Back Aa

Dorothy Dale's Great Secret

Close

<h2 id="c10">CHAPTER X <br/><span class="small">LEAVING GLENWOOD</span></h2> <p>But one more day remained of the school term at Glenwood. All the tests had been concluded, and, as there were to be no formal exercises the “last day” was given over entirely to packing up, and making ready for the departure from the institution.</p> <p>Dorothy and Tavia were busy with the others. To Dorothy the prospect of seeing her dear ones so soon, filled every thought of this day’s work. Tavia, too, seemed more like her old self and “jollied the girls” as she flung things into her trunk with her usual disregard for order.</p> <p>“They’ll all have to come out again,” she replied to Dorothy’s remonstrance, “so what’s the use of being particular how they go in?”</p> <p>“But your pretty Christmas bag,” begged Dorothy. “Do be careful not to crush that.”</p> <div class="pb" id="Page_89">[89]</div> <p>“Oh, indeed there’s nothing to crush. I took the ribbons out of it for the neck and sleeves of my white lawn, and when I extracted them from the flowered stuff there was nothing left but a perfectly flat piece of cretonne, with a row of little brass rings on one side. I just ran a bit of faded ribbon through the rings—and just wait until I show you.”</p> <p>At this Tavia plunged her hands down into the depths of her trunk and presently brought up the article in question.</p> <p>“There!” she exclaimed, clapping the bag on her head. “Isn’t that a pretty sunbonnet?”</p> <p>Dorothy beheld it in amazement.</p> <p>“It certainly does look sweet on you,” she said, “but what in the world will you want a fancy sunbonnet for? Surely you will not use it in Dalton—and in Buffalo—”</p> <p>“I think it would make a tremendous hit in Buffalo,” declared Tavia, wheeling around to show off the effect of her thick brown hair beneath the little row of brass rings that held the ribbon which bound the bit of flowered stuff to her neck. At the front her face seemed to fit exactly, and surely nothing could be more becoming than that Christmas bag.</p> <p>“Oh, I think it’s a shame,” faltered Dorothy, “to spoil that beautiful bag to make a plaything.”</p> <div class="pb" id="Page_90">[90]</div> <p>“But we all have to have ‘playthings,’” said Tavia, with a strong accent on the word “play.” Then, with one more swing around, like a figure in a show case, Tavia took off the sunbonnet and went on with her packing.</p> <p>“It seems so queer,” Dorothy remarked, sliding her tennis racquet down the side of her trunk, “that we should be going in different directions. We have always been able to help each other in the packing before.”</p> <p>“Well, I’d just like to leave half my old truck behind,” replied Tavia, “and I don’t know but what I will have to if this trunk won’t stretch a little. It’s chock full now, and just look at the commotion on the floor.”</p> <p>“I told you,” insisted Dorothy, “that you would have to put the things in differently. Now you will have to take them all out again and roll them up tight. You can get twice as much in that way.”</p> <p>“Take them all out!” Tavia almost shrieked. “Never!” And, following this exclamation the girl jumped into the trunk and proceeded to dance the “trunk traveler’s jig” on the unfortunate collection of baggage.</p> <p>“Tavia! Don’t!” begged Dorothy. “I’m sure I heard something break.”</p> <div class="pb" id="Page_91">[91]</div> <p>“Oh, that was my last summer’s hat breaking up its plans for this year. I put it in the bottom in hopes that it would meet an untimely end, but I really did not intend to murder it,” she joked, stepping out of the trunk.</p> <p>“But at any rate,” she went on, as she flung part of the “commotion” off the floor into the hollow she had succeeded in making for the various articles, “the poor old thing will take up less room dead than alive, and there will be no possible danger of my having to wear it for a turn or two when I get home. Nothing like getting in one’s supplies while you’re fresh—before the folks have a chance to get too friendly with you. I’ve found that out.”</p> <p>“But it was a real pretty hat.”</p> <p>“Well, even pretty hats are not immune from accidents, and you saw yourself that it was an accident—pure and simple.”</p> <p>A half hour later all the trunks had been packed, and the two Dalton girls sat in their little room exchanging confidences and making all sorts of school-girl promises of writing often, and sending pretty cards, besides having photographs taken of which to make especially affectionate remembrances.