Dorothy Dale's Great Secret

So, in spite of all the surroundings and excitement, incident to life in a big hotel with its many strange phases, Dorothy kept turning the question over and over in her mind. How should she go about her search for Tavia? Just as she expected the party planned to go out that first evening of her visit to “look over the town.” All were going except Mrs. Markin, and she consented to let the young folks enjoy themselves without her chaperonage, on account of the circumstances and the number who were going.

Ned and Nat both essayed to look after Rose-Mary, and this added to the merry-making, since, when one lad would attempt some courtesy the other would immediately undertake to outdo him. Dorothy found Jack Markin splendid company, and this, she told herself, could not be otherwise, since he was brother to Cologne.

At a pretty palm-festooned ice-cream parlor they met a friend of the Markin family, Alma Mason, who was also a visitor in Buffalo. She was bright and interesting, chatting pleasantly on many subjects, until, to Dorothy’s surprise, she asked abruptly:

“Do you happen to know a Grace Barnum?”

“No,” Dorothy answered, as she felt her face burning with excitement. “I do not know her personally, but she is a friend of a chum of mine.”

“The pretty girl, with the golden-brown hair? Oh, I have met her,” Alma went on, taking Dorothy’s look to signify the correctness of the guess that the “pretty girl with the brown hair” was Dorothy’s friend. “Isn’t she splendid? Grace was just wild over her – she was so jolly and funny.”

That Miss Mason used the past tense Dorothy instantly noticed. Nat was also listening with interest, and he observed the same thing.

“Is she not with Miss Barnum now?” Dorothy found courage to inquire finally.

“No, I think not. I think Grace said she had gone to Rochester. She has, I believe, a friend in that city.”

Dorothy was startled at the news that Tavia had left Buffalo. Her heart sank, but she tried to conceal her feelings. Tavia in Rochester! The girl in Rochester was she who had once written Tavia concerning the stage and its attractions. And Tavia possibly was with her, after she had promised to have no further correspondence with that press agent!

The remainder of the evening was like a blank page to Dorothy. She heard and saw what was going on around her, but her heart and her attention was not with the merry little party from the hotel. Jack Markin would have accused her of being dull had he not determined to meet more than half way his sister’s estimate of Dorothy Dale. Then too, he reasoned as an excuse for her obvious low spirits, she must be tired after the long, dusty auto run.

The evening passed quickly (to all but Dorothy) amid a variety of entertainments, and when the boys from North Birchland said good-night in the hotel office and Rose-Mary had taken Dorothy to her room, it was quite late.

It was a relief, however, Dorothy had to admit to herself at least, and in her heart she was grateful to Mrs. Markin when that lady cautioned the two girls against further talking, and urged Dorothy to go to bed. For Dorothy wanted to be alone and think. She wanted to plan. How should she proceed now? If Tavia was not with Grace Barnum —

But of this she must first make certain, and to do so she would ask Nat to take her to Miss Barnum’s house the first thing next morning.

CHAPTER XVII

AT THE PLAY

But little light was thrown on the disappearance of Tavia through any information Dorothy could obtain from Grace Barnum. In fact that young lady was quite as puzzled as was Dorothy, and when told that Tavia was not to be found at home a few days previous (this being within the time when Tavia had left Buffalo ostensibly for her residence in Dalton), Miss Barnum wanted to communicate immediately with the missing girl’s parents.

Nat, with kind consideration, had declined to step inside when Dorothy called at the Barnum home. He thought he might better give the two young ladies a chance to discuss the situation alone, and so, under pretense of strolling through the little park opposite the house, left Grace and Dorothy together.

It took the girls but a moment to arrive at the same point of interest. Grace showed keenest anxiety when Dorothy inquired for Tavia, for she had fears of her own – since her friend’s visit.

“I must write at once,” she insisted. “What would Mrs. Travers think of me if anything happened to Tavia?”

“But I have already begun a letter,” stated Dorothy, truthfully enough, “so perhaps I had better make the inquiry. You know how excitable Mrs. Travers is. Perhaps I could write without causing her any alarm, whereas she would surely expect you to know whether or not Tavia was home. I haven’t the slightest doubt but that she is home – now,” Dorothy hastened to add. “I am expecting her at North Birchland any day.”

This had the effect of putting Grace at her ease. Of course, she reflected, Tavia might even be at the Cedars now, as her mother had given her permission to go about almost as she wished, and she had expected to pay a number of visits to friends, no special time being set for them. This Grace knew for she had seen a letter to that effect from Mrs. Travers to Tavia.

“You see,” said Dorothy, rising to go, “they have always given Tavia so much her own way. She has been – well, sort of superior to the others at home. That, I think, is a real mistake, for a girl is expected to know more of the world and its ways than is consistent with her actual experience.”

“Exactly,” admitted Grace. “That is what I thought once when Tavia acted so – well so self-reliant. I do hope she is safe at home. You will let me know, won’t you Dorothy? I may call you that, mayn’t I? I feel as if I had known you for a long time, as Tavia has talked so much about you.”

So the two girls parted, and Dorothy’s heart seemed to grow heavier at each new turn in her quest for the missing one.

“Why should Tavia act so?” she asked herself over and over again, as she walked along with Nat who tried to cheer her up.

“If you don’t stop worrying, Doro,” he counseled as he noted the look of anxiety on her face, “you’ll be a sick girl ’way out here in Buffalo.”

“I’m going to be excused from the party to-night,” she answered. “I really have a headache, and I must have time to write some letters.”

“Great headache cure – letter writing. But I suppose you’ll not rest until you sift this matter to the very bottom. And, to be honest, Doro, I can’t say I blame you. I’d give a whole lot, right now, to know where the wily Tavia tarries.”

