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Dorothy Dale's Queer Holidays

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<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2> <h3>YOUTH AND OLD AGE</h3> When the first streak of dawn threw its shadow upon the fleecy blanket that surrounded the old Mayberry Castle, there stood before the door the Fire Bird and the wagon old Abe called his "carry-all." Into the latter vehicle Captain Mayberry was almost lifted, wrapped in every conceivable sort of warm covering that could be found in his strange quarters. A heavy, and formerly handsome fur coat, besides thick, woolly scarfs and great old army boots had been dug out from queer hiding places, and these were heaped and piled upon the captain until scarcely the outline of his pinched face was left to the danger of the winter morning. On either side of Captain Mayberry sat Major Dale and Tom Scott, while old Abe was directed to drive this party to the railroad station, as it had been decided that the sick or insane man should at once be taken to the hospital for treatment. "To think," whispered Dorothy to Tavia as they started off, "that our hospital play should have enabled us to send the poor old man directly to the Institution. We never dreamed who would be our first patient." "Lucky it's not me or you," commented Tavia, still taking a morbid view of the night's experience. "And father says he will send for the captain's sister, and try to have them reconciled. That seems to be what worries the old man so much—Jane is angry with him, he declares. "And I wouldn't do a thing to Jane," declared Tavia. "In my opinion jail would be too good for her. The idea of keeping that old scarecrow cooped up there!" "But perhaps she did it to keep him out of the institutions. You know, some people have queer ideas about asylums." "Did it to save cash, likely. Look out, there, Nat! Don't dump us in that snowdrift!" "No danger," called back Nat from the front seat. "This is all right—road good and hard, and not so slippery." "Suppose the old fellow should get hilarious," ventured Tavia. "Do you suppose Tom and the major could hold him in that trap?" "Oh, indeed he is too weak to be violent," responded Dorothy. "And I rather think he will enjoy the ride. He said he made it a habit to go out every day, just about nightfall. He had sense enough to know he must have fresh air or die." Tired from the night's vigil, the occupants of the Fire Bird soon wearied of conversation, and the drive behind the stage coach was made in silence, save for the creaking of the snow on the frosty roads, and the occasional sounds of an early morning team bound for the town along the old turnpike. At the Four Corners the Fire Bird cut ahead of the coach, and with a merry call to the captain, the major, Tom and even to old Abe, the occupants of the car soon left behind them the carry-all, as well as the road to Tanglewood Park. Arriving at The Cedars, in spite of all protests, Dorothy and Tavia were "put to bed," while Norah brought from the kitchen great bowls of beef tea, declaring each young lady should drink at least a quart, "to save them from nemonie," and that the hot foot baths they had would be repeated unless the girls were soon sound asleep. So it was that now, two days before Christmas, The Cedars was suddenly plunged into a state of subdued excitement. What might happen next not even little Roger dared speculate about. But that afternoon, when Major Dale was expected to return from his trip to the hospital, and Dorothy and Tavia were sufficiently rested to be down at the station waiting to meet them, the appearance of Miss Brooks brought Tavia suddenly back to the realization of her own predicament. The little woman ran into the station just in time to obtain her ticket for a late city train, and had not a moment to spare, so that there was no opportunity of either Dorothy or Tavia exchanging a word with her. "Whew!" exclaimed Tavia, glancing after the woman. "What do you suppose it all means? Did you observe the togs?" "Didn't she look pretty?" commented Dorothy, "I never saw a person change so with—a new outfit." "Wonder if she found it—in somebody's bag?" "Tavia!" exclaimed Dorothy, her voice ringing with indignation. "You must never again speak that way of Miss Brooks. We did wrong to suspect her for a moment. She had absolutely nothing to do with the ring." "Oh, you know all about it, do you? Of course, she says she had absolutely nothing to do with it." "No, she has said nothing of the kind. The person who really took it—that is, the one who put it in my bag—has admitted doing it." "Who?" "Well, you really must not ask, because, Tavia, dear, I know the person was terribly pressed, somehow, and it does not seem right for me to spread the story of her misfortune. I haven't even told Aunt Winnie." "Oh, of course, you can keep it to yourself if you have a