<h2 id="c12">CHAPTER XII <br/><span class="small">DOROTHY IS WORRIED</span></h2>
<p>Dorothy had been at the Cedars one short, delightful
week when again the question of Tavia
and her plans came up for serious consideration.
Mrs. White and her niece sat out on the veranda,
with the early summer flowers perfuming the soft
zephyrs that came through the vine-covered lattice,
and they were talking of the absent one—wondering
why she did not come to Birchland and instead
went to the city in the summer—to Buffalo when
everybody in the place (except the tourists on the
way to Niagara to the Falls), were leaving for
more quiet and recreative surroundings.</p>
<p>“I’m afraid,” said Mrs. White finally, “that
Tavia is ‘stage-struck.’”</p>
<p>These words came to Dorothy like a blow—something
long dreaded but materialized at last—in
spite of hopes and promises.</p>
<p>“Oh, Aunt Winnie!” exclaimed Dorothy with
a sigh, “you don’t really think Tavia would do
anything wrong?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_107">[107]</div>
<p>“No, that I do not, my dear,” promptly answered
Mrs. White. “A thing is not wrong unless
we intend to make it so. But Tavia has a
queer idea of right and wrong. You know she
has had no home discipline—no training in character
building. She has grown to be as good as
she is through the commonest law of nature—she
was born good. But she has not gone beyond that
same law in growing better than she started out
to be—that is moral development, and requires
careful culture and prudent discipline.”</p>
<p>“But the stage,” whispered Dorothy, as if
afraid the very word would breathe contamination.
“Do you think—Tavia would—would ever try
to—to go on a public stage?”</p>
<p>“On that point I could not now express an opinion,”
answered the aunt kindly, noticing how seriously
Dorothy had taken her words. “Of course
if she happened to get in with persons interested in
that line of work—she might be tempted to try
it.”</p>
<p>“But what could she do? There are no plays
now—it is summer time!”</p>
<p>“The very time, my dear, when small companies
try to get a hearing. There are no good plays
to attract persons, and the stay-at-homes need some
amusement.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_108">[108]</div>
<p>This had not occurred to Dorothy before. Her
dread of Tavia going on the stage had been kept
within bounds by the thought that there were no
plays given in any of the theatres, for Dorothy
knew little about such things, and had never given
a thought to those small companies—the “barnstormers.”</p>
<p>“Well,” she announced with a sigh, “I believe I
will have to write to her. I can not rest and not
know just where she is. Somehow I feel as if my
own sister had deserted me—as if she were out
among strangers. Oh, Aunt Winnie, you can not
realize how much Tavia has always been to me!”
and Dorothy dropped her head in her hands to
hide the expression of sincere grief that marked her
face.</p>
<p>“Well, child, there is absolutely no need to worry.
No doubt Tavia is snugly home at this moment,
with her own, little, old-fashioned mother—or
even out in Buffalo enjoying the visit to her
mother’s friends. To sit down and imagine all
sorts of horrible things—why, Dorothy, it is very
unlike you!”</p>
<p>“Perhaps I am silly,” Dorothy agreed, smiling
brightly as she looked up, “but you know Tavia
has been so odd lately. And then she was sick,
you know.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_109">[109]</div>
<p>Dorothy looked off across the lawn, but she
seemed to see nothing. Perhaps she had a day-vision
of her friend far away, but whatever Dorothy
imagined was far from what Tavia was actually
engaged in at that moment.</p>
<p>“Well, come, my dear,” said her aunt at
length. “The boys are waiting with the auto.
See what a spin through the country will do for
tired nerves. I tell you this winding up of school
is always trying—more so than you can imagine.
