Dorothy Dale's Great Secret

“No, thank you,” and Dorothy turned away.

“If I can now, or later, just let me know,” went on the manager. Then he wished her good-bye and turned back to his desk.

Dorothy’s cheeks were flushed when she stepped up to Nat in the lobby where he was watching the men putting in place the photographs of the next week’s performers. He seemed to have forgotten all about his cousin.

“Oh, is that you?” he asked, and he looked like some one suddenly awakened from a dream. “I do believe if I stood here much longer I’d be put into a frame by mistake. How did you make out?”

“You mustn’t ask,” answered Dorothy pleasantly. “You see I can’t quite report on it yet.”

“Oh, very well. I was only wondering – ”

“But you mustn’t wonder. You agreed to act as my escort and so you must be content with that. I can only tell you that I am perfectly satisfied with the interview I had.”

“Which means that our little friend Tavia is not with any company. Well, I’m glad of it. I always did give her credit for having better sense. But you see, Doro, you are such a romancer that you sometimes make stories out of dreams. But I must say you do look ten years younger. That manager must have been a nice fellow.”

“He was,” answered Dorothy, glad that Nat, as usual, had jumped to a conclusion and decided the matter of the interview for himself, leaving her free to go on without contradicting or making any explanations. It was so much better under the circumstances, she thought, that not even Nat should know the truth.

But just how she was going to carry out the remainder of her task secretly she could not quite determine. However, she had now become accustomed to doing each part as it presented itself, without planning further into the future, and, in that manner, she hoped to be able to proceed until the last link in the chain of her search had been completed.

“We must get the souvenir cards,” Nat reminded her, as they came to a store with the pretty-pictured varieties in the window. “I’ll just buy a pack of mixed ones – it will save time.”

But Dorothy was not thinking of souvenir cards. Thoughts came to her of the play at Rochester, with Tavia as one of the characters – Tavia who must be timid amid her new and unaccustomed surroundings in spite of her apparent recklessness – yes, Tavia would be much frightened at what she had done, Dorothy was sure of it, when the girl, so far away from home and friends found herself before a critical audience in a theatre.

“If I could only reach her before another night,” Dorothy thought, “but how can it be managed?”

The boys would start for home to-morrow, and of course Dorothy would have to go with them. Something would surely happen —must surely happen before then to help her, Dorothy thought, with a confidence which great emergencies sometimes inspire.

“Now I suppose,” remarked Nat, as he made his way out of the post-card store, “if you were to send one of these particularly bright red ones to Tavia at Dalton she would send one back on the next mail, wishing you a merry Christmas, for all your trouble. What do you suppose she would say if she knew of the merry chase that had been going on after her, and all the places you have been looking for her? And all the while she was as safe as little Bo-peep.”

“But I don’t intend to send her any cards until she writes me first,” answered Dorothy. “She owes me an apology for not writing to me.”

“Same here,” said Nat. “I’ll treat her the same way. The saucy little thing,” he added facetiously, “not to answer our nice long letters. She ought to be slapped.”

Dorothy laughed at her cousin’s good humor. It was better that he should take this view of the case than that he should suspect the real facts. Dorothy glanced at some of the cards as they hurried along back to the hotel.

“Now there’s one,” pointed out Nat, “that would just suit the circumstances. A girl doing a song and a smile – that’s the ‘turn’ Tavia has been doing to you, Doro. We must save that one for her.”

“Yes,” answered Dorothy abstractedly, taking the card in her hand. It was the picture of a girl in chorus costume, and was enscribed with an appropriate verse.

“Don’t you see,” explained Nat, “they’ve got everything down to a post-card basis now. That one is intended to be used in place of making a party call when a gentleman has blown a girl to a theatrical good time. She just sends this card back and that suffices for formal thanks.

“Of course it might not just suit our set,” he conceded, “but for those in the post-card clientele it’s a cinch, as the poet says. I tell you after a while we will be able to carry on all our business correspondence with picture postals and not be under the necessity of writing a word. Great scheme, Nat (patting himself on the left shoulder with his right hand), get a patent on your new post-card.”

They had now reached the hotel. The veranda was deserted as the hour for dinner was almost at hand and the guests were dressing. Nat left Dorothy at the elevator, with a warning to be ready early in the morning. Then he hurried to where he and Ned were staying.

CHAPTER XXI

ADRIFT IN A STRANGE CITY

In spite of Dorothy’s courage, and her efforts to keep each of her troubles apart, that she might meet and cope with them singly, the time had now come when she found herself sorely puzzled.

How would she be able to reach Rochester – to leave her cousins and proceed alone in her search for Tavia?

