive we would not have kept her so long out in the cold." "That's right," answered Nat; "we will surely have to rig up something to send signals from the gate." "Like the coal office scales," suggested Roger. "When any one stepped on a platform at the gate the clock would go off in the house." "Say," interrupted Tavia, "I'm not a regular circus. Suppose you let me get my things off and give us all this signal business later." "Great idea," acquiesced Nat, being glad of the chance to change his own costume. "Come, now, drink this beef tea," commanded Dorothy, as she brought from the pantry a steaming cup of the fragrant beverage. "You must be perished inside as well as out." "Oh but you should have seen me in that cart!" began Tavia as she sipped the tea. "You know—I——" "Missed the train," broke in Ned, who had been just a little joyful that all his predictions had turned out to be correct. "Never," replied Tavia; "I was on the 4:10, but I stayed on it." "Why?" asked Dorothy in surprise. "Couldn't get off," replied Tavia. "I was talking to the cunningest little boy, and never knew it until the train was out on the branch, going for dear life toward—land knows where." "And you went all the way out to——" "Indeed I did. I went all the way, and then some. I thought I had gone even farther than that before the conductor would make up his mind to stop and let me come back." "But that train couldn't stop nearer than a telegraph station," volunteered Ned. "If it did there might have been a collision." "I would have welcomed even a collision if some one only had to walk back home my way," said Tavia. "But to be put off a train at such a place! Why, I just made a bolt for the first black speck I could see with a light in it. It turned out to be a farmhouse, and I simply told the man he must hitch up and drive me here." "What was the name of the place?" asked the major. "Oh, something like Gransville, or Grahamsville. I wasn't particular about remembering the name, major; I really hoped I would forget it." "Do you mean to say you rode from Gransville in a cart? And we have let the man go away without giving him a warm drink or anything! Why, Ned, call up the stable and see if John can catch the fellow; he may not be out on the road yet," and at the major's order the three boys hurried to overtake the man, Roger and Joe wrapping quickly in their warm coats and running out toward the drive, while Ned 'phoned the stable for John to stop the cart if he could do so. This interruption left Dorothy and Mrs. White with Tavia, for the major, too, had left the room, and presently, when Tavia had "thawed out" sufficiently to move about, she went with Dorothy to the alcove room, one of the twin guest chambers in the suite always given Dorothy and Tavia the girls were at The Cedars. "My, how like Christmas you look already!" exclaimed Tavia as she glanced about at the table of packages, and at another table of things that were to be in packages. "Isn't it time?" asked Dorothy, getting out one of her own pretty robes for Tavia. "Why? it is only ten days off." "Please, Doro, dear, don't be exact. It makes me think of work—school is still in existence, I believe. Had a letter from 'Ned' the other day, and the old place hasn't burned down, or anything." "From Edna? How are they all?" and Dorothy helped Tavia into her house garments. "Able to sit up," answered Tavia facetiously. "Cologne is pining for you, I believe." "I did hope Rose-Mary could come over for the holidays, but she has written she cannot." "Sorry for you, Doro, dear, but I really like The Cedars all to myself." "And the boys?" asked Dorothy archly. "Well, if you like, I'll take the boys too. Don't care if I do." And Tavia stood before the oval mirror inspecting herself in Dorothy's blue and white empire gown with the long sash at the side. "What a pretty new dress you have!" remarked Dorothy as she picked up the one that Tavia had so carelessly discarded. "Like it? I suppose it's all rumples and crumples after the cart. But really, Doro, if I had had only some one to talk to, I believe I should have enjoyed it. It was too funny! The man had a mouth without any backstop in it——" "Palate?" "Maybe that was it. Anyhow, when he spoke the words seemed to evaporate, and you had to guess what he meant. Likely there's a trail of frozen words all the way from here to—Mars." "Hurry a little," urged Dorothy. "I am sure they are all impatient to talk to you. And the boys are just dying to hear about your adventure." "All right, Doro, I'm ready. But say!" and Tavia stood still for a moment "You look—like—a picture in that princess. I do wish I could wear a 'clinger,' but I'm too fat. You have gotten—ahem—prettier in the short time since I saw you at school. But I don't wonder. Oh, that abominable old school!" "Aunt Winnie had this gown made for me last week," replied Dorothy, ignoring all of Tavia's criticism save that which referred to the blended gold and white princess. "Isn't it sweet?" "Matches you as if you had been made for it," replied Tavia, in her way of saying things backwards. "Your hair seems all of a piece." "Come on down," called Roger at the foot of the stairs, "It will soon be bedtime, and we want to hear all about it." "All right, honey," replied Tavia. "We're coming." Mrs. White had Tavia's dinner brought into the dining-room, so it was there, between mouthfuls, that the tardy one tried to tell of her mishap on the train, and the strange adventure that followed it. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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