As discreetly as she could, Dorothy wrote the letter to Mrs. Travers to ask the mooted question. She did not say she had been to Grace Barnum’s, but simply inquired for Tavia’s address. On an early mail the next day (a remarkable thing for Mrs. Travers to answer a letter so promptly) came the reply that Tavia was at the Barnums! There was some other news of Dalton in the epistle, but that concerning Tavia, which her mother had apparently set down as a matter of fact, stood out prominently from all the rest.

In spite of her fears, when the letter presented the actual fact that Tavia was not at home, and, as Dorothy knew she was not at Grace’s, it came like a shock to the girl already in a highly nervous state because of what she had gone through. Hoping against hope she had clung to the slim possibility that some explanation might come from Dalton, but now even this was shattered.

One thing Dorothy quickly decided upon. She must have another talk with Alma Mason, and she must be careful not to excite suspicion as to the real purpose of the conversation.

Realizing at once that she must now move cautiously in the matter, for the slightest intimation that Tavia was away from home and friends, without either the latter or relatives having a clue to her whereabouts, would be sure to ruin Tavia’s reputation, Dorothy now determined that even Nat should not know of her plans for continuing the search.

How hopeless Dorothy felt all alone in such a work! But find Tavia she must, and to find her very soon she felt was imperative, for, even in Buffalo, with her friends, Dorothy could see the dangers of a large city to an unprotected and unsuspecting young girl.

But the boys were going back to North Birchland the next day! How could Dorothy act in time to get to Rochester? For to Rochester she felt that she now must go. Everything pointed to the fact that Tavia was either there, or that there a clue to her whereabouts could be obtained.

On taking her morning walk alone, for Rose-Mary was a little indisposed, after the party of the evening previous, Dorothy met Miss Mason. It was not difficult to renew the conversation concerning Tavia. Bit by bit Alma told of Tavia’s infatuation for the stage, until Dorothy became more than ever convinced that it was in theatrical surroundings that the missing girl would be found.

Mrs. Markin had planned a little theatre party for Rose-Mary and some of her Buffalo friends that afternoon. The play was one especially interesting to young girls – a drama built on lines, showing how one ambitious girl succeeded in the world with nothing but a kind heart and a worthy purpose to start with. It abounded in scenes of rural home life, wholesome and picturesque, and one of the features, most conspicuous in the advertising on the billboards was that of the character Katherine, the heroine, holding a neighborhood meeting in a cornfield, among the laborers during the noon hour. The girl appeared in the posters perched upon a water barrel and from that pulpit in the open she, as the daughter of a blind chair caner, won hearts to happiness with the gospel of brotherly love – the new religion of the poor and the oppressed.

While Rose-Mary and Alma enthused over the prospect of a particularly pleasant afternoon, Dorothy seemed nervous, and it was with some misgivings that she finally agreed to attend the party that was really arranged for her special entertainment. The boys, Ned, Nat and Jack were going, of course, and to make the affair complete Rose-Mary had also invited Grace Barnum.

Grace was a particularly bright girl, the sort that cares more for books than pretty clothes, and who had the temerity to wear her hair parted directly in the middle in the very wildest of pompadour days. Not that Grace lacked beauty, for she was of the classic type that seems to defy nationality to such an extent, that it might be a matter of most uncertain guess to say to what country her ancestors had belonged.

This “neutrality” was a source of constant delight to Grace, for each new friend would undertake to assign her to a different country, and so she felt quite like the “real thing in Cosmopolitan types” as she expressed it. The fact, however, might have been accounted for by the incident of Grace having been born under missionary skies in China. Her mother was an American blond, her father a dark foreigner of French and Spanish ancestry and, with all this there was in the Barnum family a distinct strain, of Puritan stock, from which the name Barnum came. Grace, being distinctly different from other girls, no doubt attracted Tavia to her, and now, when received among Tavia’s friends she was welcomed with marked attention that at once established a bond of friendship between her and the other girls.

The boys, naturally, were not slow to “discover her” so that, altogether, the little matinee party, when it had reached the theatre, was a very merry throng of young people. Mrs. Markin acted as chaperone and, five minutes before the time set for the play to begin Dorothy and her friends sat staring at the green fire-proof curtain from a roomy box. Dorothy was like one in a dream.

All about her the others were eagerly waiting, looking the while at the programmes, but Dorothy sat there with the pink leaflet lying unheeded in her lap.

“How much that picture of Katherine resembles Tavia,” was the thought that disturbed her. “The same hair – the same eyes – what if it should be she?”

The curtain was swaying to and fro as those behind it brushed past in their preparations for the presentation of “Katherine, the Chair Caner’s Daughter.”

Dorothy’s heart beat wildly when she fancied Tavia amid such scenes – Tavia the open-hearted girl, the little Dalton “wild flower” as Dorothy liked to call her. Surely no stage heroine could be more heroic than she had always been in her role of shedding happiness on all who came within her sphere of life.

Suddenly Rose-Mary turned to Nat and remarked:

“How Tavia would enjoy this.” She looked around on the gay scene as the theatre was filling up. “What a pity we could not bring her with us for the good time.”

Dorothy felt her face flush as Nat made some irrelevant reply. Jack turned directly to Dorothy and, noting her inattention to the programme opened his to point out some of the items of interest.

But still Dorothy stared nervously at the big asbestos curtain and made feeble efforts to answer her companion’s questions. Even Mrs. Markin observed Dorothy’s rather queer manner, and she, too, showed concern that her daughter’s guest should be ill at ease.

“Aren’t you well, dear?” she asked quietly.