You are, after all, pretty well tired out, in spite
of your pretty pink cheeks,” and she tilted Dorothy’s
chin up to reach her own lips, just as Nat
swung himself up on the porch and demanded the
immediate presence of his aunt, and cousin, in the
Fire Bird that panted at the door.</p>
<p>But, somehow, the afternoon was all lost on
Dorothy. Those words “stage-struck” echoed
in her ears and she longed to get back to her room
and write to Tavia and then to receive the answer
that she might show it to Aunt Winnie, to prove
that Tavia was as reliable as ever—that she
would soon be with them all at North Birchland.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_110">[110]</div>
<p>When, after a spin, that on any other occasion
would have been delightful, Ned alighted at the
little village post-office, Dorothy asked him to
bring her out two special delivery stamps. Her
cousin inquired what the rush of mail was for, but
she only smiled and tried to hide the fact that she
really had occasion to provide for sending a letter
in a hurry, and receiving its reply as fast as Uncle
Sam could bring it.</p>
<p>They started off again, and a long, exhilarating
spin brought them out upon the direct road to the
Cedars. Then, after helping their mother and
Dorothy out, the boys “shooed” the Fire Bird
back to its “nest,” and made a dash to witness the
last inning of a ball game that had been in progress
all the afternoon on the grounds, just across the
broad meadow, that stretched in front of their
home.</p>
<p>This left Dorothy to herself, for the major had
finally listened to Roger’s earnest appeal to take
him to the ball game. Joe went with the boys
who carried the bats—as the latter was always
sure to be on time. Then, as Mrs. White would
be busy for some time, giving orders for dinner,
Dorothy hurried to her room, and sat down, to
think it all out, before she undertook to put into
written words what she wanted to say to Tavia.</p>
<p>As Dorothy had said to her aunt the loss of
Tavia’s companionship was like missing that of a
dear sister, for the two girls had been inseparable
since early childhood. They had always been together,
or they knew they would be apart but for
a few days at most.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_111">[111]</div>
<p>But now it was different. Heretofore each
time that Dorothy thought she would have to be
obliged to leave Tavia, either to attend school, or
take some new step in life, it so happened that
Tavia went along, so that the chain of companionship
that began at Dalton had not yet been
broken.</p>
<p>And, of course, Dorothy’s worries might all be
unfounded. As Mrs. White had said, Tavia
might be safe at home with her mother.</p>
<p>So it was to Dalton that Dorothy addressed her
letter. She needed to be particular in wording it,
so that no misunderstanding would arise, should
the letter fall into other hands than Tavia’s.
Dorothy enclosed a special delivery stamp for a
hurried answer, which she begged Tavia to send,
and she put another of the stamps on the envelope
of her own missive.</p>
<p>“There,” she said with a sigh of relief as she
slipped the little cream-colored square into her
blouse. “I shall just have time to run to the
office with it before dinner. Somehow I feel better
already. It almost seems as if I had been
talking to Tavia. I will surely have an answer
by to-morrow night. I do wonder—Oh, I wonder
where Tavia is—and what she is doing just
now!”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_112">[112]</div>
<p>It was a pleasant walk to the country post-office,
and Dorothy hurried along in a happier frame of
mind than she had enjoyed during all that day.
The small worry that had been smouldering in her
heart for some weeks (ever since the night of
Tavia’s queer actions in her sleep when she
painted her face with the red crayon) did not
need much encouragement to burst forth into a
live flame.</p>
<p>And that was precisely what happened when
Nat also expressed the opinion that Tavia should
have come to North Birchland and that Buffalo
was “a big place for such a small girl.” Then,
that Dorothy’s aunt should state plainly her fear
regarding Tavia’s love for the stage,—surely all
this was enough to throw Dorothy into a very
fever of anxiety.</p>
<p>That Dorothy knew of Tavia’s strange actions
on that one occasion, and that she alone, was
aware of this, added to the anxiety. The book
“How to Act” had betrayed Tavia’s secret in
clearer terms than even Dorothy would admit to
herself. But if Tavia should run away! And
if Dorothy had not warned the Travers folks in
time!</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_113">[113]</div>
<p>That evening, after mailing her letter, Dorothy
made an excuse to leave the rest of the family and
so remained in her own room. She wanted to be
alone—to think. In fact, she had been so accustomed
to those little solitary thinking spells in
Glenwood that the time at the Cedars seemed to
be a trifle too exacting. The boys wanted to be
with their sister, and Mrs. White had so much to
talk over (it was so delightful to have a “big
daughter” to converse with), then the major
needed Dorothy’s counsel in many small, but important
matters, so that, altogether, the girl from
Glenwood found herself busy—just a little too
busy, considering the problem she was trying to
solve, which was how to get immediately into communication
with Tavia.</p>
<p>That night she dreamed of it all, and for three
days following the mailing of her letter she could
scarcely think of anything other then why the expected
answer did not arrive.</p>
<p>Finally, Dorothy felt that she must take some
one into her confidence. All the nervous energy
of her young nature had, for days, been so set
upon that one point—to hear from Tavia—that
the whole circumstance had assumed great
importance. She could think of nothing else.