mind to," replied Tavia in injured tones, "but it strikes me that is rather too interesting a story to be so selfish about." Dorothy made no reply to this charge—she had not the slightest idea of betraying the confidence Miss Dearing had given in her miserable confession. Further than this, to-morrow Dorothy was determined to go to the city and search for Miss Dearing, even though it would be the day before Christmas. The arrival of the city express, from which Major Dale alighted, stopped further comment. "I was so afraid you would miss this train," exclaimed Dorothy, embracing him, "and I was so worried about you—things seem to be happening so queerly these days." "Yes, daughter," replied the major, "things are certainly happening. You should have seen Captain Mayberry in his new quarters." "Did they give him the new bed? The one our play paid for?" "Indeed, they did. And, what's better, they say he is not by any means incurable. In fact, I am very hopeful, with the proper treatment——" "Well, I hope they won't forget the proper treatment for that sister," interrupted Tavia. "Even that we hope to make right," replied the major. "I have sent for Miss Pumfret, and expect she may arrive at The Cedars to-night." "Good!" exclaimed Tavia, with what might be termed "unholy glee." "Just let me introduce myself!" and she made a pretense of showing her muscle. "There's the surrey," announced Dorothy, as Nat drove up. "We walked down, it was so delightful in the snow. But Aunt Winnie insisted we should not take out the big sleigh. She says the horses are always so skittish when first put to the cutter, and she was afraid of some other accident." Major Dale exchanged some words with old Abe before stepping into the vehicle that served in place of the Fire Bird. "The eight o'clock train," Dorothy overheard her father say. "And be sure to have the light buggy." "She's coming on the eight," whispered Tavia to Nat. "What do you say if we waylay them and give her a snow bath to cool her off? I'd just like to sail into that lady." Nat did not reply—the major was now in the surrey, and the little horse started off at a lively trot. Numbers of cutters and sleighs passed them—every one seemed anxious to make sure of the first sleigh-ride. One particularly handsome rig was just approaching. "Whew!" exclaimed Nat. "Look at Agnes Sinclair—and that's Tom Scott with her." It was indeed Agnes and Tom, in a new cutter with waving plumes at the dashboard, and as the rig passed along, Dorothy noticed that the plumes just matched Agnes' cheeks. And it may as well be told now that when Agnes Sinclair and Tom Scott stopped at the post-office that very evening Tom posted a number of little notes for Agnes—an informal tea was to be given at Ferndale. Every single person who got one of these notes knew exactly what it meant—the announcement of the engagement of Miss Agnes Sinclair to Thomas Dudley Scott. Of course, Dorothy and Tavia were invited, and the card of Agnes' mother came with that of the daughter. Mrs. Sinclair and Mrs. White were close friends. "I have been wondering why Mrs. Sinclair had not called to see Ned," commented Mrs. White when Dorothy handed her the cards. "This explains it, of course. Dorothy, what did I tell you? See how well trained my eyes are." "But when Agnes showed plainly she wanted to pose with Ned," argued Dorothy, "that was——" "Just to throw you off the scent, of course," finished Mrs. White. "Well, I am glad we are going to have an engagement for the holidays. It will make a little round of gaieties for the young folks. Dorothy, you may give Agnes her first shower." "And make it something good to eat," suggested Nat. "No fun in giving a girl a lot of drygoods—make it ice-cream." Ned was recovering rapidly, and he too joined in suggesting plans for the "handing around of Agnes." He insisted it was up to him and Nat to give Tom a sendoff, and finally did obtain Mrs. White's permission to give a bachelor dinner in the coach house. They wanted the affair given where there would be no objection to either noise or "muss," as Nat put it, so the coach house was decided upon. "Plans, plans, nothing but plans," sang Tavia. "I wish some one would make plans for me. I would like to elope this very evening. I am not particular about having a partner in the going away; a railroad ticket would answer." Dorothy glanced up quickly at Tavia. She knew the latter almost meant what she said—that is, she would really like to run away before Christmas morning. "And shake me?" asked Nat in mock concern. "Now, Tavia, you and I have been friends for a long, long time——" But this was too much for Tavia. Suddenly she jumped up, put her hand to her eyes and dashed from the room. "She's crying!" whispered Ned. Then Dorothy, too, left the room. She went to comfort Tavia. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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