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Dorothy Dale's Queer Holidays

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<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> <h3>THE LITTLE WOMAN IN BLACK</h3> Again Dorothy invited Tavia to go to the city with her, but Tavia refused on the plea that her head threatened to ache, and she thought it best to stay at home. So on the morning following the boys' joke with the stuffed man, Dorothy got ready early and hurried for the business train to the city. She reached the station just in time—merely had her ticket bought when the train steamed in—and making her way among the crowds of men, she was able to reach a seat in one of the coaches where a few women were scattered in with the many gentlemen who patronized the express. She had unconsciously followed the one woman who boarded the train at North Birchland, and now took the same seat—the other getting close to the window and leaving the half seat free for Dorothy. It was some moments before the girl chanced to look up and observe her companion. When she did so, she was startled to find her none other than the little woman in black. The stranger seemed to note Dorothy's surprise, and turned directly to her. "We meet again," she said pleasantly, in a voice Dorothy thought at once cultured and peculiarly sweet. "Yes," replied Dorothy, also smiling. Surely she and Tavia had been mistaken in their unkind opinion of this little body. "I go into the city almost daily," continued the woman, "and now, in the busy time, I try to make this early train. I do so dislike to get in the dense crowd." "It is unpleasant," said Dorothy a little guiltily, for at each word the woman spoke she felt more positive this gentle person could never be what they had supposed her—a shoplifter. "I wanted to speak to your friend the other day," went on the stranger, "but I couldn't seem to get an opportunity. I suppose I might—send her a message—by you?" "Why, yes—certainly," Dorothy stammered, really surprised this time. "I saw when she dropped the envelope in the train that her name was Travers, and I thought if she would call on me I might be able to help her in a little business matter. It is of rather a delicate nature," the woman added, smiling, "so you will excuse me for being so mysterious." "Why, of course," was all that Dorothy could think to answer. "I am sure Tavia—Miss Travers—would be glad——" "Here is my card," interrupted the woman, evidently noting Dorothy's embarrassment. Dorothy accepted the piece of cardboard, and glancing at it read: Miss Estelle Brooks Expert Penman Envelopes addressed, etc.  Benson Road, Ferndale. As she read the card it flashed through Dorothy's mind that after all the woman might simply be trying to get trade. There seemed to be some connection between Tavia's envelope and the business advertised on Miss Brooks' card. But whatever could she want of Tavia? Surely she could not imagine a young girl needing the services of an expert penman? "I saw your trouble in the store the other day," Miss Brooks ventured, "and was so sorry for you. I did want to help you—to tell that young woman detective just what I thought. But experience has taught me that it is not always best to interfere in such cases. It often only adds to the difficulty." Dorothy could not find words in which to reply. Whatever she might say would either seem stupid or perhaps suspicious. And of the subtle ways of women "sharpers" Dorothy had often heard. It was, she decided, almost impossible to be sufficiently alert to offset their cunning. Perhaps this woman was one of that class—an adept at it. "Is there any particular time you would like Miss Travers to call?" Dorothy asked, turning the subject sharply. "I am always at home on Thursdays," replied Miss Brooks, "and she will have no trouble in finding me. I board at the Griswold." Dorothy knew the Griswold to be a rest resort, a sort of sanitarium where fashionable people went to recuperate from home or social duties. This Miss Brooks did not appear to be in the circumstances of those who frequented the Griswold, the girl thought. "I'll tell her," she said simply. "She is just a friend?" ventured Miss Brooks questioningly. "A very dear friend," replied Dorothy warmly, at the same moment making up her mind that the stranger would not learn from her any more concerning Tavia or her character. "I thought so," went on her companion. "Well, she is evidently impetuous; that is why I feel I may help her. Ordinarily I would not interfere—it is really a trifle risky for me, but she seems so young; and—well, I'll take my chances this time." Dorothy was completely mystified. She could not guess at any business or circumstances which might occasion such remarks. But somehow she felt that the woman spoke with knowledge of something about Tavia. What that something might be Dorothy was absolutely at a loss to conjecture. "I know I surprise you," said Miss Brooks, divining her thoughts, "but some girls do strange things. Miss Travers is evidently one of them." Dorothy's cheeks flamed at this remark. Why should she speak so of Tavia? "I have known Miss Travers since she was a child," flashed Dorothy, "and I have never thought her—strange." Scarcely had the words been uttered than all Tavia's pranks and follies seemed to come up before Dorothy's memory like some horrid, mocking specters. Surely Tavia had always done "strange things," and very likely only Dorothy's powerful influence had kept her from risking greater dangers. But Dorothy could not listen to anything against her nearest and dearest friend. No stranger had a right to condemn her. The train was slacking up as it steamed into the big, arched station. Here Miss Brooks would go her way, while Dorothy would be left to think over the unexpected happenings of the brief railroad journey. There seemed to Dorothy something almost patronizing in the stranger's manner as she bade her good-by. Perhaps she did pity her—but why? What was wrong, or what might happen on this day's shopping venture? "I really do believe I'm getting queer myself," mused the girl, trying vainly to shake off her fears and suspicions. "Well, so many queer things do manage to happen in a single holiday vacation I don't wonder that I catch the germ; it must be infectious." Dorothy's little fur toque fitted gracefully on her beautiful blonde head. Her cheeks matched the poinsettia, or Christmas flower, and her eyes were as blue as the sapphires in the jewel shops. With some slight agitation she entered Boardman's. It was in this store that the ring incident had occurred, and the thought of her experience was not exactly pleasant to the sensitive girl. "But I saw such pretty things in there," she insisted secretly. "I must go back and get some of them." Timidly she approached the jewelry counter. Surely the clerks, or Miss Allen, at least, recognized her. The latter stepped directly up to the place where Dorothy stood. "Good-morning," began the clerk, smiling pleasantly. "What can I do for you?" Dorothy was hardly ready to make her purchases. She answered the greeting and said so. Then Miss Allen leaned over the counter. "I wanted to tell you that Miss Dearing, the woman detective, has been discharged." "Oh, has she?" asked Dorothy. "I'm sorry." "Well, you needn't be," Miss Allen assured her. "She didn't much care how you fared." "But she only made a mistake," pleaded Dorothy. "Perhaps," and Miss Allen shrugged her shoulders; "but she took the trouble to come to me and ask your address." "My address!" "Yes; wanted it awfully bad, too. I wouldn't take any customer's address off a tag; not for all the detectives in the house. But I happen to know some one else did." "But what did she want my address for?" asked Dorothy as quietly as her voice could speak in spite of her agitation. "Don't know," replied the clerk, indicating she might be able to guess; "but it might be handy some day. When she gets time to think it over, you know." Dorothy was now almost as greatly mystified as she had been when the woman on the train spoke of Tavia. But Miss Allen went to wait on another customer, and when Dorothy had finally succeeded in selecting some trinkets she left the counter with Miss Allen's words ringing in her ears. "Whatever does it all mean?" she asked herself. It was some time before she had her answer. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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