Every hour added to her anxiety. She imagined
all sorts of dreadful things. Yes, she must tell
somebody of it and thus relieve her mind or she
felt she would be ill. This seemed to her the
greatest trouble she had ever encountered.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_114">[114]</div>
<p>It was a delightful summer evening when Dorothy,
dressed in her sea-foam mulle gown, with its
dainty silver white trimmings stepped out on the
porch, and had the good fortune to find Nat there
alone. It was to her young cousin that she had
made up her mind to confide her worries, and here
he was, as if he was just waiting to help her in this
matter of her own heart and Tavia’s.</p>
<p>“Great Scott! But you startled me!” exclaimed
Nat, jumping up from the hammock.
“I do believe, Doro, that I had clean forgotten
that you were with us—no offense—but you see
I was sort of dreaming and when you glided
through that window—well—I say, Doro, I
thought my dream had come true!”</p>
<p>“Nat, could you come for a little walk?”
asked Dorothy. “You should not dream so
early, and besides, you should not, at any time,
dream of young girls. You admitted as much,
you know. But Nat, I just want a quiet talk—come
out along the road as far as the bridge. I
want to make sure we are entirely alone.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_115">[115]</div>
<p>“Now you don’t expect me to move the bridge,
do you, Doro? We may be all alone with the
exception of the old stone walls and the planks.”</p>
<p>Tucking Dorothy’s arm under his own, Nat led
the way down the path, then out upon the open
road, which was now streaked with faint beams of
moonlight, that filtered down through the trees.
Nat seemed to feel that Dorothy wanted to talk
of Tavia, for he had not been slow to notice the
growing look of anxiety that had come upon his
cousin’s face in the last few days.</p>
<p>“Heard from Tavia?” he asked in a matter-of-fact
way, thinking to help Dorothy on with her
story.</p>
<p>“No, Nat,” she answered, “and that is just
what I want to talk about. I am almost worried
to death about her. Whatever do you think it
means?”</p>
<p>“Think what what means? That Tavia has
not answered a letter? Why that doesn’t mean
anything—at least it didn’t last winter, when she
would write me for something she wanted me to
get for her, and forget to write again saying she
had received it. I suppose all girls think they
should take their time writing to a fellow, but
Tavia was about the limit. So you have no reason
to fret, as she will probably write to you the
day she packs her trunk to come to the Cedars.
Then she won’t have time to mail the letter, so,
when she gets here, and steams off the uncancelled
stamp, she will calmly hand over the note. Now
that’s Tavia and her way of being prompt.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_116">[116]</div>
<p>“But this is different,” said Dorothy. “I did
not know Tavia wrote to you last winter.”</p>
<p>“Now don’t go to romancing. I believe I did
get two letters from Miss Travers in answer to
five I had written to her. It was about that little
colored boy you heard me joking about—some
imp Tavia had taken a fancy to, and she wanted to
get him a small express wagon. So she wrote to
me, being aware of my unusual ability in the line
of selecting suitable express wagons for little colored
boys.”</p>
<p>“But listen, Nat,” exclaimed Dorothy, eagerly,
“I wrote to Dalton a week ago to-day, sent a
special delivery stamp for a quick reply, and I
haven’t heard a word since.”</p>
<p>“Oh, that’s it. You sent a special stamp.
That was where you made a big mistake. Miss
Tavia wanted to write to that girl in Buffalo—had
been putting it off as usual—and when she
saw your blue stamp it brought her the inspiration.
She wrote to ‘Dolly,’ if Dolly is her name,
used your stamp, and ‘Dolly’ answered ‘come.’
Tavia went. There you are. Now what do you
think of me as a wireless sleuth?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_117">[117]</div>
<p>“Do you really think Tavia is in Buffalo?”
asked Dorothy, endeavoring to bring her cousin
down to a common-sense viewpoint.</p>
<p>“Sure of it. But, say, Doro. I’ll tell you
what! I’ll just take a fly in the Fire Bird to-morrow
morning, and find out for you for sure. That
will be better than the special delivery boy on his
bicycle that never moves. I’ll be back by lunch
time.”</p>
<p>“Oh, that will be splendid!” cried Dorothy,
giving her cousin’s arm a tight squeeze. “You
see I could not trust another letter, and I’m
so anxious to know. Oh, Nat, you are the very
best cousin—”</p>
<p>“Not so bad,” interrupted Nat, “when it
comes to special messengers. But, little cousin,
you can depend on me. I won’t let any one hold
up the automobile mail coach.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_118">[118]</div>
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