</p> <div class="pb" id="Page_92">[92]</div> <p>“I’ll send you one just as soon as I get to Buffalo,” Tavia declared, holding Dorothy very close, for the latter seemed much inclined to cry as the hour of parting drew near.</p> <p>“But it will be so lonely in North Birchland without you,” persisted Dorothy, with a sob. “I do wish you would give up that trip to Buffalo.”</p> <p>Tavia assured her chum that it would be impossible as she had promised Grace Barnum to go to her home to visit her.</p> <p>Dorothy finally jumped up and made an effort to pull herself together. She went over to the dresser and picked up a book.</p> <p>“Is this yours?” she began, and then stopped suddenly. It was a gust of wind that had blown up the thin strip of muslin covering the top of the dresser and revealed the little red book. It had been concealed there and, as Dorothy took it up she saw on the cover:</p> <p class="center">HOW TO ACT <br/><i>The Beginner’s Guide.</i></p> <p>Tavia was at the other end of the room and did not at once see the book in Dorothy’s hand.</p> <p>“Did you—do you—want—this?” Dorothy stammered, again holding the volume out toward Tavia.</p> <div class="pb" id="Page_93">[93]</div> <p>A deep flush instantly came over Tavia’s face. Dorothy was watching her with a look—a look at once pleading and full of sadness.</p> <p>Tavia put out her hand for the book.</p> <p>“Oh, that funny little leaflet,” she tried to say as if it were a joke. “I suppose I might just as well take it, but it’s full of the worst sort of nonsense. Let me show you—”</p> <p>“Oh, no; don’t bother,” replied Dorothy, rather stiffly. “But that seems a queer sort of a book to take home from boarding school. Hadn’t you better destroy it, as you say it is all nonsense?”</p> <p>The red covers of the pamphlet fluttered in Tavia’s hand. The flush on her cheeks threatened to match the hue of the book and told its own guilty story.</p> <p>“Oh, I might as well take it with me,” and Tavia’s words sounded rather a lame excuse. “It will be amusing to read on the train.”</p> <p>“Oh, Tavia!” Dorothy burst into tears. “Won’t you give up—those stage notions? Do, please!” and she clasped her arms about her chum, weeping bitterly.</p> <p>“Oh, don’t! Dorothy don’t cry so!” begged Tavia, stroking the yellow head. “I will give it up—all up! Yes, Dorothy, dear, listen! Look here!” and at that Dorothy raised her head.</p> <div class="pb" id="Page_94">[94]</div> <p>With her hands free Tavia tore the little red book into shreds and tossed them into the waste basket.</p> <p>“There!” she exclaimed. “I’m through with—through with all of it! I don’t want to know how to act! I’ll never try! Dorothy! Dorothy!” and the miserable girl threw herself upon the bed in a frenzy of grief and excitement. “Just forgive me for it all—for trying to deceive you. I have been wretched all through it—and I only want you—and all the others—just as you used to be. I don’t believe in ambition!” She stood upright. “I’ll go home to dear, old Dalton, and stay there until—until I come to you at North Birchland.”</p> <p>When the other girls tapped on the door of room nineteen late that afternoon, to say good-bye, they found two very happy young maidens waiting for the particular carriage that was to take them to the depot. Dorothy and Tavia could not be separated. They clung to each other in spite of all the invitations to “do the rounds” and join in the last and noisiest fun of the season. Together, very demurely, they called at the office to say good-bye to the teachers.</p> <div class="pb" id="Page_95">[95]</div> <p>When, at last, the carriage did come for them, Dorothy and Tavia rode off together—one bound for the train to North Birchland, and the other going home—home to Dalton, to try to be happy in the little country town where she and Dorothy Dale had spent such a happy childhood, and where Tavia would find plenty of time to dream of things scattered far out in another world, that seemed like the golden fingers of ambition beckoning her on. To leave Dalton and the common school life—to enter the walks of city uncertainties—to become part of the great, grinding machine of human hardships—that machine which is always willing to stop its terrific speed long enough to gather into its cogs and meshes the life of an innocent young girl.</p> <div class="pb" id="Page_96">[96]</div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />

1 of 2

2 of 2