The morning of departure dawned bright and clear, conditions most necessary for a pleasant automobile trip, and when the Markin family waved an affectionate adieu, the Fire Bird puffed away from in front of the hotel, Rose-Mary throwing innumerable kisses to Dorothy. Suddenly, as they swung into the street, Dorothy turned to Ned and asked:

“Ned, could you let me go part of the way home, by train? I did not want to mention it at the hotel as Mrs. Markin would be sure to worry, but I would so like to return by rail. You could just leave me at the depot and then – you might stop for me at – did you say you were going through Rochester on your way back?”

Ned and Nat gazed at their cousin in surprise. What could she mean to ask to leave them and go to North Birchland alone?

“I know you think it strange,” she hastened to add, “but really you know, I am able to travel alone that short distance. You know I came from Glenwood alone.”

“Oh, yes, I know,” replied Nat, “but this time mother put you in our charge and these are big cities around here.”

“But if the auto makes you feel ill,” put in Nat, “of course no one could object to you going by train.”

“I would so much rather,” declared Dorothy, taking advantage of Nat’s ready excuse for her. “I have found that there is a train at eight-thirty. Then, if you pass through Rochester, you could meet me there. I can go to some young women’s club and wait if I do not meet you exactly on time at the station.”

This was a brave stroke, and Dorothy felt that she would not be equal to further argument should the boys offer much more opposition.

“You mean for us to leave you here at the Buffalo depot?” asked Ned in a dazed sort of way.

“Yes, I have plenty of money with me, and I know perfectly well how to travel alone.”

“But you may have to change cars, and suppose you were to be left alone in Rochester in case we had a breakdown and couldn’t pick you up?”

“It wouldn’t be any worse staying in Rochester than it would in some place near where you happened to have the accident. I hope you don’t have any. But I have told you what I would do in case you didn’t call for me. I’d stay at some girls’ club. There are plenty of them in Rochester I’ve read.”

“Well,” admitted Ned. “I suppose you ought to know what you want to do.”

“There’s the station,” exclaimed Nat. “What time did you say the train left?”

“Eight-thirty,” replied Dorothy. “We have plenty of time.”

But when she realized that she was to be left alone, to go in a train to that strange, big city, she felt as if she must cry out against the circumstances that forced her to all this trouble. Why should she deceive her two kind cousins, and desert them to take that risky journey alone? And she did believe her prospective trip dangerous in spite of her assertions to the contrary. It was very different to making the journey to Glenwood when she had had Tavia with her.

Besides, going into the New England mountains was along a quiet way, while this trip – she dared not trust herself to think further. She must decide at once, and she must go – alone to look for Tavia.

“I’ll get you a Pullman ticket,” Ned said rather gloomily, as the auto dashed up to the station, “but I do wish, Doro, that you would come on with us. Of course, in the parlor car you will be quite safe, and can rest better than in the Fire Bird. I’ll see the porter and have him look after you.”

“Thank you, Ned,” Dorothy managed to reply, and, but for his haste to make arrangements for her comfort, the youth would have seen tears in his cousin’s eyes, and noticed that her hands trembled as Nat helped her out of the machine to the station platform.

“I think, after all, it will be better for you to go straight on to North Birchland,” she said, trying to make her voice sound easy and natural, but conscious that her tones were rather unsteady. She was now putting into operation the second part of her plan. “It might be risky to attempt to pick me up in Rochester. I might miss you or you might miss me, whereas if we both follow out our route separately we will be sure to get to the Cedars in safety and without any delay.”

“Well, since you have decided to desert us, and travel by train, leaving the poor old Fire Bird to struggle along as best it can without a lady passenger, perhaps it will be best,” Nat agreed, in a dazed sort of way. He seemed for a time quite unlike Nat White – quite different from the youth who was always ready to take up the weak end of an argument and carry it to the strongest point of conclusion. Here he was letting his favorite cousin start away alone on a train to a strange big city, when she had been entrusted to his care.

“Here you are, Doro,” called Ned, coming from the depot where he had hurried as soon as the auto stopped. “Take this,” and he thrust some bills into her hands, as well as her tickets. “And do, above everything else, be careful. I’ve seen the porter, and tipped him so he will look after you. Now, you’d better get in and we’ll leave you, as we want to make good time. Good-bye,” and he stooped to kiss the pale-faced girl who was now too overcome with emotion to trust her own voice.

Nat put his arm affectionately around her and he, too, gave her a farewell kiss. They walked with her to the waiting train, and then the porter, in his blue uniform, adorned with numerous brass buttons, helped her aboard the car “Seneca.”